So, I Went Back to Church

...and I didn't get burned at the stake, or hit over the head with a Bible. I wasn't even asked to join a cult.

I just went.

Driving back to a place I didn't think I'd ever go again, we pulled our car into the parking lot and I took a deep breath. The pit stains were well-formed, and not going away even after angling my arms just so in front of the vents as I drove.

"I'm doing it for them. I'm doing it for them. They need to know Jesus at an early age, and know what I know, but don't understand. 

Also, there is beer in the fridge."

The church doesn't even look like the church I went to many years ago. And truthfully, this one isn't really the problem.

The Baptist church. That's my problem.

Bible-thumping, fear-mongering, shaming, judging. Those are the emotions and feelings that envelope that building. The kids not knowing or understanding God, and being told, "God will give up on you one day because you will screw up too many times for Him to forgive you." Apology letters being written by teens, who made a bad choice and got pregnant, and being forced to read them aloud during assembly. "Why is she apologizing to me? She didn't have sex with me. Is this normal? Do all Christians shame other Christians? Shit. I'm screwed."

There were good things too. The football games, the parties, the underground dances, the friendships, a select group of teachers. But chapel? Chapel was when I suddenly had cramps. Forget P.E. Chapel scared me more than an old fart with a stopwatch.

And here I was: opening myself up to all the shame, the guilt, the inferiority, the fear, the anxiety. Oh, the anxiety. The kind that a Xanax can't touch. Church was the C word. I wouldn't darken those doors until I had to - maybe a funeral. Maybe I could stand outside while they sang Ave Maria.

I could drop my kids in service and head to Starbucks. It wasn't my worst idea. I know other people who do it all the time. They'd get Jesus, and I'd get? Well, I wouldn't get the shame or the guilt. I was showing up to church after an 8-month hiatus. Surely, God was going to pillar-of-salt me for that kind of shit. My Bible teacher told me: He'd give up on me one day. Walking away from church was probably one of the best reasons to give up on me.

I texted the pastor's wife because she's normal.

"I don't want to do this, but I have to. For them."

"Come a few minutes after service starts. It's dark in there - like a night club. You don't have to talk to anyone, and you can sit in the back. Easy escape."

My kids betrayed me that night. They ran (read: bolted) for their classrooms. I carried them in my body for 9 months, and they left me in the dust to sit with a bunch of Judgy McJudgersons. Alone.

Jerks.

I texted aforementioned pastor's wife the entire time.

"Something is weird about the music."

"What's wrong?"

"No one was rolling around on the ground, and I didn't see one flag being waved." 

"If you've never been hit by a flag during worship, then, you've never been to a charismatic church."

Ok, so, the worship wasn't terrifying, but we have yet to get into a sermon momentarily where, surely, I will be told I am a scum bag who is going to burn. Wait for it...

I waited.

The shame never came.

Maybe next week.

Week two, Maddie asked Jesus into her heart, and proudly told me that she had "bathtized" herself in our tub not too long ago.

Eight weeks later, and I feel no shame. I have never once been made to feel less than. Quite the opposite. Daughter-of-The-King-level opposite. In fact, I ditch the kids faster to be sure I don't miss something. That feels weird.

I even asked about serving in some capacity.

"I know oils, I take good photos, and I'm sarcastic. What's the position for those gifts?"

Jesus & I? He & I are tight. God? If we had a Facebook, our relationship status would read, "it's complicated."
(And yes, I know about the trinity. Keep up.)

So, maybe God & I need some couples counseling for a while. Maybe I can see that He's not going to backhand me when I screw up. He wouldn't do that to my babies, so why would He do that to me? I guess...I guess He wouldn't.

Stay tuned as Andrea + MJJ Go To Church continues. Maybe I'll get hit by a flag next week.

* * *

Also, Josh works for a church in another town on the weekends, so we don't go with him because of distance. Don't ask.

Also also, I am grateful for my education and the private school I went to, so please don't mistake this for being ungrateful. Just have some junk to work out that was put there by some buttholes who worked there.

