Yup. We're having twins.

Friday the 13th has never been an ominous day for me. I wasn't raised in a superstitious home, in fact my parents did a great job of explaining that we don't have to worry about superstition because the power of Jesus' love overrides any of that dark spooky stuff. Anyway, this particular Friday the 13th was an exciting day because it was my first official OB-GYN appointment. Daniel & I had known for several weeks that I had gotten pregnant right after the miscarriage so it was exciting to know that today I'd get to hear baby's heartbeat. I needed to hear that heartbeat to wash away the left over shards of fear the miscarriage had left behind. From the start this pregnancy has been so different than my pregnancy with Reuben (see this post to understand why we decided to name the baby I miscarried.) I have had significantly stronger symptoms. No nausuea or morning sickness (thank you Lord) but oh, the heart burn. This baby was making him/herself known from the start! Also, my clothes stopped fitting 20 minutes after reading the positive pregnancy test. Ok, ok, maybe not THAT soon but I was surprised at how quickly I was unbuttoning jeans and hunting for any remnant maternity clothes (not planning on getting pregnant again so soon, I had loaned out most of my maternity clothes.) When pregnant with Isaiah I stretched my regular clothes well into my second trimester. This was not going to be the case with this pregnancy. To be honest, the weight gain was freaking me out a little bit. I had just stopped nursing Isaiah and I had read that some weight can creep back in after you stop nursing. That explained some but not enough to make feel ok. I've always carried around some extra weight but I stay pretty consistent and when your pants suddenly don't fit, that can be the cause of a female freak out...

So, back to Friday the 13th, my awesome midwife-turned-doctor squirted the doppler goop on my belly and very quickly found that heartbeat. It was music to my ears. My tears started to fall and my doctor gently squeezed my hand. I told her I was crying happy tears but she said she knew they were happy tears born out of sadness. She even let me record the heartbeat so I could send it to Daniel. Then she started pressing on my belly, trying to see if she could feel my uterus. She pressed for a a few minutes and said "Remind me again, how far along are you?" I said "Well, we don't technically know. I think I'm 10 weeks. The miscarriage was a little over 11 weeks ago so I can't be much farther along than 10 weeks." She pressed a few more times then said "I know everything is fine because the heartbeat was so strong but let's get you in for an ultrasound and see if we can get an accurate due date."

So I headed home, happily considering what this could be. Here's what I figured, from most logical to most far fetched:
Option 1- I'm having an abnormally large baby.
Option 2- I'm somehow still pregnant from the miscarriage. Seems a little impossible but I serve a God of amazing things, I wouldn't put this past Him.
Option 3- It's twins... HA. No.

I actually considered the idea of twins MORE far fetched than the idea of God working a miracle and allowing me to still be pregnant after what was very obviously a miscarriage (followed by a negative pregnancy test one week after.)

So I called the scheduling office at Bethesda North and asked the operator if they by chance had any ultrasound openings for later that day. She said she doubted it but she'd check. And what do you know, they had had a cancellation and could see me at 3:15pm. Fast forward to the parking lot at Bethesda North later that day. Daniel, Isaiah, & I were getting ready to get out of the car to meet our baby and I was reviewing the 3 options I had created. We both scoffed at the idea of twins and I reminded him of what some friends had told us when told them we were pregnant with Isaiah. They said "we hope this baby is twins so you'll never know any different. Then when a singleton (the medical word for one baby) comes along, you'll realize just how easy one baby is."

We should have seen the signs...

Once we were safely ensconced back in the ultrasound room, the technician dimmed the lights, squirted more doppler goop on my belly and very quickly our little baby appeared on the screen. Except it looked like our little baby was encased in a bubble with another white blob looking thing directly underneath it. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking at anyway, ultrasound technicians are like people who read tea leaves, they can see the future where the untrained eye sees nothing. And then came the phrase we least expected to hear. "You're having twins."

Oh. my. word. Cue the freak out session. I start crying. I'm looking over Daniel who looks like he's desperately to translate exactly what he's seeing and what he's hearing all while trying to distract Isaiah who chose that moment to exert his independence and was demanding to be put down. The technician is measuring the heart rateS (169 & 163 beats per minute) and printing out pictures. She explained that the twins are in their own gestational sacs which is a good thing. Apparently it means they're less likely to get tangled in each others umbilical cords this way. She also thought she might be able to tell if they're identical or fraternal but after consulting with her doctor she said it was too soon to tell. So she sends us on our way with a fistful of ultrasound pictures and our worlds are forever rocked and changed.

Twins? How will I ever manage?

On our way back to the car Daniel immediately starts planning how we will tell our families but says we have to wait until Christmas to do it. "Christmas?" I say. "I can't keep this from my mom until Christmas! I'll burst!" But he says "This will make such a great present! We've got to wait!" I realize it's gonna be a loooooong week and a half.

I then spent the weekend that followed in a ball of emotion, crying over the insane changes that are very quickly coming to our family, mourning the beginning of the end to our family of 3, realizing Isaiah will never remember being the only child, worrying that he'll feel like a second class citizen when the twins are born and he gets relegated to diaper fetching duty, wondering if the twins can somehow sense I am less than excited about the news of their arrival, thinking of questions and unknowns, and realizing we will need 2 of everything expensive (cribs! car seats! bikes! cars! college tuition! weddings!)

I'm still not 100% excited about the news. Every once in a while it'll hit me and I'll start to cry or worry or fear and I have to remind myself that God equips those who ask Him to. God gave us the privilege of parenting multiples, He'll supply our needs when the time comes. Give me time, I'll be excited at least by the day they're born :)

Merry Christmas Baby!

One of the BEST parts of having your own kid is that you can make your kid into your own little model/photo shoot subject. And for an amateur photographer/part time stay-at-home mom, that means fun on my off days! Well, thanks to an idea from the most awesomest invention ever (Pinterest, of course) I decided to stage a little Christmas photo shoot...

So, the first thing I needed to do was track down the little car. I put out a plea on Facebook to borrow one and Daniel came home that very afternoon with the little car in tow. The second step was to put together the lumber jack outfit. We already had the hat and the little lumber jack boots but the plaid jacket was really gonna make or break the ensemble. We had nothing even close. Well, wouldn't you know it my wonderful mother-in-law bought Isaiah a bag of second hand clothes and lo and behold this little beauty was tucked in the bottom of the bag! Step three was to wait for the perfect day. I didn't want it too warm because I knew Isaiah would not like wearing a hat and fleece jacket on a warm fall day. I also didn't want it too overcast because I'm not that good of a photographer and I need the sunlight to take the best pictures. Step four was to catch Isaiah in a good mood and head outside!

