My Kid Hits...(but he is not "a hitter")

Right now, if you type the words “my kid hits” in the search tab on Pinterest, the very first pin that appears is titled “dear mom of the child who hits”. I can only think of one group of people who might type those three words into a search domain…parents working through this issue. Parents who have tried different things and now are reaching out to a new source for something else because none of their past attempts have yielded success. Parents who have read the books, talked to their pediatricians, asked their moms and their mom friends and are still struggling and wrestling with having a child who hits.

Struggling and wrestling.

I had high hopes based on the number of repins and likes that the post would be a helpful resource with strategies to try, conversations to have and that it would be an overall source of encouragement to the parents searching for answers, encouragement and clarity.  Instead this post tore me down in more ways than one. The author strongly encourages a parent with a child who hits to consider the feelings of the parents whose child is receiving the aggression, as if this is not something that constantly runs through our heads.  Her other tips are to be consistent all the time…and that’s it.

It had already been a rough day before I read this. At school pick-up, my son’s teacher told me she needed to call me later that afternoon and I still hadn’t received a call. My son confessed in the car on the way home that he had hit his school friends (plural) but gave me no more details. As soon as we got home, my son received consequences based on his honest report.  Later that afternoon I received another report of hitting from the childcare worker at the gym. My son showed little to no remorse although verbalized understanding that what he did was wrong.

Then I read this post.

It hurt.

I waited a few hours to allow my emotions to settle and still felt crushed so I attempted to reach out privately to the author, who self-admitted in her post that she had no experience with having a child who hits. She had disabled her comments and removed any email address or contact information…which seemed odd to me for a blogger to do. (don’t we love comments?)  I resorted to commenting on the pin, pleading with her to “please be so careful when addressing something that she has no experience with”. I also pleaded with her “as her sister in Christ, to find another mother who is actually walking through this lonely and isolating battle with her child”. She deleted my comment and the replies to my comment thanking me for my words. My point is not to put this writer on blast...so please don't go seek out her post. Just keep reading...

Let me stop right here, I’m fully aware of the problem our culture has right now of responding hyper-sensitively to basically everything with embarrassing displays of inappropriate levels of offendedness. These days everyone seems easily offended by something. In no way was I "offended" by any of the above scenario....I was sad. And I was worried for anyone who happened to read it who might not have a network of support or access to the Truth to fall back on. I had clicked on and read the post hoping for some encouragement. Some advice from a parent who had walked in my shoes and who had made it out on the other side. Instead I found condescension, shaming, and a heaping of guilt that directly resembled Satan’s whisper that I should isolate myself from any other parent or child because of this struggle.

I don’t really have anything to say to the moms who don’t have kids who hit, except that I think you have a lot to be thankful for. In fact, I’m one of you. I also have a child who doesn’t hit (yet).  I honestly don’t think that this will be her struggle based on her nature but I can’t be for sure.  I’m incredibly grateful for her content nature and I know that it has nothing to do with me. Her easy-going will and content spirit did not come from my genetic contribution to her DNA, so I know for a fact that it is how God made her to be. I also know that someday she’ll have a struggle too…but it probably won’t be the same as her big brother.

To the mom’s who have a child who hits…

I get you. I’m also one of you.

I know what it’s like to stay home from certain activities because certain friends will be there and don’t play well with your child. It feels like isolation.

I know what it’s like when babysitters decide after their first night with your kids that they don’t want to come back. It feels like loneliness.

I know what it’s like to hear other kids at preschool pick-up tell their moms that your child hit them. 

It feels like guilt.

I know that it hurts even though the words are coming out of the mouth of a 3 year old. It feels like embarrassment.

I know the temptation to not go places where you have to drop your kids into a childcare room – like church or the gym because the whole time you’re away, you’re worrying that you’ll get a call. It feels like helplessness.

I know how heartbreaking it is to get report after report from childcare workers that once again your child did not follow the rules, had to sit out of an activity, etc. It feels like heartache.

I know you don’t brush it off as if it doesn’t matter. I know that you know that it matters.

I know that when you say things that sound like you’re making excuses for the behavior, it’s not because you’re actually excusing it, it is because you don’t want your child to be defined by his behavior.

And what is so great is that he isn’t.

Your child is not defined by his ability to stay in line, follow the rules, or even be kind to his friends. Those things are NOT what give or take away his value. They are things that need to be worked out for sure. But they are things that will not always be this way. Don’t label your kid as a “hitter” (or a biter, or whatever) and don’t let anyone else do it. 

Teaching our children that they will receive our love when they "obey" or "behave" sets up a works-based mentality. "You perform in this way...I'll love you in return." Now obviously teaching submission to authority and kindness toward all people is important. But in the same breath, unconditional love and grace need to be modeled and understood from the beginning because that's how God deals with us. 

My son’s identity is not found in something that he does or doesn’t do. I don’t want him to believe that he is less valuable than the children who know how to follow the rules and I don't want a rule-follower to think he or she is more valuable than anyone else. I don’t want to believe this myself…because it’s not true. But it’s tempting…sometimes Satan will temporarily win over my thoughts by whispering into my ear that, “I am not enough”, or “my son is not enough”, or that “I should isolate myself”, or “I should worry and be anxious”. These are lies. Call them what they are.