Giving Back | Operation Christmas Child

As a kid, each year, we were participated in this great program called Operation Christmas Child. While my Mom probably thought it was just floating in one ear & out the other, I have to say that this really stuck with me. I'll be the first to admit that, living where I do and how I do, I haven't an inkling of how bad it is in other countries. No clean water, no clean food, no medical advancements. I cannot imagine.

One of the main pillars I stand on in my parenting is making sure that my kids are grateful, thankful and giving. I want them to know that they are privileged, blessed, and spoiled as all get out. I don't even mean spoiled in the sense that they have cute clothes or the best toys - I mean, they have good, healthy food (minus the cookies for dinner the other night), clean, running water that comes out of the fridge at the perfect temperature, a 3000 sq ft house that is clean, dry and safe, they are healthy and when they aren't, we have a doctor's office right down the street. These things are so taken for granted, but I want them to know that this is not how the rest of the world lives. And hell, it's a great reminder for me, when I'm having them participate in things like this, that I am privileged and blessed and spoiled too.

This year, as Maddie is old enough to get it, we are putting together a shoe box full of things for a 5-year-old girl.

If you'd like to participate, please visit Operation Christmas Child's website for details on how to pack your shoe box and where to send it. I promise you that it will be such a great growing opportunity for YOU & YOUR KIDS.

Monday Ramblings

The very thought of having twins was a joke in our house for a while. We knew chances were increased with the fertility drug I would eventually take, but it wasn't high enough that it worried us. I just liked to freak my husband out. And I did. Many times. I would feign sickness & tell him it was the twins. When we bought our new car, I stood on the car lot & said, "Maybe we shouldn't get this one...it could be triplets!" You couldn't have surprised me more than that day than when I saw two babies on my ultrasound. I take that back: seeing 3 babies would have made me faint.

The initial shock set in, I stayed in bed sick for 5+ weeks. Fast forward to Christmas, and this house, which is filled with pink toys, pink clothes, & enough baby dolls to fill an entire store, is now going to have not one, but TWO boys. I think I have one sword leftover from Maddie's party. So, I mean, we're all set.

Things move a little differently in a twin pregnancy. Some people have no issues at all while the majority of moms are put on bed rest at some point in their pregnancy. Never mind the fact that you are now trying to get your house ready for TWO more children. You are now confined to your room with Netflix & yarn for an undefined amount of time. You've seen the posts - I've never been so bored in my life. I'm making coffee dates for everyday of the week just to talk to other humans. Watching Angelina Ballerina & talking to a 3 year old about dragons & princesses can only tide me over for so long.

When I was pregnant with Maddie, I was a machine. The day we found out she was a girl, I called my sister-in-law & we painted her room. Shortly after that, all of her furniture was put together & in place. I took a week, and cleaned out the basement from top to bottom. It was so organized it was ridiculous. I have far more to do to prepare for the twins, far more things to purchase, far more organizing, sorting & pitching to do, and here I sit. It's overwhelming. I'm excited, but my little OCD, ADD, anxious personality wants to get moving, clean closets out, figure out where things need to go, clean out the dumb basement again.

Funny how things get prioritized when you're pregnant. I really wanted to finish our room. I started & never followed through. Now, it's all about making sure we have everything the boys need. Like a place to sleep & clothes that aren't pink. And while it's overwhelming to think of all the things they need, I'm learning patience. I think. I think that's this week's lesson. Maybe it's a lesson in not actually being in control. And while I wallowed, stressed & had the come aparts about getting the things for the boys + the photography issue, someone gently reminded me that God cares about what I care about. And His plan encompasses the things that I care about. *Please remind me of this when I start freaking out in an hour.*

/end rant

I leave you with this funny video. I am so glad that I have my dear husband's reaction to my ultrasound. Thanks to Evka for capturing it!

Please ignore the blanket over the window. We have trailer park roots.

I'm sorry...how many babies are in there?

Yes, we're having twins. No, we did not plan that. Yes, there are twins on BOTH sides of our families. Yes, I took fertility drugs. No, I did not know we had twins in the family until after said drugs were swallowed. Thanks for leaving that bit of information out, Grandma.

