"Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man"

Today I read an article about how our civilization is hostile to parenting. It said something along these lines, “Long ago, our society decided where children are ranked. It’s below finishing college, seeing the world, the hope of having a decent job, disciplining one’s body at the gym, and simply having the freedom to drop everything and do whatever whenever.”  I can see that. There are countless bucket lists and to-do lists online describing all the things that need to happen before someone can be “ready to start a family.” I don’t think any of these things are bad. The problem occurs when we start seeing motherhood as a hobby only for those who can afford it with whatever time and money they have left in the end. Even then, it’s only advisable to have one or two. All other mothers, the ones who didn’t get their ducks in a row first, or who have "too many" are considered a burden to society, as if everyone else has to pick up the slack for their irresponsible actions.

I wouldn’t go so far as to complain that my life is difficult because I’m a mother raising boys in an environment hostile to children. However, I find myself getting a little defensive about my life choices. "Trust me! I take on the full responsibility to provide and care for these little ones! I plan on raising people who contribute to society! No, I didn't finish college, but that's my problem." I find the little comments by people who mean well, and the subtle messages I see in the media a little irksome. I think, “Don’t they get it? Don’t they see how important these humans are?” It’s not a very glamorous job, and the rate of return doesn’t look too great. I’m giving up a lot of things in life to do this now. Then it hits me: laying down your life for another is a scary thing to the rest of the world. It goes against our human nature. That’s why it’s such an unattractive venture in this culture, but that’s also why I find it such an important calling for some. I gain an idea of the cost of love. And when I start to grasp how much it costs, I can begin to grasp how valuable it is.

All of this is to say that if you’re a mom, keep it up! God is using your sacrifice to shape your children, and He is also using your sacrifice to teach you about His (much larger) sacrifice. Even if you’re not a mom, you still have times in your life when you put others first. How does our Father call us to lay down our lives?

"'I do' are the two most famous last words

The beginning of the end

But to lose your life for another I've heard

Is a good place to begin

'Cause the only way to find your life

Is to lay your own life down

And I believe it's an easy price

For the life that we have found"

-Dancing in the Minefields by Andrew Peterson

(If you haven't heard that song, you should listen to the whole thing here!)

Thoughts on Being Married

Our anniversary is in a couple days. Last night I couldn’t sleep, and my mind was wandering.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been five years. We’re babies. We’re still new at this. Five is a good number to be significant, as is 10. Twenty isn’t a huge deal because 25 is. Then you just have to wait around till the big five-oh and you can have a grand party. Those are the big anniversaries that people make into a big deal. I, however, have a couple different ones of my own.

When I was in high school, I remember hearing that if a marriage lasts 7 years, it probably will stay together for good. I figured that’s just when things get (potentially) hard and boring. First the honeymoon phase comes and goes, then you throw kids in the mix to shake things up, and you get so busy and worn out that it’s hard to stop and pay attention to each other. When that part ends, you look around at the aftermath and BOOM! It’s year seven and you’ve gotta figure out what the rest of your life will look like.  (heh-heh… I typed “boob” instead of “boom” up there.) Anyway by then, statistically speaking, the couples that won’t last have already split up. I decided that anniversary number seven will be significant in my mind. I will think, “Yep! We made it through the tough stuff!”  (I’m not saying that our marriage will follow that statistic absolutely, or that there’s  a chance we might split up before then, but I like the idea of having a milestone for the difficult parts of marriage.)

The other significant milestone will happen when I’m 41. My cousins once added up their mother’s age and realized that she had been married longer than she had been single. It’s not a big deal, (she’s not old) but they had never thought of it that way before. “What’s that even like?!” they wondered. “It just feels like I’ve always been married.” she replied. I’ve thought about that a lot. I liked the idea of knowing the exact day that I can say the majority of my life I’ve been married. That day will be significant to me, because I never saw my life that way before.

When I was a child, I imagined that childhood was everything. It’s all you talk about when you’re old (or so I thought). You fondly remember the years when you were young and silly and had adventures. Then you can laugh at the years when you were young and stupid and a teenager. At some point you might get married which is sort of exciting, and then you hit the real world with a real job. The rest of your life is spent working nine to five in some office. You come home with your family and think about dinner and bills and grown-up things for a couple of hours and then you sleep and you wake up to do the same things over and over for the rest of your life. That’s how I imagined my existence would play out (sans marriage). I actually pictured a timeline in my head, skewed so the first 20 years took up half the space between “born” and “dead.”

