When the Radio Gets It Right: Stay With Me.

The first time I heard Sam Smith's "Stay With Me", the radio had been turned on mid-song. The volume was low, and so I wasn't fully paying attention to the lyrics. The most I pulled from it was the first two lines of the chorus, and I figured it was just another melodic love song attempting to be the next "All of Me" by John Legend. This blog intro is an apology to Sam Smith. I was completely and totally wrong.

It's no doubt that women are crushing the pop music scene right now. That doesn't mean that what they are producing should be considered quality music, but they are reigning in the top charts. While this trend has been growing for a while now, I noticed it more after "Blurred Lines" came out last summer. That song was met with extreme polarity; people loved it or hated it. There was no middle ground. I found myself in the latter group, finding the song and the video just awfully distasteful. It came to my realization that most male musicians only write about two things: sex or love. Quite often these two subjects don't coincide in the same song. Unless you are Bruno Mars*.

 I want to be clear. I'm fully aware that in "Stay With Me" there's a lyric that says, "This ain't love, it's clear to see." The reason I find this song so refreshing is because of the approach it's taking about it's subject matter. If you look at all of the songs on the radio with sexual intentions (and there are a plethora) that are sung by male performers, they usually are devoid of any emotion. They are men, manly men, being manly about man stuff. I'm not saying that I don't jam to "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo, I'm just saying that the spectrum of emotion within the lyrics is pretty small.

Sam Smith had the audacity to put something on the radio that tells us men can get emotional about sexual situations. The NERVE! That's pretty bold for some dude that sings like a chick.

No, but seriously, I have nothing but appreciation for his boldness. For all of you who still get instant Hulk-rage when "Blurred Lines" comes on the radio, take a listen to this song. It's not an amazing instrumental piece. It's not the greatest hit of 2014 but it deserves to be recognized, even if only for a moment. It's simple, it's easy to understand, and it's an honest look at how some people work. Not just rappers and those guys in Maroon 5.

Take a listen if you haven't already heard this song. I hope you understand and appreciate it in the same way that I do. If not, feel free to tell me that I'm an idiot for thinking this song is what we needed on the radio after the last few years.

Also, here's my PSA reminding you how important music is to young people and communities. Please pay attention to what you listen to, not just the beat. Hear what musicians are trying to say, and decide if that's actually worth listening to.

*Bruno, if you're reading this blog (with Sam Smith, obviously) please stop. Just stop. We don't need anymore songs about gorillas or grenades. The next thing you know, you're combining those and writing a love song about guerrilla warfare. Just stop.

Now Leaving the Comfort Zone.

There's a blood drive going on in the basement of the church today, and I forgot to sign up. I trudged downstairs and put my name on the list. I will now be thinking about donating blood for the next 24 hours until it's over. I go through this ever time I donate. Needles freak me out. My veins are tiny and they tend to roll. Donating blood, 95% of the time, is a slow and frustrating process for me. My week would be immensely better if I didn't have to donate blood.

So why do I put myself through it? Simply because my temporary discomfort is infinitesimal compared to what the person receiving my blood is going through.

As our mission trip approaches this year, I've been witnessing the discomfort of both parents and youth in our county. We'll be departing for Pine Ridge, South Dakota in a little over a week. While there's excitement buzzing about, there are also some very apparent nerves. Will we be safe? What does the shower situation look like? Where are we sleeping? What kind of food will we be eating? I cannot place these questions solely on others. They have been swirling in my mind as well, along with some more specific worries. How will Jim handle being a "single dad" for a week? Will I be able to pump enough to keep up my milk supply? If we took a minute to really talk about it, you'd be surprised at how much worry (along with joy!) there is when we leave our comfort zone.

That's how we live, isn't it? We live in our box of expectations. We unpack our lives into these tiny little comfort zones because they keep us safe. They keep us happy. They allow us to avoid discomfort...at all costs.

What if we looked around to realize that maybe, just maybe, our discomfort can allow others to succeed? On this upcoming trip to Pine Ridge, there is a pretty good chance that we will find ourselves uncomfortable. It might get too hot, the bus might be cramped, the days might be long, and the showers may be short. However all of that will pale in comparison to the work we will be doing. This is true in all aspects of life. We shouldn't be focused on the hardships we are facing, but the rewards that may come when they are finished.

Our boxes are comfortable. We can ask a million questions, read a million articles/blogs/books, and worry until we are sick. Truthfully, nothing will fully prepare you for what is going to happen once you're out of that box. The beauty of stepping into the unknown is the fact that it is unknown. We benefit greatly when we learn from experience. We should benefit spiritually when we help others - comfortable or not.

Donate blood. Do mission work in unknown places. Mow someone's yard for them on a really hot day. Shovel snow for them when it's thirty below. And as always...

Bad Momma Post: My Daughter Is Not a Princess.

Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm a "bad mom". It's entirely possible. My mom and dad were amazing parents, and I've previously blogged about what their parenting style helped me to accomplish in my life thus far. The very first lesson I wrote about is how my parents taught me to have realistic expectations about life. This doesn't mean they discouraged me in my endeavors. They knew whatever I put my mind to I would succeed at. They also knew that letting me live in a fantasy world wasn't healthy. I would never be a Rockette - I wasn't tall enough. I would never fly fighter jets - my vision is simply too bad. These are facts of life.

