Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

The other day, I was walking into the bank, and I had a passing thought,

"I should just clear out our entire bank account."

Ha.  I had to chuckle at the thought of poor Tim's face looking at all the zeros in our balance.

Then I thought, I could leave because, technically, my car is in my name.

I want to be very clear here before you start worrying about how this story is going to end.

I was not upset.  I was not mad. I was not unhappy.  Quite the opposite, actually.

I just had The Glumps.

They were the 14-year-old-boy Glumps where all you want to do is lie on the couch playing xbox, ditching your responsibilities, and eating someone else's hot pockets.

You don't want to go to The Post Office.

You don't want to return that skirt you said you'd return 3 weeks ago, and you CERTAINLY don't want to spend money paying down your credit card debt.

Yowza.

I imagine the 14-year-old-boy- Glumps look a little something like this.

Anthony Michael Hall photo courtesy of nerdarama.com

I was thinking about Going Somewhere.  Anywhere.  At that point, New Mexico sounded pretty good to me.  

Yick for responsibilities. I say, Yick.  

Bring on the xbox.  (Ok. We don't even have an xbox, but I think you know what I mean). 

Then, I walked out to the parking lot and saw a man wearing a t-shirt that simply said

submit to it.

That was all it said.

I simultaneously wanted to hug him and punch him in the face.

I started thinking about Proverbs 31- what God has said about being a good wife.  I don't think it is "easier" to be a husband.*  I just think it is less detailed.  Less complex.

Love me.
Lead me.
Provide. Protect.

Whereas being a wife?  Holy cow.  There is an entire section of The Bible dedicated to helping women understand how to be good wives.

Be resourceful. Work hard.  Get up early.  Be generous.  Be wise. Be prepared.  Manage your time.

The list goes on.

Submit.

Oh yea. That's right.  I know there are a lot of women out there who balk at that word.  Submit.  Before Tim and I got married, our pastor at the time (who is awesome), said that when you submit, you pledge your allegiance to someone or something.

And I really loved that.

But I also think it is about giving yourself over to something that is greater.  Running a household.  Being responsible.  Going to the stupid Post Office at 4 o'clock the evening before a major holiday.

photo source

Boo.

It's about acknowledging that being a wife and having a good marriage is dang hard.  You will drown in the details of those verses.

Unless you are willing to sacrifice.

Unless you know how to submit.

Which I am, and I do. I guess.

Love and some days are better than others,
H.

P.S. A note for Tim: 

     I am not moving to New Mexico because gas is expensive. Plus, I would be terribly sad to wake up with no tiny beasts weighing down my covers and you are the only one who knows how to make The Best Omelet Ever. And I would miss you.

And there are scorpions in New Mexico and (pardon my grammar)but  I ain't havin' none of that.  

*For the record, I think being a Husband is way harder than being a
wife because when the zombies attack-  let's face it, Tim Young and his ferocious white beast will totally be the ones climbing out of the
attic to get more chips & salsa.  Unloading the dishwasher, I can handle.  Fending off The Undead? No thanks.

It's raining cats and dogs

Eee Gads.  It is cold in my neck of the woods.  And rainy to boot.  Meh.  The truly sad part is- IT HAS BEEN LIKE THIS FOR WEEKS. 

 Here. This will make you feel better.

source

http://www.flickr.com/photos/devlyn/919754971/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/

Love, 

H.  

My Friend Streppy

     So, strep throat and I have been in an on again-off-again relationship longer than Britney and K-fed.  I catch it at least once a year.  At least.  On one occasion, I even caught it FOUR times.  Once in the summer even.  


Yeck.  


Last year's incident was the sickest I have ever been. Ever.  103.5 degree fever. 
 This is what I looked like. 

Terrible, right?  


     Well, good ole' streppy is back.  Two sick days and one z-pack later, and I think I'm on the mend.  Tonight, I drug myself to Parent/Teacher Conferences.  I ended up having some down time which was both a blessing and a curse.  In my experience, when you are trapped, alone in a classroom for an extended period of time, you start to go a little nutty...thinking about all The Stuff you all still have left to do as a class.  


Holiest of all Holy Cows.  


There are math facts to memorize and presidents to study.  Mountains to draw and reports to write.  


Then came The Glumps.  The Shoulda-woulda-coulda's.  The Nothing's-Ever-Good-Enough's. 


Meh. 


I shouldn't have missed these two days (um. see above.  Yes. I should have).  We should have finished this unit faster.  I should have skipped ahead and covered this instead. 


You know the drill.    


But on the way home, I thought of this quote. 

     I think we're gonna be ok.  Guess what.  You will be, too.  And here's another photo taken after last year's Strep Throat Debacle....so that first photo doesn't haunt your dreams.  