My pregnancy with my first son was a big surprise. I remember taking my dog on a walk and suddenly it hit me: my life was kind of over, in a way. I sat down on a playground slide and took a moment to mourn the life I thought I’d have before kids came along. When I thought about it, I realized that not only will that life never exist, it never existed in the first place. I had to trust that God’s plan was always in motion, and that He had something better planned for me. I had no idea that I would like parenthood so much. Contrary to my childhood beliefs, my life kept getting better and better. I embraced the path God chose for me, and I was consumed by my new role as Housewife. I don’t regret my low expectations of adulthood. I feel like having those expectations gave me such an appreciation for where I am today, and an excitement to see what’s in store.

Back to marriage: We’ve only had five years together, and sometimes it doesn’t seem that long. We’ve been through a lot, but Tim and I still have lots of things to figure out. Despite all that, I try to remember what life was like when I was single. Let me tell you, it’s a stretch. “What did I even DO with my time?!” I wonder. I was not the same girl I am today. I don’t think my family ever expected me to get married. As a child, I liked to figure things out by myself and sought solitude whenever possible. Sure, I liked the idea of falling in love, but to have someone around me all the time was just not my thing. BUT, I did fall in love, and I met someone totally worth giving up that solitude. Whatever independence I still clung to, I lost when Emmett was born, and suddenly someone physically depended on me 24-7. That too was worth it, because I already loved him too. I had this new, highly portable friend who went with me everywhere. Motherhood was so much fun, we wasted no time having our second.

Fast forward to last night, and I couldn’t sleep. I remembered something funny about my teenage years, and then thought, “Wow! That was a long time ago.” And I thought about my old idea of childhood being everything, when it’s not. I thought about my aunt and about all these things. The single person I was is so foreign to me now, probably because I used to be an “I” but now I’m a “We.” God changed me for the better when He brought Tim into my life. Sure, I’m still selfish and I enjoy being alone, but I really like grown-up Grace. That Tim-guy was one of the best things that could happen to her.

"Why do brides wear white? ...so the dishwasher matches the refrigerator."

We bought a new house!
Well, not "new." It's nearly a hundred years old, and needs a lot of work. We got it super cheap on an online auction which was kind of weird. Sure we had to meet at an office to sign a paper, but we bought our house. online. with my phone.

Walking up the sidewalk with the keys felt pretty surreal. I've never owned property before. We put on a few tours for our family and close friends. Some people were so excited for us. Others simply said, "Well, I would be intimidated." After that, we pretty much locked her back up and didn't visit too often. We had so much figuring and planning to do. For a while, all we could do was some occasional yardwork, and let me tell you, it's a jungle. Slowly, we began to formulate a plan of action. Finally, we are ready financially, and the work can begin!
So far, we've been contacting roofers, electricians, and my dad. I've been itching to do what I can. I found a nice, stainless steel stove at a garage sale for a hundred bucks, so I drove that over and dropped it off. I'm going to patch up plaster in several rooms, and (when Tim and I are ready) I can start tearing out plaster in the rooms that we'll sheetrock.

With all this waiting and less exciting stuff, I've had plenty of time to contemplate my kitchen. First of all, there's this forest green tile backsplash. It wouldn't look so bad except it "fades" to white around the stove hook-up, with a few green squares here and there. It sort of reminds me of pixels from an old video game. The floor tiles are blues, purples, and neutral tones. The cabinets are painted green like the wall tiles, and the walls are painted blue like the floor tiles. To borrow an analogy: the color schemes are "bickering like brothers in the back seat. 'Mom, are we there yet? NO!'" I have no desire to attempt to tie them together.
So I am left with no option but to get rid of one of the tiles. The wall is pretty tacky, and the floor is pretty nice. The choice isn't a difficult one. Actually, the floor is a great place to start. "From the floors up" has become my mantra. I think it before making any decisions about the rest of the kitchen because everything has to at least coexist with that surface. Any colors I choose will come out of the preexisting color palette right beneath my feet.

