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.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
14 Lip Glosses and Packing for the Coast
Sometimes the fourth part of the day occurs when the trade-off self talk takes place. Make sense? Maybe you have named the practice of 'if I do this then I can do that' chatter something else. Yeah, I do trade offs.
I would never, ever unload the dishwasher or put away laundry if not for trade-off self talk. The script usually goes something like the following.
Out-loud Jill: 'I hate unloading the dishwasher.'
Trade-off self-talk Jill: 'Unload the dang dishwasher and then you can sit and watch the DVRed RHO the OC. I mean, you already are a day behind watching the show so you couldn't listen to Heather Dubrow's podcast today.'
Out-loud Jill to the house full of four other people: 'I'm unloading the dishwasher.'
And, then, I sit down and watch shows on the DVR for my fourth part.
So that works, right?
What if you have a beach vacation upcoming and there is a family to pack -- clothes, beach gear, food, snacks, magazines, booze, styrofoam cups. There is a load of trade-off talking going on around here.
Here's what I decided to do because I need to pack and I want a fourth part every day. I mean the DVR and Bravo stop for no one.
I am going room by room each evening to clean out, sort and organize. The two bathrooms, the hall closet and the laundry room are the spots I'm working so that I can have a fourth part. I am packing during commercial breaks and making assignments for the folks in this family who stay home during the day during the summer.
If you read the above, yes, I'm doing two un-fun, yet gratifying chores so that I can have a joy-filled, TV-watching fourth part.
Tonight, I went through the girls' (and Chris') bathroom. With the first drawer, I threw out four toothbrushes and put all the hair trimmer equipment in one container (there are quite a few attachments for someone who simply trims his beard and does nothing to the mop on his head -- trying to ignore the hair, trying to ignore the hair). Don't judge because the oral healthcare is in the same drawer as the beard trimmer. There are two plastic bins corralling the contents -- no blending within a container.
In the cabinet above the toilet, we found some old play make up to toss and got rid of about 10 nail polishes. We still have about 20. Two seven-year-old girls can never have enough sparkly, glow-in-the-dark, hot pink polish. Right?
Under the sink, we found some expired medicine to throw in the trash and store all the hair products in their rightful containers. By the way, we have three bottles of olive oil hair cream. I don't need to buy those for some time now. (I also moved three boxes of tissue from th laundry room to the bathroom under the sink cabinet -- where it belongs!)
A basket on the counter with too many to count headbands was examined and we tossed a few broken ones. OK, they weren't all broken, but I had to convince the headband-wearing twosome some of the Frozen-themed headbands were just no longer wearable. Due to,them being broken. Or, just not so cute anymore. Or, just let's get rid of something you have not worn ever.
(G made dinner tonight so I didn't need to take care of that while I was working on the bathroom. Trader Joe's mandarin orange chicken saved the day.)
Then, the ponytail holder and barrette drawer. It is a full one. We have many, many ponytail holders because there is a lot of ponytail wearing going on here. The three-sectioned plastic container contains stretchy, elastic headbands, barrettes and clips, and ponytail holders. Oh, but there is another little plastic bin in the drawer that holds lip glosses, lip balms and flavored chap sticks. We have many, many flavors and colors. Some sparkle, some taste like soda and some really do moisturize and keep lips from being chapped.
We threw out 14 lip glosses and have 18 remaining. I like a Dr. Pepper-flavored gloss more than anyone, but we don't need a Mountain Dew flavor, Sprite flavor, Orange Crush flavor, Coke flavor, Hawaiian Punch flavor . . . and you get the picture.
So, we tossed them. Bonus, the girls thought the sorting and cleaning out of hair goods and glosses was a game. What fun.
And, I have a fourth part. Two grocery bags full of Styrofoam cups, snacks and paper plates also done. The girls' clothes for the beach trip stacked in a pile.
Tomorrow, the hall closet and beach gear.
And, a fourth part. I'm thinking there is a Bravo show or a Twitter feed to fall into . . .
I would never, ever unload the dishwasher or put away laundry if not for trade-off self talk. The script usually goes something like the following.
Out-loud Jill: 'I hate unloading the dishwasher.'
Trade-off self-talk Jill: 'Unload the dang dishwasher and then you can sit and watch the DVRed RHO the OC. I mean, you already are a day behind watching the show so you couldn't listen to Heather Dubrow's podcast today.'
Out-loud Jill to the house full of four other people: 'I'm unloading the dishwasher.'
