Last week I was seriously craving a burger with barbecue sauce and cheese on it. Seriously. I needed one. So we went to taco-mac and got said burger with a side of onion rings. It was delicious. And the pickle on the side was perfect. I am aware of the cliche but I am having a pickle problem this time around. I then proceeded to go outside for some fresh air and I proceeded to hurl the entire dinner up right on the patio. (Thank God it was empty.) Then I had to go tell the hostess that I was terribly sorry but I am pregnant and just hurled all over her patio. And could I please have another pickle? Okay, I didn’t say that last part. But I wanted to.

During work time for a major project that is due at the beginning of next week. The three Latinos in third block have elected to take this time to up their ante and proceed to some very physical comedy which includes but is not limited to:
*Stealing my flashlight out of my cupboard, pointing it right at me, then calling my name so I will turn and be temporarily blinded
*Saying they put the flashlight back and then organizing themselves so that one turns of the light, one waives the lit flashlight all over the room, and one beats on the desk and makes “club noise” music at the exact same time. As though a dance party has suddenly invaded my room.
*Getting out my first aid kit and attempting to put band aids all over themselves. When they are denied the band aids, coloring all over themselves with red marker and insisting they are bleeding to death.

And finally, the Peanut now says two words (maybe four, we can’t tell if BAY-BEEE and da-da are purposeful). They are Hi! and DOG! both with enthusiasm dog always in a loud volume. Yesterday I had this conversation while my dad laughed from the other room:

Me: Say mama
Peanut: DOG!
Me: No….mama
Peanut: (Pointing at Colt) DOG! DOG!
Me: I’m mama
Peanut: (Squirming to get to the dog) DOG! DOG! DOG!
Me: (Redirecting) Hey, I’m mama, mama.
Peanut: (looking right at me but pointing to Colt) DOG!
Me: Fine, see if he will feed you in the middle of the night
Peanut: DOG! DOG!

In case you didn’t catch that last bit…she still wakes up at least once a night……..I just hope there is space between when she starts sleeping through the night and September……

I have two friends who are adopting. One in state infant adoption. One international adoption from Russia. A six year old they met through FORO last summer. Both stories are incredible. Both women are blogging about their journeys here and here. I feel so privileged that they would share their stories with me (and the rest of the Internet.)

Both women have child that has been promised to them. In very different circumstances God spoke into their hearts another member of their family. And their stories speak to me. Recently one of them had a mother change her mind during the ten day waiting period that is the law in Georgia. I can’t imagine. I simply cannot imagine the emotional turmoil.

I also cannot imagine going through it with the grace she is exuding. The peace and calm she uses to articulate the experience. The trust she has in the Lord. The readiness in her heart to say “I must have heard you wrong. I will follow you to the depths for my baby.” I ran into her just days after she got the call. She was at a consignment sale, picking out clothes for the baby girl she knows is coming home.

I waited in line with her and she talked about the need to mourn with the Lord. To acknowledge the disappointment as she renews her strength to move forward on the path God has put her on. I was struck by this, convicted by what has not been done in my own heart.

I’ve blogged about it before, the promise of twins I am sitting on. The word that was spoken into my heart years before I wanted to conceive. The names given to me. The friends from afar waking in the middle of the night to pray for twins, the friend who didn’t know I was pregnant asking God to open my womb and fill it with twins. But I don’t know that I touched on the disappointment I felt when I saw the ultrasound. The one that announced “It’s a girl!” It’s one girl……..hmmm. This was not what I was expecting.

To put it mildly, I freaked. And I’m not southern, so I don’t put a smile on my face and let the emotions quietly rage inside. I have a good old mid-western fit and fall in it. I screamed and cried, I told God I thought He was a real a**hole. I called a few of my closest friends to tell them I could not possibly raise a girl. I wanted a girl, eventually. But this time I wanted the twins. The ones I had been telling people about, because the Holy Spirit was leading me to. People who didn’t even believe in God, let alone believe that He speaks to people. And so specifically…..even some of the people at my church thought I was out of my ever loving mind! I mean, prophesied twins, boy twins at that. It’s all so Old Testament, and that was a long time ago. Surely, God no longer speaks in that way.

I am hesitant to write about this because I don’t want the Peanut to think she was ever anything less than completely wanted. While she wasn’t the twins I was expecting (and AM expecting), she is more than I could ever ask for, and I am so glad she got here first. But I was disappointed, because I thought I had heard….I know I had heard. I just didn’t  hear fully.

