thankful in the struggles

Its one o'clock in the morning. I'm awakened by my baby, but this time it's not his cries that stir me it's his voice. The sound of a baby as he tries out his newly found ability to speak. He's saying 'ma-ma.' As I walk towards his bed, my eyes still heavy with sleep, he lets out a squeal of excitement. It's one o'clock in the morning, and all he wants to do is play.

I pick him up and use my best stern, no nonsense voice to explain to him that it's time to sleep not play.  He looks up at me with those big, confused, ocean blue eyes and I can tell he's not going to go back to sleep without a fight. So, I decide to fight it. I'm just so sleepy, and I have to work in the morning. And I'm the parent, so what I say goes. 

We lay down in our bed and I stroke his hair and sing 'Amazing Grace' hoping the song will lull him back to sleep. He lays there patiently until I hit 'a wretch like me' and he starts rolling over to crawl. This isn't going to work, so I decide to rock him and sing my other go to song, 'Go To Sleep Little Baby.' He sits patiently for a couple of verses, but eventually sits up and starts 'talking' to me. I assume he's asking why on Earth I'm trying to get him to go to sleep when he's obviously not sleepy, or maybe that's just what I am asking myself. This cycle continues for another half hour until I finally give up and go play. It's funny how such little people can have such big determination.

We move to the living room, and we both get in the floor. It's now close to 2:00 in the morning and I'm sitting in the floor sending tiny racecars down a little red racetrack. I'm trying my best not to wish for the sleep I'm missing, but it's hard. I'm trying to be grateful for these moments, just me and my boy, but right now all I can think about is the fact that I have to get up in three hours and be all I can be for both my son and the multitude of students that file in and out of my classroom each day.

It's in this moment that I'm most thankful for my baby. It sounds crazy, but it's in the most difficult moments in parenting my healthy, predictable son that I'm most thankful to God for the blessing of being his mother. It's in the struggle that I see how blessed I truly am. Now, I'm not trying to win any awards for being the perfect mother here, I'm just wanting to share my heart. I'm also not in any way saying that it's easier to be thankful for your child when you don't have extraordinary circumstances in raising him. I'm just reflecting on the way God has spoken to me recently.

When all I want to do is sleep but my baby has other plans, I'm thinking of all the mothers who are losing sleep praying for their sick children and hoping that their babies can hold on through one more day. When all I want to do is eat my meal without being interrupted but my baby wants to be held, I'm thinking about all the mothers who never got to hold their angel baby or the mothers who have had to hold their baby knowing that it would be the very last time. When I'm tired in the afternoons after work and all I want is a nap but my sweet boy wants to go outside to play, I'm thinking of all the babies who are stuck in hospital rooms  whose parents would give everything they had to be able to take their healthy child outside to play.

I've had my eyes opened recently. In the past week I've seen a mother to three small children who has been given more hardship than I could ever imagine face the reality that she may lose one of her precious children to cancer, yet she remains graceful and unshakeably faithful. She has been and continues to be a wonderful example for Christian mothers and Christians in general to follow. I've heard the story of a pregnant woman who has been told that the first time she'll get to hold her precious baby will also be the last yet she remains faithful in her walk. I've been introduced to a mother who has had to bury her teenage son after a year long battle with a childhood cancer yet she continues to glorify God, including in her attempts to help other mothers and families cope with the loss of a child. 

It's humbling, really. Here I am dreading that little voice calling 'ma-ma' in the night because I know it means no more sleep while there are so many mothers in this world who would give everything they have to be in my situation right now. My 'struggles' are so trivial in light of everything that is happening in the world around me, yet here I am pitying myself over a couple of lost hours of sleep. 

I'm certain that this is The Holy Spirit speaking directly to me, and I'm listening. I'm humbled. I'm blessed. No matter what circumstances we're given, God is in control. 

1 Thessalonians 5:18

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

The weight of our words

When did it become acceptable to say what we think all the time? With the growth of social media and using the written...er, typed?..word, came the uncontrollable urge to voice our opinions to the masses. That attitude has spilled over into our everyday lives too. I've become too open with my opinions lately, so I'm not blame free. I've had my eyes opened recently as to some of the ways our words can affect the people around us, and I've decided to make an effort to be more thoughtful in what I say.

