Finding Your Passion

As I was vacuuming my floors this morning, I got to thinking. As you may recall, I do most of my deep thinking while I’m cleaning, because the vacuum drowns out all the screaming. On a side note, if you’ve never seen what happens when a Dyson meets a wiffle ball, I highly recommend you try that experiment. The Dyson folks are not lying about the whole “no loss of suction” business.

Anyway, today I was thinking about the things I’m passionate about. Today I was passionate about clean floors. I wasn’t just vacuuming because I had to, because it’s my job, or because I was obligated to. I was doing it because I truly like clean floors. But not only that, I actually enjoy the process of cleaning my floors. It’s very satisfying for me. I am passionate about cleaning my floors. But you know what? Not everyone is passionate about clean floors. Some people are passionate about neat closets. Or clean toilets. Or shiny sinks. Or mowing grass. God does not give us all the same passions. And you know what else? That’s okay. Because if we all did whatever it is God has given us a passion for the whole house would be clean.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

I used to have a hard time saying no to just about anything. If someone asked me to do it, I would. Whether I was passionate about it or not. Because I felt obligated to. Because I felt guilty that I might let someone down. I don’t do that anymore. Slowly, I’m learning to only do the things God has given me a passion for. Because if I’m doing someone else’s passion, what are they doing? Or it may be that God has not given anyone a passion for that particular thing because that’s not where He wants our focus to be right then.

Now I will be the first to admit that there have been times when I’ve been passion-less. I had no passion for anything. And yet, I still filled positions. I still said yes when people asked me to do something. And I was wrong. I should have gotten where God wanted me to be, prayed for His passion to become my passion and served wherever that was.

So basically what I’m saying is if the passion God gave you is mowing grass, have the snazziest lawn on your street. If your passion is a shiny sink, shine that sink to the best of your ability. Don’t try to mow the grass or clean the floors. You’ll just wind up burning out and your house will be a mess.

“I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn't just a single part blown up into something huge. It's all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, "I'm not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don't belong to this body," would that make it so? If Ear said, "I'm not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don't deserve a place on the head," would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.” 1 Corinthians 12:14-18, The Message

The Oh-So Exciting Weekend

Last week was full of me avoiding housework and laundry by playing with Grayson and getting caught up with DVR’ed television. Well, I almost got caught up with the DVR; I’m still a Survivor episode behind as well as a couple of days of General Hospital. I usually have to let General Hospital go when the fall TV season begins and pick it back up when the reruns start, but they are messing me up this year by bringing the original Lucky Spencer back and I just can’t miss that. Yes, I lead an incredibly full and exciting life.

Not really sure where I was headed before that little TV tangent, but needless to say, not a whole lot got accomplished around here last week. And then the weekend rolled around and we interrupted our regularly scheduled program of eating Chex mix and watching college football for pottery painting and a family reunion.

Now here’s where a good blogger would insert pictures displaying said pottery painting and family reunion, but I don’t think there’s any illusion left that I’m a good blogger. And seriously, there was just no way pictures were going to happen at the pottery party because a 2 year old one man wrecking ball and a room full of breakable pottery? Yeah, I don't think so.

The family reunion was another story. I should have taken pictures there, but I left my camera at home and barbecue and homemade chocolate pies were calling my name, and I wasn’t going to miss that to go back home to get it. I mean, I had already given up eating Chex mix in my pajamas while watching football, I wasn’t giving up chocolate pie too. So, that’s why there are no pictures to liven up this incredibly boring weekend recap. Aren't you sorry you missed it?

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Kids really do say the darnedest things. I hope I can remember them all so that when Abby has a boyfriend (you know, like when she’s 25) I can whip them out and embarrass her.

Here’s a few…

Abby doesn’t have memories, she has “rememberies”.

It’s not using your noodle, it’s using your “doodle”.

There’s a show on Noggin called “Olivia”, however Abby will argue up and down that it’s called “Olydia”.

And not to leave Grayson out, last week on his birthday I mentioned several times that he was 2 now, and every time I said it, he would say “No more.” I guess 1 was such a good year, he didn’t want to leave it…

Party Like a 2 Year Old

We celebrated Grayson’s second birthday this past Saturday. His actual birthday is not until the 8th, but I like to have the parties early so that the actual birthday is anticlimactic. Not really, but it does always seem to happen that way.

I have no inclination that before Saturday Grayson had any idea what a party was or a present, for that matter. He certainly knew what cake was beforehand, and anything on top of that was just, well, icing on the cake. Har-har. He did not like being sung to, but was all over blowing out the candles. He didn’t even spit on the cake as he was blowing out the candles. Much.

The cake…Yes, I made it. No, I did not pay someone money to write in a first-grader’s handwriting on Grayson’s cake.

Waiting on the cake…Fortunately, almost two-year-olds don’t really care what the cake looks like as long as they get to eat it.

Here’s Grayson, not liking the singing of “Happy Birthday”. We tried not to take any offense at his obvious disgust of our vocal abilities.

Blowing out the candles…Somehow, that is just instinctual.

Ah, yes, eating the cake. He cannot be slowed down by the use of silly things like utensils.

“Where are these presents everyone keeps talking about?”

Getting to know Thomas. Thomas is frighteningly real. In case you were wondering.

