You would think....

...that having an ophthalmologist in the house, we would have caught this sooner.


20/100, folks. Twenty over ONE HUNDRED!

All Pretty Colored Liquids are not Created Equal

I was not really happy to be awake in the first place. It was early...and I had been up late the night before. The mirror unabashedly told me about the smeared mascara around my eyes from the previous day, but this came as no surprise to me. I have a bad habit of never washing my face at night. I knew I could restore my face to it's base zero with a cotton ball soaked with my favorite eye-makeup remover, and a soft washrag dabbed with my favorite face wash.

The cotton ball went from light and fluffy to damp and dense as the liquid found it's place in the fibers. I closed my right eye and swiped the cotton across my lid.
Woah. This smells strong today, I thought. I clenched my lid shut tighter as it started to sting a little. I swiped a second time and a third before the stinging turned into a burning and I moved to my left eye to give the right one a break. As the lid of the left eye began to burn I stopped.
Wait a minute, I thought, I know this smell...

Nail polish remover.

NAIL. POLISH. REMOVER!

"What am I....?!?!" I exclaimed out loud. I dropped the cotton ball, turned on the sink water and began rinsing my eyes out. I tried to remember exactly what the bottle said regarding getting ACETONE in your eyes - something about 15 minutes, maybe? Warm water? Cold water? Thankfully I had my very own eye doctor snuggled in the bed behind my shoulder.

"Bri!" I said between the handfuls of water, "What do you do *flush* if you get something bad in your eye *flush* Warm water or cold water *flush*?"
"What did you do, Linds!?" he asked.
"Just answer my question!"
"It doesn't matter...just rinse! What did you do?"
"I'm acting like an idiot...that's what I did!" He came into the bathroom and picked up the open bottle of nail polish remover.
"Lindsay! Did you put this in your eyes?!" I felt like saying, Yes, Bri. I opened my eye and poured it directly in, but I swallowed the sarcasm and stayed silent instead. He started reading the ingredients on the back of the bottle and kept saying, "Oh, this could be bad. This could really be bad, Linds. This is acetone. Keep rinsing. Just keep rinsing." Unfortunately, the panic had done a number on my temper threshold and I snapped, "I know it could be bad, Brian...and I am rinsing!"

Eventually, my temper and the burning started to fade and it wasn't long before I was standing in front of the mirror, dripping and laughing at myself.

Moral of the story: Don't be an idiot.

Snowy Lessons

My hands would love to be curled around a mug full of steamy hot chocolate right now...I'm just feeling too lazy to get up and fix one for myself. That, and I can't seem to stop staring out my window at the playful way the leaves are sticking up through the thin layer of slushy snow. I've grown quite fond of the way North Carolina handles snow. It comes, it's given full respect and attention for a day or two, and it leaves.

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I started out 2010 with one goal: be nice to myself. As a perfectionist, I am quite good at making my own life difficult...and I set out last year to put some of that perfectionism behind me and cut myself some slack. I kept it up until about...February. I felt hollow just being overly optimistic about what I was accomplishing and ignoring the things that weren't being attended to. So, I decided to add a little depth to my quest and changed my goal: start seeking an honest view of myself. I hoped that, with this new goal, I'd be able to both cut myself slack and work to better myself. As a result, I spent much of 2010 analyzing me.

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The snow has done it's job to put a halt to everyday life today. Instead of waking at 7:00, we woke at 8:00. Instead of rushing though the morning routine, we played in the snow in our pajamas before breakfast. Instead of sending the kids to school, I sent them downstairs to pick their favorite board game. Instead of vacuuming, we played the Wii. Instead of budgeting, I'm blogging...

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My revised goal brought with it many hard questions. What am I good at? What makes me happy? Which of my weaknesses would be most beneficial to work on? Analyzing my strengths proved quite challenging for me, and I soon found myself more comfortable (though unhappier) taking a good hard look at my weaknesses. It was emotionally difficult to stare them in the face and view my dark sides with clarity. But, like monsters in a closet, the hardest part was turning towards them and approaching the door. Once I shined the light on them and began to study them, I realized that they weren't monsters at all...just piles of garbage that need to be sifted through and sorted out. And, who knows, there might be some useful stuff in there...

And I found that analyzing my strengths became more comfortable when I started using the term blessings instead. I found a bunch of good tools in there that will come in handy when I start hacking away at those weakness piles.

