Just wondering...

Today is Thursday morning, which is for some reason, usually my worst day of the work week. It is probably because I can just smell Friday right around the corner... freedom!!! But yet it is so far away, and the cares and stresses of the previous three days are weighing on me heavily. Must get everything wrapped up by the weekend! So forgive me if this seems a little "rantish" ;)

Since this blog is all about getting real, I'm going to do just that. Here goes... I am beginning to wonder if I am just becoming a super negative, cynical, frustrated person. Now, if you read Nicole's previous post, you will probably just want to slap me in the face, because I have never ever had to go through anything so hard in my life. And that is what makes this all so strange. I have a wonderful husband, a truly happy marriage, amazing friends from every corner of the country, a cute little house, a dreamy job where I am basically my own boss and I get to "do ministry" in some capacity, so I know my work has a deeper meaning. So why, you ask, am I wondering this about myself?

Basically, I'm starting to really listen to myself, and I'm not liking what I am hearing. I am hearing someone who unwittingly is spouting negativity, complaining, griping, debating, ranting, raving, and basically just frustrated with the world in general. Now, I have always prided myself on being "real", so it is important that we distinguish that from what I am talking about. I think that there is a difference between being "real" and just using that as an excuse not to be a better person on the inside.

Overall, I feel like I can just see so much hope and promise in the world, and especially for the church and its impact on people. I get a vision for such great things, but then I look at how messed up everything is, (the church, the world, our nation, politics, etc.) and I just want to scream. I honestly feel like some tormented prophet or something, like my issues with the church and everything else are consuming me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing myself to Jeremiah, but sometimes I feel like I can totally feel his pain.

I know that there is hope, but I guess you could say the devil's in the details. I yearn for my life to mean something in the world, and to see change in so many ways, but I know I can't do it on my own, and I often struggle with feeling like I am isolating myself because of my strong opinions. If anyone can offer some encouraging words I am ready to hear it!! I know there must be balance in life, and I guess that it what I am seeking. Love you ladies!

messy

Life really feels messy right now…with glimpses of normalcy.

I am fine. Then sobbing. Then fine. Then someone tries to comfort with some awful statement, then I am in shock. Then I am fine. Then I feel empty. Then I feel ok. It comes in waves. Not a fan of this mourning stuff.

In response I have indeed cleaned and reorganized my entire apartment. Why not grasp control of the few items I can control? Am I alone in this (fellow ladies that have been pegged with the title “type A”)? I love being put in a box.

After a year an a half of trying to get pregnant, months of tests and blood work, books, hours of awful advice, acupuncture, pregnancy, losing my first baby (Baby Bean), surgery, and more blood tests and fantastic procedures…the doctors have declared that we are completely normal and have no reason to not be getting pregnant. It is bizarre to me how we longed to hear those words and yet those words throw me into a whirlwind of questions.

Well, we are choosing to celebrate and against all that is within me that wants to never hurt this bad again, we are going to try, again, to get pregnant. I am popping pills/vitamins/clomid and the doctors are going to monitor every little step. Next week they are going to do yet another ultrasound to tell us how many follicles are ready to release eggs (that means they will tell us if we are looking at high chances of multiples, ha). Then they will give me some shot, pat us on the butt and order us to the “Act of Marriage”. Always a disappointing command, ha. I am just following the MD’s orders?!?

ALSO…it is true that I could hear Soren’s poop over the phone. I could visualize his mustard colored poop bleeding through the back side of his always adorable onesies. Keep up the great work Poop Master! Hope your Mr. is recovering well.

You Look Tired Today...

This is an older post from my myspace page. I thought I'd throw it on here for kicks. Enjoy!!!

It's my least favorite comment. "You look tired today". What exactly are people thinking when they say this to someone? My, you are so stunning when you look like a zombie. Gosh, your puffy eyes and splotchy skin really enhance your natural beauty! Now, I know there needs to be grace, because it's not that people intend to insult you. It's simply that they are honest and say the first thing they think of. So, I'm at work and a co-worker says, "Wow, you look really tired today!" I say,
"Thanks, that's good to know". He immediately inserts his foot into his mouth. However another co-worker chimes in, only to make it worse.

Co-worker 2 "No, he just means that your eyes look really puffy. Maybe it's allergies."

Co-worker 1 "Yeah, or did you not get much sleep lastnight?"

Me "Word of advice: Never, ever tell a woman she looks tired…ever"

Co-worker 1 "What's the big deal, my eyes look swollen all the time"

Me "Well, let's put it this way…if you ever wonder why your wife isn't speaking to you, there's a chance you said 'You look tired' to her at some point in the conversation"

End Scene.

