Nice, Schmice

This whole "be nice" thing is not as easy as it sounds.

Well, those of you who share my snark problem probably already knew that little nugget.

Last night required stores of self-control to listen, not speak, let Darling talk, not speak, not interrupt, and let Darling take 20 minutes his time getting to his point to explain his thoughts.

It would seem that the request to "be nice" has illuminated my extraordinary lack of patience.

>head desk<

It also occurs to me that the Lord asked me to "be kind," yet I keep saying "be nice."  Hmmm... time to do some navel-gazing on the differences between the two.

Thoughts?

~ G

But I Do Not Want to Be Nice

So it is.  My Lenten task is to "be nice."

Truth be told, when the Lord laid that on my heart last night, it was in relation to Darling.

I need to find a way to be nice.

It is not easy.

Darling works very hard these days.  Oftentimes the kids do not see him for several days at time because he leaves for work so early and returns so late.  He is mentally preoccupied and I have had to repeat the same information several times - only to discover several days later that he has no recollection of our multiple conversations on said topic.

I have started taking it personally.

It makes me feel insignificant.

It makes me feel as if I do not matter to him.

That is not a good place to be.

I have been reading "Power of a Praying Wife" again and that first chapter always slaps me in the face.  The deal is, though, that my frustration with Darling has begun to feed a bitterness in me.

That is bad.  "Bitter" is bad.  I do not want to be bitter.

The goal for the Lenten season is "be nice."  Surely over the next few weeks, the Lord will illuminate "be nice" in multiple ways.

I should be excited about the journey.  I am not.

I should be thankful that the Lord sees a willing heart in me.  I am not.

Sometimes I do not want to be the eager student, eager to learn, eager to research, eager to see Him in everything.  Sometimes I want to just feed the bitterness and act ugly.

Evidently, that is exactly His point... well, I am guessing on that one.

I will let you know if I am spectacularly wrong or humbly correct.

~ G

How (Not) to Photograph Your Wife

Here we have three easy tips on how to photograph your wife.  It does not matter if you declare you took photography in school and are therefore most excellent at taking good pictures.  This handy, three-point list is for you:

1. Angle the camera up toward her.  This is the absolute best way to highlight her multiple chins and chipmunk cheeks.  After all, every woman wants her face to look as if she's been on a salty snack/alcohol-infused bender.

2. If taking a shot of her legs (let us pretend, for instance, that she bought new jeans and wants to see how they really look - because mirrors lie - and you have taken the Man Party Line by saying "you look great" and now she wants a picture, you know, just as a "for instance"), be sure to get overly close to her and then angle the camera down at her in a 45-degree angle.  This ensures her legs will look as if they have been plucked off your daughter's chubby, squat-legged baby doll and smooshed onto your wife's now awkwardly long torso.  

3. Pay no attention to lighting.  Overhead, florescent lighting illuminates your photographs with that charming dressing room feeling. We all know how much women love trying on jeans and swim suits, so taking the picture with harsh, overhead lighting will forever encapsulate the horrendous shadows under her eyes and make her look like fleshy death warmed over.

Ahem.

No need to go into the reasons why I compiled this list.  Let us just say Darling and I have agreed he is no longer allowed/willing to take pictures of me.  Evidence not necessary.

~ G

Lenten Prayer

Every year on Ash Wednesday, I pray and ask God what I should give up for Lent.  Last year He asked me to add something.  This year, I do not know.  I have started praying and asking for insight into where and how I need to focus.

Thus far, I keep hearing "be kind."

Lord, please do not make me be kind.  How can I be snarky if I have to be kind?

Sigh.  I will keep praying and will report back here on the answer.  Today is Fat Tuesday.  Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday.  Surely, surely, there will be a better answer tomorrow.

Right?

~ G

I Want to Go to College

Little One keeps saying that.

"I want to go to college."

Correction: She does not "say" it.  She yells it.

"I WANT TO GO TO COLLEGE!"

Finally, Big Kid had enough.

