Jodilightful!

Number of weeks I’ve been wearing these glasses *in public* all the time… 6. At least.

Number of months before that that I wore my last pair of monthly disposable contact lenses… 16. (Please don’t tell my optometrist - I think they can fire you from contact wearership for less than that!)

Number of months ago my mom gave me a homemade gift certificate for new contacts for my birthday (think *intervention*) … 7.

Number of minutes it took me on the phone to *finally* make an appointment last week… 3.5.

Number of hours at the optometrist yesterday getting new contacts… 2.

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New contact lenses…. About time!!!

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

If you’ve been coming here hoping to find inspiration, then I daresay you’ve been sorely disappointed this past couple of weeks.  I have no good excuse for why my thoughts lately have been more on the mundane, and less on the things of the Lord, but I can offer something by way of explanation.  You see, my Ladies’ Bible study finished for the semester at Easter time, and my marriage Bible study has had a two week break.  So without these externals in place to force me deeper into the Word, it’s just been me and… well, the Word.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve still been reading it every day most days, but without a study guide asking me probing questions, I’m afraid far too many of God’s precious thoughts just wash over me.

A few nights ago I was listening to hymns in the car (a different CD from my usual one, just to change it up a bit), and this great classic that I’ve heard a million times just hit me.  Truth be known, I was probably thinking about what I could blog about when I got home.  I have a list a mile long of things that are on my mind and that I would *like* to blog about (a new favorite YouTube clip, the Dugggars’ impending #18, and the 2007 Official SSA Top Baby Names, just to tease you), but none of them seemed quite worthy of my attention in light of the words of this great hymn.

“Thou my best thought, by day or by night,”  cut right through all of the fluff that daily fills my mind, and reminded my soul what it ought to be fixating on.  God, His holiness, His mercy, His unfathomable love: these are what my best thoughts rest on.  I just haven’t been having enough “best thoughts” lately.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

This second verse is equally powerful, reminding me to guard my spoken (or typed) words carefully.  God Himself is “my wisdom” and “my true word”.  What I say that honors Him and voices His truth, this is wise and true.  Everything else that comes out of my mouth (or keyboard): probably not so much worth saying.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

This verse brings me to tears if I read the words enough times.  How instantly my heart recognizes its own shortcomings when confronted with these words!  I wonder how many times I’ve thoughtlessly sung that God is my treasure, that He and He only is first in my heart, that I heed not man’s empty praise, while simultaneously wondering if my singing sounds okay to the people around me or how my hair looks to those in the pew behind me.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

Yet in Christ, in spite of my tremendous failures, there is this incredible promise of hope.  Not hope in the I-hope-it-doesn’t-rain-tomorrow sense, but hope in the God-says-it-will-be-this-way-so-we-can-rest-assured-it-will-be sense.  God, in Christ, has already defeated this sin that so easily draws my heart away from the One who is my vision.  For now, I may be dull-minded and distracted and catch only glimpses of Him. But when I do have these moments of clarity, I can know that they are only the tiniest taste of Heaven’s joys, and that someday, when I am in His presence, my every thought will be “my best thought.”

To my shame, I do not nearly often enough pay tribute to my mother here. My mother-in-law got her own post once, and my step-mother’s had a glowing mention here and there, but for the most part, my mom only gets a playful shout-out once in a while. You all know that I depend on her and miss her a ton when I don’t get to spend time with her, but I’ve never really told you how much she means to me.

So I was thinking, what would mean the most to my mom this Mother’s Day? It is quite possible that what she desires more than anything else is a day off work (or a month), but I don’t have that kind of sway. Second to that, she might love for me to get my head out of the blogosphere for long enough to get some eBay listings done for her store. Just in case, I did that first.

Then I thought, hey, my mom loves a good laugh, and she thinks my kids are pretty much the best thing since… well, me, so maybe she’d enjoy this video, which has me laughing until my stomach hurts every time I watch it: (Click here if the video doesn’t work on your browser.)

(Subtitles: We going on a bear hunt. We gonna catch a big one. What a boo-ful day! We’re not scared. Uh-oh, a no storm (snow storm). We can’t go in it. Oh no! We have a go through it. <Odd sound effect that bears no resemblance to a snowstorm> Repeat ad infinitum.)

Then again, perhaps she would like a poem. Here is a haiku I wrote for a contest a month or so ago. It didn’t win, but you know moms: I’m sure she’ll like it anyway.

Oh, do you love me
As much as I love my girls?
I *so* get it now.

