My husband keeps reminding me that my last blog post was from early May. I tell him he is the one currently unemployed since turning in his resignation at Mama Yellow at the end of June but alas...I guess I better keep this thing updated if it is going to be on all my prayer cards and magnets!
Our little house in the big woods sold and closed on May 25th. That was a surreal day, signing away the papers on our "dream home" - the one I installed flooring in, painted, and shellacked on 42 gallons of varnish. The type of day where you give yourself 1) a sanity check (am I nuts?) and 2) a reaching out to go to reconfirm His calling (are you sure, Lord? I haven't miraculously learned Spanish overnight!). Our buyers graciously let us live in the house until after our sending agency retreat and Darren's brother's wedding was complete.
Then it was off to the races. I had been slowly packing about 5 boxes a day when the deadline came up behind me and bit down hard. People from church gathered boxes for us and our potluck group and family members put some serious sweat equity into helping us move (seriously...did we pick the hottest month on record or what?). Our friend Brad from church and my brother outlaw Shannon tag team drove a semi load of our earthly possessions to the border while my sister Susan and her daughter Hattie followed in their vehicle and Husband, two Squirrels, two stoned dogs (thanks to tranquilizers) and my nephew rode in our Big Blue Bus. Just south of Waco, and after coming through torrential downpour, I told Husband that the van seem to be wobbly. He said nothing for a while and then stated, "It's YOU! You are doing that with the steering wheel!". I assured him I was driving straight as an arrow but the van was pulling back and forth like I was on a ferry. He insisted it was me.
And not 10 minutes later, we hear a pop and the sound of metal grating. Yep, blew a tire. Big time. It was 11 PM and nothing was open. Shannon advised us to check for a 24 hour tire center. I called the first and was advised that they only handled 24 hour emergencies for semi trucks. I called the next one (sounded like I woke someone up) and asked if they did emergency service for minivans. He said yes, I confirmed the address, and then we drove via GPS directions into Austin.
Well, into a trailer park in Austin. Surely it was incorrect? I called the guy's number again and it went to voicemail. I had Husband call and sure enough, the sleepy voice answered. He asked where we were and we told him we were in a trailer park behind a trailer with a back porch light on. He told us he didn't work on minivans (say what?) and was probably completely creeped out by the fact that we were in his back yard (hey, his address was online!).
So on we rolled on the donut...now three hours behind schedule. We finally pulled into the Rio Grande Valley at 6:00 AM. Shannon and Brad had beat us and were waiting at a truck stop. We all looked homeless and smelled like feet. Erin had arranged for an Isaiah 55 work team to come help us unload and I can only imagine that we made a stellar first impression (I don't even remember if I brushed my teeth).
So pretty much National Lampoon's Moving Adventure completely with dogs that passed gas all the way down the TX. But we are here! And there are more adventures to share in upcoming episodes from my crazy Momzilla life...
Family
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The Great Debate: Spanx vs P90X
It is no secret that I am a charter member of the Exercise Haters' Club and have made previous disastrous attempts at combating my non-existent metabolism.
For more evidence, I present:
Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
Exhibit D
Exhibit E
Exhibit F
But alas, early this year, I found myself contemplating yet another bulk order of Spanx (translation: super spandexy undergarments that condense your flab and internal organs into the limited space) from Zulilly when I decided it was time for something drastic. Oh yeah...I went on Amazon and bought a used copy of P90X.
It is everything I feared it would be. I have a love/hate relationship with annoying P90X mouthpiece Tony Horton right now and the first week I could not even lift my arms to shampoo my hair. By Wednesday, I feared that if I sat down on the couch, I might never be able to get up again.
I followed this program like a zealous groupie, even taking the "Before" pictures (and they are so frightening I didn't even let Husband see them!), taking all my measurements, and (cringingly) stepping on a scale only to find that I was at my heaviest weight ever.
30 days into the program, I could do more of the exercises and thought for sure, I would have made some progress. I had put in over 1000 minutes of exercise and even added extra runs each week since the Illinois Marathon weekend was looming (before you get too impressed, I was only signed up for the 5K). I gleefully redid my measurements and weighed myself.
3 lbs. lost. 1 inch off my hips. Everything else was the same. Luckily there was no bourbon on the house or I would have been tempted to drown my sorrows. Instead, I called my sister Susan and told her I had finally found the true cause of depression...exercising that much with NO RESULTS! She told me to get disciplined on the nutrition plan because I was now in my 30s and couldn't eat like I could in my 20s. (sniffle)
So alas, a quick trip to Walmart and I was loaded with Greek yogurt, granola, turkey jerky, spinach, string cheese, almonds, and whole wheat bread. Seriously, that is what the nutrition plan called for. Eating six times a day of some stuff that seems counter-intuitive (turkey jerky???).
