Who is My Neighbor

I'm doing some writing for our church blog. Check it out here.

Looking in All the Wrong Places

I have long chronicled my struggles with depression, anxiety, and loneliness. Sadly, it is something so present in my life that it has been recorded and I don't see it's presence lessening in any sense of the word soon.

People often think that these struggles are situational. Hell, I have often convinced myself that if only X, Y, or Z - then I would feel better and be a better person. I would be whole.

But the fact of the matter is that my brain and heart are broken.

Moving back home had very little affect on my depression for the better.

I think it actually made it worse.

Aside from gaining the sunshine, I lost an entire community. It's the community that I had painstakingly built over a two year period. I again lost a house. An environment. A town. I lost things. Seriously, I have lost a lot of things in the moving process. My husband and I often joke that we are just not allowed nice things. We either have to give them up because they won't fit in the new rental or they break in transit. Not to mention the "wealth" that we lose every time we move. Moving isn't inexpensive.

I lost connectedness. I also lose a desire to be connected. What's the point of it all anyhow? I have built homes, communities, roots many many times in my life. All to see them ripped from my hands - never really an excited or willing participant. I have always just been along for the ride. Whether it's growing up an army brat or being married and just making decisions that are best for my husband's career - moving is a great adventure. But not all great adventures are happy. Most are terrifying. And my life as I have often seen it is very much battered and bruised if one looks at it from a distance. Large portions of my life are simply collateral damage. I have scars from moving.

Each move. Each new adventure. However you phrase it, reopens the old wounds. It makes the old scars a little deeper. And in a sense - I hole away until parts of me can heal.

The point that I want to hearken back to is the connectedness and the loss of it. I feel its loss very deeply in my current moment. Sitting at a table. Surrounded by my girls. A friend has just come by and brought us a gift. We had an incredibly busy and wonderful weekend filled with new friends, old friends, and church family. And yet, I am so incredibly lonely.

It has nothing to do with the number of people around me or even the number of activities I am involved in. It has nothing to do with a lack of family or friends or my husband or my children.

Why do I feel lonely? Is it to do with moving?

Of course it is. Moving breaks all the constants. It makes all the old reliable muscle memory wrong and outdated and suddenly the light switch is on the other side of the bathroom wall. It is to do with the move, but it is also to do with WHERE I look to for my consistency.

Where is my constant?

Where is my True North?

It's my God. My faith.

And oh.....how I have been seeking to avoid Him lately.  I don't want to delve into the depths. They are too hard. They are too many. They are too dark.

And yet....HE IS LIGHT.

At my worst, I expect God to plunge me into the depths, but He truly does seek to pull me out. He shines light into the darkness and the darkness is overcome. There can be no darkness where there is light.

I know these things. In my head. There are whispers of this truth in my heart.

Communion with God is such a marvelous thing and it can connect me to the world around me. It can make me feel part, known, whole - even in the midst of loss and anger and depression. There is still a sadness and a loneliness when I am with Him. But it is so much greater when I hide myself away and refuse His company.

Turning away from that Communion leads me into those hard moments - those hard journeys - and all is unknown....even my own heart.

I hope that you are each found today in a place of connectedness - whether sustained or fleeting. I hope that you find Communion. I hope that whispers turn into screams and ripples into waves.

Find you in Him.

Kids & Weddings

Welcome to our very first Blog Hop for 2015!

This month we want to help you start the year off by getting organized as you’re planning your wedding or event. Get ready for some great ideas to help you reduce stress and enjoy the planning process as you move along through the blog hop. You may just be starting the blog hop or may have come from 40. Laurie Kuerlemann on Natalie’s Blog Hop. If you get off track at any time, the full lineup below will help you move along from blog to blog so you make sure to see and learn from all of the articles featured here today.

.........................................................................................................

Hey There.

I am not a wedding or an event planner.

I have planned ONE wedding 10+ year ago. My own. So, god speed, ladies.

I do, however, have kids. They are quite the handful.

I get dirty stares taking them into public places where it should be completely acceptable to act childlike. So, imagine the sweaty, itchy, neurotic mess I become when I envision my children having to sit in a completely silent church whilst a beautiful white-dressed "princess" {the 2-year-old equivalent of Bono} stands dangerously within reach of that glass of communal wine {the 2-year-old equivalent of paint}.

{Oh, those scenarios have never played out in your mind? Well, you probably don't have children.}

These are the crazed faces that can totally take your perfectly planned day off its rails.

Let's visit the angst-ridden tight rope that one must walk during the process of wedding planning that can only be referred to as:

"Children at major events that in no way were designed for young, small, noisy, and possibly poop-covered humans"

It's a working title.

There is one basic question to begin with as the bride {that's you, lucky lady}:

Do you WANT kids at your event? 

Here's the truth, no one is twisting your arm and if they are, cross them off your guest list {unless it is your soon to be mother-in-law because that is just not a good way to start}.

My hubs and I did not invite children to our big day. We were planning on a budget and wanted more cash for music and food. We also didn't know a ton of people with kids. It was an easy call. We did have family children IN the wedding and these kiddos also came to the reception {because we got to call the shots and loved having them there}.

Now, for the advice parts.

If you choose NOT to have children:

Did you think you were going to get out of having to plan for kids? Ha. That's funny.

Make it Clear. Address your envelopes and word your invitations in such a way that there is no misunderstanding: this is a "no kids" event. There are lots of elegant wordings out there that won't come off too harshly.

Don't forget your guests who may be traveling with kids. I'm not saying you should make an exception, but certainly collate and provide a list of possible caretakers in the area OR better yet, hire a childcare worker(s) for the wedding and reception times to stay at the hotel with the kiddos. If your guests are traveling 2000 miles for your wedding and can't bring their most precious cargo along to the big event, be a gem and take the time to do some legwork for them. Again, you don't have kids. Ask around. Churches often have childcare workers {with completed background checks} that they hire for Sunday mornings. Call daycare centers or ask the girl who works in the kid area at your gym {all will have had background checks - HOLLA!} If you just can't seem to make contact, try some of the online services - like Care.com


If you choose to HAVE children at the wedding and or reception:

During the Ceremony {and I say this in all serious} make like Santa, the Easter Bunny, and Elsa from Frozen - Buy gifts for all the little girls and boys, put them in cute baskets, and then "Let it Go."