All of the steps came together perfectly today! Well, all of the steps except for #4. My plan was to take Isaiah outside after his nap, which is a prime good mood spot in his day. I laid him down for his nap at the usual time and he proceeded to roll around and play for the next hour. He never actually fell asleep. So I rescued him from his baby prison, dressed him in his 'costume' and out we went. This is what happens when Isaiah is not in a good mood and I try to make him do stuff:

Luckily, Daniel came to the rescue and got Isaiah laughing and giggling while I got the poses I needed to get the best shots. All in all it was quite the successful little photo shoot! And what did Isaiah do not 10 minutes after coming inside? He went down for a 2 hour nap of course! Here are a few more from our photo shoot:

The Church of Mary Kay

Now before you jump to any conclusions based on the title of this blog, let me be the first to say I seriously LOVE Mary Kay products. I have a special section in our family budget so that I can buy my Mary Kay cleanser & moisturizer. (My mom always said that it's worth it to pay a little extra to take of your skin and I have taken that to heart!) Also let me say that the AWESOME woman (hi April!) who sells me my Mary Kay told me (last night actually) that she reads my blog so I will not be disrespecting or dissing this fabulous company. Period. I have nothing but love and respect for April and for the MAry Kay company.

OK, now that my conscious is clear, my FABULOUS Mary Kay rep April, invited me to come to a Mary Kay event last night. She lured me in with the promise of new make up. (I am seriously a sucker for free product.) I have been to these kinds of things before. April has been my Mary Kay lady since I "won" a bridal make up consultation with her a few months before I married Daniel. Since then, about twice a year I get an invitation from April to various Mary Kay events. When I first started getting invited, April would always gently ask if I was interested in starting my own MK business and I would turn her down for a variety of reasons. So after awhile, I think she just knew not to ask. I have nothing against Mary Kay. I am always inspired by the energy and the excitement and the hope the MK women have. I appreciate the "Faith first, Family second, Work last" principle and I love that most MK women are not ashamed to declare their faith in their market place. I just don't love makeup as much as they seem to. I would probably only sell MK if I was a single woman with no children but I'm just not willing to give up my Friday and Saturday nights, being away from my family to host MK parties. The money, the cars, the prizes- it's not worth it for me.

So, that being said, I had a bit of a revelation last night. I was sitting in one of the beautiful ballrooms in the Radisson hotel in Covington. The women are all beautiful. Most are dressed impeccably, beautifully made up, all shapes and sizes and colors of women; it really is a room full of beauty. And success!  All of these successful women are parading across the stage, declaring how much money they've made selling MK, how many cars they've earned, how many carots in diamonds they've won, how many trips they've been on (on MK's dime!) and none of it with a spirit of pride or arrogance. These are the facts of their careers. It is inspiring! The room is a mix of a levels too. The guests are the ones who are not 'employed' by MK, they are the consumers of the products (this is me.) Then there are the consultants who are just starting out, then the consultants who have earned their first car, then the directors who have offspring consultants and on and on, up the chain of success. The speakers all made a big deal out of pointing out the guests, mainly because we are their targets.

Like I said earlier, the Mark Kay company makes no secret of the fact that faith in God is a huge part of the company's roots and the main speaker last night, National Sales Director Pam Shaw, freely spoke about the Lord's hand and voice in her life. She credited much of her success to her Christian roots and I felt as though I were listening to someone speaking in church. (There were even a few 'amens' from the peanut gallery.) At the close of her talk she asked the guests to stand (again! This was probably the 4th or 5th time we stood) and said something to the effect of "If you are interested in living the life of your dreams I want you to get up on this stage." Suddenly a flood of women were out of their seats and headed up front,  there were easily 30 women! After the clapping had slowed Pam said "I know there are more of you out there who have regretted not moving..." And sure enough here come a few more women! Then Pam turns to the women on stage, some are wiping away tears of excitement and all are hoping for a changed life, and asks them to mark the date, October 25, 2013, because this will be the day that they changed their futures.

Now pan the camera back to me. I have stayed rooted in my seat. The two girls in front of me and the girl who was sitting next to me are all on stage. I feel as though I have a giant spot light with an arrow pointing down on my head declaring "This one is a guest! And she's not on stage!" I felt guilty and singled out and like I was missing out on something incredible. Why would any sane person turn down the chance to be your own boss! drive a free car! work when you want to! and the myriad of other promises MK offers. The crowd mentality was really strong. In fact, the whole scenario felt like a alter call. Now, I gave my life to the Lord's leading when I was 4 years old (that moment is one of my earliest memories, I remember it very clearly.) So, I never responded to an alter call. I never had to. I have never known the guilt or pressure or urge to walk myself to the front of a church to surrender to God. I surrendered in a rocking chair on my mom's lap, before bedtime on night. So this feeling was new to me. Then I found myself wondering "I've never felt this way before when I have come to these MK things. Maybe God is prompting me to start my own business? But I don't hear Him speaking like He usually does. I haven't experienced that gut reaction disobedience followed by a sense of peace like I normally do when God asks me to do something." So I continued to sit and clap and cheer on those that are now on the road to 6 figure incomes and pretty pink cars and all the other success they'll discover.

Now for the revelation. Humans are driven by the chance to win and win big. We love prizes. We love feeling like we're getting something for nothing. (This is probably why I like clipping coupons and shopping for sales.) We love rewards. I even said it earlier, that I'm a sucker for free product. But we also know "there's no such thing as a free lunch" and "if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is." How many of have been disappointed or burned by a crummy reward? It didn't take too many trips to the carnival before I realized I was spending too much on the games to win the cheap, dinky prize. 3 times in Matthew 6 Jesus says "And your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." This bothers me though because Jesus never mentions what the reward is! What if my heavenly reward is a pile of a dinky carnival prizes? (Figuratively speaking of course, I sure hope dinky carnival prizes aren't allowed in heaven...) Though Jesus is clear about what we are to be doing in secret, he is never clear about what our reward will be. Though He is clear that a life surrendered to His control earns a free trip to heaven and an eternity with Him, He never really mentions if there are other bonuses involved. Eternity in heaven should be reward enough considering I don't deserve ANY of it. Yet still, I am discontent when I read Matthew 6.