Your words hurt. You may or may not intend for your words hurt someone, but they do. Everyone you meet on a daily basis is carrying a load. Some people carry a light load. Some people carry more that you can imagine. Depending on the personalities of these people, you may know everything that has ever happened to them or you may know absolutely nothing. Social media allows us to voice our opinion to all of these people at once, but oftentimes that is more of a curse than a blessing. While you're only thinking about your close knit group of friends and maybe a few acquaintances, you're actually sharing your thoughts with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Most of us would be extremely nervous if we had to actually speak in front of a group. Some of us would probably be unable to speak at all, but we're not as timid when it comes to the written word. Sometimes we should be timid. When the words we want to say are damaging, we should be more apprehensive to say them.

When you shout to masses on social media that you are tired of being pregnant and you wish this baby would come out already, you are trampling all over any woman who has ever had a miscarriage. You may not ever even think about it, but I bet their angel baby was the first thing they thought of when they read your status. It probably even made them tear up a little thinking about how bad they wished they could have made it to that point. It might have even made them angry that you aren't more appreciative of the fact that you are blessed with a healthy, uneventful pregnancy. I'm sure the women that I see updating us on their uncomfortable state of pregnancy never meant to upset anyone with their status, but that doesn't change the fact that they did.

When you tell the parents of a child with cancer that the hospital is all she's ever known, you might as well be telling them that their child's life is being wasted. They know better. They know that their little girl knows love, she knows fun, she knows vacations, she knows laughter. You may not know it, but she knows so much more than the fear, pain, and uncertainty surrounding her diagnosis. I'm sure the lady who was pitying this little girl and her parents only meant well by saying those things, but that doesn't change the fact that her statement did nothing but annoy and maybe even anger that sweet girl's parents.

The words you say are heavier in someone's ears as they were coming out of your mouth. People are flippant with words. I'm the world's worst to say something that I don't think matters when in reality my words are hitting someone like a ton of bricks. I told a friend the other day that I had a dream that 'she went and got all skinny on me.' I thought nothing of the words when I said them, but they hurt her. What she heard was "Thank God you're still fat", but that was nowhere near my intentions. I let those words fly right out of my mouth as light as a feather without ever realizing their weight until I heard her cry when she finally decided to explain how bad I had hurt her.

When I told a friend that I was having a baby and went on and on about how easy it was for us to get pregnant, I had no idea that I was practically ripping her heart out. I had no idea that she had tried for years to get pregnant and been through multiple fertility treatments. I never even thought twice about it, but she was well aware of her infertility the entire time I was telling her how easy it was for me to get pregnant. Only when she finally became pregnant did she tell me why it was so difficult for her to be happy for me when I told her about my pregnancy. I was just excited about my news and I wanted to share it with a friend, but that doesn't change how my attitude about my news made her feel.

When you've said it, you can't un-say it. You can apologize, but those you've hurt still remember what you've said. They may forgive you, but it's too hard to forget. While your relationship with that person may continue past hurt feelings, he or she will always have those words in the back of their mind. The outcome is even worse on social media. You seldom to never see your 'friends' or 'followers', so the majority of their opinion of you is formed from their interaction with you via social media. It takes one, just one, post to compel people to delete you. I know because I wrote a status update on Facebook about a year ago along the lines of this blogpost, and I lost 'friends' over it.

Not everyone cares about your opinion. Actually, most people who haven't asked for it don't care about what you think. However, if you believe in what you're going to say with all of your heart, by all means you get your opinion out there. I mean, hello! I'm writing a blog. Of course I think you should share your thoughts with anyone that will listen, but I just think that we should concentrate on sharing constructive ideas and opinions.

I'm all for free speech, but can we please just think before we speak sometimes? I'm not naive enough to think that we can always think about everyone's feelings. I just think it would make for a happier world of we thought about the weight of our words before we speak. I try to teach my students to think about their words; if what they want to say isn't thoughtful, kind, and necessary, I tell them that it's be better not to say it. I admit my efforts are often futile, but I try. I'm also trying make an effort to be more thoughtful in the words I speak because I never know how they'll affect someone. 