Tomorrow is the 60 day milestone. I know I am 8 lbs. down and feeling a lot better. The real test will be my measurements. I'm still "looser in the cage" than I wanted to be BUT I finished my 5K two minutes faster than last year.
In other exercise news, Husband completed a half marathon last weekend and Eli and Katybird finished the youth run as well!
For more evidence, I present:
Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
Exhibit D
Exhibit E
Exhibit F
But alas, early this year, I found myself contemplating yet another bulk order of Spanx (translation: super spandexy undergarments that condense your flab and internal organs into the limited space) from Zulilly when I decided it was time for something drastic. Oh yeah...I went on Amazon and bought a used copy of P90X.
It is everything I feared it would be. I have a love/hate relationship with annoying P90X mouthpiece Tony Horton right now and the first week I could not even lift my arms to shampoo my hair. By Wednesday, I feared that if I sat down on the couch, I might never be able to get up again.
I followed this program like a zealous groupie, even taking the "Before" pictures (and they are so frightening I didn't even let Husband see them!), taking all my measurements, and (cringingly) stepping on a scale only to find that I was at my heaviest weight ever.
30 days into the program, I could do more of the exercises and thought for sure, I would have made some progress. I had put in over 1000 minutes of exercise and even added extra runs each week since the Illinois Marathon weekend was looming (before you get too impressed, I was only signed up for the 5K). I gleefully redid my measurements and weighed myself.
3 lbs. lost. 1 inch off my hips. Everything else was the same. Luckily there was no bourbon on the house or I would have been tempted to drown my sorrows. Instead, I called my sister Susan and told her I had finally found the true cause of depression...exercising that much with NO RESULTS! She told me to get disciplined on the nutrition plan because I was now in my 30s and couldn't eat like I could in my 20s. (sniffle)
So alas, a quick trip to Walmart and I was loaded with Greek yogurt, granola, turkey jerky, spinach, string cheese, almonds, and whole wheat bread. Seriously, that is what the nutrition plan called for. Eating six times a day of some stuff that seems counter-intuitive (turkey jerky???).
Tomorrow is the 60 day milestone. I know I am 8 lbs. down and feeling a lot better. The real test will be my measurements. I'm still "looser in the cage" than I wanted to be BUT I finished my 5K two minutes faster than last year.
In other exercise news, Husband completed a half marathon last weekend and Eli and Katybird finished the youth run as well!
Darren bringing it home!
Eli came in 2nd in her age division...the kid she was next to was DETERMINED not to be beat by a girl. He crossed the finished line and collapsed, requiring medical attention.
She looks in pain here but she actually sauntered off at the finish line like she hadn't pushed that hard at all.
Katybird coming in for a landing. Pretty sure she was daydreaming on the route!
That's me in the Kermit the Frog green shirt beside my Rock Star SIL Dena (in the hot pink...head turned...making sure I am not laying dead on the astro turf).
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The Duke vs. The Crazy Birds
For the past several mornings, we have had a pair of deranged robins trying to dive bomb our south-facing windows. Am not sure why they so desperately want to get into the house but in the midst of all their dive bombing, they are leaving mass quantities of bird do on our deck railing.
If I stand at the window, they turn their head sideways and blink incessantly at me...and stop their dive bombing. However, I cannot be at the window all day so I thought I came up with an ingenious solution.
John Wayne.
You see, John Wayne, or at least the life-sized cardboard cutout of him, was a "premarital acquisition" of Husband's. He also had Clint Eastwood but Dirty Harry has since been bequeathed to my sister's ranch where I am sure he was bestowed a place of honor. John Wayne, however, was too dear for my husband to part with so The Duke has made every single move with us.
At one point, I figured "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" and placed Clint and John in our Christmas photo.
But as of late, John Wayne was collecting dust behind our entertainment center in the exercise room. Until today...
I brought The Duke out of hiding, dusted him off, and set him up against the south-facing window. Problem solved!
But only temporarily. The crazed birds saw that The Duke didn't move and quickly caught on to my scheme.
Not to be outdone, Katybird came up with her own solution...using her stuffed "pony in a purse" along with deranged neighing sounds to scare off the birds.
Not sure who is crazier now...the birds or Katybird!
If I stand at the window, they turn their head sideways and blink incessantly at me...and stop their dive bombing. However, I cannot be at the window all day so I thought I came up with an ingenious solution.
John Wayne.
