Namaste By Day

A day at the farm

2012-05-31T10:45:00.008-07:00

When we decided to buy a foreclosure, we knew it would be a lot of work, but we figured that we would be able to get it cleaned, painted, and unpacked in the five days that we both were off work over Memorial Day weekend.

Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaha.

It's cleaned. Well, except for the floors. And some of the windows. The baseboards are still pretty gross too.

It's painted. Well, except for the kitchen. And the laundry room. And the tree I am painting in G's room. And the 200 square foot great room. With vaulted ceilings.

It is unpacked. Well, except for the boxes that are piled up in the basement.

So once B went back to work, I cleaned a little, and unpacked a little, and started on the tree in G's room.

And then I had to get the heck outta Dodge. I had heard about a small working farm about 5 minutes from our house that does field trips and tours and I called to see if we could come check it out.

I should have known when, over the phone, Rita, who owns the farm, called me "Precious" and was exceptionally welcoming that it would be an amazing experience. But nothing could have prepared me for the soul-refreshing getaway that it was.

She suggested that we bring our lunches and have a picnic.

She mentioned, in passing, that we'd have a nice view as we ate. She wasn't kidding.

We were just finishing our lunch when G squealed, "Kitty cat! Kitty cat!" Sure enough, the farm cat had come to join us, in hopes of swiping the last of our lunches, I suppose. The boys were delighted.

Rita told the boys that they could go anywhere and see all the animals. "Explore, enjoy your day, take as much time as you want," she smiled. She didn't have to tell them twice.

The animals there were all as friendly as the cat. When she told us we could pet the turkey, I thought she was kidding. Nope.

Animals came and went as we ambled around the farm.

Some were behind fences, but as soon as we approached, they greeted us at the fence for some love. They were especially attracted to L, the little animal whisperer.

One of the highlights of the afternoon was when she opened the door to the henhouse and all the chickens came scurrying out. I thought for sure that G would wig out, but he just stood and watched in amazement. He didn't even seem to mind too much when one feisty bird pecked his bottom.

My boys get their adoration of animals from me. Getting up close and personal with these awesome creatures was a thrill for me as well. I told Rita that one day I might have to come back, sans kids, and channel Fern from Charlotte's Web.

As if there wasn't enough awesomeness in our day, the boys then discovered a playground. Gleefully, they did what they do best...

Balancing.....

Crawling (with a goat in tow, no less)....

Swinging.....

Playing....

Manny, the black goat, followed us everywhere. He and L chased each other, jumping on tables and dodging each other through the playground. L giggled and squealed, putting my momma heart in serious danger of bursting.

We were getting ready to wrap up our afternoon when Rita brought out baby bottles to feed the goats. Poor L had a bit of a wrestling match with his goat.

But G acted like he was a professional. When I turned around and saw the cuteness that was a baby feeding a baby, completely independently, I melted into my shoes a little.

A few minutes later, I noticed that L had wandered a few feet away. He was watching the chickens intently.

"Where are the eggs?" he kept asking me. Rita heard him, and went in the henhouse to get a bucket of them to give him a mini-lesson.

I think it blew his little mind seeing those eggs that had just come from the chickens.

As we got in the car, tired, hot, and refreshed, L sighed happily, "That was the best day of my whole life."

Namaste'.

Moving Day Lessons

2012-05-23T20:50:00.004-07:00

Today, I prepared my house for moving tomorrow. I have learned quite a few lessons, but I can only remember a couple of them because I am so tired and sore that my short-term memory has failed me.

But what I can tell you?

* Get more tape. More. You will run out, and lose it 20958032 times during the day o' packing.

* Splurge on the tape gun, or better yet, borrow one from a nice person. You think you won't need it but it makes life so much easier.

* Send your kids to day care while you pack. This one is crucial. That way you can blare inappropriate music/tv shows and pack to your heart's content without a rescue mission of Spiderman from that evil cardboard box.

* Don't pack the knives or you will end up cutting your kids' dinners up with a spatula.

* Packing boxes and piling them up will result in much more painful muscles than one might expect, even if one practices yoga and various other gym classes throughout the week. The pain doubles if you packed your classroom the day before. Don't pack the Advil...you'll need it.

* You CAN successfully pack with no bubble wrap if you are willing to get creative. You may, however, have to temporarily sacrifice towels, sheets, clothing, and possibly your child's blanket.

* If you need paint, especially if you need 18 gallons of paint, ask about deals. If the paint guys are super nice, they might give you a 30% off sale price a day early. Don't be ashamed to flirt a little. Saving $300 is worth batting your eyes shamelessly.

* Get the U-Haul the night before and load 'er up.

* Especially if your original crew bails in the 11th hour, strapping young men are worth their weight in Starbucks.

Namaste'.

Wedded...bliss?

2012-05-22T08:11:00.002-07:00

I've had ADD my whole life, but I've only tried medication as an adult. It helped, somewhat, but I am so anti-medication that I couldn't ever come to peace with it, and discontinued it myself.

I have a hard time getting and staying organized. I lose things. I'm always late. I forget things. It affects my friendships. It's hard having ADD.

But it's not as hard as it is being married to someone with ADD.

Last weekend, I had an aha moment that changed my whole view of it. I honestly don't remember what started the argument (shocker) but B and I started having a heated discussion. It wasn't a fight, which is great, because I actually listened and learned from it.

My husband is so methodical in everything.he.does. He doesn't do anything impulsively. When he says he is going to do something, he does it. He creates places for things and keeps them there. He's never late.

So being married to someone like me? It's not easy. He'll tell you that he loves me with everything he has and that he'd marry me all over again if he had the choice. And he's not lying.

But it's still not easy.

It's not easy to be married to someone who seemingly ignores you when you tell her that tripping over her shoes drives you crazy. Because even though you do what she asks, she apparently could care less about your pet peeve, and never puts them away. Ever.

It's not easy to be married to someone who constantly interrupts you. And invariably wants to tell you a story that she forgot to tell you earlier - the second that you lie down and turn your favorite show on. And when you do want to ask her something, she ignores you but starts yet another Very Important Story.

