Stepping Out

Lately I've been doing something that scares the bejeebuz out of me.

I'm a pretty open person, I think. Or rather, thought. I'll tell anyone pretty much anything they want to know about me. Some people might tell you I share a little too much about myself.

But there's something that I'm finding hard to share, even with Hubba Hubba.

Songs.

I've been writing songs. Or trying to, anyway. We're not talking major productions here--just some simple verse-chorus numbers featuring me and my piano. I've got 2 that are just about done, and another couple of ideas that are sketched out.

It's hard for me to play these songs for Hubba Hubba. I can't imagine trying to play them for anyone else.

Ah, vulnerability.

Monday Morning Talk With Jesus

Hi, everyone.


I know I've been a little lax in posting this weekend. There's been no good excuse, really--I've just been distracted.


Anyway, instead of a Not Me! Monday, many of us who normally would be sharing with you our goof ups and foibles from the week will be spending the time praying for Stellan, instead of writing.


My heart's pretty full this morning, friends. Here I sit, music from Angie's blog is playing in the background, and my Wiggle Man is playing is his new red jammies with the butt flap. I'm pretty blessed. The contrast between my blessings and others' heartbreaks seems pretty vivid right now, and has for the past week.

I understand, of course, that when my heart was breaking, those were likely days of great joy for others. I get it. A lot of people on this planet--our best days coincide with others' worst days.

Still.

I guess that's it for now--sorry I'm not more clear than this.

I'm going to go have a talk with Jesus.

What I Did With My Gorgeous Spring Day

Aren't you dying to know? You know you are. So here goes:

First, Wiggle Man and I sat around in our jammies. We do this a lot in the mornings. After breakfast, there's a pretty serious lounging around time. Sometimes I pretend to be productive--this morning I chose to fold laundry and sort through hand-me-downs.

We watched Imagination Movers. Scott's my favourite--I think it's the Wobble Goggles.

Grammy came for a visit and brought Wiggle Man a shirt with Curious George on it. (We also watched us some George during our lounging around, might I add.) Shirts with George are Wiggle Man's favourites.

We went to the farmer's market, where we had an uber-healthy lunch of stuffed pretzels... yum-o-licious! I also bought good stuff, like fresh produce and glass-bottled milk straight from a local dairy where all the cows are grain-fed, and get weekly pedicures or whatever it takes to keep cows happy and healthy and their milk extra tasty.

Wiggle Man slept on the way home. You can't keep a Wiggle awake when you're the only other person in the car. It's hard to drive while reaching back to shake him awake.

We watered our chickens and fed our ducks. We watched our ducks, um..."wrestle." Three of them. Ew.

We made a mess, and cleaned it up. Wiggle Man coloured on my piano. (SOOO glad that crayon wipes right off those keys.)

I put Wiggle Man to bed, and got ready for the piano tuner to come. Wiggle Man is still awake and babbling in his crib. 2 hours later. At least he's not crying. Normally by now I would have accepted the fact that the 20 minute nap he took in the car was all I was going to get today, and would have brought him back down. But I don't dare let him down here with the piano tuner and all his tools. I can only imagine what chaos would ensue. And chaos like that I'd rather leave to my imagination, thank you very much.

There. That's my day, so far. What have you been up to?

Thoughts From The Shower...And A Silly Plea

I take what Hubba Hubba likes to call "Hollywood Showers." By that, of course, he means any shower lasting longer than his 5-Minute Scrub-A-Dub Express. Although, condensation does have a tendency to accumulate on the walls of our bathroom, regardless of the fan, whenever I hop in the shower, so perhaps he has a point.

At any rate, I'm a fan of my showers. Hot water--good. Shampoo smells--good. And while all this is going on, my mind has a tendency to wander. So, today I thought I'd share some of those thoughts with you.

Daily shower cleaner actually works when you use it daily. If you're like me, you normally only remember to spray it when you want the bathroom to smell nice (Method's ylang ylang is especially lovely). But lately, out of sheer curiosity, I've been spraying it after each shower. And you know what? My shower's cleaner. Who'd have thunk it?

