A Day in the Life

“A Day in the Life…” My favorite Beatles song and the subject of today’s entry.

Okay so it’s really not a post about a day in my life… I just thought of it, thought it was clever, and chose to name my entry for today after it. After all, what’s in a name?

I thought it might be interesting to share what has been the most challenging aspect of parenting so far, and what has been the least challenging. My son turned nine months old yesterday and I must say, it has been a surprising journey.

I suppose the most challenging aspect of parenting so far has been the daily decisions on who we are as parents and how we’re shaping Virgil. I’m fully aware that at nine months old, he is hardly conscious of our attempts at infantile disciple. Albeit mellow, they are at least, a start in our eyes. Lance and I both want to make sure our children know that we are in charge while at the same time leaving them plenty of room to safely and healthily explore the world around them. Up to now, and for a bit more time into the future, we are fully aware that Virgil does not understand discipline or have a grasp of what’s right or wrong, safe or dangerous. So really, the discipline is more for us at this point and less for him. We are setting our own precedent here, learning how we will face challenges with our children, and deciding now how we will handle them.

It is very important to both of us that we are fair and balanced; just and gracious; strict and liberating. I want my children to know who is boss and who makes the decisions and yet I never want them to feel restricted or confined from trying things, meeting challenges, and exploring the world. And so each day I think (perhaps too much, as my mother would point out) about what that means for us as parents and what choices we should make to set up a healthy environment for our kids. (I speak in the plural sense here because, Good Lord willing, Virge will be the first of many.)

The challenge has been to learn how to think critically and apply our best judgement on all things, right from the beginning, so that we form the right habits now. That way, when he does begin to understand discipline and accountability, we won’t have to change our habits all over again.

That being said, what has been the easiest thing about parenting so far? I would have to say, hands down, it has been loving our little man despite the frustrations that inevitably come with parenthood. See, I’ve been an aunt for almost twenty years, and while I love my nieces and nephews deeply, I must admit there have been numerous times when I wondered what planet they came from and why we can’t send them back. I was concerned, admittedly, that with my own children, living with them 24/7, I would develop a sense of resentment to their very natures, simply because the daily task of dealing with children can be overwhelming. But I’ve learned what unconditional love really feels and looks like through my sweet boy. And even though he can be a pill, I never, ever feel like I would be better off without him. I never feel like I wish I could “take him back.” This has been a sweet surprise to me because I never understood unconditional love until now.

It brings a whole new respect to my own parents and what I put them through. Wow. They deserve a medal. And moreso, it brings a whole new perspective to God’s love and what it means for me. I never knew He loved me that much. In fact, he loves me more than I love Virgil, as impossible as that seems.

So there it is, what I’ve learned so far and what I know I will continue to learn as Virgil and I grow up. We’re both learning valuable lessons. Amen to that!

Thank God for the Midnight Pharmacy

I know I have a lot of lessons to learn. But last night was definitely a lesson I can check off the list. That lesson? NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT INFANT TYLENOL.

It was a night like any other, I thought. Virge and I were staying at my parents’ house for a little fun weekend with them. He went to sleep with no fight at about 7:30, a little early for him, but he didn’t take a long nap that day so I didn’t think much of it. At about 10, I went to bed because I knew he’d probably wake up at 5 or 6 in the morning. About 10:30 he woke up and fussed a bit. I usually let him fuss for a bit before I get him because many times he will just go back to sleep. But as his crying got worse, I knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep. I picked him up to console him and his crying just got worse and worse until it became a scream.

Now let me make this clear: Virgil may be many things, but a screamer he is not. I knew something was wrong and I figured it was probably his teeth. I went to the diaper bag to look for baby Oragel, Tylenol, SOMETHING to soothe him.


Genius. Mother of the year.

I was so mad at myself I couldn’t stand it. By this time he had my parents’ attention and they came to see what was wrong. Upon seeing my usually happy baby boy, they immediately got their shoes on to make a midnight run to a pharmacy. Life savers, I tell you! By the time they got back, I had finally calmed down Virge by letting him suck on some ice. We gave him Tylenol, and then he was ready to play! Hahahaha!

We let him play for a bit, I tried to nurse him, but he was not interested, so I just put him in his playpen to get rid of some of his newfound energy. Within 15 minutes, without so much as a single fuss, my awesome boy was asleep again.


Lesson 2: Grandparents are awesome.


Today Virgil is 8 months, 12 days old. So many milestones, so little time.

I wish I would have started this blog when he was younger because so many amazing things have happened since that day. First roll over (in the hospital, seriously). First flu (not quite 3 months old). First sitting up (5 months old). First crawl (7 months old). First time to pull up on something (two days ago). First tooth (two days ago).

Okay so there has been more firsts than that, but at least you get the idea.

Being a mom has been such an amazing journey. I never knew I could love someone so much. I never knew how fun parenting could be. Lance and I stay in stitches with this boy. He does the funniest things. Like recently – since he’s learned to pull up on things, he’s also decided to use his mouth to assist in the process. It’s pretty funny, my little rough tough cream puff working so hard to pull up on the ottoman, resorting to his face and mouth to aid in the process. He also has started making this sort of growling noise when he crawls – like he’s a barbarian on the hunt. That’s what Lance calls him – his little barbarian. Virgil the Barbarian, to be exact.

