Revisiting Old, Creating New

How grand that we humans are given a chance to "start over" every January thanks to the arbitrary calendar that hangs on our wall. (If we were going on seasons, shouldn't the new year start when spring starts? Just a thought.)
I was reminded by my dear friend Heather's blog that I had also written my pseudo-resolutions in a blog at the beginning of this year. I was anxious to revisit them. Here, join me.

1. The news does not mention the Mayan calendar relentlessly. (No one knows the hour Jesus is coming back and I'm ready for Him, but it it still makes me nervous, so hush.) Well, media, how did that one go for you? That was more for them than me.

2. The Grant family gets a dog. (Names considered so far are Loula, Tuvok, and Good. Last one was Brynn's input.) CHECK! We got our sweet Fiona. She was already named when we adopted her, and we liked it so we kept it.

3. The Grant family will have another healthy baby on the way. (Note "WILL." I have nothing to tell yet, just to clarify.) CHECK! I was probably already pregnant when I wrote this post. How amazing that I was pregnant and had our precious Max all in one year. I know that happens to a lot of people, but with Brynn being born in April, it was totally different for me. Thank you, God, for granting this resolution!
4. I get back on my FlyLady track with keeping my house clean. Weeelllll...I did really super great with this, thennnn morning sickness happened. Then big ol' preggo belly happened. Then newborn happened. Then going back to work with a preschooler and an infant happened, soooooo......
5. I lose some weight and do healthy stuff like not eat McDonald's every week. (#3 will hopefully interfere with the first part of this one.) Amazingly I only put on about 20 pounds with big boy, and I'm down 32ish pounds from my biggest weigh in with Max in tow, which is less than before I was pregnant with him, so woohoo me!
6. I go back and finish the devotionals I didn't do during my previous Bible study. I did a couple of them. Then I lost the book. Maybe if I had done #4 a little better this one would have worked out.
7. I get some kids OUT of special ed for the first time in my career. Yes! Still working on this one, but I have a list to officially kick out of the system after we go back. I still LOVE my job.
8. I blog at least twice a month. (Once summer hits I'm upping my quota, but for now, I'll be realistic.) So much for realistic. Oh well. I blogged more than I did last year. I think. Who cares. This is just for me and my closest 2 friends anyway, right? ;)

So not too shabby, I'd say. Now for the new ones to visit this time next year.
1. Ye olde obligatory weight loss goal. Like I said, I'm already on the right track. I only gained a half a pound two weeks surrounding Christmas, which is less more less than I can say for previous years. My ultimate goal is to be at my ideal healthiness by the time I turn 30 next year. Hey, I didn't gain all this junk in my trunk in a year, so I'm giving myself a generous deadline. Weight Watchers is great for me.
2. Pray more. I don't mean this as a political statement. I just need to learn to stop being so surprised when God spectacularly answers my prayers. If I do it more, perhaps I'll learn.

3. Take more pictures. (This is Erick's "Don't take any more pictures" face.) Got a cute little easy camera for Christmas. So far so good on capturing the moments. I don't want Max to be totally left out of the photo albums as 2nd children often are.

 4. Final goal: Love myself more. "Ease up on Lacy" is the best advice I've ever been given. I'm going to stop prefacing ideas with, "This may be stupid, but..." and negative self-talk. Or at least try. I'm not going to beat myself up about it if I forget. :)

Let's see how I do. What's a goal of yours this year?

31.5 Week Update

I haven't written lately because of any or all of the following reasons:

• I was too tired.
• I was sleeping.
• I couldn't think.
• I forgot what I wanted to write about.
• I was crying for no apparent reason. 
• I was thinking about doing housework.
• I was too stinking tired.
• I didn't want to bend over to get the computer.
• ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz.

