tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36648327211165424942024-02-06T23:23:54.999-07:00Nothings and Notions from my NoodleJennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.comBlogger235125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-26968291039808817662015-12-31T16:46:00.001-07:002015-12-31T17:42:25.682-07:00Collecting Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlj9sIbWlrLPY5BW8U0v-ZlS5_DYViP1MiW1KgngQN2g430R9YBnuiBZxar-umMmWE6ZWNshZTXwo5GYqL3SLPrblWuCzU2lC-k2E0dILxvAJWtWB5SL8QvrHTatHN_WgTqJWbLIHtYyE/s1600/hap.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlj9sIbWlrLPY5BW8U0v-ZlS5_DYViP1MiW1KgngQN2g430R9YBnuiBZxar-umMmWE6ZWNshZTXwo5GYqL3SLPrblWuCzU2lC-k2E0dILxvAJWtWB5SL8QvrHTatHN_WgTqJWbLIHtYyE/s320/hap.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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I tend to be a rather cynical, pessimistic person. At best, I'm a snarky realist. ;-) This is not my favorite personal trait and something I'd like to improve, but I have never found a way to achieve this and make it stick.<br />
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Just today, I finished a book called, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00XPV62GW/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?ie=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank">My Name is Mahtob</a></i> (the follow-up memoir to <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Not-Without-Daughter-Mahmoody-Betty/dp/B00DO94C1W/ref=sr_1_cc_3?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1451602953&sr=1-3-catcorr&keywords=not+without+my+daughter+betty+mahmoody" target="_blank">Not Without My Daughter</a></i> - both excellent reads). The author makes mention of a project she had to do for a phycology class her senior year of college. The assignment was to "collect happiness" by writing down five things each day that brought her happiness. At first difficult for her, she soon began to pay closer attention to the things that brought happiness to her day. And if there weren't any, she would actively seek out things that made her happy just so she could complete her assignment. This activity soon became habit for her and she added an abundance of joy to her life.<br />
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<b>I love this idea. </b><br />
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I've tried a number of times to keep a "blessings journal" or write down things I'm thankful for, but even then, those entries tended to be tainted by the negative. Example: <i>The twins were exhausting today, I'm thankful I get to go to bed soon.</i> Or: <i>I discovered I still like bologna, which is a good thing since we have no money and it's cheaper than deli meat.</i><br />
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Not even kidding. Those are actual entries from 2012 that I wrote in my "blessings" journal. Not surprisingly, this journal has a grand total of nine days worth of entries. My pessimism made short work of my attempt to list my daily blessings.<br />
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But the idea of "collecting happiness"? It's such an active challenge - <b>like a scavenger hunt for joy</b>. This competitive, over-achieving firstborn can grasp on to that idea, pessimism be darned. Because it's not just about begrudging acknowledging blessings and things I <i>should</i> be thankful for, but rather actively seeking to notice and find the things of this life that actually bring a smile to my face. A heart of gratitude and optimism will naturally grow from that kind of active observation.<br />
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<b>Today's Entries: </b><br />
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<ol>
<li>Our boys are so silly and love each other so much. While trying to get them ready this morning, I got caught in the middle of the three of them while they had a tickle fight. They were all laughing so hard and knocking each other (and me!) over, and I couldn't help but laugh with them.</li>
<li>I got to shop alone at Target today and found a beautiful shirt in the clearance rack that was within the budget of my gift card.</li>
<li>I love the way our home looks at Christmas time. Especially at night when the house is dark except for the cozy glow of the Christmas lights. </li>
<li>This afternoon, I had time to snuggle up with a blanket and a good book (<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Name-Mahtob-Phenomenon-Continues-ebook/dp/B00XPV62GW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1451604378&sr=1-1&keywords=My+Name+is+Mahtob" target="_blank">My Name is Mahtob</a></i>). I cozied up in my favorite $30 garage sale recliner by the natural light of the window and it was wonderful. </li>
<li>Snuggling, singing songs, and giving back rubs to the boys at nap time today brought my heart joy. </li>
<li>(Bonus) Devin has been enjoying a half-day off from work and is playing with his new dartboard in the backyard. It made me happy to peek in on him and see him concentrating and enjoying his game so much. Just now, the twins joined him in the yard and are enthusiastically cheering him on. </li>
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<b>What about you? What are five moments of happiness that you can collect today? </b></div>
Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-19032426404125211222015-01-30T16:03:00.000-07:002015-01-30T16:05:25.160-07:00Being Brave I may have <strike>hinted at</strike> confessed this on my <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/forth-day-hair-confession.html" target="_blank">fourth day hair post</a>, but I have a... shall we say, "bold" personality. I'm loud and outspoken. I'm dramatic and blunt and have a very slow-to-act filter at times (okay fine, most times).<br />
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However.<br />
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When it comes to action - the doing, being, changing - I am incredibly timid. I get anxious over big changes. I'm afraid of failure. I over-think things which causes me to stall, or avoid, action. <br />
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It has gotten increasingly worse in the last few years. Having kids was maybe part of it - I feel like I have more to lose now. Plus, because I like stability and structure, the number of moves and changes we've had over the last two years left me dizzy. The constant adjusting to Big Life Changes made me agitated and worried that I would never find solid footing again. <br />
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When I do (on my own accord) consider making changes that I could feel in control of (ha!), I find myself fearful of failure. For example - I used to love, and find much of my identity in, graphic design and theatre. But when I think about getting "back in the game", I'm so afraid of failing that I just push those desires away. For the time being, I have the somewhat legitimate excuse of devoting most of my time and brain power to caring for our three little ones. But they won't be this tiny and dependent forever (I don't know whether to cheer or sob). I <i>can</i> do those things I loved again some day. Yet, when I look just a few years ahead to the possibility of getting involved again, my stomach just clinches with fear. <b>Because I'm afraid of failing at things I used to be good at.</b> I fear that I will never measure up to my previous self.<br />
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But here's the thing - I'm sick of all that. I'm tired of having all of my decisions and hopes and dreams dripping with thick, toxic fear. It's pathetic and boring. I want to be brave and open to trying new things and excited (not afraid) at the possibility of changing things up. Yes, I still desire stability and want to use wisdom, but I don't want to use those things as an excuse for never changing or for my anxiety when things do change (which they inevitably will, because that's life).<br />
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This is something that's been on my mind for a while, and then with all the "new year - new you" stories and quotes and resolutions that have been floating around the Internet this month, there was no shortage of inspiration. There were two quotes in particular that really <strike>resonated with</strike> screamed in neon flashing lights at me to do something about my change-related anxiety.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;"><b>"Replace fear of the unknown with curiosity."</b></span></i></div>
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This is part of the reason <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2015/01/why-i-got-pixied.html" target="_blank">I got a pixie cut</a>. I'd always wanted to try the style, but been too afraid. So I decided to be <i>curious</i> if I'd like the cut, rather than <i>afraid</i> I wouldn't. That curiosity grew to excitement and then I just had to go for it. And I'm glad I did. (Though there was a definite moment of heart palpitations when my long ponytail got chopped off and there was really no turning back.)<br />
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The second quote I stumbled upon was from author J.K. Rowling:<br />
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<b><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;"><i>"It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default."</i></span></b></div>
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Reading this was like a splash of cold water that jarred awake my mildly catatonic, inner self. I just remember reading it and thinking, "Good grief - that is me! I'm failing by default because I'm so afraid of living."<br />
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The timing of this revelation was fortunate as Devin has been longing to quit his part-time job at FedEx to pursue more freelance design work. Normally, I would be having HUGE anxiety about this. But once all angles had been reasonably discussed and a decision needed to be made, I felt calm about trying to make this dream of his a reality. The fears of failure and not making enough money and all those other things I could panic about are still hanging around somewhere (which I think is natural). They are just in the back of my mind as possibilities, not at the forefront screeching at me to <i><b>stop everything - this is the worst idea EVER</b></i>. And while I can't promise I won't have my freak out moments, I do feel ready to celebrate with my husband the end of a physically demanding job and cheer on his pursuit of the work he's passionate about. Let me tell you - it feels SO much better than the anxiety.<br />
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<b>So, deep breath and here we go!</b> I raise my coffee mug to possibility, curiosity, bravery, and taking chances. I'm ready to see where this may lead... <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>artwork by Jennifer Hanson </i></span></div>
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Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-41851651013356849882015-01-12T08:00:00.000-07:002015-01-12T10:29:30.874-07:00Why I Got PixiedIt would seem that having children triggers an impulse in me to make drastic changes to my appearance. <br>
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After I had the twins, I went out and got my nose pierced. Which seemed rather daring for my conservative, Southern Baptist roots. Plus, I got it done at a tattoo parlor by a guy named Rebellious Tony, so I was really living on the wild side.<br>
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Last week, I chopped off all my hair. Which I can only assume had something to do with the fact that I recently <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/12/maveriks-birth-story-part-1.html" target="_blank">gave birth to child</a>. This particular child likes to pull my hair, which may have also had something to do with it.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyrVq9FuLURX2dgF5-GB2J7pNv1n3zvAYYFou11FJ1E9cwyP23SMOPCN1qMBD1xZRbrSCt6f4Mav_y0yy6L72chNdi7arluGn8eSmSIYqj_takesomxrvg2MqOTAO2Quk4uWswuFrhZus/s1600/10906375_601956703300_3915362995890069740_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyrVq9FuLURX2dgF5-GB2J7pNv1n3zvAYYFou11FJ1E9cwyP23SMOPCN1qMBD1xZRbrSCt6f4Mav_y0yy6L72chNdi7arluGn8eSmSIYqj_takesomxrvg2MqOTAO2Quk4uWswuFrhZus/s1600/10906375_601956703300_3915362995890069740_n.jpg" height="400" width="400"></a></div>
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There is something about a women chopping off her hair that gets noticed (positively and negatively). In both adaptations of the movie <i>Sabrina</i> (1954 with Audrey Hepburn and 1995 with Julia Ormond), the leading lady goes from frumpy, lonely recluse to confident, sought-after love interest (with a killer sense of style) after she crops her tresses short. </div>
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<b>Okay fine, she also spent a bunch of months in Paris finding herself, but WHATEVER. </b><br>
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Obviously that's Hollywood's version, but personally, I have noticed a confidence boost since I cut my hair short. It helps that my husband <i>loves</i> my new do. Another bonus is that the cut is so fast and simple to style that I always feel pulled together. And since it could be considered rather "boyish" for a women to have short hair, I find myself putting a little more thought into my clothes, accessories, and make-up, which always makes me feel less like a frazzled mom.<br>
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Still, the over-achieving pleaser that I am (thanks a lot birth order) feels like I need to give an explanation as to why I got rid of my long locks. Weird assumptions are made when a women cuts her hair short. Something inside of me is yelling, "People are going to think you're having an emotional crisis! Or you've given up on looking pretty! Or you're questioning your sexual orientation! Or you're going to turn into a punk rocker! You have to explain yourself to The People!!"<br>
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New Hair Me is like: "<i>(Shrug)</i> Whatever man, I look great and I'd toss my hair at you if I had any, but I don't need that long-locks nonsense anymore."<br>
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Still Stunned I Actually Went Through With It Me is like: "Maybe you need to explain to yourself (and The People) why you did this so when you look in the mirror next week and dissolve into a puddle of tears, you can remind yourself of your reasoning."<br>
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<b>So here it is folks: 6 Reasons I Got Pixied:</b><br>
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<b>#1. </b>I've wanted to have a pixie cut since high school, and I've been too afraid to try. I decided recently that I need to show more bravery in my life, so this was a good place to start.<br>
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<b>#2.</b> Another something I've wanted to do since high school was donate my hair. My little sisters also wanted to make a donation, and since all three of us had crazy long hair, the timing seemed right. Plus, it made a great excuse for some fun, sissy memory-making!<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHi5oPzCWhy2aa1WLOqUotOiwkplIy9VKI97hTluEfV8NhuCCiXdWYLZTjIJCIchk3CjvEOZ2BOFjdbqNfc9QrCYR03D5VprOlbrjG9-6_Q1D5VAQRBQDmM4lo8vjMdC0Tc373tQCNPU4/s1600/10931431_601953764190_3277340812687827901_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHi5oPzCWhy2aa1WLOqUotOiwkplIy9VKI97hTluEfV8NhuCCiXdWYLZTjIJCIchk3CjvEOZ2BOFjdbqNfc9QrCYR03D5VprOlbrjG9-6_Q1D5VAQRBQDmM4lo8vjMdC0Tc373tQCNPU4/s1600/10931431_601953764190_3277340812687827901_n.jpg" height="400" width="400"></a></div>
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<i style="font-size: 13px;">(We donated to Beautiful Lengths, which provides free wigs to women fighting cancer)</i></div>
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<b>#3. </b>When I hesitantly mentioned to The Hubs that I wanted to donate ten inches of my hair, his response was, "Cool! But, if you're going to cut off that much, do something <i>fun</i>. Don't just come back with a bob." I figured I'd better jump on that ship while it was sailin'. (Also, my stylist friend said I could pull off a pixie and that she'd cut it for me, so that sealed the deal.)<br>
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<b>#4.</b> I've got three tiny kids, man. 'Nuff said. I need something fast and easy that still makes me feel pretty. (Because I also live in a house with <i>all boys</i> and I need to have some pretty in my life amongst the dirt and farts and booger-eating.)<br>
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<i>(The Hubs does not eat his boogers... just to be clear... that disgusting habit belongs to my three-year-olds.) </i><br>
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<b>#5.</b> Maybe I just I needed a Big Change that I was in control of. After the rapid-fire of big life changes that I've experienced in the last couple of years (job changes, new baby, new house, lots of moving), I just needed the next drastic alteration to my life to be one that <i>I</i> chose for myself.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmgUNughrIhqBfxZSaA6rEKBAeX_wf2YFAzGNtVRPamiSvSKbSUs5dI1p-uCw-vN9_wjJ7Yx2XYbWVkK19izNd8VT2JClcBiCTi8PogwTMXUY7lHGN6aXb5mUBcLB0lnl4vi1AIlozWg/s1600/4thday.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br></a><b>#6.</b> I was just plain ready for something different. I actually really <i>liked</i> my long hair (except when I didn't... which was more often than I did). But I was tired of having to put a lot of effort into it to make it look nice and I was sick of the greasy mom ponytail (or even <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/forth-day-hair-confession.html" target="_blank">my fourth-day, greasy bun</a>). I was tired of greeting my husband at the end of the day looking like a mess, or trying to find the time to <i>not</i> look like a mess before he got home. I was tired of The Same. <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmgUNughrIhqBfxZSaA6rEKBAeX_wf2YFAzGNtVRPamiSvSKbSUs5dI1p-uCw-vN9_wjJ7Yx2XYbWVkK19izNd8VT2JClcBiCTi8PogwTMXUY7lHGN6aXb5mUBcLB0lnl4vi1AIlozWg/s1600/4thday.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmgUNughrIhqBfxZSaA6rEKBAeX_wf2YFAzGNtVRPamiSvSKbSUs5dI1p-uCw-vN9_wjJ7Yx2XYbWVkK19izNd8VT2JClcBiCTi8PogwTMXUY7lHGN6aXb5mUBcLB0lnl4vi1AIlozWg/s1600/4thday.tiff" height="397" width="400"></a></div>
