Like Being A Teenager Again

I'm breaking my promise. I'm sure this makes me a bad sister and all, but this is really too sweet to let pass by. After this though, she'll go back to being unbloggable.

As we were growing up there were some hard and fast rules, and then there were the ones that modified with each child. For example: No dating before the age of 16. That was a non-negotiable rule. I still remember being in Jr. High and finding out that there was a boy that was going to ask me out. After I was done freaking out I came up with a plan. It had 3 easy steps. Avoid, avoid and avoid. I really wish I could remember his name. He really didn't appreciate that at all.

A rule that evolved with each child was regarding high school dances. With my eldest sister that rule held true. Then my sister "A" was allowed to attend a dance, followed by me getting to go to both Homecoming and Prom. There are definitely some perks to being the baby in the family. Well, my sister attended her first dance Saturday night. She and her husband went as chaperone's though.

When her husband informed her that they would be attending she was surprised to say the least. Men don't usually understand it, but stuff like that puts us females into a tailspin. She needed to find a dress, shoes, jewelry - the whole deal (just 'cause your chaperoning doesn't mean you don't have to get dressed up). We - my mom, my sisters, and I went shopping a couple of weeks ago to find the dress. I have to admit that my sister "A" and I weren't really looking forward to the hunt. Do you know how hard it is to find the dress?

Unfortunately that argument doesn't really work for us this time around. We found it in the first store we looked in. She tried it on and it was perfect. Perfect on her and perfect in that it didn't look like a teenagers prom dress. We found the perfect jewelry for her the same day. A shopping trip this last week procured the shoes and the wrap. It all fell together beautifully.

So Saturday afternoon I did my sisters toes and fingernails (I'm actually a licensed manicurist for those who were unaware of this all important fact) and make-up. She did her hair, put the nice smelling stuff on and put on the dress. She looked absolutely beautiful and glowy and just so happy - it just made my heart happy. I know that she, like me and about half of the women on this planet, has her "body issues". The things that when we look in the mirror make us feel like less. Less than beautiful, less than skinny, less than curvy, less than shiny silky hair, less than creamy complexioned. Less than *insert huge enormous insecurity here*. Most of us could fill the blank in that statement a couple of times.

What I saw Saturday evening was my sister feeling like more. Seeing the more that we see in her everyday. She felt beautiful and special and admired (I wish you could have seen her husband's face when she came out of the bedroom). I am sure that she didn't look much different from most of the teenage girls who got dressed up that night for prom. No different than you or I felt all those years ago when we prepared to go to the dance with someone who was important to us - be it a boyfriend, best friend or a group of girls - special and magical and excited.

I am so thankful that I was able to be here to see it.

* I was going to post a picture with her face blurred out but I think that might take her annoyance with me for writing about her to a higher level. So ya'll will just have to trust me on this. Never mind, my husband has encouraged me to throw caution to the wind.

*My husband has also just pointed out to me that I have "thrown him under the bus". He is absolutely correct.

*I just realized that she barely ever checks my blog - so she may never even know - hear me sister "A"? Don't go making trouble for me.

Watch Out For The Whiney!

You know those days where you know that there are any number of little things you could be should be doing and yet you just can't make it happen? I'm having one of those days.

The kids want to play outside but I really don't feel like going out there to watch them. If we were still in Tennessee I could just shove them out the door, tell them not maim each other and call it good. Here in California it's different. There are set rules about being in the backyard (some safety, some for the safety of the garden) here. They are completely understandable and I don't take issue with them - but my kids sometimes don't get that we are playing by a different set of rules now.

They don't know what to do with themselves either. My older two have way more free time during the day than they are used to. I hear "I'm bored" way more than I ever used to. My younger two have resorted to trying to turn back time to be "the baby" once again. Lucas is still struggling with the whineyness. Liam is... well, Liam. He is very happy being the actual baby in our family. I was very excited though, when today he requested to wear underpants.

I guess I'm just feeling kind of blah. Part of that is probably the result of the fact that I'm a female. The other part is just the place in life we are at right now. Let me just say right now that I am not doubting what we are doing. I know that going into ministry is what we're supposed to do. I know that this temporary move out to Cali. is what we were supposed to do. I know that we are following God's will. I know it.

The problem is that knowing you are doing what God wants you to do doesn't mean that everything will be a breeze. We have had our moments of everything falling into place, and what a blessing that has been to us, but that just isn't how it always works. Following God also means getting out of your comfort zone. It means still struggling with some of the same struggles as before. It means relying on God, which even in the best of times, can be hard.

When stability is like the number 1 item on your wish list of life - ministry isn't really the first job idea to pop into your head. I'm scared. We have to raise our start up costs and have enough people willing to commit to monthly giving before we can even get out of the gate (leave Cali). We will be relying on other people to support us month after month... That scares me to my very core.

I know that God knows down to the tiniest detail when we'll get support up and running. I know that He will provide. I know that this is what we are meant to do. (That doesn't mean it's going to be easy)

This is kind of all overish, whiney (I wonder where Luc got it from?), and down - so I apologize. I'm just getting in touch with my inner Eeyore.

