Full Disclosure

I knew my pregnancy with Nils would be my last pregnancy. Not because I don't want more children, but because, as it turns out for me, pregnancy sucks. With all of the vomiting, and migraines, and bed rest, and blood pressure concerns, and failing organs and all that jazz... I just can't do it again. I would love to have another child, but my health is more important. Taking care of the two beautiful little munchkins I already have is more important.

And when I came to fully realize that, I found that I was crushed.

And no, not crushed in the CRushD kind of way that I love when I combine my initials and my maiden name.

Crushed.

I spent most of last year crying. I'll tell you what, crying every day isn't as glamorous as it sounds. And then sometime in the fall I decided it was time for another Kellying. It was time to rally and pull myself up by the bootstraps. A new haircut, weekly workouts, more makeup, a fresh take. Except, when you're facing something so deeply difficult, sometimes that just isn't enough. Daily prayer led me to daily thanksgiving. I decided to be happy and thankful for what I have, rather than sad and pouting over what I want.

What I want is to be pregnant again and have it be easy. That isn't going to happen. So I might as well change what I want and want what I have: two wonderful children.

Giving thanks changed everything. It got easier. I cleared out all of our baby clothes and got rid of all of the things Nils has outgrown. That was surprisingly freeing. They were like shackles around my ankles. Getting rid of all of that stuff has allowed me to move forward. I think it was around that time that I stopped crying. My last infant has been weaned. Our bottles are gone. We are moving forward to the next phase of life, and I am excited to see what this new phase holds.

Overall, I'm doing okay. In fact, I'm better than okay. I'm doing pretty great. As it turns out giving thanks changes everything. And if I find myself in a moment that is rough I go visit this picture of Leona and her two... and I smile.

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let It Shine

As I recently confessed, I'm in the discernment process of what to do with my love for writing. Don't you love that phrase, "the discernment process"? It gives the impression that I am meeting regularly with a spiritual adviser, working diligently behind closed doors, and having discussions with an editor.

I could let you go on believing that is what my discernment process looks like.

Oh, who am I kidding? No one believes that! Anything that orderly isn't part of my world. To me, it merely means that I've been writing and teaching (intermediately) for the last six years (six years!) and over that time have found that I love love love to write and teach. So, who cares? What should I do about that?

With some encouragement from others, I've decided (for now at least) that I am going to start working on some small group curriculum and devotionals. I've had numerous requests for such work over the last few years and have decided it's time to start more actively pursuing that. So, step one: write, write, write. What comes after that? I have a few ideas. First I'd better concentrate on writing. And writing. And writing.

I thought about (and even started penning) a book but have quickly discovered that my Slytherin tenancies are just too pronounced. I need to add good into the world and not humor at the expense of others. Although, that cookie monster story really is priceless isn't it?

So, wish me luck! If you need me at 5am I'll either be working out or right here in front of the old laptop. Typing away with a cup of boring decaf tea nearby my cute new houseplant and yummy smelling candle from Kel.

Extry, Extry, Read All About It!

And when Carolena said, "Let's listen to Newsies on repeat" it became the happiest day of my life.
I have succeeded as a mother.

Hope for Healing

I started getting migraines fourteen years ago. Fourteen years.

I'm really struggling with them lately. I've had four migraines this February. Four. In the last three weeks.

When I say "migraine" I mean pain so severe I literally cannot talk. I lie in bed and feel like I am screaming out for Chris to bring me a drink and most of the time I am not making a sound. When he comes to check on me, it takes every ounce of strength to scream out, "I need a drink!" and all he hears are some decipherable moans and whispers.

When I say "migraine" I speak of a pain so great that I lose my eyesight. Literally, I am blinded by the pain.

I speak of pain so severe that I begin to vomit. I stumble blindly to the bathroom, all of my senses assaulted by the smallest whisper, dimmest light, softest touch.

I speak of lying in bed wondering at what point I will break and simply melt into the migraine and die. I know that migraines were never listed as anyone's cause of death, but in the midst of one I am not so sure.

Much of the time I lie there awake. People come to check on me and because of my inability to respond, they believe me to be sleeping.

Most of what I think about while I lie in this hell is of the hemorrhaging woman in Luke's gospel (8:23). I relate to her perhaps more than anyone in Scripture. I scream out to God that I might be delivered from this pain. I yearn to reach out and touch the tip of Jesus' robes in order that I too might be healed. I have faith that I will one day be healed. I wish it were an unshakeable faith, but patience is something I'm still working on.

Morning Has Broken

I woke up this morning with wildly unmanageable hair, a baby whose nose was completely boogered over to the point of unbreathable, and a girl too tired to do anything but lie on the living room floor snuggling with her critters and listening to Pandora's toddler station.

