Inability

I was asked today, "Is there anything you are unable to do?"

I replied,
"I have only one ability. The ability to try anything, fail miserably, try again and again until the failing slowly turns into success. I can't help it if you only ever pay attention to the last step of my process."

I like taking on challenges that seem ridiculous, laughing at the resulting mayhem and trying again.

Some examples.......
Carpeting my own staircase
Moving a large computer desk down two flights of stairs by myself without damage!
Creating clothing from nothing but imagination and an old suit.
Learning photoshop.
Etc.

I am not bragging. Anyone can do it. (With a small amount of common sense, some basic math skills, and basic coordination)

Succeeding = trying + trying + trying + trying .....................

Yummmmm!

Well, I officially know how to make pie........

BFF! (I think I'm too old to use that!)

Howcomethat when you feel like you finally have your house, life, kids, food, (insert daily chores here!) under control you look up from your bucket of soapy water to realize you can't remember the last time you talked to a grown-up?

So, I always feel it's sad when friendships lapse just because we get too busy or we don't make and effort because the other party never seems to see it this way. Due to our overwhelmingly human sensibilities, we make up a vast myriad of reasons why our friends have drifted.

"They don't like me anymore."

"I must have said something." We then proceed to analyze every conversation with said person back through middle school.

"They have lots of more important friends."

This may sound very self-depricating to you, but I'm willing to bet it also sounds somewhat familiar. I don't care who you are, or how amazing you think you are, no one escapes the reality of shaken self-confidence.

I have a friend. My best friend. We live in different towns, attend different churches, and have very different friendship circles. We are not related in any way. (That's a big deal in my small-town world!) But, all these things don't seem to make a difference when it comes to our time together. Well.......in winter.

All winter long, almost every day, we talk a minimum of an hour on the phone. Never about much, and often without actually saying anything to each other. We basically act as another adult presence as we go about the motions of parenting our kids. (A really valuable thing in times of extreme emotions!) I cherish this relationship more than I can properly put into words. I'd probably embarrass myself or her in the process.

Summer comes. We spend the hours we would have been on the phone running around outside with our kids, going to the beach, taking walks, etc. And not together, either. What was an intense, daily relationship becomes a semi-monthly (if we're really diligent) chat on facebook. Or the occasional call to ask a question about something we know they other person is familiar with. To an outsider, it looks as though the friendship is completely gone. I haven't seen my friend for months, haven't talked on the phone for more than 2 minutes since the temperature held above 20 degrees. But she is still my best friend.

Know why?

Because I know when the snow flies again, my phone will ring, and my kids will think I grew a black, phone-shaped tumour on my ear. I love her. But mostly, I love that we can have this kind of timeless relationship. It doesn't matter how long the summer of our relationship lasts, (yes, I realize this is backwards but it works here!) I know we will be right back where we were when it turns cold. Friends will come, and go. I know this from experience. But I plan on doing my part to keep a friendship as enduring and comfortable as this one from going the way of the dinosaur.

The farm widow

So, it's official. I am widowed once again. Every year around this time, (actually, usually earlier. Dang wet spring!) I become a single parent. You know, if single parents didn't have to worry about income or taking out the trash!

My name is Tabitha, and my husband is a farmer.

As is probably obvious, this is not my favourite time of year. Where spring used to mean flowers, lots of green, and new clothes, it now means long hours, cranky kids, and dirt. Lots of dirt. This is the time of year when I fight the ultimate battle any married woman faces from time to time. What to pray for? The desire of my husband or the desire of myself? After 3 weeks of 15 hours days without any sign of my husband, a woman gets a little selfish!

"Dear Lord, please send some rain. Not too much, just enough to stall seeding for a few days. OH! And please don't tell Matt who requested it!"

This may seem absurd but I have to confess, it has happened more than once. This "super mom" falls flat on her face more often than she would like to admit when faced with going solo for weeks on end. This year has hardly begun (I sit here in my jammies, husbandless at 10:00 PM) and God has convicted me in a big way. There is a third option in my battle. Pray for God's desire.

Ummmmm..... What is God's desire?

