Under Pressure

I’m not a big fan of the kitchen.  Never have been.  I remember my mom trying to coax me as a teenager into helping her prepare dinner and I’d refuse.  She come back with “Your poor husband.”  and I’d retort with “I’ll just marry a man who loves to cook!”  Turns out I did!  He is way better in the kitchen than I am. Yay for me! 

A few weeks ago I blew up a pot of chili. I litterally blew up a  A pressure cooker.  Chili went EVERYWHERE!  I was volunterring at the Ronald McDonald House with the Young Women from Church.  One of the main dishes was Chili and it was time to eat.  Families were lining up for dinner and my pressure cooker was done cooking but the release valuve was still releasing steam.  Rule number 1 with cooker pressures is you DO NOT open the lid until the pressure has been released completely.  The way you know when it is ready is the pot hisses like a teakettle and shoots steam out of the vaulve as the pressure us released.  When it’s done the hissing and steam stop.  I knew this but I was impatient because people were ready to eat and I knew it was close to being done so I tried to hurry the process along by opening the lid.

As I forced the lid open the Spirit warned me this wasn’t a good idea and before I could heed that warning I heard a loud BOOM and screams.  I stood in complete shock as chili dripped from the ceiling and covered everything in front of me.  The floor was slippery as I tried to move away from the stove.  The aroma of hot chili filled the entire room.  I didn’t know what to do.  The mess was so big I just stood there completely shocked and embarrased.  Then I realized I was in pain.  I needed to get to some cold water.  I scooted out of the puddle of chili beneath me and rushed to the sink.  I turned on the cold water and stuck my arm under and washed the chili that had landed on my sweater then i felt heat on my face and I tried to stick my face in the water.  As soon as my arm was out of the water it began to burn again so i danced between sticking my face and arm in the cold water.   I couldn’t tell how badly I was burned but the way my friends looked at me I could tell it was going to leave a mark.

Thankfully, no one else was hurt and I was taken home while the mess was cleaned up by all the Young Women and dinner was served... without the chili.

The following few hours the pain was minimal as long as I kept cool towels applied to the burns.  I slept fine that night and woke up feeling like I dodged a bullet.  Things weren’t that bad...so it seemed. 

Day 2 I woke up and my face didn’t look so good.  Parts of burned skin were staring to show up in dark spots.  Day 3 my face looked like I had been in a dog fight and my arm looked like something right out of a horror movie. The dead skin was falling off revealing a deep raw 2nd degree burn.

Hi

Weight or wait?

I’m wearing scrubs as pants today because my pants don’t fit.  Maybe they “could” fit but all my jeans are “skinny jeans“  so maybe they are supposed to be tight?

   Or it could be that I just ate 5 pieces of pizza today with a bag of Chocolate covered Macadaminan nuts and 3 (yes, THREE) pints of Ben & Jerry's yesterday?  

Weight doesn't show up that fast does it?

Oh, it doesn't matter!  I'm starting a new diet and getting into shape tomorrow.  Well, it’ll be tomorrow if I get enough sleep tonight.  I’m still jet lagged from our trip to Hawaii last week.

Maybe I’ll just go buy new jeans?

Introvert Problems

Sometimes I put on an extravert hat.  I don’t wear it often but when I do, I think I wear it well...most the time.

Last month I wore it and ended up planning a Neighborhood Party.  I hate things of that sort.  For me they are awkward and painful to endure. 

It happened on accident really.  A family dear to us was moving and another neighbor mentioned we should have a neighborhood party before they left. 

 I happen to be a Block Captain for our Community Emergency Response Team and they advise us to hold block parties once a year to connect with our assigned block. I wasn’t going to do it.  The thought of it made me want to throw up, but a going away party for a family I loved had a complete different effect on me. I was all in.

 I agreed a Neighborhood party would be nice, and I would just count it toward my obligation! Invitations were made and just like that I was hosting/Co-Hosting a Party I never would have attended otherwise.

Oddly enough, I didn’t stress over the event days prior  to Party time.   On a Hot July evening Neighbors showed up with Pot Luck items, kids cooled off with water balloons, and adults relaxed with wine and conversation until we couldn’t see through the dark.   I enjoyed meeting the many new move-in’s and found myself actually enjoying their company.  Everyone seemed to be “People, People”  I felt like the only Introvert wearing an extrovert hat! 

While at the party, a new family I really liked invited me to their House warming party the following weekend and I gladly accepted!  In that moment I truly thought I’d enjoy attending.  “I’ll be there!”  I committed on the spot.

The rest of the week I dreaded it.   Every. Single. Day!

All week I was an anxious mess when I thought about going. My insides would turn and I felt regret and dread for accepting the invite.

The day arrived.  I bought them a gift and I litteraly moped like a wounded dog as I walked the short distance to their house, wishing I was under the covers at home instead.

Deep inside (WAY deep down inside) I was proud of myself for going through with it, and not dragging my husband along with me.   This is outside of my comfort zone in a huge way and I wanted to show up.  For me!

Two and a half hours later I left their house with a plate full of Indian food and some new friends.  I stayed two hours and 15min. longer than I wanted to. Many times I wanted to text my husband something like: 😫🤯🥵🥴  but instead I decided to be brave and be in the moment.  I never pulled out my phone.  I forced myself to be SOCIAL!  I joined the group pictures, ate food among strangers, and made small talk with at least 5 other people.  It was AWFUL to be honest!  They were wonderful.  The party was welcoming.  The only problem was I’m an Introvert.  It was an Introvert’s Nightmare...and I rose to the occasion! 

