Resorting to the Bottle

This winter has zapped me of a certain joie di vivre...

While the sun is visiting more tropical elsewheres, oft-sunny Colorado has had to suffer through a dulled down version of its usually radiant natural beauty.  Even in winter, we usually have crystal blues and bright whites to lure us into venturing outdoors, despite the cold.  But not this winter.

Skies blanketed with clouds cast a sallow film onto the already scarce daylight.  Coupled with the bitter cold January has brought with it, and the winds, the infernal winds!, this muted experience has resulted in my hermit-like (for me, that is) retreat to the indoors, making the days long and weary.

Then there are the voices of doubt.  Those that question me frequently enough that I question my reality.

These things have got me hankering for a bit of liquid courage.

Something to drown out the voices and make the day shine a little bit more.

Help me find a little bit of comfort and spice.

Oh, wait, before you go all Intervention on me, let me clarify:

I'm not talking about Smirnoff, merlot, or Coors.

No, behold; the bottle of which I speak:

You see, with me staying increasingly indoors, the afore mentioned sallowness and muted colors have not only applied to the scenery outdoors, but to my hair as well.  Just as a blonde's hair dulls up in the winter, so does mine lose some (though certainly not all) of the coppery undertones.

The voices?  Only the frequent commenters who inquire as to where my son(s) gets his red hair from, while I (and often Seth too, with his red beard) am standing right there!

So....after a long period on the non-hair-coloring wagon (nothing has touched my hair since the highlights I did when Christopher was a newborn), I've fallen off in hopes of escaping the reality of this situation.

And I likey.

Disclaimer:  both pictures are in the same crappily lit room, my bathroom, for equal opportunity purposes.  No make-up is being worn in either picture, so please brace yourselves for what you are about to see.  My face is noticeably redder in the second picture only because I exfoliated while in the shower in which I washed out my hair; the new color does not make my skin look like that!  Finally, picture quality is not great, but it's what I've got.

Before

After

I think this was just the mid-winter pick-me-up  that I needed.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Metaphorical Fish

Last week I was something of a mess.  To say the least.  


But you know me....I don't do the whole minimalist thing, right?  


Sooooooooooooo.....about last week...


Our family was recovering from what is now being referred to as the 2010 Year-End Pukefest, a quaint little GI bug that tore through EVERY family member with a vengeance for almost a whole week.  The laundry was epic, taunting me to the point of overwhelmed tears.  My wee baby boy, Mr. >5th %ile for Weight, didn't eat, save for breastmilk, for a whole week, turning his already scrawny form into downright gaunt...and that is not just a hypersensitive mama growing paranoid, this is a noticeable weight loss that caused comments from others.  Yeah, that helped too.


The older kids went back to school, and though the officially dreaded re-entry day was smooth, the subsequent ones were not.  As in I completely lost my cool with Kelsey, in one of her horribly defiant I-will-NOT-go-to-my-room-even-if-it-is-more-for-you-to-cool-down-than-it-is-for-me-to-be-in-trouble moments, and while it didn't escalate physically, it prompted Colton to retrieve the phone and inform me he was dialing 911 because he was so scared.  Well.  If that's not enough to deflate the hot air running the anger balloon and cause it to create a heaping pile of GUILT I don't know what will do it for ya....


And then, as we had been healthy for mere days and just in time for the weekend :read: Urgent Care, Christopher began to cough.  And run intermittent fevers.  During which time he became attached to my hip, or breasts as the still-nursing case may be, and any separation to said appendages was cause for marathon meltdowns.  And the non-eating resumed.  A myriad of PTSD-like emotions, due to the coughing and intermittent fevers triggering memories of my own hellish journey, legitimate maternal worry, and battle fatigue set in.


The low-grade, ambient stress regarding my potential return to work gnawed at me as a big cloud of UNKNOWN loomed over me.  I can deal with a lot of things, but UNKNOWN is akin to Alice's Jabberwocky: a formidable foe that initially scares the muchness out of me.  Eventually, I can get to a point where I can slay the UNKNOWN as Alice totally made the Jabberwocky her b!t*#, but as of last week, I was still in the "Oh, hells no!" phase regarding defeating the UNKNOWN.  As such, it was kicking my booty.  Not to mention the fact that after I'd submitted my application, I got a response from a local non-profit re: a grant consulting proposal I'd sent them.  Their response was yes, they would like me to contract with them on an on-going basis.  So then I was torn between was that the right thing and I was abandoning that, testing God, in favor of the higher-paying, more family-time sacrificing job at the city?  Mother guilt X the UNKNOWN = WRECK


It was no surprise then, that I cried at the drop of a hat over E.V.E.R.Y thing.  Movies.  TV shows [that I'd already seen!].  Songs.  Intonation in my child's voice surely meant that I was a failure at everything.  And was so irritable with Seth that super stoopid things became grounds for verbal grudge matches.  


