124 Days...

It's been 124 days since I have seen my husband (that's 2976 hours).
I get to talk to him in 14 hours.
In exactly 40 hours, 3 minutes I get to hug Clark, kiss his lips, hold his hand, bury my face in that shoulder that is just the right height and talk to him face to face.
I am excited, to say the least.

And the truth shall set you free.

One of my greatest pet peeves ever is a dishonest person. There is nothing more infuriating, or disrespectful than listening to someone tell you a lie.

You know, I wish we could all realize that we having nothing to lose by telling the truth. There are worse things out there than people knowing our insecurities and our vulnerabilities. That doesn’t mean that we have to share personal things with the world through blogs or from a pulpit…some things are truly none of anyone’s business. But there is an appropriate time and place [and person] with which to share the truth…the entire truth; the naked, bare and sincere truth.

Perhaps one of the greatest things I have learned in the last couple of years is this: By not sharing certain truths, we deprive ourselves and the people around us the opportunity for growth, greater compassion and greater understanding and possibly the opportunity to change.

I don’t fully understand why so many of us hesitate to divulge the truth with each other. You may think that sounds naïve…and I’m sure that there are dynamics that I haven’t considered and situations where the “whole truth” may do more harm than good. I just wish people weren’t so dang scared to be honest…sometimes especially with themselves.

This thought process came about because of a recent conversation I had with a good friend where we discussed, among other things, the disappointment and setback it is to deny people the opportunity to experience the raw truths of life…an opportunity for ourselves and others to broaden our perspective and understanding of the realities of life around us. I can tell you that in the last two years I have been told some pretty crazy things; things about people that I never could have imagined or guessed. But do you know what? Instead of being judgmental and critical I have found myself more in awe of what the people around me are asked to endure. It has made me more compassionate, understanding and forgiving.

Allow me to clarify by saying: I feel we are, to some extent, entitled to things that pertain to us; things that we could learn from and benefit from knowing, even if it means being hurt or confused first. This may include divulging within a relationship, a family, a friendship…things that could change or shape the future of a relationship with a loved one, just like breaking the cycle of bad habits through generations.

I feel as though I have jumped around a bit. I do hate it when people lie…in my mind, there is rarely a situation that calls for it. I think I am really talking about not sharing the entire story with those that it may influence. This could be a gray area because as human beings, we deem anything that we do to be personal and private; we tend to deny how many people around us are influenced by what we do and say each day of our lives. The truth of that is, unless you are an orphaned hermit hat lives alone in the wilderness, what you do affects other people, possibly lots of people.

I hope you take this with a grain of salt. I realize it sounds as though I take both sides…some things are meant to be kept private and respected and some things are meant to be shared, even if it means coming to terms with truths about yourself or others that you don’t want to believe. There are family member, friends and loved ones everywhere that keep so much to themselves, and they end up dealing with it by themselves.

I respect the position of others and I’m certain that there are many that disagree with my opinions. But I hope to be able to surround myself, including myself, with people that are willing to be a little more open, a little more caring and a little more honest both with those around us and with ourselves. A little self examination can be a good thing.

I wish that I could express what I really mean more clearly. Instead they sound vague, or hypocritical. I think perhaps it's because I am talking about a couple of different things--but hopefully in the same vein. I am interested in what you have to say...and perhaps I can clarify better what I mean.

Have I beat this horse too far? All I’m saying is, that’s how I feel about it.

barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen...

So this is me looking disinterested in what I am doing...good shot of the belly though, don't you think? Take a good look at that belly (ignoring the adorable rooster apron I have on to protect the mess-magnet that I carry around in front of me). Some of you may recall a couple of months ago when I was having some problems with my blood pressure. There was talk with my doctor about the slight possibility of really premature delivery if it didn't return to normal...then I asked you all to pray that the baby might grow quickly and gain weight just in case things did not progress well....STOP. Stop praying for growth with this child. At my appointment this last week I was informed that I was indeed measuring 4 1/2 weeks LARGE. In my defense, that does not mean I am gaining weight uncontrollably all over. No. It simply (and more frighteningly) means that my uterus is a whoppin 4 and a 1/2 weeks ahead. They ordered an ultrasound just to make sure it wasn't excess fluid or anything like that. The tech's professional opinion?...."No, you just have a big baby". Exciting news for an expectant mother who still has a good 6-7 weeks to go. My smallest baby so far was 7 lbs. 12 oz. and she was not only induced 2 weeks early, but a full pound (and then some) smaller than my first two. If I decide to have any more children, remind me to have couple of ribs removed. But look at that little face. I can't seem to get over the fact that there is a real baby in there (try to imagine her without the pig snout...I'm sure she's got cartilage covering that up or something, let's hope.) Now instead of praying for weight gain, could you direct those efforts towards us finding a name?
On lighter news, take a look at our chain. It used to drape over the wall clock in the girls' room three times with length to spare on either side. We are so close to seeing our husband/Dad again. So close in fact that it has been downright painful. This last week has been the longest ever and I'm afraid the little time left will be even worse. We got to talk to him last week during a last minute port call (he was in Brest, France...an appropriate place to spend Valentine's Day, don't you think?). Let me tell you, that port call threw everyone into a frenzy. I could create an entirely different blog just to explain the details of how one grown woman (pregnant) and three little girls of various ages cope with the absence of their husband and father...it wouldn't be a pretty blog. It has been hard, and pathetic, and sad. There have been lots of tears, lots of crying for Daddy and lots of hugs. Bless the millions of people that live without their parents for any reason. It's just not the way it is supposed to be. I'm trying hard to concentrate on how far we have come, to take the focus off of the little time we have left.
So tell me something funny...share a story...give me an assignment...distract us for this last little while.