And, then, I sit down and watch shows on the DVR for my fourth part.
So that works, right?
What if you have a beach vacation upcoming and there is a family to pack -- clothes, beach gear, food, snacks, magazines, booze, styrofoam cups. There is a load of trade-off talking going on around here.
Here's what I decided to do because I need to pack and I want a fourth part every day. I mean the DVR and Bravo stop for no one.
I am going room by room each evening to clean out, sort and organize. The two bathrooms, the hall closet and the laundry room are the spots I'm working so that I can have a fourth part. I am packing during commercial breaks and making assignments for the folks in this family who stay home during the day during the summer.
If you read the above, yes, I'm doing two un-fun, yet gratifying chores so that I can have a joy-filled, TV-watching fourth part.
Tonight, I went through the girls' (and Chris') bathroom. With the first drawer, I threw out four toothbrushes and put all the hair trimmer equipment in one container (there are quite a few attachments for someone who simply trims his beard and does nothing to the mop on his head -- trying to ignore the hair, trying to ignore the hair). Don't judge because the oral healthcare is in the same drawer as the beard trimmer. There are two plastic bins corralling the contents -- no blending within a container.
In the cabinet above the toilet, we found some old play make up to toss and got rid of about 10 nail polishes. We still have about 20. Two seven-year-old girls can never have enough sparkly, glow-in-the-dark, hot pink polish. Right?
Under the sink, we found some expired medicine to throw in the trash and store all the hair products in their rightful containers. By the way, we have three bottles of olive oil hair cream. I don't need to buy those for some time now. (I also moved three boxes of tissue from th laundry room to the bathroom under the sink cabinet -- where it belongs!)
A basket on the counter with too many to count headbands was examined and we tossed a few broken ones. OK, they weren't all broken, but I had to convince the headband-wearing twosome some of the Frozen-themed headbands were just no longer wearable. Due to,them being broken. Or, just not so cute anymore. Or, just let's get rid of something you have not worn ever.
(G made dinner tonight so I didn't need to take care of that while I was working on the bathroom. Trader Joe's mandarin orange chicken saved the day.)
Then, the ponytail holder and barrette drawer. It is a full one. We have many, many ponytail holders because there is a lot of ponytail wearing going on here. The three-sectioned plastic container contains stretchy, elastic headbands, barrettes and clips, and ponytail holders. Oh, but there is another little plastic bin in the drawer that holds lip glosses, lip balms and flavored chap sticks. We have many, many flavors and colors. Some sparkle, some taste like soda and some really do moisturize and keep lips from being chapped.
We threw out 14 lip glosses and have 18 remaining. I like a Dr. Pepper-flavored gloss more than anyone, but we don't need a Mountain Dew flavor, Sprite flavor, Orange Crush flavor, Coke flavor, Hawaiian Punch flavor . . . and you get the picture.
So, we tossed them. Bonus, the girls thought the sorting and cleaning out of hair goods and glosses was a game. What fun.
And, I have a fourth part. Two grocery bags full of Styrofoam cups, snacks and paper plates also done. The girls' clothes for the beach trip stacked in a pile.
Tomorrow, the hall closet and beach gear.
And, a fourth part. I'm thinking there is a Bravo show or a Twitter feed to fall into . . .
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Check Ups and Charm Bracelets
The first few weeks after school lets out for the summer are a time for re-adjusting to a more relaxed schedule. Swimming is a priority for the day. Watermelon is a meal. Ice cream is served before dinner. Play clothes are all-day clothes.
Over these past weeks we went to the pool most every day and night, the girls played for hours upon end at each other's house and we drew too many pictures to count that showed what seen-year-old friendship looks like. (It's precious. It's colorful. It's a lot of words such as 'bestest' and 'funnest' and 'forever.')
We got in a few sleepovers and a trip to the movies.
My girls and their friend also just played. Laughed and talked and danced and ran around playing Marco Polo. (A friend's house empty of furniture because the movers came last week provides good echos for the game.) Each day these last few weeks there was a conversation between me and my girls about their friend moving. There were tears and there were plans for visits. There were sad moments and happy reflections on our gratefulness of knowing her.
And, there were the plans for gifts. So, in my recent fourth parts, we found a charm bracelet, a two-sided picture frame and a Good Night San Antonio book (at a bookstore across town). A few errands run in between a dance recital, Father's Day and a couple of family birthdays. Lots of planning required and scheduling finessed to take care of gifts and cards. All the while, prioritizing time with the 'bestest, funnest friend.'