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<i>(This is what fourth-day hair looks like now, and I'm lovin' it.)</i></div>
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<b>What about <i>you</i>? </b>Do you need to be braver, or get rid of some of The Same in your life? If you could make one big change, what would it be? What is keeping you from going through with it?<br>
<br>Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-51466538714700092482014-12-22T07:15:00.002-07:002014-12-22T08:24:51.932-07:00The Cheermeister Who Stole ChristmasJust before Thanksgiving, something in my brain snapped and I was <i>determined</i> to make this the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER. I don't know what exactly cued this Christmas Crazy in me. It could have been the fact that it's been two years since we've been able to bring out our Christmas decorations (we've been moving the last two Christmas seasons), or that it was Maverik's first Christmas, or our first Christmas in our first home, or that the twins' are old enough now to participate in the merriment. Whatever it was, THIS YEAR (I decided), would be perfect and darling and permanently determine all of our family Christmas traditions for the rest of eternity. There would be crafts! And baked goods! And Christmas-themed activities! Santa pictures! Christmas lights! Christmas movies! Advent Calendars! Homemade hot chocolate!<br />
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I got the idea (albeit a less psychotic version) from a blog post my friend Jo wrote called <a href="http://anaveragejo.com/2014/11/21/finding-christmas/" target="_blank">Finding Christmas</a>. Her plan was to avoid some of the material focus of Christmas and the ensuing let-down after all the presents were opened, by planning something fun and Christmasy for every day in December leading up to Christmas (an advent of sorts). This way, her family could enjoy Christmas longer, without it being all about the gifts. I loved this. We've always tried to keep the material side of Christmas to a minimum, but I loved Jo's idea of filling the space leftover from removing consumerism with fun memories and loving actions. Somehow though, I hijacked Jo's perfectly charming idea and went way, way overboard.<br />
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<b>My downfall was two-fold. </b><br />
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<b>1)</b> I am an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Which means I over-plan, over-schedule, and over-commit, completely forgetting that activity and being with people sometimes just plain wears me out and I need some secluded time alone (preferable with a good book) to recharge. Really, an uninterrupted potty break would suffice some days. (What can I say? I have two toddlers and going to the bathroom uninterrupted now constitutes as leisure time.)<br />
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<b>2) </b>Then, when the wiped-out-from-mothering and/or over-scheduling side of me would become a bit lackadaisical about my list of daily Christmas activities, the over-achieving, perfectionist side of me would start to twitch. Like a Yuletide dictator, I would force myself to play catch up and shove three-to-four activities into one afternoon. As you might imagine, this did not usher in the holiday cheer.<br />
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While operating under the duress of these personality "quirks", I tried to figure out what our family's Christmas traditions should be. Clearly this meant I needed to try and do <i>every single blessed one </i>of them. All in the same year. With twin toddlers, a five-month-old, and a new (but old and in need of some love) house. <br /><br />Good plan, Jen.<br />
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There were some really good memories made in the process (despite my tomfoolery). And there were other days that my cheermeister attempts resulted in tantrums and timeouts for the twins and a new set of frown lines for me. I'd start out the day with the cheery aspirations of Mrs. Claus and finish the flurry of festivities feeling like my heart was two sizes too small.<br />
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Like when I wanted to bake sugar cookies with the twins. I pictured a Norman Rockwell-eque scene where we would create memories and bond through an over indulgence of Christmas music and cookie dough.<br />
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<b>It started out like this:</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJg4dzwsDiNcCyuaDA7dd5wuuOUQuWk0cwddD1akt6TGHrf0R5xgiftdUWA6wB2P147-QCGG7M7ClZ2_M7t0almGeBYSej7-wLpCznFcKpWR7PhNr8_9fDTMFBrDF9lb-nm8SthIaR6fM/s1600/10850098_599535435540_1264357250867305044_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJg4dzwsDiNcCyuaDA7dd5wuuOUQuWk0cwddD1akt6TGHrf0R5xgiftdUWA6wB2P147-QCGG7M7ClZ2_M7t0almGeBYSej7-wLpCznFcKpWR7PhNr8_9fDTMFBrDF9lb-nm8SthIaR6fM/s1600/10850098_599535435540_1264357250867305044_n.jpg" height="640" width="577" /></a></div>
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<i>(because obviously one needs protective goggles when baking)</i></div>
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This adorable moment lasted all of two-and-one-forth minutes. Turns out that expectations minus reality, times three-year-old twins, divided by one unusually fussy baby, equals a stressed out Mama who just about HAD IT with this "best Christmas ever" nonsense. I finally sent the twins outside to run off some energy and finished the darn cookies by myself.<br />
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As I mentioned, not all my attempts have been fraught with stress. One of the traditions that everyone actually enjoyed was making Christmas gifts for the homeless. This is something I did once when I was single, but it was even more fun as a family. It created great opportunities to talk with the twins about giving, abundance, and loving others as we made cards and filled gift bags with goodies. THIS was the kind of Christmas magic I had pictured.<br />
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It should come as no surprise that we felt the heart of the season most when our attitude turned towards serving others. It also helped that I didn't try to do the shopping, card making, packing, and delivering of the bags all in one day. The project lasted almost two weeks, which ended up giving us extra opportunities for teachable moments with the twins.<br />
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<b>Okay fine.</b> I also felt the magic whenever we went to view Christmas lights. And anytime I heard Michael Bublé sing <i>Jingle Bells</i>. Because honestly, <i>how could you not?</i><br />
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Now, I've got less than seventy-two hours until Christmas Day. Instead of trying to figure out which holiday traditions I'll squeeze into the last glimmers of the Christmas season, I think I'll just sit back and enjoy the sparkle of Christmas lights reflected in my sons' eyes. I'll sing along to the carols on the radio and cuddle up on the couch when one of the twins ask me for the fifteenth bazillion time to read <i>How the Grinch Stole Christmas</i>. I'll remember that this is meant to be a season of joy and giving and love and <i>grace</i> (extra thankful for that last one this year). And those things are hard to find amidst the over-scheduled hustle bustle of stress and busyness.<br />
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I still want to create fun traditions and memories for our little family (and with our extended family), but maybe not <i>quite</i> so many of them all at the same time. Here's hoping that I can remember all of this <i>next</i> year. ;-)<br />
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<i>*If you're curious what kinds of goodies our Christmas gift bags included: socks, water bottles, pretzels, mixed nuts, dried fruit, granola bars, candy canes, and a hand-made card. </i>Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-19957051762671124562014-12-17T12:00:00.000-07:002014-12-17T13:54:33.067-07:00Maverik's Birth Story {Part Two} Okay let's see, where were we? Oh, yes - in full-blown labor and on the way to the hospital.... (<a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/12/maveriks-birth-story-part-1.html" target="_blank">find part one here</a>)<br />
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We made it to the hospital at <b>11:40pm</b>, and started attempting to fill out aaaaaaaaallll the required paper work. By this point, I could barely talk between contractions, let alone write anything, so the registration staff moved me straight to triage. Still trying to complete paperwork (Devin was filling it in now), while at the same time getting hooked up for the standard twenty minute monitoring of the baby's heartbeat, our midwife on call, Laura, arrived. She checked my progress and I was 100% effaced and 9 cm dilated.<br />
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"Well," I laughed/gasped between contractions, "guess it's a good thing we came when we did."<br />
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The midwife told the triage team to grab my still-unfinished paperwork and move me to delivery. At some point I mentioned wanting to use the labor tub (since it had helped so much with my pain during the twins' birth). Laura assured me that the likelihood of the tub getting set up before I delivered was slim-to-none.<br />
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We got to the delivery room, but protocol must be followed - I still had paperwork and a twenty-minute monitoring to finish. The nurses filled out the paperwork, for which Devin gave them the answers. When necessary, I nodded or grunted to assert that the information being scribbled onto my registration forms was correct. The monitoring belt was on me, but I didn't really care and still moved around how I needed to, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning into Devin with my arms around his neck. After <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2011/11/weston-and-isaacs-birth-story-part-1.html" target="_blank">my birth experience with the twins</a>, I was confident and ready to stand up for myself and what I needed to do to get this baby out. Screw the paperwork and monitor. (Really though - thanks to the nurses for filling it out and to Laura for putting the pressure on them to finish up the monitoring as fast a possible.)<br />
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Once the busy work was done, it was time to get down to the real business at hand. I needed to use the bathroom, and while there, felt the urge to push. I remember thinking, "Dang it, I don't want to have this kid over a toilet." I made it back to the bed however, and after trying a couple different positions, found that it was most comfortable and productive to be on my hands and knees (with the back of the bed tilted up). This way, I could rest on the pile of pillows on the bed in-between contractions, and push myself up with my arms and bear down when it was time to push.<br />
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I was very vocal and remember having this half out-loud mental arguments with myself.<br />
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Out-loud voice: "I'm too tired. I can't do this."<br />
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<b>Inside-my-head voice:</b> <i>Oh stop it. This is happening and you </i><b style="font-style: italic;">are</b><i> going to do it. You've done it before with <b>twins</b>, you can do it again with <b>one</b>. </i><br />
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Out-loud voice: "I can't. I can't do it."<br />
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<b>Inside-my-head voice: </b><i>Oh! This is good. You really don't think you can do it, that means you're going through Transition. That means you're almost done!</i><br />
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Out-loud voice: "Ow. Ow. Ow. Arg! This hurts."<br />
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<b>Inside-my-head voice:</b> <i>Hey! That's good. It's the "ring of fire" - push through it, it means he's crowning!</i><br />
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I know Devin was there whispering encouragement to me and rubbing my back, and Laura was quietly offering direction to myself and the nursing team, but what I really remember vividly was me mentally reprimanding and prodding myself on. It was kind of a cool experience being confident and aware enough to know exactly what I needed to do. It made the pushing phase so much faster and productive. I could tell exactly when the baby's head was crowning, how much harder I needed to push to get his head delivered, and when I needed to push out his shoulders. (Which was the <i>complete</i> opposite of the twins' birth. I was so stressed and distracted then by all that was going on, I had to have the midwife tell me when I was contracting so I could push.)<br />
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At <b>1:08am</b>, just under one hour and twenty minutes after walking though the doors of the hospital, Maverik James slid out and landed on the bed between my knees. Laura told me, "Look down - there's your baby!" I sat back, saw my little boy, and just started laughing with joy. "He's so cute!" I said as I scooped up his warm, slick body and soaked up the sight of him. He was such a beautiful newborn, I could hardly believe it.<br />
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After a moment, I shifted around in bed and held my new little guy skin to skin. He was so warm and soft and it felt so sweet to have him lying on my chest. The nursing staff and Laura were especially wonderful during this time. They kept the lights low, talked in whispers, and gave us a full hour of peace to just enjoy the newest member of our little family. There was very little medical interference during this time. At some point, I delivered the afterbirth and Devin cut Maverik's cord, but otherwise, I just got to hold and snuggle my boy while Devin sat with us in the bed. It was such a sweet, calming time.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Once we'd had our time together, Maverik was weighed and measured: 8 pounds, 1 ounce and 20.5 inches. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZdslr2vp6qWaoDk7O8DEH6jF5VeIOPOYEc3l8huF_2by3c69pMRGayWDVPbA1iZrsii34JgOhcWALieQA67Bml-4rT7F661ZLr3FY7A9FQ8SP3Sr_hYVhZkLpk9bw_eyGTZCTPL8ZL2A/s1600/10488105_577557504490_3830764822724303696_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZdslr2vp6qWaoDk7O8DEH6jF5VeIOPOYEc3l8huF_2by3c69pMRGayWDVPbA1iZrsii34JgOhcWALieQA67Bml-4rT7F661ZLr3FY7A9FQ8SP3Sr_hYVhZkLpk9bw_eyGTZCTPL8ZL2A/s1600/10488105_577557504490_3830764822724303696_n.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>I was so pleased with my birth experience with Maverik. Supportive staff, a lovely midwife, no meds, no IV, freedom to move around how I needed, and the knowledge and confidence to have a smooth labor which I felt in control of. I never once felt panicked (which was a big deal for me after my experience with the twins' birth). It was hard and painful and exhausting, but also wonderful and empowering. Plus, I got an adorable kid out of the deal (who six months later is proving to be the most mellow, sweet, content baby I've ever known).<br />
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And yes, the twins heartily approved of their new baby brother.<br />
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Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-77524743672789057812014-12-16T11:24:00.004-07:002014-12-16T11:24:37.360-07:00Maverik's' Birth Story {Part 1}<div style="text-align: center;">
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Since this little guy...</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">... is now this little guy...</span></div>
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...I figured it was high time I write down his birth story before my mommy-brain fizzles it out of oblivion. I had a few people ask me to post the story on the blog - so here we go!<br />
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This summer, after <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/03/when-god-doesnt-pick-you.html" target="_blank">moving back from Colorado</a>, we were finally at a point where we could move out of my <i>(ever so gracious)</i> in-law's house and buy our own place (yay for steady income!!) I was very pregnant when we started house-hunting, which definitely put us in a time-crunch. Fortunately, we had an awesome realtor (Kirk Erickson) who was so incredibly helpful and pretty much at our beck-and-call. We knew next-to-nothing about buying a house and he made the stressful process of finding and buying a home quite fun. (Seriously, look him up if you're need to buy/sell a house anywhere in Phoenix. He's the best. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/baconrealtor" target="_blank">#BaconRealtor</a>)<br />
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<i>Fun Fact: Kirk and his wife bought their first house when she was heavy with child, so I think he was extra sympathetic to our delicate deadline. When I say "heavy with child", I literally mean her water broke during their final walk through. I doubt Kirk wanted to have a repeat of that scenario). </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My desperate plea for help via facebook</td></tr>
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The week before my due date, we did our final walk through (waddle through for me), signed a mountain of paper work, and got the keys to our house. Keys in hand, we made a mad dash to move the bulk of our belongings into our new place before our littlest man made his big debut. We had some <i>amazing</i> people come to our aid last minute and get the job done. <br />
