The Mom I'd Like To Be

There are some pretty famous 'moms' out there and I'm not necessarily talking about celebrity-famous.  We've all seen them.  The mom in her perfectly trim 'errand running' outfit dropping the pristine kiddos off at Preschool, or the mom that always has her hair perfectly styled and nails immaculately manicured, or the mom that has never stepped out of the house with her shirt on inside out, or backwards, or spit up on, or <gasp> the same one she wore yesterday.

I see these moms and always IMMEDIATELY think, 'wow...I wish I was like that.' as I mentally go over every thing about myself I would change.  After the self-loathing, I realize...I am me.  I am not them.  Sure, maybe they 'look' fantastically put together, but maybe they are in a loveless marriage.  Sure, maybe their children walk happily and quietly beside them, but maybe that's because their children aren't allowed to get dirty.  Sure, maybe their perky little bodies fit into a negative sizing chart, but maybe they sacrifice cuddle time and sharing family dinners for one more workout.

And maybe...JUST maybe...they look amazing, have well mannered children, are married to the most amazing man possible for them, have oodles of adoring friends that would drop everything to be at their side, have a close relationship with God, enjoy a healthy bank account, and...and that's okay.

It's okay because I cannot compare my life to someone else's life.  My life consists of growing my relationship with God, sharing yummy food with my family, getting dirty in the mud, balancing family and work, adoring my husband, training the littles to be big someday,  and being a better person.  Sometimes I miss a training run because the kids have activities - they'll only be kids for awhile and their memories make it all worthwhile.

I most definitely do not have it all together.  This Valentine's Day we barely managed to address the store-bought cards late last night...but it got done.  Over the last few weeks, as Zoe birthday approaches, the sweetest thing happened. The kids get to choose their birthday dinner.  After each din-sup at our house, Zoe announced she wanted 'this' to be her birthday dinner. There were multiple changes to Wednesday's dinner menu. I think she has finally settled on these really yummy Chicken Parmesan Wraps. I love that the kids love my cooking. I love that the kids choose to eat something I make instead of wanting to go to a restaurant. I love that they get excited and each have lists of favorite things I make for them. This is exactly the mom I am proud to be.

We are given the children that we are meant to parent. I wholeheartedly believe that statement.  My successes and failures are what they need. I absolutely am not perfect, but I'm perfectly suited for these littles...as they are perfectly suited for me.

I'm happy and content with my life...and who knows, maybe some mom out there sees a snippet of my life and thinks, 'wow...I wish I was like that.'

#6. Run 15 miles

January 28th, 2012. I ran, not only 15 miles, but 15.66 miles in 3 hours and 7 minutes. I ran the inaugural 'Go Short, Go Long, Go Very Long' run in Tulsa, OK put on by Fleet Feet Sports Tulsa.  I ran the 25K and got an awesomely cute medal.

The weather was gorgeous, I felt great, I planned on running with my friends (who I adore!), and Eric was running the race, too! All good things for me.

My friends and I started out pretty slow, which if you've ever run a race, you know that is really hard to do! We had plans to run the first 5 miles and then run intervals (5 minutes running, 1 minute walking) the rest of the race.  We sort of broke into a couple groups and when I realized that, I figured I should try to just run it. Let's just see how it goes, right?

Turns out - with half the training of when I ran OKC and the hills that don't exist in OKC, I still managed the same time as OKC. Sa-weet!

The one thing I didn't count on was the hill on Turkey Mountain.  That was probably close to midway through the race and it was awful.  Every time I thought I was done with a hill, I'd turn the corner and there was another one.  Man, did that do a number on me.  But I kept going.  I was determined to see what my 13.1 time was - so I could compare it to the OKC half I ran last year.

There was this one little section where you had to turn left and run about .25 mile and then turn around.  One could easily (maybe not 'easily') have turned right and skipped that part, but no one did. As I was going down that stretch, telling my mind to shut up about running all this way down here just to turn around and run back, I saw Eric. :) That definitely put a hop in my step. He was already on his way back and was looking pretty good for having a good time on the race.

