Hoss, Lil' Red, Itchy, Spicy... Lyd

I can remember my sister coming home from the hospital. Some people think that it's crazy that I can remember being three years old, but I do. I hated her from the beginning. Hate is a strong word. I should rephrase, I was very leery of her presence. And so the saga begins.

She's 25 now. And I can honestly say, she's one of my best friends. She is, without apology, a royal pain in the arse sometimes. And it's all I can do not to wring that skinny little neck of hers. Other times, she's great. It hasn't been long that I've had such rosy feelings for her. We are very different people. So different, that if we didn't share some of the same physical characteristics, I would doubt that we are truly sisters. But since I know it to be a fact, I should embrace it, right? No, not so much.

My girls changed a lot of things. When people say to a happy couple, just beginning to feel the excitement of parenthood, "your life will never be the same." It is very rare that this blissful couple truly grasps the gravity of that phrase. I know I didn't. My girls changed my relationship with my sister. And every day that relationship gets better.

Growing up with Lydia was difficult. She was a brat, a tattle-tale, a faker and a spoil sport. She made me want to pummel her, in fact I'm sure I did a few times. We went to high school together. She was a freshmen, I a senior. I drove a Bronco that had a problem keeping that back tire latch closed. At red lights I would make her get out and close it. I thought it was hilarious, she thought it was torture. We did have some good times growing up. Largely though, my parents were much easier on her than they were to me. I had to work harder for my grades. I was never as kind or as delicate as they thought her to be. She was fragile, they would say. Even my friends could see it. And of course my parents deny it even to this day. Lydia denies it too. She thought the exact opposite. She did everything they wanted her to do and they rewarded her for her good decisions. I don't think Lydia was wrong for this. But it would've made me insane to walk such a line. Now, my parents weren't awful. We as a family had our share of struggles. And children never really do understand everything that their parents are trying to do for them. But Lydia and I were as different as night and day.

The same Lydia that yelled at me the whole time I drove us anywhere (school alone was a 35 minute drive one way) was also the Lydia that joined me in stripping down to our bras once the school was out of sight. It was hot and the Bronco had no air conditioning. And to be honest, those little things made me love her more. The same Lydia that complains about how stressed she is and how tired she is, is the same Lydia that always asks how my day is going. The same Lydia that never seemed to care what I thought, is the same Lydia that gave me a ton of creative control in her wedding plans. The same Lydia that frustrates me to no end, is the same Lydia I call first for a good talk.

When I got pregnant, I called my sister and told her before I told my parents. She was there when the girls were born. She was there for Remle's first birthday and Christmas and Easter egg hunt. I'm sure she will be there for as many firsts for Daily too. She has called me practically every day since Remle's birth. Especially now that I'm a stay at home mom.

Watching her with my girls is like magic. She tires of them easily. I laugh wondering how she will ever survive motherhood. I always give her a hard time, saying I'm genuinely concerned if she can handle her own offspring. But I know that my girls could not have asked for a better aunt. The moment she enters the room, they light up. To them she is perfect in every way.

I can't wait till she has a little one of her own. So that I can spoil that baby the same way she does mine.

I laugh when I think of the day she stayed with me in the hospital after Remle was born. I had a c-section and really wanted to rest. Remle was asleep in Lydia's arms because if Lydia was there, I did not get to hold my baby. I would try to breastfeed and Lydia would be kissing the top of Remle's head. Lydia was stuck to that baby like she was the new mother. I watched her in awe, seeing a new side of my sister. I got up out of the hospital bed, made a comment about having a nap, and made my way to the bathroom. When I opened the door to leave the bathroom, there she was. She was in my hospital bed, covered up in my blankets, head on my pillows, holding my 2 day old baby girl. Both were asleep. I felt a tug, understanding that God had just given me a glimpse of what changes were in store for me. He gave me a beautiful baby and a new relationship with my sister.

There are times that being with her is heaven. And there are times when I can't think of any criminal that deserves to be in her company, she would make them suffer so. But I am so grateful that my girls have her. I am grateful that my girls will get to see how wonderful it is to be someones sister. Even when you thought that was the last thing you wanted. Even when you thought you hated her.

I love you, Lyd.

Our work is God's work

In a very recent conversation with a dear friend, I was told I was a great mom. This of course being said after careful observation on the friend's part. And I kind of shrugged as to say "I guess so."

Reflectively I ask myself why it is so difficult at times to admit that what I am doing with my life is a great accomplishment. I love my children. I love my job. But as previous posts prove, I also wonder quite often if this is what I was meant for.

In my devotional this morning, I was directed to believe that whatever it is that we do, is God's work. That driving a truck, delivering the mail or working at a bank is God's work. My job that I left to be a full time mom was mostly about serving others. I do despartely miss that profession. I seem to be born with a need to see others happy. To resolve a problem and send people on thier way, feeling a bit better about the world. And why now, do I not always feel that my life has real purpose, I do not know. It is a daily struggle. This human affliction of needing to have a feeling of selfworth can be quite destructive.

So I have decided to let my work be not only for my children and family, but foremost for God. I will not be perfect. I have never been. I know there are others that will be better at this than I am. But if I mop the floor, change a dirty diaper, make grilled cheese sandwiches, read the same book for the millionth time and sing lullabies for the glory of our Lord, then it will change the way I feel about my profession. Will I always be so positive? Absolutely not. Will this make tasks that seem so mundane easier? Probably not at first.

