To a different blog location :). Fooled ya, didn't I?
I've been noticing that every single time I log in to write, I get a little nauseated by the title of my blog. Fishsticks just aren't appealing to me right now (and not I'm not pregnant). I started this blog on a whim and came up with the title based on what was happening on that day, but I never really thought about how the title would sit with me a few weeks later. And it doesn't sit well with me any longer.
So I wanted something catchy that describes this stage of life I'm in and the best I could come up with is Learning as They Grow. Because it seems that my kids are growing up before my very eyes and I'm constantly learning what it means to be a good wife, mom and most importantly, Christian woman in today's world.
I hope my faithful friends here will revise their links and hook up with me at
www.learningastheygrow.blogspot.com. That's where I'll be from now on.
Love ya!
Monday, February 16, 2009
My Sacrifice
Hebrews 13:15 NKJV
Therefore by Him let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name.
Why is it that every time I...
mop the floor, someone spills something an hour later?
clean the bathroom, someone squirts toothpaste all over the sink the next morning?
wash a load of clothes, there's another dirty load right behind it?
make a meal, some part of it is burned or undercooked or one of the little people complains that he or she doesn't like it?
wake up early for quiet time or exercise, I inadvertently wake up Chancho, so not only do I miss my time alone, but I have a cranky toddler on my hands by 9:30 am?
go to the bathroom, I have at least a one-person audience, but sometimes two or three?
These are the questions I posed to my neighbor a few days ago. My home-schooling, organic living, bread baking, God-fearing, Catholic neighbor. The one who has so much on her plate all the times, yet she still finds a way to can her vegetable garden crops and mend her husband's shirts and listen to her pre-teen daughter's sob stories while making it look so easy.
Everything I do gets undone, usually right after I do it. Small tasks take forever because someone is always following me. And I'm growing a little weary from all of it.
Then she relayed a little bit of advice to me, which at first did not help at all. But it grew on me.
Try looking at all these little chores and inconveniences as sacrifices to the Lord. Every time you're cleaning the floors for the second time in one day or dealing with a cranky 2-year-old, say a prayer and praise God for the opportunity to make a sacrifice.
I guess the point of sacrificing is that it sometimes is not pleasant and sometimes we're giving up things that we really want. But an eager and willing sacrifice is pleasing to God.
As a stay-at-home mom, I sometimes feel that I don't have as many opportunities to serve as my husband does, or as other women who aren't chained to their houses do. But besides raising this next generation for Christ, I am sacrificing each and everyday for the advancement of the Kingdom. It might not seem like much, but these little chores have a purpose in the grand scheme God's plan.
I admit, I probably won't be praising God each time I'm scrubbing the floor, but I will do my best to have a joyful heart while I do it. Almost every time, I promise. :)
Friday, February 13, 2009
Big A Is Not the First
This has been one stressful week! As a stay-at-home mom, I don't have many weeks that make my head spin, but this was one of the worst. The kids' Valentine's parties were Thursday and as Bubby's classroom party planner, I was up to my eyeballs in conversation hearts and tissue paper. Sissy had been working on her valentines and box for days and still needed extra time to finish. We had playdates and lunchdates and a day off from school today that was spent at Chuck-e-Cheese and I was at the end of my rope when my husband strolled in the door at 5:13 this afternoon.
"I need some time away before I go nuts," I said. He knew the drill. He took the kids for ice cream and I left for Giant Eagle, Target and Kohl's.
While at Kohl's, I realized I had not yet purchased a special something for Valentine's Day night. Usually I'm on top of that much earlier, but with all that went on this week, plus the fact that my brother is living with us for a while and goes shopping with me everytime I go, I haven't been able to look for anything. The selection at Kohl's was pretty tame, but that was okay with me. I needed something cheap and in my size and I wasn't feeling very picky at all.
I chose the first thing that fit me and grabbed two t-shirts that were on sale and a cute cropped blazer that was 80 percent off (that I almost purchased three weeks ago for full price!). I made my way to the counter quickly, trying my best to hide the lingerie.
I don't know why I get so embarrassed about buying undergarments. It's not like we don't all wear them. But I hate for people to see me paying for them. I'm always afraid the cashier will hold them up and then call for a price check as the 20 people behind me stare at me.