You see, John Wayne, or at least the life-sized cardboard cutout of him, was a "premarital acquisition" of Husband's. He also had Clint Eastwood but Dirty Harry has since been bequeathed to my sister's ranch where I am sure he was bestowed a place of honor. John Wayne, however, was too dear for my husband to part with so The Duke has made every single move with us.
At one point, I figured "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" and placed Clint and John in our Christmas photo.
I brought The Duke out of hiding, dusted him off, and set him up against the south-facing window. Problem solved!
But only temporarily. The crazed birds saw that The Duke didn't move and quickly caught on to my scheme.
Not to be outdone, Katybird came up with her own solution...using her stuffed "pony in a purse" along with deranged neighing sounds to scare off the birds.
Not sure who is crazier now...the birds or Katybird!
Monday, March 19, 2012
It's Pouring Now!
On March 2, I put a blog post out about really believing that God would grant my prayer for our house to sell and preparing to receive that answered prayer. We were getting ready to put the house back on the market after two and a half months of "down time" since we had been consistently on the market since May of 2011.
My first day to have time to start packing was Saturday, March 10th.
On Sunday, March 11th, we received an offer. After some negotiating back and forth, we have ACCEPTED THE OFFER! Closing is set for April 30th.
My first day to have time to start packing was Saturday, March 10th.
On Sunday, March 11th, we received an offer. After some negotiating back and forth, we have ACCEPTED THE OFFER! Closing is set for April 30th.
So God chose to show off and show me that He can sell my house even if it is not on the market. Not only that, but the young man buying the house told us that as he walked the property line, he came across an old refrigerator with three bullet holes in it down in the ravine at the bottom of the woods. Seventeen years ago, he was deer hunting with his dad and he missed the deer. His dad made him do some target practice into an abandoned refrigerator.
It's the same refrigerator. Little did he know that 17 years later, he would own that same property. And hopefully someday teach his own son to hunt on this land. Someone once said that coincidence is just God's way of remaining anonymous. I say, "Amen".
So our next steps? The new owners have graciously agreed to let us stay at the property until the Squirrels are done with school, then we have a retreat with our sending agency in California and a family wedding before loading up and moving out on July 9th. No sooner will we get settled in on the border than we have to be back for a family vacation and then on to Colorado for three weeks of missionary training at Mission Training International www.mti.org . Finally, as soon as the girls are in school, Husband and I begin 9 months of language training in Mcallen to become fluent in Spanish and LSM (Mexican Sign Language).
Reynosa or bust...Isaiah 55 better batten the hatches because the Squirrels are about to hit town!
Friday, March 2, 2012
Preparing for Rain
We have taken a couple of months off from having our home officially listed on the market for two reasons:
1) Barren trees, dormant plants, and gray skies do not make for good curb appeal.
2) Keeping a show-ready house with two spastic children is enough to may one consider taking up a bourbon addiction.
But alas, we are getting ready to go on the market again. The last time, I let the national news about the economy, the (horrid) real estate market, and just my general approach to life (which is to keep a cynical attitude so when things don't go my way, I am not surprised) take over my brain.
This time, I am "preparing for rain". This scene from "Facing the Giants" (among the list of movies that make me cry every time even if the acting is sub par) keeps replaying in my head. Let me set the scene:
The football coach of a losing Christian school team has his life unraveling around his ears - mounting debts, infertility, and a losing football team with attitude problems. He is in his office late one night wondering out loud to God about why when a man who routinely comes to pray over the school stops by the coach's office with a message:
So this time, I am not only putting the house back on the market, I am starting to pack. I may end up looking like a fool but I am trusting God to "bring the rain". We are fully funded for our first year and within about $10,000 of recurring contributions for our second year and beyond...which anyone who does personal support-raising can tell you is a MAJOR PRAISE (and no, asking for people to join our support team does not get any less awkward with time).
So I am trusting...bring on the rain!
1) Barren trees, dormant plants, and gray skies do not make for good curb appeal.
2) Keeping a show-ready house with two spastic children is enough to may one consider taking up a bourbon addiction.
But alas, we are getting ready to go on the market again. The last time, I let the national news about the economy, the (horrid) real estate market, and just my general approach to life (which is to keep a cynical attitude so when things don't go my way, I am not surprised) take over my brain.
This time, I am "preparing for rain". This scene from "Facing the Giants" (among the list of movies that make me cry every time even if the acting is sub par) keeps replaying in my head. Let me set the scene:
The football coach of a losing Christian school team has his life unraveling around his ears - mounting debts, infertility, and a losing football team with attitude problems. He is in his office late one night wondering out loud to God about why when a man who routinely comes to pray over the school stops by the coach's office with a message:
So this time, I am not only putting the house back on the market, I am starting to pack. I may end up looking like a fool but I am trusting God to "bring the rain". We are fully funded for our first year and within about $10,000 of recurring contributions for our second year and beyond...which anyone who does personal support-raising can tell you is a MAJOR PRAISE (and no, asking for people to join our support team does not get any less awkward with time).
