Oprah ain't got nothin' on the girls in the desert....

I am sick. I am coughing and coughing...hacking...and just all out sounding like a Ferris Bueller sound effect. (Remember that? Oh, how I wish we could go back to COOL movies like that...and of course, turn back some wrinkles. I bet Ferris does too... Matthew Broderick has not aged well!)

So, back to my self pity. Not feeling good...pretty sure that at any moment I could cough up my spleen, or maybe just a lung. I have to tell you, I have pretty much been feeling like I am ready for the green needle. You know, the one you promise your dog when it has peed on your brand new sofa for the LAST time? Yep. Put. Me. Out. Of. My. Misery. And when mom is sick....the family does not stop. In fact, I kid you not when I say that today...while I was pretty much ready to turn purple from coughing...my 2 year old son lovingly said..."Mom, will you stop making that noise? I am trying to color." Sigh.

I actually was not even sure about my reasons for living. Faith, family, future, blah blah blah.

BUT...then I remembered...(Oprah light bulb moment!)...that just this last weekend...right before my hacking and coughing banished me to my couch for 5 days...I went to a party.

Not just any party. The second annual "Favorite Things" party...at my sweet friend Jovina's house. Jovina is one of those super classy ladies that would never talk about coughing up her spleen on a blog. She has a tidy, beautifully decorated, and perfectly appointed home with a family to match. In fact, her heart is so big, she even does all kinds of fun party-ish, neighborly things throughout the year. I am pretty sure she knows every teacher at the elementary school, in fact, most of them were at the Favorite Things party. (Which is a huge bummer for someone like me who has 8 children, and is bound to have irritated or someday will irritate each of those teachers at some point in the elementary school lifespan of my family!)

Jovina is one of those "I don't know how she does it" kind of girls. She is creative, organized, a little obsessive (she admits that)...and well...it paid off for us invitees big time. Jovina packed the house this year with a bigger than last year "Favorite Things party."

This is a great party, where we bring 2 favorite things...share them with the audience to give us all some great gift giving ideas...and we give one away. (And let me tell you, no pressure there...while everyone was busy sharing all of these great ideas...mine sucked. Completely el sucko.) Just when I am pretty much feeling insecure and wanting to take my cough and my newly shorn head of hair and leave with my dumb idea...IT HAPPENED!

OPRAH herself....okay, not OPRAH...but my fabulous blog friend, April....and the hostess Jovina...shared one of Jovina's favorite things.

You see, the reason I decided to not kick the bucket yet...is I have this brand new toy! Woo Hoo!!

It is a Purple Cow...Hot & Cold Laminator!

I am pretty sure that April channeled Oprah as she hollered out..."You get a Laminator....You get a Laminator....EVERYBODY gets a LAMINATOR!!!" (Or maybe it was Dane Cook? Ever hear the "humpback whale?" skit? At any rate...it was HILARIOUS! And so much fun. And by the way...April is so much hotter than Oprah. And her new cute glasses are divine. April...if you fall off the cruise ship...will you will them to me?)

The wonderful Jovina called this fabulous company and told them how much she would LOVE to showcase this item...and would LOVE to give it to each gal at her party. They not only sent her one for each of us....but they threw in some other great door prizes as well! You want proof? Check. Us. Out! :)

I am hiding behind my beautiful friend Catherine on the far right (she has on the pink shirt)...I am in black (hello....my signature color)...and completely okay with the fact that I am not at all visible.

I was, afterall, still dreading sharing my el-sucko idea...and well...a wee bit excited about a FREE new TOY!

I might just start labeling and lamenating everything in my home. I love the idea of having scriptures laminated and posted all over the house.

Who the heck am I kidding...I will more than likely use this for parties. Candy Buffet labels, Ice Cream Sundae Bar labels, Gift tags, Bookmarks, signs telling my kids not to pee on the toilet seat.

You know. The important stuff.

So that, my friend is why I won't be kickin' it just yet. (After all, you can live without a spleen right? And now, if I hack it up...I can just laminate it!)

Thank you so much Jovina...and THANK YOU so much...to the Purple Cow! You made my day!

Sincerely,

The most grateful, still sick, shorter-haired maid!

All other ground is sinking sand...

Try not to kill over from blog shock.

I am actually posting.

The last couple of years have been a roller coaster ride. And not the ones at Disneyland...but more like Six Flags. You know, the kind where you start out the ride with clean underwear...and it is anyone's guess at the end if you are still fit to get in an accident. (Remember what mom taught you?)

As a broker in the commercial real estate community, in the hardest hit commercial sector in the nation, my husband has weathered the worst storm of his career. It has been nearly 3 years since he has sold a property. THREE years. I don't know about you folks, but in these here parts, we weren't taught to save for a rainy day like that. Holy cow!

What I have learned, however, is that God is faithful. Period.

I believe in God. There is absolutely no way that I can logically believe that we have survived by coincidence. Ten people in one house, one income...reduced to about 20% of it's normal size. All I can say is God has blessed us and protected us. Kept us (so far) in our home, when many of our friends have faced foreclosures, short sales, and multiple moves. People who have had much steadier income than we.

We have learned to completely live on cash and have let go of all of the training we received that made us treasure our credit score. (Our credit report is more like a rap sheet. And the number, I don't want to know!) Cash. Good, old-fashioned cash. We don't incur credit card debt anymore, ever. We use a card for recurring transactions that have to be pulled automatically out of an account...but because we have no choice, we pay it off every month.

We have actually grown closer as a family in many ways. Our budget dictated for about a two-year period, that we get rid of kids' cell phones (only the oldest 2 had them anyway), we got rid of cable, we drove less to save gas, we stopped all sports (there weren't many), and discontinued dance classes and piano lessons. We cut our dining out down to a minimum...and when we did eat out...it was usually without children and it was a treat to get 39 cent tacos. (Does this mean we lived perfectly within a budget? Heck no. We are still learning, but we learned really fast how to buy oodles of groceries with coupons, to savor every windfall...even a $50.00 perk from hubby's job...often meant we could put gas in the car when we didn't think we could!)

We sold unnecessary items at yard sales, on ebay, and Craig's List. We learned to live with one vehicle...a first for us. As long as we have been married, we have each always had something to drive. I have not only grown accustomed to it, but I have actually learned to like having one car. We do a lot more things in unison now. There is much less going in different directions...we are a team.

My husband's sacrifices have been many. He has worked 2 jobs and kept long hours for nearly 3 years. And anytime something surfaced, we have taken on extra earning opportunities. Cleaning out warehouses...(The Butler) baking for weddings...(The Maid)...and even had our kids selling candy bars to the neighborhood in order to be able to go to youth events with our church. Stuff for which we would have normally just whipped out our card..or tossed them some cash.

We have learned the art of saying no. Admitting to people that we could not afford things. We got creative when we had to. And at just the right time, God would provide our needs. Clothes for the kids (hand me downs...super great bargains at the store)...gas money, extra work, and so much more! We actually got to take a cruise this year as a late 15th anniversary celebration...and it was as if we were kings and queens. It was a treat...and God given...at just the right time.

We have learned to live the lyrics of this great hymn...

"My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand."


I look at the fabric of our married life the last 16 years, and I realize that God has had a plan in all of it. He has been the solid Rock on which we stand. He has been "all my Hope and Stay"...my anchor. The Lord has truly made beauty from ashes.

In my absence from writing and posting in the blogging community, I have not been absent in reading. I have not been around near as much, but have been pointed in different directions from time to time and have read a few things. (I've missed you!)

A fellow blogging friend posted recently about a woman who suddenly about a month ago lost her husband. Her husband of 16 years. That resonated with me. This October will be 16 years for my husband and I. I believe the couple is about the same age as my husband and I. And the dad left behind children. I read her blog often, through my own tears. Becoming a widow, or my husband a widower, is one of my greatest fears.

I have been moved in reading her stories and have felt the pain in her writing. Her beautiful tributes to her husband and her candor have been completely thought-provoking for me.

