Missing Jim

To anyone that knows me well, it's no surprise that I am a big fan of Jim Brickman. Ever since I was introduced to his piano music as a middle-schooler (let's face it, probably not his key demographic), I have been a fan...a "Brickmaniac", if you will. (Ha! I just made that up...& I don't think I'll say it again. It is quite awful.) His music played at my wedding, and in the delivery rooms when Emerson and Brennan were born, and listening to his music never ceases to be such an immediately calming, soothing experience for me. So, when I heard over the summer that he was coming to Springfield for another Christmas concert, I was thrilled. (Seeing his Christmas tour a couple of years ago was such a fun way to celebrate the holiday, and I have anticipated him coming back to town since then!) I knew I would have a two-month-old at home by the time early-December rolled around, but I told myself that it was do-able. That, one way or another, I'd be in attendance. And, frankly, looking forward to the occasion was an encouragement for many weeks...an outing that I knew would be a rejuvenating, relaxing one for me during a time when I knew I'd need one.

But, when tickets went on sale in August (on my birthday, no less), I didn't buy them. And, the twenty other times I checked the website, selecting my ideal seats and getting excited about the event, something stopped me from ever making the purchase.

I think I knew in the back of my mind that it wouldn't be particularly feasible. And, I was right. Here we are, the day of the concert, and I still don't have tickets. I won't be going. The reality is that the timing is wrong; the girls need me in the evenings, and leaving them for the concert would not be in the best interest of the family. I know that staying with them is what I need to do, and because being "Mom" is my greatest joy, it's what (deep down!) I want to do, too.

But, in all honesty, I am truly sad to be missing out. Seriously, I'm really, really, bummed. It doesn't help my attitude that I have family members that will be going. I'm happy for them (because really, everyone needs Jim Brickman in their life), but I'm jealous. I'm downright green with envy, as embarrassing as that is to admit. Although it's not a quality I'm proud of, it's the truth. I wanted so badly to get out of the house, to have some peaceful time, doing something that would be special to me. 

But, as I reflected this morning about my bad attitude, I realized that my desire to do this, for ME, goes against everything this season (& this life) is about. It isn't about me. It's about giving, and serving, and loving others before myself. Motherhood certainly teaches that lesson again and again.

(With that said, I think there's a lot of value in the concept of taking care of yourself as a mom so you can better serve your family. And, really, going to this concert was less about having a fun Christmas outing, and more about doing something that would benefit my mental health. This definitely would've fit the bill...but I'll figure out something else to serve that purpose. Not that I'm in poor mental health.... You get it.)

I so want to be focused on the right things during this season of Advent. And, if missing a concert is what the Lord is using to reveal an area of sin (that is, too high an emphasis on self-desire), then so be it.

My mom is right. "There will be more Jim Brickman concerts." (Though it'll probably be a couple of years...and who knows what family life will look like then. But, here I go getting all Grinch-y again. I'll stop.) Life goes on. This event just wasn't meant to be.

So! I'm moving on to 'Plan B'. Tonight, I think we'll get the girls dressed in cozy pajamas and load up in the van with mugs of hot chocolate. And then, as we drive around town looking at Christmas lights, you'd better believe we'll be listening to a few of Mr. Brickman's Christmas CD's.

It won't be the same as being at Hammons Hall.... It could be even better. Actually, because I'll be with the ones I love the most, it absolutely will be.

I like to think that's what Jim would want.

In the Midst of the Mess

We seem to have an ant problem in our house. Emerson left a graham cracker on the living room floor this morning, and after a short while, it was covered with the pests. (This is both disgusting and completely fascinating to me. Where do they come from & how do they get there so quickly?! Impressive.) Not wanting to spray insecticide in E's vicinity, I opted for the vacuum approach. I sucked up those ants with abandon. And then, more of their kind came back. Again and again. Within mere seconds. An annoying enough start to the morning, as is. (I did eventually spray, because apparently, this is war. Fingers crossed.)

Next, I went to my bedroom to gather laundry. At which point, I discovered that Royal, who was laying comfortably on our bed, had apparently just puked over the foot of it. I suppose I'm thankful that he made it onto the floor instead of getting it on the bed...though his taking care of the bed shouldn't surprise me. He seems to think of it as his, anyway. I'm not sure how we've allowed that to happen....

So, the next part of my morning involved bravely scooping up dog vomit. (With undoubtedly more paper towels than the job called for and three plastic grocery bags wrapped around my hand for protection...also a bit excessive. I get it.) A good dog would've taken care of it himself, if you know what I mean. But, nope. Royal left it for me to deal with. It was disgusting, and seriously, I questioned my own ability to not follow suit...if you know what I mean. But, I conquered. Used practically an entire bottle of pet-odor eliminator stuff...but I conquered.

Naturally, I thought I'd take advantage of feeling like a rockstar after having cleaned that mess. (It doesn't take much for me to feel like I've achieved rockstar status, I've decided.... I'm probably very confused about what it means to be an actual rockstar.) I then turned my attention to the dirty cloth diaper in the bathroom waiting to be sprayed. I cleaned it, and it didn't even bother me. What a great perspective-changer cleaning up vomit can be! Who knew?!

To recap, my morning, within a brief span of 20 minutes, involved going to battle against an ant invasion, cleaning dog puke, and spraying a dirty diaper. A banner morning already, am I right?

I went to the living room to send a text to Bobby to share my morning's happenings...

...only to discover that Emerson had, for the first time ever, discovered & explored the contents of her own dirty diaper, with her bare hands. I must've come into the room at precisely the right time, because neither the couch (I know, right?) nor the pillows nor her body had yet been touched.

The situation had turned comical.

I picked up a rather stunned & quiet Emerson, who seemed to know she'd done something 'icky' as a result of her curiosity. (Bless her heart. This is how we learn.) She was easily placed directly into the bathtub, where I proceeded to rinse her off and then gave her an impromptu bath.

She did seem to enjoy her random morning bath once we got her clean, and I did get to give the bathroom a solid top-to-bottom cleaning as she bathed. Scrubbing the bathtub had made its way to the top of the days priority list (obviously), so it only made sense to clean the rest of the bathroom, too. (Silver linings!)

I'd love to insert a photo here, but really, at what point in this story did you think 

"I just really wish there were a picture to go with this"? 

I rest my case.

This is hardly the sentimental, "ode to motherhood" post that I had intended for this week. And, if I find a chance in the next few days, I may still make that happen. But, sometimes material just presents itself, and I had to run with it...disgusting though I know this is. (I suppose I run the risk of never entertaining guests at our home again by sharing such gross happenings as these....) If ever there were a week to share a story about a morning in the trenches as a mom, this seems like it would be it.