I have been absent from this blog for 2 reasons. One is because one of the last blogs I wrote created a poop storm & burned my biscuits enough to take a step back. That was wrong. I don't care about other people's snarky attitude towards my snarkiness. Reason number two is because I was trying to keep the biggest secret of my life. I did ok. I slipped sometimes or just needed someone to know, so I told. I told more people than I wanted to. And every time it slipped out, I believed that it was a jinx - no, I don't believe in jinxes, but I believe in my crappy miscarriage history & how that has played out so well. I knew that people would ask questions (many of you did. So nosy.) because I had been vocal about taking fertility treatments. Naturally, people want to know the outcome. In all honesty, I believed if I told people before yesterday that it would like the other times where I'd have to make an announcement that, once again, my body rejected everything & I was miscarrying. Even as I type that, fear creeps in that it could still happen.

But enough of that. Twins are coming. In May. I laid in bed for about 5 weeks straight, sick as a dog, but I am feeling much more like myself these days. Yes, I am excited. Yes, I am utterly terrified. When we made the announcement, the reality of what life is going to be like, the reality that there are TWO growing babies inside of me, the reality that I am going to be as big as a barn hit me like a ton of bricks. And I sobbed. Hard. For 24 hours. The kind words, the texts, the offers of help & encouragement were overwhelming. I'm not confident that I can do this. In fact, most days, I'm sure I can't, but that's neither here nor there any longer. I don't have a choice. I have to do this. And I have to be good at it.

Now that my slight freak out is over, the excitement can begin. I have an ultrasound on Christmas Eve. My favorite doctor, Dr. P, is going to see if he can determine both genders. If he can, we'll have him write it down, seal it in an envelope & we'll open it Christmas morning with all of our other presents! Pray those 2 cooperate because what a rad Christmas present!

Thank you all for your kind words, words of encouragement, offers to help, prayers, love & support, and everything in between. They mean the world to me. I feel loved & supported like I never have. Thank you for sharing in our joy. Side note, you're always welcome to bring me a cookies n cream shake. Just sayin.

xoxo,
A.

5 Things to do to be Happier

Lately, I find myself unable to be too terribly happy about the things that bring me joy. Over the last year plus, we have had 3 miscarriages. Shortly after the last one, I had started having massive panic attacks again. On the flip side, I have an amazing 3 year old who makes us laugh all day, everyday. We have a home, we have a new car, we have each other, I have 3x the business I had last year with my photography. Things are good. Really good. Sadness, heart ache, and complete darkness just happen to be circling. Like buzzards. Waiting to suck me back into the black hole of an-Oreos-and-Grey's-Anatomy-marathon-of-despair. 

I wish that I could say that I made it through all of One Thousand Gifts, but I didn't. The writing killed me. I made it to the list. I started my own list. Then life happened. Hard. I lost my sense of gratitude. I was mad & frustrated, & I felt betrayed. Ironically, the betrayer wasn't God; it was me. I had/have forgotten how to enjoy life, enjoy the victories. The way that things appear now are "if this happens, then this can't happen." So, I spend my time worried about what isn't going to happen if xyz happens. Joy stealer. Happiness destroyer. My husband is usually the one to point this character flaw out. He's Mr. Optimistic. In the cup of life, it is always half-full. I'm not. I'm Mrs. Melancholy. Maybe that will change if some things change, OR maybe I could get off my white arse and find ways to enjoy my life in the here & now. My life does not look like I thought it would. In some ways, it has far-exceeded my expectations. In other ways, I feel like I got the short straw. That's my fault. I mean, the things that happened were out of my control, but how I responded wasn't.

After mulling over the wise words from my Old Owl (Josh) for the last week, I decided it was time to turn off Grey's, and try something else. Try having fun. So, maybe this is a reminder for you, but I'm preaching to the choir here. Most of these ideas come from the little girl sitting next to me, watching cartoons with her babies lined up in a perfect row.

1. Get off the computer & go play. Maybe you don't have kids. That doesn't matter. Get up off your rump, and go play. Play outside, throw a ball, play Monopoly with some friends. Go play. Do something that will get your endorfins pumping & get you giggling like a little school girl. Since installing wood floors in our house, Maddie & I love to put socks on, & go flying up & down the hallway. I'm usually the one to slam into the wall & hurt my hip, but we crack up the entire time we are flying across the house.

