stuck on you

Avery's had a run of bad luck in the "coordination department" lately.
Lots of Boo Boos.
Lots.

Evidently, she's a little athletically challenged. Wonder where she gets that?
Definitely not from me.
I can speed walk with the best of them.
It's a sight to behold.

After a recent spill in the parking lot at her preschool, we ventured over to Target to buy some band-aids for her VERY OWCHY boo-boo.

Of all the Band-aids in the entire store, these were the ones she wanted.

Barbie?
No thanks.
Princesses?
No way.
Dora?
Puhlease.
Diego?
Adios.
Ponies?
Absolutely not.
Hello Kitty?
Buh-Bye.

Only "Hannah Tanna" would do.
Waterproof Hannah Tanna band-aids
Tattoo, waterproof, Hannah Tannah Band-aids.

Did I mention that they are waterproof?
The sticky on these band-aids has to be some distant cousin to super glue.
They have been on her for daayyyyss now and aren't going anywhere.
The perimeter is secure.
Very secure.
These band-aids give new meaning to the phrase "like ripping off a bandage".

I've tried a few times to convince her to let me rip take them off, but she won't have it.

Last night, while she was in the tub I stared at Hannah Tanna's evil little smiling face.
I could almost hear her saying, "Nice try. I'm WATERPROOF, Punk."

It's possible that the only way those little guys are coming off is for me to enlist the help of a straight jacket and/or mild sedative.
Yikes.

At least she likes them.
It's looking like they may be sticking around for awhile (no pun intended).

Martha Mondays

So, I feel like my blog has a little bit of an identity crisis as of late:

I mean, what exactly is it?

Is it a craft blog?
a mom blog?
a serious blog?
a "laugh at life" blog?

ummm..
yes?

So in order to simplify stuff, some of my friends and I have started a blog for our Craft Club called "Martha Mondays". The blog will feature pictures and tutorials for the projects we make during our craft club. I'm super excited about it.

My friend Maribeth and I spent an insanely long time racking our pathetically trashed baby brains for a creative title to our blog.

What we discovered is that we aren't really that creative when it comes to making up blog names.
Our names were totally lame.
Uninspired even.
The one name we REALLY wanted was "She's Crafty", but someone else took that.
Bummer.

For a very short while, we tried to enlist the help of our husbands.
They came up with names like:
Meet the Smockers
(slightly inappropriate, and we don't smock)

Are We Crafty? I Gesso.
(funny, but a little long...and most people don't know what Gesso is)

Kiss My Craft
(um, yeah...)

I won't even write some of the most inappropriate ones.
Let's just say it went downhill from there.

Needless to say, It didn't take long for us to totally dismiss the boys from their blog naming rights.
Ultimately, we came back to "Martha Mondays".
Martha - like Martha Stewart and Martha of the Bible
and Mondays - because that's the night our craft club meets.

Really creative, right?
oh well.

AnyHOO, check out our new blog:

Martha Mondays

Daisy Dukes and PK's

Oh... These women make my heart just hurt.

These women were once little girls in frilly socks and Sunday dresses...
They were silly little girls who ran in and out of the church pews while they waited for Daddy on Sunday morning.
Their family had to take cheesy church directory photos.
They ate a million and one different kids of potato salad at pot-luck lunches and memorized Bible verses in Sunday School.
They could sing all the words to "Zachaeus Was a Wee Little Man" and knew the hand motions to "Pharaoh, Pharaoh".

Now, instead of singing about doing the "dead man's float", they sing songs about "kissing girls".
Instead of frilly socks, they wear Daisy Dukes.
Instead of church directory pictures, they pose for men's magazines.

Once upon a time, these women were full of promise. Full of hope.
They were given amazing gifts that were meant to be used to glorify God.

Once upon a time, these girls were just like my little Avery. They were Pastor's Kids.

Every time I see one of these women on a magazine cover, or hear one of their songs on the radio, my heart clenches up a little bit.
...Then I start to think
...Thinking that soon leads to worrying
...Worrying that VERY quickly leads to fear. Overwhelming, freak-out fear.
...Fear that causes me to pray. Hard. Because that's all I know to do.

That fear is enough to make me want to keep my sweet little ones in a plastic bubble.
It's enough to seriously consider building a very large fort or tower to hide them in. Forever.

I never imagined that I would be a Pastor's wife.
In fact, it was always something that was VERY far from my mind.

When David and I became engaged, I happily accepted my role as supporter and encourager to David.
I accepted my role as his wife.