It's not easy to be married to someone who is asking you to help her find things multiple times, without fail, every single day. Who is ridiculously messy, but goes into panic mode and needs the house cleaned immediately if the mess becomes too chaotic.

It's not easy to be married to someone who seems to be disrespectfully oblivious.

This weekend, he told me that - in a very methodical, to-the-point way, of course.

I took it to heart. I apologized and got defensive, and got distracted. Then, finally, for the first time after six years of my asking, B read a couple of articles explaining that people with ADD truly aren't being rude; it's an actual disorder. That often, they use every ounce of holding-it-together at work and by the time they get home, they have nothing left.

So now I'm wrestling with medicine vs. natural supplements vs. new home strategies. Regardless of what I decide, I'm just thrilled that I was able to see the aha moment before getting distracted by something shiny.

If you have ADD or are married to someone who does, I'd love some your magical tips and tricks.

In the meantime, namaste'.

Hang on, Bandwagon, I'm jumping on.

2012-05-20T17:57:00.002-07:00

I'm loving the "25 Things You Don't Know About Me" posts going around. Bandwagon, meet Namaste By Day.

1. I'm a little colorblind. I can tell most colors apart but struggle with greens and browns, as well as grays and navys.

2. I am the slowest decision maker ever. Even if I'm picking out rubber bands for my hair, it'll take me way longer than it should and I second guess everything.

3. I love to sleep. Almost every night, I get excited to go to bed and tell B, "Sleeping is my favorite." He likes to tell people this.

4. I tend to not make great first impressions with male authority figures. Not sure what's up with that. The good news is that they usually come around and end up understanding my awesomeness. I kid. Kinda.

5. No matter how hard I try, my car is always trashed. It's so bad that I'm embarrassed for people to ride with me.

6. I also hate to drive with people other than my kids in the car, so I don't do too much to change #5.

7. My eyebrows are out of control at all times. I tweeze them at least once a week but I need to tweeze them daily. When I get them waxed, they are back to grossness in three days. I like a lot of things about being Sicilian. The eyebrows don't make the cut.

8. I used to get fake nails every two weeks and do crazy colors. Now, I cut them all off and wouldn't dream of painting them. If I get a manicure, I'd stick to natural.

9. Cooking makes me nervous.

10. When I watch a movie, I watch the extras. I don't think I'll ever lose my dream of being a lead in a movie. I don't even want the attention or accolades. I just want to act. Sigh.

11. I am really good at calming angry parents down, and I love to do it. My own, notwithstanding.

12. I've never sewed a button on. When I tell people this, they think I'm exaggerating as always. I'm not.

13. When I was little, my neighbor Kristy and I used to put on dancing shows in my garage to movie soundtracks like Footloose and Dirty Dancing. We'd practice in her basement for weeks, make invitations for the neighbors, set up folding chairs in my driveway, bribe people with popsicles, and bust out the tape player. It still blows my mind that people actually came.

14. I am a terrible dancer. Awful. People have compared me to Elaine on Seinfeld. In fact, I'm just awkward in general, which you wouldn't expect with my body type. Lucky me.

15. I have a dream to take drum lessons and be a part of the worship team at my church. My lack of rhythm makes that dream highly unlikely.

16. I am super impulsive and at least once a month, write emails that I later regret. Not because they are angry or rude, but because I pour my heart out and then get embarrassed. My most recent one was to someone at my church, last weekend. My next one will surely be sometime in June. I'll keep you posted.

17.I have no sense of direction. At all. I get lost all the time. The lack of sense of direction is bigger than me driving in my city. I, sadly, can't fill in a map of the US. I'd be having a great day if I could fill in more than five states. Again, not exaggerating.

18. I eat meat because I have to, because my iron gets too low if I don't. I have to force myself not to think of the animal while I eat it. But I can throw down on some bacon, as long as it's crispy.

19. I hate Daylight Savings Time. It makes me angry to even discuss it. Evidently, I inherited this from my grandmother. I just found out last year that she hated it too, and it thrilled me.

20. My ADD impacts most of my relationships. I'm going to blog about its effects on my marriage soon.

21. I have really, really bad eyesight. The eye doctor has problems finding the right contacts for me because my vision is so poor and I have awful astigmatism. My glasses are super thick and I'm not a candidate for Lasik.

22. I love gummy bears. When I was a teenager, I worked at a cookie store in the mall and we traded cookies for Haribo bears from the candy store next door. I used to eat gummy bears until they literally made me sick and I still love them.

23. I love my handwriting.

24. My job is changing slightly next year and I'm really excited. I think it's important to change things up, even a little, every 5-ish years. It's easy to get stuck in a rut, albeit a very comfortable one.

25. I find Dr. House oddly attractive but I can't watch that show, or any medical show for that matter, because I will diagnose myself or my family members with every single bizarre ailment ever mentioned on the show.

Namaste'.

"God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing. " C.S. Lewis

2012-05-19T19:06:00.005-07:00

Last week was rough.

Between the attacks I got from people threatened by my talk about baptism (via e-mail and FB), my asthma flaring up, my anxiety rising, I sunk.

I worried about what others thought of me. I worried about other people's beliefs.

I felt under attack in more ways than one.

I cried. A lot. I wasn't myself. Last night, it culminated in finding myself up, at 2 am, sobbing, and reading Psalm 27 on my phone.

Had it not been for some friends who educated me on how and why this exact thing is happening to me right now, I'd have thought I was losing my mind.

One hour of yoga helped a lot this morning, but that was nothing compared to tonight.

Because I went to church this evening and the pastor spoke on exactly what I'm going through. Through the Holy Spirit, he got right into my head. Again. I think my eyes were full of tears more often than not during that hour. I walked out of that service with more peace than I would have ever thought possible after the week I'd endured.

Some things can't be explained through science or coincidence.

Anyone could say that it's coincidence that the pastor talked about keeping faith in the midst of those who disagree with you. That him talking about, to a tee, exactly what I'm struggling with has got to happen sometime.

