"On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real."
http://thegypsymama.com/
GO
I seem to have always struggled with finding my identity.
In high school I was never one of those kids who was good at that "one thing," I was just semi-not really-kind of- pretended like I was good at many different things.
Even through college and in the early years of my marriage, my identity was a subject that constantly threw me into a state of inward battle.
Because frankly, I am flaky.
I am undefined.
I am forever changing. My opinions ever swaying.
I am neither this, nor that.
And I have grown to embrace it.
And my husband, well I think he tolerates it. And laughs at it. And loves me all the same.
The only thing on which I want to place my identity, is the cross of Christ.
Everything else... Who knows? Certainly not I!
STOP
Friday, May 11, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Please pass the earplugs.
"ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
And that is the sound you will hear if you spend more than five minutes at the Frizzell household.
It has translated to many different statements....
"I'm bored."
"Feed me."
"I just left a gift for you in my diaper."
"Why is it so quiet around here?"
"I have an impeccable singing voice, don't you think?"
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
"I smell coffee. Hand it over and nobody gets hurt." *
How could such a sweet,little sort-of-little thing make such a big noise?
Poor Andy, who has always had a difficulty with loud noises, has learned how to manage, and even laugh at, these random and LOUD outbursts. Bless him.
True, with becoming a parent there are many sacrifices to be made...
Like sleep. And your eardrums. And your obsessive compulsion to keep things in an orderly manner. And alone time. And date nights. And sleep. And drinking your coffee before it gets cold. And sleep. And taking a shower before 5pm. And sleep. And going to the bathroom alone. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
But man. It is SO worth it.
In this exceptional book I just finished, Spirit-Led Parenting, (a must-read for every new mom) the author says,
Every giggle. Every smile. Every reach of the arms that says, "pick me up." Every open-mouth, slobbery kiss. Every crinkle of the nose. Every twinkle of the eye. Every excited little kick of the legs. Every turn of the head to make sure you're still watching. Every clap of the hands. And even every heart-attack inducing, ear-splitting, unfathomably loud exclamation.
These are those moments.
These are the things that turn all of those "sacrifices" into tiny grains of sand on our vast beach of love. (Like, totally far out, dude.)
Just last night, it was a fight, yet again, to get Eden down to sleep. (Someone please tell me why babies fight sleep so much? I don't get it! Sleep is a beautiful thing. I, for one, happen to love it.) After an hour or so of this night time battle, I finally surrendered to this strong-willed 7 month old and brought her back downstairs, curled up on the couch next to Andy, and, with tears in my eyes, I exclaimed, "I am so EXHAUSTED!"
And then this baby, who only minutes before had brought upon me loads of frustration, looked up innocently in my eyes and gave me that beautiful, gummy smile that I love so deeply.
And in that moment, I felt grace. And humility. And that heart-bursting love.
For my Father continually pours out redemption upon this strong-willed 26 year old, whose selfish nature is, regrettably, in daily battle with His will, His good and perfect will.
*Don't worry, CPS, we do not give our baby coffee. But she is a Frizzell, she was born with an innate desire for the liquid magic, hence forth her strong proclamations on the matter.
And that is the sound you will hear if you spend more than five minutes at the Frizzell household.
It has translated to many different statements....
"I'm bored."
"Feed me."
"I just left a gift for you in my diaper."
"Why is it so quiet around here?"
"I have an impeccable singing voice, don't you think?"
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
"I smell coffee. Hand it over and nobody gets hurt." *
How could such a sweet,
Poor Andy, who has always had a difficulty with loud noises, has learned how to manage, and even laugh at, these random and LOUD outbursts. Bless him.
True, with becoming a parent there are many sacrifices to be made...
Like sleep. And your eardrums. And your obsessive compulsion to keep things in an orderly manner. And alone time. And date nights. And sleep. And drinking your coffee before it gets cold. And sleep. And taking a shower before 5pm. And sleep. And going to the bathroom alone. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
But man. It is SO worth it.
In this exceptional book I just finished, Spirit-Led Parenting, (a must-read for every new mom) the author says,
"There are moments in parenting our children when we feel as though our hearts might burst, so deep and extravagant is our love for them. How incredibly and wonderfully kind of God to allow us to experience this level of connection to our children that we might know a little more of how He loves us."
Every giggle. Every smile. Every reach of the arms that says, "pick me up." Every open-mouth, slobbery kiss. Every crinkle of the nose. Every twinkle of the eye. Every excited little kick of the legs. Every turn of the head to make sure you're still watching. Every clap of the hands. And even every heart-attack inducing, ear-splitting, unfathomably loud exclamation.
These are those moments.
These are the things that turn all of those "sacrifices" into tiny grains of sand on our vast beach of love. (Like, totally far out, dude.)
Just last night, it was a fight, yet again, to get Eden down to sleep. (Someone please tell me why babies fight sleep so much? I don't get it! Sleep is a beautiful thing. I, for one, happen to love it.) After an hour or so of this night time battle, I finally surrendered to this strong-willed 7 month old and brought her back downstairs, curled up on the couch next to Andy, and, with tears in my eyes, I exclaimed, "I am so EXHAUSTED!"
And then this baby, who only minutes before had brought upon me loads of frustration, looked up innocently in my eyes and gave me that beautiful, gummy smile that I love so deeply.
And in that moment, I felt grace. And humility. And that heart-bursting love.
For my Father continually pours out redemption upon this strong-willed 26 year old, whose selfish nature is, regrettably, in daily battle with His will, His good and perfect will.
*Don't worry, CPS, we do not give our baby coffee. But she is a Frizzell, she was born with an innate desire for the liquid magic, hence forth her strong proclamations on the matter.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
5 minute Friday: Community
GO
We were created to be together. God said "it is not good for man to be alone," and while he was speaking in context about the woman, it could possibly apply to all facets of life.
We were designed to have that innate desire to be a part of something. To belong. To be included. Although it is necessary to take moments alone (look at the example of Christ taking time to retreat and pray), God has created us to be in communion with one another. It is this community that has kept me afloat during even the deepest of floods. I am forever thankful to Christ's church, to this community of believers, that leaves me feeling connected even in my moments when I am most alone.
STOP*
*thank goodness for these 5 minute Friday challenges, otherwise my blog would go untouched. Eeek.
We were created to be together. God said "it is not good for man to be alone," and while he was speaking in context about the woman, it could possibly apply to all facets of life.