My Blahg.

Am I just lazy or what? I hate that I've had nothing to post for an entire week. I'll come up with something soon. It's not that stuff hasn't been happening, I just don't feel like it.

Binkies suck.

Today was momentous for little Miss Mia. She grew up and threw away...I mean, gave away her binkies. She lovingly put them in tissue and wrapped them up. Then we put them in the mailbox and sent them off to Baby Shamu. She was very excited...I'll let you know how bedtime goes tonight.

Thanks for the idea Big Abby. She was much happier than when we made poor 3 year old Haley cut hers up and throw them away. In all of those pictures, she is pouting and then full on crying. I hope Baby Shamu doesn't choke.

Reading rocks.

The sudden rage that has flooded into my life this week is a site called Good Reads. Holy cow, I love it...like I needed another internet addiction. This one is great though because I am always on the lookout for more reading material (again...like I needed help adding to the eternal list of "things to read".) I love to read, I always have. I haven't always had a lot of time to indulge, but when I do I take it even if it means losing sleep and neglecting my children and house from time to time.
However, at this particular point in time I have a bone to pick with...myself, I suppose.
So there are two forces of nature at war in my literary psyche.
This has been brought to my immediate attention as I have come to reflect upon some of my most recent reads and can see a clear distinction between those books that I read and am left feeling smarter, or better...as opposed to those books that have just felt like a waste of my time. I see value in reading a great array of topics, subjects and style. After all, that is how we learn and experience a vast amount of things that we may never experience first hand in this life...however, when it comes to my pleasure reading, that is another matter.
I would like to talk about two authors in particular. Now, I am not bashing one or the other, just pointing out some of the stark differences that I have noticed. My main reason for doing this is the fact that most of what I read comes as a recommendation from someone I know. More specifically, I have felt both guilt and excitement over some of the advice I have given to a few "young" readers that I know (Sadie, Julia and Madeline, this is mostly for you...so pay attention.)
I fell easily into the Twilight craze last year. I read all three books and enjoyed them. I even recommended the first and maybe the second to my 13 year old sister in law (who is adorable and smart and just pretty cool.) Then I felt guilty as I read the third one and came to an even more stark realization that she probably shouldn't be reading these. I mean, if she were my daughter I wouldn't want her reading these...in fact, I am technically old enough to be her mother so I will have to put my foot down and withdrawal my recommendation to her altogether. Don't get me wrong. Like I said, I read these books. I waited with eager anticipation for the publication of the third one and was there that week to purchase it. They are books which satisfy that young adult in all of us...the one that wants to do what they want without being told, to be treated like an adult (or rather to act like one), to do things like lie to our parents and make out with our boyfriends who are perfect in every way. (am I sounding hypocrytical or just naive?...it gets worse, read on...)
Then I discovered Shannon Hale and realized that there was deeper reading material out there. Now please keep in mind that I am talking about young adult fiction books here. I love to read them because they are (typically) pretty clean. Again, I'm talking about books that might be considered classic instead of Hannah Montana chapter books and Lindsay Lohan secret diaries. I am talking about a genre of books that are for the young adult reader between the ages of, let's say, 9 and 17. Shannon Hale writes adaptations of fairy tales, classic stories of heroes and heroines. They leave you feeling happy, inspired and uplifted. Where Stephenie Meyer may write raw truth about teenage urges and raw desires, Shannon Hale offers us altruistic themes and characters filled with values and purpose (like having too much integrity to lie about anything, period.)
So while I may read a trashy teenage novel from time to time I think I prefer to be cultivated by the likes of Mrs. Hale and the influence of her characters.
I once heard the quote that "if you roll with the dogs, you're gonna get fleas". This applies to so many different situations but I've decided that when it comes to reading, I would rather steer clear of those books that bring me down and have a negative influence....why would I throw my precious little "extra" time towards a book that didn't leave me a little better or more educated than when I started?
(There is so much I still want to say but I'm afraid I just begin to talk in circles...you get my drift, right?)
PS I would recommend, with a clean conscience, all of the Shannon Hale books that I have read thus far to any age group.
(I would like to point out at this same moment, that Mrs. Meyer had to "edit" quite a bit of manuscript so that her books would still qualify themselves as "young adult fiction"...again, appropriate for some, but in my mind not the audience they advertise.)