But this is not the first time that's happened. Or the fifth. Or the tenth.

And tonight, when our pastor said something that made my friend Elizabeth and I gasp, because we had just been talking about it two minutes before walking into the service? Just another coincidence? Sorry, I can't chalk it up to that. I just can't.

While I can promise that this blog won't change from a mommy blog to a Jesus-freak blog, I can't promise that I'm going to talk any less about my faith from here on out. The funny L and G stories and randomness will keep popping up around here. Hopefully, I'm going to have some awesome before and after pictures of our new house coming as soon as next week. I've got an ADD-related post swirling around in my very distracted brain.

But the spiritual posts will keep on keeping on. I've gotten lots of emails this week from people who share my beliefs and those who don't. The vast majority, even from those of very different faiths, or lack thereof, have been supportive, and kind, and for that, I am so very grateful. And I feel renewed again.

Plus, as our pastor said tonight, if Jesus is this big, how can we not talk about him?

Namaste'.

To my preschool graduate

2012-05-17T06:35:00.004-07:00

Dear L,

On Tuesday morning, you walked into your preschool room to the Graduation March, and I got a glimpse into the future.

For if the last five years have gone by this quickly, surely you'll be walking across the high school stage before I know it. You'll be bringing home the girl that isn't good enough for you, for no one surely will be, and I'll be worrying when you're out past curfew.

The teacher read your dream of the future and everyone chuckled at, "I want to be a daddy, because daddies are boys. When you grow up, you have to marry someone, and I want to be a daddy and not a mommy."

Before I know it, you will be a daddy. I'll be cradling your own baby in my arms, remembering when I nursed you and wondering where the years went.

As for my dreams for you? That you'll always have the gift of what your teachers said that they'd remember about you...your pride when you helped a friend in need.

My L, take it from me...having a big heart is a blessing and a curse, but may it never be hardened. Loving others with all you have is a gift. Don't lose it, little man.

A great big world awaits you, alive with possibilities. I'm already proud of what you have done and have no doubt you'll continue to wow me with your empathy, intelligence, and old-soul ways.

Congratulations, L...I know God has huge plans in store for you.

Love Always,

Mommy

It's my party and I'll celebrate if I want to.

2012-05-15T08:04:00.004-07:00

I want to post this on Facebook, where I'm getting the backlash, but I'm not a fan of good ole FB drama, so the ole saying, blogging is cheaper than therapy? It applies again.

Wowzers. I posted about getting baptized yesterday here and on Facebook, and although everyone here and on Twitter was supportive (even those who don't share my beliefs), I got some hateful comments, messages, and status updates from others regarding my faith.

I'd just like to say that those people, who are so offended by my excitement over a new life, are completely hypocritical. They don't want me to talk about baptism or my love for God, but they think it's okay to talk about their beliefs and how wrong I am. It goes both ways.

You know what baptism isn't? It's not a ticket into heaven. It's not a conversion from Catholicism. It's not me judging others for not having a relationship with God. If it were, I'd be the hypocritical one. Because if you look back just a few years on this blog, you can find a post about me being afraid to walk into a church for fear of lightning striking me. And even after I joined and fell in love with my church, I was seeking. Questioning. Doubting.

So let it be said right here that I judge no one for their beliefs. I might pray for them, but I don't judge. I've been there, for a long time.

But asking me not to talk about something that has made such a profound impact on my life? It's almost impossible. It's like asking others not to talk about the dream job they landed. Or their children.

Because in the past, I didn't drive down the street, marveling at the creation that God gifted us. I didn't know to pray when overwhelmed, finding that it would bring me a sense of peace. I didn't see God everywhere I looked.

I was a mess. Anxious. Confused. Hurt. Angry.

Are things perfect now that I've found Jesus? Nope. Do I still lose my temper with my kids? Yep. Do I still cry in the kitchen when the dishes are piling up and I ruined the rice and G is screaming? It happened last night.

But this life change I'm going through? It's phenomenal. Literally.

I'd apologize for continuing to talk about it, but the truth is, I'm not sorry. If you don't want to read it, move along. And if something strikes a nerve in you, perhaps there's a reason. I wondered why the baptism videos made me cry before I ever stepped foot into my church. It was God whispering to me.

So excuse me while I continue to celebrate.

Namaste'.

Big, gigantic, exciting news!

2012-05-14T05:00:00.000-07:00

Both times that I became pregnant, I had a cute idea of how to tell my husband that we were having a baby. I like to think of myself as pretty creative and I had ideas flowing through my brain. And then I peed on the sticks and my ADD-fueled impulsivity kicked right in. I told him RIGHT! THEN! (In G's case, I actually sent him a text to say that I needed him to bring home another test, because the 5th test I took finally had a second faint line and oh my gosh maybe I was pregnant!)

I never told my parents in a cute way either. I was going to see my mom the night I found out I was pregnant with G but unable to wait, I called her and screeched that L was going to be a big brother.

When I have news that excites me, I scream it from the rooftops.

So on the night before Easter, I was serving at church, and my friend Elizabeth walked in the room, I should have known what I was going to do. Elizabeth has been an integral part of my faith journey. She's held my hand literally and figuratively. She's answered questions, some of which were beyond random. She's listened to my doubts. She has prayed for me and with me.

When I saw her that night, I did it again. I had ideas of how I wanted to share some big news with her, but I ran up to her and blurted it out, saying something like, "I have to tell you something and I think that Easter is the perfect time because (insert 'squeee!) B and I are getting baptized and will you please be my water witness?"

And then we dissolved into a tear-filled hug.

I sent her a text later apologizing for my impulsivity and she responded kindly as she always does, explaining that heartfelt and excited is far better than cute and planned.

Today, I filled out the registration to get baptized next month. Baptism at our church is so, so cool. They flood the field in our backyard and all the pastors help immerse hundreds of people proclaiming that they are His. I went last year and cried and cried. And then I cried harder when I looked over at L to see him crying too. But it's powerful, touching, awe-inspiring stuff.

