This is my story....this is my song.....

It was never my desire to provide conversation for so many people. I just wanted to go about my happy way, living my family's interpretation of the  "American Dream"....life had other plans. In the beginning, people came to me out of ...dare I say....nosiness. They wanted the details. The dirt. On why the marriage had failed. Over time, many years, their questions have changed. And as I answer the questions, my heart centers on one verse that I know I can absolutely personally claim to be true...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20. I know,  I have always known, that Satan sought to destroy my family. And, in a sense, he succeeded. One home, is now two. And it hurt. At times, it still hurts. But even though the "family" lost the fight, God is winning the war. This week, I have had no fewer than 15 people ask me about the aftermath of our divorce. Wanting encouragement, wanting to know how we have remained committed as parents, even though we were no longer spouses. They want to know how the girls are thriving. How the family has experienced restoration, without reconciliation. Wanting to know more about God's mercy. His goodness...I only have one answer...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20.

And so, as I proclaim "This is my story, this is my song" I can't help but wonder....does Satan ever regret waging war on our household? Because even though the battle has been bloody at times, the victory is certain. God is touching lives. I am humbled by my part. I am grateful for a testimony that has much more depth than it had a decade ago....for a faith that I know, without a doubt, is placed in a holy, living God...and for that, every battle has been worth fighting.

Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the.....

1. My itty bitty is sick. Nothing serious, just a cold. But she's miserable. And I can't fix it.
2. My first born had a migraine a couple of nights ago. It broke my heart. I wouldn't wish a migraine on my worst enemy, much less my child. I'm sorry this is in our genetic pool, B. But you handled it with grace.
3. My blond child has a sore on her toe...I didn't want to leave her out of the list.....
4. A chicken on the Tyson truck in front of us spewed out some bodily fluids this morning. I would prefer a bug on my windshield.
5. The high today in Bar Harbor, Maine is 81........sigh........our high is 102......
6. I stayed up last night just to watch Bravo's Million Dollar Decorators. Its disgraceful how much that show entertains me.
7. I spent Sunday afternoon with a friend I grew up with. She makes my heart happy. Never, in all the years that we have known each other, have I ever had to explain one of my jokes to her. She makes me laugh until liquids come out of my nose. She's so awesome.
8. I've been trying to work on an essay about Love....its harder than I thought....because mental Memory Lane is still under construction. Some detours have not been cleaned up, and put to order. They still look like a War Zone. And sometimes I get side tracked.
9. I know I've loved. But I wonder if I've ever been loved. Unconditionally. By someone who bore no blood ties to me. And who wasn't a Froot Loop. Or my Heavenly Father.
10. and see....here I've sat....it's a topic that always perplexes me to the point of losing all perspective on time....and so....Evidently I've lost the creative flow. That's what happens in a War Zone. I can't even figure out if I am in fact the windshield, being splat with the world's stuff....or if I'm the bug, doing my best to dodge all those big sheets of glass hurling themselves at me.....

And my heart says..... "Ahhhh"......

I have been able to sew this week. Really sew. Not a make-it-tonight, wear-it-tomorrow quickie. Not something for my girls, or the house, or my precious customers....something for ME. That required tons of tailoring, trimming, and topstitching. Its been several years since I took on this type of project. I loved every minute of it. And throughout the process, I of course thought about all the women who have given my heart the ability to........."ahhhhh".....

Mom, yes. I cut straight, sat up straight at the machine, and absolutely...You can look at the inside of my pencil skirt when you get home. Provided I'm not wearing it. Mrs. Overbey...I loved and patted that fabric every minute I was handling it. I loved it so carefully, there are not even enough scraps for a quilt square. Mrs. Bourgois, I pulled and tied my tails. In a perfect square knot. I trimmed, and notched, and understitched every blessed square inch. And while I was doing the hand stitching, I remembered how in class you would at times take our hand stitching away from us. Just so you could do a few stitches. You loved it that much. Ms. Rablais, I agree. The pink damask is more suited to an upholstery project than clothing. But upon my fiber testing, I determined that it was made of all natural components (cotton, to be exact) and I properly treated it before I began. I felt that the juxtaposition of the damask to a pencil skirt would be the only way Mrs. Marquette would climb on board...I just never was quite modern enough for her taste. Upon completion, I have determined that my rear very closely resembles a couch cushion, so in the end...you should both be happy. Dr. Belleau, Ma'am, it is with great reverence and trepidation that I humbly submit my project for your approval...all while never making eye contact and backing slowly from the room. My eyes were appropriately dropped to the floor, Ma'am, except for the brief moment that they glanced up to see if your nostril would flare, or if your eyebrow would flicker. Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am. Cym...I miss you. I miss your shop. I miss you inspecting every seam while I sat with baited breath. I even miss you telling me to rip it out 37 times and try again, if only for the satisfaction I felt when the 38th time was acceptable. I miss you telling me it was time for a coffee break....which meant I was to hop up, and fix the coffee....I miss your regalness, your confidence, your impeccableness (is that even a word? It should be. She was always impeccable.) I miss the bolts of Italian cashmere that sewed....like butter...the silk charmuse that could be ruined by a hang-nail. The linen, that made everything in the world seem right. Egyptian cottons, that made shirts so crisp...the women would stand and look at themselves in the fitting mirror for endless amounts of time. Or maybe that was just because they were the most self-involved blue bloods under the sun. I even miss them. And the look that would pass between us when they were prattling on and on about the upcoming Cotillions (nothing more than a fancy dance with lots of liquor). I've missed my Bs this week, but I have thoroughly enjoyed revisiting, in my mind, the ladies that gave me the skills (after I gave them LOTS of money) that have allowed my heart to say........ahhhhh.......