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During our long day of moving, I tried as best I could to stay off my feet, but I failed pretty miserably at that attempt. I didn't lift any boxes, but I was constantly directing where things went, driving around town buying last-minute necessities (like toilet paper and hand soap... and Craigs List finds...), and bringing pizzas, root beer floats, and donuts to our wonderful moving crew (we treat you right when you drop everything on a Saturday to help us move). Throughout the day, I was having some mild Braxton Hicks contractions, but I'd sit down momentarily, drink some water, and they would stop.<br />
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Around 5:00pm, we were done moving our stuff into the house and I stopped by Subway to get some sandwiches for the family members who were convening back at my in-law's house for dinner and a swim. The Braxton Hicks were coming regularly now (about ten minutes apart), but I chose to ignore them, because dang gone it, I had things to do and family to hang out with! Plus, I was alone with my little sister and didn't want to alarm her precious twelve-year-old self. I just needed some down time with food and water and then the contractions would stop. Yeah... that's it.<br />
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<i>Well</i>... three hours, lots of food, water, and a trying-to-relax swim later, the contractions were still coming and getting stronger. <br /><br />Planting myself firmly in denial, I told Devin that I needed to go to bed so that I didn't go into labor while all the family was there. We played the "so tired from the move" card and went to bed. While everyone else hung out down stairs at my in-laws, I lay upstairs trying to convince myself that if I could just go to sleep, the labor would stop. "I am too tried to be in labor," I told Devin matter-of-factly. "This is <i>not</i> happening tonight!" <br />
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I tried to sleep, Devin tried to help me relax, but nothing doing. Around 9:30pm (the family had left by now and my in-laws were in bed), I tearfully admitted that this <i>was</i> happening tonight and I suppose we'd better finish packing our hospital bags. Between increasingly intense contractions, I gathered my things, and hobbled my way downstairs (with Devin's help). We called the midwife to see how soon we should get ourselves to the hospital. The conversation went something like this:<br />
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Midwife: How far apart are her contractions?<br />
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Devin: About four minutes.<br />
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Midwife: And this is her second pregnancy?<br />
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Devin: Yes.<br />
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Midwife: Is she in a lot of pain?<br />
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Devin: Well... she's sitting on the kitchen floor moaning right now, so... yes.<br />
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Midwife: Okay... how far are you from the hospital?<br />
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Devin: About twenty minutes.<br />
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Midwife. Um. Yeah - you need to get in the car <i>right now</i>. I'll meet you there.<br />
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It took us an additional twenty minutes to get the car loaded, wake up my mother-in-law and put her in charge of the twins, and get my definitely-in-labor self settled in the car. It takes a while to walk to a car when you're having contractions every two minutes and there is a small person trying to exit your body.<br />
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That drive to the hospital was a little suspenseful. Thankfully, there was no traffic, but my contractions were close and intense, and I wasn't entirely confident that I wouldn't be having this child in on the side of the highway. <br />
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<i><b>Whelp! </b>That seems like a good place to take a break from our story. More tomorrow!</i><br />
<i>(I know - it's horrible of me to leave you hanging. But it would be more horrible of me to make you read 1900+ words about my birth experience all in one day. <b>Spoiler Alert:</b> I don't have the baby on the side of the highway... disappointing, I know. Sorry.)</i>Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-50482343067435518502014-11-21T14:51:00.000-07:002015-01-12T08:23:47.601-07:00Fourth Day Hair {A Confession}<b>CONFESSION: I play with the limits of what is socially acceptable in two areas in particular. </b><br />
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<b>1)</b> By having a self-deprecating and socially awkward set of over-sharing conversational skills. Especially when in social setting that I find uncomfortable. For example, I met a friend's new boyfriend recently and instead of chatting with him like a normal person, my get-to-know-you questions were as follows:<br />
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<i>"How many little tax-returns do you plan on having?"</i> (This was my opener folks, the first thing I said to the poor guy following a brief introduction). I was referring to children. Yes, I asked an almost-stranger who had only been dating my friend for mere weeks how many children he wanted... and I phrased it in the most awkward way possible.<br />
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My second question arrived after we finished a game of <i>Wits and Wagers</i>. "<i>So, do you actually enjoy playing games or are you just trying to fit in and make us all like you?"</i> <b>(What is wrong with meeeeee????) </b>Points for him though, because he laughed and admitted to genuinely being a board game nerd. His favorite being <i>Clue</i>.<br />
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Lastly, I wanted to know if he enjoyed reading (because he's dating my English teacher friend). Instead of saying something normal like, oh I don't know, "Do you enjoy reading?" I asked him, "<i>Do you watch the movie first or read the book?</i>" He met me with a blank stare. Because I'm obviously an idiot with next-to-no grace in certain social situations. Also, I phrase questions really oddly.<br />
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<b>2)</b> The second social boundary is one that many moms of little ones can probably relate to. It is this: I wash my hair as seldom as possible (without resulting in dreadlocks). I can go a good four days without washing my hair if I rotate my hairstyles just so (curly, wavy, ponytail, bun). My lack of cleanliness is one of those things that I think <i>should</i> probably bother me, but it totally doesn't. And the likelihood of me changing my hair washing habits are getting slimmer, because the last three times I've worn my "fourth-day bun" I've gotten compliments on how pretty my hairstyle was. Um, okay. <br />
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My two habits came together on Sunday during the "meeting and greeting" part of our church service (an often awkward social time that brings out the weird in me). A new friend leaned across her husband to say good morning and to compliment me on my "cute hair". Instead of responding with a simple, "Thank you," I felt the need to over-share, with a side of self-criticism, and said instead, "<i>Oh thanks - I haven't showered in four days.</i>" At which her husband's face went awash of all color and he literally covered his ears. Fortunately, I was saved from my social blunder by the opening chords of the praise music.<br />
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Now I'm wondering, not why I say so many awkward things (ain't nobody got time for that rabbit hole), but when is it that we lost the social skill of graciously accepting a compliment? Why others might not do it as strangely, I think most of us, especially women, have adopted the habit of returning a compliment with some sort of self-deprecating remark. Why is that? Is it because we're crazy insecure and can't mentally accept that someone thinks better of us than we do of ourselves? Or is it a fear of sounding prideful by giving a "Thank you," as a return to a compliment? I know both have been true in my case. I never realized until just now how rude (or awkward) it can be to shoot down someone's compliment with a self-deprecating rebuttal.<br />
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Also on my mind: I hope I didn't make my friend's new boyfriend feel unwelcome... oops.<br />
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Oh, and in case you're wondering, and in honor of over-sharing, below is a picture of me with my fourth-day bun. Looks lovely until you know the greasy truth behind it, huh? ;-)<br />
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Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-38440399119307612952014-03-20T09:43:00.000-07:002014-03-20T09:43:35.137-07:00When God Doesn't Pick You<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I knew moving to Colorado was the <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-one.html" target="_blank">resulting answer to our prayers</a>, I still felt a bit miffed that (from my perspective) God had chosen to give my husband the desires of his heart, rather than giving me the desires of mine. I acknowledged that because our desires were different, God couldn't very well give us <i>both</i> what we wanted (or so I thought at the time), but I still didn't like the outcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I stewed about God "choosing" Devin over me, a poisonous shift happened in my mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I allowed my wants (or <i>"desires"</i> if I'm trying to sound spiritual and not spoiled rotten) to morph into a need - and entitlement settled it's fat rump smack dab in the center of my heart. My prayers were no longer a petition of, "God, could you please maybe give me the desires of my heart?" but rather, "God, how could you be so cruel and withhold something I <i>need</i>?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wasn't just "a bit miffed" about the move anymore, I was angry with God and jealous of my husband. God had uprooted our life to give Devin want he wanted, and had ignored my needs. (Naturally, I had only converted <i>my</i> wants into needs, while Devin's wants conveniently remained petty wants.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even when I started to enjoy my new life in Colorado, this attitude shadowed my walk with God. And it got darker the more I held on to it - becoming a fearful, sinister accusation of, <i>"God chose Devin over you. You don't matter enough to Him."</i> It was a horrible place to be and caused me to keep God at arms length. Even when He was the only One I felt I could share my emotions with, my prayers were full of confusion, distrust, and often bitterness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So when Devin announced at the end of last year that he wanted to move back to Arizona (and was actually excited about the idea), I was skeptical. Part of my suspicion in the ernest of his declaration was due to the fact that this man whom I knew and loved had told me from our earliest acquaintance that he absolutely never wanted to live in Arizona. But much of my avoidance in even discussing the topic stemmed from the fact that I didn't trust God. Since I had convinced myself that God didn't care about my needs, the prospect of moving back to Arizona didn't line up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm starting to see now that while it appeared God was giving Devin's desires priority over mine, God was actually allowing </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">both</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of our desires to be met. When the possibility of moving to Colorado was first seriously discussed, we prayed God would align our hearts on where we should live. Our desires were at odds, our reasons for staying-or-going weren't </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">compatible</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, and we knew God was going to have to change our hearts so we could start guiding our family in some kind of direction. (It's difficult to settle on a job, or buy a house, or invest in community or ministry, when </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"but what if we move?"</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is constantly on the table.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This impasse would have likely continued to debilitate us had God not clearly told us <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-one.html" target="_blank">to go to Colorado</a> (or rather told me specifically, "Go with your husband"). Through our move Devin was finally able to experience the city he always dreamed of living in (and we ending up having a lot of fun discovering said city). We were provided many opportunities for growth personally, professionally, and in our marriage and family life. And at the end of it all, God chose <i>both</i> of our desires. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I never expected that this was the round-about path we'd have to take to align our hearts in this area. And I assumed it would be my heart that would need to be changed in regards to where we'd live. Ironically, by the time Devin made his declaration, I felt like my heart <i>was</i> starting to change and that I could actually like living in Colorado permanently. Perhaps this is why <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2014/02/when-change-feels-overwhelming.html" target="_blank">I felt so confused</a> when we moved back home (and I still do at times when my heart misses our friends and our life in Colorado).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know this isn't how God always works. There are a lot of times when a want-turned-need isn't what is best for us. Or when it feels like God is ignoring a need when really, He can just see a bigger picture. Sometimes, this life is unjust and though God walks beside us, we still get caught the the crossfire of this messed up world. And sometimes, our desires don't get met because they are not aligned with what God desires for us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't love moving three times in one year. I hated the homesickness. It would have been much easier had God changed Devin's heart <i>before</i> we moved from Arizona to Colorado and back again, or if had He made me really excited to move to Colorado in the first place. But He saw a bigger picture - ways my heart also needed to be changed (that wouldn't have happened had we stayed in Arizona), ways we needed to grow as a married couple and as a family unit, and ways we needed to experience community at a level we never did during our years in Arizona.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm learning so much through this process and can see now that God was never choosing Devin over me, or vice-versa. He was moving us both through the challenges, joys, and pains we needed at the time. It just looked different for each of us. And frankly, I listened to lies when I thought God didn't care. When I look back at the intricacies He wove through this last year, I would be blind and stupidly selfish not to gratefully acknowledge that He did in fact care, and had a purpose all along. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Honestly, there are still residual doubts and struggles I'm working through as a result of my "God doesn't care" mentally, <i>but</i> I can at least see now that there was a purpose in all that happened through this move (some of which is still to be discovered). And this assures me that God does in fact care. I matter enough to Him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are feeling like God hasn't "picked" you - please, please don't let bitterness and anger set in. He's got something in the works for all who love Him and it will be for a better purpose than the one you can see now, because it will be for His purpose. <i>"And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" </i>(Romans 8:28). It might be painful and take a really long time, but if you listen to the lie that God doesn't care about you, the journey will be horribly lonely and so much harder.</span>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-X5iUBM2gKPk%2FUyoLcClqRfI%2FAAAAAAAABZA%2F7dOUMpK4g6c%2Fs1600%2F1511699_567628502290_2012980681_n.jpeg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4S2EZtt9_VDee6xHkrSkFxEA7iGhq0OLNmkzK5gSKjytei8O-M6XVuDupYYAk5QxCTuHV8D-KHnxgsVPhYnol_Gwpw4t-z21QjWhJdbjtuT20GUtrOuQHhIzV4hyphenhyphensQ0L2gjPxhEuiK8/s1600/1511699_567628502290_2012980681_n.jpeg" -->Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-68882494954690595842014-02-19T15:12:00.002-07:002014-02-19T18:06:09.052-07:00Gender Reveal Party: He or She?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mMB7uB22c8IhJviD7RZANY0mOMGZbY4dYwaeLk9n21VjkxRIUjHUYQnW4curkx7aWupp76pD9o5X4uXh8yYPlMcbx37Sedkz4h2lDDVJRx-bGaI7y-bKSRqCsEVeGbXyDKiWvCx_2Pw/s1600/gender_reveal_party_14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal invite" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mMB7uB22c8IhJviD7RZANY0mOMGZbY4dYwaeLk9n21VjkxRIUjHUYQnW4curkx7aWupp76pD9o5X4uXh8yYPlMcbx37Sedkz4h2lDDVJRx-bGaI7y-bKSRqCsEVeGbXyDKiWvCx_2Pw/s1600/gender_reveal_party_14.jpg" height="400" title="" width="165" /></a><b><i>"I'm so glad you're having another baby - you throw such fun parties!"</i></b> I won't disclose <i>which</i> family member said this (with a wink and a smile of course), but truth be told - I share the same sentiment. I love themed parties and the creativity that goes into planning them (Pinterest only makes my "love" borderline obsessive... fortunately, I have strict and realistic budgets to stick to when party planning).<br />
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We had a great time three years ago with the <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2011/05/twin-gender-reveal-party.html" target="_blank">gender reveal party for our twins</a>, and baby number three wasn't about to miss out on an equally fun party for his-or-her gender reveal! (Plus, I desperately needed a creative outlet after the stress of our move, so I had another good excuse beyond "fair" parenting - which I'm not necessarily a proponent of all the time. Sorry kids. You'll might have fun parties, but otherwise: learn early that life isn't fair.)<br />