We were designed to have that innate desire to be a part of something. To belong. To be included. Although it is necessary to take moments alone (look at the example of Christ taking time to retreat and pray), God has created us to be in communion with one another. It is this community that has kept me afloat during even the deepest of floods. I am forever thankful to Christ's church, to this community of believers, that leaves me feeling connected even in my moments when I am most alone.
STOP*
*thank goodness for these 5 minute Friday challenges, otherwise my blog would go untouched. Eeek.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Five Minute Friday- Together
Lately I've been subscribing to other mom-bloggers, such as the Gypsy Mama, who challenged us to a Five Minute Friday on the topic of "Together." so here it goes...
GO
Together we move mountains. Together we have climbed mountains. Together we are better.
Our travels...
Europe, Cross Country, California.
Our hobbies...
coffee, music, and well... coffee and music.
Our hopes and dreams.
Our faith.
Our love.
Our crazy, hilarious little offspring.
Together, we are better.
No one can quite understand our uncool/unhip/unfunny funniness.
But that's how we like it.
Best friend, Husband, Love,
I'm better when we're together.
STOP
Aaaand, how lame am I, that that took up 5 whole minutes? But there you go.
I need more practice.
GO
Together we move mountains. Together we have climbed mountains. Together we are better.
Our travels...
Europe, Cross Country, California.
Our hobbies...
coffee, music, and well... coffee and music.
Our hopes and dreams.
Our faith.
Our love.
Our crazy, hilarious little offspring.
Together, we are better.
No one can quite understand our uncool/unhip/unfunny funniness.
But that's how we like it.
Best friend, Husband, Love,
I'm better when we're together.
STOP
Aaaand, how lame am I, that that took up 5 whole minutes? But there you go.
I need more practice.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Domestic-ified
So due a friendly "discussion" sweet Andy and I had a few nights back, I've been on this self-proclaimed mission to become more like the Proverbs 31 woman, a woman I have long admired, envied, and placed up there with all of those other heros, whose superpowers were impossible for little 'ol me to obtain. I mean, I might as well desire to fly.
But as self realization hit, which it so often does in the most inopportune of times, I discovered there were many opportunities to better my domestic-ified (always take the liberty to make up new words) self that I let slip right by (admittedly, most of the time, on purpose). Many times without realization (okay, okay. It's realized. There, I said it.), I often seek the help of my emotionally and mentally drained, hard working, minister husband for matters in which I am perfectly capable and should be handling myself.
This is in no way a challenge placed before me by my husband. He would gladly and lovingly help me in all things "housewifish," and has done so since the birth of Eden. But... hello! I am not still nurturing a newborn here. Now that she is 7 months old (I know! I can't believe it either!) I really need to be stepping up my game as a homemaker.
And so for the last week, I've have put forth more of an effort, picking up as I go, staying on top of laundry, digging into a few organizational type projects, and even (gasp!) planning out our menu and cooking at home for the whole week. I know, I know, these are things even single college BOYS can do, but for some reason, not this unorganized, unkempt, unmotivated girl. Somehow the Susie Homemaker gene skipped my generation. (My mother is not only a domestic diva, she is a Housekeeping Queen.)
Anyway, even these minor efforts have made such a difference in my daily outlook on mothering life. I finally feel as if I'm (just ever so slightly) able to balance being a wife, mother, and keeper of the home.
But please don't judge if you happen to stop by, I've warned you, I'm only taking BABY STEPS.
I would just like to please warrant your prayers in my quest for becoming a bit more like the Warrior Woman who is found in the great Book of Wisdom.
But as self realization hit, which it so often does in the most inopportune of times, I discovered there were many opportunities to better my domestic-ified (always take the liberty to make up new words) self that I let slip right by (admittedly, most of the time, on purpose). Many times without realization (okay, okay. It's realized. There, I said it.), I often seek the help of my emotionally and mentally drained, hard working, minister husband for matters in which I am perfectly capable and should be handling myself.
This is in no way a challenge placed before me by my husband. He would gladly and lovingly help me in all things "housewifish," and has done so since the birth of Eden. But... hello! I am not still nurturing a newborn here. Now that she is 7 months old (I know! I can't believe it either!) I really need to be stepping up my game as a homemaker.
And so for the last week, I've have put forth more of an effort, picking up as I go, staying on top of laundry, digging into a few organizational type projects, and even (gasp!) planning out our menu and cooking at home for the whole week. I know, I know, these are things even single college BOYS can do, but for some reason, not this unorganized, unkempt, unmotivated girl. Somehow the Susie Homemaker gene skipped my generation. (My mother is not only a domestic diva, she is a Housekeeping Queen.)
Anyway, even these minor efforts have made such a difference in my daily outlook on mothering life. I finally feel as if I'm (just ever so slightly) able to balance being a wife, mother, and keeper of the home.
But please don't judge if you happen to stop by, I've warned you, I'm only taking BABY STEPS.
I would just like to please warrant your prayers in my quest for becoming a bit more like the Warrior Woman who is found in the great Book of Wisdom.
A good woman is hard to find,
and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve,
and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously
all her life long.
She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
and brings back exotic surprises.
She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast
for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it,
then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work,
is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.
She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
diligent in homemaking.
She's quick to assist anyone in need,
reaches out to help the poor.
She doesn't worry about her family when it snows;
their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected
when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them,
brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.
When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her;
her husband joins in with words of praise:
"Many women have done wonderful things,
but you've outclassed them all!"
Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
The woman to be admired and praised
is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
Festoon her life with praises!**
**I understand that this woman is so much more than just a good homemaker, but like I said, baby steps.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Prayer Challenge
Just a quick post before Eden wakes from her nap...
While browsing Pinterest, I came across this prayer challenge, and I was just overcome with conviction. I know I need to pray for my husband, and I try to often, but in reading this, I knew I had to change my quick and simple "thank you God for Andy" type prayers.
Who am I to hold Andy to such a high standard of husbandry expectation, if I'm not praying daily, and in great depth, for him?
Our lives have drastically shifted in the last year, with the birth of our daughter. And while I so often pretend that our relationship is as it once was, truthfully I know that I there are so many times that Andy is not receiving the full amount of love, attention, and respect he deserves. And so I take on this challenge, committing to pray this daily for my husband. Will all of you other wives join me? Let's hold our husbands to a higher standard, keeping them accountable. If we want our husbands to be the spiritual men we know God has created them to be, we must first do our part as their wives, and be in daily and active prayer for them.
While browsing Pinterest, I came across this prayer challenge, and I was just overcome with conviction. I know I need to pray for my husband, and I try to often, but in reading this, I knew I had to change my quick and simple "thank you God for Andy" type prayers.