But in my heart of hearts, I already know what my mom needs most for Mother’s Day. She needs to know that she is one of my favorite people in the whole world, and it maybe wouldn’t hurt to tell her why.  So, in no particular order, here are ten things I love about my mom:

• She can take an ugly lamp (or shirt, for that matter) and make it look so cool that it brings a whole room to life.
• I asked her once what age she was when she started to feel like a grown-up, and she told me she’d let me know.
• She is my greatest cheerleader.  She thinks I’m pretty, smart, hilariously funny and fantastically good at everything I turn my hand to.  Even though I know now that all moms think that about their kids, it still feels pretty great to have a fan.
• She is absolutely the best person to have around for a crisis, such as having to clean my entire house in one day because my in-laws are coming to stay when I have just had a baby three weeks earlier.  There is no one in the world I would rather have a complete meltdown with.
• She makes me laugh and laugh and laugh.
• She almost never comes to my house without bringing me coffee from WaWa and a little snickety-snack.
• She owns her weaknesses and has taught me to do the same with mine.  (We are both endeavoring to improve in the whole thank-you-notes area.) Though we both certainly have our flaky moments, she manages to to rise to every new challenge she faces in work and in life with incredible grace and talent.  I am so proud of her.
• She is real.  Not just with me but with every single person she encounters.
• She makes lemonade.
• She would do anything for my sister or me.  Or for my girls.  Or for anyone who needed something, come to think of it.
• Finally (eh, who’s counting?), she is my comfy place.  I can be completely myself with her and she will always love me and even like me, most of the time, which is really saying something.  She always has something to give, even when she’s running on empty, and I always feel taken care of when I’m with her.

For all of these and so many more, thank you, Mom.  I love you.  Happy Mother’s Day!

(Don’t forget to hop on over and see what he says about his Mum today.)

As I was getting ready to put my sweet baby Bea down for her nap this morning, she reached her tiny hand up and around my neck as if to say, “Don’t put me down just yet, Mama.”

So I didn’t.  I held her and smelled her and tried to soak in as much of her baby-ness as I could.

Then I told her a secret.  (Babies are excellent at keeping secrets.)  I told her that every fiber of my being wants to be able to hold her just as she is right now forever.  I want her sweet baby voice to stay exactly as it is.  I don’t want her hair to grow in any more than it has.  I want her four and two halves teeth to stay just as they are.  I want her to always feel like nothing to carry and smell exactly as she does right now.

But.

I also told her that I cannot wait to hear her first words, to watch her first steps, to know what color her eyes and hair will end up, and to corral the latter together into its first pigtails.  I can’t wait to find out who she’s going to be, to watch her run and play with her sisters, to hear her sing her first song and know if she can carry a tune.  Will she be a lefty or a righty?  A tomboy or frilly pink princess?  Will she be kind and have a soft heart? Will she love the Lord?  (Oh, how I pray that she and her sisters all will… every day.)

She didn’t say a lot.  Just kind of looked at me like, ‘Mom, what are you going on about now?’

This is what motherhood is like to me every day.  My heart is in two places all the time.  I want to freeze time, and I want to race into the future, just to take a peak at how it’s all going to turn out.  I want to capture every moment and hold onto it, but I want to be fully in that moment, too.  There is just nothing for it but to squeeze my girls every day for as long as they’ll let me and thank God for the privilege of borrowing them from Him for these short years.

When we first moved to our current home and scoped out the local supermarket scene, ALDI wasn’t even on our radar. We were happily shopping at Genuardi’s for a few months, which was the nearest geographically, and also quite a nice sort of place. It has a Starbucks. Ah, those were the days. Then as we looked at our budget and the amount we were spending on food, we decided to try Giant. This was a tough downgrade for me. Giant felt less clean, I didn’t like the lay-out, and we weren’t really saving enough to make it worth it for me. I confess I would sneak to Genuardi’s sometimes for between-shopping-trip necessities.

Then, a few months ago, we saw the light. I don’t know how Trevor got it into his head that we should try ALDI. Maybe it was my friend Laura’s insistence that we should try it. Maybe we just thought if it’s good enough for the Duggars and their seventeen kiddoes, it’s probably good enough for us and our three. Whatever the reason, it was love at first shop.

