Friday, June 19, 2015

Coming of Age Twinning

Wearing panties on our heads because we can.

As you know by now we have twins. Wonder Twins. E-Squared. The Dynamic Duo. Nayhuh and Big E. Well, they turned 15 last week.

This is where it gets weird.

They have a friend named Lumpy. (I didn't make up that nickname for the blog--that's his real life nick name.) He's in their class. He's one of the Number One Son's best friends and fishing buddy. Lumpy has been over at my house more than my kids some weeks. He has a toothbrush in the drawer. That kind of friend.

Naynuh and Big E--together
Like the twins, he's a late birthday boy, turning 15 in the summer. So, everyone in the 9th grade but these three have driving permits. In 4th grade the girls and Lump made a pact. They'd all go together on the same day and get their permits. All was going according to plan. The Wonder Twins voted to WAIT a whole WEEK after their birthday and get their permits with Lumpy on his birthday.

(Life Lesson: Friendship requires sacrifice.)


only one twin in the car at the DMV
 

But then, one of the twins had the opportunity to go to a last minute opening at summer camp, which begins the very day of the permit excursion.

The twins discussed this dilemma in shorthand for ten whole seconds and turned to me and said, "No big whoop. Big E will go Friday by herself before she leaves for camp and Naynuh will go Monday with Lumpy as planned."

Shocked, I asked, "But what about the twinning?"

For those of you without any knowledge of twins--Twinning is this: It is all of the things that you ALWAYS do together--milestones that make your relationship special because they occur at the same time:


  • Share a crib
  • Shots at the doctor's office
  • First teeth the same week
  • First day of kindergarten
  • First day of high school
  • Birthdays
You get the picture. Twinning is part of what makes the girls unique. Separate. Set apart. It's part of their identity.

Permits definitely fall into the Twinning thing.

I was advocating dumping Lumpy and going Friday to get the permits together. (He'll live.) Or Naynuh could get her permit with E and then just go with him Monday for moral support. Something like that.

only one twin getting that paper
But then Naynuh said this: "No way. We made a pact, Mom. Like a promise. E has this awesome opportunity to go to camp and she should go. She also shouldn't have to wait another week to get her permit. And we can't ask Lumpy to wait. And I can keep the pact. I can go with Lump and get my permit just like we planned on Monday. It wouldn't be right to make Lumpy wait another week because E has an opportunity. I'm going with Lump."

Big E nodded her head, standing beside her twin the whole time then added, "It's no big deal. We are still Twinning." Then they closed the deal with the fist bump.

Yes, yes you are. Both of you were modeling self-sacrifice, kindness, thinking of others before yourselves, wanting the best for your friend and for your sister, no one crying 'it's not fair' or 'why does she get to...'. I am more proud of you than you can possibly know.

And I hope you continue right on Twinning just like that.

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

P.S. As we pulled into the DMV this afternoon, Big E did waiver however. She said, "I wish Naynuh was here. We always do the big stuff together, and I hate this. I miss my sister." But she went in and did it anyway.

(Sometimes it's hard, but you still have to go forth and do good. Even if you have to go alone.)

So, the next blog will be Naynuh doing the same. :-) Twinning.





Monday, June 15, 2015

Why Are We So Hard on the Fairytale?

I had someone recently indicate they thought I had a perfect life. I nodded and smiled and secretly thought to myself...

You Have No Idea. I snort at your ridiculousness.

Life is messy. We usually show only the fun, glamorous, or romantic parts in public. We don't talk about the scary, ugly parts because we want everyone to believe we are fine, fine.

I had the fleeting thought that maybe it's disingenuous to only show the pretty side of things in public. As if.


Six months ago I wrote a blog about my husband and what romantic really should mean vs. what it's become in our culture. What I didn't write is that we've struggled as a couple. We've struggled to remain faithful. We've struggled to agree. We've struggled not to give up and move on. We've fought over child rearing, in-laws, living arrangements, people at work, people at church, intrusions on our marriage, how to cook, how to fold laundry, how to clean a bathroom. We've said hurtful things, done hurtful things, thought hateful things, fought in front of the kids, and been difficult on purpose.  

But we stayed even when it was ugly and uncomfortable.

Commitment is the gap between feelings and actions. You have to remain committed even when it's difficult. That's the hard part, because it's a decision NOT based on EMOTIONS but on commitment and promise.