2. Treat yo'self. Not everyday, but maybe once a week. Treat yo'self with something indulgent. Maybe it's something big, but maybe it's just a $1.60 cake pop from Starbucks. It doesn't matter. Life is too short to be on a diet everyday of your life. Life is too short to be calorie-free, fat free, dairy free, soy free, gluten free, happiness free (unless you are on a special diet because of dietary restrictions). Not the happiness part, but the other stuff. 

3. Do something nice for someone else. For whatever reason, I can remember this when tragedy strikes or at Christmastime. It's easy for me to remember that people don't have enough when we are indulging in Christmas lattes (what is that?!) and buying gobs of presents for our family members. I'm easily reminded. But the people that don't have anything at Christmas, don't have anything on President's Day or Labor Day. Maybe you do something nice for a friend, but wouldn't it be awesome to do something for someone who really needed a little touch from someone who has an abundance? I want my girl to learn this now. That means I have to start NOW.

4. Take long, hot baths. Even my husband has joined this happiness train. The multimedia equipment that is required for his baths is slightly over the top, however, you can keep it simple. Get some bubble bath, a nice candle, a glass of wine juice & enjoy some quiet. Be sure & tell everyone that it's Mommy's quiet time. I'm sure they'll all respect your privacy & not bother you for a second. Pick a time when you are home alone or when everyone is in bed and/or pre-occupied. Soak your tootsies & enjoy the time alone.

5. Spend time with your loved ones. Stop taking breaks from them. We all need our Mommy breaks, but we also need QUALITY time together. Spend time talking after dinner; don't jump up immediately to get back to work or interneting. Do a movie night once a week. Pile into the big bed & snuggle up with a treat & watch a movie. In our house, it usually ends with the todd jumping around on the bed, asking to do something else, but hey! We tried! THEN, when the kiddos are down for the night, spend time with your spouse. Act like you like each other. Ask questions about their day, their job, their interests. A full tank begets a full tank.

Any more tips for being happier? Share them with me & the other readers!

Happy Sunday, peeps!
a.

25 Reasons My Husband is Cooler than Yours

When I met Josh at 14, I knew. Like, I can look back, and know that I knew. I totally knew he was it. That doesn't mean that the first time he tried to kiss me 3 years later didn't make me feel like were related. Because I totally felt like that. We even sat in his car later & I said "Meh, I don't think this is gonna work. It's too weird." He convinced me otherwise, and he was right. He's always right. It's super annoying.

When I married Josh 6+ years ago, we both had expectations and ideas of what marriage would be like. I thought I'd be spending lavishly. He thought we'd save for the future. I thought I needed to bake everyday. He thought I should lay off the cake. I thought we'd have sex 15 times day. He thought something was wrong with me. Needless to say, we have since come to a happy middle place with our expectations. Mostly. Sometimes I think he should know what I'm thinking about & why I'm mad. He wants me to talk about it. It's weird.

For Father's Day this year, I found an adorable idea on Pinterest for handmade cards/love notes. I cut out 15 or so cards, sewed on some hearts, & stuck them to the bathroom mirror for him to wake up to. He loved it. He even told me that he loves getting notes like that from me on a regular basis. Never knew that.

The other day I told him that I'd been wanting to write him another note, but I kept not doing it. He said it was "nice" that I thought about it. Whoops. You read a list of 20 random facts about me on my photography blog, but this time, I'm going to write 25 things I love about my husband/how he's much cooler than all the other boys.

I love:

1. how he loves me.

2. how he loves our girl.

3. how he calls me on my sh**. I don't know if you know this about me, but I have a little sass in me. It came from my mother's side. Every once in a while, he calmly & rationally lets me know that I'm being bat-sh** crazy. He's usually right.

4. his sensitivity & warmth. Ironic after #3.

5. his butt.

6. that he loves to take baths all the time. Although, now I can't give the Schmidt quote from New Girl out of my head when Jess wants a bathtub. If you know what I'm talking, I'm glad we're friends.

7. his smile. 

