nail polish and tuna casserole

I am enamored with this time of year!

truly-- and I know that many people will ultimately tell me that I am completely insane for my absolute and devout love of the month of December. I can't even say it's a winter transition so much as when the pumpkin spice lattes are out and peppermint mocha is in! there is something about the chill of the breeze and a tune of hope and joy floating in the air that makes my house that much warmer and smiley. and it is even better this year because I have my amazing husband to enjoy it with :-) my husband, oh how I love him...although he is a bit of a Grinch during the holidays. he teases me when I turn on the classical Christmas tunes and belt out Charlotte Church "Ding Dong Merrily on High", and says "How can you actually LIKE this stuff???" I am making it my lifelong goal to eventually turn him on to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble. It will happen.....

this season filled with hot cocoa and candy canes sprinkled with a bit of love also has the tendency to come with tons of cranky people who are filled with malice, disdain, and rudeness, schlepping around to spend money that they don't have for gifts they don't want to give. A friend posted this photo on facebook, and I found it completely appropriate for what I have seen both in person and online in the last few weeks...

EVERYTHING about this makes me want to cry. I cannot fathom the type of culture that I am raising my kids in and questioning if anything I teach them about togetherness, family, and helping others will stick when there is so much immense pressure around to keep up with the Jones's and maintain more and more things-- the newest, the best, and always more.

Growing up, we weren't exactly the Rockafeller family. We were fortunate and blessed enough to have a home to grow up in, regardless of living above my great grandmother or moving into our own home when I was 10. We did not have thousands of toys, games, or accessories; there were not annual vacations taken, let alone tons of money for excessive birthdays or holiday extravaganzas. We often joke about how we can remember the weekly menu that was consistent for about a decade, and my sister and I often laughing even harder about how we have REFUSED to make the epic tuna casserole for our kids because we hated it so much.

But aside from what we didn't have, there are things that are unforgettable from my childhood: my mother is by far the master of monopoly, and I cannot count the number of nights that she was able to whip my tail and make a deal look like it was served on a golden platter wrapped in a satin red bow; my Dad has begun my love of Star Trek, scrabble, chess, and Othello (although I know he wishes he hadn't introduced me to that last once, as he hasn't been able to beat me at it in over 10 years!); he tells the best stories, ones that I still remember and have had the pleasure of telling my children several times over, only to see their faces brighten and giggle each time they hear them; the summers were filled with my sister and I playing outside in the backyard, eventually swimming in the pool, riding our bikes around the neighborhood, reading books, and painting our nails on the deck; and my brother is a sucker for a water balloon fight, a trouble match, and he lights up my world when he sings and plays his guitar. board games were the catalyst for our family's closeness. not having a lot of money and being resourceful forced us to stay close and depend on each other. it never ceases to amaze me that none of my memories involve "that time on the yacht" or "remember that trip to Europe?", and yet each of the moments that are forever engrained in my mind involve my family in one way or another.

this year has not been one of financial prosperity. there has been many nights of hot dogs and mac n cheese, spaghetti with canned sauce, and popcorn as a treat (since there were no others). I never thought that scrambled eggs and oatmeal would be the staples at breakfast, and I truly believed I would die before ever exposing my children to ANY type of tuna casserole.... ironically, my son, probably the pickiest eater of us all, devoured it! I often hear my kids telling me they are bored and want to go to the mall, to the store, to the movies, to the zoo-- you name it, and I'm sure they have said it. And each time, I have to look back at the checkbook and wonder if I am able to provide it for them.... sadly, 9 times out of 10, I cannot. and as guilty as it makes me feel in the moment, I think back to the countless hours that my parents spent playing games with me, the mornings that my mom would teach us to make French Toast, or the nights when we had time to make peanut butter cookies with hersheys kisses on the top. I think about my mom and me stealing a moment to go to Bee Bee Dairy, the best (and sadly, long since closed) ice cream shop in Connecticut, to get a cup of Witches Brew icecream (the October favorite!), or a cherry soda over some lunch. I think of my Dad and me dancing in a snowfall in front of Olive Garden while we waited for them to open the doors, and everyone looking at us like we had lost our minds, but our laughter drowning it all out. I think about mornings like this one, when my husband finally fell asleep for the first time in 3 days, my kids did their chores, and everyone remained quiet while we watched the Jimmy Neutron movie, the girls got their nails painted, and their makeup done, and then we made grilled cheese on Hawaiian rolls.