In the months after the peanut was born the craziest thing happened. As I understood what it meant to be a mother I realized my boys weren’t with me, and I had no idea where they were. I want to adopt and am really open to the idea of an older child, sibling group, out of foster care adoption. I was terrified that the twins MY BOYS were in a home where they weren’t being nurtured and loved. The comfort I received as a I sang “Jesus Loves Me” to my baby….. I clung to the line They are weak but He is strong. But I was completely unsettled, like a dog when you take away her puppies.

Until I went to my home church over the summer. And I was prayed over that God would speak clearly to me about those twin boys. And He did with one word: pregnancy. Okay, I thought maybe next time. And (in case you missed my facebook announcement) it is next time. Sooner than we had expected and interesting in timing, but none the lest perfect as a baby and God’s timing always are.

But I’ve already cried twice over the possibility that this isn’t it. Not the twins. There are just so many questions I have. If not now, then when? If this isn’t it, and then we get the twins that is 4 biological children. How will there be room to adopt after that? What happens if I only have one boy? Do I name him the 3rd favorite name (which we can’t agree on) because I am saving the other two for the twins. Do I name him twin one name assuming we will adopt another boy who will end up being the second twin? And the loudest in my heart…..How long Lord? How long will you make me wait for my boys? Will I be as old as Sarah, laughing at the possibility? Did I hear for future generations, what I thought was my own? Will I spend my entire life waiting on something that will never come to pass?

I haven’t been dealing with these questions, with the disappointment of things not working out the way you thought they would (even though that way wasn’t BAD, peanut, it was perfect). Instead I took my promise of twins and put it in the deep corner of my heart I had put my healing in and shut the door. And whether or not this is THE tine, the Lord has let me know pretty clearly that now is the time to deal with that place. And I am trying. But I am struggling with how….and I could use your help. How do you deal with promises that are in your heart…..but not yet in your life? How do you deal when you hear God incorrectly….incompletely?

The Lord has repeatedly proven He is faithful, so I need to trust Him to bring them to me. As if on cue He led me here and here, two women who heard what the Lord said about their babies.

I got into a car accident last week. And my mantra since then has been oh crap this hurts I’m fine. Really I’m fine. I know I am wincing a little but I am fine. I went to school on Friday, I didn’t get my prescription filled. I was in denial didn’t need it. I was fine really. Saturday I hit the ground running and didn’t stop until 8 or so when I finally realized I really did need that Tylenol 3. And no pharmacy was open. I got it Sunday before church. Or more accurately during church (the CVS didn’t open until 10).

But I didn’t really think I needed them that bad. I went to work on Monday and my head was pounding the whole day. I was pretty sore by the time I got into bed. And by Tuesday morning I couldn’t hardly move. I was planning to go to school the next day till I almost passed out at Walmart while simultaneously telling my sister I didn’t need any thing. It was awful. I called into work on Tuesday and Wednesday and basically sat on the couch sleeping and watching the Cosby Show on netfix.

And now is the part where we talk about my issues. YEAH! I got super sick with mono in Jr. high which lead to fibromyalgia, which I was miraculously healed from. (More about that here.) So I have been out sick from everything more than your average person. And teenagers can be mean. And when you don’t look sick it is really easy to assume that you are being a totally weenie pants when in fact you are not. You are actually in a lot of pain. But then a doctor suggests it is fakey, then you start thinking maybe you ARE just soft and you are already a teenager so everything in your head gets very confusing and you can at times convince YOURSELF you are fine when in fact you are clearly not. You are in fact, lying on the ground outside Walmart.

I wouldn’t give myself enough grace and I certainly wouldn’t just stop. I SHOULD be able to handle it after all. Why wouldn’t I? Come on Abby, you pushed a baby out, just go to work sore. But I just couldn’t anymore. And guess what? My kids did not light my room on fire. In fact, my room was cleaner and more organized than when I left and my department head was just glad I seem to be doing better. The only one who wouldn’t give me a break was me.

God teach me to treat myself with the same grace I extend others.

Friday I was surfing the internet as my kids were working on their form poetry. A couple of kids wrote some really good villanelles. Really good. It was awesome.

So I am clicking through my normal list of blogs and one of my funny latino gentemen says to me.

“Mrs. Norman, are you looking up how to be a good mom on the internet?”

“Ummm, I guess you could say that. Yeah.”

“This is why we make fun of white people.”

