We Do Hard Things: ending the whiny mommy bloggers

Greetings readers!
I have been on blog radio silence for a while. I'd love to say that it's because I'm so "terribly busy" but the truth is, it's because something has been stirring inside me that I've been wanting to write about for months, but haven't had the courage to. You see... I have a bit of a confession to make and it's a little controversial and a whole lot self incriminating. Here goes. I can't stand mommy whiner blogs.  

But Erin, you are a mommy blogger. Oh yes, I am fully aware of it. Hence the blog silence. Let me back up a minute and say that I don't dislike mommy bloggers and I do think that there are some blogs out there that are very helpful to mothers  searching for someone who feels just like them, someone who can validate their feelings. To those blogs, I bare no ill-will. No, I'm talking about a specific group of mommy blogs: the mommy whiner blogs. 

I am a believer in empowering each other, encouraging people. I am a believer in giving voice to your thoughts and feelings, I am a believer in being real about your life and in giving grace to others who are real about their lives. What I am NOT a believer in, is when you use your life's circumstances to excuse your unwillingness to move forward; to work on being a better you.

This whole thing started on facebook. I had gone through a particularly bad couple of weeks in the trenches of motherhood and as I would scroll through my newsfeed there would be blog link after blog link with titles like "Why I don't take my sensory kid to church" and "What not to say to a mom of special needs". For some reason, this really irritated me. 

Some facebook friends would post things like "This is so me guys." And then would link to this lady who was just making excuses about how hard her life was. There was no epiphany at the end, there was no challenge to work on, there wasn't even a way the writer would let you relate to them. It was all very much, a "this is why you will NEVER understand why it's so hard to be me" alienating diatribe.  I mean, I have 2 kids with special needs, I could throw down a whiner blog like nobody's business. Maybe I had done that. Had I done that? Suddenly I felt icky. Oh no, had I unknowingly become a mommy whiner?

 I thought about the whole reason why I started blogging in the first place. It wasn't to get thousands of hits, to make money,  or to go on trips. It wasn't to be featured in magazines or exalted for the most amazing and wonderful person that we all hope people think we are when we blog. I started writing because I enjoyed being authentic, and raw and real. I am terrible at talking about my feelings to people in real life. But somehow, alone  (or sometimes in a room full of kids) on a computer, I could say exactly how I felt. I could be exactly who I was. My blog gave me the freedom to say what was on my mind and to talk about the struggles I faced as a human being. Most of the time, those struggles are about being a mom because.... well that's what is important to me. There are challenges as a mother, there are obstacles. You never know if you're doing the right thing, or if you're making huge mistakes. You feel isolated, you feel doubt, you feel joy, you feel incredible love. Those are the things I like to write about. All of it.What I don't like about whiny mommy bloggers are the fact that they tell you how hard it is to do certain things and THAT'S why they don't do them.

 In my family we have a saying: We Do Hard Things. How can I look at my son who has trouble buttoning his pants, or tying his shoes and say to him "Son, I know those things are hard for you. It's so hard so just never mind. Don't do it."? I have to lead by example. I have to show him that whatever you find challenging or difficult, you still have to DO. Because the world will not just give you grace because things are hard. We do hard things. 

Fact: Taking my sensory kid to church is one of the hardest things I do all week....but I do it anyway. Fighting for my kid to get all of the therapy and medical attention he needs is hard....but I do it anyway. Sometimes getting up and getting your kids dressed is the hardest thing... but you do it anyway. Maybe going to work and kissing your babies goodbye is just the hardest...but you do it anyway. Why do you do it? Because...well because you have to. You can't just give up. It's ok to be upset about it. It's ok to want to quit. It's ok to even whine about it. But eventually, you have to put your big girl blog panties on and...do it the freak anyways.

I have a whole bunch of bright hot pink business cards. Right now they say:                     Erin Warkentin
                           freelance writer * blogger

Perhaps I need to be more specific, maybe a reprint is in order. What it should say is:           Erin Warkentin
                              freelance writer * whiner blogger

Forgive me if I've whined without giving hope, without trying to better myself, without picking myself up and continuing to just keep swimming, just keep swimming. If I've been that to you, I'm sorry. It has become one of my biggest pet peeves and I refuse to let my blog become my crutch for inactivity or lame behavior. 

