my alter ego

Do you know what "alter ego" means? I didn't. I still kinda don't. I mean, I had the general idea, but I wondered - is it the version of yourself that you'd most like to become? Like your dream self? Or is it the version of you that is most opposite from who you are? (In my case, this would be an extremely outgoing goth people-person. I know that seems to be a contradiction, but trust me, that would be my opposite.)

I finally looked it up and it said "the other self." Well, thank you, that's most helpful.

NOT.

Well, due to a chance meeting with a pretty little kitty outside my door tonight, I've decide who my alter ego is. It is the me that I think I'd like to be, the person that I will begin praying to become, the person I wonder what it would be like to work toward becoming.

Let it be said: I am not a cat person.

I mean it. I don't understand them. They're snobby and expect to be served and hide from people and I just can't read them and their litter boxes smell awful. They look all cute and then they'll swing around and nab ya. (I know: I've had the rabies series to prove it.) I love dogs. I get dogs. I get along very well with dogs.

But this kitty... It was like almost 11pm! I was just headed to the convenience store to buy tortilla chips for Hubby. Isn't it just like God to give us divine messages in the most mundane things?? (My last experience like that was while deep-scrubbing the bathroom. In God's defense - not that He needs it - it was a task that required much prayer and praise music.)

It was a pretty little white and orange kitty. Often when we exit our house late at night, we'll hear rustling in the leaves over by the trees, and we wait a second to make sure that the skunk/possum/giant squirrel has a chance to move on before we freak it half to death and turn it evil. But as I heard the rustling this time and paused, I glanced over and saw a lighter colored figure, and then the glow of two little cat's eyes. So I did what I, not a cat person, always does when running into a cat unexpectedly.

I said, "oh, hi, kitty!" and mowwwed at it. (For not being a cat person, I do a pretty good "moww.")

And this kitty came over to me, and looked at me, and stood with me, and I scratched the kitty, and it's hesitancy lasted about 3 and a half seconds, and then it purrrrrrred at me, and wagged incessantly at me, and arched at me as I scratched its back, and it followed me to my car.

I told it that it would make the doggies yell. I told it I had a dog and it wouldn't work out. I told it we couldn't be together, even though I was 5% worried (hoping?) it might try to get in my car with me. It almost seemed like it wanted to play (where, admittedly, my rabies vaccine experience kicks in and I decide I shouldn't find out; I don't really know how to initiate play with cats, or where their too-far point is).

But as I drove to the convenience store and back, I revisited the idea with God about who I'd love to be, and began to investigate the idea to see if it's someone that might look like me.

And I decided it didn't. Not now, at least. But the now is practice. I have a bunch of kids, one of which is a psycho teenage daughter. That's got to be training for something.

So I decided this new woman would look something like this:

She would lose all her icky body weight so she can easily move around her several-acre plot of land, but she would still be soft enough to give good hugs. She would be the keeper of the Orphan House - her home, where any animal or baby or child in need of love and a warm bed would find its rest. She would own a good comfy pair of cowgirl boots and a good pair of tall rainboots. She would read her Bible like it's her very breath. She would hang Bible verses around her house to remind her and those around her from whence their strength comes. She would gather her passle of girls on her bed and they'd read (and watch) Jane Austen and Anne Shirley and learn about beauty and chivalry and romance, and she'd work outside with her passle of boys, fixing trim and building lean-tos for said creatures who ambled through their lives. She'd homeschool so that she could be around to be needed, and people would show up on her doorstep - a long front porch attached to a rambling farmhouse - and say "got room for one more?" and she'd never have to say no.

I'm praying for that woman. I hope to meet her someday.

i tend to get in trouble...

...when I go to this:

book for keeping track of things in the house

...before going to this:

Book for keeping track of things in life



Five-Minute Fridays: Catch

I'm linking up with Gypsy Mama for her Five-Minute Fridays. Write. Write for five minutes. Don't stop. Don't edit. Go.

"Catch..."


I admit, I had to think about this one for a while. (I have to think about most of Gypsy Mama's prompts...usually because my head is swimming with everyone else's stories that I've read.) I thought...catch...catch what? Catch a moment. Catch a memory. Catch up. Catch a minute. Catch a break. It makes my mind spin. But it is what she was saying in her original blog; it's what we're all trying to do. Some days we've got it. Other days we're just replaying in our minds what we've missed or messed up. We're supposed to catch moments with our kids, make memories while we can, don't miss a moment, they'll grow so fast. But while we're making memories with our kids - however much we love it - the dishes pile up, the laundry gets dirtier (because, let's face it, the kids aren't 100% in the moment, and somehow dishes still get used, even during memory-making; sometimes especially during memory-making). So we try to catch up. And at the end of the day, we might have memories, we might have clean houses (might), and we're left - if we're lucky - with a silence that speaks to us in whispers of "now what? who are you? what would you want to do right now, if your head wasn't full of meal plans and daily schedules and grocery lists?" And the answer goes back "....I don't know." We try to catch a minute for ourselves, whoever ourselves are.