(I know this thanks to eavesdropping ninja-mom moves.)  Here, let me set the scene for you:

A Typical Morning in the Right Girl's Home 

Setting: The front room, the Right Girl's children put on their shoes as they ready for school.

[Mom (The Right Girl) finishes packing lunches in the kitchen around the corner.  As two of the three children begin speaking, she slides to the door with sleek, cat-like stealth to listen.]


Little One: I want to go to college.

Big Kid: You can't go to college.  I told you that you can't go to college.

Little One: No! I want to go to college!

Big Kid: You can't go to college.

Little One: NO!  I WANT TO GO TO COLLEGE!

Big Kid: [Calmly, logically] That's not how it works.  First you have to go to preschool.  Then you go to Kindergarten.  Then you go to first grade, then second grade, then third grade, then fourth grade, then fifth grade, then sixth grade, then seventh grade, then eighth grade, then ninth grade, then tenth grade, then eleventh grade, then twelfth grade and then you get to go to college.  When you go to college, you go for four years.

[Little One stares at Big Kid in blank wonderment.]



Okay, I made up that last part as my position around the corner did not allow for witnessing the expression on her face when she fell silent.

The other part that fascinates me is that - and you may have guessed - Big Kid is a whole lot like his mama.  That would be me.  That boy does not have patience for nonsense.  He just does not.  At all.  Little One may well want to go to college.  I really want and expect her to go to college.  That said, little kids do not get to go to college and Big Kid has heard her say it just too many times.  Thankfully, rather than yelling I do not know where he would have heard raised voices he used his logical, most-definitely-inherited instructive voice.

Sigh.  I love my family.

~G

Sniffles

Little One is sick.  She is not sick enough to lay around, but she is sick enough to warrant a serious hosing at regular intervals. We do not have enough tissues to address the issue.

She is sick enough that if I were working full-time outside the house, I would stay home to care for her.  It is one of those days when I feel thankful to be a SAHM.  I do not want anyone else (that would be Darling) home taking care of her.  I want to do it.

There is a solid chance being a SAHM will end in the next 6 months and I will need to go back into the paycheck-receiving workforce.  The good news I have job prospects.  The bad news I love being a SAHM and would rather stay one.

It is a constant struggle to stop massaging my worries and remember to leave them with God.  Worrying does not add a single hour to life, does it?

Today I feel thankful to be home with my baby.  I feel thankful to have a God who not only offers to take my worries, but expects me to leave the worries with Him.  I am thankful my baby is not sick enough to lay around and is only sick enough to not be anywhere but home.

It is just the sniffles... funny how that makes me thankful to be home.

~ G

I Am Sneaky

I am sneaky.

There.  I admitted it.  I'll tell you what I did in a moment, but first, let me share the ingenuity of countless others:

Stale cereal does not have to meet the garbage can.  Pour the stale cereal on a sheet pan and pop in a low oven (the lowest your oven will go - mine is 175-degrees F).  Set the timer for 20 minutes and in 20 minutes, your formerly stale cereal should have its crunch back.

So, back to my diabolical sneakiness.  Did I say diabolical?  Yes, yes I did.

We had a box of stale Corn Pops.  The kids don't like them.  I know, right?  What is wrong with them?  Anyway, the box had gone stale and rather than throw away perfectly good food, I plotted to use them in Rice Krispie treats.  No, that's not the diabolical part... I mean the sneaky part.  Truly, substituting one cereal for another is not sneaky.  It is clever and frugal and resourceful, but not sneaky.

 See?  They look good, yes?  Yuuuuummmm.  

You want to know the sneaky, diabolically genius part, don't you?

Well...

I added a handful of chocolate chips.  Can you see how they melted a little and got everywhere?  Don't they look yummy?  They do.  So what's so diabolical about that?  

The truth is all those little tiny specks are actually ground flax seed - just camouflaged by the chocolate.  Ahahahahahaha!  The kids and Darling (and I) will be getting some omega-3 fatty acids without even trying.  

Rest assured I have taste-tested the treats and the texture is unchanged and nary a soul (except you and me) will know there is flax seed in the dessert.

Told you I'm sneaky.

~ G