tweet, tweet

My husband has recently become a twittering fool.

          Jeff: Ashley Tisdale has over 5 million followers.  Demi Lovato has over 4 million.

          Me:  Wow.  That's a lot.


          Jeff: I have 10.

If you're interested in things of the church growth, ministry persuasion, please (pretty please!) follow @jeff_mccarty.  He'll send you a twitter shout-out.  And maybe stop comparing his level of importance to that of teenage Disney stars.

an unwanted guest, a hero, and fall from a grace

I yelled for Jeff as calmly as I possibly could. Oh, I wanted to scream. LOUD. Screaming wasn't going to do anything to help the situation, it would have only angered the intruder. I wondered if I could reach for some spray to defend myself and possibly slow down the assailant. But the mere contemplation of taking matters into my own hands sent me into full paralysis. I could hear Jeff coming, and I knew he would soon be to my rescue. I kept my eye on the trespasser. It was terrifying, but I needed to make sure I didn't let him out of my sight. Jeff finally arrived, after what seemed like hours.

"What's wrong?"

"There," I pointed.

"What? I don't see anything."

"Right there!" I shouted.

"Where? Oh. That's the biggest one I've seen."

"Do you need the Raid?" I asked.

"No. Just give me a shoe and stand back."And with three big whacks, the alien invader was crushed. My husband, who gets often frustrated with my slightly unreasonable fear of spiders, had gotten rid of the large arachnid that threatened to take over my basement. What a hero!

This morning, still freaking out at the thought of the villain and the friends he may have brought with him, I stumbled to the kitchen. I opened the freezer to retrieve the coffee grounds (NOTE: this was PRE-coffee), and was greeted with a busted diet coke. ALL over my freezer.

I guess fairy tales don't last forever :)

mother's day

I really hate when things don't go my way. It never fails - you have an idea in your mind of how a day is going to go, and then you hit a bump in the road.

Yesterday morning I got up to take a bath. I heard Bella yelling from her room to get up, so I went and got her, stuck her in the bath with me and figured I could kill two birds with one stone that way. I went to start shampooing her hair and OH MY LORD!

Panic set in. What do I do? I don't know how to handle this. It's mother's day...and I need mine!

L - I - C - E. Lice. On my child. IN MY HOUSE. ON MOTHER'S DAY! Is this some kind of a joke?!

So, Jeff went to church (yes, unfortunately when you pastor a church, few things can relieve you from your duties behind the pulpit) and I stayed home and disinfected my house. And everything in it. While wearing a hazmat suit. (Just kidding about the hazmat suit. But don't think I didn't consider it.) As most of you probably know, there is no shortage of hair in our home. Tackling lice is no easy task anyway, but this - this is ridiculous. I had a momentary lapse in judgment and considered shaving my head. I didn't.

The funny thing I found about it all, was that even though de-lousing my home and everyone who walked through wasn't my idea of how to spend Mother's Day, it was still a really good day. It's just one of those things that come with being a mom. One way or another, I got to spend the day with my sweet little Bella - and later that day, my own mom. And because it has to be said - I appreciate her SO much more now that I'VE been the one to stand and shampoo, comb and pick lice out of someone's head, and wash everything in your home.

I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day!

the little blue dress

"Fashion historians ascribe the origins of the little black dress to the 1920s designs of intended to be long-lasting, versatile, affordable, accessible to the widest market possible and in a neutral color."

Every girl has a "little black dress." I think I might even have one, although it has probably been pushed to the back of my closet since its last wear God knows how long ago. I do, however, know that I have a "little blue dress."

Last year, I let a good friend of mine borrow my "little blue dress." I remember her saying that it was a bit too small for her - which I of course, found absolutely no satisfaction in :). This past weekend she returned the dress. "I actually wore this dress!" I told my husband. "Can you believe there was a time that I could actually fit into this dress?!"

So I decided...I will fit into my blue dress again.