To which one of my black girls chimed in, “For real Ms. Norman”

So as you could see from this post I’ve been a little out of sorts lately. Wednesday I asked my small group to pray that I would get a celestial attitude adjustment. I had expressed some fear in praying for that for myself as God is usually as subtle with me as a two by four to the temple. It may have something to do with me lacking subtly myself. Y’all, those folks can pray! By Thursday at lunch I had realized I was feeling much better about my job, and decided to reward myself by heading Chick-fil-A and picking up lunch. The day was BEAUTIFUL and was even more beautiful when I talked to my Detroit sister and compared it to her winter warnings. (Seriously, why do people live there?) The perfect lunch run was topped off by…..my car stalling out in the parking lot. When I came back from picking up my original chicken sandwich,(McDonalds, please stop trying. Southern style is clearly code for Chick-fil-A rip off) my engine would not quite turn over, and yes I made sure it was in park.

I was freaking out. I was supposed to be back for a meeting at 12:25 and I had forgotten to tell anyone I was off campus! I also should have saved my two “must call if you are going to be out” people in my phone about a month ago but I haven’t gotten around to it. (Dang….my procratination is showing out lately.) It hadn’t even been running hot! How could this happen? I tried to sit there calmly and wait five minutes. But a few minutes into that patient five I just yelled “God, I really need my car to start!” and turned the key. No problem. I was back at school in five minutes flat. I was pretty pumped and singing praise.

Oh how easy it is to sing praise when your car starts. So my day ended and I hopped in the car, rolled my windows down and took off. Seriously, no traffic. I am officially out of my funk, Praise The Lord. When WHAM I got hit by a guy who had passed out and crossed the center line, and hit my drivers side door on the way to the tree on the other side of the street.

No major damage that I know of. I am going to get checked better on Monday because I am still really sore. This is what I know. If Memorial had been as bad as it usually is, it could have been a lot worse, with a lot more cars involved, and he probably would have hit me far more head on. Which would have been worse.

So praise God that I am not in the hospital, and maybe I will stop wallowing in the funk next time and be careful about praying for an attitude adjustment. Because I think I got one.

So I hopped in my car last Monday, and it wouldn’t turn on. I was a little annoyed, but not extremely. It has been running kind of hot lately and I had had a big weekend. I thought maybe I had left the light on or something. Seemed like a battery issue to me. Besides, Christian doesn’t really need a car on Monday, we would figure it out when I get home.

Except me and my husband……we both procrastinate. He took me to school on Tuesday and my sister Jill came and picked me up and we got the peanut. We would look at it on Wednesday….but we didn’t….and Calvin came to get me on Thursday. Finally, yesterday we got around to looking at my lovely Craigslist special.

We were stumped, until Christian went to throw it in neutral and found that I had never put it in park when I got out Saturday night…..so it wasn’t in park when I went to start it Monday. So it wouldn’t start. Christian was so glad it was a free and easy fix he wasn’t that annoyed with me.

Man, this would be far less embarrassing if it was the first time it happened……….

So it’s about to get real. You have been warned.

Last week my principal, who I have a great amount of respect for, came to observe my classroom. He was unimpressed. It did not go well.

There were lots of factors that went into this bad day, as there are a million factors that go into every day. Essentially, I told my kids to do xyz, but they didn’t and I simply did not have the energy to walk around and tell each kid individually to get it together. So I more or less let them off. Then my principal, who really puts his money where his mouth is and gives everything he has every single day, walks in the door. And my kids are pretty much sitting there…….and some are sleeping. Not my best moment. Easily one of my worst moments as a teacher.

I wish I could say I recovered beautifully, but I did not. Pretty much the whole observation was like that.Ugh. But I am not surprised that this all went down because recently I have been suffering from a lack of love. It is love my neighbor month at 1027 church. A time when we are challenged to step back from ourselves and take a look at the people around us. Reflect on how God is calling us to serve our neighbors and heed that call.

And if I am going to be honest for a moment (you know because I usually put myself in such a positive light on this thing…..) I don’t feel like it. I simply don’t feel like it. I don’t want to be bothered with going above and beyond. I want to do my part, and have everyone else do their part….and if there is slack have someone else pick it up. When God puts on my heart to love my neighbor, I want to tell Him it isn’t my turn. How about you  choose someone else to love my students for a change and let me teach poetic language and then go home?

I know that part of it is that I am a public school teacher and it is February. March is looming and looking long. Christmas break was so long ago and spring break is not coming fast enough. And I have one of  those professions where it is just really obvious when you are and aren’t loving your students (clients, patients, whatever you call them). I know that the loving thing is to be patient one more day, give the kid one more reminder as to what successful behavior is, give every lecture 100 percent because not only is it the loving thing, but my kids are already behind, and can’t afford anything less. And I am tired. And loving my students takes energy that I don’t have and a hope that I am not sure exists in me anymore. It takes time that I would rather spend doing something else, something that didn’t require me to look beyond myself.