I related a lot to her. I put myself in her shoes. I felt for her. I couldn't shake the feelings that were stirred up in me and I found this woman and her girls were on my mind often. I didn't understand why, until tonight.

In reading her most recent posts, I came to learn that there is one very important thing that we do not have in common...she does not believe in God.

She does not believe that there is a savior who died for her, paid the price for her sins, and waits for her in glory. I assume, from what she has written, that neither did her husband.

I suddenly found myself totally unable to relate to her. In that one choice, that depth and core of your very soul belief...we were again strangers.

And I found myself not just feeling for her because of her loss, but because she IS lost. We can all agree to disagree about absolute truth, the Bible being the inspired word of God, and have deep-rooted arguments about theology...but no one can explain to an unsaved person the feelings of absolute peace and trust in the divine plan of a savior.


God's word says that "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." Nothing says it better, in my estimation. Nothing. Because this woman doesn't know Christ, what God's word says about her suffering, her circumstance, and God's plan for her life is foolishness to her. Not just foolishness, but she even used profanity to describe her feelings towards such a thought.

Does that mean that I understand why things happen, heavens no. But when I cannot trace God's hand, I have learned to trust His heart. There is safety in the promise of eternity, and perspective. There is purpose in it.

I hurt for this woman in a new way tonight. I won't call it pity, but really deep sadness. It is not by accident that God had me stumble upon her posts. It is not by accident that I would lie awake wondering why I couldn't shake her story. Jesus kept me returning to "know" her. Now I know why. I believe in the power of prayer, in the power of the other believer's testimony on her page encouraging her in faith, and I believe in divine appointment. I may never meet her, I may never see the fruit of fervant prayer on her behalf, but I know that God has given me the privilege of praying for her and He promises that His word will not return void.

How my prayer will be that she would surrender to Christ early and know His peace. That this crazy little blog community that put two strangers with opposite theology in instant contact, will provide relief and comfort in the power of the Cross...because without it...all other ground is sinking sand.


In Christ,
The Maid

Another fine dining experience...

Sitting here at the computer right now...with kleenex shoved up my nose...trying to prevent the dripping on the keyboard, well, is not the most convenient way to scrapbook the memories of my life.

But this one, I am sure, is one I will want to remember.

Somehow, last night, I came down with a raging head cold. I have been sucking cough drops, downing vitamin C, drinking orange juice, gargling with salt water...etc...in an attempt to avoid the inevitable crappy feeling I am dealing with right now.

Can't breathe. (Which I don't understand why air can't get through because every ounce of fluid in my body is able to just drip out....)

Can't taste. (I am pretty sure that this is what hell is like...never being able to taste. UGH!)

Eyes watering.

Sore throat.

Runny, red, rudolph nose. (Which is in and of itself, birth control. I'm sure the hubs loves the look!)

So....imagine being called to dinner by your sweet hubby.

He had exactly 25 minutes to eat dinner with us before leaving for the dreaded evening job. He made baked potatoes, grilled the perfect salmon, and salad. (Which, when you are sick, is sandpaper. Sorry to say I did not eat the salad tonight! Now, ice cream, I think I could do that.)

So we all ate this lovely fish dinner....each kid professing it tasted good. Even the baby hardly threw a morsel on the floor. (Which is his way of giving it a thumbs up.)

Shortly after, my hubby left for work. We all started to pitch in to clean up the mess..and while cleaning decided to give the sweet baby a few cheerios to keep him happy.

Cheerios are a staple of any 13 month-olds diet, I assure you. In fact, they like to wash down baked potato and salmon with the little donut seeds.

***And that is when the comedy started. (I can say that now, now that it is over.)

She #1: "He's choking!"

Me: "Quick, help me unbuckle his high chair."

(Baby gagging...starting to turn colors)

Me: "I can't get it unstuck."

She #1: "There...got it."

At this point, the entire brood of 8 kids was hovering around us to see if He #4 was okay.

I turned him over, began the Heimlich Maneuver, and nothing.

Me: "He is still gagging, somebody call 911, and go get the neighbor!"

(Our neighbors across the street are both nurses...I have called on them before for the exact same thing.)

He #1: "Here"...trying to take the baby away from me...and then just pounding on his back.

(Baby begins crying)

Me: "Oh there...I think you got it."

He #1: "C'mon buddy, get it out."

(Baby spits up and cries and coughs and is totally fine.)

Me: "Nevermind guys...don't get the neighbor...he is okay."

***I know. Totally scary. NOT the funny part.***

My oldest went to give him a bath, while I resumed paying bills at the computer. All of the other kids were running around doing the after dinner things they always do....

*Letting the dog in to clean up the floor.
*Fighting over who actually ate the most of their dinner.
*Tattling on the sister who still had to finish hers.
*Stalling on putting the clean laundry away.
*Spilling the box of cheerios everywhere as they returned the box to the pantry.
*Continuing to narc on the sibling that STILL had not eaten her food.
*Begging for dessert.
*Beginning to strip down to naked for the nightly bathing ritual.

...when all of a sudden..."DING,DONG"

"Is your mother home?"

Oh. Crap.

Those words never lead to a Publishers Clearinghouse Check...in fact, they are usually bad news.

Me: "I'm right here." (Walking to the door while buttoning up my pants and praising Jesus that I had showered and brushed my hair, and then remembering the stuffy, red, rudolph nose.)

"Hi, we got a 911 hang up call from this address."

Me: "Oh, I'm sorry. Our baby was choking, but he is okay now. I didn't realize that anyone had called you."

"Yes, ma'am. Is this the one who was choking." (Pointing to He #3, naked and in diaper.)

Me: "No. It was the baby. He is in the bath right now."
(Then realizing how bad that sounded....)

Me: "His big brother is giving him a bath."

"May I come in?"

Me: "Of course, come and check on him."

As I let him in, the stupid puppy went darting out the front door...as did three kids running after her.

Big, armed, scary officer heads for my dinner ravaged, cheerio covered floor kitchen...

Me: "He is back here, in the bathroom"

He followed me down my messy toy cluttered hallway, in through the master bedroom with laundry baskets on the floor, dirty laundry in a pile on the floor, and freshly peeled off laundry covering the bathroom floor...(ugh, I wanted to die)...

Me: "There he is. Son, did you call 911? Someone called 911 and hung up."

He #1: "No."

Baby: "Hi!" (cutest face ever waving wet hand from tub)

Officer talking into vest.."I have the baby here, he is fine." (Really...As if he had just nailed some suspect. It was hilarious.)

Me nervously apologizing for the mess..."Sorry about the mess, it is crazy here around dinner and bath time."

Officer: "What do you think the baby choked on?"

Me: "A cheerio. He eats them often, but one just got stuck and made him gag. I panicked because I couldn't get him unbuckled from the highchair fast enough and yelled for someone to call 911. I just didn't realize that they did. It happened very fast."

Officer: "It is always good to wait to hang up until you tell the operator that things are okay."

Me: "I agree." (Officer dorkwad...did you not hear me? I didn't know they called 911. I didn't even know WHO called 911!)

Me: "Thank you for checking on us. We are really glad you are there to do that."

Officer: "No problem. "

As I followed him out the front door, here comes my 3 year old in a diaper, my 9 year old carrying the worlds dumbest dog, my 13 year old smacking my 11 year old telling him to get out of the street with two cop cars sitting out front of my house.

Can we say, "GHET-TO?"

Me: "Oh, when I let you in our puppy took off running."

Officer: "Yeah, I bet he looks for any opportunity to escape all those kids."

Yeah. You are so funny officer Seinfeld. Now go eat a donut.

*** And as I walked back in the house and surveyed the mess...Christmas tree still up, cereal on the floor, dinner dishes everywhere, spills and splatters on the floor, and laundry...the neverending LAUNDRY...I found myself wanting to go with him.

Thinking..."Please let me go. I will do anything. Administer breathalyzers, paperwork, cuff criminals, drive the cool SUV and turn the lights on, wear the dumb vest and CB radio on my chest. Anything. And like you, I have the gift of sarcasm."