For awhile now, I’ve been rolling all of this around in my head. Sometimes fueled with emotions of fear, anger, resentment, self-pity and even shame. And I held off posting until now because I don’t ever want to be a source of shame for my children. I don’t want them to read something I’ve written or hear something I’ve said and think that I believe public shame is my strategy.

But for one, that’s not what I’m doing at all. I know my motives, I’ve searched my heart, and I know that I fiercely love my child. I will continue to fight for him and with him. This means seeking and instructing truth, collaborating with teachers, disciplining, correcting, praying fiercely, teaching and modeling genuine apologies, and so many other things. This does not mean sitting back, ignoring and allowing destructive behavior to happen. 

(Another thing I've found to be crucially important is including other moms. Let them know that you are working to shut this down...Have your kid apologize to the child and then to the child's mother. Make a card with your child and bring it to the other child with a sincere apology. Write a story with stick figures together to discuss how hitting affects others.) 

And for two, I know there are others out there just like me. I know that there are parents walking this lonely, difficult and sometimes painful struggle with their children. My hope is that if that’s you, that you would be encouraged that you aren’t alone and that your efforts are not in vain. Your child’s worth is not determined by how well they are able to follow instructions or control their still-developing emotions. Their worth is found in the fact that they are image bearers of and were created by an all-knowing and all-powerful God who redeems all that He allows. He created each one of them and equips us as we walk through the hard things. He doesn’t leave us alone. He never, ever promised that life would be void of struggles. This whole thing is just a straight-up example of man’s sinful nature being present at birth…or at least, in toddler years. And we all need grace…lots of grace. So since we are all in such need of it, let’s give it as well.

**photography by Lynn Walker photography

My People

I'm reading this book right now, and oh my word, it is the cutest! 

I rarely find myself spending my free time reading. I just don't have the discipline for it...there's so many other things that are louder and shinier that are competing for my attention. And since I have the willpower of a 9 year old in a candy store, I usually find myself sucked into a Shark Tank episode (or let's be real...the Bachelor) for hours in the evening or scrolling through instagram and facebook looking at new baby scrunched up faces and reading the political opinions of my high school friends who I haven't seen in 15 years. It's very rewarding and makes me feel like I have been very wise with my free time. 

So back to this book...

Even the cover makes me smile. And in an attempt to do more reading of books and less of the facebook statuses, I'm now reading books on my iPad. It's granting me much more success because there's way less of a chance for me to stack my iPad in a pile of magazines to avoid cleaning up for real. And while it's the source of most of my above-mentioned distractions, it's already in my hands...unlike the paperback book I bought on Amazon that's now lost in the stack of Pottery Barn magazines.

So if you have ever had a precious friendship, you should read this book. It has done wonderful things in the card catalog (remember those?) of my memory in reminding me of some seriously precious times in my life spent with some very special girls. She writes about different friendships of her own and organizes them by chapters, so the first few chapters, she writes about her childhood friends, followed by the trivial and sometimes toxic junior high friends. She camps in her college years for awhile, which is where I am bookmarked at this point. 

The book is easy to love not because of how captivating her stories are. It's because it draws me back to my own memories. It reminds me of my own experiences, my own friendships, the places we went and the games we played and the things that made us excited. It literally brought back memories of my own that I hadn't thought of in years. It jogs my senses and I can suddenly taste that Dr. Pepper lip gloss that my 7-year old best friend and I traded back and forth...or the Flinstones push-pop that we always got from the snack stand at the country club pool. So what I feel so compelled to do is write my own mini-version of this book and call out by name some of MY girls. The ones that are literally irreplaceable, while highlighting some of the memories that have been brought to the surface, because...all of the emotions!  

And what I would love is if it might jog your own memory and remind you of your own friends. And if I'm not a good enough writer to do that, then you definitely have to buy the book for yourself...

So here we go...

The Good Ole Days

When I think back on my time as a child, two of my friendships literally stand out above all of the others. Maybe because we were just together all the time, but also maybe because I still consider these two girls, now women, to be friends closer than a sister. 

I have no idea how old I was when I met Amy, but I was at least 3, because that's how old I was when we moved to Waco. Our moms were friends, our dads were friends and our brothers were friends, so it was a match made in heaven, or just in Waco. We went to the same church and the same elementary school and I'm pretty sure my excitement over each school year had more to do with whether or not Amy was in my class, not who my teacher was.

Amy and I spent our afternoons at each others houses, imagining amazing things, like how we would start an architecture company...we even drew house plans with rulers...like, lots of house plans, so our clients would have lots of options. She had a trampoline in her backyard that we would do cartwheels off of...like onto the ground. She was the only person I knew whose parents drove a station wagon and everyone always wanted the back seat that faced backwards. We would explore her neighborhood and she taught me how to suck the honey out of a honeysuckle flower. 

Is that a real thing or were we just mildly poisoning ourselves? 

When we were actually at school, Amy and I used to catch caterpillars and ladybugs at recess and bring them in and put them in our PENCIL BOXES in our desks with grass for them to eat! Did our teachers even know about this because...OMG. 

Public education is real y'all.

Cara is my other person. We met when we were like 7 or 8 years old and we lived in the same neighborhood. She and her mom had just moved to Waco from Dallas and she quickly became my favorite neighbor. We had car washes in the driveway...you know, when you charge a dollar per car to basically rub soap all over the bottom half and your only customers are your parents or your poor unsuspecting next door neighbor. I actually rode my bike over to her house...(gotta love the '80's). Her part of the neighborhood had a community swimming pool, so we'd walk over from her house and play pool games like underwater tea party or the game where you dunk your friend until they guess the right color (sounds fun right?) 

