Fear

I have lived in fear for a long time. Fear of trusting that Jesus has my best interest at heart. Fear of losing control. Fear of letting go of the reigns. Fear of the anxiety that would accompany my practice of stepping back and trusting that He is going to care for me.

I was just reading Psalm 27 where David is telling God that He has confidence in Him and is joyfully watching and waiting for Him.

"For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock. Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the Lord...I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." - v. 5, 13-14


You can't make up the feeling of peace I had reading those words. My tendency to desire control over my circumstances and their outcomes does little but steal Jesus' peace in my life. So today (probably on ten different occasions) I'm going to be strong and take heart...and wait for the Lord.

Would your day look any different if you did the same thing with me?

P.S. - I promise to post some funny stories soon. I just have a lot of other things to share at the moment...but I will certainly get around to some light-hearted, tacky, and entertaining stuff when the time is right.

What if...?

Just some thoughts to ponder on a Monday afternoon...

What would the world look like if all started living like we mean it? I'm not naive. I know that the world we live in is a rough, ruthless place a lot of times. Trust me...I know. But really, what would the world start looking like if we started going against the flow? Not for the sake if being a "rebel." But for the sake of living a life with purpose and meaning.

Like looking people in the eyes and telling them that we love them. Like asking for forgiveness when we've screwed up. Like starting that business that you've always dreamed about. Like trusting a friend enough to share a deep, dark secret. Like telling someone you're going to pray for them...and then really praying for them...and then following up with them because you really do care. Like opening your home to a kid who's in desperate need of a loving family to care for him, unselfishly. Like loving someone, anyone enough until your heart breaks for them when they are struggling.

Tim McGraw is not a cheese-ball for singing a song like "Live Like You Were Dying." That song doesn't have to be something I just tear up to when it starts playing on the radio and then forgotten about. No...I'm choosing to live life to the fullest...making sure the people I love know it, fighting for the friendships that are worth it, and trusting that the God of the Universe is going to give me enough, every day I'm here, to live like I mean it.

What will your world look like if you live like you really mean it?

Oh gently lay your head...

I just had a beautiful moment. Grant is in a cuddly mood tonight. It's a rarity. He sat in my lap after dinner and let me tickle his back while we were watching tv. I took him in to the bathroom for his bath. Poor kid just cried because he didn't want to sit in the water. He has a beast of a diaper rash after eating cheese enchiladas last night for my chosen birthday dinner.

I took him out of the water, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, put on his pj's, and started reading him a book. Normally, he lasts about 7.5 seconds before he gets distracted, we say a two-sentence good night prayer and he gets in his crib. This kid WILL NOT be rocked to sleep. He would much rather do it himself.

But tonight...it was different. We read an entire book entitled "I Love You More Than Rainbows." (Absolutely precious book, p.s.) I turned out the lamp and rocked him. I started singing.

Oh gently lay your head upon my chest
And I will comfort you like a mother while you rest
The tide can change so fast but I will stay
The same in past, same in the future, same today


I am constant, I am near, I am peace that shatters all your secret fears
I am holy, I am wise, I'm the only one who knows your heart's desires
Your heart's desires.


Oh weary, tired, and worn let out your sigh
Drop that heavy load you hold 'cause Mine is light
I know you through and through, there's no need to hide
I want to show you love that is deep and high and wide


I am constant, I am near, I am peace that shatters all your secret fears

I am holy, I am wise, I'm the only one who knows your heart's desires

Your heart's desires.

(Jill Phillips)

I had tears rolling down my face. I fight just like Grant normally does. I don't want to be held. I don't want to be rocked. I don't want to lay my head on His chest. I can do it myself. Yeah...right.

Do you know how much I love that kid? You mom's out there do. You probably love your kids the same way. And you know what? The amount I love him is only a sliver of the amount Jesus loves him...and how much Jesus loves me. It is not HUMANLY possible to love another the same way and same amount He loves us.

Oh gently lay your head upon my chest...Oh weary, tired and worn, let out your sigh...Drop that heavy load you hold 'cause Mine is light...I am peace that shatters all your secret fears...

Sounds good to me.

Growing Pains

I've been avoiding blogging for a while now. It's not that I don't want to write...it's just that I have SO MUCH to write about. I feel like I can't even do it justice in a couple of posts. Therefore, it'll be years before I get it all out.

I've been on a roller-coaster lately the size of the Texas Giant, with the speed of the Batman, and the nausea of the Spinning Sombrero. Thankfully, the driver of the ride's name is Jesus. Glad He told me to buckle up.

Back at the end of August, I began a "training program" called Discovery in Dallas. Sort of a life-improvement seminar...but oh-so-much-more-than-that seminar. I go one weekend a month for three months in a row. I've been through the first two weekends and am eagerly anticipating the final weekend on October 15-16. One of the reasons I've been avoiding blogging is because I'm not sure exactly how to explain what I've been through. I can't tell you specifics of what goes on and how you come away with the lessons you learn which makes it a little difficult to share. It'd be like me telling you what every Christmas gift wrapped up under the tree was two weeks before Christmas. I don't want to ruin it for you! Because, let me tell you, there is not a soul in this world that I don't love enough to get to go through Discovery.

And now that you're utterly confused about what the heck I'm talking about, I'll tell you some of the things that the Lord has been teaching me lately.

- I've always thought I've been a pretty transparent person. Actually, people tell me that pretty often. They say they're glad I can be so honest and open about my life. Funny...I didn't even realize that I have all of these different masks that I put on...one even includes a mask that LOOKS like I'm transparent!


- I've been terrified that after you strip away all of my "achievements" (whether it be academic, social, personal, whatever), and I truly suck...I will be found unworthy


 - I have a hard time trusting that God's plan is always good. I don't even give Him a chance to reveal what He's doing sometimes. (Not that I "beat" him to the punch...I'm just so caught up in my plans that I don't even see His)


- I'm tired of trying so hard. Trying to make people happy. Trying to prove myself. Trying to be "perfect." I set this bar for myself that's so high, I can barely keep me head above water to attain it.

Good news is I'm learning how to combat those issues. Learning how to take off my masks, love myself, trust that He is ALWAYS good, and to quit trying so dang hard. And really, honestly, and TRULY...it's working!!!

I was reading John 15:9 this afternoon. "As the Father has loved me," Jesus said, "so have I loved you." I've probably read that 50 times. The Father (God) and His Son (Jesus) have the most beautiful, real, loving relationship around. They are ONE. Never do anything apart from one another. Always know and believe they are LOVED by one another. And what that verse is saying is JESUS loves me the exact same way. Just as I am. No achievements. No strings attached. HE has made me worthy.

