Just another day...

Today I found a snake in my laundry room/garage. A big one. I called Mr. Stoutimore at work to yell at him for not being home to catch it. I've been battling cockroaches and lizards all week, but snakes are where I draw the line. When he got home, he and the boys ravaged the garage, but to no avail. I have declared a state of emergency and a full-on laundry strike until the serpent is found and disposed of. Seriously.

In other news, I bought a new bird feeder. The squirrels literally DESTROYED the last one I bought. This time I bought "The Squirrel Stumper." We watched out the windows for hours as the squirrels ate the bird seed. They were not at all stumped. We banged on the windows, and eventually ran outside and sprayed them with the hose. This is when we met the snake for the first time...and it scared us pretty bad. I'm thinking one of the boys left the door open, and that's how the snake got inside the garage, but I can't be certain. But I can be certain that I almost peed myself the second time I almost stepped on it.

Today I finally decided that Bank of America is either the anti-Christ, or will in some large way usher in the coming of the anti-Christ. I'm not certain yet which. Yesterday I deposited some money into our overdrawn business account. They accidentally gave me back $10 extra. I was annoyed because I was in the drive-thru, in a hurry, and knew I was going to have to go inside to explain their error, and, knowing them, get blamed for their mistake. I considered keeping it for just a second, but didn't. Instead, I hauled my kids inside, waited in line while the boys acted like I'd given them crack, and told the lady that they had given me back an extra $10 in my transaction through the drive-thru. She spoke to the teller who had done the transaction, and came back to tell me I was wrong. I REALLY considered keeping the $10 at that point, but once again explained their mistake. The lady walks back to my teller, and I hear her explain the mistake to the teller. The teller loudly asks her to tell me how it was somehow my mistake. She comes back and made up some weird excuse that made no sense. I said, "Look, I'll keep the $10 if you want, I could really use the extra money." She said people don't usually write the amount of cash they want back...uh, you mean where the deposit slip says "less cash received"?? I'm pretty sure that's exactly where you're supposed to write the amount of cash you want back from the transaction... Finally, the teller came over, and I said, "Why does that even have anything to do with you giving me back $50 instead of $40?" She finally admitted it was her mistake, but...And I just said, "Yes, it was just a mistake, that's all you had to say." And took 2 lollipops for my boys who'd had to stand in line and wait while the morons at Bank of America tried to make me feel stupid for their mistake, and walked out. Next time, I'm keeping that $10. I've paid more interest and fees to that company for a lifetime supply of lollipops and a whole lot of $10 mistakes.  

Aaaand yet another disappointing Office episode tonight. It's kind-of sad to watch it slowly collapse on itself. Almost everything about it I onced loved is gone now. And that's just really sad to me. I was such a loyal supporter for so long. It's like I'm mad at it now, though. It's just become stupid, and I find myself rooting for it to fail. I loved it so much, and now it's such a huge disappointment to me that I'm kinda bitter about it.

Tomorrow morning, I'll meet a friend I haven't seen in over 5 years. The last time I saw her, I sang in her wedding and was a bridesmaid. We were best friends growing up. We went to elementary and middle school and junior college together, both on sports scholarships, took the same classes, rode to school together, hung out together, did homework together. It's funny how people drift apart, and then somehow find each other again. Both our sons will start kindergarten together next year at the same school. The same school we went to together all those years ago. I'm hopeful this will lead to a new old friendship.

I've been going through a rough patch lately. This week was a really hard one. And then, out of the blue, some good things happened too. Like, we got a couple of jobs for the business after a really long dry spell. We are now getting paid a little to do some work we've been volunteering to do for a while, which is really nice. And today my husband persuaded BofA (aka: the anti-Christ) to give us back some money they stole from us, and that usually never happens. Oh, and Mr. Stoutimore got his school schedule for next year, and it looks like he's going to be able to teach some honors classes (aka: not the kids whose excuse for not doing their math homework is that they had to meet with their parol officer). He's excited, and I'm happy for him. You gotta find the good things, and hold onto them. Sometimes they're few and far between, but all is not lost.

Well, I should go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow. Thanks for reading this very random post. :)

I Married my Hero.

