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by Bethe

An ER visit, a car wreck, and 30 episodes of How I Met Your Mother

So if you follow me on Facebook, you’ve probably seen that my little sick week ended up with me visiting the ER Friday afternoon. Here’s what happened.

I had been down with a sinus infection for two days. Thursday night before bed I had a pretty bad asthma attack – something that’s commonly triggered by things like sinus infections and allergy problems. So I started breathing treatments with my trusty nebulizer, which in the past 3-4 years has been with me to Europe, Colombia, Mexico, and all over the US. I learned early on it kind of looks like a bomb on the carry-on x-ray machine. It’s a mistake you only make once, my friend.

I woke up Friday morning with more asthma attacks, and each got worse than the last. By Friday afternoon, I was home alone having my biggest one so far, when I texted Mr. Right, who was so nicely out running errands for me, and asked him to “Drive carefully, but come home and get me, we need to go to the ER.”

I got a quick text back “ok,” and then about ten minutes later, he called to check on me. Soon after he was home, and I met him at the door dressed and ready to go. Being the gentleman that he is, he opened the car door for me…

Only it wouldn’t open. And that’s when Mr. Right admitted to me that he’d just been in a wreck.

Awesome. Luckily the wreck happened about 30 seconds before I texted him about going to the ER, so it wasn’t my fault. Ironically, the person he was in the wreck with was on her way to the ER with an anxiety attack, and was in total meltdown mode. So Mr. Right had to quickly exchange information with a frantic woman, then head home to take his other frantic woman to the ER. He deserves a gold medal.

Thankfully nobody was hurt. And after a breathing treatment, a heavy dose of steriods (again) and a chest x-ray, I was back home on the couch, wheezy and agitatated but happy to be home.

A couple of take-aways:

1. Mr. Right is AWESOME in an emergency. He promised me ice cream the whole time we were there. He’s going to make an amazing dad. I was too sick for ice cream but settled for a big Diet Coke on the way home.

2. Going to the ER where you work is really nice, because you know you’re going to get fabulous care. But it also means that your coworkers have to see you at your worst, with no makeup and tears in your eyes. At least I wore a bra.

3. It’s ironic that just one week ago I blogged at work about my previous trip to the ER. It’s even more ironic when your coworkers who are taking care of you READ that blog just a week before (hand to forehead).

4. Between a giant steroid shot in my tushy on Wednesday and a six-day treatment of high-dose steroids beginning Friday, I have discovered that steroids make me an agitated, weepy mess. I cried at the ER (when nobody but Mr. Right was looking). I cried my way through a documentary about Elmo on Netflix. According to two friends who got the same shot last week, it’s normal. I’m normal. At least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.

5. During my five days of being home sick, I watched an 8-hour miniseries on the Kennedys. I watched 30 episodes of How I Met Your Mother (my new favorite show). I watched the Elmo documentary. I watched the Five Year Engagement (didn’t love it). I watched 10 minutes of the LOST pilot before deciding it was too stressful. And I watched 3 episodes of Gossip Girl before deciding that those girls are just mean and stress me out. I am SO TIRED of TV. PS–I LOVE How I Met Your Mother – please someone watch it with me so I can share inside jokes with you.

6. Being sick meant I had to miss out on a trip to Oklahoma for my grandmother’s 80th birthday. Boo. Instead I watched 92 hours of television and made a quilt.

7. I hacked into Mr. Right’s Papa Johns account on Saturday and ordered myself a pizza while he was in Oklahoma. I forgot to mention it to him. The next morning he called and asked me, “How did you like your large 3-topping pizza, cinnamon sticks and Diet Pepsi, my dear?” Man, that boy knows EVERYTHING. (turns out Papa Johns emails you a receipt when you order.)

Please say a little prayer for me that I bounce back these next few days. I’m so excited to be going to Portland, Oregon for a work trip on Wednesday – five glorious days in the Pacific Northwest in what I hear is a delightfully funky town. I just need to get my second wind so I can thoroughly enjoy it.

by Bethe

Be classy… unless you’ve got a good excuse like you’re sick

 My goal in life is to be classy. I may not always be put together or the most fashionable, but I can always choose to be classy.

