Archives for 2010

If you’ve visited here with much regularity, you’ve probably noticed that flashy sidebar thingey to the right over there that advertises The Savvy Source. If you’d like to go visit there now, go ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.

Oh, hi. You’re back.

So, anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m going to be relying on this website A LOT this summer. I’m starting to get that kind of quesy feeling in my stomach that is the beginning of a panic attack when I think of my long summer days ahead with THE KIDS.

Many of my friends have their kids enrolled in 9 million camps, have three vacations planned, and send the kids to each set of grandparents for two weeks at a time.

Not the Bernards. We have $0, so the most we can do in the summer is a couple of days of preschool for the boys and swim lessons.

The rest of the time is directed by yours truly.

It’s funny to me how God turns inside out has all the assumptions I had about myself and motherhood. Turns out I’m not nearly as crafty as I thought and don’t really enjoy spending hours in the boiling sun playing Duck, Duck, Goose.

Who knew, right?

So, thank goodness for The Savvy Source. And guess what? The Nashville Savvy City Guide is Nashville-specific and written by my friend Rebecca! I’m so excited for her new job at The Savvy Source. I know Rebecca will be my go-to girl this summer to find new adventures for the kids and creative ways to spend our time.

If you’re wondering about what’s going on in Nashville or you have other parenting needs, look no further than The Savvy Source and The Nashville Savvy City Guide.

photo: Morgue File

I’m addicted to the two shows now featuring the hoarding disorder: Hoarders on A&E and Hoarding: Buried Alive on TLC.

I grew up with two parents who are borderline hoarders rather extreme pack rats, and so, I’ve been battling this “demon” for most of my adult life. My parents—to this day—have magazines from the 80s on their shelves, canceled checks from my deceased uncle’s account (he died in 2002) in the desk, and random keys, screws, and thing-a-ma-jigs scattered about the kitchen counter.

When Chris and I first married, we battled this tendency of mine frequently. I remember getting behind on my newspaper reading, allowing past issues to pile in the corner. I had every intention of going through all 20 or so papers, page by page. But, it didn’t happen. Chris was ready to recycle them; I protested. We finally decided that to avoid these arguments, the best thing to do was cancel the newspaper subscription.

See, I firmly believed that those papers contained valuable information that I was missing. Books, papers, and magazines have always represented knowledge to me. And knowledge is one of my greatest pursuits. I really have to “limit” myself to certain amounts of paper or it will overtake me.

The other night, the woman on the show walked into a scrapbook store and bought a few items for her scrapbooks: stickers, papers, and so on. She mentioned that she had been “scrapbooking” for about eight years and had only done one page—BUT she had mountains and mountains of supplies. She said that she enjoyed the acquisition of the items and the possibilities that they represent.

Her words smacked me in the forehead: the acquired items represent possibilities. Most often for me the possibilities are much more exciting than the reality.

Anyway—it scared me to identify so closely with her sentiment, especially given my background, and because I have no idea how to get around the way I look at the world and things.

The only thing I do know is that I don’t want to be featured on Hoarders in a few years.

Ideas, anyone? 

photo: Morgue File

So, it’s been another week without a blog post.

They are there. In my head. But not here.

I’m busy with birthdays and Easter and family dinners. I cleaned my house ALL DAY on Friday. It had been since Thanksgiving a few weeks that I had really cleaned. And my bathroom floor was actually clean for about 4 hours before one boy “missed” and peed on the floor.

That was a really satisfying, exciting four hours in my day. 

Once upon a time, I remember a friend saying that when her child turned five, a “breath of fresh air” blew through the house.

Yep. Waiting on that breeze to come on through. 

I really think parenting is getting harder. The boys have two modes: fighting or needing attention. No such thing as playing happily together or playing quietly independently. And I hear one million times a day, “MOM!!! Help me wipe my bottom. I want juice. I’m hungry.”

Plus, as they get older, they get bigger. There’s just more surface area. There’s more food to make and more dirty dishes to clean. There’s bigger clothes to wash, dry, and fold.

I guess I’m trying to say that even though I’ve cut out much of my “extra” stuff, I’m still busy. I suppose I couldn’t have picked a better time to cut back, with my bigger, demanding almost 5 year-olds.

I’m tired.

So, I guess I’m on a break. Not sure when you’ll hear from me again.

Maybe when that refreshing gust blows through my house.

