Category Archives: faith

home, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts

5 Random Jobs I’d Like to Have

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This post first appeared on My Big Jesus. 

As a SAHM, I don’t get too much time to dream of jobs I’d like to have. However, these are five jobs I think I’d like to have, if only when I retire. 

Bartender. Not a late-night, dance club bartender, but I’d love the afternoon slump through happy hour shift. I’d love to be the one to know your usual, hear your crazy, frustrating or silly stories, and cheers you to new life phases. Hubby and I have a local pub we love, where we did their 90-day club (going to their bar every day for 90 days). We grew to love that afternoon/happy hour, because that’s when we made friends with the bartenders (who we still hang out with).

Clerk at a bookstore. I wouldn’t really like to work at Barnes and Noble, but a local books-and-coffee or even used bookstore would really appeal to me. I like being surrounded by books, and I like helping someone find their next read. Maybe I’d even get a discount!

Doula. I’m not a very scientific or medically-minded person, but there’s something truly beautiful about the birth of a child. Being able to assist families in the birth process seems like such a meaningful thing. And after having three of my own, I think that I could be around pregnant mothers and newborn babies every day of my life and love it. 

Sous chef. I might not be the most creative chef or the best cook on the planet, but I can follow directions and I love being in the kitchen. I like chopping, stirring, sniffing and sampling. Isn’t that what sous chefs do?

Photographer in Disney’s Magic Kingdom. I’d love to take pictures of families as they come into the MK for the first time. You know, the one where they’re wearing mouse ears the first day, and Cinderella’s castle is in the background. The happiest place in the world, filled with smiling, happy families (at least until they get hot and tired), posing for their first photo. 

What are your dream jobs?

food, home, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, siblings

5 Ways My Third Kid Gets the Short End of the Sibling Stick

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus.


It’s no secret that having multiple kids can really split your time, efforts, and finances. It can also weaken even the strongest parents’ preconceived notions of how they’ll raise their children. Here are a few ways my third babe has already been

1. He can’t talk yet. His siblings do all the talking (over him and for him) and sometimes they don’t interpret correctly. He doesn’t get to request what he gets for snack, or what to watch on TV. He can’t communicate about whether he’s cold without pants on, or that he hates wearing shoes (well, that I actually did figure out). He can’t tell me when he needs help reaching something. He can’t even tell me when his brother hit him, when brother said he didn’t. He’s just gotta roll with whatever punches are thrown (no pun intended).

2. His birthday isn’t getting a big to-do. Sorry, third baby. Your first birthday matters, I promise. But it really snuck up on me, and I don’t have a big party planned. I don’t expect I’ll buy you 400 gifts or plan activities for you and your baby friends. In fact, I bet your siblings will be the life of your party, if only because they can actually demand attention. But I promise you’ll at least get some cake. (And in case you’re wondering, his first birthday is this Saturday. Yesterday I asked his grandparents if they were free that day.)

3. His schedule gets interrupted. We built our lives around the schedule of baby #1 for a while. With baby #2, we at least made sure his naps happened. With baby #3, he naps in the stroller, car, or carrier more often than the other two did, combined. Sometimes he’s gotta sacrifice his sleep to do fun things with his sibs. To the movies or nap? To the park or nap? It’s really not a question.

4. His diet is far from organic. Feeding three kids, even small ones, is no joke – in terms of effort or of money spent. So D learned a lot earlier to eat things like hot dogs and Chick-fil-A. And not that I’m saying there is anything wrong with those things; we all eat them a lot! A friend of mine said it perfectly: The first baby eats organic vegetables, and the last kid eats French fries from the floorboard of the car (which actually happened today).

5. He’s basically never worn new clothes. This might be an exception if it’s not the first baby, but still the first of that gender in the family. But my little guy is wearing hand-me-downs from his brother AND cousin, and still growing out of them like he’s a teenager. There are a few exceptions, since he has generous grandparents, and because my older son is really hard on his clothes. But the vast majority of what he wears has been a little stretched, has been washed 100+ times, includes some sort of stain, and/or harbors a tiny hole I refuse to recognize.

But I must say: even if he gets a little less work put into his diet and wardrobe, and has to learn to do things himself (like eat and walk and defend himself) a little quicker, he is not a bit less loved. Every single person in our tribe loves him as much as they’ve ever loved either of my other kids, including the siblings themselves. There’s a lot of love to go around, and my last baby isn’t shorted on affection!

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy

How Does Your Garden Grow?

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus.

  I’ve had an unforseen transformation over the past couple of years. As a girl who never had a green thumb or really cared about gardens of any sort, I’ve learned to really love growing things. I get excited in the early spring about planning out our vegetable and herb garden, readying the soil, building a new bed, perhaps, and buying the seeds and seedlings. It’s hard work, especially the preparation, but I’ve learned to really enjoy it. Last summer, I was one thousand months pregnant with my third baby, and I was shoveling fresh dirt into a new bed. I wanted to be a part of it that much.