While this may fall on lots of deaf ears and many people that I share this with probably won't take the time of day to read it, I hope that it may reach just one person who will join me. Before you click post, read your words from someone else's perspective. Before you open your mouth, really think about what you're going to say.

Thank you so much for reading. Please share your opinions and comments with me! 

Why you should start putting butter in your coffee.

It sounds crazy right? Butter. In your coffee. I'm not making it up though. It's a thing, and it's a pretty good thing, too.

I was exploring Pinterest, like I do on a day to day basis, and a pin about buttered coffee caught my eye. Maybe it was the word 'butter'. Maybe it was the word 'coffee'. I have a love affair with both, so either way it got my attention.

My initial reaction was one of disgust. I mean, coffee and butter. No. Stop it. But, I was interested. I investigated further and realized there were plenty of people who put butter in their coffee. Plenty of health conscious fitness freaks. There is whole brand behind it actually. The Bulletproof brand, created by Dave Asprey, is centered around a drink he calls Bulletproof Coffee. Most of the people that had chronicled their buttered coffee journeys in blogs were Paleo or on some other form of red meat loving diet. This came as no surprise, you have to have that kind of mindset to chug a cup or two of hot liquid with about two hundred calories of straight fat melted into it. Sounds delish, huh? Stay with me here. It's definitely a little bit difficult to wrap your head around, but it really is good. And surprisingly, it makes you feel good. I've been drinking it every day for the past week, and I'm not stopping anytime soon.

It really needs to be blended. It looks gross if you don't.

There are tons of proposed health benefits from drinking this stuff. I'm not convinced about some of them, but I can attest to the increased energy claim. It really does give you sustained energy and mental sharpness. Think six hour coffee buzz. At first, I was sure it was just the placebo effect, but it proved itself when J decided to wake up at 3:30 a.m. two mornings in a row. I definitely needed a pick-me-up, and that coffee delivered. I felt great all day long, all week long.

It's also supposed to reduce cravings throughout the day. You know how eating a high-fat meal makes you feel full for hours afterward? It's the same concept. I'm not a Biology teacher or a nutritionist, so if you want the science lesson behind it click here. I can, however, confirm that it does nip those cravings in the bud. You really do feel full after drinking it. It is meant to be a meal replacement drink, but I felt so full that I couldn't eat breakfast if I'd wanted to. When break time rolled around, I just stayed in my classroom and kept working. No cravings + extra energy = finished 'to-do' list. I'm a big afternoon snacker, but I didn't even have those cravings when I had my buttered coffee. Miracle coffee? Not in the least, but I'll take these side-effects any day. 

I've read that this coffee is supposed to also teach your body how to burn fat more efficiently, but I can neither confirm or deny this claim. I will say that I have lost five pounds in the past two weeks without any effort on my part. The only thing I have changed is my coffee. But, that means nothing. My weight fluctuates by a few pounds all the time. I'm going to need to see a bigger change to corroborate any weight loss claims.

So now that you know some of the benefits, let's talk about the recipe. This is my recipe. I'm sure I'm not doing this according to anyone else's recipe and it's probably why I am not seeing any weight loss benefits. But, it's how I like it, so yeah. Take that Bulletproof Guy.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups high-quality coffee
• 2 tbsp butter from a grass-fed cow.*
• 1 tbsp MCT oil...I use coconut oil**
• 1 tbsp honey
• A little cinnamon
• A dash of vanilla extract

*The butter must be from a grass-fed cow. This butter has more vitamins and nutrients, and that's part of what causes the sustained energy.

**the MCT/coconut oil is optional. I like it, but G says its gross. To each his own.

*You can buy the actual Bulletproof coffee kit here: Upgradedª Bulletproof Coffee Kit

Waiting on the coffee. Do you see that pink stain on my counter...oops.

Directions:

Brew your coffee normally. I brew mine a little stronger, but do it how you like it. Combine butter, coconut oil, vanilla, honey, and cinnamon in your blender. I use my Magic Bullet for convenience, but I'm sure you could use a blender or stick blender. Pour about two cups of coffee over the other ingredients and blend until it's the color of a latte. Enjoy! 