I'm tired. Real tired. With pool time ending late most evenings and errands being run at all times of the day, I keep thinking about a true re-fueling fourth part. Remember, a fourth part is selfishly about me. It's my time to do what I choose. It's for me to enjoy. It's mine.
These early summer schedule weeks are also a time to anticipate vacations, go through the school year's crafts and papers, as well as never tire of friends and play dates. Every minute available for time with friends is spent with friends.
My girls had to squeeze in as much time as possible with their very best friend over these last couple of weeks. You see, today, was the day their friend moved. (Pause for me to gain my composure. I've cried off and on all day. Hard crying. Like my throat hurts from trying to hold it back crying.)
Over these past weeks we went to the pool most every day and night, the girls played for hours upon end at each other's house and we drew too many pictures to count that showed what seen-year-old friendship looks like. (It's precious. It's colorful. It's a lot of words such as 'bestest' and 'funnest' and 'forever.')
We got in a few sleepovers and a trip to the movies.
My girls and their friend also just played. Laughed and talked and danced and ran around playing Marco Polo. (A friend's house empty of furniture because the movers came last week provides good echos for the game.) Each day these last few weeks there was a conversation between me and my girls about their friend moving. There were tears and there were plans for visits. There were sad moments and happy reflections on our gratefulness of knowing her.
And, there were the plans for gifts. So, in my recent fourth parts, we found a charm bracelet, a two-sided picture frame and a Good Night San Antonio book (at a bookstore across town). A few errands run in between a dance recital, Father's Day and a couple of family birthdays. Lots of planning required and scheduling finessed to take care of gifts and cards. All the while, prioritizing time with the 'bestest, funnest friend.'
I'm tired. Real tired. With pool time ending late most evenings and errands being run at all times of the day, I keep thinking about a true re-fueling fourth part. Remember, a fourth part is selfishly about me. It's my time to do what I choose. It's for me to enjoy. It's mine.
Tonight, the fourth part is being sad. I'm avoiding looking at the house across the street because I'll miss seeing our friends' cars, their vintage porch swing and their plants. My fourth part tonight is a quiet house because my girls are at their grandparents eating grandmother's comforting meatloaf and playing Go Fish.
For this fourth part, there's no evening swim. There's no putting together a picture frame that holds a hand-drawn picture made with crayons (one side with both families drawn and the best friend has a crown, the other sentences that read 'two families, two together, for forever'). There's no picking up the charm bracelet because the charm with the two girls holding a jump rope and a friend jumping is ready.
There won't be beach towels to wash tonight or stories to tell of the best times with our friend. There won't be the question of 'what time do they leave?
Today, because of the move, I worked from home. I was able to catch up on reading, participate in a staff meeting, make some calls and write up some coaching plans. I also had the girls' seven-year checkup scheduled.
The move happened at 10 a.m. The tears lasted until almost noon. The cries of 'why can't she be our sister and stay' to 'I don't remember life before her' broke my heart. Real sadness. G and I did our best to comfort and soothe saying things such as we will call and FaceTime and visit. The words were as honest as the sobs.
Our pediatrician visit was at 2:20 p.m. (Caroline wrote her first letter to her friend between the move and when we left for the doctor.) We have a gift of a pediatrician. He is so caring and ministers through his practice and his words. Yes, he talks about Jesus and faith and love.
So, today, after we asked questions about ear piercing (not until they are 10 in our house), loose teeth and trying new foods, I shared with our doctor that the girls' best friend had moved earlier in the day. He took a pause and then sweetly asked the girls if they knew about Joseph. They nodded and he started telling the story. He talked about how Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers. He talked about Joseph's dad dying and Joseph being very important in Egypt. My girls listened so carefully as he described the moment when Joseph's brothers came to him and were worried he wouldn't love them or forgive them. Instead, Joseph said '...but God meant it for good.'
Our pediatrician said to the girls it is OK to be sad, it is OK to cry and it is OK to know that God works for good. He told them they may not understand why their friend had to move now but if they pray to God and talk to Him, he will help them see what was meant for good.
Oh, there has been so much good. The girls had their first best friend. The girls have so many happy memories and stories about the two years they had their friend. And, now, they have someone who they can visit and will always have as a friend.
Me, too.