In another conversation with the same friend, we spoke of worship and what it means to us. How everyone has a different opinion of how it should take place. The specifics and little details that really in the end are not that important. And the result of this debate on both sides is that we worship God in everything we do. That our lives should be in constant worship. I of course already knew this, as did my friend. Yet sometimes, most times, I need to be reminded.

I am grateful and humbled by everything the Lord has done for me. I have these girls to show me how wonderful He is. Every moment is a blessing. And while I do not get much reflective time, I do make time for a morning devotional. And this one today, put me in my place. Thankfully, we have a God that loves us enough to know that sometimes what we truly need is a swift kick in the pants to get us back on track.

I challenge you to do each task in your life for God's glory. I can safely say that you will have a change in attitude. And everyone needs a change every now and then.

I was just reminded

I haven't posted anything new because life has been out of control busy. I started the blog before we left for a family vacation to my husband's hometown in Canada. When we made it home from Canada, we visited my sister in Auburn, AL. So you see, I've had literally, no time. But why start a blog if I don't have time for it? Well one of my favorite things to say is "You'll never have time, you have to make time." So here I am, making time.

I have a dear friend who is trying to have a baby. Well, who doesn't have a friend who's trying to have a baby? If you're even remotely friendly with me, then at one time not so long ago, I was that friend to you. Desperately trying and each month I was devastated. Then along came, Remle and life just changed. Changed isn't even the word for it. To be honest a part of me wants to shake this friend and yell "Don't do it!" And yet I know that's crazy. I mean it sounds like I regret having children. That I don't appreciate the gifts that God gave me and that I don't see what a miracle giving birth is. Believe me, I do. I see it, feel it, live it, every day. But the truth is, motherhood (notice I didn't say parenting, cause that's very different) will change you forever. This friend of mine has everything right now. Great job, great spouse, great house, great car, wonderful body. I can't believe she'd want to screw it all up. Now if you are just some random person reading my blog, then you are not qualified to yell at me. You don't know me, you can't hear my voice inside your head while reading this. You don't know how much I have given up to raise these two grub snatchers. You don't know, so piss off. For the rest of you that do know me, you know I'm torn. I had this life, not perfect..who's is? But it was good for me. I went out when I wanted. I spent money on what I wanted. I socialized with who I wanted. When you have a kid and you're trying to do right by that kid, things change.

Everyday I wake up and think that I should be doing something different. My husband always asks me if I'm working on the book that I have been working on for 10 years now. And my answer is always "there's no time" I know, I know, see previous statement about making some. But truth be told, when you have a kid or multiple kids, things get put on the back burner. In some cases, the pot gets washed and put in the cabinet. And it's possible you'll never see that pot again. I had dreams. Big dreams.

Now part of these dreams going down the drain is my own damn fault. Dropping out of college and marrying way too young are my fault. But you live you learn and some of those mistakes have made me who I am. And I am better for it. I promise. But some are dreams that needed cultivating and time. And one of those was having babies and being a stay at home mom. Did I plan for my life as a stay at home mom to be this way? No, absolutely not. I thought I would be this crafty woman who had a squeaky clean house and brilliant children. Now mind you I am crafty and my children are brilliant, but my house is never clean. In fact it is very close to being a health code violation. Any minute the CDC could bust up in here and it would all be over.

And every morning I desperately wish I had my full time job back and my children were in daycare. That sounds crazy because every day I went to work at my full time job and took Remle to daycare, I cried and I hated it and wished exactly the opposite. I am so fickle.

I do really want to write a book. I think that I would be good at it. I have great ideas and everyone I share them with, thinks they're great too. I would love to be in a Broadway show. That will probably not happen. But I can dream. That statement was mostly for people who are always asking "Why did you never do anything with your voice?" If you know me and didn't know I can sing, I really can't, please don't ask me. Unless of course it's your wedding or funeral. I make exceptions for that. I'm too old for American Idol anyway.

So getting back to this friend. You know who you are. I am your biggest cheerleader for whatever you want to do. I have always been and always will be. (I hope you haven't been trying to get rid of me.) I know I don't always say the right thing. I know I don't always give motherhood the best face. But I just want you to know how different life will be. You will love it and hate it. No harm in the truth. I know you'll be great at it. You're great at everything. Your offspring will be amazing. I just want you to know that if you ever really do feel like it's not what you expected, or you are in way over your head, call me. I will not say "I told you so." Probably because I'll feel the same way. Most likely because I'm 10 seconds and a overly used mantra away from stuffing my kids in the oven.

You will never get these moments back. The moments when you wanted that baby so badly, but cherished every moment that they weren't here. Living your life, fulfilling your dreams. You will grow through the journey. You will learn and you will be bent to your weakest point. But nothing feels like motherhood. It is an awful, glorious, insulting and blissful job. I pray that all of your wildest and childlike dreams come true. Love is truly shown through the eyes of a child. And I love you dearly.

Now, how soon are you going to buy this tired and haggard old mother a drink?

Just a beginning

So I need a creative outlet and I read other's blogs and I think "I should do that." So here I am, I'm going to try to figure this out. Figure everything out.
I know that it's not my burden to bear. Why I struggle with this so much I may never know. One moment I think I'm the strongest woman out there and the next I'm fearful and weak. I say to myself "You shouldn't be so vain, so reliant on yourself." And I also think that I'm the only one who really cares what happens to me. Me, me, me...a recurring theme. I'll get past that one day.