But luckily, there were no people behind me. Slowly, the cashier rang up the shirts, then the blazer, and as the nightie lay on the counter with nothing to cover it up, I sensed a person behind me in line. I glanced back and wouldn't you know it, it's a friend from our church. A GUY FRIEND.
I smiled and said hi as I nervously tried to see if my undies looked more like a skirt. Yes, maybe it did look like I was buying a skirt. A see-through, black, polka-dotted skirt with underwires.
It was no secret. I was buying lingerie and he saw it. And not even sexy lingerie. He's probably feeling sorry for Big A right now. "Hmmph. What a lame Valentine's Day gift. Thank goodness my wife is a vixen," is what he was probably thinking.
As I drove home and my embarrassment faded, I wondered if I should tell Big A tomorrow night that he's not the first man to see me with this lingerie. I decided against that... for now.
"I need some time away before I go nuts," I said. He knew the drill. He took the kids for ice cream and I left for Giant Eagle, Target and Kohl's.
While at Kohl's, I realized I had not yet purchased a special something for Valentine's Day night. Usually I'm on top of that much earlier, but with all that went on this week, plus the fact that my brother is living with us for a while and goes shopping with me everytime I go, I haven't been able to look for anything. The selection at Kohl's was pretty tame, but that was okay with me. I needed something cheap and in my size and I wasn't feeling very picky at all.
I chose the first thing that fit me and grabbed two t-shirts that were on sale and a cute cropped blazer that was 80 percent off (that I almost purchased three weeks ago for full price!). I made my way to the counter quickly, trying my best to hide the lingerie.
I don't know why I get so embarrassed about buying undergarments. It's not like we don't all wear them. But I hate for people to see me paying for them. I'm always afraid the cashier will hold them up and then call for a price check as the 20 people behind me stare at me.
But luckily, there were no people behind me. Slowly, the cashier rang up the shirts, then the blazer, and as the nightie lay on the counter with nothing to cover it up, I sensed a person behind me in line. I glanced back and wouldn't you know it, it's a friend from our church. A GUY FRIEND.
I smiled and said hi as I nervously tried to see if my undies looked more like a skirt. Yes, maybe it did look like I was buying a skirt. A see-through, black, polka-dotted skirt with underwires.
It was no secret. I was buying lingerie and he saw it. And not even sexy lingerie. He's probably feeling sorry for Big A right now. "Hmmph. What a lame Valentine's Day gift. Thank goodness my wife is a vixen," is what he was probably thinking.
As I drove home and my embarrassment faded, I wondered if I should tell Big A tomorrow night that he's not the first man to see me with this lingerie. I decided against that... for now.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Toddler Years, Again?
I remember one day when my oldest, Bubby, was 18 months old and we were on our weekly grocery shopping excursion. With my lists in hand, I planned to make the usual rounds to two grocery stores and the meat store. I enjoyed these little outings because I loved how Bubby seemed to make everyone around him smile. With his red hair, he was a natural attention-grabber and with his his infectious laugh, he made instant friends with all of the elderly people we saw.
Until that one fateful day when he had his first tantrum. We were half-way through our first store when he spotted some sort of cookies on the shelf.
"Cookie!" he exclaimed.
"Not now sweetie, but maybe later," I said gently.
"Cookie, Mommy!" he screamed with more intensity than the last time.
"No no," I said as I tried to steer him into another aisle. "We have cookies in the car."
And then, he uncharacteristically threw his body backwards in the seat and wailed as his face turned red and he kicked his legs.
All I could think was that I had to get out of there quickly. So I paid for whatever groceries were in my cart and struggled to put his little body, stiff with contempt, into his carseat. Needless to say, my weekly morning o' shopping was cut short and I was certain there was something seriously wrong with my child.
So sure, I was, that I made an appointment to see the pediatrician the next day. I just knew Bubby had an ear infection or broken limb or something that would make him act out.
The doctor laughed at me.
Then he informed me that my son was entering the terrible toddler years and to expect much more of this behavior in the months to come. And he warned, "It will get worse before it gets better."
He was right and when Sissy turned 15 months old, I understood what was going on when she turned into "spaghetti arms" one day as we were leaving the library.
"No go," she said.
"We have to go home, Sis, and eat lunch," I replied, calmly, I might add. I grabbed her tiny hand and immediately, she went limp.
