Friday, June 26, 2015

Potty Mouth

Randomly this morning, I get a funny text from someone in a panic.  They're stuck at the doctor's office and needing to go.  As in Goooo...

The Big #2.

And apparently, they don't do that in public.  Ever.

This brought me a chuckle and I shared a funny one with her.  Which led me to realize I have many humorous potty stories.

And since I'm pretty much an open book, I thought, "Why not, I'll share it here!"

It is, after all, something everyone has in common.  No matter who you are, how much or little you have, everyone goes.

Tim laughs at me regularly because I keep a schedule.  I won't apologize for my colon keeping a predictable pattern.  As long as I'm home that is.

Although funny to read the text, I could sympathize with the sender because I know how it feels when you need to go and don't have the facilities you're accustomed to.  After years of hotel stays for work, I can relate; because anytime my routine gets off kilter, I come down with a case of traveling constipation.  But, my tummy knows the instant I return home.

The Poop Rock

Noah shares my privacy need for a privy.  One year, when we went camping and actually roughed it (think boat, tent, private island), he was panicked at how and where he could make a deposit.  Tim helped us build a makeshift potty, lovingly referred to the "poop rock" for the remainder of the trip.  It had a comfy seat, because who can squat comfortably and accomplish anything.  And a handy stick to hold the TP.

Even if not #2, I've never been a fan of going outdoors.  My squat always fails and inevitably splatter occurs.  Yet, after two babies and four decades, my bladder is finding it more difficult to just wait.  Especially now that I''m in the business of making home visits.  My body knows I'm in a house, yet I can't use the toilet.  And living in a rural area, there are only so many places to stop.  With plumbing at least.  As such, this was my first year to use an actual outhouse.  It wasn't as traumatic as I expected.  The scariest part was kicking it prior to opening in hopes of ridding the shack of rodents, or worse snakes!

Road Trip Runs

Spring Break 2009, was our first vacation after losing Austin.  Not even five months after we lost him, we wavered many times at not going anywhere; but, on some level, something pushed to us go. Purposefully, we picked a location we’d never been to and one close to home, in case we changed our minds in the midst of it.

Being so worried about us getting through it though, I literally made myself ill and we had to stop at every. single. exit. so I could use the restroom. By about the fourth or fifth time, I began feeling guilty, figuring the stops were ruining our trip but the guys began to laugh. Then I did too. Pretty soon we were making potty jokes at every road sign and Noah was eager to count how many toilets we’d see in one day.  We all three sat in the truck rolling in laughter about my explosive intestinal issues.

Not wanting to leave anyone out in the family during this share-fest, I cannot forget about hubby.  Especially since he has one of our funniest potty stories.

Hot Pants

Tim's joined the fire department when he was 18.  Other than a forced hiatus, he's given over 30 years of service.  And oh, the stories he could tell.  This is one of our favorites, better told by him but I'll do my best.  

Being on call 24/7, you have no control when you'll be called out.  Or, when you need to go.  

This didn't always mix well, especially during the season of Tim's gallbladder troubles.  If you've ever suffered, you'll know that when doody calls, you must answer.

At the scene of a house fire, it hit.  Though Tim was in the midst of helping tear down a kitchen ceiling to to ensure the flames were extinguished, he had no choice but to make an exit.  Knowing there was a bathroom nearby from the walk-through, he made a dash for it.  I can only imagine the shifting of air packs and bunker pants to accomplish that task!

In his words, "I poop on myself for nobody."

And yes, they saved the house and contained damage only to the kitchen.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

ABCs of Me

Because sometimes a silly, fun post is all this momma has the energy to dispense!  I'm a sucker for surveys of any kind.

P.S.  I'd love to know some of your ABCs too.

Borrowed from a friend at An Inch of Gray.

A:  Age 39 (yes, really. not again...yet)
B:  Books on my nightstand - Experiencing God workbook, Love Dare for Parents Devotion
C:  Cloud watching.  One of my favorite pastimes on a beautiful day.
D:  Depeche Mode - cool band name and one I claimed to like as a teen just because it was fun to say
E:  Eggs are my favorite breakfast food.  Scrambled.  With tomatoes.
F:  Fears -losing someone I love, living it now.  And snakes.
G:  Grief is a journey unique as the person mourned
H:  HANDS is a home visiting support program to help parents and boost early childhood development.  And what I do for a living now.
I:   Inspiration - Austin.  He lived a lifetime in his 14 years and made a difference wherever he went.
J:   Jesus is the only answer for how I make it through this thing called life
K:  Kissing my hubby is how we always say goodbye
L:  Listening to the ocean waves is an instant soul soother for me.  How I miss the beach!
M: Mountains are also my friend.  But only to look at, not to climb
(literally or figuratively)
N:  Noah - my baby.  my source of laughter.  my mini me (though he's a foot taller)
O:  Oils - essential, that is, are part of my daily ritual and I'm continually amazed at their power
P:   Picky eater?  I am not.  I'll try (almost) anything once.
Q:  Q-tips.  I don't use them for my ears but our house goes through them like crazy for some reason
R:  Reading is something I love that I wish I did more of
S:  Snacks - V8, tomatoes or bell peppers, rice balls, chips and salsa
T:  Trust - difficult for me.  Especially if you've broken it repeatedly.
U:  Underwear - I'm very picky.  Although my drawer is overflowing, I only have a select few I like.
V:  Verse - Be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances.
1 Thessalonians 5
W:  Wedding - Just celebrated year 22, where did the time go?
X:   X-rays have been a part of my life this month.  Stairs are not my friend.
Y:   Yellow is a color that makes me happy.
Z:   Zippers.  I avoid them on pants at all costs

Friday, June 19, 2015


I wouldn't say that I'm clumsy; rather, I don't possess the skill of balance...or luck.  Perhaps my middle name should've been Grace.  It would've been Noah's, had he been a girl.  But that's a story for another day.

