My Guitar Hero

Coming home from a deployment seems to suppress my husband's usual very frugal attitude. After the last deployment he decided we needed smart phones, and the accompanying data plans. He's not the type of guy to say I'm a stay at home mom and therefore have no need for such up to date technology. He's a true gentleman, and said if he's going to have a cool phone, then so am I.

Just before coming home this time, he decided it's time he bought a guitar. What's the only thing sexier than a good lookin' guy with an acoustic guitar? A good lookin' guy with an acoustic guitar, showing it off to his two baby girls. My guitar hero. Welcome home babe, we missed you like crazy, and everything is better with you here!

No Air

I heard the Jordin Sparks/Chris Brown song No Air on the radio the other day, and was reminded of this SYTYCD routine I saw about a year ago.  It's a beautiful dance, if you're brave enough to respect contemporary styles.  I tend to appreciate the more classical dance routines, my favorite being the ballroom waltzes, as long as the costumes are decent enough.  (What's with the new idea that to present a routine you have to be practically naked?!!)  However this dance caught me by surprise, I really love every bit of it, and have watched it over and over and over again.  Even now, a year later, it still makes me cry.   

Want to know what it feels like the first few moments after saying goodbye to a spouse leaving for a deployment?  If you do you're crazy, because as you can imagine, it's miserable.  This song and routine give a glimpse though.  For me at least, it literally does feel like I'm trying to breathe with no air.  Many of my faithful readers know all too well these feelings.  Those who don't, can imagine.  It's worse than what you imagine.  The anguish, fear, heartache, anxiety, and tears- it's just not something I can even begin to describe. 

I love the arts.  I love that we can express what we can't explain in words, through music, painting, sculpture, and dance.  The choreographers who made this dance seemed to know me!


Now that you've seen the dance, I want to end on the happy note that I'm grateful for my life support team when I'm out of air.  There are times when I know I couldn't breathe on my own if it weren't for my family, devoted friends, and my faith.  I'm looking forward to breathing well again soon, very soon.

Magic Pink Goggles

After a long and relaxing vacation in VA with the "Great Abs", the girls and I came home to a very welcoming group of friends, and swim lessons. They may look alike, but when it comes to the water (and many other things) my girls are very different. Merrylee is a little fishy, and used those very words today at the pool to describe herself.

"I'm a fishy!" she said, as she splashed and dipped her little sunscreen covered head into the water.

She shows no fear, and truly loves kicking her little feet, blowing bubbles, and even an occasional dunk (with Mommy of course). Anny however is more hesitant. Last year's swim lessons were difficult. Lots of drama, lots of tears, and no, it didn't get better after a few sessions. I feared another difficult two weeks ahead of me this year. We went to the pool a few days before they were going to start, and Anny seemed alright playing. She wasn't being pushed to try new things though, and I knew in her class she would be. My good friend, Kaycee, had a nice pair of pink tinted goggles. Anny and pink have a very close relationship, so needless to say she let Kaycee coax her into trying them on. To my amazement, Anny then dunked her little head into the water to look for a sinking toy. Then, she did it again!!! She kept it up until we were ready to go home. Guess who now has her own pair of fancy $12 pink goggles?!

Today was lesson #2, and I have the model child in class. Last year I was the parent apologizing for my screaming and upset kid. This year I hear the musical sounds of, "Look at Anny, see, Anny can do it!" and "wow, great job Anny, now everyone watch Anny!"

The teacher told me how blessed I was to have two children so naturally inclined to swimming and the water, and that I should be so proud of them. I am very proud of my little swimmers, but it's really not fair to give me much credit.  It's those magic pink goggles!!

It's been very exciting seeing Anny progress so much in that class, and enjoy herself while doing it!!!  She seems like such a big girl to me.  When asked about the Ariel on her swimsuit, she told the teacher today, "Oh, that's Ariel.  I really loved that movie when I was little."

Here's a photo of our sweet four-year-old swimmer, and another of her pretty hairstyle I made today, special for swim class to keep the hair out of her face and goggles. I'm actually quite proud of that little half-updo. My stylist friend must be rubbing off a bit!

When you're 30 and 4 . . .

