Pillow Problem

My name is Regina, and I have a pillow problem. My last pillow purchase was 2 days ago.

Like most addictions, it's easy to explain to just yourself. But when you see it through someone else's eyes, you begin to get some perspective. My parents, brother and his wife came to visit this weekend. The first thing my dad said when putting luggage in the guest room was, "Can I get a pillow? I just don't think I have enough pillows." He was kidding, of course, but I did have more in the closet waiting for just such a request - begging to be called in off the bench. We hosted a Christmas party last month, and when everyone gathered in the living room to exchange presents, we pulled in extra chairs and found seats on sofas, etc. As 3 girls started to sit on the sofa, they awkwardly perched on the side until I suggested they throw the pillows on the floor, giving them more room. Of course minus the pillows, 2 more people had room to join them.

I'm not necessarily a pillow snob. I mean, I have standards. I prefer a down insert with a cover over a stuffed pillow. But I'm an equal opportunity purchaser. I'll take a Home Goods sale just as quickly (probably faster) than a Pottery Barn limited edition. (You didn't know there's such a thing as a limited edition pillow, did you? See, I'm using my problem for educational purposes!) I've got Target pillows right next to Peacock Alley shams. I love them. I can't help it. You can transform a room by changing the colors of the pillows. You can make a femininely shaped chair look more masculine; you can make an uncomfortable chair suddenly plush and comfy.

The problem is that pillows are the starter - the warm up. They are soft and comfortable. They are small and inexpensive (if purchased singularly. That logic is not as accurate when you go on a binge. Not that I know from experience. I'm just saying. It stands to reason.) They are pretty and unassuming. They add character without breaking the bank. But. They are a gateway drug. You start out with a cute pillow from Home Goods that matches your bedding. Next thing you know you're buying new furniture because you need color in one corner of the room and there's no chair to put a pillow on. (I'm speaking hypothetically, of course.)

They say admitting the problem is the first step. I'm not sure what Step 2 is in this case but I'm 2 days sober, and I plan to stay that way. Promise. Scouts honor.

(Until Spring. You have to change up the colors with holidays and seasons. That's necessary...right?)

So Fresh and So Clean

Suzy Homemaker, I am not. Thinking about what to make for dinner ranks among Chinese water torture and watching Yo Gabba Gabba on repeat. And no, making a menu isn't helpful. That's just torture times 7 days a week. I can tell you which shoes have been at Nordstrom the longest and are, therefore, about to go on sale, but I have no idea what double coupon day is at the grocery store. My mother-in-law has this uncanny ability to remember little useful facts and recipes, so at any given time she's probably got some tidbit of information to help with whatever you're doing - cleaning a stainless steel sink or reupholstering a sofa. That filing drawer in my mind just doesn't work. (Or it's being used for the above-mentioned info about shoes.)

The desire to care for my family and make our house a place where anyone can feel at home is alive and well. The details just don't come naturally to me. So imagine my surprise when I was asked twice in a week how my laundry smells so good. My housekeeper, Magy, and my mother-in-law both asked about what detergent I'm using. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal to you, but I was mentally sewing the "Laundry" badge onto my imaginary Girl Scout sash. (You know it was imaginary. I was sewing.) I faked humility while internally fist-bumping them both as I explained that it's just Gain detergent, but because the washer and dryer in my new house are high efficiency, it's that type of detergent. We all agreed that must be the explanation. Something about the detergent smells especially good and lingers longer than the norm. (Of course, we all also agreed mentally that I'm a laundry genius, although this was not openly discussed.)

My parents visited recently, and my mom was in the utility room with me while I sorted clothes. (Sorting with a 4-year-old girl is pretty straight-forward. There's pink and there's everything else.) Of course, I wasted no time sharing the story of my rise to laundry fame. Something you should know - my mom is Betty-freaking-Crocker. If Betty Crocker sews. If Betty can't sew, then my mom's got her beat, too. So as I tell the story, she reaches over to look at my coveted bottle of detergent, and I could immediately tell something was awry. She looked at the front, then looked at the back. Then she looked at me.

"Uh, sis."
(That's never good.)
"This is fabric softener."

I'll give you a minute to come to the conclusion we all did. Not only is my Laundry badge being ripped from the imaginary Girl Scout sash, but NONE OF OUR CLOTHES ARE CLEAN because they haven't actually been washed with soap.