If you like sugary coffee, this is so not for you. It is only mildly sweet and super-rich, especially if you add in the coconut oil. I suggest that you drink it hot (just because I can't imagine drinking it cold), but I have found a recipe for Iced Buttered Coffee.

Now, go throw some coffee and butter in a blender and try it for yourself. What have you got to lose?

Let me know how you like it!

Making it up as we go

G and I were riding home from my parents house the other day, radio off, just talking. The trip takes the better part of an hour, so we usually manage to cover a variety of topics. Somehow, we meandered to the very broad subject of raising children. G commented about how thought he knew so much about raising kids before J was born and that he found out quickly that he knew very little. Anyone who knows G knows that he seldom admits that he's clueless about doing anything. More often than not, he'll try to figure it out before he'll read directions or ask for help. And he almost never takes my lead on, well, anything. Until, that is, we brought The Nugget home from the hospital. 

I had never in all the years I've know him seen G so uncertain about anything as he was about taking care of our baby. He asked question after question, like I knew much more than he did. I was probably just as lost. I was literally making it up as I went, and I still am. I was a little shocked by this new side of my know-it-all husband, and I didn't really like it. It's hard when you're used to someone always knowing the best way to handle things and all of a sudden you're put in the position of chief decision maker. I'd be lying if I said I handled it well. I was an absolute mess. Think two year old who just dropped her ice cream cone and let go of her balloon at the same time. I tried to pretend that I had it all together, but there were plenty of days that I sat and cried with my pitiful acid-reflux plagued baby. The learning curve was steep. 

The night we brought him home from the hospital we had arranged our room with the Pack-N-Play on the opposite side of the room from our bed. I figured he'd be in the room and when he cried I'd just jump up and tend to him quickly before I laid him right back down. Yep. It was two hours after bed time before I had instructed G to move that baby bed right up next to my side of our bed so our late night rendezvous would be easier.  It wasn't long before I realized that if I ever wanted too sleep more than thirty minutes at a time that I would have to sleep with J on my chest...in our bed. So much for the 'no baby in the bed' rule. Best laid plans, right? That was just one instance when my expectations did not nearly match my reality and I was forced to reevaluate my ideas. 

I remember debating whether to wake J up to bathe him before bed because I was scared getting him of his routine would throw the whole thing out of whack. If J falls asleep before supper after a big day, I usually can't even enjoy my meal because I'm too worried about whether I should wake him up to eat. Just tonight, I decided to workout before I put J to bed, but he fell asleep with G before I finished. Of course I'm struggling with the idea of whether I should wake him up to nurse (I'm crazy, right?!) or just let him sleep. Typing it out now, it seems ridiculous, but I actually stressed over it! I'm sure I'm not the only one either, come on people! All of these 'decisions' are silly and probably won't have much weight in the long run, but that's what I do. I have an inner dialogue running all. day. long. Every day. And, I know I'm not alone.

I hear my friends stressing over how they just don't know how they're going to 'do it all.' Whether it's going back to work after a baby or having a second, third, or fourth child, no one knows how they're going to handle what's coming. But, somehow everyone manages to succeed. I was worried to death about being a working mother, but I've been handling it pretty well. While pregnant with her second child, my friend was terrified that she wouldn't be able to handle raising two children, but she has done a fabulous job loving and caring for both of her girls. I have a friend that just found out that she is pregnant with her third child. Although she hasn't told me as much, I'm sure she is having doubts about how she'll handle her two lively boys plus an infant. 

The truth is, no one knows how they do it all. They just do it. Every day, they get up and do their job as a mother, a wife, a daughter, etc. Before I started my first year of teaching, I worried about how I'd manage my own classroom. When I decided to go to grad school, I wondered how I could possibly handle being a full-time student and a full-time teacher, but I surprised myself. I've mentioned in previous posts how I panicked when I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified by the thought of balancing motherhood and my career, but I've managed. I've adapted. I prioritize. I work harder than ever. I'm sure that I'll panic when and if, God-willing, we ever get pregnant with baby number two, but I'm also sure that I'll adapt again. 