These first friends of mine were at every slumber party, we dressed as angels in the church Christmas pageant. I don't see them often, but they are people I treasure. We learned lots of things together. We each met Jesus during the time of our friendships. There were other incredibly sweet friends but the memories with these two run deep. 

It should also be mentioned that my cousin Romi and I were very close growing up. We are the same age...well, I was (am) 6 weeks older than her, which made me incredibly wiser, especially with my broad knowledge of the world from growing up in Waco, Texas. But Romi had an older sister, my cousin Rachel, who was basically the coolest person I knew. So Romi's status as Rachel's sister made her way cooler than my wisdom brought to the relationship. I wanted to do everything they did. And if something terrible had ever happened and I would have had to find a new family, I would have wanted to live with them. Also, they lived like 10 minutes from Wet N' Wild in Arlington...cool points increasing dramatically. 

And in one of their houses, Rachel had a room that was the only room upstairs and it was right above the garage so it shook when the garage door opened...

...and I'm sorry, but I can think of NOTHING cooler. 

One summer, I stayed with them for a week and it was then that Romi and I watched Dirty Dancing no less than 27 times, stayed up late talking in her "non-garage apartment" room, and went swimming in their backyard pool every minute that we weren't dreaming about Patrick Swayze. Romi was safe. I could be exactly who I was with her and she could too. We were definitely not as cool as Rachel, but we were something together...and we had each others backs when our older boy cousins beat up on us.

Romi and I used to ask each other EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. that we saw each other "Have you started your period yet?" Literally...this is what pre-teen girls talk about. So one time, we were out at our grandparents house in Lubbock, TX when my dreaded answer was going to have to be yes. I was so worried. Would she make fun of me? Would her feelings be hurt? Only, she didn't ask me. I left Lubbock with my family under the assumption that the only conclusion was that she got her period on the same day as me. And she didn't want to ask me just like I didn't want to ask her. We've never talked about it...except that now...she may read this and ask me to kindly take this off of the internet for the whole world to read. 

Almost but Not Yet

Junior high...not necessarily my favorite time of my life. And ok...aparently it was a thing for me and my friends to dress up in old dance costumes at sleepovers....

The years were marked by change...a new school, new responsibilities (like decorating a locker!), organized school sports and tumultuous friendships. Four or 5 of the elementary schools fed into the same junior high for us and neither Amy or Cara stayed in the school district. It wasn't like I didn't have any other friends, but girls in middle school are strange creatures. You can't trust them, and I'm speaking of myself as well. For the first time, I started looking out at the people around me and seeing myself as inadequate by comparison. I had two groups of friends, "school friends" and "church friends". Even though I spent more face time with my school friends, I think back on this time of life as significant with my church friends. These girls went to a different school. But I loved them and wanted to belong with them. I was definitely most myself with them. These girls- Robin, Lauren, Emily, Andrea, and Britni- were the ones that I went to summer camp with. We did all of the church activities together- drama, choir, mission trips, Disciple Now weekends- and we were BOY CRAZY together. It's actually pretty embarrassing. 

Besides that, the rest of my time was spent playing sports. You know, to see if I would be good enough to play anything in high school when it mattered. Basketball...no. Volleyball...no. Softball...yes. Cheerleading (it's a sport)...definitely yes. 

If I had a book and not a blog, I'd write a lot more. Like...a lot more. There are some pivotal friendships in high school that I could camp out on for paragraphs...but right now, I want to just skip to my college years...because, oh my heart.

So We're Adults Now...

I had a lot of friends in college. It's my style to surround myself with a lot of people and to attempt to relate to many of them. It might come off as shallow, because how can you possibly know that many people that well? I had a great thing going where I would let people know just enough of me but not too much. This allowed me to spread out my friendships and stay more surface level while easily relating to a large number of friends. It also allowed me to present myself as positively as possible because nobody knew me THAT well.

Except there were a few that did...

I went potluck for my freshman year roommate...and at this point in my life, that sounds kinda terrifying. But when you're 18, it's like BRING IT!

My roommate Lindsay was from Odessa. She came in town to meet me shortly after high school graduation and I had just had knee surgery. Heaven knows what she thought about me...knee brace and pain killers. I'll never forget that I picked out these matching comforters for us to have in our dorm room from Linens 'n Things that were...um, less than beautiful. She was gracious and wonderful and went along. I don't know about her, but I thought we were two peas in a pod. We downloaded all kinds of things on Napster (shhhh)...like the Aggie Marching Band and Will Farrell impersonating Harry Carey on SNL. Just the audio...and we got a beta fish and named him Whiskers because of one of the skits. Hilarious, Right?