That is, unless I’m sick. At this very moment I’m laying on the couch, wearing mis-matched PJs with a coffee stain on my shirt and crumbs in my lap, hair wild and unreigned, with just a smidge of yesterday’s mascara under my eyes.

Be classy. Unless you have a fever.

Classy print available here

by Bethe

Wedding Weekend

One of my favorite people on the entire planet is Pam. She is a friend to me, a mentor, an example of a Godly wife and mother and someone who has more sass than just about anybody I know. There are times that I get stressed out when planning an event and I have to emulate her “no big deal!” laid-back attitude. Typically for me it’s one of those “fake it ’til you feel it” situations.

The first time I really got to know her was four years ago when she showed up to my sister’s surgery, over an hour away, having only met us once or twice, to sit with our family in the waiting room. She was the only person from our church who came, and I will never, ever forget that. When I was single, she gave me the BEST pep talks about it being for God’s glory and not because I had three foreheads – the kind that kept me going when two of my ex-boyfriends got engaged in the same week or when it felt like I would NEVER meet Mr. Right. Once I met Mr. Right, she and her husband basically adopted us into their extended family, along with a lot of other people they’ve adopted along the way.

Pam is a women’s minister at church, but she also is a fabulous wedding planner. She planned my wedding, which was so gorgeous that the chapel coordinator called me later to tell me she wanted to hire Pam to do her own wedding – and she sees 3-4 weddings every weekend. It was to die for.

So when she asked me to help coordinate her daughter’s wedding reception last weekend so she could do her mother-of-the-bride duties, it was a no brainer. I jumped at the chance (besides, both of her daughters worked at my wedding). I helped coordinate her other daughter’s wedding a few years back and it was an absolute blast. Both times she did all of the planning (and flowers) in advance, and then I helped set things up the day of the wedding so that she and her family could enjoy the day.

This time Mr. Right came too, and I just loved serving alongside him, both of us in aprons and comfortable shoes, running all over the venue, him helping with the food and me helping with the decorations. Once the reception started, we bussed tables together and stole a few kisses and even sneaked in a dance in the kitchen. It was exhausting but also one of my favorite days in a long time. A total adventure.

Oh, and I tried to help out by sewing custom bean bags for a corn hole game at the wedding. I was SO proud of my gorgeous handiwork, done in haste just a few hours before the reception. I patted myself on the back, congratulating myself on being such a fabulous seamstress, thinking that maybe someday I could sew hacky sacks for my children to play with.

Those gorgeous custom bean bags ended up exploding all over the patio at the wedding, leaving hundreds of dry lima beans and a few very upset children. Turns out I could have made them a bit more durable. I think I’ll stick with quilts.

Thanks Pam and family for letting us be apart of such a beautiful wedding. And I owe you three new bean bags!

————

PS- Don’t forget to enter my contest for free Texas Lovely art! Details here.

by Bethe

Over Yonder

 I guest posted today on my hospital blog – go over and check it out and get yourself a free printable!

 

I realized that I’m a bit overly obsessed with chevron right now. Like, maybe too much. Never fear, I’ve got some really cool patterns ready to go for my next round of verse prints. I’m so excited I could spit. But that wouldn’t be lady like so instead I’ll smile wryly and sneak in a wink instead.
by Bethe

The secret to skinny jeans

 

Ladies, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Something I wish someone had told me long ago.

There is a secret to wearing skinny jeans. Now, if you already have legs like toothpicks and a tiny hiney, then this post isn’t for you. But if you have some meat on your tush and some (ahem) strong thighs, like a certain girl I know (wink, wink), then you too can wear skinny jeans.

Take it from a girl who tried to find a pair of skinny jeans for a year. Mr. Right, my fashion-forward husband, kept trying to get me to go to the skinny jean dark side and kiss my bootcut jeans goodbye, but every time I tried a pair on in the dressing room, and watched my insides become stuffed into my pants like sausage being stuffed into its casing, ready to explode at any moment, I was always on the verge of tears as I tried to wiggle my way out of those impossible pants and left cursing the horrible man who invented such a torture device.