Who am I to hold Andy to such a high standard of husbandry expectation, if I'm not praying daily, and in great depth, for him?
Our lives have drastically shifted in the last year, with the birth of our daughter. And while I so often pretend that our relationship is as it once was, truthfully I know that I there are so many times that Andy is not receiving the full amount of love, attention, and respect he deserves. And so I take on this challenge, committing to pray this daily for my husband. Will all of you other wives join me? Let's hold our husbands to a higher standard, keeping them accountable. If we want our husbands to be the spiritual men we know God has created them to be, we must first do our part as their wives, and be in daily and active prayer for them.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Like a Bridge Over Troubled Waters...
So something strange, and a bit unnerving, has been occurring at the Frizzell household as of late. No, no it's not Andy's missing facial hair (though it has taken some time, and a few long ruminating stares, for me to become acclimated to his new look). Recently our sweet little 6 1/2 month old daughter has been crying. I know!!! Preposterous!!! But it hasn't just been her normal, everyday, "I'm hungry," "I'm sleepy," I'm poopy," cries. Rather, it's more of a "I'm in a glass case of emotion!" estrogen-filled, dramatically rendered, 6 month-old version of typical teenage-girl despair. One minute she's fine, smiling and cooing in that innocent, sure-to-soon-be-dripping-with-southern-drawl, little voice of hers, and before we know it, this once sweet child is hysterically, inconsolably crying, arms flailing and legs kicking. Then the next minute, she's laughing! (Laughing at our momentarily panicked reaction is what she's really doing.) And like a spinning record, stuck on the same verse, the process is repeated. Over and over. Whenever this happens, Andy and I can't help but look at each other and laugh (as soon as we realize she's not in dire need of medical attention), for we know, this is merely the beginning.(Andy is a youth minister, after all.) She is her mother's daughter.
And so I write this, not really for the benefit of any of you crazy people who actually read this fair-weathered blog, but more as a future reminder to myself: this girl has pure, raw (and sometimes in controllable) emotions. Something that is evident at only 6 months of age, and without a doubt, sure to increase over time. AND THAT IS OKAY. No matter what her age, no matter what the circumstances, her feelings are valid. They are real. And even if the problem is seemingly minute to her most-likely-to-be-clueless parents, to her, it may feel as if the world is crashing down. I want to be a mother that listens. Who, at the very least, tries to understand, even if it at times seems impossible. Who fights for whatever she deems worthy enough to fight for herself.
Not once do I ever remember my own mother telling me to "stop crying." Even if my emotions were flying off the handle and completely unreasonable, my mom treated them with a credibility that they most likely did not deserve, something I wish to carry on for my own daughter. I pray that she is never afraid to show her emotion (and with her father, I doubt that will be a problem...love you, Andy). For the tender heart that lays within her, will one day (oh, fervently I pray), beat in rapid emotion for her Heavenly Father.
And so I write this, not really for the benefit of any of you crazy people who actually read this fair-weathered blog, but more as a future reminder to myself: this girl has pure, raw (and sometimes in controllable) emotions. Something that is evident at only 6 months of age, and without a doubt, sure to increase over time. AND THAT IS OKAY. No matter what her age, no matter what the circumstances, her feelings are valid. They are real. And even if the problem is seemingly minute to her most-likely-to-be-clueless parents, to her, it may feel as if the world is crashing down. I want to be a mother that listens. Who, at the very least, tries to understand, even if it at times seems impossible. Who fights for whatever she deems worthy enough to fight for herself.
Not once do I ever remember my own mother telling me to "stop crying." Even if my emotions were flying off the handle and completely unreasonable, my mom treated them with a credibility that they most likely did not deserve, something I wish to carry on for my own daughter. I pray that she is never afraid to show her emotion (and with her father, I doubt that will be a problem...love you, Andy). For the tender heart that lays within her, will one day (oh, fervently I pray), beat in rapid emotion for her Heavenly Father.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words....
As a mother, one of my most treasured times during the day is morning nap time. Just an hour and a half after waking from her (not so uninterrupted) night's rest, Eden is ready to go back to sleep for another hour or two. With the exception of Sundays, Eden and I stay in our pajamas, and delay getting ready for the day until after she wakes from her morning nap. And while there are probably a million other things I could accomplish during this time, on most mornings, we curl up on my bed, and take that nap together. Go ahead, you can call me lazy, I don't mind.
I never really sleep during this time. Rather, I read, spend time on Facebook, twitter, etc., browse blogs and articles by other mothers, or simply just stare at my beautiful, sleeping, baby. This morning, I am blogging.
What I love most about this glorious time of rest, however, is not the long period in which Eden is actually asleep. It is, instead, those short moments just before she drifts. As her eyelids become heavier and her breathing deeper, she often takes one long, last look at her mother. Without making a noise, she studies my face, her bright, blue eyes searching mine. Her tiny hand, slowly moving, explores the features in which she sees. And it feels as if time is standing still.
This morning, during this precious moment of peace and timelessness, my eyes, locked with hers, began to tear. Never before had I so desperately desired to know another's thoughts as I did right then. Does she understand how much I truly love her? Does she know I would do anything in this world in order to protect her? Is it possible that she dreams about me, as I do her?
And all I could do was pray, "God, I have done nothing to deserve this little girl's love, but for whatever reason, you have entrusted me with her. So please give me the wisdom and ability to raise her in such a way that she will learn to love you and live for you in ways that are far beyond my comprehension. Thank you, Lord, for this completely undeserved gift."
And as she stirs, awakens, and (this time, not so quietly) looks me, once again, in the face, the words of the Elton John song that I sing to her every night pop into my head, "...yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen."
I never really sleep during this time. Rather, I read, spend time on Facebook, twitter, etc., browse blogs and articles by other mothers, or simply just stare at my beautiful, sleeping, baby. This morning, I am blogging.
What I love most about this glorious time of rest, however, is not the long period in which Eden is actually asleep. It is, instead, those short moments just before she drifts. As her eyelids become heavier and her breathing deeper, she often takes one long, last look at her mother. Without making a noise, she studies my face, her bright, blue eyes searching mine. Her tiny hand, slowly moving, explores the features in which she sees. And it feels as if time is standing still.
This morning, during this precious moment of peace and timelessness, my eyes, locked with hers, began to tear. Never before had I so desperately desired to know another's thoughts as I did right then. Does she understand how much I truly love her? Does she know I would do anything in this world in order to protect her? Is it possible that she dreams about me, as I do her?
