Hello 6 a.m., my old friend

What's better than an alarm clock? A 9-month-old.
M has been consistently waking up with the sun, and if {when} it gets earlier, I might cry—pitiful, huge tears into a pillow as I curl into the fetal position in my bed and contemplate turning off the monitor and pretending I'm deaf.
Healthy sleep habits make for a healthy person, as I've read recently and remember learning sometime in college (and that's another topic for ridicule, because who sleeps properly in college?) but my nightly OCD has been repeatedly tearing my brain from my spinal cord so when M falls asleep I kick into "Clean & Conquer" mode.
There might be a dryer load of laundry waiting to be folded and put away, and I guarantee there's too much pug hair on my floor. And how many places can Cheerios end up after a baby has "eaten" them? So far, all throughout the first floor of my home, as the ants have attested to.
There's a pile of mail that needs attention since I {finally} picked it up and there might be a bill in there which reminds me that I've lost my debit card, UGH!
So I go out to the pickup to look for it which leads to discovering some of M's clothing and blankets underneath something—a welding mask?!—that is dirty and dusty and disgusting, so back to that laundry. It's already later then I wanted to be up but there are more of M's clothes in various places around that must be put in her laundry basket so I don't lose my mind.
The fish still need fed and lately I've had to make sure both cats are inside because we've been getting awesome thunderstorms, which I love and my hubby and cats don't love. The porch light is still on {thanks hubby} and the kitchen nightlight is still off {thanks hubby} so I have to remedy that and then finally get to go upstairs.
Zora is mewing pitifully so she gets clean water {when was the last time I got a drink?} and my iMac is in the same room as her dishes so how could I resist checking Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter and every other Internet addiction I have just one more time before bed? Nope, can't.
My teeth need attention and I won't forsake that, so I wash my face too {I was in there already right?} and finally I get to change into PJs and shove hubby's dirty clothes in the hamper at the same time {since he missed it playing clothes basketball from the bed}.
By this time it's at least a two hours since M went to bed and sleep is oh so slow to come for those of us who have overactive minds.
So when my precious alarm clock starts murmuring at 5:50 a.m. and that monitor button is looking tempting, I'm thinking she'll probably live just ten more minutes.
Right?

Baby sickness and Jesus' sacirifice

For eight months my baby girl ("M") was blessed with health. The only trips we took to the doctor were for her well-baby checkups and I was so grateful, I felt so blessed for such a healthy baby. Then April hit.
This month, M has suffered through three days of fever followed by cutting two teeth, and then this past weekend she came down with a stomach virus that caused violent vomiting and diarrhea. She's still getting over it, and working her way slowly back to her normal diet.
As a first-time mom, every experience is new and I felt something quite striking with this stomach virus.
When M would vomit, I wished desperately that I could do it for her. That doesn't even sound rational writing it down! I hate to puke, doesn't everyone despise the feeling, the act and the follow up? And yet I would have immediately taken the hit for her, if it had been possible.
I'd heard parents express this type of sentiment before, and it became real when I watched M suffer, but it took on new meaning when I thought about Jesus' sacrifice for me.
God loves me so much that he was willing to send Jesus to suffer for my sins.
{Insert moment of prayer and thanksgiving here.}
His love for me is greater even then my love for M! Isn't that amazing?!
Even in the moments leading to his crucifixion, Jesus prayed for me! John 17:1–5 says: "After Jesus said this, he looked toward heaven and prayed: 'Father the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you. For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you ave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began.'"
God knew that I was a sinner, He knew that I would suffer for my sins for eternity and to save me from that, He sent Jesus. I'm so thankful that He has the power and authority on earth to do that! I can only wish that I could take M's pain, but Jesus really did take mine. He suffered so immensely that night that it paid for the sins of all of us.
I pray that my moment of revelation makes Jesus' sacrifice all that more real for you. In our lives, it's so easy to forget about what Jesus's time on earth was about; it's quite easy to relegate Him to the background and bring it up on Easter Sunday.
Jesus didn't want to suffer so terribly {Luke 22:42} but He did because it was the will of His Father. He suffered, and then He rose again {Luke 24} and now I can look forward to living eternity in heaven with Him.
Thank you Jesus!
I know that there is more "sick" in M's future, it's inevitable. But when I pray for her health and during any illness, I'm going to thank Jesus for His ultimate act in taking away the sickness of my sin on the cross!