It was downright depressing. And then I learned the trick.

Take whatever size you typically wear in pants, and go up a size. Or two. Don’t even take your normal size with you into the dressing room, or you’ll feel like an elephant.

Just ignore the number on the tag, go a size up, and be amazed at how wonderful they feel. And how much skinnier they feel because they don’t look like they’re painted on. Nobody has to know the real size.

You think I’m kidding. But you know you want to try it.

PS–My favorite skinny jeans have come from Banana (try the outlet) and LOFT. Sign up for their e-mails and just wait for their 30-40% off everything special – they run them about once a month.

by Bethe

Settle in for a super dramatic birth story

I’ve heard that the way babies make their entrance into the world is a strong predictor of their personalities later in life. Which means that if my someday baby is anything like me, she’ll arrive about 15 minutes late with a cup of coffee in one hand and a to-do list in the other, hair slightly disheveled with her mind racing with ideas for parties and projects and meaningless trivia she heard on NPR.

If my someday baby is anything like my husband, he’ll be 15 minutes early.

But wait, this story isn’t about me or my someday babies, this is about my sweet little nephew Jack Henry who made a very dramatic arrival late Sunday night/early Monday morning, eight weeks before his due date.

My sweet sister-in-law Michelle has had one of those months that you wish you could just erase from your memory. First, her next-door neighbor’s house burned to the ground, and while her house was spared there was enough smoke damage to necessitate them moving in with her mother for a few weeks while her house was de-smoke-defied. (I made that term up because it sounds cool and mysterious).

Soon after that my sister-in-law had a series of bad news from doctors about complications with her pregnancy. She found herself on bed rest, then in the hospital on bed rest, with the hopes that she could take steroid shots to help Baby Jack’s lungs develop in case he came early.

Enter the prayer warriors – hundreds of them, from all over the place. Michelle and Baby Jack were prayed over, fasted for, and loved on by family and friends and friends of friends. It was such a sweet, sweet testimony of the love of Jesus.

We knew that it was just a matter of time before we got the call to head to Midland for the birth, but we didn’t expect that call to come Sunday night. Mr. Right and I spent 10 minutes packing, which was basically me throwing everything I own in the back of our car, then running back in the house for random things like a jar of peanut butter for the road and a handful of underwear that I forgot to pack, then spilling an entire mug of coffee all over the only pair of shorts I brought while Mr. Right sweet-talked our fabulous neighbors into feeding Harley the Wonder Schnoodle for an indefinite period of time while we were gone. Chaotic? You could say that.

Mr. Right finally pushed me into the car, we drove 45 minutes to pick up his parents, and then we were off to Midland, leaving Fort Worth at 9:30 p.m. for our 5-hour drive armed with what was left of my spilled coffee, some random baked goods I had swiped off my kitchen counter, and a book on tape.

After 87 games of Scrabble on my iPhone (where i beat the computer 85 times), we got to Midland around 2:00 a.m., just 20 minutes after Baby Jack was born. Thanks to all of those faithful prayer warriors it was a best-case scenario, with mom and baby doing okay. Baby Jack Henry came in at a whopping 4 pounds, 4 oz, with a full head of dark brown hair,  breathing and crying on his own.

After a quick round of hugs and a corporate sigh of relief, we stumbled back glossy-eyed to our temporary home around 4:00 a.m., and I finally dozed off around 4:30 a.m. for a fitful night of sleep. Mr. Right and I can’t remember the last time we were out past 11:00 p.m., so needless to say that 4:30 a.m. HURT.

After a little less than four hours of sleep, we were back up to spend time with our niece, the new big sister, and later that day we visited the hospital to make sure mom and dad were doing okay. And then we were back on the road to DFW, arriving home at 10:00 p.m., and within two minutes I was fast asleep in my bed, with a face full of makeup still on and all of my bags scattered throughout the house.