I have been reading "The Shack" again lately and one theme in that book that I always enjoy is RELATIONSHIP. God desires a relationship with us over everything else. He doesn't want us to follow a set of rules or spend our lives travelling the world in search of "the unsaved", he wants us to know him and love him the way he knows and loves us. This relationship may lead us to these things, but they should not be the entirety of our faith.

So what does this mean for me? Well, I could keep praying for rain, which in Manitoba is like praying for mosquitoes! OR I could use the extra time without my most precious earthly relationship to work on my heavenly one. Who knows? Maybe a stronger relationship with my God will serve to strengthen my relationship with my missing husband.

Phooey!

Weight loss sucks!

Surprisingly, this is the mantra that ensured my weight loss success. I never would have believed I could lose 25 pounds in a few months if my gorgeous sister hadn't done it first. She joined a weight loss challenge in our community and won! I decided, "Hey, that's a form of torture I haven't attempted yet!" When I asked her how she did it, her response was atypical but not unexpected. "It just sucks!"

"Ummm, excuse me?"

This is when she looked me straight in the eye and said something like, "You have to work hard, watch what you eat, and it is just gonna suck for a while."

"Oh, ok." This is starting to sound like a lot less fun than I thought. But, there it is. Weight loss sucks! That is exactly what I needed to hear. You always here these Barbies that look amazing talk about how they love working out or they don't think salad tastes a little like dirt, but that's just not me! I always started out a work out plan thinking that it would get fun. That once my lifestyle had officially changed, I would get used to it. Sorry! You can't get used to hating life. It's not gonna happen. It's not what I want either.

So there I was, I started my challenge at one-hundred-and-more-than-I-should-have-been pounds in hopes of losing at least 25 pounds by the end of the challenge: just under 5 months. Totally doable, but completely daunting! I did my 30 minute intense workout everyday. EVERYDAY! That was the hardest part. Making time. So my house got a little messier and my kids learned terms like, "Push it Ladies!" and "That is fear leaving your body." They may have heard some choice phrases leave my lips as well but, we'll leave that for now!

Well, I can officially say, "I DID IT!" I really did. I now weight one-hundred-and-right-where-I've-always-wanted-to-be pounds and I almost like buying clothes again. ALMOST!

That's the problem. Weight loss, the verb, sucks but so does weight loss, the noun. I'm there. I've lost. Everything should be better, right? WRONG. Self-confidence doesn't come with weight loss. Beauty doesn't come with weight loss. Love doesn't come with weight loss.

What does?

Fear. Doubt. Shyness.

Fear, because I will always live in fear of weight loss's arch enemy, weight gain! If I can lose it, I can gain it. I love good Mennonite food and I could easily gain, and gain well!

Doubt, because I still somehow don't believe I can do this. Even though I already have. Now I just doubt I can keep it off.

Shyness, the biggest one for me. I feel even more self-conscious in the way I look now that I have changed so much. I get more comments on what I am wearing or how I look now because my ever so loyal friends are so very supportive. This is awesome, however, it's the comments from people not included in my social circle that have me wanting to retreat back into my fat suit. People who's only connection to me is the weekly hour and a half in church noticed my body change and were open in their observations. They wanted to be supportive but for me, it had the opposite effect. If they are seeing me that clearly every week, I better pay more attention to what I look like. I went from what I thought was complete obscurity to someone people actually notice. I know that nothing really changed but somehow, now I feel watched in a way I never have before.

So. Weight loss, in what ever grammatical term you apply, sucks. It really does. I have to say though that it is worth it. I can shop at almost any store. (Still have too many curves for Le Chateau!) I can run after my kids or refinish my kitchen without getting winded. I can look at my underwear clad body in the mirror without dry heaving. I have to learn that all the things I thought would accompany my weight loss, self-confidence, beauty, and love only come from one place. My father, the king. My God is the only source for these things, and though they are manifest through my husband, parents, and kids, I look to the source with a hopeful face. I will find those things. Someday.

Nothing is better than a Daddy willing to work with his kids in tow.

Oli spent hours outside with Dad getting the mower ready for summer. His clothes came in somewhat greasier than when they went out but the extra laundry work is well worth it!

Doesn't matter what the task, Oli is always ready to "help". I think more often than not he takes on a supervisory role but Dad doesn't seem to mind. 