What? I dozed off there for a minute.
I have about 8 weeks left to cook this kid before he's all done. I have exact equal feelings of, "Wow, only 8 weeks? I'm not ready. That's really soon." AND "Oh my gosh, I have to waddle around like a cow and function like this for 8 more weeks?! I'll never make it that long!"
It takes so much energy to do anything right now. And I have to go back to work in a week and a half. To my coworkers: I thank you in advance for your understanding. I am going to do my best, though my best is not that great at the moment.  To my students: please be nice. That is all.
I'm enjoying these last weeks of pregnancy as best I can. I have equal feelings as well about this possibly being my last time pregnant. (To answer everyone's question, we haven't decided it this is it or not. We'll see. And on a side note, why is everyone obsessed with asking that? I know you're curious, but keep it to yourself. It's kind of weird.) On one hand, telling me this is the last time I'll be pregnant is like, "Aww, I'll miss the feeling of life growing inside." On the other hand it's like, "THANK YOU! I'M MISERABLE!"
While I am overwhelmingly grateful to be a part of this miracle and would not trade it for the world, anyone who tells you pregnancy is wonderful is LYING. Or more likely, suffering from selective memory loss. It happens.
These are the things I miss the most  right now:

• Diet Pepsi
• Caffeine
• My lap
• My balance
• My bony feet and ankles
• Sleeping without being kicked in the lungs (I'll trade that for not sleeping at all soon, I realize)
• Pants that don't have to come up to my armpits
• Underwear that fits
• Shoes other than flip-flops
• Energy to do anything

But to be fair and positive, I'll end with my favorite things about being pregnant:

• Excitement of a new baby coming.
• Having an excuse to sit down wherever I go. 
• An excuse as to why my house is a wreck.
• Feeling him move (most of the time, see above)
• Not worrying about if my belly looks fat. 

Phew. That wore me out. 

A letter to my son...

Dear Max,
     Hey buddy. I am excited about meeting you in about 12 weeks. While I have a few brain cells that still seem to be working, I thought I'd tell you a few things that one day, a long time from now when you're older, I'll actually share with you.

• You are a miracle. All babies are, of course, but I am more aware of it this time. You have a brother (could be a sister, but we'll stick with brother for pronoun convenience) up in Heaven who we haven't had the chance to meet yet. However, before he left, he taught me how fragile and precious life is, even when you're no bigger than a teardrop.  So when Daddy and I found out you were on your way, we did not take that for granted.
• I told God I didn't think I could handle a boy. The boys in our family weren't exactly easy, laid-back, cookie cutter kids (sorry guys, but it's true). I guess he took this as a challenge, because here you come! When your sister was coming, I knew I had a lot to learn, but at least I had the princess/pink background covered. Honestly, I don't know anything about raising a boy. I would get a book, but they tend to make me feel bad about myself, so I'm hoping it's okay with you if I just wing it.
• You will need to learn sarcasm, humor, and flexibility early on to survive in this family. And knowing a few Disney songs will make the ride more enjoyable, and will make your sister accept you a little quicker.
• Your Daddy came up with your awesome name. I approved. General/Gladiator Maximus Decimus Meridius is about the manliest man you'll find in any movie. I insisted we shortened it to Max, but your dad and various others will no doubt call you Maximus. Take it as an honor. Your middle name, Callahan, is also after a manly man whom your Poppy especially adores, "Dirty" Harry Callahan. Ask Poppy to tell you about his one paper he ever wrote about another Clint Eastwood movie, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Tell Grandmother that Callahan is a family name on your dad's side. Just trust me.
• Your Daddy and I love each other very much, and always will. I know, I know, ewwwww. Whatever. Again, just trust me, there will be one day you will be glad of that.

    

Okay, I'm sure there is more, but that seems to cover the high points for now. I promise you that I will do the very best I can to be the best mother for you. At least the God of the universe saw me fit for the job. I suppose we can have faith that he was right! (Remember the sarcasm/humor thing? I told you that you'd need it!)
                                                                                     I love you more than you'll know already!
                                                                                     Mommy

A post about nothing

So if you read my post yesterday, I seemed pretty with it, right? (At least I'm trusting that I didn't have any blaring typos or anything since my diligent husband read it.) I was feeling all great about myself at that point.
     However, about an hour or two later, to my chagrin I discovered an epic fail of my brain (yet again). Some of my friends read recently that I put toothpaste in my contact case and found clean glasses in the refrigerator. I just call that absentmindedness. I'm not sure what this can be called. Let me start from the beginning.
     In my valiant quest to be "temporary SAHM elite" I planned our menu for this week on Sunday. I have a little notebook in which I wrote the meal and the book and page number with the recipe. This week, as are most weeks I actually cook from a book, is Rachael Ray week. On Tuesday Brynn and I went to the grocery store, list in hand via a new organizing list app on my iPod, and even a few coupons (which I haven't managed to use since last summer). Let me eliminate a couple of variables.
1) Brynn has become an amazing grocery shopper. I can't imagine why. There is no reason a 3-year-old should behave as well as she does in the grocery store. She helps me, stays right with me, and doesn't complain or beg. So I can't blame this incident on her.
2) This was literally the first thing I put in my buggy, so it wasn't like I was tired or rushing to leave or anything like that. If any thing I wasn't "warmed up" yet.