As soon as we got there, I started to see tangible ways that they were saving me money. A quarter deposit on shopping carts so they don’t have to pay someone to round them all up. Ka-ching. Boxes of products stacked just as they are so there’s no need for anyone to stock shelves. Ka-ching, ka-ching! Generic brand *everything*, and you have to bring your own bags. I have dollar signs in my eyes now, like something from an old cartoon. When we got to the check-out, I had to pinch myself. I reckoned after our first few trips there that we were saving a full third off our former grocery bill. I can even go without a list and get whatever catches my eye and *still* not overspend. Amazing!

So tonight I did semi-major shopping (by myself, which was quite a euphoric experience in itself). Here’s what I got, just so you can be amazed, too:

one bag of apples, one bunch of bananas, and a large packages of red grapes

five cans of fruit (of which three large)and a can of baked beans

two frozen pizzas, some frozen curly fries, and two bags of frozen veggies

a large thing of instant coffee

three boxes of cereal

four cans of dog food

one box of pasta

two hamburger-helper-y type things

four yogurts

two boxes of nutri-grainy bars

two cartons of “premium” OJ (this is good stuff, and I’m a total Tropicana snob, normally)

two gallons of milk

a box of sandwich baggies

and a six-pack of microwave popcorn (extra butter - this was my impulse item.)

Are you ready to hear how much I spent on all that? Hmm… should I make you guess and post again tomorrow with the answer? No, I can’t wait.

$50.24! Isn’t that nuts?

And here’s the icing: now that I’m a regular there, I get to feel like part of a little club (ironically, since they seem to be the only grocery store that doesn’t have a little club for its patrons to join, complete with membership card.) The first time we shopped there, I was a little overwhlemed, and didn’t quite know how everything worked. Now, I know stuff. I know that the courteous ALDI shopper always swings her empty cart up to the register to catch the next person’s groceries before she leaves. I know that one always keeps one’s eyes peeled for an empty box while shopping and stashes it under one’s cart to help carry the groceries home. And I know now that extending a quarter to a fellow shopper who is about to leave in exchange for their cart is the official secret handshake of ALDI shoppers, although I almost certainly met the first person who did this to me with a totally baffled stare. I am in with the in-crowd now.

It is customary to wait until one has finished reading a book before one writes a review, but I can’t wait! I’ve been reading the book Love and Respect by Emerson Eggerichs, which was mentioned in our Marriage Bible study a few weeks ago and someone was kind enough to lend me her copy, which I’ve half devoured in a week!

I can’t say that I love this book, but I do love the message of this book. It reads a little like an infomercial. The author seems to think he needs to persuade me that I should want to apply Biblical truth to my marriage when really, he had me at “The Bible says…” . The first several chapters are primarily aimed at making one point again and again and again, with a healthy dose of testimonials of all the marriages that this magical key has saved thrown in for good measure.

Having said that, I can see why his magical key has saved so many marriages: it’s right there in the Bible, and I really don’t know how I never noticed it myself (I guess that’s why he is the famous author and I am sharing this on my blog with a readership of…oh, I reckon I might have hit the double digits by now!)

It’s all there, in one verse, Ephesians 5:33: However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband.

Did you catch it? Different instructions for the husband and wife! The author claims that this difference in how we’re told to treat our spouses is rooted in an essential difference in how we are made as male and female and what we each value most, and I believe he may well be right. He claims that, to the male mind, respect from the wife is actually more important than love. Of course men want to be loved (and women to be respected), but the premise is that the dominant desire of women is to be loved, and men, to be respected.

At first, my admittedly very female mind balked at this idea. How could *anyone* care more about being respected than being loved??? But the more I turned it over in my head and held it up to some of the disagreements we’ve had over the years and some of the times when my feelings have been hurt, the more true it began to sound.

Eggerichs claims that women are natural love-givers. He didn’t have any trouble convincing me of that much. God, knowing this, gave us ladies a different command, one that will stretch us a little further out of our comfort zone. Men (apparently) speak the language of respect. It is what they value most from each other, and what they most long for from their wives as well.

He talks about a common occurrence in marriage that he calls” The Crazy Cycle”. Goofy name, I know, but stay with it and see if it doesn’t ring true for your marriage. Either party can start the cycle “spinning” but let’s say, for the sake of argument, that she feels unloved first. Out of her hurt feelings, she tries to tell her husband what he did wrong, perhaps not in the most respectful manner, but after all, she’s very sad, who could blame her? He feels totally disrespected by her suggestion that he needs to change - it’s an attack on his character - but does the noble thing and… hugs her? Tells her he loves her? No, that’s what a woman would do to fix the same situation. Apparently, in the world of blue, the correct action is to remain completely silent and take the attack like a man (like staying very still so that a ferocious animal can’t see you). Perhaps once she gets it off her chest she will feel better. But to her, this “stonewalling” feels like the most unloving thing he could possibly do. “I all but *told* him I just wanted a hug and some reassurance. If he can’t even do that, he must not love me!” she thinks. Maybe if I tell him that, he will stop being so mean. Does this help him see the error of his ways? Well… you can try it if you want to, but I don’t recommend it.