I love seeing the first little glimpses of life coming up through the soil. I love smelling the fresh leaves on the herbs, especially after it rains. I love seeing the very first tiny, green tomatoes, and little yellow squashes. I even like trimming, pruning and deadheading to help send the nutrients to the good parts of the plant. I love the way my big kids want to get outside with me, dig in the dirt, and eat tomatoes right off the vine. My eldest can even name most of the herbs, and identify them by smell. Even as recently as five years ago, I’d never be able to tell you that I would love it this much, and incorporate it into my life so fully.

But I started growing something else, about five years ago. It was a big task, something that took the most energy, time, effort, and prayer I’ve ever given anything. I grew a child in my womb. I was the vessel as God literally knit a life together and helped it grow. Now, I am a nurturer to three such blessings, helping them grow. Yes, it still takes the most energy, time, effort and prayer I can muster. Yes, it even takes a little pruning of misconceptions and education after mistakes to help the best parts of my children thrive. Train up a child in the way he should go (Prov. 22:6), yes?

It may be a cheesy metaphor, but the love of growing things became so real to me when I was growing something of my very own. The love the God helps us grow, the love of parents help their children grow, and the love of a gardener helps her garden grow. Tending anything that grows requires effort. It requires the giving of nutrients and water. It requires protection from storms, literal or figurative. It requires a certain love for the thing to help it grow. We are not abandoned to grow on our own in the wild; we have a loving God, tending to our needs, and helping us grow into who He’s called us to be.

holidays, My Big Jesus, random thoughts

Patriotism Is for Everyone

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

When I realized my regular day to write here was the 4th of July, I considered asking the editor for the day off. I wasn’t sure I could appropriately write about the holiday, but it felt wrong to write about something different that day. Luckily for me, I had an experience at church yesterday morning that changed my mind. 

I co-lead worship at a video venue on campus at my church. We meet in the fellowship hall, upstairs from the main sanctuary. The worship pastor asked the other leader and me to come downstairs at a certain time to sing “Battle Hymn of the Republic” in honor of the 4th of July. I won’t lie- we dragged our feet a bit. It’s hard to work out timing, and it might have felt a little outdated to sing a song that’s hardly a hymn but not exactly the national anthem, either. 

But when I stood up there with the group, mostly comprised of folks my parents’ age and older, and began singing the song I knew well but hadn’t heard in years, I was surprised by what I felt. The men in the group sang the first verse, and that was all it took to get me a little teary. Their strong and proud voices, raised in a song that meant more to them than country or God, alone; it meant both.  

The congregation immediately got into it, some singing, some clapping, some raising their hands. As I looked out over the sanctuary, my own voice matching the pride the others had portrayed, I was surprised and thrilled to see every group of people – young, old, indeed, every soul in the room! – smiling proudly, staying engaged, and singing along. 

I was reminded that patriotism often means something different to my generation (millenials, if that’s where you’d place my 30-year-old self). Patriotism to them seems not to be pride in a country that your loved ones has fought for. It’s not even taking a part in choosing your lawmakers and representation. In fact, to many it just means wearing American flag-printed bathing suits, shooting off fireworks, drinking Bud Light from a can with stars and bars on it, and shouting, “‘Merica!” as you jump in the lake. 

I’m not saying those things are wrong; I do them myself. But to let your love and appreciation of America stop there is very wrong. Instead of celebrating the 4th of Jupy, celebrate Independence Day, and the history and meaning behind it. Do your research, and go vote. Thank a veteran. Have your grandparents tell you a few stories, because I bet they served in some capacity during a war, even if t wasn’t in battle. Truly see the pride of the generation or two above you, and ask them why they celebrate and sing. I guarantee they will provoke some thought and maybe even open your eyes to a different kind of love for America. You might even become a patriot yourself, one who wants to do your part to keep America the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

8 Reasons I Might Be Getting Old

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

Y’all. I’m 30. I know that isn’t old, and I don’t really feel that old most of the time. I’m in pretty good shape, and I still have lots of friends that are a little younger than me. My kids keep me young, too. But every once in a while, I find myself doing something that makes me think, “Yikes! When did I get so old?!” And then I picture myself with gray-blue hair, in a rocking chair on my porch, yelling at the kids to get off my lawn. Here are a few things that make me feel a little old…