Because that first time the girls saw their friend getting out of the car at her house and Caroline said to me, 'she's in my class' was good. Because she was then in Camille's first grade class this year and that was good, too. God was working for good. They each had her in class one year.
And, so the tears are now streaming down my face as I sit in this fourth part and type. And, as I think of the past two years, they were good.
And, as I think of our November vacation to Kansas, well, that will be good, too.
Thank you God for your good.
So, today, after we asked questions about ear piercing (not until they are 10 in our house), loose teeth and trying new foods, I shared with our doctor that the girls' best friend had moved earlier in the day. He took a pause and then sweetly asked the girls if they knew about Joseph. They nodded and he started telling the story. He talked about how Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers. He talked about Joseph's dad dying and Joseph being very important in Egypt. My girls listened so carefully as he described the moment when Joseph's brothers came to him and were worried he wouldn't love them or forgive them. Instead, Joseph said '...but God meant it for good.'
Our pediatrician said to the girls it is OK to be sad, it is OK to cry and it is OK to know that God works for good. He told them they may not understand why their friend had to move now but if they pray to God and talk to Him, he will help them see what was meant for good.
Oh, there has been so much good. The girls had their first best friend. The girls have so many happy memories and stories about the two years they had their friend. And, now, they have someone who they can visit and will always have as a friend.
Me, too.
Because that first time the girls saw their friend getting out of the car at her house and Caroline said to me, 'she's in my class' was good. Because she was then in Camille's first grade class this year and that was good, too. God was working for good. They each had her in class one year.
And, so the tears are now streaming down my face as I sit in this fourth part and type. And, as I think of the past two years, they were good.
And, as I think of our November vacation to Kansas, well, that will be good, too.
Thank you God for your good.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Buttonholes and VBS
One of the best home purchases I ever made was a chalkboard cabinet from Pottery Barn. I bought it over 10 years ago. I stalked it. I waited for it to go on sale and then had an extra discount so it was quite a deal.
When we moved off Walnut Creek to our current home, it came with us. The buyer of Walnut Creek was upset it didn't stay and tried to claim it was a part of the house. No, friend, it's mine. It also was hung about 10 minutes after the multiple television sets were installed. Priorities, people.
This cabinet houses pens, pencils, bills to be paid, two staplers, rulers and tape. Lots of glue, too. Tape, glue and staples seem to be in high demand in the Adams house.
The cabinet fronts are chalkboard. Over the years, we've scribbled grocery lists, projects needing to be completed, countdowns to vacations and weekly dinner menus. Now, in my latest attempt to post my fourth part efforts for all to see, I've listed out each day what little things need to be done. The night before, I'll write down tomorrow's list of to dos not worthy of a calendar entry, but something that's causing me to get a little anxious. Right now, the items for Saturday completion (by the way, it is Sunday evening) are 'fix snap on plaid shirt' and 'buttonhole on denim shirt.'
Obviously, neither was finished yesterday. Remember the parenthetical statement above that it's not Saturday as I write this?
I had mapped out Saturday and even had a fourth part rolled in (G was going to grill our dinner, we had time for Caroline's voice lesson, dropping off an overdue birthday gift and go swimming ...... Plus, my three tasks.) I did finish one task -- booked a hotel for our summer vacation.
Then, I pulled out the sewing machine and the instruction manuk to remind myself how to make a buttonhole. Easy enough? I've done it before. Added thread to a bobbin and popped on the buttonhole foot. I was going to knock this out in a minute.
Beep, beep, beep. The joy of an electronic, fancy, technical, computerized machine. You get these beeps and a flashing red light to help you identify what is wrong. After multiple attempts to fix the beeping, I'm ready. And, then, I couldn't make the buttonhole. I've had time to process since yesterday morning and afternoon and evening and this afternoon so I'm not including any fancy, technical language in my writing.
Over and over and over and over I tried. I tested on another piece of fabric. I watched YouTube videos. I googled Singer Curvy buttonhole. Nothing worked.
I pulled that plug out of the wall, threw the shirt into the 'take to someone else' pile and packed up the sewing machine. I do t even attempt the snap that doesn't require a machine.
I am over it. What should have taken a few moments where my morning coffee stayed warm, took too much time and I didn't get to scratch it off my anxious-building to do list. Aargh!?!?!
Add to the list ... Find someone to make a buttonhole for me. That's one day this week.
The other activities this week are minimal. No tumbling or tap. No voice lessons. No school!
