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I'm terrible at this thing. I'll try to keep it up better. However, if you have any interest in reading about my life (i.e. Sarah, because I'm pretty sure you're the only person that reads this thing :) ), you can check out my Xanga. For some reason I'm much better at updating that.

Mommy Day

Happy Mother's Day to all you fine mommies out there. We are the blessed of the blessed and today is a great day to remember that!

OCD. Works for me.

As many of you know, I am currently a student. I know, I know...I'm 27 years old and should have graduated a long time ago. In fact, whenever I think of it I am reminded of the scene in Tommy Boy where David Spade's character is making fun of Chris Farley's character for graduating college so late in life. Farley defends himself with the statement, "Tons of people go to school for 9 years." To which Spade replies, "Yeah...they're called doctors."

Darn. I'm definately not a doctor.

But, in my defense I haven't been in school for all of nine years. I've taken at least a few years off. And Grand Valley is my (count 'em) fourth college. All that transferring kind of screwed me up and I ended up taking a lot of classes that don't actually count towards graduation (e.g. GVSU does not recognize Old Testament Survey from IWU for credit). But I've kept at it like that tortoise in the race with the hare and am scheduled to graduate next spring.

Today, however, I was looking over my transcript and degree analysis (a spreadsheet that tells me which requirements I have met and have yet to meet) to make sure everything looked right. I've done this a thousand times, but I'm a double-checker. Now that I have my classes scheduled for next year, those classes show up on said degree analysis and I just wanted to reaffirm that everything was in order (again), as to avoid surprises when I apply for graduation in the winter. As I glanced over this analysis an interesting thing caught my eye; something I hadn't noticed the first 999 times I looked at this report. At the very top was a column which read Total Credits Required: 120. Next to this was a label that read: Total Credits Used: 119, Not Met. If you haven't guessed, this meant that with my current schedule I will be one credit short of graduating next spring.

ONE CREDIT SHORT! Are you kidding me?!?!

As this realization washed over me and the bile began to rise in my throat, several things crossed me mind. Things like, Gee. It sure would have been nice if my #*@& advisor had ever e-mailed me back after the three thousand nine hundres twenty seven times I e-mailed her to make sure I was all set.

These pleasant thoughts were added to as I attempted to get ahold of the registrar's office and recieved only a busy signal. For TWO HOURS. I finally got through and, after a valiant performance of pretending like I wasn't ready to strangle the next person I met, confirmed that yes, I was screwed unless I changed something. All that transferring had satisfied several class requirements without actually giving me credit for them, leaving me short of total credits that count towards graduation.

So, for the next half hour I scrambled through the registrar page, desperately searching for a class for which to sign up to get me over the 120 credit mark. Thankfully, I found one which will work with my schedule.

Every once in a while, I find myself celebrating my tendencies toward anal-retentiveness and OCD. Basking in the rewards that can be reaped from over-efficiency and obsessive double-checking. If I hadn't done this now, I may not have caught it until it was too late. Even if I had waited, I may not have been able to find a class to join. It was all just another reminder that God makes us the way we are for a purpose. I'm not saying He gave me the characteristics I have just to save me from taking another semester of school. But He did give them to me for some reason, which I may not ever know.

Psalms 139:13,14 says, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." God made me the way that I am with care and attention to detail. He knit me into being. Like Max Lucado says, I'm not mass-produced and I didn't come off an assembly line. God didn't just slap me together like an irresponsible bride trying to finish her centerpieces the night before the wedding. He was delicate and deliberate. And even though He's perfect and He doesn't make mistakes, He still took His time on me. What an amazing God we serve!

P.S. The only class I found is called Intermediate Fiction Workshop. Maybe Linda won't have to wait so long for her novel after all. :)

New Jobs...

To all of you who told me that the first three months of motherhood were the hardest and if I could just get through those, I'd be ok...

To all of you who said as soon as you're sleeping more, it won't be as tiring...

To all of you who said, once they crawl or walk or hold their own bottles, then you'll have much more free time...

To all of you, I'd like to say, YOU ARE LIARS!

Ok, fine. I am past the exhausting stage where sleep is a far off and mysteriously imaginary friend. My kids are now usually pretty good about sleeping through the night for at least 12 hours. But on days like today, when my son is up at 5:30 shrieking like someone is slicing his left arm off, I don't think to myself, Oh how nice that I'm past that first three months. Instead I think, Why won't that #*$% kid sleep?!