One of those days....

Its just been one of those days. I should have seen it coming. My hair cooperated all too well this morning. A sure sign that the rest of the day was going down hill. I spoke a tad too sternly in the car this morning, but wanted to scream and yell. Maybe I should have-gotten it out of my system. Instead, I worked to grin and bear it all day. Finally made it to 4:00-Wednesday is a close-early day (Yay!). Came home, determined to redeem the day....

The kittens learned how to climb WAY UP HIGH today. I'll spare you the majority of the details, except to say there are clear (read: impossible to see until you step on them) marbles EVERYWHERE. I don't even know why we have the marbles in the first place. (or why we have the kittens, for that matter.) They also found several spools of thread. Which they played with while chasing marbles...can you imagine the spider web obstacle course throughout the house???

I finally found my way to the oven. The roast was going to be balm for our souls tonight. Or rather noon tomorrow. Which is the soonest it will possibly be done. Plan B: chicken and rice casserole. Easily thrown together. Still putting a home-cooked meal in front of my Bs...then I realized it looked funny...re-evaluated the situation and had forgotten to add the rice. Mixed in the rice using a plastic fork. Don't ask why that was my utensil of choice. Okay. Ask why. Like I have any pride left in this day. There were only four regular forks clean. Didn't want to have to wash one before we ate. Will throw everything in the dishwasher after dinner. As if I'm the only one too lazy to wash a single fork. Anyway, I am using the plastic fork. Which then breaks while I'm stirring in the rice. (Yes, I was taking some of the day's frustrations out on the little tiny grains)

So. Needless to say, someone's bite of nourishment tonight will come complete with a prong of a clear plastic fork. THat's right. I couldn't find it, and I finally quit looking. Chew carefully, girls. Whoever finds it gets to do the dishes.

Blessed.....beyond measure.....

1. Lucky is having a friend that will give you a hug and say "You poor thing." Blessed is having a friend that will kick you in the rear and tell you to "Deal with it."
2. Lucky is a friend that tells you to call if you need anything. Blessed is the friend that calls you at 1am because she knows you need to talk.
3. Lucky is having a friend that knows you don't feel good, and tells you that you look good, no matter what. Blessed is a friend that will fix your hair and do your makeup, because she loves you too much to let you be seen looking as bad as you feel.
4. Lucky is having a friend that you can call if you are in trouble. Blessed is having a friend that keeps an envelope of cash in the back of her sock drawer. Because she knows that should a certain person ever say the wrong thing on the right day....she's going to need to bail you out of jail. And she's ready.
5. Lucky is having friends to compare war wounds with. Blessed is having a friend whose battle scars are carbon copies of yours. Because she's fought every fight you have. Side by side.
6. Lucky is having a friend show up with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. Blessed is having a friend who looks you dead in the eye and tells you that you better not wreck your diet over the latest bump. And she means it.
7. Lucky is having a friend that will stand next to you while you make a complete and total fool of yourself in public. Blessed is having a friend who darts out to bring the car to the door. She knows you can handle yourself just fine. But when you are finished making an absolute rear of yourself in front of God and everyone...it will be time to get the heck out of dodge.
8. Lucky is having a friend tell you that she's praying for you. Blessed is having a friend sit with her arms wrapped around you while you scream at God...knowing that if He strikes you with lightening, she's going with you...but she refuses to let you hurt alone.
9. Lucky is having a friend that encourages you to get some rest. Blessed is having a friend that gives you her last sleeping pill and tucks you into bed. Knowing everything will look better on the back end of 12 hours of sleep. And then she stays to fold your laundry. Because she's just awesome that way.
10. Lucky is having a friend that will overlook transgressions for the sake of the friendship. Blessed is having a friend that will fight with you. Loudly. Because what you have matters too much to let stuff go unresolved.
11. Lucky is having a friend who will sit thru hours on end of you trying on clothes, trying to find just the right thing. Blessed is having a friend who jimmies the dressing room door lock and intervenes in a situation going downhill fast...saving you from yourself...and the frightening pile of jeans....
12. Lucky is having a friend tell you that she hopes your day gets better. Blessed is having a friend show up and tell your kids to get in her car. Because she knows that otherwise, the day doesn't stand a chance.
13. Lucky is having a friend that will support you, no matter what. Blessed is having a friend that knows when she needs to step in and take mattters into her own hands...because even though your heart knows what needs to be done, your head just can't make the rest of your body cooperate.
14. Lucky is having a friend tell you "life isn't fair." Blessed is having a friend who gives you her last pair of big girl panties. And holds your purse while you put them on.
15. I am blessed...beyond measure.....

