I am tired. I am on TV-watching overload.
First, the Republican National Convention. Second, the Democratic National Convention. And, now, the Olympics.
Oh, by the way, each of the evenings I watch what is listed above means I'm going to bed around 11 p.m. Each and every night. 11 p.m. My morning wake-up call is still around 6 a.m. so that hasn't changed. It's the going to sleep part that has changed.
I am tired.
My TV watching can be considered a fourth part and most days a healthy fourth part involves Bravo or something from the DVR. Or Netflix. Or Amazon Prime Video. Yeah, TV. I love it. It's a worthwhile fourth part.
But these last few weeks of TV watching have worn me out. I've been off because I've not really had a fourth part. Now, I've been planning and figuring out how to get the TV viewing in but really, every single night?
Knowing I start off my first part a bit sluggish means breakfast is a minimum and lunch packing is nothing to write home about. The second part is easy because it is work and well, you know, work. The third part these last few weeks has been scrambling around picking up back to school clothes, paying bills, running to the library and making dinner. All the usual third part -- but it has been at a frenzied pace because the Olympics officially start on NBC at 7 p.m. and the conventions started as soon as I turned on the TV in the evenings. (And, boy, those politicians talked and talked and talked).
So, I guess, I did have a fourth part because I watched TV. It just doesn't feel like I had a fourth part. Yes, I chose to watch those shows, but it wasn't a re-fueling fourth part. Let's be clear a fourth part fuels you, it re-energizes you, it rejuvenates.
And, the conventions and Olympics wear me out. I'm cheering and clapping and talking back to the TV. I consider my television interaction a sport. Let me be clear, I would medal in interacting with a TV show. G reminds me people on TV cannot hear me. It's soooo gratifying to talk back and contribute to the conversation taking place on screen.
In the midst of these evenings fueled by TV that goes late into the night, I've been readying for back to school. The calendar is being filled in with football dates and school activities. Schedules are feeling a bit tighter and busier.
With my girls, son and G headed back to school, that means our babysitter heads off to college. She has a last day with us -- it's been on the calendar since May. Now, it's here. We said our good-byes and I even managed to get a gift. Planning people, planning. We are going to miss her as this was her second summer with us (after being our after-school sitter the girls' kinder year). The girls love being with her and she has such imagination and energy. The crafts! The popsicles! The activities!
Off she goes to college. Enter a new babysitter. A sweet girl who we connected with over our July 4 beach vacation. (God provides, right?)
Typically, when a new sitter starts, I've lined out a calendar, have an 'intro to the Adams' guide and walk through the household electronics and rules for the girls.
Today, I opened the door, handed her a key, pointed her to the stack of coupons for after-school snacks and provided a quick tutorial on turning on the television. (Get the drift, television is important in the Adams' house.)
I let her know Nutella sandwiches are a favorite and cutting up some kind of fruit is a necessity at lunch. I asked her to continue to help the girls 'learn' how to make their beds and handed off the booster seats.
Babysitting the Adams' girls 101.
Tomorrow, I'll share many more things about caring for my precious daughters. I'll provide a calendar to outline the days and our comings and goings . I'll suggest she and the girls make one dinner each week for the family -- training up these littlest.
But for now, I've got the Olympics to watch. Until 11 p.m.
6 a.m. comes early and so does the babysitter. At least until next week, when she picks up the girls from school and is at our house for three hours a day.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Monday, August 8, 2016
TSI Holds and Tumbling Camp
Summer months are marked by planning that revolves around camps, vacations and pool time. Running errands, cooking meals and doing laundry are also summer to dos but not as structured as during school months.
(See how I did that? Separated summer from school? It could have been football season, basketball season and summer. But I went with school and summer. That's how our days are divided.)
Off topic.
Back to point at hand.
Fourth parts magically appear because there isn't much to the other parts. Yes, we wake up -- first part. Yes, we get going -- second part. Yes, we end up at home in the evenings readying for the pool or the ice cream man visit -- third part. And, then there is the fourth part where we get to do our own thing. (For example, my girls are trying to roller skate in the house at this moment while I watch TV and write.)
Rarely, is there true planning for the next day. I don't have to worry about 'what are we wearing tomorrow' or 'are backpacks packed' or 'are forms completed' or 'are there any checks to write for something that we bought or ordered'.