      On my list I had "Gruyere Cheese." I had no idea what color, shape, texture, or smell this cheese had. I knew it was for a chicken cordon bleu recipe, so it was probably white, and I knew where exotic cheeses are in Bilo. But that's it. I found it rather quickly. However, this was right beside it.

  For some reason, my feeble little pregnant brain thought these said the same thing. I don't know if the shiny apple sticker distracted me, I liked circles better than squares that day, or if it was because there was only one gouda left beside the pile of gruyere and it seemed special. For whatever reason, I stared at these two with one in each hand for a LOOOOOONG time (Brynn was looking at cupcakes or something) and the ONLY difference I could see was circle vs. square. 
    And I teach children. And people pay me to do so.
     This kid sucking all the life and intelligence out of me better be smart is all I gotta say. Next time I'm going to ask Brynn what the difference is if I get confused again.
     Oh, and if you were wondering, the chicken cordon bleu may not have been authentic, but it was delicious even with the gouda.

Phew!

Okay, so it's day 1 of "official" summer break (my reasoning being that I would have had this weekend off anyway) and I TOTALLY see why my house looks the way it does during the school year. I worked out a plan of action before school was out with the help of FlyLady.net and some other resources, and have tried to implement those habits already.
Here are the main ones I have focused on:
1. Putting dirty dishes directly in the dishwasher that can be washed in there.
2. Hand-washing remaining dishes every night (and putting them away) and running the dishwasher every night.
3. Emptying the dishwasher every morning.
4. When I wash and dry a load of laundry, put it up in the same day.
(Notice the acronym "phew!" That was totally not on purpose, except that I went back and added "hand" to number two when I noticed how close it was to being awesomely cheesy.)
I don't know how "normal" people react to these goals of mine. I imagine some of you Cleanies are thinking, "Yeah, duh, you slob. You don't do that all the time?" However, this has been very difficult for me! These are not yet habits and take a lot of self-discipline to keep going. I have to confess even last night (day 3 of this plan) there was a pan in the sink I didn't wash. It wasn't even that dirty, I just decided one pan wasn't worth washing before I went to bed.
It is nice though, because by doing these things regularly, I have been able to do other things around the house too. We are working on cleaning the garage out. We have made a small dent so far, but I KNOW I'm not the only one with garage woes. Before, whenever I had the energy left to do housework, it had to be put into catching up on the mountains of dishes and laundry.
One tip I read about keeping a neater house said to do a load of laundry every 5 days. Excuse me? Maybe if I lived by myself. Maybe when I get caught up I don't have to do a load every day to keep it within reason, but it's day 4, and I have at least 3 more loads I could do today, so by the time I get those done, doing one a day, I'm guessing another one will be waiting on me. (And I'm adding a little boy to this mix!)
I am extremely satisfied with how I'm doing so far, but seriously, it's a full time job on it's own when you throw in preparing 3 meals a day, caring for a vibrant 3 year old, doing regular errandy-type things, and trying to have fun somewhere in there.
I have never said that SAHM's have it easy, I'm not trying to say a point has been proven. My point is that other than the 3 meals a day thing (I do good to fix my own first two and supper when school is in) I'm still supposed to be doing all this other stuff while working 8+ hours a day. When school starts back I'm going to read this again and remind myself that I do a pretty darn good job considering what is expected of me! Kudos to wives and moms everywhere!

