On days like today

...when I am exhausted and just plain sick of my kids, adorable blessings though they may be, I dream about things like:

Building this house.














Running away with my sexy husband to Tahiti.
















Sewing a cute apron.



















What do you dream about?

30

Thank you, God and Dad and Mom, for giving me life!!! There aren't words sublime enough to express proper gratitude for this gift! Thank you Jesus for the gift of your very Self in the Eucharist! Again, 'thank you' doesn't quite do justice to the Gift, but there it is just the same.

I had a great day today. My husband and daughter woke me with a "Happy Birthday Sweetheart" and I got to shower! (It's the little things, you know?) Paul wrote me a loving email describing the gift he is giving me (it involves chocolate) and Mom came over to watch the little ones so I could run away and go shopping with my sister Gina. It was much fun and she treated me to Starbucks. I got an outfit for Easter/Birthday Party and some capris (love 'em) and we got to have girl chat.

Grace actually napped today (she's been under the weather so she hasn't been a great sleeper lately) and Joshua and I had special snuggle time while I caught up on a few shows online (Dancing with the Stars entertains me. I like seeing non-dancers learn to dance. It gives me hope that I could ballroom dance some day.) Paul brought home Applebees, and after the kids went to bed I went to adoration for a half-hour to spend time with my Jesus in the Garden.

All in all a super day. I feel so blessed, and refreshed.

I decided I need to grow up now that I'm 30. I need to act like an adult. More on what that means in a later post. I'm off to bed...us old women need our sleep.

Gettin' into my Morning Groove

I love mornings. A whole new day, 'fresh with no mistakes in it' as Anne Shirley would say. A gift from God. Sun shining or not, I just love having a whole day ahead of me with limitless potential. Who knows what it will bring? Even though it has become pretty predictable, I still feel so hopeful in the morning about all the possibilities for accomplishing good.

Prior to about a week ago, the intensity of my daily mommyness began at approximately 6am and went strong until...hmm, not sure when. (In case you haven't picked up on the recurring theme, I am still 'adjusting' to the constant demands of two very needy little ones.) I often found myself at 10am still in pajamas and glasses, Grace still in pajamas, Joshua maybe napping in bed but more likely not, and my initial good morning mood gone after half a dozen spit-up messes, a chunk of hair removed from my head (thanks, Grace), and a poopy diaper change gone VERY wrong. And oh the resentment! I just wanted a little time to myself to transform into someone more 'put together' than Four-Eyed Pajama Mommy with Puppy Breath. I longed for a different start to my day so that I could enjoy my little ones and dive into my duties with vigor.

Husband to the rescue!

Back story: For almost six weeks now, Paul and I have been working out at night after the kids go to bed. We chose a particular set of videos and started out strong--6 days a week. Now it is at 4, but the workout is intense--an hour long and covering all muscle groups. Afterward I feel like a wet noodle. Grand total of pounds lost after six weeks of killing myself and giving up a lot of good rest and relaxation: 0. Now, the pants that fit pre-working out are too big and I am definitely stronger, but I had very high hopes of getting into my skinny pants by my 30th birthday. Sooo....

I mentioned to Paul about a week ago that I would work out an additional time of day if it were possible, and he volunteered to be Superdad from 6-7am so that I could get in a workout and shower, etc. Wow! My whole day has been transformed by 30 minutes of Cardio Hip-Hop (yes, you may giggle, I am sure I look like an idiot but no one is watching and I like to dance).

For a week now I have been able to secure an endorphin rush, de-stinkify myself, go glassesless and put on clothing all before 7am. What a difference this has made, what an impact on my entire day! Thank you, God!

Maybe I will eventually make peace with my 20 extra baby pounds. Maybe not. What I really want is to feel good about myself again. I realize that my worth is found in being a child of the Father, a temple of the Holy Spirit and united to my Savior...or do I? This is truly the ongoing struggle, I know. Knowing and loving myself means seeing me as God sees me. I'll keep working on that one. Meanwhile, I'll be here enjoying my mornings quite a bit more than before. (Thank you dear Paul.)

I think God must be a morning Person(s) too.

The Racecar Driver Within

Have you ever seen the Goofy cartoon where he is a mild-mannered man in a suit and tie and spectacles but when he gets behind the wheel of a car his face contorts and his business attire flies off and he turns into Mr. Wheeler, speeding along in his roadster and nobody better get in his way? I saw it a handful of times when I was a kid and I guess it made an impression.

So here is my confession: I love to drive fast, and I love fast cars, and furthermore I like to find a good driving song I can sing along to and blast the stereo with the bass turned up loud enough so I can feel it. What is it about flying down the road with music blaring that makes me feel so ALIVE? I find it exhilarating to be pushed back in my seat by the force of the car accelerating rapidly. I prefer the inside lane of a curve. I don't think this condition is rare, just perhaps rare for a mommy. Maybe someone else would like to confess?

Now, I never do this with my kids in the car of course. It is reserved for those rare moments when this crazy, wilder side of me--which is usually buried deep in the recesses of my self--can emerge on account of my being alone. When I am driving with my two little precious bundles in the back, "Mrs. Wheeler" sometimes speaks to me, saying things like, 'Don't let that person pass you! Box them out!' or 'Turn up the radio and step on the gas, would ya?!' But my better sense wins, at least until I have a moment alone again...

I owe my brother Joe for helping me 'dispose of' the one material possession for which I had what may have been an unhealthy love--my Camaro. Those close to me have seen me go all dreamy-eyed at the mere mention of this car. I will spare you the details for fear of lapsing into a semi-conscious state while I need to be caring for my children.

Right now Grace is pulling apart the vacuum; specifically, she is trying to remove the rubber bumber on the front. She is yelling at the vacuum because she can't figure out how to get the dirt that she sees in the canister out to play with. THIS is my reality. And yet...

The desires of our heart are really a part of our desire for God. So, what is it about God that I am desiring when I am behind the wheel of the car?