Sometimes motherhood is messy. (To be fair, it's never actually been quite this messy in my nearly two years as a mom. And, to be fair again, only one of this morning's predicaments was Emerson's responsibility. So, I guess sometimes life is just messy....) But, in the midst of the mess today, I happily recognized that I was able to laugh about it all. (Tears were the other option, and would've been completely reasonable, I'd say.) But, I laughed! And, that's a big deal. That wouldn't have always been my response to a morning like this one, and I'm proud that this is another indication of my growth as a mom. Emerson reminds me daily of the beauty and the benefit of laughter. She helps me always find joy. That's one the gifts of being her mom.

And, as I was scrubbing Emerson in the tub, I realized once again that I can say with complete confidence that I was made to be a mommy. Emerson's mommy.

I love her unconditionally. (And I still love that Royal quite a bit, too.)
I would do anything for her.
I wouldn't trade this life of mine.
I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Sometimes, in the mess. Always, with her.

A Highlight Reel

One of the dangers of reading blogs or routinely following social media is the comparisons that can all too frequently result...comparing your life to that of others. (A topic I pondered earlier this year here.) Of course, this isn't social media's fault...it just serves as the avenue by which we're able to see so very frequently what everyone else's life looks like.

Or, do we?

A friend shared the following quip with me a few months ago. (I'm not sure who deserves credit for saying it in the first place.)

"Don't compare your everyday life 

to someone else's highlight reel."

The point is, the images and stories shared on blogs or Instagram or Facebook are very often only part of the story, chosen to depict an event or an experience (or an outfit...or a house...or a child...) in the way that the owner wishes for it to be. I suspect that we rarely see the big picture...the entire story.

And I think that leads us to have very, very false impressions of the lives that others lead...believing that they are more glamorous individuals or that their lives are far more idyllic than our own.

I'm not suggesting that every person who posts such things is maliciously trying to deceive others. It's fun to share snippets of our lives with loved ones and frankly, even complete strangers. We're (myself included) intrigued by the lives that others lead, and conversely, others enjoy knowing what goes on in our world. But the reality is that what is shared is not always the whole truth. And, we often only share the best parts of our lives for others to see. I'm guilty of that. And I need to be ever-mindful and very cautious about my intention in sharing bits of my life. Because if my motive simply becomes showing others how great I believe I have it, then I've crossed a line.

With that said, now seems as appropriate a time as any to share the story of our family adventure to the local fair a few months ago...with all the nitty-gritty, entirely unglamorous details.

***********************

Bobby and I have fond memories of summer trips to the fair, especially during our dating years, when it was a yearly ritual complete with an annual photo in front on the ferris wheel. (Which I would love to include an example of here, were the photos not stuck on an old hard drive and on DVD's. Ugh. The never-ending challenge of figuring out to effectively store and archive thousands of digital photos.... If you figure it out, let me know.) It had been a couple of years since our last visit, and we were excited to make new memories there...this summer, with our daughter!

As we left the house that evening, I felt a bit queasy, but not so much so that I thought it to be overly concerning. We bought our tickets and made our way in the gates, but no sooner did we step onto the midway that it became abundantly clear to me that I needed to find a bathroom. Quickly. I'll spare you these details, but know that our first 45ish minutes at the fair were spent racing to find a restroom...and then another one. (I told you...glamorous, right?!)

While I dealt with my unhappy digestive system in what were certainly less than pleasant fairground facilities, Bobby was left trying to manage an unhappy one-year old, who was upset by Mommy's sudden disappearances, a looming bedtime hour, and the nearby balloons that she had spotted but could not attain. (To dear Bobby's credit, he did a great job, even succumbing himself to a sales pitch by a life insurance representative in the sea of vendors for the sole purpose of securing a balloon for Emerson. What a guy!) Suffice it to say, none of us were having much fun.

Once I began to feel better, we managed to visit the cows and see the baby chicks, and Emerson had a great time playing in the corn-filled tire. We saw the horses before their show, walked around the midway again to see the ferris wheel and all of the lights, and Emerson got her first little taste of a corn dog. It was a beautiful summer evening and it was special to be out together as a family.

Below is the photo collage I posted to Instagram...which, frankly, suggests an idyllic evening...a happy little family enjoying the fair in all its glory...right? These are the images of the parts of the evening I enjoyed. And, there most definitely were some! I wanted to remember these details of the night, and in my opinion, they were worth sharing.

Regardless, it probably would have been more accurate to show a photo of the inside of a bathroom stall. Or, at the very least, a picture of our family looking as frazzled and underwhelmed by the occasion as we felt.

No one really wants to see that, though. Nor is it any fun to admit "this was not entirely a good experience...things didn't go as planned...I had tummy trouble...our life isn't picture-perfect".

But, all of those things are true.

Between the unplanned bathroom visits, the plumes of cigarette smoke we were repeatedly forced to walk through, a generally "dirty" environment,  and a tired toddler, our trip to the fair was hardly the lovely family experience I'd pictured...though it was memorable, indeed!

(Bobby and I have discussed the possibility that the fair experience itself was always similar to this, minus the bathroom stops. The possibility that we were too distracted by our young love years ago to realize it...or that our perspective of a 'fun' outing changed once we had our baby along with us. It's possible. But, we also really do think that the fair has gone downhill in recent years. Another definite possibility, I think.)

So, case in point. I used Instagram to show a "highlight reel" of the evening. I didn't exactly depict our real life experience. And, that's okay...but perhaps, to some degree, dishonest. I need to be mindful of the "reality" I'm presenting and thus implying to others...as well as maintaining an awareness, for my own sanity, that others may just be showing their "highlight reel", too. 

The Ironic Thing

The ironic thing about blogging (for non-sponsored bloggers such as myself, anyway) is that the summer months, which by their very nature present lots of blog-worthy activities, are the months when I find myself the least-likely and least-interested in spending time sitting in front of a computer screen.

See? Ironic. The dreary, long winter presents many opportunities for writing...and far fewer interesting happenings to document. Ah, well. Such is the life of a casual blogger.

We have had a most wonderful summer. It's been a time when we've been able to really settle in and enjoy our family of three.

We celebrated Emerson's first birthday...

...& vacationed to Colorado...

...& had an overnight visit from a dear college friend...

...& spent an evening at the fair.

