tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76270684146037469032024-03-05T20:19:47.066+03:00MomfessionsSheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.comBlogger509125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-91402814429250098242012-06-07T10:36:00.001+03:002012-06-07T10:36:14.500+03:00Moved...<div style="text-align: center;">
Looking for Momfessions? Try <a href="http://momfessions.net/">momfessions.net</a>! </div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-20913090162685059472012-04-27T10:36:00.000+03:002012-04-27T10:36:00.151+03:00I Found a Booger just now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Both my boys are pretty snotty with allergy gunk, so there's no telling who this boogy came from...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGF5Cz5ws3GX4UX1DPUUYfd24X92Xwe_Z5kj14tQZ9Z9S2uK3mF88yWIw_yFmON2fihyphenhyphenlL-PX9TWLPWuRdAjbQfoXbsFnJseHeRwM2yhwM8DrbMlGYXtc6cy15fMtREoYLG678O10Cfg/s1600/DSC_0870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGF5Cz5ws3GX4UX1DPUUYfd24X92Xwe_Z5kj14tQZ9Z9S2uK3mF88yWIw_yFmON2fihyphenhyphenlL-PX9TWLPWuRdAjbQfoXbsFnJseHeRwM2yhwM8DrbMlGYXtc6cy15fMtREoYLG678O10Cfg/s640/DSC_0870.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Isn't motherhood a glamorous gig?</div>
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<i>Snort</i></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-31243652060413577052012-04-26T10:33:00.000+03:002012-04-26T10:33:15.251+03:00Adoption MomfessionOur home study is <i>tomorrow</i> and I have bitten all the white off my finger nails.<div>
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Anxious (and gross) much?!</div>
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It's like I'm fully expecting him to say, "You people do not deserve another precious baby-- you aren't even good parents to the three you have!" 'Cause I know the truth-- this is a tough job, and I'm not a perfect parent. By a long stretch.</div>
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Sometimes (more than I would like to admit) I yell at my kids. And I set bad behavior examples for them all the time (being selfish, being proud, gossiping, judging, being jealous...) And I feed them more peanut butter and jelly and hot dogs than any human should consume. And sometimes I let them skip taking a bath (I do make them change their underwear though.) And I don't make them wear matching clothes out of the house. And some days I play on Facebook instead of playing with them. And I let them eat ice cream more than they should because then I can eat ice cream without having to share mine.</div>
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I guess my deepest fear is that our social worker will call out my junk and say we aren't worthy of adoption. I know I don't deserve the honor of raising another kid-- heck, I don't deserve the honor of raising the three I have now!</div>
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So, here we go. We're jumping into the great deep unknown of home studies and dossiers and international mail. And I don't even have any fingernails to claw my way out.</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-71012956387008101922012-04-25T16:13:00.007+03:002012-04-25T16:14:45.862+03:00He Will surely Do It!<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A few weeks ago I was tucking my three-year-old son into bed. After brushing my lips against his baby soft forehead and turning toward the door, I heard his sweet voice, “Mommy, when is Baby Sister coming?” My heart skipped a beat at the precious question—there is not a baby in my belly as one might assume from his question. He was asking about Baby Sister who we’ve been talking about for over a year now. Baby Sister won’t have my husband’s eye color or my same skin tone. She won’t be mistaken for a “twin” like our three biological back-to-back, look-alike kids are... </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://prayerofhannah.blogspot.com/2012/04/he-will-surely-do-it.html" target="_blank">Continue reading</a></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*This is an excerpt from a guest post I wrote at Prayer of Hannah.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-42072899491954958202012-04-12T14:40:00.005+03:002012-04-12T14:51:00.243+03:00::Link Love::<b>{The Secret Sterlization of Women in Uzbekistan}</b> <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-17612550">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-17612550</a><br />
<div><i> Absolutely heart-wrenching. It's so easy if you live in the West to pretend the whole world is OK and atrocities against humans don't happen anymore... not true. Eye opening article. </i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzY6j-WDhXQKud-QVwtFAViipOAS-sj2U2qZ8O6i1oENQKyv3QXHNBiaRVSWTfFev9tlH6j8OqhrIMH8pI2l_OmzarxNs5TCIjL4iAiTAQgizc235NRRCnyXlCSJe9ye-fVtSK00v7qYg/s1600/DSC_0213cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzY6j-WDhXQKud-QVwtFAViipOAS-sj2U2qZ8O6i1oENQKyv3QXHNBiaRVSWTfFev9tlH6j8OqhrIMH8pI2l_OmzarxNs5TCIjL4iAiTAQgizc235NRRCnyXlCSJe9ye-fVtSK00v7qYg/s320/DSC_0213cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a><b><br />
{Marriage is for Losers}</b> <a href="http://drkellyflanagan.com/2012/03/02/marriage-is-for-losers/">http://drkellyflanagan.com/2012/03/02/marriage-is-for-losers/</a></div><div> <i>Love this. Want to seek to be more of a "loser" in my marriage.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><b>{50 Ways to Inspire your Husband} </b><a href="http://www.momlifetoday.com/2011/03/50-ways-to-inspire-your-husband/">http://www.momlifetoday.com/2011/03/50-ways-to-inspire-your-husband/</a></div><div> <i>Yes. Need to work on this...</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><b>{31 Days of Praying for your Husband} </b><a href="http://www.raisinggodlychildren.org/2011/11/31-days-of-praying-for-your-husband.html?mid=5275409">http://www.raisinggodlychildren.org/2011/11/31-days-of-praying-for-your-husband.html?mid=5275409</a></div><div> <i>Again, yes. I need to work on this...</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIqvBvkTelM2HWMerpHkfbxpx540_1sUnOit-nmvtGOJ6vLoq9B6AqmrAjhbRyLLgTqQ_HXvxICcVJ49dUNl-05sCSjR9I24ID1FfRW4iTbd20ToIVDn_u-JUmFGmBcfFl8IsFwSG6V8/s1600/DSC_0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIqvBvkTelM2HWMerpHkfbxpx540_1sUnOit-nmvtGOJ6vLoq9B6AqmrAjhbRyLLgTqQ_HXvxICcVJ49dUNl-05sCSjR9I24ID1FfRW4iTbd20ToIVDn_u-JUmFGmBcfFl8IsFwSG6V8/s320/DSC_0494.JPG" width="320" /></a><b>{Why the World will never See Me as a good Parent}</b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://wearethatfamily.com/2012/03/why-the-world-will-never-see-me-as-a-good-parent/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://wearethatfamily.com/<wbr></wbr>2012/03/why-the-world-will-<wbr></wbr>never-see-me-as-a-good-parent/</a></span></div><div> <i>Most days it feels like an uphill battle to disengage my parenting from "culture" and try to be biblical in the way I teach and relate to my children. It's good to remember my goal is not for the world to think I am a good parent (whatever that means to them!) but to point my children to Christ.</i></div></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><b>{Confessions of a Routine-Loving Mother} </b><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mobileweb/2012/04/09/mom-doesnt-like-play_n_1396669.html?icid=hp_parents_art_more">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mobileweb/2012/04/09/mom-doesnt-like-play_n_1396669.html?icid=hp_parents_art_more</a></div><div> <i>This.is.so.me. Just letting go and playing with my children (not directing their play or encouraging their independent play) is SO hard for me.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><b>{The Littleness of Motherhood}</b> <a href="http://www.feminagirls.com/2012/04/10/the-littleness-of-motherhood/">http://www.feminagirls.com/2012/04/10/the-littleness-of-motherhood/</a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kfmt-PAYlvLswohivhNg4m6rI6X3fDGOfSO2DfKLoTKWPKlJHZ1smMHTRvU3BhMXYykL9gB0Hb86pnyFaRUnwxL30fz0pLbm82G8kt6pzN4-61xGL9BcFyrx33y8fDRDHEJ3zs4h57A/s1600/DSC_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kfmt-PAYlvLswohivhNg4m6rI6X3fDGOfSO2DfKLoTKWPKlJHZ1smMHTRvU3BhMXYykL9gB0Hb86pnyFaRUnwxL30fz0pLbm82G8kt6pzN4-61xGL9BcFyrx33y8fDRDHEJ3zs4h57A/s320/DSC_0340.JPG" width="211" /></a> <i>Such a good reminder why the "little things" are actually big things that matter very much!</i></div><div><br />