But, when there is camp to be had, there is planning. Especially when the camp begins at 8:30 a.m. And, camp requires a nourished camper (breakfast at home) dressed in clean gymnastic leotards and shorts -- oh, and a lunch. Yeah, a packed lunch for a week during the summer. Wait, why?!
When we signed up for camp, that last week in July seemed ages away and well, camp sounded so fun. The early start time each morning didn't register when we signed up during the school year because yeah, school mornings get going a bit earlier.
Then, camp arrived. So each evening, as part of the third part, there was a load of laundry run (we only have three true leotards) and a lunch packed. There was also an early for summer bedtime. No fun. And, first parts involved getting myself ready, finishing the packed lunch and getting the camper up and ready and fed and in the car out the door.
Tired before the second part starts -- in the summer. When we sleep in. When we don't have to worry about juice boxes and bread for sandwiches. When we can wear PJs all day. When the only person leaving the house early in the morning is me.
So, camp was a hit. My camper flipped and tumbled and walked-over and cartwheeled all week and loved it. She was such a hit at the camp that she was asked to take a free two-hour acro class -- consider it pre-Cirque de Soleil stuff.
While I watched the acro class, I knew I had to take care of something else during this particular third part. Not only finish packing for camp, but go to my son's new college campus and help him finish the application process. It was a finishing kind of night.
I left acro with paper work in hand (the cost! $850 for the coach! $500 for uniforms! $500 for competition fees!) and transitioned to another kind of paper work -- official transcripts and shot records.
My camper had flawless back walk overs and all sorts of bends. The enrollment application registration process at this community college not so flawless. Rather, I would use the word flawed.
Again, this is the third part. I'm still in work clothes. I'm lugging my big ol' work purse and my phone battery is at about 3 percent. That flawed process included discovering my son had a TSI hold. What is this TSI and why is there a hold? Something about his math equivalent from his previous college didn't qualify him -- so he would either have to take a test or take a class for zero credit and some dollars. Como se what?! As I repeated over and over again we didn't need to take a math -- notice I transitioned from my son and his requirements to 'we' -- we already had the college credit for that, and I repeated over and over again we didn't need to have to take a test because we have already been in college and somehow miraculously got accepted into that college so all we have to do is take 14 or 15 hours of credits that will transfer to another school in the spring because we were only going to this school for a semester so technically he was a transient student even though it wasn't in the summer and yes, I can have access to his records because here is the FERPA so enter that in even though we have this TSI hold and we can get this taken care of tonight because we leave for vacation tomorrow and we can get registered for the advising session where we can register for class even though there is this TSI hold that only the woman in assessments upstairs can release so we can head up there and hopefully we can get everything done by 7 p.m. because this spot closes and we need a drink!
Oh, I can do a dramatic re-enactment of my interaction with the staff at this school including this pulling of the long bangs over the eyes by the TSI hold informant.
Relief did come and the hold was released when we went and found the mystery assessment woman upstairs. Get this, we had to log into my son's ACT and SAT scores from one year ago to confirm his math scores were qualified to have him qualify to attend a school that, hold your breath, is open enrollment.
I still don't know what TSI stands for and I don't really understand the hold. I do know that the evening of the acro class and TSI hold releasing presented as the biggest third part one could encounter during the summer months.
The fourth part on the eve of the last tumbling camp class and the eve of the day we left for vacation and the eve where I almost needed someone to hold me back from jumping over a counter and grab some scissors to cut off long bangs was something we call around here as well deserved.
I guess that's the beauty of fourth parts. They are what is needed each and every single day. No matter the events of the day, no matter the complexities and intricacies of the first through third parts, no matter the amount of time allocated to a fourth part -- they are needed.
God promises and grants rest. He provides the grace we need for each and every day. He asks we focus on Him realizing the days for now are leading up to something bigger and better and eternally good.
All without having to flip and cartwheel are way through it and all without a TSI hold. No test required. No class to take without credit. No dollars to spend on a coach or uniforms. Just the statement we need Him. Just the recognition we need Him.
(See how I did that? Separated summer from school? It could have been football season, basketball season and summer. But I went with school and summer. That's how our days are divided.)
Off topic.
Back to point at hand.
Fourth parts magically appear because there isn't much to the other parts. Yes, we wake up -- first part. Yes, we get going -- second part. Yes, we end up at home in the evenings readying for the pool or the ice cream man visit -- third part. And, then there is the fourth part where we get to do our own thing. (For example, my girls are trying to roller skate in the house at this moment while I watch TV and write.)