I wish I remember the story it was from, but I remember someone reading to me that on our birthdays, we are not just the age we are turning, we're all of them together. For example, on Anny's birthday last week, she didn't just turn four. She was one, two, three, and four. She is a compilation of all those ages. She still has her silly three-year-old moments, her teary two-year-old moments, and her snugly one-year-old moments.  Four is just another begining, where new things can be added to her days of being three, two, and one.

I have to admit I have my two-year-old moments, where I just want to cry to my mommy and no amount of good advice or logic will make it better.  I have my seventeen year old moments where I can't help but daydream about the boy who likes me, (accept in my current self, that boy is the man I love and married!).  Then of course there's the mature twenty-seven-year-old-moments when I've realized there's no time for crying, because someone needs to be strong, cool minded, and solve whatever problem we're facing.  While Scott's still away and I'm the only adult home, that someone has to be me!  Being a big girl can mean having to ignore your two-year-old self (and three, and four, and even seventeen . . .) 

Thirty is a big birthday- one of those some people dread, others fully celebrate, but is rarely passed over unnoticed. I think that's because thirty is typically viewed as the official end of youth. The adult world now must admit, you belong. Why, do you ask, have I given this a bit of thought? No, I didn't just turn thirty. My husband did, and his birthday truly did slip by unnoticed! On the phone he said he wasn't telling anyone it was his birthday, "because I don't know what military guys do to celebrate birthdays, but it probably isn't good".

He's probably right. I don't see them digging up an ice cream cake and candles. Still though I was a little sad to see his big day come and go so very un-celebrated. But hey, we can celebrate when he's home again. He's not one to turn down a late birthday party or gifts. Perhaps we'll save the big celebration for next year, because after all, at 31, he's also 30, 29, 28, 27, 26 . . .

Here's to the July birthdays in the Andrews family!!!  Happy birthday Anny and Daddy!!!  Merrylee and I love you very much! 

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 30 or 4? 

Of course- what a question!!!!!!

An American Day

Our fourth of July was well celebrated. The pictures compose a much better 1000 word essay than I can write, so I'll keep my comments short. Great day, amazing friends, and wonderful memories made!

We miss you Daddy, but our friends are making sure our time is still filled with sun, laughter, and happiness. While you're not in any of these photos, you were definitely on our minds all day, as we celebrated this blessed country in which you're fighting to protect. Your sacrifice is more personal to us since we're part of it, but we're still grateful for what you do. It makes days like this possible.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

the sigh of the weary

I find myself occasionally living days where I hum the chorus of the folk song Hard Times.  You can find the full text here.  The lyrics are sadly beautiful.  It's a song I think all human beings at some point in their lives find they can relate to.  Here's the chorus:

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more,
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more. 

You can listen to an arrangement of this song in my playlist.  My favorite version is sung acapella by Eclipse, but I don't know how to post that on my blog.  Anyone who knows how to post a specific song not found on playlist.com, I'd love to hear your instruction!

I haven't had days filled with hunger.  I've always had shelter, food, clothing, and my physical needs met, as most people fortunate enough to live in this country can say.  I have however had my weary days.  Everyone at some point I think experiences deep and thorough weariness, with no obvious or close end in sight.  My Christian brothers and sisters however, know and have faith in happier times to come, because that's what faith in the Savior brings.



After watching this very moving video, I felt a little cheated.  I wanted to know what happened to the family!  What happened to that poor father, his wife and small children?  Then I read more about the video, and realized Elder Holland is telling his own story.  Obviously, he kept his faith and things worked out. 

Have you ever wondered, if the "future you" could visit and give you advice, what it would be?  I'd expect the future Liz would say the same things I'd say now, if I had the chance to advise the struggling seventeen-year-old I was 10 years ago.    

"Hold to your faith.  Believe in the Savior, Jesus Christ.  He never will and cannot fail you, and your life, while not always perfect nor easy, is beautiful and happy.  Hold to your faith.  Your efforts are worth it."

Oh Deer!

I was on the phone this morning, and heard Anny call out while eating her breakfast, "Mommy, there are animals in our yard!" 

I replied with "Ok Anny". 

Anny regularly "sees" whales and sharks everytime we drive over the bay bridge to Pensacola, so I didn't put much stock in her animal sighting in our backyard.  Until I actually turned around and looked that is . . . .

