God-incidences

As my relationship with God grows, I feel His nudges a little more. I also start to notice things that just a year or so ago, I'd have written off as coincidences, albeit really cool ones. I've heard people refer to these as God-incidences, and I've adopted that term lovingly. I see more God-incidences in my life as well.

This weekend was no exception.

I serve at my church every other Sunday, shadowing a little girl who has special needs, but is very high-functioning. This week, she was sick. Unfortunately, her family isn't able to attend fairly often, and typically when I get the e-mail saying my services aren't needed, I quickly find other things to do with that time.

When the e-mail came through this week, though, I felt a big ole nudge from God, telling me to ask the kids' ministry if I could serve in any other way.

About ten minutes after I sent the e-mail, asking, I got an enthusiastic one back, asking me to please come in to work with another little boy in the 2-3 year old room with developmental delays. He had far more special needs than my other little girl, but I had such a good feeling about it that I read the email to B, smiling.

I showed up to church on Sunday and was greeted by the family, as well as by some very cool God-incidences. In a five minute conversation, we realized that the similarities between our families was eerie.

Our boys have the same dietary restrictions.

We live just minutes apart.

Two of our boys have the same name.

Two of our boys share the same exact birthday.

Two of our boys go to preschool on the same days, at the same school, in classrooms right next door to one another.

The other mom looked at me, teary, mouth open. She was clearly speechless, and I just smiled.

"Don't get me wrong," I told her, "I have huge goosebumps right now. But I've learned that stuff like this happens constantly around here. When you're open to it, you get to see it."

She told me that she and her husband hadn't been able to attend church together due to the very special needs of her little boy. However, she said that this week, they'd decided to go to church together and they'd figure it out somehow. The next day, they got the phone call that someone qualified to work with her son was available.

God-incidences are amazing.

Working with her son was a holy experience. At one point, he became overstimulated, but using my experience and some fervent prayers, I was able to calm him. I listened to God and used my knowledge to know when to push him to interact and when to let him hold back.

By the end of the service, we were holding hands, worshiping with all of the other kids in the room. The goosebumps on my arms were back, but I couldn't help but wink back at God, knowing that He is up to something.

The other interesting part is that because of some other personal conflicts, I'd been finding it increasingly difficult to continue the commitment I'd made with the first family. After a talk with the woman in charge of the kids' ministry, we were able to come up with a solution. I'm thrilled that both families will be covered and I'll get to serve with the little boy from now on.

Call it what you want. Say that the planets were aligned, that it was all just an awesome coincidence. I know the truth.

Namaste'.

'Da Coowest Game in 'da Whole Wide World

Have any of you heard of the game Lego Racers? If you have a little boy or know a little boy and you want to be their biggest hero, go search eBay now and buy it.

It's a super lame game, consisting of puzzle pieces that enable you to design your own track! And Legos to make your own cars! And dumb little 1st/2nd/3rd place cardboard squares! And apparently, kiddie crack sprinkled all over the box because kids go nuts over it!

All of my male students are obsessed with this game. I let my kids pick their speech activity fairly often, and without fail, they look at each other, say, "Lego Racers!" and rush to my metal wardrobe cabinet to find it.

The problem is though, that the kiddie crack is so powerful that they get mesmerized by this stupid game. When I ask them to repeat sentences to work on their targeted sounds, sometimes they are so into Lego Racers that they literally don't hear me.

So when my officemate suggested that maybe L would enjoy playing the game for a while, I stashed it under my desk until I could bring it home that afternoon.

And I kid you not, the kids came in and sniffed that game out.

When I finally brought it home, L was just as sucked in. He promptly forgot about his daily Scooby Doo episode (jinkies!) and got to work building the cars and asking me what all the words said on the pit stop and the oil spill pieces. We played a few games together, and he played about 12 more games alone.

For the first time in as long as we can remember, he didn't run to B upon his arrival that evening. He did, however, call his daddy over to check out his new game.

He went to bed clutching two of the Lego cars, one in each little hand.

He insisted on bringing the Legos to the eye doctor this morning.