I kept going, trying to stay on pace to either beat or match the OKC time.  When there was about 5 miles left, I saw Eric.  He started run/walking to wait for me so we could run together. I got the run the last bit of that race with him.  Because of our family size - we rarely get to run together.  We even more rarely will ever get to race together. But it worked out this time for us to cross the finish line together.

Overall, it was a great run.  My back started getting really sore around mile 13 or 14, but that's to be expected. I crossed the finish line with a smile and felt euphoric. I took an ice back when we got home and had very minimal soreness, although my legs felt quite heavy for a few days afterward.

My MARATHON is in a month.  This weekend, I will be running 20 miles with my training girls (with whom I will also be running the marathon) and I can't wait.  Every new PR distance makes me feel that much more able.  When people ask me why I run, there are all kinds of things I can say: it's time alone with my thoughts, it's something I'm doing for myself, it helps me stay healthy, it's my escape, it's my 'girl's night out', etc.  While all of those answers are true, the truest answer is simply:

I run because it makes me feel strong.

Believe it...speak it.

I hardly know how to start this blog post.  I sit here among the cobwebs on my blog and ideas in my head and wonder, 'just how is this going to turn out?'  And truthfully, 'what are people going to think about it?'  But the yearning to speak it overwhelms the concern about the outcome.  Last Wednesday night, we had the pleasure of hearing Casey Treat speak at COTM.  First of all, brilliant speaker and quite the testimonial, to boot.  As I try to recount the exact topic and the exact statements that he said, I cannot.  I emphatically remember his stage presence, his confidence in what he was saying, his BELIEF in all things...but I only remember, for sure, one statement - believe it and speak it.

There are only a few people (less than I can count on one hand) that know this story.  In part, because it's very special to me but also because the story is a kind of controversial one.  It has to do with faith healing.  Now, before you stop reading (please don't stop reading), let me explain something.  I was raised in church.  I went all the time.  But the topic of faith healing was never a positive one to me.  In all honesty, I thought it was hokey-poppycock (that means whatever you want it to mean).

While I was pregnant with Ben, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes.  This was not a surprise to me, as I had the same diagnoses with both Ethan and Quinn.  I knew it would mean insulin shots -  a minimum of 4 times a day.  During this time, Pastor George did a series on 'Christ the Healer'.  It was a series, culminating in....oh yes...a healing service.  My initial thought was, 'dangit...I like this church!'  But I decided, instead of throwing in the towel on a church I absolutely love, I'd listen with an open heart about what was said and, oh I don't know, maybe learn something.

So I went.  Every Saturday. I listened. I understood.  And I slowly came to a place where I started believing healings were possible.  To clarify, I always believed God healed people miraculously.  The part I had a problem with was a pastor standing on a stage, putting his hand on someone's forehead, knocking them over, and proclaiming them 'healed'.  But as I listened, I realized it's not all about being pushed over on a stage.  To me, it was about asking God to heal me.  It was about asking God to take something away that He could take away.  It was about getting over my hangup about asking God for...well, anything.  I always though I should just be grateful for what I have...not ask for MORE.  My feelings on that subject could be another post, indubitably (I really like saying that word...indubitably).

The time came.  It was the last message in the series and my concern over Pastor bringing people on stage and knocking them over was put to ease.  It was a very quite, peaceful prayer time.  The music was being played, the lights were low, I held Eric's hand as I often do in church as we sang soft worship songs to our Father. I felt God so strongly that night, inside me, around me, He was everywhere. I never opened my eyes. Tears streamed out as I prayed quietly. I whispered in my mind to my Dad. My prayers are quite disjointed, they would never 'do' for an 'out loud' prayer for people to hear.  This is the best I could do to recreate it, in type...

"God...Father...please..." <swaying to softly playing music> "Please take this...keep Ben safe...my God...Jesus..." <barely aware of anyone in the room...and it was a full house...1200?> "Deliver me...my Papa...make me healthy...I trust You...I need You..." <feeling Ben kick and move inside me> "With boldness I ask...take this away."

Now, I never said the actual words...take the gestational diabetes away from me, please...but I believe He knew what I was talking about.  How could He not??  I had to constantly remind myself that this was a done deal. I could not allow myself to question whether I would be healed.  I could not allow myself to question God.  The audacity!