Let's not settle for whineyness (is that even a word?) Let's become cheerleaders, and motivators. Does that mean that I will only ever write positive blogs from now on? Heck no. That wouldn't be real life now would it? It means I will write the good with the bad, as it comes wave on wave and that I promise not to enable my readers; my friends, to be inactive or to use their life circumstances as excuses. 

Chant with me friends:

Life is Hard...we do it anyways. 
We Do Hard Things.

Disneybouding: Why it's okay to be a nerd

So a while back I stumbled on this tumblr site called Disneybound. Basically, it's a website that puts together outfits of Disney characters that you can wear to Disneyland. I know what you're thinking "Dressing up like a character at Disneyland? That sounds incredibly dorky."
Ok so maybe it IS a bit dorky. I can understand the response. In fact, I had a similar reaction.... at first. But then I thought about the concept behind it. Taking things from your closet you would normally wear ... okay that sounds simple enough and easy. Adding a few accessories to go with your character... that's cheap. But the question still remains WHY?

I guess it all boils down to remembering who you were when you were six years old. Can you remember that far back? When I was six I was a very girly girl, missing my top teeth, full of energy. I was no stranger to a microphone; singing any chance I got. I loved to dress up, and twirl around and I didn't care one iota what anyone thought of me.



I heard a saying once that we are all our true selves when we are 6. I'dlike to think that's true. Sometimes we forget what it's like to wear a tiara and to giggle uncontrollably. To point at fireworks and ooh and ahh. We cover up that part of ourselves and label it as "childish" "immature" or "silly". I guess my question to those people is: "What's wrong with being silly?"  As Walt Disney so poignantly put it "Adults are only kids grown up." That guy really knew how to be a kid.
And with that, I decided that this trip to Disneyland, I wouldn't be afraid or care what people thought. I  would just be the 6-year-old that had been dying to get out... and twirl.

 

So on the first day, I dressed like Ariel. I had my turquoise and purple on and my fishnet scarf. The finishing touch was a tiara I had saved from my wedding 9 years ago. And as I walked through the gates I was greeted with a "welcome back princess Erin". Wow, isn't that every little girl's fantasy? I had so much fun and I didn't look weird and I didn't stick out but I did get to put my mark on my trip and it was special because I got to match my baby girl, which was even more fun.

The next day I was a modern twist on Snow White. I loved it! I felt so colorful; like a real Disney character. I was even more apt to take pictures with characters! Including the mysterious Peter Pan who is a rare sight indeed.

                                                                                                                                                                 But the highlight by far was spending some time with my look-a-like princess for the day. We had some good gab time- us princesses have to stick together. It was a blast to have people recognize the outfit too!

So yeah, I guess maybe I've crossed some sort of nerd threshold, it's true. But if dressing up and being happy in the happiest place on earth is nerdy than I say, bring it! I highly suggest becoming a "nerd" yourself and enhancing your experience by Disneybounding. I promise, you will not regret it.

  

The A.D.D. mommmy

I've talked about having A.D.D before in the church setting. And there are so many other places and scenarios in which it can definitely be hard. Recently, I was asked how I handle having A.D.D. and being a parent and I have to say, in this case, A.D.D. can be your best friend.

 

 

When they're babies it's a lot harder to keep track of things like feeding and changing and burping (repeat). You have to really focus and concentrate, which can be hard for anyone when they're running on 2 hours of sleep. Of course, these days the world is just full of apps that help the parents remember those little details. When they get older ofcourse, there is no need for apps. The constant whining, crying and shouting "Mama.. I'm HUNGRY!" make it quite easy to remember to feed your kids.

 

Do I get distracted and hyperfocused on projects and things and sometimes forget to start dinner on time? Ofcourse I do! But mostly, I think A.D.D. is an invaluable resource to a parent with multiple children. It's what allows me to hold one crying kid, while pulling the other one's pants up and answering the other one's questions. It is what keeps my mind jumping from superhero to princess game, what allows me to potty train while giving a spelling test. Because, frankly, that's motherhood and I'm fairly certain that by the end of it, most moms have some form of A.D.D.

 

 Never being able to finish a thought or conversation on the phone without a kid tattling, or hanging on you or wiping their dirty hands all over you. Laundry souring in the washing machine because you've gotten distracted by all the legos that were dumped on the livingroom floor. Only a half-cleaned kitchen floor that was left when your favorite song came on the radio and you broke out into a spontanious dance party with your kids in your livingroom (no, that's just me? no matter). The point is, motherhood is a constant form of A.D.D. What mom hasn't spent a playdate half talking to their friends, half reffing an argument, or keeping your two-year-old from hitting other kids?