Would you like a spoonful of peanut butter, Mr. President?

435 Representatives, 100 Senators, a President, and a Vice-President....unable to balance a budget. In my mind, this is completely and totally unacceptable. How many people this past April sent the IRS a note...."Sorry, we are having to default this year on our taxes. My spouse and I just can't seem to agree on how to work out our budget for the year." Or how many have left an "IOU" at the gas pump...or sitting on the grocery shelf...No one. It would be considered stealing, and you would be punished. As managers of our households, we have to make the amount of money we have work. That means hard decisions. At times, agonizing decisions. But that's part of being a grown up. You do the hard thing. You tell your kids..."We're having scrambled eggs for dinner. And for a special treat, I might put some cheese on them"....or, "Mom, what's for lunch? Get a spoonful of peanut butter, sweetie" You eat beans and cornbread until you fear a bean sprout is going to come out of your nose. You turn off the cable, and internet service, recognizing those things are not necessities. Trips to the movies halt. The thermostat is set on 80 degrees, and clothes are put on the clothesline to keep the electric bill at a level you can pay. You do the hard thing. And you survive.
I think its time our government officials took a time out. Treat them like the petulant children that they are. I would love to see many of them get a good old-fashioned thrashing, but in this day of political correctness, I realize that's not going to happen. So send them to a fancy painted chair, preferably monogrammed with their initials (so as to protect their self-esteem) and tell them to sit and watch. Then send a "right" and a "left" housewife from each state to Washington, and give them the August 2nd deadline. I'd being willing to wager that they would all be back home by the end of next week... because by then, someone will be out of clean underwear, and that laundry is not going to do itself.

The Lizard Wore Bunny Slippers...

There was a lizard in my store this morning when I came to work. My mom came and stood guard while I went home to get the cats. It's their job to seek, capture, kill, and utterly destroy. They've been napping in the dressing room all day. (Totally unaware that they have eaten their last meal. I don't feed those who don't work.) Mom went home to get dad (he still can't drive because of his knee replacement). We couldn't find the evil creature, and dad said all the right things to convince me that the beast would find its way out and I would likely never see him again. They left, and I went next door for a bathroom break...since I hadn't found Satan's Spawn, I of course couldn't use my facilities. A lizard's #1 hiding spot is under the rim of a toilet. You probably didn't know that, did you? Imagine how many have almost crawled up...never mind. Focus.....Anyway. I went next door. When I returned, HE WAS WAITING FOR ME by the bookshelf. Of course, I screamed. Which made the three men waiting in the parking lot chuckle quite a bit. But only one was brave enough to come investigate. While the other two stood behind him and peered around him. It was quite obvious that even though they laughed at me, it was a cover-up for the terror they felt being that close to something capable of eating out your eyeballs. They gave up. Unable to find Lucifer the Lizard. I then did the only thing I could do. Call on Clause 17 found in Article 13, Section 2B which states, in part...."In addition, the Plaintiff therefore now and forever more, realizes the very real and ever present danger of both reptiles and amphibians in the great state of Arkansas. Since the Defendant agrees to remain in the great state of Arkansas, the Plaintiff is under legal obligation to now and forever more always be available to seek, capture, kill, and utterly destroy, any reptiles or amphibians that may threaten the life of the Defendant, or their offspring. This mission, it is understood by the acknowledgement of the signature of the Plaintiff on the court's document, will always take precedence over any activity or endeavor that the Plaintiff may find himself involved in. So says the Court." So. I called the Plaintiff. He had taken our children to lunch. I explained that they needed to wrap it up, and come catch a lizard. (Remember. We lived in Baton Rouge for 4 years. This was not the first call of this nature he had ever received.) In the meantime, I propped the door of the store open. And stood an a chair, holding a broom. Because this is appropriate combat positon. In my stealth position, Lucifer the Lizard peeked his head out from behind the bookcase. I stifled a scream. We made eye contact. I will see those black beads in my sleep tonight. I remained in positon. Hoping he would think I spend all my time on a chair, holding a broom. He inched his way toward the door. Stopping on the threshold. Trying to decide whether to return to the world, or... quick like a cat, spin around and lunge for my eyeballs. My heart actually stopped beating for a few minutes while I waited to see what he would do. He stepped outside. I used my broom handle to push the fire extenguisher that had been propping the door open, out of the way. The vet pulled into the parking lot, and appropriately removed the evil creature from the sidewalk and property. He knows his job, and out the door is not sufficient. I want a death certificate.
It was only after I knew for certain that our lives had been spared that I could smile. At the image of Lucifer the Lizard creeping out of here. With four dust bunny slippers on his feet, courtesy of the land..."Behind the Bookshelves"...