But they are delightfully soft.

The Adventures of Light Girl and Trash Can Princess

I gather; David takes out. That's the agreement. So the other night I'm going about my business and like I hear about 28 times a day, a little voice behind me says, "Mommy, can I help you?" She's already mastered her chore of unloading the dishwasher. If I can get her to gather the trash, too? AhhhWESOME!

I said sure, and we headed to my bedroom. As we rounded the corner to my bathroom, BG said, "Mama, you turn on the light and hold the bag. I'll empty the trash." Suddenly I've become the assistant. But I'm an obedient one, so I did it. After my bathroom, we turned to go to the hall bathroom and suddenly, unbeknownst to me, we'd become superheroes. BG took off running, yelling "I'm Trash Can Princess!" She raced into the bathroom and shouted back to me, "Light Girl, I need you!" Light Girl? Oh. Because I turned on the light. Get it? I turned on the light, she emptied the can into my outstretched bag and then she took off running, yelling "Now we will go to the trash cans downstairs! Trash Can Princess is on the way!"

Honestly...I have no idea who she's narrating for. I'm assuming there are cameras, and I just can't see them. I'm guessing the show is still filming, which is the only reason I haven't see it on TV yet.

We continued these adventures until every can in the house was emptied and I had explained at least 4 times that no, we couldn't dump it back out and start again. When David walked in the front door a few minutes later, he was met with "Daddy! I'm Trashcan Princess!"

A testament to the daily adventure we call life...he didn't even ask. He just went with it and they flew around the house while I started dinner.

Home Project: Wall of Art

I've had this idea for awhile, and this weekend my sweet husband helped make it a reality. (He's required both for heavy lifting and precise measurements. I get distracted, start "eyeballing"...it spirals out of control. But I digress.) I wanted to frame some of Brynna's artwork in our entry hall. I thought it'd be a cute idea. It turned out to be way more than that.

I bought frames especially designed for kids' artwork so you can easily add more, replace, etc. They are advertised as being a way to keep their masterpieces over time and "build self esteem." I thought that an interesting marketing technique, and as the day has gone on, I couldn't agree more. I love the way it looks. I love that we will be able to see and enjoy Brynna's art as she grows and develops. Most importantly, though, I love the way her face lit up when she walked downstairs and it was completed. I love that she will never doubt how much we believe in her. When I say she is capable and creative she'll need only look as far as that wall for reassurance. She will have a tangible reminder that I love what she does and who she is enough to display it for all to see.

I caught myself staring into the hall all day today. How often do we do that? How often do they bring something home that - let's be honest - we have no idea what it's supposed to be? We look at it, praise them and then as soon as they are distracted, we shove it in a drawer (or worse. Don't feel bad. More than one of BG's masterpieces has met File 13.). But how often do we sit and stare at what they've done? How often do we take a moment of quiet and contemplate that the tiny little being that couldn't hold her head up, can write letters and paint with a paintbrush?

This began as a cute project idea but has become so much more. It is my silent nod of encouragement when Brynna wonders if what she does is good enough. It is my place to watch my baby grow into a big girl. It is more than a wall of art. It is a wall where I can remember and be grateful.

How to Clean Your House

It has come to my attention that some of you don't know how to thoroughly clean your house. It's ok. I'm sure you try, but clearly no one has taught you proper protocol. Good thing for you, I'm here to teach you. No need to thank me. I'm just that kind.

Housecleaning 101

1. Use an assistant. This is paramount. If you get nothing else, get this. It's a must. You are incapable of cleaning a toilet yourself. Just accept it. I don't even know how you got to this stage of life solo.

2. Have lots of Windex. Windex cleans everything. If you don't believe me, just ask your assistant. Most importantly, though, Windex comes in a squirt bottle. This is very important, as assistants live for spraying. Spraying something blue only makes it better.

3. Have backup Windex. When I say assistants love to spray, I mean they LOVE. TO. SPRAY. You're going to need more. Even if the bottle was full when you started. Trust me. Buy 2. (Also...I assume it goes without saying, but for clarification, when I say "Windex," I mean the Target brand.)

4. Vacuum. Even if you have tile, wood or cement floors. You must vacuum. It's less for the gathering of material on the ground and more for the enjoyment of your assistant who will immediately stop what she's doing and scream as loud as she can "because you can't hear it." (Note: You can hear it.)