Is it really going to give me better results if I squeeze the tube of toothpaste from the bottom? (Yes, I brush my teeth in the shower. Anything to prolong the hot water fest.) I mean, sure--you don't end up with the battle half-way through the tube where you're trying to squeeze the paste trapped in the bottom of the tube up to the top...but come on. "For best results"? Surely my teeth are just as clean as the most conscientious bottom-of-the-tube squeezer.

I almost typed "bottom-squeezer" but thought better of it. It sounded naughty.

Also, how long will it take before Hubba Hubba gets fed up with the massive collection of shampoo bottles I have in there? The current count is three. Three different brands, along with their respective conditioners. (Actually, I have two Dove conditioners, because I mistakenly bought two conditioners, instead of a shampoo and a conditioner, so I had to go back and buy the shampoo later.)

You can think through a lot of stuff in a Hollywood shower. Unfortunately for your intellectual enrichment, I can't really remember anything else.

So here's my silly plea: follow me on twitter. Please? I just signed up yesterday, mainly to be able to get updates on Stellan (click on my Praying For Stellan button to go to MckMama's blog and learn more). But every time I sign in, that box telling me I have no followers just mocks me. So, if you twitter, please follow me! I'll try and make it worth your while.

I've been thinking through this post for a couple days now. It's been in there, ruminating, while I try and decide how to clearly say what I'm thinking.

I've decided I can't. Say it clearly, that is. Of course, I'll spew it out in convoluted fashion for you, gratis.

Here's the thing. I know I serve a God who is sovereign. I know that. And I also know that while He is infinite in all things--knowledge, power, etc, I know that I am most definitely not. In fact, I'm most definitely finite. His ways are so far above mine that it's not even funny.

I get that. Sort of.

But then the whole problem of suffering crops up, and throws me for a loop. So many people much smarter than I have tackled this problem, so believe you me, I'm not expecting to solve it. Not today, not likely in 50 years, should God grant me that much time to ponder.

Monday was an incredibly happy day in our household. We got the news that Hubba Hubba had passed his last ordination exam. Now all that is left before he becomes Rev. Hubba Hubba is some paperwork, and a little bit of being in front of Presbytery.

This is exciting, seriously. If you've followed me for a bit, you know that we've been pursuing a 2 year mission in Kenya. You also know that our plans seems to have stalled, mucked up in who-knows-what kind of political/denominational/cultural mess. With no end in sight, I might add. We've kept our life in a holding pattern, hoping that something would break in the situation, and we could head off to serve the Lord over there.

But it seems like maybe He's asking us to serve Him over here somewhere, at least for now. So you can imagine that we're pretty pumped to see that the holding pattern might break. We're ready for the next step, whatever He wants that to be. Or wherever.

That same day, I checked out MckMama's blog,. as I do often, and found out that her youngest, Stellan, who many of us have been praying for since before he was born, is in the hospital with some pretty serious heart issues. (Incidentally, check out her blog for updates, prayer opportunities, and ways to help, if you feel so led.)

The contrast between joy and concern hit me like a brick. MckMama and I serve the same loving, sovereign Lord. Yet, while I was rejoicing in answered prayer, she was on knees before Him.

It's hard to get. I know that neither situation changes the fact that God is loving, and sovereign. I guess for now it's about trusting in that very fact--He is loving, and sovereign.

See? I told you it was convoluted.

Prayer Request

Hey everyone,

If you read my blog regularly, you know that normally on a Monday I'd have a post filled with all the ridiculous things I may, or may not have done throughout the week.

I've been a little behind all morning, but now I'm glad I didn't. Mckmama, hostess of the NM!M Carnival, has been in the hospital with her youngest son, Stellan. Please pray for Stellan--he is having some heart difficulties. If you'd like more info, check out MckMama's blog.

Something Funky's Goin' On...

Seriously, friends.

Almost everyone whose blog I read is sick. And I'm sick.

How does that even work?

In other news, I may have found my hand twin. If you don't know what that is, you don't watch enough "Friends."

More on my hand twin later.

Safe and Sound

The last, final bit of our stuff is on its way out of our old house. Read this for a refresher on why we've been packing to move nowhere.

One of the biggest, and most stressful things to move was my piano. Yup, my baby grand had been next door for over a year. And while walking across the driveway to play it was not that big a deal, I've been so excited about having it over here.

