The Pink House

It has been five years since we moved into this house and we are finally painting our living room. Our motivation? We want to sell it and move closer to the area that we are constantly driving toward. Oh, and we could use another bedroom for this little one on the way.

I have been asking, hinting, begging, nagging-whatever you want to call it-about painting the living room since we moved in. All of the other rooms were painted within that first year. The catch to the living room is that it is quite a task. We have a loft so our living room ceiling goes very high. The idea of painting such walls was not a very exciting idea, hence we kept putting it off.

Thanks to the "buy paint on the Fourth of July and get a rebate" advice from our neighbor, I let Nick go and pick out the color. Yes, I am that brave. Normally, I am quite controlling about such things. However, being pregnant brings out my lazy side and really, if we did not love the color, oh well-we are trying to move anyway.

I did send some advice along with Nick before he went to buy the paint. I mentioned wanting a cream color-somewhere between light enough so that our house did not seem small, but dark enough to cover up the marks that our beloved children have left on the white, flat painted walls. That is specific enough, right?

Nick brought home a five gallon bucket of Painted Desert Sand. My first thought when seeing the color card was, "looks a bit pink," but I thought it looked brown next to our green dining room and did not want to hurt the feelings of my wonderful husband who had just unhappily spent a lot of money on my project.

We started painting this past week. We started upstairs in the loft, since it was less daunting than starting in the living room. The color looked great, we were working well together, and the kids were staying out of the way. However, as the paint began to dry, Nick suddenly said, "It looks pink." Not wanting to accept our own eyes, since we had been staring at the paint for so long, we asked the kids. Abby said, "Yea, it's pink!"

Crap. If you cannot trust the honesty of a five-year old, who can you trust?

Since we had already started using the paint, we could no longer return any of it to the store. To change the color would take buying a lot more paint to mix with it and there was no guarantee it would look better. We began to accept the fact that we were indeed painting our house pink.

This is where it was challenging to be Nick's wife. I had to listen to him critique himself over all of his bad decisions. He bought a five gallon bucket of paint instead of individual cans so that we could not return any of it. He did not try a sample of the paint first. Oh, and he bought pink paint.

I kept saying how it was not that bad. It looked nice next to our other colors. It would look better once it was all done. The curtains would help dull the color. I even had our neighbors come over and get their opinions to make him feel better. The wife backed me up by saying all of the encouraging ideas of how to make it look nice. The husband said, "It looks lavender."

Thanks for that, buddy.

My determined and cheap self just kept painting. The last few days I have continued to paint part of the stairway, the rest of the dining room and the lower part of the living room desert painted sand. I am not throwing away money and time to start with a new color. And you know what? It actually does not look that bad. The more we cover up the ugly white walls, the more we are comfortable with the color. As I slowly put things back on the walls and we move furniture in front of it, it is actually quite pleasant and cozy.

Or maybe I am in denial and we really are living in a pink house. Anyone want to buy a house in Loveland? It is full of character.

The Bubble

I just spent last week volunteering as a counselor at Camp Lambec without internet connection, air-conditioning, a comfortable bed and with terrible cell phone reception.

It was awesome.

There is something so blissful about being away from technology for awhile. If there was an emergency, someone could have gotten a hold of me. But, to not daily check my email, facebook, the news and whatever else I find myself surfing toward was simply lovely. It was a content little bubble that I was living in for seven days.

Now, back to reality.

In the real world, it is much harder to just be still and know God. Instead of hearing the wind blowing through the trees and the waves crashing on the beach, I hear the hum of the air-conditioner and the sound of the appliances running. In place of deep discussions in Bible study with the oldest campers, I find myself constantly interrupted by my small children (seriously, I have had to break up three fights in the course of writing this post).

Perhaps that is part of the magic to camp. We can constantly be surrounded by opportunities to grow, reflect, learn, and feel like we are doing something important. In reality, we are just like everyone else and life just keeps on moving at its typical, fast pace.

As much as I love the bubble, I am also grateful to be home. Not just because the air-conditioning has brought back my ankles that disappeared at camp thanks to the heat and constant walking (pregnancy is fun), but because of these little creatures that are currently driving me crazy.

I may not feel like I am doing something important in my daily life, but I know I am where I am supposed to be right now. I might not get thank-you notes from my kids for my time spent with them, or see an immediate result of my love and sacrifice, but it is always worth it. I will take them over the bubble any day.

