Did anyone find some Blue Bumper Bits on Highway 40 Yesterday?

On the way home last night, with only an hour left in our 13 hour driving day, we hit a five gallon bucket that rolled onto Highway 40 right in front of our car before we could do anything to avoid it. I was in the backseat entertaining Ezra at the moment we hit it, and it made such a loud and ferocious noise under our car that I thought we'd blown all of our tires and were out of control going 70 MPH. We were towing a fully loaded trailer behind our car at the time. I was sure I was a goner.

The bucket got stuck under our car and ripped the front end of it to shreds. The front bumper is completely gone. All three pieces of it. One of the wheel guards is gone. And a piece underneath the car tore off as well.

We made our way to the side of Highway 40 and tried to asses the damage in the dark- with traffic screaming by us and the glow of Clinton, Oklahoma on the horizon. We wedged ourselves off of the bucket and headed for safer territory: a well-lit McDonald's a mile or so up the road.

As we caught our breath and felt the rush of adrenaline tingling our toes, we ate chicken nuggets and compared notes:

We were all okay.

That was a totally stupid bucket.

Maybe this was for the best.

We hated the low ground effects of those sporty bumpers anyways... they were thrashed and needed to be painted.

Do we call our insurance company?

How high is our deductible?

Maybe a new car is in order.

I don't know... it was really scary and I'm just so glad and grateful to be home safe and sound again.

Another memorable moment of the trip: when we pulled off the side of the road in the middle of Nevada so that Ezra could pee on a bush, and a state trooper pulled up right behind us and asked what we were doing on the side of the road. My husband told him our son was potty training and needed to take care of some business, and the cop put his hands up and backed slowly away from our car while saying "Um, okay.... okay.... that's fine... um, yeah... okay." He looked totally wigged out by the thought of toddler pee. It was so funny.

That's part of the reason why the trip felt so much longer this time. We put a diaper on Ezra, but he refused to pee in it, so we had to make about 1,834,097,826 extra stops along the way so he could stand next to the car in the middle of nowhere and pee in a cup. He wouldn't pee in the bushes, but he would pee in a cup for some reason, so we went with it. That boy pees a lot.

We've spent most of today cleaning up and unpacking and marveling at how much we love our house. We went to get some breakfast at Panera Bread this morning, and all the people there were so incredibly friendly and warm and wonderful that we instantly remembered why we love living here. Even total strangers here in Oklahoma will look you right in the face and smile and let you know that they like your son's hat. They will talk to you and help you and will bend over backwards for you if you need anything at all. It's not like that in Nevada or California- the other two places we've lived. People are cold and aloof and sometimes downright mean in Reno. I felt myself getting calloused towards strangers while we spent the last two months there. All it took was walking into a Panera Bread in Oklahoma this morning to wipe those callouses away again. The people here are AMAZING, and I don't know if those who have grown-up here even realize it, because they are so used to the camaraderie of it all...

Tomorrow is Sunday, which means we get to go to Bridgeway (our church) for the first time in over two months. It feels like a big family reunion to me, and I must go decide what the heck I should wear.

Pressing issues here, people. Pressing issues.

On The Road Between Home and... Home.

We've just spent thirteen lifetimes hours in a car that is packed to the brim with remnants of a happy Christmas and too many clothes. (Always too many clothes!) We left Reno at 5:00AM this morning and arrived here in Flagstaff, Arizona (our halfway point) at about 6:30PM.

The hotel room that I am sitting in right now does NOT smell like propane gas.

I cannot say that about the first room they put us in, however. It smelled like an explosion waiting to happen when we walked into the first room they assigned us, and thankfully my husband is a strong man who isn't afraid to march right back into a dimly lit office and demand a room that won't, oh you know, kill us while we're sleeping or something. We are paying for this room after all, and we'd prefer the non-death option, if it's not too much trouble.

heh.

We are comfy and together, and so this little room still manages to feels like home somehow. Chris went out to get us dinner, and Ezra is busy getting his cars acquainted with every drive-able surface area he can find within reach. Things are good.

We are still twelve hours from home, and if they are anything like the last twelve, I will spend much of the time looking out the window at the blurry landscape and begging it to tell me where I am going, and who the heck I will be when I finally get there.

