Few random thoughts to share with you, my dear readers… consider it some random musings or a brain dump, or catching up with an old friend you haven’t visited with for awhile, none the less, here’s my bulleted list of things which don’t quite make for a post on their own….
*I recently made the wonderful discovery of sharp Monterey Jack cheese. I’ve seen it mixed with cheddar in bags at the store, and knew you could put it in tacos or what not. But I accidentally bought a huge back of Monterey Jack thinking it was mozzarella. I used it in pepperoni bread and home made pizza.
IT IS FABULOUS!
Seriously, where have you been all my life Monterey Jack?
Can I just say, best pizza ever??
I think I may never use mozzarella again.
* Cravings… been having lots of them lately… as in grilled cheese and relish sandwiches every day last week… and I polished off a big ol bag of Utz Honey Barbeque Potato Chips last week as well. I never, ever, buy potato chips…sure I might eat a handful at a party, but I am more of a chocolate chip cookie kind of girl, not a chip girl. Except for Doritos… every now and then I’ll get a hankering for Doritos… but never, chips. These chips were DECLIOUS and totally hit the spot. I’m already craving a second bag.
*Speaking of pregnancy…I’m officially in maternity clothes now. Couldn’t walk around anymore with my pants unbuttoned… had to go for the elastic band.
*Confession: Those cheesy, sappy, kiss begins with Kay commercials, get me every time. Scott will roll his eyes and begin to say, “oh please,” and turn to see me with my hand literally over my heart saying, “awh.” I know, I am corn ball. But the one where the couple walks around retracing all the spots in their relationship… first kiss…first date…and the “spot where I said, “Yes.” uh….Can I just blame it on the hormones, please?
*Still reveling in the sheer brilliance of my man… every day last week the kids greeted Scott when he came home with, “Dad, guess what veggie we’re having for dinner? We actually had 2 veggies for dinner on more than one night and served broccoli with our pizza on Friday.
*Aunt Karen and baby Eli, arrived in town this weekend… we couldn’t be more thrilled to have them local for a big chunk of time.
At dinner last night I was telling Scott how cute it is to watch our 3 yr old in gymnastics. Every now and then she’ll look at the observation window, get a big grin and wave to me. Sometimes she’ll even give me a thumbs up sign. At which point she chimed in and said,
“Yea, this means good.”
“And this means Ravens”
What can I say? That’s my girl!
Not everyday you see an Oriole wrapped in a Steelers Terrible Towel.
Click here or here for more picture fun.
I seriously stink at parking. (Not parallel parking. I’ve got a secret for that. I never do it. Ever. Yes, I will walk twice as far when parking downtown to avoid parallel parking on the street).
But, my struggle is with the ol’ pull in parking lots. More specifically, backing out of said spots. I’ve been known to wait around in my car for the car beside me or in front of me to leave so I can get out of my spot b/c I parked too close to the line and can’t get out without damaging one of our cars. And I’ve gone back into the house of a friend to get someone to come help me back out when I leave a party or gathering before most of the people and I don’t know how I’ll squeeze out the driveway.
And no these events didn’t take place back when I first got my license… they’ve taken place during my married life… even my married with kids life.
But tonight was a new low.
I walked home from soccer practice. (with the keys to my husbands car in my hand).
It was supposed to be so easy. Scott met the kids and I at practice. When practice was over, I suggested he take the kids home in the van so I could stop by to grab something for dinner on the way back to the house.
But when I went to his parking spot I found a bit of a tight squeeze. Big old truck parked right by the line of my parking spot on my left. Wooden posts on my right. And a minivan behind me.
I slowly inched back…turned the wheel.
Nope to close to that truck, I’m going to hit it.
Pull back in… this time trying to stay close to the right side. Try again. Looks like I’ll make it. But nope, too close to the van. Can’t do it.
Pull in again. Try calling Scott.
No answer.
Try again.
No answer.
Back out again…. going good… slowly, slowly, turn the wheel….no I can’t.
And so, I walk home. (Luckily it isn’t a far walk at all, it’s just too far for 3 slightly distractible and all too often painfully slow kids to walk there quickly and have any hope of making it to practice on time).
I get home and tell Scott that his car is still at the elementary school and ummm we gotta go back and get it.
So, at 7:15, we put the kids back in the car (even though we haven’t eaten dinner yet) and drive back to the school (why Mommy?) to get the van.
Scott doesn’t say a word. Not one word. Till we get to the car (in the now vacant lot), when as I hop out he says,
‘This time I’ll wait for you.”
