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.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
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)