(Insert whiny voice here) "What IS my reward Lord? Am I doing just enough here on earth in order to be pleased with my heavenly reward? Can you make me a sticker chart so I can my progress and know how much more I have to do to win and win big? God? Are you even listening? Sticker charts are so helpful Lord..."

Recouping at the Gorge

It's been a week since the M word. We are steadily getting back to normal. Last Sunday was awful. The worst. I would not wish losing a baby on anyone, even a person I thought shouldn't be allowed to procreate, I still would not wish loss of life on them. SO many women in my life have shared their own M stories with me. Seriously, SO. MANY. WOMEN. Too many women have endured this awful, heart rending pain. There is a sense of solidarity with those other mothers who know this pain. Women I would have described as strong, noble, faithful, passionate followers of Christ. Women who proclaim with their lives and their families and their lifestyles and their language and their humility a deep seeded love and trust for the One True God. Women whose lives have been rocked and scarred and yet still they proclaim that God is good; that He is faithful always. No matter how life on earth turns out, He is faithful. Always. He can be nothing BUT faithful. I want to be a woman like these in my life. I want my children to "rise and call my blessed" (Prov. 31:28) because of the example I set. Because of the language I speak. Because I pointed them to God. Because God's faithfulness was always on my lips. I will take what the enemy intended for evil, what the enemy thought would tear me down or break my spirit or forever break my heart and I will say "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, may the name of the Lord be praise." Job 1:21

This past weekend was Fall Break at CCU, where I teach. We used the extra time to get away as a family. Daniel loves camping at the Red River Gorge. He says he likes to hear the wind as it rustles through the leaves in the trees and through all of the gorge. I just wanted to get away with my boys and have a change of pace. Our plan was to head down Friday morning, hike, then set up our tent, cook some dinner, and enjoy nature. I don't know if this was a prompting from God or just Daniel being impatient, but he decided to rent a cabin, The Firefly Suite, for Thursday night. So, around 6:30pm, we loaded Isaiah into the Buick and the 3 of us headed to the Gorge. We knew it would be late and very dark when we got to our cabin. The website said the cabin is "off the grid", meaning no electricity and no running water. What it failed to mention is that driving a Buick Century up the gravely, hilly road to the cabin is not a great idea. Particularly if your husband just had eye surgery, meaning he can't see well enough to drive at night, leaving the wife to navigate GIANT Buick on the teeny tiny one lane gravely, hilly road. Add a screaming baby to the mix and you've got our arrival at the Firefly Suite.

Once we actually got into our cabin though, all the stress of our arrival was gone. This cabin. Oh my. So perfect. You can see pictures on the website (the link is above.) Thanks to the cabin being "off the grid", there was no electricity so the area we were in was pitch black, which meant the stars were so bright and clear. And to top it off, there was another cabin not far from ours and some one started to play the fiddle. It was so perfect and peaceful. Exactly what I needed.

So after a night's rest, we were off to hike the Gorge! We started out at Natural Bridge. We hiked up, up, up until we got to the top of the Bridge. We reminisced about the Geology Field Trip. We oohed and aahed over the view and God's incredible creativity. We let Isaiah crawl around in the dirt. Then we hiked down Balancing Rock Trail. Daniel found and carved a walking stick. We joked about how a man who is basically half blind should not be allowed to use a pocket knife and walk at the same time but he did it anyway. We walked down lots and lots of stairs.

Balancing Rock!

Then it was on to Miguel's for lunch! You haven't been to the Red River Gorge if you haven't eaten pizza at Miguel's. We decided that it's not necessarily because Miguel's pizza is all that good but because it's basically the ONLY food you can find in the middle of the Gorge. Isaiah helped us polish off a piece or two. That kid loves pizza.

Ale 8!
(don't worry, it was empty- no pop for this kid!)

At that point our plan was to grab a Backwoods Camping Pass, let Isaiah nap for a bit, hike to a scenic spot on the ridge, and set up camp. Except the Red River Gorge is a state park, and within the Red River Gorge is the Daniel Boone National Forest.

Which meant that the park was closed to camping because of the Government Shutdown.

Which left us with a decision. Option #1 was to ignore the Government Shutdown, pocket the $3 Backwoods Camping Pass, and continue as planned. After all, if the Park Rangers and other employees are all on furlough then there is no accountability. Camp or don't camp, no one is there to know. Option #2 was to obey the rules, bite the bullet and head home early. We kept waffling, we couldn't decide if we wanted to take our chances or have our plans ruined. We decided to hike around a bit more then make a campfire and cook our dinner (mmm... hobo packs!) Eventually we knew that the right choice was to obey the rules. So Daniel at least got to make an awesome fire, I got to practice being a backwoods chef, and Isaiah got to crawl around in the dirt some more and eat pine needles. After dinner we splashed water on our fire, hiked back to the car, and headed home. And as we passed the car of a fellow hiker, who had told us he was planning on spending the night without a pass, we chuckled at the State Trooper vehicle parked next to his.

So despite our somewhat ruined plans, we had a fantastic time. It was so healing for me to get away with my boys and have the space to be together without a to-do list, even if just for 24 hours.

The M word

I would have been 6 weeks pregnant tomorrow. Daniel & I had just found out and we were keeping quiet just in case anything went wrong. We didn't want to have to tell the world, to share the pain of losing a baby.

Yet here I am blogging about having lost our baby. Though I'm not actually blogging about having lost our baby, I'm actually blogging to publicly declare that our God is always always good. And so very faithful. Our God is personal and wants intimacy with us, wants to speak to us, wants to comfort us.While Daniel & I would so appreciate your words of encouragement and sympathy over our loss, I'd rather you walk away feeling encouraged that Jesus is so deeply in love with you and so bound to you that He aches right alongside you, as a husband or a best friend or a parent might. Whoever you turn to for comfort, Jesus is a million times better at comforting than that person might be.

Last night Jesus comforted me through a dream.