I had an appointment with Dunkin’ Donuts at 9. I was determined to make it on time, showered and with makeup applied.

Today is Susanna’s birthday. She requested doughnuts for her class treat during morning snack time. Morning snack time began at 9:30.

I am not a morning person—never have been, doubt I ever will be. So, it may not surprise you to learn that most mornings, I’m rolling out of bed a little late just in time to get breakfast made, children ready, and lunches packed.

In my world, there’s no such thing as looking beautiful in the car-rider line and at preschool drop-off.

But, today, dear friends; today was different.

I’d like to think it was partially due to my new stream-lined schedule with minimal distractions. I don’t want to start taking all the credit for something only God can do (change me), but I have to say it is rewarding to see the fruit of new actions and good decisions.

So, believe it or not, I was showered and made-up and got to Dunkin’ Donuts by 9:15ish and my daughter’s school by 9:30, in time for snack time. (OK—so my hair was gross and pulled back because I was headed for a much-needed, overdue hair appointment, but I made it!)

I did it, people.

It really felt great to be on time and properly dressed and looking presentable. At one point, I actually shouted out in the van, “I’m doing it! I’ve got it together!” (Seriously, this was a big deal.)

And then I found it totally odd and a little bit sad that I considered basic grooming AND keeping appointments mutually exclusive.

And then I found it totally odd and a little bit sad that excitement I had previously saved for job promotions, scholastic achievements,  and the like now characterizes those rare occasions that I can string together bathing, teeth brushing, and mascara application within a half-hour time frame.

Gah! What’s wrong with me? And who am I? I wondered as I scarfed down all five one of the leftover doughnuts.

After school, I was picking up the table where the boys had strewn the contents of their Easter eggs from the preschool Easter egg hunt. I picked up the wrapper of the Oh-So-Cute-You-Could-Die Easter GIFT from one of the kids to one of my sons. I instantly knew who had given the adorable cellophane wrapped baggie full of treats and perfectly matted Easter grass (Go ahead and add insult to injury with the tuft of Easter grass, why don’t you? As if the mound of jelly beans were not enough … ).

I knew because this same kid’s mom had given the Oh-So-Cute-You-Could-Die Halloween buckets and Christmas stockings and Valentine hearts. And as I read the kid’s name in the “from” section on the tag, my heart sank a bit as I envisioned The Kid’s Mom packing the Oh-So-Cute-You-Could-Die Easter bags for every kid in the class.

In full makeup. With painted nails. Smelling sweetly from having freshly showered.

And once again, I felt totally odd and a little bit sad that jelly beans, Easter grass, and nail polish were making me crazy.

Image: Morgue File

As God does so ever often in my life, he’s bringing me to the end of myself. He continues to move me from self-centered independence to a more Christ-centered dependence.

I’m so tired of being overfed, overstimulated, overzealous, overanxious, and overwhelmed.

The excess in my life is suffocating me.

I had been mulling over this principle for a few weeks, when I read a phrase yesterday that helped me better articulate my thoughts: the impact of excess.

That got me to consider what the impact of excess has been on my life.

Our culture is a sea of excess. I don’t have to tell you that, do I? The mentality is that if “a little” is good, then “a lot” must be great!

But, I’ve learned over and again in my life, that’s just not true.

My excess most often revolves around busyness and projects and participation. Because I struggle every day with “the good being the enemy of the best,” discernment is non-existent. God’s voice is always shushed—if not silenced altogether—by the cacophony of competing demands and deadlines. And because “the best” (in God’s economy) is counter-cultural and counter-intuitive, it either slips away quietly or zooms quickly past with little more than a flicker of recognition from me.

I’m too busy with focus on “the good”; I’m too distracted or too exhausted to have moments of clarity to be still and know that he is God.

I’m way too concerned with my pursuit of more and my piling of excess upon excess to ever decipher any message God delivers in moments of simplicity.

Because I can see the good in “the good,” I often cloud my radar with “good things.” Those “good things” turn into excess. For me, excess breeds fatigue, idolatry, and an insatiable appetite for more. Ironic, isn’t it? One would think that once I got my belly full, I’d be content, happy, and satisfied. But, no. It’s that lie that, Oh, just a bit more and I’ll finally be happy/fulfilled/content/smart/cool/comfortable, and so on.

I’m working through these issues right now and will continue to share my thoughts here. Right now, I’m seeking a God-centered and God-focused intentional simplicity.