Kids don't have a long attention span. Do you know what helps? Straight-forward, no-nonsense, Bribery. This is best accomplished in the form of a goodie bag or basket. Be sure to include:

Edible Treats: Gummy Bears or lollipops that can be shoved into their mouths mercilessly. You can also do healthier fruit snacks (mom will thank you), but do avoid chocolate (Mom will straight kill you with dagger eyes when she has to wipe down a well-dressed toddler with chocolate face, hands, feet...it gets everywhere).

Toy: This can be simple. A hot wheels car, a little tub of play dough, a kaleidoscope, a small plastic animal. You just want to make sure that it does't make noise.

Pipe Cleaners: These suckers are brightly colored and easily bendable. They give fidgety kids something to do with their hands. SCORE.

Coloring Book and Crayons: This is pretty self explanatory, but it keeps kids busy and quiet and engaged. You can even get some pictures of you and your fiance and the church and have a custom coloring book just waiting for them.

A Back-Up Plan: Sometimes you have a colicky baby or a two-year-old who is more of a bridezilla than your friend, Marcy {and you know how SHE was}. So, have a little mercy on your guests and see if the venue has a room that can serve as a "cry" room. A lot of churches have these already and they are life savers. If everything is going downhill real quick, mom or dad can scoop up their bundle of joy and make a graceful exit to an already designated, fairly comfortable locale. {Make sure there is good signage and have ushers inform guests with kids as to its whereabouts}

Now.....the Reception:

If it is a formal sit down dinner: WHY ARE YOU INVITING CHILDREN!? If you have little dinner guests, make sure that there are high chairs. Also, crackers, quiet games, and an activity place mat would be appreciated. Kids don't like waiting for their food. And like your Aunt Edna after a few drinks, they will let everyone within screaming distance know it.

If this is a more free-flowing event: Spoil the kids at your wedding with a little play area. It can be a simple kids sized table with books, disposable cameras, paper, crayons, cupcakes, candy, and other kid-friendly food. You can also lay down a beautiful blanket or rug and set toys, puzzles, and board games around it. This just allows them to have an area that is all their own....and it gives mom and dad an "out" if they are unable to entertain lil' Billy for another second. But don't worry, kids love the dance floor and loud music and cake. Your ceremony was probably their personal hell, but your reception is the BEST BIRTHDAY PARTY EVER.

{More Great Ideas}

I can't reiterate this enough: DO NOT STRESS . Something will go wrong that day. It will MORE than likely have nothing to do with that small {poopy} human who can't seem to grasp the concept sacred vows....and will most definitely have everything to do with that one piece of hair that is out of place or that the peonies are more Pepto in shade and less the desired blush color. You will have a meltdown at some point - just like the kids who may or may not be coming to your nuptials.

Happy Planning.

**Please take time to scroll through the complete list for a little special message from me**

The next stop is  42. Melissa Pepin on Natalie’s Blog Hop! Thanks for visiting and I hope to see you again next month!

1. Natalie Bradley at Natalie Bradley Events 

2. Katherine Shorter at Creating Awesomenessity 

3. Kristi Richardson at Bloomed To Last 

4. Chantal Benoit at Chantal Benoit Photographer 

5. Elizabeth Batte at plainjane designs 

6. Andie Freeman  at Andie Freeman Photography 

7. Brenna Fields Taylor at An Elegant Affair LLC 

8. Irene Tyndale at Irene Tyndale Events 

9. Sharon K Hyatt at Weddings with Sharon of Awesome Designs & Weddings 

10. Tessa Marie at Tessa Marie Weddings 

11. Peter Merkle at Chicago Wedding DJs 

12. Anshwa Lewis at SwaLaRue Events 

13. Deborah Ashe at Rev. Deborah Ashe 

14. Angela Christoforo at Elite Wedding and Event Planning 

15. Liz Coopersmith at Silver Charm Events 

16. Amber Peterson at Cheers Wedding & Event Planning 

17. Maggie Evans at Maggie Evans Designs :: handmade bridal couture 

18. N’neka Scruggs at Images by N’neka 

19. Kelly Snyder at Southern Charm Weddings 

20. Cindy Clearwater at Something Blue Virgin Islands 

21. Kimberly Parks at KP Photography 

22. Simone R. Ross at Lil’ Tux N Tiara’s Event Sitters & Entertainment 

23. David Osborne at Sound Insight Productions 

24. Nicole Hill at Flora Bond 

25. Shaun Cox at A D.I.Y. Affair Weddings and Events 

26. Katrina McCullum at Made of Honor Weddings 

27. Sandy Salle at Hills of Africa Travel 

28. Rachel Huntoon  at Ashford Manor Bed & Breakfast 

29. Daphne Simpson at Elite Design 

30. Kishana Highgate at Kishana Highgate Photography 

31. Loraine McCall at Mojica Photography 

32. Teresa Rhodes at Nearly Nesters  

33. Andrea Freeman at Andrea Freeman Events 

34. Nikki Michel at Ciao Bella Weddings 

35. Kelly King at Affordable Wedding Invites by Gossett Printing 

36. Christine Ringuette at Down The Aisle Wedding Planning & Design 

37. Myiesha Antwine at Kiss and Tell Weddings 

38. Ashley Rae at Ashley Rae Events 

39. Laurie Kuerlemann at Platinum Party Events Entertainment, Inc 

40. Lydia Wells at Writer Mom  

41. Melissa Pepin at Melissa Pepin Photography

Follow my blog using the link to the right hand side and you will be entered to win a set of custom coloring pages for your big day. One lucky winner will be announced January 26, 2015. If you don't win, no worries. Contact me if you are interested in custom coloring pages for your wedding - complete with coloring pages of the bride, groom, cake, and venue. MENTION this blog post for 15% OFF!

Lydia is a writer/illustrator/mom who in no way envies you in the planning process, but thank goodness for this informative blog hop. 

Privilege and Voice

I'm very white and very privileged.

I grew up the youngest daughter of a couple who broke their respective cycles of poverty, illiteracy, and abuse.

My parents placed a lot of emphasis on education. My dad and my mom are both well-educated and educators in their own right.

I've never been pulled over by a cop and treated unfairly. I've never had someone attempt to take advantage of my illiteracy or poor education. The only time I have ever worked a minimum wage job was while I was a student in high school. I have never been truly hungry. I have never been abandoned. I have never been under constant threat of physical, sexual, verbal, or psychological abuse. I have never been looked down on because of my nationality, race, or class.

I MAY have been judged for my gender or because I identify as a Christian...but never to the point that I have truly felt discriminated against.

I am the epitome of privileged.

