She's back!

Hello Blog Land! 

I have crawled out from under my rock and I'm back in the saddle again.  Didjah miss me?

I took some time away from my blog (and the many that I follow) to clear my head, get direction, and cut some static out of my life.

It was a "blogcation".

 My "Blogcation" started over a month ago, when I realized it was time to go get my kids from school and "WHAM" it hit me. I had spent the WHOLE of my day reading about other peoples lives. I wasn't engaging in my own. I was reading about these fabulous women who were doing and creating things in their life and I was sitting at my computer reading about it doing nothing about my own. Now, I don't normally spend a WHOLE day on google reader, but, I did start fudging with the amount of time I was spending on the computer and wasting time as a whole.

So, I "unplugged" and started really doing some mental soul searching.

What do I want to do? What am I good at?

What does God want me to do with the talents that He gave me?

I'm feeling a little more clearheaded and have a general direction for ME.

Not direction for my family, not my marriage, not my duties and ministries at church,

but direction for ME - Janelle Hyatt.

I have allowed who God created me to be individually to be swallowed up by life and circumstances and have become too ok with the thought of "Someday".

 I'm ready to make "someday I'll do ..." become "I am working on..."

I'll write more indepth when I get more than a few moments.

Well, for now I'm heading out out to puruse an antique market place - I'm on a decorating spree again (the inlaws are staying here for 2 weeks - what a motivator!)

I'll leave you with a song my 6 year old wrote and sang to me this morning...

"Good night sweetheart Mom"

You're the sweetest person I know

I wish I could kiss you now.

You're too pretty for your attitude.

I love you more than you love me

And that's ok!

I like everyway you speak

Youre the best in the world

And the flowers make you pop like daisys.

I wish you were true

You make my heart go crazy

Like the sun exploding.

I wish I had a dog, but that is ok

Because I love you anyway.

You make me special in everyway

You're the best in the world and that is ok.

You make the world a better place

Like when you're flying through the

Beauty blue sky.

I love you mom, but that is ok

But if you're always with me

Everything is ok.

Just if you're around you're always ok.

You get cranky, but that is ok.

Because if you're always around

I always love you.

You read me books everyone day.

I love you more than I love daisys and my bed.

I love you to pieces even more than my head.

Because if you're around everything is ok.

I love you mom, my love is full.

Because you're so sweet

You make my toys better.

If we had a dog, he'd lick you to pieces

And I'd laugh all the way home.

Thanks for my new bed and myself

But you are the best in the world

and I love that.

I am 6 and you are 28

But that is ok

Because we are the same.

Till we talk again my sweet friends!

Janelle

Chicken Wraps with Mango, Basil and Mint: Mmmm, summer is here!

Ok, so summer is always here for us in AZ.  Neener Neener to all you East coasters. =) 

I thought I would share one of my favorite recipes with you that I discovered in Martha Stewarts magazine. She was in jail at the time, so maybe it was her long lost Aunt's recipe... Who knows, who cares? It's good!

ENJOY!

Chicken Wraps with Mango, Basil and Mint

FOR THE CHICKEN

1 garlic clove
1/2 shallot
1/4 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves (Fresh from my herb garden! Hope I don't kill it this year)
1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Freshly ground pepper
2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 12 ounces total)

FOR THE DRESSING
1/2 shallot
1/2 mango, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
Pinch of cayenne pepper (I like extra spicey, so we add more individually)

FOR ASSEMBLING
4 lavash breads (3 1/2 ounces each)  (we normally use whole wheat tortillas or pitas)
1/2 mango, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch-thick spears
8 fresh basil leaves
8 fresh mint leaves

1.Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Make the chicken: Finely chop garlic and shallot in a food processor. Add basil and oil, and process until mixture forms a coarse paste. Stir in salt and cinnamon, and season with pepper.

Make a few shallow 1/2-inch slits on both sides of chicken; rub all over with the basil mixture. Place on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake chicken until cooked through, 12 to 15 minutes. Let cool completely, then shred into small pieces; set aside.


2.Make the dressing: Finely chop shallot in the clean bowl of the food processor. Add mango, and process until smooth. Add the lime juice and cayenne, and process until combined.

3.Assemble wraps: Spread about 1/4 cup mango dressing in center of each lavash. Top with chicken, mango, and herbs. Roll up diagonally to form a cone. Wraps can be refrigerated, wrapped in parchment and plastic, up to 4 hours

We serve this with brown rice seasoned with a little cinnamon and nutmeg and a lovely spinach salad with basalmic dressing.

Enjoy!

xoxo

Restless

I have been extremely distracted as of late.

This morning, I poured my creamer into the sugar bowl instead of my coffee cup.  Standing there, staring at the half and half swimming around in the sugar crystals absentmindedly, I picked up my lukewarm coffee cup and turned around to reheat it. Not paying attention I bumped it and spilled it all over the inside of my clean microwave. Really? Come on. I just scoured the microwave yesterday. Sigh.

One friend so kindly told me that "I need coffee before I have my morning coffee..."

The truth of the matter is this - I am feeling restless. Anxious. Expectant. (No, I am NOT pregnant). I get the sense that I am waiting or that I need to be doing something.  Does that make sense?

Go easy if you dont understand this post or if it offends you. (I don't mean to be offensive, just honest).

Recently, my husband and I made a huge life choice to walk away from a very legalistic lifestyle. A way of life that we had both been raised under since birth. One where your outer appearance and dress made all the difference in how you were percieved by others. A society where you were justified by your works and outer trappings as a perception of your personal salvation. Mindsets, habits, wrong patterns of thinking, deceptive judgements, fear, heapings of guilt, unattainable expectations, religious customs and outdated traditions... 