5. Don't even attempt to clean the toilet bowl. You can handle the exterior. You can even manage to pour in the PineSol. You are not qualified to use the scrubber that goes in the toilet. You might be tempted to work quickly, and as your assistant will demonstrate, it takes at least 15 minutes of watching the water go in circles to ensure cleaning is complete.

6. Know that magic happens. It does. You can't control it. You can't explain it. (Duh, it's magic.) You will put away the princess wand only to find it in the middle of the room again 3 minutes later. You will foolishly put the princess wand away again only to narrowly rescue it from being used to help with toilet bowl cleaning. You will then, for a third (fourth, fifth...) time, put the princess wand away. And find it out again. At some point, you'll acknowledge that it must be magic.

7. Take breaks. Intermittent periods of recess are essential. In addition, certain circumstances necessitate that your assistant take a break. For example, there is the "Tinkerbell" Break where your assistant walks past the television and sees Tinkerbell on, therefore needing to break to watch. There is the "Rediscovered Juice Cup" Break requiring that your assistant take a break to drink from, fill up or play with said cup each time she comes across it. There is also, of course, the infamous "Make a Fort Out of Sheets While Changing the Bed" Break.

8. Re-clean. It only shows your naiveté that you think you are only supposed to clean once. How short-sighted of you. Clearly, you didn't spend all that time to just do it once! Before the supplies are back in the cabinet, you'll have tiny assistant-sized handprints to remove from the sliding glass door. I say again...duh!

Daydreaming

I'm going to warn you now.  This is a bit weird.  I can admit it.  I'm not afraid.

I'm sitting at church working on a few last minute things before our meeting about small groups and I'm daydreaming...about my label maker.  I seriously just "woke up" from a happy little dream with a smile on my face.  I may be the only one, but I have a constant To Do list running in my head. It's like a program that runs in the background of whatever else I'm doing. And it keeps growing - new things pile on top of things I was going to do but didn't complete before the last refresh. (You know...when you start a clean page so it feels totally new but really you just transfer over all the stuff not marked off from last week...) Anyway. On that list is my shoes. My shoes are arranged in individual plastic containers, arranged by color and style.  (I have never been silent about my OCD tendencies.)  I have been planning to label each container but haven't yet done it.

In my daydream, they were all perfectly labeled and my closet was sparkly clean (not a Dr. Seuss book or Strawberry Shortcake in sight).

It was beautiful.

So pretty.

(In my defense, I said it was weird.  Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Random Thoughts at 1am

It's after 1:00 am and I can't sleep.  Anytime I say I can't sleep David's immediate question is, "Why?  What are you thinking about?"  He should know by now that at times I am just not ready to be done when the rest of the world is.  But here's the answer to the question none-the-less...

I opened my blog today to find a note about my background.  Apparently the code has to change because they are switching to a new server.  I barely know what those words mean.  I hope I got it changed correctly.  Good thing Hope is going to give me a makeover blog-style.  When am I going to find time to give her my thoughts on a new layout?  Maybe tomorrow at 1:00 am.

I really want a third euro pillow on my bed.  Pillows are expensive.

I am so excited about finding the dining room table tonight!  It feels so nice for at least one room to look like a normal home that I may hang out in there all day tomorrow.  Actually, scratch that.  I don't want BG to spend too much time near the glass hurricanes on the console table.

NCC seems to be the church God is leading us to.  I wonder what He's got in store...

Does VA do sno cones?

Why do I hear so many more sounds when David isn't here?  What are my ears doing when I'm not the only adult in the house?  It's worse today because of the wind.  I wonder how fast the wind is technically blowing?  The poor garbage men are going to have an awful time in the morning.  Pretty sure I hear trashcans blowing from one end of the street to the other.

The Strong-Willed Child says you should shape a kid's will without breaking her spirit.  What if my spirit is being broken in the process of trying not to break hers?  I mean, who throws a 30-minute fit because she doesn't want a bath?!  Seriously.  Rachel Ray could have cooked an entire dinner in that amount of time.