Not to mention the many visits to the zoo with friends, evening strolls through the neighborhood after dinner, watching Emerson play in the backyard pool, pushing her in the front-yard swing, and blowing bubbles together. There are so many beautiful memories that have made this summer with our little girl one to remember.

And, each is deserving of a blog-post recap of its own! But, for now, I'm going to enjoy the rest of this late-summer afternoon. (Although, school is back in session today and the air is crisp! Fall is just around the corner! I can feel it.)

There'll be time to recap and reflect later. That is, after all, what winter is for.

Home Church

Simply put (and hardly simple to rectify), Bobby and I are not growing spiritually in the meaningful way that we want to be at our home church.

For a variety of reasons, it doesn't feel "right" to be there on Sundays lately. Between Emerson's morning schedule, my uncertainty and discomfort about a nursery environment (especially during flu season), & our desire for...more...in the way of stimulating and relevant spiritual discussions, going to church has become somewhat of a chore, one that has left us feeling far more discouraged than motivated.

Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.
Hebrews 5:13-14

This isn't a situation we take lightly, or one that we are comfortable with. It's difficult, especially when we consider the incredible fellowship that we enjoy at church, and the connection we experience being among fellow believers each week.

For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, 

being many, are one body, so also is Christ.

1 Corinthians 12:12

This may be a 'black and white' decision for some.

"If the church isn't helping your spiritual development, go somewhere else."

or

"Stay where you are for the positive Christian fellowship."

But, this is the church that Bobby and I attended together as we dated.

It's the church we were married in.

This is a church full of friends who celebrated our pregnancy and helped us eagerly anticipate Emerson's arrival.

It's a church made of dear people who love us & love our families & surround us with support and kindness.

I am confident that there are good things happening there, and that there are many people who are growing in their faith by the efforts being done. More than anything, I know that it is certainly a congregation with good people who love the Lord.

So, for us, it is a situation that is very, very 'gray'.

We could likely make a decision more easily if it were just the two of us. It would be a choice that we would have to reconcile with ourselves and the Lord.

But, Emerson changes things. We are increasingly mindful of the job we have as her parents to train her up in the way she should go. Her spiritual development is paramount, and we have an overwhelming responsibility to make choices with her in mind.

Train up a child in the way he should go: 

and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6

Since January, we have chosen to worship each Sunday from our living room. (A new "home" church, if you will.) We stream a live service from The Crossing using our Apple TV, and it has been exactly what we've needed. (How fun that the technology that provides us with entertainment is also providing the opportunity for us to worship in such a meaningful way?)

For where two or three are gathered together in my name, 

there am I in the midst of them.

Matthew 18:20

The environment is just right for Emerson. She plays on the couch and makes as much noise as she pleases & her regular morning schedule is uninterrupted. We still worship together; I cuddle her while we sing with the worship team on-screen, and bounce her to sleep during the sermon. More significantly, Bobby and I are being challenged, motivated, and excited by our worship.

It feels "right".

I don't know what our long-term solution will be, and I wonder what "church" will look like for Emerson as she grows. There are lots of questions in the Phillips household these days, and there are no clear answers.

What I am quite sure of, though, is that for Bobby and me to effectively teach Emerson foundational Biblical truths & to effectively and wisely parent her...we need to be growing in our own faith and understanding. What is best for her is for our choice to be based on our own Christian development...which, for now, seems to be found right in our own living room.

A Snow Day

The life of a stay-at-home mom is relatively flexible, unstructured in the sense that there are no bosses to report to or business deadlines to meet. (While one might be inclined to insert the adjective "relaxed" in this job description, that would be oh, so very misguided and unfortunate.) 

I do have the benefit of lingering over my morning coffee, perusing a magazine while my baby explores toys next to me, and should she decide to nap, I have the chance to catch a few afternoon zzz's myself. (To be clear, my "lingering" is done while Emerson and I play, my "perusing" is done only by glancing at a page here & a page there, and my afternoon snoozes are a rarity...because so are Emerson's naps.) Of course, my "office hours" are all twenty-four each day, and it is very much "work" in every sense of the word. 

(I shall avoid a stay-at-home vs. working mother diatribe here as those are hardly productive. The roles are very different, to be sure, and I doubt quite highly that--without having experienced both--a mother in one position could truly understand the trials associated with a mom in the other.)

Although my wardrobe of sweatpants may lead you to believe otherwise, I do try very diligently to make each day a productive one, for Emerson's benefit and for the maintenance of our household. There are obvious chores to do, of course, and other projects I find (or create) for myself to do, as well. The point is...my days are full...often busy & frequently productive. (To be clear again, a great many of my days are none of those things...and the lack of activity and lack of adult company brings about its own mental challenges.)

As I write this, icy sleet is hitting the windows and I'm looking at the backyard, with its ice-covered grass blades and icicles hanging from the rooftop. Today is shaping up to be a perfectly wintery day, and I have the blessing of being cozy inside with Emerson.*

And today, I'm giving myself permission to relax. To be productive if I want to be, but not because I feel like I need to get anything done other than cuddling with my daughter. I'm going to give myself the  "snow day" that many of my friends are enjoying, and I'm going to do my best to guiltlessly enjoy the slow-pace and the quiet. Emerson and I are going to do little more than snuggle, play, and admire the beauty of the winter wonderland from the warmth of our living room.

Because stay-at-home mommies need a snow day every now and then, too. 

*I have this blessing because of a husband who woke up this morning and went to the office with not a hint of complaint about his task. I know he would've enjoyed a snow day, too, and I'm so very grateful for his willingness to serve our family, even on days such as these. What a good man.

It's Friday!

There is a recurring discussion (slash difference of opinion) taking place in the Phillips household. That is, our expectations for and interpretation of what our weekends should look like.

Bobby would, generally-speaking, prefer sleeping-in, watching college football (well, not so much anymore, out-of-season as the sport is now, but you get the idea), & doing a few household chores...but largely just relaxing after a week at the office.

That's fair. I get it. The man works hard for the money and I completely understand his desire to rest on his days off-work. I, however, look forward to the weekends and the extra set of hands that will be around to help with Emerson throughout the day.

Bobby loves spending time with Emerson, and I love him for being such a wonderful daddy. As such, he is always willing to share in the work. But, let's be honest, taking care of our little girl doesn't exactly spell "relaxing day". Besides, there are some things that only Mommy can do right now.

Motherhood is amazing, but it is a 24/7 gig. Babies know not the meaning of weekends, and my Saturdays usually look a lot like my Everyotherdays. I'm not complaining. It is what it is: hard work!