It has been a lot to come out of.

In fact, there are moments where I literally feel like I am physically grappling with my perception of myself and others. I have lived so long in trying to appease 'man' and prove my worth to the 'mob' that I have totally lost sight of myself and what God desires for me. I am found personally guilty of being too caught up in the attention and awareness of others with motives that do not glorify God, but myself.  

In the past 6 months, since our move (in the absolute right direction for us) I have gone through the fight or flight stage (when we left Florida), the honeymoon stage (when we arrived here), the comatose stage (totally emotionally, spiritually and mentally numb), the funky stage (starting to wake up), and I believe now I am in an awareness stage. God is making me aware of the things in my life that I need to change, habits that need to be broken and judgements that need to be removed and the completeness of His love for me.

It's like teaching an old dog new tricks. It sucks. It's necessary.

This journey has been painstakingly slow. I feel overwhelmed at times by mental battles. I am amazed at the way God has shown His face to me in places I didn't expect. I fight with debilitating fear. I struggle to demolish broken down judgements. My attitude can really be awful sometimes. I am pained when I hear comments from "friends" about their concern for my salvation. I am justified by my faith in a loving Creator. I am a new creature in Christ. I attempt to make my prayers from a true heart, free of rhetoric. My heart is learning to love. I am absolutely more introspective and meloncholy than usual (which isn't all that fun for my blog readers). I desire to be complete in Him.

I know without a shadow of doubt that God has placed us here, in this very situation, for a purpose. These struggles and triumphs are with design.  My old life is gone and a new life comes forth.

So here I sit. Weary, restless - but expectant. I feel God calling me to lay down my presumptions and come to Him. To not get sidetracked with things that are unessential to His purpose. To lift my eyes above my present circumstance of this moment so I can see the destination that He created me for.

2 Thessalonians 1:11-12

Because we know that this extraordinary day is just ahead, we pray for you all the time—pray that our God will make you fit for what He's called you to be, pray that He'll fill your good ideas and acts of faith with His own energy so that it all amounts to something. If your life honors the name of Jesus, He will honor you. Grace is behind and through all of this, our God giving Himself freely, the Master, Jesus Christ, giving Himself freely.

Ephesians 1:15-19 (The Message)

That's why, when I heard of the solid trust you have in the Master Jesus and your outpouring of love to all the followers of Jesus, I couldn't stop thanking God for you—every time I prayed, I'd think of you and give thanks. But I do more than thank. I ask—ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing Him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is He is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life He has for His followers, oh, the utter extravagance of His work in us who trust Him—endless energy, boundless strength!

 ~To all you who read my blog, thank you for enduring this with me (second handedly of course) I seem to fluctuate between these very meloncholy, mind puke posts and then the silly ones. I really feel like God is working on me regarding my Blog and writing period.  I'm getting the strip down and learning to be real with myself and with all of you. My prayer is that these thoughts and the trying process will make me a better writer and hone a gift that God has bestowed me. If you glean anything along the way, then that is an added blessing to me.

Thank you for your love, prayers and time in reading.
XOXOXO 

Breaking through the Clouds...

I never truly intended my very public blog to be about some private areas of my life. 

In hindsight, it's very freeing. 

Like a therapuetic diary. An internet couch as it were. 

My mind enters my blog and puts its feet up on the chaise lounge and tells all. 

(Are you doodling on a yellow legal pad as you read this and physco-analyzing me?)

It's been openly admitted that I have been in a funk... (that post here)

When I flew to TX to surprise my sister, Kim, it was to support her in a very rough patch of her life, and offer her some respite with sisterly companionship and of course, shopping.

In the end, God spoke very clearly to me.

It started on Wednesday when I woke up at the butt crack of dawn (4 am is not an ideal hour) and scrambled to be on time to board my plane. 

Has it been mentioned that I have an unrealistic imagination? I do... It's true.

I had to force myself to stop watching Jack Baur and 24 due to my penchant for searching out the potential terrorists in every place I went, or mapping out an escape route if there were an international disaster in Target, or memorizing license plate numbers just "incase" they were linked to some great mystery.  

(more about my imagination here)

Each time I fly I experience a mini panic attack.  It's like a cross between claustrophobia, imagination overload and fear of heights.  Normally after take-off I settle in and relax.

I found my seat (loathe American Airlines by the way) noticed the particularly shiny, perfectly round, immaculately bald head seated in front of me, had to restrain myself from rubbing my fingers across the scalp to see if it would squeak. (I'm sure it would!) and buckled in. 

Here's where my journey started. 

We took off, my heart beating like a cornered animal. Uneventful.

About 25 minutes into the flight, we hit some very bad turbulence.

I am an admitted control freak. If I feel like I am losing control, I will grasp at straws and try to pull it all together in a way that I feel comfortable and in control again.

(Are you physco-analyzing again? Stop it!) 

My hand flailed to grab the seat cushion in front of me, (I slapped that shiny, bald head accidently- very nice shave job BTW) and my mind hit overdrive. I was convinced that marching up that aisle, shoving aside any airplane personnel and taking control of that plane would be the best option. It felt like my 7 year old was flying that contraption for goodness sake! 

After one particularly sharp drop down, with my tummy doing loop de loops,

I had an impression - "Do you trust Me?"  Again, "Do you trust Me?"

My mind quieted, and I focused in on that question...  Of course I do... right... ?

On that flight, seats rattling, drinks spilling, passengers cursing and stomachs flipping, my heart was directly spoken to. After a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that "No, I couldn't control the plane, the future, or the past, but I could control my trust and faith in God, right then and there". 

