Virtual Coffee: Twelve

If we were having coffee today, this cloudly, overcast third of May, I'd be sipping my almond oolong from a steaming mug because it's still chilly enough to need the warmth of tea.

I'd ask what you'd like for your afternoon caffeine fix, and we'd likely let the conversation naturally drift from complaining about the bleak midwestern weather.

Because my irritation with the weather is getting old. :)

So I'd share with you something else that I am SO done with -- G's whole sassy almost-four attitude that's creeped into his normally sunny {albeit strong-willed} personality.

And I'd ask for prayers and any guidance you might have with helping to curb the sass.

Because the kid is driving me bananas. Ba-na-nas, I tell you! I just don't do sass well.

But, in positive news, I am doing well at something with which I normally struggle. Yesterday my Curves coaches and I began the Curves 90-Day Challenge, one issued to us by the head honchos of Curves at our spring training regionals event last month.

We're using the Curves Weight Management Program for the nutrition aspect and getting our exercise from working out the Curves circuit, which we all usually do anyway.

And it's going swimmingly! Curves has come out with some new awesome interactive tools to help guide us through the Weight Management program, and the coaches and I are test piloting it.

When it's all said and done, I'm hoping to have shed this last 15-20 pounds so hopefully I'll be meeelllllting. And maybe eight weeks from now you won't recognize me?



Maybe, also, eight weeks from now when I take another body shot I'll have cleaned the bathroom mirror, too, before inviting guests over for coffee?

Probably, also, we'd talk about how I broke my own heart yesterday: without fact checking, I posted a non-quote on my Facebook wall. Turns out, the first part of the quote was from someone else who wasn't nearly as famous as the person to whom I attributed it.

Don't you hate it when that happens? Or is that just me because of my inner journalist? I just hate printing anything that isn't totally accurate, even if it is just to Facebook or Twitter.

And I could probably drone on and on about the myriad reasons why I simultaneously love and don't love those social mediums. But I'll spare you my Neil Postman-esque monologue.

At any rate, it was a good reminder for me to always double check my sources.

And, yes, in that moment of truth when I realized my error, my mind went flashing back to the time in college when Dr. Murphy marked a big fat D on one of my papers for her senior-level journalism class after I'd misspelled someone's last name.

And that her heaping out a mega-dose mercy on my perfectionist soul; she normally assigned an F for that type of mistake.

Well, enough about me -- how are YOU! What's new? Have I missed a post close to your heart? Will you link it with your comment? Or just tell me what you're thinking about today? Or how about curbing the sass?

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Virtual Coffee: Eleven

Were we meeting in person for coffee today, it would likely be at a coffee shop.

You'd thank me, really, for not inviting you over to my casa as we're having an ongoing skunk-smell saga and the whiffs hit at the most unexpected times.

Skunk smell? you might ask.

I'd nod my head as we ordered our drinks -- mine a hot tea to help soothe the allergen-induced mess that are my sinuses -- and share that E wandered in the back door Saturday reeking of disgustingness.

He was covered head to toe in dirt, so I first thought that perhaps he was digging through a portion of the garden where maybe something had long past expired. But upon looking, there was nothing.

We immediately doused the kid in water under the sink, and the smell would.not.budge.

After several scrubbings, I consulted Goodle. And I landed on skunk odor being the most likely culprit.

Did you know skunk spray stays on the ground for up to THREE YEARS?

No?

I kid you not.

After much facebooking discussion, we finally found a remedy that took the skunkiness smell away: coffee grounds.

Well, it took it away until yesterday.

When he pooped.

Dirt and skunk smell really makes you thankful for regular old dirty diapers.

So I thought we got away from all of this skunkiness and then I opened the windows late yesterday afternoon.

And holy overwhleming stench -- the skunk smell was back, drifting into our open living room windows.

Anyway, long story short, we're still trying to figure out where the smell is coming from now that it's {seemingly-oh-dear-God hopefully} exited E's body.

Either you'd be laughing by now at the ridiculousness or you'd be wondering why you decided to meet me for coffee today if we were going to discuss such messes as skunks and bodily functions gone wrong, so I'd quickly the change the subject ask how this week has treated you thus far.

We'd probably talk about the stellar summer-like weather that descended on Chicago's neck of the woods {suburbs?}.

We've been basking in mild temps and enjoying almost everything spring -- except the allergies.

Last night, I woke up around 2 a.m. convinced I'd somehow developed strep while sleeping. But upon waking this morning, I realized it was all allergy related because the symptoms totally subsided.

And while we're talking sleep, I have to whisper -- I say whisper so as to not totally doom tonight -- something: we decided to night wean E this week, and we started last night.

He's been super demanding of lately, and I finally started to feel like I'd fought the good fight for the past 19 months, waking 4-5 times per night to nurse him, and, well, I'm done.

I'm not a nice mommy the day after I've been up every hour nursing and wrestling a milk-crazed toddler, so I knew something needed to change.

And last night -- whispering still -- was so easy.

He woke only once for John, and John was able to snuggle him back to sleep so easily -- no crying or anything, which is totally unlike E.

So this morning, I looked at the Farmer's Almanac -- because the last time E. slept that well, my sister had randomly remarked that she read in the alamanac that it was the best day for weaning a child.

Yeah, I'm not kidding. The Farmer's Almanac really does list best days for weaning {and so much more}, and I really did look though I don't actually put any stock into it.

For the record, today is not one of the best days; of course, we're not following the good ol' almanac, so we'll be proceeding with the night weaning again tonight.