This morning, I'm pillowed-up hospital bed style trying to recover from a recent fall.  As with most falls in my life, it was less my fault, more being in the wrong place at the right (er...wrong) time.

Steps are my nemesis.  Over the years I've dropped, knees first, while managing to keep a cake from falling to its death.  I've hurled from the top step, after my heel caught the "safety grade" and sent me flying, ironically in a hospital stair well.  Spilled out the door on icy steps and injured myself more in trying not to fall than if I'd just let it happen and landed in the snow.  And I've fallen through steps as they disintegrated underneath my foot.

Even when steps aren't involved, I've gracefully tripped over rugs and slid like stealing home base on the pavement.  Fallen into random holes that magically open up in the yard only when I walk through it.  And of course there was that time I flew off the back of the motorcycle when that lady ran a stop sign and nearly killed hubby and me.

Thankfully most of my falls didn't require much help or healing time. Granted the motorcycle wreck called for the lengthiest amount of assistance and time to heal, but this latest fall has required more than I prefer.  Perhaps it is that I'm pushing 40 and this body just isn't what it used to be.  sigh...

But this go around, I've been dependent on my family as bruised ribs prohibit you from doing all sorts of normal activity.  Like, for instance, breathing.  Now that fluid has set up on my remaining good knee, I'm feeling rather incapable.  I'm sure it's a funny site to watch me hobble, moan, wince, and waddle around the house.  Asking for help isn't my cup of tea though and it often puts me in a bad mood for having to.

I know I've complained, snapped or whined way more than I should.  My family gets the worst of it because I have to put on a brave and good face at work all day.  By the time I make it to the comforts of home, my guard falls and the real me shows.  The one that needs lots of Grace.

Thankful to have this family in my life, even when I don't deserve them.  Yet, isn't that what love is?  Even when we fall short, mess up, and share all our short-comings, they love us anyway.

What better feeling is there than that?

Actually, it's the kind of love God has for us.

A love that cannot compare on any level to even the deepest love of our family.
Forgiveness.  Peace.  Joy.  Mercy.  Hope.  And all-flowing grace.

Even though we don't deserve it.

Sufficient grace...That's something I can fall upon and find rest in.

Linked with: #DanceWithJesus

Saturday, June 6, 2015


I grew up with the influence of two strong aunts in my life, the sisters of both my parents.  Though very different ladies, what the two have always shared in common is a love for me that only an aunt can give.

In fact, they both have specific ways they tell me.

Love you Big.  

This aunt gave me a best friend, her daughter.  So many of my memories of her, growing up, involve my cousin.  And that she forced me to eat mashed potatoes.  (inside family joke)  As a kid, I always wondered if they switched us at birth because I look more like my aunt than my mom.  We even walk the same.  ...Ok, we wobble.  As an adult, I've shared vacations, recipes, and laughs with her.  She texts to check on me and I can count on regular emails of virtual hugs, nearby deals, or the latest small town news.  I know she's just down the street and a phone call away if I ever needed anything.


I'm the daughter this aunt never had.  But we were also like sisters.  And friends.  Ours is and was a unique relationship.  She's the cool aunt that let me sit on the other side of church and color with Snoopy pencils.  And gave me a love for playing instruments and art.  When she was diagnosed with cancer, I sobbed in the parking lot of my office after hearing the news, fearful she'd be taken from me.  During her surgery I wrote on the dry erase board in her room, "Love you more than you know" and LYMTUK was born.  Now she's the cool aunt who tries to text but confuses me so much I have to call.  Who never fails to make me laugh and always has my back.

Oh, the stories I could write about them.

As I tucked my little niece in last night from our sleepover, those special aunt memories from childhood came to mind.  Such a blessing to have them both.

They are the examples of the type of aunt I always wanted to be - that I hope I am.  One who lets you have fun but teaches you responsibility.  One who teaches you life lessons.  One who supports you, prays for you, wants the best for you.

What I know now as an aunt is the joy they can bring into your life.  It's not just about what I give them but what they share with me.

Last night's sleepover with me was long over due with this little below.  She's growing so fast and as I watch her blossom, I see much of my baby sister in her.  Bryanna is almost eight and almost never out of wit and sarcasm.  She's smart and sassy, funny and tenderhearted.

She enjoyed being queen of the castle last night, as is the rule when staying with Aunt Heather.  We chatted and giggled, colored, watched movies, had a bubble bath, played games, and stayed up past her bedtime.  And she ate!  It's a good thing this aunt likes to cook because I was a short order chef at her beckon call.  As I tucked her in, she was already asking about breakfast.  Which by the way will probably occur very soon, since I hear her tiptoeing in the next room.

Who knows what's in store for our Saturday.  But I'm sure going to soak up every special morsel!

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