Since David felt God's calling to be a Pastor, I was called to be a Pastor's Wife.
If David had been called to be a Computer Programmer or a Doctor, I would be called to be a Computer Programmer's wife or a Doctor's wife.
I made a choice to be a Pastor's Wife the moment that I chose to marry the man that God chose for me.

That being said, I knew what I was getting into when I chose to marry David.
I knew that being a Pastor's wife would be challenging.
It would be hard.
It would mean sacrificing and living life under a microscope at times.
I knew all of that, and I accepted it.
I had life's experiences and a relationship with Christ to guide me through my decision.

Avery and Charlie didn't choose to be Pastor's Kids. They just are.
They don't have life's experiences to help them rationalize and understand their role as PK's.
They have to figure out the whole ministry thing as they grow up.

I worry that as they grow older, they will also grow to resent sacrificing and living life under a microscope.
I worry that the pressures of performance and expectations will weigh too heavily on them and cause them to resent not having a choice about being a PK.

Avery and Charlie are God's gracious, precious, amazing gift to David and me.
He didn't make a mistake.
Although many pastor's kids have chosen a path that leads away from Christ, it doesn't mean that my kids have to.
But they might.
Because they have free will.

Ultimately, I can't make their choices for them.
It's my job to teach my kids what God's love looks like on a daily basis and let God take care of the rest.

It's really easy to write that, but not so easy to actually live it out.
Real life means feeling impatient, tired, cranky, annoyed, and exhausted.
Real life means that living out God's love isn't always easy.
I'm afraid that God's going to have to pick up the slack for my shortcomings.
A lot.

If I could give my kids just one little pearl of wisdom for them to hold in their hearts as they grow, it would be that they understand church is just a place full of imperfect people. Imperfect people who need a perfect God.

I want them to understand that God's love for His children is totally unconditional. I hope that they experience the grace that He gives after they mess up and make crazy choices, and the warmth that awaits them in His loving arms.

I hope that for Jessica and Katy too.

big girl bed

This weekend was a big one in the Tillman House.

Avery got her very first "Big Girl Bed" "Big Girl Mattress".

Unfortunately, our good buddy Dave Ramsey says that we can't buy an actual bed for our little one until the next paycheck. errrr...

So for now, Avery is sleeping sans headboard - that's the fancy way of saying "on a mattress on the floor".

We went to a very "Dave Ramsey friendly" establishment to buy our mattress: Crazy Mike's Mattress World.
The Boss said, "Let 'M go!".

You can't argue with that logic.

I'm under the impression that any place with "Crazy" in the name is destined to be a good deal. A CRAZY good deal, even.

That being said, there are only a few things that I would actually consider buying from a store with the "crazy" in the title.

It's safe to say that I won't be buying anything from:
Crazy Mike's Meat World
OR
Crazy Mike's Shoe World
OR
Crazy Mike's Diaper World
or
Crazy Mike's Chinese Restaurant

'Cause ultimately, I'm just not that crazy. or thrify.

Thankfully, Crazy Mike's Mattress World did us right.

I don't know how Crazy Mike felt about Avery testing the beds out the "toddler way", but she had a blast jumping on each.and.every.one.

I'm pretty sure that a toddler's version of Heaven includes a gigantic room full of beds to jump on.

Avery l-o-o-o-v-e-s her new "Big Girl Bed" and has actually slept in it for the last two nights!
Sort of.


She still ended up in Mommy and Daddy's bed at 2 am both nights, but we're working on it...

things that happen while i'm drying my hair

Exhibit A:
A cake that used to read "Happy Birthday David" left on top of the counter in the kitchen.

Exhibit B:
A can opener abandoned only after a certain toddler tired of using it as a torture device for a certain canine.

Exhibit C:
art

more art...
Can I just say that I'm still working on getting those stains out of my bathtub? Washable, my rear.

If you see me around and notice that I'm looking a little "frizzy" or "poofy" in the coif, you know the reason why.
It's looking like I may not be able to groom myself for the next 18 years.

just another manic sunday

Sometimes being married to a minister means that you've gotta put on your "big girl pants".

David leaves to go to church very (and I mean very) early on Sunday mornings.

That means that the very (and I mean very) spoiled Jennifer has to do all the work on Sunday mornings. Work that I normally have help with: diapers, dressing, feeding, etc.
I even have to make my own coffee, ya'll.
It's just not right.

Before I had kids, I managed to be on time to church - most Sundays.
After I had Avery, I typically ran about 15 minutes late to church, but could still squeak in for the last part of worship.
These days, I'm running about 30 minutes late for church.
30.