If life were a game of Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey, I would be in the blindfolded, disorienting, 'spin in circles' phase. I'm so ready to stick that pin in the donkey's butt... to really STICK IT TO HIM, you know? ... but I don't even know if he's in front of me or behind me.

I'm sorry. That's the travel weariness talking. Donkeys? Metaphors about life involving Donkeys? What the??

To our dear family that we've recently parted from: We miss you and love you and are seeing your faces ever before us as we make our way slowly home. Thank you for all you've done for us these past two months... you've blessed us more than we could ever say.

Things Have Changed.

And the award for most entertaining Christmas gift goes to... the Rubik's cube! Jaxon and Chris have figured out how to solve it.
Bonus: now I can say I am married to a genius. Yes!

We've got two and a half days left here in Reno. Where have these two months evaporated to?

It's proven very interesting- spending this much time back at home... for the first month and a half I was missing Oklahoma. But, wouldn't you know it, just the past two weeks I have been feeling very sad to leave here- to leave our family again.

These two months in Reno have been very emotional and hard and extremely good all at the same time. It has been a total gift to see Ezra get to know his grandparents and aunts and uncles. It's been an amazing time for my husband and I, as well. We've gotten time to ourselves, time with friends, time to wander around in stores together, and time to enjoy meals without the pressure of entertaining a toddler. That's a big part of why I am sad to leave- it's been a great (and much needed) breather for Chris and I.

Lots of things have changed since we've been here.

For starters, Ezra is now COMPLETELY and totally potty trained. (hallelujah praise the lord on high for He is good.) He is even staying dry at night. (Knock on wood. FEROCIOUSLY.) I haven't changed a diaper in two weeks, and I still don't think that the AWESOMENESS of all this AWESOME has sunk in entirely just yet. I mean, think about it... I don't have to be all up close and intimate with his poop anymore! This is earth-shattering stuff here, people. Completely life changing.

Consequently, Ezra is no longer a small baby child, but more like a young adult that has suddenly moved in in his place. He is hugenormous and the pants that were too long on him when we got here are now just right. When he talks, he doesn't need a mommy-translator; Anyone can understand him clear as day. Also, he's opened his own small business. He calls it 'Ezra's Toy Store', but I am working with him on that. I think it needs something catchier... something like 'Ezra's All Encompassing Game That You Must Play With Him Non-Stop Or Suffer The Consequences Of Total Toddler Melt-Down.' Or something like that.

The little dictator.

MoMar suffering the 11th hour of unending store play.

Things have changed with me, as well. I am more acutely aware of my fragility- more convinced than ever that I need to do something for myself. I can't describe my state in any better word than fragile. Have you ever been in this place? Where every song you hear stings your eyes with tears because you can find some way to relate the lyrics with your fragile state of being? So silly. That's me the past two weeks. Even the simplest songs get me choked up. And don't even get me started on Robbie Seay's new album. WATERWORKS, I tell you. The whole ALBUM is about being fragile but hanging on to future hope. GAH.

Lastly, Chris and I are more confused than ever about the next stage in our life. We have no idea what is on the horizon, but we know a couple of things for sure: We miss our friend Joel like crazy and have said on occasion that we would follow him to the ends of the earth. Heh. We miss our friends in Oklahoma... all my mom friends and dear sweet Jacquie and Crystal and Pete and Charlie and the guys. We miss our amazing neighbors. We miss our community at Bridgeway like nobody's business. What it all boils down to: We are happy where we are, but we've got hopeful eyes fixed on the horizon at the same time. Does any of this make sense? Probably not. I just woke up like, two seconds ago.*

What a bittersweet time this is.

The other small thing that has changed is that there has been talk of trading in THIS:



For something along the lines of THIS:



...in the near future? Maybe? Chris says not to get my hopes up too much, but I've already taught Ezra how to say "Dada, I want a bigger car!", so I think it's pretty much futile to resist at this point.

Ezra has the fiercest puppy-dog eyes you've ever seen in your life. WE'RE DOOOOOMED!

*I wrote this early this morning, but was not able to post it until now because the POWER WENT OFF here at my mom and dad's house and did not come back on until 1:00PM. I love electricity. The End.

Painting A New Picture.

Continuing on from this post....

I need something to pour myself into. Something that isn't a quickly growing toddler. Ezra is almost at the age where he can start going to school... start joining activities... start having a life of his own.