He’s getting more and more active as the days go by. I keep thinking that it can’t get much worse. Needless to say, I keep being proven wrong. He’s so busy now that changing his diaper is much like gift-wrapping a cat. And when it’s time to sleep, there is no winding down for this boy. It’s full speed ahead followed by a sudden crash. Fully awake, followed by fully asleep.

I’m having so much fun. As much of a perfectionist as I am, I have to constantly remind myself that there is nothing perfect about parenting, so it’s been a huge leaning curve for me to say the least. But it’s a lesson I most definitely needed to learn and I appreciate it all the more.

As the days and months go by, I plan on updating this blog with the things that mean the most to us. Our memories, our triumphs, our struggles. If you read it, I hope it blesses you with the peace of mind of knowing that you’re not the only one going through the crazies of life. And if you get bored with it, well that’s okay too. It’s really just a journal for me anyway. 🙂

Happy living, my friends.

This is Virge this morning, eating waffles and syrup for the first time. He loved them. He’s quite the independent eater these days. He doesn’t want mommy’s help anymore!

Original Art – Now on Etsy!

Hi friends,

I just wanted to share with you that you can now purchase some of my original artwork on Etsy now! I’ll be adding new stuff all the time so check it out often!

You are all awesome!!



, Pickin’ and Grinnin’

I took a break. I took a break from the band. I took a break from leading worship. It was for different reasons than what I now realize I actually needed a break from. My pregnancy gave me an excuse to take a break because I was tired. But I didn’t know what I was tired from. I thought it was just drama and the sometimes thankless job of the indie musician.

But that wasn’t it at all. I needed a break from me.

I stepped down from leading worship four years ago. [blockquote align=”right”]I needed a break from me.[/blockquote] Over that time God has done an incredible work in my soul. I never realized I was doing it so wrong. So unauthentically. But I was. I was leading worship for the accolades, for the recognition. It was, shamefully, a bit of a competition for me. I was used to hearing people say, “You’re such a good singer! That was incredible! I was really moved.” I bought that and took it to heart. I believed my own hype. And it swallowed me up deep into its belly. The belly of pride. And I stewed in it for a long time.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, knew not to take it all away from me. He knew that I would just become a “victim” and blame someone or something for my misfortunes if that happened. Instead he let me get burned out and step away on my own terms. Then and only then did I realize that I was the culprit. I was the problem.

During my sabbatical I joined a church that I fell in love with. I found my favorite worship leader there. This incredibly talented person is someone whom I would never listen to outside of the context of worship. I don’t like their voice. I don’t like their style. I would never do it the way they do it. And irony of ironies, I find that I worship more authentically when they lead than anyone else who could lead me. I am moved to tears with every word out of this person’s mouth. This blows my mind. I thought worship would be better if the leader was the best. I thought worship would be more effective if the leader was exactly my style – edgy, current, whatever. As if worship is just another episode of American Idol where the best will rise above the rest. How wrong I was!

It’s all so trite when I read it back now, but folks I’m sad to say that’s where I was. That’s where my mind went when I led worship. And thank God I got sick of myself.

Tonight I step back on that stage to lead worship again. I don’t feel prepared. I don’t have that signature “I got this” attitude I always had before. I don’t think, “just wait ’til they hear me.” I am hesitant at best. I don’t know what to expect. But I know that all I hear God say to me is, “Just worship up there. Let them in on your personal time with me.” So that’s exactly what I plan to do. Get out of the way. Let God be God. I’m just going to sing to him. No frills. No “can do” attitude. No “come and see how awesome I am” pride. Just me and Jesus. Pickin’ and grinnin’ (as my dad would say).

And perhaps, that’s exactly as it should be.

[blockquote align=”left”]Pride first, then the crash, but humility is precursor to honor. ~Proverbs 18:12[/blockquote]

My Glamorous Life

I learned a good lesson today: white clothing and seven month olds do not mix.

I am dressed up today. I have some goals to accomplish so I thought I’d spruce up the wardrobe and go for the sequins and a white shrug. The brilliance behind this is that I fed my son sweet potatoes and corn for lunch. Orange puke does not an accessory make, or at least not a pretty accessory.

Sufficient to say, on the way out the door, I picked up my son while wearing my fancy outfit and thought, “I better put a towel over my shoulder before I carry him out to the car.” I headed to the closet to retrieve said towel and heard the infamous “bleh” that is inevitably followed by baby puke. There it was, glistening orange puke all down my crisp white sleeve.

No matter. I have several white shrugs. I’ll just toss this one in a quick bath of hot soapy water so as not to stain it, grab a new shrug, grab a towel first, grab my son and head out the door.

I start the sink water to fill for my sweater-soaking brilliant plan, set the detergent on the edge of the sink in what I thought was a safe place, turned my back and “splat!” The bright blue detergent is now a lovely, slimy pool a good 8 inches in size on my carpet. Brilliant.

The bright side is that laundry detergent, while extremely difficult to get out of carpet, makes for lovely air freshener. The down side is the carpet is nice and spongy now.

Oh well. Off to get another white shrug (glutton for punishment, I tell you). I don the shrug, don the shoulder puke protectant towel, grab my son, and hear, yet again, “bleh” followed by even more glistening orange puke.

But I’m no fool. The towel did the trick and I’m out the door stain free this time. Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three. Thank you, Michael Scott.

Anyway, just wanted you all to have a little insight into the glamorous life of the rock and roll mom.