Puddles, a.k.a. germaphobe nightmare.

I'm sure most of you won't be able to relate to this, but if you know me at all you know I'm slightly controlling, a bit of a germaphobe, and I like things to be well planned. Needless to say, having a 3 year old and a newborn stretches me daily.

A few weeks ago it was raining; a nice, gentle, steady rain. I told Elianna that if she took a good nap we'd play in the rain when she woke up. By the time she woke up the rain had stopped. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to play in the rain, getting wet and cold and probably dirty. This relief was short lived however as I watched her little heart break when she realized we wouldn't get to play. And so, in a moment of insanity/guilt/rare impulsiveness I offered, "we could play in the puddles!"

"What!", I thought, "what did you just say?"

Oh, the joy on her sweet little face! I couldn't take it back. Darn.

So out we went. Much to my horror the only puddles I saw were in the gutter. Oh no, she'd seen the puddles too. No getting out of it now. Crap. Breathing deeply, calming my nerves, putting on a brave face (poor kid is already neurotic enough with me as her mom she doesn't need one more thing to worry about) we went into the puddle. The puddle that was in the gutter. IN THE GUTTER! Ugh. Did I mention that we were barefoot? Yes. Barefoot. In a gutter. A GUTTER! Ok. I think you get it, I was not thrilled. I resisted every natural impulse and we played. For 10 minutes (baby steps, ok?) we played in the gutter puddle (gag). A dead bee floated by. She screamed (told you she was neurotic). I played it off, telling her it was ok (puke). I even gave her a stick to poke the bee with. Now, what did I want to do? I wanted to go back inside and give her a good lecture on decomposition and bacteria and scrub us both down with antibacterial soap (I would say bleach but I'm scared of bleach - more on that in another post). So see, I ignored my instincts and instead we played. She had a blast, swishing her hands in the muck, getting mud between her toes (still grosses me out). I tolerated it, choosing to focus on her delight instead of my impulses. I loved watching her play. It was fantastic! And after 10 minutes we went inside and I scrubbed us both down with antibacterial soap! :) We both got to do what we wanted! Though instead of a talk about germs I just asked her if she'd had fun.

The best part? We didn't die. We didn't contract a rare skin disease.  We didn't even get sick. I guess there are worse things than germs; like missing out on a super sweet moment with my super sweet little girl.

When it rains, it pours

I knew this kid was a boy all along.  How?  "Because", I joked, "it has taken away all that I love and made my life miserable!"  Ha!  Yeah....not laughing so much at that joke anymore.  It's hitting a little too close to home.  


You see, I'm used to being invincible.  I like being (or at least pretending to be) Superwoman.  I'm what you call a do-er.  Sure I can embrace the occasional lazy day but those are rare what with being enrolled in14 hours of classes (my last semester hooray!), working full-time, and being a mom/wife.  This pregnancy though has forced me to slow down.  Running has been a non-option for me this entire pregnancy (which I found out about 3 days after beginning my half-marathon training), this kid has given me mad crazy insomnia leaving me exhausted all day, and now I'm having contractions.  Not sweet little "oh yay I'm half-way through my pregnancy" contractions.  No.  We're talking massive, stop me in my tracks (literally), make me cry out, bend me in half, painful contractions.   My doctor says he'd have me on bed rest in an ideal world (to which I just laughed).  As a compromise I'm staying on bed rest until Thursday at which point I will go back to work and see how I do.  When I'm home I'm supposed to be resting (yeah right, I have a rambunctious almost 3 year old).  My sweet hubby is trying his best to get me to rest, telling me to walk slowly, helping me out of the car, being super sweet.  Thing is, it is hard to handle.  I don't like feeling fragile.  I don't like admitting I need help.  I'm the strong one.  I'm the one who helps others.  I love helping others, I just don't like being helped.   I knew this year would be a year of humbling for me.  And it has proved true in SO many ways. But this is by far the hardest.  


I have friends who battle health issues and I hear them talk (write) about their struggles to rely on God to get them through the day.  They tell of their frustrations at not being able to do the simple things.  I have always sympathized with them and truly tried to understand where they are in that stage of life but having been a very healthy, strong individual it is difficult to imagine.  I'm getting a glimpse into that world and I don't like it.  At all. I miss being able to play with Elianna the way she wants to play.  Sitting on a couch all day isn't ideal for a 2 year old.  But I've been instructed not to pick her up (we'll see how long that lasts).  And last night when she climbed on me for a kiss she accidentally kneed me in the stomach which brought me to tears.  Poor girl.  Didn't understand how she made mommy cry.  Those are the tough moments.  Those are the moments that the tears go from being tears of physical pain to tears of emotional turmoil.  I am not good at weakness.  Not at all.   Granted, 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, "But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." But that is for other people, right? Wrong. Apparently (as Craig pointed out so lovingly) God has some work to do and this is how He is doing it. To which I responded, "next time, wait until the contraction is over before giving me the God, Jesus, Love lecture. Otherwise, you may not live to see the next contraction. Ok? I love you!" Poor guy. He really is the best. And yes, I know God is doing a work in this but geez, I wish it didn't take so long. (Insert Craig's comment about me being slow to learn and quite stubborn. Ya' know....I'm not sure how he is still living. LOL!)