See, every time I think it's enough already, I remember how it felt when my adult parents divorced and I say, "Nope. Get back on the roller coaster, strap yourself in, and keep riding. We ARE NOT going to do that to our children."

I also recall that when I stood on that altar and promised, I made vows to God not just to The Husband. I promised, and I want my word to be the truth. Once you remember your vow and promise, with time and patience the feelings you had in the beginning CAN return and it's not commitment anymore; it's love again.

It's a roller coaster of love for sure and there are as many bad days as good days. Maybe more.


The weird thing that no one tells you is that it's the BORING, AVERAGE days that are the most dangerous days. You begin believing the lie that you need more, deserve more, want more than you have, and you become discontent with the things you have been blessed with. (Hey, Eve to you.) It's the first lie Satan told--you deserve more than you have and God surely wants you to be happy. WRONG: God wants your commitment and obedience.

Everyone has the capacity of good and evil inside him. It boils down to this: making your life look like a fairytale on the outside is normal. We want people to see the best in us. But it's also normal for you to have all of those other things under your surface, swimming just out of reach. They shouldn't be shameful. They should be faced head on. They have to be dealt with and in a timely manner, because that's the nature of evil. If you let it take root in you, it will become you. Like kudzu. It will overtake anything in its path if given time and room to grow. You have to root it out daily.

I want my children to feed that good side and weed out the bad parts, just like they do on social media when they present the good parts. I want them to do it until it becomes their reality and is their truth.

So, I fully intend to keep on posting nothing but the glamorous parts of my life on social media, making fun of the stupid/crazy/silly/awful parts, because I want those to be the truthful parts. The real parts. I want the other things to be rooted up and out and not fed in any way. And that's why my fairy tale IS a fairy tale.

Because I choose daily to continue:

*rooting out evil and feeding the good parts

*keeping my commitments ever before me

*recalling the promises God made me and I've made others

*and remembering to forgive and get back on the ride.

Happy 15th Day of Birth, Wondertwins!


I used to think there were no words to express how much I love my Shorties, but as always, God wrote it best.

In the book of Romans, God is telling His people how nothing, nothing can ever separate us from the love of God through Jesus Christ. It's exactly how I love my children.

Romans 8:35-39



Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:
   “For your sake we face death all day long;
    we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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

And I ever give thanks with my mouth, my body, my actions, my thoughts praising God the Father from whom all blessings flow!


Psalm 113

Praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord, you his servants;
    praise the name of the Lord.
Let the name of the Lord be praised,
    both now and forevermore.
From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,  the name of the Lord is to be praised.

The Lord is exalted over all the nations,  his glory above the heavens.
Who is like the Lord our God,
    the One who sits enthroned on high,
who stoops down to look
    on the heavens and the earth?
He raises the poor from the dust
    and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
he seats them with princes,
    with the princes of his people.
9 He settles the childless woman in her home
    as a happy mother of children.
Praise the Lord.
Elaina
First day of preschool

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

9 Two are better than one,
    because they have a good return for their labor:
10 If either of them falls down,
    one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
    and has no one to help them up.
11 Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
    But how can one keep warm alone?
12 Though one may be overpowered,
    two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
 
Elise
Elaina
Elise
Elaina

Elise



2014 birthday trip to the beach
2008 at the beach
2011 b'day
2010 bday
2010 New York City
Bday trip to the beach
2009 school year start

Psalm 127:3-5

Children are a heritage from the Lord,
    offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
    are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man
    whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
    when they contend with their opponents in court.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

One Coin. Two Sides.

Raising Kids. It's a thrill ride for sure. Yeah, I love them. Yeah, I'd do it again, but wow, some days it's a struggle. Because just like me, they are constantly warring inside of themselves between their good and bad natures. Everyone is doing it on a daily. It's why sometimes you do the right thing and sometimes you don't. Your kids are no different. They aren't perfect. They are as messed up as you are, Sunshine.

It's because we are all one coin with two sides. The key in making the right choices and learning to make right choices as an adult is reaching some kind of balance within safe parameters. And it takes real-world practice. You can't view that rebellious side as "all bad". Sometimes it's the thing that makes you who and what you are--powerful. You have to take off the bubble wrap sometimes and let 'em just roll down the hill without a helmet.
No, I love you more.