My kid likes his Hot Wheels but isn't one of those kids who gets attached to a certain toy, bringing it everywhere with him. He doesn't have any lovies or stuffed animals, even though I've tried. But these cars? Ob. Sessed.

I wish I could tell you where to find the game. I saw one on eBay but they don't make it anymore. I couldn't even find a usable picture of the game box.

But if you see one at a garage sale or a consignment shop, buy it and give it to a little boy, but only if you want him to adore you.

You can thank me later.

Namaste'.

a light bulb moment

Last week, I took L to a science event at my school. I watched him struggle with some of the experiments. And struggle he did.


This week, I had my own set of struggles, both there at work and beyond. At one point, between the nonstop tears, the high blood pressure, the dizziness, and stomach issues, I ended up taking a pregnancy test. I'm happy to report I saw a negative sign that day.

But my bad week turned worse, including trusted people twisting my words, sending me spiraling into self-doubt about my skills as a speech therapist, a mother, a friend. There were many times I actually considered walking out of the building and hibernating in my bed. I took a cue from L, though, and kept on keepin' on.


And then, last night, as I was starting my second rum and Coke, B came in and said, "Wanna hear something cool?" He played part of a podcast from our church that he had been listening to earlier. I don't think he played it because of the fact that I was drowning my sorrows, but to say I needed it was an understatement. The whole five minutes were extremely powerful, but one quote by G.K. Chesterton made me stop in my tracks.

“Here ends another day, during which I have had eyes, ears, hands and the great world around me. Tomorrow begins another day. Why am I allowed two?”




Talk about a light bulb moment.

Now if I can just get this tattooed to my forehead, perhaps I can remember it come Monday morning.

Namaste'.

Hoping for a Realty Miracle

My little first-born baby is going to be in kindergarten next year.

Kindergarten.

Before I know it, he's going to be asking for the keys to my car.

Between the fact that I work at the best school in the history of the universe and I'm petrified to send him to big-boy school because of his food allergies, I have come to the conclusion that he needs to come to my school.

End. Of. Story.

(Plus, if he doesn't, we'll have to figure out before and after care, and I may have to at least consider a different job, which is another post for another day. Nothing like two different jobs being dangled in front of my face this week with that big decision looming. But I digress.)

Our district does not allow teachers to bring their own children to school with them unless they live in the boundaries. Trust me, I think that is ridiculous. Don't get me started.

So last night, we filled out the paperwork to get our house on the market. And I consequently had a panic attack. Don't get me wrong. It needs to happen. We've outgrown our teeny tiny space and I'm ready for a fresh start. We've replaced our roof, our windows, our stove, dishwasher, and hot water heater. We've painted. We've updated. It's time.

And although, sight-unseen, our friend and realtor swears he can get our house sold by August, I am so scared. I am completely aware that getting our house sold and finding a house we can afford in the mostly-ritzy area where we need to will be nothing short of a miracle. We have a worst-case scenario, which would be renting our house out and getting an apartment for a year. B is okay with that scenario, because we'd save so much money and there'd be no grass to cut. But renting an apartment with two little monkeys and all our crap is the stuff of nightmares, if you ask me.

Add all this craziness to the fact that I have a few other big personal and professional stressors right now, and you'll understand why I'm reaching for the anti-anxiety meds and finding myself taking deep breaths 392058023 times a day.

Oh, and please excuse any typos or grammatical errors in this post. It's hard to type while your head is spinning.

Namaste'.

Wordless Wednesday: They have my heart in their little hands.

President's Day Lessons

I was off work yesterday (thanks, Presidents!) and I decided to keep the boys home for a little quality time. I learned a few lessons:

* when both boys sleep in until 7:30, providing an extra hour of sleep, one feels like a new woman.

* seeing an almost-18-month-old look at his new-to-him Mickey shirt and exclaim gleefully, "Oh, Toodles!" will make you smile all day.

* taking two little wildmen to Kohl's and the grocery store, even when they behave extraordinarily well, requires more than one small cup of coffee in preparation.