The point is that somebody has to break the cycle. I know my first inclination is always to think, “But why can’t he break the cycle?” I *love* Eggerichs’s answer to the question of who should make the first move, though: “whoever thinks of him/herself as the more mature in the relationship.” Doesn’t that just make you want to volunteer for the job? Whoever can be the bigger person and give the other the love or respect that they are begging for (albeit not in the clearest language), should be the bigger person and rise to the occasion.

What I wish the author would do more of, now that I’m thoroughly convinced that the premise of the book is accurate, is tell me how to show my husband respect. From what I’ve read so far, it seems to be mostly about not showing him disrespect, which is surely an area I can improve in as well. I’m now into the section of specific advice for wives, so if I find any great tips, I’ll be sure to pass them on.

Oh, and as for Aretha, well, she may have struck gold with her feminist anthem demanding R-E-S-P-E-C-T, but as the author of this book points out, it is worth remembering that it was Otis Redding who wrote it and first recorded it in 1965, two years before Aretha had her hit. It was a man who really wanted a little respect when he gets home.

There is so much love swirling around in cyberspace right now, can you feel it? I have had the great honor of receiving this fabulous little award *twice* in the past couple of days (one from KT and one from Shanna, who both totally made my day with their posts.) I am positively giddy, and determined to have the same effect on someone else now.

So, here are the three blogs on which I wish to bestow this lovely badge of honor:

Amy @ Mom of Two Princesses. Amy makes my day several times a week with her faithful comment love. Reading blogs can quickly become a very time-consuming activity, but Amy always seems to make time to send me out sweet little encouragements. Naturally, I feel a connection with her girly household, and I always enjoy catching up on the happenings of her two sweet girls, Emily and Olivia, but I probably don’t tell her that enough! Thank you so much!

Amanda @ Oh Amanda. As far as I’m concerned, Amanda is the superstar of the blogosphere, so I decided after much swithering that I didn’t even care that someone else had already given her this award. I’m giving it to her again. She was one of the original bloggers from way back before the Doodlemama bloggy explosion of 2008. I daresay she had a hand in inspiring it. She certainly inspires me. Amanda loves the Lord and is a fantastic mom. Not to mention her blog is a blast! She makes us do crazy things like kiss our computers and swap babies (not really, don’t panic!). Her creativity and superb writing style give me something to strive for in my blogging. Thanks, friend!

Trevor @ TheYoungPages. Yeah. He’s my husband. Is that cheesy? His blog really does make my day, though, when he posts. He seems to have lost his joie de blog a little bit lately, but when he finds it again, he will make me smile and smile. I learn a lot about him from his blog that just doesn’t seem to come up in day to day conversation. This blogging thing has really been a blessing to our marriage, and helped us learn more about what makes the other tick. Thanks so much for sticking at it, sweetie. I love respect you. (More on that little inside joke to follow, at some point.)

So there you have it. Three people who make my day. There are so many more, but these three are especially close to my heart, and I want them to know how much they are appreciated.

Several people have assumed over the years that we’ve been married that Trevor and I might have differences of opinion when it comes to our choice in hot beverages. In the UK, many people assumed that “hot tea” was a completely foreign concept to my American sensibilities. Likewise, here in the US, many people ask Trevor if he would prefer tea when coffee is being served. In fact, the short version of the story is we both like both. But you can find out what he says about it here.

I grew up sampling hot tea from my mom’s cup (she was raised in part by her Scottish grandparents) as well as little plastic creamer cups full of very milky coffee from my dad. Through my teen years, I would occasionally have a cup of tea with my mom, but towards the very the end of high school, I discovered coffee. Of course I wasn’t and am still not a “true” coffee drinker (much to my dad’s ongoing disappointment - he made the switch to black coffee several years ago and has been trying to convert me ever since): the milkier and sweeter the better. Coffee was a dear friend to me through many an all-nighter in late high school and throughout college. It made writing a term paper until four in the morning feel like a little celebration, and getting up for an 8:30 class the next morning… well, possible.

