6710 Grand

I’m wrestling with a difficult truth.  Well, maybe just chewing on it a bit.  Still wrapping my head around it.  I was listening to a Max Lucado book, Never Give Up .  He was telling the story of a young teen who was roughhousing around with his brother.  In their headlocks and arm wrestling, one kicked the other in the stomach—in the gut as he said.  Such a kick yielded acute, severe pain.  The pain led them to the emergency room which uncovered a tumor.  Emergency surgery removed the cancerous mass which, the surgeon said, had only been growing for a few days at most.  This aggressive invasion of the body could have resulted in a more serious outcome.  So, Max said, God saved the boy with a kick in the gut.  Miracle?  Sure.  I guess.  But why would God use such a method? The book is talking about going through hard things and not letting discouragement or pain get the better of you and cause you to “curse God ...

 I saw an interview transcript with Michelle Williams where she said something akin to 'you can't be great at both being a mom and a career woman'.  She said when you're at work you're thinking about your kids and when you're home with your kids you're thinking about all the work that's not being done.  Some people commented that she was just making a statement about priorities and a LOT of people agreed with her completely. The whole thing just made me really mad.  Really mad .  For 2 reasons. But I'll get to that.  Perhaps being an actress where your job takes you away from your family for months at a time and you have what I can only assume is a grueling schedule, followed by interviews and talk shows to promote the movies you're in, and then bouncing back into home life where you can then focus only on your kids is hard.  I wouldn't know.  I have no doubt that's hard.  I would never presume to understand the life of a Hollywood actre...

May-cember.  It’s becoming more recognized among parents of school-aged children.  The month of May is so crammed with activities that it resembles December—but with none of the fun of Christmas.  Performances, end of year parties, tournaments, concerts, graduation, graduation parties, dentist appointments, annual physicals, standardized tests, due dates, Mother’s Day, birthdays, Cinco de Mayo, Endangered Species Day, World Day for Cultural Diversity… the list seems endless.  There’s so much to do for the kids and their insane schedules, not to mention all that I’m doing for work—grant deadlines, promote summer camp, spring appeal, grant reports, meetings, annual reviews, contract negotiations—and home—renew pest control, renew lawn maintenance, plant flowers, tend to flower beds, mow the lawn, oil change on the mower, figure out why the composter isn’t working, clean the carpets, balance the checkbook, pay the taxes, renew the Costco membership, plan the graduation ...

There are a lot of specifics I don’t remember.  Where we were living, what stage of our marriage we were in, how many children we had—but really, none of that matters.  What matters is this: we were married with more than one child.  I had moved many times to support our lives together.  I was less than thrilled with my body and had no illusions about my own mortality, aging and/or energy for frivolous things like intimacy.  I hope that paints a picture for you before I share this moment in my life. I was picking Nick up from some airport somewhere.   It was either PHX or PHL or EWR.   I don’t remember and it wasn’t important.    It had been somewhere between 4 days and 2 weeks since I’d seen him.   Either way, it was a long enough time for me to be exhausted by parenting, housekeeping, working full-time and trying to maintain some kind of sanity. “How was your trip?” I said after pulling away from the curb. “It was good.   Ha...

 It’s the question I hate, and yet, it is asked of me at least 4 times a day.  What’s for dinner? Why does it bother me so much?   I think it’s because I hear it more than anything else.   Hi mom, what’s for dinner?   Where’s mom?   What’s for dinner?   Is mom down there? What’s for dinner? I’m reduced to a single purpose—feed the hungries.   And I know I’m so much more.   Sometimes, I fantasize about being simply, not available.   No food in the house.   Nothing is for dinner.   Someone else needs to answer that question. I realize my hatred of this question is irrational and impractical.   I am the only one who can answer the question.   Afterall, I plan the weekly meals, do all of the grocery shopping and cooking.   Dinner is my jam! Yet, I still can not stand being asked.   So, how can I avoid the question? A dry erase board.   I bought one specifically for this purpose.   It has th...

 It always breaks my heart.  When love ends for someone, I’m sad.  And then I’m scared.  Anytime I hear about a divorce I panic.  Sometimes it’s a celebrity but sometimes it’s someone I know.  Family friends and relatives that have been a part of my life since I was born are now gone.  Or maybe just different.  A celebrity couple whose love story I could wrap my arms around and squeeze are now separating.  An author of books about living life as a Christian working mom I’ve devoured and tried to internalize reveals that her marriage is ending.  It happens over and over.   No one is safe.   And that means I’m not either.   Every time it happens, I want to find my husband and climb into his arms and hold on tight.   I want to check in and make sure we’re ok.   I want to remind him (and myself) that I’m desperately in love with him and if he ever decides to leave, I’m coming too. Sometimes I’m amazed and awed at...

It’s 4:33 and the sunrise alarm clock that is supposed to wake me up naturally is blaring orange light into my bedroom.  I have no idea how to turn it off because the 946 page instruction manual remains unread in my “to read” folder.  But it doesn’t matter.  Ike is crying and it’s time to get up anyway.  I pry myself out of bed, throw on my gym clothes and head downstairs.  The coffee pot is brewing.   I debate having a cup before my run but as I diaper my baby and snuggle him back to bed I know it’s not a smart choice.   One cup leads to seven and that means my morning run won’t happen.   And it MUST happen. Baby is back down for at least another hour so I head to the basement where my office and gym are waiting for me.   I’m immediately reminded of the things I meant to finish last night but didn’t and am momentarily tempted to tackle them now.   No.   You MUST run.   I open the windows in the gym and turn on two fans. ...

I've been trying to post for days.  Something keeps getting in the way.  A grant deadline is moved up to get funding out to non-profits faster (good!).  An unexpected sunny day means working outside (good!).  Ike falling asleep eating his lunch and nap time comes early (not really good, but definitely funny!).  Iris needs help getting some strange app that is suddenly required and my tablet is the only place she can get it (not good.)  I'm sidetracked by the latest report on COVID-19 (not good.)  But finally now, it's quiet and peaceful and I have sometime to write down what I'm thinking and feeling...and I find I just don't know where to start.  At the start (for me) I was annoyed with 2 weeks at home with my kids but tried to look on the bright side and actually though I'd get a lot of reading done (um, no.).  But now two weeks has stretched into 6 (at least) and I'm not only missing my usual birthday hoopla but also Easter, spring break,...