I knew from the beginning, I couldn't replace the backsplash. We aren't in a great neighborhood. This house, while we got it cheap to begin with, could never sell for more than a certain amount. Because there's a cap on its value, we have to be careful not to pour too much money into it. That being said, I've got to do what I was raised to do: always look for cheaper alternatives.
First I spent some time looking into peel-and-stick tiles. It's a pretty awesome product, actually, but not quite cheap enough. Then I headed over to Pinterest and read lots of tutorials about painting tile. Lots of people went with oil based paints under some kind of varnish. A backsplash doesn't get a lot of wear and tear, but I was a little hesitant about that. Then I found out about those epoxy tub and sink refinishing kits. (made by Homax, not Hormel who makes chili) There're a lot of angry reviews from people who now have peeling bathtubs and can't bathe without getting paint chips in their hair, but there are a few great reviews implying that other people didn't adequately prep their surfaces. Since I don't plan on my kitchen wall getting the same kind of use as a bathtub, I think it'll hold up real well if I make sure I follow the instructions right. I ordered a bisque finish instead of bright white. Ever notice how "bisque" is kind of a vague color? It kind of annoys me that the website doesn't have a picture of the product color, but all the colors from the google image results can be found somewhere in the floor colors. (From the floors up!) I ordered it today because epoxy stinks literally and takes several days to harden completely. I'd rather get this project finished before we move in, and before we make a mess with plaster dust.

On that note, there's something else I want to use before the dust comes. At first, I wasn't concerned about my discolored laminate countertops. A friend mentioned that someone painted theirs to look like granite. I had seen DIY blogposts about the same project, but I never looked into it. I didn't believe that it would look very good. But then he said it actually looked really cool. So I found some of those posts and flipped through the pictures. They looked good. VERY good, actually. And the best thing about granite is that there are all kinds of colors, so I could do what I wanted. My favorite picture didn't come with a tutorial, just a note that they used Envirotex Lite for a high gloss finish. Hmm... more epoxy. I read that one pour-on coat is like 50 coats of varnish. I've worked with epoxy a lot in my art-student days, and I know what it's like. The idea of putting it on my countertops only began to feel less intimidating once I watched a boring youtube link with an instructional video.
I'm looking to spend around a hundred bucks for a "new" backsplash and "new" "granite" countertops. If I get the chance, I'll let you know how it goes.

Pregnancy Hiding

At 15 weeks pregnant, I sent a picture of my stomach to my sisters. "How are you hiding that?!" asked one. "Why are you hiding that?!" asked her roommate. The why's are many and complicated, an explanation I don't have time for. Mostly, though, it was on a whim. In college art classes, we spent a lot of time learning how the eye perceives things, and I was pretty confident I could manipulate my appearance easily enough to keep anyone from noticing my bump till week 20 (the halfway point). I got bored with it, though, and decided to tell family around 16 weeks instead. That was before I hit any sort of challenge. I did, however, promise my sister I'd take some "hiding photos" for her to compare to the belly shot.

Here's #1. I lucked out because looser tops and tighter bottoms have been in lately. (I'm not posing, just hiding my crazy bedtime hair!)                                   

 Here's photo #2. This time, a tunic top with leggings. If you notice, I'm not standing at a straight horizontal. That helps. People don't notice your tummy quite as much as you do when you're standing horizontal to your mirror. Also, there's a bright scarf. I also have some chunky wooden necklaces that are very distracting.

 I wanted to add that when trying to show off the belly, one should simply place a hand on top...

 ...or below the tummy, preferably both.

 And here's the last one. A less than flowy skirt with a loose T-shirt above it.

I could always have thrown on a hoodie for a quick cover-up. And black always would make it look smaller, while hiding shadows of a belly curve. I never had to use any drastic distraction measures, like bright lipstick or a hat. Usually, having a cute toddler on my hip was enough for everyone.

Oh! And before I took all those other photos, here is the one I sent to my sisters:

(Excuse the mess.)

I wanted to point out what visual manipulations I used on this picture. It's a tight shirt. The horizontal stripes draw attention to the curve, and most importantly: It was in the evening after dinner. Besides a uterus, there's also a stomach in there, digesting some food. When you're past the point of holding it all in, you've gotta pay attention to the little things.