Love, blurry Macbook photos, and now I want to grow my hair out again, 
H.  

Something I haven't even told my mom

      This is a post about something I've yet to tell my mom.  And I tell her everything.  The truth is (I hate saying that because it leads you to believe that some things I say aren't THE TRUTH, but "the truth is," I just can't kick the habit).

     Anyway, the truth is, I pulled my back out yesterday.  While putting on my shoes.  My new-last-pair-in-my-size-got-them-on-sale-berry colored boots, no less.  So, I spent the better part of today walking around like The Grinch.  This is how The Grinch walks, in case you forget.   Cause you probably haven't seen him since last year (Haha).

source unknown

So, needless to say, I'm Rather Grumpy and feeling quite brazen in regards to the news I do and do not share today.

Lucky us, right?

     I just finished Crowded Skies by Tara Leigh Cobble.  It's amazing.

     You should know that I don't take my book reviews lightly.  In this, her second memoir, TLC shares the details of her move to New York City.  And it's odd.  It's odd because a lot of her journey in regards to New York reminded me of my pursuit to stay home with our future kiddos.  She often prays for God to Do Something.

That's right.  Something.

     Two nights ago, I dreamed that I was offered a part-time position as our school's librarian (which would rock, by the way). However, I'm pretty sure that position is never going to exist in real life.

But I thought of this book and started praying that God would Do Something.  I started praying that God would do Something that would help us get our own version of New York City.

And today, Tim lost his job.

     Whoa.  I should have told you to sit down for that one.  Ha. See, that is so fun because I totally knew that's what this post was about and you had no clue!  You should see the look on your face right now.  You're shocked right?

Yea, us too.

The truth is, we think it is a temporary/seasonal lay-off.

And I think I wanted a rainstorm and accidentally received a drought.

And today, I got in the car and cried.  Not because I'm afraid.  Not because I'm upset.  I just cried from the sheer weight of it all.

      When we were little, my sister and I would wrestle.  That's right.  We would wrestle...in our little spandex gymnastic tights.  Even though there is not a Mean Bone in Sweet Heather Marie's body, I would still start to cry when she would lay on me.  I knew.  I understood that I was going to have to surrender.  I would have to give up.

    Last summer, I wrote about feeling small.  I wrote about spending the day in the airport and realizing that the time had come for Tim and I to surrender to something that was greater than ourselves.

How much do you love the word surrender?

And, once again- here we are.

Today, I read a story to my kids about a penguin who gets separated from his friends when his island of ice breaks in half.  Later, he writes in the snow...

I Give Up.

(Don't worry, it ends well).

And I think there is just something so inspiring about that little guy.  Giving up.

Sometimes, I try to be inspiring.  I try to say things to you like, "So if you are reading this and you feel....or if you are reading this and you have a case of The Glumps, then...."

But today, I've got nothing.

The truth is, I don't know what God is doing...but I give up.

I give up, but I'm still in...if that makes any sense.  I'm still in for whatever He has in store for us.

This was not the Something I expected.

Then again, it rarely is, right?

Love,
H.

And now, I shall go call my mom.

Sister, Daughter, Wife, Carrot

This is a post about Christmas.  An unbearably late post about Christmas.  For some reason, what with everyone setting New Year's Resolutions, and all...it just felt...necessary. Maybe you'll see what I mean.  An Unbearably Late Post About Christmas.  Please Forgive.  

     This year, I was bound and determined to blow everyone's minds with Christmas Craftiness.  I was going to do something really outside-the box like find a way to make a really rad color like mustard yellow look Christmas-y.  I was going to gather all kinds of things from outside and spray paint them so everything would look super clean yet still kind of woodsy.


I was going to decorate in mono chromatics.  All white....all blue...all silver.


Boo-yah.


And then I started actually decorating, and I realized...all that was a lot for one christmas.  It was too much pressure.


I feel like we are still setting up house, to a certain extent.  So much of our decor, for a long time, has been things that were given to us or things I purchased, on a whim, at the dollar store.  Of course, many of these things have value.  We appreciate people's generosity, and of course the opportunity to find a good bargain.  However, I have had a really hard time feeling like our house is "us."  After nearly 2 and 1/2 years, I think we are finally catching our stride.


With that being said, you know I have a tendency to struggle with The Glumps.  You know I have a tendency to look at people and things in life as "me-upgrades."   This does not mean I have a low self-esteem.  (Let's face it, I rock and so do you).  This just means I am honest.  We all want to feel like we are putting our best, most-true-to-self foot forward- like we are expressing ourselves as we really are whether that's a blog layout, a pair of boots or a set of candlesticks.  The danger lies in the constant second guessing.  It's true.