My husband is. My daughters are. Most of the people I know are. So, when I talk about social justice issues and equality issues - it is not from a place of total understanding. I can't truly understand what the oppressed and disenfranchised feel or experience on a second-by-second basis.

However, I can use my very white, upper-middle-class, privileged voice for good. And I have tried to on a few occasions.

So, today. I am meandering in my writing after having read an article in the Washington Post concerning the killing of possibly thousands by Boko Haram in Nigeria. I am heart broken and stunned. I am saddened and enraged. I feel helpless. The past months alone have brought stories into my news feed that can only be attributed to wickedness. Men, women, parties, peoples wanting to make themselves bigger, more powerful than the weak and using violence in an attempt to do so. Stories that center around systemic corruption, discrimination, weakness, and just plain hate are what I read on a daily basis. Plain ugliness: Mass shootings, the race tensions in the US, instability across the Middle East, Africa beings tormented by Ebola and terrorism.

Because I write a small little measly blog with a grand total of 17 followers. My small voice doesn't reach the ears of the upper echelon or those who are currently in power. My voice doesn't even reach the masses. My voice reaches my circle. My small, little circle of influence. What's a heartbroken and confused first-world, white girl to do? What are WE to do?

I am praying. I am praying for those who are not ridiculously privileged like my completely undeserving self. I'm praying for peace, for justice, for God's Kingdom to be brought to earth through His people doing the right thing.

I am giving. I am researching and giving to organizations that I think are truly working to help the oppressed. International Justice Mission and Compassion International are among a few that I support.

I am looking locally. We just moved, but where can I be a voice locally to work towards change? How can I get involved? How can I use my skill set?

I am thinking about the BIG picture and calling on people in power to lift up their eyes. Open your eyes and see the injustice that is all around us! You, governments and kings, lift up your eyes. Who do the big policies and the big corporations and the big lobbying groups speak for? They do not represent the people.

I know this isn't my general shtick. It's not my generally niche. But My heart hurts for the thousands, no millions, of lives that have been lost to oppression and hate and discrimination. I'm not at a loss, but I am at a boiling point.

What else can we do?

Loaded Resolutions

It's a new year.  Hello 2015!

I took a break from blog life and writing during December. Even before that my efforts had been a bit sporadic. {Cross country moves and adjustments can do that to a gal} The Christmas season served as a nice time to unplug and attempt at "refocus."

I haven't made any resolutions.

I have made a few goals.

I don't THINK resolutions and goals are the same thing. They may very well be, but goals seem to be something to work towards, while resolutions are much more something one simply tries to not screw up.

Call me crazy, but as an already high-anxiety person, I'm not generally drawn to things that make me feel like I am going to totally and utterly fail right from the beginning.

My goals are fairly simple this year.

Write every day.

Create.

Teach my girls.

Stay Calm.

Take Time.

Read. Enjoy.

And that's about it.  They are all actions that I think are going to feed my soul and {as a result} help foster a much richer and more peaceful environment for my family - which I desperately want for this household. The girls are still struggling with transitions and life is generally emotional.

We will aim for passionate stability - a joyous calm.

What are you wanting to do this year? Please, share. I would love to hear about your goals.

Ma' Girls

I have two girls. Two really great and beautiful girls who enjoy a lot of different things. Building, play fighting, robots, princesses, drawing, painting, and dolls. They like a plethora of stuff and I like it that way.

As a girl who grew up feeling very conscious of her flaws and her "not girly-enoughness" I have had to fight myself at every turn to let my girls be who they are. I resist forcing a bow into their hair. I resist picking out every single outfit. I even resist holding them down while I attempt a ponytail.  I let them be who they are and explore who THEY are. In all their nappy-haired, mismatched glory.

I often lovingly {and jokingly} refer to them as looking "homeless." Please, understand, they look ANYTHING but homeless. They just aren't coiffed and polished. They are more muddy/torn knees and tangled hair in the eyes. It's definitely more Kirk Cobain in style and less Hello Kitty.

So, what am I even writing about?

If you've read my blog, you know that I have kind of a tense relationship with princesses. But please let me clarify that my problem is not with the idea of princesses. They are fairly innocuous, most girls pretend to be princesses, and I consider them just another role from the motley crew of characters that children choose to play act. My issue has mainly to do with the marketing of princesses. The MARKETING of princesses is not innocuous or innocent. It is very much targeted to make your kiddo believe certain "lies" hook, line, and sinker. Well, at least in my opinion.

One of the main lies that all kids are really being fed is what is "girly" and what is "boyish"? And believing this lie (or parents just going along with the marketing teams that are paid millions to keep your kids coming back for more) leads to our kids being pigeon-holed into a consumer identity at a pretty young age.

Now, do I think that boys and girls are categorically different? Yes.

But do I think that the only color options available to girls should be pinks and purples? No.

Do I think that my nephews should be able to play with kitchen toys and not be seen as "girly"? Yes.

Not only are my girls limited in the color palete of ANYTHING that they may want to purchase, they are also slowly being made into little billboards. We went shopping for shoes today and our options were bedazzled, pink, purple, glittered trash shoes. How are girls expected to PLAY in those? Not to mention that almost every shoe option sported some character's face.

I looked over at the boys' selection and what do you think I found? Functional shoes. Way less characters. It's almost like boys should have functional feet & bodies while girls' bodies and feet are more about how we adorn them or, better yet, how marketers can use those bodies to sell stuff.

Many of you may think that I'm overreacting or making a mountain out of a mole hill, but there are much smarter people than me out there making strong cases for how marketing to young children (especially to young girls) is having much larger implications - including the  over-sexualization of  our kids. KIDS.

For really great reads on the subject, The Packaging of Girlhood and Cinderella Ate My Daughter are very thorough.

Do my girls still wear pink. Yep. Do they still play "princess"? Ayup. Do they like bows? Absolutely loathe them. There is still a lot of "traditional girliness" in our midst, but we talk about it ALL the time. Every trip to the store, every commercial, every birthday party - we ask questions, we analyze, and we try to get our girls to see through the dollar signs.

It's gonna be a long road as we continue on this whole raising girls journey and we are certainly not perfect. But I'm really glad that I can reassure my girls that they are girly-enough and absolutely wonderful no matter what they are into wearing or doing.

{Since I know you are all probably curious, we left the store today with some classic Chucky T's - black for the eldest and pink for the little.They both got to pick what would be going on their body, as that is the new rule}

My eldest is also definitely outside "hiking" in our back yard as she wrestles large sticks away from our dog and gives a stirring rendition of "Let it Go."