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The snow is already starting to disappear. The roads are clear, but wet. The school just called to announce that they will resume their classes tomorrow on a 2-hour delay. Thursday will be back to normal, and by Monday there will most likely be no signs of the break in routine.

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This year, as I start to work on those piles of garbage, I'm going to embrace the first goal of last year: be nice to myself.

Because snow will fall on my plans sometimes and break up the routines. And, while lazy snow days every day would be disastrous on a number of levels, it's quite fun every once in a while. So I think I would do well to remember the North Carolina snow mentality when it comes to a goal-thwarting circumstance: It comes, it's given full respect and attention for a day or two, and it leaves.

And, in a few days, there will most likely be no signs of the break in routine.

Still, Still, Still

Ahhhh. I feel like I'm reacquainting myself with an old friend tonight. I hear the ticking of the clock on the wall to my right, gently telling me I should get some sleep, yet I remain curled up on the couch. I've dimmed down the computer screen monitor as far as it will go to make my eyes more comfortable. It's been a while since I've had the house to myself. It's so quiet. It's so still. It's so peaceful.

I remember, a few years ago, how uneasy I felt when Brian would work through nights at the hospital. It was a bit scary to be left alone to talk sense into myself when the house would creak and the squirrels would dance on the dark rooftop. I acclimatized, however, and began to enjoy the quiet nights. I often found myself sitting...just like this. Silently sifting through cluttered thoughts, filing them away into organized mind folders - many times the content of which would end up on this blog - and reflecting on the beautiful, and not so beautiful, aspects of my life.

Over the past three months, Brian's call schedule has lightened considerably. He is home practically every night, and it has been a wonderful adjustment to have to make. Because he's spent relatively few hours at home over the past many years, we have become quite good at spending time together. When he is home, he is by my side...doing dishes, making dinner, watching a movie, playing a game, sleeping. And, while this has been the center of my happiness, it has become fatal to my quiet nights alone.

He went to bed early tonight - a sure sign he must be fighting some bug - and I found myself sitting here. Surrounded by Christmas lights, smelling the hint of cinnamon in the air, reflecting on Christ, and feeling grateful enough for Him that I didn't stop the tear that rolled down my cheek.

What a perfect night to be quiet. On this silent night...this holy night. I silently celebrate my Savior.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Goodbye Autumn

Well, they did it. You'd think that after seeing the leaves change on the trees 28 years in a row, I could get through a fall season without being moved to tears by the beauty of it. But they get me, every year. This year it happened as I was driving down the road on my way to church a couple of weeks ago. I think the term 'breathtaking' must have been coined by someone driving down that North Carolina road during autumn. It was overwhelmingly beautiful, and I found myself wiping a tear as I pulled into the church parking lot. After church, I couldn't help from pulling the camera out in the beautiful autumn light and pointing it at my handsome baby.



The rain and wind are taking their toll on the straggling leaves. The vibrant beauty is gone. Only whispets of color remain. It's cold and it's drizzling.

Winter is coming.

Lessons in my Cupboards

Six and a half years ago, I stood in front of our open kitchen cupboards and began unloading the precarious pile of clean, mismatched bowls and plates into open cardboard boxes. The remaining 10 pieces of breakable dishware were carefully wrapped so they would make it safely across the country and the rest of the plastic hodge-podge was piled around them. The green clearance bowls from Target (that had been microwaved so much they almost looked white), the two gigantic purple cups, the free little cups that came with a child's meal from Red Robin, the tiny blue juice cup... My life was simple, though I didn't know it at the time; I was happy and optimistic about the future; I had a bright, handsome husband and a new baby girl. I was excited that the new apartment we would be moving into had a dishwasher. (Our nice drinking glasses were on the verge of extinction because Brian's large hand was too much for the thin glass walls as he pushed the soapy rag to the bottom.) The thought of not having to wash sinks full of dirty, mismatched dishes by hand was liberating.

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A few nights ago, the phone rang at 10:10. A worried friend on the other end told me that her husband was four hours late and wasn't answering his cell phone. She was frightened that something had happened to him as he was riding his bike home through the shady part of town and asked if I could come sit at her apartment with the sleeping baby so she could go out looking for him. I arrived 25 minutes later, gave her a hug, and sent her out the door. I turned around to survey the apartment and actually smiled when I saw the sink full to the brim with dirty dishes. Dirty, mismatched dishes. It wasn't long before I plunged my hands into warm, soapy water and my mind filled with the memories of who I was six and a half years ago.