Bye-bye Bambi, thanks for the visit, you made our morning very exciting!!  Sting rays in the water, deer in our backyard, perhaps I should be watching for sharks and whales as we drive over the bay...

blue crayon day

It's actually more of a blue crayon week than day. 

A nice, bright, royal blue crayon got left in the car today, on the front passenger seat of our van.  Add to this pretty mixture, the greenhouse effect of the Florida sunshine.  No further description needed. 

We dropped off Scott again at the airport for another deployment.  The same now sadly familiar feelings of emotional pain shot through my body, as I tried and failed to contain the screaming tears, and tried yet failed to pretend I was strong, and ok with saying goodbye.  Why do we try to pretend?  Here's a few reasons I suppose:

1- it scares my little girls to see me sobbing
2- if I can somewhat contain my emotions, perhaps the girls wont fully realize what's going on.  Innocence is bliss they say . . .
3. I don't want Scott to feel guilty for doing his job and fighting for his country.  At least I think I don't. 
4. It's not safe to drive with blurred vision
5. Pleading, "please don't leave me, please don't go, I love you, don't leave . . ." doesn't change the fact that he still has to

Forcing me to pull out of my own selfish wallowing, I received the news that a dear friend of mine had a tragedy in her family.  My pain that has become as regular as Scott's deployment schedule, is minuscule compared to what she is and will be going through over the next few weeks and months. 

So what next?  I turn my pain into action.  Comfort and love my friend - scrub melted blue crayon.  Blue crayon does not totally come out.  Heartache never completely washes away.

So what next?  We keep scrubbing, and keep comforting and loving each other.  A very wise woman told me on the phone today, "Virtually anything is possible if you don't have to do it alone." 

Thank you to all my devoted family and friends, who are always there for me when blue crayon days come around.  I love you and am so very grateful.  Way more than a silly blog entry can describe . . .

The front passenger seat- after an hour of scrubbing, soaking up the excess wax with an iron and brown paper, and several different solvents and cleaners . . . and to think when I was little, the blue crayon was my favorite!

Bind my wandering heart to thee . . .

Any of you who keep your speakers on while visiting my blog, may have noticed a change in my music playlist. Inspired by a friend, I decided to choose songs that convey sweet feelings of nostalgia, love, and simple pleasures. Peaceful tunes that inspire thought, or calm the heart. These songs all do that for me.

One tune in particular is special to me, and I have three different versions of it on my list, all instrumental. The American folk tune, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, inspires and uplifts me every time I hear it. Here are the words to this classic and much loved Christian hymn written in 1757 by Robert Robinson, more recently arranged by Mack Wilberg for the Mormon Tabernacle Chior.

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
"1. Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

2. Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

3. Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

4. O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above."

How often have I felt sad, lonely, tired from the scars of life, and prayed to my Heavenly Father to simply save me, heal me, have mercy on my imperfect life, and bring me back to him? Bind my wandering heart to thee . . .

We are all prone to wander, make mistakes, feel sorrow, and pain of our own making. I'm eternally grateful for the healing sacrifice of our Savior, Jesus Christ. With his scars, we are healed. All he asks, is for us to come unto Him, and live like Him; follow his perfect example in every way that we can. When we fall short, as we all so often do, He is there waiting to pick us up, and help us try again. I hear this song, and am reminded of his amazing grace and love for me. It brings me inner peace, and encourages me to be a little more patient, kind, and enduring, to work harder, and give more of myself. I want my life to be worthy of the prayer in this song, "and I hope by, Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home."

Nursemaid Elbow - Common Courtesty Please

No one feels better after a, "You didn't know that? I've always known that" comment.  There are some things that if you're socially competent, or wish to be known as someone with class, you really shouldn't say.  Along with the above mentioned, are phrases that begin with the following:

"I don't mean to be a jerk, but . . ."
"No offense, but . . ."
"I know I shouldn't say this, but . . ."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but . . ."
"I don't want to sound rude, but . . ."

You get the idea.  Saying you don't want to look like a jerk doesn't make it alright to speak like one.  So please, if you already knew about this, I don't want to hear it.  I'm passing on a life experience I wish I had understood before, or read about on someone else's blog.  It would have saved us some grief, and a late night trip to the E.R.

We all love playing with our kids.  Tossing them up in the air, and hearing that squeal of delight and those sweet giggles keep us swinging and tossing until we've given ourselves a workout no expensive gym membership can top!  Even then, those cute chubby faces are pleading, "again, more swinging?  Please, up high?!"