</div><div><b>{Contentment}</b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.feminagirls.com/2012/03/02/contentment/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://www.feminagirls.com/<wbr></wbr>2012/03/02/contentment/</a></span></div><div> <i>If you live overseas, this is a great read! Ten years from now when I look at my life now, I will probably not remember all the little things that got under my skin and irritated me about living overseas-- I will remember the good things, the fun things, the memorable things.</i><br />
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<b>{Why the City is a wonderful Place to Raise Children} </b><a href="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/02/15/why-the-city-is-a-wonderful-place-to-raise-children/">http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/02/15/why-the-city-is-a-wonderful-place-to-raise-children/</a><br />
<i>Such encouragement for those of us seeking to raise kids in big cities!</i><br />
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</i></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-12633381159236319172012-04-08T14:35:00.000+03:002012-04-08T14:35:00.931+03:00The Ransom is Paid!I've had so many thoughts stirring in my head as Easter has approached this year. In light of our <a href="http://www.momfessions.net/2012/03/accepted.html" target="_blank">earthly adoption process</a>, I've been thinking about <i>my</i> adoption by God.<br />
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Let's be honest for a minute-- international adoption is expensive. Like really, really expensive. No agency can tell you up front exactly how much you will pay during an international adoption. If adopting, you sign (many!) forms agreeing to the amount you will pay for each part of the adoption process, and saying you understand that there will be "extra expenses" and they are solely your responsibility. At my bare minimum projections we will spend over $20,000 when it's all said and done and Lovebug is at home with our family.<br />
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That's a crazy lot of money. It's a great debt we will gladly pay to ransom our daughter from a life void of hope. Without paying this money, Lovebug would remain in her current state-- family-less-- indefinitely. We have to pay the debt required in order to be able to bring her home and call her ours.<br />
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At Easter, we remember a similar ransom that was paid a long time ago. You see, I was lost in sin and utter darkness. I was an enemy of God. I was an orphan in the world- without hope, without love. But Someone came and gave even more than $20,000 as a ransom for me. <b>He gave His life.</b><br />
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As His blood-- His pure, precious blood spilled down over rough wood and pooled at the foot of a Roman cross, my adoption fee was paid in full.<br />
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Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin. Without payment, there is no adoption into God's family. Without great cost, there is no salvation for the lost. Without the debt being erased, there is no redemption from the old life. Without Jesus, there is no hope for the future.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">The mystery of the cross I cannot comprehend</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">The agonies of Calvary</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">Who drank the bitter cup reserved for me</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><b>Your blood has washed away my sin<br />
Jesus, thank You<br />
The Father’s wrath completely satisfied<br />
Jesus, thank You<br />
Once Your enemy, now seated at Your table<br />
Jesus, thank You</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">By Your perfect sacrifice I’ve been brought near</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">Your enemy You’ve made Your friend</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">Pouring out the riches of Your glorious grace</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">Your mercy and Your kindness know no end</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial;">(Jesus, Thank You by </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Pat Sczebel)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;">He paid the price to redeem my soul and then He conquered death! He died to bring us life! That is the sobering, awesome, gruesome, blessed hope of Easter. Praise the Lord.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-36830679106500126952012-04-07T09:13:00.001+03:002012-04-07T18:40:04.580+03:00Waiting...<div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Matt-27-59" id="en-ESV-24185">And Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen shroud</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Matt-27-60" id="en-ESV-24186"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>and <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24186CI" title="See cross-reference CI">CI</a>)"></sup>laid it in his own new tomb, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24186CJ" title="See cross-reference CJ">CJ</a>)"></sup>which he had cut in the rock. And he rolled <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24186CK" title="See cross-reference CK">CK</a>)"></sup></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Matt-27-60">a great stone to the entrance of the tomb and went away.</span></span></i></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Luke-23-54" id="en-ESV-25979"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"><br />