John 3:16: For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

My {hoodie} experiment

No, I'm not talking about Trayvon Martin. My hoodie experiment has to do with my husband's WSU hoodie sitting on the floor in our coat closet, and how long it might sit there.
My loving husband came home and deposited said hoodie right on the floor {sorry Cougar fans}. I was so irritated when I noticed it, I wanted yell at him right then and there. Ever been there? It's the "I spent the whole day cleaning and you don't care!" moment when you seriously believe that your husband notices nothing of what you do and you're certain he thinks you and the baby sleep all. day. long.
It was a recipe for a mommy blow up that was averted by the fact that I had to leave for work five minutes after he came home. When I returned home and saw it again, that little devil on my shoulder said, "What, he has four hours at home with the baby and can't pick it up? What is wrong with him?!" She was poking me with that silly little trident, telling me "He's an adult! Make him pick it up!"
But I left it, and decided I'd wait to see exactly how long that hoodie would stay on the floor.
Fast forward 8 days, and it's still sitting there. The bonus is that he added another sweater to the pile.

{Aaaarrrrrrgggghhhhhh!}
There are two things I'm vying with right now: I want desperately to scream at him when he gets home, and God wants me to think about His grace, compassion and forgiveness and how I need to extend that to my husband.

In 2 Corinthians 2:5–8 Paul writes, "If anyone has caused grief, he has not so much grieved me as he has grieved all of you, to some extent—not to put it too severely. The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient for him. Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him."
Paul was referring to someone who had caused serious offense in Corinth and the church was punishing him, but Paul was reminding them that since he was sorry and had repented for his sin, the punishment should stop.
My husband probably hasn't even realized that he has "grieved" me, especially since I haven't brought it up. So my desired punishment of screaming at him wouldn't be fair in the slightest. I don't foresee my husband being "overwhelmed by excessive sorrow," but if I first forgive him for offending me then politely bring up the sweater dilemma, he's likely to be receptive and more likely to solve it.
John 1:16–17 says, "From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ."
Wouldn't I be more of a blessing to my husband to give him grace, especially when Jesus gives us grace for all of our sins that are much worse then leaving a couple sweaters on the ground?
Ephesians 4:1–2 tells us: "As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."
If that's not a direct commandment to be patient with my husband in all things—no matter how irksome—I'd be kidding myself. My calling as a wife and a mother is important, but I am also called to be a Child of God. So if I can bless my husband by behaving as a Child of God, I also bring glory to Jesus. And there's no greater calling than that!

"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Ephesians 5:1–2 (NIV)

Just one, not both

Have you ever gone to Chick-Fil-A and faced a choice—a Spicy Chicken Sandwich Deluxe with fries and a soda—or the Chargrilled & Fruit Salad?
Or had to choose between watching NCIS or Dancing with the Stars on Tuesday nights? It's sometimes frustrating having to choose one or the other when you want both. Sure, you could DVR one but when you're sitting on the couch with the remote in your hand, it's one or the other.
Today I was really struck by words of wisdom from our speaker at my MOPS group. She said: "You can trust God, or you can worry. You can't do both."
So, I can watch Dancing, or I can watch NCIS. I can worry, or I can trust God. Seems easy, right?
Except that it's absolutely not.
I didn't think I worried much until I sat down to think and write about it. But I do. I worry about how clean my kitchen is. I worry about money. I worry about what to do about my daughter's education (and she's less than a year old). But as I was reminded yesterday, if I am worrying, I'm not trusting God, and He is deserving of absolute trust.
Philippians 4:6 says: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
So, instead of worrying about paying the bills, God tells me to surrender my concern to him, and trust that He will provide. What a relief that is, especially as He proves to me, again and again, that he does provide.
Today my prayer is that I recognize the moments when I am worrying, and that instead of continuing to worry I stop and give thanks to God that He is my rock and my salvation, and to give my worries to him. My prayer is that you will too!

Coupons! Useable ones!

I bet all my fellow moms knew about coupons.com so maybe this won't be too helpful a post, but I was browsing the blogosphere and came across a link to a Johnson's baby powder coupon and this is the site that had it.
This is a big deal for me, because while the Equate brand of baby powder is fine for whitening your horse's legs or pouring into a swim cap, it doesn't smell as nice as Johnson's. And when you're putting it on a baby's bottom, smell matters a whole lot more!
And now that I have this coupon, I think I'll run to Wal-Mart and perhaps return the Equate bottle I've been using to the barn.
For those of you who are wondering why someone might use baby powder on a horse, it's quite simple: Baby powder makes white legs whiter and shinier. And when you show a horse with four white legs, the more help you can get the better!

© Tafra Donberger

Job 39: 19–22

Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing, he does not shy away from the sword.

The Laundry Gremlin

When I find the nasty little laundry gremlin putting holes in my new shirts, I am going to skewer it and cook it like a pig at a Hawaiian luau.
I have no less than three shirts purchased over the past three weeks, and two of the three have holes in the same area (around my belly button). Since I can't blame stretch marks and leftover baby paunch for the holes, my clothing malfunction has to be blamed on this mysterious gremlin!
My work place has a no-hole policy, not to mention my own preference for not looking like a hobo, so this only aggravates an already annoying mystery. Perhaps I'm the only one who would notice these somewhat small holes floating in an area I already like to hide, but that's not the point. The point, of course, is that getting holes in brand new shirts after one wear is like the soles falling out of new running shoes after the first run!
Beside a laundry gremlin, is it my belt? Considering I've only recently been able to buckle my "bling" belt (okay, in the very first hole, but I'm working on it!) and my go-to belt is without much edge, I've ruled them out.
I thought, maybe it's my cats.

