Gaining Confidence

I don't know how I missed out on confidence in doing simple household tasks. Oh, I'm not talking about baking bread or frosting a cake. Those things I love to do! (You do not need a bread maker, by the way, to make bread.) I am not even talking about things like scrubbing grout or wiping off walls. I suspect I'm not a very good housekeeper, but I can do it. It is just a question of forcing myself to get it done.

No, I am talking about things like hanging pictures, washing the outside of double hung windows that flip into the house, using a cordless drills, gardening, and even painting. Somehow I missed out on the training that prepares one for those tasks. My sister somehow was trained, as I learned when she visited me in Wisconsin, several years ago. She and my mom are the masters of home improvement around 175 Water Street. My dad has many admirable skills, but the desire to complete home repairs is not one of them. So anyways, Joanna and mom are the experts, a bond that was forged after I left for college, I think.

My liberal arts education did not offer a course in basic home skills, a course obviously lacking if you are seeking your MRS degree. Or perhaps, the MRS degree provides a husband, who, in theory, would be capable of doing some of these things. And living in on-campus housing wasn't exactly a place to hone these skills as an independent young adult, either. There is a reason I know how to bake bread but not use a cordless drill! I think the fine for a hole in the wall was instant death by RA, who just happened to be my roommate.

So somehow, I graduated from college and got married without learning these skills. And then marrying Dan just let me piggyback on his skills. Mr. Handy, he just knew how to do those things, even the chores that he despises. In our first apartment in Belfast, he hung the pictures on the walls and led the painting of our room a horrible color called asparagus. (The choice of the paint was the fault of both of us. It was an atrocious color!) He amazes me anew every so often with his competence with power tools. I have tons of respect for his capabilities in this area! He worked in a nursery in high school, so he has way more knowledge of gardening than I, and it probably goes without saying that he can use a cordless drill. (He can even do caulking and plumbing and basic electrical wiring! The list could go on and on.)

Since our first apartment, we've moved a couple of times, but each time I've managed to get someone else to do the moving-in items that I haven't been confident to attempt on my own. But with this move, we are home owners. I don't have to stress about a landlord yelling at me for messing something up. I'm also home all day long, which Dan is not. Surprisingly, he doesn't always feel like helping me nest after a full day of work. Weird, right?

So, I'm preparing myself for the challenge. Part of me is yelling "GIRL POWER," but that's really kind of lame. Women everywhere have had to hang up their own pictures on the walls and figure out how to flip the windows inside to wash them (way easier than dragging a ladder outside to wash them if you don't have the flip kind of windows). These are just life skills, at least for someone who cares about their living environment. Sometimes I choose to believe that some people are just handy -- Dan, his sister Kristy, who will tackle anything (dryer broken? I can fix that!), my sister. And sometimes I get overwhelmed by the scads of information available on the internet. (Just look up washing windows if you want to read a million opinions on how to get it done.)

But today, I refused to sit around sulking while Dan enjoyed a well-deserved morning of mountain biking. I grabbed the hammer and the picture hanging kit, the measuring tape and the five frames I wanted to hang in the nursery, laid them out, and jumped in. You know what? Five frames are hanging neatly above the glider. Only one picture had to be readjusted. And I am one step closer to being more competent around the house.

Here's to trying something you aren't confident in! It just might turn out better than you think.

Baby Clothes

Yesterday, I attempted to sort out some of the itty-bitty baby clothes given to us over the past few months. Some were hand-me-downs, from friends with 3 little girls who moved to California. Others were from my cousin, who had a baby girl last December. Still others were new, gifts from the ladies who showered us with love a little over a week ago. We have been blessed with clothes for our little girl, and I am entirely grateful.

That being said, I also am a little overwhelmed. It wasn't until this baby shower that I realized that not all one piece baby apparel are called onesies. The ones with long sleeves and legs are sleepers (who knew?). I only found out after my sister-in-law handed me a detailed gift list (thanks Shelley!). So yesterday, in merely the 0-6 month category, we had shirts, pants, onesies, long-sleeved onsies, sleepers, sleeper dresses, complete outfits with matching tops and bottoms, and a few little jackets and sweaters. I sorted once, I sorted twice, and then I left them in piles on the nursery floor.