Not pretty, right?


Monday, I took Chris to the doctor.  Diagnosis: double ear infection and croup - not killer pneumonia as my paranoia had tried to persuade me.  Easily fixed with some time and medication.


Then, I called the HR department at the city, and anonymously inquired as to where they were in the hiring process for The Position.


"Oh, well, they've already interviewed and I think they've got a person in mind now.  Thanks for your interest."


My first instinct was self-defeating, that maybe-I-did-something-so-wrong-that-it-negated-all-the-previously-glowing-commentary-from-my-former-boss thing - serious self-doubt, ya know?  I mean, they didn't even call me for an interview!  That lasted for maybe 5 seconds though.


And then...


You asked Me for a roadblock if it wasn't where I wanted you right now.  You told me MY will and not yours, remember?


Ok, God.  I get that.  And yes, things DO happen for a reason, and so I will trust that.  In the meantime, could You shed some light on this for me?  Clarify just where we're going with this whole exercise?  I mean, uh, the money has to come from somewhere right?  And it's, uh, not there.  So, while we're on this whole 'you said' schtick, might I remind You that You said  You had 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,' so, don't forget that, mmm-kay?  Thanks.


Sidenote - I know that kind of prayer seems irreverent to some, and for you I will apologize.  My intent is not to offend - I just think that God wants my heart, my real heart and not some Pope-ish, rote acceptance of the things that don't quite seem fair or clear.  So we are real with each other like that.


Yesterday was good.

Today I went to a non-profit networking meeting and it felt good.  A peace that things would fall into place covered me.  A few people inquired about my consulting services and asked me to follow up with them.

Tonight I got a voice mail, informing me of a key opportunity with which to substantially expand my [from-home] grant-writing business.  All through church I kept feeling goosebumps.  That phone call that quieted that small, albeit powerful, voice of self-doubt I heard the other day.  When I followed up on it and spoke to the person who'd called me, I was buzzing with gratitude my Heavenly Father for the very real potential that lay before me.

In early December, I was about to give up on the consulting endeavor, as I hadn't managed to get many bites.

I'm reminded of a story in Luke Ch. 5:

One day as Jesus was preaching on the shore of the Sea of Galilee,^[a]great crowds pressed in on him to listen to the word of God. ² He noticed two empty boats at the water’s edge, for the fishermen had left them and were washing their nets. ³ Stepping into one of the boats, Jesus asked Simon,^[b]its owner, to push it out into the water. So he sat in the boat and taught the crowds from there. 

 ⁴ When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Now, go out where it is deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish.”

 ⁵ “Master,” Simon replied, “we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But, if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.”

⁶ And this time their nets were so full of fish they began to tear! ⁷ A shout for help brought their partners in the other boat, and soon both boats were filled with fish and on the verge of sinking.

 ⁸ When Simon Peter realized what had happened, he fell to his knees before Jesus and said, “Oh, Lord, please leave me—I’m too much of a sinner to be around you.” ⁹ For he was awestruck by the number of fish they had caught, as were the others with him. ¹⁰His partners, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were also amazed.

Jesus replied to Simon, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” ¹¹ And as soon as they landed, they left everything and followed Jesus.

This year is going to be a deep-water year, I have a feeling.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I Didn't Wanna Do It

I'm not much for the so called genre known as Chick Lit, nor do I find myself drawn towards the books Oprah has endorsed as worthy for her club.

As such, Eat Pray Love held no real appeal to me, with the whole premise of glob-trotting to find oneself being completely irrelevant (and impractical) to my life - I didn't feel a connection would be made.  And I didn't see that it fit in with my values, seeing as its plot hinges upon the dissolution of a marriage - apparently for little compelling reason, other than the oft-cited, self-indulgent "I fell out of love."  That whole vein of thinking is a selfish cop-out to me, being that I've fallen out of love with my own husband about as many times as I've fallen in love with him over the years, and where would we be if I'd been so selfish to call it quits on those grounds alone?

Lately, I've been in a funk though, and found myself craving something inspirational, if not just a couple hours of thought-provocation.  So I added Eat Pray Love, the movie, to my Netflix queue.

And promptly fell in love with it.  So much so, that I now want to read the book.

Oh, Julia Roberts' character, Elizabeth Gilbert, struck me as selfish alright - but lately, I have seen myself in that light, too.  It was nice to be able to project my frustrations with myself onto someone else for a couple hours for a change.