I may not be blogging as much here or I may be here more. Really—honestly—I love blogging and being involved in the online community, but I am a bit uncertain as to what level I should be participating. As I said before, I’ll always write. But I may be writing in other venues.

So, I appreciate your reading and your feedback always. I covet your prayers, as well, as I and my family seek wisdom and discernment. 

What’s been the impact of excess in your life?

Image: Morgue File

You may recall that my new year’s resolution was to live intentionally.

So, what does that look like in my life?, I wondered.

Well, I know what it doesn’t look like.

It doesn’t look like worn-out, frazzled mom. It doesn’t look like worried mom juggling deadlines. It doesn’t look like fast food for every meal. It doesn’t look like the illusion of making money and “getting ahead” when, in actuality, the bank account is strained and debt continues to accrue. It doesn’t look like laundry and dish piles.

At least not for me. Not for us. Not for our family.

And so, I posted a plea for advice to you, my dear readers. You had great words of wisdom and encouragement. I felt good, at least, to know that I wasn’t completely crazy and alone, drowning in a sea of demands and deadlines.

Chris and I prayed, mulling over your words and ideas and re-evaluating our “intention” of intentional living in 2010 and decided that we were not, indeed, living with intention. We were being run by our circumstances. We were reacting, not proacting. We were slaves to the tyranny of the urgent demands of everyone and everything else besides those that were most important to us.

On March 15, I worked my last day at the most time-consuming of my four part-time jobs. I have all but closed shop on my Melaleuca “business” (although I am always happy to answer your questions and/or open a membership account for you—just ask). Our church is shutting its doors (another long story of emotional drain for our family—post forthcoming) at the end of the month, so I will no longer be employed there.

That leaves my writing.

I will always write. Writing for me is intuitive and effortless and cathartic. One of the negatives of these last few months is that I have not had the time I would have liked to devote to my writing.

Now I can devote my “free time” to my writing. Truly, I believe this is my gift from God. I feel that I’ve pushed all the other boundaries of my interests and skills. God has revealed to me that while I may be “OK” at many things, there are only a handful that are true gifts.

Writing. Writing here and at Faithful Bloggers and at Suite 101 is where you’ll find me now. I’ll be using my God-given skills for his glory.

If he chooses to bless us with money for that, then I rejoice. If he does not, then I rejoice!

I’ve decided that I will be intentional about living as he’s guiding me. The fact is that he’s placed certain circumstances in my life, which dictate his will for me.

He has called me to be Chris’ wife and all that that entails. He has called me to be mom to my three kids and all that that entails. He has called me to manage this home with the income that he has provided and all that that entails.  And he has called me to write. He has called me to write—since I could string together subjects and verbs in the first grade—for his glory and others’ edification.

OK, God. Show me my next steps. God, you promise that when you require something of your children, you equip them with the grace to accomplish it. I believe it, Lord.

I am intentionally and deliberately believing it.

Image: cohdra at morguefile.com

My all-time favorite television show series is The X-Files. What can I say? I’m a sucker for conspiracy theories.

That’s why my ears perked up when I heard the title of Jesse Ventura’s new book, American Conspiracies. Ventura’s interview on The View today was absolutely fascinating. I’m not necessarily convinced his allegations are true, but I am getting my hands on a copy of his book as soon as possible. I can’t wait to read it! (Disclosure: I am an Amazon affiliate and receive a small commission from sales referred by me.)

Watch here as Ventura (who looks positively horrible, by the way—dude! do something with your hair!) discusses his theory of the Bush administration’s direct involvement with the events of 9/11.

If you have missed episodes of The View, don’t forget you can catch up online.

Still to come on the show this week:

Thursday—Elton John makes his first appearance on The View.
Friday—Kate Gosselin guest hosts once again.

Disclosure: I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review. I am an Amazon affiliate and receive a small commission from sales referred by me.

Motherhood has been and continues to be the most exhausting, challenging, stimulating, surprising, and soul-searching endeavor upon which I’ve ever embarked. No book, class, seminar, or magazine article could have prepared me for the astonishing changes motherhood brought to my life.

As I was getting dressed this morning, I thought, Who am I? Hmmm. Where is that girl I knew ten years ago? 

She’s morphed into this mom who is surprised to discover she’s always doing or saying something she never dreamed of.