* hearing your four-year-old say, while trying to zip his jacket, with the exact intonation of your husband, "I don't know what's wrong with this freaking zipper," will result in simultaneous hilarity and horror.

* finding another momma of a gluten-free family will result in a fifteen minute convo in the frozen food section, sharing life stories, favorite products and silver linings to food allergies.

* taking a little boy who is between sizes of underwear and loves Scooby and Batman equally makes for a hard decision in Kohl's.

* Buy one, get one 1/2 off sales luckily make hard decisions a moot point.

* hearing your baby squeal with delight, "Hot Dog!!" upon spotting a Mickey sippy cup ensures that you will take said cup home to add to your already too-big collection.

* Organic, almond milk chocolate pudding cups are a find more precious than diamonds.

* When both boys take naps long enough for momma to blog, clean, and take a nap too, angels sing.

* Some days, showers are overrated.

* Snuggling with a freshly bathed four-year-old makes one hope that time can slow just a tad.

* Family prayers lead to heart-bursting moments.

* Really good days off make the bad ones disappear and wish long weekends weren't so few and far between.

Namaste'.

Strike a {yoga} pose

(I'm sorry about the formatting in this post. Blogger was being wiggy. Luckily, thanks to my recent yoga practice, I was calm and centered enough to let it go, and only cursed at my computer a few times. But I refuse to salute the light within Blogger. Harumph.)

Last week, I was walking into the yoga room and two girls about my age were looking at the class schedule posted outside the door. I smiled at them and they asked how long the class was. I honestly don't remember if I answered them...I just started rambling about how awesome!yoga!is!

I talked about the fact that it's a great workout, and that they'd be sore the next day. I told them that it's downright addicting because of the way it makes you feel. And I even explained that it's good for your insides...your digestive system, kidneys, adrenals, immune system. I encouraged them just to try it. To come in right now.

And I totally scared them away. For real. They actually scampered off, afraid.

They don't know what they are missing.

I have been working on this post for a while. I've had several people email me and ask me to talk about yoga more. I've tried... I write, I delete. I try again, I erase. It's hard to explain yoga.

(Scattered through this post are some of my favorite poses, just to give a visual if you are clueless regarding my favorite workout.)

{tree pose}

I can tell you what it's not. It's not a bunch of dirty women eating granola sitting around chanting "ommmm." It's a tough workout that may make you sweat, but is easy on your joints and feels amazing while you are doing it. Feeling a stretch the whole way up one side of your body...there's nothing like it.

{camel pose}

It's not competitive. A big rule of yoga is to refrain from comparing yourself to anyone else. Reminders are frequently given that some days, your balance/strength/focus is better than others, which is totally normal and okay. I hear so many words of encouragement given to and from newbies and advanced yogis alike. The energy in a yoga room is truly filled with peace and calm.

{wheel pose}

It's not the same in every class. From restorative yoga to power yoga, there's a type for everyone. I personally like power yoga, but a good, slow, restorative class feels phenomenal from time to time.It's not easy. Well, unless you want to make it easy. It's as hard as you want to make it. I've been sore after a gentle yoga class and have seen amazing changes in my body since practicing yoga on a consistent basis.div>{plow pose}

It's not hard on your body, though...inside or out. I'm healthier, happier, and endure less headaches when I practice yoga a few times a week. I'm happier, more centered, and less apt to go into fight or flight mode when I get upset.

{triangle pose}

It's not for everyone. I've seen people try the class and walk out in the middle several times. I've brought guests who never returned. The light in me salutes theirs and all, but I can't say I get it. It's so good for you! It feels amazing! Your whole body will change! But I (reluctantly) understand that some people need something different.

But if you're curious and have an open mind, clearly, I urge you to try it. I've seen men, women, and children of all ages, shapes, sizes, and flexibilities try and love yoga. One day, I'll get my teacher certification and hopefully open my own studio. Until then, I'll keep practicing and raving about the pure awesomeness of yoga to anyone who will listen...or read.

If you have questions, please comment or email me at namastebyday@gmail.com.