It's Quitting Time

You workout five times a week.
You own your own business.
You home school.
You make everything from scratch.
You volunteer at your local non-profit.
You blog.
You are an integral member of your church.
A loving mother.
A smoking hot wife who keeps things spicy.
A loving daughter who remembers birthdays.
You work 40 hours a day.
You are the 'go-to' person in all your friends' lives.
You are always put together, well-groomed, and looking fabulous.
You cry at appropriate times.
You have social graces that are just exceptional.
You are awesome.

BUT you are also freakin' exhausted. Life is tiring and while you may be "nailing it" frontwards, backwards, and sideways; what you actually are feeling is you yourself continually being hammered on all sides. You, my friend, are not nailing it.

Still there is this ONE thing among all the clutter..that really excites you and breathes air into you. You know what I'm talking about. You live a fantasy life that centers around this ONE thing. Call it a dream or a vision or a goal...whatever. THIS is what you want. You would give your every waking moment over to it....were it not socially unacceptable to feed your young children "crustables" in front of the TV twice daily and then order take-out for dinner.

I am so tired of trying to be everything to everyone. Outside of showing up for my little family (in ways that have been previously decided by those few people I love), I really don't owe anyone a darn thing. I certainly don't need to feign appearances. I am who I am. And the same applies to you, my friend.

Yep.

That's about it.

A confession...and maybe a bit of a wake-up call.

I am a decent cook. I do make lots from scratch, but wouldn't hesitate to live off of pizza, Jamaican take-out, and sushi were I not responsible for the health and well-being of two small humans.

I don't like fashion. I like looking at it, but when I have to translate it onto my body, I would rather scratch my eyes out and live in a paper sack.

I homeschool for now and it's a daily struggle for me to come to grips with whether or not I am doing the best thing for my kids.

I do workout - haven't lost an inch. I'm banking on some sort of glandular thing.

I'm also a bit of a hypochondriac.

I do have a little side business....but I stink at business and would frankly rather set myself on fire than have people think I'm trying to sell them something.

I don't volunteer. I really want to, but this season of life is pretty busy.

I write because I love it.

I'm not super involved in church....we just moved, so I think I get a pass on this one.

I stink as a mom and in all honesty, there is nothing about me that is HOT or spicy to the outside observer...and that's probably how it should be.

I am a loving daughter, but I fail at cards and gifts and remembering such things.

BUT HERE'S THE DEAL....

My people know I love them. My people (for the most part) know me. My people generally haven't any unrealistic expectations. It's generally just me or people who don't know me that put these ideas of who I should be onto my person.

Well, I'm done. I quit.

From this moment onward, I shall try very hard to just be me. To do what I'm called to do. To not feel pressured into more than I can handle or things that I don't believe in. Because it's not worth it....why would I give ANY of me or my time to something that I'm not REALLY excited by?

What about you? Do you find yourself in a place where you feel "thin"? It might be because you are simply stretching for the wrong things and the wrong reasons.

The Best Collards I Ever Made

So, if you know me, you know that "cooking" is not really my thing.

BAKING is my thing.

Preparing nightly dinners is one of the most frustrating things that I encounter on a regular basis.

Make it healthy.

Make a variety.

Make it palatable to my kids.

Make it palatable to my husband.

Cereal is not an acceptable dinner (or so I'm told).

I will pour my heart and soul into a pie, cobbler, loaf of bread, cake, baguette, cheese straws, cookies. I want everyone to taste the love and feel a bit of heart warming, down home goodness.

But with dinner my main goal is to get something on the plate that is passable in it's edibility.

Last Thursday, however, I made something TASTY. Without a recipe.

HOLY GUACAMOLE.

We had Rice, black-eyed peas, collards, and cornbread. It's a simple meal that sounds a little lackluster. But is full of nutritional goodness, it's hearty and filling, and it's a nice meatless alternative if you are watching your budget or just not a big meat person (like my four-year-old). The meal as a whole was very good. But the collards. Well, I wanted to eat the whole pot. THE WHOLE POT, PEOPLE!

Here's what I did.  (In Recipe Form)

Take a large sautee pan and throw two large strips of thick cut bacon into it. Render that bacon fat. Then throw in one white onion (chopped) and 2-3 garlic cloves minced. Cook until onion is translucent. De-glaze your pan with maybe 1/4-1/2 cup Red Wine Vinegar. Add in your washed and chopped collards. Make sure that collards get coated with all the goodness that is now happening since your deglazed with the vinegar. Last, take a cup of chicken stock and pour it in the mix. Keep over med-low heat and let it all cook down.

The best collards ever. My husband praised me and my kids still refuse to eat them. But if you are new to dark, bitter greens. This is a great way to prepare them.

You're welcome. (wink)

Sleepless Nights

Last night was sleepless all around in our household.

It started at 12am when I woke up after having one of the most disturbing dreams ever.

A young Jeff Bridges was the long forgotten childhood arch-nemesis of my husband. My husband and I were trapped in a glass room (arch nemesis having found & kidnapped us in his now psychotic & sadistic adulthood). Good 'ol Jeff would walk past the glass and taunt us both (not physically harming us, but toying with us concerning my husband's inevitable death). I kept thinking, "Why aren't we trying to make a break for it?" However, in dream land I would then remember some vital piece of information that made our inevitable doom fairly sealed. Like airtight.

He was definitely wearing an eye patch and a white tux.
Tell me that is not scary beyond all reason? 

Somehow a blue ball (not unlike the one's that I throw in my dryer) came into play and was symbolic for something. At that point in this whole process I was just trying to wake myself up and could care less about the symbolism contained in my legitimately scary dream.

I'm a fan of Jeff Bridges....but he was fairly creepy.

Also, Hubs....if you have a crazy person from your past that I need to know about, can you go ahead and give me the heads up? And what does the blue ball mean? You got anything?

That being said, I did what every woman in my family does when she finds herself wide awake at night. I prayed for everyone that I know. For safety, clarity, etc.

I also got up and locked all the doors (or checked to make sure they were lock). I also discovered that the oven was still on from earlier in the evening and turned it off.

My fairly strange night time behavior caused my husband to be concerned and unfortunately, when he wakes up (more often than not) he will really struggle to get back to sleep.

So we sat sleepless.

Then the girls stirred.

And then we magically fell asleep (hours later), I got up early with the girls, and the hubs got to sleep in a bit.