And all I could do was pray, "God, I have done nothing to deserve this little girl's love, but for whatever reason, you have entrusted me with her. So please give me the wisdom and ability to raise her in such a way that she will learn to love you and live for you in ways that are far beyond my comprehension. Thank you, Lord, for this completely undeserved gift."
And as she stirs, awakens, and (this time, not so quietly) looks me, once again, in the face, the words of the Elton John song that I sing to her every night pop into my head, "...yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen."
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Home Is Where The Heart Is
Well, on this dreary Fresno afternoon, while the babe naps naked in her crib (don't ask), I've run out of things to do. My mother and I have completed project after project over the past two plus weeks that she's been in our home. (For a more detailed, and humorous, I might add, account of our accomplishments, check out mom's recent blog post.)
And. I. Am. Bored.
Our projects are complete. I've checked and rechecked (and yes, rechecked again) facebook, twitter, and pinterest. I've consumed my daily limit of cups of coffee (though it's pretty much guaranteed that I'll have yet another before this day actually comes to a close). I'm currently not reading a book that I'm just dying to finish. I guess I could shower.... but that might ruin the chance that I will exercise later today, and who has the time to shower twice in one day?..... Sooo I guess I could exercise.... but who really wants to do that???? I'm sure there's something I could be cleaning...... and I'll just leave it at that.
So here I am, lying in the middle of the sitting room (yes, the sitting room, we are that fancy), where, for the last thirty minutes, I have been browsing through all of our pictures that have been previously saved on our computer. And here is what I've discovered......
February 22, 2011.........
February 24, 2012...........
Amazing, isn't it?!? I think about my life just one year ago, and how much of a difference one year truly makes. Wow.
My family is leaving early in the morning, heading back to Tennessee. And I'm sad. I'm sad that the next time they see Eden, she will be a totally different little human being. Sure, we can skype, call, text, and send pictures and videos. But I know it's not the same.
I'm so thankful that Eden has been blessed with four of the best grandparents she could ever have. And I'm thankful to her grandparents for their patience, understanding, love, and support, for allowing us to do the work that we believe God has called us to, even if it means that their first and only grandchild is 3,000 miles away.
I'm also so incredibly thankful to the family we've been adopted into at the Woodward Park Church. Through you, Eden has an abundant amount of loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, and sisters.
Though we are miles and miles away from "home," we have found yet another home, another family, in you.
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Times They Are A Changin.....
Hello blog, it's been awhile, my friend. I really have been dreading this moment, trying to reconnect with you. I think I've opened my blogger page at least fifteen different times, only to close it once again, defeated. Creative writing has not been in the forefront of my mind as of late, rather, I've just been trying to make it from one day to the next. Life has been pretty crazy the last few weeks, and I feel as if things are just now settling in to a slower, more comfortable flow. I say slowER and not slow because the latter just simply does not exist when you live the lives of a youth minister and his family.
Two weeks ago Andy, Eden, and I all travelled to Tennessee for the Freed-Hardeman Lectures. We spent some time in Memphis, Henderson, Acton, and Nashville. We saw many friends, family members, and fellow ministers. Our lives were greatly blessed by this cross country trip, and we are so thankful to the Woodward Park shepherds for allowing this to take place.
Immediately returning from our travels, we hopped right back in the saddle and prepared for my family to come for a three week stay. And so, more travels, more family, and more craziness has ensued. All of which I truly do love! ... so no complaints here (i promise, mom!)... just making excuses for my recent lack of interest in blogging.
I've realized that three weeks is like three months in baby years. Eden has changed significantly and has almost experienced more in the last few weeks than she has in her short little life. She has had her first taste of solid foods (rice cereal and bananas), she had her first experience interacting with an animal (don't mistake her shocked face for dislike, she really did love your kisses, Woolum), she came down with a fourteen day stomach virus (yes, FOURTEEN DAYS, that's A LOT of diapers, my friend), she learned to roll from tummy to back and is now rolling ALL over the place (a scary thought for mama), she came down with her first cold (yay! more snot sucking!!!), she rode in her stroller facing outward (without the infant carrier), she took her first trip to San Francisco, she graduated to size 3 diapers, and she moved in to her 6 month clothing. All the while her little personality just keeps on growing and evolving. Whew. You know, all of these baby books advise you to be consistent and to keep some sort of a schedule for your infant's sake. Okay that doesn't really make much sense to me because if there's one thing I've learned is that with babies (or maybe it's just mine?) there is not much in the way of consistency. What the books SHOULD say is WARNING: you may think you know your child, but just wait a week, and he/she will be a completely different baby. Parents, you better be able to adapt well to change.
It's weird though, because even with all of the growing and all of the changes, I still feel like the baby I have today is the baby I've had all along. It's not until I see a baby younger than Eden that I realize that she was once a much smaller newborn (and that was just 5 months ago!). I desperately want to treasure each moment with Eden, to years from now remember her when she was young. But I can barely remember what it was like before she rolled over, and that was just last week! To you parents of grown children I know I must sound ridiculous. I mean, the child is only 5 months old. I know I don't really get it just yet. But it's like 5 months ago my life REALLY began, and it's been on warp speed ever since. And I'm scared. I don't want to miss a moment in this beautiful girl's life. I just want to stop time all together. Because I know that one day, she's going to be married, living across the country, with a baby of her own. And THAT is terrifying. (sorry mom).
Two weeks ago Andy, Eden, and I all travelled to Tennessee for the Freed-Hardeman Lectures. We spent some time in Memphis, Henderson, Acton, and Nashville. We saw many friends, family members, and fellow ministers. Our lives were greatly blessed by this cross country trip, and we are so thankful to the Woodward Park shepherds for allowing this to take place.
Immediately returning from our travels, we hopped right back in the saddle and prepared for my family to come for a three week stay. And so, more travels, more family, and more craziness has ensued. All of which I truly do love! ... so no complaints here (i promise, mom!)... just making excuses for my recent lack of interest in blogging.
I've realized that three weeks is like three months in baby years. Eden has changed significantly and has almost experienced more in the last few weeks than she has in her short little life. She has had her first taste of solid foods (rice cereal and bananas), she had her first experience interacting with an animal (don't mistake her shocked face for dislike, she really did love your kisses, Woolum), she came down with a fourteen day stomach virus (yes, FOURTEEN DAYS, that's A LOT of diapers, my friend), she learned to roll from tummy to back and is now rolling ALL over the place (a scary thought for mama), she came down with her first cold (yay! more snot sucking!!!), she rode in her stroller facing outward (without the infant carrier), she took her first trip to San Francisco, she graduated to size 3 diapers, and she moved in to her 6 month clothing. All the while her little personality just keeps on growing and evolving. Whew. You know, all of these baby books advise you to be consistent and to keep some sort of a schedule for your infant's sake. Okay that doesn't really make much sense to me because if there's one thing I've learned is that with babies (or maybe it's just mine?) there is not much in the way of consistency. What the books SHOULD say is WARNING: you may think you know your child, but just wait a week, and he/she will be a completely different baby. Parents, you better be able to adapt well to change.