And yes, I am able to straighten up the kitchen a bit while they're eating lunch. However, this cleaning time is usually interrupted by a moment of terror when one or the other kid starts choking and I have to instantly transform into Rescue Hero Mom and rush to save their lives. Most times, though, they've worked it out by the time I get around the snack bar to their chair and, instead of requiring a hard smack on the back, merely smile up at me and continue shoving food in their face like a Somolian refugee.

Yes, when they were little, they were exhausting. But at least they required little or no physical exertion in my part. I remember days of laying on the couch, watching America's Next Top Model for hours and only stirring to make some bottles, change a few diapers and eat some Almond Rocca. Don't think I was a neglectful mother or anything. My kids just slept all day (hence, the no sleeping at night) and playing peek-a-boo with a sleeping child is borderline crazy.

But the older they get, the stranger the tasks I must learn to perform. Relaxation? What's that?Here are the latest in my long list of professions:

Contortionist: A necessary skill when attempting to change a diaper. One must learn to hold down more flailing toddler parts than they have limbs while simultaneously attempting to thwart the excrement on said toddler's butt from becoming the newest wall decoration.

Weightlifter: My son is a beast. His weight is approximately that of a baby hippopotamus. And he has become stronger than me. Picking him up conjures images of World's Strongest Man competitions in which truck-sized men with sweat glistening and neck veins bulging procure hernias while lifting heavy objects for no sane reason at all.

Spotter: My son is also an aspiring rock-climber. He needs to be watched at all times, lest he feel the sudden urge to practice swan dives off of the couch which he can now get on to by himself.

Animal Tamer: Taking two 14-month-olds anywhere has been aptly compared to venturing out of the house with 2 full grown wild goats (Thanks for that blog, Mo!). Imperative tools for these outings include feed (graham crackers usually have the desired effect of distraction and enough nourishment to momentarily satiate the beasts), water (mixed with juice in a lidded cup is preferable, but keep an eye on the cup as it is a favorite to be thrown at strangers), and restraints (anything with straps and buckles will do). I'm still searching for government approved muzzles. Some form of entertainment is also recommended, but if you fail to bring that, making ridiculous faces usually does the trick of entertaining the children, while simultaneously humiliating you.

So, as you can see, life has definitely not become any easier. It has become much more interesting, though. And definitely more fun. I'd pick watching these two run around and knock each other over the head with things over America's Next Top Model any day. Besides, a steady diet of Almond Rocca was definately not helping with the loss of the baby weight.

SICK!

Have you ever been that kind of sick where you don't get out of bed for 2 days? The kind that makes it possible to sleep for hours on end and still be ready for a 7:30 bedtime? The kind where you temporarily forget about hygiene and by the end of the day you desperately need 3 days worth of showers and your teeth are wearing sweaters?
Such has been the life of the Lynds' household for the last week or so. Asher is still out with a fever. He's had it the longest. Poor kid.
All in favor of not living in Michigan anymore say "I"!

"I!"

~erika~

Here Goes...

I've decided (inspired by Sarah) to start a little history of my life as a wife and mom.

(Sidenote: I'm not entirely sure why I've decided to do this. If you really think about it, blogging is disturbed. To blog is to say, Here you go world. I'd love it if you'd please read my mental and verbal and emotional upchuck, then judge me accordingly. And yet, here I sit, blogging away. But I think there's a level of vulnerable humanity that is undeniable when we write down whatever pops in our head. Because to read something that has come from within us enables us to see ourselves, maybe not completely objectively, but certainly in a different light than when we are just trying to make sense of all the junk that's knocking around in our heads like little blind boxers.)

Now, I realize I'm a little late on the uptake, but I can always catch up. Maybe at some point I'll write some snazzy flashbacks. For now, however, I'll just write about life as I currently know it. I've been married for 2 years. Five months after I got married, I got pregnant. With twins. They are now 13 months old (today, actually...Happy 13-month Birthday, babies!) and bring me more joy than I ever thought possible. Those two things, my wife status and my mom status, are the most defining things I have. Other than that I love Jesus and, while I usually fail miserably, I try my best to live for and in Him.

So that's my jumping off point: Jesus-lover, wife, mom. I'm hoping the rest will fall into place...


~Erika~