Guh. Can it be possible to have a case of the Tuesdays?

A Case of the Mundays

Apparently, moving back to an amazing city where my husband has an amazing job and we had an amazing weekend and we have amazing friends DOES NOT mean that we are immune to a harsh "case of the Mundays."

If you're waiting for THAT THING that will make EVERYTHING BETTER. Or if you ascribe to the belief that when every external circumstance falls into place, you're life will finally be the sunset pony ride into the happily ever after unicorn rainbow land...well, this story goes out to you, all my homies.

Let's get a little background.

We've moved. It's been hard (as moving is), but it's been great as we have old friendships to enjoy, old favorite spots to introduce the girls to, and new favorites to explore together. Life at this moment seems full of endless possibility and hope. It's a good place to be.

My little fam enjoyed a weekend of shopping and visiting at TWO different and completely legitimate farmers' markets. It was one of those mornings (Saturday) where we bought that blueberry scone for the girls (even though they had already had breakfast) and we danced to the live music and we chatted and smiled with strangers. We acted like we weren't meeting strangers. We made friends with the local Ethiopian food vendor, Harigu (whose name I am probably butchering). We sat  in our backyard and pretended to be trees and listened to the hubs play the guitar. I mean, it was saccharine levels of annoyingly sweet family goodness.

So, I planned on taking my beautiful kiddos to the Ga Art museum. After such a great weekend, certainly my precious baby-smelling toddlers deserved a trip that (despite recent evidence contrary to the thought) they could totally handle. I went to sleep Sunday night just excited to wake up to the beauty that was my life. Oh, how pride (delusion) comes before the fall (reality).  

5:30 AM Monday. Wake to older daughter crying. Overhear husband calmly talking to her and starting the bath tub. Walk down the hall to check in. Wet bed. Not anything we can't handle. We do have plastic sheets. Strip bed, put linens in wash. Hear baby number two ask to get in the bath. Think nothing of it and go about my business.

5:50 AM Walk back to the bedroom to check on hubs. He's reading. Good morning hug. About to ask how he slept when "Mom! Dad! I pooped on the potty!" Give tremendous cheer and a "That a girl." "Mom! Dad! Clara ... in the bathtub." Can't make out what has happened. Husband and I head to bathroom to check.

Oh. "Clara POOPED in the bathtub." Gotcha. Too early. No coffee. Brain can't really process what I am looking at. Husband and I proceed to laugh hysterically while both daughters develop a growing concern that we have indeed lost our minds.

6 AM Finish cleaning girls' bathroom. Resign myself to not having a magazine clean house for the next 15 years and decide that a "lived in" house is much better.

6:15 Tub-pooper starts coughing. Bed wetter throws tantrum. Tub pooper not eating (her favorite thing). Bed wetter throws another tantrum. Tub pooper throws tantrum resulting in gross nose and more coughing.

Husband and I make telepathic executive decision that trip to museum shall be postponed indefinitely.

We all eat breakfast. Husband gets ready for work even though Tub pooper seems adamant that he not leave and demands a philosophical discussion of the merits of work and labor.

Bed Wetter and Tub Pooper begin begging to watch "Brave" which is apparently the "Make you feel better" movie in our house. I agree with this. I mean, I feel better that I have not been turned into a bear and/or am being chase by a separate angry bear.

7:30 Husband leaves for work - having not been convinced (by yours truly) that today is actually "Let Your Wife Go to the Office in Your Place" Day.

I immediately put on "Brave." Girls request all manner of stuffies, lovies, low-lighting, and momma cuddles.

So very thankful for a case of the Mundays, that life isn't perfect, and that we can laugh our way through it.

How's your Monday going?

Holy Moving Batman!

So.

We moved. 

Across the country. 

Again. 

If you are keeping count, that is 4 cross country moves in 5 years (I think). 

Let me caveat by stating that by no means is this the most moving that anybody has ever done. I know lots of wonderful people who have moved farther, more often, and to more exotic places in shorter amounts of time. 

But, I also know that when we have recounted our moves to people who know us they get this look on their faces that implies they think us to be either incredibly adventurous or incredibly certifiable. We happen to be both, thank you very much, don't try to stick us in a box and put a label on us. 

Oh wait. Boxes and labels. Holy Moving Batman. 

So, here is what happened: Hubster was offered a new job in Athens, GA...at our Alma Mater.

How and when and timing of the whole process is a much longer and interesting story and I will write about it later. 

But the relevant part to this particular post is that we are back in the town where we met, fell in love, and started married life. 

Which is really weird. 

I will take a brand new city any day. I'm a military brat and sad to say, it is much easier for me to just move onto another city...let relationships slowly drop off...re-invent myself...and well, move ON. 

But what happens when you have to move BACK. 

The expectations are different. Everything is different. Nothing is as clean or as new or as shiny. 

And your kind of sucked back into who you were five years ago...even though you've done a lot of growing up and have changed a ton. But all of those folks who lived life with you while you were changing and growing up and 'becoming' are in the other cities, the left behind cities....

and you're stuck. 

So, how to navigate it all? Without infringing on the lives of friends who have also moved on and gown up? How to navigate people having to re-get-to-know-you? How to feel freedom in who you are and to really be okay with it?

Guh. 

I have no answers. I really don't. And I'm generally a know-it-all.

I've walked around for the last two weeks in a complete fog. I'm going through the motions and not really registering or acknowledging any emotions or feelings. I think if I can make it through the day, then maybe tomorrow I will wake up and everything will feel settled and normal.

And that is exactly how it will happen.

But until then. I am in a fog. Second guessing every word spoken, wandering around aimless, trying to balance wanting to connect and not being needy.

How many times have you moved in the last 5 years? What's the hardest part of it?  

Things my children do

Wake up at 5:30am every morning. Without Fail.
Eat raw bread dough (gross).
Throw 30 minute crying fits and then wipe their nose on my clean shirt.
Tell me adamantly that B-U-G spells "Insect."
Talk to me without end.
Drink MY bath water (don't ask).
Think that cups are also acceptable step stools.

Pray honestly.
Love me despite my flaws.
Tell me I am beautiful even when I haven't showered.
Sing songs to one another.
Tell ME bedtime stories.
Hug all the time.

They remind me constantly about the never stopping love of God....

and how I am in no way prepared to answer seemingly simple yet theologically complex questions.

For the Love of Sleep

For the past 18 days my children have been waking up obscenely early.