 

I see A.D.D. as a total advantage in motherhood. If you DON'T have it, you're in BIG trouble.

 



Just Dance

I love to dance. Please understand, I have absolutely no talent when it comes to dancing. I never took lessons as a kid, in fact dancing was prohibited for the most part in my childhood. My dance moves are seriously lacking, and I'm quite certain that I probably look ridiculous 90% of the time. But there comes a point in your life, well maybe there just came a point in mine, when you really don't care what other people think; you just need to have fun and let loose.

When I was a sophomore in college, I had a roomate who was a little eccentric. One day, she had had a particularly bad time and I thought I would walk in my room to find her crying on the floor, instead I opened the door to find her dressed in nothing but a bra and underwear (oh also there was a feather boa) dancing on top of my bed to a Britney Spears song. I watched her in skepticism, what was she DOING? It was her answer that changed my outlook on things permanently. She said, "I had a bad day, so I thought, instead of pumping my body full of meds, or bawling uncontrollably, that I would dance. I'm just gonna dance it out until I can't stop smiling." Wow. So simple. And with that little gem of wisdom, was born my love of dance.

This year I have found myself in a serious funk. Walking through this unbearable grief and sadness can be so overwhelming. It feels like it's never ending, and with every season, it just brings more sad. But I've also noticed a major increase in my desire to..... dance.

When I'm unloading my dishwasher.... I'm dancing. When I'm putting away my clothes...dancing. Picking up the kids from school everyday.... so much dancing. I'm dancing to 90's music, I'm dancing to radio music, I dance sometimes to the music that's only in my head. I find that I can barely go a day without it. Is it ridiculous? Oh totally. Do I look dumb? Probably. But I also feel so much better when I'm done.

Dancing has also become worshipful. I know what you're thinking: the CMA pastor's kid dances in worship? Yup, I've developed a little pentecostal in me (must be my husband's influence). I find in my own home I dance and I sing and I cry and I belt out songs to Jesus. It is so freeing to not care what anyone else thinks, and to know it's all for my King.

When bad things happen, some people take prescription meds. Some people stop showering, eating, or living. When crisis hits, some people crack under the pressure. I just dance. I dance in my pajamas, I dance in my nicest clothes. Sometimes I dance when I'm not wearing any at all. It doesn't matter what you wear, or what people think, or how many moms stare at me when I'm dancing like a chimpanzee in my minivan as I pull up to my son's school. What matters is.... I'm happy.

So the next time you feel a wave of sadness, when life becomes messy and uncontrollable. When you feel like maybe you just might crumble, turn on some music and just wildly dance.

Going Gray

You dread it, you run from it, you live in denial about it. But sooner or later, they come for you. You know what I'm talking about: Gray Hair.


When I was in college, I used to have a few friends who started to go gray. I thought to myself that it must be a fluke, some sort of Steve Martin scenario. I knew it would be forever before I would have to face the gray. Then I had 3 kids in 3 years and after my last baby, they came for me. Yes, I said THEY. Because you see, the gray isn't just a single strand, a lone wolf. No, it travels in a pack of hungry wolves devouring all of your youth and taking no prisoners.

I first found out about it while I was shopping with a friend. She had recently colored my hair and while browsing the ladies department we casually talked about how some of our friends were starting to go gray. I "felt bad" for those poor girls and was so lucky I hadn't succumbed to that fate yet. She bashfully said, "Um, yes you have." What? No, I would know if I did. I'm positive I would. She then proceeded to tell me that she found a whole bunch of them in the back of my head but just colored them and didn't say anything. Can I just take the time to say something right now?

A true friend sees you have gray hair, but doesn't say anything about it.

Since that fateful day, I have been obsessive compulsive about my grays. It's something I notice so much everytime I look in the mirror. I know that I'm probably overreacting. I mean, it cannot possibly be the first thing people see. But then again, maybe it is? 

Maybe I could embrace it and make it a whole fad. I could pull of a Cruella Deville kind of scenario right? 