8. his sense of humor. He makes me laugh so hard. He is seriously hilarious. He's so quiet, so a lot of people don't know that he's hilarious. You're missing out. He's a hoot.

9. how smart he is. I don't just want him for his body, if that's what you're thinking.

10. how he makes my fears seem irrational.

11. how he is my safe place.

12. how much he loves his family. Some of them are totally crazy, so this is asking a lot.

13. his beautiful feet. He has like perfect feet. They are so pretty. It's strange. I may be slightly jealous.

14. his patience with Maddie. When I'm losing it & starting to believe that she may have been switched at birth, he pulls out his inside voice & they have a perfectly calm, rational discussion. 

15. how responsible he is. We don't spend lavishly. We have everything we need, and most of the things we want. We save money, we spend wisely. It's all him. I'm the one pointing out the surround sound system built into Lazy Boys. That's in the "needs" category, right?

16. his relationship with his brother. They are so very different, but they love each other. I mean, I always joke that, when Rachel & I are in a picture together, we look like good & evil. Elvira & Barbie. What a team! Josh & Matt are different, but they are each other's sounding boards. It's cool.

17. that he thinks "I'm pretty funny." I tease him because I think I'm pretty damn hilarious, and he famously told me, "Yeah, you're pretty funny." I called my mom immediately. "That's an insult!" Exactly. Maybe it makes me work harder.

18. how he rocks a scarf. Hard.

19. his faith.

20. when he holds my hand. It gives me butterflies. 

21. when he makes fun of my naivety. "Big Green Tractor" lyrics, for example:
I can take you for a ride on my big green tractor 

we can go slow or make it go faster 
down through the woods and out to the pasture 
long as I'm with you it really don't matter 
climb up in my lap and drive if you want to 
girl you know you got me to hold on to 
we can go to town or baby if you'd rather 
I'll take you for a ride on my big green tractor 

I had no idea.

22. when he plays guitar.

23. his big dreams.

24. how he plays with Maddie. They are usually hiding from me, the big monster. It's adorable.

25. when he turns on music, and dances with me. 

He's super cool. I hope you know. You'd like him. 

xoxo,

a.

I Mustache You a Question About Jesus | A Birthday Post

You know the kind of friend who can make you laugh until you pee? Well, you're a weirdo if you don't. And we need to get you a friend who can make you snort & pee all in the same breath. For me, that's Kylie. And now Evka. Say it with me: EV-KA. Simple. And yet, people don't get it. Today was a girly celebration of Kylie, complete with beers, burgers, presents, pedicures, and then we topped off the calorie-fest with pumpkin spice lattes, y'all. Kylie came into my life nearly 3 years ago. In fact, I met her through a friend of a friend during Christmas when I first started photography. I was absolutely TERRIBLE, but this bubbly, hyper wacko thought I was good enough to take photos of she & her husband, and their amazing Labradoodle, Monty. Bless her trusting heart for hiring me. It was bad. You guys know. You saw it. Vignettes & over-processing. It was like my 80's decade of photography.

I digress. A couple of years ago, I was a chubby, sad, lonely housewife with not many friends. Girlfriends are hard to come by as an adult. They either already have friends, only want to spend all their spare time with their husbands, or are catty beaches. I'm not saying that there are only 3 absolute categories, but it's where I was. I, literally, prayed for a best friend for years. Someone who was a great friend, got my sarcasm & could be just as obnoxious back to me, and who was genuinely an insanely good person. Insert Kylie. She was newly-moved here from Altoona, PA, and was living with her fiancé (GASP!) & their Labradude. We clicked immediately.

Fast forward a 18 months, she meets Evka. E & I both worked with her on her wedding - photography & event planning. We should start a business... Anyway, then I did E's photos when she was round & prego. And as soon as I was done shooting, I called Kylie & said, "WE HAVE TO INVITE EVKA OUT FOR DRINKS! I LOVE HER!" And she was in. She fit immediately.