</sup></span></i></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Luke-23-54" id="en-ESV-25979"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>It was the day of <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25979CD" title="See cross-reference CD">CD</a>)"></sup>Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.</span><span class="text Luke-23-55" id="en-ESV-25980"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>The women <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25980CF" title="See cross-reference CF">CF</a>)"></sup>who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid.</span><span class="text Luke-23-56" id="en-ESV-25981"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>Then they returned and <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25981CG" title="See cross-reference CG">CG</a>)"></sup>prepared spices and ointments.</span></i></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-56"><i>On the Sabbath they rested <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25981CH" title="See cross-reference CH">CH</a>)"></sup>according to the commandment.</i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-56"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-56"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Matt-27-62">The next day, that is, after the day of <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24188CM" title="See cross-reference CM">CM</a>)"></sup>Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate</span><span class="text Matt-27-63" id="en-ESV-24189"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>and said, “Sir, we remember how <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24189CN" title="See cross-reference CN">CN</a>)"></sup>that impostor said, while he was still alive, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24189CO" title="See cross-reference CO">CO</a>)"></sup>‘After three days I will rise.’</span> <span class="text Matt-27-64" id="en-ESV-24190"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>Therefore order the tomb to be made secure until the third day, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24190CP" title="See cross-reference CP">CP</a>)"></sup>lest his disciples go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has risen from the dead,’ and the last fraud will be worse than the first.”</span> <span class="text Matt-27-65" id="en-ESV-24191"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>Pilate said to them, “You have <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24191CQ" title="See cross-reference CQ">CQ</a>)"></sup>a guard of soldiers. Go, make it as secure as you can.”</span> <span class="text Matt-27-66" id="en-ESV-24192"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>So they went and made the tomb secure by <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24192CR" title="See cross-reference CR">CR</a>)"></sup>sealing the stone and setting a guard.</span></i></span></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-56"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Matt-27-66" id="en-ESV-24192"><br />
</span></i></span></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-56"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Matt-27-66" id="en-ESV-24192"><br />
</span></i></span></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 12px;">{Quotations taken from the ESV version of the Bible from Luke 23, Matthew 27, Mark 15}</span></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-62825132283005036332012-04-06T21:13:00.000+03:002012-04-06T21:13:07.299+03:00The very good very bad Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's Good Friday. But it all started with Bad Friday.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jesus knew it would be a bad day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-22-42" id="en-ESV-25897"><span class="woj"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-22-42" id="en-ESV-25897"><span class="woj">"Father, if you are willing, remove <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25897BK" title="See cross-reference BK">BK</a>)"></sup>this cup from me. <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25897BL" title="See cross-reference BL">BL</a>)"></sup>Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-22-43" id="en-ESV-25898"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>And there appeared to him <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25898BM" title="See cross-reference BM">BM</a>)"></sup>an angel from heaven, strengthening him.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-22-44" id="en-ESV-25899"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>And <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25899BN" title="See cross-reference BN">BN</a>)"></sup>being in an agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.</span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-22-44" id="en-ESV-25899"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was mistreated and slandered.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Luke-23-10" id="en-ESV-25936">The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him.</span><span class="text Luke-23-11" id="en-ESV-25937"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>And Herod with his soldiers <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25937O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)"></sup>treated him with contempt and <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25937P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)"></sup>mocked him.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Luke-23-11" id="en-ESV-25937"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was completely innocent, but He was numbered among transgressors-- hanging between two who deserved their punishment.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Isa-53-12" style="position: relative;">...he poured out his soul to death </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-53-12" style="position: relative;">and was numbered with the transgressors...</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-32" id="en-ESV-25957">Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Luke-23-33" id="en-ESV-25958"> <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25958AP" title="See cross-reference AP">AP</a>)"></sup>And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25958AQ" title="See cross-reference AQ">AQ</a>)"></sup>one on his right and one on his left.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He struggled for breath for more than three hours as darkness covered the face of the earth. Creation watched, breathless, as Jesus breathed his last and surrendered His soul.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;"> </sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Now from the sixth hour</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">there was darkness over all the land</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">until the ninth hour. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i>Then Jesus, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25971BP" title="See cross-reference BP">BP</a>)"></sup>calling out with a loud voice, said,<span class="woj">“Father, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25971BQ" title="See cross-reference BQ">BQ</a>)"></sup>into your hands I <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25971BR" title="See cross-reference BR">BR</a>)"></sup>commit my spirit!”</span> And having said this <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25971BS" title="See cross-reference BS">BS</a>)"></sup>he breathed his last. </i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But this was no ordinary death.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Matt-27-51" id="en-ESV-24177">And behold, <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24177BU" title="See cross-reference BU">BU</a>)"></sup>the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24177BV" title="See cross-reference BV">BV</a>)"></sup>the earth shook, and the rocks were split.</span> </i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">When the centurion and those who were with him,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24180CA" title="See cross-reference CA">CA</a>)"></sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24180CB" title="See cross-reference CB">CB</a>)"></sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">“Truly this was the Son</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">of God!”