I know there won't be much for my kids under the tree this year, just like there wasn't last year. my first Christmas with my amazing husband will not be filled with jewelry, silk pajamas, Egyptian cotton sheets, or gourmet coffee in the morning followed by a lobster dinner in the evening. but we are blessed with the Lord of the Rings marathons we get to have (courtesy of the library rentals); when the cupboards get bare, I know he will laugh over our lentil salad and tuna casserole and take it like a champ with me. and while he can't stand my love of classic and jazz holiday music, and though there are some grinchy moments in December, I can't help but be grateful for the little things; nail polish and library rentals, tuna casserole and popcorn, dollar store puzzles and duct tape crafts. it's the little things, always the little things, and so many little blessings that remind how blessed I am to have family-- the greatest gift (next to being saved) that God has ever given me. And it truly makes December merry and bright.

laughing over lobster

I will give my husband a lot of credit-- he is such a good sport.

tonight was date night, not because we have a particular weeknight set aside for this (yet), but because this was the first night in weeks that I was not a walking coma patient with a debilitating migraine or three children running around screaming and tearing up the living room. So, this seemed like the opportune night to have a quiet at-home date. And to top it off, there was an incredible and well timed sale on lobster at Kroger-- yes, I said lobster. So, of course, I could not help but channel my inner Julia Child, turning my kitchen into a delightful haven of melted buttery bliss, with a hint of pepper being baked over asparagus and a warm pasta salad with crispy bacon pieces. the only sound that filled the air was Bethel church bursting out worship from my laptop, and the vigorous laugh of my darling husband in the other room as he was online with a few friends. the laughter stopped as I announced proudly that our dinner was ready, and he came anxiously to the table, awaiting the masterpiece with a smile and an open mind.

I say open mind because this was admittedly Jimmy's first time ever trying lobster, and my first time ever making whole lobsters, as I'm primarily used to eating the tail. regardless, with no crab crackers, breaking into this delicious dinner was due to be a challenge. So, I did what any good wife would do..... I pulled out the cookbook and flipped open to the page that visually described the steps of cracking and cleaning a whole lobster.

I tried to show him that the easiest way to attack this was to start with the claws, clearly forgetting this he has greater strength than me, and as he attempted to separate the claws, he ripped it off the body. Considering the lobster was boiled, it was soaked in melted butter and garlic, and water that soaked from under the shell spilled out everywhere, making my husband yell "Oh my God! It's peeing on me!" I couldn't stop laughing as this continued through each part of the lobster, him asking about which parts were edible and why there was so much water, and how it looked alive (because the eyes were still attached). Eventually, he completed de-shelling the lobster, only to determine that it was an acquired taste and that he wanted pizza. ☺

none of this is meant to make fun of him, of course. I love my hubby to death, and he has taught me so many things about love and life in such a short time frame. it never ceases to amaze me how much faith he has in situations, no matter how dark they are or how difficult. sometimes it can be tough to crack through the shell and deal with the root of a problem, a memory, or circumstance. I think one of my biggest troubles is the need for things to be perfect. too often, I become overwhelmed by the expectations of the world, the "keeping up with the joneses" mentality that forces everyone into constantly working, not taking time to relax, renew, or refresh.

this past week forced me to slow down and think about the blessings in my life and how I have often overlooked them. Jimmy was working for a home/community center in which he was a direct support professional to adult disabled individuals. he worked third shift, and I basically never saw him, except to drive him to work, to make his lunch, or the occasional day off that he had to stay up 24 hours in order to stay on his third shift schedule. every day, I could see a bit more joy draining from his eyes, and I could tell that the lack of time together was beginning to hurt his spirit. we prayed over this constantly, obviously apart due to scheduling. but one thing was consistent- we prayed for a solution, that we could be together, that we could go to church together, as a family, that we could keep our priorities straight. and it wasn't long after that he left that position.... and in the same day, God granted me a job working with another special needs individual at a local school system.