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The kitchen cupboards in my new apartment looked much like the cupboards in my old apartment. And the dishwasher was everything I had hoped for! I unloaded the cardboard boxes into the open kitchen cupboards and smiled as I placed the last mug with the other mugs, glasses, and plastic cups. Someday, I thought, maybe I'd like to get matching dishes.

Brian and I have been through much during these years in North Carolina. So much, in fact, that the number six and a half seems small and unrepresentative. Three pregnancies, friendships flourishing, our personalities and relationship solidifying, two newborns and the loss and burial of a third, the purchase and renovating of a house, friends leaving, changes in Brian's schedule from month to month, year to year... and all the while, learning more about ourselves and each other as we grow closer and closer to becoming one. I hardly remember the girl I was when I walked into our apartment that first Friday night in North Carolina.

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My friend called as I was drying the last of the dishes. She had found her husband, asleep in the library, surrounded by textbooks. We laughed in relief and she promised to be home in a few minutes. I stacked the last plastic bowl on top of the others and smiled at the precarious pile. And, as I slid the last glass onto the shelf with the other cups, mugs and glasses, I paused and thought fondly on the time in my life when my cupboards looked the same.

When I got home, I opened my own cupboard. Over the six and a half years, my stacks of dishes have been refined. The lonely cups have been replaced, and the microwaved plastic thrown away. Now, everything has a defined place. Now, everything fits. The children section of the cupboard is tidy, colorful and fun. The grown-up section is classic, white and glass.
I paused and thought fondly on this time in my life.


Of course, I'm not saying that a kitchen cupboard and it's contents are representative of one's progression. (In fact, I sometimes envy you whose personalities are unruffled by a bit of disorder, and have even tried to become one of you. But, alas, I must be honest and admit that I thrive much better when my world is stacked in nice rows and columns.) But, for me, the transition of my cupboards strangely parallels the transition of myself. I am growing. I am being refined.

It's just sometimes hard to see when it's only one plastic cup at a time...

Knights save Princesses from Dragons...

I know, I know...sorry! I've been cornered by three of you so far about Halloween pictures, and you'll be happy to know that I chose today to post them. :)

I actually have a great reason why these photos are a bit belated. One of my best friends, Melissa, is an excellent photographer (in addition to being kind, generous and thoughtful)...so when she heard that a dear family in our ward was trying to raise money for a heart transplant for the father, she jumped in and volunteered to spend an evening doing mini photo shoots for anyone interested and donated 100% of the proceeds to the family in need. I signed up for one of the sessions 2.6 seconds after I read about it and took my kids to a gorgeous field the evening after Halloween to get some 'real' pictures of them in their Halloween glory. Yesterday, Melissa handed me a CD full of the most amazing pictures.

(I did crop this one because I thought the boys faces were just so precious...I hope you don't mind, Melissa!)



(Oh! I LOVE this one! Totally Carson. Totally.)



(I can't say I have a favorite - - - but this one might be it...)



(As we were watching the slideshow of these pictures as a family, McKenzie saw this one and said, "Oh! That's it!" She thinks she looks absolutely beautiful in this picture. I agree, and hope with everything I have that she can keep a little of that image confidence as she gets older.)

So you see, I had no motivation to post my own Halloween pictures of the kids when I knew these were coming. :) Anyway - if any of you are looking for a photographer in the area, I would highly recommend her! She's spunky, fun, and (obviously) very talented. She took a wandering 16 month old, a distractable 4 year old, and a I-can't-give-you-a-real-smile-because-I'm-concentrating-so-hard-on-this-fake-one 6 year old and turned out these beautiful pictures. :) Check her out!

These silly kids came up with this theme all on their own. I thought it was brilliant in light of their personalities and after a couple of borrowed costumes and a sheer curtain turned into a flowing cape, this Halloween was the easiest one yet! And DEFINITELY the most fun, as my parents were in town for it. Here we are, carving pumpkins:

(Carson, putting the 'puzzle' back together...)

We all went trick-or-treating on Saturday night, and then had a candy party on Sunday while we waited for the other trick-or-treaters to come to the door.



We laughed all night long...especially when I opened my tootsie-roll to find this....


Until next year! Happy Halloween. :)