Anaya, though she always seems to think it's a good idea at first, usually ends up like this. I see my sentiments exactly written all over her face when I think of watching Daddy fiddle for hours!

Daddy is the favourite when it comes to play as well. If presented with the options of riding with Daddy or walking with Mommy, what would you choose?!

I usually don't mind playing second fiddle to the love of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better husband and father to my children. When he is here, they want nothing to do with me. NOTHING! (Unless they get hurt!) God Bless you Matthew. 

Little Man

My little guy is turning 2. I find this a little hard to believe. Not because I think 2 has come too soon. On the contrary, he should have been 2 a long time ago. He seems so old.

My Oli started talking before he could walk. This means he has been speaking, in complete sentences, for almost a year now. People who get the privilege of hearing him converse (he's very shy!) are amazed as my short little dude spouts some profound wisdom.  They all seem to think this is a great and wonderful thing. I'm not so sure. Is is fun when your one-year-old can tell you they don't like your sweater? Do you feel blessed when he informs you that your breath is "dinky" when you lovingly take him out of bed?

YES!

Those people are right. 100%. I got a rare glimpse into the workings of a one-year-old mind. Not everyone gets to experience how their little ones' minds work. I thought it would be fun to record some of Oli's profound wisdom.

Mom asked, "What are you digging there Oliver?"
"Just a plain hole. Then the airplane can fly high in the sky and fall down in the hole. It's just a plain hole."

At the pool, "Mommy! It's a funny bath!"

After Mommy bought some new shoes. "Those are Danielle's shoes! You can't wear those, then she will have dirty feet!"

"Woah, this is a walking bumpy ride!" As he strolled across our uneven, wet yard.

My favourite thing though has to be his singing. Oli LOVES to sing. His best work: "Byessed be the name of the Yord!" Best song ever. That and "Open the eyes of my heart, Yord! Open the eyes of my heart. I want to see you!" I love it. I could listen to him yell choruses all day long. What a blessing to have a little boy. A beautiful, colorful little boy.

Happy Birthday, Oli G.

I don't feel like a princess.

Ok. So I claim to be a daughter of the king. What does that even mean? My heavenly father is up there watching and waiting for me to bring his beauty and grace to a world in desperate need. Then Howcomethat I don't feel like royalty?

I've always thought that once I was done having kids, I would "lose the weight" and then I would feel good about myself again. Is that what it takes?

Well, I've had the kids. I've lost the weight. Where's the feeling good about myself? A wise friend told me that the self-confidence part "comes from above". Now before you try to find the magic, pudgy little self-confidence fairy-gnome, she was talking about God. Now, the problem with this is that it's not as easy as one might think. You can pray for self-confidence all you want, but he doesn't work that way. This may seem like a bad thing, but it really isn't. In order fully appreciate what you have to offer the world, you have to see yourself through his eyes. This is where it gets tricky. God wants humility, but he loves us unconditionally and gave up everything in order to ensure he has a chance at a future with us. how does that work?!

In God's eyes, women are beauty. Not beautiful, BEAUTY. The real deal. We epitomize God's beauty. Women were created to show the world God's nurturing and beautiful side. Somewhere along the way, the world has projected it's own version of beauty on us. Sad really. We, who were created to BE BEAUTY, can't ever seem to live up to what we believe that to look like. The reality is, we are all there already. Tall, short, fat, thin, freckled, stretched out, or slightly tousled. We are BORN BEAUTY. Nothing we do will change that in God's eyes. How then do we explain this to a hurting world? By believing it ourselves! Easier said than done.

I want to encourage you princesses out there in your quest for beauty. However you present yourself to the world, you are showing them how you think God perceives you. When you are confident and self-assured in your beauty, you show the world the true beauty that God always intended for you. When you are concerned solely with looking "hot" in the world's eyes, you lose some of the true, real beauty you have been given. All the make-up and designer clothes in the world won't give you the same glow as a real, deep relationship with your creator. The one being in the universe that knows how to make you attractive to every person.

Now, before you start thinking I must have it all together, this is (and probably always will be) my biggest struggle. I have a God-given desire to be the most beautiful woman I can, but, though I know how to do this, I can't seem to get my ducks in a row. But I try. And I fail. I guess as long as I keep going, I haven't lost the race.