Pretty adorable, right? Zora and Zephyr, respectively, have their claws and I cat-wrestle every few weeks to clip them. Maybe this is the culprit? Alas, no, because when I grab a cat and put it in a headlock, it's not moving until every. last. nail. is clipped and after that, they're put directly on the ground. So the cats are ruled out.
My counters are rounded, the table is too high to be hitting the place the holes occur, and at this point, I'm back to the gremlin theory.
So if anyone out there has this similar problem, please tell me how you solved it before my piggy bank is empty. As long as it doesn't include hand washing, I'm open to suggestions!

Psalm 125: 1–5
A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem. Those who trust in the Lord are as secure as Mount Zion; they will not be defeated but will endure forever. Just as the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, both now and forever. The wicked will not rule the land of the godly, for then the godly might be tempted to do wrong. O Lord, do good to those who are good, whose hearts are in tune with you. But banish those who turn to crooked ways, O Lord. Take them away with those who do evil. May Israel have peace!

What, no church?!

Does going to church on Sunday make you a Christian?
Of course not! Accepting Jesus as your Savior makes you a Christian. But I know there's sometimes a little cultural misunderstanding, or deliberate twisting, when it comes to this topic.
I don't go to church on Sunday morning. I would love to join my husband and daughter at our church to worship with our family of friends. But I don't go because I work part time, and that (for now) means sacrificing my time at church on Sunday mornings because I'm low on the totem pole and can't dictate my schedule...yet.
For me, "church" has become made up of any time I get to spend significant time with other people who love the Lord. It can be coffee {or in my case, tea} with a friend; it's my MOPS group every other Wednesday; it's Thursday Bible studies when I can make it. This time with other believers is what strengthens and encourages me when I know I've been out of the loop too long.
Jesus told us, "For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Matthew 18:20. So it makes sense that gathering together, praying together, and believing together can be church! Thank God for that, or I'd be in some serious trouble.
Church is not a building, only for the use on Sunday mornings. It's the active body of Christ, coming together in His name to celebrate His glory!

Thank you, Jesus, for being bigger than concrete, carpet and chairs. Thank you for being bigger than those four walls that the world would like you to stay behind. I pray for anyone like me, that even though we can't make it on Sunday morning every week, that you continue to provide us with other "church" moments where we can be filled with your Spirit. I love you, Lord, and thank you for your son Jesus!


Who said humor can't be clean?

Car seats: The hated mode of transportation

Does anyone hate car seats as much as the infants that have to sit in them? Only the parents who suffer through the screaming on an extended drive wishing that they hadn't thought an extended drive to the mountains was a fabulous idea only 30 minutes earlier.
A bottle holds the attention for about two minutes for a baby that ate already. The rattle lasts about 30 seconds until it's thrown hopelessly away in that impossible-to-reach spot between the door and the seat. A stuffed pig is not interesting at all! Stop giving me things I don't want to play with and let me out!
My husband reasoned, "I'm sitting here strapped in!", indicating his seatbelt strap. This arument works only because if he doesn't wear it, Stella {my car} will ding incessantly, inspiring creative strings of syllables that curse the day they quit printing instructions to turn off warning chimes in cars. It doesn't keep the baby from screaming, however.
So, not only are we strapped in against our will, so is our precious 8-month-old whose latest favorite noise is high pitched screams that could probably break glass.
It wasn't specifically our drive into the mountains that was tough. It was the 20 minutes finding our destination when our daughter was no longer sleepy. After the hike, it was a majority of the drive home that we heard the most vocally challenging scream-and-cry combinations with those BIG tears spilling from the most beautiful blue eyes you'll ever see.
And yet, every parent sees the sense in those car seats. We may not see it during the installation, which can also inspire sentences not worth printing. We may not remember it when our babies are screaming bloody murder. But when you get from Point A to Point B and that little angel is still in perfectly, if a little puffy and red, condition, every parent should remember to give a word of thanks.
No matter how hated those nasty car seats are, I have to admit I wouldn't want to transport my precious bundle of (screaming) joy in any other fashion.

Now, for a little fun reading! Google doodles you'll never see.