Fast forward again. I am sitting in the back of Evka's SUV, having known her for about 3 months, sobbing & embarrassed, admitting to she & Kylie that, for the past month, I have been a recluse, hiding out in my house because I am so filled with fear & anxiety that I can hardly breathe. I expected judgment, confusion, silence. Instead, I got tears, kind words, and hand-holding. And I was blown away. All those nights that I told God how lonely I was & how sad I was that I was missing out, He was smiling down on me, blessing me with outrageously amazing friends who just wanted to sit with me & help me. These girls mean the world to me. And I will mess up your face if you talk smack about them. Just kidding. We talk smack about each other the time.

If you're lucky enough to know these girls, be honored & blessed. They are amazing, funny, kind, caring, loving, stupid, hilarious, obnoxious, loud (well, not E), obscene, and absolutely, frickin' incredible. I apologize for blowing up your Instagram & Facebook feeds today, but I was #liveinstagramming. #getoverit.

The last image is a gift from E. These girls are the ones I text in our very private, very obscene/stupid/annoying/weird group text we have going at all times during the day. They know my heart's desire, how it hasn't come true yet, & are there to tell me "that sucks, but put your big girl panties on & shut it!" #truefriends

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The Terrible, Awful, No Good Year

It's a cold, fall-like day here in Northern Colorado. This has been one of the most mild summers I've ever seen here, and it's been lovely. I didn't use the nice weather to my advantage so much this summer, but oh well. We can try again next year. With fall peaking around the corner, I cling to the hope that with the changing of the seasons, this proverbial season will change to.

This year has kicked my butt. One year ago tomorrow, my world fell apart as we sat in a cold, sterile emergency room awaiting results of an ultrasound, to which we already knew the outcome. A year ago. And you know what? I'm pretty pissed that I sit here a year later & not too much has changed. You see, I never wanted my kids to be more than 3 years apart MAX. I don't like that they won't be in high school together. I don't like that Maddie will struggle really hard with adjusting to a new sibling because she'll be almost 4. I don't like that my plan was ripped to shreds. I have a color-coordinated planner, dangit. There is not a color for unplanned detours.

The rumpus-kicking continued in April when I found I was pregnant, which should have been a joyous occasion, but I have learned that my uterus isn't as fond of this event as I'd like it to be. A week later, the pregnancy ended. I, then, watched my father-in-law get gravely ill, and battle a terrible pancreatitis attack. He was in the hospital for a couple weeks, and I did my best to get there everyday to see him and my mother-in-law. While he did recover, it was so upsetting and scary to watch. In the midst of that, we had more tests and doctors appointments to figure out what the hell was wrong with my body.

Along comes June. I start to have some weird issues in my legs, so I go see the doctor. To make this very long story short, about 2 months later of seeing neurologists and having MRIs, it's anxiety. Duh. In between MRIs, trips to Indiana to see family, & family members in the hospital, along comes chemical pregnancy #4...the week I am supposed to start fertility treatments. Can you say Xanax?

So, you can imagine how out of whack, hormonal, emotional, on edge, & generally ANXIOUS I've been feeling. And that's just what hit me: anxiety. In a major, ugly way. You see, I struggled with anxiety attacks (thank you genetic family history) from the time I was 17, and took anti-anxiety medication. I had been off of them for 2 years, & was doing fabulously. Hadn't had an anxiety attack in years. And bam! I am having them everyday. When they started to get bad just after the FOURTH chemical pregnancy, I texted my sister-in-law and told her that I was "just fine. It's been 2 days. I need to move on & get over it." Way to give yourself some grace, sister. 

Shortly after this poop storm of emotion, I get a hysterical call from the same sister-in-law, that my brother-in-law had had a gran mal seizure & drove his car into a building. Aaaaand, downward spiral.

Again, to truncate my long-windedness, no one but my husband, my mom, & my mother-in-law had any idea that I was in a sweaty-palmed, anxiety-ridden nightmare every single day for weeks before I threw in the towel & decided to get help. I was petrified to admit it. I felt weak, stupid, worthless, ashamed, embarrassed, vulnerable, etc. Everything you can think of, I felt it & believed it about myself. It took me a month to admit it to my 2 closest girlfriends in the world. I was so ashamed. They have it altogether, you see. And this proved that I wasn't good enough to be their friend because I was a psychopath, hot mess who had anxiety attacks that I couldn't control. I had shut myself off to the world. I didn't go out much unless I was with my husband or my mother-in-law. I was afraid and ashamed.