Before I tell you the dream, let me give some back story. Sunday morning I woke up with a little spotting but I spotted when I was pregnant with Isaiah so I wasn't that worried. Throughout the day though it got more and more heavy and by Sunday afternoon I found some more convincing evidence and was pretty certain the baby was gone. I went downstairs to tell Daniel (who is still recovering from a painful LASIK/PRK eye surgery. Daniel was lying on our couch with all the lights off and a pillow over his face, because he is so sensitive to light. This has not been a great weekend for the Reads.) I told him I was pretty sure I had lost the baby. He held me and I cried. He may have cried too but his eyes have been watering so much from the surgery, there's no telling. Then I got up and went about the rest of the day. I put Isaiah to bed, gave Daniel his eye drops, and then I called my parents to fill them in. There were lots more tears and my mom encouraged me to grieve the loss of this life, no matter how new it was. So I grieved some more and more tears fell. Exhausted, Daniel & I crawled up to bed.

About 4am this morning, Daniel woke up needing more pain medicine. I put his drops in and then fell back to sleep. It was then that Jesus chose to comfort me through a dream. Let me say, as a disclaimer, I am not usually a spiritual dreamer. God does not typically give me dreams that make sense, or give me dreams that have any spiritual ramifications.

In my dream I was at my parent's house (Apparently Daniel, Isaiah, & I were living in my old bedroom.) I was in my childhood bathroom and I had just miscarried but the baby came out looking like a jello mold of a tiny baby, all wobbly and see through, though I could see his bone structure through the jello-like substance. The baby was about as long as my forearm. I laid the baby on the bathroom counter and I called Daniel in so we could say goodbye. I left the bathroom to go get Isaiah and when I came back in the jello baby had transformed into a real baby. He was blinking and breathing though he was very very small. We picked him up and carried him into our room. I tried to nurse him and he drank a little. We kept saying over and over how we needed to soak up as much time as possible because we knew he wouldn't last long. We found this little blue sweater and put it on him. He kept growing too. He began to look more and more like his brother. He had the same white-blond hair as Isaiah. We called our families and they all came over to meet our little guy. Then here is where God stepped in. I asked Daniel if he wanted to name our son. Daniel said yes, he wanted to name him Reuben. My first reaction was to disagree. I wanted to say no, that people would nickname him "rube" (a slang word that means "hick") but I felt like I was just supposed to submit and keep my mouth closed. From there the dream gets hazy and the rest is inconsequential.

I woke up feeling at peace. Content knowing that there will be more babies and that this little life is with Jesus, enjoying his heavenly reward. He'll never have to go through this yucky world, he got promoted straight to Jesus' arms.

So, just by dreaming of our little son as alive and well, even if alive just long enough to love on him and hold him was such a comfort. But this morning I was still left with the name Reuben hanging on my mind. I looked it up. Initially the name Reuben (the oldest of the 12 tribes of Israel) is not that impressive. According to chabad.org, "The name is made up of two halves: "re'u" means "look" or "see" and "ben" means "son" So Reuben literally means "look, a son." But... another description from the same website says that Reuben can also refer to "a highly tuned level of Godly awareness that is so real it is as if the person actually perceives God with his own eyes. No amount of argument will convince a person that he did not see something when he did. The name Reuben expresses certainty and immediacy in our awareness of God."

WHOA.

There is no arguing with the peace and closeness I feel toward God right now. Whether He really did speak through that dream, whether that baby was a boy or not, I feel at peace and that alone is a God thing. I am very aware of God and His presence today. I am comforted and at peace. I don't understand why we weren't allowed to meet this little baby face to face or why we are now going through the experience of miscarriage. However, I do understand that my life is small in eternal significance and God has not chosen to give me eyes that understand as He understands (for that I am thankful.)

Today I am living out 1 Corinthians 13: 12, 13-

¹² We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

¹³ But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

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Helpful anticipators

I have always appreciated people who are "anticipators." People who see a need and respond to it before being asked. People who foresee trouble/problems/situations and do what they can to prevent or solve such issues. Helpful anticipators. My mom is a helpful anticipator. She will send a box of diapers just as the last diaper is about to be used. My mother-in-love Ellen is a helpful anticipator. She will invite us over for dinner exactly when I have run out grocery money and only had mac n cheese to make for dinner. Daniel is a helpful anticipator. He keeps the oil changed in my car so that it runs as smoothly as possible, and hopefully sparing me from any car trouble.
God, in His infiniteness, is the ultimate helpful anticipator. The examples listed above are really examples of God providing. I think He just loves when we are open to being used by Him. I think God loves it when we allow Him to work through us and uses us people to provide for each other. When we know Him and are listening to Him and we're being obedient. I think obedience might be God's favorite love language.

Sadly I, in my worldly short-sightedness, am the ultimate forgetter. WHY DO I ALWAYS FORGET THAT GOD WILL PROVIDE?! Why is that I can remember a hundred different romantic things that Daniel has done for me but I can't remember the billion amazing ways God has provided for us?  And when God does do something incredibly helpful, something extraordinary, why do I act so surprised?

Yesterday I was going through Isaiah's winter clothes to see what he will need. We have generously been given enough hand-me-downs to clothe a small village of baby boys but I'm also missing a few, pretty significant pieces in Isaiah's warm clothes wardrobe (ie. a winter coat in his current size!) Just as I was fretting over how we were going to pay for some of this stuff, I got a text from my mom saying she had just "picked up a few things for Isaiah" and could she drop them off later today? And then I get a FB message from a friend at church saying she's got 3 bags of clothes for Isaiah.

WHY. DO. I. DOUBT?!? Seriously, why? And even as I type this, even as I ask myself these questions, I know I will struggle with this my whole life. I feel like I will still be surprised the next time God provides in an extraordinary way.

And yet, maybe that's actually ok. I'd MUCH rather fall on my face in gratitude in front of the One True King every single time He provides for my family than get too cynical or jaded or spoiled to act like God providing 3 bags of clothes is no big deal. I'd much rather be surprised when God lavishes on me than expect it and get angry when He doesn't lavish the way I think I ought to be lavished on. Or worse, to think He owes me. (Ooh, God please don't ever let me fall into the trap of believing that you owe me ANYTHING!)

But more than being on the receiving end of these blessings, I also LOVE being on the giving end. I love when God calls me (and my family) to give, whether out of our abundance or out of lean times, I always walk away feeling closer to God, so in tune with His voice and His will. I hope that Isaiah will be so saturated with knowing God as his provider that he will never struggle with doubting God's provision. That he will never even think to worry about stuff because he will automatically look to God for peace. Maybe I will learn from my son's example :)

Having more babies...