It's weird though, because even with all of the growing and all of the changes, I still feel like the baby I have today is the baby I've had all along. It's not until I see a baby younger than Eden that I realize that she was once a much smaller newborn (and that was just 5 months ago!). I desperately want to treasure each moment with Eden, to years from now remember her when she was young. But I can barely remember what it was like before she rolled over, and that was just last week! To you parents of grown children I know I must sound ridiculous. I mean, the child is only 5 months old. I know I don't really get it just yet. But it's like 5 months ago my life REALLY began, and it's been on warp speed ever since. And I'm scared. I don't want to miss a moment in this beautiful girl's life. I just want to stop time all together. Because I know that one day, she's going to be married, living across the country, with a baby of her own. And THAT is terrifying. (sorry mom).
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Thank You, Steve Jobs
Facebook, Twitter, Skype, Pinterest, Instagram, YouTube. I have officially been sucked in to the vast world of social networking. Don't get me wrong, I was already sadly addicted to most of these sites anyway, but yesterday my world was flipped upside down. That's right. I got an iPhone. I have arrived. My phone is no longer just used to make calls (who actually does that anyway?). In the palm of my hand is a doorway that opens up a plethora of opportunities. As we speak, I'm typing my blog ON MY PHONE! I know, you're not impressed. I'm pretty much the last person on earth to get a smartphone, I get it.
Now as I've stated in the title of my blog, I'm just trying to live SIMPLY. Yes, you don't have to say it. I'm a hypocrite, this is probably the furthest thing from simple living. But oh well, at least I feel cool.
Aren't new toys fun? Even 4 month old babies can appreciate something as exciting as a new toy. Just the other day we bought Eden a jumper/exersaucer (sp? My iPhone doesn't recognize that word, so OBVIOUSLY it doesn't really exist. The phone knows all.) thing. And she loved it! She couldn't stop smiling. (But it's also possible she just had gas.) But how quickly do we forget about or take for granted those new toys? You know what I mean, those amazing gifts that you receive for Christmas, already lost or broken by New Years. Yup, even me, who, as of yesterday, was made hip by my new magic phone, gifted to me by my thoughtful husband, lost said phone this afternoon and spent 20 minutes looking for it. What was that? Less than 24 hours? A record, even for me.
This morning we heard an incredible sermon from our preacher, Tim, on the cruciality of sharing the gospel. It was moving, it was inspiring, it was convicting, and I was.... distracted. You see, it was my first time, as a new, nervous mom, to leave the baby in the nursery throughout worship. And I was anxious. I kept expecting to see, at any minute, a nursery attendant bolting through the double doors, holding a screaming (but still cute) Eden out at arms length, searching frantically for her mother to help in consoling the unconsolable. But alas, nothing of the sort happened. She was, of course, perfectly content to be in the arms of someone other than her mother.
I get distracted so easily, so quickly. I let insignificant obstacles get in my way, blurring my vision, pulling my focus away from what is of true importance. So often I forget, so often I take for granted my gift. THE GIFT. The amazing thing that Christ has done for me. Just as quickly as I lose my new phone, I let that excitement, that indescribable feeling that comes with receiving a new gift, wear off, and I lose my focus.
I pray that each day I am reminded of the gift Christ has given to me, when he made me a new creation, holy in his sight. I pray that I continually return to the feeling of excitement. I pray to feel anxious, not by the things that are distracting, but by the urgency and the necessity to share my gift with those who have not yet been married in to the body of Christ.
Now as I've stated in the title of my blog, I'm just trying to live SIMPLY. Yes, you don't have to say it. I'm a hypocrite, this is probably the furthest thing from simple living. But oh well, at least I feel cool.
Aren't new toys fun? Even 4 month old babies can appreciate something as exciting as a new toy. Just the other day we bought Eden a jumper/exersaucer (sp? My iPhone doesn't recognize that word, so OBVIOUSLY it doesn't really exist. The phone knows all.) thing. And she loved it! She couldn't stop smiling. (But it's also possible she just had gas.) But how quickly do we forget about or take for granted those new toys? You know what I mean, those amazing gifts that you receive for Christmas, already lost or broken by New Years. Yup, even me, who, as of yesterday, was made hip by my new magic phone, gifted to me by my thoughtful husband, lost said phone this afternoon and spent 20 minutes looking for it. What was that? Less than 24 hours? A record, even for me.
This morning we heard an incredible sermon from our preacher, Tim, on the cruciality of sharing the gospel. It was moving, it was inspiring, it was convicting, and I was.... distracted. You see, it was my first time, as a new, nervous mom, to leave the baby in the nursery throughout worship. And I was anxious. I kept expecting to see, at any minute, a nursery attendant bolting through the double doors, holding a screaming (but still cute) Eden out at arms length, searching frantically for her mother to help in consoling the unconsolable. But alas, nothing of the sort happened. She was, of course, perfectly content to be in the arms of someone other than her mother.
I get distracted so easily, so quickly. I let insignificant obstacles get in my way, blurring my vision, pulling my focus away from what is of true importance. So often I forget, so often I take for granted my gift. THE GIFT. The amazing thing that Christ has done for me. Just as quickly as I lose my new phone, I let that excitement, that indescribable feeling that comes with receiving a new gift, wear off, and I lose my focus.