I had big plans for photographing the whole move. Big plans. You would have been astounded. Even more astounded than you likely already are at my extensive use of italics in this post. Alas, a sick mommy and a very active, curious toddler meant we were staying far away from the piano moving shenanigans.

Hubba Hubba has been planning the big musical move all week. Because my piano was in the basement. And it doesn't fit up the stairs. So we had to get it out the same way we got it in.
I won't go into details, because frankly--I don't have the brain to understand the mechanics of it all.

Here's what I know: Between the removable floor and the drop ceiling, a gigantic hole was opened up. Pulleys were attached to beams in the attic. Chains extended down to the basement. Piano movers prepared my baby, getting her legless and all wrapped up. Then Hubba Hubba hoisted her up through the ceiling.

Wiggle Man and I were at my mother-in-law's where the Wiggle could keep out of everyone's way. Unfortunately, this meant my camera was also out of the way.

I did get some pictures after Wiggle Man and I got back. I think he has potential.

Wordless Wednesday

Not Me! Monday

Well, I may have missed last week, but I assure you. There are always plenty of things I may or may not have done in a given week. For a huge list of other bloggers who participate, check out MckMama's blog for the home of the Not Me! Monday carnival.

This week I did not eat 4 Pop Tarts in one day. I do not blame this on the face that I was sick, and too lazy to make real food for myself. I would certainly take better care of myself when ill, because I know that being sick means I'm more in need of healthy food, rather than junk.

I also did not live in my jammies while sick, and let Wiggle Man do the same. I did not even realise my sister-in-law had bought Wiggle Man new clothes and put them away until a day later because we'd been living in jammies.

I did not immediately blame the post office for not one, but two packages that were not delivered to me, only to find out that the packages were, indeed delivered. It wasn't that we just hadn't checked the mail. That certainly would not have been me.

Oh, and if you were at the grocery store with me on Friday, then you know it wasn't me holding the screaming child. You know, the one whose Mommy wouldn't let him ride in the special shopping carts with the cars on the front. Also, it would not have been me reciting I Love You Through and Through to get him to calm down. (Hey, whatever works.) Oh, and if you actually believe that this was not me and my child, please don't read this post.

I am most definitely not typing this whilst gazing at some gunge in the door frame to my bedroom that could use cleaning. I do not frequently use made-up words like "gunge", in either my speech or my writing. I'm much too professional. Seriously.

I do not research various physical and mental ailments online to see if either I or any of my loved ones might suffer from said ailments. And, even if I did, it really wouldn't be on a semi-regular basis. Like, two or three times a week, or anything like that.

If you go to my church, then you know it wasn't me who plunked one very loud, very random note on my keyboard at the end of the prayer time. You probably also noticed that it was definitely not me who left the white board o' rehearsal notes on stages until 30 seconds before the service began.

It was not me who ate the last cream egg, either.

How 'bout you? Anything you didn't do this week? Check out MckMama if you want to play along, or feel free to leave me a comment outlining your perfection this week!

And So It Begins...

All this time, I'd thought I had one of those kids. You know the ones--well behaved, charming, always listen to their mothers. Oh sure, he had his moments, but they were usually accompanied by ginormous molars, or stomach viruses, and thus were not really my boy having a meltdown.

And then came yesterday.

It began innocently enough. A morning of shopping--the farmer's market (and yes, if you read yesterday's post, I did indeed eat me some caramels) and then the grocery store to pick up the stuff we couldn't find at the farmer's market.

Wiggle Man was perfectly content all through the farmer's market. I bought him a banana. Then smugly thought how nice it was to have a child who prefers fruit. (Not that he knows any different at his age.)

Oh, but then. Then we hit the grocery store. We did ok at first. But then. Oh, then. My Wiggle Man saw them. The shopping carts with the cars/trucks/firetrucks on the front for kids to ride in.

Only once have I let him ride in one, and it was the worst shopping trip. Those suckers are hard to drive! They do not corner well, let me tell you.

Well, my sister-in-law was with me, so she took Wiggle Man for a walk around the store, hoping to distract him. Yeah...he tried to get into a car with another little girl.