So I am trusting...bring on the rain!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Pretzel Bandit and the In School Suspension
This week I bring you yet another (not so) proud parenting moment...
I received a call from Eli's elementary principal yesterday. There was a mysterious case of the disappearing pretzels in the third grade classroom. The pretzels were being stolen out of the classroom when no one was in there at the end of the school day. Suspicions were cast on a third grade boy but after an interrogation by the principle, the third grade boy was declared innocent on all counts.
The third and fourth grade teachers decided to set up a sting operation, turning off all lights in the classroom (as usual) for the last period of the day, and the third grade teacher sat in the dark in the classroom.
And to whom did her wondering eyes appear? But my daughter.
Confronted by the principal, Eli confessed to her misdeeds but couldn't say why she (a fourth grader) was sneaking into the third grade classroom to take pretzels from the teacher's stash. The principal informed me that the punishment would be in school suspension for one day and that she would have to miss her class Valentine party.
Eli came slowly and woefully off the bus yesterday, her head hanging like a whipped puppy. The first thing she said and she climbed in the blue bus was "Don't be mad at me, Mommy!" I told her we would talk when her dad got home.
By the time Husband arrived home, Eli had made "lemons out of lemonade" and decided that since she still got to keep her Valentine candy, it wasn't so bad to be suspended. We asked her why she was taking the pretzels and she didn't have any reason. I asked her if she was hungry to which she said, "Not really." I asked her if it gave her a thrill to do something she knew was wrong and she gave me a confused look.
So we don't have a reason as to why. We know she exhibited some of this "hoarding" or "stealing" behavior at a former foster home because she told us she used to wait for her foster mom to fall asleep and then she would sneak out and get Pop-Tarts from the cabinet. And on a couple of occasions, I found candy wrappers behind her bed so I knew she was sneaking candy in there despite being told not to without permission.
Eli was dreading today. We made her buy a replacement bag of pretzels to take to the third grade teacher and she had to apologize to her teacher and the third grade teacher. Hopefully this lesson learned today will prevent her from future foolish decisions that have greater repercussions.
I am fairly certain God gave me children to keep me humble.
I received a call from Eli's elementary principal yesterday. There was a mysterious case of the disappearing pretzels in the third grade classroom. The pretzels were being stolen out of the classroom when no one was in there at the end of the school day. Suspicions were cast on a third grade boy but after an interrogation by the principle, the third grade boy was declared innocent on all counts.
The third and fourth grade teachers decided to set up a sting operation, turning off all lights in the classroom (as usual) for the last period of the day, and the third grade teacher sat in the dark in the classroom.
And to whom did her wondering eyes appear? But my daughter.
Confronted by the principal, Eli confessed to her misdeeds but couldn't say why she (a fourth grader) was sneaking into the third grade classroom to take pretzels from the teacher's stash. The principal informed me that the punishment would be in school suspension for one day and that she would have to miss her class Valentine party.
Eli came slowly and woefully off the bus yesterday, her head hanging like a whipped puppy. The first thing she said and she climbed in the blue bus was "Don't be mad at me, Mommy!" I told her we would talk when her dad got home.
By the time Husband arrived home, Eli had made "lemons out of lemonade" and decided that since she still got to keep her Valentine candy, it wasn't so bad to be suspended. We asked her why she was taking the pretzels and she didn't have any reason. I asked her if she was hungry to which she said, "Not really." I asked her if it gave her a thrill to do something she knew was wrong and she gave me a confused look.
So we don't have a reason as to why. We know she exhibited some of this "hoarding" or "stealing" behavior at a former foster home because she told us she used to wait for her foster mom to fall asleep and then she would sneak out and get Pop-Tarts from the cabinet. And on a couple of occasions, I found candy wrappers behind her bed so I knew she was sneaking candy in there despite being told not to without permission.
I am fairly certain God gave me children to keep me humble.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Brokeback India
The girls were supposed to be writing a note to our 14-year-old sponsor child in India. Kate asks, "Mom, how do you spell 'sorry'?"
"What are you saying sorry for?" I reply.
"I want to tell him I am sorry he doesn't have any money." says Kate.
At which point I intervene and tell her it probably isn't the best idea to point out somebody's poverty.
"What are you saying sorry for?" I reply.
"I want to tell him I am sorry he doesn't have any money." says Kate.
At which point I intervene and tell her it probably isn't the best idea to point out somebody's poverty.
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