It's hard to swallow the fact that I have officially entered this strange and mysterious world. The world where your knees don't quite work like they used to, and suddenly the wrinkle cream aisle doesn't look half bad. Well I might be getting older, but that doesn't mean I'm old yet. I'm not going down without a fight. Maybe a trip to Paris, or a skydiving adventure? I don't know. But I'm embracing this new hair color. Because, let's face it, I've earned every one.

People Schmeople

I am probably one of the most independent people you will ever meet. If I had my druthers, I would never have to ask anyone for help. Ever. Shoot, I don't even like people to pay for my coffee. I almost feel sick if someone makes something for me, or gives me something out of the kindness of their heart. It is unfathomable why someone would do such a thing for me. Why am I like this? What's wrong with me? You might ask. I think the bottom line is this: people will let you down.

This is not a bitter diatribe, it's just the cold hard reality of the situation. In life, there will be times when you epically need someone, and they will not be able to be there for you. It's just a fact. So, my defense mechinasm to not be let down by people, is just to not need their help at all. Yes, I am aware of how unrealistic this is. Yet, when I need someone to watch my kids, or help me move furniture, or listen to the insanely horrible day I've had, it's what I tell myself over and over again. I don't NEED you, I don't NEED anyone.

Ever since my dad died, and the black hole that was my summer sucked me up and devoured me, I have noticed a major decline in my peeps; my people. For some reason, I was in the deepest darkest pit, and everyone I knew and loved scattered like it was a crime scene. I still have this wide gaping hole that's left in my heart from not ever being able to talk about what happened to me, or sometimes even, just being able to talk at all.

The hardest part is when people say, "No seriously, let me help you, I'm here." And then you swallow every ounce of pride you have and ask them, and they say no. Shot through the heart and you're too late, baby you give love a bad name. Bon Jovi knew what he was talking about. And it's really hard not to take things personally.

I have spent so many hours wondering why? What did I do wrong? What did I say, or not say? Where have all the cowboys gone? (Okay maybe that was just a little Paula Cole influencing me). And then I bite my lower lip and scream in true alpha female form, "That's fine, I don't need 'em".

But the sad truth is, I really really do. And I absolutely hate that. Like despise to the core how much I really hate that I need people. Why can't I just be an independent hermit God?

Confession:  I'm human. I have major, major, unforgiveable flaws. Trusting people, happens to be a BIG one. I wish I was better at it, and it's something that I am working through. But I've gotta be honest, I think it's gonna be a lifelong fight.

Genesis 2:18 "Then the Lord God said, "It is not good for the man (or woman) to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him."

Blarg.

7 years good luck!

Why the crazy picture you ask? Because I'm celebrating and I couldn't find all the party decorations without waking up the kids. So instead you get a thumbs up sign and a wacky looking face to say that my blog is officially 7 years old!

I was archiving a few things and realized that I posted my first blog in March of 2005. Seriously? Now please do not go back and read those first few blogs they are truly AWFUL. Of course now that I've said that, you probably will so may I just apologize now?

Today I am doing cartwheels (pervebial ones because I have pretty bad knees) and screaming from the rooftops (or maybe just quietly squeaking) about this achievement. It's definitely been a long ride and a fun one. From those first few years of documenting my wild ride in Northeast Georgia to having kids, moving, and discovering who I am. I can honestly say, these last seven years have been such a great experience. And even though I literally squirm in my seat when I read some of the embarrassing testimonies, I can at least take solice in the fact that I was genuine. So here's to 70 times 7 more years of blogging fun and all of the good and bad that life has to offer in between.

A downhome kind of blog

I'm not sure there is anything greater in this world than watching your parents love on your children. It is a fantastic and wonderful gift that I cherish.

The last few weeks I've been MIA in the blog world because I've been visiting my parents down south. As you can imagine, I don't get to see them much, so I treasure the time I do. This time, I took Liv along with me. She got to eat southern barbeque, and drink her fair share of sweet tea. But it's the hours and hours spent cuddling, kissing and playing with her Guy and Nana that I believe she will take with her.

I got to watch my friend Bethany get married as well, and I was so excited, and honored, to be a part of her special day. I also spent the time visiting friends around Georgia. It's so funny to say that now. When I lived in Georgia, I really felt like I had no friends. Now that I'm here, it's strange to say it, but I actually have quite a few. Who knew?