Handy Manny’s Talking Toolbox was a huge hit. Also, possibly the loudest toy ever made. In case you were wondering.

“Is that all? I was just getting the hang of this present-opening thing!”

“Flicker is fun!”

Booster Seat Driver

Abby is five. Abby has never been behind the wheel of a car (I realize that this should be a given, but these days, you just never know). Yet, Abby has started giving me driving “advice”. Do you know what’s worse than a 63 year old backseat driver that you can’t yell at because she’s your mother? I’ll tell you, it’s a 5 year old backseat driver that you can’t yell at because she’s your daughter.

It started with questions about why you do certain things while driving. “Why are we slowing down?” “Why are we stopping?” “Why did you call that man stupid? We don’t say that word.” Ahem.

And then it progressed to directives. “You should watch what you’re doing instead of talking to Grayson.” “You should slow down because you are going to miss our turn.” “Don’t forget our driveway is right up here.”

Now I’m just saying, if you might be someone who might be prone to bouts of road rage (not that I know anyone like that), that can be just slightly annoying. So, I had to sit down with Abby and nicely explain that until she had a driver’s license or had at least been behind the wheel of a vehicle, she wasn’t allowed to give me driving advice. Or until she has been through driver’s ed, and I’m pretty sure they don’t teach that in kindergarten.

You know, I’m sure her teenage years are just going to be full of hugs and giggles, since she already knows more than me. I’m going to start praying now…

How to Break Up with a Morning Show…Step 1

This morning I was folding sheets, which incidentally is my most abhorred laundry task. Seriously, I hate folding sheets more than matching socks, and that, my friends, is saying a lot. It should be a relatively simple task. 3 beds X 4 pieces per bed = 12 pieces to be folded. But those fitted sheets! They are a thorn in my side. And don’t send me any links to Martha showing me the “easy” way to do it on YouTube. I’ve seen it, and I still can’t get them to fold neatly.

Anyway, I digress. As I folded the demonic fitted sheets, I had the Today show on. The Today show is my morning show of choice. I really like Meredith and Al and Matt, most of the time. I trust Dr. Nancy Snyderman almost as much as my own doctor. But today, I got a wee bit irritated with my friends at the Today show. They had a lady from Southern Living on showing creative ways to decorate with pumpkins. And they were a bit condescending to her, almost making fun of her at times.

A lady from THE Southern Living. Making fun of her. On TV.

Now, there are two staples in any southern lady’s library: the Bible and Southern Living. Both have stood the test of time, and both show us the proper way to live, albeit only one with the creative use of pumpkins. And you don’t mess with either one of them. Period.

You northerners can take your Martha and her fancy way to fold fitted sheets (THAT DOES NOT WORK!), and we’ll keep our tried and true Southern Living. Because we want to know how to make a dip bowl out of a pumpkin, how to host an elegant dinner party with barbecue as the main dish (Have you ever had barbecue, Martha?) and where the best bakery is in Rome (as in Georgia, folks).

And Today, I’ve got my eye on you. That’s strike one. Two more and I’ll be moving on to Diane and Robin. Consider yourselves warned.

I’m a loser…

I’m a loser.  There, I said it.  I’m a big ol’ fat loser.  Not to make excuses as to why it is I have not written anything in over a month here (for the 4 of you that noticed and the 2 of you who care), but this “mommy gig” has gotten hard lately.  Abby started school, and things fell apart around here.  We had a pretty good schedule going on (and we all know how much I like schedules), and then Abby had to go and want to get all educated and our schedule got shot to you-know-where. 

And a month later, that’s still pretty much where it is.  In theory, having only one child at home during peak performance hours should make things easier.  However, not so much when the aforementioned child likes to have me in his line of sight at all times.  Not to mention I have to schedule everything around dropping Abby off and picking Abby up.  Now that I think of it, if I spent as much time being productive as I have analyzing why I am not productive, I would probably be getting more stuff done.  But then I wouldn’t have this fascinating post to write.

So anyway, last week was better.  If this week improves as much, I should be back on track in no time.  But I make no promises, because after all, I am a loser.

In other news, you might have noticed my fancy new background and header. Yeah, I did that myself. Not that I’m bragging or anything, because let’s face it, it’s not that great.  But it was my first attempt, so be prepared to see more changes.  And please, don’t shy away from telling me if it’s a big, hot mess.  Most of the time I have to work on such is the wee hours of the night (see the above scheduling problems), and I do not think all that clearly or objectively at those times.

And now, because I feel like if you haven’t written a post in a month, there ought to be some pictures thrown in.  Here are some random pictures of Grayson with his new “big boy” bed and Abby at my first chaperoning field trip, Farm City Day.

He’s pretty proud of it…and this might be the last time it was made.  Just keepin’ it real.

Really, anywhere that “blankie” is, Grayson is pretty comfortable being there too.

Abby got to feed a calf.  Yes, the child who is afraid of a weenie dog will give a bottle to a calf.  Go figure.

 

These two pictures show the unfortunate phenomenon of squinting even when the sun is not out. 

Indeed, she was not giving me the stink-eye because she didn’t want her picture made.  She just had a bad case of the “squints”.

So, there you go.  A bunch of random thoughts and pictures.  Consider it a brain dump for the blog.  Glad you could be a part of it.