Seven weeks later, I'm doing better. Not great, but better. A wise person told me a few weeks ago that it is freeing to share this with people because this is part of my testimony that God will use. Right now, I can't see the forest for the trees. I can't see good in this.

BUT, I had another kind of tookus-kicking the other day:

Now, I obviously don't hate my life. This year has been a doozy, but I don't hate it. A lot of good has happened in this year, but it has wiped me out more than any other year. But slap me upside my head if this image didn't put life into perspective for me. Anxiety is the pits. You feel scared, overwhelmed, SWEATY, anxious, weepy & so ashamed almost all day long. Your only relief is when you're sleeping. But there is help for it. And that's where I can be grateful. I still slept in my cushy bed every night, watching tv with my husband. I still had clean, running water. I still had every luxury I needed at any second of the day.  

Maybe there isn't a pretty resolution to this, but that's because the story isn't over yet. Maybe I'll have resolution; maybe I won't. Or maybe the whole point of this was so that I share who I really am, all my flaws out there like a big, red zit on the end of my nose, so that someone else will know they aren't alone & they are just as crazy normal as the rest of us.

xoxo,

a.

Hi, my name is Andrea, & I'm a Recovering Baptist.

Today, it's all about Dad's. My husband, as many of you know, is a man of simple pleasures. His ideal day is sitting on our porch, smoking a stogey with a beer. As we sat together on our half-painted, half-chipped deck, I realized how terribly white trash we appeared, to which he quipped, "We're not sitting on a mobile home porch!" Touchè, honey. This is much better.

This past week has taken it out of us. Really, these past few months have been a frickin' doozy. So many things, out of our control, have befallen our family & have nearly knocked the wind out of us all. I sit here today, feeling entirely blessed to be able to say that my brother is ok. Getting the phone call that he'd had a gran mal seizure & was in a car accident had to have been one of the worst moments I've experienced. None of us knew what to expect. So, to see him, hobbling into his house not 4 hours after he totaled his car into a brick building was nothing short of jaw-dropping. It's in these moments that your faith is brought to light, & either made or broken.

I don't count it a coincidence that during the last few weeks I've wrestled with Who God actually is. I know that as I tossed & turned, cried & screamed at my ceiling in the most demure & lady-like fashion, that God was opening my eyes to Who He is.

My childhood was rough: a nice, manicured neighborhood, private Baptist school, new clothes every season, plenty of food (see old photos for proof). It's truly a miracle that I made it out alive. The Baptist school is where my story comes into play. I can't say I learned too much about the love of God in that environment. God was a big, scary, Gandolf-looking judge, whose sole purpose in my daily life was to make me feel condemnation, guilt, & fear. I can tell you that as a senior in high school, my philosophy teacher told my entire class that at some point in our lives, we would screw up so badly that God WOULD give up on us. It was too late. The foundation was laid, & I have spent the last 12 years of my life truly & utterly petrified of a God who uses His time to punish me & make me feel like a pile of cow dung. My first reaction to things (miscarriages, car accidents, etc...) is a very panicky "but I didn't do anything wrong!"

I can't say that I'm suddenly cured. I even told God the other day that I'd love just a lightning bolt moment where suddenly my thinking changed, & I understood the relationship & the love of God. I'm not cured of my Baptist ways by any means, but I was able to push through. It's still a little murky & I'm still learning to not be scared. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes you lose babies, sometimes your brother drives into buildings, sometimes you dye your hair & you look like a Oompa Loompa. We live in a fallen world, but that's where Jesus steps in & stands in the gap for you, interceding for you. Those are the moments when God tells that He weeps with us; His heart breaks as ours break. And those are the moments when I'm pretty sure God isn't a Baptist (don't go being offended, you Baptists. I'm just explaining my story).

