Saturday, December 1, 2012


We are in a season of which other experienced moms have warned. It is when days fly by quicker than the law should allow, schedules are fuller than the reasonable should permit, and children growing faster than surely the Almighty intended.

Changes of all sorts have happened quickly –a new teenager, another in middle school, and an eight year old with continued flair for the dramatic. Additionally, I have taken a part time consulting position that requires a little travel as well as a writing project conducted during early morning hours that can only be seen as ungodly.  

A further change worthy of note is this:  my eyelids have begun to fall. I’ve been watching for new wrinkles, examining the folds of my neck for unwelcomed creases, and placing voodoo curses on the parentheses marks between my eyes. Who knew that aging kryptonite would be my weary eyebrows, dropping its hold on delicate skin like a twitchy wide receiver losing grip on a touchdown  ball?

My eyelids have fallen, and they cannot get back up.

Ours is a household in perpetual motion, one that requires intentionality, detailed calendars and an absurd amount of coffee just to keep pace. However, what I have learned over the past few months is that there is not enough intravenous caffeinated fluids to prevent the inevitable from happening, the unavoidable from taking place, the inescapable from occurring right before my droopy eyes:

I am behind.

Behind in blog entries, household duties, in empty photo albums that mock my very existence.  Behind in daily interactions with friends, in connections with siblings, in that lunch date just for laughs and frivolity. I am behind in thank you notes, in a well-stocked pantry, and in laundry that overflows to the street.

I am behind.

It happens. And when it does, it causes paralysis in the present because of all the junk involved as it pertains to your behind. (Not intended as a shout out to J-Lo.) I recognize these circumstances because this is not my first domestic rodeo where I find myself bucked about in the air and tossed haphazardly to the ground. 

What I know from experience is this: when you find yourself behind, begin again right where you are. Even if it means from where you lay on the ground.

Start with the friend you haven’t called in three months, the Bible unopened for longer than you would like to admit, the conversation that begins with asking forgiveness. The small group you always wanted to join, the encouraging note you would like to write, or the appointment you have avoided with your doctor, dentist, pastor or manicurist.

 Don’t let that which is undone behind determine how you will proceed  forward. Begin again right where you are.

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."    
                                                                  - Theodore Roosevelt

And  this is where we are:

Chase is doing well. He has regained about 90% of his mobility....

...while maintaining 100% of his quick wit. 


Picking up food from a busy restaurant in toboggan and rat tail wig is just an ordinary day for him.

Chandler is in his first year at middle school and doing well.

We have also discovered that he may just give Justin Bieber a run for his money:

(The annoying percussion courtesy of his dad)

(The video will only remain up as long as it goes unnoticed by Chandler.)

Mary Mac continues to bring us joy.

She plans to provide the Barbie Head some competition as well.

(The picture will only remain up as long as it goes unnoticed by Mary Mac.)

As for the two of us, we are doing great. I still try to get him to fire me  from working at his medical practice. He still pretends that I am not exceptionally  inept. It works.

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