I totally wanted out of my crazy life.

Until this conversation happened...

She #3: "Mom, can I be done?" (This is the daughter who wouldn't finish her dinner.)

Me: "Just eat this piece of meat."

She #3: "I can't eat that, that is the tail."

Me, giggling: "No honey, that is not the tail."

She #4: "Fish don't have tails."

Me: "Yes they do, but not this, it is a salmon filet."

She #2: "Ooohhh, I love filet-o-fish. I haven't had that in a really long time. Can we go to McDonald's tomorrow?"

Me: "Maybe."

HA HA hA Ha HAHA Hah aha hahahaha....


And the hubby left just in time to miss all of the action fun.

The totally humiliated, seriously hot and tempting, rudolph-nosed,
Maid

Still laughing...can't wait to see CPS show up what tomorrow holds!

I am good, but GOD is awesome.

All too often I end up answering this question...

"Hi, how are you?"

like this....

"Eh, okay."

Not wanting to say what is really on my mind.

"I suck. I'm doing sucky. I hate that I suck. I hate that I don't like where I am right now. I hate that I don't like my family every minute of the day. I hate that I don't live for the little moments that everyone thinks are so great. I hate that I have a ton of weight to lose. I hate that I am getting old and wrinkly. I hate that I hurt when I wake up in the morning. I hate that we are pretty much financially ruined. I hate that we are down to one car. I am really depressed that I don't have a perfect spiritual connection with the Lord right now. I don't like that people can hurt me so easily. I don't like being one that takes things so personally. I don't like that I can still remember things that people said to me in highschool that made me feel badly about myself. I hate that my hubby and I have so much to do and never enough time. I hate that when I get to spend time with him, I am always worried about the other things I should be doing. I hate that when I am doing the other things...I hate them. (Laundry, dishes, cleaning up disgusting messes in bathrooms, looking around at the ruined dirty floors, ruined furniture from years of sharpie markers and soda spills...etc.)" And... I hate that all of these things inhibit my answer to that question from being this one....

"I'm doing great."

Really...that is what should come out of my mouth every second of every minute of the day.

"I'm doing great. God is faithful. My life is rich and full. My kids are okay. We are together. We are still loving each other between the tantrums. We have a lot of fun. We laugh a lot. We eat good food and often. We live in a place where we can step outside and walk and play and do whatever we want 9 months out of the year with no regard for terrential rains, snow, blizzards and massive bouts of humidity.....and on and on and on."

Seriously.

New years resolution employed.

That is it. That is the one to hire.

You have got the job.

Yep...you're hired!

From now on, let it be...

"I'm doing great."

Why the change of heart?

Well, it is a new year. And I don't want to resolve to do all of the things I know I will fail at yet again. Call it wisdom, call it pessimism, call it whatever you want...but I. Am. Done.

So my attitude needs to wreak of gratitude.

Gratitude that maybe I am not where I want to be physically, financially, or even geographically, but this side of heaven this is as good as it gets. My kids are healthy. For now. They are here. For now. And I pray that this post is not prophetic, but at any given moment any of it can be taken away.

Normalcy could change to living in a hospital room with a sick child. Or being whisked off to heaven myself with my own illness.

The mediocrity of my life, the hum drum laundry doing, sticky floor wiping, and the plain old repetitiveness of it all could change in an instant.

I am reminded of all of this because I have been reading blogs.

All kinds of blogs.

One linked to another. That one linked me to another, and so on. I don't even really know where I have been.

Except that a curly headed little boy named Jaymun lived and died in just a couple of short years. He breathed his last breath last year. October.

Another little baby was born on 11/11 the same year as my littlest guy. She didn't even make it to her first birthday. While I was busy celebrating my boys' birthday and watching his curly cute head of hair get filled with cake and frosting, that family was aching for the same.

Then there is Stellan. Many of you know who that is. A sweet little munchkin. Fought for his life for so long. He is doing well now. Symptom free since late last year.

Of course there is Andie Grace. We went to her funeral last April, I believe. She lived 6 weeks. Tragically died of a heart condition. She was precious. My heart still breaks for her family.

I've also read about sweet little Jonah. Who is the little brother to Gabe who died when he was just 37 weeks from the same condition that Jonah is suffering through now. Painfull blisters and skin, nail, etc...conditions his whole life. If he can get through the dressing changes and stomach the feedings. Because the blisters are internal too! And his sweet mama gets to do all of that hard work and feel his pain every day.

There is Selah recording artists' The Brooks family who lost Audrey at birth. Only got to hold her for a couple of hours. (She is expecting again...a healthy baby who she will name Charlotte in June!)

And another Selah artist, Nicole Sponberg, lost a perfectly healthy baby shortly after of SIDS at 2 months old.

Another blogger, pregnant with baby number 7, lost her firstborn in a tragedy as a car plummeted through a restaurant they were dining in several years ago. They all miss her life and the "normal" of it all still to this day.

Of course there are people I know conquering battles too. Sweet Jamie and Matt, and their son Ben. He is battling Leukemia as we speak.

Our friends little guy, Michael, spent most of 2009 in the hospital undergoing chemo for his Leukemia battle. What brave parents and brothers and sisters they all are!



These are just a few of the precious people who have inspired me recently.

Do I not get it?

When will I ever get it?

My silly prayers for things that my Lord already knows I need. My petitions for wishes and dreams, protection, and even finding lost keys. Can you even believe that our God hears each of those requests and meets them as eagerly, readily, as he does when MckMama is praying for her childs very life to be spared?

Our God is so amazing. How could I not be grateful that I am here in my home scraping gum off of the couch, wiping poop off of the carpet, and washing every article of little kid clothing that hits my floor each day? These are the moments of normalcy so many of my fellow bloggers are begging to go back to.

Lord, please continue to have mercy on me! I have been given so much...and so much more is expected of me!!

Again, I know that what is normal for me right now could be washed a way in the blink of an eye. All of it. One kid, a hubby, the whole family. Life is precious.

I just pray that I could grasp the sweet breath of every day as I live it and not wish away all of my "not so perfect" days.

My 2010 resolution is simply that.

Enjoy each and every breath this year. Gratefully acknowledging the giver. And praising the Lord, that our party of 10, has 2010, together.

So go ahead and ask me now, "How are you doing?"

"I am good but God is awesome."

Straight out of Luke 6:45b

"What you say flows from what is in your heart." (NLT)

"The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks." (NIV) Luke 6:45 (in full context)

Happy New Year!

The Maid with an overflowing heart

Merry Christmas!

Thanks for sticking with me...and Merry Christmas to all three of my blog readers! LOL

May God Bless your new year immensely with love, laughter, and LIFE!

The Merry Maid

A gynecologist and a red head walk into a bar, I mean Costco....

I am standing in line...with my gigantic cart, at Costco...in the photo center. When a lady politely asks me...are you in line? I smile and say yes I am.

She steps in front of me anyway.

Same line, 2 seconds later. A Fred Mertz look alike (probably somebody's near retirement aged gynecologist...sorry, that is just what he looked like) walks up and says, "Are you in line?"
Same smile, same answer. Yes, I am.

He, too, steps right in front of me.

I laugh. Say audibly, "Wow."

And nothing.

Next, a blonde lady (no this isn't going to be a blonde joke)...decides to ask the same question.

So, I pulled out my taser. Kidding.

This time...sprinkling magic fairy dust...she heard me. "Yes, I am in line."

I then did what all offended shoppers do...

"Funny, those two people right there asked me if I was in line too, but they jumped in front of me anyway."

And then, I fell in love with the blonde.

"Unreal. Some people are just so inconsiderate! She probably wanted to get out of here in a hurry because that is her gynecologist and they both know that she has a flaming case of herpes."

Mwahhahahahahahahah!!!!
(I think I may have peed my pants I laughed so hard.)