Kid Quotes

I will be volunteering as a counselor at Camp Lambec for the week without internet connection, so all of you readers (all three of you) will be without my thoughts for awhile. In the meantime, let me leave you with a couple of fun quotes from the kids...

-The other day, Abby woke up in the morning, came downstairs and said, "I was in my room praying because I just felt the need to pray this morning before I started my day."

Funny. I started that particular morning by checking my email and facebook account. Okay God, you made Your point.

-Ever since Caleb was a newborn, he has slept with his lovey. It is a little blanket with a bear head that is really soft and cuddly. The lovey's name? Lovey.

My son is pretty creative.

The other day he was wandering around the house looking for something. He frantically told me, "I'm looking for Lovey. He's my whole life! He is my family-I'm the dad."

His whole life, huh? Wow. I have heard of kids and their blankets, but never to this extreme. No wonder he likes the Linus character on Charlie Brown.

Due Date

This coming weekend brings mixed emotions. July 10th is when we head up to camp to work as counselors (which is always a highlight of my year), but it is also our due date for our precious baby that we lost. While I spend my week getting everything caught up and ready for our departure, I am painfully reminded that I would have been readying myself for something quite different.

I know our child only existed here for a short time, but I still wonder what he or she would have been like. Would he have entered the world in a painful and adventurous way like Abby did or in a calm and prepared way that Caleb came? Would she have been as competitive as her older sister and brother (and father and mother) or would she have brought a sane balance to the family? Would he have resembled his siblings with the blond hair and blue eyes or have come with some random traits from distant relatives? Would she have been another daddy's little girl or would he have been another precious boy for his parents to love?

Someday we will meet this little one. I have no idea how it will be-will our baby still be a baby, or a child or perhaps a grown-up? No matter, for the comfort I have is right now, our baby is in the presence of Jesus which is where our longing ultimately is. We will be together someday. Our little family will be together with our Savior and all will be as it should be.

What Are You Wearing?

I went to see the new Twilight movie last night. Go ahead-start laughing and judging me. Yes, I am 32 years old and yes, I was sitting in a theater filled with crazy teenage girls. However, there were a few men there (can someone say "whipped?") and women older than me.

The reason for attending the movie and not waiting for it to come out on Netflix (like I normally would) is for the bonding time with my neighbor friends who have read the books as well. We had a nice dinner together and then sit at the theater and laugh at all of the freaks.

You know, because we are definitely not included in that group.

Now, I can understand the Twilight t-shirts sporting the "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob" side that they are on (even though they know the ending of the books-it is like the bumper stickers that still support Clinton or Bush-it is 2010 people!), but there were some outfits that were worn last night that caused me to question the sanity of my fellow movie goers.

Teenage girls (I really want to belive they were still teens, because if not, this story is even more sad) wearing prom dresses. Not just any prom dress, but very snug, very revealing and very not flattering prom dresses. I am not here to judge body image, but I would have looked better in those dresses and I am looking very pregnant and very bloated. I cannot understand why their parents let them, first of all, spend money on such clothing and then let them wear it in public.

I remember buying a dress for a high school dance one year while shopping with a friend. It was short, had spaghetti straps and probably a bit too fitted. It was clearly a dress that I bought with a peer and not with my mom.

I came home, tried on the dress for my parents and immediately my dad said that I had to return it. What? Did he not understand fashion? Little, revealing dresses were in and it is not my fault that I had inherited long legs.

As I am now older and wiser, I now understand that my dad knew more about fashion than I ever did. What was "cute" to me would have been "eye candy" to the eager boys in my class. Even though I was annoyed with him back then, I am thankful that I had a dad who cared about my image and purity.

So again, where are the parents of these girls at the movies? I get that it is difficult to find clothing that is in style and still conservative, but come on! These girls had beautiful faces, yet everyone's eyes were drawn immediately to their breasts that were hanging out and their stomachs that were just as big. I wanted to go over to them and say, "Wake up! Have some self-respect and express your beauty in other ways!"

Now, as I watch my five-year old daughter dance around the room, I am dreading the teenage years with her. It will be a lovely time of her hating me and my decisions, of her scaring her dad with every date and every dress that she wears on those dates, and of her constantly questioning every rule that we set. Oh, the joy. At least she will know that she is loved and someday she will appreciate it.