The last six weeks, I find myself walking around, singing the bridge to Chris Tomlin's version of "Amazing Grace" :

"My chains are gone. I've been set free. My God, My Savior has ransomed me. And like a flood, His mercy reigns. Unending love. Amazing Grace."

It's going to take me a while to tell you about being chain-free, but I'll get there. And if you're interested in being chain-free yourself, let me know. I'd love to talk with you. Finally believing and living like I'm a peaceful and worthy woman is pretty awesome. The world out there is still the same old world with the same old problems. It's me that is different.

Contentment's Not My Virtue, Either...

Remember when I told you I sucked at being patient? Well, news flash for ya'...I'm not too good at being content, either. For various circumstances, situations, and dilemmas I have currently found myself in, this too is a lesson that I apparently have not yet learned.

I have always been a "shoot-for-the-moon-and-if-you-fail-you'll-still-end-up-a-star" kind of person. (By the way, whoever came up with that quote should have put a disclaimer behind saying that should not apply to people who are already over-achievers because it will just create anxiety and chest pain...and discontentment.) I guess I'm also one who has the ability to think that the grass may just possibly be greener on the other side. (And no, Ben, I'm not talking about you.) Honestly, it's not a very fun way to live life most of the time.

I was folding clothes in our room a few days ago while Grant was doing one of his favorite things...pulling every book, journal, and magazine out of one of our nightstands and scattering them across the floor. He had pulled out an old journal of mine and it sat plopped open to September 20, 2006. I read it...and laughed. We had recently moved to Wichita Falls from Lubbock, Ben was working, waiting for his Bar results, and I had a job lead but no job. I pretty much sat around our apartment, took a potted mum outside every afternoon so it could get it's daily dose of sunlight, and waited for Ben to come home. So, my journal entry read:

"How I wish the Lord would have given me the gift of patience. It is so difficult for me to come to grips with the fact that "my plans" are not always "His plans."...I am struggling with finding contentment in where I'm at. I want to find a job. I want to find friends...but it all seems to be taking a while...Lord, please help me find peace in the place you have called us to. Help me enjoy a break from work...give me rest in You. Fill my heart with your love and faith and take me wherever You want me to go..."

Ha....well, I still suck at being content.

Some of the things I struggle with? I'd LOVE to work one day a week instead of two. (Seriously?! How many people would DIE to work two days a week?) We need more storage space in our house, therefore we have a long to-do list of building shelves and built-ins. Our bank accounts. My weight. (Which, p.s. I now weigh what I did before I became pregnant...but now, there's just these extra 10-15 pounds I'd love to lose...) The Texas heat. (Yes, it has been hot. Not sure what me complaining is going to do about it.) The dog hair all over the house. There are numerous woulda-been's, coulda-been's, and should-been's that cross into my life on a daily basis that I don't always handle well.

Paul, the master of contentment, said in 1 Corinthians 7:17, "Nevertheless, each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him." And in a letter to the church in Phillipi, he said "I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plently. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength." (Phillipians 4:11-13)

If I'm being honest, a lot of times I read these verses and get really annoyed. PAUL - IT'S NOT THAT EASY!!! Once discontented, always discontented. And then sometimes I think...Oh wait, maybe there's something to what he's saying. If Paul found contentment while being beaten, abused, as an outcast, and in prison, maybe it is possible for me to find contentment in this life. 

And that journal entry I read...here's an update. Those things I struggled with were given answers. Ben passed the Bar the first time around and got his results that November. I got a job (the one I had the lead on) and started that November. We found friends. AMAZING friends. We bought a house the following January and LOVE it. And my mum died. (The plant, that is.) If I would have been a little more content, I probably would have LOVED hanging out, reading, brushing up on my cooking skills, and enjoying some time to relax rather than do some of that and then just sit around, waiting for the fence gate to open so I could head into greener pastures. And isn't it funny...I found another slew of things to be discontented with...again!

So, in case you're struggling with contentment and get a little tight in the chest with anxiety like I do, please know that you're not the only one. If you're frustrated with your job, if your marriage is stale, if your bank account is not growing or even shrinking, if you feel like you've been "relegated" to being "just a mom" now, if your house is too small, or your butt's too big, if your husband is apathetic and now you are too...hang in there. I don't have the answers. However, I do know that He does. And He cares. And He really wants me to let Him teach me how to be content. So...let's stop and smell the roses. Let's enjoy the gifts that we have been given and the fact that we are alive to enjoy them. I mean...really try to enjoy them.

I think that when dealing with discontentment, our mind set shouldn't be, "This too shall pass." No...I think it should be, "This is where I'm supposed to be right now. And this, whatever this is, there is good in this." I'm not saying it's easy though. Hence the EXACT same struggles written about 5 years ago.

But I guess if Paul...the guy who used to be called Saul and HATED Jesus and everything that had to do with Him, learned how to be content while beaten and in chains, I bet there is still a possibility that we can find contentment, too. 

Here Comes the Bride

P.S. This is a deep one. Bear with me :)

This weekend, we got to celebrate the marriage of Ben's little brother Matt and his new wife Jacklyn in Fort Worth. It was beautiful. They have a funky, vintage style that was mirrored in her dress, the reception, the cake...super cool. Plus, one of the groomsmen was pretty hot...and they had the cutest ring bearer who started walking the day before the wedding...and not too shabby of a wedding singer/reception decorator either. Quite the family affair. But oh-so-lovely.

So, I'm sitting back behind the piano during the wedding which I think happened to be the best seat in the house (minus the pastor's standpoint). I got see both Matt and Jacklyn's faces during the entire ceremony. I love raw emotion.

I'm a female, so naturally, I'm a fan of weddings. The romantic love is unlike any other. The anticipation of the doors swinging open with the bride, smiling ear to ear, making the longest walk of her life down the aisle to finally be with her groom. Watching the groom's face. The awestruck look they have as he is staring at his beauty in white...the girl he gets to spend the rest of their life with. It's beautiful, romantic, breathtaking, intimate...

And I used to watch weddings, gushing over the love between a man and woman. Totally appropriate. But the closer my walk becomes with the Lord, the more I love weddings and love the symbolism behind them. Yes, the earthly love he gives us the capability to experience in a spouse is an amazing gift. One I would desperately long for if I didn't have and one I can't imagine life without.

But our weddings here on earth are images of one day we as believers in Christ will get to experience again. We are the "Bride of Christ" waiting for our Bridegroom. (Rev. 21:9-10) To be united in a perfect union. A perfect, pure relationship.