I pray that each day I am reminded of the gift Christ has given to me, when he made me a new creation, holy in his sight. I pray that I continually return to the feeling of excitement. I pray to feel anxious, not by the things that are distracting, but by the urgency and the necessity to share my gift with those who have not yet been married in to the body of Christ.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
My Cup Runneth Over
My friend, my love, my stronghold, my helpmate, there is no other like you. You get me through even the longest of days, even the darkest of mornings. Whether full of joy or deep in mourning, you are what I want. You've been with me through trials and through travels. Stood by my side as I've ventured from one side of our great United States to the other. Throughout California, whether in the beautiful Northern Redwoods, or the busy streets of L.A., you are what I look for, what I long for. As I've entered in to parenthood, you have remained loyal, steadfast. With your help, I can be the mommy that my daughter truly needs. With your help, my marriage is strong, flourishing. Your sweet aroma nurtures my soul. I can never repay you for the love you've given to me. But I will continue to love you endlessly. Whether you are hot, cold, iced, blended, dark, medium, light, sweet, stout, flavored, or bold...COFFEE, thank you, for just being you.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
I heart Zack Morris
It seems that everyone's favorite question to ask a new mom is "How is your baby sleeping?" Every time I'm in a group setting of any sort, or in a conversation with someone I haven't seen in awhile, it never fails, I'm asked about my baby's nocturnal habits. I've been guilty of it too. I remember long before I even dreamed that I would one day become a mother, I would ask new moms how their baby was sleeping. I don't know why it even occurred to me to ask that question. I honestly don't know why I even attempted to carry on a conversation of ANY type about parenting before I actually became a parent myself. I now know that I had NO right in doing so (Amanda Scott, you know what I mean). Anyway, I guess it's like asking someone about the weather... you say it when you just don't know what else to say. It's one of those questions that we feel that we're "supposed" to ask.
Truthfully, I've always dreaded answering that question (I apologize, because I really do know that you ask out of the kindness of your heart, but I've just got to be honest).
I've thought about saying something ridiculous, like "How is she sleeping?.... With her eyes closed." But I don't want to be rude.
But I just don't know what the "right" answer is supposed to be. ... Okay, okay that's not true. I've read enough baby books, blogs, articles, facebook posts, and even Yahoo! Answers to know that the absolute ultimate goal, the pinnacle, the gold pot at the end of the sleeping rainbow is.... dum dum dum dum..... *****STTN!!!!*****, aka sleeping through the night. (If I could have underlined that twice, I would have.)
But alas, we are not there, (and by the way things are going now) nor do I really expect us to be there any time soon (say, in the next 15 years).
I believe that sweet little Eden just takes after her mommy. She's got a mind of her own, and a stubborn one at that (Parkers are not only passionate, but they are well known for being stubborn). Not only are we not gloriously STTN, but we're also still all sharing a room (okay, I'll be honest again, we are quite often also sharing a bed).
And while I'm on the honest kick, I think it's pretty safe to say that most of this isn't Eden's problem... it's because of her attached mommy. Yup, there, I said it.
I used to get so caught up on reaching this goal of STTN, I used to be embarrassed that my four month old was still sleeping with us, I used to be stressed out come bed time, wondering "why can't I be good at this parenting thing?!?" (Because we all know that parenting only involves the aspects of sleeping, right?)
But then I thought about Zack Morris. That's right, bleached blonde, acid-washed jeans wearing, teen heartthrob of the 90s, from Saved By the Bell, Zack Morris. He was a hunk. I mean, he had a foot long cell phone that he carried around in his back pocket. Who wouldn't fall for a guy like that?
I believe I was 12 years old when I declared my love for him and vowed to one day be Mrs. Ashley Morris.
You see, Eden isn't going to be 4 months old forever (in fact, she'll only be that age for 3 more weeks! ahh!). One day (hopefully, not until she's 25) Eden is going grow up, and find a Zack Morris of her own. My daily focus shouldn't be where and for how long Eden will sleep for me. I should be treasuring each and every moment God allows me with her, cherishing those special times that we get to cuddle longer because she won't sleep in her own bed.
Being the mommy of Eden Claire Frizzell is such a great blessing. One that I, from now on, will not take for granted.
So go ahead, ask me how she's sleeping.
Truthfully, I've always dreaded answering that question (I apologize, because I really do know that you ask out of the kindness of your heart, but I've just got to be honest).
I've thought about saying something ridiculous, like "How is she sleeping?.... With her eyes closed." But I don't want to be rude.
But I just don't know what the "right" answer is supposed to be. ... Okay, okay that's not true. I've read enough baby books, blogs, articles, facebook posts, and even Yahoo! Answers to know that the absolute ultimate goal, the pinnacle, the gold pot at the end of the sleeping rainbow is.... dum dum dum dum..... *****STTN!!!!*****, aka sleeping through the night. (If I could have underlined that twice, I would have.)
But alas, we are not there, (and by the way things are going now) nor do I really expect us to be there any time soon (say, in the next 15 years).
I believe that sweet little Eden just takes after her mommy. She's got a mind of her own, and a stubborn one at that (Parkers are not only passionate, but they are well known for being stubborn). Not only are we not gloriously STTN, but we're also still all sharing a room (okay, I'll be honest again, we are quite often also sharing a bed).
And while I'm on the honest kick, I think it's pretty safe to say that most of this isn't Eden's problem... it's because of her attached mommy. Yup, there, I said it.
I used to get so caught up on reaching this goal of STTN, I used to be embarrassed that my four month old was still sleeping with us, I used to be stressed out come bed time, wondering "why can't I be good at this parenting thing?!?" (Because we all know that parenting only involves the aspects of sleeping, right?)
But then I thought about Zack Morris. That's right, bleached blonde, acid-washed jeans wearing, teen heartthrob of the 90s, from Saved By the Bell, Zack Morris. He was a hunk. I mean, he had a foot long cell phone that he carried around in his back pocket. Who wouldn't fall for a guy like that?
I believe I was 12 years old when I declared my love for him and vowed to one day be Mrs. Ashley Morris.
You see, Eden isn't going to be 4 months old forever (in fact, she'll only be that age for 3 more weeks! ahh!). One day (hopefully, not until she's 25) Eden is going grow up, and find a Zack Morris of her own. My daily focus shouldn't be where and for how long Eden will sleep for me. I should be treasuring each and every moment God allows me with her, cherishing those special times that we get to cuddle longer because she won't sleep in her own bed.
Being the mommy of Eden Claire Frizzell is such a great blessing. One that I, from now on, will not take for granted.
So go ahead, ask me how she's sleeping.
If You Liked It, Then You Shoulda Put a Ring on It
What is it with babies and hands? They are fascinated with them! Well, at least my baby is. She is constantly clasping and unclasping them, putting them in her mouth, turning them over and over as if they could suddenly change at any minute. Just recently she's started studying my hands as well, grabbing ahold of my fingers, studying them intently. Her eyes get so wide as I wiggle them in her face, as if those phalanges could come alive. Her ultimate goal is to get my fingers in her mouth (EVERYTHING goes in her mouth these days... a trend I'm guessing that will continue for quite some time).
