Brad and I agree on most parenting issues.  We see eye to eye on the really important things like creating an environment of love and acceptance, challenging them to take responsibility, making sure they never become Dallas Maverick fans…you know, the big issues.

I remember when we were first pregnant we’d talk and dream about the life we’d create for our kids.  I remember one day we had a conversation where we realized that not only did we agree, but we were both passionate about another very important parenting issue.

We wanted our house to be the “fun house.”

You know what I’m talking about, every neighborhood has one.  The house all the kids in the neighborhood end up at.  The place late night games of hide and seek are played at, the place where childhood memories are made.  We both agreed that when the time came, we wanted our house to win the coveted “fun house” title.

So I need your help.

Who had the “fun house” when you grew up?  What made it fun?  I am trying to perfect the recipe and I’d love your input.

What makes a “fun house” fun?

Blogging is pretty easy when all you do is cut and paste your old thoughts…only 4 more days until I have to come up with some new material.

_________________________________________________________________________________

DEFINITION OF FUTILITY: Arguing With a Two-Year Old

This morning we had to run into Phoenix for a little bit and Ty and I were on our way back “into town”. As we’re driving, I’m talking to him and I say, “We’re headed back home to where we live…Scottsdale.” And he replies vehemently…”No! Not Stotstaaaayle! We live at our HOUSE.” And he’s right. We DO live in our house.

I understand that this is a new concept for him and in all my motherly wisdom decide that this will be a perfect moment for him to learn something. I try to break it down really simply for him. I even put on my “SuperMom” voice and said sweetly… “You’re right Ty Ty. We DO live in our house…but our house is IN Scottsdale.”

He wasn’t buying.

“No! Not Stotstaaayle! We live at our HOUSE!” Back and forth for about three minutes till I finally gave up. “You’re right. We DO live in our HOUSE.”

And he smiles smugly. “Yep. You’re right Mommy! Our house!” No lesson learned, no new information absorbed.

I thought about how essentially we both WERE right. He wasn’t wrong. He was, in fact, correct. But he held on so tightly to his “reality” his missed out on a larger “reality”. How many times in life does this happen to us? How often do we miss out on growing or learning or expanding our thinking because we limit ourselves to what we KNOW is true? How many discussions with friends, co-workers, spouses, enemies, even God end up with us smiling smugly holding on to our small “reality” having missed out on a greater “reality” due to our stubborn pride. I am embarrassed to say that it has happened to me more than once. And when I finally do see the big picture, for whatever reason, it’s painful to discover that I’ve missed out, held out and possibly hurt others holding on to my reality. What about you? Are you selling yourself short by clinging to a “reality” that may be true, but is keeping you from embracing a bigger picture “reality”? Your thoughts?

This post was originally dated, July 11th, 2006. Angelina was four when we had this conversation….

_________________________________________________________________

HOW CAN YOU LOVE SOMEONE WHO LEAVES THE SEAT UP?

Warning: There may be sappiness ahead…Quick, run, get out now while you still can!

There are moments when I ask myself this question: How can ONE person make me so mad? How can ONE person know exactly the right buttons to push, and single handedly send me over the edge? How can someONE be all of those things and then bring home flowers unexpectedly (TWICE in one month???), or take the kids out to give me a break, or give an unsolicited hug (the BEST kind, by the way), or make me laugh so hard? This is the mystery of relationships.

The other day I overheard him telling The Girl, “You know some day when you get married, you should marry your very best friend. Did you know me and your mommy are best friends?”

To which she replied, “I’m not going to be married, I DO want my own kitchen and bathroom, just like mommy, but I don’t want to get married, I don’t want to say the words.”

To which he replied, “Do you want me to build you a kitchen in your room?”

“Yeah!”
————————————————————————————————
I wanted to tell her, saying the words is scary, constantly putting the toilet seat down is annoying, but having a kitchen and bathroom is definitely not the highlight of marriage. Building a family, building a life with someone is tough work; sometimes it’s dirty, sometimes its frustrating, but there’s nothing like it. There’s nothing more amazing than knowing someone’s faults, them knowing yours…and still finding love there…deeper and richer than you ever thought. I know, I know its easy to get jaded, to be cynical about marriage- because its so hard and so maddening at times…but when we get jaded and cynical we miss the moments, the things that make it all worthwhile.

I need to post more regularly on this here blog. So…in order to begin a new habit, I’m going to post every day for the next week. The catch is that it will be an “oldie”, thoughts from days gone by, if you will. Hoping that reading them will spark some new thoughts and posting them will get me in the habit of blogging again. This post was taken from Monday, September 25th, 2006- you know, back when Myspace was still alive.

Enjoy!

N

_______________________________________________________________

Of Backspace and Photoshop.

I’ve always loved writing. I remember being a kid, fighting with my parents, and writing them letters to explain how mad I was. I’d write and write…then I’d write letters to make up with them too. I’d write letters to friends, cousins…there is just something about being able to get all your thoughts out, have no one interrupt and rewrite, and cross out and tweak until the paper contains the absolute best version of your thoughts, sentiments, ideas.