I had two choices: I could drag her out of the library by her spaghetti arm or I could pick her up and carry her. The latter was impossible because I had a bag of library books, my diaper bag and Andrew's hand to hold onto. So I tried to gently pull her by her limp arm.
Of course, it wasn't long before I was chastised by a mean lady for abusing my daughter. If there was ever a time I wanted to cuss, that was it. Instead, I continued to pull Sissy and within a few feet, she started walking again.
I was no stranger to the stares and remarks. I had become accustomed to leaving the grocery store halfway through shopping. And I gained the willpower to withstand the tears without giving in.
I endured a solid 4 years of tantrums, irrational behavior, yelling and tears (and the kids weren't angels either - ha!), so why am I so surprised that Chancho has embraced this stage of life with gusto? Did I really think I would escape it this third time around?
Yes, I did.
Before you think I'm crazy, allow me to explain. When Bubby entered the toddler years, I was pregnant and on bedrest. Then when Sissy arrived, he was competing with her for my attention. And when Sissy was a toddler, she was competing with him. Chancho, on the other hand, has so much one-on-one time with me while the older kids are in school, that he seems sick of me sometimes. He never has to ask for anything more than once. He's amply cuddled, forever showered with kisses and the focus of my attention for hours upon hours each day.
And yet, he's the mother of all fit throwers. And I feel less equipped to deal with him than I did with my other two. I was in the toddler mode with them. The schedules, the rules, the consistency and the constant affirmation were all routine. But as they got older, I was able to ease up a little. I didn't stop disciplining, but the process became less exhausting and time consuming. Now, however, I am starting from scratch... again.
So to my two dear friends who I met on two different occasions this week, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the embarrassment that we caused and if we made you uncomfortable in any way. I'm sorry that you had to see me in a moment of weakness as I fell victim to a toddler's tantrums. We may not leave the house for the next year, but I promise you I will prevail and Chancho will pass through this stage no worse for the wear.
And rest assured my dear friends, your time is coming. :)
Until that one fateful day when he had his first tantrum. We were half-way through our first store when he spotted some sort of cookies on the shelf.
"Cookie!" he exclaimed.
"Not now sweetie, but maybe later," I said gently.
"Cookie, Mommy!" he screamed with more intensity than the last time.
"No no," I said as I tried to steer him into another aisle. "We have cookies in the car."
And then, he uncharacteristically threw his body backwards in the seat and wailed as his face turned red and he kicked his legs.
All I could think was that I had to get out of there quickly. So I paid for whatever groceries were in my cart and struggled to put his little body, stiff with contempt, into his carseat. Needless to say, my weekly morning o' shopping was cut short and I was certain there was something seriously wrong with my child.
So sure, I was, that I made an appointment to see the pediatrician the next day. I just knew Bubby had an ear infection or broken limb or something that would make him act out.
The doctor laughed at me.
Then he informed me that my son was entering the terrible toddler years and to expect much more of this behavior in the months to come. And he warned, "It will get worse before it gets better."
He was right and when Sissy turned 15 months old, I understood what was going on when she turned into "spaghetti arms" one day as we were leaving the library.
"No go," she said.
"We have to go home, Sis, and eat lunch," I replied, calmly, I might add. I grabbed her tiny hand and immediately, she went limp.
I had two choices: I could drag her out of the library by her spaghetti arm or I could pick her up and carry her. The latter was impossible because I had a bag of library books, my diaper bag and Andrew's hand to hold onto. So I tried to gently pull her by her limp arm.
Of course, it wasn't long before I was chastised by a mean lady for abusing my daughter. If there was ever a time I wanted to cuss, that was it. Instead, I continued to pull Sissy and within a few feet, she started walking again.
I was no stranger to the stares and remarks. I had become accustomed to leaving the grocery store halfway through shopping. And I gained the willpower to withstand the tears without giving in.
I endured a solid 4 years of tantrums, irrational behavior, yelling and tears (and the kids weren't angels either - ha!), so why am I so surprised that Chancho has embraced this stage of life with gusto? Did I really think I would escape it this third time around?
Yes, I did.
Before you think I'm crazy, allow me to explain. When Bubby entered the toddler years, I was pregnant and on bedrest. Then when Sissy arrived, he was competing with her for my attention. And when Sissy was a toddler, she was competing with him. Chancho, on the other hand, has so much one-on-one time with me while the older kids are in school, that he seems sick of me sometimes. He never has to ask for anything more than once. He's amply cuddled, forever showered with kisses and the focus of my attention for hours upon hours each day.