Small realization, big results! It was amazing, the calm that infused me. 

Once landing, seeing my precious sister and being introduced to her newly chaotic life with juvenile diabetes, my heart was spoken to again. Catching a glimpse of Kim, cradling her 5 year old little boy, raising his shirt and piercing that soft, chubby belly with a needle filled with insulin, I saw the picture of a mothers trust in God. Watching my nephew, Jax, puncture his scar flecked tiny fingers to check his blood sugar, I saw the beginning of a lifelong trust in a Creator. Going to church that Sunday, hearing a word about trusting God and realizing His timing is perfect, as is His love for us.

It was simple, true and relevant.

Leaving to the airport, rain pelting the windshield, dark ominous clouds covering the horizon, I briefly wondered if my plane would be on time.

Boarding a tiny, one row plane, looking out a window with rain drops streaming down in rivets, I was quiet. Observant. I saw the dark clouds, eyes flickered over the sooty-black horizon, noticing the relentless rain, inspecting the hunched shoulders of the workers trying futilely to stay warm and dry as they went about their duties.  

Our plane ascended into that murky expanse of sky. For some unknown reason, I was drawn in, my nose pressed up against the cold window, wiping away the fog of my breath, and all the while scouring the horizon.

We went right up through the clouds, bumping, knocking and seemingly struggling against the great pressures of the stratosphere. We headed straight into those dark, obscure puffs. And just when it seemed the plane was going to lose its battle against the odds, something miraculous happened.

We broke through the gloom.

I had to clench my eyes closed from the piercing light that shocked my senses. When my sight adjusted I beheld the most amazing view. (Wish I would have thought to grab a photo, but was too mesmerized).

Looking down below, I saw those desolate clouds, shifting and massing, almost thriving in the shadows, overtaking the land and all the people below it. Layered on top of the somber storm were bursts of light, pure white clouds, an ocean of beauty and peace, incandescent rays piercing the murkiness.

A distinct demarcation between light and darkness.

I cried. Tears streaming down my face. I felt a caressing in my heart, my head lifting up, and shoulders squaring back.

 No one could have perceived the beauty crowning the tempest when we sat, idley, on the soupy runway.

Its been a journey, bumping along, almost blindly at times, losing direction, daunted by surroundings, felled by stormy winds, and defeated by darkness.

But, just above the storm, arms of light reach into obscurity, ready to shine down on upturned faces. 

The "funk" is gone.

Welcome my big Sis!!

After flying in and suprising Kim.

Hello Blog friends!

I mentioned that I had some fun suprises up my sleeve and boy oh boy were they fun! 

I flew last Wednesday to Texas to suprise my older sister, Kim, (I won't say how much older, but she was 15 when I was born).  It's been almost 2 years since we last saw each other and a whole slew of changes have occured since then. In two years I have moved from CA to FL and from FL to AZ, and in her world, her little boy, Jax, was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes.   

Now, some things about my sister...

She is the one who named me (apparantly my mom was trying to appease her 15 year old who was embarrassed that I was coming along??), she has bossed me around my whole life, she refused to take me in the mall when I was younger because she was afraid I would be mistaken for her baby (I have since been to a thereapist about this rejection), she has a great sense of style and is a wonderful decorator, she has been a pillar to me in the hardest times of my life, and I love her ability to laugh (someone likened her laugh to Joan Cusack) even when the world comes crashing down around her.

In short, she is the most amazing person I have ever known....

I was busy while I was in Texas -I convinced her to start her own blog - she is an incredible writer and the depth of emotion that she can evoke when she writes is phenominal!

So! Please welcome to the blog world - my big sister - Kim!

http://kimlmay.blogspot.com/

If you have a few minutes (and some tissue) go check out her blog and show her some love.

And, in closing - I know she will kill me...

BUT!

I snuck a few peeks of her amazing home for you all to look at.

This house embodies most every important memory that I posess and I get the warm fuzzies just looking at it.

Living Room

Keeper (Jax' diabetic alert dog)

Kitchen (she might just kill me... HA!)

(I LOVE these fabric panels and want to recreate this idea one day)

My nephew, Logan (who turned 9), my Dad (who turned 72) and Jax

Sisters - notice the bunny ears...

Logan, Me and Jax

Thanks for looking - I have several real posts coming in the next few days. 

xoxox

Reflecting

This week, my good friend, Amy, wrote about "The Ugly" and then another friend, SoShawna, wrote about "Tears..." both talking about the times in our lives that are hard to talk about and to share with others...

These posts got my already active mind churning.

So...

I'm dedicating this post to my Husband... Nate.

I met my husband when I was a freshman in high school (no, he wasn't my husband yet...) and I told my best friend, Jeni, that I was going to marry him someday.

I did.

Looking back over the last 8 years.

Wow.

It has been a ride.

Like one of those freaky coasters at Six-Flags with the upside down loop de loop that makes you want to pee and throw up at the same time.

Strapped into a small moving vehicle you may experience highs, sharp turns, abrupt, extreme changes, fear, thrills and moments of intense nausea.

(My marriage in a nutshell)

Nathan and I have experienced so much in a short amount of time that sometimes it feels as though our marriage was set on warp speed and we went ahead 40 years.

Babies, diapers, no sleep, poop, immaturity, fears, baggage, cross country moves, emotional affairs, near divorce, reconciliation, loss, pain, fighting, silence, distance, inexperience, selfishness, stubbornness, invisibility, lack of communication, finances, slothfulness, and sometimes just plain stupidity...

Each of those words could be a chapter in the book of my life.