So, as I watched Matt's face as he was anticipating holding Jacklyn's hand to help her walk up the steps in the chapel where they became husband and wife, I imagined the joy on my Savior's face as I (and we as His children) are being made His Bride. What a sweet picture.

I've decided that weddings make my cup "overfloweth." Therefore...Jesus is going to have to give me a much bigger cup once I get to Heaven.

Home Sweet Home

Do you know how good it feels to be home? Of course, minus the 115 degree heat that we're having in Texas. (Really...right now I'd like to have a word or two with the original ancestor of the Lewis and Hoover families who decided to stop and settle in Texas. What were they thinking?!)

So, this past month has been fantastic...and super busy. The three of us spent 6 days in Michigan visiting my mom's side of the family at the lake. Phenomenal time! We drove there overnight...which is the ONLY way to go when you have a kid who will actually sleep in his car seat. Catching up with family you only get to see once or twice a year is PRICELESS.

After Michigan, we drove back, both worked about a week, took Grant to Ben's parents house (both the grandparents had G-man for a couple of days), and took a lover's trip to San Francisco for five days and four nights. Amazing. I'll probably post about that trip again to give more details (a couple of you have asked about things to do while there because you're planning a trip soon). But there's just so much catching up to do!!! It took a little while to unwind once we got there. After walking around, getting our bearings the first day for a couple of hours, we finally got to our hotel and decided to take a nap since we had gotten up at 3 a.m. the morning to head to DFW airport. As we're walking into the hotel room, my first thought was, "Oh my gosh...I need to pump!" Hallelujah, I was wrong. No more pumping! Then, we laid down for a nap and when I'm about 5 seconds from falling asleep, I hear a car honking outside our hotel window, jump up, and think, "Oh no...Scout got out of the backyard." So obviously, it took about a day from me to unwind from "Mom Mode" but once I got there...I definitely got there. Everyone asked when we got back..."Did you miss Grant? I bet you couldn't wait to see him!" Of course I missed him, and love him, and was excited to give him a hug and a kiss...but when people asked, I just sort of smirked and said yes because man...was it nice to just be ME for a bit. The trip was reminiscent of our dating days when we ate whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Dressed up to go out. Went to a 10:30pm movie (and that's PST, too). Livin' on the edge.

So after 5 days of zero responsibility, we picked up Grant from my parents' house, picked up Scout (our lab) from Ben's parents' house, and headed back to the scorching heat of Wichita Falls. (Forgot to mention that the high in SF/Monterey hit a balmy 62 degrees one day.)

I had a couple of days off before working 4 out of 5 nights (then I'm off for 9 days). It was spent detoxing Grant...who had decided that he should always be carried around and hitting people in the face was okay. It was also spent taking Scout to the vet twice...who has terrible allergies that flared up from eating other dogs' food and being outside at the farm. She broke out with massive dried skin patches which became infected from being wet in the pond all week at the farm. Now that she has her neck shaved, got a steroid shot the vet says he only give to 8-12 dogs annually, on Benadryl twice a day for the rest of her life, on 2 antibiotics, and a hypoallergenic diet...she's started to act like her normal, energetic self. (And p.s. we also discovered that Grant is allergic to wheat.)

So...was it good to get away for half of the month of July? Oh my gosh...yes. We refreshed, rejuvenated, and renewed (and cooled down). But was it good to get back home after some R&R? Oh my gosh...yes.

Now that the kiddos are starting to heal and hit less, I feel like life is becoming a little more "normal." Sometimes, I think trips make you remember what you love about home, too. Man...it's good to be back.

Indian Lake

Right now, I'm sitting on the second floor of my uncle and aunt's lake house on Michigan's Indian Lake watching my hot husband reel in a fish from the dock to a backdrop of beautiful blue water, a striped pink, gray and blue sky. I'm sun-kissed after sailing today with Ben. I can hear my mom laughing with my grandparents on the back porch. I see my aunt watering the flowers with my cousin. My child is asleep in his crib. It's the 3rd of July and people are already starting to shoot fireworks before it's dark in anticipation of celebrating our freedom tomorrow. I can almost hear Ray Charles sing "America, the Beautiful" just like it was played in "The Sandlot" while Benny, Squints and the boys were wrapping up their day playing ball.

Oh my gosh. Life is picture perfect today.

I grew up during the summers on this lake. The house used to be my grandparents summer home on my mom's side. Thank goodness we still have them around but now it's my uncle and aunt's lake house. I can't even express how thankful I am that the entire family is still wanted and welcome to come visit during the summer.

This place is my little corner of peace and serenity in this world. It's where I can think the clearest, talk to Jesus real honest, and smile the purest. It's comfort and beauty soften my heart a little. It's gotta look a touch like Heaven.

So today, I thank Him for my family, His beauty, and this little slice of Heaven that I'm experiencing on Earth. With all my heart, I hope you have your own Indian Lake.

Just rest and enjoy the ride

I know I've talked a lot about Grant's impending first birthday lately but it's just a really big milestone for me. We did have his birthday party this last weekend. It went off without a hitch. Minus the 109 degree weather during the party...that was outside. However, our huge pecan trees provided some much needed shade and the sprinkler kept the kids cool. And the cake...I know I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure that was the best devouring of cake I have ever seen at a first birthday party. Not only did he EAT half the cake, he also stuck his feet in it, wiped icing on Daddy's shirt, and looked comatose from the sugar binge after he finished. Seriously...this kid had never even had juice before. Talk about a shock for the tastebuds.

A year ago, I could only dream about getting to this point.

Pregnancy was a long, tough road for me. Physically, emotionally, spiritually...exhausting.

I've had type I diabetes since I was eight years old. Not the kind you get because you're older, or overweight, or have a family history of it. Type I diabetes is an autoimmune disorder...like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, or chrons disease. My own immune system got a little confused and attacked the beta cells in my pancreas. Beta cells are what make insulin. Therefore, my body no longer makes it. The good guys are dead. I have to give myself insulin. I wear an insulin pump, but up until I got that in 2000, I was giving myself insulin injections about eight times a day. A big misnomer is that a diabetic can't eat sugar. That's not the case. I just have to count ALL of the carbohydrates I eat. So there's a little lesson on diabetes.

Back until the late 1970s and early 1980s, diabetic women were encouraged to not even get pregnant. The baby may have spina bifida, a heart defect, or at least be really big and a c-section would be the only delivery option. I want to say that the specialist in saw in Fort Worth told me that almost half of the babies who were carried to full term to diabetic moms were stillborn. That's a sobering statistic.