Girls' Night Out

It was hard to leave Emmett with Tim. He was just crying so much. I read The Five Chinese Brothers to the boys, and got ready to go. (Here I am saying goodbye before getting dressed to go.)(I had good reason to be worried! How would Emmett get enough to eat?!)
The girls and I were meeting at a bar called The Lincoln Lounge. My mouth kept wanting to say "Lincoln Logs" so it always came out "Lincoln Lodge." The Lincoln Lounge is an Abraham Lincoln-themed hipster joint. Along the dirt parking lot is a simple white mural with an old-fashioned pistol motif. In the middle is a giant wanted poster for "THE MURDERER" with a picture of John Wilkes Booth.

Despite my best efforts to arrive fashionably late, I was still the first one there. It was dark, but the main room was small enough that I knew the girls weren't there. I sat down in an antique armchair by a coffee table. The other chairs in the cluster were occupied by a group, so I did lame things to look less alone. I messed with my phone, went to the bathroom, and stared up at the walls.

It had red and silver saloon-style wallpaper. Up behind the bar was a series of shelves full of mugs. I had read earlier on Google Maps about this. Apparently, if you get around to sampling all 50 beers on their list, you get a mug with Abe's profile on it. However, you don't just take it home. It gets put on the shelf above a plaque with your name on it to use every time you come in.

I looked up at a caricature of Lincoln with big ears, and his bow tie caught my attention like an old friend. "Huh?! How is that possible?" I thought. "Where have I seen that type of bow tie before?" Then I realized that it wasn't a type of tie, but a certain tie. Abraham Lincoln wore a bow tie for a photograph, and that one photograph is probably the best portrait of him that we have. The artist must have looked at that picture when painting this portrait. While Lincoln's features were distorted and exaggerated, his tie was drawn exactly right. I once did a drawing of Abraham Lincoln made from his quotes. I had spent a lot of time staring at his picture once. It was six years ago, but once you draw something, it will never look the same to you again.

Two girls arrived. Katie, who organized the outing, and Holly. Another Katie from church was already there. It turned out that Katie and Holly had never been to this bar before, and they deemed it too shady for a girls' outing. We were going to go somewhere else instead. The other Katie is the type of person who is so friendly that she knows everyone. In a bar of only 30 people, she probably knew at least 5. Katie went to pry Friendly Katie away from her conversations so we could go.

Holly said, "There're other people from church here! It must not be too bad." (We left anyway, but her comment confirmed our status as a "hipster church" and this as a "hipster joint.")

We went to a casino instead. As a resident of Reno, you have to see casinos as venues. It's like a giant, brightly lit mall, only instead of department stores, there are various clubs, restaurants, and shops. All the empty spaces (on certain floors) are filled with slot machines and game tables. If you were to look at Reno's skyline, you can see the giant sphere building. That's where we were.

We went to club Aura, which was a chic bar with a cool interior. All class was lost, however, when we saw the TV screens. They featured lady silhouettes dancing... not unlike a moving itunes ad. It was pretty empty. Some of us got a drink, Friendly Katie saw someone she knew, and then we left.

The girls wanted to go to a place called Brew Brothers, but the line to get in was really long. Near the line, we watched some fat girls get into an all-out cat fight. A security guard from the casino and a bouncer from the bar escorted them away while the crowd cheered and laughed. It felt like high school. We skirted around the aftermath: some angry friends, spilled ice, and a missing shoe. Then we decided to find a place to eat because I was hungry enough to eat casino food.

At the restaurant, we discussed life and where God was leading us. We prayed for the busser who looked like she was having a really bad day.

We did head back over to Brew Brothers because Katie was really hoping to dance before the night was over. I wished for bowling or a movie instead, but that was just because I'm a lame dancer. It was low-key, though, and lots of fun. One young guy kept looking my direction. I could tell he and his friend were on the prowl, hoping to make some new friends. Sure enough, they made their way over, and one guy introduced himself to Friendly Katie. The music was too loud to hear anything, but I saw them shake hands. This was a strictly no-guys-allowed outing, so she did the subtle "I'm a jerk." act. She said something in Holly's ear, turning her body to close off our tiny circle once again. It was a perfectly played rejection without having to make eye contact. I felt sorry for the guys who looked dorky and friendly, but if they were hoping to pick up chicks that night, she saved them some trouble. We were only in that club long enough to dance for a couple songs, and when we left, I found out what Friendly Katie had said to Holly: "I told him my name was Patty!"

People Watching on a Walk

Today was kind of cold, so I decided to walk around the stores close to our house. I didn't need to buy anything, but I figured I could walk longer without getting bored.