So, we do our best to compromise, and truly, it's very much a learning process for both of us as we discover how to make our weekends mutually-enjoyable in our new roles as parents.

Bobby sent this e-card to me this morning. It is so spot-on...and I think Bobby "gets it", which means more than I can explain.

source

I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm a mom!

Happy Friday, all.

Pump Up the Jams

Around 4:00 p.m. each weekday, Emerson is very ready for a nap. And, I am very ready for Bobby to come home from work.

So, in an effort to get her to sleep (and get myself off the couch), we have taken up a new hobby.

I put on the Moby Wrap, slide Emerson inside, turn on the television, and flip through the music channels.

And then, we dance.

Switching between the stations titled "Pop Hits", "90's", "80's", "Party Favorites", and "Throwback Jamz" (yes, with a "z"), we dance all over the living room...and sweet Emerson is usually asleep within minutes.

Forget gentle lullabies at this time of day. Emerson clearly prefers when we "Play that Funky Music". And play it we do, along with such timeless classics as "Ice, Ice, Baby" and "Gettin' Jiggy Wit It". (I know, right?)

This is where you could usually expect to find a picture in my posts.

Not happening this time. 

There are some things that should stay between a mother and daughter in the privacy of the living room.

(And, let's face it, the image you've conjured up in your mind of this whole scenario is probably just about right.)

It's definitely a mutually-beneficial activity. Emerson gets to rest; I get to work on losing those last ten pounds of pregnancy weight.

And, it truly is a workout! I've got a 13 pound baby wrapped in a piece of black fabric, held tightly against my body, while I dance (and I do use that term loosely) all over the place. I give her head extra support with one hand, and do bicep curls with a 5 pound weight with the other. We both end up sweaty. It's fantastic.

This is what memories are made of! And I know this goofy little routine is one of those experiences of my early months of motherhood that I will remember with a smile.

Oh, Possum....

This morning, 30 seconds away from needing to walk out the door and head to work, Bobby came into the kitchen, wide-eyed and momentarily speechless. Then, he said...

"There's a...'possum...laying in front of the couch in the living room."


I don't remember what I said. It doesn't matter, really.

I looked around the corner and peeked into the living room, where, sure enough, was an opossum laying on its side in front of the couch.

Yes, the floor needs to be vacuumed.
(As though THAT'S the biggest issue with this photo.)
The sticks Royal keeps bringing inside to chew on make
keeping the carpet clean a losing battle.
Oh, well. We (clearly) have bigger problems.

Was it dead? Was it "playing 'possum"? Who could say?! (You never can tell with 'possums.)

The other question on our mind...how the heck did it get inside? And, when?


The point of entrance, we're thinking, was Royal's doggy-door. And our suspicion, mortifying though it is, is that the intruder came inside...last night. As in, while-we-were-still-awake, last night. The interior laundry room door which leads to the doggy-door is closed before we go to bed, and so our little guest couldn't have come inside after that. Which unfortunately means that last night while I fell asleep watching t.v. on the couch in the other living room, waiting for Bobby to get home, there was a 4-legged, hairy critter with a tail (that wasn't Royal) meandering through the house. Ewwww. 


We can't even blame Royal. Truly, I'm not sure he was even involved. If you've met Royal, you'll likely agree that if he knew about the opossum's existence, the likelihood of it hanging out in the house and not causing a stir is slim to none. I just really think I would've been aware of any 'possum vs. dog interaction going on...in the next room. But, who knows? (If anything, I'd rather thank the dog. Even if he did bring the 'possum inside or play with it somehow, there was no obvious chase or damage to furniture, and no bloody mess. Let's face it, it probably could've been way worse.)

Anyway, back to this morning's predicament. Sure, the thing looked harmless enough, motionless and sleeping (?) as it was. But, if it was just "playing 'possum", would it bite when jostled? Jump? Run around the house? What does one DO in that situation?!


My first suggestion was to shut all the interior doors in the house and let Royal back inside. Surely he would bother the opossum enough to allow us to figure out whether it was alive or not. Brilliant, right? (Okay, I'm not proud of my thought process...but it was the best I could do given the circumstance. It seemed appropriate.)

Bobby, using his brain a bit more than I, pointed out that the 'possum could bite Royal, might be rabid, etc., and Royal needed to stay outside. (See? Smart in a crisis. I love him.) So, while I maintained a safe distance from my position on top of the kitchen island, Bobby heroically placed a large plastic bin over the critter. The thought was that the 'possum would either wake up and just walk out the door underneath the bin...or have to be scooted across the carpet.

Of course, the latter was what happened. The biggest problem was getting the non-moving 'possum up over the door trim by the front door. Bobby used a broom, and swept the little guy off the porch. Gross.

We're pretty sure the thing is dead. He seemed pretty stiff, and although he is a nocturnal creature and likely traumatized, the fact that he's been lying in the same spot on the cold grass for the past two hours getting snow-covered seems to suggest that he's a goner. But, only time will tell, I suppose, if he decides to get up and walk away. Ugh, whatever.

Needless to say, I felt a strong need to clean this morning. I shampooed the carpet (you know, since an opossum was laying on it...and was then scooted across it), and then Royal got a bath. Mark my words, the disinfecting has only begun.

It was a funny and obviously surprising way to start the day, and most certainly the strangest situation in home ownership we've experienced thus far. But, most of all, Bobby is my hero for bravely playing exterminator this morning...in his business suit. What a guy.

myPhone: Part II

In case you missed it, my iPhone was stolen Sunday night.
Now that we're all caught up, let's move on to the really good part of the story....

Last night, Bobby took me to AT&T to get a new phone. I was not eligible for an upgrade, and so we would have had to pay face value for a replacement iPhone 4...not gonna happen. Thankfully, though, Bobby's phone was eligible for an upgrade (read: contract extension). I should mention that if anyone is actually in need of an upgraded iPhone, it's him. He has put up with a slower iPhone model (with a big ol' crack across the screen) for months now, and never once has he complained. As he said yesterday, "it works just fine, it just has fewer bells and whistles". He's a good guy. Bobby used his much-needed upgrade to get me a new iPhone yesterday, one that's slightly better than my old one, in fact. And although an unfortunate and unexpected expense, the cost of the phone with the upgrade was a far more reasonable price to pay, given the circumstance.

Yes, I was excited about a brand new phone. But, I still couldn't help but feel guilty for getting a second, new iPhone 4 when my ever-so-deserving husband was still dealing with a broken old one. We got in the car after making the purchase, and I was moved to tears considering his selflessness and generosity. He never complained. He never balked at the idea of using his upgrade. He just did it...and I highly doubt that I would've been equally as loving had the situation been reversed. I know I am married to an incredible man, but getting such a poignant reminder every now and then of what a truly excellent husband I have is certainly a powerful blessing.