Feeling the need for some love from some other mamas, I posted on Facebook:

Just trying to organize all of our little one's clothes makes me feel woefully unprepared for having a baby! Onesies, sleepers, dresses, itty bitty pants.... Will I possibly know when to put her in what?

Sweet, reassuring comments came back. Sometimes social media is great.

When Dan came home for lunch and asked about my morning, I confided that I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with clothes and that I felt like I'd never know how to dress our baby. Being the supportive guy that he is, he walked up to the nursery with me and took a look. He was impressed by the piles and joked, "She isn't even here and I've been invaded by pink!" But then he made me laugh by pointing out that I have tons of clothes, so the baby would also need* lots of different items.

"How many babies have died - actually died," he asked, "because they weren't in the right clothes?" I had to admit that I had not heard of any fatalities because the baby was wearing a sleeper vs. a pants/onesie outfit.

So Dan wisely dealt with the pregnant lady. And that's one thing I love about him. He listened to me, made me laugh, and reassured me that we are in this together. We'll figure things out as we need to. And if we can laugh about it, we're in pretty good shape.

So thanks, family and friends, for the inundation of adorable baby clothes. Not only will they clothe the babe after she arrives, they made me appreciate Dan's easy-going nature.

*I'm using the term "need" lightly here. I know babies don't actually need lots, but since we were gift lots of different items, we'll pretend she needs them.

A Full Heart

So much has happened in the past few months, but oh so few updates. I'm overwhelmed by the providence the Lord has showered upon us. The blessings have come amidst challenges, but I'm struck by how beautifully God is orchestrating all things.

Because my heart is so full, I'm going to list some of the blessings that spring to mind.

1.) A healthy, growing baby girl! She cooperated to give us a hint of her gender about 4 weeks ago, and Dan and I are thrilled. She's kicking and growing (evidence: my bulging belly!).

2.) The purchase of a newly-renovated historic home! We started looking for houses last fall, but once we found out we were pregnant, we started looking again. We wanted a room for the baby and a room for guests. (We think that the arrival of our little cutie will draw some more visitors.) We put an offer in on one house, but the home inspection turned up more work that we were willing to do. Right at the same time, this house came into our hunt. It's in downtown Dayton and was completely rehabed by a Christian non-profit group. High efficency systems, new kitchen, gas fireplace, and a fenced in backyard makes it a perfect fit for us.

3.) Friends and family who made our move smooth. The downside of living 4+ hours from family is that they aren't always available to help on moving day. On the plus side, our church family and Dan's co-workers stepped in to make our move go flawlessly. We were completely moved in about 4 hours. Then, my mom and my sister arrived to help unpack some boxes. We wouldn't have been able to do it without these wonderful people.

4.) A vacation coming up! We're headed to the beach with Dan's family -- all of them! I'm so excited that we'll all be together for an entire week. We've missed family time.

5.) Time to enjoy life. School ended a few weeks ago, and I don't know how I would have been able to pack up, close on the house, and move all while teaching. I don't have a summer job (although I might try to find something). Also, I'm not going to be teaching next year, so I have some time to get settled in and then love on our little package of joy when she arrives!

6.) Dan. He's been super sweet throughout pregnancy. I've had it really easy, but for the things that have been different, he's been really supportive and/or understanding. For example, he didn't tease me about crying after we didn't buy ice cream at Meijer the other day. Yes, I cried because I didn't get ice cream. What can I say? I love ice cream. Anyways, he's going to be an amazing dad.

An Exciting Surprise

Dan's reading Paying for College without Going Broke.

I'm reading Help! Surviving a Baby's First Year.

And, in case you're still not sure what is going on, we're having A New Baby.

We can't wait for October 9, 2012!

Knitting Away

I've completed a few knitting projects that I thought were especially cute that I wanted to share with you!

The first project was three hats, commissioned by my sister-in-law for her two kids (my niece and nephew) and her sister. She told me what she thought would be cute and shared a few pictures on Pintrest, and this is what I came up with!

There was a zebra, a koala, and a dinosaur. I was able to take a few pictures of the kids modeling their hats during Christmas Cabin.

The other two boys are wearing their Christmas hats from last year. :) Yay!