I really am a California girl, I swear. But buried deep underneath the surface is a little southern belle who only shows her true colors when she's nestled in the North Georgia mountains. I feel safe here to let my hair down, and my accent creep back into everyday conversation. I try so very hard to keep it from coming out in California. Ofcourse sometimes I slip. Anyways, I digress. It's been such a fun thing to be able to show my daughter the south, and I'm not gonna lie, 2 weeks off of dishes and laundry duty has been nice as well. Oh Georgia, it's strange to say how much I've missed you.

I heart country music

The older you get, the more you look back. Truer words were never spoken, paritcularily when you become a mother. When you see your nose on someone else's face, you begin to think about where that nose came from.





In public, I am an indie-pop music fan, but in the quiet of my heart, when no one is around, I am a country music fan. Mostly, because as much as I try to hide it, or run from it, I am a steel magnolia. I come from a long line of strong southern women. I come from cotton fields, spanish moss, and boiled peanuts. And even though I'm a California girl, there's a little piece of me that will always be southern. And when I miss that part of me, or if I'm being totally honest, when I miss my mama, I listen to country music.

The sounds of a hard day's work on a tractor, a small town, and going to church on Sunday are so familiar to me, with a slide guitar and a southern twang it hits the spot whenever I start to miss my roots.

Sometimes I wonder if my kids will ever understand this part of me? If they'll ever even know it? I don't really know the answers to these questions. But I do know that until I can reveal that part of me to them, I'll introduce them to a little downhome music (while they're dad ISN'T in the car).

Who's in the House? JC

Okay, admit it... somewhere in the back corner of your brain there are a select few songs that you remember from your childhood and smile about everytime you hear them. For me, as a child of the late 80's and early 90's christian "rap" era, the few gems that bring back good memories would bring most people to their knees laughing.

I stumbled upon a youtube of one such song today. As I listened to it, I can remember playing it a thousand times and doing the running man in my basement. I can remember dancing like a wild banchie and thinking I was so cool. But as I watched the music video, I thought about what my kids would think. How totally ridiculous and silly it looked, and how lame they would think I am. Shoot, I don't think it would be limited to just my kids. I'm sure there are quite a few adults that would get quite a kick out of it as well.

Even though it seems lame, I think there will always be a little place in my heart for this song. A place from 5th grade when middle-aged white guys could rap and wear baggy pants and we thought they were the coolest EVER!

Thought I'd share...

Inspiration from the strangest source

So, by now if you know me you will notice that I am a Twilight fan. I really enjoy the books, and have read them over and over. But I recently heard the author Stephenie Meyer's backstory about how she came to write the book, and it was so compelling.

She said she dreamed one night about a girl talking to a vampire and went to her computer and wrote about it. This intrigued me, what an interesting way to start a book. She never intended to finish it, or even share it with anyone. She just wanted to finish the dream.

Here's the cool part: Stephenie has 3 very young boys. She spent about 4 months writing the first book. She wrote it during the day most days with one child sitting on her lap, another at her knee and Blues Clues blasting in the backround. When I heard that, I laughed out loud. That sounds EXACTLY like my day. In fact, as I type this blog I have one sitting on my lap.
She was just a mom, living her life and using her imagination. With a lot of encouragement from family and friends, she decided to send it to a publisher.


It made me think about my life right now. It consists of cheerios and diapers and laundry and yet I have such an active imagination. I think of all the songs I have written that I one day want to put in a record album, I think of all the movies I have tried to make, and all the books I have written in my head. And all of those things I have done only for myself. But they are dreams, silly dreams if you ask me and I never work on making those dreams come true. It feels childish and ridiculous. Even when I say it out loud sometimes I hear people snicker. I mean, I'm a mom I'm supposed to be mature.

But I love what Stephenie said about it. She said she wrote this book and had all these screaming fans who go to signings and premieres and it's such a big deal. And then she comes home and she's just mom. She really inspired me to be, well, me. So the next time I dream a big dream, I really am going to try harder not to feel silly or stupid but to follow my heart and use my creativity to see where that gets me.

I'm no June Cleaver

I like to have people over a lot. I guess maybe it stems from never being allowed to have people over growing up. Most weeks, you can find me entertaining during the days.

Now I will say that I am no June Cleaver. I keep my house fairly clean, as clean as I can manage anyways. But I definitely do not keep it sparkling. But it got me thinking about people coming over to a clean house.