As mothers, we're met with situations multiple times every day where we're expected to make the best decisions for our families. We don't know that our decisions are going to the best choice, but we trust our instincts, and sometimes our mothers or grandmothers, and we do what we think is right. We pray, in my case, more that we ever have. I've never been closer to God as I am now. Something about the role of motherhood, whether it is the enormity or the difficulty, pushes me to call on Jesus. We prioritize. Frivolous things that we used to think were important when we were single become less so when we have a family. We plan. Planning comes with the territory. Even if your child isn't strictly scheduled, you still have to plan ahead if you ever want to do anything away from your house. We adapt. Oh, you mean your plans go on without a hitch every time? Yeah, I didn't think so. We are literally making it up as we go. We're not 'winging it' per se, but there is no manual for this life. We don't know what tomorrow holds, but we do know Who holds tomorrow. So, I'm going to trust my instincts and make it up as I go. 

Are you ever worried about handling future responsibilities? Have you worried about it in the past? How did you adapt? 

The Truth About Breastfeeding

I knew I would breastfeed long before I ever even thought about getting pregnant. I mean, why wouldn't I? Isn't that how God intended? Of course I'd breastfeed! I was even pretty judge-y of women who chose to feed their babies formula from a bottle. How could they?! I mean it's not like it's hard or anything. (Apologies all the way around, ladies!)

So in true Emily fashion, I began researching as soon as we found out I was pregnant with J. I read blog posts, journal articles, and online forums about the many benefits of breastfeeding. I spent hours on Pinterest weeding through pin after pin about tips to establish and maintain a successful nursing relationship. I watched YouTube videos teaching me how to achieve a proper latch. I learned the breastfeeding jargon. I knew it all....psshh. I knew nothing. NOTHING.

As soon as Baby J popped out, we got skin-to-skin as my 'training' had suggested. I was half covered by a hospital gown with half of my family in the delivery room, but I was too determined to care. He latched immediately and nursed very well. He was a natural. I, on the other hand, was not. I learned very quickly that there are situations in which preparation means nothing. Breastfeeding is one of them. I thought it would come completely naturally to me...it did not. It was awkward and painful and stressful and embarrassing at times. I was not at all prepared for the journey we were about to embark upon, but we figured it out. We succeeded, and we learned a few things along the way.

1) It does hurt...at first. Pre-baby, I read at least ten different articles or blog posts explaining that breastfeeding shouldn't hurt if you're doing it right. I believed them, but they are wrong. It can hurt. Even if you're doing it right. I had three different lactation specialists come check J's latch while we were in the hospital because I was sure something wasn't right. It just hurt SO bad. And bleeding, surely there shouldn't be bleeding. Each of the specialists that watched him latch said that he was doing it perfectly, but it still hurt. And, it continued to hurt until J was about 6 weeks old. I'm not sure if I just got used to it or if J got better at it. Either way, it was a much needed relief. 

2) It's not easy. I thought it would be. I mean, no bottle washing, no buying formula, no late night runs into the kitchen to make a bottle. Easy breezy, right?! Wrong! The part I didn't really think about was the fact that I was going to be my baby's sole source of nutrition for at least four months. That's a lot of pressure! It's also a full-time job. When baby wakes up at 2:00 am, it's definitely not daddy he wants! I remember resenting G for sleeping peacefully beside me as I struggled to stay awake while nursing our two month old. And if you plan on going to work while breastfeeding, it only gets harder. You'll now have to block out a couple thirty minute blocks of time for pumping during your already jam packed work schedule.

