Well, I peeled off my Shellac polish. Satisfying, absolutely. Troubling, possibly.
See, I really had at least another week in them, but I was over this opaque light gray color and I didn't want to be messing with my nails on our upcoming vacation. (Can I get a what, what that we are almost headed off to a place where the high is around 77 degrees? I think today's high in SA was roughly 120 degrees.)
Now, guess what? Along with finding a rash guard (anyone have one I can borrow ... short sleeve or long sleeve, medium or large) and buying water shoes and packing and buying the groupon deal for the kayak tour (and maybe a spear fishing trip for G and Chris) .... I have to make a nail appointment and then go to get them re-Shellac'ed. Ugh.
It's also the week Camille has tumbling camp and I have to be out the door with her by 7:45 a.m. (ish). Let's be honest, the camp is around the corner from our house and check in is from 8 to 8:30 a.m, so we really don't have to be there by 8 a.m., right?
All that to say, I should have avoided the peeling process. You see, I'm a picker. When I'm anxious, I pick. When I'm tired, I pick. When I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed, yeah, I pick. So, my naked nails are now in a very fragile state because they are long enough to be admired, but so up for a bitin' and a pickin' -- country song possibility?
Yet, every single devotion these last few weeks has been about accepting God's sufficient grace, love and mercy. Everyday, He provides me with what I need. So, why the anxiousness and worrying? Oh to really give it to Him and just admire those gray nails (still not too fond of the color). Again, I've got a vacation to prepare for and get taken care of and a son to get registered for the fall semester and 15 pounds to lose so I need to squeeze in a workout but I have to plan back to school shopping. Get it? Yikes. Take a deep breath with me.
According to my Jesus Calling, He wants me to rest in His presence. Proverbs 3:5 reminds me to trust in him and not rely on my understanding -- which let's be clear, is not to clear and up to par some days. OK, a lot of days. He 'delights in my trusting confidence' when I rest in Him. Boy, this Jesus Calling book nails it, right?
What do you do when you have a vacation to plan and all the other list that never seems to end? You host a Noonday Collection party. Let me assure you, the Trader Joe's snacks made the prep super simple. And, G vacuuming and Chris cleaning the bathroom really helped. And, when you have a sweet host who truly believes in the mission and ministry of Noonday, that helps, too.
I had her for about an hour to myself as she set up and just her calming presence calmed me. Then, hearing the story of the company and hearing her story of Bible journaling, it calmed me. I started to rest in His presence.
The party was great. People bought jewelry and tote bags. My girls made new friends (my host has two girls) and learned that it is OK to color in your Bible. Everyone liked the snacks -- stuffed mushrooms, Greek pizza, flatbread pizza, key lime cookies, lemon ginger cake and pastry puffs were hits.
And, I rested in His presence. Which made clean up a little easier and made me not gnaw on my nails for a while.
Yes, I'll make a nail appointment tomorrow and I'll get other things on the to-do list taken care of and I'll reflect on the verse that grounds Noonday.
Isaiah 58:10 -- And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.
Which, is followed by verse 11 (again, with He will take care of me needs) which reads The Lord will guide you always, He will satisfy your needs.
No need to pick. Just rest.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Sick Sleep and Transfer Hours
When a mom is sick . . .
We have all heard, read, know, understand and commiserate with the concept that moms don't get sick because they can't be sick since they have too much to do.
Well, I'm sick. The not-so-good-feeling started Saturday. We had two activities before lunch that required driving, prep and different outfits for the three girls in this house (me and the twins). G and Chris were out of town for the weekend so it was our show. After our lunch baby shower (which was so incredibly nice and special to be a part of and I wouldn't have missed it no matter how I felt), we came home and I couldn't get into bed fast enough for a nap.
A nap that lasted three hours. While my girls napped, woke up, played, snacked and watched TV. Yeah, I slept. It was the kind of nap that was too warm and not comfortable. I wrote it off as sick sleep. You know that sleep. It's sleep, but not real sleep. Sleep that lasts a while and certainly helps, but just doesn't knock out the tiredness. Sick sleep. I needed it and it helped me push through the evening, yet it didn't really help my achy, feverish self.
Yes, I was home with the girls by myself this past weekend, but that wasn't the hard part. Yes, I had planned really well for a fourth part Sunday evening because the girls spent the night at my parents' house. Yes, I dropped them off and couldn't even think of eating dinner with my parents because the thought of putting greasy pizza in my mouth just made me, well, sick. And, yes, I ate a nice little plate of cheese and meats, which in the end was not a smart idea because, remember, I'm sick.
Yes, I slept alone in my house and woke up feeling draggy and not so hot. Yes, I moved slowly, but made it to work. And, yes, I came home early that day -- to a house full of my people because G and Chris were home.
Yes, I am sick. Yes, I am tired. Yes, I didn't go to work today and tried to uncomfortably sleep. Tried for the sick sleep (with a husband having to get ready to get out the door and go to coaches' school -- yeah, the summer is over) and just couldn't.
I did just the minimum around the house today and when you have twin seven-year-old girls and a 19-year-old son that minimum is similar to the Army's message of 'done more before 9 a.m.' than most. Meals, check. Laundry, check. Dishes, check. Flushed, feverish, achy and tired, check.