Mommy vs. Pinterest

I stayed up reading blogs last night. Way. Too. Late. I wanted to glean what I could from other bloggers that have popular blogs with lots of followers, to hopefully become one of those well-read writers someday. I observed a very prominent topic:

There are many moms who have found Pinterest to make them feel inadequate or underachieving. This was discussed in a MOPS e-mail to members last week, by bloggers like this one, and I'm sure it's discussed by moms everywhere.
Personally, I love Pinterest. It inspires me, it lets me keep all those great ideas where I can find them again, and I can share all of that with my friends! So, rather then letting all those "perfect" images bring you down, make you feel like you are somehow not as good a mother as the mom who has sewn her child's entire wardrobe, choose to be inspired!

As moms, we are called to do many things. Proverbs 31 details these things. Let's be realistic; no mom buys wool and flax to spin herself—she might buy a few yards at Joann's and hope that somewhere in her spare time {haha} she could put together an outfit. She might peruse Wal-Mart, Ross, Target or JC Penney aisles searching for those discounted kids cloths or maybe that perfectly fitting pair of jeans she could splurge on.
She still gets up before the sun is out to make breakfast for her family and always gets the grocery shopping done so that her family never wants for snacks and dinner. A modern mom might find time to plant a garden but if there's a weed or two and the tomatoes aren't perfect, the kids aren't going to notice when they're chopped up in a salad.
And everyone knows that moms work vigorously—every single day. How many loads of laundry has that mom done to make sure she and her husband lay their heads on fresh sheets every week? I bet her husband hasn't ever said, "Honey, that laundry room sure doesn't look like the one on Pinterest. Could you work on that?"
It doesn't say anywhere in Proverbs that a wife of noble character is to plan a Dora the Explorer birthday party using only homemade creations. If she is able to do that, kudos! But her worth is no less than the woman who goes to Party America to find supplies. That 3-year-old won't know the difference.
A wife of noble character is one who does what we moms do every day: She provides for her family, whether or not she's taken a shower that day. She loves them unconditionally, even as they track mud into her clean kitchen from a rainy backyard. And she works to be the wife and mother that God called to be, not the one that Pinterest is telling her to be.

This little project was inspired by an image I saw on Pinterest. It didn't take a lot of time and all it took was picking up the supplies during my normal shopping trip.

I had real tulips in it for Easter but as I am a plant killer, they didn't survive long enough for me to remember to snap a photo. But that's kind of my point, isn't it? I saw a cute idea, I made it work for me and my family loved it. So if you are on Pinterest, follow me! Get inspired! Let God's love be what fills you and let your family's love be what sustains you.

"Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: 'Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.'" Proverbs 31:28–29

The blonde behind the title

Every girl has those "blonde moments" that are the joke of countless forwarded e-mails. But I'm not referring to this blonde:

A guy decides to bring his new blonde girlfriend to a football game. 

After the game is over, he asks her if she liked the game.
She replies: "Oh it was great, I loved watching those men in tight clothes, 

but there is one thing I don't understand."
"What did you not understand?"
And the blonde says: "Well, at the beginning of the game, 

both teams flipped a quarter to see who would kick off first. 

Then the rest of the game everybody was yelling 

get the quarter back, get the quarter back, get the quarter back. 

So I thought to myself, gosh it's just a quarter!" 

I am referring to the blonde who turns on the wrong oven burner when cooking dinner and lets an empty pot cook. {Like tonight. Really.} And the story behind the title follows.

My paint mare, Lena, lives at my in-laws' place. They have dogs, one of whom particularly enjoys a stroll off the property so they keep the gate shut. A few weeks ago I went out to take care of Lena and my mom-in-law's two horses. I stopped, pulled the e-brake and stepped out to open the gate.

Do you notice anything missing from that sequence?

How about, "put my car in park"?

That's right, I did not put my car in park before I set the emergency brake. So my car, henceforth referred to as "Stella," started to roll. Panic ensued and I jumped back in to slam on the brakes as Stella hit the gate, snapped the gate latch off and slammed the gate into the fence. Once it was stopped and I quit shaking, I continued the drive up to the house and got to tell my mom-in-law that I had driven through her gate.

Thankfully, my MIL is very easy going and asked about Stella, who suffered some scratches in the grill and front bumper, then she gamely walked down to the gate with my daughter to chain the gate shut. I cleaned stalls to calm my churning stomach, as all the possibilities of what could've/might've happened had I not stopped the car or had been hit by it.

It is not worth delving into those horrible thoughts, so I'll skip that and go straight to "Thank you, God, for protecting me and my daughter." This was my fervent prayer as I scooped poo. And then I thought, "Isn't an emergency brake supposed to stop a vehicle from moving?"

Take it from me, fellow drivers, that is not the case.

When I rehashed this gut-wrenching story to my husband over the phone, he said, "You are a licensed blonde now." And that is why I named this blog "Mommy, Thou Art Blonde."

Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you. Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding. Esteem her, and she will exalt you; embrace her, and she will honor you.

Proverbs 4: 6–8