Pray for us. :)

What's new in your world? Allergies making you wish for winter to come back? Farmer's Alamanac got you giggling? Ha! Probably I'm the only who is totally amused by such strange things. ;)

Thanks for having coffee with me today and listening to my random babbling!

Virtual Coffee: Ten

Try not to do too much of a double take as you walk in the door for coffee today.



I promise, you are in the right place. It's not often that our guests {or simply our own feet} can actually walk through the front entry way without tripping over toys, coats and shoes, but for an ENTIRE WEEK it's been like this around here -- totally passable hallways, dirty dishes loaded in the dishwasher instead of sprawled over the counters, dining room table cleared off paper piles and toys and glasses.

You'd likely walk into the kitchen quiet and maybe a little shell shocked at the huge difference. I know, I'd whisper as we were standing in my tidied kitched waiting for the water to finish boiling for tea as the kiddos played in the {most-likely toy-infested} living room, it's insane, isn't it?

And, probably, because we're pretty good friends by now, you'd ask me if we hired a housekeeper or if I'd perhaps sold the kids to the circus or something. I'd shake my head no, smiling, and I'd tell you that it's all because I've begun pretending like Sunday, as a day, doesn't actually exist on the calendar.

Pick your brew, I'd welcome, and we'd then head over to the dining room table to chat while sipping our teas.



Likely, you'd want some sort of explanation about me ditching Sundays as a day, and I'd tell you about how as a family we've decided to observe an official day of rest every week, which has directly and indirectly resulted in our clean{ish} house.

We've chosen to consistently rest each Sunday, and this past week, our
first planned week, we observed this day in a decided way; and it has helped our lives fall into this very beautiful rhythm. And, ironically, our living space has benefitted from it, too. {I promise to write in detail about our newly established Sabbath practice sometime this week.}

While sipping tea, I'd ask how you've been this past week. And I'd probably share with you some of the thoughts that have been weighing on my mind -- mostly that of community.

I've been participating in Megan's 40 Days of Community over at her blog, Sorta Crunchy, and yesterday I shared a common struggle with being engaged in deeper relationships within the context of community.

What about you? Have you found yourself wading in the shallow end of relationships instead of venturing out into the depths? If you have, gosh, I feel you. Also, we're not alone.

On a lighter note {ha!}, you might ask about how the house updating is coming. And I'd excitedly tell you that we've decided on a beautiful espresso color to cover the horrible salmon-mauve that's currently chipping and peeling from our trim.



Though the painting won't begin for another few weekends, when it's hopefully warmer and dry, we did actually put new lights up, and that's kinda helped move our poor Charlie-Brown-Christmas-tree house on the block up a notch or two.



Kinda being the operative word.

So what's on your list to do once the weather officially turns to spring? Anything fun coming up now that it's almost April{!!!}? <

Virtual Coffee: Eight

So glad we could meet up today at someplace other than my house!

I'm sipping a frappucino today -- a treat for sure.



And, also, if I'm being honest -- My drink choice is reflective of pure determination ... and a bit of naivety; I whole-heartedly wish to believe that I can convince spring to emerge quickly if I abandon ordering piping hot drinks.

It's the power of suggestion ... I insist as my hands shake, clearly chilled and goosebumps spread up my arms.

What are you having? Something more reasonable for 40-degree weather, I wonder?

Oh, and don't mind that little carrot cupcake there.

Actually, do mind it. And take home for your kids or hubby. Please. So far I've resisted taking a bite.

Aside from freezing hands and sugar overload, Tuesday has been good.

Especially in light of what's happening to the people in Japan.

My heart has been heavy for the Japanese, and it grows heavier with every news report detailing the damage caused by last week's earthquake and tsunami.

Often, while watching disaster coverage from my pretty place in the universe, I feel, um, guilty ... which I used to confuse with empathy.

Like if I refuse to enjoy some of the blessings in my life that I'm somehow coming along side those suffering in a powerful way.

I was in one of those truly deep and dark moments of despair Sunday night after reading more news stories about new tsunami warnings and radiation leaks.

My hands snapped the computer screen closed and I ventured instead into a book I've been reading, 1,000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp, to gain some sort of clarity.

And, oh, my word, did Ann bring it:

"I know there is poor and hideous suffering, and I've seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of wild roses in early July and the song of crickets on humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives... Rejecting joy to stand in solitary with the suffering doesn't rescue the suffering. The converse does. The brave who focus on all things good and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the small who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to all the world."

This survivor guilt of sorts isn't the product of empathy -- it's the product of evil. And it's robbing the day of joy when joy is most needed, because instead it's settling my heart into fear and drudgery and listlessness.

That's not where I want to reside.

So I've been mulling Ann's words, and adding to my own list, detailing the gifts in my own life.



Of course, this listing of my blessings doesn't replace the deep need for prayer. I fully believe we're meant to come to Jesus' feet on behalf of those who are suffering and help in small ways.

Speaking of which, I learned about a few opportunities for doing so this afternoon.

One is sponsored by my beautiful and talented friend Maegan and the other is being hosted by Sakura Bloom, the maker of one of my favorite baby slings.

Maegan is donating all proceeds from prints purchased at her shop to relief efforts. And Sakura Bloom is selling raffle tickets and raffling off three Sakura Bloom slings, with all proceeds from the raffle benefit ting rebuilding efforts.

What about you? How's your week going? Can you relate to that survivor guilt type of feeling? What's been speaking to your heart lately?

Thank for being here today, listening to my scattered thoughts, the things that have been swelling in my heart.

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