I arrived at the party feeling like:🥺  During the party I was🥳 🙄and I left the party  like 🤯

 I was exhausted.  My head was in a daze.  My emotions were everywhere.  I felt like I needed to sit down and process it all.  I tried to explain to my husband how awesome I just was at being an extrovert but I didn’t have the words.  I didn’t want to talk.  He reached for me to give me a hug, proud I was away so long, but I  recoiled like a threatened snake. 

 “Don’t touch” I half laughed but mostly begged.  “I need space!” 

#IntrovertProblems

"Sing to us, Auntie"

I know when I’m being inspired to do something.  I know when the Lord is pushing me to be better.  I know, because I’m scared.

I felt Him give me courage while lying on a cement floor, in an Indian Hostel, singing to a group of young girls who don’t go home to their Mothers at night.  They snuggled around me on the cool floor with nothing but a thin mat to sleep on saying “Sing to us, Auntie!”  

I am NOT a singer.  I rarely sing to my own kids.  This was not a natural thing for me to do, but I knew I couldn’t say no.  Trying to conceal my dread I began singing the only song I could think of:   “I am a child of God.”

No one made a sound.  Instead, I felt a few of them move closer to me.   I was their Mother in this moment.  My voice wasn’t beautiful, but something beautiful happened in that humble room.  As I sang of being a Child of God I realized I was bearing testimony to some of them who may not know of a Heavenly Father.  

When the song was over a sleepy voice said:  “I’ve heard that one before.  Sing it again, Auntie?”

So, I sang it again and again and the Spirit filled the room as I lost them to sleep, one by one.  

Five years later I got a letter from one of the girls in that room.  “I remember that night you sang to us,” she wrote. “I will always remember that night.” 

I’m positive it wasn’t my singing that made an impression. It was the Spirit of Christ that filled the empty room and perhaps some hollow spots in her heart.   

I’m so glad I had the courage to serve others when I feared to do so.  For I realize now that being uncomfortable then meant being a tool in the hands of a Savior who both loves the orphan and also allows us to feel His love for them too.  

Mom's off her Meds!

I go to Ben & Jerry’s when things aren’t right with me.  It’s happiness for the moment.  I eat the whole pint, easy.

I escape into the bath seeking a comfort that’s only temporary.  It’s where I go to NOT exist for a minuet.  The hotter the better.

I  turn to my journal to make sense of things.  I find words to explain, express, discover or process feelings that manifest through a nasty mood . 

I become a slave to my mattress when daylight is too much to face.  Sleeping is the drug I can’t get enough of.

All these are signs that something is not right at one time or another.  It scares me that all 4 of them are competing for my attention right now.

There is no explanation for it,  I just don’t have the motivation to be ME all day.  The second my foot hits the floor in the morning I’m imagining how i can make all my responsibilities disappear and return to bed.  All day long I’m thinking of the ice cream in the freezer and wondering when I’ll have the chance to steal away in a corner alone and eat it.  I crave alone time in the bath but know I can’t force it or kids will be banging on the door needing me.  Timing is everything.  The same goes for my journal.  The best time to write is when everyone is in bed or gone.  It’s another form of escape but with mostly positive results.

  I need Spring to heal me. Today I sat deflated on a lawn chair begging the vitamin D to recharge me. I’m only functioning at 30% right now.  Winter chews me up and spits me out.  I need to win this battle.  

Depression is no stranger to me.  It rocked my world for a few years.  Ironically, I’ve been depression free and off medication since loosing my twins in 2015.  I live in fear that it will sneak up on me again out of the blue, like it did the last time.  Every time I escape into one of the above habits I wonder if this is it.  Am I on a slippery slope?  Thankfully, the crocodile tears haven’t shown up to my pity parties yet, and I usually bounce back in a day or so. 

Recognizing the signs of my struggles and treating them right away might have a lot to do with prevention.  A night with a Pint of B&J’s and a hot bath go a long way with me.  A nap in the middle of the day does miracles.  And a solid journal session is always enlightening.  Sam knows the signs too and when he see’s that look in my eye he is quick to take over as I disappear for the night.  

I wonder if I didn’t take that “time out“ would a full depression episode ensue?  I’m a true introvert.  I thrive on alone time!! And alone time is NOT something I get in my house!  With 5 kids and an EXTROVERTED husband I am NEVER alone.  I have to escape every once in awhile and it does me good.

I hope I’m on to something here.  Taking a time out here and there is my saving Grace but at the same time they are my red flags.  It’s a delicate dance.

I AM STRONG 

because I know my weaknesses

I AM BEAUTIFUL

because I am aware of my flaws

I AM FEARLESS

because I’ve learned to recognize illusion from reality

I AM WISE

because I have felt hate

AND...

I CAN LAUGH

because I have known sadness. 

~unknown

I'm back!

Holy Smokes!  Age has plagued us all.  My house isn’t full of “Littles” anymore.  It’s an assortment of ages/stages.    Jarom and Jenn are in the throngs of High School with Jace not far behind.  Abi  is no longer the baby.  She is almost 9 years old and has been replaced by HobiBaby5.  He is 2 years old and the ruler of this house.  He gets what he wants and he doesn’t even talk!  I am grey in all the places I remember my mother being as she became old to me.  I love this new phase of my life.  Parenting is harder than ever and I miss my "Little Kids" but that's why I am back at blogging.  I love reading about our lives so many years ago and I need to keep it going because they are almost out of the house!!! (and there is no lack for entertainment in these parts)

 We’ve lost a FEW, added NEW and everyone GREW! 

 I’m back to Blogging!  

Is this even a thing anymore?  

Jarom age 17

Jennica age 15

Jace age 13

Abigail age 9

Joshua age 2