3) It's not really accepted in public. People pretend to support breastfeeding, but you'll quickly see their real opinion on the matter when you have to feed your hungry baby in the middle of a Chuck E. Cheese. If you expect to have a social life with a breastfeeding newborn you will eventually have to nurse said newborn in public. It's unavoidable. I have nursed in restaurants,  while shopping, in waiting rooms, in parked cars, and in public restrooms. (Admittedly, not my favorite place.) I've been given dirty looks and I've been praised. I didn't want or ask for either. I was only trying to feed my hungry baby. I had numerous people ask me why I didn't just pump before we went out. You know, because having a newborn is so easy that you should just throw a completely needless and slightly difficult task in there just to complicate things. Did I mention that I hate having to pump? I never quite figured out why people expected me to go through that much extra effort just to make them feel more comfortable. It seems to me that people are extremely supportive of the idea of breastfeeding...as long as it doesn't affect their everyday lives or make them uncomfortable. Breastfeeding is one thing while you're still in the hospital but something else entirely when you're in public.

4) It requires teamwork. People assume that the act of breastfeeding involves only the mother and baby because those are the only two active participants, but success relies heavily on the support of your husband. At first, G was super supportive of my choice to breastfeed. I had educated him on the benefits and he had agreed that it what was best for J, then we had to reenter that land of the living. Nursing in public was a big hurdle for G to jump. I'm not sure if he was uncomfortable with the actual nursing in public or if he was just worried about whether my nursing J would offend someone. Eventually he came around and he has been amazingly supportive ever since. He brings me the things I tend to always need but forget to grab before J and I settle down in our chair. He's understanding when he knows I've been up with a fussy baby half the night. He knows how much I hate pumping, so he takes the burden of washing and assembling everything off of me. If it wasn't for his support and help, I'm positive that we'd have never made it this far.

5) It doesn't help lose all that much weight. Yeah, it burns a lot of calories, but your body tends to try to make up for lost calories. And do you know how it makes up for those calories? By making you a hungry, hungry hippo. Yes, my post-baby weight is the same if not lower than my pre-baby weight, but it's not like the fat just fell of as I ate to my heart's content. I held on to a good ten pounds until I decided to make a conscious effort to cut calories. But, you have to be careful when dieting while breastfeeding. There's a sweet spot in your calories intake. Too many calories and you won't lose weight, but too few calories and you'll really cut into your milk production. It is definitely not worth breastfeeding if the only outcome you are hoping for is a smaller jean size. You'll never succeed if you aren't in it for the right reasons. Dieting and exercise is just too easy.

6) It's a choice. It's a great choice, but it's still just a choice. You make so many choices on the journey of raising a child; how to feed them is just one of them. Breastmilk is very beneficial to a growing baby, but it's not some miracle elixir. I decided that I would breastfed my baby because I thought it was the best choice for our family. It will not make your baby superhuman. It will not ward off all illnesses. It will not make him a genius. There is research to show that it benefits children in all kinds of ways but so does proper prenatal care and a loving, safe home. There are plenty of ways to raise your children to be smart, healthy, and secure. I know women who were driving themselves crazy trying to breastfeed. Your child doesn't need a crazy mama who is fighting the urge to cry at every turn; he needs a loving, nurturing, caring mama who responds to him with love. A happy mama trumps a crazy mama every day no matter what the child has in his bottle.

7) It is not a superpower. I've seen shirts that say "I breastfeed. What's your superpower?" That's dumb. God gave all women the physical ability to breastfeed their children. That would be the equivalent to saying we are superhuman because we can give birth. No. It is amazing. It is awe-inspiring. It is humbling. It is a gift. It is beautiful. It's not a superpower.  #getoveryourself

I've learned so much along this journey. Much of it may be specific to our lives, so maybe this is my truth about breastfeeding. It hasn't all been easy or effortless, but it has definitely been worth it. I'm so proud of my happy, healthy baby boy, and I'm delighted that we've made it this far. I contemplated quitting more that a few times during those impossibly difficult first weeks, but I look back and pity myself. I had no idea how effortless it would become after we figured it all out.

I'm looking forward to getting my body back after he weans. I'll be able to drink coffee without worrying about the last time J nursed. I can cut calories without stressing over a dip in supply. I can quit timing parent conferences and make up tests around my pumping schedule. But, I'd be lying if I said that I don't get the slightest twinge of sadness when I think about. I'll be all too happy to pack that pump up though!

How did you choose to feed your baby? What have you learned along the way? Would you have done anything differently?