Y'all we had this tradition (if you can call it that), where everyday after class, we would come home, say hi to Whiskers and watch Legally Blonde all snuggled under our awesome LNT comforters. And we were literally obsessed with playing pranks on our hall mates. Finally, one day, it caught up to me and some of the girls on our hall took my towel and clothes while I was showering. Now that I think about it, I think Lindsay may have been in on it. Anyways, to show them that it didn't bother me, I wrapped myself in paper towels and strolled out of the bathroom casually. However, paper towels basically dissolve when you put them on wet skin...so #relationshiptoanewlevel

One early January morning, Lindsay was already out for the morning and I was sleeping in, as college kids do. So while I remember this story taking place at like 6am, it was probably more like 10:30. It was Lindsay's birthday and her parents called to sing her Happy Birthday on our dorm phone (because in 2001, if you had a cell phone, you didn't actually use it)...only she wasn't home and I didn't pick up because IT WAS SOOOO EARLY! The Carlson's proceeded to sing very loudly on the answering machine...the whole song. It became a thing. "Lindsay...your parents. You need to call them back and tell them to simma down."

Three months later, on my birthday in April, guess who got a call from Odessa with a captivating version of "Happy Birthday to youuuuu"? Oh...me. It was amazing...and they did it all four years of college, even after we weren't living together anymore. I mean, have you ever? What peaches!

I lived with Lindsay for two years. Then for my junior year, I decided to live with some girls who I met as a freshman and then became fast friends with after pledging in the spring. These girls...Molly, Lauren and Sarah...they saw the best of me and the worst. We were all so different, yet we meshed together so well as a group. And it's funny, my relationship with each of them was different from the other. I literally feel like I need to write another post for and about them, because they became such a huge part of me. We learned social norms and how to split bills together. We called each other out when relationships or insecurities or attitudes were destructive. We took trips together and went to date parties and two words...Sky Ranch. These girls have a piece of my heart even though it's been awhile since I've seen any of them, but we have mad group texting convos. 

Photo below: not a photo shoot...they're just really that gorgeous.

Speaking of social norms...here's me and Molly trapped in the Dillards of the Temple, Texas mall under a tornado warning the weekend of Lauren's wedding. We were clearly ready for the real world... #duckandcover

Now We're Actually Adults...

So we graduated college and friendships weren't over...but they were different. We moved to different cities and I ended up living alone in downtown Dallas. This was like the worst living situation ever for an extrovert like me. At this point in my life, I remember having an outstanding date every Sunday night with my Amy (my architecture partner) and her new husband to watch Grey's Anatomy in their one bedroom garage apartment. Oh my word...how well they loved me! I'm pretty sure she even cooked for me every single time. 

I was lonely and looking for more and desperate for the next thing. And she found me. One of my most significant friendships of life began subtly in college and then became my roommate 9 months after graduation. I was so thrilled that she would even want to live with me. Amanda and I were young professionals in the big city, both from small-town Waco. We were not into the party scene, but not at the point that we needed to join church singles groups to make friends. We stumbled on them ourselves, and the friendships we made together led me to find my now husband. It was a sweet time of freedom and responsibility and finding Jesus in a real way. Finding Jesus because he is so good. These years with her as my roommate were some of the most formative for me. She showed me such grace and love when I was not gracious or lovable. She showed me how vulnerability can mean sitting on the floor with your friend and shedding tears with them when life is hard and that the best response is to say..."Can I just pray for you, right here, right now?" I had never had a friend like her up to this point in my life. 

We both got married and she moved to Austin. Some new friendships became very much the forefront of my life. The most amazing thing about these friendships was that our new husbands were all friends too. If you're married, you know just how much that positions you for a successful friendship. We were navigating newly-wed life together and it was so sweet. These three girls have become "my people" and what's amazing is that I didn't see it happening until it had already happened. I looked up one day and was like, yep, they're the ones. The ones that know everything. The yucky stuff about me that I hide from other people. The ones I ask inappropriate questions to. The ones who pray for me even though it's been over 5 years since we've all lived in the same city. The ones who called me regularly when I lived in middle-of-nowhere-freezing-cold upstate New York. We've been a lifeline for each other over the years and our group text history would take years to comb through.

Skipping ahead to now, I recently had a moment here in Austin when I looked up and thought to myself again "yep, these are my people". And I didn't even realize it happening. I'm so thankful for these girls who I'm doing life with here in Austin. I'm thankful that we co-raise our kids together while husbands are at work. I'm thankful that it's safe to share insecurities or triumphs. I feel full when I leave them and look forward to the next time. 

Friendship is so good. It's SO good. 

It was created by God to push us toward him. It helps us to feel not-so-alone in whatever circumstances this dark world has thrown our way. It allows us to learn about and look outside of ourselves, to grow and change. And friendships don't stay the same. They grow and change or they dissolve with the phase of life. And that's ok too. You can't possibly hold onto them all and invest in a real way in every single one of your friendships. You can't hold everyone accountable or make time to allow yourself to be known deeply enough by all of them. But wow...the way friendships weave in and out of your life is such a beautiful story. 

I think it's beautiful. 

Some stay for awhile. Some are quick and painfree. Some start early and grow roots into your heart that will always be there. Some stand the test of time and distance. Some span through families and others stop when new life phases begin. I'm so thankful for you all...This is my memoir to you.

"Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

I do believe I have been changed for the better....

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good"

-Wicked Soundtrack

Not so much

**Ok, so I wrote this post about 4 months ago and have held off on posting it for various reasons but I think it's probably time to just get this out in the open because I feel like nobody is saying the things that I found out.

I'm not really a believer....


Please don't be mad. 

If you're mad...please hear me out and read the whole thing.