Please note right off the bat that this blog post is NOT, I repeat NOT a pregnancy announcement. I am not, to my knowledge currently with child. I am however becoming more and more OK with getting pregnant again. Up until, oh... yesterday I would have told you that I am just not yet ready to add another baby to our mix. Isaiah is still my baby! I am guessing this is normal but I'm having a difficult time seeing my baby as a toddler, and with good reason. He's still nursing 3-4 times a day and he's not walking yet. He's still a baby to me! Maybe I'll always see him as my baby. Time will tell I suppose.

So up until yesterday, every time I thought about going through pregnancy again I felt uneasy. I remembered the heart burn and the difficulty sleeping, the feeling awkward in my own skin. And I had an easy pregnancy with Isaiah! It all started with a negative pregnancy test a few days ago. I had been having terrible heart burn (which I've only ever had when pregnant) so I thought maybe I was in the family way. But when the test came up negative I felt a tiny twinge of sadness, which took me by surprise! I have been vehemently telling Daniel that I'm just not ready for #2 yet.

Then I saw a newborn baby on Sunday and I got that inkling.

And I was at Once Upon a Child today looking for a winter coat for Isaiah and I saw all the newborn clothes and I got the urge.

So... maybe there will be another Read baby in 2014. Thankfully I'm not the one who decides when a life is created so I just get to enjoy the ride ;)

String Cheese Koozie

Do you know what a koozie is? It goes by a variety of spellings. Coozy. Koozie. Coosie. Coldy-Holdy. (I think that one is my favorite.) A koozie is the foam thing you slip around you can of Coca-Cola so you can comfortably hold your ice cold drink AND keep it cold.

Well. I have just recently been given something like that but for... STRING CHEESE. Oooh yes. I have a string cheese koozie. I SUPPOSE if you wanted to be picky, you could argue that it's actually more of a cooler than a koozie but koozie is more fun to say.

Here's the story. Since I get to stay home part time with Isaiah, I like to look for other ways to bring in money for my family. I participate in diaper panels and surveys and the like. I also subscribe to a variety of websites where you have to answers a bunch of questions and surveys and over time you build up enough credit and they start to send you goodies like coupons and free samples and... cheese koozies!! This particular "cheese accessory" came from Influenster and Sargento cheese (proudly displayed on the top of the koozie, of course.)

Now, you may be asking yourself if a cheese koozy is really worth getting all excited about. And the answer would be no. I laughed out loud when I pulled the cheese koozie out of the box and it took me a minute to realize what the thing actually was. But underneath the koozie was a coupon for a free package of Sargento cheese. NOW we're getting somewhere! Free cheese is even better than cheese you have to pay for. BOOM BABY!

The Uncertain Mommy

There is little else more crippling than uncertainty. I'd rather things be truly black or white but uncertainty is that frustratingly perfect shade of gray. I'd rather be sure of myself and be dead wrong than keep questioning every move, every thought, every possibility. Allow me to provide a little backstory.

One year and 18 days ago Daniel & I welcomed the most perfect little baby boy into our lives. And let me tell you, he was perfection. We got off EASY with this one. Isaiah was a great sleeper (he slept through the night at 3 weeks old.) He was a great eater (after a 2 week adjustment period, nursing was easy-peasy.) He was a very easy newborn and I really didn't struggle to feel sure of myself as a new mom. It felt natural to me.

Then around 6 months we got Isaiah on a great nap schedule. It took a few weeks of cry-it-out but our decisions felt good and right. Yes he was crying but it was a means to an end, eventually he'd learn to be ok with naptime. We also introduced him to solids. We learned very quickly that Isaiah preferred fruits to veggies. But it really didn't matter, we were just introducing solids while still nursing full time. I was sure of myself.

As the months went by, Isaiah met new milestones and learned new things and was a happy, easy to please, joy-filled little guy. Parenting felt natural. I rarely questioned myself or my decisions as his mom. That's not say I didn't make mistakes or have a few lessons to learn (Someday I'll share the story of when a woman in the Kroger parking lot called the police on me but that lesson still hurts a little :) But I was sure of myself. I was getting pretty good at reading Isaiah's cues and cries and moods. I felt so good as a new mom, at times I even felt like I was fulfilling some higher purpose just by living my life.

If parenting was college, this past year I majored in Isaiah (And minored in Daniel.) I have spent the last year of my life learning all about Isaiah.

And then Isaiah turned 1.

Suddenly I feel like I have an entirely different kid. This new kid is SUPER moody- there's no telling if he'll wake up happy and ready to play or angry and inconsolable. He freaks out every single time I lay him down for a nap. He has a few favorite foods and everything else gets thrown to the floor. He's learning to be more independent so when I tell him no or take him away from something dangerous, he throws a fit with limbs flailing & tears falling. Where is my happy, smiley baby? Who exchanged him for this temperamental toddler?

I am now entirely uncertain of nearly every decision I make involving Isaiah. Here's an example of what I mean. Let's pretend it's lunchtime at the Read house. My internal dialogue goes something like this:
"I should really give Isaiah something new for lunch. He can't live on watermelon and goldfish crackers alone. He needs to eat something GREEN. Ugh, why bother? The likelihood of that getting eaten is pretty small. It'll end up on the floor, in his hair, on the wall, everywhere but in his belly. Still, I should at least offer it. The experts say that a kid should try something 10 times before making a decision to like or dislike it. But I'm really in no mood to mop the floor. Again. But it's important that he be exposed to a variety of foods. I'd rather mop the floor 100 times than raise a picky eater..."

And on and on, back and forth I go. And I'm like this all day long: Isaiah has a little cough, should I fork over $200 and take him to the doctor? Why does he fight his naps when he is clearly tired? Why does he wake up crying? Why does he eat great at some meals and won't touch anything at the next? Is he too young to discipline? What is so fascinating about climbing up and down the stairs? Why does he cry every time I put him in his car seat? WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?

It's exhausting. I have found myself wishing he was older and could talk so that I wouldn't spend my day guessing at what's bothering him. I don't want to wish this time away, I've heard from too many parents to "cherish the time, it goes by so fast" but I'm so tired of being so uncertain.

Sigh. So that's my struggle. So sorry for the rant. It's just where my head+heart are at today. Feel free to comment with your suggestions for any or all of the questions posted above :)

FBA (First Birthday Aftermath)

I gotta admit, we threw an ROCKIN' Winnie-the-Pooh party for Isaiah yesterday. Here are a few shots of the set up. I had a BLAST gathering ideas (thank you, Pinterest) and then creating the ones that seemed the most feasible. This party was the perfect way for me to cap off Isaiah's 1st year and it was just the creative outlet I needed for summer break.