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Okay, so. The party. YAY! I designed invites, banners, signage, photo props and all kinds of adorable stuff that I could go on and on about, but instead, I'll just show you the final results.<br />
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<b>First Off: Games and Activities.</b> Guests dressed in pink or blue to make their predictions on the gender. We also had a tally board for guests to place their votes. As you can see below, the votes were pretty lopsided. When you already have two boys, people tend to assume that <i>surely</i> your body will magically produce a female child in order to maintain a balanced world populous.<br />
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We also had fill-in-the-blank notecards that allowed guests to write some "Wishes for Baby." Some of the answers were really amusing. Example: My ten-year-old sister, Julia, completed the forth question thus: "I hope you aren't afraid of: <u>me</u>." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pSOhCXOYnw0-RD-x1IDIwRavFb3_DmY6IL34hiRUuB7MynwLzbqe6swn1ZmpD1BhIAFQLIrdLDestau-E5qRkeyfBYuZ9MPpwIclPJpKWgpiKjIu7xKl6DEcjZAaKthpfOl0_FjBcyk/s1600/gender_reveal_party_06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pSOhCXOYnw0-RD-x1IDIwRavFb3_DmY6IL34hiRUuB7MynwLzbqe6swn1ZmpD1BhIAFQLIrdLDestau-E5qRkeyfBYuZ9MPpwIclPJpKWgpiKjIu7xKl6DEcjZAaKthpfOl0_FjBcyk/s1600/gender_reveal_party_06.jpg" height="480" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoknRDTEBSAkfC2FE-ePz1e0sRut4rxFOx5dCGVq4Novt2Yox2_xx3_g4iKkLpwKQzlpR6EWI9HlIff0VWl5GCUAMP7Tzw0VR5uejAqi2XY9__FMHJfhwDY0o0xV4nB8awcCWmHa9nmk/s1600/gender_reveal_party_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoknRDTEBSAkfC2FE-ePz1e0sRut4rxFOx5dCGVq4Novt2Yox2_xx3_g4iKkLpwKQzlpR6EWI9HlIff0VWl5GCUAMP7Tzw0VR5uejAqi2XY9__FMHJfhwDY0o0xV4nB8awcCWmHa9nmk/s1600/gender_reveal_party_12.jpg" height="200" title="" width="200" /></a>For a party game, we played a rather competitive round of "Sugar Baby Jeopardy". The answer to every question was the name of a candy and the top teams got to compete in a Final Jeopardy round to determine who would have the honor of revealing the baby's gender. It was intense. We have some serious game-players in our family, let me tell you. The questions were hilarious (I wish I could take credit for writing them). Such treasures as, <i>"Q: The Conception. A: What is a 'Skor' bar?"</i> And, <i>"Q: Difficulty lactating. A: What are 'Milk Duds?'"</i></div>
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In addition to wearing our "team" colors, I made pink and blue photo props for team pictures. Mustaches, lips, bows, and bow ties - I don't care if it is a trend, I love the photo prop movement!<br />
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<b>Next Up: The Food </b>(possibly my favorite part of any party... we'll just blame it on the pregnancy. Yeah, that's it.)<br />
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My inspiration for the party food was that old poem about What Little Boys/Girls are made of. Never mind that it's slightly sexist, if not misandristic, it made for a <i>really</i> cute food spread. The themed food was perfectly complimented by all the awesome trays and serving items that I borrowed from my mother-in-law. My favorite piece was a vintage toy truck that held mini dirt cup shooters - perfect for the boy food.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAAcLxNdDLsvAlQB7ytdFQYx5lqqs5zoSXTIo1LO6McguWstqjSJlWXXtIPjEKmpSl93AoyI3S5V75P0wIUV6Koc9GMiSUYsm0ws6xzaOI-ETUTq6nbGfyhawd4jQ-ImZn9u4ZUvBYyI/s1600/gender_reveal_party_05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party food" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAAcLxNdDLsvAlQB7ytdFQYx5lqqs5zoSXTIo1LO6McguWstqjSJlWXXtIPjEKmpSl93AoyI3S5V75P0wIUV6Koc9GMiSUYsm0ws6xzaOI-ETUTq6nbGfyhawd4jQ-ImZn9u4ZUvBYyI/s1600/gender_reveal_party_05.jpg" height="390" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoLz0qh6hbR_O_HziUw1OkfYO_8FoWkiQZIfRO2ICPxA8qbfSCYdjDjAbMS57wEhXAvHAZS8xKfrrn1gFccyFP3-Yyodu8knLkYF70JgBh5SwhA-73Goq2kSxxejdoAwQrJBSCBQMbP8/s1600/gender_reveal_party_03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party food" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoLz0qh6hbR_O_HziUw1OkfYO_8FoWkiQZIfRO2ICPxA8qbfSCYdjDjAbMS57wEhXAvHAZS8xKfrrn1gFccyFP3-Yyodu8knLkYF70JgBh5SwhA-73Goq2kSxxejdoAwQrJBSCBQMbP8/s1600/gender_reveal_party_03.jpg" height="484" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuUNlCbivUh3sDrWcRRWSSHD_4ss-x2bHj_yzUfYj4We7hKeSj4_E3GTwRW1m39dufsE5znF3T6QmnmpdctB6zl-lluOnzo4gPWlxgqZ0fDt3MmYDIa3-ItNrDl1UYfHj2f-twS5lA1k/s1600/gender_reveal_party_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party food" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuUNlCbivUh3sDrWcRRWSSHD_4ss-x2bHj_yzUfYj4We7hKeSj4_E3GTwRW1m39dufsE5znF3T6QmnmpdctB6zl-lluOnzo4gPWlxgqZ0fDt3MmYDIa3-ItNrDl1UYfHj2f-twS5lA1k/s1600/gender_reveal_party_02.jpg" height="482" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NBwrIirQUx6e5Jo5K69DpT2yLnGaQhKdL4SUi9mUbJICUsVirkDjaedBPIUjlslX5jD_iG9hC_0yXOzxE0FhW7yBRMD7pQoiypJyQhyphenhyphenW6MpgS_tbjT43kFvaCFv7qozIBPfbmvIEWl0/s1600/gender_reveal_party_04.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img alt="gender reveal party food" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NBwrIirQUx6e5Jo5K69DpT2yLnGaQhKdL4SUi9mUbJICUsVirkDjaedBPIUjlslX5jD_iG9hC_0yXOzxE0FhW7yBRMD7pQoiypJyQhyphenhyphenW6MpgS_tbjT43kFvaCFv7qozIBPfbmvIEWl0/s1600/gender_reveal_party_04.jpg" height="640" title="" width="481" /></a></div>
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<b>And Finally: The Big Reveal.</b> We wanted this reveal to be just as fun and playful as when we announced the twin's gender (by popping balloons filled with colored confetti.) Our solution: SILLY STRING!<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://offbeatgraphics.com/baby-shower-invitations/#heorshe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="gender reveal invitation " border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVrO57dkxTispXL0gW_nfbIUIkPjP7AVv7JtYNP8BTzcbA71zIDoVXm3g5-IL40C55qfILI8yQa9X1wr2J0AGXTcEV_Lj6HbdkIdkEjdYDO_fpfhijZXM1qrn9snse4AYanofooMu844/s1600/gender_reveal_party_11.jpg" height="200" title="" width="200" /></a>As mentioned, we had the top two teams from our Jeopardy game compete for the honor of the reveal. We did a race of sorts, where the teams tried to answer four baby trivia questions as fast as they could. Then when the final question was answered by one of the teams, they could race across the lawn and grab a can of silly string. There were only six cans and about twelve adults, so as soon as the first can was snatched, anyone could run and grab the remaining cans (if you've ever played the card game, Spoons, it was a similar idea). It was fast and fun and really heighten the anticipation for the reveal.</div>
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And the result was.... BLUE silly string!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx4nULgeBCTaqDIa82SZU_mdX9_fgtJIiDAx1yUPIdbNqbpdoiQ_ZGbWSaRA_wvRWu7nUTIdLaWnENFJFYRBIt4BQYM6kvAH49SdZDm0e5iek8bBvJez5CI3J9zvyynBK9XC93cffyCE/s1600/gender_reveal_party_08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party ideas" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx4nULgeBCTaqDIa82SZU_mdX9_fgtJIiDAx1yUPIdbNqbpdoiQ_ZGbWSaRA_wvRWu7nUTIdLaWnENFJFYRBIt4BQYM6kvAH49SdZDm0e5iek8bBvJez5CI3J9zvyynBK9XC93cffyCE/s1600/gender_reveal_party_08.jpg" height="414" title="" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNSf5wLn-ypBZchykA2rcDHLSKGEctaw6VVonQ6nWpkO8VaZzgdRSKEJSKexII5KehAcx0v7bz6-3-unxrxBijllbP3iGpwTs74J7qkOVtQrTl1rh_YL3URHK18KrSKLpJXTsa27MBBg/s1600/gender_reveal_party_09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gender reveal party" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNSf5wLn-ypBZchykA2rcDHLSKGEctaw6VVonQ6nWpkO8VaZzgdRSKEJSKexII5KehAcx0v7bz6-3-unxrxBijllbP3iGpwTs74J7qkOVtQrTl1rh_YL3URHK18KrSKLpJXTsa27MBBg/s1600/gender_reveal_party_09.jpg" height="424" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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Even though the twins had been <i>adamant</i> that they were having a baby sister (they can't seem to comprehend that anyone besides their twin could be their "bro"), I think they were pleased with the result. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYhLeJcbDVHxul-eNiuci6UfOlDkfCGAE4OSnJL_77FPcaJrdyRK6S33skx53NI0qTvThdwCGEKCxcRltIyOgIleQe5G1FhJCCAwy2Ir9fYUKoOOD8arAFcGnOJiEbJUx8KBFfdWdl5s/s1600/gender_reveal_party_10.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img alt="gender reveal older siblings" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYhLeJcbDVHxul-eNiuci6UfOlDkfCGAE4OSnJL_77FPcaJrdyRK6S33skx53NI0qTvThdwCGEKCxcRltIyOgIleQe5G1FhJCCAwy2Ir9fYUKoOOD8arAFcGnOJiEbJUx8KBFfdWdl5s/s1600/gender_reveal_party_10.jpg" height="640" title="" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://offbeatgraphics.com/baby-shower-invitations/#heorshe" target="_blank"><img alt="gender reveal party invitation " border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVrO57dkxTispXL0gW_nfbIUIkPjP7AVv7JtYNP8BTzcbA71zIDoVXm3g5-IL40C55qfILI8yQa9X1wr2J0AGXTcEV_Lj6HbdkIdkEjdYDO_fpfhijZXM1qrn9snse4AYanofooMu844/s1600/gender_reveal_party_11.jpg" height="200" title="" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b style="background-color: white;">(Photos by <a href="http://www.devinhansonphotography.com/" target="_blank">Devin Hanson Photography</a>) </b></span></div>
Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-39737326486293242142014-02-11T13:41:00.001-07:002014-02-11T13:47:47.738-07:00When Change Feels Overwhelming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TzbvG50tDD3xqShUfOTH0WvWc828CbKrBs7TeCvuXuenFlyEZtqADYlB1d63uLF4YmGHlvZ8p26RvO2ceMTAJAcBkVnZLApEAU8INo_juO3NsARbq3YgrXqNxCAjYKkKOfCx1snfDxc/s1600/1378439_560916258680_1494384337_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TzbvG50tDD3xqShUfOTH0WvWc828CbKrBs7TeCvuXuenFlyEZtqADYlB1d63uLF4YmGHlvZ8p26RvO2ceMTAJAcBkVnZLApEAU8INo_juO3NsARbq3YgrXqNxCAjYKkKOfCx1snfDxc/s1600/1378439_560916258680_1494384337_n.jpeg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
An abundance of things to share can be more restrictive to my ability to write than an actual lack of things to write about. I had one of the most difficult, heart-molding, trying, wonderful, and fullest years of my life in 2013 and yet, I wrote a grand total of twelve posts last year. Twelve. Most of them devoid of any real substance.<br />
<br />
It was not for lack of content, I can tell you that. My year was insane - I moved states, faced horrible home-sickness, was placed out of my comfort zone, and was forced to make friends with strangers (gasp!) - some of whom I'd only met through a friend-of-a-friend on the internet (which for my introverted personality was super uncomfortable at first). Then around August, there was this shift and I found myself loving my new city and my new friends, and actually feeling settled in my new life. And THEN. A career refocus for my husband, a sooner-than-expected pregnancy, and a move back from whence we had come (barely a year after moving away). My life and emotions in 2013 were topsy-turvy and back again. Lots of trials and lessons learned and beauty to write about. Content, content, content.<br />
<br />
<b>And yet.</b> Writer's paralysis clung to me <i>because</i> I had such an overwhelming amount of content. Really painful, messy, don't-really-want-to-process-it-in-public kind of content. Usually writing is therapeutic for me and helps me work through my thoughts and emotions. Flannery O'Conner said, <i>"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." </i>That's me.<br />
<br />
But <i>these</i> things? They were things I felt so deeply, but I didn't understand. Bitter, ugly things, and conflicting, confusing things. Emotions and doubts that were unflattering to me and potentially hurtful to those I loved if expressed publicly. So my ramblings were kept in the safe privacy of my journal and my prayers. Which is probably right where they were meant to be kept. At least for now. At least until the bigger picture of who-knows-what God has been doing with my life these past couple of years becomes clearer.<br />
<br />
I've seen healthy growth and little glimpses of what these years of change have brought about in my life - some good, some necessary, and some I'd like not to repeat. I don't understand (or like) a lot of it, but I do see purpose in much of the pain and confusion. And for now, that's <i>just</i> enough to keep me holding on and moving forward into whatever it is God has for us in our new (again) city and our life as a family of (soon-to-be) five.<br />
<br />
<b>Some good things that have come out of the difficult:</b><br />
<ul>
<li>There were many times I had no one to share my heart with except Devin. While we have always been close, we were brought closer as he helped me struggle through the mess of emotions I normally would have poured out to my closest girlfriends. But with their absence in my daily life, I had no choice but to turn to my husband for comfort, sympathy, and advice. It was a hard-at-times, but good thing.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>There were times however that the things in my heart were too difficult to share with even Devin, and I was instead driven to share my thoughts and emotions with God. Again - a relationship strengthen <i>because</i> of the relational void I was experiencing in other areas of my life. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>With few family members (and no friends) in town, we had the time and motivation to invest in relationships within our church and our community early-on. This was a part of our lives we didn't realize was lacking during our years in Arizona, but now that we've experienced it, we see the importance of leaving room for community relationships amidst the time we spend with our extended families. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I learned to step out of my comfort zone, show up to a room full of strangers, and make friends. And even though making an effort to start those friendships was difficult for me, it's those sweet friends who I shed many tears over leaving. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>And most of all, I've learned (or am at least forcing myself to acknowledge - which, believe it or not, is a big step) that change is a part of life. And as much as I hate it sometimes, fighting it will only make it more difficult. I ran across a quote shortly before we moved back to Arizona, and it was a turning point for me as I worked towards accepting some of the changes coursing through our lives right now:</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b style="font-style: italic;">"Faced with inevitable change, the choice was mine. I could fight until my spirit was weary, or I could release all resistance and create something new in my changed world."</b> - Dean Jackson</blockquote>
<br />
So that's what I'm trying to do. Because my soul has become weary from fighting and it's time to try and make something beautiful in my changed world.Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-73022798952529919972013-11-03T16:35:00.000-07:002013-11-04T05:47:57.251-07:00The Best Meal You Never Eat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CX2jfaKK_p2Q_PysvTFJkMzJ2AnHqOjjo31Q5kHaQszjPSrSBBvzVuIUq5PxAy1Ziqpbkrs3oCXErWEqV_74jYrb7AzQmWUCTJRhgMNoorD25d6zeVuvXqNCqBnfrz0og9G0QyIvdCg/s1600/url.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CX2jfaKK_p2Q_PysvTFJkMzJ2AnHqOjjo31Q5kHaQszjPSrSBBvzVuIUq5PxAy1Ziqpbkrs3oCXErWEqV_74jYrb7AzQmWUCTJRhgMNoorD25d6zeVuvXqNCqBnfrz0og9G0QyIvdCg/s320/url.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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What
is your absolute favorite meal? Most of mine come from my mom's
kitchen. My mom is a great cook and knows how to make a
mean broccoli-and-rice chicken casserole and whoo-boy is her
manicotti delicious!</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">Growing
up I ate some darn good food from my mama's kitchen. The thought
never crossed my mind that it was a privilege to have
a </span><span style="color: black;"><i>favorite</i></span><span style="color: black;"> meal,
because I never worried about where my next meal would come from. T</span><span style="color: black;">he idea of </span><em><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;">not</span></span></em><span style="color: black;"> having
enough food never even occurred to me. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
But for more than <b>140 million children</b> around the world - the idea of having enough food is completely foreign. Hunger is a daily reality to them. And a favorite meal? This idea would be strange too - if they get to eat at all, they certainly don't get to be picky about what meal is their favorite.<br />
<br />
Now when I say "hunger", I'm not talking missing a meal here and there, or having a little rumble in their tummies occasionally. I'm talking severe malnourishment that causes swollen stomachs, hair loss, skin discoloration, and reduces the body's ability to fight disease and infection. And every year, for <b>6 million children</b>, this kind of hunger will also cause their death. (source: <a href="http://www.un.org/">www.un.org</a>)<br />
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Numbers like that are not only incomprehensibly tragic, but can feel overwhelming and debilitating. But the good news is that there are people doing something about it - <b>and you can be one of them</b>. <a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=131921">Compassion International's</a> <a href="http://onemealoneday.com/">One Meal One Day</a> campaign is raising money to intervene in the lives of some of these severely malnourished children and you can be a part of the impact. <br />
<br />
<b>The idea is simple:</b> give up your favorite meal between now and November 6, 2013, and donate the money you would have spent on that meal to <a href="http://onemealoneday.com/">One Meal, One Day</a>. Easy right? And yet the impact on the children who receive food because of your gift will be exponential. (<a href="http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/hanson-family/fall2013">donate here</a>)<br />