Some of the more new age-y concepts of God didn't align with mine - particularly that of God dwelling within you...as you.  Theological tangent in 3..2..1: I agree that God dwells within those who choose Him and commit to Him, that's called the Holy Spirit - and I even agree with Gilbert's assertion (below) inasmuch that God lives in any of us, despite our tempers, our ambitions, emotions, etc., but God does not conform to us by living in us, as us, nor does He conform us all into the same type of Stepford-like person.  Instead He transforms us into beings that are closer to Him and His will, as he takes up residence in our diverse, as He intentionally created them to be, souls and personalities.

God's not interested in watching a performance of how a 'spiritual' person looks and behaves. The quiet girl who glides silently through the place with a gentle, ethereal smile...who is that person? It's Ingrid Bergman in "The Bells of St. Mary's" – not me.

That does ring true...I certainly don't think that Mary Magdalene and a bunch of ignorant fishers, some with tempers, were the quiet, spiritual types with ethereal smiles, speaking "Peace be with you," to passersby - and yet, these are the types among whom Jesus chose to dwell.  God wanted them, and He wants me, as me, and you too.

So, overall?  I found some nuggets of wisdom and inspiration that I'm that surprisingly resonated with me.

A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It's called the Augusteum. Octavian Augustus built it to house his remains. When the barbarians came they trashed it a long with everything else. The great Augustus, Rome's first true great emperor. How could he have imagined that Rome, the whole world as far as he was concerned, would be in ruins. It's one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome. The city has grown up around it over the centuries. It feels like a precious wound, a heartbreak you won't let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we're afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked at around to this place, at the chaos it has endured - the way it has been adapted, burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured, maybe my life hasn't been so chaotic, it's just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.

This made me think of the whole beauty for ashes passage in Scripture, and comforted me, particularly the thought about getting too attached to the events of life.

The largest nugget, though, would be the Quest Physics conclusion, emphasis mine:

In the end, I've come to believe in something I call "The Physics of the Quest." A force in nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity. The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you. 

Again, as a Christian, I see this through a bit of a different, albeit complimentary, lens.  Mainly, I feel  the Truth Gilbert speaks of is none other than Jesus, but all the same I see a parallel in this quest physics theorem with the whole spiel that He gave about us denying ourselves, taking up our crosses and following Him.  In doing such, I believe that one of the biggest crosses we have to bear is that of the blinds we wear regarding our innermost workings – that unless we look long and hard at ourselves and take an honest inventory and repent of those things counter to what God has in mind for us, unless we take up that cross, all the other ones we may carry, our jobs, roles and relationships, etc., are in vain.  It’s kind of like in The Power of a Praying Wife, when Stormie Omartian realizes that the ‘Father, change him’ prayer is far less important than that of ‘Father, change me.’  But, it’s not all blame and shame for the self – as Gilbert states, once we see the difficult realities about ourselves, we.  must.  move.  ON!  lest we simply want to pick that sucker [cross] up and just stand there with it.  We gotta follow the Leader, and to do so, we have to want to be different and follow the trail He’s blazing, not the one we’ve trod on forever, comfortably.

For myself, I’ve been in limbo lately re: the whole working versus staying at home conundrum as a result of the recent job opportunity.  [should hear something late next week or early the following week]. 

On the one hand, I’ve seen some things flourish in the time that I’ve been at home that I’m afraid to let go of, should I get the go-ahead from God (right now our prayer is – God, we *think* this was a sign from you, but if it is not, please prohibit it from happening – if it is, let there be incredible peace and green lights all the way).  Like Elizabeth Gilbert’s quest for balance, I desperately sought to improve my family dynamics when I embarked on this journey.  But, also like Gilbert, in doing so I eradicated anything in my life that I thought would distract me from my quest.  I quit volunteering in the non-profit community; I turned down opportunities to speak and participate in homeless programming panels under the guise of not having childcare and/or still needing to recover from my illness; I’ve flaked on countless friends and family and insulated myself to where I’ve focused all my energies into my family.  As Gilbert became the woman who couldn't possibly risk her newfound self by loving a man, I’ve become that martyr-like woman who’s made her family her idol and dares not risk her newfound sense of family by pursuing interests that feed her essence, that person God created her to be.  A mother is never “just” a mother – she is a child of God with her own unique gifts, talents and purpose, many of which will [and should] benefit her family, but need not be exclusive to that.

Whether I get the job or not, I want to find some kind of balance again.  One where my husband and I make time for each other alone, beyond the bedroom.  Where I can volunteer some time and give back.  Where I feel as if I am answering the call to be a light in my community, not just my own home; however, not forsaking my own family in doing so.  I want to feel secure again, to not feel the tightening of the walls each time my phone rings, dreading whichever creditor it may be.  I want to write again – creatively and frankly – and yet, I’ve looked back and seen that my most prolific writing periods were those in which I had to balance many things. 