This week, however, was a monumental week for me.
This week, I was only 20 minutes late for church.
I shaved 10 whole minutes off my time - not bad!
Maybe next week, we'll try for 18 minutes.

Baby steps, people.

My problem is that I never seem to plan for the inevitable problems that arise on Sunday mornings.
Trouble-shooting. I need to do more trouble-shooting.

In an effort to understand exactly where I'm getting tripped up, I thought I'd write out my typical morning routine and go from there.
_____________________
Wake up

Change diapers

Feed the kiddos

Drink 1/2 cup of coffee

Dress kiddos

Re-heat coffee

Dress myself

Hear Charlie crying in the next room.

Say, "Hey - if he's screaming, it means he doesn't like what you are doing!"

Pray a quick, but fervent prayer that Charlie makes it through life with a crazy big sister.

Re-heat coffee. Again.

Change one or both of the kids out of pooped on/spit up on/colored on/food splattered on clothes and back into new clothes

Beg Avery to let me fix her hair

Tell Avery that she can't wear her Crocs with her smocked dress

Look for cell phone

Look for keys

Look for sippy cup

Pack diaper bag

Beg Avery to get in the car

Put Charlie in the carseat

Chase Avery down the driveway in THESE heels (church is the only place I get to wear them anymore - and I'm WEARING them)

Threaten to give Avery a spanking if she doesn't get in the car

Wrestle Avery into the carseat

Realize that I left the diaper bag in the house

Run through Itty Bitty House like a Mad Woman looking for diaper bag

Jump in the car

Listen to my CD player try in vain to eject the PENNY that was shoved into it a WEEK ago.

Try to explain to Avery that we can't listen to her Raffi CD because she put a PENNY into the CD player

Put my makeup on in the car

Drink last sip of cold coffee.

Try to find a parking spot in packed parking lot

Look for an available spot in the Senior Adult parking section (so naughty!)

Realize that someone else already had that idea (so naughty!)

Head to the back of the parking lot. Where the late losers park.

Make my own parking spot

Finish putting makeup on.

Strap on the sling

Try to shove my chubby monkey boy into the sling

Grab Bible, bags, and Avery

Try to convince Avery to walk on her own

Listen to Avery scream to be held

Sigh and carry her and Charlie at the same time

Make the one meellion mile trek to the church (in my pretty heels) from the back of the parking lot where I finally found made a parking spot.

Walk in very (and I mean very) late to church looking like this:

and feeling like this:


SO - any clue where the problem is?

And don't even think of suggesting that I wear tennis shoes with my skirt - cause that 'aint even happening.
If I have to wear my "big girl pants", I'm going to have on pretty shoes too.

little chuck

hee, hee!

This hat was a gift from Zachary Levi of NBC's Chuck to our good family friend, Richard.

Richard went to L.A. to visit his daughter and son-in-law and had BREAKFAST with Zachary Levi.

I'm so jealous.

How cute is it on our little "chuckster"?

do you hate me?

Do you, Taco Bell?

I'm thinking that you MUST since you put THIS in your playground area:


Really?

Seriously?

Boo.

i'm no duggar

Looks like i have to be a little more careful about what i say and do around the little snickerdoodle.

The other night, she grabbed my face, said, "Restless" and gave me a huge smacker - right on the lips.

Niiiiice.

I think that you know what she was referring to: my not-so-innocent addiction (a.k.a. The Young and the Restless).
sigh.

Then yesterday, she covered her mouth, and said, "oh my gosh!" in mock horror at something she was looking at in a book.
sigh.
She's 2. Not 22.
There's something really disturbing about a 2 year-old saying, "oh my gosh".

I feel like a loser mom.

As if to add salt to my already gaping mommy wounds - I sat down to watch this show:

18 kids and counting

...and I really started feeling like a loser mom.
Because clearly, Michelle Duggar is a saint.
Or a baby-making cyborg.

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I've been battling the whole Dave Ramsey budget thing. Despite my whining and complaining, I've submitted. I'm even clipping coupons. Yes. COUPONS. Saving money hasn't really ever been my "thing", but I'm trying.

As luck would have it, the episode I watched was the "Duggars Money Saving Episode".
Sooooper.

Right off the bat, Michelle takes the boys to shop for SHOES at the THRIFT store.
As she is experiencing Morning Sickness.
While pregnant with her 18th baby.

The kiddos are actually excited about going to get new shoes at the THRIFT store.
One of the little boys said,
"It never grosses me out about wearing other peoples shoes...sometimes if it's kinda out of style, like from the 50's or something, it kinda grosses me out, but that's about it."