<br />
Perhaps you're wondering, <i>I thought Compassion's sponsor program helped these kids - why do they need more money? </i>Good question, and here's the answer: <a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=131921">Compassion's sponsorship program</a> makes an unbelievable impact around the world by rescuing children from poverty, but there are many times when a child comes to the Compassion centers so malnourished that the funds from monthly sponsorships are not enough to meet the child's needs. Also, in the case of famine, natural disasters, or in emergency situations, the child many need more intervention than the sponsorship alone can provide. The money raised through <a href="http://onemealoneday.com/">One Meal One Day</a> will help meet these extraordinary nutritional needs. <br />
<br />
And getting involved is so easy. I'm willing to bet that if you are reading this (with - <i>ahem</i> - a computer//tablet/smartphone and an Internet connection), then you aren't worried about where your next meal is coming from and you probably can afford to skip one without much detriment to your health. But the money you would have spent on that one meal will stretch so much further in a poverty stricken country - providing far more than just one meal for one person.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://onemealoneday.com/">One Meal One Day</a> would be an amazing project for a family with older kids to tackle together. Talk about an tangible lesson - giving up one meal and experiencing a twinge of hunger so that other kids around the world might have the nutrition they need to live. That's a life-lesson your kids won't soon forget. <br />
<br />
Or how about this idea: host a dinner party for your friends but serve beans and rice (a staple in most third-world countries). Then, donate the money you would have spent on steaks, side-dishes, desserts, and drinks. Plus, you'll have an awesome conversation-starter for your friends. <br />
<br />
<b>The main point is this: </b>it only takes a little to make a huge difference in the lives of these kids. They need someone to step in and say, "You're important - you matter." All it takes is skipping one meal. Will you join me in the fight against hunger? If so, donating is just as simple - you can visit my <a href="http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/hanson-family/fall2013">fundraising page here</a>. If you do join <a href="http://onemealoneday.com/">One Meal One Day</a>, please come back here to my blog and tell me how it went - I'd love to hear about your experience!<br />
<br />
<b>Hungry for change? Let's do this thing!</b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-14233493339222501232013-10-04T06:21:00.002-07:002013-10-04T06:21:28.407-07:00Six Days of Simple Styles for the Stay-at-Home Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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During the "dark days" of trying to survive as new mom of twins, I learned an important lesson. Some days, putting on a pair of jeans instead of staying in my sweatpants was all I needed to avoid of the psychotic break I felt constantly on the verge of.<br />
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While I'm not nearly as sleep-deprived and overwhelmed as I was those first few (twelve) weeks of motherhood, I still find that it helps my mood, productivity, and psyche to put a little effort into the way I dress. Now let's be real for a moment - I've got two-year-old twin boys. So when I say, "a little effort," I literally mean as <i>little</i> as possible.<br />
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Some moms are totally fine wearing sweats and a t-shirt most days, which doesn't bother me one tiny bit. But personally, I <i>feel</i> <i>better</i> when I feel I look nice - and for me that means getting out of my pjs (even the days when the only people I see are my kids and husband). At the same time, I don't have much time to get myself ready most days. I've found however, that <i>it is possible</i> to add a little style into the everyday of being a stay-at-home mom and it isn't difficult or all that time consuming (I promise).<br />
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I put together six tips and examples to give you a little peek at how I strive for a style that makes me feel better about the way I look. (Notice: <i>six</i> days, not seven. Even when I try and make it a priority, looking nice seven-days-a-week just ain't gonna happen. There are some days that you just <i>need</i> to wear a comfy sweatshirt and yoga pants. And frankly, some days you just don't feel like trying.)<br />
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This is in no way meant to be a mom-guilt inducing post. I just know that sometimes (a lot of times) as a mom, I feel that my identity is completely lost in the daily act of motherhood. For me, looking nice is a small way to reclaim some of myself. It's not that way for all moms - and to this I say, ::SHURG:: Whatever works for you, works for me. You're rockin' motherhood in your own way - which makes you awesome. Because it's hard any way you slice it (or dress it).<br />
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But, if you feel like me and looking nice is something you <i>want</i> to do more often, but you are overwhelmed by the thought - here's a little something to help encourage you.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Six Simple Style Tips for the Stay-at-Home Mom:</span></b><br />
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<b>1. Wear what <u>you</u> feel great in.</b> I'm not a fashion expert (ha!). My "style" is simple and cheap. I buy most of my clothes on clearance or at the thrift store. Which means they've already been rejected by someone as being outdated or not cool enough. But so much of style is about what YOU feel attractive in. Find an outfit that is flattering on you and makes you feel beautiful. Confidence goes a LONG way, regardless of what the magazines and runways say is "in".<br />
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<b>2. Get up a little earlier.</b> I know, I know, this is like the last thing a mom wants to hear. But I promise, even just an extra 15 minutes to shower or slap on some make-up is going to do more for your day than hitting the snooze button one more time. (Moms of newborns - those fifteen minutes of sleep <i>will</i> probably make a difference to you. So grab a shower when someone comes over to help and if you can't do that some days, just throw on a pair of jeans and call it good.)<br />
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<b>3. Don't worry about spills.</b> Sometimes the effort to get dressed feels null and void when you're raising itty bitties. But take heart - boogers and drool and peanut butter stains generally wash out from a cute top just as well as they do from a tattered t-shirt.<br />
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<b>4. Have your go-to outfits. </b>There are a few of my outfits that I just plain feel great in. I might wear the same outfit once every week because of how easy it is and how confident I feel in it. The point is, I mentally know what the complete outfit looks like. I know that my blue-and-black striped sweater goes great with my black t-shirt, dark jeans, and faux pearl earrings. Because I've already "put together" this outfit before, it makes for a great outfit choice when I'm in a hurry. I don't even have to think about it. Which - as anyone who has experienced "mommy-brain" knows - is a very good thing most days.<br />
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<b>5. Keep it simple. </b>Three-to-four main pieces max, plus one-to-three accessories (as simple as earrings, a scarf, or a bracelet). It's not that you can never have an outfit with more than four main pieces, just remember that looking good doesn't have to be complicated.<br />
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<b>6. Learn some hair shortcuts.</b> For me, this means <b><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/thriftytwinmama/just-say-no-to-mom-hair/" target="_blank">quick up-do's</a></b>, hats, and hair scarves. And... confession time: I usually only wash my hair every three-or-four days. Washing, drying, and styling my hair are things I don't have time for more than twice a week. I have a "hair cycle" that makes this possible. It goes like this: <i>Day 1: wash, dry, and curl hair, Day 2: second-day, "left-over" curls/waves, Day 3: a hat/scarf or a quick up-do, Day 4 (hey, it happens): same idea as day three. </i>Figure out how you can creatively "cut corners" in the hair department and save yourself some precious time!<br />
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And now for some visual examples of these tips in action...<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Six Days of Simple Styles for the Stay-at-Home Mom:</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>tutorial</i></span></b><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> to braid wrapped ponytail: <a href="http://she-beautiful.blogspot.com/2013/01/how-to-style-beautiful-sleek-braid.html" target="_blank">here</a> </i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>this headband </i></span></b><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(and lots of other gorgeous pieces) can be found at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/NoelleGraceDesigns" target="_blank">Noelle Grace Designs</a></i></span></b></div>
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<b style="text-align: start;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">get a magazine bead necklace <a href="http://www.amazimastore.org/products/sanyuka" target="_blank">here</a> </span></i></b></div>
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<b style="text-align: start;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(proceeds provide meals for children living in the slums of Uganda, Africa) </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Confession #1: the next day, I wore my unwashed, forth-day hair in this exact style again.<br />Confession #2: Today is going to be my "sweatshirt and yoga pants day" because our gorgeous fall </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">weather just plummeted to 49 degrees as a high and I just can't handle it.</span></i></b></div>
<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-80755205232764253072013-07-18T06:34:00.000-07:002013-07-18T06:34:11.900-07:00Why I am (and am NOT) the Proverbs 31 Wife<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been overwhelmed by the "<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs%2031:%2010-31&version=NIV" target="_blank">Proverbs 31 Wife</a>" for as long as I've been aware of her. Nearly an entire chapter of Scripture exalts her accomplishments as wife, mother, seamstress, cook, community-outreach coordinator, counselor, home manager, <i>and</i> business entrepreneur. Described as nobel, excellent, and worth more than rubies, she's freakin' wonder woman.<br />
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Being a part of the Christian church has given me plenty of opportunities to learn exactly how to be a "P31 Woman" (there are countless Bible studies, websites, programs, clubs, books, blogs, seminars, and t-shirts all dedicated to this goal). And all my exposure to Mrs. Excellent has given me plenty of opportunities to confirm<i> that I just don't measure up</i>. (Never mind that she is Jewish royalty with abundant wealth and a houseful of servants - two things that I am, alas, without.)<br />
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I love how Rachel Held Evans puts it in her book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Biblical-Womanhood-Liberated-Covering/dp/1595553673/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373555869&sr=8-1&keywords=year+of+biblical+womanhood" target="_blank">A Year of Biblical Womanhood</a></i> (which I shared my mixed feelings for <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2013/07/will-ideal-biblical-woman-please-stand.html" target="_blank">here</a>). After a month of trying to live out the Proverbs 31 ideal, Evans came to this painful admission (one I know I have faced as well):<br />
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<i>"I couldn't shake the feeling that if these were indeed the accomplishments of a competent, capable, virtuous, valiant, and worthy wife, then I must be none of these things." </i></blockquote>
Fortunately, Evans doesn't allow this depressing conclusion to be her final one (which is what I have tended towards in the past). Instead, she seeks out insight for this passage from a Jewish woman. As Evans puts it, <i>"Seeing as how Jews have several thousand years on us when it comes to interpreting Scripture, Christians might consider listening to them more often."</i><br />
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And Evans doesn't just interview any Jewish woman. No, no. She interviews an Orthodox Jew named Ahava, who lives in Israel <i>and</i> is the wife of a rabbi. Yeah - authentic source here, people. Ahava gives a perspective on this passage of Scripture that I found to be not only fascinating, but a huge relief. Here's what she had to say when Evans asked her the question, "[Do] Jewish women struggle as much as Christian women to live up to the Proverbs 31 ideal?"<br />
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<i>"Here's the thing. Christians seem to think that because the Bible is inspired, all of it should be taken literally. Jews don't do this. Even though we take the Torah literally (all 613 commandments!), the rest is seen differently, as a way of understanding our Creator, rather that direct commands. Take Proverbs 31, for example. I get called an </i>eshet chayil<i> (a valorous woman) all the time. Make your own challah instead of buying? </i>Eshet chayil<i>!</i> <i>Work to earn some extra money for the family? </i>Eshet chayil<i>! Make balloon animals for the kids a </i>Shul<i>? </i>Eshet chayil<i>! Every week at the Shabbat table, my husband sings the Proverbs 31 poem to me. It's special because I know that no matter what I do or don't do, he praises me for blessing the family with my energy and creativity."</i> - Ahava, from <i>A Year of Biblical Womanhood</i></blockquote>
<b>I know that no matter what I do or don't do, he praises me for blessing the family with my energy and creativity. </b>I love this.<b> </b><i>This</i> something I can accomplish. And not just accomplish, but be encouraged to apply in a way that isn't overwhelming and debilitating.<br />
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While I loved this new-to-me interpretation of Proverbs 31, I also was hesitant to fully embrace it. I felt Evans, at times, spun information to her advantage in her book, so I ran this insight by my friend Aria, who is Messianic (a believer in Jesus as the Messiah who also follows Jewish traditions). She confirmed that in Jewish culture this passage is not viewed as a checklist. Rather, it is a poetic way to honor the many <i>different</i> attributes that an excellent wife - a woman of valor - may have.<br />
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Any other Christian ladies out there releasing a huge sign of relief right about now?<br />
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Not only is the poem used by husbands in Jewish culture to praise their wives, it is also used by Jewish women to encourage and praise other women. Which I think is amazing and something that is often lacking in our communities. Women tend to try to one-up each other, presenting a facade of perfection all the while judging other women (either to elevate themselves or to compare themselves in a self-depircating way). But the discovery that Proverbs 31's <i>eshet chayil - </i>woman of valor - is something woman can encourage each other with was beautiful to me. <br />
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<i>"As I saw how powerful and affirming this ancient blessing could be, I decided it was time for Christian women to take back Proverbs 31. Somewhere along the way, we surrendered it to the same people who invented airbrushing and Auto-Tune and Rachel Ray. We abandoned the meaning of the poem by focusing on the specifics, and <b>it became just another impossible standard by which to measure our failures</b>. We turned an anthem into an assignment, and poem into a job description." - A Year of Biblical Womanhood </i>(emphasis mine).</blockquote>
Despite the overwhelming "to do list" that shadowed my previous understanding of this passage of Scripture, and my relief that it doesn't have be viewed that way, there are things which, as a wife, mother, and believer, I still hold tightly to as ideals that <i>should</i> be emulated. The bit about "her husband is praised at the city gates" and "she brings [her husband] good and not harm, all the days of her life" and "her children arise and call her blessed" and "a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised" (verses 23, 12, 28, and 30). <br /><br />These attributes - I feel - are not just poetic, but incredibly important to a healthy and happy family and faith. I <i>want</i> to bless my husband with good throughout our marriage. I <i>want</i> my husband to be respected by others because of the way I treat him. I find <i>hope</i> in the idea that one day my kids may call me blessed (and that doesn't happen through passive parenting). And I want to grow in my love for and trust in the Lord. These are excellent things and ones I hope to cultivate in my marriage, parenting, and faith.<br />
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As far as the task-oriented parts on "the list"? I'll say this: Proverbs 31 is full of awesome examples of "acts of valor" that can be inspiring. It's got really, really good stuff in it. But to find all of these qualities in one women? Well, as King Lemuel's mother told him from the beginning of the poem, "who can find [her]?"<br />