</span></i></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And He was buried in a cave-like tomb as some of His loved ones watched.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Mark-15-46" id="en-ESV-24864">And Joseph bought <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24864BQ" title="See cross-reference BQ">BQ</a>)"></sup>a linen shroud, and taking him down, wrapped him in the linen shroud and <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24864BR" title="See cross-reference BR">BR</a>)"></sup>laid him in a tomb <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24864BS" title="See cross-reference BS">BS</a>)"></sup>that had been cut out of the rock. And he rolled <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-24864BT" title="See cross-reference BT">BT</a>)"></sup>a stone against the entrance of the tomb.</span> <span class="text Mark-15-47" id="en-ESV-24865">Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus saw where he was laid.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><span class="text Mark-15-47" id="en-ESV-24865"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the story doesn't end there...</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">{Quotations taken from the ESV version of the Bible from Luke 22, 23, Isaiah 53, Matthew 27, Mark 15}</span>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-47755150884332084592012-04-04T13:36:00.000+03:002012-04-04T13:36:00.028+03:00Outtakes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfUxOmRVZAVQCmixVA-SMDhK8_IqtKrgYr5aDVjXmaJNf5Va3fViFLgij0jtTtOVQaog7PdWYWyu80AtTT13jsLjholhLkxWOk-rXHkbJ-HelUjlejPn9cSXiv6SMiRsnLo2Qsz9FXxA/s1600/DSC_0179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfUxOmRVZAVQCmixVA-SMDhK8_IqtKrgYr5aDVjXmaJNf5Va3fViFLgij0jtTtOVQaog7PdWYWyu80AtTT13jsLjholhLkxWOk-rXHkbJ-HelUjlejPn9cSXiv6SMiRsnLo2Qsz9FXxA/s400/DSC_0179.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSIhvciwK8a3sN-kLfJSzjzu6wTYxDTl1K8uFme9Tebv0CUNCmoiGMF7ejbX7DufCVt-4QVdJGLPlAvh77_rJdyiUCHY3JbpnfiadOjwmD91oul83AahuuohrDrYmbsZSASWvPpbuuoA/s1600/DSC_0439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSIhvciwK8a3sN-kLfJSzjzu6wTYxDTl1K8uFme9Tebv0CUNCmoiGMF7ejbX7DufCVt-4QVdJGLPlAvh77_rJdyiUCHY3JbpnfiadOjwmD91oul83AahuuohrDrYmbsZSASWvPpbuuoA/s400/DSC_0439.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUL2WSaqyaWU7d8C1AbYbm93CUT7v1gLcb2NUERJRHUGUzGpLdJ7HQjzFPZxv0aSVUep4e_Ypgndkz1YOse6dZk4R7Ks7L6d0GQJFKcXtvVSw1Ksaf4rtLzXfX4L_v8F1e_A09cBtEMFc/s1600/DSC_0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUL2WSaqyaWU7d8C1AbYbm93CUT7v1gLcb2NUERJRHUGUzGpLdJ7HQjzFPZxv0aSVUep4e_Ypgndkz1YOse6dZk4R7Ks7L6d0GQJFKcXtvVSw1Ksaf4rtLzXfX4L_v8F1e_A09cBtEMFc/s400/DSC_0444.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-44772201601517635362012-04-03T11:55:00.000+03:002012-04-03T11:55:18.344+03:00Big as Mommy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3__eyVeiawkJgMk0otoDBJVW5_tPQ4MBViPE4HIlBKaQ7A8WcltQ5PF-d4rrCLy7cogP7rGudKhlgZtFwTA2SHGw8drTJRpcT9yBS-CfT8oMhjpI9iHAKVnOxo_4ZpaTwM_x08Gj-wY/s1600/DSC_0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3__eyVeiawkJgMk0otoDBJVW5_tPQ4MBViPE4HIlBKaQ7A8WcltQ5PF-d4rrCLy7cogP7rGudKhlgZtFwTA2SHGw8drTJRpcT9yBS-CfT8oMhjpI9iHAKVnOxo_4ZpaTwM_x08Gj-wY/s640/DSC_0491.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Seriously, is that a fat joke?</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-28563803529926230982012-03-28T22:01:00.000+03:002012-03-28T22:01:38.085+03:00Accepted!My heart is bursting today... we have been officially accepted by <a href="http://www.hopscotchadoptions.org/" target="_blank">Hopscotch Adoptions</a> as prospective parents! They deemed us acceptable to work with to help us bring Lovebug home! We are beyond thrilled... our eyes are a bit dazed with all the $ signs we are seeing for our agency and our home study next month, but we are trusting our Big, Amazing, All Powerful, Mighty God to provide the way for Lovebug to join her forever family!<br />
<br />
Recently I was reading <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=genesis%2022&version=ESV" target="_blank">Genesis 22</a>, and was just blown away by Abraham's faith in the Lord's provision. We certainly <i>don't</i> have the money to bring Lovebug home in the bank right now, but sometimes I think God calls us to something <i>bigger than us</i> for bigger, better purposes than we could even imagine. If we could write a check and simply hand it over, somehow we would miss out-- God is able to provide. God is ready to provide, and He is allowing us this chance to trust Him, for our own benefit, our own blessing.<br />
<br />
I am hopeful. And amazed. And excited about what will happen next.<br />
<br />
<i>We're coming Lovebug...</i>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-38433999379667699402012-03-13T16:39:00.001+02:002012-03-13T16:39:35.106+02:00Adoption BellyConfession: I have an "adoption belly"...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8YnwUx_PyvEKZ_xncZM_bVK_cUa30vQhyIwig2rwl2GCV-C3Qq56SFkw37aQ3GTlIrMKOmYaabuKeAGmAxPspIBv_cEMCf7tovacrEQ7Yds3N0sdlzWdEaS9ZQtqaPyyRgekdbBBwpI/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8YnwUx_PyvEKZ_xncZM_bVK_cUa30vQhyIwig2rwl2GCV-C3Qq56SFkw37aQ3GTlIrMKOmYaabuKeAGmAxPspIBv_cEMCf7tovacrEQ7Yds3N0sdlzWdEaS9ZQtqaPyyRgekdbBBwpI/s320/photo+(6).JPG" width="238" /></a></div><br />
Is that normal? I'm not sure what's going on, but I have a belly sticking out to go along with the adoption paperwork we're completing. And I've had indigestion and general tiredness too. Is it normal to have pregnancy-like symptoms when you're adopting?!<br />
<br />
I guess the culprit might be the <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/the-best-lemon-bars/detail.aspx" target="_blank">lemon bars</a>, the <a href="http://www.justputzing.com/2012/01/strawberries-and-cream-pie.html" target="_blank">strawberries & cream pie</a>, the <a href="http://janessweets.blogspot.com/2010/03/strawberries-and-cream-muffins-i-do.html" target="_blank">strawberry muffins</a> (somebody please make me stop drooling over everything on <a href="http://pinterest.com/sheilastover/drooling-to-eat-this/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>!) but either way I feel like I'm baking/eating/gaining like I'm pregnant!<br />
<br />
We sent off our agency application today and we have a home study date on the calendar for April-- <i>oh my goodness this is really happening! </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
We're coming, Lovebug...Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-48647914332927180682012-03-09T21:16:00.000+02:002012-03-09T21:16:29.340+02:00Only a Day Away...Doodlebug crawled into a full bathtub tonight in his pajamas. I had already bathed him, removed him, toweled him off, diapered and dressed him. I guess he thought he wasn't done playing.<br />
<br />
Some other bug of mine* has had three pee accidents in two days.<br />
<br />
This mess was waiting for me when I got out of the shower this morning:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfaSCDkXDRlLcIK5aJ_cRr8Itaxu7vRKhhzQXf9C7CPCsX3scMl9ykEiDkX1Xd_anO_Zhu3X_GslEbZ86_ed5s7KM1FkMAttr5QD9cU2udT1fBN8IGcF_y8jadd-GwOCA3wzT9_gRchI/s1600/420001_10100229933693128_29703793_43751680_1595196787_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfaSCDkXDRlLcIK5aJ_cRr8Itaxu7vRKhhzQXf9C7CPCsX3scMl9ykEiDkX1Xd_anO_Zhu3X_GslEbZ86_ed5s7KM1FkMAttr5QD9cU2udT1fBN8IGcF_y8jadd-GwOCA3wzT9_gRchI/s320/420001_10100229933693128_29703793_43751680_1595196787_n.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>I am so glad God designed parenthood to be a tag-team effort.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it's easy to take our husbands for granted-- laugh at their different methods, belittle their effort to "help", and deem ourselves the <i>most capable</i> parent of the home.<br />