I give you a Luc picture in exchange for reading my pity party:

Someone who whose inner Eeyore occasionally becomes his outer Eeyore.

Seriously...

Every time I pull out the camera to take a picture of my new hair color, I take a peek through the viewfinder then turn the camera away. I hate looking at pictures of myself. Bleh! So I turn the camera in a new direction... and look at what you get to learn about me!

I really need a pedicure (I'm looking at you E)

One of my nails is ripping

On closer inspection maybe a manicure is in order also...

I think perhaps it's time for new jeans?

I am extremely creative and crafty and discovered a way to show you my hair and not my face... well, not much of it anyway.

Put those pieces together and you have me. Well, some of me. If you are especially lucky I might get my husband to take a picture of me this weekend when I have actually done my hair. That's right. I'm one of those people. If I'm not going out - the flat iron doesn't touch my hair, ratty jeans and an old tank top are my uniform and flip flops are my footwear of choice. Okay, flip flops would be my footwear of choice even if I were going to a State dinner or something (doesn't mean that propriety wouldn't win out - just means that that is what I would want to wear).

Hope you enjoyed this little show and tell as much as I did. Seriously - because, and I think I may have mentioned this before, I don't enjoy taking pictures of myself - this was no picnic.

HILLARY KEEPS PRESSURING YOU TO HOST A PAMPERED CHEF PARTY

If you haven't visited Hilary Is Mom Jeans - well, just don't tell anyone and go visit and then you can just pretend and say yes, I did read that HILARY USES AQUANET. Before you go though, I want to share my favorites with you.

and not a minute too soon...

didn't everybody?

...

and, the most heinous of all...

I can forgive many things, but that? That's just about relationship ending right there.

I might attempt a hair picture or two today and share - but if you're the kind of person to hold your breath, well, it was nice knowing you. I love taking pictures of everybody else. Me? I hate having my picture taken. Kinda always have, but with the great hormone surge of '02 (otherwise known as the birth of Lucas) I really, really hate to have my picture taken. Having skin worse than a teenager really messes with a 30 something old females mind - perhaps I can blame the depression on that?

Santa Monica

I keep sitting down at the computer thinking that I should write about our trip to Santa Monica on Sunday. It just isn't happening.

I was up late listening to an unnamed person talk about our growing up years. Some might wonder why I don't ever mention my other sister here on this blog. Well the wondering is over! It's because this particular sister is extremely private and would hate having anything out there floating around in the interweb that involved her or her family. The bummer of this is that I live with her at the moment and most of what happens with me, my husband and my kids happens with someone from her family being involved. That has kind of put a crimp in my blog fodder. Is it just me or would that be an awesome name for a Daddy Blog? Fodder... Father - does this not work for anyone else? Tales From a Blog Fodder or something like that? Someone has probably already used it. Excuse me as I google it...

Yup, somebody has used it. I still maintain that it would be great for a Daddy Blog. Oh well, back to blogging. Sister. Private. Not really down with the blogging.

Anyway. My hair is lovely if I do say so myself. I loved my sister's stylist. Loved her! She was amazing - not only in that she made me like my hair again and was totally sweet about my not knowing exactly what I wanted to do (when do I ever?) - she was juggling clients. I have never in my life seen someone handle 3 completely different colors/highlights/cuts/etc. at one time. She kept everything timed perfectly, was downright adorable and affordable. This trip to the stylist was a gift from my sister (not that one - I just said I promised not to talk about her, the other one).

Little does my sister know that I paid back her kindness while she was gone with... well, there is no other way to say it... this is about to turn into a poop story. My sister, her husband and their youngest A-4 left town for a couple of days for a retreat or something along those lines. My mom is being Super Gramma and taking care of the other kids while mom and dad are out of town. My family all descended on their house yesterday because I was in their town to get my hair done - anybody lost yet? I should have Jon put together a guide to understanding Janelle or something. Alright. Back to the story. We had finished up dinner, the kids had all gone to the wind, mom and I were cleaning up in the kitchen and Jon was on the computer.

Jon: Does anybody smell something?
Me: Yeah, kinda.
Jon: Where's Liam?
Me: I don't know, but I'll go look.

I walk down a hall, sniffing and following the scent all the way until Liam comes into view.

Me: Liam!
Liam: I smell good. (He so didn't)
Me: (laughing) Go tell Daddy that.

Upon investigation we realized that the one time our son decided to use the bathroom and not make a big ordeal out of it had to be when he needed to go poopy in the potty. Jon took Liam to dump him in the bath and I took over cleaning duties in the bathroom. (For those of you who have seen the movie Desperado - it was kind of a toned down version of the bathroom in the bar that was the secret entrance of the money room.*) I think Jon may have gotten the better end of the deal - If you asked him, he might not agree though - so let's just not ask him...

I scrubbed that toilet down and choked the household with a giant Lysol cloud - leaving it cleaner than well, cleaner.

*This is the first that my sister (Hi. I love you!) will have heard about it. I'm not sure if she'll continue to let me use her in my blog or not now.