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Let us be <i>encouraged</i> by the knowledge that while we may never be <i>the</i> Proverbs 31 Woman, little pieces of her can shine though all of us as we serve our families, our God, and our communities - in many different ways - with excellence and valor.Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-64198850050420853492013-07-11T11:10:00.002-07:002013-07-17T16:21:48.177-07:00Will the Ideal, Biblical Woman Please Stand Up? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I decided to read Rachel Held Evans' book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Biblical-Womanhood-Liberated-Covering/dp/1595553673/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373555869&sr=8-1&keywords=year+of+biblical+womanhood" target="_blank">A Year of Biblical Womanhood</a></i>, mainly because of the controversy. My "liberal" friends (read: female pastors who, though I don't always agree with, I admire greatly) had nothing but abounding praise for the book. While some of my deeply respected "conservative" friends (and many main-stream conservative leaders) thought the book was heretical and dangerous. And since I tend to fall somewhere in-between these two groups, and I like a good controversy now-and-then, I figured I'd pick myself up a copy.<br />
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Another reason I wanted to read this book is because while I am currently living the Westernize version of "biblical womanhood" (full time stay-at-home mom and wife), I have long struggled with the prominent, conservative viewpoint that the greatest way in which a woman brings glory to God is by being a good wife and mother who submits to her husband completely.<br />
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My struggle with this teaching doesn't exist because I think being a good wife and mother isn't a godly calling, or because I think wives shouldn't submit to their husbands - I think both are things that bring great glory to God. But when this type of role is elevated as the best, holiest, ideal position for a woman, it leaves out a huge population of faithful, God-loving women: The widowed or abandoned wife, the single mom, women who can't have children, women living in poverty who have no choice but to work to support their families, and single women like <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kisses-Katie-Story-Relentless-Redemption/dp/1451612095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373556652&sr=1-1&keywords=kisses+from+katie" target="_blank">Katie Davis</a> who moved to Uganda and adopted a whole houseful of orphans (<i>thirteen</i> to be more precise). And let's not forget that rather famous saint, Mother Teresa. Heard of her? Yeah. <i>Unmarried and no kids.</i><br />
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Are these women unable to fully please God simply because they aren't married or don't have children? Are they "less-than" the ideal, biblical woman?<br />
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That just doesn't seem right. God uses all kinds of people in different ways, and a woman's ability to please God isn't on hold until she gets herself a husband and some kids. If the so-called, "biblical role of women" can't be applied universally to all women of faith, why is it being taught as such a rigid truth in so many Christian churches?<br />
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I felt Evans' book was, for the most part, an honest exploration of what the Bible says about women and their roles in the family and in faith. The book contained a few unflattering quotes from John Piper and Glen Beck that would probably have my conservative friends shaking their fists, and there were times that Evans approached these (and other) conservative leaders with a little too much snark. There were things about the book that I appreciated and learned from, questions I've always wrestled with that she addressed, and some things I took offense to. But overall, Evans' journey of trying to apply all of the Bible's instructions for women was a well-researched, respectful search for truth.<br />
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Reading about Evans' year-long exploration was at times humorous and at other times painful as I was confronted with some of my own judgmental attitudes towards woman who don't fit the traditional mold for a "biblical woman." And I learned that the Bible is full of stories of women who don't fit the mold either, yet are called righteous and faithful.<br />
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"The Bible does not present us with a single model for womanhood, and the notion that it contains a sort of one-size-fits-all formula for how to be a woman is a myth.</blockquote>
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"Among the women praised in Scripture are warriors, widows, slaves, sister-wives, apostles, teachers, concubines, queens, foreigners, prostitutes, prophets, mothers, and martyrs. What makes these women's stories leap from the page is not the fact that they all conform to some kind of universal ideal, but that, regardless of the culture or context in which they found themselves, they lived their lives with valor. They lived their lives with faith. As much as we long for the simplicity of a single definition of "biblical womanhood," there is no one right way to be a woman, not mold into which we must each cram ourselves - not if Deborah, Ruth, Rachel, Tamar, Vashti, Esther, Priscilla, Mary Magdalene, and Tabitha have anything to say about it."<i> - Rachel Held Evans, A Year of Biblical Womanhood</i></blockquote>
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The kind of marriage relationship I witnessed growing up was one of mutual submission (Ephesians 5:21), and yet I never doubted that my dad was the respected head of our household (Ephesians 5:23). My parents worked through decisions, disagreements, and life as a team. My dad had the option to give the final say on decisions, but he always took my mom's perceptive and opinion into account. He supported her dreams and she supported his. While my mom did chose to stay home with us kids (working part-time as a nurse) and my dad worked full-time, there was still a mutual love and respect between them. There was no "greater" or "lesser" partner in the marriage. They <i>shared</i> the decisions of life the same way they shared the burdens and joys - equally. And they now have nearly 37 years of marriage to show for it. (Love you Mom and Dad!)<br />
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I believe that the Bible's admonition for a husband to love his wife and a wife to respect her husband is a model that works beautifully when applied with the betterment of <i>both</i> spouses in mind - and one that can help strengthen marriages and personal faith even if only applied from one side (the wife who chooses to respect her husband and the husband who chooses to love his wife, even when he/she doesn't "deserve" it). And I believe that, if it is possible, having a mother at home with her young children is a very beneficial thing. But due to the fact that people, marriages, and families are made up of all kinds of different personalities and talents, who live in different cultures, financial situations, and realities, it is unlikely that there is only <i>one</i> biblical way for a woman and her family to bring glory to God.<br />
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This post is not an attack of the traditional family any more than it is a feminist battle cry for women to rebel and do whatever the heck they want. The Bible <i>does</i> have a lot to say on what a godly woman looks like, but let us not pick-and-choose which standards to universally apply and which to conveniently ignore in order to fit <i>our</i> ideals. Rather, let's acknowledge that there are a lot of different examples of faithful women in the Bible and how a woman of God brings Him glory can take many different forms.<br />
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<b>Would love to hear your thoughts and perspectives in the comments section!</b><br />
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If all goes according to plan (but let's be real, when does that ever happen), I'll be writing more about this book soon. I'll be sharing something very enlightening that I learned about the Proverbs 31 woman...Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-52066041577345976962013-06-06T11:04:00.001-07:002013-06-06T11:10:48.243-07:00The Best Things About Being a Mom of Multiples "Uh-oh, double trouble!" "Boy, do you have your hands full!" "I don't know how you do it..."<br />
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These are comments I receive at least once every time I am out and about with the twins, usually from complete strangers. The general perception of twins is that they are adorable, but all that cuteness comes with an overwhelming amount of extra work. If only I had a dollar for every time someone said to me, "I love twins! But I would never want to have twins myself." <br />
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I get it- really I do. When I was a little girl, I often imagined that I had twins when playing "house" (the irony of this is not lost on me). My cousin Stephi and I were often mistaken for twins in high school, which we delighted in. My opinion growing up was that having twins, or being a twin, was awesome. But when I actually became a grown-up and found out I was <i>actually </i>having twins, I literally started trembling. My mind was consumed with one panicked, repetitious thought, <i>"Double stroller, double stroller, double stroller."</i><br />
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For some reason, the thought that I would soon be wrestling a double stroller during all my outings really freaked me out. The Double Stroller represented how different being a mom of multiples would be from having just one baby at a time. I was completely overwhelmed by the thought of caring for two babies at once. So I understand people's "that's awesome, but I could never do it" attitude. Now that the twins are almost 20-months-old though, I have a very different opinion of being a twin mama than I did that fateful day that I sat quivering in the doctor's office.<br />
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Sure, there are times when I am exhausted and overwhelmed (and out-numbered) by the boys (especially during those first few months, hoo-boy!), but I have also discovered a lot of benefits to having multiples. So I thought that I'd pass along some of those good experiences. Maybe it will be an encouragement to a soon-to-be twin mom or of interest to anyone who is curious about what it's like to raise twins.<br />
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<b>Five Awesome Things About Having Twins:</b><br />
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<b>5). You Learn That Every Baby is Different: </b>With all the parenting "experts" out there offering so much contradicting advice and the "mommy wars" raging with opinionated (and often insesitive) battles on the "best" way to care for a baby, I was thankful to learn early - because of our twins - that every baby is different and there is no one, perfect way to parent them. Our boys - raised in the same environment - were very different from the start and each had needs that were unique to him. This taught my husband and I early to rely on our instincts and pick up on the cues that our boys were giving us. It was the greatest lesson we've learned so far in our parenting journey and one I don't think we'd have gained so quickly had we started with only one baby.<br />
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<b>4). Sleeping Buddy: </b>When we moved the twins out of our room around six weeks, I found great comfort in the fact that they had each other in their big ol' nursery. They shared a crib until around three-months-old and I'm convinced they found the presence and sounds of their close-by twin soothing. They didn't necessarily sleep better than your average baby, but it was nice somehow to know they weren't alone. Even now that they are older and in separate cribs, they jibber-jabber to each other every night before they go to sleep. I imagine this is comforting to them as compared to being shut in a dark room alone at night.<br />
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<b>3). Not Double the Workload:</b> My cousin, Sarah, (who has identical twin girls) gave me some great encouragement when I was expecting the twins. She assured me that twins are <i>not</i> twice the work - more like 50% more work. "You're already changing a diapers," she told me, "so what's one more? You're already making one meal, so it's not big deal to make twice as much." And she was right - twins really aren't twice as much work - which was a great relief to discover.<br />
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<b>2). Attention Getters: </b>When I first started going out with both boys in-tow, I was a little irritated by how often I got stopped in the store and on the street by well-meaning twin admirers. Being a task-oriented gal who tends to overlook people in order to check off my to-do list, I found these stops deterrents to my progress. But I have since changed my tune and now really enjoy being stopped by strangers. Not because I like "showing off" my cute kids, but because it gives me the opportunity to share a smile and a friendly conversation with a stranger. I look forward to going out with the twins and chatting with new people, and I work these expected interruptions into my schedule. Because of the attention the twins bring, I've learned to slow down and put people first. I've had some really nice interactions with folks who I normally wouldn't have spoken to in my rush to accomplish a task. <br />
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<b>1). Instant Playmate: </b>The older the twins get, the more they entertain each other. Unlike a singleton, they don't need me to be their constant playmate - they have each other. As a stay-at-home mom, this gives me a much needed break sometimes. Yes, at times, having two kids the same age results in more fighting than with one kid (hopeful a single child is not fighting with themselves... otherwise, you've got bigger problems that entertaining him or her by yourself). In general, the twins have a great time keeping each other company.<br />
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These reasons (along with many others) are just a few ways that having twins, while a lot of work sometimes, is overall really fun. So hang in there twin-mamas and acknowledge the blessings you have <i>because</i> of your multiples. And if you know someone with twins (especially a new mom), encourage her with a few of these benefits to her new, double-stroller life.<br />
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<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-65892512637982131972013-05-31T09:16:00.000-07:002013-05-31T09:53:21.918-07:00A Tentative Love Note to ColoradoWell Colorado, you may not be Home to me yet, but I'll say this for you - you are beautiful and your glorious, get-outdoors, summer days are doing a decent job of wooing me.<br />
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Digging in the dirt, hiking through the woods, throwing pine cones, climbing rocks - these are the things my little boys filled their day with. And I loved watching them get dirty and exhausted as they discovered the great big creation around them. It made my mama's heart so happy.<br />
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And the two Memorial Day BBQs we attended. They were outside (a novel experience for this Phoenix girl who associated Memorial Day BBQs with heat and sweat and hiding indoors). We ate great food and caught up with our only in-town family. We laughed and chatted with new people and starting to build those rickety bridges to <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2013/05/on-being-new-girl.html" target="_blank">new friendships</a></b>. And we had a great time. </div>
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This past weekend with you, Colorado, was refreshing and lovely. Thanks for that.</div>
Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-67442942500860169692013-05-24T06:25:00.003-07:002013-05-24T06:26:03.031-07:00On Being The New Girl It's awkward to wiggle your way into new friendships. When moving to a new city, you meet mostly people who already have their own circle of friends, their established trust, their shared memories, and their inside jokes. It is intimating to try and meld into that. It's not that people are unkind or unfriendly, they are simply creatures of habit and it is easy to move through life's routine without noticing the new girl. <br />
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I was guilty of a similar attitude back home in Arizona. I never joined a "mom's group" when I had the twins and I was even hesitant to started attending the Bible study group at our previous church. Why? Mainly because I was fulfilled, occupied, and content with the friendships I already had. I didn't see the point in exerting time and energy making new friends. I'm happy with the ones I got, thanks.<br />
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So with that memory in mind, I realize that <i>I</i> have to be the one to make the effort to form new friendships here. It is unlikely that someone is going to just up and invite the new girl out for a good heart-to-heart over a steaming cup o' joe. More likely than not, I will have to be the one to initiate the playdates, the dinners, and the coffee talks. The age-old advice of, "You've got to be a friend to make friends" really is true. Socially awkward at times - but true.<br />
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Even so, it is easy - even as "the new girl" - to get caught up in my own routine without making the effort to meet new people. Another week, another month, flies by as I'm caught up in my daily tasks and habits until I realize - wow, it's been a whoooole lot of days since I've talked face-to-face with someone other than my husband and children.<br />
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Now let me interject here that my husband has been an amazing encouragement to me during this move - allowing me to share my heart (and often my tears) and creating opportunities for us to get out a do fun things together as a family. I am incredibly grateful for this. But as much as I love my husband and enjoy spending time with him, he can not completely fill my need for friendship - especially not in the area of female relationships (for obvious reasons). And while highly entertaining at times, my children aren't real great conversationalists at the moment. (Though their unsolicited hugs do my heart a great deal of good.)<br />