The next project I cast on was for an adult sized sweater. I'm making Tea Leaves Cardigan using Cascade 220 Quarto yarn, a present from my mom from Christmas. I made my first ever swatch to make sure the sweater was not either too huge nor too small. I've cast on, now, and I'm 29 rows in. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Last but not least, I knit my nephew Ben a dino hat for his first birthday! This was the third attempt at a hat this winter, and this time, finally, it fit! The problem wasn't Ben's head, but rather that I didn't use a pattern any of those times. The final time I based it on a pattern, but I was still doing some improvisation, but fortunately it fit. Phew! A picture of it on Ben's adorable head is forthcoming.

And, on a related note, I'm thinking about starting a little shop in Etsy to sell knitted children's hats. I enjoy it and it might let me make a little extra money. I'll let you know when I make the plunge!

Looking at 2012

The first time I remember making a resolution for the new year was when I was in middle school. At that time, The Brink -- our middle and high school youth group -- did an all nighter at the church. It pretty much involved lots of pop, pizza, movies, and silly dares such as running outside in bare feet. Yet in the midst of the craziness, probably before we popped in our traditional girl movie, Little Women, I pulled out a new journal to record my goals and aspirations for the year.

A new year always brings a feeling of quiet anticipation, just like before my pen hits the first page of a new journal. The story of my life will soon be written there, but I don't know what it is yet. If I were really awesome, I would try to coordinate a new journal with each new year, but my rate of filling pages ebbs and flows over the course of the year, and I inevitably finish a journal mid-year, with a new journal to start on an inauspicious day such as March 13 or September 25.

This year I didn't really make an resolutions. Recently I made a 30-before-30 list, so that gives me some goals to work towards over the next few years, but I didn't want to make a resolution just because the clock was ticking. But last week, I was challenged to pick a word that would highlight an idea that I would like to dwell on this year. The word that has emerged from my contemplation has been humility.

Humility, synonymous with lowliness, meekness, submissiveness, an antonym of pride. Yikes, right? In our world, humility is not a valued trait. We'd like athletes to be humble, but as for us, the regular folks, we want to be revered and loved. We're encouraged to endorse ourselves, to highlight our best characteristics, and to be blunt about our best qualities. But as someone who is not of this world (1 Peter 2:11), I'm called to live a life of humility, mirroring Christ's humility.

"In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant..." (Philippians 2:5-7)

There are an abundance of verses about humility, and I could copy a bunch of them down, but let's be honest: if Jesus exemplified it, that's what I need to emmulate. Enough said. For me, as this year begins, humility means thinking of others more than myself. It means using my gifts and talents for the glory of God, not for my own gratification. It means serving others, day in and day out. It means making myself nothing that He may be glorified.

When all is said and done in 2012, I want to look back and see how the year was characterized by the indwelling of the attitude of humility in my life. I'm praying that it grows within me, even though that's a terrifying prayer. Growth is worth the discomfort, and I'm anxious to becoming more like Christ each day. Life is fleeting, much too short to remain stagnant. Therefore, let 2012 be filled with growth!

Epic Dodgeball

Tap, tap. Does this thing still work? Sorry for the major break in posting. I've been too busy having fun to post about it over the past few months, but today's experience was just so epic that it calls for a blog post.

As many of you know, I teach seventh graders. In light of the holiday season, our school collected cans for a local food pantry. I announced it to my fourth period math class, and for the first six days of the can drive, we had six cans. The six I brought in. Then, all of the sudden, we picked up steam! Kids started raiding their parents' pantries for legitimate items, and at the first count, we were in first place! Then things started getting competitive. Due to the (supposed? actual?) peanut butter shortage, jars of peanut butters were worth 5 cans. Other fourth period classes started to catch up and pass our total. At the next count, we were in sixth place.

Now, middle school students are altruistic, but much more generous when they have incentive. And this was the carrot we were dangling: a dodgeball tourney for the top 6 teams. My kids were psyched to be in the top 6 teams, but they knew their position was precarious, so the day before the final count, one girl implored all of the other kids to bring in peanut butter. Another kid offered to stop at Aldy to buy it if they gave him money. (They also had their dander up because a couple of 8th graders came into my room pretending to count cans for student council and stole them from my class! Fortunately they were caught and their cans were returned. Anyways, that made my students pretty mad, once the word got around school.)