Good news is that medical advancements have been made and we've come a long way from those statistics. Those possibilities are all still very real, but not as common because the opportunities to monitor blood sugars and fetal development are so much better. God is good. Now, a type I diabetic mom can have a healthy child...but there's A LOT of work she has to put into it to make it happen.

So, back in October of 2009, I took a pregnancy test one morning at 4 a.m. and it was positive. Naturally, we are overjoyed that we would soon be parents to a precious little boy or girl. We told our family and closest friends so they could be excited alongside us. But as I smiled ear to ear as we shared the good news, my heart was so overwhelmed.

Oh my gosh...my blood sugars have to be PERFECT. (And here's another medical lesson for you: blood sugar management is an art, not a science. Just because I input the right amount of carbs into my pump doesn't mean that a piece of wheat bread with 12g of carbs is going to be digested the same as 12g of carbs in grapes. Or that when I exercise for 30 minutes on Monday morning that it'll lower by blood sugar the same amount on Tuesday morning. Or that my body will produce the same amount of hormones on Wednesday afternoon as it will on Thursday.) All I could think was...I can't screw up.

IT WAS OVERWHELMING. Doctors appointments weekly, diabetes educators weekly, sonograms weekly, working on a mother/baby unit, studying maternal/child health in nursing school, parents asking how my blood sugars were, doctors asking how my blood sugars were, AAAAHHHHH!!!! And still with all of that, I was my harshest critic. Meagan...YOU HAVE TO BE PERFECT.

It's one thing to want to study hard to make good grades. But take that same concept and apply it to the health and wellbeing of your unborn child and the potential downfall of your kidneys? IT'S EXHAUSTING.

As I'm walking around, cool, calm, confident, and collected on the outside, my stomach was in knots, my heart was racing, and my brain kept saying...Meagan, don't screw up. This is on you. Grant's health...yeah, God is "in control," but this is on you.

One morning, being particularly tired, nauseous, and feeling fat, I was walking in our neighborhood. Walking is a release to me. It's when I think and pray and rejuvenate. I was on my favorite stretch of the walk under the tree-covered canopy over Berkeley. I was focusing on the uneven sidewalk under my feet, hoping to not fall and break an ankle. As I look up, I picture someone walking about 20 feet ahead of me. Don't really remember what he looks like. I just remember what he said. No, it wasn't audible. But it was spoken right to my heart.

"Meagan...look up. I've already walked the path ahead of you. I know where you're going. I created the path you're on. Just rest and enjoy the ride."

Yes, that mirrors a few Bible verses I've heard over and over and over. But on that morning, something clicked. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much or little I screw up, the Lord is still in control. I can't be perfect. Never have been. Never will be. I guess if I was perfect, I wouldn't need a Savior, huh? For the first time in my life, I felt like I had to hand over EVERYTHING to the Lord. I HAD NO CONTROL. No matter if I had my kidneys at the end of my pregnancy or if my child was born with a hole in his spinal cord...He has prepared the path before me, set my feet on it, knew every crack and stone on the uneven path, and wanted me to let go, let God, and enjoy the ride.

Of course, I still checked my blood sugar, exercised, took my insulin, and counted my carbs. God wasn't telling me to be lazy and stupid. He was telling me to rest and trust. I'm not going to lie and say that from that point on, I never worried or got anxious...because I did. It was and still is a daily battle I fight. But most nights when I would lay down, I wouldn't stay up and let my mind race over the "what-ifs" and "then-what's." There was a peace I would fall asleep with as I thanked the Lord for getting me through the day and trusted that His plans were intentional and good.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." - Proverbs 3:5-6

And oh how we praise Him for the sweet, perfect, healthy child He gave us!

My poor girls...for women only :)

Grant will be one in a little less than two weeks. Oh...how time flies. I ordered his cake, bought some plates and napkins, a pinata...pretty sure he could care less but I'm learning that the first birthday party is really for me. Not so I can get presents and have everyone sing to me...but for me to feel like a mom who is providing a fun day full of laughter and cake for my kiddo. I know he knows I love him. The birthday party is just icing on the cake. The cake of which will probably be disgustingly and oh-so-adorably devoured at his party.

So, with his one year birthday approaching, do you know what that means? It means BREASTFEEDING IS ALMOST COMPLETE!!! I have LOVED the bonding moments with my child that come with breastfeeding. I have LOVED knowing that he has gotten the best nutritional start to life that he could possibly get. I have LOVED knowing that my body is providing his nourishment. HOWEVER...let me tell you why my nips will sing praises when this breastfeeding stint will be completed.

I should have known that I was going to have troubles with my nips or "the girls"...as we shall lovingly call them. Life for them had been completely normal until a funny thing happened when I was about 24 weeks pregnant. And then, life as they knew it changed.

One night, I was getting ready for bed in our bathroom. I took out my contacts, put them in their holder, put on my glasses (which is a MUST because I am as blind as a bat), and proceeded to shut my glasses case. DIRECTLY ONTO MY RIGHT NIP. I screamed loudly, pulled off the case, laughed so hard I wet my pants because I was A. in shock B. completely embarrassed C. feeding off of Ben's laughter and D. no longer had great control of my bladder since there was a small child using it as his trampoline.

Now here's where it turns from funny to a little scary for a second. After I finally regained my composure, I realized that my heart has jumped out of rhythm from my immense laughter (not that uncommon during pregnancy) and is beating at about 215 beats a minute. My nursing knowledge kicked in. I did the valsalva maneuver (where you hold your breath and bear down) and it kicked my heart back into normal rhythm. Problem solved. However, I did feel the need to let my OB/GYN know that my heart was acting weird. Talk about an odd conversation.

At 10:45 p.m.: "Yes, I need to have Dr. Lamar paged....Hi, Dr. Lamar. Sorry I'm calling so late. Ummm...we had an incident...ummm...end result was that my heart went into SVT."

Later that week, I did tell him the whole story at my next appointment. I believe it was the talk of the office for a while. As he was laughing while I was telling the story, he said, "I figured it was either something funny or something sexual." Welp, let me tell ya, it was about as far from sexual as you can get.

So there was the start of the rough road my nips began.