It's like this--I've said this before, but I love that my kids will all post ugly/stupid/ridiculous photos of themselves purposefully. If you tell them to pose or aim a camera at them in any capacity, they make what they call the Ugly Stepsister Pose, revealing the most unattractive sides of themselves on purpose. I like it because it's self-deprecating. And funny. And honest. And silly. And truthful in a most basic way. They can't all be supermodel, airbrushed, filtered photos. Sometimes you've just got to be the real you and hope it works out. I hope they always reveal their true selves in life. It's a self-confidence level that says, "Don't you worry, Sugar, I'll make fun of my own self, thank you."

Don't be afraid to lead by example.
I'm singling out Big E for this particular illustration of truth. (Don't worry, I'll get to the others during the summer.) This twin is smart. Savvy. Hilarious. Loud. Crazy. She wants a tattoo and a piercing and to dye her hair purple like yesterday. (Her minister father is thrilled.)  This same kid will share her faith in God with a stranger in two seconds flat with no hesitation or shame or fear (before the opportunity even occurred to you) making her simultaneously rebellious and an outrageously committed Christ-follower in the same breath. In fact, I submit to you that the fact she wants a tattoo and will share her faith on the subway in New York with a skinhead comes from the same exact place in her spirit. The outrageous, spirited part of her shares the same root as the daring, bold, fearless part of her.
Same dress without the squirrel head. 

She's loud. Like earsplitting loud. Which makes her the most fun at games and parties. You can hear her laughing from one side of the theater to the other without a shred of self consciousness. She commands attention and leadership simply by overwhelming the competition into submission by the power of her voice. Sometimes she's so loud it's scary and uncomfortable and rude. Because if she's cutting you to the quick, everyone can hear her do that too.

Set the trend, don't follow it.
She's also judgmental and angry and vengeful. She's a mean girl waiting for an innocent bystander to roll by so she can crush them into dust beneath her haughty, cruel feet. She has an ugly stepsister who sometimes possesses her body. And then she turns into Cinderella on a dime and donates a week of her time to live with a family who cares for six grown autistic kids, loving them, feeding them, taking time to learn them individually on a personal level, talking to them, playing with them, and praying for them daily. (She wasn't paid for that time, she volunteered and even gave up fun teen stuff to go work.) She's in the living room right now looking for opportunities in her calendar to go back and work with this special family while watching the Kardashian sisters on television and talking about how stupid and ugly someone is on Instagram. Same body. Same person. Same breath. Same coin.

Wondertwin Mojo on the Vball Court. Conquer your fears.
She's learning sign language because she's convinced that she's going to work with deaf people in some capacity even though we don't know a single deaf person. She threatens to kill her brother violently daily, (and I halfway think she means it). She will not speak to you anymore if you wear camouflage in public as a fashion statement, because you're an idiot. She quit cheer because, "I'm not that person anymore" with no further explanation.
Because the best photos are the goofy ones



We went to a birthday party at the nursing home. E sat with elderly people of no relation to us who were at their own table and asked them all about their lives for an hour. Strangers when they began, friends when she left. When the nursing home residents disbanded, they all hugged her neck and said they can't wait to see her again. She came to me and said, "We have to get Mrs. A, Mrs. B, and Mrs. C gifts when we come back to see Paw next month. I know their room numbers, and it's important because they have so few visitors." Then she told her twin to move her lard butt out of the way because it's her turn to sit in the middle.

Not afraid to airband. All the cool kids are doing it. And even if they aren't; we are doing it.
It's a mystery how this woman child can be so full of good and evil in the same body. She has to make a concentrated effort to manifest the good side of her and tamp down the evil side--the judgmental ugly side. It's my job as parent to help guide her toward that good nature. But don't we all have to make a conscious choice daily do this?


Aim and there it is
Ever seen these hyper-religious or publicly "perfect" families and think to yourself, "One day those kids are going to have a little taste of freedom and suddenly rebel and go nuts because they haven't had any small opportunities to be out there." I think it might be truth.

Being "good" outwardly is nothing but putting on a show, an outward show that isn't genuine. You have to be transparent, truthful about yourself in a way that can be scary, because we tend to be paralyzed by what people might think. (There's only one opinion we need to be concerned with and it's not your neighbor's.) We need to be focused on changing the real you into something malleable. Clay that God can change and mold--not rigid and set in stone.