So, I got out our Christmas decor and went to work.  I was a crazy person.  Moving things.  Sorting things.  MESSING with "things."  I was dangerously close to using words like "aesthetically pleasing" and "symmetrical."


And then it hit me.


This is not what Christmas is about.  


I heard, quite clearly, the words, "Less is more."


I think my friend, Carmen refers to it as "a call to simplicity."


So, that is what we did.


And then I went to one of my favorite antique stores and found this little number. (The Antique Tobacco tin in the right hand corner) 

And a light went on.


Tim and I?  We like old things.  Very old things.  We gushed over a set of antique model airplane replicas we recently spotted.  Our last Netflix we watched together featured Kathrine Hepburn.*  We'll take old, solid wood over plastic any day (although we do love IKEA)!


So, here we are.  The decor is not "clean."  It is not modern.  There's no glitter.  But it's us.


I remember reading a book called "Reviving Ophelia...."  which, in hindsight was very "late 90's-lilith-fair-Sarah Mchlachlan-grunge"of me, but it's still a good read nonetheless.


In said book, there is a quote from a girl who states, "I'm a perfectly good carrot that everyone is trying to turn into a rose.  As a carrot, I have good color and a nice, leafy top.  When I'm carved into a rose, I turn brown and whither."


And I recall thinking, "Yes.  That is so me."


I had to laugh as I thought about that now, because I don't feel like anyone is trying to "make" me be anything anymore ((sigh of relief)).  I think my late 20's/early 30's are going to really be about finding myself, cheesy as it sounds.


Nay, finding myself and owning it.


"Me upgrades" be darned!


So, there you have it.


And I leave you with this, my cousin's daughter Norah on Halloween!  Yet another shining example of a perfectly good carrot!  Have you ever seen a more adorable vegetable!?!?!   Yes, for this post, a child in a carrot costume just seemed fitting.

Love and antique tobacco tins,
H: Sister, Daughter, Wife, Proud Carrot


*The movie we watched was called Desk Set.  You should watch it.  

The Chase is All You Know

     I have been posting a lot of fluff lately.  It's ok.  I can admit.  Craft projects.  Random photos and the like.  I figure it's about high time for a Post.  With a capital P.  


     Tonight, Tim and I had A Talk.  That's right.  A Talk.  It was hard.  But it was good.  I didn't cry.  But I did find myself asking him, "You're not....unhappy...are you?"  He politely said, "no."  God bless him.  


     So, he put on his p.j.'s because tonight's chat was particularly exhausting, and I made something very un-professional-like for dinner (hot dogs sauteed* with peppers and onions), drank warm fresca out of the can and tried to get all my thoughts to move in single file.    


     I worry about the failing marriages in this country.  I think the danger lies in getting married and thinking that the other person is automatically going to be able to understand and follow every little crumb we throw down.     


     There are times when Tim will refer back to something I've said, and I think to myself, "THAT'S what you got out of that conversation!?!?!"  Not as a criticism of him, per se, but more as an observation of how terribly inaccurate our points can sometimes come across.  


     I don't ever say, "He gets me." when I talk about Tim because the truth is, I hate to sound unromantic, but he doesn't.  He doesn't GET me. (If you are one of those people who says this about your significant other, don't sweat it.  It makes you no less adorable/compatible, but just hear me out.) 


     Does he understand my sense of humor?  You betcha.  Do we have similar upbringings?  Spending styles? Parenting ideas?  Of course.  He supports my faith, my hobbies.  He drowns out my fears.  

But does he "get" me?  Not a chance.  


     We had two completely different childhoods.  Different upbringings.  Different kinds of relationships.  As man/woman, we use different parts of our brains, function with varying levels of chemicals in our bodies (estrogen/testosterone- not, you know, drugs).  The list goes on.  

     The truth is, I did not realize I would have to fight for my marriage.  This is not a bad thing, just something I had yet to discover when I said, "I do."  


     Because, let's face it.  There are days where we don't necessarily fight each other.  There are just days when I think we are fighting for each other...and it's exhausting...times when we are talking seriously in the hallway, and I notice that my newest craft project has lost a letter and now reads, "TRUE LOVE WILL FIN YOU IN THE END."  


Meh.  


     So I have to drive off to the craft store and spend entirely too much time in the yarn aisle, just waiting for The Glumps to subside.  


     I just wonder if the state of marriage in this country is in such disrepair simply because people are tired.  Or they just don't know that all that fighting for each other?  It's okay.  


     So, I don't say all this because we have all the answers (we don't).  Or because we are perfect and wonderful and happy all the time (um. we kind of are).  :)  


     I just say all this because I think if you catch yourself fighting for something... shoot, if you catch yourself just fighting, I want you to know that it's going to be okay.  


