Vacay

I need a vacation. A real one... preferably at the beach.

We haven't been on a vacation, other than short trips to visit family, since 2005.

It's time.

Unfortunately, Uncle Sam doesn't share my sense of urgency... We still haven't received the tax return we've been expecting for eight weeks.  Everyone we know who e-filed their taxes has received their tax return. Our accountant double-checked, and everything is correct...

But we're still waiting.

I was mad for awhile.  Now I've just grieved the loss and moved on. Here's the reality: We still have time off work, but the closest I'll come to the beach is sitting in Snuggles' sandbox.

The good news is my Mom and Dad (let's be honest - mostly my Mom) have agreed to watch Snuggles for the week. So at least we'll have a break from parenting... time to relax, put our feet up, and focus on being a married couple.

Since we can't go on the vacation we had hoped for, here's my plan for staycation:

 

My goal is to read the entire "Hunger Games" trilogy...  
And go to bed without setting an alarm...
And to sleep every morning until I wake up naturally... which might be noon.
And to go to the bathroom alone. *Ahhhh* 

Until I became a mother, I never understood what a luxury it is to poop in peace.

Here's to vacation!

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Recently, I received an e-mail from some friends of mine who resigned their ministry position.  As I read their account of the circumstances surrounding their resignation, my heart ached.  The basic elements of their story were disturbingly familiar because, unfortunately, their story is not unique.  While Guitarman has been fortunate (for the most part) in his ministry positions, I've seen far too many of our ministry friends encounter difficult situations over the years. Many of them have succumbed to what I believe is abuse of what God intended for the relationship between pastor and the faith community.  Here is the cycle I've observed:

Pastor begins ministry at XYZ Church. Pastor is welcomed with great anticipation and enthusiasm. Church family embraces pastor, showering him/her with gifts and invites to dinner. Church family is eager to support new pastor, and excited about the pastor's vision for the church, so church members show up in droves to volunteer for activities and events.  Pastor is energized by the enthusiasm, and the first year flies by...  But then something strange happens. The honeymoon ends.

Fast forward two years:  Dinner invitations stopped after the first month.  The excitement has worn off, and volunteers start to dwindle. Pastor begs for help at various events, but church members are too overwhelmed with their busy schedules to help out.  People start to leave the church because they "aren't being fed". Pastor is expected to "make it happen" with or without support, so he/she works more hours, thus neglecting his/her family.  As a result, the pastor's spouse and children are unhappy, which creates even more strain. Pastor Appreciation month passes without acknowledgment.  Pastor's e-mail inbox is filled with "concerns" (translation: complaints) from people who are unwilling to be a part of a solution. Pastor begins to grow weary.  Pastor feels tired and unappreciated, which is reflected in the effectiveness of his/her ministry. Church complaints grow louder.  Church lobbies and/or votes to replace pastor.  It's like instructions on a shampoo bottle:  Lather. Rinse. Repeat. (The whole cycle starts again with a new pastor.)

And so I read my friends' e-mail with sadness in my heart... another good pastor bites the dust. 

Perhaps it was this situation that caused me to react strongly to the words I read on a blog recently. The well-intentioned blogger in question used their blog as a platform to complain about their pastor. The blogger's complaint was that the pastor failed to act how the blogger thought they should. The pastor should have known better. Yada yada.  As I read the blog, I threw up a little in my mouth. I felt so bad for that pastor, who will most certainly read the criticism published for all the world to see.

Another good pastor chewed up and spit out.  Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I've seen this same type of thing happen with school teachers. When I hear people complaining about teachers, I wonder if that parent has ever spent a day in their child's classroom?  I doubt it.  Anyone who spends time in a classroom full of children has a profound appreciation and respect for teachers. I, for one, greatly admire my friends who are teachers. I love my son, but I don't LOVE other people's children enough to spend eight hours a day with them.  Being a school teacher is a unique calling.  A teacher is truly a servant-leader..... a person who is underpaid, under-appreciated and overworked--devoting their life, making sacrifices, all with the goal of serving others.