The "mom" swimming experience.

So, my family and I ventured out to the pool on a rainy Saturday and I had a revelation. Swimming, a pastime that has always made me uncomfortable, has evolved into something new and somewhat scary.

Swimming used to mean going to the pool and submerging myself neck deep in the water and avoiding walking around on the pool deck at all costs! And don't even think about sitting anywhere. In the wise words of a friend recently, sitting expands the parts on which you are sitting! If you need to walk somewhere, you adjust every inch of your swim suit until you feel everything you have to offer is carefully tucked away and walk ever so slowly from point A to point B to avoid the inevitable "jiggle" that comes with walking around wet and half naked. 

Now, swimming has become a whole different dance. Now my time is spent sitting, hunched over, in 2 inches of water while 3 small children splash, climb on, and pull at every part of me and my precarious attire. A body that was once hidden securely under the water for the duration of this adventure is now seen crouching, squatting and, horror of horrors, RUNNING! The fear of jiggling has been replaced by the fear of losing sight of one of 3 tiny bodies I am responsible for taking to this death trap!

It's interesting, though, that as my swimming experience has changed, so has my attitude towards it. I used to go to the pool and feel pressure and uncertainty the entire time. Now, I hardly notice the puckers of cellulite on my thighs as I move around the pool. Or the way my hair looks when its soaked in harsh chlorinated water. All I notice is the fun my daughter has as she wiggles and squirms like the fish that she is. Or the nervous laughter of my son as he walks into deeper and deeper water clutching to my hand. Or how my baby splashes non-stop the entire hour and a half we are there. Having my kids at the pool may mean that my three-kids-in-three-years body is on display for all to see, but it also means that I don't have time or presence of mind to care! I love it!

Is Bamboo Yummy?

Welcome to the world of blogging! There should be a welcome wagon gift or something signifying that you do indeed think so much of yourself that you wish to share untold wisdom with the masses.

Well, here it is. 

"Mommy, is bamboo yummy?"

Ummmmm. Before I can begin to answer this question, I need to ask a few of my own; you know, for context! So, WHY?! Are you planning a bamboo buffet? Did you find some under the couch among all the other long lost and runaway things? Did a stranger offer you some? Are you slowly morphing into a panda and concerned about the diet? WHAT?!

K, so upon further investigation, the question stemmed from a very nature-of-things-esque short on those fantastic kids channels about pandas. Ok. So, to answer your question.

"People don't eat bamboo, but animals do. They probably wouldn't eat it if it was yucky."

Good. That's done. Now to finish the dishes.

"Why don't people eat bamboo?"

Oh boy. Now the wheels start turning. What do I say to stall this line of questioning in a timely manner so I can get back to my beloved dirty dishes?

"Because the pandas need the bamboo for their food. We have hot dogs."

That should hold her.

"We could share with the pandas."

REALLY!?

Now this has become a lesson in animal science, human anatomy, and proper social interaction with black and white animals. Awesome. I always imagined myself as one of those, always-gives-the-real-explanation-no-matter-how-time-consuming-or-irritating kind of moms but I think the only people strong enough to do that full time probably could also stomach bamboo! Well, here goes.

"Well my beautifully intelligent three-year-old, people don't eat bamboo because it's not really right for our stomachs. God made our stomachs to eat other foods and he made pandas' stomachs to eat bamboo. I'm sure they would love to share but they shouldn't eat hot dogs and you shouldn't eat bamboo."

*hold breath and wait*

"Ok."

*release breath*

"Mommy, how do you know if it's a boy panda or a girl panda? None of them have pig tails."

AAAGHHHHH!

Here is where I am thankful my kids know the difference between human boys and human girls because my dish water is getting cold.

"The same way you know if you are a girl or a boy."

"Ok. I'm going watch the show now, Mommy. If I have more questions, I'll ask Daddy."

So not only is my dish water thoroughly tepid but all my effort was for naught. My answers did not satisfy, no matter how truthful and thought out. If Daddy is the final destination anyway, I am giving the "Because I said so!" or "God made it that way!" response. See what that does.

Now, off to add "check under couch for stray pandas" to my to-do list. Howcomethat dishes don't do themselves?