She brought him back to me. We tried to avoid aisle with firetruck shopping carts.

I'm telling you--every child in the store must have had one. Except my child, of course. And that's when the blood-curdling, full on screaming began.

And that, coincidentally, is when I realised my son is just like every other child. And I'm just like every other mother.

And that's ok.

I Want My Caramels.

This morning I went to the farmers market, and boy, did I find some yummy snacks.

I want to eat all of them right now. Just typing about them is making me want to go eat them.

I want caramels. And whoopie pies. And cheese.

Oh, and healthy stuff too. I bought some produce, and dairy fresh milk.

I just don't want to eat any of that stuff.

Spread The Love

This post is not for the squeamish.

Wiggle Man's a sharer. Never let it be said that my son does not share. Whether it's his Cheerios he's sharing with a pretty girl at church, or his crayons. He shares. (Ok, sometimes not his crayons. It really depends on his mood.)

What he is willing to share, no qualms, is germs.

Yes, my boy has been a regular germ factory this week. Snot everywhere. There's nothing like chasing a toddler around with a tissue, threatening to "get those boogers!"

Somehow between all those boogers, and slimy kisses and hugs, some of Wiggle Man's germs wiggled their way on over to Hubba Hubba, then myself.

Thankfully, Hubba Hubba's mother and sister decided today was a good day to take the Wiggler out for lunch. Hubba Hubba and I crashed into bed.

I won't even tell you what I've been feeding myself.

Or maybe I will. On Monday. But it will be in the form of something I didn't do. If you catch my drift.

{Almost} Wordless Wednesday

Here are some older pictures of Chloe. Before she spent her days in hiding, trying to avoid becoming Wiggle Man's seat cushion.

My head's still full of non-bloggable stuff, but I'll try to get back to my normal blogginess soon--thanks for checking in, friends!

Spring Chickens

Ok, I know it's not quite spring yet. And these aren't even this spring's chickens; they're from last year. (3 of them are still around, though.)

I also know I've been a little silent in bloggy world. I didn't even get a Not Me! Monday in yesterday, for heaven's sake! Sorry, friends. There's been a lot going on in my head and in my house--nothing major, though. Just lots of little things all at once--like Wiggle Man teething, and now getting a nasty cold on top of it.

Speaking of the Wiggle, he seems to be in need of some snuggles. Or something, so I'm off.

Don't It Always Seem To Go...

You truly don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

Like water.

Last night Hubba Hubba and I went out on a hot date--to our local high school's musical. Incidentally, they did a fabulous job. And I love me some Brigadoon. So it really was a fun date, and I'll likely be singing Bonnie Jean for weeks now.

We made our way home. Hubba Hubba's sister informed us she'd let us get our coats off and in the door before she told us the bad news. (She was kind enough to tell us that Wiggle Man was fine.)

It turns out when they ran the water for Wiggle Man's bath, they discovered a fun surprise. Brown water.

Yup, we've got some dirt in our water, and they can't come to fix it until Monday.

It's amazing how set in my ways I can be. I had to really concentrate while brushing my teeth. I so wanted to turn on the faucet.

Well, at least I won't be washing dishes until Monday.

Please Pray

In 2006 I was blessed to be able to travel to Kenya as part of a short-term mission team from my church. One of my main responsibilities was to organize and run a VBS-style program for the children of The Compass School. This school has been close to my heart ever since, and I've kept in contact with some of the faculty. You may remember I mentioned a Kenyan visitor back in November--that was David, the headmaster of Compass School. He was in the U.S. raising funds and awareness for the work they do with the children of Kikuyu.

Last night I received an email letting me know that two of the boys from the school drowned while swimming in a nearby swamp. Their names were James and Enock. They were in the fourth and fifth grades.

If you're not the praying type, I understand. If you are, however, please pray for the families of James and Enock, as well as the faculty, staff, and children of the Compass School and the community as a whole.

My heart hurts today.

Wordless Wednesday

Having a Bird

I am officially a blogger, it seems. Hubba Hubba's sister walked in this evening and asked if I had blogged about the bird. So, I'm going to blog about the bird.

