You've GOT to be kidding me!

So, I'm watching the Today Show this morning, and was reminded of the reason I don't have cable.
Meredith (the host) had the "What not to wear" ladies from across the pond on for an interview and they were making over a stay-at-home mom. They show the before picture of this tired looking woman, hair in a pony tail, bag slung over one shoulder, cargos, and a t-shirt on and I'm already thinking to myself--"yep! That's about right." Then they go on and on with their snobby british accents about "looking sleek" and "just because you stay at home doesn't mean you have to dress down."...
pardon me...but yes it does.
I don't know about you out there, but speaking from experience there is something fundamentally wrong with their thinking. When you stay at home with a baby, you go places like the park, and the grocery, and the post office--not brunch, or the boutique or rodeo drive. And not to mention that all my stay-at-home mommy friends truck around in the same gear, old navy t-shirts and jeans, so I'd be the only one toting a prada diaper bag and high heels? I don't think so.
Top it all off with the fact that you're awake at 6:00 in the morning and you're toting around a little puking pooping drooling machine and you have plenty of very good reasons to "dress down". Excuse me for saying so (and all you reading who don't have children and say things like "I'll never do that" prepare to eat your words) but when I finally get halfway down the block in my car after trying desperately to leave the house for an hour and happen to glance in the mirror and see a huge patch of spit up on my shoulder--and I try desperately to blot it out with something that probably already has spit up on it from yesterday only to be satisfied with a semi-visible white spot on my t-shirt and the faint smell of puke--I don't also want to have to be thinking about the fact that I paid $80 for the thing that has just been christened by my little monster. And don't worry--because it all happens again in about 45 minutes when he's sitting on my lap and decides to "let it all go" thus rendering all my effort to look normal useless because I now have a giant spot of urine on my right leg.
If you have never experienced this--you probably will, and it's perfectly normal. As much as people say they don't want this to be their reality and they still want to dress cute after babies, resign to the fact that you can let some things go..and dress nice again when they can control their bladders.
So when I see the shiny new mommy come out to the camera "post-makeover" with her beautiful trench coat, and charcoal gray dress slacks, I'm snickering to myself thinking "yeah, that'll last." Don't get me wrong, I love staying at home with the snugger, getting to see all his little smiles, and giggles, and reading books to him as he drools down my sleeve--but let's face it--it's not a profession without it's price.
And call me crazy--but dressing down sounds like a perfect idea.

It's my blog...I'll preach if I want to.

So, I'm going through this Bible study now, and it's awesome.
Yesterday, the writer was talking about how we need to believe what God says, and she was talking about how we need a visual reminder of who we are as God's people. So in Numbers (a book of the Bible) here's what it says, bear with me (I'm using a super easy to read version so you stay awake):
God spoke to Moses: "Speak to the People of Israel. Tell them that from now on they are to make tassels on the corners of their garments and to mark each corner tassel with a blue thread. When you look at these tassels you'll remember and keep all the commandments of God, and not get distracted by everything you feel or see that seduces you into infidelities. The tassels will signal remembrance and observance of all my commandments, to live a holy life to God. I am your God who rescued you from the land of Egypt to be your personal God. Yes, I am God, your God." Numbers 15:37-41 (The Message)

