Today though, let me tell you why I’m extra, for realsies OKAY!  Oh… I GET to tell you why….

I am crazy in love with my three buddies.  Today, I looked at Ryan as we sat on the couch talking and had one of “those” moments.  You know, the ones that only mothers and the world’s greatest nanny’s get.  Moment spoke to me, and here’s what she said, “This child here is yours, and you get to love him.”  So I did. and I hugged him and squeezed him and told him I loved him,

————–THIS MUCH!!!—————-

And then I loved him more, and it was something fierce.

So, yes, today, I am okay!

And Keri woke up and I snuggled her tightly under the blanket amidst morning breath and a rat’s nest that we call “Squirrely.”  And then came her surprise, a PURPLE brush.

“Keri, is purple your favorite color?”

<Keri sighs> “Mm-icole!  How many times do I have to tell you, my favorite color is all the colors of the rainbow?”

“Oh…right, sorry!  Well do you like the purple brush?  Because I got you something else purple…”

“Woah, those are feathers… for my hair?!”

<insert world’s most sweetest giggle here>

and today, that made me okay.  extra, specially and delightfully OKAY.

Okay, making french toast with little cough germs spread amongst the batter literally right into the batter because of insistent help.  Okay, with a little spilled milk.  Okay, with sibling rivalry.  Okay, with tattles.  Okay, with smiles definitely okay with those.  and yes even okay explaining that though other kids are saying the f-word on the bus and teaching you hand gestures doesn’t mean say it, do it.  Ryan is six! <forcing myself off of soapbox before I even step on …NOW>

Ethan woke up with the worlds GREATEST bed head.  THE GREATEST.  Oh, I’m mad that I didn’t take a picture.  I was too busy shaking this love off of my leg.  Literally.  I walked around with Ethan <insert some dog’s name that I can’t remember here> attached to my leg.  And I’d look down as he’d look up and we’d smile.

And I’m okay, still.  I’m okay with him coughing in my face (though also throughouly disgusted) as he holds my head in his little cold hands to give me an eskimo kiss.

I really am okay.  Because how can I not be with blessings like these?

This morning we played a game.  It was called “Patend You Are Sleeping”  Can I just say that is so far my absolute favorite game to play at 7:57 a.m.?!  I like that one and the “whisper game”…which is self explanatory.  If you don’t get it….wow….. nevermind.

Some days are loud.  Hah!  Most days are loud…with live reenactments of Puss and Boots and me having to scream over giggles and cries to say “BREAKFAST!  RYANNNNNN BREAKFAST!!!!!” or  “ETHAN, NOOOOOO– you cannot spear your sword into Keri’s butt…” but these last three months between the whisper games and sleeping games, the circumstances have gifted me with a lot of contentment, devotion, and some of the sweetest affection I’ve ever been so blessed to give and to receive.

And it’s all okay.

And OF COURSE I’m okay with all the creativity– all the “pa-tends” and “you’re the mama” and “I’m the cat” even though being mama to cat is about the hardest thing I’ll ever do…..

I’m okay as I sit and read Keri sits and “reads” The Giving Tree and The Berenstain Bears.  I’m okay with her helping me out in this other part of my life.  THIS.  My notes to you.  So here:

“Keri, you are so creative, you should be a writer… write stories….  Did you know I’m a writer?”

“You are?!”

“Yeah!!  Want to write with me?!”

“Do we get to use your ‘caputer’?”

Here’s what I said….

She types slow… but she types well!

My Little Writing Buddy from Nicole Paullin on Vimeo.

my loudness may have overshadowed her adorable-ness…read the transcript here.  and when you do, appreciate the grammar mishaps and smile because a four year old was typing and she was just too anxious to “get it on to the ‘innernet'”   have I mentioned that I love her?!

Be okay with me, because this love is too great.  Stop and love with some vicious love, smile with some intense happiness, and eskimo kiss with a zealous passion.  Be silly, be you.

Go on, snuggle in the morning breath next to you, squeeze your kids whether they’re 7 months or 17 years, and really, love them ————–THIS MUCH!!!—————-.

Let Moment speak to you too, and hear her say, “This child here is yours.  Here.  Now.  And you GET to LOVE!”  So love.

Today, you are miss sass, live it true.

So I paused.  and painted my nails red.  This sassy red, it’s called “crimson,” I actually think I’ve had this color since 2006 when Tasha left it in my apartment… thanks girl, you’re the best sass teacher I know….  and as I painted, I played Beyonce.  And she was singing that soul of hers out.  and so was I.

and then, I felt like I just wasn’t living that sass to it’s truest potential.  So I put on my new red shoes and sat back down with Mac (no Smithwicks tonight though, friends).  Mike is here instead.  He’s a bit sweeter…. get it……. hah. ha. hah…….

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret.  Under this warm, comfy blanket are my unshaved legs covered by running tights that I’ve had on since 8 a.m.  Guess who did not go running today?  *raises hand*  Yup, that’s right, her name is Miss Sass.

Guess what Miss Sass did instead…. she went shopping.

