Monthly Archives: September 2013

Kindergarten has been a real awakening for me as a mom.

I knew the world was going to get bigger for my son,  but I wasn’t {am not} really ready for it. It has been as many firsts for me as it has been for my boy and we are both taking it as it seems to slap us upside the head in, “it’s time to grow up,” kinda ways.

We played at the park the other day and I watched my boy with this ridiculous smile on my face as he ran into friends from his class. He has waited for 6 months to make friends his age! The neighborhood and classmate kids played tag and ran their afternoon crazies off while I watched and honestly just thanked God as I took it in. We left the park saying our goodbyes to head home for baths as the other kids broke off for their evening to-do’s or chasing each other around the block on their razors. My mommy-heart was FULL.

An hour later, an urgent and persistent knock on the door.

One of the little girls in the neighborhood had figured out which house was ours.

I couldn’t help but smile & think, “so it begins….” The requests to come and play, the separation of mom and child, the growth edges on both sides of parent and baby sharpening both hesitantly and eagerly.

I sat on the porch while the kids played. I talked to my neighbor in the quick catching up moments you can catch as an adult between watching your child and needing adult connection. My husband arrived home taking it in: our boys were playing–freely and safely–with a new classmate and neighborhood friend. And as all good times must come to an end, so did this one. We called our kids in & sent our new friend off with goodbyes.

But wait.

My oldest, true to his core and very being, had a final touch to put on his perfect afternoon,

“Here, Lisa. It’s a flower for you.”

My lips curled out and my head tilted while my hand went to my heart in the “that’s so precious!” manner.

She stared at it, turning it over in her hands then quizzically replied, “this isn’t a flower, it’s a weed.” And she tossed it to the ground riding off into the cloud cover.

My little’s whole body sulked & I ached.

Daddy rushed to him explaining, “Hey buddy, it’s ok. You were both right, it’s a weed and a flower.”

Our 5 year old with a heart bigger than I can even explain was crushed and couldn’t let go of his gift being tossed aside for almost 30 minutes. He begged us to tell her that it hurt his feelings and we used it as a learning moment. First, when someone gives you a gift, never throw it to the side; embrace it with thanks. Second, when we are hurt, we use our words and talk it out.

The next day at school, our sensitive and reserved boy used his words.

“Lisa, it made me sad when you threw my flower,” he told her.

“I’m sorry,” Lisa replied.

He did it! He did it and he came home and told me about it. I was SO proud of him for taking the hurt and turning it to healing!

If the dandelion isn’t a perfect metaphor for events in life, I don’t know what is. So symbolic of how we each see things differently; the opportunities we have to spread seeds of hope, hurt, and/or healing.

Ugh. This mommy thing may be the death {and new life} of me….

One of my favorite things to do is make a dollar stretch and SAVE money.

When I was introduced & invited into a private community FaceBook page that allowed me to both SAVE money & MAKE money, I became addicted! I think every community should have one.

A group of women came together to act as the Administrative Moderators. They tackle accepting the people who come into the group since it’s private {*a member must be a woman, must live locally, & must know someone who is already in the group. It makes it a safe place for us all to be!} They monitor the photos and field all of our questions.

How it works as a buyer: You search the the photos by category (shown below). If you find something you like, you comment on the picture with the word SOLD. Then, you private message the seller and arrange for a pick up time.

Here is a screen shot of the folders (aka: categories) that we are able to upload our items for sale into.

At Pick Up, the seller leaves the item you bought on their porch and you put the money in an envelope under their doormat. It’s quick and easy!

Here are all of the rules & guidelines they established in detail.

As a seller: You upload your photo to a category. You include the item’s condition, the city you live in, and the price.  When someone comments SOLD you arrange for their pick up time. You leave the item well marked in a bag on your porch and they pick up on their given date. The magic is when you find the money under your mat. I call this the adult version of the tooth fairy 🙂

In the last month, I have been able to clear out hordes of kids clothes and cleanse our house of things we don’t need. In addition, I have been able to find a few great deals for things we did need! The bottom line is, I have made $350.00 and I’m still selling.

All of that money is going into our savings account and while it may seem small to some, it’s a lot for us as we climb out of a year without jobs and draining our emergency savings account. {Thank you to Dave Ramsey’s teachings we had that ER Savings Account. It’s how we got through it financially}.

So get together with your friends and set something like this up or ask someone else to! It’s INCREDIBLE!

My heart has been stirring this weekend with happiness.

I have these random moments where I would catch myself smiling and the smile connected to my heart. The connection created this feeling that I’ve had on repeat since moving to Oregon: thankfulness.

I haven’t written a lot about my happiness.

Ever.

Writing came more naturally as a therapeutic measure to release hurt and confusion. I often turned my thanks only to praise and one on one with God. Sometimes I even think my happiness isn’t what people want to hear. Happiness, I think, misplaces some people. It can make people feel left out, forgotten, or insignificant if they are not a part of that happiness equation.

But I’m about to make this post about me & this insatiable happiness that strikes me often here.