I think about it often. I don't say it enough. I married my hero.

Not only is he hot and sexy, not only is he the kind of man who ALWAYS does the dishes, and WANTS to give the kids a bath and read them stories and say prayers with them and scratch backs and sing them to sleep...

Not only does he work 4 jobs and go to school, and take the boys to soccer practice, and put gas in my car, and open doors for me, and cook amazing spaghetti and meatballs. Not only does he have the most integrity of anyone I've ever met. Not only does he pretty much always let me have my way...

Not only is he the most disciplined person I've ever met. Not only does he run marathons, and write sermons, and play every instrument, and call people he hasn't seen in forever because THEY need a friend, and sit on the edge of the bed every morning and pray while I snooze...

Not only does he eat peanut butter on his buttered toast, and put tobasco sauce on everything I cook. Not only is he an amazing teacher and coach. Not only is he the most creative, imaginative person in the world. Not only would he much rather DO something than GET something. Not only does he call me to tell me he loves me and misses me EVERY SINGLE DAY of our lives. Not only couldn't he care less about what he wears or what his hair looks like or vain things like that...

Not only does he love people, and have the silliest sense of humor ever, and have the scruffiest facial hair, and want to try out for The Amazing Race, and still make my heart beat fast when I see him. Not only is he adventurous and sensitive and selfless and handsome and funny and hard-working and kind...

Not only THAT, but...he's crazy about me.

He treats me like a queen. He loves me at my worst, and always sees the best in me. He thinks I can do anything, and tells me so. He makes me strive to be better. He encourages me and makes me believe in myself. He pampers me. He adores me. And I think that's my favorite part about him. ;)

Burger King...of Kings?

Whew! Zack finally got paid! Time to stop selling our stuff on Craig's List so we can afford groceries. And even though I'm grateful to be able to do it, grocery shopping is one of my all-time LEAST favorite things to do with my kids. Seriously. ALWAYS ends in catastrophies of Biblical proportions. Today, feeling incredibly wealthy with my $11 in spending money, and stoked about the fact that we wouldn't have to borrow money for gas again this week, and due to the fact that I was procrastinating going to the grocery store with my kids, and also because you never, NEVER want to take my kids to the grocery store when they're even remotely hungry...I decided to take them to...BURGER KING.

Now, we aren't really much of a fast food family. Well, at least I'm not much for fast food. My husband and kids love it. But when we do go, it's usually to Chic-fil-a. It's clean there, they play good music, I like their food, I like the company's values, they have a fairly clean indoor playground, my kids like it there...it just seems like the upper-class of fast food. And if the food I'm consuming is going to be made fast, I'd like to think it's also fairly clean (a girl can dream).

Today, however, we were nowhere near Chic-fil-a, and I was pretty sure I couldn't feed all 3 of us for $11 there anyway. The boys voted for McDonald's, but I always imagine homeless people sleeping and relieving themselves in the outdoor playground. I can't be certain, but that's how I'd swing it were I a homeless person...and we've come close a few times, so I've had time to think it through. But I digress...

Incase you were considering a career in psychology, might I suggest heading to the Burger King on US 19 in Holiday. It's a mecca for the crazies. We ran into several very intoxicated very large men who wanted to get friendly with us in the food line; an ex-marine who followed us outside to talk to us about his days in Nam (I think my boys' new buzz cuts triggered some memories); a disgruntled employee who decided to take her smoke break with us while we were outside eating, until I finally asked her if she wouldn't mind smoking elsewhere; and finally there was Roger.

Roger rode up the sidewalk on his bike which was loaded down with a duffel bag, basket, papertowels, spray bottles, and a MASSIVE sound system which was blasting something equivalent to Kenny Rogers. I turned to look when I heard the music, and he was already waving at me. I looked away quickly, realizing he was homeless and, judging by the Burger King patrons I'd met thus far, CRAZY. He parked his bike over by our smoker friend, and I told the boys to stop staring at him. It was hard though, considering the loud music and big hat he wore with a large dollar sign and the word "money" written all over it. As he headed inside, I heard him mumble "I'm gonna get them something." I didn't turn to look, assuming he was talking to himself.