5am with a cup of coffee and some peace and quite is contemplative and respectable. 5am with toddlers is masochistic and unforgivable.

I find myself functioning in a two-hour fog while the girls run around screaming like coke-crazed-hyenas demanding their gummy vitamins, probiotics, and juice cups (I mean, their not demanding narcotics or anything, but my kids live for their daily supplements). Most days, I wring my hands at our family decision to make hot breakfast every day...as it actually has to be prepared. At this unspeakable hour, I would gladly give my children cocoa puffs for just a few more minutes of shut eye.

It helps that I happen to think they are cute. They look just like their dad.

I have no idea how in the world to fix this problem. I've tried keeping them up late, making them go to bed early, deleting naps, adding naps, noise machines, putting them back in their beds, bringing them into our bed, begging, pleading, bribing, weeping.

To. No. Avail.

I shall have to break them.

This week I shall be running my children into the ground physically and mentally. Like ponies. {disclaimer: I know nothing of ponies}

I shall take them for walks and runs whilst forcing them to do long division and sentence diagrams.

I will win.

They shall fall into bed every night being absolutely and positively spent. They shall sleep soundly until at least 6:30am - whereupon, I will gladly make them pancakes or oats...whichever my little ponies request.

For the love of Pete!

Little Girls and Comics

I was a fairly normal little girl.

I played with baby dolls and Barbie dolls. I even came up with an elaborate system of dismembering and organizing Barbie doll body parts so that I could "fashion" the perfect doll for whichever storyline Barbie found herself in that day. For example, an olympic gymnast can't have perma-bent arms. Back handsprings can't happen with bent arms. However, should Barbie decide to go dancing with Ken (obviously celebrating her gold medal win) she's gonna need bent arms for the waltz. It was all pretty obvious to me as a child, but my parents MIGHT have thought I was a sociopath.

Anyhow. I WAS normal.

My sister and I had a really awesome treehouse that my dad built. We played in it for hours on end and even camped out one night surviving a fairly vicious bat attack.

My sister and I went on make-believe adventures in 3 different secret locations in our neighborhood: "the circus" (a dilapidated park where we did back flips off of swings and were in constant danger of tetanus),  "paradise" (a wooded area with what I believe were large boulders and possibly a stream), and my personal favorite, "Lake Little" (a small field at the bottom or our hill where water collected after it rained. Yep, my sister and I would often picnic next to a puddle).

My sister and I even tied sheets together and climbed out of the third story window of our apartment building while my parents were throwing a dinner party...in a foreign country.
 
One of my favorite (and safer) past times was walking with my sister to the bookstore after school. She would peruse TIGER BEAT or TEEN BEAT or TEEN TIGER BEAT. I, however, loved ARCHIE comic books. I was also a fan of GARFIELD and often borrowed my sister's CALVIN & HOBBES.

So, I have a fondness for comics.

My husband. on the other hand, has a LOVE for comics. He loves them. He loves SCI-FI. He loves all things generally geek. And I love him for it.

He has introduced me to Joss Whedon (Firefly & Buffy & Dr. Horrible & Dollhouse & too many awesome accomplishments to really name), Star Trek: The Next Generation (although, my dad was a big fan when I was a kid and I would watch along...so, I really just rediscovered these when we got married), MMORPGs, amazing strategy board games that can last HOURS on end (I will never play Caylus again) and yes, comics.

{I am omitting the fact that my husband introduced me to my beloved Doctor. A mention of him will certainly just lead to the longest tangential aside in all of history and I kind of need to stay on track.}

In my adulted-ness, I realized how much fun these things were - almost as fun as dismembering Barbies. 

Looking back, I don't think I missed out on much as a little girl. I still had imaginary and fantastic adventures. But when we had kids - I wanted my daughters to enjoy these fantastic worlds and stories and imaginary play-lands that didn't necessarily involve Barbies or princesses. Barbies and princesses aren't all bad, but they can limit the imagination.

BUT, it's not like I'm going to introduce our children to Firefly or Dr. Who - space cowboys and time lords may be a bit out of their cognitive reach.

Enter Owly and "Mr. Kyle" at Gryphon Games & Comics here in town.

As soon as our big girl was able to sit down and hold a book and look through it, we walked to the comic shop. We perused some things and purchased a DC comic focused on the pets of superheroes...Super Pets. In the edition we purchased, Super Turtle rescues Streaky (Super Girl's cat) from the evil plottings of Ignatius Iguana (Lex Luther's pet lizard). It was good, but a little wordy for our (at that time) two-year-old.

On a subsequent visit to Gryphon our fave comic store employee and all-around-great-guy, Kyle, recommended Owly - a beautifully illustrated (no words) graphic novel featuring an owl, his pet worm, and his forest friends. It's a series. We own four of them. We're fans. Here's why:

• It features animals...not people...so, you can avoid some of the more "adult" images that many adult comics and graphic novels contain. 
• It focuses on basic kid stuff - facing your fears, making friends, good life lessons.
• My kid can "read" it. Only once has my oldest daughter brought Owly to me and asked me to read it - every time since, she has sat down and narrated aloud to whoever was within earshot the story that the pictures were telling. It is an excellent pre-reading activity and gives my girl just a ton of confidence.

I write about this now because I'm listening to my sweet 3-year-old "reading" Owly to her one-year-old sister. It's pretty adorable. The phrase "And then suddenly," is being used about every other page.

Anyhow. It's a great series. I'm so glad that Andy Runton created it and that "Mr. Kyle" introduced us to it.

Thanks, Kyle. It sure beats teaching my girls how to dismember Barbies.

***I have not been paid or compensated in any way for this endorsement of 'Owly' or of Gryphon Games and Comics...or of Mr. Kyle. These are just all around great things, places, and people and I strongly encourage you to check them out. But don't check Kyle out...that would just be weird.

That Which Shall Not Be Named

Do not call it breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

For if thou utterest such names to my children,

they shall throw thy own food at you

while spitting

and crying

and gnashing teeth.

They shall grovel

and flail

and throweth the grandest of all fits as to mimic a gran mal seizure.

They shall pusheth plates

and spilleth milk

without remorse.

Pure agony they know.

A biblical, Job-like despair they experience.

Do not name their food

breakfast,

lunch,

dinner.

It is snack

and only snack

in this house....

Everything else is seemingly

an abomination.

Plenty and Want

I have been lucky that for most of my life, I've experienced times of plenty.

Plenty of loved ones near (or the ones that I needed near).

Plenty of friends.