I didn't tell anyone.  This was between my Papa and me.  I continued to test my blood sugar - I never planned on just hiding my head in the sand and possibly causing harm to Benny-boy.  But I can tell you this...I didn't have to take another insulin shot after that prayer.  I didn't need to.  My sugars were always between 90-100. Lil Ben was born early and weighed 6lbs 13 oz...no problems, at all.

I didn't have to take another insulin shot after that prayer.

I.didn't.have.to.take.another.insulin.shot.after.that.prayer.

For the rest of my life...whenever I begin to question my God (I'm human, it will happen), I only have to remember Benjamin.  I only have to remember that God took away a physical problem.  I only have to remember that He did that...instantly.  I only have to remember that I believed He would do it...I trusted Him and He took care of me, as any parent would try to do.  Except He is the best parent...He will not waiver, He will not fail, He will not disappoint.

#53. Figure out how to have multiple photo albums on iPhone

HA! It's all about iTunes, baby!  Apparently, you just have to tell iTunes what folders you want to sync and voila!  Not hard to do, but I had been putting it off. :)

#84. Create a running playlist

Another one done.  I used an app called Cadence that told me the running cadence of my iTunes account.  That led me to be able to create a playlist that would help keep me in my goal pace.  And I must say, worked pretty darn well. ;)

#33. No soda during training

Another blog post.  Apparently, a lot of my 'list' was tied to my half marathon. HA!  I was able to not have a single sip of pop during the entire 16 weeks of training.  That includes no Cherry Lime Aides. ARGH!  When I told Devin that I had not had any pop, he said, 'Oh, I would DIE!'

And you bet I had the yummiest root beer float E.V.E.R. after my race!

#31. Eat breakfast every day while training

Nothing exciting to post except to say I really did eat 'something' every day of training.  No, it was not necessarily actual breakfast food.  But, it was always food and it was always before noon.  Yes, my guidelines were quite lax, but I know myself...and eating cereal or eggs or oatmeal or pancakes at 7 in the morning would likely result in my barfing at 7:15. ;)

#5. Run a Half Marathon >> 13.1 miles

Well...I finally did it.  My goal race came and went and I've been putting off writing this blog entry ever since.  See, running is as much psychological as it is physical.  For 16 weeks, I've been talking myself into and out of being able to run this distance.  For 16 weeks, I've been talking myself into and out of just how quickly I could finish this distance. For 16 weeks, I've been talking myself into and out of whether or not I was a real 'runner'. All the while, hoping praying I would be on the more positive upswing of my thoughts the day of the race. I knew that I was trained.  Heck, I was H4C ready (my training group's name).  But, how would I fare?  Am I too fat to run a half marathon?  Am I dumb for even trying this...8 months after having Ben, still breastfeeding, carrying my extra weight?  Boy oh boy, a person's mind can talk them out of just about anything.

I secretly checked Eric's first half marathon finish time...hey, I am competitive.  My heart sank as I realized I could NOT beat tie come close to his finish time.  I resolved to myself that I wouldn't do as well as Eric had done and tried to take an honest look at myself and my ability.  I'm still carrying extra weight, I've done the bare minimum of training (no core training, except carrying a sweet boy up/down the stairs multiple times a day), every 'long run' is a new distance record for me...so, I believed I would finish somewhere around 2 hours and 45 minutes (that's a 12 minute 35 second average pace).  I would be BEYOND amazed if I were able to finish around 2:30 (that's an 11:27 average pace).  I would be disgusted and consider the race a failure if I finished in 3 hours (13:44 average pace).

I realized, though my training, that I am utterly in love with running in the winter.  My body loves cool/cold weather running.  I run faster, feel more energized, have an all around better time when the temps are cold.  The weather can make or break a race.  This day, I was expecting 50s weather.  The forecast called for slight chances of rain, but not until 9 o'clock.  Geez, with any luck, I'd be done running when it started.  That knowledge led me to choose a tech short sleeve shirt and capri running pants.