I got to thinking about life awhile back and thought about how texting, emailing, myspacing (is that a word?) writing…all of these means of communication have something in common, they are “editable”. Take MySpace for example, the ole fuzzy picture in a dark room with lots of eyeliner and sideways shot that turns a 85 year old man into a 19 year old stud, or what about blogging or emails, all of these things can be backspaced, spell checked, (ok, I know, I know there are times I need to use this feature more, don’t rub it in.) Edited. And that’s the trouble.

With the media airbrushing every photo, editing every video, restylane in the lips, lipo on the hips…what part of us is real, raw, unedited? Not that all of these things are bad, I’m not saying that, I’m saying that almost every means of communication or contact can be altered to be the best version of “you” or “me”.

Somewhere in all of that– “perfection” has become the norm. When everything has been nipped or tucked or augmented or injected or photoshopped or cropped or backspaced…we see what others want us to see. I know, I’m rambling, but stay with me, there might be something worth reading, no promises though.

But I want to know what about the raw, uncut, unplugged, unedited versions of us? What if there were no backspace, no tummy tucks, no cover up? How would our perceptions of people change if our flaws were out there for all to see, all the time? Of course, I think its great that we can “fix” our problems and deal with our issues, but sometimes, I wonder if the fixing of the outside makes us overlook the fixing that we might need on the inside…

I am a firm believer that my closet is a reflection of my life. On a good day, things are in place-where they need to be. On a bad day, the mountain of mess is high and there is no space or clearing. I feel like we spend so much time putting on a face that tells the world we have it all together.

When we don’t.

My closet is an animal.  It seems that I’ll spend an hour or so cleaning every few weeks, only to find a big, fat mess in a few days.   Over the last three weeks, my closet has taken on a life of its own.  The mountain has become ridiculous.  My LITERAL closet AND the day to day details of my life. In fact, I got a gentle reminder from my son’s kindergarten teacher that pick up time is by 2:30, not 2:33, or 2:34. I was absolutely mortified when she had to say something. I had a million excuses in my mind. (We’re starting a business, if you only new my “to do” list, I have to wake my two year old up EVERY day from the precious 1.5 hour nap he unwillingly gives me – and I push it every day hoping to get 5 more minutes of things done and give him 5 more minutes of sleep…)

Instead of giving excuses, I just wore it. I was late.

I was one of those “moms” – you know the ones who aren’t perfect.  I hated admitting that I was falling short in any area of my life. And then, I took a long look at the state of my closet.

So…in an effort to clear out the clutter of my life. I sat down with my closet- determined  that I would finish it…TONIGHT.

The real question is, am I the only one? Do you have a spot in your house that gets out of control?  Are you working hard to keep the image of perfection up so no one knows?  Well, in an effort to be transparent and to truly air my dirty laundry….enjoy.

*disclaimer, if you suffer from motion sickness, you may not want to watch this high quality video!!!

You’re not a little girl any more, but you you’re not quite a teen.

Your eyes still light up at the sight of a pinkalicious room filled with dolls.

But you give me a real run for my money at most board games, and are the reigning champion at Balderdash.

You’re somewhere in between.

Your imagination still creates fairytales and takes you into worlds of fantasy.

But I watch as you enter a room of people, a little more aware of yourself and maybe a little less sure.

You’re caught in between.

You still give me big hugs and kisses and turn back to wave when you walk into school.

But you have no hesitations leaving me to head two hours away to Girl Scout Camp for two days. (You didn’t even blink an eye.)

You’re somewhere in between.

You’re brave and independent and ready to take on the world.

But then, the other morning, you whispered in my ear, with tears in your eyes and a quiver in your voice, “Mommy, I don’t want to be double digits next year. I’m not ready.”

You’re caught in between.

I promised you that morning that it was going to be okay. That I would hold your hand and walk with you through the next year…and beyond.

And I will.

While you are in-between I will be there to help you navigate. To let you know that its okay to hold on to your childhood and embrace all that the future holds.

Happy Birthday to my nine year old girl.

My husband has been out of town for 4.5 days.

Whenever he goes out of town for business or ministry, the par-tay begins!

Ok, so not really a party, but we DO have some traditions…

Breakfast for dinner. Occasionally we do it when he’s here but we ALWAYS do it when he’s gone. This week we made waffles, had Cinnabon cereal, turkey bacon and eggs.

Nostalgic Movies. I love introducing my kids to some of my all time favorites. B doesn’t mind watching them with us, but usually there is a musical involved and well…let’s just say he may not appreciate those as much as I do. This time I was giddy with excitement to introduce my kids to my love for the movie Sister Act 2.  LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this movie- and they did too! We danced and sang and acted pretty much ridiculous.

Couch Campout. Okay this is just my own tradition, but I always sleep on the couch when he is away. I don’t know why. Maybe I feel that I will be able to ward off burglars easier, or my bed won’t seem so big and empty, but it just happens. Every time. (Also a good excuse to get a neck rub when he comes home)

He comes home later today, so I’m busy showering and putting away the bon bons…

When the “cat’s” of your life are away…what do you do?