When I haven't gotten to the dishes, or the trash hasn't been taken out why is it that I automatically apologize to my guests about it? All I have done is live in my house, so what if I didn't get to ALL of the dishes? Why should I apologize for having a house that's well lived in? I dunno.

What I do know is that social interaction and fellowship with others is high on my list of priorities and I'll be darned if I let a load of laundry stand in the way of it. So, if you happen to come over when my house is a little less than sparkling I hope it's okay and that you won't let it reflect poorly on me as a person.

The essence of being cool

Not so long ago, the only thing these boys would be holding in their hands on a Saturday night would be a cold beer. ...

Now, babies have invaded our lives. Every get together, every event, is filled with the sounds of squealing, burping, and temper-tantrums.....Oh, and the kids are loud too!

Last night, in the midst of one such event, I sat at a table surrounded by little children; faces covered in ketchup, hands sticky from fruit, hair sticking up in all directions, stains on their shirts and it made me wonder; when did our gatherings become so kid-centered?

As I scanned the room, there wasn't ONE adult who didn't have a kid in-tow. There wasn't a conversation that didn't revolve around dirty diapers, feeding schedules, or parenting tips. And I just thought to myself, "Huh, we used to be cool.... what happened?"

Though, in true form, amidst the sounds of little feet and tiny giggles, there was some cool emo-rock playing in the background. Which just totally cracked me up. Like we were willing to give up our cool factor on every account, except for music. I guess somehow that still made me feel like I was still happening.

Though I am sure in about 7 years time, our kids will all roll their eyes at our "cool" music, letting us know just how officially uncool we are. It's amazing how much 2 years has changed my life. And just how adult I have become. Crazy.

Sigur Ros and God

Ever heard a song that wasn't originally intended to praise God, but somehow touched you in a profound way? A way that made every fiber of your being want to get up and dance and shout and praise Him? That's what Sigur Ros "Glossolli" does to me everytime.

The funny thing is, it's all in Icelandic and it totally wasn't meant for worship. But somehow, it does that for me. Isn't it interesting how God can use creaters of "secular" music to really strike a chord in you? Sometimes when I miss church, or am feeling especially far from Christ, I turn on Sigur Ros and I dance around in my living room. Just shouting and praising him. And I know that it's worshipful, cause I know He can see deep into my being and know that it's all meant for Him.

Somehow it makes me think about what Heaven will be like: A thousand instruments creating the biggest symphony ever seen. And that symphony playing the prettiest music. And there I am, in the middle of it just dancing and singing and falling to my knees and crying out to my King. That's what Sigur Ros does to me. I hope one day when I am up there, they'll play a Sigur Ros song.... they're awesome.

Paint Crazy

How come everybody and their brother has paint on their walls?

I am going stir-crazy with white walls. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be one of those crazy people that paints their livingroom fuscia or anything, I just want to be able to make my house a nice living space, and I am pretty convinced that if I wasn't 7 1/2 months pregnant, I would be up on a ladder right now painting the heck out of my entire house. I have such plans, I just wish my body would cooperate.

Anybody up for a painting party at my casa? I'll provide the paint and the pizza? No? Well... I had to try.

Dawg: The Bargain Hunter

Some would call me cheap, I prefer the term "thrifty".

When I found out that I was going to have to buy a SECOND crib and changing table, I really worried about where the money would come from. Since October I have made it my mission to find the best quality things for the nursery at discount prices.

The first 3 months were torturous, but lately I have found some amazing deals. I checked out a store on Bechelli Lane that sells brand new scratch and dent cribs and changing tables at really great rates. And we were able to buy a cute crib and changing table that I love for very affordable prices.

Ofcourse, craigslist and ebay have been my constant companions and I have found some excellent things for the boys' rooms. I've even been working on creative and inexpensive craft projects to make accents for their walls.
I guess you can spend a ton of money on a kid's room and it come out really nice, but I personally find it much more gratifying to buy quality things at discount prices. I think it not only helps your budget, but it forces you to be creative in ways you never knew you could!

I'll keep updates with pictures on the rooms once they get closer to completion.

A nail biting blog

There are many ways that people deal with stress. Unfortunately, biting my nails is how I deal with it. And if you've had a chance to look at my nails recently, I believe that each one tells a story of the origin of my stress.