Well, turns out...God had a different plan.  One that would test my mental strength more than I knew.  The wind chill was 36 and it was raining/hailing/lightening/thundering.  So much so, that the race was delayed 30 minutes.  25,000 people (yes twenty five THOUSAND) huddled anywhere possible to stay warm/dry.

Finally, the race started and a few of my training friends and I managed to cross the STARTING line 10 minutes after the gun sounded.  The wind was howling (25 mph), everyone was excited, cold, ready!  We were running our goal race.  The last 16 weeks were all about the here and now.  I felt great.  I was not winded. I was not tired.  I was not hungry.  I didn't have to use the bathroom.  I was cold, but warming up.  Our pace was at 11:30 and it felt good.  Somewhere around mile 7 or 8, my knee started feeling like it needed to pop.  It never did pop, but it did give out on my a few times.  I questioned whether I would be able to finish the race.  I decided I would run medic tent to medic tent...pushing myself as far as I could go.  After all, this was the TEST...this was the reason for all of the early mornings, the missed suppers, the ice baths!  I was finishing this race!

At the halfway mark, I realized that if I could keep my pace, I'd finish before 2:30.  Boy, that sent a renewed energy that I could not have bought.  I finished the OKC Half Marathon in 2:28:42 (and yes, those 42 seconds are very important).  I did it.  The girl that had her 3rd baby 8 months prior, the girl that was still breastfeeding that lil guy, the girl that had never run more than 3 miles prior to training had finished her goal race with a time that she thought was not possible.

For me, the hardest part was feeling my toes turn to raisins.  We've never run in rain/puddles before.  There was no way on Earth anyone's feet were staying dry.  Hearing the 'squish squish' every step and feeling them get wrinkly was the hardest, most annoying part of the whole race.

After the race, my knee was on fire and I seriously wondered if I could even walk. I got a quick massage and found Eric and Devin in the crowd, went to the hotel, and savored my ice bath.  I'll find out soon what I did to my knee, if anything...whatever it is, it won't keep me from competing like this again.  I am a runner.  I may not look like it, but there's no denying it.  I'm taking this season off (more likely, just not running as much) so that my sweet Eric can train.  He'll be running the Route 66 Half in November and I can't wait to cheer him on!  I cannot wait for the day we can run our first half together...when Ben can handle the training better.  I miss running.  I miss my friends.  I miss the gear.  I miss pushing myself.  I miss the dedication.  I miss the run.

For Love of Java

Java.  Joe.  Mud.  Liquid Energy.  Starbucks.  Cafe.  Double Shot.  Latte.  Espresso.  Brew.  Jamocha.  Mojo. Morning Thunder.  Wakey Juice.  My Reason for Getting Up in the Morning.  Whatever you call it, coffee could very well invoke those tender, warm, fuzzy feelings that one normally only gets when they see their stud-of-a-man enter the room.  Yet others, when they smell the intoxicating aroma of brewing glory, only mildly have to contain their gag reflex to keep their reputation intact.  Still others sit on the proverbial fence when the topic of go-juice comes up.

Personally, I was in the camp of those that felt the aroma of coffee was super yummy, but the taste was mildly...okay overtly...disappointing.  And then I met Eric. Yeah, yeah...I know, get ready for an 'overly exaggerated description of a man that can't possibly be true' blog post.  BUT...the man can make some wicked, good coffee.  He has a technique that translates to -- Melissa doesn't attempt to really make coffee because it simply pales in comparison.

It's more than good taste, which it certainly has...I can't help but get those tender, warm, fuzzy feelings knowing that he's left me coffee in the morning.  Or when I'm pretending to be awake because the kids don't realize sleeping in is a GIFT FROM GOD, HIMSELF - and he whips up some of the yummy goodness and delivers it to me with a smile.  Or when he knows I am playing chauffeur to the kids in the morning because he's working from home, so he gets the travel mug ready so I can take it with me.

Every time I smell the coffee seeping through the filter, it reminds me of Eric.  It reminds me of how he takes care of me.  It reminds me of how lucky we all are that he devotes himself to us.  It reminds me of my Eric and that, alone, makes it the best drink I've ever had.