When I first started this blog, I mentioned that I might share my thoughts about essential oils. When I made the statement, I was in the thick of cold and flu season and my house was not being spared the wrath of the winter bugs. I was pretty desperate and I was hopeful that they would work for us. Desperate because I had a 5 month old who had 3 ear infections in a row with NO fever. Oy...

I was also hoping that there was a solution to my upcoming spring allergies because antihistamines have such a profound effect on breastmilk supply and I was nursing my daughter. I figured there was no downside to trying them out. There's lots of claims and success stories out there, so why not enjoy those benefits for my family.  I didn't try everything...but I tried some things for about 4-6 weeks. I did not use them everyday because that's a lot to remember. I'm lucky if everyone in the house gets a bath and two teeth-brushing sessions every day.

First of all, I honestly really wanted them to work...I had a lot of hope. I wanted to believe that there was a simple and effective way for me to take control of my (and my family's) health with no side effects or negative consequences. Let me also say that this post is just reflective of my personal experience within the confines of my own home. I have not conducted double blind research studies (not sure that anybody has) nor have I spent hours upon hours researching and figuring out what everyone else out there has said. I'm a mom and I frankly have much more important things to do with my time. Namely, love my family well and teach my children a multitude of life skills, live out the gospel, cook healthy meals and just get enough sleep, for crying outloud!

So here are the reasons that essential oils are not that essential for me. Again...no research studies done here. But I have a medical background in pediatric nursing and I've also been a mom for 3.5 years, which I know isn't accredited...but mom knowledge is pretty powerful, amen?

1. I don't want to need to depend on more things.
We basically have to pack our entire house for a weekend trip to the grandparents house. Literally...I cannot add something else to the list of things that will result in a meltdown (or a shopping trip) if forgotten. One time we forgot diapers! Y'all...we're just keeping our heads above water sometimes.

2. I think that using oils to kill unnecessary bacteria will lead to oil-resistant bacteria...similar to the overuse of antibiotics causing super-bugs that are resistant to first-line antibiotics. 

3. I think that if our bodies depend on oils to function properly that our immune systems will be affected, and maybe even go into remission. Our bodies were created immaculately. When functioning properly, our immune systems defend us from all kinds of viruses and infections that we aren't even aware of. 

4. I think it's dangerous to delay seeking actual medical care because you're sitting at home trying home remedies. Period.

5. It is impossible to correctly dose oils. Get ready for nurse mode...
There is no specified amount or dilution ratio that an accredited agency has approved. Many resources just say to use a couple of drops...or one drop diluted in some carrier oil. This was the first and maybe the biggest red flag for me. It just doesn't feel right to administer something without a dose...especially on my children. You better believe that if a nurse has ever given you a medication, an injection, or even just IV fluid, that substance has been measured to the exact amount per your weight on that specific day so that you get the right amount, down to the 100th of a ml sometimes. Also, in nursing, you check 6 "rights" before giving ANY medication to a patient...you check to make sure it's the right patient, the right medication, the right dose, the right time of administration and the right route. Number 6 is right documentation, but I don't really see how that applies in this instance. When you use an oil, you don't have any backstop to check any of these things.

Should you dilute your oil? One source says yes, pinterest says no, your friend says sometimes.

Should you re-apply it every hour? every 6 hours? once a day? Once a minute? There's no real answer out there. Anything...ANYTHING...can be toxic if taken too much. Even water.

Children are NOT little adults. Sometimes they cannot and should not have the same things as adults only in smaller doses. Their livers and kidneys don't process things the same way. Their skin is more sensitive. Their bones are still growing and are pliable. You find very little medical data about things being without-a-shadow-of-a-doubt safe for children because nobody wants to volunteer their children for medical studies. I don't! Why would I subject my kids to be unofficial guinea pigs for the essential oil industry?

Besides these very real and possibly serious reasons, I think that the way of thinking within this community is a little bit strange. I read through a facebook thread one night where a person asked about a certain oil and whether or not others had experienced night terrors when using it. Someone responded with something to the effect of..."oh just keep using it. Your body isn't used to getting 'good' sleep. The night terrors will probably subside." 

WHAT?

THAT. IS. CRAZY. 

Did you also know that the oils that you don't particularly like the scents are the ones that "your body NEEDS the most?" I read that somewhere too... 

So basically, if I like the way some of them smell or work, I should buy those. And if I don't like others, I should STILL buy those. #salespitch #comeon

And this final part of my oils testimony is why I finally decided they were not for me. Again...this is just truly what has happened in my house. Those 4-6 weeks after I bought my starter kit when I used the oils in my home daily were the SICKEST two months in the history of my family. The healthiest person in the house was BY FAR my husband, who adamantly refused to even try any of them even once. My two children and I were all sick (off and on) over those 6 weeks with diagnoses including (but not limited to) unspecified viral infection, double ear infection, influenza A, unspecified stomach bug, a second double ear infection and a virus that looked a whole lot but was never tested for RSV. My only conclusion is that these oils either did not help protect us at all OR they made us more susceptible to the pathogens we come in contact with everyday.

I don't think it's out of the question to think that after rubbing an antibacterial oil on my body, the good, helpful bacterial that we count on to protect us was possibly eliminated and the harmFUL bacteria that was on the doorknob at preschool or the crayons at church were able to wreak havoc on our immunocompromised systems. My thought...let's not fix something that isn't broken. Our bodies are INCREDIBLE! Our naturally built in immune systems cannot possibly be replicated by any external source, natural or unnatural. That's an opinion...but I'm pretty sure lots of research would back that up.