Until next time (hopefully not 6 months from now) I hope you enjoy this song...His Grace is Sufficient by Shane and Shane

Vanessa

Love Letter

My days have been crazy.  I started counting the number of hours that I'm at work/school or doing work/school related things during the week and I decided to stop at 85 hours.  I'm loving my classes but it is definitely a ridiculous schedule to keep.  Needless to say, I haven't had much time with Craig. Last night I got in my car and Craig had left a love letter for me.  He really is dreamy.  I can't stop thinking about how blessed I am by him.  It's humbling to realize (again) how much I don't deserve my sweet hubby but I'm so thankful he hasn't figured that out yet!  :)

I've been convicted lately of needing to be more intentional in dating him.  So hopefully you'll read soon about an intentional date I plan!

That's all for today...now go love on someone.  :)

PE Class

So...I decided to take a PE elective this semester.  It's called Movement Education and it's geared for future PE teachers.  While it will teach various PE activities the focus is less on the doing and more on how to teach those activities so I thought it would be a safe bet for this nerd-who-hates-PE.  My main motivation for taking this class is that I know the professor (she's a colleague of mine at the college) and I need a few elective credits to graduate in May.  I knew this would be an out-of-my-comfort-zone experience and my first class was no disappointment.  I will recount my experience for you now.  Keep in mind my severe fear of athletes which started in my childhood PE classes and has been affirmed in my position in the Provost's office at the college where we have to deal with athletes begging to be let back in for "just one more chance" to prove they can, in fact, succeed academically.  Riiiiiiiiiight.

I walk to class with a friend (there is, after all, safety in numbers).  We sit down.  In the back row, which is not normal for me.  Normally, I'm front and center.  Philosophy classes? Front and center.  Psychology classes?  Front and center.  Religion classes?  Front and center.  Those classes don't scare me.  PE class?  As far back as possible on the row closest to the door should an immediate escape be necessary.

Anyway, as students filter in I find myself categorizing them into groups: slacker, not too bright, at least he/she is cute, etc.  (I know, not nice. Not Christ like, but I'm being honest here.)

The professor walks in, she's excited to see me and gives me a hug (insert target on my back here).

She covers some basic housekeeping procedures; syllabus, handouts, attendance policy, etc.  Then she goes on to start an intro on the material.  She asks us to list our favorite activities in PE from elementary/middle school PE classes.  I lean over to my friend and whisper, "None. I hated PE.  I preferred silent reading time." We move on to activities we didn't like in PE.  I still remain quiet.  Then, the most dreaded thing of all all happens.  The professor calls on me and asks, "Vanessa, you've been quiet.  What activities did you dislike?" "Actually," I chirped "I didn't like PE at all.  I'm a nerd and preferred silent reading."

Everything stopped.  Everyone turned and stared at me.  They had looks of horror.  "Who is this traitor and why is she in OUR building?" their grimaces seemed to scream at me.  "Someone who reads?  FOR FUN?!?!?  UGH!"

"Oh God! I'm 10 again.  This is why I hated PE!  People like THEM!"  I thought to myself.

The professor, quickly coming to my rescue, speaks up, "Great!  As teachers this type of student is the one you'll need to win over!  It's not the athletic student who thinks you're God, get over yourself!  It's the student who doesn't like PE that you have to figure out how to get them involved and get them to like it!  What kind of student is that?"

"The introvert" one girl says.

"I'm NOT an introvert" I counter.

"The kid who likes chocolate cake" a boy snickers.

"Hey, don't knock the cake" I defend.

"The kid who isn't coordinated?"  someone else offers.

I think to myself, "well, I'm klutzy but I'm not uncoordinated.  I was great at soccer I just hated getting sweaty in the middle of the day". But I kept that to myself.  They probably wouldn't understand anyway.

Fast forward...moving on in the lesson.

The professor gives us 3 Skill Themes we'll need to know.  "The first" she says, "is locomotive skills.  This is the manner in which you move from point A to point B.  Can someone give me an example?"

I immediately start thinking; running, walking, skiing, swimming, skipping...

She calls on someone.  "Umm...baseball?"

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?  Baseball?  Seriously?  WOW!  Really?

Someone else offers, "Hockey?"

Again, WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Finally someone ventures, "running?"  "Yes," the professor, ever patient and cheerful, says "running!"

Wow.

"Ok, the second skill theme is Manipulatives.  This is using something tangible to perform a skill set.  Examples?" (The woman is brave.  Really? Asking THIS group for examples, again?)

"Thinking?" a girl offers.

At this point I'm doing everything I can not to laugh.  Really?  Thinking?  How about dribbling, kicking, hitting, tossing, throwing, etc.?  The only way I can see that she got "thinking" was that she was thinking about manipulation not manipulatives.  Maybe?