I am still wondering if they heard her...and sadly, I can't get the Gynecologist/Woman dressed for a Pap Smear image out of my head. Wow.

And that, my friends, is the highlight of my holiday season thus far!

Merry Christmas!

The soon to be "Poise" pad wearing Maid. :)

I believe...and not in Santa Claus!

It is the most wonderful time of the year.

I know that sounds so cliche', but it truly is.

There is just a feeling surrounding many of us...it is a feeling of hope. (Those who are saved by grace, who have a personal relationship with Jesus, and who still choose to identify themselves as Christians in a time when WE are not the most popular of people.) We walk around this empty, lonely, suffering world with hope and joy. A feeling of joy despite any of our circumstances. A desire to give because we have been freely given SO much.

It is the reason for the season...the sacrifices of Christ paired with the ultimate love of our Heavenly Father.

I realize that historians and theologians argue the actual date and time of Christ's birth. I also realize that the symbols and beloved representations of His birth (wise men, nativity scenes, etc.) are also controversial. I also heard a song recently proclaiming that it was not a "silent night." It was an interesting Christian point of view. Because I have a personal relationship with Christ, I am not concerned with the exact day he was born or whether or not wise men were there as He lay in a stable manger, or a cave, or whatever. Because I know Him personally, I can celebrate who He is and just that He WAS born. (Imagine arguing with your 90 year old grandma and refusing to celebrate when you were taught to celebrate her birthday...and instead demanding the facts line up wanting to prove the exact day she was born. Really? Does it matter. She is here. She has invested in your life and your kids' lives. She attends every holiday and remembers every birthday. She is real. When she arrived doesn't matter as much as the fact that she did arrive.) And no, I'm not equating my grandma with Christ. LOL

All of those things aside, we come together as believers to truly reflect and appreciate what it means to be who we are and to shoulder both the responsibility and the blessing of being that person. A sinner, saved by grace, through faith. Nothing we could do to earn it. Nothing we could do to have it taken away from us. Knowing we will not ever be good enough on our own merit. Knowing and trying to understand with any certainty what it means to forgiven and be granted His mercies new each day.

That is why our hearts well up with love, with gratitude, with joy, and this desire to give and share and bless and do...it is all because of Jesus.

Yes, commercialism has wormed its way in more each passing year. We become more and more concerned with what we give, how we give it, what it is wrapped in (you know it is all about presentation...we wouldn't dare put a gift in a brown paper sack..right?)...but even that reminds me of what Jesus has done for us.

He cared what was given. He wanted to meet our need. We were perishing in our own sin, our need was salvation.

He cared how it was given. He wanted us to receive it. It was given without strings. It was given not because of our having given Him something first. It was (and is) offered freely to all who put their trust in him.

He cared about the wrapping. God took care in seeing that He was born to a virgin, that He dwelt among us, that He was one who understood us and presented Himself in a way that would not condemn or threaten us, but would relate with our every struggle. He made a way. He was the way. He came special delivery.

So much of that gift and wrapping paper analogy reminds me of what I see happening around me today.

How many do we know that won't accept a gift because of pride?

How many do we know that will reject a gift once it is opened because they think they don't need it?

How many do we know that judge a gift by it's wrapping? Rejecting it before they even open it.

No matter how you package the gift of salvation, the gift of Jesus' birth...it is not a useful gift if you don't open it. If you don't receive it, you couldn't possibly understand the joy of not just this wonderful time of year, but throughout the year. Throughout your circumstances, good or bad.

We truly can learn so much about our Heavenly Father and His gifts as we enjoy the season and offer our lives as a testimony to Him and to those around us.

As I wrap up this post (no pun intended), I want to share with you that I began to reflect on all of this because of an interaction I had with someone who doesn't believe. Their words were profane, their heart hard to the things of Christ, and the very things that bring many of us joy each season were like a clanging symbol to them.

I began to get sad and to feel pity that this person would be so filled with hatred and contempt for the things of the Lord. And soon God reminded me that I need not be sad, only to pray. It was truly a choice. Choosing to accept the son of God and the very gift that has been given is a decision that each of us will have to make in our lifetime. I quickly chose to be filled with gratitude instead.

The gift of salvation is foolishness to those who are perishing.

1 Corinthians 1:18 "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

To have the faith and be called to accept the gift, is a gift itself.

Romans 8:30 "And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified."

And for that gift, I am the most grateful!

Merry Christmas to all of you, and may God bless you and keep you!

Sincerely,

The grateful Maid

Yep, still nothin.

Fooled you, didn't I?

You thought there was going to be a new post. Well...ha. There isn't.

I just wanted to check in and let my bloggy friends and readers (all two of you) know that I have some stuff to share with all of you, but no time.

I just finished baking the goods for my kiddos to take to their teachers and am going to bed!

When the weekend hits, I will make time to talk to all of you!

(Oh, who am I fooling? See you next year!)

:) The Maid Delayed.

Content, more or less.

For as many years as I can remember, December always seemed to rush in and rush out.

There is always so much to do. So many things to make, buy, shop for, return, and lots of opportunities to gather together with friends and family.

This year, I have purposed not to spend my month trying to catch up on the things I need to do. This year, I have decided to shop early and less. To spend wisely, and less. To eat yummy things, and less. (Yes I will...just watch.)

I want less this year altogether.

Less stress,
less waste,
less junk,
less conflict,
less stuff,
less distraction,
less disappointment,
less rejection,
less mess,
less illness,
less clean up,
and most of all...
less chaos.

Which brings me to what I really want more of. Yep...I want more too.

More joy,
more sleep,
more planning,
more spontaneity, (I know...I am an enigma.)
more health,
more peace,
more order,
more sparkly lights,
more candles,
more focus,
more contentment,
and most of all
more Jesus.

I believe it can be done. I believe that even though I have already purchased gifts and wrapped them, and plan to only purchase a few more...we will have less this year. My kids will enjoy clothes and a few small things. And lots of family time and fellowship and they will get to give.

We will give treats, treasures, time, love, service, and ourselves. We will spend time doing the things we love with the people we love and we won't feel guilty about it.

We will probably say no to a few things. We will hopefully say yes to a lot more things.

We will purpose to show gratitude each day.

I believe that if we do anything this month, and we don't do it with love, it won't matter.
(I know that is from 1 Corinthians 13, but it still rings true.)

So, we will show love.

And if that is all we do, that one little thing, that one thing that we can only do with Christ who dwells in us, then we will be content with that.

"Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.
I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need." (Phil 4:11-12)

So I think I will be content with a little less and a little more. And I will do it with love, because....
"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13)

Happy December Blog Friends! May this season be blessed for you all and may you be content in any and every circumstance.

Sincerely,
The Maid, more or less.

Safety first...or second, or at least third.

Hello bloggers, stalkers, lurkers, friends, Romans, countrymen...

I have a question. A few actually. And, well, here is my dilemma. I don't even know if anyone is actually reading this.

1) Is there anyone out there anymore?

2) Should I close up shop and just grab a pen and start a diary?

3) How do I go from Blah-g...to BLOG! (As my friend would say...I don't want to be a blahg anymore.) I can't post often, but when I do, I want people to WANT to read it. ;)

4) Is it safe to post photos? Even if I disguise the real names and all...is it safe?

So there....I want to come out of hiding. (Well, at least with photos of my kids.)

I know so many bloggers who have proudly displayed photos of the kids and family stuff..and well, I want to join in and show off my precious peeps.

Oh, and the occasional funny picture, well, I have some doozies.

So...let me know what y'all think. Be honest.

:) The Maid

PS - If you are a sicko and want to see pictures for all the wrong reasons...go google something terminal and come down with it. I don't want you here. Just sayin.

Dreaming bigger...