Not easy to turn down- unless of course this innocent play ends in screams and tears.  Such was the case last night, with our little Merrylee.  We were holding her up high by the hands, and blowing raspberries on her tummy, when giggles turned to tears.  Not all that unusual, tickling often is only tolerated for so long- accept this time a little snuggling wasn't making it better.  Neither were fruit snacks, or other offers of treats.  She just sat there, quietly fussing, and not moving her arm.  We examined it for swelling, felt around for breaks, but didn't find anything unusual.  She didn't like us moving it though, and wouldn't move it herself.  We thought maybe a muscle was pulled, and hoped she'd start moving it again after a little while.  As the evening progressed however, it didn't change, and we got more worried.  She ate her supper, and played a little, but still wouldn't move that arm.

My experienced mother of 6 mother-in-law mentioned the term nursemaid elbow.  You can read about it here.  She was visiting my sister-in-law, and we drove two hours to spend the evening with them.  We got home pretty late, and put the girls to bed, hoping maybe after some rest Merrylee would wake up feeling better.  It was too late to call her doctor, and I really didn't want to take her to the emergency room unless I really had to.  It didn't appear to be broken, wasn't swollen, and she wasn't crying about it anymore.  As any parent who's experienced the late night E.R. trip knows, it's definitely something to avoid if possible.  Lots of waiting, lots of germs, lots of hassle. 

Merrylee, of course wouldn't sleep, thus increasing our worry.   I tried to look up her symptoms on the Internet, but found nothing conclusive or helpful.  Then I tried looking up the term my mother-in-law gave me.  Sure enough, she matched every symptom!  It's basically a partially dislocated elbow, and a very common injury among toddlers and young children under 6.  It's caused by pulling on the child's arm while it's fully extended.  It can happen by something as innocent as Mom and Dad each holding a hand, and swinging the toddler over a curb or step.  Don't tell me you've never done that with your child, because I wont believe you!

Symptoms include crying at the initial injury, and then the child refusing to use the arm, but more or less carrying on like normal, unless something forces him or her to move the arm.  The article suggested to immediately go visit the doctor, or if after hours, visiting an emergency room.  So that's what I did.  Very fortunately, we were the only ones there.  We went through Triage in record time, and saw a doctor right away.  He gently popped her elbow back into place.  It's hard to say if she was crying because it hurt, or because she doesn't like doctors.  (She definitely doesn't like doctors, she cries even at Anny's appointments).  However she immediately regained the use of her arm, and used it to push the doctor away with her little hand.  As we were walking back to the car, her tears were gone, and she was using the arm to point at the "twinkle, twinkle, little stars". 

We got home around three a.m., and all went to bed and slept soundly.  If you're gonna go to the ER, that's the way to do it!  No wait, no blood, minimal drama, and immediate recovery.  She's a happy baby again today, and we're grateful and a little wiser.  Learn from us and pass it on, so your only involvement with this common injury is what you've read here!    

shadows in the water

A family trip to the beach today (still no oil pollution yet, knock on wood!) brought a surprise- 100's of sting rays in the water! They were close enough to touch, just feet off the shore in waist deep water, if they held still, which of course they never did. I hear a stingray sting is painful, however watching them today made me wonder how anyone ever manages to get stung! Maybe they act differently in other parts of the gulf.  As you can see from my photos, as soon as we got close enough to take a picture they'd swim away. If you're local or plan to visit and you're worried, avoiding these animals is easy. They only attack if they're startled, and none of the curious beach bums managed to get close enough to do that. However if you're still worried, to best prevent a sting, "shuffle" your feet in the water. Any possibly buried rays (we never saw them bury themselves, they just skidded along the top of the warm water) will feel the vibrations, and swim away quickly.

We truly live in an incredible and beautiful place!

This may be my last post . . .

... of beautiful photos on our beautiful Gulf Coast beach. I feel guilty praying the oil slick heads west, but I selfishly would rather someone else's beach be destroyed than ours. Not that I have much choice in the matter anyway!

Special shoutout to my good friend, Vanessa, who took all these beautiful pictures! Check out her photography blog here: http://momentsbymurray.blogspot.com/ She's very talented!