confession, friendship, gratitude, home, journey, Lately, list, self care

It’s Friday, I’m in love…

It’s true, I’m daydream in love with these beach chairs, but tragically I am not in one.

If I was in them, I am pretty sure these five loves would all involve BEACH.

What things did you love this past week? Was it a tough week for you? Maybe was there that one (or two) thing that really got you through? If so- I get it…

1.) School supplies! Pencils, pens, notebooks, sticky notes… All of it is so fantastic! I love it, love it, love it!

2.) Doterra’s Shampoo and Conditioner. You guys, I have struggled with my curly, fine hair forEVER, but this week, these two products CHANGED my life. I’m not kidding… (if you’re interested, you can buy it here. You will not regret it!)

3.) Manhunt: Unibomber is so fascinating! Many friends and I have chatted about it, Chw and I are swept up in this limited series. It is so interesting how these events were paralleling our adolescence and young adulthood.

4.) Baby boy things… I know of about 9 baby boys arriving between October and November. To me this number seems crazy, but it is true. I love peaking at baby boy onesies and such, whenever I’m near a store.

5.) These stamps! They are AMAZING! I love fun stamps, but these are maybe my favorite so far! If you get one of these, on a note from me, you will KNOW I really must love you!

confession, friendship, infertility, journey, travel

My first time. {A tale of woeful regret and embarrassment}

Chw have had quite a few dreamy conversations about working towards a big backpacking trip. He’s never gone, and we both love the mountains so much. I love sharing adventures with my husband and so, with baby-steps, we work towards the possibility of it someday.

I had the really awesome opportunity of going on a week-long back packing trip deep into an Idaho mountain range, when I was 14. It was hard and I’m sure I complained a lot. As I am old, my 14-year-old self did not have the ability to take incessant selfies and photo document every single moment of the amazing trip, so I am left to rely on my memories. Tucked within those memories are some of the most beautiful things that my eyes have seen. The trail we went on, (there was a group of us. It feels like about 20, but I’d have to ask my dad to be sure.) where the ability to drive stopped. I remember really narrow and terrifying mountain side passes where, one landslide, and we’d have all died. I remember wearing black trash bags because of rain, eating astronaut food (MREs) and countless other amazing things.

It was a trip of firsts. First night in a tent. First hiking. First exploring. First real trip, ever, of any form of self resilience. First real, deep conversation with a peer. First time wearing a tampon…

Yes. You read that right. It might seem like an odd first to remember, but as with most things- there is more to the story.

When you go on backpacking excursions, you are obviously pretty limited on what you can bring. Looking back, I’m thinking we must have camped for a week, and so the hiking in and hiking out may have accumulated an additional week. At any rate, we girls had to be prepared. In my packing list had been tampons, and I’d brought them obediently. I mean, I knew I would not need them… But then I did. And I had no idea what to do, at all. The group home I resided in, (because, if you remember, the dad I refer to was technically my foster/house dad) had a closet full of donated items, and among those items were some outdated, generic tampons. My plastic wrapped items had no instruction. I asked the only other teen girl on our trip and she quickly tutored me through what to do, and off I went, into the woods to do it.

But the translation or something went terribly wrong. Terribly wrong. Walking back to camp took ten times longer and the pain grew more and more excruciating. The tears were not at all exaggerated and I had no idea how to deal with it. Eventually the trauma had me double over, in agony, in the tent I was sharing with my faithful friend and feminine hygiene tutor. We tried problem solving but eventually she either grew frustrated, scared (or most likely a combination of both) and went to seek out our female staff on the trip. Her name is Carol. (I LOVE Carol. It is a small list of truly amazing women I’ve encountered over my life, and Carol is at the top of the list. The important thing to note, at this point in the story, however, is that I had not ever really interacted with Carol before.)

Carol, poor-poor sweet Carol had to dig out the horrible little cotton object, from deep within the depths of my blossoming womanhood. She then had to replace it with another cotton foreign object. She was reassuring, while I was beyond mortified. She was so sweet and exclaimed several times, “I have no idea how this happened. I have never heard of anything like it.”

Several years later, as a 17-year-old and out on my own, I decided buy a box of regular, pink wrapped tampons. While bored, one afternoon, I read the little accompanying pamphlet. In the back of said booklet were a few Q & A’s. Right at about the middle of the list read this:

Can my tampon get lost inside of me? I am living proof that their response was a lie. And I can tell you this resolutely because it happened one other time, with far worse repercussions, but that is best as a story for another time. (and probably NOT on this blog.)

books, confession, journey, Lately, rant

When do we say enough?

Coming off the weekend, I found notes scattered with an array of things I wanted to write about here. Somehow though, the weekend killed those desires, or at least numbed them. Monday’s are my big home day. The day where I catch up on laundry and household chores, the day I get some reading done, take care of phone calls I need to make and knock out a good chunk of work. Usually, I’m sad to admit, this is work related stuff I am a little behind on. This, of course, leads to loads of guilt when I don’t actually catch up on anything.

Except laundry.

Laundry is always done.

I am currently listening to an audio book that I’m not loving. Reviews of this book are GLOWING, which leads me to wonder what my problem is. Readers rave at its humor and easy reading, but I find my ears choking it down (if ears could do such a thing) and have not laughed yet.