#4 Run 9 miles

Today was the day.  Our first 9-miler of the training season and we sincerely ROCKED IT!  We chatted, sang songs, laughed, told stories...had a blast.  The wind was ridiculous and it was cold, but I can't help but think it was actually a great time.

My latest treasure is my pink hydration belt.  I may look funny, but it makes my heart sing to drink something whenever I want. ;)

Next weekend is 10 miles.  After that, just another 5K on top of the miles and I'm running a half marathon!  And that's good because my race is May 1st!

A Lot Can Happen in a Year

Depending on the day I'm asked...life either moves really quickly or moves really slowly.  B is already near 6 months old.  I still haven't painted our bedroom.  Q starts kindergarten this year.  E hasn't been in school since January.

Then, there are those things that appear to move quickly and slowly.  Case in point, my marriage to Eric.  Today marks one year we have been man and wife.  It seems like yesterday we were on our first weekend away together.  We've been married a year???

Simply put...Eric is the man I didn't believe existed.  He is the husband I didn't know I could dream for.  He is the friend that I always wanted.  He is my Eric.

Blending families is not easy.  Gratefully, no one ever promised me it would be simple...or fun.  Truthfully, it has been simple and fun.  Our kids are great people.  I truly believe they will all grow into adults I would be honored to know.

Our first year together has been a blessing that I couldn't have dreamed would ever be a part of life.  I am thrilled to see what the following years have in store for us...livin' the dream.

And he said, wait, what did he say?

E's brain functions at a level which sometimes confuses me, sometimes surprises me, and sometimes just plain baffles me.  Tonight, we shared a quiet time together that we normally do not get to enjoy.  The following conversation occurred:

E: Mom, if someone were to want to put a bullet into Ben, would you lay yourself over him?

Totally shocked at this out of the blue question...

Me: Um, I would do whatever I needed to do to make sure my children were not hurt.
E: So, you'd take credit and lay over him for the bullet?
Me: Credit......um, I would try very hard to protect him and each of you.  So I would rather die than you guys have to die.
E: Nodding, yeah...that makes sense.  'Cause Ben is a baby and if he died, he would never know what school was like or eating real food.
Me: (trying to regain some composure) So...where did this come from?
E: No where.  Just curious.
Me: No, curious is 'Mom, what was your favorite subject in school.' not 'Mom, would you take a bullet for your kids.'
E: (smirking) Yeah, did you know that there are some people that think it's more important for other people to live?
Me: (blank stare) What are you talking about?
E: Did you know...(speaking slowly so the apparent imbecile can understand) that there are people that think it's more important for mayors to live?
Me: Mayors?
E: Yes...(slowly again) mayors.  You know what mayors are, right?  So them or people like Barack Obama...you know him, right? (again, double checking for the imbecile)  It's more important for Barack to live than for them to live?
Me: (trying to get over the fact that my son is on a first name basis with the President) Do you mean the Secret Service?
E: YES! They said they would lay over people like Barack if someone else were trying to give them a bullet.
Me: Yes, hon, because that's their JOB.  It's their job to protect people like the President, the First Lady, his kids...make sense?
E: Yeah.

At this point, I'm trying to recover from the conversation when he pulls this doozy:

E: Ya know, I would totally take the credit if someone tried to give Quinn a fast bullet.
Me: Um, no no.  Not the 'credit'.  You would 'take the bullet'.  You never 'take the credit' for giving someone a fast bullet, ok?
E: Oh, ok.
Me: Better yet, how about you never try to give anyone a fast bullet, ok?
E: That's just silly mom, I want to KEEP people from getting bullets.


Being a parent is soooooo awesome.

#3 Run 6 miles

January 29th.  This was the first time I've run 6 miles this year.  I've done it a few times before I started this list, but this is the first 'list' run.  Course, this was the first time I'd run 6 miles of HILLS before.  The first mile was pretty difficult, I wished I was still in bed, wished I was eating Eric's waffles, wished I was soaking in a hot bath, wished I was almost anywhere but where I was....outside in the early morning cold, running a buttload of hills.  But nonetheless, this is where I found myself.