When we got home, I was surprised and overjoyed to discover that my apps and music and contacts (though not entirely updated) were backed up on the computer and transferred easily to my new phone. Last night, as we waited for trick-or-treaters, I worked on getting the phone back to my preferred settings and was officially back in business. Life was very, very good again.

But, the story isn't over yet! Oh no, my friends...read on.

This morning, Bobby and I were awoken bright and early to the doorbell ringing. Thinking it was the utility company coming to read our meters so early in the morning again, I had no intention of answering the door, but peeked out the window curiously. There, sitting in the driveway, was a police car.

"Bobby! It's the police! I think we need to answer the door!" Of course, by "we", I meant Bobby, as I was hardly feeling presentable for an early morning visitor.

But, when I heard the officer say that a cell phone was recovered at a local high school (my alma mater, in fact), and that they were able to trace the number back to our address, I was hardly concerned with appearances. I came to the door and said "no way...." (Sidenote: Bobby and I never actually offered to let the officer come inside. We are so not experienced in proper policeman etiquette. Oops.) The officer (another alum) was very friendly, and his very much unexpected news absolutely made our day.

The individual that we had suspected was responsible for the theft does, in fact, appear to be the perpetrator, and was described by the officer as a "regular troublemaker". (Yeah, that's evident.) After the teenager brought the phone to school yesterday, it was stolen from him (ironic, yes?), and somehow made it into the hands of the school security officer, who questioned the student. And his story wasn't adding up. Why couldn't he get into the locked device? Who were those two people on the home screen?

Lesson #1: Passcode protection on the phone works. My data should be entirely secure, as he was never able to get into the phone. Fantastic.

Lesson #2: A personal photo on the home screen makes it quite clear whether or not the phone is yours. Nobody has a wedding picture of the bride and groom on the home screen of their phone if they aren't part of the happy couple. And, when you're in high school, and look nothing like either of the newlyweds, it raises suspicions. (Although you've got to appreciate the story he came up with when asked who the bride and groom were. Apparently, he met "us" downtown, and took our picture. "That's John and Karen". Good one, dude.)

So, the phone was apprehended and I should be able to pick it up soon, data (photos! contacts! calendars!) in tact and secure. For a brief second, I was annoyed that we had purchased a new phone no less than 14 hours prior. But, my well-deserving husband should end up getting his earned upgrade, and be able to use the new phone as his own. That's what being loving and unselfish will do for you, I suppose!

The difficult question today was determining whether or not to press charges against this young man. I certainly don't wish to ruin a 15-year-old's future, and it's tempting to think that offering grace as a Christian should mean giving him a free pass. But, recognizing the deliberate and brazen manner in which this individual did what he appears to have done, it feels as though the more loving thing to do is to provide an opportunity for him to learn, grow, and change...before stealing an iPhone turns into stealing a car, or worse. That potential for change is exactly what we hope a juvenile intervention does for this young man.

I've considered where my heart is with this matter: am I simply seeking justice for wrongs committed against me out of spite or vengeance? No. I'm not out to get anyone. But, after considering the facts as they've been presented, about this event and about this teen, I truly believe that not getting away with this and suffering the consequences could be the best thing to happen to this adolescent. I'm so hopeful for an even-happier ending to his story.

We'll see what happens.

Tonight, I am feeling unbelievably refreshed. After feeling discouraged and frustrated by this experience, I now feel nothing but deeply blessed. I am grateful that my phone was rescued. I am grateful that my husband will now get a better phone as a result of this ordeal. But, more than anything, I am ever so thankful for the opportunity to realize again what special people I have in my life.

I was at church when the theft occurred, and many friends there offered such encouragement and sweet words when I was so clearly distressed. My parents fed us a spaghetti dinner afterwards, providing comfort and hugs and patiently letting me mope. My best friend checked on me the next day, and gave an enormous compliment that was of more comfort than she knows. And Bobby, besides making sure that my phone was replaced quickly, did his best to make me happy again. He takes such good care of me. ("I said, 'for better or for'...now.")

I am surrounded by individuals who through their example of compassion and love don't allow me to foster malice, but instead help inspire an attitude of grace. This entire experience has reminded me of that; I believe God intended this trial as definite evidence of His abundant blessings in disguise.

How can I be anything but grateful?

These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith

—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—

may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

1 Peter 1:7

myPhone: Part I

On Sunday night, my iPhone was stolen.
At the Fall Festival.
At our church.
How's that for irony?

It's sickening, really, and that's exactly how I felt when I realized that someone more than likely walked away with my phone as I passed out candy in a game booth. (One of the frustrating parts about this scenario is that I knew...I knew...this was a possibility, and so I deliberately hid my purse in a filing cabinet, and thought my phone was out of the way enough to be in a safe place, too. Clearly, it was not.)

I have never felt so violated, so taken advantage of, or so hurt. I cannot, cannot understand how someone could do what they did. They must be in a desperate place, and I am so trying to remind myself of that. Nevertheless, I'm crushed. My phone had passcode protection, and we deactivated our phone service quickly, so I am very much hoping that my data remains secure and that the collateral damage is minimal.

My condition Sunday evening was...not good. I had a good cry once I got home, letting down from the feeling of helplessness and emotional distress. Today was quite an interesting day, sans phone. But, my outlook at this point is greatly improved, and I'm thankful that I chose to hold off on blog-writing until my state of mind could be considered more "reflective" and less so "vindictive". I'm not upset about the phone itself. It's replaceable. (With some birthday cash that I'd earmarked for curtain-making...sigh.) But, it's the apps and photos and such that I cannot get back that I'm sad for now.

In any case, this experience has made me think.

First, I've found myself thinking that the amount that I rely on that device is impressive. It is my alarm clock, my watch through the day, my connection to everyone, my source of news, my camera...and even when I'm not using the phone, I know it's there and I can. (Basically, it's my grown-up security blanket.) To a degree, yes, I'm sure I rely on my phone more than I should. But, it's the world that we live in. And rely on it, I DO.