Since then, they have lived through the initial shock of breastfeeding. It's like taking the hose of a vacuum and attaching it to your girls. Eight to 12 times a day. Day and night. Then 5 different episodes of thrush. If you don't know what it is...look it up. All I can imagine comparing it to is having your nips look like red hot tamales, clamped down into a vice, and twisted. Then I accidentally burned the right one (poor girl...she's always getting beat up) with my flat iron as I was straightening my hair in my robe. Who even knows how that happened. Then Grant got teeth at 6 months. I called him my little piranha. For a while, it looked like a small hand grenade went off inside my bra. One time he bit me so hard (left side this time) that he drew blood. A lot of blood.

Then, smooth sailing for a few months until Memorial Day weekend. Grant fell on his face in the kitchen and chipped his two front teeth. Naturally, it was on Friday afternoon. The dentist was closed until Tuesday because it was a holiday weekend...so we (myself and the girls) had 3 1/2 days of breastfeeding a child who had razors for teeth. I would have pumped, but I just don't have the best pump and I feared my milk would dry up.

So, do you see why my nips will sing a song a freedom and redemption when Grant is weaned in a couple of weeks? They've been through a lot. They're tough gals. They've earned a break.

P.S. I really contemplated whether or not I should blog about my girls since it is somewhat of a sensitive (no pun intended) subject. Then I decided to put myself out there. A little humor to all you moms currently breastfeeding or have done it or are getting ready to do it...I'm proud of you. It's a sacrifice but oh-so-worth it.

You've come a long way, baby...

One year ago today, I was one month shy of giving birth. Thus, today marks Grant's 11 month birthday. (You didn't know you were going to have to do a little math this morning, did you?) As I was in the shower washing my hair with my favorite shampoo (Organix Teetree Mint, for those of you who are curious), I looked back on the last 11 months. The phrase that kept coming to mind was...

"You've come a long way, baby."

Last May 24th, I was over eight months pregnant. Ankles reminiscent of an 80-year-old woman in heart failure. I was three weeks shy of taking the NCLEX-RN exam which I had to pass in order to become a licensed RN in the state of Texas. I still had eight hours of defensive driving to complete before I became a mom and I didn't have time for it. Just to name a few things on my "to-do" list a year ago.

Since then, I have:

A. Given birth to the most beautiful, precious child God created for me to care for
B. Taken and passed state boards
C. Pulled numerous "all-nighters" because I work nights (even during the college years...I NEVER stayed up all night)
D. Breastfed a child through thrush and eight teeth for the entire 11 months (and counting down to a year)
E. Made it through our most difficult year of marriage (that statement should start with WE have)...to those of you who think the first year of marriage is the hardest like I did...wait until you have kids...
F. Learned a new level of love and respect for my husband
G. Attempted to learn to shut my mouth more often when what I want to say doesn't need to be said
H. Gone from being a natural blonde to a natural brunette (it's the hormones, I tell ya)
I. Been reminded that my girlfriends are life-savers and really are the sisters I never had
J. Watched Ben try his first murder trial
K. Gain a truer understanding of the meaning behind Mother's Day and deeper appreciation of my mom
L. Grasped a deeper knowledge of the unconditional love the Father has for me
M. Completed my defensive driving
N. And after this past weekend...primed, painted, and trimmed out an entire brick house (with the help of our INCREDIBLE family).

I'm stopping with N because I hear a kid crying who just woke up from a nap. Ooh...I think we went back to sleep.

It's been a tough, challenging, and rewarding 11 months. Would I want to re-live it? Nope. Do I cherish every moment of it? Yep. If I close my eyes and just relax, I can picture me and Jesus walking down the sidewalk, pushing Grant's stroller. He's got his arm around my shoulders and He leans over, chuckles, and says...

"You've come a long way, baby."

Tales from the Maternity Ward

Last night at work, we got to laughing at about 4 a.m. via my expense. For starters, everything is funny at 4 a.m. However, I also tend to have a tendency to say funny things to patients at 4 a.m....when I'm not always thinking straight.

A few months ago, I took care of a patient after her hysterectomy. I had spent quite a bit of time with her throughout the shift...doing her assessment, managing her pain, teaching her how to straight catheterize herself. As the shift was about to end, I went into her room to tell her she would be getting a new nurse for the day and told her what she could expect in the next twelve hours.

As I was leaving her room, she said, "Happy Thanksgiving!" (because we were a few days from Thanksgiving).

Without missing a beat...or obviously thinking...I replied..."You too! Enjoy being uterus free!"

Really. Who says that. Enjoy being uterus free. I meant it. I'm not a fan of Aunt Flo. But what was I thinking.

Another funny story that frequently is told at my expense. It was my first week as a PCA (basically, a nurse's aid) on the Mother/Baby Unit. I had just left my job as a fundraiser with Children's Miracle Network where I planned events, corralled volunteers, and asked people for money and stepped into the world of blood pressure, catheters, and c-sections.

One of the RNs working that day said, "Meagan, would you mind getting so-and-so (name not included to prevent identification of a patient...and for me to keep my job :) into the shower?"

"Absolutely! I'd love to!" I said. Oh, was I eager to learn and help. It's the over-achiever in me.

I be-bopped down to the patient's room, helped her out of the bed since she had recently delivered via c-section, got her into the shower, and proceeded to wash her. It was my first experience ever scrubbing the back of a healthy adult whom I was not married to. She looked up at me and said, "This is nice. No one has ever bathed me before. Not even after my last baby."

"Oh my gosh," I thought. "All they wanted was for me to help her INTO the shower. Not BATHE her."

"I'm glad I can help," I told the patient with a smile on my face...trying to hide the fact that I was utterly humiliated and felt completely awkward.

After her scrub-down was complete, I step out of the bathroom...scrubs dripping wet, hair transformed from straight to curly via steam, and completely embarrassed...walk down the hall to where all of the nurses I was working with (and whom I had only met a few days ago) were sitting, and proceeded to tell them about my "shower."

Oh, how they laughed. And it was obviously a noteworthy story...because it's still told on a regular basis.

So, while I'm very proud of the job I do as a nurse and know that I give the best care I can to my patients, let me tell ya...I guess I'm a little bit of a goober when I do it. All I can hope is that I have a patient out there who is enjoying being "uterus-free" and one who equates her last c-section with a day at the spa.