Plenty of passionate community.

Plenty of life giving activities nearby.

Plenty of food.

Plenty of hope.

Plenty of laughter.

And yes, in retrospect (and comparison) plenty of money.

I am currently in a time of want.

I am wanting my family. I am wanting a few very dear and wonderful and close friends to be nearer to me (I miss you L&M). I am wanting passionate community. I am wanting a city that inspires me and brings me LIFE. I am NOT wanting for food (don't send money, Mom). I am wanting hope. I am wanting laughter. I am not wanting so much for money, but it would be so nice to have a little wiggle room or the ability to buy my kid a bike...or the ability to take a vacation that is not entirely funded by our parents.

I don't like to admit that I am wanting. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. More so, I  fear that I will be judged as superficial by people who read this. I don't like being in perpetual want. I'm not particularly good at it. Right now, it certainly feels as though we are wanting for everything excepting health...and if you looked at our mental health, at times we would most definitely be wanting for that.

This is not to say, "Oh, woe is me!"

But to depserately approach the throne and cry, "Oh, Lord. You know my needs. I am still alive. I still draw breath. I have made it through these wanting and empty days. You've seen to it. Oh Father, thank you for sufficiency and for molding me and shaping me. I am glad you know what you're doing. I, however, have no idea what you are doing. No inkling. Not a clue. Please, walk me through this...and help me to kick the dust from my feet joyfully as soon as you call us to leave this season. But for now. I will walk. I will look for joy. I will look to you."

My Mind is Working...

Overtime a bit lately. My mind is working overtime. All the time. Non-stop. Never-ending thoughts and questions and it is exhausting.

I meet with a group of women and we read books. The latest being Jen Hatmaker's "7." We are walking through seven months of taking something away in order to GAIN life. Real life. Real awesome life and freedom.  I like this book.

We are currently in our media month. Which means we take away media. I haven't posted on the blog due to this fast of sorts and I am likely to post much less during this month. The time away from my technology has been eye-opening and has revealed so much to both my husband and myself...and it's only been five days.

As, I have fled my computer (and namely, let's be honest, the internet), I have run to the WORD.

More, I have noticed a very real thirst to STUDY the word of God and not to just read through it. I reached out to a few folks that I know who study the Bible and they gave me some resources to aid in
my quest.

Because, see, as a woman...I have never been taught to STUDY the Bible. I have never been shown the steps or the process. I have been given reading guides. I have been offered the chance to learn from Beth Moore via DVD. I have been invited to countless topical groups. I have never once been pulled aside and walked through what actually individual studying of the word looks like.

So, these past five days, I have been ravenously reading the word, as well as reading books written to help me understand what my personal study should look like. I've been reading overviews and commentaries. I've really been having fun and more often then not, leaving feeling refreshed, uplifted, and completely TINY, miniscule, and undeserving of God's mere notice or affection.

It's a good feeling.

It's a feeling that has brought about a sort of righteous indignation....an anger. Why in the world is there not more out there for a THINKING woman?

Maybe there is and I have just not been pointed towards it. Maybe it's my fault for not knowing where to look. All of these are highly possible and likely.

But let's face it. If a young girl walks into a Christian bookstore, what is she to find? Not a single thing that teaches her the discipline of Bible study. (I totally admit that surely there is something, but it's nothing that she will automatically have offered to her by our current Christian culture).

You know what my life has looked like in Christian book titles that were thrust at me?

You're God's little Girl (Be Nice), You're God's Princess, Kiss Dating Good-Bye and (Whatever You Do) Don't Kiss, How to be God's Princess While You are Waiting on a Husband, How to Be a Godly Fiance, How to Be a Godly Wife, How to Pray for your Husband, How to Make Sure your Marriage Bed is Everything God Wants it to Be, How to Be a Godly Parent, How to be a Better Mom, How to Pray for Your Kids....

Seriously.

Almost every book ever recommended to me (as a woman) focuses on my role in someone else's life. Who I am to someone else.

And in all honesty, most of these books are books of the "self-help" persuasion that have been repackaged with a cross on the cover and a few Bible verses and quack science facts sprinkled at the beginning or end of each chapter.

What about who I am to God? Because, I'm pretty sure that if I am digging into His word and listening to His voice and focusing on KINGDOM issues instead of MY issues, that my big 'ol first world white girl issues will fade and my eyes will be opened to seeing what my Father sees.

And right now, I'm pretty turned-off by what I see.

I want my daughters to READ and STUDY the word. I want my family to be like a seminary. I want us to be able to discuss theology and deeper issues than "So, I should kiss dating good-bye, but then kiss it hello again when I find my husband?"

Does this make sense to ANYONE else? I need Jesus...not self-help. Because it is pretty darn transparent that I cannot help this self.

Is anyone else hungry? Hangry even?

Hot Yoga

I like to think of myself as fit. I like working out, but I certainly go through phases and am somewhat bipolar when it comes to a regime.

I love the results of exercise...endorphins are legal and oh-so-feel-good-drogas from our heavenly father. That's totally the scientific definition.

However, I also love surfing the internet and will find myself lost in a vortex of nothingness for hours on end. Buzzfeed quizzes are of the devil and (on a completely unrelated note) I know exactly which character I would be on every single NBC or FOX comedy. True story.

These two desires are a daily struggle. I would like to not have a pancake bottom...I would also like to watch my alter ego Liz Lemon win at life and eat hotdogs. She makes me feel normal. Blurgh.

I basically want all the things. But don't especially want to exert effort to get all the things (It sounds like terrible grammar, unless you get the reference).

Anyhow.

I'm back on my "we need to get healthy" kick. I took a break after losing 15 lbs earlier this year. Well, with approximately 7 of those lbs finding their way back to my middle and a family beach trip approaching...motivation hath been found.

So, a good friend invited me to her Hot Yoga class.

I've always wanted to try hot yoga and have really been wanting to go to an actual class in general - as opposed to just using my extensive video collection.

Had I known what I was in for...I would have canceled, accepted my fate as an 'out of shape' person, and cut myself a second piece of pie.

First, have you ever left your house in yoga tights? Yeah...me neither. No one should ever have to see me in pants that tight. FYI I definitely layered a few long shirts as to hide any offending areas.

Secondly, it's  by definition HOT. Layering for modesty comes to be seen as an antiquated and downright quaint practice whilst melting away to nothing and posed like a dolphin. I did refrain from stripping down to my undergarments, but I'm not going to say that the thought didn't cross my mind (it was a women's only class after all).