But...

I'm loving the chapter we are in right now.

We've learned to love and laugh.

With God's help, we've made it through some pretty dang tough times and we've had to work through some things that I hope none of you ever have to.

We've seen each others warts, inconsistencies and imperfections in each situation.

He knows I have cellulite (Don't be shocked, I bet you have some too *wink*), he's seen the birth of our two children, he's held my hand in the dark moments, made me laugh like no one can, been my strength and he loves me even though I am an emotional mess sometimes.

Last night, we sat on the couch and watched AI together his arm looped over my waist. N said something to me, I peeked at him over my shoulder laughing at his comment.

In that small moment, my eyes were opened and I saw us.

Friends, lovers, parents and partners.

Working together on the same page.

All the dirt behind us and a future of being stronger ahead of us.

My heart 'bout near stopped it was so full of love.
(I bet he was wondering why I was ogling him with eyes like a tree frog)

We've made it...

Have you ever seen those rowdy teenagers get off the coaster?

Laughing, screaming, slightly green, adrenaline rushing, one puking into a trash can and then turning right around and getting back on line to do it again...

-Well-

I love the rush of my life. I am getting back in line to ride it again.

Loop-de-loop here I come!

Only real men can wear pink... lol

Our sweet family.

xoxoxo

Clutz...

My sweet boy, T, has been getting into so many accidents lately.  For 7 years he has been so cautious, barely ever scraping a knee, or getting hurt... It seems he has broken his cautious streak. Jumping off swingsets, slides, falling off of bikes, skateboards and trees. All normal for a boy his age right?

Lord help my nerves.

My worry is that he has inherited my clumsiness... 

I. am. a. clutz.

Today I was reminded of one of my dumbest shining moments.

My best friend, Jeni, who turned 30 this week, is coming to visit this weekend. So that constitutes cleaning (not too much though - she has seen my house in every possible state). 

Standing in the kitchen, putting away flatware and cutlery from the dishwasher. I reach in, singing, not paying attention, and slice my finger on a steak knife.

Nice. 

(Have I mentioned that the sight of blood makes me dizzy?)

I get a bandaid and some water (to help with the dizziness) and I remembered the last time I cut myself with a knife.

hehehehehe....

It was right after Christmas (we drove to Texas that year) and I was unpacking all the gifts we had received. T was six months old, and sleeping snugly in his bed ( I miss those days) and Nate was at work.

 Christmas carols playing in the background, the house was a jumble of coats, suitcases and all the great mess that returning home from a trip brings. I was in the kitchen unwrapping a gift from my mom.

It was a gourmet set of cheese knives with a handy little cutting board (Love cheese!). The knives were wrapped in cellophane and nestled into the side of the cutting board. I think a man must have packaged this product - no woman would have put it there...  Therefore, I blame this whole fiasco on a man (ha!).

Poking my fingernail into the cellophane pretty vigorously (I was singing Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is You") and whammo, my finger slides right through the cellophane and right into the blade of this shiney gourmet knife.

YIKES!

Instantly there was blood, so I grab a dishtowel and panic.

Have I mentioned that blood makes me dizzy? Oh yes - Well it does. (I am a little dramatic... I have come to accept this)

Those little fuzzy spots start floating in front of my eyes, and the room spins. I blacked out momentarily.

Getting up from the floor in a panic, still clutching my maimed finger in a dishtowel (which probably wasn't even clean!!!) and I do what I knew best.

I called 911.

Operator: "911, what's your emergency?"

Me: *Panicked, embarassed voice* "This isn't really an emergency. I cut my finger and blacked out. Do I need to hold my arm above my heart?"

Operator: "Ma'am, are you bleeding profusely?"

Me: "Umm, I'm not sure... I have it wrapped in a dish towel and I'm afraid to look."

Operator: "Ma'am, please stay calm, I'll send an emergency vehicle out right away."

Me: *Horrified silence* "Gulp. Ok."

Hang up after a few minutes exchaning information etc...  Oh my word! What do I do?? 

I called Nate. "Babe, don't be worried. I cut myself and 911 is sending an emergency vehicle."  Silence on the other end. He had hung up on me. (He told me later that he just hung up the phone, told his boss I had an accident, and flew to his car.)

Standing there, still clutching this stupid dishrag around my hand ( haven't looked at my finger yet) and gazed at the discombobulated mess that was my house. I started grabbing things with one hand and shoving them into any available closet.

I hear knocking on my door. I answer.

Lo and behold... 3 firemen stood at my threshhold.

They spill into my house with all their equipment and one asks in an authoritative voice.

"Where are you injured maam?"

I held up my dishrag, trembling slightly.

He brings me to the table, sets down this massive bag filled with medical paraphanelia, and unwraps the rag, listening intently as I tell him what happened.

My eyes were closed, so when he laughed, it startled me and I jumped slightly.

Opening my clenched eyes, I look right into a face that was screwed up into hilarious laughter.

He held up my arm for the other men to see - "This is the best call we've had all month!"

At this point in time, the front door, flings open. It was Nate. Poor guy looked winded.

Mr. Fireman held my arm up like a champion prize fighter and jovially said,

 "Don't panic sir! We are going to get your wife a bandaid!"

*Epic Blush*

Yup, all that drama, for a bandaid.

I will never live that one down, and still giggle when I think of it.

 (You should feel some empathy for my Hubs... Look what he has to put up with)

I need to have a serious conversation with T about using his head and avoiding sharp objects.

*This story you have read is true. No names have been changed to protect the innocent. Accounts, views and opinions expressed in this blog do reflect the views of the author... She really is that clutzy."