Patience is not my virtue

Back in the good ol' Texas Tech days, I was a student mentor to about 20 different athletes. I helped them with their homework, their time management, study skills, and as we got to know each other better, we also talked about relationships, family, and some pretty deep issues. I loved the job. And as most colleges invest in their athletes, so did Tech. The students had to take a "Life Skills" course where they learned about how they can better function as both a person and an athlete. In it, everyone was asked to fill out a 150+ questionnaire online through a program called "Strengthsquest." At the end of the test, you were given your top five "strengths" that layed out the framework of the way you "ticked" and encouraged you to use those strengths in your daily life. All of my athletes took their quizzes and as mentors, we were asked to take them, too. My top five strengths were:

1. Achiever - pushed yourself to the limit, could also become discontent easily
2. Relator - met people where they were at
3. Beliefs - strong core values/ethics
4. Can't remember exactly what it was called, but basically found potential in people and encouraged them to reach it
5. Competitor - have a strong will to win

No where on that list...much less in my top five...was the word "Patient." Because I suck at being patient.

I've been smacked on the side of the head relentlessly with this issue lately. I was in the process of transferring departments at the hospital I work at from Mother/Baby to Critical Care and from nights to days. I found out last week that due to me taking maternity leave during my RN orientation period, I had to wait to transfer until the beginning of October...if a job is available at that time. Totally understandable...but the lesson was Be Patient. I really want to finish losing my baby weight but my thyroid has been messed up off and on for the last 7 months and it makes losing the weight hard. Be Patient. I have salivated over the front-load washer and dryers since they first came out and wanted them with a pedestal in a really cool color. Our 25-year-old dryer decided to die this morning and well, we can't really fit a cool new pedestal dryer into the budget. Be Patient. Mother's Day morning, all I wanted was to sit down and eat a fabulous buffet and have a mimosa at Blue Mesa in Fort Worth with my family. Naturally, my child who ALWAYS acts perfect in public throws the biggest, longest fit I've ever seen him throw as we are about to be seated after waiting for 45 minutes. I go to the car, try to nurse him, rock him, console him...finally, after 30 minutes, he falls asleep in the Baby Bjorn carrier which makes it extremely difficult to thoroughly enjoy my meal. Even for something so small as eating my stupid brunch...Be Patient.


My mom always says that if there's someone in our life that we have a hard time getting along with, you can pretty much bet on the fact that God will bring someone else in our life just like them until we learn how to deal with them. I guess that probably goes for lessons like learning patience, too.

This isn't a fluffy, life-is-perfect-and-I've-learned-my-lesson post. Where yes, I completely know and believe that I am unbelievably blessed, patience is not my virtue quite yet. I have openly acknowledging that it's a really tough concept for me, so I guess I won that battle... but I have this gut feeling that the war isn't over yet.

"A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly." - Proverbs 14:29

A Royal Occasion

No, I didn't wake up at 4 a.m. to watch the royal wedding. But I would have if I didn't have to work all night tonight. So, as I was having a bowl of Cheerios with my distinguished guest, Sir Grant Edwin of Wichita, as we watched the blissful nuptials on our DVR.

I think I'm cut out to live the life of a princess or dutchess. In kindergarten, I refuse to wear anything but a dress. I know which fork to use for what course of a meal. I can speak proper English (unlike most Americans). And I intensely studied films such as the Sound of Music and The King and I...where royalty was involved. However, my Prince Ben isn't referred to as "His Royal Highness"...however, I'm sure he would probably prefer that title.

Watching the wedding, I LOVED everything about it. The dignity, the poise, the dress, the respectfulness, the honor, the class. Now, I'm not "hatin' on" our culture...but maybe I am just a little. Compare the wedding we all watched this morning to what the youth of America hold in such high regard. What comes to mind? Images of Lady Gaga in a meat dress making some sort of weird statement. Rihanna dancing on the Grammy's so inappropriately that I turned to another channel because I was so embarrassed. Girls walking around in pants so low you see 3 inches of their crack hanging out. Young women in wedding dresses so low cut that all anyone can focus on is their...ahem...overflowing bosom. Lyrics that are played on every pop radio station. Bruno Mars's "The Lazy Song" lyrics totally repulse me.


"Today I don't feel like doing anything. I just wanna lay in my bed. Don't feel like pickin' up my phone, so leave a message at the tone 'cause I swear I'm not doing anything, nothing at all, nothing at all. Tomorrow I'll wake up, do some P90X. Find a really nice girl, have some really nice sex. And she's gonna scream out 'this is great.' (Oh my God, this is great.)"

What a stark contrast to the image of William and Kate - a young man and woman who are responsible, can shake people's hands and look them in the eyes, don't give a disgustingly long, totally inappropriate make-out-mack-down-let's-go-get-a-room kiss, and don't act like total jerks "because they can."

So, not only did I love watching a fairytale wedding because a commoner named Catherine Middleton is now referred to as the Duchess of Cambridge...I loved it because it was full of class, grace, poise, honor, and dignity. Something I think a lot of our culture...and generation, for that matter...forgets is out there. You don't have do be actual royalty, have seven names, and wear a feathered hat to treat yourself with a little respect and dignity.

Needing some super-human strength

This morning, I commenced on day three of deep-cleaning the Hoover house. No...I am not disinfecting, dusting, and wiping down every square centimeter of the house. It's just taken me three days to finish. I'm spending most of my time corralling Grant. Earlier, I thought I'd be able to Swiffer the wood floors and fold a load of laundry before he went down for a nap. After about 30 minutes, I finally got a small load of lights folded, but no clean floors...because in those 30 minutes, Grant had:

A. Crawled into, and fallen out of, a laundry basket and hit his head

B. Pulled on our bedroom curtains

C. Got his finger stuck in the door jam (not a severe injury, just some crying)

D. Ate dog food

E. Ate grass and dust bunnies

F. Chewed on a phone charger (thank goodness it wasn't plugged in)

G. Opened the night stand and pulled out numerous books and

H. Played in Scout's water bowl

That, my friends, is why it has taken me three days to clean our house. 

The tiredness that I am currently experiencing prompted me to open up my favorite Book to Isaiah 40 this morning. In this chapter, Israel is complaining. Basically, they're tired and they think God is too big to care about their needs and wants.

"Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, 'My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God?'

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." - Isaiah 40:27-31

And when it says "renew their strength," the actual meaning is to "exchange their strength" for God's strength. That's a pretty good trade, if you ask me. He's got quite a bit more strength than I do. Plus, it's probably a little more powerful than mine, too. (Note the sarcasm.)

So...Jesus, I need to exchange my strength for yours today. Not just so I can finish cleaning the house. So I can keep on running the race you've set before me.

A Little Naive? Probably. A little light-headed? Definitely.

Oh, how I should be sleeping. I work tonight and tomorrow night, Grant's asleep, the house is quiet, and I CAN'T SLEEP. Seriously, my body does not like working nights...even if it is just part time. Hopefully, I won't have to do it too much longer...maybe a post on that later...