All in all, at the end...just trying to catch a break. A happy, mom-inspired, kid-filled, this-is-how-life-is-and-it's-not-so-bad-after-all break. Wipe the sweat, and sigh happy.

STOP. (plus a few seconds)

Come see us - all of us! - at Gypsy Mama's Five-Minute Fridays! Or sometimes it's fun just to read everyone else's. :)

it's a pretty button...

There. Finally. I've made a new button to match the new blog. Yay!

Please feel free to grab it over there................

And if you had it before, please replace!

Much obliged.







Oh. And once again, I was assisted in the process by this blessed little page: Oikology 101. It's fab. I'm grateful.

it's october

Fact: It's about quarter to twelve. (Midnight, I mean.)

Fact: I am not in bed.

Fact: It's October.

Fact: That is WAY too late to be researching homeschool curriculum!!!!

My head is spinning, y'all! I now know what some of you were going through over the summer, except that I should have already finished this and been teaching this by now!

Oh, my goodness. This company for this subject, that company for that subject, or one company for all subjects?? Spend close to $200 for almost all subjects, or spend more for the whole deal??

Well, Amazon, I think we'll be getting to know each other a whole lot better in the next couple days. (I may lose a little familiarity with my bed, though. Boo.)

привет!

I just wanted to take a second to give a quick shout-out to some people... Apparently, I've had a couple visitors here from Russia! I'm so honored and I'm glad you're here!

(and thank you, google translate, for your help)

what i do all day

This morning I was talking with hubby about groceries. "I will probably end up running to Walmart today if you need anything." "Why?" "Well, we're almost out of bread...we're just about out of snacks...you need deodorant..." (This last item was something he actually requested a few days ago, not a commentary on my part.)

We have recently gone from weekly pay to twice-a-month pay. Talk about nuts. It's crazy how long it's taken to get back on our feet from switching our schedule. In that process, we're also trying to go grocery shopping less. We have a BJ's membership but never use it, but are planning to now, so that we can make fewer trips. That means buying more at once (obviously), but that also comes with deeper planning.

So we sat and talked about snack foods, and how many granola bars per day we would need, etc.

My husband BUILDS LISTS at work. My husband does LEAD GENERATION. These are big words and big ideas. He throws around terms and abbreviations that I have no idea what they mean. (I also don't ask. I'm grateful I've learned how to take the context.)

Meanwhile, I throw around terms like "12-count box" and "non-fat milk powder." (This last one scared hubby, but I told him it's for the bread machine. Then he was okay. But it came with a stern warning.)

I started trying to explain to him how I feel sometimes when I have to go over this stuff with him. Not all the time, but if I'm in a particularly vulnerable mood, or if I'm quiet enough to hear my undercurrent of thoughts while talking, I can admit that I feel inferior at these times. He has stress at work, and the things he does there are miles away from any kind of home happenings. And if he needs to not think about home while working, in order to concentrate, so be it. His job is not to do both jobs at once. That's what he has me for. You'd think that would make me feel important. And I do. Still...

Sitting with me and doing the math of "how many granola bars come in a box?" "8...or 12." "Probably should go with the 12." "Yeah, I do" is not, I imagine, how he'd choose to spend his 6AM hour. I told him, I feel like he thinks that kind of conversation is pithy. boring. mundane.

And maybe it is.

But it's still important. I need to know when he won't be home for dinner. I need to know how fast we'll go through a case of toilet paper. I need to know the ratio between when the away soccer game bus says they'll get back to when they will actually get back. I need to make rules like "one granola bar per day." I need to know where the crayons are that will fit in the spiral of my 2yo's handy-dandy notebook. (Can you say crisis?!?!)

And here's a reminder to me, and anyone else who's identifying: these things ARE important.

They are vitally important to the success and smooth running of our households. The conversations might be mundane to our very hard-working hubbies. But that doesn't mean they think them unimportant. It's just not their job. So the pride is ours to take in our work. We're growing little people, after all.

What odd-to-the-world-outside-of-mommihood things do you find yourself in charge of? Is there anything you do during the day that makes you say, "you know...if I wrote a book...this would totally go in it..."?

just gotta say

Well sometimes my life just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big and my faith just seems so small

So hold me, Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul, I swear there must be blisters on my heart

So hold me, Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees

And this Salvation Army band is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep, it makes my resistance seem so thin

So hold me, Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

I'm singin' hold me, Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

(God bless you, Rich Mullins. "Hold Me, Jesus")