He's not ever going to GET you.  But he sure is going to try.  

Love and unwarranted advice, 
H.  


*Next time you fix something un-professional-like for dinner, just use the word "sauté."  It makes everything sound so much fancier! 


Photos via: 
papersponge.com

posteravatar.com

theblogofrecord.com

The One Where I Almost Forget About Number Three

     Well, I will tell you that lately, I am tempted to feel oh-so-discouraged.  I feel like I've had to face a lot of hard conversations lately.  Yikes. They are hard, but they are good.  I started to write a long-winded dittitude (that's like a 'ditty' but longer), about some worrisome things* but instead, I decided on this.  


(((clears throat)))


Number One:  I want to lose weight.  I need to lose weight.   So there's that.  


Number Two:  I want to stay home with our kiddos.  Maybe that means working part-time.  Maybe that means becoming a work-at-home mom.  I don't know, but all's I know is that I wants it.  I wants it real' bad.**  


Number Three:  Now that I have your attention, I honestly can't remember this one.  
Boy is my face red. ***


Well, anyway- I want Numbers One & Two someday, and they seem mighty important. 


With that being said, I was tempted to give into those nasty ole' glumps, but at last- I have successfully chased them away.  


I have successfully chased them away because to tell you the truth- I am not giving up.  


I'm not.  I can't. I won't.  


Also, I kicked them to the curb while giving them a look that says, "I mean business."  Those suckers were cryin' for their mamas in no time.  


Scary, right?  

Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!

Are the glumps at your doorstep?  Send them my way, and I'll show em' who's boss.

Love and more glump-wrangling if you need it,
H.

*I was going to capitalize Worrisome Things, but then realized that our worries aren't really worth a capital letter now, are they?  So, tiny-lettered- worries they shall stay!

**I hope you think using bad grammar and made-up words is as amusing as I do.  If not, then my apologies for sure.

*** A BOOK!  I want to write a book!  I am 10,000 words in and pretty darn excited! How could I forget?

Secrets Revealed

    I should probably tell you that Tim has volunteered to teach a Sunday School Class for 18-25 year olds.  Lately, we've been talking about how at the end of the day (ok, at the end of our lives) we are judged according to how we lead the other people God puts in our paths.  It terrifies me to think we will be held accountable for the way these college kiddos turn out (to a certain extent).          


     Basically, when you are under that kind of pressure, you start to take a serious look at your life.  You start wondering how in the world you can get all your crooked little ducks in a row, right?  


     With that being said,  you already know that sometimes, I am a terrible person.  In more ways than one.  Well, here is more proof of terribleness. Sometimes, it feels like I encounter other girls who appear to be a "me-upgrade."  Do you ever feel like that?  (Please say yes).  Like if you find a vintage coach wallet at a thrift store, there is a girl out there who not only finds the wallet, she also finds the matching handbag.  And it just stinks.  And what's worse is that these girls are perfectly nice people.  Nice girls.  Friendly girls. Sweethearts.  So, it's not like you can say, "Well, she may have the handbag, but at least I'm not a jerkface."  


     So, then came the glumps.  That's right.  I've been feeling a bit glumpy lately.  One morning, the only prayer I could muster was, "Lord, I think I've gone crazy."  


       It is funny/interesting/sad how you can enjoy something so much that it takes away from other aspects of your life.  I love blogging.  I love reading blogs.  I love staying connected through Facebook, but honestly- I'm not always good at finding the balance.  It has been several days since I've taken Scarlett out on the bike- and we love going out on the bike.  It has been weeks since I've finished a book or made a new craft.  And I LOVE books and crafts.  Weeks.  Meh.  

     And after my "I've gone crazy" prayer, He said, "Maybe you should go a week without the internet."  


     To which I replied, "You want me to spend my FAIR BREAK, at home ALONE with no internet?"  


     "You heard me." 


     So, that's what I did...or am doing.  I don't really know what giving up the internet has to do with feeling glumpy or comparing myself to the "cool" girls, but I'm willing to give it a shot nonetheless, and I hope I can find some answers along the way.  


      So, you see-for the past 5 days or so, the posts that have shown up were scheduled- written several days before they actually showed up (pretty cool, huh?).  I can't really tell you how it's going or what I've learned because, honestly, I typed this up the day before my "fast."  


Anyway...


Are you feeling glumpy lately?  What's the plan?  


See you tomorrow (Saturday, Oct. 2nd)*


Love and no more glumps, 
H. 


*I typed this one roughly a week ago, and it feels like time-travel.  


                                                                                                                                                source unknown