Secondly, I've thought about the personal nature of our phones these days, and that it's the loss of that personal data that makes this hard. Yes, it's just a phone, made of metal & plastic & gizmos & gadgets. But, the beauty of iPhones (and likely smart phones in general) that I hadn't appreciated until now, is how much it becomes a personal reflection of us. My photos, my music, my facebook, my e-mail, my contacts.... Those things help tell my life story, and it is violating to have that taken away. And, it isn't just the personal data, but the personal habit. Using my phone throughout the day...from checking the ABC News app. as my hair dries in the morning, to catching up on e-mail as I unload the dishwasher...is a part of the habits of my daily life. When that is disrupted, when that is taken away, it doesn't just feel like a piece of technology any longer, but it feels as though it really is a piece of my life. I had no idea until I was forced to spend a day without my iPhone, just how much I use it...and enjoy doing so!

Third, I realize that having an iPhone stolen is hardly the worst thing that could happen. To even have have once had an iPhone, for goodness sake, is evidence of my being a part of a very privileged segment of the world's population. I know that life could be so much darker for us than it is. Relatively speaking, this still only falls in the "annoying" category of the difficult experiences that life can bring.

Finally, I really wish someone had told me about MobileMe or the FindMyiPhone app. before this happened. Sure, everyone was happy to tell me about the perks of such apps once it was too late to be of any use to me. Haha. Everyone was sincerely trying to help, but it is truly an awful feeling to think that, had I had such a tool on my phone, I could've tracked the stolen device or wiped the phone's data or done something else similarly useful. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. So now, besides just feeling bummed that I didn't have an obviously well-known phone feature that could've saved me from this emotional turmoil, I'm also left wondering, "what other super-handy things do my friends and loved ones know about that I don't?!" Please share, won't you?

On a similar note, do you know what the iTunes App Store shows as the example of what the FindMyiPhone app can do? Take a look.

Emily's iPhone located? Really? Just plain cruel, don't you think? Tell me about it.

(Stay tuned for an update. This story is just about to get good!)

Objects In Mirror

Did anyone destroy their car's passenger-side mirror while reversing out of the garage to head to work this morning?

Nope? Just me then?

Cool.

Yes, that is how my day began. Which was a shame, too, since it had otherwise been such a lovely Friday morning, complete with a new outfit combination and a hot cup of Hazelnut-flavored coffee. And then I had to go and complicate it.

This little accident is especially annoying since I was making a deliberate effort to not let it happen. I had my foot on the brake, and I was watching the mirror and the garage closely to avoid such an incident. (Which I knew would happen one day. It's a tight fit in there.)  But, I clearly wasn't watching closely enough. The ol' Camry had a little more 'get-up-and-go' reversing power than I gave it credit for today, and before I could stop it, I just watched the mirror get crushed.

GARAGES TO THE SIDE OF MIRROR ARE MUCH CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR.

In all fairness, I'm convinced the garage is out to get us, as this is not its first offense. The garage door may or may not have been shut twice on the tailgate of Bobby's truck in recent weeks...and the person responsible for that misfortune is still very, very sorry.

The matter of fault in today's incident is largely irrelevant and placing blame is clearly unhealthy. But nevertheless, it is being contested a bit between the mister and I. For reasons I shall not describe, I am inclined to believe that my dear husband shares some of the responsibility here. (Although I'll admit, Bobby, my preliminary estimate was a tad unfair. 75%-25% is too harsh. I was the one behind the wheel, after all. And...all of the vehicular damage suffered in recent memory has been my fault. I'm willing to go 95%-5%. Thoughts?)


Why is accepting fault so difficult? ... I really should man-up and accept 100% of the blame, but why do we (or really, is it just me?!) feel that urge to diffuse responsibility? EVEN IF someone else IS even a little bit responsible, why does it feel so unnatural to say "it was all my fault"? There are people who are able to do that. I, however, have obviously not matured to that point just yet. 


This is another opportunity to grow, I suppose.

So, we have this unexpected expense for something that probably should've been avoidable and I wish wouldn't have happened. (Guess that's why it's called an accident....) I would've preferred to spend the money it will take to fix it on something more fun...like, say, a bathroom doorknob. (Hey, 'fun' is relative!)

This hasn't ruined my Friday, though. Heavens, no. I'd have to put this pretty high on the imaginary list of "Top 5 Annoying Things That Have Happened to Us This Year", and goodness...it could be so much worse.

Life is too short to lose perspective on the true magnitude of annoyances like this, and there's no looking back. I mean, really, in my case, there's no looking back...the mirror's broken, remember?

Weekend Guests

Two weekends ago, Bobby and I got to have a long-awaited visit with our dear friends, John and Natalie. Their beautiful wedding was in May, and (wouldn't you know?) the newlyweds had a busy social calendar all summer long, so we were just now able to coordinate schedules and spend a weekend together.

The happily-married couple!

It was worth the wait. We were so, so excited to see those two!
I think they'd tell you that the feeling was totally mutual.

Dinner Friday night at Little Tokyo Japanese Steakhouse. 

John and Bob at Wilson's Creek National Battlefield.

A black snake that Natalie spotted slithering around on our hike.
I'm quite convinced that it was actually larger in real-life than the photo depicts.

Since I wasn't having enough fun (note the sarcasm) getting to play hostess and entertain our very first overnight guests in our new house, I decided to make things a little more interesting and get sick. Yes, mid-day Saturday, in the middle of our hiking excursion, I started feeling ill. I had a fever, was entirely exhausted, and later spent several hours in bed while everyone else had fun. (Yes, I'm still a little bitter.) The boys left to go get pizza (thanks to the rain and my state of health, the planned BBQ wasn't happening), and Natalie, being the darling that she is, cleaned up the kitchen. She's amazing, I tell you. Anyway, I was able to re-join the group after dinner, and we all spent the rest of the evening watching last season's episodes of "Parenthood".

I certainly would've preferred getting to spend our time together a bit differently. But, John and Natalie are special friends...the kind that don't mind hanging out in the living room all night with germ-infested me...or sleeping on an air mattress in a guest room with no door knob (...and eventually, no door, but that's John's fault, really).

I didn't count on getting sick on a weekend that we'd looked forward to for so long. And I was bummed about the unexpected (and unpleasant!) turn of events. But, I was expecting that, as always, there would be lots of laughter and that the four of us would make new memories together. That there was, and that we did. Our time together did not disappoint...and we can't wait to see our fellow married friends again!

Twenty-Five and Golden

Today is my 25th birthday!


To be honest, I have always wanted to be twenty-five. My sweet husband thinks that I have forever looked forward to this birthday, which has put him under a bit of self-imposed pressure to make the day "perfect". I've tried to assure him that although this birthday is fun, it's really not the birthday I've looked forward to. I've truly just always wanted to be twenty-five!


