Rewind: A Valentine's Day Story

I went to bed with a funny little cough last night. By 10:00 this morning, I felt pretty lousy. Cough, headache, body aches, the works. I took some meds and laid down for a bit, my mind defying my body to be sick. Finally somewhere around 2:00 this afternoon I called Mack to ask if we could celebrate Valentine's Day another day. As I dialed the phone, I remembered a Valentine's Day years ago. I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but as it is my only antecdotal Valentine's story, I think I'll share.

This guy, who I'm going to name Beattles because that's what I remember listening to when we would hang out, and I had been stuck in a cycle of teenage drama for most of our high school career. He liked me, I didn't like him, but finally decided maybe I did after awhile. Then we were on-again, off-again, he was hurt, I was confused, our peers had too much input into our "relationship," the whole nine yards. Anyway, so we had "gotten back together" again at some point in January. Valentine's Day happened to fall on a Wednesday that year, and we made plans to skip youth group at church (gasp) and go to dinner and a movie with his next door neighbor and my best friend, who were also dating. Much like today, I woke up that morning feeling pretty awful. I willed myself to go to school, because I knew there was no way that my parents would let me go out on a school night if I hadn't gone to school that day. So I went. And felt worse and worse as the day went on. I promptly fell asleep when I got home, and was awakened by Beattles calling to confirm our plans. I told him the bad news that I was sick and didn't think I could go. I could tell he was disappointed, and I asked him what he thought he would do that night. "Probably just go to church," he answered.

I wanted to ask him to stop by and see me on his way home, but I knew enough about guys, even at 16, that I didn't. I knew that would be perceived as needy, maybe even nagging, and would completely rob him of the opportunity to make the "romantic gesture" on his own initiative. So I said nothing, but waited for him to stop by. And the window in which he could have done so came and went. Later, he finally called. I asked him what he done. He had gone to dinner and a movie with the friends we had made plans with, and another girl friend of mine. Yes, that is correct. He went out on a date with another girl on Valentine's Day. I asked if they met up over by his house, almost a half hour away. No, he had come and picked up my friend, who lived about a mile from my house, and could have easily stopped by to see me. Now I was really rubbed the wrong way, but determined to play it cool and not be the jealous type, I said nothing. I asked if they had fun and we hung up the phone. He called the next day and broke up with me. And I knew it was for good. Our little cycle of teenage drama was broken once and for all. I literally looked at the phone in disbelief and laughed after he hung up.

And there it is: the only Valentine's Day on which I ever had a sort-of valentine besides Mack. And I'm so grateful. Grateful that we didn't go out on that date, that he didn't stop by in some romantic gesture, that I never got a card or chocolates or flowers on February 14th from anyone but Mack. That Mack was mine by the time that day came around again the next year, and for the 14 years since. And for as long as the Lord wills.

165

That's the total number of Valentines needed by my four children for exchanges at church and school. Yes, that's right. 165. I'm not going to say that it's ridiculous, but it's ridiculous.

Dearest Mack,

Thank you so much for getting the hint when I left your hair clippings in my sink until you got home last night. You did an excellent job cleaning them up. There are not many things in this world that gross me out, but other people's hair is one of them. Even when it's yours.

Appreciatively yours,
Wife

Dear Mack,

I love it that you cut your own hair to save time and money. However, I do not love it when you leave the clippings in my bathroom sink.

Respectfully yours,
Wife

Hidden Places

I have made numerous allusions to my basement recently. Let me see if I can more aptly paint a word picture for you, since I am too prideful to post actual pictures. Our basement is unfinished (concrete floor, concrete walls) and as large as the downstairs of our house. It will someday be, Lord willing, one awesome recreational space. But right now, it looks like a tornado ripped through. Literally. There are boxes, both empty and filled, stacked everywhere. There are things that have been pulled out of boxes during searches for lost items strewn about on the floor. Children's toys and outdoor Christmas decor (think lighted trees and reindeer) enhance the mess.

In the midst of all this chaos sit two couches. Rather, a loveseat and a couch that was once cut in half with a chainsaw by its previous owner. Said owner could not fit a full sized couch down his basement stairs, so he cut it in half, moved it downstairs, and put a nice slipcover on it. You can't really tell, unless you are unfortunate enough to sit on the divide. When that owner moved across country and justifiably did not want to move a two-piece couch, we inherited it. Since we also cannot fit a full sized couch down our basement steps, it was a logical fit. In addition to those couches, there is a TV, to which is connected our Wii and X-Box. The children play their video games down there, as well as rollerskate, dribble basketballs, and play flashlight tag when Wisconsin winter won't allow those activities outdoors.

Now let me paint another word picture for you: Company's coming. I spend the day straightening up the house, cleaning the guest bathroom, mopping, vaccuuming, and generally making the house presentable for guests. I feel the mixture of self-satisfaction that my house is looking the way it should, and guilt that it didn't look that way before. I question why I put forth so much effort for guests, but not daily for my family. I quote Proverbs 31 to myself, and feel good that I am exemplifying that woman on that particular day, and deficient for all the other days where I most certainly don't. The "hidden places" such as the basement, our cluttered closets, and the piles of papers that I hid rather than filed in my rush to get things in order nag at a corner of my mind. I sweep those thoughts away, and think "Well, no one's going to see those places. I need to focus on what will be seen."

Company arrives. We eat dinner, enjoy some fellowship, and then it inevitably happens. Mack decides that he and the husband should go downstairs and play X-Box. Or that we should all play Wii together. Or the husband just happens to be a handy type of guy, and Mack decides to get his opinion on our future basement renovation. Or the children go downstairs to play, and the wife follows cries from one of her children down into my abyss. There are no words adequate to express my shame and mortification.