Wow. Good for you, little guy.
I seriously mean that.
I'm definitely more shallow than him. He's 10.

I'm all about saving a buck or two, but I'm thinking that wearing used shoes might have to be where I draw the line.
Just the thought of putting my feet on other people's toe jam makes me feel all icky inside.
Yep. I'm definitely shallow (or maybe just not in the mood to catch a toe fungus).

Michelle remained amazingly calm while taking her boys thrift store shopping.
She softly reminded them to behave
She cheerfully encouraged them to obey
She lovingly corrected them ("John David. We can't do that. No-no")
and barely raised her voice over a whisper the entire time.
All this while experiencing MORNING SICKNESS.
While pregnant with her 18th child.

When I was experiencing Morning Sickness, I was a total beast to be around.

Michelle's even willing to be the ONLY person in her house without a "J" name. David and I say that she should rename herself "Jichelle" just to fit in.
All this and she homeschools them.
Saint.

As I watched the teenaged girls perming their own hair and making soap for their mom to use, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous over all the help Michelle gets from her big girls.

They can come to my house and make homemade soap for me any day.
and clean my bathroom.
and help me with the grocery shopping.
and make that yummy-looking casserole made out of tater tots.

Do you think that if I signed up to be a host for an exchange student like Sarah @ Life in the Parsonage, people would get suspicious?
My house isn't that big - I'd just need ONE...

After the episode was over, I came up with a list of things that I learned from the show:
1. I'm a little shallow.
2. I need to get one of those long-haired teenaged gals.
3. I need to watch Y and R without my 2 year old sitting in my lap.
4. I'm not Duggar material - despite the fact that my name begins with "J".
5. I want to eat tater tot casserole.

today's craft has been brought to you by the letter "K"

This is my sister's birthday gift.
She turned 18 a couple of weeks ago.
Yes. I'm a total slacker and haven't given her the gift yet.

Isn't she a total DOLL?

I adore her.

I made the "K" to go in her room. The room that she will only be living in for a few more months since she'll be heading off to COLLEGE this fall.

When I started college, she was just 4.

When I started college, the Spice Girls had a hit song on the radio.
I actually jammed out to "Mmmm Bop".
I took over an HOUR to get dressed to go anywhere.
I had never heard of Raffi, Laurie Berkner, or The Wiggles (say it ain't so!)
I had at least 3 silky shirts because that's what Jennifer Aniston wore on Friends.
My hair was...blonde. For a semester or two.
I drank REAL coke - not Diet Coke.
There wasn't a Starbucks on every corner. In fact, I'd never even entered a Starbucks.
Adidas shoes were soooo cutting edge.
I thought that 21 was old.
Northface jackets and Vasque boots were worn even if you had no intention of EVER hiking.
I wasn't ashamed to listen to Hootie and the Blowfish
I still had a Walkman.
I only had like 4 friends who actually owned a cell phone.
Those same 4 friends were the only ones I knew that actually owned a computer - and it was purely used for word processing.

I'm seriously o-l-d.

Speaking of old, I'm turning 32 on Monday.
I actually REMEMBER when my mom was 32.
Pathetic.

Anyway - Happy belated birthday to my sweet, adorable, funny sister.
Hope you enjoy your little birthday "happy"!
I love you!

find a penny

This is what the CD player in my car says when someone shoves a PENNY into it.

The real problem is that the penny doesn't seem to want to come back out. Either does the Raffi CD that is spinning around and around... and around in my CD player.

Guess who is currently listening to Raffi non-stop?
Lucky me.

If I hear "The More We Get Together" one more time I may have to be institutionalized.

Gotto Go...
Off to google "how to remove a penny from CD player"

almost wordless wednesday

Told you.

these feet were made for...

annoying the heck out of everyone.

Avery is obsessed with her feet.

She especially enjoys touching things with her feet.
More than once, I've had to tell her not to put her feet on her plate at the dinner table.

Toes and peas should never be within 6 inches of each other.
Call me crazy...it's just a rule we have around here.

I find myself constantly telling Avery to "kindly remove" her feet from various objects and people around the house - places like:

the computer
the dog's head
the remote
my drink
a book magazine I'm trying to read look at
the pen I'm trying to write with
my hair
my FACE

... and her brother

It's a little out of control.
Not to mention slightly unsanitary.



Poor little Charlie.
Looks like he doesn't like it either.

dora update

Dora takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'.


Avery's been doing better about not twirling her hair.
Dora, however, is looking a little sad.
Poor Dora.

Say, "Help Me!"
Louder!