As a child, I remember dreaming this time of year. Dreaming big. Not just lower case big, but upper case B - I - G! I remember making my full page and a half list of all of the things that I wanted for not only Christmas, but my birthday too. (I was "blessed" to have a December birthday.) While I often missed out on getting to celebrate my birthday with my classmates, I had a great mom who insisted that my birthday would be a separate and grand celebration. None of this birthday gift wrapped in Christmas paper business....but a full blown goodie fest of an entirely different style. It was always something special. She even made me cakes. Not any cake, but clown cakes, train cakes, a 3-D Smurf cake complete with blue icing...and more.
Good times.

She made it fun. She took on a dozen kids...piled in a car (long before the mini van and seat belt laws) and escorted us to "Pasquale's Pizza"...the best pizza ever. And, pizza places back then. They rocked. None of this tokens and games business...nope. It was more like the "dimes in juke boxes" kind of rocked. And that was cool. And we had fun. Laughing, dancing, scarfing pizza, drinking (soda people, I was 9 for goodness sake), and present-opening fun. Good, old fashioned, 1980 style fun.

I would sit among the unopened presents and my mind would go crazy. In my wide-eyed little girl brain, I was already baking in my Easy-Bake oven, playing with my Fashion Dolls Fashion Plates, and dreaming up the most artistic Lite-Brite scenes you could imagine. I knew in one or two of those boxes there would be clothing. But that was okay too. Courderoy jumpsuits, knee-high socks with sandals, and velvet dresses. I would wear each and every ensemble with pride. Hair parted proudly down the middle and pulled up on the side with plastic barrettes or maybe even piled in a half pony on top. Yep, with pom poms or bobble hair bands. (I still can't figure those things out.) I was loving life. In fact, I would write all of my great birthday moments in my diary with the little lock and key that never really worked. ;)

There might even be a gift or two with cash in it. Yep...remember cash? The perfect fit. The perfect color every time. None of these plastic cop outs...gift cards. These, "I don't know you well enough to know what you like" kind of gifts. (Hey, don't send me hate mail. I am a 37 year old who loves a gift card, but gift cards for kids has become the cop-out gift. It was always so much fun to open a game, a toy, or even an ugly, but thoughtful outfit...beautifully wrapped. There is something anticlimatic about being handed an envelope with a rectangular shaped piece of plastic in it when you are 9.)

Those were good times.

At about 10 or 12, those times came to a halt. I'm not saying that I never had a good party or a great gift after the age of 12, but the dreaming seemed to stop somewhere in the early double digits and I don't know why.

Maybe it was maturity. Knowing that Santa didn't exist, and your parents had limits.

Maybe it was disappointment. Knowing that dreaming the big dreams didn't always pay off. (Like the time you got the educational toy instead of the Barbie Van.)

Maybe it was the "surprise ruiner." Knowing what you were getting before you got it was always a buzzkill. (Thanks cousin Suzanne.)

Maybe it was all three.

But something has resurrected the dreaming. Several somethings. They are 17, 13, 11, 9, 7, 6, 3, and 1. In fact, the dreaming began anew in November of 1992. My eyes were opened to the world of dreaming again.

They are not only the dreamers around here, they ARE my dreams. Seeing them happy, watching them delight in a good and perfect gift. Knowing that I get to help make their "wish list" become reality. Their joy is my business. Making even the difficult ones come true, exceeding their expectations, going one better than their dreams...that is my biggest dream. In fact, if I receive nothing tangible...this is good enough.

This year, I can't give my children their dreams. I can give them only needs. Maybe a single want. Nothing big. No big dreams. This year, I can't go it one better. I can't deliver Ipods, cell phones, designer clothing, electronics, bikes, play kitchens with fake food....I just can't. I have asked the Lord to give me what I need to bless the socks off of my kids, and it is just not in the cards this year. How can I get excited about giving my family a mediocre Christmas? They only get to be little, to be "dreamers" for a short while. Why, God, won't you give my husband work so that we can pay ALL of our bills, take vacations, buy the braces, and of course "Do Christmas" ? Still, no answer.

And then it hit me, if I, being evil, know how to give good gifts to my children, how much more does the father in heaven long to give good gifts to me?

It is written in Matthew 7:11 "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!"

All I am required to do is trust Him.

I would certainly ask my children to trust me. To trust me to know what they want, what they need, and to go one better.

And yet I have such a hard time trusting Him. Trusting Him to give me what I need, what I want, and to "exceedingly, abundantly" give me more than I could ask or imagine. How could a loving God not provide for us to pay our bills and give our children their childhood dreams?

And then I realized He already has. While we are financially bankrupt, for now, we still have a roof over our heads. We have no shortage of food on the table. We have clothing out the wazoo. (Although my wazoo is busting out of most of my clothing, I am covered.) And as far as giving my children their childhood dreams goes...they have the ability to dream. They can indulge in fantasy long enough to make some amazing wish lists.

And my delight is not to be in filling each and every request, but in just listening to them dream and dreaming with them. Sharing in their excitement at the prospect of Christmas and what new things it will bring. They will live the dream in going to special church services, worshipping Jesus, having cookie night with Granny, going to Jesus' birthday party with Grandma and Grandpa, and bringing gifts to the Angel tree kids...and many more special festivities.

Yep, as I have been listening to my kids make their lists or shout out their top 3 "wants" for the chaos that is Christmas morning, I realize that the dream is alive and well. And that my mind has once again begun dreaming the big dreams.

They are just different now. Very different.

I want...

Peace in my home.
Love in my heart.
The freedom to worship Jesus whenever and wherever I choose.
Family gathered around at every opportunity.
To reach out to people who are alone.
Warm memories and maybe some snuggles with a partially toothless three year old and a chubby one year old.
A cup of cocoa or apple cider because it means slowing down and doing things different...and that it is winter.
The health to enjoy the season.
To greet each day with a genuine smile of gratitude.

Yep, Jesus...that is a big list...what do you say, maybe we can dream these dreams together?

Love,
The dreaming BIGGER Maid

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

Facebook, Shmacebook.

Hi. I'm the Maid, and I'm a facebookaholic.

(*Hi Maid*)

I look around the room and it is eerily familiar.

There are people I know from all walks of life.

Even some people that were tagged from someone elses walk.

Oh, and then there is that girl in the corner, the one who always puts those dirty things on her wall. The one that I secretly judge and wanted to delete, but didn't. Because I was giving her "grace." (Christianese for "I wanted to see what else she would say or do so that I would have further gossip down the road.") Did I just say that? Geesh, I'm a mess. It's gonna take several meetings.

There were family members. Most of whom ignored me. All of whom bragged about their fun experiences in their real, every day lives. Experiences that I was never included in. Further proving that family is the ultimate "F" word.

Then there were the I'd better add so and so if I add so and so "friends." You know the ones. You added her because she was best friends with your other friend who is on her friend page. She friend requested you and you politely accepted. (Truth is you never really liked her, you aren't interested in her life, and if you really thought about her knowing the details of your life, you would hit delete NOW!)

Oh, and then...then there are the "groups" of friends..the ones where if you do add one, you take the whole group. And you truly don't know why. Because none of these people probably even know your kids names or your current marital status, but it's almost a morbid curiosity and an assinine set of "manners" that forces you to. (Maybe you see these people at church...you promise to get together, and NEVER do. Maybe these are people you see once a month. You fake it, and then move on.)

The friend list would not be complete without the blasts from the past. The ones who haven't heard from you or you from them in 15 years...and the thought of them seeing a current picture makes you have nightmares and has you reconsidering gastric bypass surgery.

Then there are the lurkers. Kind of like blog world, but you know they are there because you "accepted" them. They sit and watch, never speak. And in passing utter some eery comment reminding you that they are reading EVERYTHING you say.

Surprise friends are on there too. The ones that you thought you wouldn't talk to or have anything in common with...and they become your chatter buddies. They talk to you at every IM opportunity. Until you learn to turn the chat off. (Face it, sometimes you want to put some food on the stove in your Cafe' and you don't want to chat.)

Yet another sign that you are a facebookaholic. You have set real world timers for fake food. You have harvested someone elses virtual crops. You have bejeweled, farkled, Maffia-ed, and cafe'-ed yourself until you can barely find time for your own farm.