it is so easy to get burned out when you are putting everything you have into someone else. it is easy because it takes more energy to give than to receive, regardless of what you are giving. in my case, using my strength to physically help a child out of a meltdown, or having to come up with motivating reasons to complete work at the desk within seconds to prevent a negative behavior-- these are the daily tasks that make my mind race. but every time I feel drained, there is a moment of clarity, when the child is able to complete a task independently or speaks in a full sentence, and it is like getting attached to an espresso machine through an IV. the energy is suddenly full and new, everything seems possible, and new goals are collaborated to make more progress.

nothing in my profession demands perfection. neither does my marriage. whether I am counting behaviors or laughing hysterically over streaming lobster juice, it is the moment when I realize that perfection isn't the goal. it never has been. Jesus knew this when he went to the cross-- if perfection was the goal, we wouldn't need him in the first place. the journey depends on us meeting people where they are and going forward. it is a lifelong journey.

how often can we look back on our lives and say hindsight is 20/20? thinking of things that we shouldn't have said, moments that we wish we could take back..... I know that ice cream without lactaid can make a mess of my stomach for days, but sometimes, it doesn't stop me from devouring a mug of mint chocolate chip ice cream. we indulge in these moments because we aren't perfect. we don't always think about the consequences or the future that can come out of our mistakes. but isn't it amazing that we have people in our lives who meet us where we are? even as my poor husband was sitting across from me at the table, munching on crunchy onion strips and waiting for his pizza to bake, he still held me hand and complimented me, telling me that I made an amazing dinner for date night, and how amazing I was. he thanked me for letting him game with his friends, and for taking care of him when his back hurts. he apologizes after we fight and I ask forgiveness when i'm wrong.
we aren't perfect. we will never be anything close to perfect. but just like a date night gone hysterical, we know where to meet each other in our flaws and laugh about them.

to anyone who reads this, whoever you are, I encourage you to adopt this outlook. it isn't important to find perfection in every circumstance, situation, person or relationship. what is vital is to be accepting, loving, patient with each other and to be open to growth. it can take some gut-wrenching moments to make you look in the mirror and realize that you aren't perfect, and openly admit where you went wrong in life. sometimes, it takes a bit of tearing through the hard walls we put up around ourselves to let people in, to see the damage, to love us anyway. it takes just as much effort to be that same person for others, especially if they have hurt you before. there is treasure in the trash and there is light in the darkness; there is always hope that things can get better, even if you can't see anything except brokenness. when things are unexpected, there is always something to be learned, a silver lining in the cloud.

and even if there is not, and it's just a bad day, there is always pizza.

becoming family

I am a native east coaster, enjoying the ocean waves from the beautiful shores of Watch Hill and walking around Westerly, Rhode Island, and of course, falling in love over and over again with the perfection and picturesque town of Mystic, CT. but there is something about living in Ohio this year, something that has changed. The last few months, there has been so much comradery surrounding the sports in the town of Cleveland, and with heads held high and eyes twinkling with joy, everyone has been sporting the colors, posting the highlights, and cheering the teams on to victory. it isn't so much about the Cavaliers or the Indians that has had me in awe, but moreso of the joining of the people of the city. Despite anything bleek that has come, the people rallied and stood tall as a team.

it didn't take me very long after meeting jimmy to know that he would be my teammate for life. there was something about his spirit as he chuckled at my chess attempts, and the gentleness of his teaching me how to make better and more offensive moves, the way he held my hand as if he would never let go, and the security of our very first hug that drew me to that conclusion. there wasn't flowers or candy or romance that Danielle Steele would write about, but there was absolutely a connection that could not be denied.

I remember the phone call, when he reached out to me in panic, telling me he was calling out of work to go see his dad in the hospital. he was terrified, having no idea what was wrong, and in the desperation of his voice, I knew I needed to be at his side. we had only been dating a few days when I showed up at the hospital with as much compassion and confidence as I could muster, witnessing the look of surprise in his eyes as I whispered to him "i would never let you go through this alone."