I plan on writing a few posts about how our church feels about baptism; why we don't baptize babies (or anyone under third grade, for that matter), what a water witness is, and why I feel the need to be baptized even though I was baptized as an infant. So if you have any specific questions, let me know, and I'll answer them in future posts.

For now, though, I'm screaming it from the rooftops, er, internet because like I said, that's what I do with good news. And this news is pretty stinkin' awesome. I'm getting baptized!

Namaste'!

On Mother's Day

2012-05-13T11:45:00.006-07:00

Last night, I spent the night, awake, on the couch, with a 103 degree 20-month old.

This morning, I was greeted with, "Mommy, I frew up in my bed," followed by B telling me that L also had diarrhea.

B and I had to attend separate church services because our boys were sick, on a very special service that would have been powerful for us to attend together.

Today, I've worried over two sick little men. I've mopped foreheads and pushed fluids and forced probiotics.

I received a homemade, heartfelt card from B with a mall gift card and the promise of a night out of guilt-free, child-free shopping.

However, I was more concerned with the never ending fever and bathroom issues than the scheduling of said evening.

Being a momma is tough. But I don't mourn the hardships of my Mother's Day today. I know too many women who would give anything to rock a baby, even a feverish one. To clean up after a child, even if it includes pukey sheets. To worry over thermometers. To wipe tears and bottoms.

I know women brimming with hopefulness and those who have lost all sense of hope.

I'm praying that my boys get better, but in the next breath, I'm praying for the mommies who are mourning the loss of their babies and/or who are praying they'll finally get their own diaper-clad miracle.

To ALL mothers out there...namaste'.

Talking about talking

2012-05-11T06:38:00.003-07:00

I don't talk about my marriage much on my blog. I'm open to a fault, both here and IRL, but for many reasons, I shy away from talking about my husband. He is awesome, patient, intelligent, does the laundry, and is the polar opposite of me.

And today, I'm talking about one facet of our relationship.

But I'm not doing it here. I'm over at Loves of Life, which is my girl Katie's corner of the internet. So go! Check it out. And weigh in, please!

Namaste'.

Food Allergy Friday Thursday: The Mom Instinct Fail Edition

2012-05-10T07:00:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow, I'll be guest blogging...secret location revealed tomorrow. So today, I bring you a Food Allergy post, of a light, funny variety.

I work really hard to make sure that L's food allergies don't ever make him feel left out. Each week, I look at the school's menu and buy or make items that are as close as possible to the snacks and lunches provided. When L's classes have special parties, I bring things that he enjoys eating. I keep special treats at school for impromptu celebrations.

I've made mistakes; I've had slip-ups and forgotten things. But I give it a good effort, and it's not easy. It's worth it, though, because L doesn't want to feel different.

Or so I thought.

Yesterday, I showed up at L's school to find a notice on his classroom door, explaining that there would be an end-of-the-year ice cream party. Parents were asked to bring in ice cream or toppings. Ice cream is easy enough; we have bought hemp, almond, and coconut ice cream. We even have an ice cream maker and have made delicious coconut milk ice cream.

I made a mental note to bring L his own items, then had an epiphany. I could sign up for several things and bring enough for everyone. That way, L would actually be eating the same thing as his friends, rather than something similar. I cleared this idea with his teacher, who shared my excitement.

As we drove home, I explained the idea to L, and glanced in the rearview mirror. To my surprise, I was met with a stony glare, and a, "No."

Huh? Sure that he misunderstood me, I rephrased my idea, trying again.

"I don't want to share my food," L said.

"Why?" I asked, dumbfounded. L is a kind kiddo who has never been reluctant to share (well, except for with his little brother).

"I wike havin' my own food," L pouted.

"Does it make you feel special?" I asked.

"Yeah," answered L, sullenly.

So much for momma instinct. I've only been frantically trying to find matching preschool snacks for since August of 2010. It would have been nice for him to share this information with me, oh, two years ago.

I silently added that to the list of food allergy silver linings. and thanked my stars that I apparently no longer have to stress over lunches each week.

Namaste'.

Blessed are those who are persecuted.

2012-05-09T06:53:00.002-07:00

About a year ago, I approached a pastor at my church after a service, teary-eyed. I had just been touched deeply by a baptism video that was shown and felt beyond conflicted. Tripping over my words, I asked the pastor how I could ever be baptized when I had so many questions on certain biblical teachings. Although I consider myself to be a strong Christian, I am also pretty darn liberal in many areas.

He smiled kindly at me and explained that our church doesn't shy away from questions...in fact, they encourage them. He told me that even the pastors wrestle with certain topics. And, he added, that's the best way to learn.

A few months later, I attended a dinner at my church, where our lead pastor carefully, eloquently, and emotionally tackled the subject of homosexuality. With a catch in his voice and tears in his eyes, he discussed what the Bible says. Although I cringed, I was given some relief when he explained that he has close friends who are gay, and furthermore, everyone is welcomed into our church with open arms.

As I've wrestled with this and other issues, I've spoken with pastors and other members of the church. I've learned that there are pastors in our church of every political belief, and I'll never be told how to vote. I believe that Jesus was crucified, died, and rose again to save us, and it's okay that a lot of other issues are in the gray area.

So today, reading the posts and comments from my friends online regarding Amendment One, my heart is sad. I've learned that when I'm conflicted; struggling; anxious...the best thing I can do is pray.

So today I pray for peace.

I pray that people with hate in their hearts are healed and that, on the other hand, people who have strong spiritual convictions can hold strong to them.

I pray for people, gay or straight, who think that no one cares about them. I pray that they remember that Jesus hung out with outcasts; embraced lepers, befriended the lonely.

I pray that people on both sides of the debate, feeling oppressed, will be soothed by Matthew 5:10-12.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Today, more than ever...namaste'.

Finding balance

2012-05-08T07:36:00.000-07:00

More often than I'd like to admit, weekends get away from me. Because I work full-time and am too lazy to clean during the week, the state of my house steadily declines during the week. So by the time Saturday rolls around, there is pee next to the toilet and clothes next to the hampers and puzzle pieces under the table and dishes in the sink and shoes strewn throughout the house.