Last night I came home from Kids Quest (our church’s evening class for kids in which we teach them the questions from the Shorter Catechism), pizza in hand and Scott and I quickly tag teamed to get the kids in bed so we could hit play and watch the recorded Steelers game. (I seriously think the invention of the DVR has got to go on my top 5 list of inventions that changed my life… I LOVE it)! Pizza, coke, beer, terrible towels… we were set for one of favorite kind of date nights… Steelers Football.
And for awhile the date was going well. We were ahead, the defense was holding them, life was good. I started to relax.
And then came the fourth quarter in which no relaxing took place as my stomach was in knots and I watched Limas Sweed drop a beautiful catch in the end zone. And Jeff Reed miss a field goal (2 weeks in a row now) and our defense let the Bengals pound us down and score a game winning touch down in the last 14 seconds of the game.
And just like that my date night was ruined.
We sat in silence.
One thing I love about my relationship with Scott is how well we know and get each other.
And we both know that after the Steelers lose, there must, must be a moment of silence. There is no small talk to be had. No, “Oh well, let’s try again next week.” No. None of that.
Neither of us want to talk about it or anything for awhile.
So, what is there to do, but check my fantasy team. I’ve had a rough start this year in fantasy football. Last year I started great and actually made it to the play off round. I was second place over all. I say that to boost my ego, b/c this year I am 0-3. And I don’t understand it. I have a good team. I had the 1 and 3 highest ranking wide receivers starting yesterday. And they gave me a total of 14 points. Not enough, I tell ya, not enough.
I opened live writer to write a post, but didn’t feel it. Sure, I could have posted a pic of my kids at the library on Saturday with a real replica of R2D2 and Darth Vador and a host of other Star Wards bad guys…. but the force just wasn’t with me. I could have shared pics and anecdotes from our semi spontaneous apple orchard trip on Friday afternoon, but it seemed too… chipper.
So, discouraged, I went to bed.
And that my dear readers is why it is now 3:00 on Monday and I am just now able to get a post up.
As I’ve returned to the classroom these past few weeks (though in a very different atmosphere), I can’t help but reflect on my years of teaching prior to becoming a stay at home mom. I was blessed to teach for 3 years at a small, Christian school. I learned a lot and grew from the experience. I honestly think it shaped the way I parent today.
That being said, I can’t help but reflect on the single. worst. teaching mistake of my life. I share it with you so that on those days when you do something truly stupid, you can comfort yourself with the fact that “at least it wasn’t as bad as what Crystal did…”
Seriously, brace yourself b/c it just doesn’t get worse than this.
It was my first year of teaching and I was very excited to have my kids read Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Being fresh out of college, and brimming with ideas, I was eager to involve the parents and children in hands on activities. I sent home a letter at the beginning of the book asking the parents if they would be willing to come and volunteer with some real world experiences for the children. We baked bread, we had a “Little House luncheon,” and we did some crafts from the time period. I was so excited to let the kids engage in the activities they were reading about and to learn more about the time period. Naturally, when I had a father volunteer to come in, I was elated.
Since he taught at a nearby school, he was able to come at the end of the day to present to the class. I was so excited. I remember him walking in the room and showing the kids what a muzzle loader looked like. “This is great,” I thought to myself. Now they will truly know and understand what Pa Ingalls used to hunt in the book. As he talked about hunting, and showed the kids the bullets, and then the rifle, suddenly, it hit me.
Like a ton of bricks.
What was I thinking?
I let a parent come into my classroom with a weapon and I didn’t notify the administration.
As he showed the kids how he looked through the scope (please note the weapon was not loaded), I felt sick to my stomach.
Honestly, it wasn’t until I saw him holding the rifle, like a gun, that I realized the enormity of my error.
If I had been asked on a test for educational theory or practice, or any one of my education classes, “If a parent is coming to your classroom with a weapon do you think you should
a) seek permission first from your school administration
b) notify the parents first
c) say, “hey come on in and why don’t you go ahead and bring some ammunition too”
d) What? Invite a parent to bring a weapon to your school? Are you crazy?
I am confident, I would not have circled C.
And yet, there I sat that spring day with a class full of 8 and 9 year olds while a father showed them his gun and ammunition.
That afternoon with great angst and fear, I walked down to my principals office to tell him of my great ignorance and apologize for my error. I was so nervous. I vividly recall knocking on his door and then begging him for forgiveness as I confessed my idiocy.