I found this adorable Winne the Pooh onesie on clearance at the Disney store. Then my sister cut off the long sleeves and turned them into leggings. How cute is this kid?! 

We had a wonderful time with our friends and family. Lots of people came to celebrate our big boy. We had yards games like Corn Hole, Kan Jam, and Polish Horseshoes for the adults. We had a pinata, a swing, and a Winnie the Pooh reading corner for the kiddos. And of course there was the cake smash. Let's just say this was NOT Isaiah's first taste of sweet stuff. So he knew exactly what to do when that cupcake hit his highchair. Notice the cupcake is upside down in the middle picture? That would be because Isaiah started with a fistful of icing, and never really made it to the cake portion...

 The only downside to the day was Isaiah's nap schedule. He only napped for 45 minutes after church so he didn't make it long into his party before he was ready for another nap. He went down around 3:30 and slept until 5:30. Just in time for his party to be over and for the present opening to BEGIN. Now, when I created the invitations, I specifically put "Gifts are not expected" so that people would not feel obligated to bring anything, but to just enjoy the party. Well... people brought gifts. LOTS of them! Since gift giving is a love language, we know for certain Isaiah is loved. (Notice all the random lids, hangers, and plastic kitchen utensils? Some friends asked what Isaiah liked to play with and I jokingly said "Oh you know, normal baby toys like bottles, tupperware, spoons, etc." So they went along with the joke and gifted their odds and ends to us. Gee... thanks Jake & Jackie.

Now we come to today.
I woke up with a pretty nasty headache and have fought it all day. And I have zero energy to do anything. I took Isaiah for his 1 year check up and was struggling just to focus on all the doctor was saying. Blech. With an active and very curious 1 year old running crawling around, not having any energy makes for a very messy day. Here's an example. I was laying on the couch with a cold washcloth on my forehead, trying to beat my headache whilst watching Isaiah empty a box of tissues one sheet at a time. He then proceeded to tear each tissue into tiny shreds. And I just watched him. I didn't stop him. I didn't even tell him no in the hopes that he's understand me and find a new toy. Nope. Just watched him enjoy what was likely the highlight of his little day (he is forever trying to get at that tissue box.)  At least one us has the energy to do something today. So I decided to name my troubled day. Yup, I made up a syndrome. I call it First Birthday Aftermath. I imagine I will suffer from this malady every year and will have to yearly update my syndrome but I also don't plan on throwing such a slam bang party every year. I think the only cure is to start planning another party...

Notice the tissues off to the right? Yeah.

The Throes of Labor

So exactly this time 365 days ago I was in the THROES of labor with Isaiah! My water broke at 7:30pm and I labored on the floor next to our bed all night. Daniel caught snatches of sleep, waking every few hours to see if I needed anything. Finally at 6am he called Dena, our doula and she came and helped me labor for another 6 hours before we finally went to the hospital! Isaiah was born naturally at 3:30pm Saturday August 18.

It's funny how memories can dim, even just after 1 year. I have ZERO recollection of the the physical pain of labor. I remember telling Daniel how badly it hurt. I remember begging for an epidural about 12 hours in (my labor lasted 18 hours) but I simply could not describe the pain of a contraction to you... It's odd really. I DO remember the feeling of that final push that fully released Isaiah and a feeling of shock and awe washing over me as I held my newborn son.

But of course it was worth it. I so do not regret having a natural labor. Isaiah was so aware and alert after I delivered him. I truly loved laboring at home instead of hooked up in a hospital. I am so so so grateful we decided to hire a doula to help us labor more efficiently at home.

And now here we are, 1 year later with an AWESOME, happy, heart stealing, blue eyed baby boy who is the light of our lives. Oh my how we love this boy. I have planned a SLAM BANG Winnie the Pooh birthday party for him tomorrow. I am very pumped about this party. All I can say is "Thank You Pinterest!" I am very excited to celebrate Isaiah first year of life. Be on the lookout for pictures soon!

4th Anniversary!

Yesterday Daniel & I celebrated 4 years of marriage! I had a great time updating Facebook throughout the day yesterday with pictures and time stamps of where I was on my wedding day. I won't use this public platform to share my heart about how much I love my husband but I WILL share how we celebrated!

Since our actual anniversary fell on a week day, we had our 'official' celebration last Sunday. After dropping Isaiah off with my parents we went to Carrabba's for dinner. (Many thanks to Tina J. for the gift card!) I LOVE Carrabba's. Their bread is so amazingly GOOD! While dining over crab fonduta, sirloin marsala, & cavatappi amatriciana we reconnected and reminisced about the last 4 years. After dinner we went to Washington Park in Over the Rhine for the CSO Lumenocity concert event. It was SO cool. The park was JAM PACKED but the event was incredible. If they ever do this again, we will be there.

Music Hall all lit up!

One of the things I love about Daniel is that he's open to me and my conversation questions. He is a great conversationalist and really thinks about the leading questions I ask.  But... like most couples (I would guess) we don't always do a great job of having deep, meaningful conversations when we've got the chance. So, thinking ahead I printed out conversation starters for us to ask on our date.
Lame? Maybe. Effective? 100 PERCENT!!!! 

Thanks to Pinterest, I found 2 websites with date night questions already written. I printed them out, cut them into strips, and dumped them in a ziplock bag. Then at dinner when there was a lull in the conversation, I sheepishly pulled out my ziplock bag, explained the game, and read a question.

Question #1: If you could live anywhere, where would it be?
But Daniel's answer was Cincinnati so he revised the question.
Question #1 Revised: If you could live in 5 cities (2 foreign, 3 domestic) where would it be and why?
The "why" part of the question led to some interesting conversation because justifying the city made the answer more interesting.
Question #2: What do you consider your skills?
We liked that this question  used the word "skills" instead of "strengths" because we had to think about our answer through a different lens.
Question #3: What 10 things do you want to be remembered for?
This one was HARD! It was tough to think of 10 things but 10 meaningful things made it even more tricky.

All in all, my ziplock bag slips of paper idea was a hit. The better the questions became, the closer we got to each other's hearts. We hit on a few more questions that really allowed us to open up and talk through things. Questions like:
Question #4: What concerns do you have that I do not seem interested in?
Question #5: What can I do to show my appreciation of you?
Question #6: What concerns or interests of yours would you like me to support?