In college, our most exciting and favorite road trip was to Borders in Pittsburgh, and the discovery of syrupy, frothy, and frozen coffees that could be consumed while giggling over magazines with dear friends just deepened my affection for coffee. I must confess, I am a total sucker for the whole Starbucks/Borders/Barnes & Noble thing. Yes, a cup of coffee and a cookie cost a small fortune, but when you factor in unlimited access to books, magazines, and Thomas trains for the little ones for the two hours that we can easily spend there, it starts to seem like a worthwhile investment. Once in a while.

Living in the UK got me used to drinking tea again as well. It was just the done thing, and I loved the rhythm of “putting the kettle on” in the afternoon and sipping at a cup of tea to recharge me for the afternoon. We still usually have a cup of tea together on weekend afternoons, and drink buckets of it whenever Trevor’s family come to visit.

If I had to choose a camp, though, I’m a coffee drinker at heart. I’ve been either nursing or pregnant or both for the past four years, and nobody has ever made me give it up completely, though when I’m pregnant I can only stomach it iced or with hot chocolate mixed in. I’ve asked several healthcare professionals if I ought to give up caffeine while pregnant or nursing, and they’ve all told me it’s fine in moderation. If you know different, please don’t tell me, because I would certainly not be as good a mother as I am without my beloved morning and 4 PM cups of coffee in my life.

Many days, I wake up feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. How can I possibly look after all these babies for this *whole* day? After my morning cuppa, everything is different. I love my life.  I can think of nothing I would rather do with my day than pour my heart and soul into these sweet little people. I would take ten more of them! (Probably best not to make family planning decisions on a full tank of coffee, come to think of it.) In an ideal world, I would get more sleep, I would drink more water and eat more vegetables, I would exercise more, and I would come upon this joie de vie by more natural means, but for the here and now, coffee will do just fine.

We saw a little 3-week old bundle of pink, all ruffles and lace, in her infant carrier in Target today. I stopped and chatted with her Mom for a minute, and we admired each other’s little ones and oohed and aahed appropriately. I felt like we shared a moment as two moms of new little girls. Then as we parted, I glanced back into my cart, fully expecting to see something like this:

Instead, I saw this enormous little person smiling back at me.

<<<Insert screeching record sound effect here!>>>

I can’t really complain. Beatrix has had a nice long run as a “little baby”. She was late to sit up on her own. She’s shown very little interest in getting around until recently, and she’s been sporting the same signature bottom-tooth-only grin for a good three months now. But, as quickly as it began, that era has ended, and I now have a proper little lady.

Literally overnight one night this week, Miss Bea sprouted all four top teeth (click the photo for a closer look). Over about a two week period about a month ago, she went from barely being able to sit unaided for a few seconds, to being able to sit confidently and reach for things without losing her balance. She covers huge distances scooting around on her belly now, and has even started to attempt the true-crawling position. Cute, cute, cute!

All at once, my sweet tiny girl has gotten it into her head that she wants to be one of the big girls. Of course, I can’t wait to meet the little person she’s blossoming into, but it’s always with a bit of sadness that I bid a fond farewell to the “little baby” stage.

Last night was Pippa’s last night of the year and award ceremony at her AWANA club. There were so many sweet moments for me: hearing her sing the Cubbies theme song and seeing her face light up when she finally found me in the crowd, but the best came on the ride home.

I explained to her that that had been her last night at AWANA for a while, but that when she went back she would be four and “one of the big kids” with a bear on her vest. We had already talked about how after next year she will become a Spark and Romilly will start as a new Cubbie, and all of this was swirling around in her sweet little mind last night as we drove home.

Her: Mommy, after next year, I will have a red vest. Then Ro-Ro can have my blue vest.

Me: Well, no. Ro-Ro will get a new blue vest so she can put her own badges on it. Yours already has your badges on it.

Her: But, (big breath) what will we do with my vest?

Me: Umm… I guess we’ll fold it up and keep it so that we can always look at it and remember what you did when you were a cubbie.

Her: (with genuine shock in her voice) Why?!?

Me: Why, what, honey? What do you mean?

Her: There must be somebody! Maybe… maybe… maybe we can give it to somebody that haves a kid.

Me: Maybe…

Her: Or maybe we can just give it to God. What do you think mommy? Should we give it to somebody that haves a kid or should we give it to God?

I was stumped.

So, if anyone’s interested, in about a year we’ll have one used blue AWANA Cubbies vest complete with two years worth of badges up for grabs. Yours for the asking, courtesy of one very frugal-minded and kind-hearted little girl.