All this inspired by a movie based on a book I thought I’d hate.  


Amazing what happens when one opens her mind, eh?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Changing of the Season?

Two and a half years ago, Seth and I set out on a faith journey.

This journey involved bringing another child into our family, and me leaving my career to be a full-time SAHM.  We crunched numbers based on Seth's current take-home pay, health-care coverage expenses, cost-savings from no childcare, etc.  It was going to be tight, but doable.  Ideally, the plan was for me to continue my MPA program very part-time, to keep student loans at bay, and finish around the time Christopher would start school so that I could go back to work.  Kelsey would be old enough to spend time with them after school until I got home, would I be working FT.

But that's where things have fallen short.

Seth's annual income has decreased by about $10k from our 2008 projections due to a harsh economy.  And then I tried to die, sans insurance.  That was NOT CHEAP - although, please let it be known that I'm quite glad to be ALIVE and well!  So, yeah, there've been some wrenches thrown our way.  Each month, our finances have gotten progressively worse, despite some serious downsizing of our lifestyle, to the point of having to decide what to pay [late], what not to pay, and what to catch-up on.

We've been praying for quite some time that God would show us what to do.  I've thought about getting a night/weekend job, to avoid incurring child-care costs, but Seth has not liked that option as it would strain our marriage, and he already works a hard, manual 50+ hours/week.  I've tried to garner some free-lance work, and only just recently have landed anything substantial, and yet still not at all steadily coming in.

And then, two weeks ago, I was praying about this very issue as Seth's body is wearing from his work - he'd had high blood pressure at Thanksgiving, some neck pain and extreme fatigue that disheartened me and left me with visions of him working himself to death -  when I received an e-mail.  It was from my old boss at the city.  She was announcing her departure from the city as she had landed an opportunity of a lifetime with the United Way.

Thus, her position, for which I was the assistant for 4.5 years and have very first-hand knowledge regarding, was open.

Could it be?  An answer from God?  Or an illusory trapping laid out by the enemy in which I could become self-important and lose priority again?  Hmmmm.....dilemma.

I've had many mixed emotions about this position, and as a result have done a ton of soul-searching, investigations re: hidden costs (both material/physical and spiritual/emotional), and had many a heart to heart with my husband.  I've cried at the thoughts of the confusion my little boy might feel when Mama leaves him all day every day all of a sudden.  And I've thought that if I have to work, and it sure appears it's going to be that way, that it might as well be something that I love doing, which I did.

Ultimately, we've decided, together, that I should apply for it, with the prayer being if this is not God's will, that He put up an undeniable road block in this path.  It is an unbelievable opportunity, one that may not come about for a very long time, and is in keeping with my professional goals/abilities.

Yesterday, I submitted my application.  With glowing references and a letter of recommendation.  Now we wait, as the hiring supervisor is out of the country until after the first of the year.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

On Owning Some of What [and Who] I Am

Headless Mom recently shared a blog post of Jodifur's on facebook.

And I am so glad that she did, because it was one of those resonating gems of the blogosphere, a post in which you read and find yourself saying, "I am so totally there, too!"  Well, maybe without the 'so totally," anyway.  And maybe just for me, anyway... This is a hint to just click over and read it, lest you be reading my thoughts without full contextual insight.

I don't know Jodi, but I relate to the whole undermining of one's self - be it in the realm of my hobbies, abilities, appearance, etc., I have the tendency to speak in 'I'm really nots' and dismissive notes of how old something I'm wearing might be.

But no more.

Inspired by Jodi's closing statement that she IS a runner - I'm going to write up a list of things I am, and own them free and clear of the debts brought on by insecurity.  That sounds a heck of a lot better than I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggonit, people like me, doesn't it?

I'm a sinner.  Saved by the blood of Jesus Christ, from whom I draw my hope for the future, but still a sinner who still makes the same stupid mistakes everyday.  I wish that I knew God better - and love the song below so, so, SO much because Jennifer Knapp does such a great job at capturing my heart - but the beauty is that there is always room to grow.


I'm a wife and mother to some pretty terrific people.  Which makes me pretty blessed overall, even on the tough days.  Someone PLEASE remind me of this on Sunday/Monday as Seth is taking 3 days off from Casa del Meyer to go archery hunting and I may just be going a little crazy by then.

I, too, am a runner.  I have a running mix on my ipod, see the same fellow runners on my route every other day (because I have a route and a time that I stick to, like other runners do), read running articles, have run a 5k, 10k, and now am training for a half-marathon.  I mean, what's it take, a full marathon to make someone a runner?  Enough hem-hawing about it, Heather!  You're a runner!