Pandora and I have a complicated relationship. She gives me New Orleans Jazz, Memphis Soul, 60's Rock... but then when Pandora tells me that she's having trouble "fetching" the next song I turn into Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, "Yes, fetch away. You are very fetching. So, go fetch." Ugh. The audacity of that website using the word "fetching" is irrationally infuriating.

In the carpool line this morning I noticed all of the other children were hopping out of their cars fully decked out in cowboy attire. Shit. Luckily I never clean out my car so I was able to dig Carolena's pink boots out of the mobile closet we like to call the backseat. I guess her ironed pearl snap shirt will have to wait for the rodeo. Lord knows I can't iron a shirt more than once a month. That's written into my contract, Mr. DeMille. Check it.

Surprisingly, even given those things, it's been a pretty great morning. Perhaps because I drank a cup of coffee? Yes. Certainly that is why.

Why Is That Tape On Your Nose? Exactly.

Yes, it is practicing my piety before men to blog about many of the deeper water things I blog about. Yes, I am judgmental. Yes, I am proud. And yes, I do have a little someone who does her best to argue about these things with me. It's the job of the eldest I suppose. *wink*wink* I love her.

I'm just trying to engage people in thought. In conversation. I feel like conversation and pushing people to think (even when they disagree with me) is imperative and hopefully trumps doing things in secret to be rewarded in secret. As a wise woman pointed out to me (see above) - we can't do everything in secret... or else the Church would be a secret. Bam. So true.

So, yes, I can be annoying and harsh and definitely wrong. But, like others, I'm just trying to do my best. Trying to push people into dialogue and delving deeper. Some of the people in my life who have pushed me the most on delving deeper in my faith are those with whom I disagree.

Bookish

Sometimes I think about writing a book. In fact, I have a few different Word documents hanging out on the old laptop. And I work on them and wonder to myself... what would people want to read from me? Anything? Nothing? Motherhood musings? Theology? Both?

And then I think, aw screw it. This is a lot of work. And I go visit my dear old friend Google and look at pictures like this:

Seriously though. If any of you people want me to ever get something published you are going to have to stop being so shy and start commenting on my blog. Publicists care about that stuff. I know you are out there... I can see how many people read my blog. Hi shhhyyy little readers. It's okay. Come on out...

Oh, and tell your friends.

Or don't. I might never finish any of this and just keep hanging out drinking iced tea with my good friend Google. And that lemur. He's hilarious.

Ashes to Ashes

It's coming... one of the hardest decisions we liturgical church goers have to face...  {cue overly dramatic music here} Wipe the ashes off or keep them on?

Like many things, I have a very strong opinion about this. Do what you want. Do what's best for you. But it's my blog and I'll theologize if I want to, theologize if I want to. You would theologize too if it...

Ah, the great contradiction of Ash Wednesday: the smearing of ashes on our foreheads while listening to the gospel reading about how those who are fasting should wear clean clothes, anoint themselves with oils, and basically look like they've got it together.

But this isn't a contradiction. It's a command. A command that many of us ignore.

Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be praised by them...
Well, after you read what I have to say you'll know I'm not saying it for praise. Come tomorrow afternoon when you see people around town and facebook with ashes smeered on their faces you'll see that many people disagree with what I have to say. Nope, no praise seeking here. An unfortunate smattering of judgement to be sure, but praise seeking I hope not.

When friends notice that I wipe my ashes off before leaving church they often question me in a somewhat aggressive manner. They usually press me on the topic by claiming that leaving ashes on the forehead is a good witness to others. It strikes me as funny that people feel so strongly about the "witness" of leaving ashes on their heads. Do these people care about "witness" any other day of the year? Okay, yes, people will notice. They might ask you about it. Yes, wearing ashes on ones face might strike up a conversation. However, I would say that misses the point of the imposition of ashes. There is a reason why we hear that particular gospel reading right after receiving the ashes. Because we're supposed to respond to it!

I think that the value in the imposition of ashes is in the receiving of ashes. It's not about wearing the ashes. It's about the action of kneeling at the altar and hearing those words, "you are dust and to dust you shall return." Then, we return to our pews. We hear that gospel reading instructing us to not smear dirt on our faces and strut around town. We kneel and confess our sins to God our maker. We receive the body and blood of Christ.

And I wipe the ashes off my head. Yes, I have been reminded of my own mortality. But then I am reminded of grace and hope and newness of life. Yes, I am mortal. I am dust and to dust I shall return. But I am a person of the Resurrection which means that in the newness of all things, the renewal of heaven and earth, I will Rise out of the ashes.