Reflection

This Tuesday I go for my 20 week ultrasound. The "anatomy scan." When I don't think very hard about it, I am excited out of my mind. I have had trouble many nights getting to sleep just because I'm so excited. I can't WAIT not to say "it" and "him or her." I want to know my baby's name. I don't know how people wait the whole time, knowing you don't have to!
Then just when I think I'm in the clear, that nasty fear comes creeping back. What if they find something terribly wrong? What if they find something that might be wrong, enough to make me worry another 20+ weeks?  
Every day I fight off thoughts that I might have had when I was pregnant with Brynn, but they are strikingly more pressing this time. One day, one minute, I'm thinking my belly isn't as big as it should be. Later I'll realize I hadn't felt a flutter today. One thought after the other, guessing and second guessing if everything is alright. Curse you, miscarriage, for taking my blissful optimism away.
At the same time, I've been thinking on this time a year ago. I don't remember specifically the day I started showing signs I was miscarrying, because I denied wholeheartedly it was anything to worry about for at least a few days. I do remember that I went to the doctor just a few days after my birthday, which is May 11. I went twice and saw a heartbeat before May 22 knowing for sure my baby was gone.
I know these coincidental dates are adding to my fear and anxiety leading up to this exciting day (I really am more excited than anything). I had no idea this time last year that I would be halfway to meeting a new baby with everything going well. (In spite of my fears, everything has been perfect so far.) I had no idea if I would have another healthy child like Brynn, and I had no idea how long it would take. I prayed God wouldn't let me go through that hurt again. I didn't think I could bear it.
I grappled for a way to honor my baby's memory. At Christmas time, we donated a poinsettia at church in his memory from the 3 of us, since he was due on December 22, so close to Christmas. Now that the day he went to Heaven (at least the only date we can know) is coming up, I feel that need to remember again. For some reason I worry about people thinking it is strange, like maybe I should let it go. Maybe it's weird that I still think about this baby that is gone when I have a precious girl with me here and another one on the way. I spend every waking hour thinking and caring for the two I have here, so maybe it isn't so strange that twice a year I do something special for my heavenly child.
When I got enough courage last year, I made a donation of diapers and wipes to the Carolina Pregnancy Center. I figured I would have been buying them for my baby, so at least somebody else could have them. I think that's what I'll do again this year. I know it is just a little bit, but it means more than that to me.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

Okay, so in the context, I get what Juliet was saying. She had her point. But I'm about to make mine. Would she really have been interested in Romeo so much in the beginning if his name were Cletus? (Please no offense if your grandpa's name is Cletus, I'm sure he was a wonderful guy in spite of his mother's bad choice.)
Giving a name to a human being that has to work from his infancy to his shuffleboard team days is not a task to take lightly! Honestly, you can't even think about what all it entails without wondering if there is any way you're going to be able to live with your decision.
Here are some of the things you have to think about before sticking a moniker on your kid. (Or at least some of the things I think about.)
1. Do you like it
2. Does the baby daddy like it
3. Will your offspring (current and upcoming) like it
4. Can all of your family and their endearing accents pronounce it
5. Do the initials spell anything weird or make an acronym like LSD or something
6. What possible nicknames and taunts could come from it (Now this one is a toughy, because of mean kids, most names could have something bad happen to them, but you can't make it easy on them)
7. Are there any major crime cases involving the name--criminal OR victim (for example, I doubt many people named their kid Lacy in 2002 because of that horrid case)
8. Does it sound right when you imagine it being said in full at your child's graduation
9. Does it look right
10. Does it feel right

And these are just my top ten.

It's three years later and I still feel good about my name choice of my first born. I'm just still working on meeting all the criteria for this one!

This blog entry is not airbrushed

I went shopping again today. I didn't think I could do it so soon, but I made it back this time without tears (at least mine, Brynn cried a couple of times). I knew better than to go alone though, I took my mom with me in case I broke down again. :)
However, since apparently maternity clothes are an endangered species in Spartanburg, I came home and got to looking online. (It's pretty bad when a Dillard's employee refers you to Target!)
I will start by saying I have found some cute things that actually look like maternity clothes online, not just clothes you wear when you're trying to hide that you're pregnant. (I want people to be so sure that my belly has a baby in it that they aaaaaaalmost ask me. We all know you never under and circumstances actually ask someone.) However, I am quite intrigued by the fact that even plus sized maternity clothes are airbrushed! I am not experienced in graphic design, but I know for a fact there is no way a woman wearing these clothes could have arms as skinny as these. And trying to add an hourglass figure to a 8 month pregnant woman is just silly. It's not going to look natural no matter how you try.
Who do they think is looking at these clothes? I suppose they think I'll look at this and say, "Wow, if they can look this skinny in these I must by them!" While in actuality I'm thinking, "Can I please just see what they really look like in these clothes?" Sigh.
The journey continues.

Maternity Clothes are Stupid.