Why losing my wedding band was a blessing in disguise

As I got ready for work one day last week, I realized that I couldn't find my wedding band. It's actually my engagement ring, wedding ring, and another matching wedding ring that G bought for me on our first anniversary. All gone.


As you can probably guess, I was frantic. I looked for it as long as time would allow. Like most mothers, I don't have much time for anything except the absolute necessities in the mornings before work, so I had to quit and hope I'd find it that afternoon when I got home.


I fretted all day. I've never actually used that word, fretted, but it seems very fitting for this. I was a mess. Every time someone casually asked me how I was doing I exploded on them about how I lost my wedding rings and my morning was horrible and blah, blah, blah. I would even tell random coworkers who had the bad luck to be walking through the hall at the same time I was. Students who walked into my room trying to score some brownie points with a "How was your morning?" received a long explanation about how it was an awful, horrible, terrible morning. *Insert southern, sarcastic tone here* I was just a ray of sunshine.


When I got back home, I searched high and low for those rings. I searched everywhere that I thought it might me. Everywhere I have ever put it for safekeeping while washing dishes, bathing J, cooking, etc. I even looked in places that I knew it couldn't be. I searched in potted plants, in the air conditioning vents, in the bed sheets. Everywhere. Every. Where.


Eventually I had to give up. There was nowhere else to look, and along with my house I was an absolute mess. All I could think about were my rings. Finally after watching me sulk around for what must have been too long for him to stand, G told me not to worry that we'd buy a new ring if we couldn't find mine. I refused. I didn't want a new ring. I wanted my rings. 


At that moment, I realized the real value of the rings that sit on my hand everyday. A new ring, no matter the monetary value, would never be able to replace my rings.


My husband, all by himself, went to pick out those rings on the hopes that I would agree to build a life with him. He poured over the entire case of rings until he found the ring, his wife's ring. It's a reminder that he only ever wants what's best for me.


He held that ring as he planned how he would ask me to marry him. He twirled that ring between his fingers as he mustered the courage to ask my daddy for my hand in marriage. When the time was right, he felt that ring as heavy as pure lead in his pocket. It's a reminder of all the things I love most about my husband.


That is the ring that I fell in love with as soon as I laid eyes on it. It fit like it was made just for me. It is a reminder that he knows me better than anyone else in the world.


As our engagement waned, it was that ring that I studied for hours on end. It was that ring that I prayed over as I asked God to bless our marriage. It was that ring that my husband slipped on my hand on our wedding day. That ring is the symbol and reminder of our covenant with God.


It's the ring that my husband bought me for our first anniversary. He bought for me it even though there were plenty of other more useful things on which we could spend our money. It is a reminder that he's always trying to make me happy no matter the request.


It's the ring that I made sure I had with me as I went to the hospital in labor with J, even though it barely fit on my swollen finger. It is a reminder of the love that made way for so much more love and happiness.


That ring is reminder of our best days as a couple..even on our worst days.


There are plenty of much more valuable rings, but none will ever be that ring. 


Luckily, I found my ring. They were in the most unlikely place, exactly where I left them. As I absentmindedly took off my jewelry to bathe J, I hung my ring on a hook that I use for my necklaces. I never thought to look there. Why would I? But, I glanced up there as I got ready for bed and there it was. Those three beautiful pieces of jewelry soldered together to be one ring. The ring. The ring that means so much more than money to me. The relief of finding that ring was so enormous that I almost cried. I never knew a ring could hold so much love and meaning.


I never really put much thought into what that ring really meant to me, but I know now. It's funny how God speaks to us in some of the most unlikely ways. I know that my ring is just that, a ring. I would not have made us any less married if it had been lost forever, but it means so much. It's irreplaceable. 


So, all you girls out there pinning beautiful, expensive engagement rings and wedding bands. Think past the superficial value of that ring; think about all of the love that is going to represented by that one piece of jewelry. All of the hopes, the dreams, the faith. There will be so much good represented by that ring.

 Be blessed.

Faux Granite Countertops: Decorating on a Budget

First let me say that this was not my idea. I actually got the idea from The Budget Decorator. Give credit where credit is due, right?!

See. Ugly.

