Why I hate Pinterest ..sometimes

It all started when I decided I needed some new clothes.

Then I went shopping...and came back with nothing.

So I said...you know what? I have a sewing machine.

I'm going to start sewing more.

So I bought a sewing cabinet.

And spent about a zillion hours on Pinterest drooling over DIY tutorials.

I have a love/hate relationship with Pinterest.

I now have a gajillion different skirts to sew and fifty sweaters to refashion...

not to mention, the million and a half toddler crafts and sensory activities

I should have been doing since my children were 6 months old.

say WHAT!?

Apparently I am waaay behind.

We should have been stringing macaroni, playing in rice buckets, and painting with edible yogurt....

and now my kids are lagging behind everyone else and will probably
be doomed to failure.

all because I didn't give them enough sensory activities.

-insert failure of a mom face here-


So here it is....my woeful apology to my children...


I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't give you pipe cleaners to string through a spaghetti strainer.
I'm sorry I didn't put paint inside gallon ziplocs, 

tape them to a table, and let you smear away.
I'm sorry I didn't spend hours dying pounds upon 

pounds of spaghetti so you could feel the slippery noodles
while we learned our colors.


I'm sorry.
I made you boxed macaroni and cheese and let you eat it with your hands.
I'm sorry I took you outside and helped you collect leaves and squirrel nuts while we talked about how God made everything.
I'm sorry I spent hours washing your clothes and cloth diapers, folding them, putting them away...while you "helped" in your own special way.
I'm sorry I helped you sort m&ms into piles while I snuck most of them into my own mouth when you weren't looking.

For every mom who feels like a Pinterest failure...

its time to stop obsessing about being the perfect DIY mom.
And just... be a mom.

My babies follow me all over the house while I keep the house clean and in order.
We fold laundry together and Liberty likes to help put it away
(which explains Noah's sock drawer)
Grady loves to play with tupperware and the salad spinner while I cook.

Yes...they are always under my feet and there are days when naptime is the only time of day I can use the bathroom with the door closed.
(which, by the way, isn't necessary since they're in bed anyway
...but its the principle behind it)

But I do adore my little people...
I think we can get too wrapped up in what everyone else is doing
and start to feel like we're lacking in the 'cool parent' department.

My mom didn't have Pinterest. I don't think she ever made me homemade play dough.  In fact, play dough was too messy for our house.
And the only rainbow colored spaghetti I experienced was spaghettios.

My mom took me with her everywhere, gave me chores to do and when I got too crazy she sent me outside to pull weeds.
She fed me Lucky Charms and wrote me notes for my school lunch box.

I managed a spot in every 'gifted' extracurricular class since 4th grade, graduated with honors, and made deans list in college.


But if only I had played with rice in a bucket...


...I really could have been great.




And thats why I hate Pinterest sometimes.

Every Hair on My Head

I didn't really have "long hair" as a little girl.  I don't think it really reached past my mid back until I hit my teens...

I was always filled with such longing and yes, even jealousy, when seeing all the long Rapunzel-like hair at youth camps.

As a little girl I would ask my mom, "Will I have long hair when I grow up?"

"Do you want long hair?" Mom would ask.

Eyes wide I would say "Yes! Of course I do!"

So she would tell me to just ask Jesus for it.

And I did. Over and again and again...

Of course, all the kids at school thought I had the longest ever.

Except for Jessica Maddison...before she cut it.

Her hair was so long 

she had to wrap it around her arm 

JUST to use the bathroom.

When you're in third grade, that's pretty much a real live Barbie. 

-insert wistful sigh here-

Anyway...

I always desired long hair.  And it was difficult to understand why mine just didn't grow.  My mom had super long hair in her teens...but it broke off after her pregnancies.  If genes had anything to do with it, mine should have been a lot longer...

So I kept praying about it and after some major stress in my late teens and a perm I insisted on when I was 18 ...my hair had finally reached a "breaking point"

...it looked bad.

I mean...really...really bad.

So at a youth service I went up for prayer

and told the visiting minister I wanted my hair to grow.

And what he said and how he looked at me..

it just hurt my feelings.

He looked at me and said..

"You know long hair is uncut hair, right?"

At the time I thought he was assuming I cut my hair, 

which made me feel such complete despondency.

But now I look back and wonder if he was trying to be nice

and tell me that even if my hair never grew another inch

as long as I didn't cut it, it would be long in the eyes of God.

Which...wasn't really what I was looking for.

I wanted it to be long in MY eyes.

not to mention everyone else's...

Luckily, I married a guy who thought I had great hair.

(he's bald)

----

I really didn't realize how much my hair affected me.

I didn't have a lot of self-confidence.

I was jealous of others.

I wanted long hair because I thought it was beautiful...

and that having it would somehow make ME beautiful.

I'm happy to say God finally got a hold of me

and changed my desires...

I stopped worrying about the length of my hair.

I stopped thinking about trimming the dead ends off.

I stopped obsessing over miracle shampoos and vitamins.

I started thanking God for my hair.

every time I brushed it.

every time I felt it on my arm.

Thank you Lord.