If this concept intrigues you, here's where I got my questions:
http://zachterry.wordpress.com/2009/10/07/50-questions-to-ask-your-spouse-on-a-date-night/
&
http://cherishinghopesanddreams.blogspot.com/2012/01/30-things.html

Then, yesterday on our actual anniversary, we celebrated again! Daniel had to play a funeral that evening but he came home with LaRosa's! Meanwhile, I baked chocolate cupcakes (I needed the practice before I attempt to bake 60 cupcakes for Isaiah's birthday party next weekend, I justified.) When he got home we dined on pizza and cupcakes while we watched the video of our wedding. It was perfect. Oh yeah and I might have tried on my wedding dress. You know just to check that it still fits...

Happy  4th Anniversary to us!

Hope Deferred and Burritos Lost

Apparently Daniel & I have been on a contest kick this summer. We have currently entered 3 contests this summer. Daniel is the only winner in our house.

Contest #1."Anderson's Got Talent" show. Let's not talk about that except to say that I lost.

Contest #2. Graeter's coloring contest. We colored pictures and brought them to Graeter's on July 31st, the last day for free ice cream. The next day Daniel got an email saying he had won first place! He won a $15 gift card- not too shabby since we got free ice cream anyway just for turning in our pictures!

Contest #3. Adventurrito with Chipotle. If you have been in a Chipotle restaurant lately you will likely have seen the Adventurrito poster with the treasure chest of burritos, advertising the chance to win free burritos for 20 years. 20. YEARS. of Chipotle burrito goodness. Be still my salivating tongue. So, I think to myself "YES! This is worth my time!" I log in, create an account, and start the games, which consisted of 19 days of Chipotle puzzles. Some were easy Chipotle trivia, others took a little digging. I learned a lot about Chipotle, they earned a lot of my respect, and now I have a serious Chipotle craving. (Well done you sly dogs...) For the first 19 questions you could get them wrong and try again. Not so for day 20. You had one shot at glory, miss the question and you did not get entered in the grand prize drawing. Thursday, Day 20 was the final day. I click on the question... only to find that question 20 consists of 20 MORE questions. Oh boy. It's 10pm at night and I have just unlocked the puzzle. So we dive in. Daniel & I split up the questions and get busy googling. We did AWESOME! We are tag team rockstars, and for the most part we found the answers without having to use the cheat blog posts that others had written. It was fun doing it together too. I can't speak for Daniel but I had a good time agonizing over their silly/impossible/frustrating questions. At 1:30am, after having checked and double checked our answers, I hit submit. But there was no feedback as to how many questions we got right! So after all that work we weren't even sure if we would be entered in the drawing. So... we wait. Will we win free burritos for 20 years? Will Isaiah grow up having to never pay for Chipotle? Oh the possibilities! Friday, I hop on the Adventurrito website just to check and they had the answers posted! Ohh la la! I scroll down, we got every one right! One step closer to burrito glory. But wait... one of the questions went awry! Turns out Chipotle made a test writing mistake so they're accepting 2 answers. Except we didn't choose EITHER of their answers! We were confused by the 2 conflicting answers so we made our best guess. Which turned out to be WRONG.

Chipotle's mistake

So that's it. We're out of the running for 20 years of free burritos. We're out on a technicality! Not even entered in the drawing all because of poor question writing, or poor answer writing, or poor researching... or something! But then I think, "Well, maybe they'll toss this question out altogether. Any teacher worth their Master's degree knows that when writing a test, if a test question is compromised you can not hold it against the student or their final grade." Apparently the Adventurrito test writers are NOT teachers who hold Master's degrees. BUT THEN! Saturday night, this email appears in my inbox...

The title of this email should read: PSYCH, SUCKER! YOU LOSE!

Chipotle made me FEEL like I had won, but no. This is a loser's email. A "thanks for playing but ya missed a question" email. Sigh. Another contest lost. I'm so mad at Chipotle but I'm also torn. I want to boycott. To stay mad at them for ruining my chance at 20 years of burritos. But... I sure could go for a consolation burrito right about now. (Once again, well done you sly dogs...)

Snip Snip?!

So if you've been following my blog you may remember a post from last month where I wrote that I'm embracing my 30's by trying to become more fit. It's been going pretty well. I've started training with my sister twice a week and I've been more proactive about staying active and eating better. But I'm still not awesome at it and I wouldn't say I've formed any great habits, though it IS getting easier (somedays). AND I bought some more cute work out clothes!

Last Saturday Daniel & I read an article in Scientific American "Researchers Explain Why Exercise Works Magic." The gist of the article is that exercise is proven to reduce risk for cancer, lengthen your lifespan, and just make you more awesome in general. I totally believe all of this. It just makes sense that the human body would need exercise. It just. makes. sense.

But I have long hair. And I have a lot of hair. When I work out I get sweaty. When I get sweaty my hair gets frizzy and my body feels gross. So I shower after I work out. But now I'm trying to work out every day which means I'm showering every day, or at least every other day. And then I'm either blow drying my hair (can be very damaging) or putting it up wet (leads to more frizz and just an overall feeling of unkempt-ness.)

So Daniel says "Is it more important that you be healthy or that you have long hair?"

I'm sorry, what?

What did he just say? My brain could not compute the string of verbs and nouns that he just pieced together while ending said string with the upward inflection of a question.

Did he just suggests I cut my hair for my HEALTH? This cannot be.

I'm telling you, I had to check myself as soon as the suggestion left his mouth. I was about to either get defensive or start to cry. Cut my hair so I can work out more? Are you NUTS?! I've always, ALWAYS had long hair. The one time in my life I had short hair was the summer my mom told our hair dresser to lop off my glorious, hip-length pony tail without my knowledge. I was the recipient of a bowl cut that summer and it was not cute. (I will never let my mom live down this story. It was too traumatizing and is now too hilarious to stop telling.)

Never EVER going this short again!

At this point you may be asking yourself "Why am I still reading this? Love ya Kate but I don't care. Though that picture of you IS pretty sad."

I need some help in the form of pictures. I also need the names and numbers of some seriously AMAZING stylists.