Namaste'.

An open letter that needed to be written

Dear Anyone Who Knows Me IRL and Reads My Blog,

(First of all, IRL means In Real Life. It's blog-speak, which I do from time to time in my little corner of the internet here. I realize that if you don't have a blog, you probably now think I'm even weirder than you initially thought, and that's cool. I know you don't get it, and I'm not asking you to. )

Due to a series of unfortunate events and a very innocent mistake by one of my closest friends, I have a new group of blog readers. And I know you don't understand why that bothers me. It is out there on the web, after all. It can't get much more public. However, my last name isn't connected here, so it would have been tougher than you think to find it. But find it you did. So here we are.

I've already cleaned up my blog to put a few choice posts back into draft mode. No, I didn't talk about you, or you, or even you. I may have mentioned students or work drama without breaking confidentiality rules, but suffice it to say that I will be extra careful from now on. Honestly, it's probably a good thing that I tidied up around here. Silver lining, yo.

But here's the thing. I haven't blogged in several days because it does wig me out a bit to have non-blogger, IRL friends and acquaintances read my blog. However, I have decided not to delete this blog, start a new blog from scratch, or completely censor myself. (I carefully considered all of those options.) I blog to vent, to remember, to process, to document. And I'm not going to stop doing any of those things, even though in the past year, people from my work, my church, and my family have stumbled upon some posts.

Just know, though, that sometimes I'm silly. Sometimes I'm raw. Always, I'm honest. And you'll see sides of me that you haven't before now. I'll blog about my struggles with parenting. I'll write about the scars I have from being physically and emotionally abused. I'll talk about my church and my relationship with God. I'll post about my love of my blog and Twitter friends. Yep, I have friends I've met online who I adore. I even talk to/text/HeyTell with them. You think it's bizarre. That's cool.

So go ahead. Read away. Gossip about my posts if you must. But print them out to show other people, and you'll see yet another side of me that you won't enjoy. Give this address out to other people who know me IRL, and I'll be furious. And don't even bother sending me a Twitter request. Not gonna happen.

I am oddly private about something that is ultimately, as public as you can get. I know that's hard to understand. But since you're along for the ride, buckle your seatbelt. It gets bumpy around here sometimes.

Sincerely,

Gina

P.S. I turned word verification off so feel free to comment again now that I've taken the PITA-ness out of it. Namaste'.

"Scars are souvenirs you never lose." -Goo Goo Dolls

It's no secret that I love my church. Even after fourteen months, it sounds weird for me to say that. Because fifteen months ago, I was as anti-church as they come. But I do. I am convinced that I go to the coolest church in the world, and I secretly like when people come and get a bit weirded out by the edginess and casualness and outside-the-box-ness. The creativity blows my mind. The attention to detail awes me. The pastor is actually phenomenal. I hang on his every word and he literally makes me want to be a better person. 

Today, though, I started to shift nervously in my seat about 2/3 of the way through his message. Something was making me uncomfortable. I was completely conflicted, because I was loving it. He was talking about sticking together when marriage gets hard. A few of our friends are considering or going through divorce right now, so it was hitting close to home. And although B and I are quite solid, maritally, the advice he was giving out was amazing and needed. Just how to treat each other and really love one another. 

And what not to do. And the more he talked about what not to do, how not to talk to your wife, I started remembering how it felt when someone talked to me with disrespect. In fact, I started remembering details of the way my ex-husband treated me. 

He started telling a story about a couple who had some serious struggles. Something flipped a switch in me. The tears were already in my eyes, but they fell down my face as he delved into this story. For the first time, the tears that I had in church weren't from my heart bursting from the music or the message, but from my heart hurting. 

Badly. 

I looked around, thinking that I'd bet my last dime that there was a woman in the auditorium who was living through what I lived through ten years ago. It happens more than you think, because abusers are typically the most talented wool-pullers around.  And it scared me to think that she was thinking that the abuse was her fault, and that this amazing pastor urging her to stay was probably right. 