I need something of my own, too. Staying at home just isn't cutting it for me anymore. I sit around all day and do mostly a whole lot of nothing. And this is slowly draining the life out of me.

Here's the frustrating thing that you hear every mom talk about at some point or another: If I were to go get a job, it can pretty much be guaranteed that I won't be bringing in any extra income, because the cost of childcare would offset whatever I was making. (Unless I had a degree in something and could get a well paying, full-time job, of course.) Chris and I could definitely use some extra income, but I'm only looking to work part time. I don't have a college degree, and have NO CLUE what I would even want to do if I were given the chance to go back to school, so I have been at somewhat of a loss.

I have been talking about all of this a lot with my parents and my husband. They are all for me and want what is best for me, and have been a great help to me- simply by listening to my frustrations and fears and feelings of being easily overwhelmed. They've had great suggestions, and helped me see that I am not the same person I used to be... that I need to do something for myself before I forget who I once was completely.

In high school and college, I seemed to have it all together. I was in leadership and could plan big things without getting too overwhelmed. Ever since I have been out of school, however, I have had trouble even organizing a trip to the doctor's office or play dates for Ezra. I get completely overwhelmed at the thought of even picking up a telephone, so instead, I do nothing. This is paralyzing and I haven't been able to will myself to change. This drives me insane EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I'm starting to realize that this is because, in school, everything was mapped out for me. I had a choice of classes A, B, or C, and I had to be here or here at a certain time everyday. My life was organized for me, and I excelled at it. Ever since I've been out of school, however, I have been a complete disorganized mess...

I never learned how to schedule my own life, and I am suffering greatly for it now.

Back to present: The mere thought of having to arrange childcare that will be flexible and coordinate perfectly with a job that I manage to find is completely crippling for someone like me. I start to cry just thinking about it. Its almost like an anxiety attack or something. I don't know. I feel so stupid for not being able to manage my own life. Thankfully, I have good support to keep me from completely caving in on myself.

So, after much talking and debating and thinking things over, my husband and my parents have helped me come to this idea:



DUH.

My husband owns his own painting company. He's been wanting some part-time help... just an extra pair of hands when he really needs them.

Here's what I figure: This is obviously EXTREMELY flexible. I can go in and help Chris whenever I feel like it. My helping makes his jobs go quicker, so he can schedule more jobs in a month and make a little bit more income for the family. He can pay me hourly, and I can just plan on helping him whenever Ezra is in school. I will probably start him in a preschool 2 days a week. I can wok as little or as much as I'd like, and it helps me feel like a productive human being again. I figure if this works smoothly, I can see how I feel and maybe get an evening job a couple of nights a week too- like working at a coffee shop or a store I like, just so I can get some more social interaction and Chris can stay home with Ezra those evenings.

It's just an idea. We are going to try it out when we get back home.



So far, I am really liking it. I've helped Chris out a bit here in Reno, and we work
well together. I enjoy doing the detail stuff that drives Chris crazy. (Touch-ups, small brush work, etc.) I am so blessed to even have to opportunity to do something like this, and I feel like I can breathe a little bit easier again.

Plus, how cute is a husband and wife painting company? It's DANG CUTE, that's what it is. Heh.

I think we may be on to something here?

In completely unrelated news... be expecting a super awesome GUEST POST here soon from my adorable husband. Wee!

First Family Photo

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Chris, Em, and Ezzie Bug :)

Dear Void:

The last few days have been incredibly difficult and profound for me. They have felt like the very beginning of a long and challenging season in my life... a season that I can either choose to embrace now and struggle through, or avoid and be haunted by until I do.

I have (completely unexpectedly) come to the very end of myself and been forced to address some burning questions and issues that I have been avoiding for far too long. I have been forced to acknowledge that staying at home with Ezra full-time just isn't healthy for me anymore. I've been burdened with the question of "Who am I?" like never before. I have had to reach out for help and get some time away. To admit that I'm struggling and not alright. I've had to cry a whole lot of tears and acknowledge the fact that I am not the vibrant me that I used to be... that my heart and my mind are languishing.