"Young lady!" I looked up. "I'm going to buy them something, okay?!" I glanced at Allen (my 5-year-old, who was giving him 2 thumbs up), then back to the man, whom I then noticed to be a middle-aged, clean and semi-attractive man (though the strength of his cologne made my cheesburger taste musky).

"Oh...no, thank you...they're fine."

"I just want to get them some ice cream."

"Um, thank you...but, they're okay. Thank you, though!"

"Okay," he said annoyed, "I guess if you really don't want me to..."

I tried to hurry the boys along as they ate, knowing the crazy homeless man was sure to want to dine with us. He came out with his ice cream a few minutes later and sat beside me. He told me he liked kids, and said he could still go back inside and get them ice cream if I'd let him. I thanked him but refused. I'm sure he'd panhandled all day to earn the money for such a treat. Then he told me all about how wealthy he was, how he had $1.2 million, but didn't like to flaunt it--hence, the bike filled with finds from thrift shops. He told me about his neice. Told me about the company where he made his millions. I tried to be nice, but I wasn't especially friendly...he made me feel pretty uncomfortable. As we left, I thanked him for his offer. He'd gotten a cell phone call by then (I assume his broker), and couldn't really say goodbye. It was just as well--I was ready to get away from this place in a hurry.

We left and went grocery shopping, which wasn't as bad as usual. When Zack got home, I told him the story about Burger King and Roger, the man we ate lunch with. When I told him the part about him saying he was a millionaire, Zack said maybe he was an angel! Maybe he was sent there to give us some money, and I should have asked!

Hmm. I don't think that man was sent there to give me money, but...maybe...just maybe...he really was an angel. I hadn't even considered that. Come to think of it...maybe the smoker was an angel. Or maybe it was the Vietnam vet, or the large guys with the dread locks who looked high as a kite. Any one of those people could have been angels really. And how did I treat them? Like crazies.

Hmmm...what if that Burger King on 19 in Holiday is, like, this place from an alternate universe...a testing facility to see how we'll treat people when they look or sound or smell a little different than us. Maybe Roger really is a millionaire. Or maybe...just maybe...Roger was Jesus, trying to see if I'd let him buy my kids an ice cream, or even just not act annoyed by having to hold a conversation with someone I looked down on.

Or maybe it was just a low-end fast food restaurant full of crazies.

How He Loves.

This story and this song move me in so many ways. I can't help but cry (surprise) when I hear it. I'm so glad God wasn't afraid to get His hands dirty when He sent His beloved Son to earth so He could hang naked on a cross and take all that is grotesque and embarrassing and shameful and dirty in humanity onto himself...better yet, He BECAME those things for us. I love a good love story. Ours is the most beautiful one of all time.

Laundry Piles and Hope.

As I write this, I am surrounded by piles upon piles of laundry. Some folded, some not. My house is sort-of a wreck actually. I've felt incredibly unmotivated lately, and today was not my day for changing that. It began at 7am with Kaden crying and yelling his head off that he didn't want Zack to leave for work. Zack was trying to console him while trying not to completely wake me up while trying to get out the door for work. I snuggled Kaden and told him just to go back to sleep--Daddy will be home before you know it to take you to soccer practice. It's early, come on...just close your eyes and let's...NO. He was awake and that was that.

So, I did what any good mother would do...I turned on some cartoons for him in the living room, and...went back to bed. Yep, I'm awesome. I usually sleep til 9:30-10:00 unless something goes terribly wrong. The boys barely bother to come to my room anymore in the mornings. They simply turn on the tv and hang out til I wake up, or until they get too hungry and wake me up to make breakfast or they start destroying things, and I get up instinctively. It's a good life, really.

So when Kaden came in around 10 and said "Mom, you make me breakfast? I starving!" I got up and started the steel cut oats on the stove and went for my morning bathroom routine. Then I got my laptop and looked up every early pregnancy symptom I could read about online like I had done the night before. Today is day 35 of my cycle. I have been speaking scripture over my body and my situation. It's been a long road so far. Next month will be 3 years since we started trying to have a baby. In the meantime, we've gotten two of the most wonderful children in the world through adoption. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, but over the last 6 months or so, I've been struggling. Trying to figure out why and reason things out that I don't understand. My faith has been wavering to say the least. And I forgot about the oatmeal and burned it AGAIN.