To be fair, I suppose I'm somewhat partial to the number itself. My birthday is on the 25th (which makes this my 'Golden Birthday'!), and December 25th is a pretty fun day, too. What can I say? It's a good number. 


Besides that, though, being twenty-five just seems like such a great time of life!


I'm old enough to feel sure of myself, knowing confidently that I have some things figured out, mature enough to know that there are some things lots of things that I don't, and young enough to feel great excitement and anticipation for all that life has in store in the years ahead.

I think I'm really going to enjoy being twenty-five.


Some highlights from my day so far....

• Pancakes, eggs, and bacon for breakfast, courtesy of Bobby, who got up early to cook just for me!
• Having the "birthday cheer" performed in my honor by a cafeteria full of elementary students: "Happ...yyy...happ..yyy...birth-day!" (repeat) (Think, "we...will...we...will...rock you!")
• Listening to Miss Baer's 4th grade class sing "Happy Birthday" to me in the hallway before class (Is that a great way to start the day, or what?!)
• Spending the day around my mom, who played a pretty huge role in giving me life in the first place
• Mrs. Hockman's 2nd grade class joint birthday wish
• Several texts and facebook well-wishes from friends throughout the day
• Being the recipient of multiple hugs and well-wishes by kiddos and teachers at school
• My sister's lunchtime birthday phone call, complete with the "Happy (Golden) Birthday" song (yes, Rachel, you're still the only one to have thrown that in there...you creative thing, you!)
• Being given a stack of surprise, hand-written/hand-colored birthday cards from Mrs. Miles' class of kindergartners, who were oh, so excited to deliver and show-off their handiwork...as well they should have been!

It was such a blessing to be around children today, who know more than anyone how special birthdays should be. They were so tender in wishing me a special day, and I could tell it was heartfelt.  What a gift, to have the reminder of the children's innocence.

And, the day is not over yet! I'm looking forward to...

• Bobby coming home from work!
• Not having to go to Parent Orientation at school tonight (Whew! Close one.)
• BBQ chicken on the grill...Bobby's specialty
• Blowing out the candles on my birthday cheesecake (homemade, by Bobby! I know, he's amazing!) with my husband and my parents
• Enjoying the beautiful weather outside this evening
• Tomorrow! It's almost Friday!

I am blessed. 

If today was any indication of what twenty-five will be like...then I was right all along! 

Twenty-five feels good.

Milestone Day

Today is a milestone day in the Phillips family for two reasons.

Number One:

I have now done my 1st, 2nd, and 3rd load of laundry in the new house.

I know what you're thinking. "Wait, haven't you lived there for a month or so now? You're just now doing laundry? Gross." I'd be thinking the same thing. But, we've been doing laundry at my parents' house since we moved home in November. Yes, that's 7+ months of hauling baskets of clothes to and fro. This entirely generous move on Mom and Dad's part allowed us to avoid renting or buying a washer and dryer set in our apartment, and then, after we moved into the house, gave us a bit of time before we needed to make another big appliance purchase. We are really, really grateful for how it all worked out. But, our very own washer and dryer are now installed, and today it has been so very nice to carry the dirty clothes just 30 seconds from the closet to the laundry room. It's the little things, I suppose.

Number Two:

In approximately one hour, we'll be bringing home a new addition to our family!

On Saturday, Bobby and I adopted a 4.5 month old puppy from the Humane Society. After much discussion, weighing the options and considering our decision, we agreed...we're ready for a pet. We've waited patiently, we have a great yard, and if not now, when?! It really seems like the perfect "post-house purchase, pre-baby" step...and we are both pretty excited about it.

Our puppy had to be neutered over the weekend, but he should be ready to go this evening. (I should think so, after that procedure.) We can't wait to bring our sweet guy home! 'Puppy parenthood', here we come!


Like I said...it's a milestone day!

On a Not-So-Magic Carpet Ride

Here I was, spending the morning building up my momentum for writing about the major house progress we've made. (I've admittedly done an awful job so far of documenting our work. It's been a crazy spring.) Then, as I was straightening the living room by removing the paint supplies from aforementioned house progress, catastrophe struck. (Okay, I recognize that "catastrophe" is a bit dramatic. But, for the sake of, well, dramatic effect, just go with it.)

Said catastrophe has taken up the past hour of my morning, and left me at the moment with little motivation to blog about our home improvement progress. But, it really only seems fitting to discuss one of the major house failures before talking about our first big success. Right?

I thought I could balance more than three 32 oz. yogurt containers full of latex paint.

I couldn't. (I now know that carrying three stacked on top of each other is reasonable; anything more is just asking for trouble.) 

The yogurt container holding the dark grey paint (oops, spoiler...we used some dark grey paint in the kitchen renovation) toppled over, leaving a rather large and ever-so-quickly spreading blob on the light tan living room carpet.

What, you're expecting a picture?

There was no time to snap a photo at a time like this.

But, I know...I wish I had one, too.

Did we get any paint on the carpet while the kitchen cabinets were laying in the living room for a month? Nope. (This is why we used drop cloths, I suppose. Still, we never even really so much as dripped profusely on them. Oh, the irony.)

I think I stared blankly at the blob for a second, and then leapt into action ran into the kitchen to grab whatever towel I could get a hold of. After quickly sopping up the paint on the surface, and unintentionally creating a rather unfortunate larger circumference of grey carpet, I realized I was facing what could turn into a really big problem. 

If there was no time to take a picture at a time like this, there wasn't time to Google "what to do if latex paint lands in a big soppy mess all over your carpet", either. (I still haven't researched what I should have done in this situation. Frankly, I don't want to know. It's probably too late now, and hey, I did the best I could.)

After using up our collection of 'towels-we-don't-really-care-about-and-can-use-for-such-a-mess', and creating a few more towels that now fall into that category, I poured entire glasses of water over the carpet (yes, I said glasses...are you getting a good picture of how much of a mess this was?). Then, after diluting/attempting to dilute the puddle of paint that was soaking deeper and deeper into the carpet, I grabbed the big ol' gallon of carpet cleaning concentrate from the garage. (We've been meaning to use the carpet cleaner we borrowed from Bobby's parents. Yay for new incentive!) So, I poured a bit way more than I should have directly onto the newly-grey carpet, and proceeded to use the product exactly not to manufacturer instructions.

Did I dilute it? Nope. Did I use it with the carpet cleaning machine? Nope. (I was the machine, people!) I scrubbed and I soaked up as much liquid (that was now, thankfully, a much lighter grey) as I possibly could. 