there was something about the way we began that showed us that love could be different than we had ever known. there was heavy metal blasting on a portable speaker as we hoisted my car, crawled underneath, and he showed me the anatomy of my car. it was in the way that I literally carried him on my back into the ER when he suffered a back injury from work, and I helped him get to every doctor's appointment, chiropractic adjustment, and how I was the medication monitor as I prayed and hoped for the best, watching him take his time to heal. it was being concerned about whether or not we had eaten, how we had slept, and praying together through the difficulties that demonstrated what a team can really look like-- quite literally looking at each other and saying "I have your back, you can depend on me" with every action we took. when he lost his job and lay on my couch, depressed and questioning what to do next, it was our prayer and dedication to God that kept us strong and united; we praised together in the tough stuff, and we praised when he was rewarded for diligence and got a new job, and began to walk again with less pain.

while all of this was truly amazing, humbling, and more real than anything I have ever felt in my life, we couldn't help but look at the calendar and know that over a month had gone by, and there had not been a night that we had not spent together in the same house. Some of those nights, we fell asleep on the couch watching silly movies, and other nights, he walked me to my room, tucked me in, prayed over me, and then returned to the couch himself. there was respect and honor, but there was still conviction to both of us. With our faith as strong as it is, we knew that living together was not how we wanted to begin out lives, especially at this stage of the game. and the night came that we discussed our future..... the same night that we got engaged.

we decided that we wanted to get married right away. for starters, we could not contain our joy for finding each other when we had both reached a point that we weren't sure love would exist for us. that, and quite honestly, neither one of us wanted jimmy to leave.... and neither did my kids. we had grown into a routine, one that consisted of playing together at the park or chasing mikey around the house to get back jimmy's hat, all the while mikey was squealing in delight; we alternated the time with the car so we could each get to work, we alternated the bedroom as he returned to third shift work, and with such comfort having each other so close, neither one of us wanted to return to a life without each other. we prayed again, and when we were in agreement, we talked to my parents, getting my father's blessing and best wishes from both of them, and we set the date to have a small intimate ceremony with a few friends, with the intention of having a big celebration on our one year anniversary.

the drive to the bridge was the absolute longest drive of my life, which is saying something as I have driven 12-15 hours to see family on both ends of the country. yet sitting with him in the car, holding my hand and listening to music as his hand shook and he counted the minutes, appeared to be completely agonizing. I joked about how I was going to give him wool socks so he wouldn't get cold feet, and he laughed and said that he wasn't going to walk away. he squeezed my hand and smiled, then said, "I just can't believe I get to marry you... today."

it was November 4th, 11:30 in the morning, we drove out to a historical covered bridge in Fremont that resembled a restored farmhouse just above a small creek. it was surrounded with so many trees that it felt like we were wrapped up in swirls of electric orange and fire engine red, with a brisk breeze and the sound of bubbling water beneath our feet. we chose the bridge for the location, specifically, because something about it spoke to me. and as we held hands and exchanged our vows, with a shaky voice and tears in my eyes, I began to explain why...

             "It is no mistake that we are here today. Just as I believe that God chose us for each other, I believe this place was destined to be part of our journey. It speaks about us as much as it fortells the challenges we will face.
             This bridge-- it is country, a reminder of natural beauty and simple joys. This is you- when I am off my rocker or just "off of coffee", your incredible laugh and sense of humor reminds me not to sweat the small stuff and to enjoy life's little moments that are far too fleeting.
             This bridge- it demonstrates connection. It is connection to each other and our dependence on God that will push us forward in difficult times and praising together in the good times.
             This bridge- it has history, meaning that the foundation is strong and protected. I believe that as we honor the foundation of truth and love and protect our marriage from drama and deceipt, we, like this bridge, will stand strong.
             Now, I know that promises are like pie crusts-- easily made, and easily broken-- vows are for God, and we will never be perfect. But, here are some truths I can offer you. As confidently as I offer you my heart and hand today: I will make mistakes, and I will fall short.... shorter than I physically am....(snicker), and in that, I will spend each day reminding myself that you will do the same, that we can extend grace, and that I will continue to grow and maturity and humility.
            I will have moments of weakness, moments when I don't feel good enough, or as though everything I touch turns to ash. And in that, I will seek God's face, as He can turn ashes into beauty and His grace is made sufficient in our weakness.
           There will be days that we have to work to like each other, and days we joke about "divorce court on Monday". But this is one promise that I can make:
           False promises of love will not sway me, and pursuit in my direction from others will be met with firm resistance. I promise not to get stuck in ideologies such as telling you that you complete me, because you don't. I am complete only in Christ; and just as our Father never leaves us, I will never leave nor forsake you.
           For everything else, I'll keep it simple.
           I'll let my yes be yes, my no be no, and my I do be my I do.
           I say yes to forever with you, a life of dedication and encouragement, prayer and growth, and always forgiveness. I do not give up, and I do give to you this heart for safekeeping, this hand so we stay side by side, and all the peace I can.
           May these words always bring you comfort and love, as I speak them to you and to God.
           It is no mistake that we are here today.... because this is where our forever begins."