He was so gracious. He forgave me and then I recall him saying, “Crystal, in the future if you plan to bring a loaded weapon or any weapon for that matter, to school, I would appreciate knowing about it in the future.” I can only imagine the conversation he had with his wife that night about the crazy, young teacher in the third grade. I am so grateful, he let me stay and teach for 2 more years.
My children have been inundated with Chick-Fil-A from birth. The first thing I ate after my daughter’s delivery was a CFA sandwich. I have scrapbook pages in each of my daughter’s first year scrapbooks, dedicated to their first Kids Meals at Chick-Fil-A. The first logo/graphic my son recognized was for Chick-Fil-A. Anytime he saw a cursive C when he was a toddler, he thought it was the word Chick-Fil-A. They’ve known and loved the Chick-Fil-A cow since they were babies and we’ve even dressed like one for the past 5 years.
Knowing this complete obsession and undying love fondness for all things Chick-Fil-A which they’ve grown up with will help you better appreciate the conversation my son and I had last week after enjoying the free Labor day Chick-Fil-A sandwiches.
Son: “Mom, I love Chick-Fil-A burgers without the pickles.”
Me: “Really? More than their nuggets?
Son: Yea, well it’s the same thing as the nuggets except the nuggets don’t have the bun and I like having the bread b/c its easier to hold.”
Me: “That makes sense, but they aren’t called burgers. Their called chicken sandwiches, because they are not burgers.”
Son: “Oh. Then why do they have all the cows everywhere?”
We have a plethora of Chick-Fil-A cows in our home. Each kid has a small one in their bed, I have the Santa cow up in my kitchen at Christmas time, and we even have a giant one in our toy room. And for the past 5 years my son thought that was because we loved eating Chick-Fil-A cows.
Oops.
I went on to explain the Chick-Fil-A marketing plan to my five year old. The cows aren’t there to advertise eating more cows. Why would cows want to be eaten? I told him how the cows are there b/c they don’t want us to eat them; they want us to eat chicken instead. Despite the misunderstanding, Chick-Fil-A is still (and will always remain) our favorite restaurant.
Last week I survived the Annapolis 10 Mile Run. I’d like to say that I raced it or ran it, but in actuality I just survived it.
While one might wonder why I am not more excited and proud of such an accomplishment, it is because the year prior, I ran it well. I trained for it all summer and come race day I did my best. Now my best is only about 15 min faster than my survival pace, but the feeling I had when crossing the finish line was worlds different. (It’s quite telling to read both accounts of the run).
This year, I let busyness, laziness, and a lack of determination get in the way of my training. So, come race day, I was really banking on the training from last summer. And a summer’s worth of running can only carry a girl so far.
It got me thinking about the other race I’m running. Ya now the race of life.
Hebrews 12: 1-2 states,
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
As we go through this life, I want to run the race God has marked for me with perseverance. I don’t want to merely survive. I don’t want to reach my finished line and say, “Well God, I made it.” Instead I want to finish strong and have my heavenly father say to me, “Well done my good and faithful servant.”
In order for this to happen, I need to be disciplined, and intentional. I need to tap into the strength God provides through his Word and his Holy Spirit. I also need to continue in doing his work. I can’t become complacent and let others to the work of his kingdom. I need to actively serve my King, all the days of my life. Keep in mind, I am not doing these things so that I can earn my way to heaven. I know right now where I am going when I die and it has nothing to do with anything I’ve done. I will spend eternity in heaven b/c Jesus endured the cross on my behalf. Nothing I do or don’t do can change that. But, like I said, I don’t want to just live my life and then die. I want to run the race. I want to serve the Lord actively with my life.
As I mentioned yesterday, I’m trying to play more with my kids. I want to actively engage them and savor up these moments I have with them while they are young. This fall, the kids and I will be attending BSF on Thursdays. I am looking forward to the accountability that Bible Study provides for me to get in the word daily. And now that we’re home schooling, we’re in a new phase of life here at the circus. One where mom can’t wait till the kids wake up for the day to get started. I gotta set my alarm and get up first to ensure we start the day on the right foot. One thing I hope to incorporate with that is some time spent alone in His word in the quiet of the morning. I’d also like to squeeze a run in there as well.
I am not a morning person though, so I now this shift change is going to be difficult for me. I’m great at coming up with new ideals for how I’m going to change, but not so good on the follow through. I’m so thankful that as I run this race, I have someone running along side me the entire way. God doesn’t leave us here alone. He’s with us, encouraging us, pushing us forward, and even picking us up when we fall on our face.