I believe you can tell a lot about a person just by looking at their hands. Whether they are worn and weathered or primed and manicured, personalities can be exposed. My boringly unpainted, too short from being constantly bitten, nails and lack of jewelry (aside from my wedding rings) would tell you that I'm kind of a Plain Jane (I call it "being natural" to make myself feel better), unwilling to put in the time or effort that's needed in order to be a true California Girl (they're undeniable).
This morning as I watched Eden fall in love with her own hands, the song "Indescribable" came on the radio. Here I am, watching my daughter who is marveling at something as small as her dainty (actually, pudgy) little hands and I hear Chris Tomlin sing the lyrics "Indescribable, uncontainable, You placed the stars in the sky, and You know them by name. You are amazing God." And I was BLOWN AWAY. A powerful feeling came over me, and I couldn't help but be overcome with emotion. Our God, our AMAZING GOD has named every star in the sky, and yet creates each one of us with such detail, such precision, such PERFECTION. Wow.
My daughter can't even sit up on her own, but as her mother, I find myself wanting to be more like her. I see the look on her face when she discovers something new, like her hands. I see in her eyes a sense of wonder, a curiosity that I sadly have not felt in such a long time. I want to look at the world, at my life, with that same sense of child-like wonder and awe at the beautiful things God has done for me and to me.
I believe you can tell a lot about a person just by looking at their hands. Whether they are worn and weathered or primed and manicured, personalities can be exposed. My boringly unpainted, too short from being constantly bitten, nails and lack of jewelry (aside from my wedding rings) would tell you that I'm kind of a Plain Jane (I call it "being natural" to make myself feel better), unwilling to put in the time or effort that's needed in order to be a true California Girl (they're undeniable).
This morning as I watched Eden fall in love with her own hands, the song "Indescribable" came on the radio. Here I am, watching my daughter who is marveling at something as small as her dainty (actually, pudgy) little hands and I hear Chris Tomlin sing the lyrics "Indescribable, uncontainable, You placed the stars in the sky, and You know them by name. You are amazing God." And I was BLOWN AWAY. A powerful feeling came over me, and I couldn't help but be overcome with emotion. Our God, our AMAZING GOD has named every star in the sky, and yet creates each one of us with such detail, such precision, such PERFECTION. Wow.
My daughter can't even sit up on her own, but as her mother, I find myself wanting to be more like her. I see the look on her face when she discovers something new, like her hands. I see in her eyes a sense of wonder, a curiosity that I sadly have not felt in such a long time. I want to look at the world, at my life, with that same sense of child-like wonder and awe at the beautiful things God has done for me and to me.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Confession: I Like to Pick Boogers...
... No, no, not my own (although this dry Fresno weather does do a number on my nose). You know the aspirators that you have to use on babies because the poor things don't know how to blow their own nose? Well, I really, really like aspirating my baby's nose. I know, gross. But I can't help it. I like the noise that it makes when shhhhhlooooooppp, success, you got one! I like when Eden says "ahhhh" afterward, as if she's saying "thanks mommy! I feel so much better now that I can breathe!" It's weird, I know, but I like the small, gross things that you do when you're a mommy. Only a mommy would, after their husband volunteers to change a poopy diaper, run upstairs anyway to check out said diaper and make sure everything looks as it should. (Maybe that's not a mommy thing, it might just be me.... in any case, it's what I do.)
Andy always gets on to me because I happen to pick the worst times to want to aspirate our darling daughter's nose. Like when we're in the airport, and she's squirmy anyway from unfamiliarity. Or when she's already overly tired and frustrated. But there is just something in me, that uncontrollable desire, when I see a mean 'ol boogie (how I refer to them to Eden) in that cute little nose of hers, I just have to get it out! Also, if she's got some gunk in her eyes, everything else must stop until I successfully remove it, even if we're in the middle of a photoshoot (as Lynn Smith can attest to)... I mean, she's got to look her best! And ohh, that really drives Andy up a wall. But he's sweet, and patient, and allows me to continue on with my motherly ways.
I think it's because I'm a bit obsessive compulsive. My mom would tell you how when I was a child (okay, okay, a teenager) I had to ask her at least 3 times "are all of the doors locked?" before I went to bed. My sister would tell you how I just threw a fit at her if she ever left water on our bathroom sink. My husband would tell you how I can't go to sleep at night if any of our dresser drawers are slightly open, or our closet door is even the tiniest bit cracked. Okay, maybe I'm more than a bit obsessive compulsive. Before you refer me to any types of medication, I have to admit that for some reason I'm just not that way about everything. About the things that really matter. Like the clean laundry that has piled up for days without being hung in it's proper place. Or the dishes in the dishwasher that are patiently waiting to return to their cabinet. For some reason, I just have to push all of those drawers in, and close that closet door at night... but don't you dare look in those drawers or closet. Who knows what you might find. See, I warned you that my life was messy.
Isn't that the way we are sometimes? We have to be pushed in, shut, looking all neat and orderly on the outside, when inside we're just full of junk. I think I've felt that way more than ever once I became a mom. I don't know why I think that I have to look so put together, like I've got it all under control. Because really, who can honestly say that they're put together when they've got a baby? You can't be that put together when you've got spit up in your hair.
I want my daughter to grow up knowing that it's okay to feel broken sometimes. That it's okay to not be perfect. That it's okay to ask others for help. And I want her to know that that is why I have Christ, to mend a broken, messed up me.
We live in a world where, especially as women, you have to look, act, and think in just the right way. But life's not really like that, and I pray that Eden never falls into that trap. It's a scary thing, being a mother. I know that she will grow, and live by the example I set for her. So I continue to pray that I can be the type of person that I would want my daughter to be. That I can be for her what my own mother was to me.
By the way, we visited our pediatrian today.... and that daughter of ours is a whopping 16.4 lbs! It's okay, go ahead and call her chunky. She knows that what matters is on the inside :)
Andy always gets on to me because I happen to pick the worst times to want to aspirate our darling daughter's nose. Like when we're in the airport, and she's squirmy anyway from unfamiliarity. Or when she's already overly tired and frustrated. But there is just something in me, that uncontrollable desire, when I see a mean 'ol boogie (how I refer to them to Eden) in that cute little nose of hers, I just have to get it out! Also, if she's got some gunk in her eyes, everything else must stop until I successfully remove it, even if we're in the middle of a photoshoot (as Lynn Smith can attest to)... I mean, she's got to look her best! And ohh, that really drives Andy up a wall. But he's sweet, and patient, and allows me to continue on with my motherly ways.
