82 Hats

Lately, blogging has been a bloody challenge. (That's not to say that murder or bloodshed has occurred. I just figure that if my son is going to start talking like a Brit, I should join him. You know, throw in some English colloquialisms every now and then. For fun, like.)

Anyway.

Funny things are happening on a daily basis. God is refining me on a daily basis. I'm screwing up on a daily basis. These are the things a blog is made of. Er, at least, my blog is made of. But I feel like I have 82 extravagant hats on my head and I'm trying to balance them. After all, if they all toppled off I'd have to start all over again and some of them would be ruined and it would be a giant pain.

When I finish cleaning or pressing or properly storing my hats I have to watch an episode of 24 because, well, I'm a complete addict. And it isn't just me. No. My parents are addicts, too. My brother and his wife, count them in. That's right guys, if I'm going down I'm taking all of you with me. So the other night The Husband and I reached the point in the series where the writers all went on strike and the result was Redemption because by the time they all negotiated their terms there wasn't enough time left for 24 episodes. We started off this crazy addiction on a Netflix gift certificate from our Associate Pastor and his family and, as we settled into the couch to watch the film, we realized that Redemption isn't available to watch on Netflix. You have to order it. And wait to have it sent to you. And we needed a fix. Pronto. So at 9:45 at night The Husband located the nearest Blockbuster and sprinted over to bring home a copy of our drug. It was disgusting. It was as though we'd suddenly realized that our dealer didn't have the right stuff so we found another supplier. We're druggies. Is there a program for this? 24Anon?

A few days ago Troy went upstairs to find The Rock Star surrounded by toys that were engaged in some heavy drama. Action figures were strewn about and bad guys had overtaken a pirate ship. "Why doesn't that guy go help them?" The Husband asked.

G: Because, he's already dead.*
T: Oh. Well what about that guy?
G: He can't. If he goes near the pirate ship it will BOOM him.
T: Sounds like they need to call Jack Bauer.

Aside from inviting Jack Bauer into our home I've started rehearsing for the church Christmas play which I'm writing, managing and directing and, oh yeah, playing the role of Elderly Mary. I mean, she's not supposed to be ancient but when you have a 29-year-old playing a teenager it's bound to be interesting. She's got 80+ lines but who's counting, really? I've started working with youth which I'm super excited about because it means I get to hang out with teenagers which I've really missed since quitting my teaching job to move out here. It also means that some of the youth I hang out with actually have more estrogen than testosterone and don't spend the bulk of their time pretending that action figures are dead. We just started up our Women's Bible Study on Wednesday mornings so I get to spend time with Beth Moore which is amazing. I mean, you know, she's on the other side of a screen and can't see or hear me but I don't really care. She's Beth Moore and I'll take her how I can get her. I pretend we're BFF. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. I'm currently on the worship team rotation. This means that on Sunday mornings you can find me squawking out something that hopefully resembles a note that's somewhere in the vicinity of where it's supposed to be. Although I refuse to make any promises. Our Women's Retreat is next weekend. I'm kind of in charge. I still need to remember not to forget a music stand and a pillow and about a million other tiny details. And even though The Rock Star is only in school three days a week I still feel like I'm already a slave to his schedule. Preschool and Jack Bauer. A fearsome duo.

There's more. I can't think of it all right now. I've got dinner on the brain. Sometimes blogging is interrupted by the sheer necessity of cleaning the toilets. Sometimes I start and am stopped by a toddler that refuses to stop eating dirt. Sometimes I'm halfway through when I remember that I forgot to do something and someone's life is hanging in the balance. (Oh, no. Wait. That's not me. That's Jack again.) So I'm left wondering how WOTH moms (Working Outside the Home) do it? How do you balance ministry and work and parenting without causing spontaneous combustion?

I've been making it through my days with Hawaiian chocolate covered macadamia nuts brought to us by a member of the congregation. I ate the last one today so I'm either going to need to figure something else out or someone is going to have to fly to Hawaii and get me some more.



P.S. Dear Associate Pastor, if your wife tells you to read this and you start panicking and thinking that it was a horrible idea to let me start working with Youth because I have way too much going on, please take a deep breath and remember that I'm surrounded by testosterone and I really need a youthful estrogen fix (and how many people can say that and mean it?) and there's the whole bit that God called me to be involved in that ministry. Oh and, also, the women's retreat will be over soon enough. :-) Oh. And. And. And. If you remain unconvinced let me assure you that I can always stop watching 24.

Wait. No. No, I can't. But who gave us the Netflix gift certificate. Yeah...that's what I thought.

*Really? REALLY? I didn't teach him these things. I didn't tell him that all of his action figures should die and that a common stick can be turned into a gun. Troy didn't teach these things either. This is built in. I promise.