living here has changed me this year. I suddenly have more appreciation for the small things, the little subtle beauties that lie in front of me that typically go unnoticed, the moments that would pass me by, and the simplicities of living a life of faith. I am blessed beyond blessed to have found a teammate to walk this life with me, reminding me to stop and smell the flowers, who has demonstrated that he will be soft and allow me to be strong, and be my strength when I am falling apart. this walk together, each moment, is a blessing. to quote Shauna Niequist, my favorite author from my very favorite book:
  
        "That's how families get made. Not by ceremonies or certificates, and not by parties and celebrations. Family gets made when you decide to hold hands and sit shoulder to shoulder when it seems like the sky is falling. Family gets made when the world becomes strange and disorienting and the only face you recognize is his."

November 4th, I became his wife. but everyday for the rest of our lives, we will become family.

the to-do list

"help. I need a towel."

that's all I needed to hear to know that today would be challenging. That, of course, came from mikey--straight forward and matter of fact-- shortly after the gurgling of his little sister projectile puking all over the breakfast table. naturally, poor ana started crying her eyes out, and mikey just wanted to get the little bit of soured almond milk off of the portion of his chair. so the epic scrubbing of my kitchen began, sanitizing and doublebagging the waste, so much so that the fragrance of bleach in the kitchen burned my nostrils on the inhale. oh well, I figured. at least it's clean in here, for now.

post breakfast blowout, chara and mikey were ready for church, and ana was laid up on the couch, snuggling her carebear and watching the movie Home, which I have to admit was adorable and cast perfectly. I couldn't believe that anyone other than Jim Parson could manage the roll of a literal and anal retentive alien. it was the only the sound of Sheldon Cooper on the big screen that distracted me from each and every time ana moved her body or coughed a little bit. I was so worried that she was going to get sick again that I put her in a pullup (in case she had a multiple blowout) and practically swaddled her into the couch cushions. thankfully, she didn't give me too much of a hard time on that.... at least until the movie was over.

after church, mikey returned with a scream and an inability to calm himself down, which turned into a battle over getting his coat and shoes off without him banging his head into a wall or attempting to step on the cat or punch one of his sisters, then repeatedly insist that he needed to go potty (a phrase he often scripts as an attempt to get out of trouble), only to stand there and wait for me to tell him to go. it didn't take much for me to figure out that he was overwhelmed today, although I truthfully, for the first time in a long time, had absolutely no idea why. and not knowing why reduced me to tears. why do I have the ability to analyze situations and different kiddos in those scenarios and come up with multiple solutions and ideas for parents and families, and yet when it comes to my first born, the snuggly little love bug that he is, I feel completely inept at times to help him cope with his struggles?

we all have this tendency to resist the good, insistent in our own ways until we literally collapse from exhaustion... at least in my house. I am probably the most guilty of this. there is not a day that I do not run around with a to-do list, happily checking off the items as they get accomplished, feeling as though I made a dent in this yellow brick road of never-ending tasks; that if I just get them done fast enough, I can reach the emerald city and get rejuvenated just in time to see the wizard and have him grant me all the deepest desires of my heart. of course, with children running around like elephants stomping on snare drums, shrieking in delight at an ungodly decibel, and me playing Russian roulette with each step I take around my house, as to not break a toe or step on a lego, and I am rarely clicking my heels as much as wishing for those poppy fields to give me a deep sleep.

sleep is a gift that is all too often missed out on lately, at least for me. jimmy works third shift, and many days, he returns exhausted, flips on some background noise on the ipad, and begins the choir of the rusty chainsaw...also known as his snore. meanwhile, I return to the way of chores, budgeting, research and homework, meal prepping, errands, and of course my kids. I have to wonder as I look around every afternoon at what has been accomplished if it is a bit like brushing my teeth with oreos- in all seriousness, what would be the point of it?