It's gotten to the point where I don't enjoy staying at home anymore. I am beginning to resent my role, and every day is just a whole lot of me trying to keep my head above water until 5:00 when someone gets home and I can breathe again. None of this has to do with Ezra. He is an angel and absolutely wonderful to be around. But I am feeling like every part of me is starting to atrophy... like I am literally wasting away. I have no energy, no patience, no goals, no dreams, no desire to be outside or around other people. My body aches constantly, I don't eat well, and I can hear myself becoming more and more negative. I never have any motivation to get anything done and I am easily overwhelmed by the smallest of tasks.

Something HAS to change.

What will I do? How will I do it?

I have no idea.

It is late and I need more time to process some of this stuff. I will write more about this and the revelations I've had when I get the chance.

For now, just getting all of this out is helpful. I will sleep better tonight knowing that the oh so tiring avoidance of hard truths can finally come to an end... that embracing the difficult seasons is the only way to end up with anything worthwhile in your arms.

Stuffing Stockings and Savoring Snow.

In my opinion, there is nothing better than waking up to this. It's like a postcard outside my window. They are also calling for a possibility of snow on Christmas Eve. (strike up the angelic hallelujah chorus here.)

I went shopping for Ezra's stocking stuffers yesterday. I went to WalMart and found nothing. I went to the dollar store and found nothing. I went to my local grocery store and found TONS OF GOOD STUFF in the little toy isle. I also picked up a couple things at Target.

I thought I'd post what I got for him, in case any of you haven't done stocking stuff yet and could use some ideas. (Also, I have nothing else to post about. heh.)

As far as I know, Ezra doesn't read this blog, so I think I'm going to be safe here.

I got this shirt and these slippers at Target.


I got this sticker book, this car toothbrush, and this cute little Ratatouille bottle from the grocery store.


An airplane launcher, a mini pull-back car, and a bag of marbles for his marble track toy.


Judge me if you will, but Ezra asks me for a 'house toy' every time we go to the store. He has always loved to play with the doll houses at his (GIRL) friend's houses, as well as the little toy kitchens, so when I saw this mini 'Hello Ktty' doll house I just couldn't resist. It is the pink-est thing I have ever seen in my life, (it gives me a bit of a pink headache), but I suspect he will like it very much.

This is the first time I've done a stocking for Ezra, and it was really fun! I will probably also get some raisins and oranges and candy canes to stick in there too, if I can get to the store before Christmas Eve.

What are your kid's stockings stuffed with each year? Anything unusual or practical or special or creative?

The Cost of Innocence? The Price of a Movie Ticket.

Prepare yourselves for a rant.

Chris and I snuck out last night to catch a late movie. It stared around 9:00 pm. I really wanted to see "Juno", but apparently it isn't playing in this town until January 4th, so we decided to go see "I Am Legend" instead. It's the movie about the virus that pushes the human race to the edge of extinction. The previews I'd seen looked pretty intense, even for a grown-up like myself, so you can imagine my shock and horror when, last night, the seats directly behind me were suddenly occupied by two small children- probably ages 4 and 6.

FOUR and SIX.

Their parents brought them to a 9:00 movie that was about everyone on earth dying and, oh! Zombie monsters! 'Dark Seekers' that eat humans and look like terrifying nightmare creatures and huddle together in the dark! Cool! Great parenting!

Prior to the movie starting, there was a preview for a movie about a serial killer. The whole movie was the serial killer running around with a video camera and documenting all that he was doing to people. It was the most sickening, depraved thing I have ever seen in my life (this is just the preview, mind you) and tears were stinging my eyes because I couldn't stop thinking about the two small, precious children sitting behind me watching that filth. Filth that would have given me night terrors for years if I had seen it when I was four.

I asked my brother-in-law to check the ticket to see what "I Am Legend" was rated. It was only PG-13. This was shocking to me, because it was really scary and intense. I thought for sure it would have to be rated R.

If it had been rated R, I would have marched right out into the lobby and gotten a manager and told them that there were little children in the theater- and that if they didn't do something about it, I was going raise hell.

But it was only PG-13. And the children were accompanied by their parents. God, it felt like I was sitting directly in front of some form of child abuse or something- unable to do anything to stop it. It reminded me of that one time, months ago, when I was sitting behind a car at a stop light, and I saw the dad turn around from the front seat and hit his kid multiple times as hard as he could. I wrote down his license plate number and called it in. I have no idea what happened after that. But this time, when I felt that rage well up inside of me again, there was no number to call. Nothing I could do. I felt helpless.