Pick up lines at the checkout line...

Have you ever heard some really tremdously awful pickup lines?  I have... 

Now, I'm not vain. I know I am no rare beauty. But I am relatively nice looking, I bathe and comb my hair, I smile a lot and look really young, which must be a giant billboard inviting all the wierdos schmoozers to talk to me.

Some of the more memorable ones I've heard ...

In Stockton (at the local SCARY Walmart) I was looking at pasta, when a particularly seedy man comes up to me and said (and I quote), "What you looking for baby? I'm right here!" 

I blushed (which I am prone to do frequently) and didn't quite get the words out that I wanted to... Like "Honestly? Has that line ever worked for you?" or "You smell like beef and cheese, please stand aside and allow me to continue with the penne pasta." or "Speaking of babies, I have pushed 2 out of my body. Still want to talk to me?" 

Instead, I looked blankly at him in befuddled amazement and held up my ring finger not saying a word. He didn't look too worried, just shrugged his shoulders and walked on. (I think he must have had other patrons to terrorize.) I stood there for a moment, grabbed my purse and left my full cart of groceries right in the middle of the aisle. 

Another time, in FL, I was getting a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Standing in line in front of me, an older, harmless looking gentleman smiled at me.  I smiled back - I was in a great mood - caffeine was coming! 

This must have been an open invitation that, of course, I thought he was the most charming man who ever lived.  He proceeded to tell me his entire story, beefing up every part that involved himself (so humble) and then said, "I could take care of you, you know. I'd buy you a house, a car, anything you'd like..." 

HUH???!! 

Again, I blushed and thought of several pointed things to say, but instead, I grabbed my chai so quickly that it sloshed out over the side, burning my hand, and I said, "Well, that's nice - I should have let you buy my coffee..." I whirled around and hightailed it out of there, ears burning.  

(Looking back, I should've had him buy me 2 venti's after that nonsense)

So keep that all in mind for today's encounter... And the fact that Nate has been out of town for the last few days while I've been home sleeping with every light in the house on and mulling over self defense options if some crazed maniac broke into my house - mace, hand weapons, tazers, Kung-Fu Panda moves, etc. (ok, maybe I am a little paranoid...)

 Ran to the store to grab a few items for dinner (delicious lemon chicken soup), pushed my cart around while chatting with my sister.

Uneventful.

At the checkout line, the gentleman behind me, who looked familiar, struck up some small talk with me. No big deal. "What strange weather. What do you think about all this rain..." blah blah.  Smile. Perfunctory nods. Etc. He acted very familiar with me - whatever. Didn't really notice.

As I grabbed my bags and headed out in the rain, I noticed him looking at me strangely. 

My over active imagination immediately went into over drive.I clutched my groceries and made for the door.

I noticed him walking quickly in my direction.  He was looking straight at me!! 

After a quick inventory of the items in my bags that could be used as self defense weapons, I determined that a lemon and the bunch of celery could be used to cause a distraction while I grabbed my purse to retrieve the manicure scissors in my makeup bag. I could wield these close to the attackers eyes and scream for help. If all else failed, I could take off my nine west flats and hit him repeatedly on the head until he was knocked unconscious.

I made it to my car, in record time, as he was closing in behind me. Not saying anything, just holding his bags and walking towards me persistently. 

ACCK! 

 Looking over my shoulder several times, I knew he was coming closer.  Infact, he was trying to say something to me now - no doubt trying to lure me to his car to sell me to the black market. 

I shoved everything into my car and was frantically trying to find my keys.

There was knocking on my window - Oh Lord!! It was him!!! 

I was just about to jam my keys into the ignition and speed off when I heard his muffled voice come through the window - "You left one of your bags of groceries."  I looked in the back seat and counted...

Sure enough...

He was holding the bag with the lemons and celery. 

Stink

And it turns out he lives two houses down from me...

Poor guy - he's probably thinking "There goes the neighborhood."

(Good thing I didn't tell him he smelled like beef and cheese...)

My little Angel

Out of the blue today, while Madeleine was sitting at our kitchen table, surrounded by crayons and craft paper, enjoying her snack, she piped up in her little voice, "I think I've seen your Mom and Dad before Mommy..." 

Now, understand, we see my Dad, "Poppa" every year or two. We last saw him when we lived in Stockton.  So May of 2008 - Madeleine would have been 5 years old. I was suprised when Madeleine seemed to remember him, and asked when we were going to see "Poppa" again.  (Hopefully soon!)

And then she said, "Well, I've seen your Mommy too"... 

My Mom died of stomach cancer when I was 5 months pregnant with Madeleine. 

I softly and gently explained that wasn't possible because Grammy went to heaven when Maddie was in my tummy.

Maddie tilted her head to the side, and paused in contemplation for a moment, and then stated, "No Mom! I've seen her.  Sometimes, when I'm sleeping she stops by to tell me "Hello".

...

I'll never forget it - The morning my Mom passed away, she made a point to call each of her kids. 

I remember my phone ringing at 6am and seeing on my caller ID that it was my sisters number (my mom chose to stay at my sisters home with the help of Hospice rather than a hospital) and all of a sudden I could hear my heartbeat - a slow, irregular, dreadful pumping with a roaring thundering in my ears. 

I answered with a hasty "Hello?"  

It was my mom, feeble voiced but on a mission. 

I had to strain to hear her words - she seemed hard pressed to finish some sentences, so some of those words that were in her heart never made it to my ears...

But I knew.  I knew what she was saying.

She was whispering her goodbyes. 

I wish I could recall with clarity everything that was said on that brief phone call.  I wish I would have had the foresight to grab a pad of paper and scribble everything down.  But I didn't...