1. I never thought I’d be anything but a perfect, pearl-clad mom, looking crisp in penny loafers and a button-down Oxford blouse.
2. I never thought I’d say such things as, “You can’t go potty with a pancake in your hand” and “No. You can’t take your guns to church.”
3. I never thought I’d give the pits a sniff, declare, “good enough!”, slather on the second third coat of deodorant, get dressed, and go out in public.
4. I never thought I’d not leave the house for 13 consecutive days. And by “leave the house,” I mean, Not. Leave. The. House. Not to the porch, to the mailbox, to the garbage can. 13. Days. Inside. My. House. With acid refluxy twins. 
5. I never thought I’d have guests in my home when I hadn’t mopped the floors or dusted the furniture in a few months days.
6. I never thought I’d look forward to “introspective alone time” at the grocery store.
7. I never thought I’d be 40 pounds overweight–at five years post-partum.
8. I never thought I could have breastfed twins for nine months.
9. I never thought my idea of a fun evening would involve Seinfeld reruns, a bowl of popcorn, and a 10 p.m. bedtime. 
10. I never thought I’d be anything but a perfect, pearl-clad mom, looking crisp in penny loafers and a button-down Oxford blouse.

How has motherhood surprised you? 

I’m linking this post today at Oh Amanda’s Top Ten Tuesday. Visit there to read more top ten lists!

photo: esrasu

I’ve never been into the basketball playoffs that make up “March Madness.”

But movies? Now, I can get into movies.

I’m celebrating my own version of March Madness at The Writer’s Block with some terrific movie giveaways this month.

First up: Whip It.

 

If you like “coming of age” films (think Sixteen Candles), you’ll enjoy Bliss’s story. If you like movies about the small town guy or girl looking to make a break for the big city (think It’s a Wonderful Life), you’ll have fun watching Bliss become the star of roller derby in the big city of Austin, Texas. 

Whip It is now available on DVD and Blu-Ray from Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment. 

I have written before about the incompetent bagging abilities of the Kroger baggers. I still battle weekly with multiple gallons of milk in one bag, while chips and salad land in another. I’ve tried talking to the baggers. That usually results in two cans and a bag of chips in one bag. I give up.

My Kroger experience last week, however, was rather unbelievable.

I stopped at the other Kroger a few miles from the one where I regularly shop. I wanted to grab a salad from their salad bar. I made my salad and packaged the dressing in a separate container (small Styrofoam cup with a plastic lid). I grabbed a handful of napkins, plastic fork, plastic knife, and two small packages of crackers.

I had to grab a couple of other items from the store. I then proceeded to the U-scan checkout lane.

I noticed the Dwight Shrute of Kroger watching the U-Scan aisles like a hawk. I zapped all my items except for the small tub of salad dressing, cutlery, napkins, and crackers. For a moment, I thought, Am I supposed to ring up the dressing? Nah, I decided.

My order came to around $10. I paid and picked up all my bags. I looped them on my arm and stuck my check card back in my purse. I turned to pick all the “extras” out of the arm basket sitting beside the scanner, when Dwight walked over.

Before I could pick up my items and stick them in the bag, he began to interrogate me about my attempt at theft.

“Ma’am? What’s this?” He picks up the small container of salad dressing.

“Salad dressing.”

“Well, you need to pay for that. That is considered a salad bar item.”

“Oh, really?! I had no idea.” I answered, kind of incredulously. “What about the crackers?”

And then, as if to throw me a bone, “No. The crackers and forks and napkins come with it.” (Oh, gee, glad you can part with the napkins, there, Kroger.)

“OK.”

I then re-shuffled heavy bags and my purse and dug back out my Kroger card.

Remember. I’ve already spent $10.00.

(Salad bar items are priced per pound. So the scanner weighs your item and charges accordingly.)

I picked up the container (so very light that it was), and Dwight said, “I don’t know. It may not even register.”

Well, genius, if it won’t register, then why even bother, I said thought.

I plopped it up there and punched in the buttons.

Thirty-two cents.

I was about to rob Kroger of thirty-two freaking cents.

And he stood there while I dug out a quarter, nickel, and two pennies from the annals of the abyss that is my purse. And I enjoyed every minute of my digging and searching and sighing as I scavenged for each coin while hanging onto three bags of groceries and a 12-pack of Diet Mountain Dew.

Because—God forbid—I get away with $.32 salad dressing.

Image: morguefile