This, as a side note, is my problem with the Ashes to Go movement. No Eucharist? No reminder of the Resurrection at the end of all this? Just "you are dust and to dust you shall return"? What is Christianity without Christ? Without Resurrection? Perhaps I'm missing something in the ashes to go? And what about the whole command to do this kind of thing in secret? But that's a hot topic for another day.

I think witness to the world has little to do with dirt on our faces. It is about living in such a way that points to the victory of the cross. Serving others rather than self, lending a hand to those in need, putting Christ and his church at the center of our lives, to me these are the things that witness our faith. Smearing ashes on my forehead is something that I need to do each year. But I do it for me. It is a physical reminder of the harsh cold reality that I am dust. I was created and I will die. That reality isn't what I center my life around though. I live my life in the hope and joy and truth that I will live again. That we will rise up out of these ashes and live a new life with the Resurrected Christ.

So sure, you can keep the ashes. I think there can be value in that for some. But I'm going to wipe mine off.




“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matt 6:1-21)

Tis a Gift to be Simple

We live in a Mardi Gras world. We love gluttony and overindulgence. We prefer things to be fast rather than to fast.

Confession: I love Lent.
Confession: I've slacked off on my lenten disciplines for the last few years.

The earliest Christians observed Lent as a period of fasting and prayer and preparation in order to align themselves with Christ and best prepare for the celebration of the Resurrection. Celebrating the Risen Lord and new life is so deep and real, a period of preparation is set aside leading up to Easter. Kind of like our pre-season warmup. Okay, I shouldn't use sports references. I have no idea if that's what Lent is like.

In the past, I've been known to give up things like chips, or cokes, or whatever. Then, one year I gave up complaining. And it was transformative. The tricky thing about fasting from something like complaining, is that at first you'll be really bad at it. I found myself retrospectively taking back complaints. Then, gradually, I stopped myself from vocalizing a complaint. Eventually, by Easter, I had eliminated many complaints from even popping into my head in the first place.

Lent is a time for us to concentrate on being more like the person who God intends for us to be. In some ways that is universal. God wants us to be people full of mercy and grace. Full of hope and life and love. In some ways it is deeply personal. God calls me to be a person who is creative. He has given me a heart for social justice. These are the two things I am going to concentrate on this year. Creativity and compassion.

I guess if you want to put it in language of "fasting" - then I am going to fast from inaction. I prefer to view it in terms of what I'm "taking on" this year. I'm going to do something creative every single day. Whether its blogging, or painting, or constructing, I am going to use my creativity every day. When I'm being creative I feel more like the person God created me to be. I'm going to take on more active compassion. I am always full of ideas about how to show mercy to others. I am going to act on these ideas.

And let's not forget about the R word: repentance. Repentance is at the heart of Lent.
Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand! (matt 3:2)

If we truly repent, then we turn away from our sin. It is like we literally, physically, turn our bodies away from what it is that distracts us and turn our faces back to God.

This is the point of Lenten practices. To put aside those things which hold us back. To repent from them. To turn our faces back to the Risen Lord.

I don't think there is anything wrong with fasting from material things. Really, I don't. We give up tv every single year. There is something holy about turning off the tv and spending more time together as a family. Giving up chips and cookies is actually a great fast and a way to become more like the people God wants us to be. But, I want to propose that lent is more than just choosing something to abstain from. It is more than just giving up cokes and spending forty days waiting for Easter so you can pick the habit back up. It is about transformation. It is about setting aside those things which defile us and taking on those things that change the world. It is about working to look more like God's people. So, do God's people eat chips? Yes. Do God's people watch tv? Sure! But we are also called to be people who live in charity, and mercy, kindness, and grace. We are expected to fight for justice. I think if we work to take on these things, it will indeed be a very holy Lent.

Three Weeks

Three weeks. It took three weeks for coffee to loosen its tight grip on me. Last Tuesday I caved and had one cup of 1/4 caff and a diet coke. Tuesday night I was up on the hour every hour. Just awake.

It was a good reminder of how much better I sleep uncaffeinated. And. Just like that. It was done. Three weeks.

Oh, look at that, it's Valentine's Day! Happy feast of Saint Valentine and all that jazz.

Uh... now I feel like I need to type about something Valentiney... Chris and I saw the relics of Saint Valentine on our trip to Rome a few years ago. It was a skull. In a box. In a church. So... there's that.

Valentine's Day is more fun with kids. My critters will wake up to little books of happy monsters (construction paper with monsters drawn in it), a small stuffed animal and a box of chocolate each. They'll be giddy. Dinner tonight will be special, include dessert, and (weather permitting) be enjoyed on our deck. Simple pleasures for a family full of love for one another. Happiness is.

Unashamed

I once drove behind a big rig labeled "liquid chicken" and yet I still eat the hell out of McDonald's spicy chicken sandwiches.