  1. I don’t understand hashtags. I use them. They’re often funny. But why? Do they even do anything on Facebook, or is it just Twitter and Instagram that use them properly? Who even came up with that idea?
  2. My spam folder is full of invites to join LinkedIn. Just for that reason, I won’t be exploring what LinkedIn is. 
  3. What even is Snapchat? Why? I downloaded it so that the kids and I could use those selfie filters to make funny faces. 
  4. I almost never wear heels anymore. No point; my feet hurt, I walk funny, I step on the kids, and it’s all downhill from there. 
  5. I check the weather every morning. No one likes to forget their umbrella and get caught in a downpour. (Cue shouting at the kids about getting a jacket.)
  6. I sometimes get offended by what “young people” are wearing. What do you mean those are considered okay to wear to school?! And no, that doesn’t match. 
  7. I get really frustrated about the state of the outside of my house. Examples: when there is dog poop in my yard (we don’t have a dog), when I miss a patch when mowing the grass, or when my garden needs pruning/weeding and I can’t get it done right then.
  8. I like to go to bed early. This isn’t really a blanket statement; I can late-night hang with the best of them. But if there’s not a real reason to stay up and do anything, I’m out like a light before 10pm. I’m more than happy to hop in bed with my Kindle and fall asleep before I get one paragraph finished. 

If I only did one or two of those things, I’d probably let it slide. But because I do all of them, and the list grows every time I turn around, I’ll just let myself ease into some shoes with orthotics, and drink an Ensure. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

But Seriously, Lay Off Already. 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus.

I promise I’m not trying to push your buttons.

But I am trying to make you think.

Haven’t any parents out there ever lost sight of their toddlers for one second? I definitely have, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I mean, it happened at the farmers’ market on Saturday! I am human… Anytime, any place, that can happen. Young children are unpredictable, and can be downright sneaky. Even the most attentive parents can sometimes struggle to keep their kids within a safe distance. It doesn’t mean you haven’t taught your children enough about what’s safe and what’s not. It doesn’t mean you don’t pay enough attention to them. Young children just don’t have good understanding of what “safe” is, especially when they’ve never had a reason to be scared.

So what I’m really imploring you to do right now is think. What if it was you? Put yourself in the parents’ shoes… Your child fell into the gorilla cage, or was snatched up by an alligator while you were swimming together. Feel the fear, the sheer terror. Feel the guilt, that builds as you learn what the cause and effect of the situation will be. Feel the anger, that you’d like to place on something, someone, other than yourself or your child. Imagine the sadness, the overwhelming physical ache you’d feel if something was to actually happen to your child. 

Now. 

When you’ve felt those feelings, or at least thought about it for a minute, are you mad at the parents? Or are you, like me, feeling sympathetic to their situation. If I lost one of my children, really lost them, I wouldn’t be able to go on. It wouldn’t matter to me your harsh opinions or your reprimands about what I should’ve been doing. 

I would be crushed. 

So if you have judgement to pass, ugly jokes to make, or a rude statement to post as your Facebook status about how that would never happen to your kids… Save it. Swallow it. Oppress the thought, and put yourself in the shoes of someone who has lost a child, for any reason. I promise you wouldn’t care what the reason was. Your life would be forever changed, and you’d be mourning that tiny soul for the rest of your life. 

I don’t have time for your judgement and harsh words. But I do have time for sympathy, prayers, and kindness. 

faith, holidays, home, mommyhood, women

Fathers’ Day

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I’m privileged to be married to the kindest, most patient father there’s ever been. He’s selfless, fun, giving, and loving with our kids, and I couldn’t be prouder to call him ours.


He routinely works late at night, but never complains about being woken up early to give snuggles, read books, or play trains. 

 
He teaches them about life and love and anything they come across. 
He disciplines them when they need it, it strength and love. He cuddles and sings and cooks and reads. He provides for them emotionally and in the physical realm, too. 

In short, I admire him as a dad and as a person. He is ultimate compliment to my crazy, my hard, my mad, and my difficult. He’s the perfect other side to all my personality, my parenting style, and my ever-fluctuating emotions. He is a rock, an encourager, a comedian (and sometimes jester), and a comforter. Happy Father’s Day, Hubby. I love you. 

faith, food, mommyhood, random thoughts, siblings

Currently

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Hey, Monday! I can’t believe you’re here again… especially since you started with a bang before 7am – yikes! An early rising baby makes for an early morning workout, so I feel like I’ve had my entire day already and it’s just afternoon.

Anyway, I’m linking up with Becky at Choose Happy like I do every week. Join us! Comment with what you’re up to! I really do want to know. 

As for me, I’m…

Drinking || a fancy new drink that Hubby and I adapted from a old summer favorite. A salty dog, typically grapefruit juice and gin or vodka (I’m a gin gal) and a salted rim, is a wonderfully refreshing summer cocktail. I’ve never much cared about a salted rim, but I dig the gin and grapefruit juice combo. So this summer, to take it to the next level, Hubby and I have been muddling fresh basil (from our garden, so we have an endless supply) into the freshly-squeezed juice, and adding a little sparkling water for a nice bubbly finish. It needs a name; any suggestions?!