And yet, he's the mother of all fit throwers. And I feel less equipped to deal with him than I did with my other two. I was in the toddler mode with them. The schedules, the rules, the consistency and the constant affirmation were all routine. But as they got older, I was able to ease up a little. I didn't stop disciplining, but the process became less exhausting and time consuming. Now, however, I am starting from scratch... again.
So to my two dear friends who I met on two different occasions this week, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the embarrassment that we caused and if we made you uncomfortable in any way. I'm sorry that you had to see me in a moment of weakness as I fell victim to a toddler's tantrums. We may not leave the house for the next year, but I promise you I will prevail and Chancho will pass through this stage no worse for the wear.
And rest assured my dear friends, your time is coming. :)
Friday, February 6, 2009
Kokomo - Part 2
Since I know everyone is dying to find out our decision about the anniversary trip, I thought I'd share with you all.
After much deliberation and a little prayer, WE (not just me), decided to go to Daytona Beach, FL. My only real desire was that we go someplace beachy and warm, and Daytona Beach has plenty to offer for tourists and sightseers for Big A. The price for our trip is much more reasonable than any of the other options and we don't have to leave the country (he pointed out that even though I was begging to go to the Bahamas, I would never actually go because I wouldn't want to be so far from the kids. That man knows me too well).
So I started looking at the locations my friend Karen suggested and as I was doing that, I came across a 2009 NASCAR schedule. Big A is a huge NASCAR fan. Huge. Unfortunately, we won't be in town for the Daytona 500, but it's quite possible I will win the Best Wife Ever Award because I'm secretly signing him up for the Richard Petty Experience. Big A's dream is to be a race car driver (though he'll never say it out loud). A few years ago, we even considered buying a stock car so he could participate in local races. If my plans work out, he will be able to do a ride-along on the Daytona track in a real stock car!
And wouldn't you know it, I'm more excited about this part of the trip than I am about the beach! I can't wait to see his face when he finds out. To think I'd miss his excitement if I would have pushed to have my way instead of finding a compromise.
After much deliberation and a little prayer, WE (not just me), decided to go to Daytona Beach, FL. My only real desire was that we go someplace beachy and warm, and Daytona Beach has plenty to offer for tourists and sightseers for Big A. The price for our trip is much more reasonable than any of the other options and we don't have to leave the country (he pointed out that even though I was begging to go to the Bahamas, I would never actually go because I wouldn't want to be so far from the kids. That man knows me too well).
So I started looking at the locations my friend Karen suggested and as I was doing that, I came across a 2009 NASCAR schedule. Big A is a huge NASCAR fan. Huge. Unfortunately, we won't be in town for the Daytona 500, but it's quite possible I will win the Best Wife Ever Award because I'm secretly signing him up for the Richard Petty Experience. Big A's dream is to be a race car driver (though he'll never say it out loud). A few years ago, we even considered buying a stock car so he could participate in local races. If my plans work out, he will be able to do a ride-along on the Daytona track in a real stock car!
And wouldn't you know it, I'm more excited about this part of the trip than I am about the beach! I can't wait to see his face when he finds out. To think I'd miss his excitement if I would have pushed to have my way instead of finding a compromise.
Monday, February 2, 2009
We'll Get There Fast and Then We'll Take It Slow....
That's where I wanna go.
I haven't written in a few days, because I've been using all my self-allotted computer time to try to plan a trip to celebrate a little event that's coming up: Our 10-year anniversary!
At a later date, I will write more about what this occasion means to me, but right now, I want to vent about how difficult it is to plan a romantic getaway to someplace warm on a limited budget. Oh, and also how difficult it is to compromise when I really want to go someplace warm and my husband isn't gung-ho about someplace warm and would rather spend four days being touristy instead of lounging on the beach.
You see, I hate the cold. Every year at this time, I wonder why I live in Ohio. The snow, the frigid temps, the ice, the cabin fever, are all things I despise. I've heard that people with hypothyroidism feel colder than people without, so I attribute some of my animosity toward Ohio winters to my health issues. But the rest of it I just attribute to hating winter.
So when the husband said, "we should go somewhere fun for our anniversary," I was stoked and started planning immediately. With the kids' spring break falling right on our anniversary week, it would work out perfectly. They could enjoy a few days with my parents while we could enjoy a few days alone.