So the kids brought in more cans, more jars of peanut butter, and more swiped goods from their cupboards, but on the final day, when an email was sent around school, it revealed that we were in 7th place, one place short of qualifying for the tournament. Oh well, I figured. We wouldn't have gotten too far anyways.

But then, my telephone rang. It was the principal (not principle, how most of my kids like to spell this position), weighing the option of expanding the field to 8 teams, having two rat-tail matches on the morning of the tourney. I knew my kids would be pumped, so I readily agreed.

Pumped they were, once the principal announced that the top 8 teams would qualify. On Monday, we picked a team color to wear (black) and a table of boys dreamed up strategies on their mini-white boards between math problems. I really did not think that my class had any chance of getting out of the rat-tail match, but it was fun to be silly with them. Other classes were taking it to the top with tie-dyed tee-shirts and pow-pows of planning.

Fast-forward to this morning. We were playing the art teacher's class, and can I admit that I was a little relieved to note that a good athlete was on crutches? (Get better soon, kiddo!) The rules were stated, the horn buzzed, and our team took them down! My kids did look pretty intimidating with their eye black on and their black outfits, granted, but I was amazed at their athleticism! Throwing, dodging, catching, all with grace and ease! (Note: I wish they could be so amazing at math.)

So, they made it to the next round, which I wasn't able to watch. We were up against 8th graders (yikes) so I figured that was it. But... following the next round, we had made it past both of our opponents, and we were facing the tie-dye-tee-shirt-making team, in front of the whole school at the end of the day.

The game was on, Team S---- vs. Team B-------.

Following 7th period, I walk into a packed gym, wearing my high school soccer jersey since it was the right color for the tourney. (Thank goodness I bought that 8 years ago! I've used it sooo many times.) The kids were talking strategy and getting themselves all riled up for the game. As the crowd filled in, chants started.

The game began, and for a while, it looked like my team had the right strategy: get out the best players on the other team ASAP. I was cheering like a mad woman. But then the tides turned, and we were down to one player. The other team was hurling balls at her from the 3 point line and she dodged, admirably. Then, lo and behold, she caught one and our best player was back in!

I thought we had a chance, but then she slipped while dodging a ball and it hit her hair. OUT. One kid left, against five formidable opponents. But all of the balls were on his side of the line and he became the aggressor. He made them back up to behind their 3 point line and bam! Bam! Bam! Several throws letter, they were OUT. Our class was the school champs!!!! High fives ensued, but I was immediately torn away: the victors had to face the staff team, which I had agreed to play on, hence why I was wearing my black FHS soccer jersey.

I figured I could be a double agent, or at least I would be an easy out for my kids. At the same time, I didn't want to be the first out, so my strategy was to hide behind the big guys on my team. I was just goofing off, scurrying away from the throws, squealing whenever anything came my way. And then, miraculously, I caught a ball.

Now, most of you know that I am not a star athlete. I didn't earn many points on the soccer field or running track. My first year of being on the varsity soccer team I was the back-up goalie who didn't even play when the goalie was out! I'm fit, but I am not an athlete. (Hence why my parents were shocked that I won an award in high school for being a scholar athlete! "Really? YOU?")

It must have been the combination of fats and sugars from my last day of school parties, the florescent lights, and the previous chants of the crowd, but I was on fire. I caught balls. I dodged them using an amazing spinning move. I blocked them using a dodgeball I just caught. I was UNSTOPPABLE.

Until I launched a ball at one of my students, first ball I threw of the game. My kiddo looked like she caught it (apparently she didn't), and I turned away half-disappointed, half-hoping my kids would win. Then two more balls smacked me and I was out. For a few moments, it looked as if my kids might be able to withstand the attack the staff was mounting, but soon, it was all over. Staff was victorious, and I was high-fiving my kids, telling them great game. They were disappointed, but they knew they had done an outstanding job.

As the principal was giving the pep-talk, my fellow teammates awarded me MVP, an honor I am not accustomed to receiving for my athletic endeavors. And on the way out, I felt like a rock star again. I high-fived at least 100 kids, fist bumped the opponents from Team B------, got smiles and cheers from 6th graders I don't know but hopefully will have next year, and generally felt loved and admired by all.

It was an awesome day. I think I still have an adrenaline high.

Even better? Now we have break.