---

A year after I got married, Bro. Jewel Forney came to preach for us.  It was a very strong message and I felt a pull to go up for prayer.  I felt a need to claim this small desire for myself.  I wanted my hair to grow and I wanted it as a testament to God and His Word.  No matter what the world said about split ends and trimming, I knew my God numbered every hair on my head.

"Bro. Jewel...I want my hair to grow." Even before the words left my mouth I was cringing inside.

He looked at me with those big white eyes.

With a joyful laugh he said, "Well, how long you want it?"

I stuttered,  "E-excuse me?"

"I say, how long you want it?"

I started crying...and I slapped my thighs and said

"Right here, I want it here Brother Jewel."

And then he prayed and asked the Lord to let it grow for His glory.

---

Later I recounted with another sister how Brother Branham had asked that little girl what color eyes she wanted.  She asked for blue and blue they were.

I can tell you I am holding on to that and believing it will all my heart.

Don't hate.

Good morning Kristi.

You're probably the only one who reads this anymore . )


It's 8:30 am and I can't really say my creative juices are flowing quite yet.
I'm about to go back for a second cup of coffee
...but I think I'm becoming immune to the stuff.

I have a dozen posts I've been meaning to write.

Some examples include:

"Minding Your Goodwill Manners"

"Looking for Mr. Right"
"Seeking Good Conversation"
"Did They Ask for Your Opinion?"

The wonderful thing about blogs...
I can tell you what I think.

You can choose to read or not read.
Disagree or agree. Like me or hate me.

(I hope you won't hate me.)

Take the cherry pie and spit out the pits.
Keep the good stuff.

Anyway...what I'm trying to say is...

Don't get all bent out of shape because you might not like my opinion.

Also, if I wanted to start a debate...I'd be writing this as status update on social media.  Not my own private blog. So..don't debate. It annoys me.

Jeni and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Ok...my day probably isn't really worthy of that particular title.

The morning started out pretty great with the kids sleeping in until 9am.

It all started with my brilliant idea of getting my new used flowerpot
color-matched at the local Benjamin Moore store.

My very full flowerpot.

Let me just spoil the suspense and tell you right now...

I no longer have a very full flowerpot.


I now have a

very

very...dirty van.



In my defense it wasn't my fault.

(...it never is, is it?)

But really...it wasn't.

I went BELOW the speed limit for 6.1 miles.  Turning gently.

As though I was cradling a single egg in a spoon while running an obstacle course.

I was oh so careful.

Until the person in front of me slammed on their brakes.


I could have cried.
I didn't.
But I could have.

I heard the flower pot thunk.
and roll.

And even before I turned my head 

to access the damage...I knew. 

I just knew it would be bad.

Well, I had two options.

I could continue on to the paint store and just let it go. let it gooooo...
or I could go home and attempt to clean it up before anyone found out.
(my first thought)

I found a third option.

I called Noah and whined about my absolutely terrible, horrible, no good, very bad moment.


To his credit, he didn't laugh (until he got off the phone)
He just listened.

then he told me just to leave it alone

and he'd take care of it when he got home.

Seriously...awesome.


He did suggest that I just go on to the paint store.  

But I told him I was too embarrassed 

to open my van door and let them see the mess I made.

sigh.


So I went to Hobby Lobby on my way home.

I had two swags to return. And a receipt to return them with.

90 minutes later I was finally going home.

Yes..90 minutes.

I know what you're thinking.

You think I was shopping for 90 minutes.

...I was NOT shopping.

I stood around the front of the store with 

my   two kids for   an hour and a half 

while the manager tried to figure out how to return my stuff.


I kid you not.

My receipt had a bare spot going down the middle.
apparently the printer was losing toner?
Anyhow, they couldn't scan it in.

After 30 minutes of telling me they were almost done
they gave me the wonderful news that they would be happy
to issue me a store credit instead of the cash 

I had originally paid with two weeks ago.

sigh again.

I told them that really wasn't acceptable.

The manager gave me "a look"

and said he wasn't sure there was anything he could do.

I told him there most certainly was.
He attempted to mess around with the system for another 20 minutes.

I attempted to keep smiling while I wrangled an unhappy 10 month old and kept my 2 year old from playing with the automatic sliding doors.

I was 10 seconds away from suggesting he reach into his wallet and give me $32.65 in cash while he spent the rest of the day attempting to recover it with corporate office.

Finally he said he would call corporate office and just left.

Yah...he turned and walked away without offering any explanation.

The poor cashier was beside herself.  I could tell she felt really bad.

The manager was gone for 30 minutes.

When he came back he hit a button on the register and took out my cash.

seriously?

seriously.

Thank you have a nice day please come again.

I love Hobby Lobby. I really really do.
But this particular day was not a good one for that manager or their archaic computer system.

As a bit of advice...make sure your receipts are complete with all barcodes completely printed!!




Thankfully the kids fell asleep on the way home and
I was able to transfer them to bed without any problem.

I slurped a coke and contemplated cleaning out the van.

Until I realized Noah has all the extension cords on his workvan.

So I updated my blog.



I hope you're having an

awesome. wonderful. fantastic. very good day.