 Anyway, I have the best little trick to share with you. My husband and I have been dying to redecorate our kitchen, but we were hesitant to put a whole lot of money into our house because we are planning to build a new house in the next few years. Regardless of our future plans, I could not spend another minute in that kitchen with those horrible countertops. They were hideous. I mean, these countertops were long overdue for a makeover. While browsing all that Pinterest has to offer, I stumbled upon this post about a faux granite painting technique, and I fell in love! Since I wanted new countertops anyway, I figured I wouldn't have lost much if I tried it and failed. We headed straight to Home Depot to get all of the supplies. The only materials that we couldn't get at Home Depot were the acrylic paints, and we got those at Hobby Lobby. I had an idea of the end product when I was buying the acrylic paints, but if you don't you can just grab a granite sample from a home improvement store for inspiration. The sample will also help you get an idea of the 'design' you're trying to get. 

Materials:

• Primer

B-I-N Shellac Base Primer & Sealer Stain Killer 00904 (1 Quart)

• Small Dense Foam Roller w/roller tray (I'd get extra rollers)

• A few acrylic paints in 'natural' colors (grab a granite sample for a reference)

• Polyacrylic (especially if you're doing the kitchen. It is safe on food prep surfaces.)

Minwax 63333 Satin Polycrylic Protective Finishes, 1 Quart

• Extra fine grit sanding block

• Foam Brushes

• LOTS and LOTS of paper towels 

Martha Stewart 32228 Sea Sponge, Set of 6

• Natural sponges (this is up to you, I actually prefer the paper towels over the sponge)

The left is two coats, the right is just one coat.

Step 1: So, first you need to prep your counters for the primer. Obviously you've got to remove all the junk (I just stuck mine on the stove and other inconspicuous places). Since it is the kitchen, you probably need to clean the counters very well with some type of degreaser. I used a Magic Eraser first to get all of the tough stuff then I went at it with some Dawn dishwashing liquid and warm water. Make sure it is dry, dry, dry after all of that cleaning otherwise the primer will get goopy. 

Step 2: After you clean it, roll some primer over those bad boys. You heard (saw? read?) me right, no sanding! The primer eliminates the need to sand them. So anyway, you roll on two coats of primer with about 30-45 minutes to dry between coats.  

The 'base' color all dotted on there.

Step 3: When the primer is dry the fun stuff begins. Take a paper plate and squirt a lot of the acrylic paint that you
want as your dominant color on it. Roll a couple of paper towels up into a little rose shape and dip it into the paint, then just start tapping the paint onto the counter. All over the counter. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. Don't worry about what it looks like yet, just get the color on there.   




Step 4: After you get the dominant color smudged on there, do the same with the other colors. The amount of each color depends on what you want your final product to look like, it's not an exact science. Just use your best judgement and I'm sure it'll turn our just perfect! There I'd one thing I figured out though, you'll want to layer the colors as much as your arm can stand. The more you layer, the better it looks. Also, you don't have to wait for the paints to dry between layers, I actually like the look you get is you smudge one color into another color that isn't quite dry yet. I don't have any picture for you because I got too excited during the process to stop and take pictures...sorry!

Just look at the shine. Enjoy it. Take it all in.

Step 5: So you're finished smudging now on to the shine. My hubs sort of created this technique where he rolls the polycrylic on first (not recommended), let's it dry, sands it lightly, rolls it again, foam brushes more polyacrylic on top of the still wet layer he just put on, let's it dry, sands it, and repeats the cycle once more with the exception of the sanding on the top layer. The 'normal' method took about six coats to get the shine we had in mind, but his technique only took three coats (and I must admit, it's more like the granite shine). 



 Let the top coat of polycrylic dry and put your kitchen back together :) My 'after' picture is at the bottom. I'm sure you'll notice that I also had G put up a new backsplash. I'll let you know how to do that in a post soon. You'll never guess what we used!! 

Now go paint your countertops and fool everybody into thinking you splurged on granite. Everyone except for me that is...I know your little secret.  

Before: Old Busted

After: New Hotness (I still need to paint my cabinets, so you don't get to see the whole kitchen yet!)