So here's my jaded fact of life: my daughter is not a princess.

A princess, by definition, is the daughter (or close female relative) of a monarch. As sad as it is to admit, I am not a monarch. Jim is not a monarch. In the literal sense my daughter is not a princess. She is the beautiful, wonderful daughter of a mechanic and a youth minister. She ain't no highborn.

I'm not 100% sure why, but hearing Brooklyn be called a "little princess" just makes my skin crawl. I know it shouldn't. I know that they are just words. But words have an impact. I don't want to have her hearing she's a dainty princess as she grows up, and then consider herself too posh for the rest of the world. I want her to get messy. I want her to be a warrior for herself. I don't want to raise a damsel in distress. If she wants to be Cinderella for Halloween? Great. If she wants dress up clothes, barbies, stick-on earrings, and the whole shebang? Not a problem.

Oh, and if my daughter wants a Tonka truck and a G.I. Joe? She can have them, because as far as I'm concerned toys are toys and she deserves to be happy.

Perhaps this all comes from a fear that I won't be able to raise a child who thinks for herself, and defends herself. I get anxious she'll end up being demanding and spoiled rotten. Realistically, I think it's just because she's legitimately not a princess. It almost feels like you're trying to assign her career choices early. To me, it's the same as going up to a little boy and saying, "What an adorable little King!" or "Who's the cutest president in the world?"

So, there's my rant. My daughter is not a princess. She is my daughter, and she's wonderful. I want her to be happy and successful. More importantly, I want her to be what she wants. Princess, tax attorney, or sewer maintenance worker...it's her life to choose.

And if by some miracle she meets a prince and marries him? Then please print this blog out and proceed to watch me put my foot in my mouth. However, until then, she's not a princess. She's a beautiful little girl with her whole life ahead of her...and cynical mother to see her through it.

No, Your Makeup Doesn't Look Natural.

So, I was browsing Pinterest the other evening looking for blog ideas. I am plumb stuck on what to blog about. I pinned a few different DIY things that I figured I could try and post my results, but I wasn't enthralled with most of the possibilities. Most things would have required a trip to the store. I'm lazy, so those options were out.

Finally, I got inspired by a "natural makeup" tutorial that I happened upon. I've seen many of these before on YouTube, Pinterest, and in countless fashion magazines. They all promise a simple solution to "getting that natural, summer look," or something like that. I think. Anyway, I got really frustrated when I realized how unnatural these "natural" looks were supposed to be.

So I decided, what the heck? Maybe they look unnatural because the models are just naturally waaaaayy better looking than 80% of the population. Maybe if I used these tricks on myself, they really WOULD look natural. I've been wrong before. So, I gathered up my makeup and went to work. I realized how under prepared I was, as I only own a few different palates and what I call "the basics". Here's the results:



BEFORE with glasses.

AFTER with glasses

BEFORE without glasses, but with a sweet pimple and crooked eye.

AFTER without glasses, pimple, and crooked eye.




 For those of you who are curious, here's what went into that "natural" look:
- Face: Moisturizer, spot cover-up on my pimples, foundation, bronzer, and powder
- Eyes: 3 different shadow colors, eyeliner, eyelashes curled and mascara.
- Eyebrows were highlighted and filled in
I know that there could be more that could be done...but can we please, PLEASE stop calling this a natural look!? I'm not anti-makeup. I understand the purpose, and it's great. Having said that, there is nobody that wakes up and looks like the last picture. Nobody. Not even Beyoncé.

So put on the makeup if you want, but pleeaaaasseee stop saying that it's natural. And here's my hippie-dippy plea of the day: just embrace the natural. I fully believe that one of the reasons that I normally have nice skin is because I don't put lots of junk on my face every day. I can tell you that the people who care about you don't care about your pimples, or your linear and patchy eyebrows. Chances are, they don't even notice. And if they do notice? Well, they probably just don't give a flying hoot.

The best part about this blog? As I'm finishing it up, Jim walks in and looks at me and says, "Why do you look so red?" He actually sounded concerned. I explained that I was trying out a "natural look" from Pinterest, and showed him the rest of my makeup. His response? "Yeah, that's a lot. I honestly almost didn't recognize you."

Here's to you, Jim Hudson, for thinking my natural makeup look wasn't so natural. And thank you for acknowledging that the makeup is pretty (hey, it took WORK), but preferring the everyday me instead. Oh, and for picking me a daisy.
And here's to the ladies, who are all probably bigger babes under the makeup than they think they are.


What I Learned in the Month of May.

I'm the worst blogger in the world. I never know what to write about, and when I finally get a "good topic" I always talk myself out of writing about it. Recently, Kalli Peterson (check out her blog here) sent me a link to a blogger who was writing about things she had learned each month. I loved this idea, and decided that I would go ahead and try to keep up with that. This will hopefully keep me blogging each month...and hopefully supplementing with other blogs in between. Hopefully.