I wouldn't understand the magnitude that her passing would have on my life until months, even years later. 

This was my first time losing someone I loved.

I listened, crouching on the floor by the corner of my bed, hand pressed to my mouth, trying to contain my emotions.

I don't think I said much.

The beginnings of our conversation are blurred forever, try as I might, I can't recall them,

But this much I remember, My mom, the woman that I loved more than any one person in my life,the one who gave me life, who taught me how to walk and talk, and who prayed incessently over me, the woman, who as a teenager, I battled against, cared for, rolled my eyes at, and silently cursed sometimes 

apologized to me....

She said, "I'm sorry if I ever let you down.  I'm sorry if I wasn't a good mom to you at times... I love you Janelle and I am so glad you are my daughter and that I got to be your Mom. I love you." 

I was horrified!  The last conversation with my mom and I didn't expect an apology.  I didn't need one.

Hurriedly, I pushed aside her words "No Mom, no apologies.  I love you and you were a great mother to me. I love you so much."

Silence on the other end.

I felt sick...

"Mom? Are you still there?"

"Kiss my new granddaughter for me. I wish I could see her..."

-Click-

That was it.  The last conversation I would ever have with the single most important woman in my life.  I tried to hit redial but the line was busy. 

She was calling my brothers... 

I tried the number again, desperate this time. I had so much more to say to her.

Busy... Beep beep beep...

I laid on the floor, and cried.

Beep, beep, beep...

No answer.

I called my husband who had worked the night shift that particular day. He was due home in a few hours.

"I think I just had my last conversation with my mom.. Today is the day - please come home."

-Click-

I don't remember how long I laid on the floor before I heard Tristan stirring. I heard him in his crib, laughing and babbling, banging something against the railings (trying to get my attention no doubt), and I let him stay there. 

I laid with my face buried in the carpet, weeping.

Grieving for moments remembered and moments to come that would now be short one special lady.

Finally, I knew T was getting fussy, I went in and opened the door to the nursery. His little blonde face peering through the rails at me, dimpled mouth all wreathed in smiles "Mamma-mama!" 

I picked him up, made a bottle and rocked him for a while, thinking of my mom, with tears streaming down my face, his chubby hand pressed in the crook of my neck.

She passed away a few hours later.

My sister, Kim, was there with her when she passed. Reading her Psalms and singing to her. I am so thankful that Kim was there with my mom when she made the transition into the eternal.

My two hero's in one room. 

We found out a month after my mother passed that we were expecting a baby girl.

Madeleine Leone
(Leone after my Moms middle name).

So for Maddie to tell me that Grammy stops in to tell her "Hello" every once in a while...

Well...

I believe in God. I believe in angels and I believe in heaven.

Do you?

Tristan and Grammy 3 days before she passed.

Thoughts from an occasional Insomniac

I have insomnia...

Well, tonight I do (this is not a normal occurence) normally by 10 pm my body is powering off and I can fall fast asleep on any surface at any given moment.

(Is that called narcolepsy or just mommy exhaustion?)

So for me to be wide awake at 11:48 pm? Unheard of... Especially after such an exhausting weekend.

We had a ladies getaway this weekend for Christ Life Church at The Fairmont Resort in Scottsdale. 

The resort was gorgeous - here's a pic of my room (shared with a fun and lovely friend, Andrea)

(pardon the light - that's an iPhone for you...)

and here's a picture of Pastor Sharon, Tamela, and myself

It was a wham bammo of a weekend - I was on the worship team (we rocked the house! I love good harmony), I played Jezebel and a small boy in a skit (HA!) and was also a small group facilitator. 

I loved this weekend.  It was nice to get away, spend time with a new group of ladies, laugh and soak in the sweetness of God. 

It was just what I needed - a refreshing time away.

I got home to a clean house (Go Hubby!!) and a family that was happy to see me. We ordered pizza and played Monopoly together -which was like taking candy from a baby, as our kids think the highlight of the game is to go "banked-erupted".  We tucked the kids in bed early, spent some time together and I prepared for what I was supposed to do at church in the morning.  

And, now, enter the drama....

4:30 am

My sweet girl comes whimpering into our room complaining of a tummy ache

4:40 am

She vomits repeatedly

5:30 am

Hubby just gets up and starts getting ready for church (he has to be there early today)

6:00 am

Hubby leaves for church/our strong boy comes into our room with a tummy ache

From 6:00 am - now

Both of my poor children are violently ill, I use/wash/use every towel, sheet, blanket in the house

(I wasn't kidding)

My day was spent running room to room with water, ginger ale, fresh linens, Lysol, saltines... 

 I cried when my son would look up at me with big tired eyes and say "Mom, this needs to stop... I'm all empty..." I prayed with them as I held their heads while they were sick, and I cried from a mommy's heart that wants to make it better, but can't...

I started feeling really sorry for myself when I started feeling nauseous too.

Finally, they both fell into a fitful sleep and I laid down (on a bed with no sheets or blankets - they were in the wash) and I tried to get some rest.

And I couldn't...

UGH!

So, I laid there with my mind racing and my thoughts wandered to my mom. 

My mom passed away from stomach cancer 6 years ago (I was 4 months prego with Maddie). She was diagnosed the week of Mother's Day and passed on June 30.

It was unanticipated, jarring and the most inescapably painful time of my life. 

There is something quite vulnerable about losing your mother.

  During family holidays, there are times where I look up and expect to see her sitting there, not saying too much, but always watching with a smile. When a big change happens in life, I want to call her just to let her share in our excitement or ask for prayer.  When my kids are sick, I just want to hear what she would do for them and listen to a voice of encouragement.