After such a scenario recently, I was struck by the obvious spiritual parallel. I spend so much time "cleaning up" the areas of my life that people can see. I carefully apply my "Jesus face" to go to church, use kind speech and diligent discipline with my children in front of others, measure out the right words to those that are struggling or grieving. I speak of the necessity of submission and humility to young women, serve in the Body when I am able and it suits my purposes, and behave in good testimony when I know those that don't believe are watching. But what about the rest? What about the places that no one else sees? What about my speech and actions toward my family when we are alone? What about my attitude toward serving and giving when it isn't convenient? What about the thoughts and feelings in the deepest recesses of my soul? How much time do I spend cleaning those up? How much shame and mortification would I experience if those were laid bare? How can I possibly feel satisfied with what appears on the surface when I know that what lies beneath is a chaotic mess? Where do I start? How do I get it all cleaned up? It's even more overwhelming than the basement.

1 Samuel 16:7 "...For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart."

Go Pack Go (Part 2)

Little One somehow became convinced that the Packers were going to be playing the big game at our house last night. Evidently the Superbowl was to be played in our backyard or something. She woke up yesterday morning, almost tearful, saying, "Mommy, why did the Packers leave in the middle of the night? Now we'll never get to see them play football!" I'm still not sure why she ever thought they were HERE in the first place, thus convincing her that they must have left in the middle of the night. Who can discern the mind of a three year old? But she was definitely convinced. She even invited her Sunday School teacher over, "...because the Packers are playing football at our house tonight."

Turns out? She wasn't completely mistaken. Clay Matthews dropped by for a little visit.

Go Pack Go

It was Packers Day at school today, in honor of their trip to the Super Bowl. C-Ray has been asking for a Packers shirt for quite some time, but I had yet to buy him one. He was set with a green shirt to wear though, and was happy and content. He commented to me this morning, "Mom, if you ever do get me a Packer shirt, don't get me the quarterback. I want one with a bigger number." I replied, "Like Clay Matthews?" C-Ray answered, "Yeah, he's number 52. That would be good."

Mack, most impressed with his son's knowledge of the Packers' roster, decided that the boy must have some Packers gear. He set out to get him something during a lull in his morning. Of course, circumstances arose, and I ended up making a "quick trip" to Target, on good authority that they had lots of Packers clothing. That "quick trip" turned into over an hour and 5 different stores, none of which had any kids' merchandise in stock. My search finally ended at Kohl's, where they had racks upon racks of kid-sized Packers gear. I spent more than I would've liked on a shirt, which does indeed sport the number 52, and stopped by school just as C-Ray was coming in from recess.

"Hey buddy, come here. I got you something."
"Really? What?"
I hold out the shirt.
"Want to put it on over your other shirt for the rest of the day?"
"No thanks. I'm good."

The Simple Life: Step Two

After a brief blogging hiatus due to travels and out of town visitors, I shall share with you the first teeny-tiny babystep in my efforts to purge and declutter. I took down my Christmas tree during the first half of January. This is an accomplishment in and of itself. The year Apple was born, on December 27, the tree didn't come down until the day before Valentine's Day. In fact, removing it from the living area of our small apartment was my Valentine's gift to Mack. Since that benchmark, I have shamefully adopted the philosophy that anything before that date must count as improvement. Anyway, I resolved to organize and downsize the Christmas "stuff" when I put it away, rather than just tossing it back in the same mismatched boxes that have travelled with us over ten years and three states. So, I updated the Christmas storage from this:

To this:

And I threw away this:

And started this box of things for donation/garage sale:
Like I said, it's a baby step. And I had to put those nicely organized and labeled bins down in my basement. Where you can't even see the floor. That's next. Really.

Car Thief

So Mack really hates it when I blog funny things about him, but this morning was so typically "us" that I just have to. I set my alarm for 5:30 this morning with grand intentions of going to the Y to work out before the rest of the family had to be up. I do this frequently, but I NEVER actually get up, so I did not mention my intentions to Mack, knowing that he would tease me if I didn't follow through. But about the time I was due to get up, Little One came crawling into bed with us, and I certainly wasn't going back to sleep with her knees pressing into the small of my back. So, I quietly slipped out of bed, got my exercise clothes on, and made it out the back door without anyone in the house awakening. I even had the presence of mind to text Mack and let him know where I was, thinking that if he woke up to find me gone, he would try to call me, and see that I had texted him. So, I raised the garage door, started the trusty mini-van, and was fumbling with my seat adjustment as Mack came busting through the back door in only his shorts. He looked at me in bewilderment and hollered, "What are you doing??" I told him where I was going, then followed him back into the house because he looked a little pale. He leaned over and rested his head on his hands on the kitchen counter, trying to collect himself. In his state of slumber, he assumed the body in bed with him was mine rather than Kendra's, and thought someone was stealing our van out of our garage! So much for not waking anybody up...

The Simple Life: Step One:

So, in my pursuit of Simplicity this year, one of the things I mentioned was downsizing our digital media diet. So, my first initiative of the year was to re-institute "No Media Thursdays." For the kids and me, this means no recreational computering, video games, or television. We did the same thing last year, for a few months, but let it slide once summer vacation came around. There was some minimal complaining from the kids yesterday about "having nothing to do." They got over their whining when they received little sympathy from me. After homework was done and rooms were neatened, they conducted races with their Zhu-Zhu pets and played a game involving imagined hot lava in the family room. We've had a lot of those games in our house since we vacationed at Mount St. Helens...

Anyway, I requested that Mack join us, and received a bit of mocking in return. He did, however, refrain from turning on the TV until after all the kids were asleep. I read while he watched, and was further mocked when I chuckled at the Office re-run he was watching. I think I need to find something recreational that we can do together besides watch TV if I'm going to get him on board. Any suggestions?