This Side of Invisible

When I was pregnant with my first, I read several books, like What To Expect when You're Expecting , and the like.  I'd been babysitting since I was 10 and had taken care of countless infants.  I thought I'd had most things figured out.  Of course, like most new mothers, I was wrong in this assumption. There was a time, shortly after my son was born, where every evening when my husband came home from work, I would hand him the baby, and promptly lock myself in the bathroom, where I'd wallow in a hot bath, crying myself dry.  I'd lay there weeping in the tub, leaking from my eyes and my swollen breast as my  baby boy cried out in the hall and my husband asked through the too-thin door how long I'd be and if I could come out soon as the baby was hungry... again. That kid nursed every hour on the hour, for at least 40 minutes. Every day. For nearly a month. And I wondered how it was that my life had come to this: I was nothing more than a dairy cow.  Plu...

Today I learned that Congress is trying to cut my spouse's military retirement by 124K.  This literally makes me sick.  Our politicians have become so out of touch with America and its people; it's maddening.  So I wrote to my Senators in hopes that they might reconnect with the military families of America... if only through my little one here in Texas.  And I hope that no matter what the cause is, that you will write to your senators and congressmen, that you will picket, that you will organize groups to lobby, that, whether or not you agree with me politically, you will find something that matters to you and that you will do something, anything, about it, to help maintain a government for the people and by the people.  Throw tea for all I care, just do something. I sent the follwing letter to Senator Ted Cruz: Dear Senator Cruz, First of all, you are my hero for fighting the Affordable Care Act and all its unconstitutional ridiculousness.  Se...

There is verse of scripture that reads:   " for the  Spirit  speaketh the  truth  and lieth not. Wherefore, it speaketh of things as they really  are , and of things as they really will be; wherefore, these things are manifested unto us  plainly , for the salvation of our souls. " ( Jacob 4:13 )  And this morning as I lounged in my bed, refusing to get out from under my down comforter, there was a bit of truth running around in my head.  A touch of something as it really is that has been nagging at me and, finally, I was able to give it a name. Romance. Wait.  What? That's right, I'm talking about romance.  Can the Spirit teach us about such things?  Certainly. You see, I posted this to facebook two nights ago:   "Writing poetry by firelight. My world is rather romantic. Or it would be if boys weren't having a bionicle war at my feet,  the laundry from winter ice storm adventures wasn't piling up ...

It was a dreary English January morning, the sky was an oppressive grey and cold, wet mist enveloped everything. The kids had mad cabin fever and my husband was deployed to an unnamable location.  We were nearing the end of a trying Christmas holiday--everyone had had strep, which, when you have a child with Asperger's and the doctor wants a throat culture means you've just gone to Hell and Back; Thing 1 had climbed atop a radiator and pulled it off the wall, dumping gallon upon gallon of boiling black water onto the office floor; it was our first holiday without Daddy, you get the picture--and I was pushing aside my guilt and instead allowing myself to revel in excitement that the kids would soon be going back to school. And then, red gatorade. My arch nemesis. I hate red drinks.  Whoever invented them... is not my favorite person. An entire 20 oz bottle of red gatorade spilled on my  my landlord's carpet!  In the middle of the living room.  No furniture ...

Seriously. Mean Girls, making life miserable for girls and women everywhere since... forever! I remember every encounter I had with means girls growing up; from salt in my hair at a slumber party, to rejection on the playground, to the taunts in PE freshman year, and all the name calling in the halls and whispered rumors behind hands, it was all ridiculously petty, and unfortunately it was also more hurtful than I could have imagined.   It shouldn't hurt.  It shouldn't matter what so-and-so thinks of me.  At least, that's what I used to tell myself.  But the fact is that it did.  A lot.  As if every girl doesn't have enough of a struggle trying to find her value in a world of such conflicting expectations--be sexy, but don't be a whore; be educated, but don't be a know-it-all; be a good mother, but make sure you can rule the board room too; make the best treats, soccer mom, and while you're at it, get that second degree too; speak up for what yo...

I'm woman enough to admit that last week I had a small nervous breakdown.  A mini meltdown, if you will.  It seems a bit silly now in retrospect, but I assure you it wasn't silly in the slightest last week. All my life I have been a busy body.  I don't mean the gossipy, busy body; I mean the real deal, genuine body that must be busy doing something meaningful.  As a young child it was gymnastics or dance or both, plus t-ball, then later softball.  I started babysitting when I was eleven.  Not just here-and-there, but nearly every weekend and on many occasions over night.  I played volleyball, basketball and was a cheerleader in middle school and I was a peer tutor.  In high school, I was involved in color guard, cheerleading, youth camps, leadership camps, more peer tutoring, drama club, church youth group, early morning bible study, the drug-free group at school, student council and I worked at Burger King and babysat on the side.  In coll...

There are those in the world that caution against looking back.  And I see the wisdom in that counsel... usually.  I understand that dwelling on the past hinders your movement forward.  But here's the thing, these last few days, I've learned the beauty and the value of letting yourself look back. This last weekend was General Conference for our church.  Basically, it's a televised conference (from Salt Lake City) in which our church leaders speak to us.  For those of us fortunate enough to live in areas where we have access to cable, satellite or the internet, it usually means we get to have 10 hours of church in our pajamas :)  For me, this weekend, it meant two days straight of having everyone home and 10 hours of trying to get kids to stay quiet.  It was a glorious, albeit long, weekend. Conference was great.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining in the least about that.  And my kids were great and I love them, sometimes it's actual...