The disappointments abound on facebook. Those people that you are friends with in real life that publicly shame you or hurt you, the ones that blatantly talk to everyone BUT you on your page, and the ones who even have ignored your private messages! Oh, and the facebook giver...the one who gives pieces of flair, flowers, cocktails and Starbucks to everyone BUT you, and makes it public enough so that you know about it.

Yep, you know you are a facebookaholic when it is the first thing you want to do in the morning and the last thing you do before bedtime. When you put too much thought and stock in what is going on in the pseudo-friend world. You know that when you really find yourself liking people more or less because of one sentence blurbs scattered on the internet, that you have some real soul searching to do.

It is a painful and rude awakening. You realize that the word "friend" has been used too loosely. When you are tracking the ins and outs of 200+ people that go completely about their lives without you. When you had hopes that your connections could increase in a meaningful way with 200+ people, and yet, here...a year later...you have never sat in a "real" cafe with any of your cafe' friends!

Today, I am no longer a friend. As easy as a right click of the mouse, on a 6 letter word..."remove", did all of those friends disappear.

Today, I find myself suffering a pretty severe "friendship" hangover.

Facebook, shmacebook. How thou hast betrayed me.

(Not to mention made my house dirtier, wasted hours of my life, probably widened the girth of my computer chair-glued rear-end, and kept me away from the ONE who calls me friend.)

FaithBOOK, here I come.

"Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance (for me that is facebook), and the sin (making it an idol) which so easily entangles us (makes us judge, hurt, criticize, deal falsely), and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2

"So then, let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another." Romans 14:19

Disclaimer: I am not condemning facebook itself. For me, as many things are, it became an encumbrance. It kept me from a more righteous calling. My family, my health, my Jesus.
This post is my experience with a real problem in my life and a real and loving God who disciplines me because I belong to Him. It is painful as all discipline is, but I continue to grow in grace of the knowledge of the Lord. (2 Peter 3:18) I am grateful that He cares enough about us all to show us even in the little things. Praise God!

The Top 10 Signs that you are in need of a "Lifestyle" change...

We don't say diet...we say, "Lifestyle change."

As if that helps.

But recently, I began reflecting on this area of my life (when don't I?) and some lightbulb moments (thanks Oprah) happened to spring up. And since you can't change what you don't acknowledge (thanks Dr. Phil), I thought I might "acknowledge" all of these things here...top ten style. (Thanks David Letterman):

The Top 10 Reasons You Begin to realize your need for a Lifestyle Change:

10) You think the "Big Dress" Ruby is wearing looks comfortable.

9) You think you could rock the "naked in bed sheets" look at the Brookhaven Obesity Clinic.

8) You hate to drop things in public because that means bending your fat butt over. (And you always bring a kid with you for this reason..."honey, pick that up for mama.")

7) You contemplate having another child so that you can go another year without sucking your stomach in.

6) Even though you are the shortest person on the planet, you like the back row in pictures.

5) You no longer have to squeeze your face together when you do the "Hi, my name is chubby" joke.

4) You watch Biggest Loser for "inspiration" with tub of cookie dough and fork.

3) You have to give up your favorite pants because your thighs have herniated the fabric in the crotch.

2) You think "don't ask, don't tell" should be the new Weight Watcher slogan. (And you find that orange "hungry" character kind of cute.)

AND the number one reason it might be time to change your lifestyle.....

1) You wake up feeling as if you are being strangled by your own breasts. (Image too disturbing for blog.)



Thinking it is time for "You, on a diet." (Thanks Dr. Oz)

Honestly yours,

The ready to be made thin, Maid.

Google must die.

Actually, let me rephrase that..."My urge to Google must die."

Do you ever feel like having all of this information at your very feeble and often inept fingertips is a hazzard to your health?

I do. I REALLY do.

In fact, I have a love/hate relationship with my computer search engine. I do not like that anytime I feel led, I can put in any word or phrase...or even question...and find out more than I ever wanted to know. There is just too much information out there, and well, sometimes I am just not qualified to read some of it. Do you feel me?

For example, I am a hypochondriac. I know this. And, you might think, knowing is half the battle. Well, it is not. I know I am a hypchondriac...and so I can google the symptoms of said disorder and find all of the little reasons why I am CERTAIN that I am....see for yourself:

(DEF: Hypochondriac: A person who has hypochondriasis, a disorder characterized by a preoccupation with body functions and the interpretation of normal body sensations (such as sweating) or minor abnormalities (such as minor aches and pains) as portending problems of major medical moment. Reassurance by physicians and others only serves to increase the hypochondriac's persistent anxiety about their health.) That last sentence...SO true, by the way. I have left emergency rooms after thousands of dollars of testing was done...and being told I was fine...only to say to myself, "Well, I'm pretty sure they missed it. They didn't do a colonoscopy. Yep. My spleen could still rupture." *Holding my left side* I. Am. Sick.

I can also Google, and have, any medical disorder that is mentioned on Dr. G Medical Examiner, TLC, or Discovery Health Channel. I am pretty certain that I have had strokes, heart attacks, thyroid disease, scabies, impetigo, am falling prey to Pancreatic cancer, colon cancer, breast cancer (all of the SEVERAL types that I have been emailed about...you know what I mean) and I even would guess that I have ovarian cancer right now. Because I have gas, bloating, and pelvic pain. And I often have the symptoms of IBS. Which might also mean that I have diabetes, candida, a bowel obstruction, parasites and a nasty case of the flu. Maybe even the H1N1 flu. (It is so much more fun to say swine flu, isn't it?) I ate a shrimp tonight...maybe it is the Brine flu.

So...I am not meaning to sound like I am making a big joke out of this. I realize that it is a true sickness. I worry and fret and live my life in fear constantly that any of these fears of diseases that I have googled and studied up on are currently waiting to present themselves. The only diseases that I often am able to rule out are the ones that say "unexpected weight loss."

Nope. No unexpected weight loss here. NONE. So, for now, I think I can scratch Pancreatic Cancer from my list of possible diseases.

I bet right about now, you are waiting for a reason to finish reading this morbid post. Well, let me give you one.

Tonight, I think I may have discovered a symptom that I have been overlooking.

As I was Googling (big surprise) ALS...or Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease...I stumbled across a symptom that I live with DAILY. (On a serious note, be in prayer for a friend of ours, we will call him "Flintstone," to protect his identity...he has just been diagnosed with this, and that is why I got scared into Googling it.)

The list of symptoms went like this:

Difficulty breathing (Check.)
Difficulty swallowing (Double check.)
Gagging (Totally have done that.)
Chokes easily (Yes...and not because I eat too fast or anything.)
Head drop due to weak spinal and neck muscles (Sometimes!)
Muscle cramps (YES! The kind that wake me up out of bed.)
Muscle weakness that slowly gets worse (Well, no, but when I had the flu..yes.)
Paralysis (Not yet, but I'm thinking not wanting to excercise is a start.)
Speech problems, such as a slow or abnormal speech pattern (Abnormal? Yes.)
Voice changes, hoarseness (Every day when I wake up! UGH!)

Additional symptoms that may be associated with this disease:
Drooling (Sometimes, when I sleep.)
Muscle contractions (Eyelid twitching?)
Muscle spasms (Nope, this is the eyelid twitching one, right?)
Ankle, feet, and leg swelling (YES...just read this post...Cankles?)
Weight loss (Darn it. Deal breaker.)

Well, as you can see...I ruled myself out...with the last one.

But here...here is the one that made me think....ready?

Some patients have trouble controlling crying or laughing. This is sometimes called "emotional incontinence."

I can finally put a name with a face. I mean my face. I have that! I TOTALLY have that. "Emotional Incontinence."

I cannot control my laughing. Even when it is inappropriate.
And crying? Well, just this weekend, I erupted in such a snot cry (you know the hysterical out of breath kind) that I had to leave the building...step outside and practice my old Lamaze breathing...that's it! Emotional Incontinence!!!!