{Do I even need to say that being 800 miles from home & 1,000 miles from some incredibly close family & friends catches me off guard ocassionally? Well, it does. And I cry in those moments. It’s true.}

So here I am, in Oregon.

I have spent the last 6 months beneath a warm sun I wished would go away while I begged the question, “where is the rain and cloud cover I have only dreamed of?”

This question sets me apart from true Oregonians, apparently, but I’m still on a foreigner’s visa status here not knowing what seasons look like and thinking rain is magical! However, finding myself beneath plastic tarps on Mississippi dining from food carts while thunder cracked and buckets dumped overhead was a match to my life-tourist heart.

I am set on fire by the unknown and feeling small.

I live for moments where I know nothing of my surroundings and feel a bit of uneasy fear at the red letter O(utsider) being freshly tattooed on my head. Red & 3-D ink blazing, I ache for it. Oregon makes me feel like that.

I study districts and make lists of dream-do’s and I try to make them happen.

Give me tourist attractions and the hidden gems.

Let me feel the venue floor pound beneath my feet while the band opens their set.

Scoop me up a cup of the odd flavored ice cream I’ll never order again but I’d only taste here.

{Don’t pour me a glass of Oregon wine. I’m a California girl & nothing compares}

See–I’m still ME! I have my heart & I have my adventure.

I remember and love all of the chapters written before and I am LOVING writing these new chapters! THAT, my friends, feels magical!

I’m happy.

Wednesday brought it’s afternoon mommy-hurts over my son’s first school-teasing.

And for for whatever hurt I felt that day, Thursday’s feelings of praise & thanks far out weighed Wednesday. Only God can do that.

Thursday morning we awoke to tantrums. There was an utter and downright resistance to getting ready for school that resulted in tears, battle, red eyes, and tardiness. It was a hard way to start the day.

I walked my boy into class and as he told me he didn’t want me to go, I encouraged him,
“I love you, babe. Go sit with your class & I’ll see you this afternoon,” I whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek as I let go of his hand.

“Jesus, please be with my boy. Only YOU can be with him everywhere. Give him a moment only You can give him and human kindness,” I prayed as I walked somberly out the school doors.

I was heavy inside. I couldn’t find more words to pray although my heart stirred with more, but I hoped I had prayed enough and knew God fills my gaps.

I talked to my soul-sister, my bestie. She encouraged me as she always does and in ways only someone who shares the common denominator of believer can. She let me hear God’s voice through her & for that, I cried in my weakness and gratefulness for her and Him.

2:10 rolled around and I made my way to the bus circle to claim my blond package. He caught my eyes and made his way right for…not me…but his teacher. He put his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. She turned to me with a thumbs up and said, “He had a good day.”

That lump in my throat crawled up, “Thank you, Jesus!”

My boy grabbed my hand and said, “Mommy, a girl said she likes my shoes.”

I shared the story with my bestie knowing she would celebrate the way that God took that hurt and redeemed it for both myself and my son, “Tell him it matters more what the ladies say about your shoes than the boys, buddy,” she said through her own simple tears of thanks.

And with that, I can firmly say Wednesday’s hurt had nothing on Thursday’s praise.

My oldest started kindergarten a week ago

Some mom’s said they cried, but I didn’t.  I thought I would, but it didn’t happen.  I watched my guy walk into class, find his place and become his own.

My husband and I talked about it and why there weren’t tears.  We did that with him years ago.  When we were both locked into full time jobs and surprised by him, we weren’t prepared to have me home with him.  Those years were some of the hardest and most self-tortured of my adult existence. So when I watched that boy of mine part from me without a tear, I smiled.  It had been a long road for us both to be ok knowing we could stand without the other.

So he came home from school today.  I love picking him up & hearing him say, “Mommy!” and say goodbye to his new friends by name. I know it’s only a short time he’ll be excited to see whatever grubby condition I show up in to collect my hugs before it’s embarrassing.

We did our usual routine and he got settled in with a snack and seeing his little brother, when he caught me off guard,

“Mommy, kids in my class said my TOMS are girly.”

A little piece of me felt sick, a small piece wanted to cry, and another sliver wanted to fight a pod of five-year-olds. It took everything in me NOT to impose my own emotions on him & not to turn his sharing into something it wasn’t: a tragedy.

“How did that make you feel?” I asked

“Embarrassing,” he said tucking his chin down.

“How do you feel about your shoes?” I prodded a bit further.

“I like them. They’re blue” he stated.

“I like them, too,” I told him with confidence (I mean, I DO! I bought them! 😉 “I’m sorry they embarrassed you. That wasn’t nice to do. I’ve been embarrassed before, too, and I know it doesn’t feel so fun.”

I left it at that.

I didn’t serenade him with how horrible his classmates are (although I wanted to) – I took that one to God knowing only HE can protect that little boy when I’m not there.

I can’t make my baby’s world perfect. I can only be his safe haven.

Give your babes a hug tonight…just because.  One day, they’ll need to remember that someone back home LOVES them…

and their shoes.