I stole a term from my pastor's wife today: recovering Baptist. I want my girl to fall deeply in love with a God who deeply loves her & wants desperately to be a part of her daily life. That starts with me. Josh always tells me that this is simple - God feels about me the way that I feel about Maddie but on like a hugungous scale. I didn't know that God growing up, but He's pretty cool. He's a lot nicer than the Gandolf dude. And He thinks I'm super cool. Because I am, obvs. And by me loving Maddie that way, she, in turn, learns the love of God.

Today, I'm thankful. I have a Dad I love, & who taught me to smack a baseball down a street & leave people with a dropped jaw. I have a Papa who loves me like his daughter. I have THE coolest father-in-law who thinks the sun shines out of my girl's butt. I have a brother who is ALIVE (and if you saw the pictures, you know that this is a miracle) & who is a wonderful Daddy to his munchkins. I have THE most amazing, wonderful, darling, HILARIOUS husband who makes parenting look like a cakewalk. And I have a God who loves me, takes care of me, walks with me, talks to me, & Who wants to use every second of my life to show people that He's not scary - He's our BFF.

Spring Forward

It's May 1st & it's snowing. When I think about the month of May, I remember the anticipation of school coming to a close. Teachers cared less, we cared less, & you could all but taste summer. It meant riding our bikes all day long, eating popsicles from the ice cream truck & being a sweaty, nasty, little kid mess for 3 months solid. So, after cruising the Caribbean for 8 days in 90-degree weather with a killer ocean wind whipping through our hair, I was mad as a hornet when we heard that snow was headed for Colorado on May 1st. Nonetheless, it's snowing & there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

Go home, Spring. You're drunk.

I digress.

This post is an interesting one. I debated posting personal details because, as you all know, I am very private & don't like to share. So, it's happy & maybe a little bit of a bummer. No pity parties here - just life as it comes.

Our cruise came at the perfect time. We spent weeks acquiring summer clothes & shoes all while it was still dipping into the 'teens at night. I was literally buying flip flops & dodging snow as I went in & out of The Wal-Mart (Stacey). When a cashier asked what in the hell I was doing buying flip flops during a snowstorm, I told her we were going on a Caribbean cruise. She lit up & emphatically told me that she had done the same, & that the ONE THING I COULD NOT MISS OUT ON was getting my hair corn rowed by some locals. Sorry to tell you, Wal-Mart Wanda, I sadly missed out on that once in a lifetime opportunity.

The weeks ticked by slowly, as we waited for mid-April to approach. It's no secret that we want another baby, so when I was late & the 2 pink lines showed up on a test, I was excited. Cautiously excited. And from day 1, something was off. I didn't even make it to my first appointment the following week to begin a battery of tests & stomach injections. And while I was very upset & frustrated, we may have figured it out. It's my ovulation. It's "crappy" according to my off-beat doctor. So, we start fertility drugs in a couple months. I have heard of secondary infertility. I have friends experiencing this exact thing. I have handfuls of messages in my inbox of women you & I know struggling at this moment with primary & secondary infertility. I had no idea that I would have this issue. And Lord knows it's the exact thing that plays on your mind & emotions in that whole "I'm-not-a-whole-woman-because-I-can't-produce-a-baby-at-the-drop-of-a-hat." 

I wasn't too excited to be having a miscarriage when we were headed out on a cruise, but the cruise wound up being the perfect distraction. I thought about it only a few times while we were cruising, & only when it was brought up. Perfect timing. I'm bummed because I had no idea it would be this damn difficult to have a second baby, but I'm GRATEFUL in a huge way that we have a plan & a reason for all of this. And who has time to have a pity party & be UNGRATEFUL when you're on a giant ship, full of food available to you 24/7, white sand beaches & turquoise water?!

I have told very few people about this most recent miscarriage, but my comment every time is "there are worse things in the world." I'm not starving, sick, disabled, homeless, dirty or any of the other horrible things that are plaguing our world. I have the cutest little, pig-tailed toddler, the coolest husband in the world, whom I absolutely, stupidly adore, & a funny, wonderful extended family who make me grateful that there are therapists in this world. And I have hope because Jesus told a little red-haired 5-year-old that He was going to give me a "yellow-haired, baby girl" someday. I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that He spoke to her little heart that day. One day, I'll have the second yellow-haired girl we dream of. And thanks to Adley, I have HOPE.

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