I am not usually an audio book fan, but have found they help on the laundry/chore Mondays, as well as the longer moments in traffic. Somehow I lie to myself and tell myself I am maximizing my time that way. And sometimes the books are so great, but this time it isn’t. Perhaps it is the narration? At any rate… I read, on Saturday, the tale of this particular books author. The article mentioned that she’d simply entered a competition and won. Her manuscript was passed on to Penguin and a book deal was given. The article’s author seemed to be awed by not only the book’s author’s luck, but the fact that she is over 40. What? Is it more likely for such magical things to happen if one is under 40? What difference does 40 make anyway? Does being 41 mean that my life’s goals and dreams as I know them are screwed and I may as well select a coffin and begin planning my memorial service?

I mean, really… Just when our society seems to make great strides of progress in some areas, women decide to march around with vagina hats on their head and we have nazi gatherings. (While one is obviously NOT as garishly grim as the other, I’ll still admit it is embarrassing.) Male, Female, Gay, Straight, Trans, White, Black, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Athiest… Over 40, under 40- why can’t we, as a people, just get over our radical fears and judgements and just love each other? These things are getting worse because we are so adamant about taking sides. My side is community. Humanity. Can’t that just be enough? This division is being driven by bigger, governing forces and we just play along and people die. PEOPLE DIE…

We need to stop.

And also, let’s give props to an author for writing something that resonates with people, (even if I’m not one of them, I still applaud her!) and admit her age doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it…

beautiful, confession, creative, entertainment, family, gratitude, home, journey, Lately, list, parenting, Uncategorized

It’s friday, I’m in love…

Oh it’s that time again- Hello, weekend! These summer weekends are fleeting and I find this bittersweet.

This week was a BUSY one! Some moments I barely had time to compose myself and other ones were a little more intentional. It has been a weekend filled to the brim with stress and disappointment. You guys, parenthood is HARD. Adulting is HARD. Taking responsibility for screw ups is HARD. My week has been Die Hard with a Vengeance, minus the Bruce Willis/entertainment value/special effects/big budget stuff, and just loads of craptastic.

It is nice to take a few minutes to seek out the best bits of sharable…  I LOVED the links and little notes you guys sent last week! The best part of that was finding some new music. My readers have THE BEST taste! :)

Here’s my top five for the week…

1.) August is apparently the month for Random Acts of Kindness. If you know me at all, you know I am a sucker for RAKs! I absolutely LOVE this project and have been enjoying leaving intentionally written letters about my corner of the world.

2.) If you love Zombie movies, i HIGHLY recommend Train To Busan. (yes, it’s Korean, of course it is…) It was amazing, and by far the best Zombie movie we have ever seen! (also, it’s on Netflix, so that’s super cool too.)

3.) Quite awhile ago a friend of mine recommended the podcast Blue Babies Pink. Essentially it is Brett Trapp’s coming out story, told from his perspective as a now adult preacher’s kid, having grown up as a Jesus loving, well-adjusted youth. It is very interesting, very thought-provoking and at 44 (although super short) episodes, I am two-thirds of the way through and am really glad I make the choice to listen!

4.) I must clarify that i DO NOT own these earrings, but I also am publicly stating it right now: I really, really want them.

5.) Lastly, for this week… Coke Zero Sugar. I know, I know… I was just as sad as everyone else about the loss of Coke Zero. To be honest, my biggest worry was What will I drink at the movies now? And again, being honest, I am not certain they will even offer CZS at the theater, but I do like it. We still have plain old regular coke zero and did do a taste comparison. The two taste nothing alike. Chw likes the new better, while I still prefer the original. (likely because I HATE CHANGE!) that being said, I do really like the new. It tastes good by itself. It tastes good with a splash of lime. It tastes super good with a bit of crown. All in all, it’s a win. :)

Happy weekend!

adoption, confession, family, journey, parenting

a PSA…

Our youngest came to live with us when she was four and a half years old. Many of you know that story, about how our little family unit came to be. She’d had a rough go of it, for those first four years. Within the first few days that she lived with us, we took her over to a friend’s house. We were very close with these friends and wanted to share Gen with them, and vice-versa. We weren’t there but half an hour, or so. As we were pulling out, my friend called my cell to tell me she’d seen Gen with an orange golf ball in her pocket. “I’m pretty sure she stole it from my husband’s set, but honestly I don’t know how or when. Just a heads up, you might have a little stealer on your hands.”

She had not come to my friend’s in possession of a golf ball. We waited til we were home to gently broach the topic. Gen was adamant that it was her golf ball, she’d gotten it as a present when she was two from so & so. The story came so honestly, so naturally that had we not be the ones to sort through the very few belongings she’d come with, we might have believed her.

When she was little, she stole a lot. She stole everything from gum, to candy, to food, to stickers, to socks, to receipts. If she wanted it, she believed she deserved to have it. If she was confronted, a lie so believable flowed from her lips and when consequences came, she was so broken that we didn’t believe her and she wasn’t a thief.

The longer this went on, the more defeating it became. All of the well-meaning people who were reassuring us this was kid’s stuff and she’d grow out of it, stopped saying much of anything. We taught and taught and taught her through various degrees, that stealing was WRONG, that lying was WRONG. We were doing everything right, in that regard. She honestly just never cared if it was right or wrong, or if anyone got hurt.

My point here is sometimes things happen. Kids become adults who make their own choices. Sometimes, like with that little girl, they will blame whoever they please, anything to not own the responsibility. But please, when this happens to someone you know, don’t blame the parents for the child/adult child’s choices. Their journey may have been wrought with hell, and defeat and hopelessness may be the hats they wear more than any other. A little love can go a long way…