The very first travel site I stumbled upon advertised $449 per person deals to the Bahamas. Ahhh... the Bahamas. For at least a day I drooled over the pictures of beautiful white sand while thoughts of all-inclusive meals and drinks and walking hand-in-hand on the beach floated around in my head like rose petals on a jacuzzi tub of warm water.
So what if the $449 was the pre-tax total and so what that the price didn't apply to the week we'd be traveling. We could still go to the Bahamas for less than $1300, plus the cost of passports and parking our car at the airport for four days and any sight-seeing excursions or souvenirs. Okay, we could go to the Bahamas for less than $1600, probably maybe.
Then there were the cruises. I typed in all of our information, minus our credit card number, on a cruise website to see what the cost for a cruise would be. Unfortunately, I typed in our phone number and we've had calls everyday for a week from a cruise rep to tell us about their latest deals. For around $1900, a 4 night, 5 day Caribbean cruise was the best they could give me.
But I didn't stop there. Key West was much more affordable. Yes, we would have to rent a car to schlep around in, but for about $1200 total, the trip would be a bargain compared to the Bahamas or a cruise.
I happily presented our options to Big A and waited for him to choose. I secretly hoped he'd pick the Bahamas, but any of the three would have been fine.
Instead, he burst my fun in the sun bubble.
"You really want to go to the beach? We just went to the beach last summer," he said.
We DID just go to the beach last summer. But going to a beach with kids is not the same as going to the beach on a romantic getaway. I tried to explain this to Big A, but the logic was lost on him. To him, the beach is the beach, and having been there two summers in a row, it was not his first choice. He's not a big fan of sand or the water, two things he should have revealed to me BEFORE we got married.
Then he gave me his ideas: See a concert somewhere or go sightseeing. To which I replied with a big YAWN. I should add that these ideas seemed perfectly reasonable before the images of sand and surf were etched into my brain. Now, I'm jaded.
Then he gave me his thoughts on our budget: The more we spend on this trip, the less we'll have to spend on a vacation with the kids this summer. This reasoning deterred me only a little.
The he gave me the line that I hate.
"But we'll do whatever you want."
I HATE when he pulls that card. Hate it. If we do whatever I want, we won't be doing what he really wants, and even I, in all my imperfect selfishness, do not think that's fair.
After about 45 more minutes of discussion, we were at a standstill. I want to do whatever he wants to do, as long as he wants to go to the beach. He will go to the beach, but he won't absolutely love it. So, our trip planning is put on hold for now.
I do know that we'll have a great time no matter where we go. I look forward to quiet dinners, dancing, romancing and all the fun couple stuff we seldom have time for lately. But everything would be so much sweeter if the outside temperature was in the low 80s.
I haven't written in a few days, because I've been using all my self-allotted computer time to try to plan a trip to celebrate a little event that's coming up: Our 10-year anniversary!
At a later date, I will write more about what this occasion means to me, but right now, I want to vent about how difficult it is to plan a romantic getaway to someplace warm on a limited budget. Oh, and also how difficult it is to compromise when I really want to go someplace warm and my husband isn't gung-ho about someplace warm and would rather spend four days being touristy instead of lounging on the beach.
You see, I hate the cold. Every year at this time, I wonder why I live in Ohio. The snow, the frigid temps, the ice, the cabin fever, are all things I despise. I've heard that people with hypothyroidism feel colder than people without, so I attribute some of my animosity toward Ohio winters to my health issues. But the rest of it I just attribute to hating winter.
So when the husband said, "we should go somewhere fun for our anniversary," I was stoked and started planning immediately. With the kids' spring break falling right on our anniversary week, it would work out perfectly. They could enjoy a few days with my parents while we could enjoy a few days alone.
The very first travel site I stumbled upon advertised $449 per person deals to the Bahamas. Ahhh... the Bahamas. For at least a day I drooled over the pictures of beautiful white sand while thoughts of all-inclusive meals and drinks and walking hand-in-hand on the beach floated around in my head like rose petals on a jacuzzi tub of warm water.
So what if the $449 was the pre-tax total and so what that the price didn't apply to the week we'd be traveling. We could still go to the Bahamas for less than $1300, plus the cost of passports and parking our car at the airport for four days and any sight-seeing excursions or souvenirs. Okay, we could go to the Bahamas for less than $1600, probably maybe.