I've become addicted to running.  I always offer up the idea to Eric that I won't go on my runs.  Thankfully, Eric always pushes me out the door, 100% supporting my decision to train for the OKC half in a few months.  I always feel guilty for leaving the house - the kids are being restless, Ben is teething, dinner isn't ready, laundry needs changed, etc.  But the bottom line is that my race ('my race'...that still gives me chills) is 3 months away.  If I cheat on runs, I will not be ready.  It's as easy at that.

I count down the days until my next run.  I absolutely think my running group is the best out there.  Our coach keeps things light and fun while she's teaching us and sharing her experience.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  And when we're running...I concentrate on my form, making certain to hinge my arms and keep my step light and talk with new friends.  And you know what?  My mind clears and it's the one time I can consistently be my own person.  I love my family...adore them all.  But a woman needs to be herself, too.  And this is where I am most myself.  No clients, no demands, no deadlines, no expectations.  I will see my beautiful family when I return home.  But, at that moment, there is only me, my gear, and the road.  And I love it.

#81 Buy myself Super Mario Brothers for Ethan's DS

Well...there ya have it.  The self-proclaimed, non-video-game-player has Super Mario Bros.  Granted, I didn't go to a store and purchase it myself, it is in our home and it's mine to play.

This made me think back to why I don't really enjoy video games.  I mean, really, I had to be talked into playing Guitar Hero and that's a really, really fun game!  Maybe I think they're juvenile, maybe I've just had too many experiences with video games taking over other responsibilities in adults...whatever it is, I don't enjoy them.  I rarely keep game apps on my iPhone for very long, either.

But when I was thinking about what kind of games to get Ethan when he 'earned' a new one, my thoughts went back to growing up and my friend Amanda had a Nintendo 64 and we played Mario Bros.  Correction, she played, I watched (because I lost too quickly).  It seemed fun.  So I'm going to attempt to release the inner beast and play the game.  Who knows, Ethan or Zoe or Devin could inherit the game, but I'm going to give a good attempt before writing it off.

Is That God?

Church on the Move (COTM) is an amazing place.  There, I said it.  They have a whole creative team that comes up with their ideas and videos and skits.  And it shows.  Last night we went to the Christmas Service called Celebrate With Family and it was far from disappointing.  So much music (my favorite part) and a poignant reading from Pastor George at the end.  So far, near 17,000 people watched the service and there are two more shows to go tonight.  The pics in this post are from services past.


The shows kicks off with Andy Chrisman singing The Little Drummer Boy and, wow...between Andy's voice and the drums beating in the background, it was very, very good.  Then came the Grinch.  Yes, COTM incorporated the Grinch into their Christmas Service.  Beyond that...they incorporated the music from Thriller into the scene.  There was a rap performed while the Grinch played his 20ft tall organ about his being mean and evil and how he should grow his heart or go away (I think, honestly, I'm too old for rap).  Then, there were zombie like creatures that came out (not sure of the link there, either) - they weren't scary, just walking zombie like and they lined up with the Grinch and did the Thriller dance!  E and Z LOVED IT!  Q was on my lap and amazed!  They also sang some songs about Santa and Jesus...beautifully incorporating both aspects of the holiday into the service.


Then Pastor George comes out and reads The Christmas Story while a cello (maybe) is playing softly in the background.  He reads about the prophecy's written 700 years before Jesus' birth and reads about the birth, itself and how Jesus was to settle in Nazareth.  Chills.  Throughout his reading, Q kept pointing at him and asking me if he was God.  I kept saying no, but he kept saying, 'yes-uh...that God'.

At the end, I asked E what his favorite part was and it was the Grinch.  He said, the first two songs almost made him cry...but he 'man'd up' and 'pushed them back' and didn't cry.  I said....well I cried.  And he hugged me.

Life is good.  Christmas is awesome.  Family is inspiring.  Kids are a gift.  I love my life.

The Ultimate Gift -- Jim Stovall

<deep breath> Before I begin my 'book report', of sorts...I just need to compose myself.  You see, I just read this book....correction, I read this book in less than the time it takes to drive from Tulsa to Joplin (about 75 minutes).  I'm so thankful to Eric for suggesting the read.