Okay, so we were supposed to have some sort of blue ribbon around our wrists to remember this...I dusted off my old "friendship bracelet" skills and there you go---it's no boondoggle, but what is? Except for a boondoggle I mean. (sorry the pic is a little blurry, only had one free hand to work the camera...obviously).
Anyways, what am I supposed to remember you ask?
Well, the verse is a little old, since our salvation doesn't come from keeping all the commandments any more (Thank God...literally), instead it comes from grace, and our faith in God's grace. But the verse says to "not get distracted by everything you feel or see that seduces you into infidelities".
Hmmm...what does that mean.
For me, I get distracted by fear (fear of death, of losing someone, of losing control, of being in danger etc.) I get distracted by what I want (more of everything, clothes, shoes, stuff, junk etc.) all these things seduce me into the infidelity of thinking that my life is in this world (and here's where I'll sound a little like a fanatic) and it's not.
My life in this world is like a prefix to the fact that I will live forever. Didn't C.S. Lewis describe it as just "The title page in the book of Life?"
So that doesn't mean I stop shopping at Old Navy (never!) or don't go to the gym because this world doesn't matter (it does matter) it's just the beginning though. And if I can look at my wrist and remember the most important thing in my life (more than Lincoln, John, stuff, or junk, more than making a difference, being cool, popular, unique, or important) if I can remember my God, and the LOVE (L-O-V-E) that he has for me, and I have for him,
THEN...
I'm living for the very purpose I was created for.
Call me a fanatic, fundamentalist, Bible-thumper, Baptist (uh-oh) whatever, I don't care. I want a life of reckless abandon and total passionate pursuit of loving Christ, because it's not just "church"...if it's true...and all we believe or say we believe is really what we believe...then it's THE most important thing in the history of the universe and I should act like it right?
Now that I've said all this to everyone that knows me best, I better be sure that my theology is matching my reality right? When I'm griping, down in the dumps, feeling soggy or cranky-when Linc's creaming his head off---remind me to look at my bracelet okay? Cause Lord knows, I need help remembering.
Now come on, if anyone's even out there in cyber land, and for whatever reason is reading what I'm writing in my little bathroom tile sized piece of the universe....
Can I hear an "Amen"?

The unhappiest place on earth

So, if at one end of the spectrum you have Disney World, which is quite possibly the closest you can get to being a kid at age 30 and is also the happiest place on earth (something I fully buy into), at the other end of the spectrum you have...
WALMART!
This place could easily pass for the third ring of Dante's Inferno, and if I had to pick one place I'd never want to go for the rest of my life it would be here.
You know when they were wondering what to do with the terrorist who orchestrated 9/11? I say we send him to Wal mart, strap him into one of those smiley face vests and never let him leave..that would be enough to strike fear into even the coldest of hearts.
You may be wondering "What's so bad about Walmart? I mean, they do have great savings and they carry quite a selection of products", well, to simplify things (and ensure that John will keep reading this because a list looks more concise) I'll give you my top ten reasons I hate Walmart.
10. There is only one bathroom and if I want to use it I have to cross Wal Country all the way through the video and fabric departments to get to it, and upon arriving often have to wait in line just to use a dirty stall that hasn't been thought about let alone cleaned for days.
9. I inevitably get stuck behind someone pushing their cart so slow they may as well be moving backward and stopping at each of the end caps to stare at the great sales they have on pop tarts and mexican soda, and I can't pass them because they refuse to go to one side of the aisle.
7. They're always out of one thing that I need. They'll have Jell-O in every flavor you could ever dream of but when I reach for a box of couscous there isn't a single package left. I hate you Walmart.
6. There is invariably a woman with 15 kids that are all running around grabbing things off shelves and screaming at the top of their lungs while the mother is blissfully unaware of anything that's going on around her.
5. No one that works there EVER knows where anything is...but they pretend like they do sending you all over the store until you eventually find it on your own.
4. The parking lot is so huge it needs two zipcodes and the spaces in front are never open (so do the faithful Walmart fans show up at 5:00am and take all the good parking all day or what?)
3. Their carts are always crappy. Not only are they engineered in a way that when I put Linc's car seat in the front his head is a foot lower than his feet, which makes him start to scream, but they always have something sticky on them, or a squeaky wheel--just to remind me of how annoyed I am the whole time I'm shopping.
2. It smells funny--Is it meat? Fish? Bathroom cleaner? I don't know...and I'm not sure I want to.
1. That &*$% smiley face staring at me every corner I turn, reminding me of their "rollback" prices, when all it makes me wanna do is rollback and punch his fat yellow head.