Tiring or not, I'm so glad Brynna is who she is.  I'm grateful she has that spunk and determination.  I like that she can't sit still for story time.  I love that she will stay outside in the snow with purple lips and tell you she's cold but refuse to get off the swing.  While I may get more rest and accomplish more in a day, I wouldn't trade her personality.  I may request that it be molded without quite so much of a fight...but I wouldn't trade it.

Ok.  I'm finally sleepy.  Goodnight.

Moving Across the Country: Day 11

I generally have a strict 3-5 day policy.  When moving into a new home, I give myself 3-5 days of really hard work and long hours so that at the end of that time, my house is a home.  We can go about the business of life.  No stepping around boxes or digging to find what you need.  You may have to relearn which cabinet holds the forks, but rest assured, the fork is in one of the drawers.  Today, I am outside the 3-5 day sweet spot.  Around Day 7 I almost broke out in hives.  You can imagine how I'm fairing at Day 11.  I did not account for a few differences in this move as compared to others.

1.  I underestimated the lack of progress that can be made when one is attempting to organize a bathroom with the "help" of a 2 year old.  I take the item out of the box, set it on the counter and reach for the next item.  I turn around to find the first item (a container of baby wipes) opened and approximately 715 wipes being used to clean the step stool and toilet because apparently they were "yucky".  I halt all progress to clean up previously described mess and distract adorable but mischievous toddler.  I walk back by the bathroom 2 hours later, trip over the books stacked along the wall and wonder aloud, "Whose house is this?"

2.  I didn't add time for organizing and reorganizing just to get the closet door to close.  I have downsized before but I had a storage unit that time.  When we sold our first house to move to a high-rise apartment, we cut our living space in half.  We also rented a storage unit so things that wouldn't fit found a nice, new climate-controlled home.  There's no storage unit.  In fact, there's barely a storage closet.  And it's not climate-controlled.  There's a garage, but we are not the fill-up-the-garage-so-a-car-won't-fit people.  That leaves me with the large task of fitting furniture, fixtures, appliances and accessories from a 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom 3,400 sq. ft. house into a 2,000 sq. ft. townhouse.  My sofa was so big they had to take the hinges off the door to get it in the basement!  I need a new name for what I'm doing here.  This is not downsizing.  When I get a kitchen organized so that it fits the contents that once spread into 3 rooms, I'm working magic, people!

3.  I may have slightly denied reality  We aren't new to moving - in our 8 years in Dallas, we lived in 4 different places.  Each time we had two aces in our corner - we have amazing friends who, for the payment of pizza and a returned favor would carry just about anything we asked, and our families lived within driving distance.  When we moved into the high-rise, my dad loaded all David's lawn mowing equipment in the back of his truck and stored it until we were ready for it again.  When we moved into a house sporting the worst shades of hunter green and burnt orange you can imagine, we barely had to ask and dozens of people came to help.  This is different.  There are no painting parties.  No one is helping to line shelves or wipe down cabinets before towels are stacked there.  Mom and Dad left with only their luggage.  David helps when he's not at work, but for most of the week, I'm a one-woman wrecking crew (with a very short, very blonde sidekick, of course).

All that said, you'd think I would have adjusted my expectations, right?  You would think that instead of allowing 3-5 days, I'd give myself a month or at minimum a few weeks.  Those would be the decisions of someone far less obsessive than I.  No, there was no modified time table.  There's just a girl who at Day 11 is annoyed because those books are still in the hall.  But she has a killer plan for where to put them...tomorrow.

Top Ten Things I'll Miss the Most: Part 3

#8 – 8818 Flint Falls Dr

You have to know our history to fully understand.  David and I got married in college.  As marriage should be, after the “I Do’s” our parents kindly closed the proverbial bank accounts.  David was a full-time athlete, and I worked at a department store.  We certainly weren’t rolling in the dough; we barely had dough to eat.  After our cozy ghetto apartment in Norman, OK, we moved to a cozier locale in South Bend, IN.  When I say “cozier” I mean we lived in a dorm room while David worked on his master’s.  We went from ghetto to down-right poor.  I ate more Spaghetti O’s those few months than one should consume in a lifetime.  After Notre Dame, we moved to Dallas.  We had a one-bedroom apartment with the ultimate upgrade – crown molding – and thought we hit the jackpot! After the apartment, we did what “you’re supposed to do.”  We bought a small house that wasn’t what either of us really wanted but was within our slightly increased budget.  We no longer had the crown molding, and while we worked hard and made it our own, there was a smell in the hall bathroom that never really went away.  After a couple of years, we felt God calling us to do something a bit crazy.  We sold the house, put the furniture we’d acquired into storage and moved into 900 sq. ft. in the middle of downtown Dallas.  Our high-rise apartment wasn’t glamorous, but it was an experience we’ll never forget.  And it marked a turn in The Story of David & Regina.  It wasn’t what we were supposed to do; it was simply an act of obedience.  God asked us to be in the midst of the people He called us to reach, so we went.  After almost 2 years, we found out Brynna Bear was on the way, and thus, we needed some more space.  Buying a house this time was much different.  We had a little more knowledge and a lot more experience under our belts, so armed with our list of “wants,” we started the search.