First, though, I had to stop by Kays to get some jewelry cleaned and inspected. An older man with a southern drawl was getting some jewelry inspected to see if any of it was real or not. When he left, it was me and the two employees. They asked me about my pregnancy for a while. The older lady finally finished up the paperwork and came back to talk a bit more. "...well, I've still got a week, so I'm just out walking today." I said in parting.

...but the lady didn't hand me my paper. First, she leaned over the glass showcase and looked into my eyes. "But you might... not have long... to wait!" I was mesmerized by the way her eye make-up matched her green and purple outfit, and also by her weirdness.

I stepped dazed out of the store, and as I got into my car, it hit me! A contraction, and also who she reminded me of. She's one of those seemingly normal middle-aged women from the movies of the 80s/early 90s who end up being magical. I'm surprised she didn't wink at me and then disappear. The only way it would've made a better story, would be if I were in the hospital right now giving birth!

Later, I was in Maurice's (not that I have any need to buy clothing right now). The employee yelled a greeting, and I saw her flash a Knowing Smile. That's when they would smile anyway, but their smile is different because they know something. It reminded me of last May before I looked pregnant and when Tim was getting his haircut. The lady walked him to the cash register, and when I got up, she gave me a Knowing Smile, not just a polite smile. After we left, I said, "You told her I was your wife and that I was pregnant, didn't you?" He did. You see, if she had just assumed I was his girlfriend, she would've given me a polite smile, but she felt like she knew something about me, so it was different. Girls are weird like that.

So I had to do a double-take at this lady at Maurice's. I remembered seeing her there this past summer. She was a beautiful, ready-to-pop pregnant lady at a time I was wishing my belly were more obvious. Although I've never bought anything from that store in my life, I remember going in again with Tim to kill some time once, and she wasn't pregnant anymore. I had wondered whether she had a boy or a girl, and how the birth went. Not wanting to look like a creeper, I didn't say anything. Today, after I recognized her, I was able to translate her smile to mean, "Yeah, you're pregnant, but I really know what that's like! Cool!"

And to prove that I was right, she asked me if she could "rub my belly" and asked about my pregnancy. But not the standard interview that most strangers give me. It was different because she's close to my age, and had just gone through it. Then she told me about her 4 month old son. She said she was so sick of being pregnant that she was ready to get induced, but her baby came before they could. I was really happy to get to hear about how things turned out; I thought I'd never know!

By then I had wandered far from my car, so I made my way back and then went grocery shopping. I stopped at Jack-in-the-Box after for a quick supper on my way home.

The only other customers in the restaurant were a boy and his dad. The boy was probably six or seven, and his dad wasn't too old. They seemed so excited to be eating out together, but not like it was a rare occurrence. It seemed like he was just going to work with his dad for the afternoon. They were genuinely happy to be in each other's company. I don't think I was making all that up; it seemed pretty obvious. All the same, it was nice to sit there by myself and imagine Tim and our son doing the same thing years from now.

Sharing Birhdays

My dog has my birthday. The vet was sure to remind me by sending her an elaborate E-card. I also share my birthday with Halloween. (It's a pretty good holiday to have a birthday on.)

But I also share my birthday with the state of Nevada.

I read somewhere that out here they celebrate their state day more than any other state... which isn't really saying much. But there's still a parade in Carson City, and pretty much everyone gets the last Friday of the month off work.

Thanks to elementary school, I spent a lot of Januaries learning about Kansas-y things like bison, sunflowers, and tiger salamanders, but I felt pretty ignorant about Nevada, so I thought I'd do a little learnin' today, and share the more interesting things. (since it is the acceptable day to celebrate)

Nevada became a state exactly 125 years before I was born. That was during the civil war, so a ribbon on the emblem of their flag reads: "Battle Born."

The state flower is sagebrush, which is really pretty for the desert, but around this time of year, it starts to smell a little like feet.

This is the driest state in the USA. Average rainfall: seven inches. (Which is why my hair doesn't curl anymore.)

We have the Comstock Lode, which is the nation's largest silver deposit. And because of that, we also have Virginia City. In its time, its population was 20,000, but now it's just a touristy ghost down of about 800.

We also have Area 51 and the Hoover Dam... Both pretty exciting!

And last, contrary to popular belief, they're called Nevadans, not Nevadicans.