Hmm... sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Too many pastors, too many good teachers are being chewed up and spit out by those they serve.  I wonder what would happen if instead of blaming pastors for all the problems in the church, if instead of blaming teachers for the flawed educational system, what would happen if we offered to be part of the solution?

This is how he rolls

It was 70 degrees and sunny here yesterday!  The weather was perfect to enjoy some outdoor fun after work. So we decided to go on a walk.  Snuggles hasn't quite mastered the art of peddling yet, so we still have to push him.

Snuggles' attention span is short, so we quickly moved onto the next activity: T-ball.  I don't see a future in Major League Baseball, but at least he had fun.



Next, we moved onto the tunnel.  Notice he is still wearing his helmet. Safety first! (He would wear that helmet 24/7 if we let him. He loves it.)

Snoring

He gets this from his Daddy.  Too bad snoring isn't an Olympic event!

Crayons

So, remember the other day when I wrote about feeling like I was hanging off the edge of a cliff...

The Cliff

I feel like I fell off a cliff somehow and I'm trying to claw my way back up... But I. can't. quite. reach. the. top. Life just seems overwhelming.  (Cue the melodramatic, Little-House-on-the-Prairie-style background music.)

Okay, skip the music.  But really, I'm struggling.

It's not easy for me to be open about my weaknesses.  I mean, I can (and do) readily admit that I'm flawed.  But I really, really hate it that I have limitations.  Drives me nuts. I wish I could take on the world by myself without having to ask for help.  But it just doesn't work that way.  I can't do it all.

So what's eating at me?   Time.  I. Just. Don't. Have. It.

Between juggling work and church responsibilities and trying to take care of my home (at which I fail miserably most of the time), by 9 o'clock in the evening, I collapse on the couch exhausted.  I should probably spend that last hour before bed doing something constructive, like cleaning or sorting through the stacks of papers/magazines piled all over my house.  But I don't.  I just sit there on the couch.  I might watch TV or read a book, but my mind pretty switched to the "off" position the minute my butt hit the chair.

Sometimes I reach for the computer to blog or check Facebook... and then I see Katie McCutie-Pants just posted pictures of the delicious, organic meal she made for dinner.  And there's her smiling family, sitting around the table in their beautifully decorated dining room, which she just gave a fresh coat of decorative paint after being inspired by Pinterest.  Who has time to cook (much less afford!) an organic meal?  And what was that other word?  Decorate?  What's that? I don't have a single picture hanging up in my house!  Darn you, Pinterest, and all your crafty ideas.  Pinterest is like a jab on the arm, reminding me that I suck at all things domestic.

Part of the challenge right now is that Snuggles is extremely time-consuming and demanding.  The adjustment to the new daycare/preschool has been rough.  He's not been taking his usual afternoon naps (or not long enough), which means that when he's home, he spends the evenings whining/fussing/throwing tantrums, and just being all-around disagreeable.  Maybe it's the daycare transition.  Or maybe it's just because he's two.  Maybe a combination of both....

All I know is I'm not handling it very well.  (There it is again... Another one of those pesky limitations. Gag.)  He throws things.  He refuses to eat anything but bread.  He drops on the floor and death rolls like a crocodile.  He pinches.  He scratches.  And the screaming.  Oh, the screaming....

But the good news is... In between throwing tantrums and screaming at decibels I'm certain can be heard from outer space, Snuggles is incredibly cute.

Don't let the blueberry eyes and pinch-worthy dimples fool you... It's a good thing he's cute.  Otherwise, I'm afraid one of us wouldn't survive.  *smile*

Someone will probably read this blog and think, "Homegirl has lost her mind. She only has one kid, and he's in daycare all day! Her life is cake!"  Let me assure you, my life is not cake. It's not even a cupcake.  I'm not comparing my life to others or saying I have it worse.  I realize everyone has their struggles.  This is mine.  I'm in a valley right now, but I will claw my way out somehow.