Rarely, is there true planning for the next day. I don't have to worry about 'what are we wearing tomorrow' or 'are backpacks packed' or 'are forms completed' or 'are there any checks to write for something that we bought or ordered'.
But, when there is camp to be had, there is planning. Especially when the camp begins at 8:30 a.m. And, camp requires a nourished camper (breakfast at home) dressed in clean gymnastic leotards and shorts -- oh, and a lunch. Yeah, a packed lunch for a week during the summer. Wait, why?!
When we signed up for camp, that last week in July seemed ages away and well, camp sounded so fun. The early start time each morning didn't register when we signed up during the school year because yeah, school mornings get going a bit earlier.
Then, camp arrived. So each evening, as part of the third part, there was a load of laundry run (we only have three true leotards) and a lunch packed. There was also an early for summer bedtime. No fun. And, first parts involved getting myself ready, finishing the packed lunch and getting the camper up and ready and fed and in the car out the door.
Tired before the second part starts -- in the summer. When we sleep in. When we don't have to worry about juice boxes and bread for sandwiches. When we can wear PJs all day. When the only person leaving the house early in the morning is me.
So, camp was a hit. My camper flipped and tumbled and walked-over and cartwheeled all week and loved it. She was such a hit at the camp that she was asked to take a free two-hour acro class -- consider it pre-Cirque de Soleil stuff.
While I watched the acro class, I knew I had to take care of something else during this particular third part. Not only finish packing for camp, but go to my son's new college campus and help him finish the application process. It was a finishing kind of night.
I left acro with paper work in hand (the cost! $850 for the coach! $500 for uniforms! $500 for competition fees!) and transitioned to another kind of paper work -- official transcripts and shot records.
My camper had flawless back walk overs and all sorts of bends. The enrollment application registration process at this community college not so flawless. Rather, I would use the word flawed.
Again, this is the third part. I'm still in work clothes. I'm lugging my big ol' work purse and my phone battery is at about 3 percent. That flawed process included discovering my son had a TSI hold. What is this TSI and why is there a hold? Something about his math equivalent from his previous college didn't qualify him -- so he would either have to take a test or take a class for zero credit and some dollars. Como se what?! As I repeated over and over again we didn't need to take a math -- notice I transitioned from my son and his requirements to 'we' -- we already had the college credit for that, and I repeated over and over again we didn't need to have to take a test because we have already been in college and somehow miraculously got accepted into that college so all we have to do is take 14 or 15 hours of credits that will transfer to another school in the spring because we were only going to this school for a semester so technically he was a transient student even though it wasn't in the summer and yes, I can have access to his records because here is the FERPA so enter that in even though we have this TSI hold and we can get this taken care of tonight because we leave for vacation tomorrow and we can get registered for the advising session where we can register for class even though there is this TSI hold that only the woman in assessments upstairs can release so we can head up there and hopefully we can get everything done by 7 p.m. because this spot closes and we need a drink!
Oh, I can do a dramatic re-enactment of my interaction with the staff at this school including this pulling of the long bangs over the eyes by the TSI hold informant.
Relief did come and the hold was released when we went and found the mystery assessment woman upstairs. Get this, we had to log into my son's ACT and SAT scores from one year ago to confirm his math scores were qualified to have him qualify to attend a school that, hold your breath, is open enrollment.
I still don't know what TSI stands for and I don't really understand the hold. I do know that the evening of the acro class and TSI hold releasing presented as the biggest third part one could encounter during the summer months.
The fourth part on the eve of the last tumbling camp class and the eve of the day we left for vacation and the eve where I almost needed someone to hold me back from jumping over a counter and grab some scissors to cut off long bangs was something we call around here as well deserved.
I guess that's the beauty of fourth parts. They are what is needed each and every single day. No matter the events of the day, no matter the complexities and intricacies of the first through third parts, no matter the amount of time allocated to a fourth part -- they are needed.
God promises and grants rest. He provides the grace we need for each and every day. He asks we focus on Him realizing the days for now are leading up to something bigger and better and eternally good.
All without having to flip and cartwheel are way through it and all without a TSI hold. No test required. No class to take without credit. No dollars to spend on a coach or uniforms. Just the statement we need Him. Just the recognition we need Him.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Noonday and Nails
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.
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.
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.
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.
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