Sometimes, I wish I could call just to know she was there, we wouldn't even have to say anything...

I remember vividly the way she smelled once when I was sick - it was a cross between Bleach/Windex and some random Avon product (Skin-so-Soft, I think).  I can, to this day, remember climbing in her lap (I was about 8) and nestling my head in the crook of her neck while she prayed for me with her cool, soft hand on my forehead.  I can still recall that smell and that feeling of comfort and safety.

It struck me today, while I was laying there

I am providing those memories to my kids.

They might not remember mommy swiping up dirty sheets and rushing to the laundry room, or the bedraggled hair, mismatched pajamas and swollen eyes from lack of sleep...

More than likely, they will remember my smell -Vera Wang (leftover perfume from yesterday) mixed with Lysol, the warmth of my touch on their little faces, and the whispered fervent prayers for their healing and protection.

In this small way, I am passing my Mother on to them...

(Notice the mismatched sheets... )

Take me to your leader...

(Tristan in Hawaii)

We have officially entered a new stage of parenting... Something I would like to call the "Martian stage". My children, (once relatively well mannered, with brains, ears, eyes and mouths that functioned in a semi-normal fashion) have been replaced by aliens from another planet...

I will subsequently refer to them as Martian #1 and Martian #2

A few examples from my weekend...

- Martian #1 is refusing to speak English. He created a "Tristan-ish" which is something like a cross between "Wookie" and Spanish. In order to get him to go to bed tonight, I had to "speak" to him in this foreign language. Apparently, since I am not fluent in this new found dialect, I must have told him to go hide in his closet and play with his Pokemon cards (which he did promptly) while the "Mother Ship" searched the house calling for him.

-Brushing teeth has turned into "see how much toothpaste you can waste without actually brushing your teeth" time. Gelatinous blobs of tooth cleanser can be found on various surfaces in the bathroom, including hair... Also, went in tonight to find a whole tube of brand new toothpaste squeezed into the toilet. When questioned about this endeavour, the Martians stated "The toothpaste needed to use the restroom, so we helped it out." Hummm, I can now be consoled when flushing the toilet that it is indeed "Crest Fresh". Minty.

(Note to all Crest users - Crest does not flush well and requires vigorous scrubbing to remove from porcelain)

-The Martians have forgotten English. This must be the only explanation as to why when they are spoken to, their eyes glaze over and they look as though they are trying to interpret scattered signals from the "Mother ship". Also must be reason as to why they don't do as they are told. (feeling compelled to find Mandarin Chinese dictionary to see if this helps communication)

-Martian #1, (as a result of not understanding English), was about to get a swat, and states clearly "Oh I love your swats Mom, they don't hurt at all!" (Epic fail...)

-Martian #2 has developed a love for all things ballerina. This results in pirouettes and plies throughout the house. Note to all dancers, performing a pirouette with an opened gallon of milk does not bode well for your kitchen floor. Please keep mop handy at all times.

-The Martians must need new memory cards as their old ones seem corrupted. There is a clear disconnect from their hard drive 5 minutes after downloading new and old information. This results in the "Mother ship" crossing wires and frying out after multiple repeated commands. If you smell something burning, don't be too worried, my nerves are fried.

-Taking the Martians to a public place has recently become hazardous to their health, and the health of others. In taking the said Martians to a restaurant, we entered the Bermuda triangle and all manners were lost at sea. In an attempt to retrieve the lost manners, we developed a game at mealtimes. Rules of game - each player receives small pile of coins. The coins are taken as bad manners are displayed. Player with most coins at end of dinner time wins. Martian #2 toots at table loudly (sounds like a machine gun)... Martian #1 responds with burst of laughter and resonant belching. All Martians lose. Mother Ship wins coins, but feels like she lost the battle.

-Martian #2 has decided she loathes sweet potatos. During dinner last night, she made many trips to the restroom. I discovered, after the fact, that she had been spitting all her sweet potatos into the toilet. She forgot to flush... Used evidence to implicate - Martian #2 denied everything and was sent to room.

sigh!


Life isn't all bad on this new planet...

-Saturday the parental units took the Martians to the Imax to watch Sharks in 3D. Martian #1 held my hand the whole time so that I "wouldn't be scared and jump rope out of my skin. Don't worry Mom, I'll protect you".

-Martian #2 wrote me a letter telling me "You are the pretey mom of all the world and I think you are ass ume (Awesome). I am so happy when your my mom".

-I listened to Martian #1 pray for the people of Haiti during his personal prayer time. His prayer was "Please let them find their houses and family. If they lost their family, help them find new wives to make a new family... And thank you Lord for strong houses in America and In and Out".

-Martian #2 hugged me before bed and sniffed my neck. When I asked what she was doing, she replied - "I'm just "snifting" you. You smell like Christmas to me."

-Both Martians have spontanious abilities to melt their mother's heart, and are really sweet once you can remove yourself from the wackiness. (I wouldn't trade them for anything... not even normal "human beans") These are my martians and I LOVE and ADORE them with all my heart...


All jokes aside - I am realizing that just as I adjust to each new stage of parenting and become acclimated to the course we are on, a new one steps in.

This isn't just a growth process in my children's minds and bodies, it's in me too.

Parenting is hard - really hard (let this stand as good birth control to all those dating couples out there) I'm not even sure I'm ready for it... but I am putting all my chips in this high stakes game, and I plan to win.

I love those little Martians with all my heart and soul and even when my head is spinning and I'm on the edge of insanity, one featherlight touch of a small hand, a toothless smile, a crayola masterpiece smeared with honey and peanut butter brings me back into focus.