<br />
I tell you what, take Hubby away and I feel <i>pretty darn incapable</i>. Sure, he does stuff differently (like <a href="http://www.momfessions.net/2012/01/mid-week-momfessions.html" target="_blank">leaving the house without brushing his daughter's hair</a>), but at least when he's here someone can supervisor the monsters while I stand in a stream of hot water and wake up. I don't have to give bath, clean the kitchen up, and get everyone jammied before 8pm all by myself. Someone can clean up the kid who peed his pants while the other can start the laundry and locate and mop up the pee-puddle.<br />
<br />
What a blessing to have a partner in this awesome <strike>mis</strike>adventure of parenthood! I'm so glad my love will return tomorrow afternoon! (Rumor has it he's bringing presents too-- help with the kids and fun gifts??? What's not to love?)<br />
<br />
*Name withheld to protect the guilty.Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-14219718202594732852012-03-08T21:23:00.000+02:002012-03-08T21:23:49.885+02:00Chasing the MoonHubby is gone for a few days for work, so tonight the kids and I called a cab and headed out on an adventure to the mall. I'd like to give a shout out to my new best friend, IKEA, for their free child-care, and warehouse full of cheap housewares for me to breathe and browse while the two oldest Bugs play.<div><br />
</div><div>We ate dinner, played at IKEA, looked for a baby gate in another store (I really need one to keep <a href="http://www.momfessions.net/2012/02/trouble.html" target="_blank">Doodlebug</a> out of the kitchen, ya know), shared an iced (decaf) coffee, looked for pants for Stinkbug, ran to the bathroom because MOMMYIREALLYHAVETOPEE,I'MGONNAPEEMYPANTSRIGHTNOW happened. And then we hopped into another cab with my IKEA bag (I got a new pillow), and rode home.</div><div><br />
</div><div>As we exited the highway my eye caught sight of a huge faintly glowing orb hanging low in the nearly black sky. I pointed it out to the kids, and they tried to track the moon from the window as the taxi turned and turned before depositing us outside our building.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The Bugs were still asking about the moon when we got out of the cab, so I asked if they wanted to hunt it down and see if we could catch it. Ears perked, eyes brightened. Imaginary flashlights flickered on and we were off. We walked and walked and I was worrying a little that because of the mess of cars and buildings and city life, we wouldn't be able to glimpse the moon again, but we turned one last corner and there it was. <i>Glorious harvest moon. Breath-takingly beautiful in the dark night.</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>We stopped to appreciate its hugeness and then the kids ran off to try and get closer. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>Come on, mommy, we have to catch it!</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>At last, we tired of stalking the moon (we had expended a lot of energy at the mall already...), and we trooped back home. On the way, Stinkbug keep asking me to point out the moon to him. He wanted to catch every sight of it he possibly could before it disappeared from view. I smiled at his amazement, a good reminder for me to <i>stop and enjoy</i>.</div><div><br />
</div><div>As I went through the evening <strike>chaos</strike> <strike>monotony</strike> routine (potty, brush teeth, pajamas, devotions, track down loveys, get water cups, potty again, kiss goodnight), my heart just felt lighter. I'm glad I went on a moon-chase whim tonight. It felt good to throw normalcy and schedule to the wind, and click on my imaginary magical flashlight (Ladybug's idea) and hunt down the big, beautiful moon.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That particular moon-- the glowing orange ball, as perfectly round as a dinner plate, hanging eerily low over our city-- will never exist again. But it will forever live in my heart-- along with Ladybug's eager running ahead to catch a glimpse, and Stinkbug's wild exclaiming about the size of the moon. </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Let us not forget as moms to hold our routines, our normalcy, our sanity, our plans in open hands, and instead hold tightly to the little ones who will forever be slipping like water from our fingers. </b>Chase the moon. Seize the moment. Enjoy your kids.</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-73117745930535829982012-03-08T11:42:00.000+02:002012-03-08T11:42:02.598+02:00Chocolate or Poop?<div style="text-align: center;">If you haven't seen <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0871426/" target="_blank">Baby Mama</a>, then you must not like to laugh during movies... I laugh OUT LOUD through most of this movie. In fact, it's playing this morning while I fold the never-ending laundry pile (I swear, laundry breeds like rabbits when you have three kids!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/b3vUJsYAEnw" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This scene just makes me giggle- Hubby and I actually has the "Chocolate or Poop?" conversation recently about a brown spot we found somewhere (on the carpet or someone's clothes, I can't remember now). Thankfully, it turned out to be chocolate too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I chose to sniff-test instead of lick-test.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How do you decide Chocolate or Poop around your house?</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-1492807319826173042012-03-07T21:03:00.002+02:002012-03-07T21:05:06.654+02:00Roll With It<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMZ2iSpjUFx0cTqjcZSMEcFbQhd2OESRaaqgua0NAhK9m-2sQn49c79DGrjCIrgyQPnSbKByKmHW5CgnDO9yhm8SnLgUThlHdqwsyPPx8NjfjdqCXrWfuaFe6gHhVpi9CAtBHJxCMnZc/s1600/photo+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMZ2iSpjUFx0cTqjcZSMEcFbQhd2OESRaaqgua0NAhK9m-2sQn49c79DGrjCIrgyQPnSbKByKmHW5CgnDO9yhm8SnLgUThlHdqwsyPPx8NjfjdqCXrWfuaFe6gHhVpi9CAtBHJxCMnZc/s320/photo+(3).JPG" width="238" /></a>Crap happens in motherhood.<br />
<br />
<div>And not just the kind that you give a bath for after it explodes out of a diaper. Stuff just happens in motherhood. It will always happen. <i>Something</i> will always being happening in motherhood to grow me, stretch my boundaries, make me uncomfortable, and bring me to my knees.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's OK. I'm pretty sure that's how it's supposed to be.</div><div><br />
</div><div>For sure my 17 month old will learn to climb to the top bunk without help the day Hubby goes out of town. (True story.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>Definitely, someone will start running a fever/coughing/vomiting/having diarrhea 10 minutes after you remark that your entire family has been healthy for a week.</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jgV6cgLgymsh_4mgdpjsGtQpVEQNpkjIG3aEyU62Pxkn4Vm8nJUit2E87IdFJLSWCnMF6QK44iIlxNBWhyphenhyphenR-tVd0N42wMdOkjI7negN70GBNgNoueDO-T1ZvyuuacTTQ7BLbWrCHyL8/s1600/photo+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jgV6cgLgymsh_4mgdpjsGtQpVEQNpkjIG3aEyU62Pxkn4Vm8nJUit2E87IdFJLSWCnMF6QK44iIlxNBWhyphenhyphenR-tVd0N42wMdOkjI7negN70GBNgNoueDO-T1ZvyuuacTTQ7BLbWrCHyL8/s320/photo+(4).JPG" width="238" /></a>Certainly your oldest child will ask a question that will lead into a discussion that sits uncomfortably close to the birds and the bees territory when you're the least prepared for it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Absolutely someone will fall down and get hurt during the game that the kids invented themselves. Stitches may be required.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Your youngest child will absolutely lose it and start screaming while everyone in church is trying to take the Lord's Supper peacefully.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Of course, (fill in the blank) will cost more than you thought.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Surely there is a note in the backpack asking you to make/do/bring/help with XY and Z.</div><div><br />