Finally the class got it and, in all honesty, they did much better with the third skill theme which was Non-manipulative/non-locomotive (basically anything that wasn't covered in the first two).

I'm pretty sure this class will be quite the experience for me.  And if nothing else it will be very entertaining. :)

Introspection

Today I'm all sorts of introspective.  Perhaps it's this dang cold I can't seem to kick forcing me to slow down so I have time to think for once.  Perhaps it's listening to the Rocks Won't Cry CD by Shane & Shane bringing me back to a time of simplicity and a carefree approach to life.  Perhaps it's the myriad of crazy that has been my life lately.

Regardless of the cause, here is what my heart wants at this moment:
1) To be outside (preferably near the beach, good luck living in Kansas)
2) To have Craig with me
3) To have no responsibilities all day so that I don't feel guilty
4) To have a cup of mint green tea for my sore throat
5) To have my Bible
6) To have 2-3 of my other favorite books and my journal
7) To have the freedom to explore/allow whatever emotions turn up

That's all.  Not a lot to ask.  Just 7 simple things.  Sigh.

Blankets

You know how when you're a little kid blankets are somehow a magical force field against all things scary?  Well, apparently that doesn't stop just because you grow up.  The other night we had an amazing thunderstorm roll through.  It was 4:30am and Craig had already left for work so I was alone in a big bed.  Keep in mind, this was no ordinary storm.  The lightning was seriously crazy and super close; I could hear the sky crack with each bolt.  The thunder actually shook the house several times.  I kept hoping Elianna would wake up so I could go in and comfort her (ok...so she could comfort me) but the little turkey just slept peacefully through the whole thing.  Jerk.  Anyway, I decided Facebook would be a good distraction.  So I grabbed my phone and logged on.  Of course I instantly remembered a news story done about a guy who had been struck by lighting more times than he could count.  He spoke of how sometimes the electric shock had actually come through the walls and got him while he was using an electrical appliance or even (gasp) a phone.  Just as I'm remembering this (and thinking about how maybe Facebook isn't the best idea after all) a HUGE, like really REALLY huge crack of lightning/thunder struck.  My first instinct?  Blankets, of course.  They are a magical force field, remember? 

I felt like such a dork.  The worst part?  I didn't even turn off my phone, I just thought "the blankets will protect me".  Once I processed what was happening I had a good laugh and promptly turned off my phone and went to sleep.  All the way under the blankets of course.  Never hurts to be careful.  : )

Random Reflections

So the other day I was thinking (which means I was in the shower since the shower is the only place I can think - the heat relaxes me and the sound of the water drowns out the two year old who thinks she runs the place).  Anyway...I was thinking back on the night before (don't get your hopes up, nothing deep here).  My sweet hubby and I had gone to a drive in movie theater of course we brought Elianna (the bossy 2 year old, a.k.a. our daughter, a.k.a. the beast) because we were too cheap to pay for a movie AND a sitter.  And we figured she'd sleep through the movies (yep, two of them for the price of one!  C'mon I told you I'm cheap!), because like me if the sun is down it is time for bed, so we'd be able to really enjoy the movies and save a couple bucks.  It worked.  She slept, on the backseat.  That's where the thinking comes in.  As I'm reliving our wonderful, sleep deprived evening I realized what being a mom is all about (remember, nothing deep).  It's about being out on a Friday night until 2am at a drive in and the only action the backseat of the car sees is a snoring, drooling baby and her blankey.  "Wow", I thought to myself, "that's kinda sad."  Oh well.  Maybe next time I'll spring for the sitter!  : )

So I get out of the shower and the thinking continues (even more rare!).  As I'm brushing my teeth (hey, at least you know I smell good - shower AND brushing my teeth? Must be a special occasion!)  I realized that the day before I'd accidentally used Craig's (the sweet hubby's) toothbrush!  GROSS!  How, one might ask, do I realize this the day AFTER I used it?  Because the day before as I was brushing my teeth (two days in a row?!?  you know I was looking forward to date night!) I remember being grossed out by the feel of what I thought was my toothbrush.  If felt fat and fluffy.  You know like those crazy ones you see at other people's houses where it looks like they pride themselves on having used the same toothbrush since Jr. High?  Yeah, that's what it felt like.  I'd even taken it out mid-brush to inspect it.  Just to be sure it wasn't funky looking.  I feel the need to interject that Craig and I have very similar toothbrushes but his has different bristles (obviously, they're gross) and a little bit of orange.  One can understand how rushing to get myself and the crazy toddler ready in the morning to make it to daycare/work on time I could easily have grabbed the wrong one.  I might also add that I don't have my coffee until I get to work (where I have a student worker who makes it, serves it, and does the dishes!  Like I'd really start making my own at home when I have it so good at work!)  So...anyway.  I realized I'd used his.  It was gross.  I think the next time I see a toothbrush coupon we're getting new ones which look nothing alike.  Yep, long way to get to that point.  Oh well!

Be blessed! (And inspect your toothbrush because now you know if I visit you I just may blog about the state of said toothbrush.)