Jim Stovall is, in a word, brilliant.  I could go on and on about this man's gift - finding joy in his problems, motivating others to greatness, and I love how he writes.  I encourage you to read up on him and what other's are saying about him.

The Ultimate Gift is remarkable.  I've read books that have inspired me, challenged me, made me cry, made me think...but never at this magnitude, never at this depth, never for this long.  There is a sentence in this book that, when I think back, hits my heart in a way that I cannot describe....and yes, I remember the exact sentence ("I have to meet a special friend in front of the swing set at the park.").

Without giving too much away...this is a story about a trust fund baby and his uncle giving him the experience of a lifetime...in hopes of enriching his life.  In order to receive his inheritance, he has to 'pass' a series of monthly tests over the course of a year.  In short, the uncle is hoping to open the eyes of a loved one to the great life that can be had.  I don't want to say too much because I don't want to give away the intricately embedded jewels or the 'ah ha' that should be discovered while reading this story.

This book will be required reading in our household.

I am a mom, no wait, an employee, no wait, a wife, no wait....

I remember when the question, 'What do you do?' was simple.  Not that I have memories of anyone asking me that question when I was a child, but I can imagine my response would be something like, 'I annoy my sister' or 'I take naps' or 'What do I do? What do you mean? I don't do anything.'

Time passed...

The answer could have been more detailed, as my life got more detailed.  Blessings for everyone around that I was shy and absolutely not comfortable talking about myself.  So my answer, at that time, would be something like, 'homework' or 'I play volleyball/basketball' or 'What do you mean? I don't do anything.'

Time passed...

Kids were born.  I still worked outside the home.  Thankfully, my employer LOVES family and I was able to take both E and Q to work with me.  I work for a small company, so there was lots of 'help' if I had a conference call or if clients were in the office.  Two grandmother's (one biological, one non-biological?) made my job easier.  When asked, at that point, my answer was more like 'I'm a working mom' or 'I dream of sleep' or 'What do you mean? I do everything!'  I felt like I was burning both ends, but doing a fairly good job.

Time passed...

This year, we added Ben.  I still work (from home).  B, like E and Q, stays at home with me, while I work.  Let me clarify...while I attempt to work.  I live in a larger home than ever before - totally NOT bragging here - I'm saying there's so much more work to put into keeping the house.  I am married to the best man I've ever known (excluding my Papa from that list, of course) and I find myself wanting to be a good wife, too.  So the answer now is more like, 'I am Melissa...I do a lot, but nothing 100% well.'

I'm at a crossroads here.  Do I continue to attempt to be the cookie-baking, lunch-making, note-in-the-backpack-sneaking, quality-time-spending, story-telling momma?  Do I continue to attempt to be the dinner-ready-at-5, laundry-pressing (who am I kidding?), lunch-making, love-note-on-the-mirror-leaving, attentive wife?  Do I continue to attempt to be the 8-5-working, 100%-productive, on-top-of-my-game, save-the-day employee?  Do I even attempt to be all of those things AT ONCE???

Or...do I just be 'Melissa'?  Who happens to be (today anyway) a food-preparing, kisses-before-bed, hugs-anytime, attentive-listener, back-rubber, milk-producer, customer-biller, idea-provider, God-loving, floor-sweeping, Christmas-tree-decorating woman of the not-100%-clean house.  Amen to that.

It's just a package....

Everyone has their little 'things'; small nuances that make up the person they have become.  In the last few years, I've found that what some people have called 'pickyness', I prefer to call my quirks. And I like having quirks.

Christmas brings out one of my quirks.  I'm not the wife/mother/woman that decorates the whole house.  You will likely NEVER see a Santa's village or picturesque township of any kind in my home near Christmas.  You will probably not even see lights decorating the outside of our home; unless Eric does that.  This lack of decoration does not lend itself solely to Christmas.  My home doesn't have Easter clothes, Fall clothes, Christmas clothes, or Halloween clothes.  It's just not my style.