Be it a house, spouse, job or new pair of shoes, we are all guilty of something.  You know you do it just like I do.  You have your list of “wants” – what you hope God will bless you with – and then you have in the back of your mind what you assume you’ll probably get.  Right?  Oh how wrong we are.  God doesn’t work like that.  He says very clearly, “Obey.  Do it My way and I will bless you beyond what you can imagine.”  Look it up.  It’s there over and over.  When David and I chose to obey in that small way – selling our house and moving downtown – we unleashed a blessing we didn’t fully comprehend before then.  That list of “wants” we had while driving around house-searching was what we could imagine.  God did more.

When we first saw what would become our house, I was not overly excited.  There was a huge room dividing the kitchen/dining area from the other side of the house with bedrooms.  It felt fractured.  There was an oddly shaped small den with a wet bar in the corner that didn’t seem to “go.”  The big room had wood-paneled walls and there were popcorn ceilings throughout.  It was like the 70’s had a bad day and this house was the result.  But David and I both saw potential.  We scraped the popcorn off the ceilings and painted that wood paneling.  After living there awhile, Tania (aka – Designer Extraordinaire) helped me rearrange some rooms so the odd den became a brilliant dining room.  The room that was so big we often didn’t use it, became the ultimate football-watching, domino-playing, kid-friendly place to lounge.  And did I mention the pool?  A pool was on the list of “wants.”  God’s answer above our imagination was a brand-new pool and deck with built-in shade umbrellas and a water feature.  We saved up and added outdoor furniture this past summer.  We have had pool parties, birthday pool parties and spontaneous people-just-come-over-because-there’s-a-pool parties.

We’ve lived a dozen places, but this is where we really became a family.  It’s where Brynna learned to crawl and walk.  It’s where she and her cousins swam with their floaties.  It’s where we had Real conversations with couples.  It’s where I loved on girls, and David bonded with guys.  It’s where we learned the art of hospitality – that when you are willing to give God full reign of your home, He will use it to bless you and so many others.  Yesterday as we looked at the bare rooms and the floors ready to host someone else’s furniture, I was sad.  Yes, it’s just a house.  But this house has been so much more. 

Ahh…but here’s the thing about obedience to God.  If you do it right, it’s addictive.  You learn that even in the pain or fear of doing something new, there’s peace that you are right where He wants you.  You remember that all of this is His.  You learn a new level of faith as you give up what you held dear and trust that He has something ahead that’s so much more than you can imagine.  God has once again asked us to be in the midst of a group of people to reach.  So as sad as it is for a moment, I will miss this house that was more blessing than I could have imagined because I refuse to miss a single thing God has in store for us.

6 Steps to Potty Training (or at least laughing while you potty train)

When and if you are next potty training a 17-month-old, please follow these instructions...

1.  Remove diaper and watch her go.  Brynna has been showing the signs she's ready to nix the diapers, and my checkbook was in agreement.  So Saturday morning, we got up, took the diaper off and away we went.  I read that going no-diaper helps you see when they are going and it removes the step of taking off the diaper when trying to get there fast.  Right.  It does those things.  It also ensures you have a 2-foot-tall streaker in your house.  I have never seen someone so excited to run naked in all my life.  (And I've seen that guy in Austin who sits naked on the corner playing his guitar!)

2.  Place potty seat on a surface that can easily be wiped clean.  I am one of those people who doesn't believe in child-proofing the house.  I believe in house-training the child.  My breakables aren't put away; my glass vases weren't replaced with primary colored plastic wear when BG entered the scene.  I don't even like the word "potty" so it pained me to have one sitting in the middle of the sun porch.  Since then, the potty seat has followed us.  It has resided in every bathroom, my bedroom (on a plastic pad), the family room and poolside.  I still refuse to let it in the kitchen, though.