Thirdly, you have to stare at yourself in a mirror. Which is actually a very freeing process. For one, I now realize that some people look really graceful in the practice of yoga. I am not one of those people.  Did I mention that I do a great impression of an ostrich suffering from vertigo?

Fourthly (is that even a word?), you will leave your 45 minute torture session class knowing your limitations, respecting what your body can do, and feeling a huge sense of empowerment.

Fifthly, classes like this create a sisterhood. During the class I never once got the feeling that anyone was watching me or judging me. We were all collectively struggling against gravity and our mindsets (you try telling your mind that it's okay to get in some of those poses). We certainly did not have time to concern ourselves with the woman in too tight pants breathing heavily as she quietly sobbed in child's pose.

Sixthly (yeah, I'm just inventing adverbs now), I was brought to a place of reckoning. It is the place in all worthy endeavors where we think, "This is happening. I'm pretty sure I should turn back now. All signs are telling me 'DO NOT CONTINUE,' but I think the end result is worth it. I really don't want to do this. There is no way out. This is happening."

My places of reckoning have been transformative: my first day teaching, the day Matt and I moved to a city across the country site unseen, the moments I gave birth to my daughters (and the several hours leading up to them), and Hot Yoga.

Giggle if you must, but once you have committed to downward-triangle-hike-your-leg-over-your-neck-and-breath-pose...there is no getting out of that situation gracefully. One must endure.

What are your reckoning moments? 

The Poop in Life

My three-year-old is hilarious.

I think to be fair, most three-year-old children are downright funny. They have this natural desire to perform for their parents. They state observations plainly without shame or even the slightest awareness of who their audience is. Unfiltered, innocent, hilarity.

Case in point:

The hubs and our 3yr-old are walking several feet in front of me (giving a piggyback ride to our youngest). We are in downtown Jackson, WY. It's the evening which means that the ski slopes are starting to empty and folks are looking for a good meal after a pleasantly exhausting day. We are on the look out for ice cream. Out of nowhere, my beautiful child inquires (as eardrum-splitting volume),

"Momma, do your boobies still have milk in them?"

 You can imagine my slight shock and disbelief.  Not quite believing my ears, I kindly ask her to repeat the question. Don't ask me WHY I thought she could have possibly said anything else.

Anyhow, this very LOUD "exchange" lead to several strange looks. My cheeks turned bright red and I immediately wrapped my arms across my chest as my loving husband proceeded to laugh as loudly as possible. Ice cream couldn't happen quickly enough.

My Big Girl is full of these one-liners.

She's been having a hard time using the potty lately. This results in us having to place her on the potty - commanding her not to leave until she has pooped. Lots of crying. Lots of holding it in. Lots of constipation.

Oh, and a new excuse for not pooping.

"Momma, Daddy, the poop is just not doing its best."

 True enough.

It made me think of all those times in life when you can try your darn-dest.  You can put forth every effort and positive thought. You can pray and seek and try and try and try. And sometimes, it just doesn't work out. Sometimes, we don't get our way.

Sometimes, the poop just isn't doing its best - even if you are.

I hope for you sake, reader, that today the poop is trying it's hardest.

Traveling is Not for the Faint of Heart

The girls and I are currently visiting my folks in GA. Family is really about as good as you can get and having my momma, daddy, sis, bro-in-law, and nephews & niece around for an entire week is a special kind of sweetness.

Single-parenting and traveling alone with my own babies is another story. Still sweet, but it's a hard-hard-difficult thing that pretty much makes me feel pretty neutral about traveling and visits in general.

My kids are REALLY well-traveled for their ages and I feel as though we have an airplane routine that works for us. A lot of parents worry about the airplane routine...I never really worry about the plane. (1) It's a limited amount of time with an end in sight (about 3.5 hours). (2) A bag of Cheetos given to a zealous 3-year-old to share with her sister lasts approximately 4 hours. (3) No one is really caring about your parenting philosophy or judging too harshly at several thousand feet. Everyone just wants to get to the ground alive and with their ear drums fully functioning.

Best air travel advice I ever got: "You want the moon honey? With a cherry on top? It's yours. How 'bout some whipped cream with that?" For real, if it's not too outlandish a request and does pose an imminent threat to the other passengers, my babies get what they want on an airplane. As an aside: my children have received several hundreds of compliments from skeptical-turned-pleasantly surprised passengers.

So, what's HARD?

Well. Single parents are my heroes. It's hard being the only one parenting. Because let's face it, my relatives are going to spoil the snot out of my kids...which doesn't work so great for consistency or routine. Also, if you're flying on a plane, you're most likely gonna deal with a time change. If I multiply our "Spring Forward" experiences by THREE, my kids are living in a special kind of through-the-looking-glass-sleep-deprived-dementia. Also, poop.

The past three days have been so good, but so hard.

For one, I openly admit my husband is a much better parent than I am. I try, but he and my oldest can handle "conflict" (read: fits) much more effectively. When I am left to my own devices, my three year old and I end up crying piles of mess. Lack of sleep and consistency + three-year-old brain (minus daddy) and you have the perfect equation for EVERYTHING being a fight. As an example: I was yelled at today for making her bagel EXACTLY how she has liked it for forever.

If you ever want a crash course in patience and trying not to lose your stuff with your kids. Travel solo. After several thousand tears, you'll get the hang of it.

The time changes are harder. Namely, because I can't control time. I've talked to God about that job title and the possible extra responsibility - usually at 5am EST which is 3am MT, the kids having gone to bed mere hours earlier. God and I have decided that I couldn't handle the time/space continuum and that my efforts in bathing and drinking coffee would be better appreciated by the general public.

If you travel, just know it could result in your kids sleeping like champs or not sleeping at all. Again, roll with it and try your hardest to not have an emotional break down. You're gonna need coffee.

Poop.

This one is tricky. Nothing magnifies to difficulties of travel like your potty-trained kid deciding to completely disregard all rules of basic society, biology...Leviticus. Expect there to be bowel trouble. If you expect the worse, then those mornings when you DON'T awake to poo-covered sheets & a traumatized kid will be icing on the cake, my friends.

Bottom Line:
Traveling is hard on your kids. It's for real hard on you. Do not engage in anger. It can't fix anything and it confuses your kids...who are already confused, struggling, and nervous (but have no way to talk about or express those emotions).

If you travel alone with your kids often, you are a hero and deserve a parade. Go'head with your bad self...and don't forget the Cheetos.