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Yet even after five months in a new city and a great deal of loneliness, I still sometimes have the mindset of, "I don't need new friends - I'm happy with the ones I've got, thanks." Which is a problem because those dear friends of mine live 800 miles away. And while we stay in contact regularly (thank you, technolgy), we can't really live our lives together any more. We can't watch our kids play together while we swap mommy war-stories. We can't meet up for coffee or have a much-needed girls night out. We can't laugh ourselves to tears while playing Pictionary after a couple of home-made margaritas. We can't offer a hug when life is painful and words just aren't enough.<br />
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With memories such as these, it is hard to make the mental shift that I need to build new friendships here in Colorado. The fact that doing this is awkward and takes a lot of effort on my part isn't a great motivator, but I shouldn't allow it to be a deterrent either.<br />
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I have to remind myself that the girlfriends that I miss so much were once complete strangers to me. I once had to wiggle my way into <i>their</i> circle, into <i>their</i> routine. I was once "the new girl" to them. It took time to form the deep relationships that we have shared for so many years now.<br />
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Humans were designed to need each other, and there are some needs that can't be filled from 800 miles away. Despite how wonderful my girlfriends back home are, the need to build relationships here is a great one. And while there are still many lonely days, ever so slowly, I'm starting to see the buds of friendship grow in the handful of acquaintances that I've made here. While I long for the closeness I shared with my friends back home, I have to trust that similar depth will form with the relationships I'm building here. Until then, it will just be one introduction, one "hi, how are you?", one slightly awkward invitation to dinner at a time. Then one day, I'll look at those friends and marvel at the fact that we were once complete strangers.Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-79751810510929893992013-05-20T13:30:00.001-07:002013-07-10T06:32:11.179-07:00Dishonest MotherhoodI almost wrote a really nasty post the other day. About my children. And I was actually planning on publishing it. On <i>Mother's Day</i>.<br />
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<b>Yeah.</b> Suffice to say, I was having a rough time with the whole motherhood thing.<br />
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It was one of those days when the only languages my 18-month-old twins seemed to know was Fusseese and Whinelish. The strain of being home with them all-day-every-day was about to result in a Jen-shaped hole straight through the front door. And I seriously considered the possibility that there might be some kind of conspiracy in place that was designed to trick women into reproducing. Because, I reasoned, surely if I have been made aware of how hard motherhood was going to be, I would have gotten myself sterilized years ago.<br />
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And while The Crazy inside me eventually cleared a bit (after a three-hour nap and a glorious hike through the woods), I still think part of my theory is true. The part about not knowing how hard being a mom was actually going to be because no one really told me.<br />
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There are days when I feel completely alone in my struggle with being a mom. Why is that? Is something broken in my mom heart? Do I not love my kids as much as other moms? I wonder sometimes when I read sugary-sweet descriptions of motherhood in books and blog posts. When moms recount for me the swell of unconditional love they felt the moment their child was placed in their arms and I just can't relate.<br />
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In all honestly, it took me a number of months to experience <i>feelings</i> of love towards my twins after they were born. It was just so incredibly hard to be a mom and no one had even mentioned to me that I might <i>not</i> feel the warm fuzzies and indescribable joy often associated with becoming a mother. What I did feel was indescribable exhaustion and inadequacy, and frankly I was shocked and frightened by the lack of affection I felt for my babies. I'd never had someone tell me that in those early months, those feelings were okay and - for some women - even normal.<br />
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I don't hate my kids - truly. I love their smiles and laughter, their emerging personalities and sense of humor. I love seeing the sparkle in their eyes when they understand something for the first time. I enjoy playing with them and helping them discover knew things. But most of the time, I can't relate to the poetic sentimentality that many moms use to describe motherhood. And when I really think about it (calmly, minus The Crazy), I don't think I'm broken or alone. I just think we moms don't share our struggles with the kind of transparency that communicates the deep doubts and difficulties of being a mom. We hear about the squooshy, mushy love (which is important to share certainly - I'm not saying we should constantly complain about our kids - there is a whole lot to love about them!). We'll share a crazy, funny story about the things our kids do or say, or <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2013/01/when-making-new-friends-stinks.html" target="_blank">that time they threw up all over the car on the way to a new friend's house</a></b>. But rarely do we talk with each other about the really hard stuff.<br />
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Hard stuff like the loneliness of being home alone with children all day, or the guilt of not being able to be at home with them. The frustration over discipline, the feeling of wanting to run away, the strain of daily putting yourself aside for the benefit of someone else. And the doubts and pressures that come with the responsibility of raising a little human. Whether it's because of pride, lack of vulnerability, fear of judgment, or what-have-you, we don't talk much about the hard stuff and we end up feeling alone. And there is very little that is as debilitating as feeling alone. We suffer as a result and our children do too. All because we can't (or won't) share with honesty the good <i>and</i> the bad, the beautiful <i>and</i> the ugly of being a mom.<br />
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I'm not asking that women bemoan their role as mothers - it is a privilege and a gift to invest in and mold these little people that God has placed into our care. I'm simply asking that we be a little more honest with each other and ourselves about the struggle. Not with complaining or bitterness, but in a way that results in us encouraging one another. Letting other women know that, yeah motherhood is incredibly difficult at times, but you are not alone in those feeling. Let's not allow pride or fear of judgement keep us from being honest with each other. Let's allow transparency in so that loneliness and guilt fade, and (hopefully) joy and encouragement can start to take their place. <i>This</i> will make us better moms, not pretending we have it all together while we waste away inside. Motherhood is a great gift, but it can quickly become a burden if we feel we are alone in the struggle.<br />
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<b>Because sometimes motherhood feels like this:</b><br />
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<b>And other times if feels more like this:</b><br />
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<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-46221314009779810412013-02-12T16:40:00.002-07:002013-02-13T07:32:45.944-07:00A tunnel with a light at the end<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt compelled to give a little update after my previous, rather <a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-good-and-grief_28.html" target="_blank">dreary post</a>. But I think I should back up a little first.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was fifteen, I had my first bout of depression, brought on by a relatively small loss that I didn't know how to process. The experience sent me into a spiral of depression that would rear its ugly head off and on all the way through college. While this depression was partial hereditary, it was made worse by unresolved emotional losses, stress, and a refusal to seek help because I was too afraid of the stigma of going to counseling or getting on medication. Sadly, it was the Christians in my life that I most feared judgement from. This was mainly due to the fact that when my depression first started, I was told by a well-meaning, but misinformed, friend that if I just "had a little more faith", I would "snap out of it."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So my perception was that if my Christian circle knew about my depression, and the resulting doubts about God, they would think me faithless, crazy, or both. So I avoided getting help until I was so deep into my depression, and so miserable, that I didn't care anymore what others thought of me. I only knew that I wouldn't be able to keep my suicidal thoughts from turning into action unless I got help.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So the summer of my senior year of college, I met with a wonderful Christian counselor and she was able to help me learn how to manage my depression, work through my doubts about God, and process the severe grief I was experiencing at the time (in the course of a few months, three of my loved ones had died - my two grandpas and a dear family friend). I learned some of the things that triggered my depression and how to guard against them. I got on medication for a while in order to get the chemicals in my brain under control enough to process my struggle more clearly. And I learned that counseling is a helpful, healing, and heathy tool for dealing with the emotional trauma that is sometimes part of life. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So why do I bring all this up? Because another thing I learned is that <i>there is light at the end of the tunnel</i>. No matter how bleak and hopeless and painful things seem, there is hope. Getting there takes work and the process itself can be really painful, but there <i>is</i> hope. Which is how I feel about this move. It hurts now, but I know it won't hurt this bad forever. The thing is though, I haven't been sure <i>how</i> to get through the tunnel to the light at the end of it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you're dealing with something like loss and depression, it's not just a matter of giving it time, or about finding something positive to focus on. It's not even just about trusting God. I believe my faith has played a huge part in helping me manage my struggle with depression and I believe it will help me through this most recent loss, but I've also learned that having a healthy understanding of how my mind and heart are designed is incredibly important to</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> healing completely</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which is why I contacted my counselor, Bobbie, after writing my last post. She directed me to a book called <i><a href="https://www.google.com/shopping/product/3887671378839209923?q=the%20grief%20recovery%20handbook&hl=en&biw=1207&bih=956&sa=X&ei=ZpEaUc_WF6jTyAHAr4FA&ved=0CFAQ8wIwAA#ps-sellers" target="_blank">The Grief Recovery Handbook</a></i>. It has been very helpful as I learn more about how our minds and hearts process loss, how our culture is full of misinformation about handling grief, and how I can work through loss in an intentional, healthy way. It has been really, really good for me and I would recommend it to anyone dealing with a loss - whether a "big" one like death or divorce, or other types of loss like the end of a relationship or friendship, moving, a career change, broken trust, or anything else that is causing you to experience the pain of loss.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For me, loss is a big trigger to my depression and I'm fighting it by working through my grief in a healthy way. I have no wish to travel down that dismal road again. And I always want to be honest about my struggle because I don't want anyone to avoid getting help because they fear the stigma, or feel alone, as I did. Counseling is a blessing, not a reason for judgement. While the circumstances surrounding depression and grief are different for each person, no one is alone in their struggle. Pain is a part of life, but if we're afraid to process that pain in a healthy way, it will taint the joy that is also a part of life.</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Eccl-3-1">"There is a time for every event under heaven... </span>A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance." - <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ecclesiastes%203&version=NASB" target="_blank">Ecclesiastes 3</a></span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a time for grieving. Which is good, because it sometimes takes a while to work through it. But on the other side of it, there is a time to dance. Maybe I won't be pulling out my dancing shoes every day, and maybe the tears will come more often than I'd like, but there is hope at the end of this tunnel. For me, and for anyone reading this who can relate. </span>Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-19119076484319048982013-01-28T11:34:00.001-07:002013-01-28T11:37:10.931-07:00The Good and The Grief<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A friend </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">recently </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">commented that she hadn't heard much from me lately. And she's right. With the exception of a few photos posted on facebook, I have been pretty quiet since the move. My facebook page, my blog, and even my own private journal lays quiet and empty. Because the truth is, I don't know how to process this move and I don't know what to say. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't pretend I'm thrilled to be here, but there are things about being in Colorado that I have enjoyed. While there have been challenges to navigate around, I have enjoyed temporarily sharing a home with my brother-and-sister-in-law and their two awesome boys (my three-year-old nephew is a hoot and keeps us laughing every day with the crazy things that come out of his mouth). It's been good for Devin and I to have to lean on each other and figure out this new life as a team. We've gone on some fun outings as a family of four and I can't deny that Colorado Springs is a gorgeous place to live in and explore. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the same time though, I am incredibly homesick. But I'm trying not to think about it too much because I can't function under the onslaught of tears that missing home brings. I've got laundry to do and food to cook and babies to look after and a husband to love and a new life to figure out. Not being able to see or breath because I'm crying so hard isn't conducive to making life here work. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know I have to eventually sift through these emotions. I'm in a process of grief and I need to mourn. I know this. The grief is just really thick and has a lot of layers and it's hard to allow it in. Because I'm not just mourning the life I left behind, but also the life that I thought I would have. Experiences and memories that I planned on sharing with my Arizona family and friends as I raised my own little family close by. Those dreamed about expectations are gone. Or have, in the very best light, changed drastically. I suppose it's not healthy to dwell on the "what would have beens", but it seems almost impossible not to do so. So I just don't think about it because it hurts too much. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm in a state of numbness right now- not fully happy, not fully sad, just moving through life day-by-day. Not a healthy place to be forever, but where I am at the moment. It's a survival mechanism I suppose, to hold me together until we can get into a place of our own that just might start feeling like home. Until I can unpack the last box and find a new routine and build a social life again. Until I have the strength to unlock the swell of emotions surrounding this move. Until then, I've got to just hold it together for one more day, and one more day after that... and find little </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">moments </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of joy here and there to help fortify my hurting heart.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* * * </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So as to not end this post on a complete downer, I wanted to share some photos of a recent hike we took as a family that I really enjoyed. No doubt it is beautiful here in Colorado and a great city for outdoor, endorphin-producing activities. There are far, far worse places to have to move to. </span><br />