</div><div>If you're gonna be a mom, you've got to just be mentally prepared that <i>something</i> is going to happen today (and every day thereafter that someone calls you "Mom") that will take you out of your comfort zone. But you gotta roll with it-- grin and clean it up /talk it out/ fix it up/ pay for it/ drive it anyway/ give it away/ make it/ bake it/ deliver it/ repair it/ask for help and <i>laugh about it</i>. Never forget to laugh about it. That's key in rolling with the motherhood punches.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV661s67kUizu2apBGZfoZobmjvR0wjvWiPr186Dhyphenhyphent1LAlKpjmNaB5UGGXhh67qmn8Yw4ibQSf68y0MIYFYXE6odh0jJLb83O7ugubsHjEuXZV5GpjzxUDBbghYXfXpIFOvYxu0_ZsjU/s1600/photo+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV661s67kUizu2apBGZfoZobmjvR0wjvWiPr186Dhyphenhyphent1LAlKpjmNaB5UGGXhh67qmn8Yw4ibQSf68y0MIYFYXE6odh0jJLb83O7ugubsHjEuXZV5GpjzxUDBbghYXfXpIFOvYxu0_ZsjU/s320/photo+(5).JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">And look at the bright-side... the uh-ohs of motherhood make for great blog posts!</div></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-89055135176421516582012-03-01T15:16:00.000+02:002012-03-01T15:16:50.326+02:00Feeling Down?Is anyone else tired of being good at NOTHING? Maybe it's good for nothing. Maybe it's both.<div><br />
</div><div>Almost seven years ago, I put on a white dress and some flip flops (yes, truly!) and marched down a flower-littered aisle to my college sweetheart's waiting grin. I wasn't prepared to be a wife- <i>who is?</i>- and at almost 29, I still don't feel ready to be a wife some days.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Four and a half years ago, after all day labor that I didn't feel prepared for or good at, and a C-section anyway, I was handed a nine pound pink bundle of little girl. I felt like I was guessing and playing the trial-and-error game as we faced breastfeeding, diaper changing, mobile baby days, solids, sickness, and getting pregnant again not too long later. At the end of most days I can look back and point out some way I failed as a mother- yelling, cooking from a box, not disciplining, disciplining too harshly, letting a teachable moment slide, forgetting a promise, letting the kids eat candy, turning on the TV so I could have a moment to myself... you get point.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Two years and some months ago, we moved overseas and I became a language learner. "Language learner" might sound like an exciting title to you, but it actually sucks when it's yours. At first I survived everything- the grocery store, visits with friends, the pharmacy, riding a bus, putting money on my metro card, ordering at restaurants- with pointing and grunting. Humbling to say the least. Nowadays I know some words and sentence structures, but often my words tumble out in the wrong order with wrong verbiage <i>I has kids three and wife at home stay. </i>I even ask my four year old vocabulary now because she has surpassed my language skills. Embarrassing, right?</div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>When all three of my "main jobs" are suffering and stuff feels out-of-whack... Hubby and I have a disagreement, the kids are acting like lunatics, and my tongue is too sluggish to say my name much less share a spiritual Truth with someone, it's easy to feel plain ol' down and depressed.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sometimes I think that's exactly where the Lord wants me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>For some reason, when things are going my way, I tend to think I had something to do with it. I get this big ol' head thinking that life is going just right because I am some kick-butt awesome wife, mom, language learner. I actually think that things are smooth and cool because <i>I am somehow good and can do all my jobs on my own.</i> I stop seeking and trusting the Lord and start to juggle everything on my own strength. Usually that lasts all of about three days before I find myself back in the valley gazing up at the sky.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I try to be thankful for my down days, my days in the valley, because words have never been truer than these I read often in <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0851512283/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=momfessions-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0851512283%22%3EValley%20of%20Vision:%20A%20collection%20of%20Puritan%20Prayers%20&%20Devotions%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=momfessions-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0851512283%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22%20/%3E" target="_blank">The Valley of Vision</a>:</div><div><br />
</div><div><strong>Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly, </strong></div><div><strong>Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision, </strong></div><div><strong>where I live in the depths but see Thee in the heights; </strong></div><div><strong>hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory. </strong></div><div><strong>Let me learn by paradox </strong></div><div><strong>that the way down is the way up, </strong></div><div><strong>that to be low is to be high, </strong></div><div><strong>that the broken heart is the healed heart, </strong></div><div><strong>that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, </strong></div><div><strong>that the repenting soul is the victorious soul, </strong></div><div><strong>that to have nothing is to possess all, </strong></div><div><strong>that to bear the cross is to wear the crown, </strong></div><div><strong>that to give is to receive, </strong></div><div><strong>that the valley is the place of vision. </strong></div><div><strong>Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells, </strong></div><div><strong>and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine; </strong></div><div><strong>let me find Thy light in my darkness, </strong></div><div><strong>Thy life in my death, </strong></div><div><strong>Thy joy in my sorrow, </strong></div><div><strong>Thy grace in my sin, </strong></div><div><strong>Thy riches in my poverty, </strong></div><div><strong>Thy glory in my valley.</strong></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-36944641706233298392012-02-29T11:35:00.001+02:002012-02-29T17:19:38.802+02:00And then I passed out and my iPod fell in the toilet.True story. (Caution: bodily function words ahead.)<br />
<br />
We spent the weekend sharing a stomach virus-- as all good-mannered families do every year or so. Sunday was my day. I woke to a rumbly tummy, and made my way to the bathroom. I took my iPod touch because sometimes with tummy troubles, you have to ummm, you know, <i>sit</i> for a little while. I thought I could catch up on emails and Facebook happenings.<br />