I'm messy. I'm disorganized. But when the house is that bad, I start to panic a bit. So I tend to go into a mad cleaning frenzy.

I'm a little ashamed to admit that although I look forward to spending time with my boys during the weekend, sometimes quality time with them gets pushed aside to clean, and then rest, post-cleaning.

But for some reason,last weekend, I found a little balance. As I rushed through the house, armed with paper towels and cleaners, L asked, "Mommy, will you play one game of Trouble with me?"

I started to say, "Buddy, I gotta get our house cleaned." Then I looked down at him, and realized that before I knew it, he'd be asking to borrow my car on a Saturday to go hang with his friends.

And later, when G pointed to the door and asked, "Ow-sahd, pees?" I set down my dusting rag. And took him outside into the sunshine to revel in the day that God gifted us.

We talked about the birds singing.

We explored the rocks and individual blades of grass.

And we thought about how amazing it was that water can come from! the! house! I took a deep breath and let him watch what happened when dirt got wet, even when it muddied his hands, legs, and socks.

Later, when L asked, "Remember when we pwayed in 'da sprinkwer wast year? Do you fink we could do dat again?" I rolled with it.

Even my heat-hating husband got into the spirit, coming out to play, despite the 95 degree, extremely humid day.

When G woke up from his nap, we took it a step further. We went on an adventure to explore our soon-to-be neighborhood, and found an awesome little playground.

As we drove home, L said, " 'Dis was 'da best day ever!"

Even though there was laundry waiting on my bed, and I never did get around to the master bathroom floor, I had to agree.

Namaste'.

Headband Winner!

2012-05-07T08:08:00.003-07:00

We have a winner!

The Lemons and Blueberries giveaway winner is....

Drumroll please.....

Charlie's Mommy!

Charlie's Mommy, email me at namastebyday@gmail.com and I'll hook you up with Elena!

Hopefully I'll be able to highlight another Etsy shop soon!

Namaste'.

More than a class

2012-05-02T07:01:00.003-07:00

I remember moving out of my college dorms on a warm May day. Watching my friends with whom I'd lived, grown, learned, and much more pack up their bags and load up their cars and drive down the tree-lined street...it still brings a little pain to my heart. Saying goodbye to friends who'd become closer than family was, at that point, one of the hardest thing I'd ever done.

Last night, I had a feeling reminiscent to that.

It was the last night of my Storyline class (I posted about it HERE and HERE and HERE ) and I dreaded going. Not because I didn't enjoy the class, but because I knew when those two hours had ended, I wouldn't get to go back.

During the six weeks of the class, I bonded with the women at my table far more than I ever thought possible. We laughed together, we sobbed together. We passed around kleenex and chocolate. We trusted each other with things that didn't make us proud. We whispered secrets and gasped at our own "aha" moments. We hugged. We came closer to Jesus.

And even though I had spent only a fraction of the time with these women than I had with my university counterparts, I felt just as big of a pull on my heart when I hugged them goodbye as I did that warm May day.

For I'm here to tell you that when you walk alongside someone so closely on a faith journey and open your heart like we did, the bond is strong. When you feel God moving as you cry together and pray with one another, it connects you more than any amount of parties and late-night study sessions.

The last part of our class was to verbally give each other affirmations, which were written in a beautiful notebook that was gifted to us. It was easy for me to tell the other women that they were open and brave and peaceful and intelligent and beautiful. But hearing the words the women said about me brought heat to my face and tears to my eyes. I'd never thought that I was merciful or wise. I knew I wasn't reflective or intentional. But these friends saw these things, and many more, in me. They told me they loved me and they meant it.

I didn't want to leave. In fact, I stayed almost 45 minutes laughing and talking with these women after class had officially ended. I wanted to sit longer and eat and pray and let our phenomenal teachers inspire us further. I wanted to hear more tear-jerking stories. I wanted to process my thoughts further.

Perhaps one day I'll get the opportunity to take the class again, or even better, to serve as a facilitator at a class. For now, I'll keep remembering the life and faith lessons that are beyond valuable. I'll remind myself that God is always with me. That negative turns in my life will seed and sprout into something beautiful. That my story is just beginning. That God made me in His image and therefore I am wise and reflective and intentional.

And I'll keep thanking God for nudging me to sign up for something that was so much more than a six-week class.

Namaste'.

Headband Giveaway: Lemons and Blueberries!

2012-04-27T10:10:00.007-07:00

I've never been trendy. Well, let me clarify. Outside of those oh-so-attractive mall bangs that I rocked in 1992, I don't tend to follow trends. I think colored denim looks good on all of you, but I don't see myself buying it anytime soon. The only reason I ever even attempted leggings was because it occurred to me that they might be comfortable. (If someone would have told me that wearing them felt like pajamas, I'd have been the first to sport them. ) I have sensory issues, and ~~I'm a big huge hippie~~ lean to the bohemian side. The only reason I'll buy clothes is if they are more comfortable than something I have. Clearly, I'm not too interested in fashion.

But accessories? I love them. I can't pull off very big earrings and bracelets drive me bonkers but I love small earrings and necklaces. My favorite accessory, though, is headbands. I have bought headbands from everywhere from Walgreens to small businesses. I'm picky about them.

One day, I got an itch for a new headband and started poking around Etsy. I saw the cutest shop called Lemons and Blueberries that had headbands....and pillows and nursing covers and fabric flowers and painted plates and even some adorable felt crowns. And it was all cute. I started chatting with Elena, who I could tell from our conversations has a kind heart.