I am in it to win and to help them win in life.

Now if I can only get my eye to stop twitching....



Tristan and Madeleine - Fort Lauderdale Beach

"It takes a long time to grow old friends"

My best friend of 15 years came to visit on Friday...

Jeni came in the midst of our Daniel Fast which meant no energy, bland food, and digestions issues. Thankfully her church was doing something similar so we laid on the couch talking of old times, giggling and thinking of doughnuts, coffee, cookies, and large hunks of gourmet chocolate... yummm... (will be done on Sunday and will have caffeine IV set up ASAP!)

It's amazing to see how much we have changed over the years and yet are still the same. We look essentially like those dorky "modeling" pictures we took once, though we have morphed somehow into "adults". But those little girls that met when we were 14/15 years old are still in there somewhere.

No one can make me laugh harder and snort milk through my nose like Jen...

Goodness, when I think of the things that we have been through and put our own selves through... Like the time I let Jeni wax my eyebrows (we were 16) and she waxed off half of my right brow. I walked around looking surprised for months and still suffer follicle damage (so my aesthetician says). What about putting toothpaste on our zits to "dry" them out, making homemade facials, creating "Code words" to speak to each other when the boys we liked were around, getting pulled over for reckless driving because we were jamming out and playing air guitar in the car, talking about our first kisses, replaying first kisses on a stuffed bear to make sure we got it right, dissing boys that broke the others heart, assuring the other that "No - you don't look fat! It's just your imagination!", being able to have brutal honesty (that from any other mouth would get slapped), praying for one another when we needed strength, falling asleep in a water bed after staying up half the night discussing life and its mysteries...

Or the clothes? The horrible clothes we allowed each other to wear! (Contrary to urban legend, it was never a good idea to wear sneakers with long floral skirts or plaid jumpers with buckles and large hip emphasizing pockets). Whew... We have redeemed ourselves as we have aged(hopefully) and manage to stay (mostly) in good taste.

I remember Jen picking me up one day, I had been sick for a week, and taking me out on a "date". Neither of us had any cash, so we scrounged around in couch cushions, car cup holders, and old purses and came up with a combined amount of $5.67 (Mostly nickels). Off we went, (me in a lime green velour sweater and leopard penny loafers *shudder*)... Somehow we managed for that small amount of cash to eat soup at Bennigans, flirt with the waiter named "Bo" who gave us free dessert (I give my lime green sweater the credit), put a $1.00 in the gas tank and get a coffee at the local gas station.

I giggle when I think about all the stupid things we did, and came up with... I'm so thankful to have an old friend that loves me, good, bad and ugly. Having an old friend is like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket, there is such a feeling of security there.

She was there for me when I made huge mistakes in life, and instead of condemnation? She loved me.
When my heart was broken for the umpteenth time? She loved me and handed me tissues while I did the "ugly cry" (with true friends you don't have to care how you look). When I got moved away? She came to visit me every 3 months and would listen to me in whatever mood I was in.
When my heart was broken? She loved me and believed in me, and called to sing me the stupid song we made up when we were teens.
When I was depressed? She loved me and once sent me an envelope full of fall leaves (my favorite season) and a bar of chocolate to cheer me up.

I am so thankful for true blue friends. Those that love you in the good seasons, the ugly seasons, and the stupid-decision seasons. Those are the people that count in life, and truly are blessings from God.

So very thankful for those "true blue friends" that are in my life. I realize as I get older, I have many acquaintances, and few friends. I am blessed to have those in my life that I do.

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked." -B.M

The name's Bond...

I am, quite possibly, still a child.

It's true!

I have magic in my imagination...

To the delight of my children, I can, in mere moments, see a whimsical picture or read a lively story and be whisked away in a land filled with fairy tales, hero's and heroines, funny moments and adventure.

Speaking of adventure...

I believe I am suffering from repressed adventure issues.

Since I became pregnant with my kids, and as I've gotten older, I have been unable to stomach watching suspenseful movies, reading or watching stressful stories in the news (call me out of touch) and watching all those cop/bad guys movies on t.v. I just hate that feeling of danger and suspense and not knowing what will happen to my favorite character, or the not knowing if the danger mentioned on the news will touch near my home.

I am afraid of heights, have small panic attacks when flying since 9/11, hate bugs, getting dirty, am somewhat of a hypochondriac and absolutely cannot stand the sight of blood.

My biggest weapons on a daily basis are a bottle of Lysol and bleach *Squirt*

and yet...

Every night, when I close my eyes for blessed sleep, this door of adventure bursts forth and plays itself out in my dreams.

Last night, I dreamt I was a spy for the USA, running for my life with a secret formula. The night before last, I was an archaeologist hunting hidden treasure in an underground cavern, and before that, I was leading my friends and family out of a labyrinth of disaster as the bad guys closed in.

In each dream, I have a "secret weapon" that I can pull out of my handbag - flame throwers, hand grenades, tear gas, brass knuckles...(once I even used a chopstick and a ruler to save the life of my best friend from a nefarious foe).

My reverie starts out simply (always), and sooner, rather than later, a situation for danger presents itself. And I, in my super heroine-ness, throw all caution to the wind and protect others in an elegant Rambo style.

I almost always wake from a dead sleep with my heart racing and ready to leap tall buildings in a single bound...

Strange isn't it?

I, who can't even watch "The Goonies" without a small stroke (even though I've seen it a billion times), saving the world most every night?

My husband calls me "Pollyanna"...

But tonight, you can call me Bond, Janelle Bond - Agent 0017.