By this point, I also ran out of paper towels. There goes the idea of stocking up and not having to buy any for a while. Oh, well. I knew I clipped that Bounty coupon for a reason.

Long story a bit shorter, I've done as much as I think I can at this point. We'll see what happens when it's dried. For now, it's obviously slightly discolored in comparison to the rest of the carpet, but it is far less glaringly obvious that something tragic happened there than it was a while ago. (Whew! That could have been an embarrassing conversation starter for every houseguest we'll have for years to come that I would not have enjoyed having....)

Here's the good news: 

1. I think I did a darn good job of attempting to remedy the situation. I wish it wouldn't have happened, but it's cleaned to the point of being almost like it didn't. Plus, it's in a relatively-shaded part of the room, so the light doesn't exactly emphasize the problem. 

2. It's not new carpet. Far from it. But, it's (still!) in decent-enough condition to not need immediate replacing. (That's on the list of projects for say, 5 years down the road...barring any other unforeseen paint splatters or the like.) This wasn't the first stain, and I'm certain it won't be the last. 

3. That's probably the cleanest part of our carpet right now! Minus the new grey tint, of course. 

4. It had to happen sometime! Look at us, just making the house "ours" in so many ways.... Now it's a memory, and when we do replace the carpet down the road and they pull up the padding and there's a big grey spot, I'll smile. (Oh, yes, I'm sure it soaked down that far. Believe me, it was bad.) These things happen, and I'm thankful to have the perspective that it is just carpet. Life goes on. I'm also thankful, as I suspect Bobby will be, that I'm the first one to cause such a dreadful spill. It's entirely possible that I would have reacted less-calmly had it been someone else make the first big mess. (I'm not proud of that, but it's true.) 

Speaking of Bobby, unless I get brave enough to call him before I post this, this will be the first he hears about it. Not that I'm afraid to tell him, but really, it's not as if anyone would want to get this call at work:

"Hey babe, just wanted to call and say that I almost ruined our carpet this morning!" 

Truth be told, Bobby isn't always able to check my blog during the day, so he'll either be able to read it and hopefully get a kick out of this, or I can see if he spots the spot when he gets home. We might find out just how noticeable the stain is...and he might just learn that it's best to stay caught up on his reading. :)

So, there you have it...what I would consider to be the first "how could we let this happen to our new-to-us house?!" moment. 

I'm certain, now that I've shared this home un-improvement, I'll be ready to give an update on how nicely we're treating the house, too. Soon, very soon!

To Kill a Mockingbird...Or Two

We acquired with the house a small, backyard fountain that Bobby and I recently cleaned and got into working order. We scrubbed off the algae, rearranged the rocks around the edge, and have since been enjoying the gentle sound of running water as we sit on the patio in the evenings.

We also have a birdbath elsewhere in the yard, but it's old and cracked and barely holds any water. We've been working on finding a replacement.

Now we're working faster.

Because yesterday I discovered that our fountain is a murderous trap for our backyard wildlife. There were two dead birds floating in the water yesterday, and this is on top of the toad that was belly-up in there a week or so ago. (The amphibian I can understand. How the poor birds managed to get themselves killed, I don't know.)

The point is, it was rather tragic to discover that what we thought was a pleasant addition to our landscaping is instead a deathtrap. Not exactly what we were going for. 

The long-term solution may have to be getting rid of the fountain. But, for now, Bobby will be removing the birds (I love you, dear!), we'll try adding some chlorine tablets, and you'd better believe that I'll be monitoring the water supply in the real birdbath more closely.

Good grief. 

This Is Life

A friend-of-a-friend of mine used to have this short tagline at the top of her blog:

THIS IS LIFE.

To be honest, that didn't really resonate with me when I first read it a couple of years ago. But, for some reason, that brief sentence has really stuck with me, and the sentiment has made a lot of sense to me in the past few weeks.

I've known for a long time that this spring would be a whirlwind of events and activities.

Buying the house
Working on the house
Moving into the house
Rachel's bridal showers
Rachel's graduation
Rachel and Brice's wedding
Bobby's business trips (plural)
Bobby's football league
Parties/celebrations/weddings for special friends

And, a whirlwind it is. We're in the thick of it now, and the past few weeks have been every bit as hectic as I expected. (But, expected though the packed schedule was, how much can you prepare yourself for busy times, really?)

Those three words have come to mind recently during this busy, busy season. I've found myself thinking, "This is life! This is it! We're living the moments and celebrations that will happen just once in our lifetimes."

You get to buy and move into your first house, just once.
You get to throw a bridal shower for your little sister, just once.
You get to be the Matron of Honor, planning and celebrating your sister's wedding, just once.
You get to share in the joy of the weddings of dear friends, just once.

You get the point.

All of the events taking place in our lives this spring are such BIG things, and our busyness is a good kind of "busy". Still, the packed schedule gets wearisome, and I've felt a bit as though I'm just getting through each week. I don't want to! These are big life moments, each deserving of due recognition as such.

I need to remind myself to take the time to slow down enough to recognize each occasion (...each day...each week...) as the treasured memory it will become.

I can't say for certain what Megan intended by those three little words; maybe I'm way off the mark in my interpretation. But, I'm thankful for the catchphrase that it has become for me...a little reminder to recognize all of the moments that are filling each busy day as the ones that are making up my lifetime.

This is a busy spring.
This is a hectic week.
This is life!

And these days, I'm really living, appreciating, and celebrating it.

A Great Day!

The sun is (finally) shining.
It's Friday.
Bobby is back from his week in St. Louis.
We're headed out of town shortly for a weekend in Kansas City to celebrate Natalie, the bride-to-be.
Our tax refund found its way to our bank account, one week before we close on our house.

As Bobby likes to say, "this is a great day!"

Snow Day!

I am loving today. Thanks to a rare "Blizzard Warning" that has most of the Springfield population and the surrounding areas staying home today...we are! Staying home, that is.

We slept in, ate french toast, and are enjoying our second cups of coffee. Bobby is here...still working, but here...and I could definitely get used to that. I'm sitting on the couch, watching the snow fall, waiting for my fresh coat of bright red toenail polish to dry. (It is February now, after all!) We are cozy, warm, and oh, so content.

(And, I'll be starting my "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" DVD marathon shortly, which practically guarantees that the rest of my morning will be as delightful and relaxing as the first part of the day has been.)

What a great blessing today is. A chance to snuggle and relax...and such a wonderful reminder that for all of our constant "going & going & going", God can direct nature in such a way that forces us all to stop...to rest...to be still.