There you have it...I don't feel bad for saying it and I won't ever apologize- I hate you Walmart...always and forever. But rest assured, I still shop there. Because under their flourescent lights amidst the nauseating aisles upon aisles of american consumerism I can save about $50 on my grocery bill. And that's how they get ya!
(To balance my nasty attitude this post, I've added a picture of the happy family to brighten your day)

Bomie

Over the years John and I have amassed a strange number of little stuffed animals. Many people think we're juvenile, but each one not only has a name-but some have a middle name and a story-so the new series is to profile them.
We begin with Bomie.

Name: Boma Mara Jiko Zawadi (Bomie for short)
Hobbies: Lounging, snuggling, dancing when no one's looking
Favorite song: Move your feet by Junior Senior
Zodiac Sign: Ironically- a Leo (born in August)
Famous Phrases: "mumjumbo" ("hello" in his native tongue)
Story: Bomie was the souvenir John bought me on our honeymoon at Disney. He's named after every store/restaurant at the hotel we were staying at-The Animal Kingdom Lodge.
John used to wake me up by turning up a favorite song of mine (the one by Junior Senior) and making Bomie dance around to make me smile. Anyone who knows me knows he would be doing this because I am a terrible morning person. Needless to say Bomie has been with me every night for the past 3 years, with the exception of a short stint where he was forgotten in Colorado as we left for Cincinnati. He was quickly reunited with us via $12 air mail and a very pregnant friend who was willing to ship him to my mom's house in Ohio without passing judgment on how strange we were.
Now you know.

My Top Ten Weaknesses

10. Cookies
9. Anything with pumpkin in it--on it---or even near it.
8. Lincoln's laughs
7. Lincoln's cries (he plays me like a deck of cards)
6. Purses
5. Fun T-shirts
4. My triceps
3. Gym Shoes
2. Garage Sales
1. My hubby's dimples

One side of guilt please!

There are 2 kinds of people, those who are comfortable walking around the locker room naked, and those who aren't.
I'm the latter.
Don't get me wrong--if you're okay blow drying your hair topless, more power to ya--not for me though.
Anyway you slice it the locker room has become my new favorite place. Why? Because I get a shower. Those small wet little cages with the cheap green tub of soap on the wall used to gross me out, I probably swore I'd never use one (too many cooties swimming around) but now, after I exercise someone watches the snug monkey while I indulge in 15 minutes of selfish wonderful shower time (sometimes I even put on makeup--gasp!)
Now, what no one ever tells you is that mommyhood comes with a side of guilt, at least for me it does. I feel awful leaving him in there with all the screaming toddlers while I'm curling my hair--but I do it anyways.
Hey, it makes me a better mom, and I wish I wasn't the kind of gal who needs a break from her little bundle of joy--but I do.
(If you're wondering why see below posting entitled "Professor Snuggle Monkey"- note: picture)
So, at 10:00 each morning, you know where to find me--in my shower cell trying not to step on the disgusting drain or touch anything unless totally necessary...and loving every minute of it.

I'm having a niece!

Lillian "Lily" Wayne Reynolds is set to be born in January. You know what this means? All those fun girly things that aunties get to do, like spoil their neices.
fun fun fun.

The emperor within

Just when I'm coasting through mommy-hood thinking to myself, "I'm getting pretty good at this parenting thing", life smacks me upside the head.
And what is it that could possibly be strong enough to zap the strength of super mom? The same thing that killed the aliens in War of the Worlds...you guessed it--I've got a cold.
Not just your run-of-the-mill sniff sniff kind of cold. We're talkin full-blown nose running, entire box of tissues in 24 hours,head propped up on a pillow, "I'm starting to look like Emperor Palpatine" kind of cold. Lucky for me my betty of a friend Gretchen did my make up for me (she works at Clinique and even wears a lab coat) so the scary face was a little better, but the sick breath is still lingering. The worst part is- Linc is totally oblivious to the whole thing. Now I know how my mom must've felt all those days that she wasn't feeling well and I demanded full attention--come to think of it--I don't ever remember her getting sick (must be some mom super power I have yet to reveal). Until then, I'll be trudging around my house with a kleenex stuffed up my nostril ( yes, I actually do that--foxy, I know) and a baby on my hip, trying to figure out how much longer I have to stay awake before bed.
I'm all drama folks.