I am a writer.  No longer will I hesitate to say this.  I am now writing professionally, even if it is not the Great American Novel and is just grants and technical writing for now, it is beyond a personal blog.  However, should I ever revert back to just writing a blog, I will still realize that I'm a writer, regardless of brand or label.  I create with my words and always will.

And because it is so important to me....I am a red-head!  The shade may be mellowing due to hormones or the seasonal light change or whatever inexplicable phenomenon you to which you wish to ascribe this occurrence, but I paid my dues as a red-headed child and I am still a red-head!  Don't make me get the bottle.....

I am pretty.  That one is so hard to write, because I struggle to see it.  Always have, even when I was younger though I now can clearly see the beauty I had then.  It also seems kind of an arrogant thing to say - which I'm not quite sure how it got construed that way, I mean we [women that is, I've met men who have no issue with this, even when, maybe they, uh, should have] have no problem identifying ourselves as smart, but pretty?  Maybe because smart is measurable and beauty is in the eye[s] of the beholder and therefore it requires a certain assumption on a woman's part to say that she is pretty?  Anyway...I'm starting to catch glimpses of my outer beauty again.  Long-term weight loss tends to blur the mirror in this regard.  As of today, I've lost 53 lbs since Christopher was born.  40 of those pounds were baby weight and fell off relatively quickly (I think in 7 mos?).  The last 13 have been a b#$!h to shed.  But they're gone.  I have about 13 more to lose to get to my 'realistic goal' weight - the weight I was and maintained for 2 years while Colton was a toddler.  My 'crazy weight loss' goal is 10 more past that weight, as my doctor told me that was where I should be ideally.  If it is life consuming to get to that weight and maintain it, it's a no-go and the doctor can suck it.  As it is, I bought an Ann Taylor dress at a thrift store in May, a 'motivation dress' if you will, with the goal of wearing it by Labor Day.  I fit into it today!  I'll probably need to wear a shaper with it, as it is a sheath style dress and hugs my tum a bit more than I'm comfortable with at this point, but there's no more arm chub at the gathers.

I'm coming into my own, gaining new confidences everyday.  The 30s are by far the greatest decade yet.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Out of Context

Every year the night before school is an open house/ice cream social where the kids and parents can meet the teachers, unload the backhoes of school supplies, and snarf down a little frozen dairy goodness before the chaos is unleashed.

It's fun to see the kids' excitement as they find their friends and catch up on who's in whose class, what they did over the summer and details such as how exactly they broke their arm.

Seth hardly ever gets to go since it coincides with his last hour of work, so Tuesday night he was trying to get the 411 from the kids at the dinner table (which ended up to be a very late supper that night).

"Didja get the teacher you wanted, Kels?"

"Not really...." she paused.  Then very emphatically, she said, "I just wish she had some balls!"

It made me snort a little, the look on Seth's face.

"Well, ok, then?  Is she that much of a pushover?"  He asked, clearly on a different page than the one Kelsey and I were on.

"What?!?" she asked in the rare, but occasional 'dumb-blonde' tone of but I don't get it.

He went on to explain what a pushover was and she was still blank.

"But, Dad-deeeee, I know what a pushover is - I just don't get why you'd say that because she doesn't have balls, though."

I could have intervened, but the humor of it all was cracking me up.

Suddenly, it dawned on my daughter that she and her dad had entirely different pictures in their minds, thus she said, exasperated, "Dad!!!!!  I meant exercise balls - you know, to sit on??  Instead of a chair?!!  The other 4th grade teachers have balls but mine doesn't and it's not really fair because that would help* me."

* it's a sensory thing.

And then all that humor tension climaxed into a fit of laughter at our table.

******
Completely unrelated, save for the out of context theme....

I've been curling my hair for a little something different lately - contemplating a body perm, but that just wigs me out (pun intended - me so cheesey) and makes me think of the aforementioned fashion crimes of the 80s.

The other day I was curling my hair before church and Christopher was walking around the bathroom.  He was babbling and messing with his hair when I realized that he too was 'curling' his hair.  With a wrapped (read: unused and perfectly sterile) tampon!

Oh dear, that one had me laughing for awhile too..
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

The One Where I Relate to AC/DC

You know...as in, one of two heavy metal bands proclaimed by the t-shirts of the two poorly animated, infamous-for-their-utter-lack-of-conventional-values characters of the 90's known as Beavis and Butt-head.

Yeah....the 80's have their fashion crimes of which to be ashamed.  The 90's?  We had Beavis and Butt-head and the dumbing down of humor to fart jokes for an entire generation.  *sigh*

Anyway....so, I do this thing where I associate moods, happenings, etc. with music, quotes, TV and all other things pop culture, right?