<br />
My tummy couldn't make up it's mind and I felt like I was gonna toss my cookies, so I put my iPod on a shelf in the bathroom and flushed and got ready to throw up. The vomit never came but I started feeling light-headed and my vision was clouded with waves of black.<br />
<br />
I called out for Hubby, who couldn't hear me over the dryer noise and the music he was playing. I stood up (I think- it gets foggy here) with the intention of making it back to the safety of my bed and that's all I remember.<br />
<br />
Apparently I passed out and pulled the towel bar down with me. Somehow I hit my foot wrong (it ached the whole rest of the day) and in the process of not-so-gracefully falling out, I knocked the shelf holding my iPod and in some random, we-couldn't-make-it-happen-again-if-we-tried turn of events, my iPod fell <i>kerplunk!</i> straight in the toilet. (Which was thankfully clean water since I had flushed before attempting to throw up!)<br />
<br />
Hubby helped me into bed, and saw my iPod in the toilet. He acted quickly getting it out and Googling what he should do to resuscitate it. <i>What did people do before Google?! </i>He didn't tell me until later where he had discovered my poor iPod.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I am happy to announce that submerging the iPod in rice in a closed tupperware and placing it on the radiator for two days worked for my iPod. It dried out and works perfectly again. And I've learned my lesson about taking electronic devices in the bathroom, I'll just stick with magazines for any prolonged stay!Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-9378657597014714902012-02-20T16:07:00.000+02:002012-02-20T16:07:48.292+02:00Life......is just crazy with the loop-de-loops and whoop-de-doops and it feels like a giant roller coaster that for a nano second seems like it will slow down but then WHOA! it speds right back up and then flips you upside-down. And you want to toss your cookies.<br />
<br />
After the <a href="http://www.momfessions.net/2012/02/moving-eve-stuff.html" target="_blank">move</a>, I was sans Internet for a week, and although the first few days I had this horrible feeling that I was missing an important email (who am I kidding?) or a super wow status on Facebook (again, who am I kidding?) I felt this immense FREEDOM. Imagine this, I was actually able to fold all the laundry and empty the dishwasher and vacuum and put things away in my new house. All in one day!<br />
<br />
And you guys, I've been reading BOOKS. Some real live with-pages books, and some Kindle books. But I've read all 7 Harry Potters (again) and almost all of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/140020383X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=momfessions-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=140020383X%22%3EReal%20Marriage:%20The%20Truth%20About%20Sex,%20Friendship,%20and%20Life%20Together%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=momfessions-20&l=as2&o=1&a=140020383X%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22%20/%3E" target="_blank">Real Marriage</a> and some of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=momfessions-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&ref=ss_til&asins=1581346158%22%20style=%22width:120px;height:240px;%22%20scrolling=%22no%22%20marginwidth=%220%22%20marginheight=%220%22%20frameborder=%220%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E" target="_blank">Feminine Appeal</a>. And I've been keeping up with my <a href="http://www.bible-reading.com/bible-plan.html" target="_blank">Bible reading plan</a> (which usually I've ditched by February because I'm behind already!) It's like a whole-new me! Seriously, I haven't read this much since Ladybug was born, and I have missed it!<br />
<br />
Yup, so now I'm all convicted about what a TIME SUCK the interwebs are, and y'all know I'm right. Right? <i>Right?!</i> Seriously- between email and blogging and Google Reader and Facebook and Pinterest and Words With Friends think of all the valuable time I'm choosing to pour into cyberspace that I'll never get back.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing anything drastic like cancelling my Facebook yet... but I'm am more conscious about my time online now... especially when I start to wonder why the laundry's not folded or the dishwasher's not empty...<br />
<br />
I will say that being a Muggle is hard work. Can you even wrap your mind around how useful spells like "Accio _____" would be for a mom? Or how Mrs. Weasley does some configurations with her wand and the vegetables start chopping themselves for dinner. Amazing! If only I had a wand! I guess I just need to get off the Internet and start doing my Muggle mom work by hand...Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-66971185027429944172012-02-08T22:30:00.000+02:002012-02-08T22:30:11.871+02:00Moving Eve & Stuff<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3m-EDOoF1ssWjXIvsMqG08klY6XJ5bS00fBJ5b2uZRNo_u3KiEc0U21paE6mlvsRqD4AOOc_ykjxeRNLxbOxz7xRzrjkKO_s1SyArscc9TpEx7Mlf4u6khJx6GSzpqg_PBEVUY2SUGE/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3m-EDOoF1ssWjXIvsMqG08klY6XJ5bS00fBJ5b2uZRNo_u3KiEc0U21paE6mlvsRqD4AOOc_ykjxeRNLxbOxz7xRzrjkKO_s1SyArscc9TpEx7Mlf4u6khJx6GSzpqg_PBEVUY2SUGE/s320/photo.JPG" width="238" /></a>It's moving eve. Ya know, the night before the big truck comes and burly guys who don't understand the more delicate things in life toss my valuables around, and then suddenly I'm sitting in an empty house with all these boxes around me and I'm supposed to sort it all out and put it all away.<br />
<br />
Have you ever noticed that it costs like seventy three thousand dollars to move? OK, OK, I jest (slightly). But seriously. New light fixtures, new paint, new rugs, new frames, new curtains, new lamps... pay the movers, pay the painter, pay the cleaners, pay the electrician.<br />
<br />
Really, we haven't even paid all that much yet (mainly because Hubby is doing a <i>great</i> job of keeping me out of IKEA and our country's equivalent of Home Depot) , but there's this list in my head that stretches beyond tomorrow (Moving Day!).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVYWkr-svLBgOJDfZz7jYpSgLoIIkmU-a5AuLsT6FT8sNOkyENelWllqtfBE6ybBstW4qj9_KU9wg3HZU_qqcJpoyTPX7E7Hv6KbcOiENrDqt44VrDYG5AotaSjKM-X_q1n6KSPRyerU/s1600/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVYWkr-svLBgOJDfZz7jYpSgLoIIkmU-a5AuLsT6FT8sNOkyENelWllqtfBE6ybBstW4qj9_KU9wg3HZU_qqcJpoyTPX7E7Hv6KbcOiENrDqt44VrDYG5AotaSjKM-X_q1n6KSPRyerU/s320/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>And it's too bad because Hubby told me today we're out of money.<br />
<br />
And you'd think I'd know better anyway because <i>ohmygosh</i> where did all this junk that the movers will put into a big truck tomorrow come from????? Two years and four months and seven days ago we arrived here with an assortment of suitcases and carry-ons holding our earthly belongings and now we are arranging transport for enough stuff for a small village of people.<br />
<br />
And have I told you I'm supposed to read <a href="http://www.bhpublishinggroup.com/books/products.asp?p=9781433672965" target="_blank">7</a> by Jen Hatmaker? I was supposed to read it over Christmas vacation and do a blog review of it. It's downloaded on my Kindle and ready to go. Friends have emailed asking if I've read it and what I think.<br />
<br />
And y'all I can't even bring myself to open the book. I know it's gonna rock my world. I know it's going to make me want to <i>get rid</i> of stuff, of stress, of extra. But I just feel too doggone tired to be convicted and inspired and to do anything about it.<br />