Here's a little blurb from Elena herself:

Hullo there, all! My name is Elena, owner and creator at Lemons and Blueberries. I'm a twenty-something young woman, highly interested in serving God with my hobbies and time; Lemons and Blueberries is an industrious way for me to do this and have an awesome creative outlet at once. I've learned much over the years and is excited about growing and expanding my business, but my main goal is to glorify God and I'm constantly striving to make much of Him in my life. When I'm not creating items for the shop, you can find me reading vintage mystery novels, drinking homemade kombucha, laughing/talking with my family, working as a post-pardem doula, a caretaker for a special needs little boy, traveling wherever I can, and rearranging furniture. One of the things that I find most encouraging is from 2 Corinthians 4, "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

Sweet, right? She's so kind, in fact, that she wants to give away a headband to one of my readers. I got the opportunity to review a couple of her headbands first. The first day I wore one to work, I got six compliments on it by lunch. (You can see it HERE.) It's snug but not tight, and well-made. The other one I got was just like the one she'll be sending to one of you, a five-strand, beautifully made headband. And trust me, you'll want it. I love it. It's a brand new item, and here's a peek...

I'm actually wearing this one as I type and I love it. If you want to be my headband twin, you need to go check out her shop, then leave me a comment below telling me your favorite item there. Your comment must either be linked to your email or include your email to be entered. I'll choose a winner one week from today, on Monday, May 7.

Good luck, and namaste'!

**I was not paid to do this giveaway; however, I was given headbands to review. The opinions are all mine and 100% genuine!

On the Starting Line

2012-04-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

When I read blog posts about races, anything from a 5K to an IronMan, I cry.

When L's teacher told me the story of her first half marathon a couple of weeks ago, big tears dripped down my face in his preschool classroom.

I don't know what it is about races. I think the unknown people cheering for the runners is what gets me. Strangers stand at the side of the road, reading the racers names and numbers, giving praise and encouragement to people they don't know. When I hear runners talk about how much it helped to hear that cheering, it makes me think about that on a more generalized level. Can you imagine how much better the world would be if we all encouraged one another that way?

I've always wanted to run a race. A while back, I downloaded the Couch to 5K app and set out on my first run. While I completed it, it was a giant failure. I ended up hurting my knee and limping for weeks. On Week One, Day One.

Clearly, I'm not cut out to be a runner. I should have known. I have knee issues, plantar fasciitis, and bone spurs. So I deleted the app and unrolled my yoga mat once again. And while I love me some yoga and its benefits for my body, something was missing.

I want to run a race. But I can't.

My feet are in severe pain after an hour of kickboxing. Anything high-impact is bad news for my body.

But I want to take part in a race something fierce. I want that sense of accomplishment. I want to feel the love of strangers.

So when L's teacher told me that she wanted me to to walk the half marathon in our city in October with her, I looked at her longingly. I said I'd do it but I knew I couldn't. You have to complete it in under four hours. My feet. My knees. Even walking scares me. And does it even really count if you walk it?

But I teach my students that we need to celebrate what we can do, not what we can't. That if you can't talk with your words, we can use a machine to talk. That you don't have to be perfect like everyone else; doing things differently is awesome if it's to the best of your ability. So to turn my back on my dream for the 2057th time because I can't run it and because it would be a struggle would be pretty hypocritical of me.

B suggested that I talk to my chiropractor. I did, and she was encouraging. She said I need to start training, even to walk it, and I'll know if I needed to quit. I'll have to commit to nightly stretching and icing my feet. I may need laser treatments. I'll have to get fitted for the right shoes and orthotics.

Looks like I won't be asking for a pedicure and chocolate covered strawberries for Mother's Day this year.

Here goes nothin'!

Namaste'.

Wordless Wednesday - Yo.

2012-04-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

When you are a boy mom

2012-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

When you are a boy mom, you don't get to pick out dresses or debate over leggings vs skinnies, knowing that either one will be ridiculously cute on your little lady's bottom.

When you are a boy mom, you don't get to marvel over teeny tiny painted piggie toes and sigh over their sweetness in flowered sandals.

When you are a boy mom, you don't get to perfect pigtails and adjust sweet headbands, celebrating when the flower matches the ruffled dress just right.

When you are a boy mom, you get to get attacked with giggles and punches, mid-bathroom cleaning. You get to get greeted with "Hold it right there, Sister!"

When you are a boy mom, you get the reward of giddy smiles when you agree to be the bad guy. And even if you don't know how to fight like a bad guy, it's okay, because little boys are more than happy to coach you if you are willing to play. When you are a boy mom, you'll hear things like "Bad guys don't tickle!" and "You're supposed to tackle me now!"

When you are a boy mom, you get workouts at home from fighting with Batman. And if the rest of your body isn't sore from said workout, your abs will get sore from laughing so hard.

When you are a boy mom, you can play rough and tumble and perfect your fake punches without fear of messed up hair or clothes or piggie toes. If you're lucky, you can sneak in a hug or a kiss while you do so.

When you are a boy mom, you are a superhero, just because you are a mommy. Because even though you don't get to wear matching dresses or get mommy and me manicures, nothing rivals the love that a little boy feels for his mommy. As protective as a momma is for her baby bears, a little boy will puff out his chest and stand up tall to protect his momma bear right back.

I am a boy mom and it's everything I've ever imagined it would be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to locate my cape.

Namaste'.

God-given gifts

2012-04-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

Every so often, you have a moment. A great big honkin' moment when some people say the stars align. Other people say the universe smiles on you. Still others insist it's good karma. Skeptics say it's luck.

Me? I say it's proof of God doing His thing, right there in my midst.

A few days ago, we got a text from someone close to us, saying that he wanted to come to church with us. We'd been praying for this for two years because we wanted to see his heart healed. We love him so much and yearned for him to experience what we had through our church because like us, he needs some hard-core love.

And it just happened to be on the weekend that friends of ours, one of whom was initially as anti-church as I used to be, were dedicating their daughter at our church. We barely got them in the church doors months ago, and yesterday, I got to watch them stand before the church, publicly proclaiming that they wanted to raise her knowing God and wanted the church's help to do so.

So as I listened to our pastor explain the meaning of dedication, looking at our friends who had recently agreed to their own faith journey, feeling a skeptical but willing loved one directly next to me, I had tears shining in my eyes. My heart felt like it was in danger of bursting out of my chest.

I had the opportunity to join our friends in the front of the church, cry and pray with them, and it was intense and holy.