Then there were the cruises. I typed in all of our information, minus our credit card number, on a cruise website to see what the cost for a cruise would be. Unfortunately, I typed in our phone number and we've had calls everyday for a week from a cruise rep to tell us about their latest deals. For around $1900, a 4 night, 5 day Caribbean cruise was the best they could give me.
But I didn't stop there. Key West was much more affordable. Yes, we would have to rent a car to schlep around in, but for about $1200 total, the trip would be a bargain compared to the Bahamas or a cruise.
I happily presented our options to Big A and waited for him to choose. I secretly hoped he'd pick the Bahamas, but any of the three would have been fine.
Instead, he burst my fun in the sun bubble.
"You really want to go to the beach? We just went to the beach last summer," he said.
We DID just go to the beach last summer. But going to a beach with kids is not the same as going to the beach on a romantic getaway. I tried to explain this to Big A, but the logic was lost on him. To him, the beach is the beach, and having been there two summers in a row, it was not his first choice. He's not a big fan of sand or the water, two things he should have revealed to me BEFORE we got married.
Then he gave me his ideas: See a concert somewhere or go sightseeing. To which I replied with a big YAWN. I should add that these ideas seemed perfectly reasonable before the images of sand and surf were etched into my brain. Now, I'm jaded.
Then he gave me his thoughts on our budget: The more we spend on this trip, the less we'll have to spend on a vacation with the kids this summer. This reasoning deterred me only a little.
The he gave me the line that I hate.
"But we'll do whatever you want."
I HATE when he pulls that card. Hate it. If we do whatever I want, we won't be doing what he really wants, and even I, in all my imperfect selfishness, do not think that's fair.
After about 45 more minutes of discussion, we were at a standstill. I want to do whatever he wants to do, as long as he wants to go to the beach. He will go to the beach, but he won't absolutely love it. So, our trip planning is put on hold for now.
I do know that we'll have a great time no matter where we go. I look forward to quiet dinners, dancing, romancing and all the fun couple stuff we seldom have time for lately. But everything would be so much sweeter if the outside temperature was in the low 80s.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Some Info About My Blog
Some of you who read this blog have asked a few questions that I thought I'd answer now.
The title of the blog came about one busy afternoon. I had just returned home after grocery shopping and was hustling to prepare supper. Everyone was starving, so I decided fishsticks would have to do. I felt so guilty for not whipping up something healthy and tasty and was beating myself up for always cutting corners. To my delight, when I served the kids their food, I was met with rave reviews.
"I LOVE the fishsticks that you make, Mommy," said Bubby.
"Ohhhhh. Fishsticks are my favorite," chimed Sissy.
And little Chancho just gobbled them up.
I felt so blessed that even when I'm not on top of my game, it's okay. God loves me and so does my family.
And as Romans 8:18 says: "For I reckon that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory about to be revealed in us." There it is, right there in God's word. Someday I will be superwoman.
The second and final inquiry pertains to me not using my family's real names. I've read a lot of blogs and it seems like a good idea to keep the names of my children private online. I don't mind using my own name, but I'm going to try to keep my hubby's name and kids' names secret. For the most part, the only people reading this will be loved ones anyway, but you never know who is lurking.
And that's all she wrote... for tonight.
The title of the blog came about one busy afternoon. I had just returned home after grocery shopping and was hustling to prepare supper. Everyone was starving, so I decided fishsticks would have to do. I felt so guilty for not whipping up something healthy and tasty and was beating myself up for always cutting corners. To my delight, when I served the kids their food, I was met with rave reviews.
"I LOVE the fishsticks that you make, Mommy," said Bubby.
"Ohhhhh. Fishsticks are my favorite," chimed Sissy.
And little Chancho just gobbled them up.
I felt so blessed that even when I'm not on top of my game, it's okay. God loves me and so does my family.
And as Romans 8:18 says: "For I reckon that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory about to be revealed in us." There it is, right there in God's word. Someday I will be superwoman.
The second and final inquiry pertains to me not using my family's real names. I've read a lot of blogs and it seems like a good idea to keep the names of my children private online. I don't mind using my own name, but I'm going to try to keep my hubby's name and kids' names secret. For the most part, the only people reading this will be loved ones anyway, but you never know who is lurking.
And that's all she wrote... for tonight.
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