3.  Give lots of juice.  I was told repetition would help drive the point home.  Yes.  Or it gives me a new appreciation for Clorox wipes.  One or the other.

4.  Don't wear anything you might, possibly, someday ever want to wear again.  While I  did laundry and got the house back in order this weekend, David and Brynna played.  They stayed pretty close to the potty seat and wipeable surfaces until Daddy got brave.  They were talking to Honey K on the phone when I heard a frantic, "Mom, I'm going to have to call you back!"  I turned to find BG reading a book and David wet from chest to knees.  (She has a strong core and great bladder control.  When it comes, it comes with a vengeance.)  I've worn a lot of gym shorts and tank tops this week...

5.  Reward good behavior.  Be aware that offering M&M's from the freezer might cause a 20 minute session of screaming at random points in the day where your child yells, "Treat!  Treeeeeat!" and bangs on the refrigerator door.

6.  Laugh.  A lot.  We've had a number of accidents this week, and while I tell her that pee-pee doesn't belong on the floor, I can't help but smile when she stands there pantless petting the dog while I clean up the floor.  And yesterday, when she sat on the potty seat next to the pool and later opted for no swim suit...that's funny stuff.  At one point today, I stood laughing at my little lady sitting on her potty seat with a stack of books next to her, Minnie Mouse panties around her feet.  At another point, I hugged her while she cried because she needed to "poo-poo" but doesn't yet understand fully that she controls the ability to do so.  She didn't want to get up, she just needed some TLC.  So I sat on the floor with my arms around her while she sat on her potty.  Now that's funny.  And an image I will carry with me forever.

I have dreaded potty training since before Brynna was even here.  I was the director of children's ministry and witnessed every step of the process in hundreds of kids.  I didn't enjoy the view from a distance, so I didn't anticipate the up-close and personal view being any better.  It's definitely as gross as I imagined, and I'm really ready to pass this hurdle.  But I wouldn't trade going through it with her for the world.

Be Kind...Rewind

Have you ever had one of those days (or weeks) that you wish you could just hit "rewind" and start over?  I had a day like that yesterday...

To understand yesterday, you need a little background.  In June, our A/C was on the verge of going out. We learned it was because our house actually needs two units, so we had a second until installed.  Last week, the older unit began making sounds that could rival a freight train and by Sunday it was so loud, it woke David and I from a sound sleep multiple times.  We couldn't risk another sleepless night, so we moved our family of 4 to the dining room.  David and I slept on the sofa, Brynna slept in a pack-n-play in the bathroom and Miles slept on his doggy bed next to me.

So Monday began on the sofa.  I woke to what sounded like my kid crying in the bathroom, only to shake the cobwebs and realize my kid was, in fact, in the bathroom.  I'd cry, too, if I woke up staring at a commode instead of my pretty green bedroom walls.  A nice A/C repairman came to look at our problem and after much discussion, it was determined we have to replace the older unit.  (Awesome, right?  If you attend the FC Downtown Nearly Wed Seminar this fall, get ready for a lecture on the importance of an emergency fund...or two!)  The work was set to begin the next day, but in the meantime, the motor was broken and had been removed.  Bottom line - no A/C in two-thirds of the house.

BG and I ran errands in the afternoon, choosing only locations with fully-functioning air-conditioning and came home around 4pm.  We headed to the pool since it's 153-degrees in Dallas and really, there isn't much else to do.  While she swam, I watered the plants in our backyard.  At one point, she got very still at the end of the pool opposite where I was.  Both of these things concern me.  1) She usually swims the perimeter of the pool, staying close to where I am.  2) Brynna is rarely, if ever, still.  I went to investigate, and Oh, how I wish I hadn't.  Surrounding her in the water, was a brown cloud and small floaters popping out of her swim diaper.  Yes, you made the leap.  She actually did that.  I spent the next 15 minutes, stripping her down, hosing her off and trying to find a happy place in my mind.  As I took the trash out to the alley, I was met by 5 electric trucks and a man who informed me that there was a problem with a nearby transformer.  What that meant for me was that 45 minutes later, half-way through bath time, the power went out.  