But there is vacation bible school at my church. The girls have invited two friends so Sunday through Thursday evenings this week are about getting the four girls there by 6:30 p.m. and getting them picked up at 8:30 p.m. to go home. The theme of our VBS is Submerged. There's a focus on exploring the depths of God's great ocean of love, grace nod acceptance. The kids will also be learning about the water crisis in Haiti (where we send mission groups each year). There's. Contest to raise money for Justice Water which aims to empower developing communities with sustainable water technologies using affordable, acceptable and available resources.
Add to the chalkboard list -- bring some money for Justice Water and revel in God's love, grace and acceptance.
A buttonhole really shouldn't be a focus that disrupts my day. I've got clean, running water and God's grace.
Should my chalkboard start including a verse ... Or a praise?
Consider that during a fourth part. (It's about time to get these girls). Fourth part pondering will commence later.
When we moved off Walnut Creek to our current home, it came with us. The buyer of Walnut Creek was upset it didn't stay and tried to claim it was a part of the house. No, friend, it's mine. It also was hung about 10 minutes after the multiple television sets were installed. Priorities, people.
This cabinet houses pens, pencils, bills to be paid, two staplers, rulers and tape. Lots of glue, too. Tape, glue and staples seem to be in high demand in the Adams house.
The cabinet fronts are chalkboard. Over the years, we've scribbled grocery lists, projects needing to be completed, countdowns to vacations and weekly dinner menus. Now, in my latest attempt to post my fourth part efforts for all to see, I've listed out each day what little things need to be done. The night before, I'll write down tomorrow's list of to dos not worthy of a calendar entry, but something that's causing me to get a little anxious. Right now, the items for Saturday completion (by the way, it is Sunday evening) are 'fix snap on plaid shirt' and 'buttonhole on denim shirt.'
Obviously, neither was finished yesterday. Remember the parenthetical statement above that it's not Saturday as I write this?
I had mapped out Saturday and even had a fourth part rolled in (G was going to grill our dinner, we had time for Caroline's voice lesson, dropping off an overdue birthday gift and go swimming ...... Plus, my three tasks.) I did finish one task -- booked a hotel for our summer vacation.
Then, I pulled out the sewing machine and the instruction manuk to remind myself how to make a buttonhole. Easy enough? I've done it before. Added thread to a bobbin and popped on the buttonhole foot. I was going to knock this out in a minute.
Beep, beep, beep. The joy of an electronic, fancy, technical, computerized machine. You get these beeps and a flashing red light to help you identify what is wrong. After multiple attempts to fix the beeping, I'm ready. And, then, I couldn't make the buttonhole. I've had time to process since yesterday morning and afternoon and evening and this afternoon so I'm not including any fancy, technical language in my writing.
Over and over and over and over I tried. I tested on another piece of fabric. I watched YouTube videos. I googled Singer Curvy buttonhole. Nothing worked.
I pulled that plug out of the wall, threw the shirt into the 'take to someone else' pile and packed up the sewing machine. I do t even attempt the snap that doesn't require a machine.
I am over it. What should have taken a few moments where my morning coffee stayed warm, took too much time and I didn't get to scratch it off my anxious-building to do list. Aargh!?!?!
Add to the list ... Find someone to make a buttonhole for me. That's one day this week.
The other activities this week are minimal. No tumbling or tap. No voice lessons. No school!
But there is vacation bible school at my church. The girls have invited two friends so Sunday through Thursday evenings this week are about getting the four girls there by 6:30 p.m. and getting them picked up at 8:30 p.m. to go home. The theme of our VBS is Submerged. There's a focus on exploring the depths of God's great ocean of love, grace nod acceptance. The kids will also be learning about the water crisis in Haiti (where we send mission groups each year). There's. Contest to raise money for Justice Water which aims to empower developing communities with sustainable water technologies using affordable, acceptable and available resources.
Add to the chalkboard list -- bring some money for Justice Water and revel in God's love, grace and acceptance.
A buttonhole really shouldn't be a focus that disrupts my day. I've got clean, running water and God's grace.
Should my chalkboard start including a verse ... Or a praise?
Consider that during a fourth part. (It's about time to get these girls). Fourth part pondering will commence later.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Alarm Clocks and Summer Jobs
What does the fourth part of the day mean when it is almost the end of the school year? When there are only nine more alarm clocks sounding in the morn raising my family to get lunches finished, breakfast set out and coaxing little ones to get dressed?