Wow, that is ugly. But if I am honest it is how I feel right now. These sentiments accurately reflect what is going on in my heart. And it is I love my neighbor month, and I am suffering from some serious agape fail. Snap out of it Abby…….there are people with real problems in the world.

So I had the equivalent of a who’s on first spanglish conversation in my class today. It was again by my three jokers in fourth period. The conversation that had me rolling today went something like:

Me: Boy #1, what are you doing? Get out your essay!

Boy #1: Hey! I’m the esse!

Me: No, esse I mean your essay, the one you are supposed to be writing.

Boy #1: You can’t call me that. That is racist

Me: Fine, write your paper. Boy #2 where is your essay?

Boy #2: (Pointing to boy #3) Right there! Esse!

Boy #3: Hey! Esse!

Me: BLAH! Everybody get out a piece of paper and write on it!

That last bell can never ring quite soon enough.

It has been a little chilly here lately. It even snowed on Thursday, and there wasn’t even a two hour delay! What the heck is the point of that? But not this past weekend. This weekend the weather was so amazingly sunny, and reached 60 degrees. 60 degrees! In February! Evey year these random warm February days surprise me. Isn’t it March that is supposed to be in like a lion and out like a lamb. Not south of the Mason Dixon baby!

For a short time when we first moved down here I had a job that made me tool around the city of Atlanta in prime gouge your eyes  out traffic hours. Coming down 400 at 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon? Comparatively water boarding doesn’t seem that bad. But occasionally we would have these amazing gorgeous February days and suddenly the drive wasn’t that bad. I could put the windows down! In February! Are you hearing me, I could drive around with the windows down before St. Patrick’s day. (And not because the windows stopped working at an inopportune moment at the drive thru and the car you were driving was in lieu of a payment your dad’s client could not afford to pay. Then you just had to pretend it was 60 degrees and sunny. Jill, Em, holler if you hear me.)

It didn’t matter if it took 45 minutes to go 15 miles. I had my windows down. I would put my sunglasses on and smile. I would put my bare hand out of the window and start working on my ring tan. I could handle the traffic, see it as a blessing even because I had come from a place where I appreciated sunny, beautiful, February days. PEOPLE, I wanted to scream, SOMEBODY THROW A PARTY I HAVE MY WINDOWS DOWN IN FEBRUARY ON PURPOSE!

I will never forget the day I saw a guy in his convertible,  with the top down, in February, mad as could be because apparently someone cut him off. I started laughing. I could not believe that someone could be that angry when they were sitting in their amazing car with the top down in the middle of winter. This guy clearly did not know what it was like to go without the sun for a month at a time. He didn’t know that there are people in the Midwest who lose their sunglasses every season because they go that long without needing them. He just didn’t get it. He did not have problems, how can you have problems with your top down in February?

I wonder how many 60 degrees and grumpy moments I have in my own life. Not about the weather, but metaphorically. I mean, I have a great husband and a healthy, happy baby. I go to a job, that while tedious when it comes to paperwork, I mostly enjoy. I actually believe I am making a difference. I like my students and my co-workers. So when I roll out of bed and just don’t feel like going? I need to recognize the blessing that is my life. I need to realize that over all my life is 60 degrees in February, maybe somebody did cut me off, but considering the overall circumstances, I can let it slide.

A week or so ago we were all hanging around on the bed after we had folded some laundry, the husband, the peanut and myself. I was running in and out of the room, probably putting away the ridiculous amount of shoes I had out. Probably not. Probably thinking about how I should put them away while I walk past them repeatedley and avoiding the copious amounts of clothes I have been leaving on the futon re-organizing for a month and a half.

Anyway, the peanut was crawling around on the bed testing things out by, you know, putting them in her mouth. (My cousin calls this the dog stage.) She managed to pull the ac adapter chord out of the baby monitor and was staring intently at it. I then left the room and figured her dad would keep this day from turning into babies first emergency room trip. The next thing I know I hear a cry come out of the room….

From the husband! Turns out the peanut put the ac adaptor in her mouth and made a face like it didn’t taste very good. I am sure it doesn’t. Christian thought, surely if she is reacting like that it has to be no, or very little shock. Apparently the baby has a high pain tolerance? Who knows. But your tongue does in fact complete the circuit.

How many times have I done this in my life, looked at somebody else and said, “I know that is not the best idea, or exactly in God’s plan…….but they haven’t gotten burned by it! Surely I can get away with it too!” You can guess how many times that thinking has worked out for me……

Oh, and after we got done laughing hysterically about it, the husband asked me, “This is going to go in your blog, huh?”