So here it is: What I learned in the month of May.

1. The song "Rain Is a Good Thing" by Luke Bryan is highly misleading. Now that I live in a farming community, I feel as though that song should come with a few footnotes. Rain is a good thing after the seeds are in the ground and before harvest. It's a small window. Oh, and not TOO much rain, right? Right.

2. Babies who are fed breast milk might only poop once a week. It's easier to digest, so it leaves less solid waste than formula. The good news: less poopy diapers. The bad news: when poop happens, it HAPPENS.

3. There is a highly supported theory that the reason our fingers get pruney underwater is to help improve our grip. It's only a theory, as most scientific things are, but it's still fascinating. If you don't believe me, you can read about it in this short article.

4. This lid allows you to turn a mason jar into a travel cup. I got irrationally excited about this because I only have "hot" travel containers, nothing simple for cold drinks, and I have plenty of mason jars. If you ever want to buy me something, this is it.

5. The song "Fancy" by Iggy Azalea is highly, highly infectious. It's been stuck in my head for over a week, and I like to make Brooklyn pretend she's dancing along with it.

6. There's a cat that plays Jenga. He's probably better at it than you.

So, there we are. I'm sure next month will yield something more fruitful, as I will be more prepared for the blog! Stay tuned for more, and if you have any ideas that you'd like to see a blog about feel free to let me know. I'm always looking for ideas. I'm too lazy to think of them myself. 'Murica.

The Lessons of My Parents: How I'm Able to Live Within the Realms of Normality.

All this Justin Bieber drama has been eating at me. During the past couple weeks more and more stories have been coming out about not only him, but his parents. He's been getting prescription pills from his mom. His dad is "an enabler". The list goes on and on. This pattern seems to emerge whenever a celebrity under 25 completely loses their mind. All of a sudden we start looking at the parents. What happened? Why aren't they doing something? Blah blah blah.

We do this with the average people in our society as well. Something goes wrong and we immediately place the blame on the parents. But what about those who are "successful"? We don't tend to focus on the role of parenting with those around us who are living an average, successful life. You can read successful however you would like. Whether you believe that successful means Brad Pitt, or you believe it means 2.5 kids and teaching...I don't really care. Go nuts.

So, due to the fact that parents don't ever seem to get enough credit, I am writing this blog. I'm writing this to unashamedly brag on my not perfect, but pretty dang wonderful, parents. These are three beneficial life lessons my parents taught me, whether intentional or not.

My parents taught me to have realistic expectations. Mom and Dad were absolutely supportive. I wanted to learn to play guitar; they supported me. I was deeply involved in Drama club; they attended every performance feasibly possible. I have wanted to be a hair stylist, nurse, teacher, and horse trainer; they were behind me. However, Mom and Dad never set me up to have unrealistic expectation. I once told my parents I thought it would be awesome to "fly the really fast jets." They explained that it would be fun, but I probably wouldn't be able to do that because my vision would probably never be good enough. I also remember telling them I wanted to be a Rockette. I was then informed that I probably would never be tall enough. And when I didn't get cast after my Godspell callback, my Mom simply asked me, "well, were you really the best?" She trying to be mean; she was being realistic. I was the ONLY person that didn't have any dance training, and the audition was a dance number. My parents always explained these things kindly. I appreciate this so much now that I'm older. I try and look at things objectively. I know far too many people that do not take the time to ask themselves, "Is this realistically feasible?" This not only taught me to NOT let my weaknesses crush me, but to rely on my strengths as a person.

 My parents encouraged open communication. I cannot stress how important this has been. When I was a freshman in high school, Dad had to have an emergency surgery to remove his gall bladder...in Atlantic City. This ended up revealing some other health complications that I won't dive into for the sake of time. Don't worry, he's fine now! However, at the time it was really frightening. My mom called me and gave me ALL of the information that afternoon. She kept me updated on everything that happened. Even though it may have been tempting for her to "protect" me from the "scarier" parts of his journey, she never did. She also always asked me how I was doing during their time away. Similarly, when I was a senior in high school my dad told me that he was going to go to seminary in South Carolina. We talked about it with the entire family. He wanted to make sure everyone knew what the plan was, as well as how we all felt about it. It sounds corny. Trust me, I know. But rarely do I get upset at my parents. This happens because I know that I can be honest with them about how I'm feeling.

My parents showed me how to love. I've blogged about this before, but I'm going to touch/elaborate on it once more. I was blessed with grossly in love parents. Not only did they love each other, they loved those whom they surrounded themselves with. They were always willing to help someone out without expecting anything in return. They got to know people before they made judgements about them. My family was a belly full of laughs, hugs, and continual fellowship. Seriously. Dinner at our house could last the better half of two hours - usually because I couldn't stop talking. Shocking, I know. That's where the love is: in doing things for others even if it isn't what tops your agenda.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me these lessons. There's more that I've learned, but nobody wants to hear me ramble on about the importance of always having a witty comeback, or how if you cup your hands around your ears and move them in/out it sounds funny. I owe ya'll 'bout a million!

Oh, and also...

Good job not raising me to be Justin Bieber.