I have mentioned before that I have issues with anxiety. I am doing extremely well using my strategies since I have been off of my crazy pills for a while now. That's not what this blog entry is about.
This is about the attack of the insane pregnancy hormones.
I don't remember being particularly moody when I was pregnant with Brynn. Maybe no one told me. I wouldn't call myself moody right now, but I haven't thought of a better word for it. I'm fine most days, but then other days I absolutely cry uncontrollably over NOTHING.
Friday was a particularly frustrating day at school with everything except my students. Those are the worst days. I would rather have multiple child meltdowns than a day of paperwork going wrong and working with adults. (Hence the reason I did not grow up and get a grown-up job. I play for a living.) I had been planning on leaving school ASAP and going shopping since it seems the front of all my shirts are shrinking. I got to school early to get some stuff done (which ended up being wrong) to be sure I could leave at 3 on the nose. So after my frustrating day, I was thrilled that retail therapy was within reach.
I realized that not only do you forget all the pain of childbirth after it's over, but apparently you also have amnesia about how sucky shopping for maternity clothes is. 99% of maternity clothes are made for women who could get by with the rubberband trick in their pants and going up a size in regular shirts. AND they try to make them for no particular season (read: 3/4 sleeves and cheap material). The maternity section in Belk (which hardly covers the same square footage as our daughter's tiny bedroom) was even called 3 seasons. I get the pun on the trimesters, har har, but these clothes are neither good for winter nor summer, so I only count possibly 2 seasons of wear. IF you aren't actually pregnant.
I have also discovered even aside from clothes, there is very little information out there for 2nd (or beyond) time mommies. I get the little aside sometimes like, "By the way, if you have been pregnant before everything is already stretched out and you get huge immediately. But we don't want to talk about that."
Since I wasn't exactly lean and lank BEFORE I began growing another human being, I'm a bit self-conscious of my size anyway. So squeezing into a shirt that is supposedly made for 2 people to fit into that my cantaloupe and I were busting out of did nothing for my self-esteem. (If anyone is wondering, I was trying on the sizes that according to the tags should have fit. I'm not trying to fool myself.) I know I'm 3 1/2 months pregnant, but for some reason, I can't accept that this belly is a baby and not just fat yet. (??? I told you I'm in crazy preggo land right now. Thought of a word other than moody yet? Looney? Schizo? Insane in the membrane?)
I had to sit down in the dressing room and cry. I was in all but the ugly cry stage and started developing a plan. I could call someone to come get me. I thought I could explain what dressing room I was in without having to go back out there alone. People needed to know that Jabba the Hutt here did have people who loved her, she wasn't just wandering the world looking for someone else to eat.
I brought my sweet husband to mind who always has a way to calm me out of my bizarre-est of moments, and I knew he would remind me that they were just clothes, and I'm beautiful the way I am. That gave me the strength to wipe of my runny mascara and go back out there. I went back over to the maxi dresses in the regular section to see if any of them could drape over my gorilla body. Of course the first one I tried on was HIDEOUS. I can't even begin to describe how ill-fitting this dress was except that I cannot imagine what kind of body it was designed for. Thankfully though, it was the last horrid thing I put on that day. I actually ended up with two dresses I feel really good about, but unfortunately still don't have any more shirts. It was all I could handle that day though.
Just to make myself feel even better I also got a new pair of shoes too. Shoes never make you feel bad about yourself. They are so forgiving. Even ugly shoes, you just think, "Wow, those shoes are ugly." You don't think, "I need to go on a diet so these shoes will look better."
Of course on my way home I called Erick and fell apart all over again recounting how horrible my experience was. Then my mom called, and as hard as I try, there is no way to hide my emotions from her, and her sympathy is all it takes to push me over into the ugly cry. The one that makes my face go polka-dotted and my eyes swell shut.
Thankfully only two days later I can laugh about it, but in the moment, there is nothing worse. Whoever wrote the thing I read recently about loving your body because it is doing something wonderful and blah blah was not actually pregnant at the time of writing that. I want this baby more than anything and it is well worth massive melt-downs in the dressing room, but I'm pregnant, and gosh darn it I can cry if I feel like it.