Professor Snuggle Monkey

It's the question every new parent is all too aware of "Is he sleeping through the night yet?" Everyone is excited about it and as a new parent bringing your little angel home from the hospital you anxiously await that glorious day when your baby randomly selects to give you a taste of grace and sleep through the night. But, what no one tells you is that there are a few caveats to this miraculous little moment.
Stipulation 1. Sleeping through the night technically only means sleeping between feedings for a minimum of 6 hours.
Maybe it's because a doctor coined the term, and they don't need much sleep, or because new parents in their extremely sleep deprived state willingly grasp to anything over a three hour break as a good night's rest. But to me...5 consecutive hours of sleep doesn't quite cut it.
Stipulation 2. They still wake up at 4 am.
If he eats one last time at 10:00 before we doze off--he's still waking up at 4:00 in the morning ready to party. That's 6 hours right mom? Yes, but when our snug monkey wakes up at 4:15 all smiles and bushy tailed, it doesn't matter so much.
Stipulation 3. There's not much you can do to control it.
Everyone swears by some secret system to get your baby to sleep through the night--heck, there are even books on it. But if you ask me, there's not much rhyme or reason to it. Some nights Linc will sleep in perfect peace for 6 hours, some he'll go 3 and then be ready to play--there's no real predictor. I'd like to think we had some contribution to the whole deal, but at this point, our little Tonight Show host is the dictator of when we sleep (I know, we're supposed to be able to control this right?)
Bottom line is, it really doesn't matter. I often catch myself determining a good day by how much sleep the snug's gotten the night before, but that's not the way to do it right? When I was holding him in the rocking chair yesterday-I started thinking about how fast he grows, and maybe it was because I was lingering on the edge of that state between sleeping and wake but I definitely felt a little emotional. God gave me this little man, and there will only be a few moments in the long run where he's this tiny little person who needs his parents for everything. He relies on us. We're all he's got, and he can't do squat (aside from some pretty tremendous poops) on his own. So I guess I'll take advantage of all this--even at 3am (someone call and remind me of this occasionally ok?)
It's faith like a child, it's total reliance. I wish I could have the same sort of dependence on God for everything I need. My little monkey is teaching me more everyday huh? And who says they don't do anything fun.
Oh, and if anyone needs to talk at 4:00 am...guess who's available.

My big jump to the bandwagon

Okay, so the title is a little crude, but it's the truth. I'm figuring out this whole thing, not sure why I'm even remotely interested in joining, but I figure it's time I punch my card to be a trendy member of the 21st century and begin blogging my butt off.
This will hopefully be a glimpse into the life of our family, filtered through my mind. My husband John, our little man Lincoln (affectionately referred to as Linc), and our two cats Tweedles Dee and Dum (Mikey and Maggie).
A little about me: recently I'm into my new gym membership, (took a hip hop class today and felt like such a coolie), making Lincoln laugh at all costs (let's just say I'm glad no one else sees me and he's too young to remember how ridiculous I look) and getting a shower when I have time.
Right now Linc is snoozing, and I should be, but I'm off to strap on my pretty Donna Reed apron (over my sweat pants and t-shirt...yes I said sweat pants...it's horrid I know, those "what not to wear" goons would shudder) and make a yummy shepherd's pie for dinner.
Speaking of Shepherd's Pie, what an awful name for an entree, we should nominate some new names for that one...feel free to comment.