Poor me. It could be worse. I'm not so sick I require a hospital visit (but I do have a doctor's appointment Thursday morning). I'm able to walk. I have the Internet which means finishing up my Nordstrom anniversary sale shopping, San Diego trip planning and back to school backpack ordering.
Also, I have the motivational words to get aforementioned son out of bed and on his way to register for the fall semester of school. I think I've said 'make sure the hours transfer' over 100 times. I've also said 'get a meeting with an advisor' too many times to count. Oh, and, I've said 'be sure to tell the advisor you are planning to transfer to Sam Houston State or Texas State in the spring' 3000 times. I want those hours we are paying for (by the way, soooo much less than what we paid last year) transfer and count toward the criminal justice/forensic science degree my son is planning to earn by 2019.
Let's see, my fourth part this past weekend was about Internet shopping and vacation planning, cheese eating, pulling together an at-home spa day for the girls (thinking the honey and coconut oil scalp treatment would aromatherapically -- not a word, I know -- heal me) and watching Netflix. Hey, that is a pretty good fourth part. With a fever, fitful sleep and aches, I didn't fare so badly.
Sick sleep does count as sleep. Time by myself in the evening does count as a fourth part.
And, my son going up to his fall campus and getting his application straight and advisor appointment set counts as figuring out his future. Which gives me one less thing to think about during a fourth part.
Bully for me. (I watched Parks and Rec on Netflix).
Knocking down that AC to an all-time low and taking some Tylenol PM to help with the aches counts as tonight's fourth part.
Bully. Bully all around.
We have all heard, read, know, understand and commiserate with the concept that moms don't get sick because they can't be sick since they have too much to do.
Well, I'm sick. The not-so-good-feeling started Saturday. We had two activities before lunch that required driving, prep and different outfits for the three girls in this house (me and the twins). G and Chris were out of town for the weekend so it was our show. After our lunch baby shower (which was so incredibly nice and special to be a part of and I wouldn't have missed it no matter how I felt), we came home and I couldn't get into bed fast enough for a nap.
A nap that lasted three hours. While my girls napped, woke up, played, snacked and watched TV. Yeah, I slept. It was the kind of nap that was too warm and not comfortable. I wrote it off as sick sleep. You know that sleep. It's sleep, but not real sleep. Sleep that lasts a while and certainly helps, but just doesn't knock out the tiredness. Sick sleep. I needed it and it helped me push through the evening, yet it didn't really help my achy, feverish self.
Yes, I was home with the girls by myself this past weekend, but that wasn't the hard part. Yes, I had planned really well for a fourth part Sunday evening because the girls spent the night at my parents' house. Yes, I dropped them off and couldn't even think of eating dinner with my parents because the thought of putting greasy pizza in my mouth just made me, well, sick. And, yes, I ate a nice little plate of cheese and meats, which in the end was not a smart idea because, remember, I'm sick.
Yes, I slept alone in my house and woke up feeling draggy and not so hot. Yes, I moved slowly, but made it to work. And, yes, I came home early that day -- to a house full of my people because G and Chris were home.
Yes, I am sick. Yes, I am tired. Yes, I didn't go to work today and tried to uncomfortably sleep. Tried for the sick sleep (with a husband having to get ready to get out the door and go to coaches' school -- yeah, the summer is over) and just couldn't.
I did just the minimum around the house today and when you have twin seven-year-old girls and a 19-year-old son that minimum is similar to the Army's message of 'done more before 9 a.m.' than most. Meals, check. Laundry, check. Dishes, check. Flushed, feverish, achy and tired, check.
Poor me. It could be worse. I'm not so sick I require a hospital visit (but I do have a doctor's appointment Thursday morning). I'm able to walk. I have the Internet which means finishing up my Nordstrom anniversary sale shopping, San Diego trip planning and back to school backpack ordering.
Also, I have the motivational words to get aforementioned son out of bed and on his way to register for the fall semester of school. I think I've said 'make sure the hours transfer' over 100 times. I've also said 'get a meeting with an advisor' too many times to count. Oh, and, I've said 'be sure to tell the advisor you are planning to transfer to Sam Houston State or Texas State in the spring' 3000 times. I want those hours we are paying for (by the way, soooo much less than what we paid last year) transfer and count toward the criminal justice/forensic science degree my son is planning to earn by 2019.
Let's see, my fourth part this past weekend was about Internet shopping and vacation planning, cheese eating, pulling together an at-home spa day for the girls (thinking the honey and coconut oil scalp treatment would aromatherapically -- not a word, I know -- heal me) and watching Netflix. Hey, that is a pretty good fourth part. With a fever, fitful sleep and aches, I didn't fare so badly.
Sick sleep does count as sleep. Time by myself in the evening does count as a fourth part.
And, my son going up to his fall campus and getting his application straight and advisor appointment set counts as figuring out his future. Which gives me one less thing to think about during a fourth part.
Bully for me. (I watched Parks and Rec on Netflix).
Knocking down that AC to an all-time low and taking some Tylenol PM to help with the aches counts as tonight's fourth part.
Bully. Bully all around.
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