I cut my finger a couple of days ago. Nothing traumatic. Just pulling on my pants and my thumbnail cut my third finger on my left hand. However, it really did hurt. It's almost done healing, but this afternoon, I was looking at it and it reminded me of a funny story in regards to my third finger on my right hand from a few years ago.

I was getting ready to go into Hobby Lobby to run a quick errand on beautiful spring day. But springtime in Texas = wind...so it was a beautiful, windy day. As I was shutting the car door, I remembered I forgot my purse in the front seat. I turn around, grabbed the edge of the door and WHAM...slammed my finger. Seriously, I was almost positive I was going to pull my hand out of the door and discover I was missing half of a finger. Luckily, I still had all of my appendages. But, my third finger on my right hand was MAJORLY cut open. I saw fat tissue. Pretty sure if I dug, I could have seen the bone. Right at the joint closest to my fingertip.

Now, I can do blood. I can do vomit. I can do poop. I do it much better when the blood is coming from someone other than myself though.

So, I'm a little light-headed but manage to get into the car, find a napkin, wrap my finger, and start driving myself to the Employee Wellness Clinic at United Regional to get some stitches. (Even though they just put some super glue in there. I could have just run into to Hobby Lobby and bought the super glue myself. Would have saved some money).

As I'm driving, my common sense in correlation with my nursing sense tells me to hold the hand above my heart to decrease the bleeding. Check. I've got my right hand in the air up above the steering wheel. I'm driving with my elbows trying to put pressure on my finger with my left hand. That's not working too well. Forget that. I start driving with my left hand. Right hand still in the air. Napkin falls off. Middle right finger exposed. And it's extended. And I don't even notice.

I continue to drive myself...light-headed...to the hospital. I pull up, get signed in, and wait.

As the light-headedness is wearing off, I start cracking up. While I'm sitting all by myself. I realize that I just drove across town, like a complete maniac, giving everybody the bird. Honestly, I had no idea. It never even crossed my mind that my bloody middle finger was completely offensive. A little naive? Probably. A little light-headed? Definitely.

So, in case any of you ever smash your middle finger in the car door and then start driving yourself to the hospital, try not to hold it above your heart, extended and exposed. It looks bad.

And to anyone who saw me driving in Wichita Falls that day, please excuse my middle finger. My intentions were pure. I just needed stitches.

Mad Photoshop Skills

Today, I don't feel like getting really deep. I just taped a segment for a video that'll play during the Easter service at Grace Church that kind of emotionally exhausted me. It's about the struggles I had with being pregnant as a diabetic and all of the emotions that surrounded it. And how I felt like I had to do everything perfectly for God to bless me with a healthy child. Even though I knew that I couldn't earn grace and health...it's still something I struggled with on a day to day basis. Good news is that He took me on a journey that led to a healthy baby, a healthy momma, and a greater understanding of the depth and grace of His Perfect Love. Come watch it next Sunday if you're in town.

So, for laughs, I'm going to post some INCREDIBLE pictures that one of my best friends gave me for a baby shower hostesses gift. One of the things that we girls probably all notice as we get a little older is that we don't have many pictures of ourselves with our girlfriends. Back in college, I had a picture with everyone I knew up on my bulletin board. Well, we just don't take pics like we used to anymore.

So, in leu of a real picture, Jennie created four much more priceless pictures to fill our frames for our hostess gift. This girl has some MAD PHOTOSHOP SKILLS.

Best. Shower. Gift. EVER. Enjoy.

Oh...the dreaded swimsuit season

Oh how I dread swimsuit season. Especially this first season after I've had a baby in the last nine months. Especially when I still have about 18 pounds to lose to get back to where I really want to be. (I TOLD you I was going to be transparent.) Slowly but surely, the weight is coming off but definitely not as fast as I'd like. All of the orange juice I drank and snacks I had to eat while being pregnant as a type I diabetic (even though most of them were really healthy) added up and helped me...should I say...blossom with a nice pregnant body. And after a thyroid problem at about four months postpartum...it's been a journey getting the scale back down to where it is. But again...slowly but surely, I'm getting there.

So, we just joined a neighborhood pool in Wichita Falls that I'm super-excited about going to this summer. It's a membership-only place that's really family friendly. You even bring your meat to grill and the side-dishes on Tuesday nights and the pool provides all the trimmings. You eat family-style with everyone else there. (For all you WF peeps, it's Fain Pool. Check out the site at www.fainpool.org).

However, this means I have to wear a bathing suit.

Now, I don't know about you, but I put bathing suit shopping up there on the list with jean shopping, trips to Wal-Mart (which I've started to avoid AT ALL COSTS), getting bit by fire ants, and childbirth (and I pushed for over two hours, folks).

Ben, Grant, and I were at Academy a couple of nights ago looking for some toys for Grant and a new swimsuit for Ben as he's training for a few sprint triathlons. (Yes...he's a man of many talents. But yes...he's taken, ladies.) So I thought I'd try on a bathing suit or two. And then I had a flashback of a couple of years ago...trying on a bathing suit in the SAME dressing room at the SAME Academy. Here goes:

I saw a cute little bathing suit (tankini with bikini bottoms) that I decided to try on. Put it on, looked in the mirror, tried sucking in a little, and decided that there must be bad lighting in that particular dressing room. I decided to ask the HORRIBLE question that we women ask our husbands...


"Babe...does this bathing suit make me look fat?" I ask.


"No, babe. But sometimes, when we look in the mirror, it's what we really look like..." he says.


"UM...WHAT?!" I calmly ask.


"No, no...you took that the wrong way. I mean, we gotta be okay with ourselves the way we are," he says.


"UM...uh huh. I think I'm not buying this bathing suit," I calmly and lovingly say.


Where I KNOW, without a doubt, that my husband was not saying I was fat or trying to make me feel bad, that story has become quite infamous amongst our friends. He meant well. I did learn, however, to not ask that question in a bathing suit again.

So, flash forward to this week. I tried on the bathing suit at Academy...and I actually looked okay. And Ben made up for his previous remarks and told me I looked great. Hmmm...I actually got a little boost of confidence in the dressing room, even though I am 18 pounds from where I want to be, while in a BATHING SUIT.

So...maybe Ben is right. Maybe we "gotta be okay with ourselves the way we are." I did earn every stretch mark I own, right? And I've got the most precious little boy to prove it.

But that question is now off-limits in the Hoover household. And will NEVER be asked again. I'm all about honesty and transparency...unless I'm in a bathing suit.