Faith in the Oven

I really stink at keeping secrets.
Not like I tell them or anything when I'm not supposed to, but I just have to avoid talking at all to whomever it involves. Take this baby business for example. I disappeared from blogging because all I wanted to talk about was related to my being pregnant.
Erick and I decided not to tell anyone (except our moms, dads, and brothers) until after the first ultrasound. Okay, so I told a few other people before that too. See, I told you I stink at it. I promise if it was your secret I would do better. I feel more at liberty with my own.
in the few weeks before that first ultrasound, I had some pretty soul-deafening fear like I'd never felt before. I don't know how some people go through the pain of losing a child more than once. That is a heartache I just can't believe I can bear again. It makes me pray that much harder for others still struggling. I clung to the words repeated about 100 times in the Bible, "Do not be afraid."
When Erick and I finally got to see that beautiful baby with the strong heartbeat floating in a just-right sized womb, it was pleasantly anti-climatic. "Hmm. Baby is a little bigger than 8 weeks, but it's close so we'll leave it." Oh so different from last time. If you don't remember, May baby was about 2 weeks too small and there was no fluid. I asked this time just to be sure, "So that all looks perfect, right?" The doctor assured me it was.
Last week I had another appointment. I was perfectly fine until about the day before. Then I started being afraid again. I knew in my head everything was okay, but my belly just isn't quite big enough for me to really believe I'm pregnant. (Especially since thankfully I'm not throwing up every time I walk into the bathroom!) Again though, we got a good report from a sweet nurse, "Wow, that's a great heartbeat for 12 weeks!"
I have never had an experience like this one. After two pregnancies--one perfect and one a nightmare--it's like I'm starting over. I am painfully aware of how little control I have over the process of this baby coming out healthy. Sure, I'm taking my vitamins, eating and not eating the right things, not smoking, not drinking, no caffeine, and all the other things we know about. But there are so many many things only God is just left to take care of.
I know I should give Him all my fears and doubts, but the human side of me would feel like I wasn't caring or somehow wasn't doing enough. So thankfully, God understands that I am doing the absolute best I can. He has given me peace about the 95% that I have turned over and is holding the other 5% while I stand very close by with a finger on it.

Not many words today...

Raise your hand if you ever have had so much to do you have no idea where to start? So then you just sit down and play Words with Friends. That's me. Sometimes when faced with that I'll write a to do list, but that takes so long that by the time I'm done, I'm hungry and have to fix supper.
Anyway, that's how I've been feeling concerning what to write in my blog this time. I've felt the need to write this week, but there is too much yammering around in my head to pick a topic.
So today will be short and sweet (aside from those few sentences that I just wasted your time with).

^"When I am afraid, I put my trust in you." Psalm 56:3

There was a song I helped teach a whole bunch of kids at VBS this past summer based on this verse. I hope they remember it when they need it, just as I was reminded of it when I googled "Bible verse on trust." So simple, but so needed. Thanks, Google, and thanks, God.

Just walk home...

John 4:46-54

New International Version (NIV)

⁴⁶ Once more he visited Cana in Galilee, where he had turned the water into wine. And there was a certain royal official whose son lay sick at Capernaum. ⁴⁷ When this man heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son, who was close to death.

⁴⁸ “Unless you people see signs and wonders,” Jesus told him, “you will never believe.”

⁴⁹ The royal official said, “Sir, come down before my child dies.”

⁵⁰ “Go,” Jesus replied, “your son will live.”

The man took Jesus at his word and departed. ⁵¹ While he was still on the way, his servants met him with the news that his boy was living. ⁵² When he inquired as to the time when his son got better, they said to him, “Yesterday, at one in the afternoon, the fever left him.”

⁵³ Then the father realized that this was the exact time at which Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” So he and his whole household believed.

This is one story I read this morning during my Bible study. I got back out my Discerning God's Voice workbook so I could finish the days I didn't do the first time around when I was in the group.

Every time before I write a blog like this I pray that God will give me the words to write and that someone will be touched by it. That is one--maybe the only--thing in my life that I have faith in like the official in this story.

This shows me another example of God not doing things how we thought it would be done. This man walked about 20 miles to ask Jesus to come back with him and heal his son. Jesus spoke and it was done. Now is when the official gets really admirable to me.

He went home!

Change the character in this story to Lacy, and the following conversation would have occurred:

"Umm, ok. Uh, I said you could come to my house. I just didn't know if you heard me. I've got some sweet tea and macaroni and cheese made. Um, I really wanted you to uh--did you say you're done? Um, wanna come with me to check? Make sure?"