now of course, the answer is obvious. these are every day necessities, right? I mean, the kids need to eat when they're at school, so lunches need to be made, and the same with dinner in the evening. clothes need to be worn, and while there is no law about having clean clothes, anyone with a keen sense of smell and pride in one's appearance would prefer to have clean clothes to wear on a daily basis. I can continue to justify the to-do list, going down the different bullets, specifically telling myself why each one is needed and how me feeling exhausted at the end of the day is a good thing because of what has been accomplished.

and yet, there is something not on the list that hasn't been included for a long time, something that resonates within us all but often goes overlooked. there is a need to be fulfilled; and this is very different than being accomplished. Accomplished is a high five at the end of the day, a compliment from the boss, the right to kick your feet up and watch another episode on the latest Netflix obsession... but fulfilled-- that is to be satisfied with your abilities and your character, not just your daily task sheet. somewhere, in the midst of growing up, life becomes an order of expectations that fit a societal mold, turning us into what we all eventually become: adults. we hear the parents speaking wisdom to their children, trying to save them from their own hideous mistakes, warning them to "do things right"-- graduate school, focus on the future, save your money, get a good job, get married, then worry about a family, and so on. we see ads everywhere encouraging women to choose their own future by taking birth control, or for parents to vaccinate their children, to wash the carrots before you eat them to avoid the chemicals from the "dirty dozen"... literally, almost everything we see and hear guides us into the world of adults-- how to live, who to be, what to say. but where is the passion? where is the guidance counselor telling us to ask for help, and watch Disney movies?

it may not seem like much, but it is. having ana cuddled on the couch with me and watching this goofy little alien try to fulfill a promise to his one true friend gave me a glimpse at what I never see on the to-do list. it reminded me that even in the chaos, there must be pause. despite the difficulty, there are moments that are built for laughter. they can be puke covered moments, or bedtime story moments, or listening to your 6 year old learn to deliver a punchline-- correctly, and with vigor!-- or even an exhausted chuckle to yourself that you made it through the day. laughter is good-- it is passionate and alleviating and uplifting. it is a reminder that life is more than checking off the day's chores or paying bills and  collecting kids from daycare. it is a reminder to go off the beaten path every day, to find a moment that is not bland and mundane, or even think of one that is and make it into something better.

there is way too much yelling here every day. between chara's mini-woman attitude and mikey's sensory overloads and meltdowns, or ana screaming about how me making her eat her meal isn't fair, and I can't help but wish for a soundproof retreat filled with down blankets and Egyptian cotton sheets with a high thread count and a waterfall of coffee like the river in Charlie and the Chocolate factory. despite the fantasy that I dream to get away from it, especially when the moments are really trying, the noise eventually fades, the kids fall asleep in their warm cozy beds, and I can think about what the day has brought us. and ultimately-- I'm so blessed that I do not have blind obedience from my children.

I love when they listen, follow directions, as me if mommy needs any help with chores or cooking. those days are absolutely amazing, and it makes me feel like i'm doing something right. but in their deviation, I can see a spirit, not of rebelliousness, but of passion. yes, I want them to clean their toys now, and I get upset when they don't do it. but this is just a mere glimpse of how God looks at me throughout my day. i can say with a lowered nod and a slight smirk that i have been a proud toddler one too many times with God, stomping my feet over what isn't fair or banging my own head when i get frustrated (metaphorically of course)... and yet he is quick to show me grace. although it takes reflection and rewinding, I am able to see it from their standpoint. That instant is important to them. whatever they were thinking, imagining, believing, building-- it had great significance to them, and telling them to shut it down stirred up a passionate response. they still have a strong desire to stay in their own little world and tune out the world of adults and responsibilities and to-do lists and passionless work.