<br />
So there you go. I'm avoiding the book <a href="http://www.bhpublishinggroup.com/books/products.asp?p=9781433672965" target="_blank">7</a> right now because I just can't handle it. I feel a storm brewing over the island of my life and it's gonna be a dozie... doozie? dousy? douzie? Ah whatever.Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-12011753165032734172012-02-05T22:28:00.000+02:002012-02-05T22:28:15.778+02:00Trouble<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRrzGjPrOkt33oIcGtTU2DkxPbsMoO6-iz6S7dQ3Ci61i6vW39sVeZb9FgMHOn39d4QJ_eA-aV_NyhUx8vcmrYOgNc4iPSaCku-Qd6SrozFkZeYrlh7z6X0gDHwa-Z3P9HpbGhg3OB1M/s1600/DSC_0203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRrzGjPrOkt33oIcGtTU2DkxPbsMoO6-iz6S7dQ3Ci61i6vW39sVeZb9FgMHOn39d4QJ_eA-aV_NyhUx8vcmrYOgNc4iPSaCku-Qd6SrozFkZeYrlh7z6X0gDHwa-Z3P9HpbGhg3OB1M/s640/DSC_0203.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I seem to find our third-born in a lot of <strike>naughty messy</strike> interesting circumstances lately. Tonight I walked into the kitchen to find this-- unlucky for me, he's learned how to climb up to the table by himself, so nothing is "safe" by just setting it up on the table. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">One night Doodlebug walked into the living room chowing on a lollipop he had fished out of the trash that was covered in hair. (And that's not the only instance when I've discovered Doodlebug eating from the trash.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I swear, I feed this kid three meals a day plus snacks!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrFaFUp1isAM3BdtYixjqenlvZVB94COEwEypR2lzieoqiAXYfZogIzRldiOoFTNKFH7VP5qs4QpqtWBHos8pGv75BG55Pq53r1qPNf_2QhQkUBTwsm1FeeuI6hgZFy2-uZahM_c4Nx4/s1600/DSC_0205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrFaFUp1isAM3BdtYixjqenlvZVB94COEwEypR2lzieoqiAXYfZogIzRldiOoFTNKFH7VP5qs4QpqtWBHos8pGv75BG55Pq53r1qPNf_2QhQkUBTwsm1FeeuI6hgZFy2-uZahM_c4Nx4/s640/DSC_0205.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Another day recently, I was sitting on the couch, and he walked up and put the toilet cleaning brush on my lap with a triumphant grin. After gagging, and washing all of his extremities (and mine), I declared that the bathroom doors must be kept SHUT so that Doodlebug could not access the limitless "toys" bathrooms contain.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFl_hK33iE2cO4MnQLybVS08gejnEkLz0hgB9M3r5QiANiJ7fUDZ-hGuK9lw6UMpyP2JoldYD8A-8o0seKKj3URYVcV7Pj9awggTxa1b1cHKrRs0RF9UhZvID0wOUix76iPvQvukvjOXs/s1600/DSC_0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFl_hK33iE2cO4MnQLybVS08gejnEkLz0hgB9M3r5QiANiJ7fUDZ-hGuK9lw6UMpyP2JoldYD8A-8o0seKKj3URYVcV7Pj9awggTxa1b1cHKrRs0RF9UhZvID0wOUix76iPvQvukvjOXs/s640/DSC_0204.JPG" width="421" /></a></div>Good thing he's cute.</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-16099491828592578122012-01-30T20:56:00.003+02:002012-01-30T21:12:27.162+02:00Mid-Week MomfessionsLast week all three kids had strep throat.<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY11i4jUboU7r09Ssv3bcHorH4RlyPzf411dZUzNr0xGvT_T1EfMHi_2Met0Vv6g3_XW8h0iBoz6ck6APaAqjdAd5lXXephZYty8VzQbw5PMXqlS8yKSOJtHm-o5gdAtXfZX82fsNRCI/s1600/bw_Page_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY11i4jUboU7r09Ssv3bcHorH4RlyPzf411dZUzNr0xGvT_T1EfMHi_2Met0Vv6g3_XW8h0iBoz6ck6APaAqjdAd5lXXephZYty8VzQbw5PMXqlS8yKSOJtHm-o5gdAtXfZX82fsNRCI/s1600/bw_Page_01.jpg" /></a></div><div>Strep throat is like my kryptonite. I swear, I can hear that some random person, I have never even met has strep throat and BAM! I'm in the bed feeling like death. Cross my heart- it's been that way as long as I remember.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And no sooner were we kinda sorta maybe on the upswing this week when it's like we have this nasty head cold- coughs, snot, low fevers, more snot, headaches, sinus aches, and snot. Lots of snot.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And when weeks are passing like this- wave after wave of <i>something- </i>there is not even a thought of cooking healthy family meals, preparing stunningly awesome family devotions, writing copious amounts of amazing blog posts- it's more like <i>I have to make it through this sickness alive, if I die Ladybug will never go in public with her hair brushed again because OH MY GOODNESS if it doesn't seem to bother Hubby that he's walking out the door to take the kids to school and her hair looks like a commune for a colony of rats (again).</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>Can I be honest that that is really one of my main fears about my own premature death? Does that make me shallow?</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-3951979185963689192012-01-27T14:35:00.001+02:002012-01-27T14:49:46.545+02:00Sweet Siblings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIPRDbzL5gnE6i95rEWtDLh0q8rTvvTaXvMRYu9gJHkRybM8mdnU8b9O-OsGirlSEWjwjqJ5oTr_imm221-ymKYMgtsCXyznq98vgXs0dehh-4vj_l06Tv_Rf9qwRb6hzb0xETIXa-PA/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIPRDbzL5gnE6i95rEWtDLh0q8rTvvTaXvMRYu9gJHkRybM8mdnU8b9O-OsGirlSEWjwjqJ5oTr_imm221-ymKYMgtsCXyznq98vgXs0dehh-4vj_l06Tv_Rf9qwRb6hzb0xETIXa-PA/s640/DSC_0022.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>...and my heart is a puddle.<br />
<br />
(And although I know they will want to kill me when they are 17 and 16 for sharing this with the interwebs at large - I just love it too much to keep it to myself. You're welcome.)</div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-52327782126351022542012-01-16T14:11:00.003+02:002012-01-27T15:39:32.320+02:00The Dentist vs. The SuperheroesYou know what you don't want to hear two hours before you're supposed to be at the airport to catch a plane out of America?<br />
<br />
"You need a root canal."<br />
<br />
Now I'm half a world away and half-way done getting my first root canal. (I'm not sure if that's normal, but the dentist here said she's not done and I need to come back next week. Oh life overseas, you never cease to amaze.)<br />
<br />
Luckily, I have these adorable superheroes on my side:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhog-TzP5pQGEObcSlvJE5n64nTkeq8WJ7qEQeLU_NFxCu0EPEbdpQyJJT5k7wgkiuU4iczxj6809oc0DcpdLgSbmnxGVP0R79jc1J4BAbHGNY3vN9rev9KO9J4p4cCGHUkiornc5CpiXg/s1600/IMG_5594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhog-TzP5pQGEObcSlvJE5n64nTkeq8WJ7qEQeLU_NFxCu0EPEbdpQyJJT5k7wgkiuU4iczxj6809oc0DcpdLgSbmnxGVP0R79jc1J4BAbHGNY3vN9rev9KO9J4p4cCGHUkiornc5CpiXg/s640/IMG_5594.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>...and if stuff goes sour at the dentist on Friday, I know they'll be able to bring me around with their super-powered, sticky-handed hugs and super-strength, slobbery kisses.Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7627068414603746903.post-68048283053903996102011-12-24T09:01:00.001+02:002012-01-27T15:39:54.434+02:00from us to you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGqsalC6-xkVolqG0XzBwkcoB1aym72qfrfQNl7aQlxlUMwkIS-E0Nme81ORNg1U7EhyphenhyphencDDmiwXyJ-LN47ikrLHk4lqyYSQN8ZVLxpauDw7_WHmJgzIhuRNvE3l8nF6c4HFgRaXprxZ8/s1600/xmas2011fam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGqsalC6-xkVolqG0XzBwkcoB1aym72qfrfQNl7aQlxlUMwkIS-E0Nme81ORNg1U7EhyphenhyphencDDmiwXyJ-LN47ikrLHk4lqyYSQN8ZVLxpauDw7_WHmJgzIhuRNvE3l8nF6c4HFgRaXprxZ8/s640/xmas2011fam.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Sheilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00069065143117719045noreply@blogger.com0