Today it was AC/DC's Back in Black playing in my little mental concert for one.  Because I am one Klassy Babe when it comes to my musical repertoire - thanks to one former step-father who never could break free of the hold of 80's metal bands, and Blondie as well come to think on it, had on him and that he saw to it that we, too, were appropriately indoctrinated uh, educated re: their cultural significance; usually such education occurred while he was drunk.  Fun times.


Why, you ask, did you have Back in Black playing in your head today, Heather?

Because quite simply,

...
I've been too long I'm glad to be back
Yes I'm, let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging about
... 

I'm coming back.  In ways that have been dormant for a good long time, I'm seeing glimpses of who I am and who God's teaching me to be along the way.

Kelsey and Colton started back to school Wednesday, and Heaven smiled down on me.  Writing that makes me feel like a bad mother, a bit.  Because I chose to be a SAHM in order to be more present with my kids and yet come July each year, I can't wait to be away from them for 40 hours a week.  Ok, so maybe that last part is hyperbole, but not by a huge amount.  To be fair, the kids were equally happy to leave me behind every day :)  I have been able to be productive and get my house in respectable shape again, there is a return of that blissfully quiet period, 2x/day!, known as NAPTIME, and routine, how I love thee.  School is good.

Colton was totally stoked that the new gym teacher (whom I foresee to be the object of many young girls' affections due to his youth and looks) was wearing the same Marvel comics t-shirt as he was.  2nd and 4th grades this year.

New School Shoes

While not going to school, little Chris was part of the obligatory 1st day photos.

Bus!!

I re-start my MPA studies, from which I took hiatus in 2008 and 2009.  I will only be taking one class this semester, but I'm excited.  I do keep cracking jokes about the class, as it is Leadership and Professional Ethics - joke being that there's a difference between personal ethics and professional ones?  Syllabus looks good and challenging, but not overly so.  Feels do-able.

As of today, we are caught up on our mortgage and all of our household bills - which is a place we haven't been since last November.  Medical stuff is still hanging out, but we've cut some serious fat out of our budget, finally saying goodbye to Directv, and hello to Hulu, Netflix, and a digital antenna, slashing our grocery bill with sites like CouponMom.com and GroceryGame.com, riding our bikes more than driving the vehicles, etc.  And, now that things are calmer at home, I'm really doing the free-lancing thing!  I got my first client this week - a local NPO seeking funding and yet lacking a grant writer.  Then, tonight I received an e-mail from a legitimate business in Denver asking me for my resume and references as they had a client in need of a funding researcher/grant writer. So, between the cutting of expenses and addition of some income, those medical debts are going bye-bye - no doubt about it.

A newer friend from church remarked how I was going to be superwoman this fall with 3 kids, going back to school, running high mileage, and starting a business.  Certainly, I'm not super woman, but for those of you who've known me since this blog's inception (or before) y'all know I like the busy, like the real busy and not the busy work.  I once worked FT, was in grad school, regularly volunteered in both the older kids' classrooms, took Kelsey to weekly OT appointments, cooked from scratch, etc. and did it fairly well.  Some situational things popped up occasionally, namely marital during that time period, that got me down.  And then I needed a break, so I slowed down and tried to follow God a little more closely.

The past 2 years have been huge in the growth department.  The latter part of 2008 being a preparatory season, 2009 being a sort of demolition/rebuilding year, and thus far 2010 has been further rebuilding with an unveiling starting to take shape.

I feel as if, structurally speaking, I have the same foundation, as in, I'm still the same stubborn, feisty, big-word loving kind of gal I've always been.  True, some parts of me have gotten those sort of whimsical face lifting reminiscent of HGTV's lower budget programs, such as the coupon clipping, cloth diapering, home-growing features that are new but not foreign to me.  But other parts of me have been completely gutted, refashioned, and repurposed...My kids are bearing the brunt of my stubbornness being channeled into my parenting.

So, Angus sings it for me in my mind...."I'm back.  In black".  Though usually not all black clothing, I can generally be found wearing black flip-flops on any given day.  
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Brought to you with a large serving of "air quotes"

The following is what my goofy little mind came up with when my brain crossed reading a Facebook friend's status about having Christmas carols stuck in his head (in August, the blasphemy!) with the joys of parenting at summer's end.  It is my [poor] attempt at parody, and in Weird Al fashion, I have a mental music video that goes along with it - primarily frazzled moms air quoting each 'wonderful' in the song, in lieu of jazz hands.

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
With the kids always yelling
And every mom telling you "It’s that time of year" 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 
It's the hap-happiest season of all
With those back-to-school greetings and PTA meetings 
When Busy comes to call 
It's the hap- happiest season of all 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
When the School Bus draws near!!!!!