And when I returned to my seat to hear my all-time favorite song, I couldn't have wiped the smile off my face if I'd tried.

Then the pastor started his message and spoke directly, I'm convinced, to our visitor. Questions he asked and topics he covered were so perfect for him that I rubbed my arms to try to rid myself of the goosebumps. Clearly, the Holy Spirit was working right through him and I got to see it with my own two eyes.

He wasn't the only one who was a recipient of a perfect message, though. The pastor taught this week about the parable in Luke 6: 47-49. Of all things, it was about houses. With two different foundations, one of which protected against flooding.

Last week, we decided to walk away from a contract on a house that we'd put money and time into, because it had a poorly constructed foundation and was built on a spring.

B whispered to me, "God has a sense of humor."

And as the pastor explained that storms will invariably come, but our faith needs to be deep-rooted and strong; that we need to be open to new learning; that it's crucial to let God be our support, I nodded.

Yesterday, God gave me some gifts. I couldn't be more sure of this had He presented them on my lap with a shiny red bow. I just wish I had the words to express my gratitude.

Namaste'.

Four for Friday: Why I love L

2012-04-20T06:11:00.000-07:00

He's honest:
I arrived home from my class on Tuesday night as L was in bed, chatting with B. I asked how their night went and L told me that G had gotten bedroom time "for frowin' remotes." I asked if G cried and L nodded seriously. I asked if that made L laugh, and he immediately said, "No," (insert pregnant pause)...." a widdle widdle bit."

He's proud:
This week, we were driving home and L piped up, "Mommy, I did something spectacuwar at school today!" Evidently, sharing his toy in preschool (when he was finished with it, no less), is spectacuwar.

He's empathetic:
L was holding his toy out the window in the car and I warned him not to do it. I told him the story of when I was about his age and had a well-loved singing birthday card that I held out the car window. I told L that it slipped out of my hand, and I cried and cried. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see sweet L with tears shining in his eyes. That kid is so sensitive and it makes me proud.

He's compassionate:
But even prouder was what he did at church last weekend. I was working with a child with special needs who was in a bit of an emotional crisis. He was crying, loudly, and most other kids in the room were side-eyeing him or even physically moving away. L sidled up slowly to the little boy and handed him his prized possession, his Lightning McQueen matchbox car. And my heart almost burst.

Namaste'.

Storyline Questions {edited}

2012-04-19T12:33:00.004-07:00

(edited to include details of structuring storyline at the bottom)

I'm always blown away by support and love one can receive via blogging. I know that non-bloggers don't get it, as evidenced by the funny looks and strange questions I get when I let it slip that I have a blog. But the e-mails and comments I've gotten from my last post have once again amazed me.

I had planned on sending out emails to those of you who reached out to tell me that you wanted the storyline questions. However, I didn't imagine that so many of you would do just that.

So instead, I'm going to include the questions here with one request. If you do it, would you mind letting me know, and telling me how it went? Of course I'm not asking for anything personal...I do know that not everyone is an oversharer like me. But I'd love to know that you were able to be touched by this experience as well.

I keep thinking about the storyline today, due to the fact that my own story is taking a small unexpected detour. The house that we'd put a contract on failed its inspection miserably yesterday. There were some major structural damages, so much so that we are choosing to walk away. We lost hundreds of dollars and our initial plan. Yet I'm strangely at peace with it.

Looking at my storyline made me realize that the plan isn't mine. As cheesy and hokey as I know that sounds to some of you, it's true. I know that God has written this story and just as importantly, He's with me as I navigate it. Looking back on the events that I charted on my storyline, this was abundantly clear. So today, instead of feeling frustrated, I'm more intrigued.

If a storyline and corresponding questions can make that big of a difference for me, I'm hoping that it can do the same for my bloggy friends. So without further adieu, here are the questions:

(It was very helpful for me to actually answer these questions directly on my storyline with lots of different colors. What can I say...I'm a sucker for color-coding and fun pens.)

***The storyline is set up like your basic timeline...a horizontal line with short lines coming off of it for each of your events or memories. Positive turns are on the top of the line and negative turns come off the bottom. I answered these questions by taking notes (usually one-word codes like "joy," "empathy," or arrows connecting things near each event.

Positive Turns
· Where have you experienced joy?
· What events/memories are similar in some way?
(this may be more eye-opening than you think, revealing the importance of a need)
· What characteristics of yourself have been revealed in or developed from your positive
events/memories?
· Give a name or descriptive word to some of the events or memories on your storyline.
(i.e., blessed, fun, growth)
· On the back of your storyline, write the question, “What do I love?”
(these are true gifts from God...from sitting in the sun to hugging your children)

Negative Turns
· My negative story turns have left me feeling ____________________-.
(i.e., abandoned? left out? fearful?)
· What theme or dominant belief have I picked up from my negative turns or memories?
· What areas on your Storyline still need God’s healing or restoration?
· Where have I made “I will NEVER vows?”
(i.e., "I will never trust men again," "I will never act like that group of friends")
· What areas am I still wrestling God over?
· What areas have I “glossed over” or ignored?
· Are there places on your storyline that have allowed you to have empathy for others who
have suffered similarly?
· What passions have been ignited from any of your negative turns?
· What characteristics have been revealed in or developed through any of your negative turns?

Take the time to answer every question. Don't be surprised if you have an aha moment or six. I absolutely did. And don't forget to let me know how it went!

Namaste'.

My storyline

2012-04-18T04:35:00.002-07:00

I remember everything. My earliest memory is from when I was no more than 3 years old, eating Cocoa Puffs and watching Scooby-Doo in the living room of my childhood home.

I have other memories that early; waking up at my best friend's house and looking out the window to see, to our delight, a man jogging in a thunderstorm. Going to get Dairy Queen with my family. The floor plan of our first house. Eating candy in our kitchen with my mom. My Muppets poster that hung in my bedroom.

So when we were given instructions at our women's class last week to write down all the memories we could muster, separating them into positive and negative turns, I thought it would be an easy assignment, as long as I had enough paper.