It means there are still nine days left of school so baths are kinda still needed (even after an evening swim -- which in the summer counts as a bath). It means bedtime should be based on the clock not the sun setting (yeah, trying to get the girls inside at 7:30 p.m. -ish when the sun is out is no fun. By the way, it is 7:40 p.m. right now and the girls are just getting started outside with their dad who just got home from spring ball and running errands. We are not headed to bed anytime soon).
And, that alarm clock comes early on school mornings. I get up first because well, I'm the mom. A martyr-like statement, I know, but, it is the reality of the Adams house. I get breakfast ready, add refrigerated items (cheese sticks) to the lunch (G makes the sandwiches), open shades and blinds, do a pick up of things around the house, then head to the girls' room for the initial wake up call. I put the clothes they picked out the previous evening on their beds. I describe what they have -- typically, 'leggings, skirt, shirt, socks' -- as they are now getting dressed on their own in the mornings.
I walk out to get my workout clothes on and then, a second wake up call.
Once dressed, hair is finished, shoes put on, breakfast eaten, devotion done ... And they are out the door. And, then, I work out. Then, I ready for the day.
It all starts with that alarm clock that as the school year has gone on is ringing a few minutes later than those first few days. It goes off at 6:20 a.m. now. The self-dressing helps. The, we don't have to leave for school as early because there aren't too many goings on at G Adams school these days.
Remember, nine more days. Nine more alarms.
Detail. When, I leave for my day, I typically stick my head in my sleeping college-aged son's room (who is home for the summer) to say my good byes.
But wait, he has a job for the summer. Pause. Praise Jesus. I mean, all of you, pause, get on your knees, raise your hands and praise our Lord and Savior!
And, that summer job is at a golf course and what time do golf courses open for business? EARLY!!
He has to be there most days by 6 a.m. Yeah, 6 a.m. Before my alarm goes off. Before my last sweet dream of the night has ended.
The first morning he had that early call time, I got up to make his breakfast. Note, the alarm clock was set for 5:20 a.m. that day. That hour was like a dog hour (or people hour to a dog) .... whatever, it aged me by about 10 years.
He didn't eat the breakfast.
Guess what's not happening tomorrow morning. I'm not setting that alarm clock early for sure.
One less thing to do tonight to ready for my fourth part.
Which, I don't have that fourth part yet because I've got twin seven-year-olds playing soccer outside -- sweating buckets in this humidity and they aren't getting baths because it is 7:53 p.m. But, really, shouldn't I bathe them? Or do I do a wipe down.
The fourth part is so close to being a reality tonight. Is there really school tomorrow? Is there a bedtime? Are the clothes for tomorrow already picked? Are the lunch boxes packed?
Nine more days.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
BBQ and Back Roads
I left my house house this morning around 8:30 a.m. I needed to get on the road to help my son pack up and move home for the summer after his first-year at college.
I didn't need to meet him until noon, but I knew I wanted to take the long way, the scenic way, the back roads way. I wanted to process this moment. To write that the first year flew by is trite. To write that there were many lessons learned, many firsts would be kind of a 'duh.' To write that I have missed him and cried at night and hurt to hear his voice is my story.
This journey started out as what seemed like a great fit. A small Baptist campus in the middle of Central Texas where I could get to him in about three hours if need be, was an answer to prayers. A place he could play football and a place he could adjust to college was wrapped up at this school.
And, yet, it wasn't a match. He played a lot of downs, caught a few passes and scored a touchdown. He figured out how to switch roommates, grocery shop and go to the doctor by himself. But, it didn't click. We knew it almost right from the start, but we encouraged perseverance. We encouraged the 'college try.' We cheered, we listened, we talked. We texted and Facetimed.
He went two semesters. He made the decision to quit the team early in the spring semester. He figured out how to get to Austin for the weekend. He adjusted to college life. This college just wasn't it for him.
So while I eat BBQ at a local, well-known spot, waiting for him to wrap up his last final of the semester, of the year, of his career at this school, I wonder what's next. My devotions of late have been all about trusting God today and experiencing his filling of me daily. The devotions have been about letting go and really allowing God to fill me with his peace.
Eating this pulled pork sandwich (scooping it out from the bun) and getting the call that he is selling back his last book ..... Those are the immediate next activities. Then, it is driving to his dorm one last time, loading up his car and my truck to drive home and probably paying for a tank of gas for him.