I think it's because I'm a bit obsessive compulsive. My mom would tell you how when I was a child (okay, okay, a teenager) I had to ask her at least 3 times "are all of the doors locked?" before I went to bed. My sister would tell you how I just threw a fit at her if she ever left water on our bathroom sink. My husband would tell you how I can't go to sleep at night if any of our dresser drawers are slightly open, or our closet door is even the tiniest bit cracked. Okay, maybe I'm more than a bit obsessive compulsive. Before you refer me to any types of medication, I have to admit that for some reason I'm just not that way about everything. About the things that really matter. Like the clean laundry that has piled up for days without being hung in it's proper place. Or the dishes in the dishwasher that are patiently waiting to return to their cabinet. For some reason, I just have to push all of those drawers in, and close that closet door at night... but don't you dare look in those drawers or closet. Who knows what you might find. See, I warned you that my life was messy.
Isn't that the way we are sometimes? We have to be pushed in, shut, looking all neat and orderly on the outside, when inside we're just full of junk. I think I've felt that way more than ever once I became a mom. I don't know why I think that I have to look so put together, like I've got it all under control. Because really, who can honestly say that they're put together when they've got a baby? You can't be that put together when you've got spit up in your hair.
I want my daughter to grow up knowing that it's okay to feel broken sometimes. That it's okay to not be perfect. That it's okay to ask others for help. And I want her to know that that is why I have Christ, to mend a broken, messed up me.
We live in a world where, especially as women, you have to look, act, and think in just the right way. But life's not really like that, and I pray that Eden never falls into that trap. It's a scary thing, being a mother. I know that she will grow, and live by the example I set for her. So I continue to pray that I can be the type of person that I would want my daughter to be. That I can be for her what my own mother was to me.
By the way, we visited our pediatrian today.... and that daughter of ours is a whopping 16.4 lbs! It's okay, go ahead and call her chunky. She knows that what matters is on the inside :)
Thursday, January 19, 2012
There's a Toilet in My Living Room
...So here it goes. Here is my attempt to enter into the world of blogging. Why not, I thought? What, with a husband, a baby, a house to keep, and youth group/church functions to attend, surely I'm not too busy to keep up with a blog!
My husband introduced me to twitter the other day. Actually, I was already on twitter, but I just didn't know what it was like to REALLY be on twitter. I thought I was doing good to check it once every four months. But I live with a man who tweets as much as he speaks. Not really, but almost. So I thought, okay, I'll give this a go round as well. And it really is addicting! Anyway, once I established myself in the world of tweets, the only next logical step is to create a blog. And here it is.
Don't get me wrong, I do not believe that I am interesting, clever, or well spoken enough to write something and actually believe that others will want to read it. But I think of this as my way of somewhat releasing all of the random thoughts I have during the day. I try and do that with my four month old, Eden, but somehow I just don't think she really GETS it yet.
My life is messy. I'm unorganized. I'm random. And I am extremely, extremely COMPLICATED. For any of you who really know me, I'm someone who is constantly changing. And not just changing for the change. I mean, when I change I am PASSIONATE about that change. I believe that whatever I am doing and whatever I am in to at that moment, that is the person I'll be for the rest of my life. Just like when I was a vegetarian (1 year), or the time I wanted to be a news anchor (2 years), oh and especially when I was a marathoner (9 months). My mom and I joke that the only thing you can be sure about with Ashley Frizzell (formerly Parker...from whence I get my passion. "They" like to call us Passionate Parkers) is that she is never the same.
I would like to say that I can live simply. I would like to say that I can get by with very little. I would like to say that I just don't need THAT much (especially emotionally). But that's just not who I am...(at least for the time being). Maybe writing down my thoughts can help me become a more simplified version of myself. Maybe seeing them on paper (um, actually, on screen) can help me learn how to better organize myself. And so the blog. (Also, I really like the idea of writing ridiculous, run-on sentences in a very poor attempt to be witty.)
This is for my family, who is too far away to know the goings-on of my every day life with their precious 4 month old granddaughter/niece who can do no wrong and is PERFECT (really! just ask them!).
This is for my husband, who I know needs me to need something other than his patient ears.
This is for my daughter, who hopefully can read some of this one day and know just how much joy I got out of being with her daily. That I really do love the "little things" that go along with being a mommy.
This is for me.
And for all of you who don't really know me and who happen to stumble on this (how would that even happen, anyway?), I'm sorry. You can quit reading now.
Oh, and there really is a toilet in our living room.
My husband introduced me to twitter the other day. Actually, I was already on twitter, but I just didn't know what it was like to REALLY be on twitter. I thought I was doing good to check it once every four months. But I live with a man who tweets as much as he speaks. Not really, but almost. So I thought, okay, I'll give this a go round as well. And it really is addicting! Anyway, once I established myself in the world of tweets, the only next logical step is to create a blog. And here it is.
Don't get me wrong, I do not believe that I am interesting, clever, or well spoken enough to write something and actually believe that others will want to read it. But I think of this as my way of somewhat releasing all of the random thoughts I have during the day. I try and do that with my four month old, Eden, but somehow I just don't think she really GETS it yet.
My life is messy. I'm unorganized. I'm random. And I am extremely, extremely COMPLICATED. For any of you who really know me, I'm someone who is constantly changing. And not just changing for the change. I mean, when I change I am PASSIONATE about that change. I believe that whatever I am doing and whatever I am in to at that moment, that is the person I'll be for the rest of my life. Just like when I was a vegetarian (1 year), or the time I wanted to be a news anchor (2 years), oh and especially when I was a marathoner (9 months). My mom and I joke that the only thing you can be sure about with Ashley Frizzell (formerly Parker...from whence I get my passion. "They" like to call us Passionate Parkers) is that she is never the same.
I would like to say that I can live simply. I would like to say that I can get by with very little. I would like to say that I just don't need THAT much (especially emotionally). But that's just not who I am...(at least for the time being). Maybe writing down my thoughts can help me become a more simplified version of myself. Maybe seeing them on paper (um, actually, on screen) can help me learn how to better organize myself. And so the blog. (Also, I really like the idea of writing ridiculous, run-on sentences in a very poor attempt to be witty.)
This is for my family, who is too far away to know the goings-on of my every day life with their precious 4 month old granddaughter/niece who can do no wrong and is PERFECT (really! just ask them!).
This is for my husband, who I know needs me to need something other than his patient ears.
This is for my daughter, who hopefully can read some of this one day and know just how much joy I got out of being with her daily. That I really do love the "little things" that go along with being a mommy.
This is for me.
And for all of you who don't really know me and who happen to stumble on this (how would that even happen, anyway?), I'm sorry. You can quit reading now.
Oh, and there really is a toilet in our living room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)