Watching || the blossoming friendship between my eldest two babes. They still henpeck each other and fight over toys, but they’re getting kinder and better at playing together. And I’m all over here like, “It’s happening! It’s finally happening! They’re friends!”

They really like making that face right now.

Enjoying || time where EK spent her weekend at the lake with her grandparents, and Hubby and I treated the boys on their own all weekend! EK had a blast with her grandparents and two of her girl cousins, and Hubby and I had a nice, easy time with the boys. An all-around success!

an obvious first stop: GELATO!

Celebrating || another baby boy in our friend group! I attended a sweet shower on Saturday, and also got some snuggles with my baby niece while I was at it!

Mourning || the senseless loss of lives in Orlando. I’ve been pointedly silent about it, because I just don’t have a constructive thing to say yet. But I will say this: love wins. When there is a tragedy like this, more hate is not the response. No, we can’t get back the fallen. But we can love their loved ones, and even harder, love the enemy. We don’t have to place blame or name any enemies to start loving on one and all. 

How do you feel?

What’s your summer shaping up to be?

home, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts

7 Things I Only Get Halfway Through

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! If you haven’t visited the site, the writing is great and the podcasts are not to be missed!


Parents are busy. I’m always splitting my time between things that need to get done, and spending time with my kids. For instance, at church yesterday, I had to be kid-chasing DURING rehearsal for the service. It was a madhouse up in that sanctuary. But it got me thinking: what else do I never have my full attention on? What do I never have the time to finish? I’ve compiled a list of things I never actually complete because I’m a parent…

Meals. I don’t finish mine because I’m frequently giving it to someone else. Unless my lunch is eating their leftovers.

Showers. Sometimes my showers are cut short by interruptions or cries on the monitor. I’m pretty lucky if I rinse the shampoo out of my hair.

Books. I’m in the middle of approximately 17 books at any given moment. The only thing I can read with half my brain engaged is a young adult novel or a board book by Eric Carle.

Movies. Nine times out of ten, I’m asleep halfway through it. Parenting exhaustion is REAL.

Sleeping. Whether it’s sleeping at night or sneaking a nap while my kids do the same, I’m awoken by my kids every time. I haven’t woken up to the sound of an alarm (or, gasp! birds chirping!) in years, except when I’m on vacation.

Exercising. I rarely have time to go to an exercise class (wannabe yogi, here) so I’m typically working out in my living room, or on a run with the stroller. Either way, I can get faked out by a kid just as I’ve broken a sweat. 

Blog posts. Even as I am writing this one, I have been interrupted a total of five times. And this post isn’t that long. Excuse me while I go put my kids to bed. 

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts

Feeling All the Feels 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

Sometimes I feel like I do everything. I’ve fed them, bathed them, clothed them, entertained them, and put them to bed. I’ve done all the things, and they are not only entirely oblivious to my efforts, but seemingly ungrateful (read: ignoring and/or defying me). My children are my world, and I spend more time with them than anyone else. 

But enough is enough. 

I am allowed to be overwhelmed. To be full. And I don’t mean in the sweet “my heart is full” sort of way. I mean in the “my plate is so full I can’t figure out how to survive” sort of way. Fullness is a blessing, and I do not discount the ease with which we had our children, or the privilege it is to call them my own. But there’s not a mother out there who can tell you that there aren’t moments, days, or even weeks where things are just so full that they’re hard. 

A couple of weeks ago, I happened to be on vacation. I was in another state, literally and figuratively. I was down there in big ol’, wide-open Texas, and all I did was wonder what my kids were doing at the moment. 

The truth is, those kiddos frustrate me. And they thrill me. And they drive me up the wall. And they are the most joyous three people I know. My world revolves around them. I’m constantly learning how to be the best when I’m with them, and when I’m not. It’s a test of balance to see how I can be myself in both situations. If I’m wearing nice clothes, carrying only a small purse, and driving a car with no child seats, I must be missing something… right? Sometimes, I realize what I’m missing is my grumpiness. I’m missing the exhaustion and stress that sometimes follows me when I’m lugging the kids (and their stuff) around. 

But the biggest thing I’ve learned is that grumpy is okay. Exhausted is okay. Angry, even, is okay. Joyous is okay! Delirious is okay! Whatever stage you’re in, moment you’re in, and feelings you’re having- it’s okay! It doesn’t mean those feelings define you, or that you’re stuck in that rut. But you’re allowed to have big feelings just like your little ones are. So embrace them. Use them as an excuse for a break. Use them as a teachable moment. But don’t shun them; let your feelings show, because that’s how you move on to the next moment.