It's taking the quicker, highway route home to a favorite meal and getting some big hugs from his sisters.
Those are today's activities. Tomorrow? This summer? Next fall? No answers because God knows we aren't there yet.
I need to finish this sandwich.
I need to go give him a hug.
I need to tell him how proud I am of him .... he stuck with a situation he didn't really like, but did make the best of it (I mean, Austin on the weekends -- I did that throughout my sophomore, junior and senior years at Baylor).
And, I need to tell him Italian sausage and peppers is waiting for him at home, along with his sisters and dad who are ready to see him.
Today.
I didn't need to meet him until noon, but I knew I wanted to take the long way, the scenic way, the back roads way. I wanted to process this moment. To write that the first year flew by is trite. To write that there were many lessons learned, many firsts would be kind of a 'duh.' To write that I have missed him and cried at night and hurt to hear his voice is my story.
This journey started out as what seemed like a great fit. A small Baptist campus in the middle of Central Texas where I could get to him in about three hours if need be, was an answer to prayers. A place he could play football and a place he could adjust to college was wrapped up at this school.
And, yet, it wasn't a match. He played a lot of downs, caught a few passes and scored a touchdown. He figured out how to switch roommates, grocery shop and go to the doctor by himself. But, it didn't click. We knew it almost right from the start, but we encouraged perseverance. We encouraged the 'college try.' We cheered, we listened, we talked. We texted and Facetimed.
He went two semesters. He made the decision to quit the team early in the spring semester. He figured out how to get to Austin for the weekend. He adjusted to college life. This college just wasn't it for him.
So while I eat BBQ at a local, well-known spot, waiting for him to wrap up his last final of the semester, of the year, of his career at this school, I wonder what's next. My devotions of late have been all about trusting God today and experiencing his filling of me daily. The devotions have been about letting go and really allowing God to fill me with his peace.
Eating this pulled pork sandwich (scooping it out from the bun) and getting the call that he is selling back his last book ..... Those are the immediate next activities. Then, it is driving to his dorm one last time, loading up his car and my truck to drive home and probably paying for a tank of gas for him.
It's taking the quicker, highway route home to a favorite meal and getting some big hugs from his sisters.
Those are today's activities. Tomorrow? This summer? Next fall? No answers because God knows we aren't there yet.
I need to finish this sandwich.
I need to go give him a hug.
I need to tell him how proud I am of him .... he stuck with a situation he didn't really like, but did make the best of it (I mean, Austin on the weekends -- I did that throughout my sophomore, junior and senior years at Baylor).
And, I need to tell him Italian sausage and peppers is waiting for him at home, along with his sisters and dad who are ready to see him.
Today.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Spring Ball and Community Swimming Pools
Clockwork. That describes the schedule of a high school football coach. It's not just practice wand film and games in the fall. It's strength and conditioning camp in the summer and two-a-days in August. And, it's spring ball in May. Ahhh, springtime joy. Flowers in bloom, rain showers, white pants and football. Goes together like peanut butter and jelly, right?
Yeah, spring ball started today just like it always does ... in the spring. In May. Yet, I am caught by surprise. So much so, that I had to really think why my husband didn't offer to go to tumbling class tonight so I could come home after work and make dinner. Oh, that's right, it's May, it's spring, it's spring ball.
All my fourth part planning for the rest of this month -- out the window. Remember, the schedule is the same every year, yet every year, I kind of forget. It may have to do with the fact my son doesn't play high school football anymore so I really don't need to know the schedule. I mean my husband doesn't really know my work schedule and what I do all day in meetings and calls.
Thankfully, there is only one soccer practice left and a handful of tap classes. I don't have to figure out those schedules. Easy enough for me to get to ... I do it during the fall and the winter and early spring. But, it's spring ball.
Maybe, because the school year is winding down, I think there shouldn't be any new activities. Nothing should be added to the schedule that doesn't require sunscreen, a beach towel and a bathing suit. That's where the neighborhood swimming pool comes in. Yes, we can go in the evenings and the weekends. It's warm enough with a bit of sunshine for me to get a base tan. It's cool enough that we can walk to the pool and back home. It's spring.
Spring ball is only four weeks and it is capped off by the spring game. Then, school is really almost done and summer is really almost here.
Swimming can happen every day with just a sprinkling of strength and conditioning camp. (I think he told me he only has to work one day of camp this summer.) (That's a schedule changer.) (Lots of fourth part opportunity.)
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