Now, for the devil's advocate in you...I don't know if we might possibly have gotten sicker had we not used oils at all this winter. Maybe. But it's impossible to know. It's also very predictable that my husband, who leaves the house each day, was least likely to get sick because he was around us (and our germs) the least. It's also true that we are really lucky in our house and at this time, we don't have any medical conditions in which we have exhausted all current knowledge with no cure for an ailment or condition. Those people have every reason to try almost anything they can...

Do I think we should avoid oils like the plague? Or the flu? 

No...I really don't.

I think they're supplemental. I do think they should be used sparingly and probably not on children at all. I don't think you should stop buying your cleaning supplies (or making your own with vineagar, dish soap and baking soda). I don't think they'll replace much of anything in your medicine cabinet. Supplement...yes. So could you add an oil to your current cleaning solution to make it smell lovely? Sure. Could you try some oil instead of ibuprofen for your headache? I guess...but I'm always gonna have that bottle of Advil handy.

What do I like about them? I think they smell lovely and clean. I appreciate that they eliminate the gross smell in my vacuum cleaner and the diaper pail. I absolutely think lemon oil could replace GooGone...hands down. And I like grapefruit oil in my water. I also think the DoTerra blend for mosquitoes works pretty well...And ok, I do think that they help with allergies (if you reapply it every 10 or so minutes). You know what you don't have to reapply every 10 minutes? 

Afrin.

That stuff is incredible. 

So don't be mad. I just can't get over how sick we all were during the time that we used them. And how we all miraculously started returning to health when I put up the diffuser and the roll-ons. 

Give Me Back My Hometown

"Did you hear that there was a shooting in Waco?"

I stared in disbelief at the notification that popped up on my iPad on Sunday morning...it was morning because I was in California. My heart pounded because the headline included that 9 people were dead. "Who were they?" I immediately thought. Some of the people I love most in this life live in Waco and I've lived there longer than anywhere else in the world, although I do not right now. Chances are, in a town the size of Waco, if nine random people were invovled, I probably knew one of them.

"Oh, it was a biker gang."

Sigh of relief....

I went about my day. We flew home to Texas and the news kept rolling in. Hundreds of arrests...cops involved...some racial accusations...

The location was named and I stopped in my tracks.

No, I've never stepped foot into a Twin Peaks in any city on this planet. But guess where I have been? The restaurant that is literally a stones throw away from the site of the deadly brawl. We go there a lot. We meet my parents there for lunch when we're driving through town because it's right on the highway. Wanna see?

I don't use this blog to post pictures of my family, because I want to protect them at all costs. But right here is a picture taken on Sunday, May 3, 2015...two weeks prior (almost to the minute) to the May 20 biker shooting. 

We were within walking distance of that now deadly site.

We were driving home from Dallas to Austin, and Waco was the perfect stopping point for everyone and it was lunch time (bonus!) My parents met us after their church service and it was just like any other lunch. We sat on the patio...the kids made a huge mess with their lunches...one of them required an outfit change...and I had a bottle warmer with me but couldn't find an outlet to use. My baby literally has one absolute demand...warm bottles. She is relaxed about pretty much everything else in life. So it was like, kind of a thing, that there was no outlet anywhere. My sandwich was delicious, but I had to eat it fast because after the outlet search, I spent a few minutes inside talking to the parents of one of my good friends. They still live in Waco and I hadn't seen them in years.

If our California trip and Dallas trips had been reversed, we literally would have been there. We would have heard the shots fired. We would have heard the yelling. These babies...my whole precious world, would have been there. 

When I came back across this photo, I shivered in the pit of my stomach. I realized that sigh of relief is just not appropriate. Because I didn't know any of the men who were killed, I had distanced myself from empathizing, feeling and mourning what is actually an incredible tragedy. God, in his Sovereignty, protected my family from even being present that day. But others were there. Others were present...living their lives right next door and suddenly they weren't. Suddenly they were in a real and present danger that they in no way asked to be a part of.

I can't help thinking that Waco, as a city, is under attack. It may sound a bit outlandish, but think of the history. I'm not going to Google search anything...just simply fall back on my own knowledge. In the 1950's, a tornado ravaged the city, and is called one of the deadliest in Texas. I believe over 100 people died. As a teenager, I knew the statistic that Waco has the highest crime rate per capita in the country. (I KNOW, RIGHT!) I have no idea if that's still true...or if it ever really was...but people said it, and I definitely believed it. There's an incredibly large part of the city living in extreme poverty, so petty crime and drug use are realities. Oh, and that little incident in the early '90's called the Waco Seige. That whole mess put the town on the map and unfortunately, recovery has never been realized. Ten years later, when I was a college student at Baylor, I was walking though London Heathrow airport, and I saw a newspaper with the headline "Murder in Waco". Awesome. A Baylor basketball player had been found dead and his teammate was indicted and then convicted of his murder. 

There's more...but I'll just stop. 

Because I've made my point, yes?

From that last paragraph, why in the WORLD would any sane person want to live in a place like that? What good could ever come from there? Tornadoes, crime, poverty, drug abuse, cults, murder, and now biker gang shoot outs...