However...the packages and tree are a different story.  I guess it started the year I somewhat boycotted Christmas.  I was still expected, of course, to give Christmas presents; even though I was not in a cheerful or giving mood.  So I complied.  And everyone got their packaged wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.  As I was begrudgingly wrapping gifts....I realized that I was giving people 'brown paper packages tied up with string' and that was a few of MY favorite things!  Ever since then...oh boy.

Those who know me, also know that I have a 'quirk' against play doh, modeling clay, glitter...ya know, stuff that makes a huge mess no matter how careful you are.  And E and Q are not careful - so, much bigger mess. Those items are, in fact, banned from my home.  Well last year I was feeling quite festive and decided that my packages would be wrapped in black paper with white whimsical designs OR white paper with black whimsical designs...and all bows/ribbon would be red.  Classy.  I was proud.  It only took wrapping the first gift and looking at my hands to realize, these beautiful, whimsical patterns were designed out of g.l.i.t.t.e.r.  Oy.  Not only on the packages, but the new ornaments that E and I picked out (which were pink and blue)...covered, I mean COVERED in glitter.  It was like a snowglobe threw up in my house.

I still have some of that paper and I used it for our Thankmas wrappings (sorry, Mitch and Grant).  This year, my mind is a whirlwind of ideas.  The tree is still pink and blue ornaments with white and blue lights.  The only ornament that is out of the theme is my sock monkey because he's always on my tree.  But the wrapping...oh the wrapping...it will be different this year.

Will I wrap in all white, with different colored bows for each person?  Will I wrap in a particular paper for each child?  Will there be name tags or will the kids have to guess which paper is their's?  Will I revisit the brown paper packages?  Decisions, decisions, decisions....

I said what?

Together, Eric and I have 6 kiddos and we've decided that is a good number.  I decided to have a quick procedure, although permanent, that would ensure no more babies for us.  The womb is closed forever.  Pregnancy, for me, is not easy or enjoyable.  It's filled with medications, first to keep the baby, then to make sure he/she doesn't grow ginormous in utero.  All in all...there are very good reasons for us not to have any more children.  Besides, if we DID have another child, we'd have to draw straws as to who stays behind on trips since we wouldn't fit in our car...or this could be out family car.

Even though this was not a 'real' surgery, they sure do make sure it's not unpleasant.  Personally, I think they could have given me a Tylenol PM and gone about the procedure...but no, I had to fill two narcotic prescriptions (they needed my driver's license for this....what list did I just add my name to??).  When I filled those scripts, I knew....this was going to be a memorable day...but not for me, entirely.

The coolest thing about this procedure is that I got to watch it on TV while drugged up.  This, I confess, leads to an enjoyable time had by all since I cannot filter my words under those conditions.  The things I remember include telling the 3 nurses (while tears are appearing) that I 'preciate them for helping me; asking if the image on the screen is really me; concluding aloud that I am a freak at seeing what appeared to be an 'extra' fallopian tube; and (this is the most embarrassing to me) softly, but audibly saying 'wooooooo' like a ghost while they were trying to calculate inventory used.  And I swear I remember hearing something come out of my mouth about a balloon, an elephant, and a reindeer.  I don't know, don't ask.

Ahhhh, the joys of being receptive to medication.

dum, dum, DUM....the list

Years ago, some friends of mine started this list idea.  1001 days to complete 101 tasks.  I thought, woohoo for them...I have too much going on to do that nonsense (sorry guys).  Most days, at the end of the day, I feel something like this...and something tells me she didn't have half the stuff going on in her life that I have in mine (course, I don't wear those darn heels to clean the house or cook dinner, supper, food).

So I'm taking the challenge...biting the proverbial bullet.  I'm going to start my list on January 1, 2011.  So many things will happen during my list's life - the kids will be 15, 14, 10, 10, 7, and 3 (and apparently, we will have NO food in the house, pray for us).  Hopefully, my participating in this list will be an example to the littles and will make an impression.  Who knows.

I'm still trying to come up 101 things...I'm at 57 right now and could use some suggestions.  So feel free to message me, comment here, write on my wall, Facebook message, email, text, or a give me a call to let me know what you think.  Holy moly...really?  Is it THAT necessary to be THAT available?  Hmmmm.....