Now, dear ones, what on earth am I supposed to do with that information?

What kind of products do they make for THAT? I mean, am I going to have to put in cry catheters? Take a laugh suppressant?

Great. One more thing to worry about. Sigh.

Seriously...if anyone sees the infomercial for the products that can spare me a lifetime of embarrassment because of my Emotional Incontinence...will you let me know? And would someone Google if the supplies for that disorder come in plain, unmarked, brown packaging? Because, after this one, I am afraid I am swearing off of Google.

Sincerely,

Your Googling, "EmoInco" Maid.
(I don't know whether to laugh or cry right now...should I Google that?)

Way TMI....seriously.

As most of you know, I have lots of kids. Half and half. Half boys, half girls. I mean each child is either a boy or a girl..and we have equal numbers of each. (Not that my kids are half boy/half girls....that would be creepy.)

In that mix of children, or should I say, on top of that mix, lie two teenagers.

(Drop to your knees and pray right now, would ya?)

So, here is where it gets tricky.

I am all up in their kool-aid. Literally. I like it that way. I like to know what kind of conversations they are having and with whom. I think it is my job. I think I need to know and watch and read and snoop. I have their passwords to their facebook pages and emails and I often do text-message interceptions and read their texts. (I've even been known to text their friends posing as my child...just to see what kind of response I get.)

(Sidenote: Let that be a lesson to all teens out there...if you are texting someone...never assume it is reaching your target audience and always assume that your friends' parents are reading...because they probably are!)

With that being said, let me tell you about a recent experience I had with my, uh-hem, teenage son. Who by all accounts is an upstanding, wonderful boy who helps with the family, mops the floors, cleans toilets, changes diapers and truly...TRULY...loves his baby brothers...and for now, tolerates his sisters. (I have accepted that tolerance may be all we get between siblings for a while.) This child of mine is respectful, most of the time, and usually always to anyone who doesn't live in our house. (Unless you are a Wal-mart employee...then all bets are off. Long story.)

So, imagine my surprise, when my sweet, respectful son was having a facebook "private" instant message conversation with a friend. They were talking about their plans over the weekend and were "bragging" about who had the hotter girlfriend. They were even scheming that they would tell me one thing and do another. (Duh...not the brightest bulbs in the box...I mean, hello...I read this stuff!!!) So, I had to confront my child. I had to tell him that I would absolutely take away privileges and all of his technology if he could not learn to be respectful of my rules and be honest with me. (The "scheme" had to do with going to see his girlfriend this weekend. Which I would never disallow...except under the circumstances...she was to be babysitting and he is not allowed over there!!) We had an even further conversation about how he was not only supposed to respect my rules, but the rules of other authority figures. And he was encouraged not to do anything that would get his girlfriend in trouble, especially if he cared about her.

And then I realized that he was 16. SIXTEEN! I remember how "deeply" I cared about my boyfriends at that age. How I really didn't care so much about whether any of us got in trouble...I just wanted to make out.

I know. Shocking. The Maid used to like to make out. And I was good at it. (And sure, I might be good at it again, if I could just tune out this dog barking, kid crying, washing machine dinging, dinner burning, tv blaring, and phone ringing life of mine.)

Despite my own experiences, I pulled up my big-girl panties (figuratively speaking of course) and snapped right back into my lecture. "You need to remember that this young lady is a member of our church and that you have a responsibility to God to respect her and her family. You need to make sure that you are above reproach and are always encouraging her to be honest." Blah Blah Blah.

I was even getting annoyed listening to myself.

Why? Because...I couldn't erase the thoughts from my brain of when I was sixteen. All I wanted to do was go to parties, and date, and make-out, and do wild and crazy things. (Let me clarify...I was not into drugs, and only drank on a couple of occasions before it was legal to do so, plus I was an honor student and I played the part.) So, how did I get here? How did I get to be so "parental?" It can be such a challenge to reconcile how I lived and what I did, with how I want my children to live. (And I wasn't even that bad!)

By my sons age however, I was kissing boys. And I mean "KISSING" boys...with a capital K, and maybe a little tongue. (I know...thus the blog post title..."TMI.")

Here I have this great boy...who hasn't even kissed a girl yet. (I know this because of how he spends his time and who he spends it with, plus we have a really open relationship for the most part. And, well, I want to believe that it is true.)

I got to thinking about how I need to let up on him again and let him find his own way. How I need to encourage him, but back off a bit. I mean, I've never really read or found anything all that disturbing in his texts or conversations.

Until last night. Sigh.

You just don't realize how hormonal and competitive and downright crass teenage boys can be until you have a voyeuristic look into a "private" conversation they are having. Let's just say that the two of them went on and on about who had the hotter girlfriend (normal) and how they had to wait a minute to finish their conversation because "I gotta p**s" (tacky...but probably normal for "I gotta go pee"...I mean how cool is that to say?) and then the shocker...
"Yeah, I'd hit that."

Excuse me? What did he just say?

My son's friend just told my son that a sweet young girl that they were talking to at church was good looking enough to "hit" that.

"Hit?" I mean we are not violent people.

And "that"...what does that mean? (Yes, I know, but I had to ask him.)

It went a little something like this:

Me: "Son, what exactly does "hit that" mean?"

Son: "You know."

Me: "No, why don't you tell me?"

Son: "Like you would do her."

Me: "Do her what? Her nails?"

Son: (laughing) "No"

Me: "Well, I'm sure you don't mean THAT...as in IT."

Son: "We were just messin around mom."

Me: "I should hope so. We just don't hit. Or do THAT. You hear me?"

Son: (still laughing) "Yeah."

Me: "Wait a minute...what is this comment...where your friend says hit it and forget it?"

Son: (rolling eyes) "Mooommmm" (In an annoyed whine.)

Me: "No, really. What does that mean?"

Son: "That you would go out with her and kiss her and stuff, but not really date her."

Me: "AND STUFF?"

Son: "Yeah."

Me: (Shrinking in my chair.) "So, I suppose the whole respect women conversation went out the window...and you are just a skirt chaser now?"

Son: "I didn't say it, _____ did."

Me: "But that is YOUR friend and you had the conversation and went along with it."

Son: "He's a nice kid, we were just playin' around."

Me: "That's what I'm afraid of. Playin' around."

Son: "Mom, I'm not going to do anything stupid. I like (so and so) and she likes me and I only want to date her right now. Don't worry."

Me: (Tossing back two Tylenol) "Okay. Clean it up. You don't want any other parents to read this stuff."

Son: "Aight."

(Yes...he said..."aight" Not alright, which would be proper and mature, but he went with the more socially acceptable gangster (excuse me...gangsta) version and said "aight.")

(I don't remember living in Compton...although I do remember a brief NWA music fetish. In highschool. And maybe my first year of college. But that was long before my son was in-utero. Do you think my eggs were affected by that?)

When did my sweet little boy turn into a saggy-jeaned, skater shoe wearing, horror movie watching, and babe-bagging "gangsta?"

I mean it was just yesterday that I was making out with the 80's version of that.

Now...if all of that wasn't too much information, you should know that my 13 year old daughter announced to me this week that she became a woman (yep...aunt flow...poor baby) and that her girl parts are lopsided.

I know. If I could just find that flux capacitor I would travel back to a simpler time. It was so much easier to be the teenager than to raise them.

Sleep well, blog world. And remember, today's teenagers are tomorrows "Maids and Butlers." Sigh.

The Completely Over-informed Maid

Please press one....

Dear APS,

I am writing to you today to let you know that I think your prices suck.

If that is not eloquent enough for you, let me rephrase that.

To Whom it May Concern:

In light of the recent economic downturn, I would expect each and every one of our bill collectors and/or creditors to be making some concessions to help the general public to be able to continue use of their services. I would not expect, at this juncture, an increase in the price of said services.