Like they tell you in dieting it has to be a lifestyle change not a path of denial. The woman who plans on never eating another doughnut is destined to fail, because it's denial not change. And we aren't built for constraint--we were built for freedom. 

It's why I'll let E dye that hair (and tolerate that piercing and tattoo eventually when she's old enough), because I know that she'll also use that mojo to be a powerful weapon in the hand of the Lord, wielding a sword of salvation that people without purple hair are too scared to pick up in the first place. It's because we all have to remember that our gifts and talents can manifest as evil or good depending upon how we choose to use them. Make sure that some of your life is a thrill ride and take off the bubble wrap on occasion. It's more fun that way.


Friday, January 30, 2015

What Romantic Really Means




I’m going to tell you a little story about my marriage proposal. Steve and I were in our early 20’s, and he used to come over to my Mother’s house where I lived after I graduated from the University of Alabama. She needed a roommate after her divorce, and I desperately needed an accountability partner for my newly minted salvation. Once we started dating, Steve and I would go out once a week, but during the week we couldn’t stand to be apart, so we would meet at my mom’s house after work at least three nights a week. He brought a change of clothes and usually some fantastic dessert he’d bought or made, and I’d put my hair up in a ponytail and change into comfy clothes. Then we would cook dinner with my mother, the three of us visiting and eating dinner, telling stories about our days and coworkers and jobs.


The three of us would watch our two favorite shows together before he left every night at 10:30 to go to his house. I loved Star Trek: the Next Generation (shut up, you already knew I was She-Queen of the Geeky Librarians). Steve’s favorite was Andy Griffith. So, he sat through mine, and I sat through his until we became fans one of another's programs.

One night, the Star Trek theme faded out and the Andy Griffith whistle began. I had my feet curled up under me, a pillow in my lap, face washed clean of makeup, wearing a sweatshirt four times too big for me. My mother had just said good night and gone upstairs to give us a few moments alone before it was time for him to say goodnight and leave. He leaned over and put his forehead against mine and said, “You know, I want to do this exact thing with you for the rest of our lives.” I put his face in my hands and whispered, “Okay then.” He didn’t get on one knee. There were no flowers. There was no grand gesture. And it counts as probably the single most romantic moment of my life.

He got the ring a week later. He went to my father’s office and faced the Master Bear full on in the mouth of his cave without backing down and asked for my hand in marriage. Six months later, I walked down the aisle.

Just like every other couple alive, we have been hanging on to this roller coaster for dear life. Sometimes squealing with glee, sometimes leaning heavily into each other, sometimes screaming in total terror, sometimes laughing until snorting, but always, always buckled and strapped in side-by-side on the ride.

I think these little prom-posal things are sweet and romantic gestures, but I’m going to tell you what. You need to find a man who looks at you in your ponytail and sweats after cooking and eating dinner as a threesome with your mother and says, “You. I take you. Exactly like this. And I want my whole life to look like this. You and me on a sofa in comfy clothes watching Bad TV.”

Because, Sister, that is what you really want and don’t know it. 

Let me tell you the most romantic things I can think of when it comes to Steve Johnson. 

Factoid: I don’t think I can actually prepare myself a cup of coffee, because I haven’t made one for myself in years. Like better than a decade—I don’t know how I take it since I don’t make it. I also haven’t performed an oil change on a car and have no idea when they are due. The car simply returns to the parking lot where I work with a new sticker. Like magic. I also haven’t warmed up my car one time. Ever. It’s always cranked with coffee in the holder when I get in it. With the seat warmer on or the sunroof open depending on the season and weather. I have never once looked at the TV or on the phone for the weather, because he tells me when I wake up so I’ll dress warmly enough. I don’t clean up dog trash in the yard, take out garbage, or do any other nasty kinds of business at my house, because my husband won’t let me.

My prayer for my daughters is simple: that you find a Godly man who understands the difference in romantic gestures and in being romantic by meeting your partner's needs before your own. And that you are the kind of woman who seeks that kind of man.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

The World is Too Much With Us

Sometimes the world is absolutely too much with us, William. The English teacher in me demands that you read it twice slowly. Then you can see if you agree or not.




The World Is Too Much With Us
By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.