Because we only had one unit working, the house got very warm very quickly.  I hurriedly rinsed off my moving target, packed a bag and headed to a friend's house to wait out the outage.  Well, I headed to the garage, where upon entering, I realized AUTOMATIC GARAGE DOORS REQUIRE ELECTRICITY!  It was pitch black, I was hot, Brynna was crying, it was the longest day in history...I was not about to try and find the manual release and hoist the door up, so I grabbed the wagon and dog leash and walked the block to the Batista's house.  When we got home at 11pm...we went straight to sleep...on the sofa.

So here's the timeline...

A/C is loud

Sleep on the sofa

Wake up to Brynna crying in the bathroom

A/C unit must be replaced

No air in most of the house

BG poops in the pool

Learn power will be out for hours

Garage door won't open

Walk in the heat

Spend the evening somewhere other than home (which was all I wanted)

Spend the night on the sofa...again

And here's my version of a rewind...

Since my A/C was loud, we got it looked at before something major went wrong and did more damage.

The sofa I was trying to sell on Craigslist is the size of a twin bed, so because it hasn't yet sold, we had somewhere other than the floor to sleep.

Brynna slept all night in a room (that happens to be a bathroom) that is fully air-conditioned, windowless, therefore dark, and the perfect size to fit a pack-n-play.

While it wasn't our immediate plan for the money we saved, God has blessed us with the resources to pay for this unexpected expense.

Because we had the second unit installed in June, we were not completely without air.  

There is a beautiful pool in our backyard that Brynna can poop in, and I am able and available to clean it.

I was fortunate to have warning the power would go out; I was able to throw together Plan B.

There is a door on my garage, which houses my fully-functioning car and is attached to the roof over my head.  

While our walk may have been hot, but it was 7pm-hot not 3pm-sweltering, and Miles and BG love a walk for any reason.

God has blessed us with friends, good friends, who at a moment's notice allowed us to spend the evening with them and even set up a bed so Brynna could get to sleep on time.

The power came back on, half the house was cool, Brynna never woke up although transported back home, and my hubby and I got to snuggle a little closer...on the sofa...again.

Its all how you look at it...

For the past several months, I've wanted new furniture. I feel like there are parts of the house we never use because we don't have anything in the room. What you must understand is that I do not live in a house where furniture is purchased lightly. (Or where anything is purchased lightly.) So when I say months, I mean MONTHS. I am married to a man who has a calculator and is not afraid to use it. (Reason #278 I love him.) After saving and budgeting, I got the green light last week that we can get a few new items. Yes! I love a shopping trip! Before I went on a spending spree, though, I had the presence of mind to invite my interior design friend over. I expected her to begin giving me a list of what I needed to buy. I had my pencil and paper ready. To my surprise, we started rearranging first. We moved the dining table to the den, the office desk to the dining room...it was chaotic but really exciting. At the end of the day, I had an idea of what to buy but was no longer rushing out to the store. Instead, I have found a new love for what I already have. The space wasn't unusable because we didn't have stuff. I just had to rearrange to see it differently.

So after spending most of the day moving furniture in this new-found love of my existing things, I can't sleep. I'm teaching at FIG tomorrow (Flavour Influence Groups), so I got up to prepare. The lesson is on giving hope, and I plan to talk about the winter season my family endured the past year. You see, my niece got the cancer. She's 3 now, but she was barely 2 when diagnosed. It's hard enough to respond when someone you love is sick and hurting. When it's a baby, it breaks everything inside of you. Part of what I'll share tomorrow came from the website where Zoe's progress was journaled each day. I have spent the past hour reading the journals that, at the time, we lived minute-by-minute. This day, she had a good day and got to ride in a wagon with Papa. The next day, she was so sick they had to feed her through tubes. The day after that, her counts were too low to register and she weighed almost the same as my 6-month-old. On those days, as they happened, all we saw were those results. On this side, as I'm reading, I'm smiling. I know that day wasn't the end. I know there's no evidence of disease in her body. I know cancer was necessary for Healing to happen. I know fighting Zoe's cancer made my sister stronger than she knew she was. I know supporting them made the rest of us wiser.

Sometimes you don't need more stuff. You don't need more anything. You just need to rearrange, see from a different side. It's all how you look at it...