All of these things could have happened anywhere on the map but for some reason, they have all materialized in Waco. Many of them don't even involve Waco residents...the people who live and breathe and work and sleep within the city limits. Waco is under attack from a greater evil than any human being with harmful intentions. 

But why?

I think it's because Jesus is doing really powerful things in that city. I think he has been for years. He is raising up generations of people who know and love him deeply. Then some of those people move away and they end up living in random places all over the world. When people ask them where they are from and they say Waco, well, there's a distraction. There's a misunderstanding. There's an assumption made. I know this because I've been the recipient of those assumptions and misunderstandings.  How can anyone take a person from Waco seriously? Surely they lived in the compound! (sarcasm) The reputation precedes you so damage control must be done. This is not reaching...you should hear some of the conversations I've had. 

Actual convos: 

"Texas is great...as long as you're not from somewhere like Brownwood or Waco...Oh you're from Waco?" 

"So do you know any of the Davidians?"

"Weren't you scared to grow up there?"

um...no.

My guess is that Satan, who is our real and true enemy, thinks that he can negate or distract from the powerful things that God is doing there...and doing in the lives of His people there. People like Louie Giglio and David Crowder. People like Robert Griffin III and Joana Gaines. People like me and the girls I grew up with. 

The truth is that Waco is full of incredibly loving and generous people, many (not all) of whom have put their trust in the saving grace of Jesus. The university in town is one of the largest that still affiliates with a religion...and they actually utilize much of the Biblical doctrine in their day to day. There are ministries, churches, outreaches, volunteer organizations, even a church that meets under the bridge for the homeless population. People are friends, neighbors, co-workers. You know your waiters, you see familiar faces in the grocery store. Even though I haven't lived there in over 10 years, I still find these things to be true.

So now that all eyes are on Waco (again), I hope and pray that what the world will actually see is a community of people who love well. Who respond gracefully. Who mourn with those who are hurting. Who support the men and women who serve and protect them. Who break down barriers to protect one another. Who squelch out racism and hatred and violence. Who will display to the world that there is more than what the headlines say. 

Prayers to you all y'all.

Chalk Paint Project

After my last post, some of you asked for me to do a post about my furniture upcycling project whenever I was finished. Well, I'm finally finished!

Here is the before and after and I couldn't be more pleased with myself or how it turned out.

I found lots of pictures on Pinterest of this old Thomasville French Provencial china cabinet...like the exact same one that I bought...and it gave me lots of ideas for what I wanted to do with mine.

I ended up using the Annie Sloan chalk paint...I used French Linen and Old White...straight up, no mixing colors. I didn't distress or use dark wax either...just a coat of clear wax buffed up real nice and shiny.

One thing that I did and I'm glad that I did it is taking off the doors up top. I wasn't sure if I'd feel like it looked naked, but I think it modernized the piece without taking away all of the character. Also, I replaced the pulls with knobs! I LOVE knobs! The above pic is missing two of them because I bought out Hobby Lobby and they had to order more. I tried to place a special order for two knobs and they looked at me like I was crazy. But I was kind of nervous that they wouldn't get anymore and I'd be short. Rest assured, they came in and I bought them and I don't have a drawer that's missing knobs. 

Not a great photo above...but I wanted one of the entire room and this is the only light in the whole room so it had to be on. You can see that my dining room table is a dark wood finish and I wanted a different color than brown for the new piece, since so much of our furniture is brown. Brown dining table...brown leather sectional...brown bookcase...brown sofa table...brown entertainment center...brown end tables...ok, you get the point. I think the neutral colors I picked complement the room great by adding some interest and contrast while not competing for attention or being too loud.

Also...all of this is just my opinion...I don't have a design background or even all that much confidence in my taste, so if you're looking at this like, "girl...get a clue", you might be right. 

I took a bunch of pictures of my progress so I could keep track of things and send updates to my mom...although I wasn't all that great about sending the updates real time. I thought it was super fun to take everything apart...we got a new power drill that has a cord (so it NEVER dies! Woohoo!) 

 My husband was a little nervous after the first coat dried that it was going to need like 12 coats...but he's one of those painters that tries achieve full coverage in one coat. Don't even get me started. This is what one coat is supposed to look like.

It ended up taking 2 coats of the French Linen and 3 coats of the Old White. I loved every minute of the painting. I thought it was so fun to see the transformation. Oh I also bought the Annie Sloan paint brush and wax brush because I wanted to make sure that I didn't screw it up. I figured as a rookie, I needed all the help I could get. 

 I didn't take photos of it, but I ended up filling the holes in the drawers and drilling new ones for the knobs. I like pulls but I couldn't find any that I liked and I think knobs are wonderful. So I needed new holes that were more spaced apart.

Y'all...waxing was seriously a work out. And I read all these things that said that the wax makes it "come alive" so I was kind of expecting some spectacular show.  Well I didn't have such a revealing time with my wax. It definitely makes the piece feel finished...if you don't wax the chalk paint, it scratches if you look at it wrong and it feels rough and chalky. You definitely have to wax but it's like, not that exciting. I also watched a tutorial video that put all kinds of fear in me about using too much wax. So I spent an evening waxing this bottom piece only to go out the next day and realize I had done absolutely nothing besides rub a slightly greasy brush all over my still chalky chalk paint.