it doesn't matter what it is; passion is not limited by pages written, paint on a canvas, or people helped. driving down a country road with the music up and the windows down or climbing a mountain or learning to play the guitar, going to the beach just to run in the surf and listen to the sound of the waves and the seagulls-- there are so many ways that we can express passion, that we can extend grace to others, allow our character to develop by finding the joy from a place buried deep under all the mundane requirements and arduous and ample assignments that face us every day. but it takes a boldness, a strength to ask for help, to know when you're burned out and to have the ability to put the list and the pen down, take a breath of fresh air, and remind yourself that there is more to life than plaques on the wall, trophies on a shelf, or a paper filled with check marks. it is the heartbeat of a sick 4 year old girl as she snuggles under your Mexican knit blanket; it is the full sentence of the autistic boy who asks you to sing to him before he drifts to sleep; it is the comfort in knowing that you are exhausted at the end of the day because your heart and soul were put into every step taken and word spoken that day. it is sitting down at the end of the night, with only the whirring of the gas heat from the vents, words pouring out of your veins with each strike of the keyboard, knowing that this is a revelation to be shared, to find the passion that ignites your soul and make time for it every single day.

and i am blessed because i can check that off today. it is good.

melted popcorn

let me just say this: not all sweeteners are equal.

I can only say that I figured this out because I made an unfortunate mistake when attempting to make homemade popcorn balls with the kids. considering it is Halloween weekend, and I am truthfully not much for the celebratory activities of meeting strangers for sugar highs, it was my idea to make a delicious casserole, then make popcorn balls, and pumpkin banana bread.

I ALMOST pulled out a childhood common dinner that is for certain NOT a favorite..... tuna casserole. Literally canned tuna fish, egg noodles, and cream of celery soup. Not the most incredible culinary creation, but healthy and filling nonetheless. Well, I was able to get around that and make a chicken casserole instead, adding some veggies, fresh herbs, and topping it with cheddar cheese, and it was absolutely delightful.

shortly after, the kids got in line to get their showers done so that we could all enjoy a homemade dessert and watch a fun movie. This is our weekend ritual, if you can consider it that. But when you're broke and have multiples to entertain, Netflix is an amazing luxury, and popcorn seems like a dream. regardless, I was able to find a popcorn ball recipe in one of the kid friendly cookbooks that I managed to find in the bargain section of Books A Million months ago-- one of my favorite places to be as I love the smell of new books and freshly brewed coffee in the same place. truthfully, the cookbook is adorable! but I digress.

we were out of molasses. so of course, google a substitute and I was informed that one could switch out maple syrup for molasses. unfortunately, this must only be when it is utilized for baking (as a sweetener). the mix of vinegar, maple syrup, sugar, baking soda, and water did not create a thick gooey candy-like coating to make the popcorn balls, but this sweet soda-water that lacked viscosity and completely melted the popcorn down to the kernels. it made me laugh a bit at the complete lack of candy-making skill combined with the fact that I have never taken chemistry and didn't realize that adding baking soda too early to the mixture containing vinegar would cause it to bubble and nearly explode on the stove.

despite the smell of melted popcorn in a caramelized soup, i couldn't help but smile. for once, i wasn't getting upset over the fact that i hadn't mastered something this simple. i just dumped the bowl into the trash and told the kids i would make a new batch. the difference was this time, mikey wanted a kettle corn sprinkle on top of it, and chara, like her mom, requested melted peanut butter poured on hers. instead of a Halloween special, the kids saw that Kung Fu Panda 3 was on Netflix and immediately jumped in glee, agreeing that was the one they wished to watch. (*Yes, I said only Mikey and Chara because Ana was still having a 4-year-old stubborn fit in the kitchen over eating her dinner, and therefore was missing out on the fun.*)

i'm not sure what it was that made this time different. many times, it can be something absolutely tiny and miniscule in the grand scheme of things-- i can't find a matching set of socks for chara, i run out of lucky charms and the kids are forced to play rock paper scissors in order to determine who gets them for breakfast, i get exhausted throughout the day and resort to spaghetti instead of the amazing pinterest worthy meal that i looked up and bought ingredients for hours prior.... it didn't matter that i literally watched the popcorn melt into a giant bowl of gooey kernel soup. i laughed it off. but i'm not sure what made it different.

this image of perfection is an ideal that too many Christian women live by. we believe that we have to do it all-- be perfect chef's, perfectly calm parents with an abundance of patience, always put God first while still giving time to our homes, our communities, our families, missions, and ourselves without getting tired or overwhelmed or neglecting ourselves. what i am learning, even in the midst of melting popcorn, is that the pressure of perfection only concludes with the feeling of failure. and it isn't necessary.

