This was not the plan

How many times have we all said that?

This was not the plan.

This wasn't even the plan for this post. I want to have some great insight to offer about how to survive difficult seasons of your life because Lord, it has been a long one. To sit here on my bed, computer in my lap, and say something that will help uplift someone. But the truth is that I am only in my room because I am hiding out. My parents are downstairs and, quite frankly, making me absolutely insane. I cannot watch one more episode of "Pimp My Ride" or the other nonsensical shows that have been playing on a loop without losing my mind. I thought that putting the spare tv in the guest bedroom would encourage them to watch tv in that room. Oh how wrong I was. So rather than biting my already bruised and bleeding tongue, I am hiding out.

Disclaimer: I am very certain that my father doesn't even know I have a blog and my mother might know that such a thing exists, but she certainly has never read it. For those of you who may not have met them and worry that I am offending.

So here I sit, sipping my drink, and contemplating a way to share all of what is going on here in this circus of my life that will include words other than expletives. The long and short of it is, that the only thing to say is that the Ringling Brothers ain't got nothing on this. So I have traded in writing for diapers and bottles and another lap around the house with a fussy baby. And the most exciting thing in my life right now is that I have figured out how to make my Fitbit count my steps when I'm carrying the baby in my arms. For tonight that will have to be enough.

One day, one day, there will be a new plan. A plan with vacations and sand and road-trip sing-a-longs and enough laughter to fuel us forever. But for tonight this will have to be enough.

A tale of two houses

Do you know what the definition of insanity should be? Trying to move with a very active 6-year-old and a fussy 3 month old baby. Even more insane is when you're trying to move everything yourself over the course of a couple of weeks instead of just packing it all up and doing it in one or two days. Originally I thought that it would be easier since I could take things that were already packed and get them out of the way. However, that just means that half of what I need is at each house, and never in the house that I need it to be at in the moment. In hindsight, I might have been incorrect in my assessment of what it would take to move.

This weekend was the final push and everything is officially under the same roof. Of course there are 14 million boxes and my whole extended family running around so it is about as chaotic as you would imagine. There is a distinct possibility that at this exact moment, I am hiding in a closet in order to write. I wasn't even really looking to write anything profound, just get out whole sentences that weren't me trying to figure out what to feed the hungry people around me demanding to be fed.

Not that I am not grateful to those people, because I am. There is absolutely no way that I could have moved without the enormous amount of help from the people that came to pitch in. I am just also incapable of making any more decisions at the moment, even if it's just what we want to be delivered, pizza or Chinese.  So I'm going to sit here in my quiet closet for five more minutes and do nothing in the glorious silence before I rejoin the land of the living. I'd stay a bit longer, but I forgot my glass of wine, and I'm a girl with priorities so I guess I shall have to head back out for now!

Pop-tarts and world peace

Through the years I have found that I tend to go in spurts. There are times where I am really on the ball, writing every day, blogging a couple times a week, checking in with my people often, and keeping everything balanced. During those spurts I feel invincible. All is right with the world and tiny birds hover around me singing as if I'm in a Disney movie. Okay, that might have been a slight exaggeration but it's pretty close.

THIS is not one of those spurts. I haven't sat down to write in well over a month and I'm very certain that I have friends who are cursing my name because I have been terrible about responding lately. (I am so very sorry if you are one of those people. I promise I'll try to get better soon). There are 12,000 sticky notes littering my notebooks and desk, most of which contain things that I have still forgotten even though I wrote them down.

I completely forgot that it was the 100th day of school until the day before; of course I had volunteered to send in fruit loops long before my life got crazy. After returning home from the store (where I got many important things like a new hooded sweatshirt), I realized that I had still forgotten the fruit loops. So we stopped at Kroger on the way in to school where I instantly became the coolest mom ever because when you're 6 years old, pop tarts and a hot cocoa from the in-store Starbucks is the BEST BREAKFAST IN THE WHOLE WORLD.

I feel very strongly that we could take a cue from the children in the world.  Can't we cure the world's problems with a nationwide trip to Starbucks and a sugary pastry? It solves most of my problems. And aren't all problems basically the same, just on different scales?  Perhaps someone should let the president know that we just solved that one for him. I mean, it may not fit into the whole fitness plan that his wife has implemented but I think we could all use a little more processed sugar in our lives. Don't you agree?

A year of changes

As we bring 2015 to a close and I reflect back on the last twelve months, I can't help but wonder how exactly I've managed to remain sane. Well sane-ish...I gave up on actual sanity years ago. It certainly has been a year of unexpected changes, some welcome, some not. I've joked with friends that rather than 'Gratitude', my word(s) for this year should have been 'expletives'. It doesn't really matter which one because they've all been rolling off my tongue in rapid fire succession in the midst of the years' events. I have tried to remain as positive as possible throughout everything that has happened. I have failed completely, laughed it off, and poured another drink. Now you all know that I'm a gin girl through and through.

BUT...

Apparently when the going gets tough the tough develop a taste for bourbon. Not that lately I've had much time for sitting and sipping on cocktails. Lately, I've been mainlining all of the caffeine I can handle. Coffee, soda, red bull, you name it, I'm drinking it. I have never been so tired or so full of joy in my life. If you're thinking it sounds like there's a new baby in our house, well, you'd be right.

