Hi! I’m Beege. I might look familiar, like someone who used to blog here. Yeah. I get that a lot.
A million and one apologies for just sort of up and abandoning the old Mairsy Dotes blog. I have no real good excuse, and a ton of little crappy ones. I won’t even humiliate myself with groveling. I’m just to get you caught up on all the stuff that’s been going on, ‘cuz baby: Beegaroonie has been doing some growing.
*I am the mother of a kindergartner. She loves it. I love it. And Jerod, a little boy in her class, loves Nea. Seriously. Jerod’s Mom told me that he will NOT go to sleep unless a rock Nea gave him at recess one day is on his nightstand. Jerod brings Linnea flowers–nothing fancy, only dandylions, weeds, and clover which are the most readily available flora in the schoolyard. Nea hugs him good-bye, and Jerod tells her he loves her. The other day, Linnea asked me what our phone number was, because Jerod wants to call her and talk. What on earth do five-year-olds need to talk on the phone about?! As cute as it is, as much as Jerod’s Mom and I laugh about it, and as much as I can remember vowing to marry Robby Freed when I myself was a kindergarten femme fatale, I still gripe about it, “Seriously, Lord? ALREADY?! She’s FIVE. She’s a BABY. She’s MY baby. I don’t know if I’m ready for this…”
*Another thing I wasn’t ready for? Linnea coming to me and telling me her tummy is too big, and asking what she needs to do to make it smaller. Oy. Five. FIVE, and already looking at her sweet little body with a critical eye. The tummy that I still love to blow raspberries into, the body that I rocked and crooned to, and cried with through countless colicky nights in Kansas, the body that to this day brings me delight to see growing so tall and strong…this body is being looked at, and found wanting by it’s five year old owner. That pisses me the hell off. Who is telling her she’s fat? That’s what I want to know. To look at her, lined up with all the other kindergartners in their too-big backpacks that make them look like a herd of colorful turtles, she’s average. Not a string bean. Not heavy. My small daughter will never be willowy. Willowy doesn’t exactly run in the women in her family. I’m conflicted over how best to help her. Tell her how to get a smaller tummy? Pooh-pooh her concerns? I don’t want to contribute to this in ANY way, knowing what a life-time of body image issues can do to a person. But at the same time, if her tummy is causing her distress: shouldn’t a mother seek to help? I don’t know. I told her to run around and play more. It was all I could come up with at the time.
*M and I have been doing Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University. My parents asked us to do it, and offered to pay half the class tuition fee. M and I were both reluctant, but (as I pointed out to my beloved) it was almost literally the least we could do, so: we did it. I have known people who did Dave Ramsey. They become almost cultish followers of all things Dave. I’d seen him on FoxNews and pretty much decided I wasn’t terribly interested in hearing more, thereby proving my fair and balanced opinion of the network. But, 5 weeks in: I’m a believer. Taking this class has been a radical paradigm shift for both M and me in regards to how we think about money, deal with money, and plan with money. None of what Dave teaches is difficult, but at the same time: we weren’t doing it. We didn’t even know HOW to do it. For years people would tell us, “Write a budget.” and we’d TRY. But we didn’t know how. So, now, this is the fair and balanced Beege recommending that if you ever get a chance to do FPU or any other Dave Ramsey program: do so. Last night we were supposed to cut up our credit cards. M and I don’t have any credit cards–some accounts were closed on us, and the rest we closed ourselves. One guy brought something to cut up, but it was a prepaid gift card that he’d already used–like a Visa giftcard he got from his cellphone company. And he was the only one who brought something to cut up (even if it was lame). Now maybe everyone else is in the same boat that we are, and no longer have credit cards. But somehow: I don’t think so.
*I am back pastoring again! Quite unexpectedly, the bishop asked me to serve as a “bridge pastor” for a congregation who’s interim pastor needed to leave, but who probably won’t have a called pastor until the end of the year. It’s a large congregation, and I’m working there 3/4 time as the lead pastor. Yesterday was my first day, and the interim’s last–so while I had to be there ALL DAY LONG, I didn’t actually DO anything, so it was pretty exhausting. Today, I go in and get my keys, the alarm codes, and set up my office. I’m excited! I’ve missed this everso! But I’m finally in a place where I can see that coming out of Kansas: I was in NO way, shape, or form ready to be in the pastorate. That I really needed these four years of being on-leave from call in order to heal from the candidacy process, internship, M’s exceptional ordination, and those years in Kansas. I suppose that it’s only taken 4 years to undo a decade of hurt is a miracle in and of itself. But it is a joyous thing for me to finally be back in a place where I can say without reservation: God is good!
*My best girlfriend had a baby last week! Marcus. He’s so ridiculously adorable! I just want to nom nom nom on his cheeks. I wish I could apparate to Green Bay at will, just so I could get a good baby-snuggle in from time to time. Ah, babies…
So that’s about it. Running about, being a school mom, getting our financial life on track for the first time EVER, loving on Boog because she’s my baby, and getting back into the pastoral mode. That’s pretty much what I’ve been up to.