Our girl, she is MARRIED!

I’m gonna go put my feet up and rest a bit. It’s been a beautiful day. Praise God.

In honor of the the coming celebration this Saturday, I’d like to gather words of encouragement for Charity and Andy. Married folks, what advice did you receive as engaged folks/newlyweds that you really appreciate? OR what advice do you wish you had received?

One of the best things told to me came from Angie Arms who had gotten married three weeks before Jeremy and me. During our reception she came up to me and told me to freeze frame this moment… Take a deep breath, look around and remember what this moment looks like, she said. En route to her honeymoon, she and her husband Randy talked at length about the wedding ceremony and reception and their perceptions of the details that had occurred. I loved this advice and used it on June 13, 1998, to help Jeremy and I make even greater memories of our wedding day.

I was cleaning out our spice rack today and noticed some expiration dates from 2002. Does anyone know how long spices can truly sit on the shelf? Most of them look and smell just fine…

I stooped to a new level of low last Friday. I called my lawnmover “sexist.”

The accusation wasn’t without merit entirely. Several weeks prior I tried in vain to get it running and the darn thing wouldn’t start. Lo and behold, my father showed up and got the motor purring in no time. So last Friday I began the lawnmowing chore with a chip on my shoulder. And when I couldn’t get the mower going I pitched a girl-fit. Nothing frustrates me more than not being able to do a MAN’s job because I’m a GIRL. Stinkin’ sexist lawnmower!

In the middle of my rage, and my second attempt to get the mower running, my husband shouted out a new instruction and while my mouth blabbed on about how that wouldn’t work, the motor started. What in the world…? I instantly felt ashamed of my bad attitude and my negative lawnmover feelings and then I noticed a new problem. Somehow our duel speed, self-propelled mower turned into a push mower. Grrrr. I began internally lamenting arthritis woes and imagining the pain my elbows would be feeling the next day. After pausing to empty the mulch bag my dear husband again gave instruction. What’s that…? I wasn’t pulling the gear drive? So our mower is still self-propelled and I was pushing it just because I’m stupid? Yup. Lovely.

Turns out my lawnmower isn’t sexist. Turns out it isn’t in the habit of causing undue pain either. Turns out I need a few lessons in anger management and mechanics. Sigh. When will I ever learn?

The good thing is that I love to mow our little lawn. God gave us the perfect sized yard for us to tend and we really enjoy working on it. I mowed while Jeremy and Livia played on the steps. Jeremy then swept the walks and I deadheaded the old tulip and daffodil blooms while Livia tossed Cheerios around the front porch. Soon we’ll be putzing around a little vegetable patch, pulling weeds and examining the plants daily. And next time the yard needs to be mowed, I’ll be ready.

I’ve got the US Consumer Product Safety Commission’s website bookmarked on my computer for a quick update on infant product recalls. It’s a helpful site for parents to check out on occasion. I noticed a CNN article this morning on child chair recalls due to possible amputation of fingers when it collapses. Yikes.

There’s nothing like good old fashioned tiredness to keep one from blogging. So there, that’s my excuse. In a few short minutes I will nap in order to do other necessary daily tasks like bathe, fashion some semblance of dinner for my family, and carry on conversation without complaining. Livia, darling sweet girl that she is, is going through a version of separation anxiety which I hear will pass someday (please, God, let that be soon). The shrieks, screams, cries and grunts emitted from her teensy body can be a bit of a handful to reckon with. Besides this new stage, teeth #6-9 are emerging and causing all kinds of angst. Cold washcloths, 3 different teething rings, Hylands and Tylenol — yes, none of these can really cure Livia’s pain. Dull and dampen it, perhaps. In the meantime, Livia and I can both be found in our respective beds, sometimes with little tears in our eyes. Woe is us.

*Internet friends: Don’t read too much into this. Like Gloria Gaynor, I will survive… after I’ve had a nap, of course.

Joyce, you rock. Honestly, you’re my hero.

Gretchen. Geez, will you get off the stinkin’ elephant already?!

Amber & Rob, I will [fill-in-the-blank with drastic measure] if you win this race. Boo hiss. I used to appreciate your competitive natures but you’ve worn me out. Go back to Survivor.

It’s obvious that I am being kept busy and haven’t had much time to blog recently. Something in my life (hint: she’s cute and eats buckets of Cheerios) leaves me little time for blogging and besides that wonderful Something, I kind of feel like deleting my blog and being done with it forever. Well, maybe not forever, but just for a time. There is some pressure in Blogland to post on a regular basis—at least that’s what I expect out of my own blogging friends. Also, the scope of my blog audience sometimes discourages me from writing and I can’t help but wonder why in the world I should post personal information about my life for the entire word to read. Hm. Instead of writing freely, recently I’ve been imagining what others are thinking of my words. I’m being hindered by my very own expectations…

Despite my negative thoughts on blogging, I do have something positive to offer on this lovely spring morning. Spring is my favorite time of the year! I love going for walks, gardening, eating alfresco, talking with neighbors on the porch, people-watching and most of all feeling the warm sun on my face and shoulders. Thank you, God, for spring.

Share something beautiful. This morning I could use lovely thoughts.

Okay, okay. So I’m not literally throwing all my parenting books away. But mentally? Oh yes, mentally I’m ditching my high expectations in favor of reality. I got my Real Simple in the mail today and I also enjoy the quote Kerri pointed out:

The most important thing she’d learned over the years was that there was no way to be a perfect mother and a millions ways to be a good one.—Jill Churchill, Grime and Punishment

The truth is that I would absolutely love a perfect, systematic approach to mothering. “Played Mozart today” check. “Allowed baby independent playtime” check. “Rolled ball back and forth to test motor skills” check. The endless rows of parenting books at most bookstores make my head reel and tempt me with false truths of good! better! and best!! parenting techniques.

I won’t quit reading the books altogether. I won’t actually throw away my three baby books, which I’ll still refer to from time to time. I will probably crack open the Dan Allender book I asked for and received at Christmastime. I will graciously and humbly accept any and all books others purchase for me (tee hee). But for my personal sanity, I choose to reject the vast majority of bookly advice.

To see what makes me crazy, go to Barnes & Noble and search “understanding children.”