So I'd say the waxing step took me the longest because it just wasn't all that fun for me. It made me feel like, ok...I really don't want to do this to every piece of furniture in my house. It just didn't provide the initial transformation that the paint gave (which was fun and exciting) and it took some elbow grease, which I was kind of not in the mood for at 9:30pm, which was usually the time I was working on it. 

When the waxing was done, I did love putting the piece back together...reconnecting the doors, bringing it inside and stacking the pieces on top in their final resting spot...yeah, that's good for the soul.

I've spent a little bit of time putting some of my favorite things on the shelves and let me tell you, there is an art to decorating one of these. My rules...which are in no way founded in anything other then my own personal opinion is to stay balanced (which honestly is very unlike me...I am a sucker for asymmetry), stick with neutrals, show off your favorite things and put as much breakable stuff as possible on the higher shelves. Also...go to Home Goods to find some fun fillers.

Also...that lamp doesn't go there. My three-year-old just thinks that we're moving all of the things over to this part of the room now. :)

So after it was all said and done...my sweet and supportive husband was all..."You could totally sell this for a couple grand. How about you do this to make some dolla' bills?"

Stay tuned...

ha...just kidding!

Close Calls

Is there anyone else out there who feels like their entire existence is just a long string of close calls? I feel like this is my life right now. It's terrifying, emotional, gratitude-inducing and honestly, kind of annoying. Like, could we just not have these things happen FOR ONCE!

Take last night, my husband has been putting our 3 year old to bed so that I can work on this upcycling project that I created for myself when I stopped by an estate sale in my neighborhood two weeks ago. In short...I bought an old china cabinet...because we've been married for 6 years and we don't have anywhere to put that expensive china that everyone told me that we needed when we were receiving wedding gifts! Why did nobody tell me that I would need a Caribbean vacation for my 6 year anniversary? Or a lifetime supply of pedicures? Where was that gift on my wedding registry?

But anyways, I do need one and I've wanted one for awhile but just didn't really have the time or energy to think about it. Not that I have an abundance of time or energy right now, but that Estate Sale sign was just calling my name. So I went in and I bought it...here's a before, just because pictures are nice in breaking up blog posts.

Ok, so back to my original thought...

My husband was putting our son to bed without me and it was taking a REALLY long time. I was in the garage working and thought that maybe I should go check on them. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the lovely sight of my son standing up on top his dresser while my husband is passed out asleep in his bed. Um...excuse me while I hand out "Parent of the Year" awards to myself and my husband. Oh...it was 9:45 at night. 

(For anyone who is not a parent that is WAY too late for a 3 year old to be awake)

What if I hadn't walked in? I'll give you one guess as to what the next step is for my firstborn after he has climbed up on top of a dresser and then stood completely up. If you said "jumping off" you'd be right. I'm guessing he would have hurled his body onto his bed right on top of my unassuming, slumbering husband.

Not even 24 hours later, (that's a fancy way to say, this afternoon), we were driving home from playing with some friends when I had to hit my brakes a little hard for a red light. The trash from our "special treat" Chick-fil-a lunch, ice cream cup included, went hurling into the floorboard of my passenger seat. Without even thinking...I leaned over to pick it up so that the sticky melted ice cream remains didn't spill all over the place. What I failed to do was put my car in PARK!

Y'all, when I had retrieved the trash from what I thought would have been a devastating disaster spill, I looked up to see that my car had drifted into the intersection where oncoming traffic had been given free range by their green light to drive in the exact spot I was sitting in. What is even more panic-inducing is that a car had just made a left turn onto the street I was coming from...I don't know how to explain that better because I'm not a drivers ed teacher. But basically...that car should have hit me. I don't know if it was a timing thing or if he swerved out of the way of my drifting car, but it seems...it REALLY SEEMS like that was a miracle. 

It also was a miracle that no other cars were coming through the intersection at that very moment. 

It was a miracle that my son didn't jump off of his dresser and bust himself up last night. 

It is a miracle that my heart is pumping and my lungs are breathing and my babies were born with their vital organs functioning. 

A miracle.

I think we like to come up with reasons not to believe in miracles. I think we like to excuse things that happen as coincidences, when really, they are divine protections over us. It's easy to flippantly say that it was a lucky break, but I choose to think that God values me more then that. I think he has plans for me that require him to save me daily from myself. 

I know sometimes that those close calls turn into disasters. Sometimes we can understandably look at God and say, where were you on that one? What happened that time? I don't have all of the answers for those...but I know that sometimes, the easy route or the route we had planned doesn't always end up being the best thing. I know that every single person will have things happen to them that they wouldn't choose and that all of us carry different loads with us. It's not a fair world we live in...that's why it's so good that it's not all that there is for us. You are so valuable...you are worth more than being left up to chance.

We may dismiss significant events in our lives as coincidences, but I think that deep down, we know that there's more to it. We know we are worth so much more. I mean, aren't we? When I turned around and looked at my babies in the backseat of my car today, I know the answer is yes. 

So if we can't dismiss our close calls, we can't dismiss our existence either. We know we were created for SOMETHING. We have a purpose. We need to stop thinking unintentionally about our days. And definitely stop thinking about things that happen to us as accidents. So before you start thinking about the Friends episode where Ross has a "near-death experience" when a car backfired, I'll just say one more thing.

I can't help but be really grateful for the close calls. They snap me out of a daily, un-engaging existence to an awareness of gratitude and joy. And they make for some pretty good stories too...