This afternoon I said to Carolena, "Want to eat all of your Valentine's while you open them?!" and we did. Carolena doled out candy like... well... candy. Nils perhaps had the most fun of all of us.

As a child I used to sneak my neighbor's declawed cat into "the secret hiding place" (a closet within my closet) and put clothes on it. As it turns out this was very good training for motherhood.

Broken

When Chris gets home after being out of town for a week he is going to find me chugging coffee, and he'll wonder what happened to my decaf resolve. And I will cite Day One when I used my entire week's worth of patience on a game of Memory. And Day Two when I awoke at 6 am to a boy and a crib covered in poop.

Last week I said to my mother, "Hey! Want to come over while Chris is out of town? Not because I will be floundering and needing help desperately, but because it will be fun and we can watch chick flicks."

I'm outnumbered and they poop and eat and talk and talk and talk.

Help!

Thank God mi madre arrives today. Day Two and I am a broken woman. Now, where is my cup of coffee?

Inertia

I gave up caffeine.
Then I hurt my back (again).
And now Chris is out of town for the week.

This object at rest just wants to stay at rest.

But, I know how hard it is to return to bodypump after a week off and I fear that two weeks off will be too depressing. I love how I feel when I'm working out regularly so I'm going to do my best to get to the Y this week. The kids will love it. They always do. I will love it. I always do. Why is it so hard to get my hiney into the gym when I fall out of the habit? Seriously! I only skipped a week!

I remember thinking a few years ago that life without caffeine was really fabulous. Was something wrong with me? I'm going to give it until Easter (at least), but man, no caffeine sucks. The trade-off of daily caffeine for more frequent migraines might be worth it.

I'm wearing my workout clothes. I've texted my workout buddy. I told Carolena to get excited because we're going to the Y. No excuses. This week I'll do my best. Next week Chris will be back home and I'll get back into the 515 routine... sans caffeine. Oh. My. God.

Cat-Astrophe

I'm thinking about having a blog contest. The winner could have our cats.

Just kidding. 

Kind of.

They've taken to peeing on things again which is always a special time in our relationship. And Olive has been throwing up the anti-hairball cat food. 

I'll give you a moment to really process that last sentence. 

As I said, its a special time in my relationship with our cats. Hopefully we can move forward and I'll forgive them for plotting against our bedroom carpet and they'll forgive me for shoving them out of the bed when they step on my throat with one paw and all of their body weight in the middle of the night. 

Dear cats,

Truce?

Love, Casey

Nuggets from Nils

Don't get left out. Of anything. Ever.

Clean up after yourself.

Always be willing to help out with the laundry.

After trapping your older sister in a laundry basket a sweet smile goes a long way.

Caps for Sale!

A few years ago my sister, mother, and I all got a booth at a church fall festival/craft fair. In terms of giving me months of knitting with a purpose, having fun with my sis & mom, and spending two days in a hippie tent, it was a great success. In terms of making money... it was a bust. I profited a few bucks but nothing like the Scrooge McDuck money pile I'd imagined diving into post craft fair. As I reminded Kelly of recently, our prices didn't matter: no one was looking. 

Long story short: I went to Pearland with a huge box of hats and an empty wallet. I drove back from Pearland with a huge box of hats and money for lunch.

My mom has a connection to a local shop and my hats sold surprisingly well there for the last few years. I'd already done all of the knitting, so all I had to do was give them a portion of the money and then be surprised by a check in the mail once in a while.

Another long story short: all of the local artisans were given the boot and now I have a big bag full of hats sitting on our dining room table.

"Start an Etsy shop" people say. To which I reply, "Why?" I'll just be white noise. Have you ever searched "knit hat" on Etsy?! Plus, who wants to deal with shipping? And annoying customers? And people who request items? 

I've considered going to another craft fair. This time I would sit by myself with all of my hats and a sign that reads something like, "Donate money to my children's college education and get a free hat. Minimum $10 donation."

Actually... that's not a bad idea... 

Happy Groundhog Day!

I don't know about you, but my father raised me right. He taught me to appreciate the fine things in life like giant banana costumes, rubber chickens, and holidays centered around pulling a giant rodent out and asking it to predict the weather.

Which is why Carolena and Nils awoke this morning to a large banner in our kitchen and celebratory blueberry muffins (a breakfast treat around here).

There were Punxatony Phil coloring pages to work on.

 

And Groundhog "hats" (masks) to create and don.

 

Oatmeal cookies were baked as a special activity and dessert.

Fun and general merriment was had by all! Happy Groundhog Day!

Universal Laws of Motherhood

Universal Law of Motherhood #317
If your child randomly falls of off his or her chair for no apparent reason, he or she will be holding a full open-lidded cup containing any beverage other than water.