we are not called to perfection. the perfect body, the perfect family, the perfect husband, the perfect life-- none of it exists. there are moments that we all fail, that we all fall short and don't measure up. my house was a disaster today; the kids were rowdy and running around, oblivious to the fact that i had given the direction to clean up their toys over 70 times, and ana must have resisted every meal like she was allergic to food. there were dishes in the sink, dirty cat litter, and i was only able to wake up by reheating yesterday's coffee (so it wouldn't go to waste). my hair was a wreck and i walked around in pajamas all day, with the ever lovely accessory of cat hair all over me. and the day was filled with tears, messes, spills, and moments of chaos.... and still, it was blessed.

it isn't in perfection that joy is found. it is the moments when the popcorn is melted, and Pixar is on the big screen, the kids smell of shampoo and melted peanut butter, and we are all snuggled together on the couch laughing together.... it is when they ask for a bedtime story and hold the cat and tell me how much they love school.... it is when chara dances with delight and ana imagines new characters and parties, and mikey is singing church songs and dancing around the house with jimmy's hat.... it is the moments that are found in photo albums, the ones that everyone is smiling and enjoying life-- these are the moments we remember. but it is all the sticky moments, the mistakes, the failures, the moments when we are brought to the edge that go unnoticed and unremembered.... but it is those sticky moments that make the good stuff matter.

i'm blessed to have those moments, to have lots of them, and to be in a place of my life when i can begin to appreciate them for what they are. i am glad for the lack of supply and the newfound creativity in the kitchen. i am grateful for quiet Saturday nights and bedtime stories and chicken casserole and crowded couch snuggles. and when the kids are tucked in and falling asleep, the dishes are done and the house is quiet again, i will be thankful for another chaotic day that i could be called mommy.

A bit about us :-)

It has been a long time since I desired to start a blog. In fact, for a while, I forgot that I had them to begin with. Facebook has been a bit of a superpower in this house, and while I'm thankful for the connection it has brought me to those far away from me, it has also been a lot of drama. I remember hearing from several dear friends who left facebook and returned to blogging, friends who became much happier and had more time for their families and the good moments in life. While I don't believe that I will be giving up facebook altogether, I think the time has come to sign off and enjoy telling my story. Well, our story.

First, there's me-- I'm Jodi, a 30 year old mommy of 3 amazing kiddos (Mikey, Chara, and Ana), a native New Englander, but adopted by the beautiful country living that is Ohio. I suppose you could say that I am a renegade baker and chef-- although, I have to admit that my creativity comes primarily when I'm not consumed with work, homework, or an abundance of cashflow. I am zealous about photography, and this is the year that I plan to pursue it with a fresh perspective and the belief that I am my own style. The color orange and old movies make me happy-- the ones that are in black and white, everyone is well spoken and dressed to the 9's-- those are the ones that I will curl up with my favorite hoodie and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and enjoy watching. Oh-- shakespeare movies are included in that list, preferably the Kenneth Branaugh versions. I absolutely LOVE Shakespeare! I love God with everything I have in me. I am only beginning to learn what that kind of love and dedication means, but I love the journey it puts me on.

Then there is Mikey-- my 8 year old little man, silly and compassionate as they come. He is so unbelieveably charming, and I doubt he will ever get more handsome than he is! Yes, he has autism, and many of my posts will mention this. However, I believe that God gave him challenges for a reason, and I wouldn't change him for anything. Chara is my spunky sassy little 6 year old-- she is famous in her own mind, always right, and quite the fierce protectress. She has her moments when her mouth gets her in trouble, but her heart is usually in the right place. She has ADHD, so some moments with her bring me to the brink.... but it also brings me to my knees, and God knows I need that. Finally, there is Ana. Ana just turned 4 in September, and she is my priceless little party planner. Her imagination is completely unmatched by any other child I have ever met! All of my little ones bring such blessing to my life-- I couldn't thank God enough for them. Then there are Jimmy and Madison. Jimmy is my amazing husband-to-be, and I couldn't be more thrilled that God brought us together! I have seen so many blessings and millions of little moments where God has spoken to me, indicating that there will be challenged and joys alike in our upcoming life together. I can't wait to write about them all and share the journey. Madison is his 10 year old daughter, and as far as I'm concerned, my girl too. :-)

This is our life-- the good, the bad, the nitty gritty. :-)