And so marks the re-beginning of a diet. Fun. We tried this a little over a year ago. I was successful - but Jeff was more successful. He could eat WAY more food than me and still lose weight. And for him, more food also meant blizzards, cookies, cakes, etc. So eventually I got frustrated and gave into the temptation of my sweet tooth. Sadly, all of my long lost friends (pounds) came back and brought new friends with it. The time has come that they must go.

All of this because of a little blue dress.

blowouts

Blowouts are bad. You're never prepared for it. They interrupt what you're trying to do, stop you from getting where you're going. They leave a mess of debris in their wake. You're lucky most of the time if it doesn't cause a whole new chain of events to take place - a sort of domino effect. No matter how mild, how much control you happen to get over it when it happens or even if you anticipate it coming, it ends up costing you money you didn't want to spend in repairs and replacements. Most of all, you're lucky if you or someone else don't get killed in the process.

Yes...diaper blowouts can be extremely dangerous.

Yesterday evening when I got off work, Jeff and Bella met me to go get a bit to eat and do a little shopping. Bella seemed to be a little grouchy, however it was nothing that a little "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" on the iPod couldn't cure. When we were done, Jeff took me back to my car and was helping me put in her in my car when he realized she was soaked.

And the he realized that she wasn't just wet.

He was freaking out. I knew there was no change of clothes in the car or her bag, so I wasn't sure what to do with her. So, I took her into work, propped her up on the dryer in the break room and stripped her down. After we gave the security camera a good show, we left with Bella wearing nothing but a diaper, her shoes and her new spring jacket. It was at a time like this, I appreciated my mom instilling in me the importance of multiple layers. Even if it is 70 degrees outside :)

Don't worry Lebliss girls...I cleaned the dryer off good when we were done.

Lesson learned: always carry an extra set of clothes. ALWAYS.

the special cart

Tonight I had to run to Kroger for a couple of items I needed for tomorrow that I had forgotten about. I grabbed the cart that was sitting conveniently at arms reach and ran into the store.

I should have known. There's always a reason that one lone cart sits at arms reach so conveniently. It was a special cart. You know, the ones that have a jacked up wheel - and no matter how hard or fast you push it through the store it wants you to go left.

Thankfully I only needed 2 items, and I was by myself. But you know what I mean. You've gotten out of the car, hauled your kid, or even kids, up to the store, diaper bag, purse, grocery list in tow, strapped the little monster in once you've finally found a cart that actually has a safety belt. You feel like you've completed an Olympic decathalon and you victoriously push your way into the store only to find out...

you've picked the special cart.

Happens to me all the time. In fact, it can easily ruin my days grocery shopping trip, which I find utterly unenjoyable in the first place. My husband enjoys making fun of my hatred of the the experience. I've tried to be have a better outlook on it. I've tried to look at the fact that Bella taking the grocery list out of my hand and tearing it in half is only her expression of desire to split up the responsibility of shopping. I've reasoned out that when she pulls things off of the shelves and throws them in the cart she's merely trying to free up my hands to only have to push the cart. I have even concluded that when she turns around and takes things out of the cart and and throws them on the ground, she's just going for quality assurance and getting rid of the items that are not up to par.

But the cart, with the special wheel. That's one I can't get past. No matter how you look at it. There is no way to put a positive spin on a grocery cart that has a mind of it's own.

my prerogative

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.

Right?

I change things like the wind changes. The two of you who read my blog may have noticed this by the way the design of it changes all the time. I get bored easy and feel like I need something fresh. This happens with the smallest of things like, where the garbage can sits in the bathroom, to middle of the road things such as, how the kitchen is organized, or to big things, like how the furniture is arranged, or even what room it might be in.

A couple of years ago I had rearranged the layout of the house so much, that one day Yana came out of her room and asked me where the kitchen was now.

I will admit that I may have a problem. It probably frustrates Jeff the most. He is a creature of habit and set in his ways. He doesn't like coming home and now knowing where the silverware might be. In fact, just this evening when he pulled my blog up, his words were "This is an eyesore." And then I was all "why you gotta be hateful?"

So guess what? I changed it. It's my prerogative :)