In all seriousness, summer's been fun, but I'm ready for a little daily distance to make my heart fonder of the two older ones.  The whining and the sibling rivalry-esque competitions are wearing me down!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Pushing My Limits

Today marks the end of my summer hiatus from blogging.

My break was much needed, July nearly sent me to the loony bin, and just reaffirmed what I already knew: I REALLY need my laptop back, erm, to write.  :-D Often.  And with purpose.  More on that later.

In the meantime, I began to acquire a case of runner's doldrums mid-July.  Oh, I still went, and regularly enough, but that carrot of a yet-to-be-accomplished goal was lacking ever since my feet crossed that strip in Folsom Field.  Without a concrete goal, and the very-vague-yet-unconstrained-by-culturally-dictated-shapes-or-sizes aim of being a 'fit mama,' while noble, is sort of like telling a toddler to 'be nice' when really they need to quit biting every damned person they feel like, I just didn't have enough to inspire the runs for which my legs began to yearn.

I mean, have you met me?  Girl likes a challenge, and by challenge I mean, 'those feats which redefine impossible.' Pretty much anyway.  Oh and btw a perfect theme song for this is Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten, since we are being all literary and redefining and all that....or, it is just a great dose of positivity.  You're welcome!

Anyway....so I had some chats with God about this - as some of you may know my whole running journey began as a desire for me to reflect the healing and other works He has done/is doing in my life - and asked Him, "What's next?  Because this is great and all, but it's not as dramatic as what you've done for me.  How can I even begin to show them?  I mean, without going all divine being and walking on water like Jesus, ya know"

So on the fateful day of July 14th I found myself at the grocery checkout staring down the cover of the August Runner's World.  The chick on the cover had enviable tone, for sure, but my gaze locked in on the words just to the left of her middle:  BREAK 2 HOURS (or any time goal).  Ok, so my Boulder (10k/6.2mile) time was 1:16 and change, which broke down to a 12:17/mile average pace.  And a sub-2 hour marathon (21k/13.1miles) equates to roughly a 9:09/mile pace.

So there I was looking at the [im]possibility of doing more than double the distance in less than twice the allotted time?!?!  Sold!

I started my training on the 17th and have been sticking to it.  I'm not quite at the performance demanded by the training guidelines - i.e. I did week 1 twice since my first attempt at an 8 mile run was only slightly more than two-thirds successful, I have not quite made the 'easy,' 10:30 pace over distance my own yet (oh, but I will...I did a 10:31 pace last Tuesday, SOCLOSE!!!!), nor would I call it an 'easy' pace for me at this time.  But I am getting there.  So far I have pushed myself beyond what I thought I could with:

• my first time ever experiencing exercise-induced vomiting (during which all I could do was envision Biggest Loser montages)
• an 8:00 mile!!
• completing 8 miles, period, let alone at an 11:56 pace!!!

I don't have a half-marathon picked out/registered for yet, but there is a local on in November that I'm starting to see myself doing.

Turns out, I need direction in order to channel my energy.  Put another way, I need to be told what to do.  Heh, who'da thunk on that one, eh?

And, side bennie of running like a beast - my legs are starting to shape up (finally - I mean you'd think they'd have gotten the memo that we've been working HARD for OVER A YEAR by now!) and this 'fit mama' is starting to look the part as well as feel it!
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

[Sticky] Bullets

My li'l Punkinhead received a handy little Nerf dart gun for turning 7, two weeks ago :gasp!: and I've YET to write him a birthday post - the HORROR!!! -  and he has been thoroughly entertained with aiming his darts, with velcro on them so they stick to clothing, at people, particularly on their bums.

Needless to say they stick quite well to my mesh running shorts du jour, thus I've been dodging sticky bullets all day.

But I miss writing, and have a TON of things to say but no time - what happened to all of the time?  It is mid-summer and I feel like it just started, like if I blink or sneeze it is going to be October and PTA.  So bullets will have to suffice for now.