So I started praying. Hard. I started praying that our pastor would give a disclaimer. Because I've been there. I've lived through it. And although I'm sure not everyone reading this would agree, I believe with all my heart that God wouldn't have wanted me to stay in that marriage. That God hates abuse as much as He hates divorce. (And for the record, that fabulous pastor agrees with me. I asked him.)

The problem is that women don't leave because they hear day in and day out that they are crazy. That they wouldn't need to be held down, kicked around, disrepected, screamed at, humiliated if they would just chill out, do the laundry, lose 10 pounds, keep the house cleaner, have sex with their husband more. They know that they are broken, but don't understand that we all are. They think that they should stay and after they hear it more times than they can count, they believe it.

I found myself talking to a wonderful associate pastor at the end of the service. (We were in a satellite location, so the lead pastor wasn't available.) And when I say talking, I mean rambling incessantly, because that's how I roll when I'm in any way emotional, which is far too often. I asked him if he could bring this to the lead pastor's attention because he has such a reach. And that I am absolutely positive that a woman who is being abused heard that message this week.

It occurred to me that while my voice doesn't reach as far as my pastor's, I have a bit of a reach too. I have a voice and every time I have posted about this, I get incredible emails. So I'm putting it out there again. Today I was reminded that if your marriage is hanging on by a thread, you should act lovingly, without unfair expectations, and God will meet you there to help you fall back in love. I give the preacher an "amen" on that.

But if you are being abused, or suspect that perhaps what you are enduring might qualify as abuse, you shouldn't stay. God wouldn't want you to be treated like that. He cries with you and hurts when you hurt. I'm sure of it. My brother, who is a police officer, tells me to this day that what I was going through was textbook abuse and he was sure the ending would have been quite frightening had I not left so quickly. 

I know it's hard. And it's scary. And you think that no one will ever want a divorcee. I thought it too. I remember post-counseling appointments, sitting on my apartment floor sobbing my eyes out, not knowing what to do. Even after a mixing bowl was thrown at my head and I was told I was worthless, fat, and lazy in front of my neighborhood, I waffled on the decision. 

But I left. And not one of the tears I shed today was wondering if I did the wrong thing in leaving; if I needed to ask for forgiveness for ending a marriage. It was worry for other women hearing the message. 

The pastor I spoke to today was kind and loving. He complimented my heart and explained that there is only so much time in a message. I get that. But every day I stayed in that marriage chipped a little confidence out of me. And I learned that the scars of those days don't fade as quickly or as completely as I'd thought. But dealing with the scars is better than those open wounds. 

Namaste'.

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

As always, if you have questions or comments and you'd like to stay anonymous, you can email me instead of commenting at namastebyday@gmail.com.

That's a Winner!

When I got the entries for the contest, there were a few people I was pulling for. Of course I wanted those cute earrings, and several people promised them to me. I wanted to give them an extra entry, but I played fair and square, using a random number generator.

Congratulations to....

Laura from Wringing Out My Sponge!

Even though she wants to keep the earrings all to herself, at least I don't have to pay shipping since she's my IRL friend. Perhaps I'll use the money I saved to by myself earrings.

Laura, hit me up and I'll come rub your belly and give you your goodies!

Sensitive, sweet, and still all-boy.

L is the most sensitive, old-soul, almost five-year-old I've ever met. I don't deserve him, and as crazy as he drives me when he throws his tantrums, I couldn't adore him more. I get hugs, kisses, and compliments daily from him, and everyone who meets him, whether 4 or 44, is pleased by his friendly, precocious nature.

I volunteered in his class at church today, and when his teacher asked, "Who do you love with all your heart?" he answered, without the slightest hesitation, "God." I pretty much melted directly into my shoes.

He just started playing indoor soccer, and has had two games. While his constant jumping-dancing-skipping is pretty darn cute, the part that warms my heart is the fact that in both games, he completely stopped chasing the ball to pick up a teammate who has gotten knocked down.

Apparently, I'm not the only one swooning over his big-heartedness. He told me last week that his girlfriend took his hand and patted her hair with it. "And Mommy," he continued, wide-eyed, "I was so surprised!"