Childcare & Chuckles

What happened to January? Seriously! It's like I blinked and suddenly it's no longer January? Good grief.

Despite my lack of blogging in January, it was a busy month for us. Our world was thrown into a bit of a tailspin when Snuggles' childcare provider (who is more like an adopted grandma to Jackson) gave us two weeks' notice due to some personal issues and health concerns.  It wasn't a big deal....  *cough*  Okay, so I completely broke down and panicked.  I'll let you guess which one of those is true.  Ahem.

The thing is, it's difficult to get into daycare centers in this area, especially the good ones.  Every church-based Christian childcare in the area has a waiting list. It's really insane.

But as He always does, God provided.  A friend of ours recommended a great, Christian childcare center near our house. They had a rare opening the week I called, and when they contacted the families ahead of us on the waiting list, none of them needed childcare.  It really was a miracle!  Looking back on everything, I'm convinced this transition is a good thing for Snuggles. He enjoys playing with his classmates, and I think it's time for him to have the added education and stimulation during the day. Not only that, he absolutely loves the playground! The bad news is that my biggest fears came true:  he is not sleeping well at the new place.  Please pray that Snuggles resumes his nap schedule because the screaming and whining and tantrums (normal for 2-year-olds) have ramped up from normal to nuclear. I told John this morning that someone is not going to survive this transition.

When he's not whining, crying and throwing fits, Snuggles continues to light up our world with his smiles. And he constantly makes us laugh.  Sometimes we laugh because we don't know what else to do!

I've never thought twice about getting out of the shower in front of Jackson.  Although it's not something I do often, sometimes I'm in my unmentionables in front of Jackson.  In fact, most of the literature I've read says it's best for children to learn about body parts at home. We've just been very nonchalant about it, and he really hasn't shown much interest. Until recently.

On a Sunday morning a few weeks ago, John had left for church, so I was alone with Jackson while trying to get ready for church.  I had just gotten out of the shower, and Jackson was playing with some toys on the bathroom floor while I went about my morning routine.  I hadn't dressed yet, and I was bending over the counter washing the cleanser off my face when it happened.  Suddenly, I felt a small finger poke my nether regions from behind, while loudly exclaiming, "Owwooooga!"  (This is the sound we make when we we're playing "honk" Snuggles' belly button.)  After peeling myself off the ceiling, I choked back expletives as I reached for a hand towel to wipe the soap out of my eyes.  Snuggles, of course, found my reaction hilarious, and he dissolved into a pile of giggles on the bathroom floor. I hid my laughter in the hand towel, as I told him that it wasn't nice to poke mama in the hoo hoo... And then I proceeded to have a brief, age-appropriate conversation about private parts, all the while making a mental note to always wear a protective layer of clothing in Snuggles' presence.

Not long after the bathroom "honking", we had another bathroom incident.  It was that time of the month, so I was in the bathroom (clothed this time) gathering the necessary feminine supplies I needed for the day.  Snuggles walked in, saw the tampons on the counter, and said, "Oohh! I wanna popsicle!"  Oh yeah, I had lots of fun trying to distract him from that "popsicle".

During the same week as the popsicle request, Snuggles barged into the bathroom while I was unwrapping a pantyliner. "Oh boy," I thought, "Here we go".  Sure enough, Snuggles was transfixed.

Snuggles:  (Pointing to the pantyliner)  Bandaid?  Mama have an ouchie?!
Me:  No, Mama's fine.  Where's Daddy?  Can you go find Daddy?
Snuggles:  (Pointing to the pantyliner)  Mama have a sticker?
Me:  No, Snuggles, this isn't a sticker.
Snuggles: I wanna stickerrrrrr!" 

Now, every time Snuggles walks into the bathroom, he asks for a "sticker".  Yep, time to childproof the bathroom door.