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<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-60405376443101430362013-01-17T16:56:00.002-07:002013-01-28T11:36:58.622-07:00When Making New Friends Stinks<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine if you will, arriving at the home of a new acquaintance, whom you have never met face-to-face before, but to whom you were introduced through a friend-of-a-friend by way of an online blog comment. You've emailed each other and talked briefly on the phone, but this is your first time seeing each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine driving to this new friend's house and, after cautiously navigating your way through the new city to which you have just moved, getting lost in her neighborhood. You've flipped so many u-turns and pulled into so many different driveways in search of the correct house, that your motion-sickness prone fifteen-month-old begins to throw up in the back seat. You pull over and rush to the other side of the car just in time to catch three handfuls (and I do mean <i>full</i>) of projectile mac-and-cheese-with-tuna vomit. Said child has however, already covered himself in mounds of the stuff, so you remove him from the carseat and stand him on the snow covered side road, strip him of his foul clothing, wipe down the carseat as best you can with baby wipes, and fasten him back into the smelly seat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and while you're imagining this ridiculous scenario, add to it that the friend you are meeting up with has a broken cell phone that can receive text messages, but doesn't have the ability to accept calls. Texting back-and-forth at stop signs trying to tell her where you are and trying to understand her texted directions is proving to be a colossal failure, so your friend steps out onto her patio were she gets one bar of service and attempts through the crackle of her phone to direct your way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, you arrive, flustered and smelling of vomit. Your new friend meets you out front and without hesitation, you nearly toss your clean child (for you have twins) into her arms and carefully remove the other child, puke-covered, half-naked, from the car. Your first words of introduction are not, "It's so lovely to meet you," but rather a desperate, "Can I use your washing machine?" And this, <i>this</i>, is the first impression that will be forever seared into the mind of your new friend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, after she helps you clean up your child, she offers you coffee and chocolate and good conversation and all is right in the world again. You may be remembered evermore as the "smelly mom-of-twins", but you hope that it will be with a touch of fondness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And if you are me, then these imaginings are actually the stuff of reality. And my new friend Erin, bless her heart, was as sweet as can be (having five boys of her own, including a set of twins, she was empathetic to my plight). And so completes my day of two big firsts: navigating (semi-successfully) my way alone through my new city, and making my first new friend in Colorado Springs. Here's to less vomit in my future introductions. I'm not sure everyone I meet here will be as understanding as Erin. </span><br />
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Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-71253033294794298462013-01-12T11:26:00.002-07:002014-03-19T15:45:54.211-07:00Discombobulated <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, we made it to Colorado Springs on Monday. I've been in a discombobulated haze ever since arriving. Processing that we are actually here for the long haul hasn't even begun to sink in yet. Mainly because the basement apartment we are renting didn't end up getting finished in time so we are in this weird limbo of not being able to settle in or unpack, and sleeping wherever we can all find space in my brother-and-sister-in-law's house while all our stuff sits piled to the ceiling in their entry way. Bless her heart, my sis-in-law has been great about all this. I would be losing my mind if I were in her shoes. Maybe she has lost her mind and that is why she is staying relatively calm. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being that I didn't pack for, "sooo... the basement isn't finished yet", we've been living out of a weekend bag for over a week now while the rest of our worldly belongings precariously teeter in the entry way. Trying to unearth anything is a bit treacherous unless it's needed badly enough to risk being crushed by boxes to retrieve. Thus, repeatedly wearing "cleanish" outfits from the weekend bag is our new way of life. It's been cause for some interesting creativity. Also, my standard of acceptable attire and cleanliness has been temporality lowered. Fortunately, my underwear drawer was accessible, so that's good news.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someday we'll all laugh about the chaos that moving into my brother-and-sister-in-law's house has caused, but today is not quite that day. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beyond the madhouse of daily rearranging everyone, the Leaning Tower of Death-by-Stuff, and the normal strain of moving to another state (magnified by about ten), we've had a lot of fun with my brother-in-law and family. All the cousins (my two boys and my two nephews) are getting along great, and my sister-in-law, Shannon, and I have enjoyed keeping each other company during the long days of stay-at-home-momdom. Once the stress of finishing the basement (the carpet is being laid as I type this) is behind us, I think we'll have a really good time with this whole "communal living" experiment. Until then, we're all learning some good lessons on flexibility and patience. </span></div>
Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-83113552789882889232012-12-20T10:45:00.002-07:002012-12-20T10:45:14.456-07:00Blessed, Bewildered, Brokenhearted <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever been so blown away by something God has done, so in awe at the way He has worked in your life, but also really, really hurt by it at the same time? I don't mean hurt as in, "God's out to vindictively cause me pain," but more of a, "God has moved in my life, but the results have caused life to hurt a little more than it did before" kind of way.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I am completely living that emotional oxymoron right now in regards our upcoming move. If you read <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-one.html" target="_blank">part one</a></b> and <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-two.html" target="_blank">two</a></b> of the story behind why we are moving to Colorado, then you know that God answered a lot of specific prayers for us. I am stunned by how God has worked out detail after detail. Details that were completely out of our control and that we prayed about, and for some reason, God chose to answer in unbelievably precise ways. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example, we found out in October that there would be a possible opening in Colorado Springs for Devin's job transfer. But the timing was such that he might have to start the job before Thanksgiving and not be able to come back for the twins and I until after Christmas. Obviously, this would have been really difficult - I'd be caring for the twins on my own while trying to pack up our apartment by myself, plus having to spend Christmas away from my husband. Really not what we wanted. But the alternative - Devin not getting this transfer and hoping another job would open up again in a few months - was bad too because we were entering into a month-by-month lease in our apartment and it was really, really expensive. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So we prayed about it. We prayed that Devin would get the job, but that somehow God would work it out that he didn't have to start until after Christmas (even though the start date for the job posting said November 25th). And oh yeah God, one more little thing - that we won't have to pay more that one month's rent on our exorbitant month-by-month agreement. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friends, that is <i>exactly</i> what happened. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Devin found out on November 27th that he got the position at FedEx in Colorado Spring <i>and</i> that he didn't have to start until January 8th (giving us a perfect window to move <i>right</i> when our first month-by-month lease was up). It was a huge deal to us and I just felt so overwhelmed that God worked out these details. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But at the same time, the move is real now. We have a date that we are leaving and the reality of it makes me so sad. Someone asked me the other day how I was doing and my answer was, "I've got good moments and bad days." I get these swells of excitement about this new chapter in our lives but it's the kind of excitement that comes when anticipating a fun vacation. Then I remember that it isn't a vacation. This is long-term, possibly forever. And even in light of the great things we will have in Colorado, it hurts to think of leaving my amazing group of girl friends and our incredible families. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And to be honest, there are many days that I have not handled this change well. Fighting against bitter, negative thoughts is a daily struggle for me. I'm grateful and grumbling at the same time - which as you might imagine is very counter-productive. I don't want to leave, but I know God has shown us we are to go. I'm like the Israelites in the desert - complaining about the manna that God has provided because it's not exactly what I wanted. But God <i>has</i> provided and I have to reminded myself of this even though the results are painful.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good thing is that one of the ways I deal with stress, anger, and upsetting emotions is to busy myself with a task and I've got plenty of tasks to occupy me as we try to pack up our apartment while still enjoying Christmastime activities with our friends and families. Many a box has been packed while I was sifting though my emotions. So while our apartment is a disaster, there are boxes everywhere, our schedule is jam-packed, and my emotions are topsy-turvy - amidst all this - I remind myself that God is in control. He has provided and He is in control.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My sister-in-law has a quote in her house that I've really loved during this season: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: black;">Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: black;">its about learning how to dance in the rain</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">."</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not quite dancing yet, but I am learning to take His hand and let Him lead. <i>Lead on Lord and please forgive me for my grumbling heart. You have provided and for that I am so grateful. </i></span><br />
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<br />Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-63658975672398632012012-12-05T10:42:00.001-07:002013-01-28T11:39:26.159-07:00Deadline: Project 101 in 1001<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome December 5th, 2012. You came so much faster than I anticipated when writing out my <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/p/project-101-in-1001.html" target="_blank">Project 101 in 1001</a></b> goals. Well, that's not exactly true. You arrived just as you always should have - with the normal passing of time. I just did not expect life to throw so much at me during the 1001 days of the project. Things like, <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2011/04/this-was-not-part-of-plan.html" target="_blank">a surprise pregnancy with twins</a></b>, <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/02/goal-92-staying-home-complete.html" target="_blank">quitting my job to stay home with the twins</a></b>, and <b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-one.html" target="_blank">planning a move to another state</a></b>. You know, little things such as these that slightly hindered my ability to complete all 101 goals in the alloted 1001 days. </span><br />
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But that is life. I completed 59 of my 101 goals and while that would be a failing grade in school (which makes my summa cum laude self shutter), I do not look at the non-completion of the project as a failure. I made the goals to help give my life some direction and the direction life took on its own did not line up with many of the goals. And that's okay.</span><br />
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Though I failed to complete the project, I look back on the past 1001 days with triumph and a feeling of achievement. Here are some things that were not on my list that I feel were great successes:</span><br />
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have two beautiful, happy, and energetic sons that bring a smile to my face every day. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a wonderful marriage to a hard-working man who love me well and appreciates me deeply.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a that job I love, and while it is exhausting, I get paid in hugs and smiles and adoring looks from the most precious little guys in the world and that makes all the diapers and laundry and tears and weariness and frustration completely worth the work. Motherhood: The hardest job you'll ever love.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God has given Devin and I amazing comfort and direction as we embark on this new adventure of moving to Colorado (more on that soon - some really awesome stuff to share).</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through all of this, I have learned to trust God so much deeper.</span></li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I compare the list above with the list from Project 101 in 1001, I can't help but feel that, while fun, so many of the goals I gave myself were trivial in comparison to the tasks life handed me. There are still goals from the project that I would like to eventually complete, but I have learned through all of this that while "<i>man plans his course, the Lord directs his steps," </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Proverbs 16:9). </span><br />
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As I move forward with life - planning, but eagerly watching for God's direction - I have been focusing on this passage: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><i><span style="color: black;">Whatever</span> happens, <span style="color: black;">conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel</span> of Christ.</i>" (Phil 1:27).</span> That is a goal worth pursuing wouldn't you agree?</span><br />
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<b>Here's to the "Whatever Happens" of this crazy, unpredictable life... </b></span>Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3664832721116542494.post-7873913050414017842012-10-30T11:43:00.000-07:002013-03-22T05:30:31.516-07:00Lil Monsters Birthday Party<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being that I'm quickly become the most inconsistent blogger ever, I thought I would post a fun little update. And what is more fun (or more cute) than the first birthday party of twins? I submit - very little. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Fgaz5lp2pDFsHFXkzrR1g2olKIX4mR7u9FpaIayVTiimLH92y_Z30CJch9ITjihPW9XccQUZl1nMp1LvSry831koLYT6scvOp_RO37rLwC3Xo2rjqIbqM4_EBcSEnayzVczmPcYg2Yc/s1600/hanson_20121021_8738_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Fgaz5lp2pDFsHFXkzrR1g2olKIX4mR7u9FpaIayVTiimLH92y_Z30CJch9ITjihPW9XccQUZl1nMp1LvSry831koLYT6scvOp_RO37rLwC3Xo2rjqIbqM4_EBcSEnayzVczmPcYg2Yc/s640/hanson_20121021_8738_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The theme "Lil Monsters" seemed appropriate as both boys are walking now and into everything. And Weston's favorite activity is running around the living room with his arms in the air screaming like he just don't care. That kid is a ball of energy and then some. And both boys think it's hilarious to let Weston playfully bite Isaac's fingers and for Weston to grab Isaac's hand and hit himself with it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lil Monsters indeed. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those two are constant entertainment, I tell you.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS0xO_iiYjHjiCejoGxyIeifub8P0y_Yj3TMmOLkn7WpI0XJCz1AyWU1UGUxQHCkkXEUREV40gZJqDmoMcg1aFYJ96IlwkSOSK72SasX9IqGyLpJWLKj-gUAOIok0YpM_nJReTDUu8uAQ/s1600/hanson_20121021_8665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS0xO_iiYjHjiCejoGxyIeifub8P0y_Yj3TMmOLkn7WpI0XJCz1AyWU1UGUxQHCkkXEUREV40gZJqDmoMcg1aFYJ96IlwkSOSK72SasX9IqGyLpJWLKj-gUAOIok0YpM_nJReTDUu8uAQ/s640/hanson_20121021_8665.jpg" width="428" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All five of the boys' aunts helped out with the party (much to my eternal gratitude). Aunt 'B' helped make the cupcakes and cake pops, Aunt Kristin made the monster cakes, Aunt Julia and Aunt Katie (my little sisters) made all the monster cups, and Aunt Shannon took me shopping to pick out special birthday outfits. And Grama and Papa hosted one amazing backyard bbq (complete with a homemade corn hole toss game) and Grandma (my mom) made the best beans in the entire world. We have an awesome family. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what being parents to twin boys does to you... at least, that is our excuse.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScwBTTiJC8D19KyVGLK1AFNFaYexWJ_PoiAOTztCaVnIm7JSw-ebf_uc-I6KouuHthjo3vpxwObvSzzZBGXOTZLv1oa_CN9Vk4vBUuV75k7TNAcC-uDUqKl3RBpvOpwUtZ_OUR8p7QPE/s1600/hanson_20121021_8710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScwBTTiJC8D19KyVGLK1AFNFaYexWJ_PoiAOTztCaVnIm7JSw-ebf_uc-I6KouuHthjo3vpxwObvSzzZBGXOTZLv1oa_CN9Vk4vBUuV75k7TNAcC-uDUqKl3RBpvOpwUtZ_OUR8p7QPE/s640/hanson_20121021_8710.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Oh and a quick little update on the whole "<b><a href="http://nothingsandnotions.blogspot.com/2012/09/and-god-said-go-part-one.html" target="_blank">moving to Colorado</a></b>" thing: there is nothing new to report. We are still planning on going, but don't know exactly when. Good talk.)</span></div>
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This party was awarded "Best Decorations" by <a href="http://partypail.com/">partypail.com</a> (which is pretty awesome since I <a href="http://www.offbeatgraphics.com/" target="_blank">designed</a> all the decorations myself).</span></b></i><br />
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Jennifer Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14580329317499402399noreply@blogger.com0