I'd like you to meet Kinsley Blair Anderson, who we affectionately call KB. She was born the day before Thanksgiving and is the cutest little peanut ever. The story of how she came to live with us is long and complicated and really doesn't matter nearly as much as the fact that we love having her! As you can imagine, Alaina is beside herself with glee at the opportunity to play with a live baby doll.

Aren't they sweet in their pretty Christmas Dresses? Of course, what you're not seeing is me in the picture because 20 minutes of wrestling a newborn into tights left me a hot, sweaty mess. Which was absolutely worth it to see them dressed up together but not something I needed photographic evidence of. Let's just go ahead and assume that the only pictures coming up will be of the tiny humans since we all know that no one has time for mascara around here these days. But that's okay. They're cuter than the rest of us anyway.

Even when they're making crazy eyes at me for taking yet another picture because the one million that I've already taken just aren't enough.

Happy New Year!

Writing and meditation don't mix

November is always a crazy month for me. Each year I participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) with the goal of completing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Some years I make it, some years I don't but I always participate. The only difference this year is that I jumped in wholly unprepared. No outlines, no character sketches, no research, no prep work. Just jumped. So far it's...going. I'm struggling a little bit because I have little clips of scenes and absolutely no plot tying them together in the least. But that's okay. I'm sure that at some point everything will fall into place and a brilliant novel will emerge. HA! It's far more likely that complete crap emerges and it falls into the garbage can never to see the light of day again. At this point, I've made peace with either outcome.

On the 2nd I started a 21-day meditation challenge by Oprah & Deepak Chopra. Starting a meditation challenge at the same time I am trying to furiously write a novel may not have been the best idea. But we all know that I am not known for my fantastic decision making skills. It's only been a couple of days so I don't have much to report other than I suck at meditating and being still. I'm still waiting for the point when everything quiets and my life is suddenly zen. The cynic in me is yelling that I will never reach this point. Normally I yell back, but right now I am too busy meditating. Perhaps this is working after all...

None the less, I am fully engrossed with these two challenges over the next few weeks and will be sure to share my findings with you, boring though they may be. Hey, I never promised you quality material here. Sarcasm and inappropriate humor are much more my style. It's not too late to join me for either challenge if you're interested...the more the merrier!

Have a great week.

Acceptance

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. ~Mary Shelly

Life is funny. Feelings and emotions get wrapped up with rational thoughts and cloud my vision. The things that I could see so clearly, the things that I was so sure of suddenly became hazy. No matter how hard I try to bring it back into focus, nothing is the way that I thought it would be. Today I came to the realization that the thick fog surrounding me isn't going anywhere; it is my new normal. I have been waiting so long to get past the pain but there is no getting past it. The freshness will continue to subside and make way for the dull ache that will never completely leave me. It will be like phantom limb pain; the limb may be gone but the pain still exists and it is real.

When I wrote about the stages of grief, I imagined that acceptance would be like putting the final piece of the puzzle in place. Like it was actually something that could be completed and considered "done" and after that I would be all whole and healed. Perhaps that is not actually the case. Perhaps acceptance doesn't mean that there is no pain but that I am acknowledging that I bear the wounds of a battle hard fought. It means that I am owning my scars, wearing them proudly because they mean I have tried. I didn't just surrender to the grief and pain threatening to completely consume me. I am fighting to dig myself out of the trenches, bit by bit, until I can rise above the pain of the past. I might be an ugly, beaten, bloody, mess but I am still standing. And that is something I can finally accept.

Faithful to Me

This morning I got a wild hair and decided to check my junk email folder (something I never do) and thank God I did. Right there on the very top was an e-mail from Concert Window telling me that Jennifer Knapp had a show tonight. The fact that I had absolutely no idea prior to that just goes to show exactly how deeply entrenched in the dark place I have been this summer. I was ecstatic to see that not only was she going to be playing, she was going to be playing through her Kansas CD. I haven't heard her play most of these so I was really looking forward to watching. By the time 9:00 rolled around I was more than ready to get started.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

I laughed until I was gasping for air as I listened to her tell about playing Christian music in a lesbian bar (not only can she sing, but the woman has a wicked sense of humor). This is the beauty of her concerts; the songs are phenomenal and the stories between the songs are pure gold. I got teary eyed as she played Martyrs & Thieves and it moved me in a way that it never has before. These songs...these songs I know better than I know myself. But every note, every line breathed fresh wisdom into my very weary soul.

By the time she closed out the show with 'Faithful to Me', I was completely undone. I cannot explain what happened in my house tonight. There are no words big enough to describe enormity what transpired. All I know is that it resonated so deep in my marrow that I will never, ever forget it.


Faithful to Me

All the chisels I've dulled carving idols of stone
That have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves.
I'v recklessly built all my dreams in the sand,
Just to watch them all wash away.

Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile
To one who sees past all I see.
And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand
You're the only one who's faithful to me.

All the pennies I've waste in my wishing well
I have thrown like stones to the sea.
I have cast my lots, dropped my guard, searched aimlessly,
For a faith to be faithful to me.

Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile
To one who sees past all I see.
And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand
You're the only one who's faithful to me.
You're the only one who's faithful to me.