The teachers promised us that it would be powerful. Life-changing, even. I wasn't so sure. I already remembered everything, and had processed through the good and the bad.

Or so I thought.

Last night, they asked us deep questions as we looked at our storyline. Initially focusing on the positive turns, we were instructed to look at the themes of the moments and events that brought us joy.

I initially starred all of the moments that I got to be on stage in some capacity; from my kindergarten Christmas play to acting in Carousel my senior year. As they asked us to consider what characteristics that blessed us, I chuckled at the fact that I was starring my dramatic, then creative moments.

Then, however, as we delved further into our pages, I realized that another group of events that were powerful to me were when people took care of me. From my dad holding my hair when I had a stomach bug in elementary school, to a teacher consoling me when I forgot a paper on Beethoven, to my friend helping me frantically move out when my separation got ugly...these were moments that were meaningful enough to make my story.

One of our facilitators smiled knowingly at me as I explained this "aha" moment. "And what do you do for a living? You help take care of people with special needs."

We smiled as I added that this is the avenue where I volunteer at church, and I have developed a passion from taking care of L and others with food allergies. This was mind-blowing to me, because I always say I'm a terrible caretaker. I roll my eyes at B when he refuses to take medicine when he gets sick. I have the utmost respect for nurses, because I could never be one.

But the emotional aspect? It's needed. It's crucial for me. And it explains several other events on my timeline, both good and bad.

Similarly, I had a lightbulb moment when we processed through our negative turns. As we looked at the themes, I realized that I am still wrestling with my divorce and the consequent losing of my core group of friends. I tend to keep people at arms' length to a degree, and this revelation floored me.

I thought I was no longer a victim; that after countless hours of intense therapy, I'd come through my abusive marriage to be a survivor. But I tend to get hurt overly easily by people's words. I don't let people in completely for fear that they'll hurt me as well. I don't return phone calls or follow up on loosely-made plans with friends.

The teachers explained that the negative turns, written on the bottom half of our page, should be considered to be roots that seed. After all, beautiful things can grow from them - renewed relationships with others, passion to help people going through the same thing, empathy, generosity.

Recording my storyline was a far more awesome experience than I ever imagined. I know I'll be processing it for weeks, and hopefully constantly updating it as I go. It's an amazing story, full of plot turns; villians and heroes; and a heck of a lot of conflicts. Reading it through new eyes is exhilarating.

**If you are interested in writing your storyline (and clearly, I think you should...it doesn't take long!) let me know. I'd love to share the questions that helped me process.

Namaste'.

Sunday Updates

2012-04-15T11:26:00.003-07:00

Update on the house: Things are going remarkably well. Now we are back in waiting mode, this time for appraisals and the inspection on the new house. We have 54 days until the big move! L has, however, already told me that when he marries his current girlfriend, he has dibs on our new house and we'll need to find somewhere else to live. So I guess even if this does all work out, it's fairly temporary. The good news is that he promised to bring his baby to my new house so I can baby-sit. I can deal with that.

Update on my asthma: The combination of Prednisone and my chiropractic treatment seem to be working beautifully. Unfortunately, between the steroids and the massive amount of albuterol I've been inhaling, I had a very itchy reaction, so my doctor said that as soon as I feel better, I can start weaning myself off of the western medication, rather than staying on for the full seven days. Thank goodness. Next chiropractic visit is tomorrow and I'm counting the hours.

Update on church goings-on: Today, I worked with the little boy with special needs who I shadow every week. For the first time, he worshiped with the other children and actually said "Jesus." Talk about huge goosebumps. When he repeated it for his mom, she teared up and embraced me. Heart-filling, indeed.

Update on my blog: I have a very fun giveaway coming up soon from a delightful Etsy seller. I've enjoyed chatting with her immensely and I know you'll love her as much as I do. Stay tuned!

What are the updates in your life? Hook me up!

Namaste'!

Cough Cough Hack Hack

2012-04-13T09:09:00.008-07:00

Do you know anything about cough-variant asthma?

If the answer is no, don't feel bad. Apparently, most of the medical profession doesn't either. I started coughing at about 11 or 12 years old. My mom took me to 6 or 7 doctors before I got a diagnosis of cough-variant asthma.

And when L struggled with cough-variant asthma before we found out about his food allergies, doctors didn't know how to treat him either. Luckily, since we've changed his diet, boyfriend hasn't used a nebulizer in years.

I haven't been so lucky.

At the moment, I'm (reluctantly) using western medicine (preventative and rescue inhalers daily as well as Advil to assist with inflammation, plus Zyrtec). I'm using natural supplements including Sinus Support, Quercetin with Bromelain, and even something called OregaResp, which includes oregano, cumin, sage, cinnamon and ginger. I practice yoga and special breathing techniques. I don't smoke. I have taken gluten and dairy out of my diet.

And I still landed myself in the ER yesterday when I got my oxygen sats taken in the nurse's office and they were low enough to call an ambulance. (For the record, I refused the ambulance.)

Typically, cough-variant asthma doesn't cause low oxygen levels (due to the deep breaths from coughing) or wheezing. Lucky me had both yesterday.

The doctor and nurses were so confused about me that they finally ended up asking me what to do. I personally think they should have paid me.

Two breathing treatments and a $200 copay later, I was released. With a prescription for Prednisone, which makes me feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. Last time I took it, I put two-year-old L in a non-jogging stroller and ran him to the produce stand, bought a ton of fruit, threw it and L back in, and sprinted back home. And then I literally ran around the house, vacuuming. RUNNING.

So yeah. If I'm taking it, you know I'm desperate. Which I am, due to the fact that I am still coughing every, oh, 10 seconds, and wheezing, and taking my rescue inhaler every two hours is doing absolutely nothing. Whine, whine, whine.

Today, I'm visiting a chiropractor for an adjustment and hopefully setting up an acupuncture appointment.

And if this doesn't work, I'm going to admit myself to a psychiatric hospital. Because I'm going to lose my ever-loving mind.

And with that....namaste'.