May 262010
 

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Every woman needs a girl’s night out, a girl’s weekend, a fun lunch with the gang, (you know, the girls who have your back in a crisis, who know just what to say when you’re feeling down, celebrate the good, help you cry through the bad and laugh your rear end off when you need to blow off steam)- these are ya peeps and everyone needs them.

We have G.R.I.T.S. Night (Girl’s Raised in the South), we have quarterly “girl’s night out” to catch up, lunches to celebrate birthdays, showers to celebrate babies, tennis matches, margarita night . . . we’ll get together because the sky is blue.  We could come up with all sorts of ways to have fun, laugh till you think you can’t laugh anymore, someone snorts . . . and then, IT’S OVER!  If you don’t have these sorta girls in your life, start lookin.’

My friend Kim invited our core group of girls to her Lake House for the weekend.  It started off slow, catching up on what everyone’s kids were doing, new career moves, yada yada.  And as the day progressed, a bunch of us ended up on a ski boat with one of those crazy inner tubes and the world’s smallest life jackets.

Well, actually, Kim said they were Standard size, but for someone who had just had a baby, well . . . there was no way my chest was going to fit into that thing.  [the upper part of MY life jacket was not gonna make the cut.]  The girls were looking at me – and then looking at that life jacket – and away they went with the jokes, the snickering, the snorting and the laughs.

And Kim . . . well – she couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as I put on the life jacket, it was obvious, unless the top portion had 3 inches of stretch band in it, that zipper was not gonna fulfill its purpose.  I swear those were kid’s life jackets, but whatever!!

I jumped into the lake to show off my water skiing skills.  As the boat came around, I grabbed the rope, felt the slack run out and the pull of the engine.  I could hear all 5 girls cracking up . . . about how my boobs were weighing the boat down, how the engine was having a hard time pulling them, when out of the blue, as if on cue, as I was being pulled up out of the water, the Boat Caught on Fire!!!  It Caught on Fire!

It abruptly stopped, I fell back into the water, and with a bewildered look, saw smoke billowing out of the engine!  Girls were hollering, trying to call for help on cell phones with no service, and I’m thinking . . . Did my boobs really cause the boat to catch on fire?  I buoyed back to to the boat; we grabbed a bucket of water and poured it over the engine, but to our dismay, the boat didn’t make it.

To this day, we laugh so hard when Kim tells this story:  She says the life jacket was never the same, the boat didn’t survive . . . but WE DID – and when we get together, it’s like coming home.  We pick up where we left off.  We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve celebrated and we hold strong to our deep-rooted friendships. Here’s to “Girl’s Night and Great Stories.”  We all need them. But for the record, those were Children’s Life Jackets!!

“A man that hath friends must show himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.
Prov 18:24 New King James Version

 Posted by at 11:10 pm
May 172010
 

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I have this running list of goals, check lists and hope too’s, that include things like:  Parachuting before 40, getting skinny by (this one is still obscure), writing a funny mom book and vacationing in CABO with all my favorite people, but the hope of a clean house – well, this just doesn’t seem possible.

I’ve walked miles in this house, picking up stuff, folding things, stepping on sharp toys, throwing away unidentifiable objects and looking for weird smells.  I’ve washed a million dishes, made that many lunches and wiped about that many little butts and still, this house is full of piles.

There’s a clothes pile, a shoe pile, a toy pile, a book pile and the accumulations go on and on.  By the time one pile is put in its place, another one appears, containing kid’s swords, the inside of a shoe, a teddy bear and a sippy cup.

For the record, I believe children should be given responsibilities, tasks they are held accountable for, to ensure team spirit, whether it be laundry, dishes or picking up toys.

When it comes to making breakfast, if they help make pancakes, there’s a 50/50 chance you’ll find batter on the ceiling or the dog is following the baby around the house, vying for her food.  As much as we delegate responsibilities, if each person makes 2 messes, that’s 12 messes, which can catapult into exponential numbers, in a matter of hours, if we don’t stay on top of laundry and dishes alone.

I love to have a clean house, a pristine kitchen and spotless windows.  I love candles and nice smells, but if it stayed this way for more than 2 days, it’s probably because we’re on vacation.

I was talking to a friend last week who has 2 year old twins.  Wow, she has her hands full.  She was telling me how hard it is to have a reasonably clean home; as quick as you can organize, the little ones are destroying it behind you.

What I realized, in talking with her, is – though I knew my house would not be “Party Ready” at a moments notice, I still had not resolved myself to the fact, that my house really isn’t going to be organized everyday, just spurts of every day.  That’s hard for me to swallow.  If it were up to me, my house would look like Pier One Imports, minus toys and any signs of high chairs and bouncy things, but that’s not feasible.

I spoke the words with my mouth, (“I will NOT have a clean house everyday, and that’s OK”) but I didn’t believe it, “It’ WASN’T OK,” which placed me in an odd predicament.  I was like a person with one leg on shore and one on a boat headed to sea.  I was straddling the fact that I could have a clean house all the time and still have a livable one.

Welcome to reality:  you can’t have 4, 5, 6 or more living under one roof and keep it clean all the time.  This either means you’re living in a museum, or no one is having any fun.  I choose fun.

While I’d like to be skinny, I do enjoy my occasional pizza, and while I’d like to go parachuting, I FEAR what I’ll do to the guy who pushes me out of the plane.  I may need to re-evaluate my list. But one things for sure, I need to cherish this season of life. Don’t rush it.  Don’t rush to windex the handprints off the windows . . .  for one day your house will stay clean . . . but it will also be empty.

So embrace the giggler with the dirty hands and move out the furniture for your boys to have fun wrestling matches;   Mark Twain once said:  Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.  And just like a house that is disorganized at times, with piles of things and little mud prints by the door, it indicates where love lives.  Embrace it.

Ecclesiastes 3:1. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

 Posted by at 11:28 pm