I learned a valuable lesson last week. One I hope to take with me as I run this much more important race.
1 Corinthians 9:24
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.
What are you thinking about this week? Why not use your last post of the week to highlight something a bit "deeper" then the average “Momblog” fair? I’d love to read your thoughts. Please feel free to write and link up a “thoughtful” post below. You can write a new post or link up one you wrote earlier in the week. Please include a link back to here in your post.
I saw this line on a tee shirt this weekend at the Annapolis 10 Mile and loved it. But, it cost $27 so I decided instead of buying the tee shirt, I’d make it my blog title.
Yea, I was so excited when I signed up back in June to run this race with my high school friends.
And somehow 3 months came and went and I ummm didn’t really train adequately for it. But, they did.
So, I ran/walk/ran/walk/ran 10 miles this morning.
And I finished.
But, ummm that’s really about all I can say about that.
Though I wrote two weekend thought blog posts in my head as I plodded along, one foot in front of the other, which I will share with you all the next 2 Fridays. Because deep thoughts are born in adversity, right?
Before: (minus Jami who was peeing at the time of this picture)
After: (minus Jen and Jake who left right after they finished so they could go and do nursery duty at church…amazing, huh, I went home and slept, they went to church and worked in the nursery).
The best part?
Hanging out at the park that evening enjoying fellowship, crabs, and steak)
…plus that fact that in just 4 days we’ll all be hanging out again (plus 2 other families) for our annual Labor Day Weekend Getaway together.
This weekend in addition to enjoying some fishing and campfire doughnuts, we also got to par take in some Pittsburgh Steelers revelry. While camping is always a good time, the reason for our camping trip was so we could spend the afternoon checking up on our boys in the burgh!
This was Scott and my third trip to Latrobe, PA to watch the Steelers practice at training camp. It’s always fun to see the players you watch and cheer on T.V. live and in person. I particularly enjoy watching them interact with each other.
We met my parents in the parking lot and entered the campus proudly wearing our black and gold jerseys. My son started chanting, “Here we go Steelers, here we go… Pittsburgh’s going to the Superbowl.” (Steelers fight song)
As we sat and watched them play we snapped a few (hundred) pics of our favorite players.
And we sweated, A LOT.
While we downed water bottles and tried to block the sun with our terrible towels, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last time Scott and I watched the Steelers play.
Last time it was 27 degrees. This time it was 95 degrees. Seems we’re willing to go to either extreme to watch our boys play ball.
(While Saturday was a ton of fun, I think freezing my legs off while watching the Steelers beat the Ravens in the AFC Championship game, still goes down as my favorite)!
A strange thing has happened to me in my ripe, “old” age. Since turning thirty I have discovered my taste buds are changing quite a bit.
For years I have loved the smell of coffee. And while I do enjoy a cappuccino or especially a good frappuchino, an actual cup of coffee was too strong for my liking. However, I enjoyed the smell so much, I once begged my husband to drink it in the morning, just so we could fill our home with its rich aroma. He denied my request to become addicted to caffeine for no reason other than to please his wife’s olfactory nerves.
But recently, I have noticed that I have acquired a newfound liking to the cup of joe (with cream and sugar mind you). I bought a bag of coffee beans this week and hope to figure out how to use our coffee maker so I can start my day with the sweet smell of hazelnut coffee brewing in our kitchen. Funny, how I made it through 4 years of college, 3 years of teaching, and 3 newborn babies without it, but within weeks of hitting the big 3-0 I’ve turned to the dark side.
More startling than my appreciation for coffee, is my recent discovery of a 
diet soft drink that I have found acceptable to the palate. I am a coke snob. And I wouldn’t touch diet soda if it was the last soda on earth. But last week I went to visit Scott at work and asked him to bring me out a soda. All they had was a diet coke with lime and a cherry coke zero. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. No way was I touching the diet coke, but I left the cherry coke zero sitting on the picnic table. (see I told you I was a snob). I thought about it. My mouth was dry and so I figured, what the heck. I closed my eyes and took a sip, much like I was attempting to get down cough medicine. It wasn’t bad. I drank some more. Hmmm… can’t really tell much of a difference. I must confess it took me several more sips before I was willing to admit to Scott that it didn’t taste different to me than regular cherry coke. He was in shock! I have to confess I haven’t tried one since, b/c we still have regulars in our pantry. But, the next time I need to buy more coke, I intend to purchase a case of cherry coke zero.
I’ve been thirty for 2 weeks now and I’ve added diet soda and coffee to my grocery list… what’s next?