I desperately wish I had pictures to show you, because I'm pretty sure they would speak volumes. At the very least, they'd be able to better convey to you the utter ridiculousness that was our home last evening. Sadly, the batteries in my camera chose yesterday to die. I went digging through the drawers and came up with 693 AAA batteries, but not enough AA batteries for my camera. Naturally.

It all began yesterday morning. There was a ton of snow that fell here, beginning Sunday evening. Now, when I say "ton", please understand that I'm referring to a Jersey ton. A ton of snow in The True North Strong and Free is a totally different thing. The snow we had here yesterday would not have closed schools in the TNSAF, or cancelled my worship team practice. Not that I didn't make the most of my new-found free time and waste an entire evening watching the worst Bachelor ever.

But I digress.

So, there was snow. A Jersey ton. Enough to send all the birds in a 2-mile radius to our house, looking for shelter. (It's the bird feeders. You know how you're more likely to find a hotel near a restaurant? Same concept.)

Well, four of them were successful. Yes, four. They made their way into our basement. Don't ask me how yet. I don't know.

Hubba Hubba's sister managed to shoo three of them up and out. (This is around the time I started looking for the camera. I should have remembered the video camera. That would have been even better.)

The fourth bird managed to elude my broom-wielding sister-in-law. So, we "forgot" about him for the day. I think we hoped he'd just find his way out the same way he came in. What we forgot to factor in was Chloe, our fierce fluff ball. She found Mr. Bird, and he made his way upstairs.

Now, by this point Hubba Hubba's mother had joined us for the evening. This is where it gets really interesting. There we were, three grown women chasing this poor bird around the house. The broom came back out. Doors were opened.

Skills were mocked.

As if my holding my hands out and sweetly asking Mr. Bird to come to me was any more ridiculous than Hubba Hubba's sister holding out the broom and asking Mr. Bird to hop on it.

Twice my sister-in-law had the bird in her hands. Twice he outsmarted her. We tried trapping him, shooing him, chasing him and throwing scarves over him. Wiggle Man found the whole process highly amusing. Hubba Hubba found it even funnier.

Twenty minutes later, the bird hopped out an open door.

At least Mr. Bird survived to tell the story to his birdie friends. Sometime I'll tell you about my mother-in-law's encounter with a bird one Christmas morning. That bird was not so lucky.

Not Me! Monday

Once again, Monday has rolled around. But, with Monday comes...Not Me! Monday, the fabulous blog carnival started by MckMama. So head on over to her blog to check out her NM!M post, and don't forget that Mr. Linky will have a HUGE list of other bloggers participating. Plus, you can also see how close to the top I made it. (Last week I was #83--shooting for top 50 this week!)

This week I did not cut my finger on the blender. You might be thinking that would be a relatively understandable thing to do, what with the sharp blades, and all. If I did it. Which I didn't. But, being the queen of grace and lightness that I am, I certainly didn't injure myself on the plastic handle. Yes, the plastic handle. Good thing I didn't do that.

Along those same graceful lines, I did not manage to also twist my ankle this week. If I had twisted my ankle it would certainly have happened while doing something awe-inspiring--perhaps rock climbing, or taking Wiggle Man on a nature hike, or in tap lessons. Something. Anything. It's definitely a good thing I didn't twist it doing something silly like trying to scratch the bottom of one foot with the big toe of the other.

While packing this week, I did not repeatedly refer to the packing tape dispenser as "the son of Lucifer." This had nothing to do with the fact that this tape dispenser mangled the tape every other time you used it. Also, it was red.

I did not actually get excited when Wiggle Man pooped in the bath tub the other night. I was not excited to have a chance to actually show him his poop to get him thinking about potties.

I did not just blog about poop.

I did not buy cinnamon rolls to bake this morning because a snow storm was coming. I do not celebrate snow days as "random Sabbaths." I do not think they deserve special meals, and lots of relaxing. I totally agree with Hubba Hubba that we should spend the day packing.*

Also, I have not viewed packing as an opportunity to live in Hubba Hubba's sweatshirts.

Anyway, I'm off to bake cinnamon rolls. What did you not do this week?

*If you're not a regular reader, check out this post to see why we're packing, but not moving.