Bringing sexy back

Politics and government platforms have always been lost on me. Not because I'm not intelligent enough to understand such complex things, but mostly because they did not interest me. I was too concerned with what Jennifer Garner wore to The Kingdom premier, and who graced the cover of US WEEKLY to be concerned with what was going on in our country.

Tim is the one who really got me into politics by talking about it over dinner, or at night before bed. I never realized how little I knew on the subject until I got into these conversations, and it never really seemed to bother me until I was challenged. Finally one day after a very heated debate between he and I on the war in Iraq, I decided that perhaps I should do my homework.



So I have really taken to reading political articles, tuning into CNN and watching the presidential race since there were a million candidates running down to just one. It's been so neat to see what each candidate's platforms are, and to decide for myself whether or not I agree on them.

Last week instead of surfing the net, or watching movies, we spent every night watching the Democratic National Convention. It was really invigorating (especially since I felt like I had a grasp on how I felt about the isssues). And just last night a friend started a political debate with Tim and said the words, "Check your facts". It was the first time I had heard those words and could actually say with certainty that I had indeed checked my facts.

Since I have started this brain-stimulating journey, I felt like it's given me a lot more confidence as a woman. I don't think there is anything more sexy than an intelligent woman. Someone that not only knows how to carry on a conversation with someone, but is passionate about her beliefs. That is what sexy looks like to me.

NEW YEAR, NEW GOALS

It's funny to me how January seems to be the time when people set goals for themselves. I guess a new year inspires people. I am NEVER motivated to try something new in January. In fact, I go against the stream. However, in September I am usually all fired up. Kinda strange that the school year motivates me. But for whatever reason, it does.

This year, I want our family to be more fit. Because of a spinal injury during childbirth, I haven't been able to excercise quite as vigorously as I had hoped. And the thought of doing hard workouts has made me cringe. But I think it's time to start working this old body of mine out. And surprisingly, Tim mentioned he wanted to start being more active as well. This made me very happy.

So, we have prayerfully made the decision to join a gym. I am excited about the free child care and I think that alone will be incentive for me to get out and do something. I can't wait for family gym nights too! I just hope this isn't one of those "I am totally gonna do it" moments that ends up flopping 2 months into it. But I guess that's why I have a blog, to keep myself accountable.

NOT ANOTHER CHRISTIAN T-SHIRT

So I used to LOVE going to Spirit West Coast as a teenager. I loved going to see bands like DC Talk and Newsboys. I used to think it was so cool to be immersed in a christian environment, filled with fellow believers where I could just be myself. My what 10 years will do to a person.

It's not that I hated it, or even that people that go to this event don't have good intentions. I guess maybe it's just me. I guess I don't fit into christian pop-culture anymore.

I'm not hip on all the christian rock people listen to (except for the Myriad, whom I HAD to see on the mainstage). I'm not into all the trendiest christian t-shirts (though I am a fan of TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS). But I definitely don't have the stomach to listen to christianese anymore.

I guess it's because I am a firm believer in my relationship with Jesus Christ, not the christian culture that surrounds it.

I believe that what I have with Christ is more than what you can print on a t-shirt, or hear at a concert. What I have is real. And just like in real relationships it's not always happy and wonderful. Sometimes it can be downright hard. My faith is always being tested. My eyes are forever wandering to look at the beauties of this world. My thoughts aren't always pure. My doubts are so much easier to believe. Still, I hold His hand and walk through this life, beside Him.
When I walked through the Merch Tent at SWC, I saw booth after booth of anti-abortion perefanalia. Buttons and t-shirts that said brutal and insensitive things on them. And I thought about all those poor women out there who were broken and beaten and at their wits end and made a decision. I thought about how those women would feel if they walked past someone wearing one of those buttons. And it made me think maybe we were doing more damage than good.

I walked past a mob of teenagers who raced around asking for people's testimonies, which, in theory, was good. However, I later found out it was for a youth group game. And I thought, in the end does it matter who heard the most testimonies in the day if it didn't mean anything to them?

My point simply is this: A relationship with Christ isn't about
fitting into the mold christians have created. It isn't about what treasures you
can store up, or how many good deeds you can do. It's about opening up honestly
and being vulnerable to Him. It's not about what people's perceptions
of you are, or if you're wearing your christian t-shirt.

"The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the
outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.”
- 1 Samuel 16:7