IF I were to cut my hair (and that is a huge TEXAS-sized 'if' right there.) I don't even know what I would do. I keep my hair this long because it's what I know. I've always felt like my hair is my best feature. It doesn't gain weight, it doesn't need new clothes, it gets the most compliments. Plus long hair is my glory and my covering! (Or am I taking 1 Corinthians 11:15 out of context? I am definitely not Jewish...) Either way, the mere idea of cutting my hair makes me sad. The idea of cutting my hair for the purpose of exercise makes me... more sad? confused? not quite sure how to quantify this emotion...

My sister suggested this long bob...

The Land of What If

We lost. We didn't even place. We just plain lost.

You know when you watch "American Idol" and you'll hear a contestant say "I don't understand why they didn't pick me. Everyone at home thinks I'm a great singer!" And you're sitting on your couch at home thinking, "That's because no one at home has the guts to be honest with you!" I'm kind of there right now. But I'm also in the "Land of What If" and let me tell you, it's rotten in here.

• What if we had picked another song?
• What if there had been a singer on the judges panel (instead of the Dancer/Superintendent/Organist/Contestant on "Survivor")?
• What if we had picked another song?
• What if the mic had worked the first time?
• What if they weren't trying to hurry us along because of the threat of rain?
• What if we had picked another song?
• What if the audience had laughed more?
• What if we had done the full 4 and a half minute version of the song instead of cutting it down to 3 minutes like they asked?
• WHAT IF WE HAD PICKED ANOTHER SONG?!!?

Even if I had answers to these questions the facts are still the same. We did not win. 

And yet...

If you're willing to look for it there's always a lesson to be learned, a nugget to add to the treasure pile- especially for those of us who try to walk closely with the Lord. Here's my nugget (thanks mom for helping me uncover this one.)

I am not a performer. I've said this for a long time. I don't love being on stage. I don't "come to life" when I'm on stage. I don't love the feeling of butterflies in my stomach or any of that. I'm just not that person. I am, however, a worshipper. I come alive when I'm singing for my Jesus. I feel the presence of the Lord, even the anointing of the Lord when I am singing for an audience of One. And here's how I know the difference.

For this talent show, I was concerned about every aspect of our performance. "What should I wear? What should Daniel wear? Am I expressive enough? Is Daniel expressive enough? Am I enunciating clearly? Am I singing with good technique? Am I engaging? Are we entertaining?" On and on the list goes. And every audience member, judge, and fellow contestant could have given me a hundred different answers. All of these questions were geared toward the audience or judges perception of me. 

When I sing in worship I'm asking different questions. More like "Is my heart in the right place today? Do I believe what I'm singing? Am I going through the motions or am I really worshiping?" And the only One who can these questions is the only opinion I really need. The opinion that says my worth doesn't come from winning a talent show or even the talent show prize money. The opinion that says "I love to hear you sing because I'm the one who sent that gift your way." The opinion that says "You are my creation & my pride and joy." I bask in the approval, in the anointing of the One True God. The God who gave me a love for music. The God who sent me a husband who shares my love of music and with whom I can make music with! The God who gave me a voice to lift in song, pleasant or not, the gift is from Him. And the questions I find myself asking are not geared toward what the congregation is thinking of me. No, the questions are for Jesus to purify my motives and to cleanse me of the junk I let seep into my heart and mind. The questions are to help me move closer to holiness (Thank you 1 Peter 1:16)!

You better believe I'm gonna keep on singing but I think my talent show/karaoke/competition days are over. I'll just sing for my Jesus and relish the pleasure of knowing my heart gets the most delight from worshiping the one true God.

That's waaaaay better than a $1000 prize any day. And I can say that in all honesty.

Of Talent Shows & Inside Jokes

Daniel & I have had several conversation over the course of this year which have basically ended with the same decision. We need to be more adventurous. We need more spontaneity. We need more inside jokes. The funny thing about inside jokes is that you can't force them. They must happen organically, without any set up. Inside jokes must appear on their own accord. BUT you can put yourself in the position for inside jokes. Meaning you must break routine. You must do something out of the ordinary in order to create maximum inside joke opportunity.

Here comes an opportunity.

I signed us up for a talent show. The Greater Anderson Days "Anderson's Got Talent" talent show. For those who know us, this may not seem that strange or out of the ordinary. Daniel & I are both well trained musicians. We're certainly not new to performing. Yet this is not something we do regularly. or ever. If my memory serves correctly I have never performed in a talent show. I karaoke'd once. I sang "Da doo ron ron" at the Dairy Queen. It was horrible.

The thing is, I'm really not one performing. I don't love it. I love to sing. I love music. I love teaching others how to perform. I love to watch other people perform, especially really good performances. But I don't love performing myself. It's the nerves really. And the feeling self conscious. I do not like either. And now I have to decide to what to wear. Which means I'll try on everything in my closet, wish I had started exercising the day after Isaiah was born so that my tummy wasn't still so post-partum squishy, tell myself that new clothes would fix it, tell myself there's no money for new clothes, and start back over with trying everything on.

But I wanted to do something different. I wanted to show Daniel we're still young and fun and do silly things like enter local talent shows. We're creating memories. We're building stories to tell Isaiah and his future siblings. We're gonna laugh about this on Monday when it's all over and it'll build intimacy and pleasure into our relationship. Right?

It would also be nice if we won the $1000 grand prize. Just sayin'.

Here's the youtube link for our audition video. We make a good team, I gotta admit.

Chapstick Addiction

Have you ever heard of a chapstick addiction? I read once that chapstick makers put alcohol in their chapstick so that the product actually dries a person's lips, therefore causing them to need their chapstick, thus creating an addiction. But you see, I use Burt's Bees chapstick (I checked the ingredient list for alcohol- not a drop.) I have used Burt's Bees for a very long time, probably 10+ years. I love love LOVE this stuff. It's minty, it goes on easy AND it freshens my breath, the tube is yellow which is my favorite color, AND it's made out of beeswax which MUST be a good thing. But I think I'm addicted because I very recently finished my last tube and I cannot stop thinking about when I can next make a Target run for some Burt's Bees. I solidified my addict status when I went tearing through my closet, checking every pocket of every pair of jeans, dress pants, hoodies, & jackets. My lips seem to cry out for the refreshing swipe of that beeswax-y goodness. Oh dear.

Then my brain had a GENIUS idea. My brain said to me "Katie, if you love this stuff so much, buy a case of it." Hello light bulb! Of course! Buy a case and never go without chapstick again.

Um, that's a no... a case of this stuff goes for about $395.45 on Amazon. So I guess I have a reason to make yet another Target run. Speaking of addictions... mmm, Target...