So, clearly, I must have been tired on this day. Ha ha! Anyways, if anyone tells you that you look tired, simply respond, "I haven't gotten my botox yet this week" and brush it off. Try not to take it too personally :)

A Momma Moment

As I hold the current position of The Only Mother Of The Group, I feel it is my duty to talk about poop. Poop is the quintessential essence of parenthood. The item I talk about most, deal with most, and understand in a completely new light after becoming a mother is poop. I revere it yet don't fear it, I understand how to analyze it, in short, I am a poop expert. All mothers are. I once laughed with Nat that I knew motherhood meant diapers, and snotty noses, and puke, and probably trips to the emergency room. But I had NO IDEA how much motherhood is really about poop. I touch poop every day. I clean it out of the bathtub, out of the shower, out of the carpet, out of clothing, out of my fingernails. I leave the house for 5 minutes to run to the grocery store and don't bring the diaper bag because BOTH boys JUST POOPED 10 minutes ago and inevitably their little brains overhear me say that I am not going to bring the diaper bag and therefore they decide they should BOTH blow out their diapers to such an extent that I cannot bring them in the store and will also be cleaning poop out of car seats.

Today was no exception. I had to take Nat to a doctor's appointment. I say "had" because I had to drive him home; he wasn't allowed to drive because the doctor had to drug him up. This was an important appointment: this was the Vasectomy Appointment. It is important for Limiting Future Amounts of Poop. I can look forward to only the (massive volume of) poop that two boys can produce, not more. Anyway, I left Miles, the older son, with my mom. I brought Søren, the baby, with us. Now, Søren hates the car. I mean he HATES the car. After driving to the clinic half an hour away to the tune of "WAH WAH WAH" provided by my youngest darling, and dropping Nat off, I decided I would go to the second-hand baby store and peruse the goods. Søren, still screaming, would love the opportunity to get out of the car seat (or "baby jail" as we call it). By the time I got to the store, he was practically in convulsions. No biggie, I thought. I'll get him out, grab my wallet, and find a toy with a mirror to soothe his soul.

Here's where it gets to the awesome part. My wallet was in the diaper bag which was conveniently at home on my couch. Oops. Not only was I without dough, I was without diapers, extra clothing, wipes. I know, classic. The thing is, I am usually a very thoughtful diaper-bag-packer. I always have extra shirts, extra snacks, extra socks. I glanced at my watch. Still an hour to go. I decided to risk it and take the baby to a quiet park so I could nurse him and hopefully put him to sleep. I say "risk it" because another thing They don't tell you about having babies (damn Them) is that little babies LOOOOOOOOOVE to poop immediately after eating, if not during. Nursing, however, was the only way I was going to get this little guy to calm down. So we drive. He cries. We park. I climb in the back seat. We nurse. He decides he is happy Søren and we play and I call Nicole on the phone to chat. And then. THEN. I open my big mouth and tell Nicole that I am playing it dangerously by not having the diaper bag with me. She laughs. And minutes later, Søren lets loose with a diaper explosion so loud that Nicole could hear it over the cell phone. Poop up the back. All over the shirt.


Of course this is also the moment Nat calls to say he is ready to go home. I put the happy, poopy Søren in his carseat and watch the instant transformation from happy, cooing baby to screaming-crying-gasping-oh-my-god-I'm-DYING baby. I pick up Nat, who is waiting outside the closed clinic. We decide to just drive home and change the baby there, figuring we can just give him a bath. But, of course, Søren falls asleep literally TWO BLOCKS from our house. As I get in the door, and explain the situation to my mom who is feeding Miles, Miles gleefully looks up at me and says, "Baby. Poop-o-rama." And.....scene.

But of course I don't mind. I changed the diaper. I'll change more. Maybe I'll learn from my lesson, but I probably won't. I'm sure it will happen again. And I'll laugh. With a kid this cute, how could I not?

First Entry!!!

Welcome to our blog, Girl Gone Real. It's very scary to have to be the one to write our first official post, but I drew the short straw, so here we go.

I thought I'd start by giving you a little background on the group of girls who will be contributing to this blog. We're all best friends, who met at a small Christian college in northern Indiana almost ten years ago, and now reside in various parts of the country. It's hard to describe the bond we have, only to say it's pretty unique and incredibly rich. No, we don't see or talk to each other everyday, but when we do finally come together, it's as if no time lapsed in between each gathering. Since we see each other so rarely, our reunions consist of an explosion of ridiculousness for the first hour and a half or so. We break the sound barrier as we scream with joy, laugh, cry, scream some more... We all talk over each other and yet manage to hear everything each person is saying. It's a gift. The poor husbands/boyfriends who are "blessed" to share this moment with us usually assume their position in a corner of the room, cupping their ears with their hands in horror, and dealing with the reality that they haven't just entered a relationship with or married one girl, but a girl and her 7 best friends.

Together we've lived through a wide spectrum of experiences, from dating to breaking up, from marriage to divorce, from death of friends and family to the birth of precious little babies. We've fought and made up, sometimes have lied to and many times been painfully honest with each other. We're more than just acquaintances__we're sisters.

So, this blog is all about sharing our stories, however ugly, painful, funny, quirky or honest they may be. We hope you enjoy our stories, and we look forward to hearing yours as well! Thanks for reading. ~ L.G.