Our kids now-a-days are so frickin' desensitized, it makes me sick with worry. When I was little, I remember seeing one scene from the movie 'Jaws', and feeling traumatized by it for months. These kids had to sit and watch hundreds of people die- getting murdered by screaming monsters and torn from their families, and they didn't even flinch.

There was a scene involving the death of an animal about halfway through the movie, and the little girl behind me started crying. Even then, her parents didn't escort her out of the theater. They sat and watched the whole thing.

How shocking is that? Children crying over the death of an animal, yet not even flinching when human beings are violently murdered in front of their eyes?

I don't even know what to do with all this anger I have inside of me from this experience. I probably would have really enjoyed the movie if I hadn't been so upset for the children behind me. I fear for these kids who are forced to become so hardened at such a young age. We wonder why our kids are so violent these days? Look at the video games they sit in front of for hours on end! Look at the movies they are allowed to watch! How does one stay innocent and carefree when bombarded with vicious, coercive crap like that? They are bombarded long before they have the tools they need to defend themselves from it. If thats not injustice, I don't know what is.

I am so upset. So, what do I do with this anger?

What would you have done in this situation if you were me?

Could I/Should I have done more?

Dirty Confession.

Maybe you'll hate me for this.

I took my new coat back to the store today.

Refresher: This is what the coat looks like on normal human beings.

Turns out? Long coats may look really cool and keep chilly thighs and buns warm, but they are not very practical for the mothers of young children.

Allow me to explain. The coat is adorable, but every time I would have to squat down to tie Ezra's shoes or kneel down to have a little heart-to-heart with my defiant toddler child, the coat would get covered in dirt. Dirt that stood out like neon flashing lights against the shiny maroon-ness that comprised my lovely new purchase.

Perhaps if I were in Oklahoma, where the dirt is most assuredly RED-ish, I would not have this problem. But I am in brown dirt country now, where there is no hope of harmonious dirt/coat blendation.

(It's a word, trust me.)

I walked around for half of a day covered in a dusting of dirt on my backside before I noticed this quandary. Also? I closed it in my car door. MULTIPLE TIMES.

For the rest of the day I was paranoid that I was walking around looking like a big dirty mud pile with an extra helping of muddy dirt on top. I became so self-conscious that I called it quits on my shopping early and headed for the safety of my in-law's house, where me and my dirty coat could wallow in our plight.

Perhaps this is not so much an issue of mothers of young children in long coats as it is an issue of EMERY JO in long coats. I am just too clumsy, too prone to falling down, too close to dirt too often to be able to pull the thing off.

This is what the coat looks like on ME.

It was a sad walk for me back to the return counter today, but at least I could walk proudly- knowing that my backside was not covered in the dust from the bottom of my very own boots.

Ezra.

The boy is growing in leaps and bounds.

Taller, leaner, more apt to karate chop invisible foe and throw rocks down hills while making missile noises.

His desire to see his room is becoming less pressing with each wrapped present we put under the tree. He is SO excited about Christmas. And he's having lots of fun here in Reno.

Also, he talks now... have I mentioned?

After months of worry and fretting and waiting and hoping and bribing and begging and, finally, CHILLING THE HECK OUT; he speaks. In full, legible sentences. It started about 3 months ago or so... a new word here and there and there and soon he was saying pretty much anything we asked him to repeat. And now he talks.



Most nights, just before I drift off to sleep, I think of Ezra. I think of the day and the changes I'm sure to have seen in him. I think of his future. Will he ever grow into that large noggin of his? I think of the person he will fall in love with and I pray for her. (Lord, protect her heart. Stand guard over it.) I think of how I need to brush his teeth more and how he'll be old one day and how he'll probably have the ability to make a whole room full of people laugh and beam. Because he is already so funny and witty.

Every night I pray for him to grow in Godly wisdom, and for him to have a heart like David did in the Bible. David was SO overjoyed that God was returning to his people that he tore off his robe and started dancing like a crazy person in front of all his friends. He danced because his heart told him to, and all his friends laughed at him and thought he was drunk, but he wasn't. He was just living outside of the bounds of DOING WHAT EVERYONE ELSE THINKS YOU SHOULD DO.

We need more modern day Davids in this world.

I just know that Ezra will dance to a different tune like that.



Heck, he's already begun.