Sunday morning, I cried through the entire church service. Mother's Day is more special to me than I ever thought it would be, and the Lord spoke to me through the message in more poignant a way than He has in a long while. And I sort-of got a revelation about this whole fertility battle. After so many months and years of disappointment after disappointment, you begin to develop this defense. Don't get your hopes up, you'll get hurt. Expect the worst. Protect yourself. And then I thought about these verses I memorized a long time ago: "Without faith, it is impossible to please God. For those who come to Him must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." Wait, that goes against everything I've been feeling and doing. Expect the worst or hope for the best? Protect myself or step out in faith? Those verses always surprise me, because it shows us so much about the character of God. He doesn't want people praying to Him who don't believe in His goodness. The only 2 requirements He has are to believe that He exists and believe that He's a rewarder. Man, I've been struggling with that lately. Questioning God's character. Is He really good? Is He really faithful? Does He really care about me and my situation? Will He really come through for me? Yes. And I can't please God unless I come to Him believing that He is, and He does and He will.

So, last night I started getting excited. I told Zack that I was really going to get my hopes up this time, no holding back. I went to the store this morning and bought a pregnancy test (actually, 2) and came home and took them both. And even though my attitude had been so positive, the tests were not. And I could feel myself slipping back into this funk I've been in for months. And I didn't want to do anything today but go back to bed and wait for tomorrow to come. I know the truth. I know what I should feel and say and believe. But when you're in the middle of the trial, sometimes you just don't have any strength left to stand.

So, my laundry is piled high, and I didn't finish making dinner until 8:30 tonight. And I didn't go to soccer practice with Zack and the boys. And I didn't exercise, and I didn't feel like doing anything today. And I didn't. And now I'm feeling guilty for this funk I'm in again, but here I am. I remember a scripture that says, "And, having done all to stand, stand firm." Why does that sound so easy and feel so hard? All I want to do is give up this fight. Tired and weak from trying. I still haven't gotten my period yet, so I guess there's still hope that both those Dollar Tree pregnancy tests were wrong. But still, I know my hope should be in Him and not in whether or not I'm pregnant. 

Still, I struggle almost every day. Man, I used to feel like I didn't have much of a testimony, but after the last 10 years, I think I might be working on a good one. And perhaps soon I'll read over this post as I did today with my old posts about the boys and worrying about the adoption process, and wonder at God's goodness and perfect plans. They certainly aren't my plans, or anything close to what I'd planned for my life, but I have to believe that they are good plans. Plans not to harm me, but to prosper me and give me a hope. Hmmm...give me a HOPE. I like that.     

So Much for Reinvention.

Writing ones thoughts and feelings feels like somewhat of a personal thing...at least for me. I've been thinking of starting a new blog where I could post anonymously. That is, people I know wouldn't necessarily be following me. Well, after a couple of hours of trying to come up with a name for my new blog...one that isn't already being used...I've come to one conclusion: there are an insane number of people who start blogs and don't continue them! Seriously. Every single blog I went to (yes, I went to see what these brilliant people who came up with the same blog name as me were writing about) was...sad. One or two posts. Abandoned blogs. Blogs people had started with the greatest of hopes and then left...alone. Desolate. Blank.

That's not who I want to be. Writing is a huge part of my life. It's part of who I am. When I abandon it, I feel like something's missing. Sure, I'm embarrassed by some of my previous posts. Sure, I'd like to start from scratch, reinvent myself, try to be not such a dork. But I won't. I'll press forward with my blog. It doesn't matter that there are some things I don't normally share with people that I'd love to be able to write about. I'm tired of this self-preservation mentality. I am who I am. This is me...the girl who burns the oatmeal every morning, and doesn't paint my toenails and...can't seem to get pregnant. Life is complicated. I follow a few blogs that try to make me think otherwise; try to make me think there are women out there who have all the answers, the time, the beauty, the money, the creativity. Maybe they do have it all, but I don't. I'm going to be real. If nothing else, I'm going to be myself...and that person may evolve and change (I hope), but I want to be true to that person, whoever she is.