• Middle summer is a parenting plateau that pretty much sucks.  Regardless of any form of routine a mother would try to entertain, the fact that it is daylight until 9 makes it unreasonably difficult to keep peace, as it is an insurmountable feat to get Kelsey and Colton into bed before 10, due to said elongation of days.  The resulting crank factor - because a certain girl child just doesn't sleep in, even if her body desperately needs it - and accompanying triggers for a sensory meltdown, which lead to sibling blowouts and me playing referee rather than cook, maid, etc., pretty much make it impossible to accomplish the mundane and familiar, let alone the grandiose plans for us to capitalize on all the cultural/educational activities we can.
• I'm returning to my MPA studies next month...I'm somewhat leery of it as I still often feel as if my mind is somewhere floating in the clouds.  But, I need to finish it - and when I do I'll [hopefully] have some more earning potential.
• I've suddenly been seeing people and things in a comparative, albeit decidedly distorted, manner - and am not quite sure how to refrain from this trap.  E.g. all of a sudden, every woman at the supermarket is prettier, better dressed, thinner, better coifed, etc. than I may be at that given moment.  Or other people's homes are so much neater, well-decorated, bigger, etc. than my own.  Other kids are so much more respectful to their parents than ours have been with us of late, and so on down the road.  I know that this lens is quite simply, the wrong prescription through which to view life, but I feel stuck with it right now and am working on feeling content and competent with my life again.  Or should that say still?
• Kelsey's going away to church camp on Sunday and we're all a bit apprehensive about that, given the above reference to an increase in meltdowns of late.
• This funk I'm in has a bit to do with seeing the work I had the opportunity to be intimately involved with, but had to decline due to Li'l C's arrival time and the project start date being fairly simultaneous, take off.  It's a torturous game of coulda, woulda, shoulda and I need to quit playing, but I'm stuck.  And wonder of wonders, it happens to be occurring when Li'l C is at the age the others were when I started to work more out of the home - what does that say about me as a mother?  That I love babies but am ready to hand them off as toddlers for someone else to deal with?  Oh, it's more complicated than that for sure, and so there's a funk.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

In the still of a waning gibbous night

Written last Tuesday/Wednesday, the waning gibbous reference is not me trying to be all Lewis Carroll with language befitting the Jabberwocky but rather points to the phase the moon was in that night.

My soul was restless today.

As a thought would enter my mind, another would pop out, begging a desperate, "Look at me!" plea reminiscent of that from multiple siblings competing for mother's attention.  "No, look at ME!"  All.  Day.  Long.

Focus and clarity proved elusive despite being much sought after.

Until tonight.

After running errands, we came home and put the kids to bed*, put a movie in and settled in for the night.  It wasn't long into the movie that Seth nodded off, only to wake and trudge upstairs shortly after.  I finished the movie, feeling a wakefulness creep into my mind, and while I enjoyed the story, the soundtrack and the scenery of the film are what really struck my heart.

The quiet of the house sat with me pleasantly after a chaotic, if only mentally so, day.

I needed to get the dogs and let them in, so I went outside, where my soul sang for the night sky before me exuded that clarity for which I'd been so desperately seeking.

Inky and dark the expanse glittered with stars who had no need to compete with the opacity of any clouds - for there were none.  Though the clock read 11:40, the moon was just venturing a stretch off the easterly horizon.  Though emptied some of her recent fullness, she still retained all of the luster present during her peak.  She continued to rise, radiantly and proud as I just marveled on my patio at the ministrations my Heavenly Father was orchestrating to my soul.

 O LORD, our Lord,
       how majestic is your name in all the earth!
       You have set your glory
       above the heavens. ² From the lips of children and infants
       you have ordained praise ^[b]
       because of your enemies,
       to silence the foe and the avenger.
 ³ When I consider your heavens,
       the work of your fingers,
       the moon and the stars,
       which you have set in place,
 ⁴ what is man that you are mindful of him,
       the son of man that you care for him?

* Right about now my reveries were interrupted by hearing Seth and Kelsey squabbling above in my bedroom.  I went and snatched my daughter, who matched my insomnia and later rose me with 3 additional wakeful nights that week, and we shared the evening in silence on the patio.  She drew as I wrote this post the old fashioned way, with pen and pad.

Thoughts from a recent sermon returned to me...

As beautiful and bright as the moon appears to be, in and of itself it is not actually a luminary.  Merely rock and dust, it glows in our night skies because it was made such that it reflects the light of the sun, the true light and center of our universe.  I'm certain that our Creator fully intended the moon to be a light in a darkened world, and yet He deigned it to forever be dependent on another being to display light, unable to generate light of its own.

Humankind is no different.  Made originally of dust, sometimes with hearts as hardened as rock, we cannot generate our own light, yet our sole purpose is to reflect the light of the Son.

Pure.  Simple.  Clarity.

You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.

Would that we could always have a blank sky to twinkle on, but just like in the night sky, there are often clouds.  They all pass, in life and in the sky.  Sometimes they remain awhile, producing rain - vital to growth and life.  Other times these clouds merely drift aimlessly, shifting shapes, eventually blowing over.  Some follow a seasonal pattern and return year after year like the Santa Ana's.  Still others collide and cause friction, producing sizable storms; storms that sneak upon us and others that are easily predicted.  But, through all of the distractions that clouds bring to the night sky, one thing remains constant whether we can see it or not: the moon always reflects the light of the sun.

Unlike us, the moon doesn't have a choice to reflect the sun.

May I always be willing to reflect the Light of the world - come what may.