We Needed That

Fantastic weekend. Lately, weekends have consisted of either me working Friday/Saturday nights, Ben getting ready for trial, Ben going out of town, or all three of us going out of town to visit family. We did NONE of that this weekend...and it was great!!! We didn't even work on a home improvement project (and for those of you who REALLY know us know that that is how we spend almost all of our free time).

Friday night we went to dinner and Grant ate the food right off of my plate for the first time. Saturday morning we picked strawberries with some of our best friends and their kiddos. Ben thoroughly enjoyed eating them while he was picking them. Grant and I went back home from the orchard and he "napped" (some post on his lack of napping later) while Ben was an honorary coach at the MSU spring football game. We caught the end of the game and enjoyed the awesome breeze. Then dropped Grant off with the Durans and we went to the beautiful wedding of Kyle Lessor & Paige Pendley. Kyle and Ben work together in the DA's office. SO nice to get out...childless. I wore a bright yellow spring dress with a blue necklace and blue, white, and yellow striped peep-toe heels with a flower on the side. Not that you care at all...but I felt like kinda cute...and normally I'm either in pajamas, work-out clothes, or scrubs, so this was a really nice change. After the wedding, we picked up Grant from Aaron & Erin's house and as we were leaving, we heard an accident down the road. We all hoped in the car and came up on the scene of a car/motorcycle accident. Naturally, my adrenaline gets going, I pull off my super-cute heels and run across the road to help the motorcyclist laying on the median. Pretty sure he's going to be okay...just some abrasions and a busted-up knee. He WASN'T wearing a helmet though. He said he didn't hit his head...but just a side note to all of you motorcyclists...PLEASE wear a helmet :) This guy is lucky to be alive.

It took me a while to go to sleep because I was replaying the scene in my mind and playing the "what if" game, trying to brush up on my trauma nursing skills from back in the school days. We made it up early though, on Sunday and listened to two FANTASTIC speakers at Grace Church from Probe Ministries in Dallas speak about "Cultural Captivity." Basically, how our culture has affected the Church, our ways of thinking, our relationships, etc. It was awesome. Check out their website at www.probe.org.

One of the many things they touched on was the issue of transparency. Research shows that the top two prayer requests are about financial situations (i.e. I lost my job, we need to sell our house) and health (so-and-so's grandma is sick). Totally valid requests and God absolutely cares and wants to hear about those things. However...they are socially acceptable to share with others. The typical prayer request doesn't include "my marriage is struggling, I don't feel like Jesus could ever love me, I'm totally embarrassed about the mounds of debt I have, etc." So, so true. Good stuff. I'm a huge believer in transparency, being honest, sharing where you're really at, and loving people where they're really at. I'm challenging myself this week to practice transparency even more...so I'm challenging you to do it, too.

After church, we ate some DELICIOUS hamburgers, asparagus, and yes...homemade strawberry pie made out of handpicked strawberries made by the fabulous Erin Duran. Grant "napped" that afternoon (again, more on this later :) while Ben rode his bike, went back to hear the speakers finish up last night, ate dinner with a group of friends afterwards, came home, payed bills, and watched some much-needed rain fall.

Yes...it was a great weekend. And other than pay bills, we didn't do one single project or check anything off our to-do list. Just hung out, loved each other, loved our friends, and learned to love people a little better right where we're all at. We needed that.

Happy Monday.

Beautiful Chaos

Grant is asleep. Laundry's in the washer. I've still yet to get in the shower but I'm sure that will get taken care of eventually. It's a stark contrast to what our lives looked like approximately an hour and a half ago.

My child, his high chair and the floor were covered in chopped up cantaloupe and wheat germ and I smelled poop coming from his direction. Of course, the smell could always be from Scout, our black lab who loves to roll around in the dirt and on top of any dead animal she can find. But this morning, the smell was lingering from Grant's behind. After cleaning the food off his chubby little hands, we headed into his room for a changing. I proceed to trip over the mound of toys in the middle of his room that have accumulating since yesterday afternoon when I last picked up. (He has learned the art of play in the last week and thus pulls out any toy and/or book he can get his hands on to chew on for about five seconds and move on to the next item.) I didn't fall or drop my child but I did stub my toe and probably mumbled a word I would rather him not repeat.

Off to the changing table we went. I have also recently discovered that Grant has a talent in headstands and acrobatics while I change his diaper. I used to be able to lay him on his changing pad, clean him up, and get a little face time when diaper duty time arrived. Now...not so much. In the 2.5 seconds after his diaper comes off and I start wiping, he manages to twist around onto his head while I'm holding his feet up. The first few times he did this, I got frustrated, firmly told him "NO" and gave him a little pat on his naked bum. However, this didn't seem to phase him. I have conceded to now change his diaper while he is in head-stand position. It makes getting in all of the nooks and crannies a bit more difficult and messier (hence the load of laundry in the washer) but hey...whatever works, right?

And this morning with my child in mid head-stand, my phone rings. Ben is calling to tell me how excited he is to be the honorary football coach at Midwestern State University's spring game this weekend and how he needs to buy a shirt or two to help him display some school pride. Seriously, a great phone call to pick up. I'm really excited for him. However, I did get poop on my phone.

Sometimes, a morning like this is a little annoying and makes me want to shower. (Still getting to that.) But this morning, I just laughed. Grant won't always be small enough to put up on a changing table and get face time with. Even if our face time was with him standing on his head. And Ben called to tell me how excited he was about this weekend. I'm blessed to have a husband that is my best friend, not just my roommate. And what's getting a child through the diaper years without a little poop on your phone? I wouldn't know...that life would be a little boring, I'd imagine.

"As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone.." - Psalm 103:15-16a


Today, I'm loving the chaos. Though hopefully, my days on earth will last a little longer than some of the grass in my backyard does. Can't wait to see Jesus face to face but I sure am glad I have now.

Because my days are number here, I'm going to try my best to love the chaos.

A Ticket on the Blog Bandwagon

I used to laugh at people who had blogs. I understood the ones that let grandparents see pictures of their grandchildren, or updates about the health of a loved one, or even the DIY and how-to blogs. But the ones about nothing? Really? Who would read that? And look at me now. My blog is called "The Everyday Life of an Everyday Wife." Sort of ironic. However, as I get a little older (and with age comes maturity and wisdom, right?) I realize that life is really quite entertaining. It's funny. It's beautiful. It's gut-wrenching. In it, there are lessons to be learned, prayers to be prayed, and stories to be told just for the sake of a chuckle. So, I'm hopping on the blog bandwagon and look forward to sharing our stories with you.