And so it begins.

Namaste', L. Your light is so bright...let it shine, little dude.

The one where I almost broke my baby's leg

It's been gorgeous here. I guess it's super pretty in most places, but for St. Louis to have even one pretty day in the winter is unheard of. So days in the high 50's, early 60's have made me giddy.

A new park was just built directly across the street from the boys' school, so each day when I pick them up, we head over for a while. Both boys absolutely love it and I keep telling myself it's not going to be this pretty for forever, so I'd better enjoy it while I can.

Yesterday, we went back to the park and were joined by my friend (hi, Jen!) and her little man, who is about G's age. Jen is pregnant, so I told her I'd take both boys down the ginormous slide together. Great idea, right? Well, the first few times were full of giggles and squeals, signing "more" and yelling, "go!"

And then there was a third time, during which G's shoe got caught between my hip and the slide. We kept going, but his leg didn't. When we got to the bottom, he let out the saddest, most painful scream I've ever heard. I pulled off his shoe, and didn't notice anything. But when I set him down, he clearly couldn't put any weight on it.

And my heart broke into a million guilt-ridden pieces.

I called B, scooped L up, and we headed home. B, who has had more than his fair share of broken bones, checked it out, deemed it "probably not broken," but thought I should call the doctor's office just to get their opinion. (Like this nurse line frequent-flyer wouldn't call. Ha. Ha. Hahahaha.)

Fortunately, our pediatrician's office has just begun a pilot program which includes hours until 8 pm on weeknights. They told me to bring him in, and they'd x-ray him.

90 minutes later, after G wowed the nurses with his signs and shy smiles, I found myself holding him down on the x-ray table, softly singing "The Hot Dog Song" and "Tiny Tim," while wiping his tears. It was about as much fun as it sounded.

The good news is that I didn't break my kid's leg. The bad news is that I sprained it, and there's nothing I can do about it. The worse news was that he was up, crying, from 2 am to 5 am, and now, about 22 hours later, still isn't walking much. Cue the momma guilt. Needless to say, I stayed home with him today and we spent lots and lots of time cuddling.

I know full well that this won't be the last playground/swingset/skateboard/tree-climbing/etc accident, especially considering what a fearless little monkey this little guy is. And I'm sure even if I'm nowhere in the vicinity, the momma guilt will still kick in. I'm gonna need lots of wine to get through the next 20 years. Sigh...

Etsy Giveaway: In Olivia's Closet

Remember that one time when I got tipsy from two drinks and convinced my girl Laura to cut my bangs? And remember how I had to let them grow?

Well, because of that very wise choice, I had to search for cute bobby pins that were not made for kindergarteners. And that is no small feat.

And then I stumbled across In Olivia's Closet. So! Many! Adorable! Bobby pins! Seriously. Her stuff? Super cute. I adore Etsy, but we have all had the experience of ordering something that was disappointing when it arrives. So I only ordered a few pins, because I wanted to check out the quality.

How were they? Well, the short answer is that I ordered more within days of receiving them. Not only were they even cuter than I expected, they were more well-made. They were also high-quality and tight enough to hold my hair. Considering I have the hair texture of a 2-year-old, this thrilled me to no end.

I messaged Michelle through Etsy, and she couldn't be sweeter. So sweet, in fact, that she's sponsoring a giveaway here.

If you're the winner, you'll get:

some cute earrings about which I literally just told B, "I wish I could keep these for myself."



a ring, which I think is so unique and gorgeous.....



...and one of those awesome bobby pins that I was raving about.


I know, right? Good stuff. How do you enter? It's easy.

1. Leave me a comment telling me what you'd do with these adorable items. Would you keep them all to yourself? Give me the earrings? Gift them?

Optional entry:
2. Buy me those adorable red owl earrings in her shop. What? It's my blog! Okay, fine. I'm kidding. But go look at them. Could they be cuter?

I'll choose a winner a week from today; Wednesday the 8th. Good luck, and namaste'.

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