I realize that we live in a desert. I also realize that in the desert it gets hot. Dang hot. But it does make it just a tad bit suspicious when we go out of town for 14 days in one of the hottest months of the year and turn up our A/C to run only when it reaches temperatures of 84 degrees. Interestingly enough, during that month...the cost of my service was more than the same month last year when we were home cranking the air conditioning 24/7. My service the following month, when we were home 24/7 was also the same price as the month we were gone.

I do believe there is some bill padding going on with your company. I don't think that even a family of 10 could possibly use $650.00 worth of electricity in one month. I believe your company to be a monopolistic and greedy corporation and if I had a choice, I would switch.

This is America, darn it, and we should have a choice. CHOICE! Bring me a choice! (And by choice, I don't mean do I want electricity or not. Hello? Desert? We have to have A/C and electricity. But were there a choice, I am pretty sure that "they" would not be charging me $650.00 for one month of service. There is no "equalizing" that.)

So, in the meantime, until said CHOICE arises, I am paying my bill under protest. I have not yet begun to fight! (Okay, maybe I have. But just know, that I am one electric bill paying APS hater.)

Wishing the sweat of a thousand camels to infest your armpits,

The Maid

PS - And on a side note, could you please get an employee that I could speak with that has a half of a brain? Oh, and that maybe speaks English. Not English as a second language? Thank you.

Disclaimer: Again, with the disclaimers. I know. I know. But here goes:
No offense intended to anyone who works for said electric company. I realize you are just doing your job. No offense to anyone who has only half a brain, I realize it is not your fault. And no offense intended if you speak English as your second language. I mean you no disrespect as I speak with you and begin speaking like you. Something strange happens to me when I am listening to other people's accents...I somehow morph into an accented individual. I am not making fun of you, really.

On a lighter note...

Now I have seen everything....

While on a drive with my hubby to the ghetto of our metropolis (it was for his 2nd job)...I sat patiently while he entered a CVS pharmacy. The usual creepy things were in place...the "we prosecute shoplifters" sign, the random and ubiquitous spray painted gang symbols, the "no backpacks...leave your backpack with the cashier" sign, and the exciting declaration..."We now sell bread!" Woo hoo. Because when I need a loaf, I am running to this pharmacy...instead of the 24 hour grocery store by my house. ??? (I guess if you are rolling with your homies on a drive by, it could be convenient...but whatever.)

But this....THIS...my friends was a diamond in the rough...and dang it if I didn't take a picture...because I am pretty sure that I could have had my five minutes of fame on Leno with it....

"Milwaukees Best....30 cans....$12.99" and strategically placed in bold lettering these precious words....

"FAMILY PACK"


Yep. I am afraid it is a Labor Day all time low when you gather the kids around the BBQ, inflate the bounce house, and bask in the triple digit heat....and all the while you AND the kids...share a cold one.

(What a great country we live in.)


And secondly....in case you were wondering...as I lay sick over this long weekend...unable to bounce, BBQ, and bust open a brewski....I got word of an upcoming show. One that we all might want to take a look at. Ready?

"Amish Gone Wild."

Not even joking.

It made me wonder...how wild is wild...when you are Amish.

Maybe some upcoming episodes in the works....

"Jedadiah risks jail time...by actually plugging in the Amish made fireplace." (You know you have seen those commercials. Heck, how many of you have actually ordered one...that is what I want to know?)

Or could it be this wild...

"Jakob defiles his family name...by finishing high school! Gasp!"

Or maybe the next episode would focus on the notorious Amish family and their excommunication from the Amish society....because the hubby decided to take off the hat and shave his beard...and his wayward wife dennounced quilting.


I'm sure that for the season finale...the entire Amish village goes out and buys insurance, and the village matriarch throws away the original friendship bread.

I know. I can't wait for the series either. I will be popping some corn and pulling up a piece of couch for that one.

Honestly, at this rate...anything is better than John and Kate plus 8.

Have a good week friends!
Happy Labor Day!

The Maid

Disclaimer: NO disprespect intended to families who drink beer together, those who live near the CVS in the ghetto, bread seeking homies on a drive by, and of course the Amish. Who I deeply respect but don't come near understanding. Farm on Jedidiah.

Nothing else matters....

I took my family to Peter Piper Pizza tonight. I stressed about what I would be wearing. I stressed about how my girls' hair looked. Was it brushed? Was it neatly put up in a pony tail? Did my daughter have on too much make-up?

I yelled at my husband (playfully) that he had dressed my baby in the outfit I just threw in the goodwill pile only hours before. He (the baby) looked like a nerd. The two year-old cried as I "scrubbed" the marker off of his face and arms. (His spare time is often spent drawing colorful road maps all over his bare extremities.) Oh, and my furniture. My teenage son didn't want to go with us. Mumbling something about schoolwork (yeah right) and of course having to be seen with the WHOLE family. While I shook my head in disapproval as his pants sank well below the plaid plastered butt of his boxers, I was even more discouraged to see my 11 year old son wearing a shirt that had todays lunch wiped on it. (Which you could barely see under all of the dog hair.)

The dog, I might add, that has peed on my freshly cleaned carpets, pooped on my couch in front of company, and wanders aimlessly sniffing out scraps all over my kitchen. And might I add, she finds them. Big ones. Entire strips of waffle, toast crusts, and whole grapes. Among other lovely tidbits. And that is impressive, since the other family pet, the 9 month old, has usually gobbled up all of the big pieces.

I am discouraged. My body is warn out, stretched out, and sad. My house is cluttered, dirty, and tired. And well, I already described the kids. My husband is neglected. We are financially struggling and our marriage has not been nurtured with date nights, time alone, family outings, or whatever the needs may be.

All of this is overwhelming. Is it everything, well no, but it is a big part of who and what defines us. It is a big part of whether or not I feel I can hold my head high when I run into people who know me now, or who knew me years ago...it is the part of my life that I can cling to and say..."Yeah, but look at what I have accomplished. I have this great house, this immaculate place where I raise my family. I have these perfectly coiffed children dressed in matching outfits and designer collections from Gymboree...which just shout 'My mom pays attention to the details!' And let me introduce you to my perfect husband whose perfect job and our perfect marriage affords us twice yearly vacations alone!"

Throughout our last 18 month struggle with finances, kids, marriage, friends, and our own health and our own bodies, I have held on to the fact that I want that dream. I want that perfect life, those perfect children, the perfect circumstances, and the perfect person to share it with.

Today I was reminded that none of it matters. All of those things, those facades that we wear, none of it matters. We are only here for such a short time. We only have the people that God has trusted to us for such a short time. We only have imperfection for such a short time.

Why do we try so hard to run from what is so real? Why do we strive to be and have those things that would impress the people that don't matter?

Why would I rather fix my daughters hair how I think the world wants to see it, than to let her proudly wear it the way she wants it to be? Am I really that fragile that I am afraid that I will be judged by her messy head? Jesus, let it not be.

Why do we look past what is so perfectly given to us, in order to look for what has not been provided?

Today, a young woman that I personally never knew, but admittedly prayed for not often enough, lost her battle with cancer. She was young. Her family is young. They lost a mother. A wife. A daughter.

I bet they would tell me that if I had problems that money could solve, I had no problems at all.

I bet they would tell me that if I had problems that a hairbrush or some laundry soap would fix, I had no problems at all.

I bet they would tell me that instead of seeing the clothes, I should see the faces.

I bet they would tell me that it doesn't matter if my child lights up the room, but they should absolutely be my bright spot.

I bet they would tell me when it came to my family, instead of worrying about how much I weighed, I should worry about how much we played.

I bet they would tell me that instead of worrying about the dog mess, I should hear how much the kids laugh when they play with her.

I bet they would tell me that my family, my husband, and even myself, should be full of life...light in a dark place...and should be my focus from this day forward.

Not that I perform for them perfectly, but that I love them absolutely.

That if I should be called home to Jesus, they are left with no doubt. Only love.

You know what, I took my family to Peter Piper Pizza tonight.

And nothing else matters.

The Maid

PS - Be praying for the Miller family. That they are left only with love and nothing else.