Happy Birthday.....squared...

I lay on the table, draped in a sheet. My husband stood next to me, holding our 15mth old daughter. I was waiting for the technician to give me the all clear. My bloodwork didn't look good, and I was there for the doctor to determine if infection had set in following an almost 12 week miscarriage. The screen from the ultrasound meant nothing to me. I was watching my husband's face for a clue. When the tech literally jumped up and ran out to get a doctor, combined with the absolute look of shock, and terror on my husband's face...I became terrifed. I knew surgery must be imminent. Tears started to trickle out of the corner of my eyes. Brittany babbled, unaware of how tightly she was being held. The doctor came in, and didn't say a word as he started to scan me. He made eye contact with Shane and Shane gave a slight nod..."I know." "You know?" the doctor seemed surprised. "I'm a vet. I know." The doctor only nodded. Everything in me was screaming. I didn't know. Was the infection  so bad that I would never have more children? Was I going to die?? Who was going to raise Brittany? I didn't finish the dishes before we came.... I was quickly, silently, putting on my Drama Queen crown. Finally, the doctor remembered that the uterus he was looking at was attached to a person. Bringing me up to speed, he pointed to the screen. Identifying not one, but two babies. My face now matched my husband's. Barely 6 weeks pregnant, we started what has been the ride of a lifetime.

The pregnancy was horrid. Every single day. I felt like two aliens had taken possession of my body. I've never been one to experience the "glow" of motherhood. More like radiating a neon-green color, sweat pouring off of me while I heaved into the toilet for the 123rd time each day. I am not exaggerating. My ribs looked like I had been beaten. Bruised from the force of the vomitting. For 7 1/2 mths, until the babies arrived prematurely. I loved every minute of it. I was having twins.

Its no secret that I essentially became a single mother after the babies were born. Three children, all under the age of two. I can remember thinking I would never sleep again. There were days that they all cried so much I thought their lungs would just give out. Unless mine did first, since I was crying right along with them. I remember calling my dad one day, and he came to get Brittany after he got off of work. I met him at the door, holding babies, in pjs that I had been wearing for a couple of days. They were covered in milk sewage from various ends of my offspring. As  was my hair, back, big toe.... projectile vomiting even from a newborn is a force of nature in its self. He took Brittany, only after getting me to promise him that I would shower. My mom came as often as she could. She was usually the only one that could get Breanna to stop crying, and eat...and then sleep. I was exhausted, and overwhelmed, and blissfully happy. Motherhood was all I had ever wanted.

Over the years, being the mother to twins has given me a front row seat at God's grace. I cannot count the number of times that I have cried out for the strength, the energy, to just make it 30 more minutes until bedtime. Times that I have begged God to lend me His ears because mine just couldn't absorb any more words from tiny, precious mouths. I've folded miles of diapers, teeny socks, ball uniforms until I was cross-eyed...all the while, wondering if it had a bit of worth in all of eternity. And what I have found, and would pass on to all the mamas still in those sleepless years, is that....yes. Yes. In all of eternity, it does matter. God has given me the grace, the strength, the patience every time I've needed it. I saw His hand, the night we came home from church, and itty bitty ask "Mommy, that stuff at church about Jesus coming back some day, and we don't know when it might be...I just need to know one thing. Is it true? Because if it is, I need to pray and get Him in my heart." That night, it was a different kind of tears that fell. More tears fell when I watched my dad baptize both twins. I've heard them share their faith with friends, with strangers, without a second thought. I see a bond between my daughters that overwhelms me at times. They fight. Never think they don't. But I would dare anyone to try to come between them. They still exhaust me. And overwhelm me. And make me cry. But more often than not, the tears are from laughter. My daughters have brought so much joy, and humor to our world. I am seeing glimpses of the women that God is molding them into. And I know the ride is far from over....and I am humbled that He would allow me to be a part of the journey. Happy Birthday, my babies. You make every day worth getting out of bed....you also make getting out of bed very necessary...I love you, and I adore being your mother.