That man had enough faith he just went home. Surely he and Jesus exchanged pleasantries that the Bible doesn't record, but if he had argued, that would have made it in the Book. Granted, he asked when he got home what time his son was healed, but he knew it would line up. Why wouldn't it, right?

I believe this story happened. I believed Jesus turned water into wine. I believe He walked on water. I believe he raised Lazarus. Etc, etc. etc. So why is it so hard to believe that He can solve my problems?

I think it's because it seems too much like expecting to win the lottery sometimes. Sure, somebody will win. 1 out of 123,125,093,862. There are what, like 7 billion people on this Earth. Who cares about what Lacy needs to eat for breakfast?

God does. He is 7 billion people big. He is Lacy small. Mustard seed small in fact. The God of this universe continues to love me, and if I just ask, he'll help me out. He was 20 miles away then. He's a dimension away now. Yet with His words it is done. I can walk home in confidence.

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." --Matthew 17:20

Movie Weekend

I caught up on a couple of movies most everyone has probably already seen this weekend and thought I'd share.

Larry Crowne
I liked this one a lot. It's not one I'd watch over and over, but I wouldn't mind watching it again. It was a very feel good movie. I love Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts, so you pretty much can't go wrong.
It had some sad stuff, but nothing that made me cry. Just very real life-ish at times.

The Help
First of all, I haven't finished this one yet. It's long! I didn't realize that going in. I'm going to try to finish it before I take it back to Redbox.
I knew sorta kinda what it was about, but it is a lot heavier than I thought it would be. I obviously hadn't read a synopsis. It's very good, definitely should win some awards, but not a easy fluffy Saturday afternoon movie. Especially not for the kind of mood I was in yesterday! (Phew, that's another blog in itself.)
One thing that made this movie hard to watch is that you can't dismiss the bad things with, "Oh, it's just a movie." No, it really happened, and to some degree still goes on I'm sure. It's just a very honest view on how things were. I love Bryce Dallas Howard but oh my gosh, this character is disgusting! I wanted to reach in the tv and strangle her.
I had Erick look up the ending to make sure Minny or Aibileen don't get killed. I couldn't watch it then.

I wanted to go see the new Sherlock Holmes movie in the theater, but we got there at 2:30 and it started at 2. We probably wouldn't have missed much, but I don't like going in late. Maybe next time we'll look at the times before we go.

Pacifiers

I've been really blessed that all the big milestones of Brynn's growing up so far have been relatively painless.
I dreaded potty training this summer, but it only took one day of cleaning up puddles before she figured it out herself. Pooping was about our only trauma we've been through (I'll spare you details for now), but she seems to be doing better with that.
I had a much harder time transitioning her to a big girl bed than she did. It was so sad for me, but she loved it immediately.
Early on, she went from bottle to cup painlessly, although I missed that snuggle time.
Just last week we said goodbye to paci. She has only had it at night for a very long time now, but I knew it was time to get rid of it altogether. Just ask my mom how easy I was letting go of my "pappy." Needless to say, I was not looking forward to a night of crying without it. I did some research though on methods of getting rid of it a little more humanely than cold turkey. I decided to try the snipping bit by bit method. I didn't know how she would take it, but it seemed less scary than just throwing it out the window.
She actually has just been chewing on the thing like a cigar for a couple of months. So Erick (I was too wimpy to do it) snipped the tiniest bit off. I read that the best way is to give them like a week after each cut so it's very gradual. It kind of worked out nicely because since she chewed on it so much, once we cut it, she would make cracks and all in it, so we'd cut the jagged edges off (so the cuts worked out to a week or more apart).
I had decided I was going to bite the bullet over Christmas break and cut the rest off completely. It wasn't until I had left Brynn's room after putting her down for a nap that I realized she hadn't asked for paci. After that, we just didn't offer it to her or speak of it. Erick found it and put it in our dresser. It wasn't until a few days later that she asked for it one night. I just said, "Oh, that silly thing? You don't need that! You're a big girl now. Paci's are babies like Emillia." (That's her new baby cousin whom she adores.) She cried a tear and said, "I do meed it." But then has never mentioned it again.
I guess it makes me so sad because it's like the last baby thing she still did. She's growing up so fast. Every age/stage Erick and I say it is our favorite. There is always something new and fun she does. It's just that hard part of parenting where we have to let go a little more every year. I know she's still little, and maybe that sounds silly, but I think surely other parents understand. It just amazes me how much I can love that little girl.
Now I need a paci. :)