Confession: I left my house this morning with everything still scattered around the house, including a wayward hanger that somehow ended up in my kitchen. Homemaker of the Year. But hey, at least I don’t have coffee all over my pants today.

To my prayer warrior friends – please pray for sweet Baby Jack, who will probably stay in the NICU for about three weeks, and for his mama Michelle who is still recovering from being quite sick before the delivery. Pray for Mr. Right’s brother who has his hands full caring for a preemie and a 3-year-old and a recovering wife, and pray for the many wonderful people who are helping him out during this time. Please pray also that they get some PEACE and REST after what has been a terribly stressful series of events.

Oh Baby Jack, you have no idea how much your aunt and uncle love you. We have so many wonderful adventures planned for you in the future, and we are so happy you are here! I can’t wait to kiss that little forehead of yours.

He is our constant source of stability… Isaiah 33:6a.
by Bethe

Need a blog favor

Hi there blog buddies – I need a huge favor. I have started a new series on my work blog called Balanced Women – Healthy Families, and for my first post I featured my gorgeous sister and new mama Sarah. Today she’s giving advice to new moms on how to achieve balance during those crazy first few months of motherhood.

Would you be a huge friend and visit her on that blog today and leave her some encouragement in the comments? I’ll be featuring a different woman every Thursday morning and I am THRILLED with the posts we’ve already finished.

You see, this series is as much for me as it is for our readers.

It’s no secret that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, and what better way to glean wisdom than to ask some awesome women how they manage to do it all? The secret, I’ve found, is that they don’t really do it all. They just do the important stuff.

Genius!

by Bethe

Sunrise Pictures

Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains,
your justice like the great deep.
How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light.
Psalm 36:5-9
by Bethe

What is God’s will anyway?

Mr. Right and I have been praying about God’s will a lot lately. We will be faced with so many big decisions over the next few years, and we want to prove faithful. So how do we know what God’s will really is?

I love looking at Romans 12 through that lens. First of all – what is God’s will?

I know it’s good, pleasing and perfect (Romans 12: 2). So that’s a great start, isn’t it?

He says I can test and approve what God’s will is, if I…

  • Offer my body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1).
  • Don’t conform to the pattern of this world (all the stuff that culture/society tells me is important – money/fame/approval/comfort/beauty), but instead am transformed by the renewing of my mind (Romans 12:2).
How do I renew my mind, leading to a transformed outlook? By filling my mind with scripture – having God’s truth, God’s promises, take the place of all the things TV/magazines/friends/Facebook tell me are important. It’s about quieting the noise around me by reminding myself of God’s promises, through prayer and reading scripture. I’m weak, so I have to do this over and over and over. Otherwise, I get caught up in the whirlwind that is society’s expectations… and broken promises. 
One example – society tells me that in order to be a good woman, I need to be like Martha Stewart – a great homemaker who makes all my meals from scratch and has perfectly organized bathroom cabinets (ha). I need to be like Hilary Clinton – a great working woman with lofty goals. And I need to be like Angelina Jolie and effortlessly raise a brood of children. And throughout it all, I need to stay a size 0, wrinkle-free with a sun-kissed tan, a clean house filled with Pottery Barn furniture and homemade decorations from Pinterest. Throw in a closet full of brand-new clothes in the latest trends – this year nothing but color blocking and neon. And don’t forget the skinny jeans… oh those evil skinny jeans!
Guess what – by those standards, I’m a sub-par woman. Pretty unimpressive. And yet, my God delights in me (Psalm 18:19). That means, I’m DELIGHTFUL. Not because of what society says. Not even because of what my husband says (although he is so dear to me). I’m delightful because the Bible says so. 

“Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

I have to remind myself of that a lot. Like today, when my pants barely button and my makeup is smeared and I’m wearing a flowy shirt that makes me look pregnant (and is neither color blocked nor neon). I am DELIGHTFUL. 
The more I renew my mind with his truths, the easier it is to know his will. The easier it is to trust that if we make a giant leap, he’ll be there to catch us… because he’s been faithful before. 
And, I can remind myself that God’s will is good, pleasing, and perfect. Not always easy, but good, pleasing, and perfect.