And you know what that shopping trip spelt?  It spelled sass like this….

and then it continued spelling it with these….that SASS!  She sure does know how to take a hold of my weakness….

and you may have noticed the big bag in back of the shoes.  That’s right, Miss Sass believes that 3’s a charm.

and just so you know, my favorite part about these suede shoes with the 4 inch heels isn’t the cheeky mood they put me in…. it’s the tiffany blue box in the background.  That Jessica Simpson really knows the way to our sassy hearts!

—

my name is Nicole and I have a problem.  My real name is Miss Sass.  And I am a shoe-a-holic that is hiding a spending habit behind a closed door in her parents house to avoid the, “Aren’t you supposed to be paying for grad school in a couple months?” from her father.  Her mother on the other hand taught her sass and it went something like this:

Oh wait.  That’s probably too R-rated even for this mood.

Salt-n-Pepa just came on my sassy girl mix.  <insert dance in my red shoes and running tights here. “Ahh, push it.  PUSH IT REAL GOOD!” >  Hey Sass, I’m over here.

Okay, all sass aside.  The post that inspired a sass reaction was about pushing it, pushing it real good.  Because my faith these days is like running a marathon, an ultra marathon, that’s up hill.  the.  entire.  way.  and I effing hate hills, and I especially hate these steep slopes that my faith insists I run today.  Darlings, I can’t lie to you, running in these new red shoes makes it better… and those leopard print shoes, I’m convinced I’m closer to winning the race…..

My faith is my faith.  When I write about it, I have this small voice of my cousin (very small as in “consider the source”) in the background saying “Oh yeah, I love her writing, but sometimes, she can get really God-y..”  She wasn’t talking about me, but the insecure, unsassed me wondered if that was some sort of hint…. for the other 96 of you, thanks for at least keeping it to yourself if I get too “God-y.”  Just know that now, if you choose to say something, I may go all sass on yo’ ass.  

So you’ve been warned–I’m about to whip out this faith of mine.  Because regardless of how distant I’ve felt from it lately, it’s there, and it’s NEVER going away.  Bring out the “God-y”..

Let me start it like this (John Michael Montgomery, thank you!):

Life’s a dance– you learn as you go, sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow.  Don’t worry ’bout what you don’t know, Life’s a dance, you learn as you go…

I love to dance, I love it better when I’m wearing red shoes.  track with me darlings…. I miss dancing in my apartment being sexy and knowing it… To tell you the truth, if it weren’t for Miss Sass that possessed me a little over 32 minutes ago, I would have gone a full 23 days without my very own dance party.  I’ve replaced my dance parties with soul dancing for Jesus.  It looks like this:

Sweet, fancy, MOSES.  I look like a freakin’ idiot because no matter how much sass I have, I still don’t know where in the hell to go or what in the hell I’m doing…except this: go where He leads, live where He leads–and right now, minus the school parts, my heart’s not so happy with where He’s taking me.  But… because my soul is doing it for him, He thinks this dancing is freakin’ awesome.  He’s a little partial since He created me to be His masterpiece….shoot.  Keep me living for you sweet Jesus.  Keep me learning.  Keep my praying.  Keep me DANCING.

And in the words of the sassiest of all ladies, the one, the only ALANIS!

You live.

You learn.

You love.

You learn.

You cry.

You learn.

You lose.

You learn.

You bleed.

You learn.

You scream.

You learn.

You greive.

You learn.

You laugh.

You learn.

You pray.

You learn.

You ask.

You learn.

You live.

You learn.

—

Friends, life is short.  Buy the shoes.  Just learn to go ahead and BUY THE SHOES.  and then dance.  dance in them in a way that will have people saying “Sweet, fancy, moses…” that sass girl’s a nut, but at least she’s living………

at least I’m living.

I read the Christmas story over and over and over again during Advent.  My favorite part is Mary’s song of praise.  She says, “I’m bursting with God-news, I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.”  It’s my favorite part because she is more courageous than I could ever dream of, but at the same time, everything I try and be– “the Lord’s maid, ready to serve.”  The truth is I fall very, very far from her.

Still, I try put myself in her position; engaged to Joseph.  In my mind he’s this hot guy with a beard, a well respected man, but a man no less.  So when he “quietly” breaks off the engagement, I can’t help but think of the broken-hearted Mary.  Until I see this…

“I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S GOING ON.  I’MHURTING. CONFUSED.”

And his friends, they’re all asking questions.  I knew they did, but overlooked the fact that they did.  For so long I attributed him as a “selfish man” when instead he is so human; human that is used for God’s story.

But it’s different.  It’s like they are no longer a story in history.  But they are with us too.  The presence at Christmas time isn’t just Emmanuel, it’s them too, and everyone else involved.

Our church is doing the Advent Conspiracy.  We’ve learned to worship fully, spend less, give more, and love all.  It’s rethinking Christmas.  What impacts me most, is that Christmas is about relationships.  It’s God’s love for us in the gift of His Son.  His Son came to earth that we might know the character of God.  He built a relationship with the world.  And now, it has me thinking of the relationships that were impacted in many ways by that Gift, a king made into a humble servant.

Think about those relationships.  really, think about them.  Mary and her sister- did she cry to Elizabeth when hot-Joe dumped her?  And Joseph- did he call Mary all sorts of names to friend #1 & friend #2?  And when the two were reconciled, I think “What God has joined together let no man separate,” (Matt 19:6).  Because imagine the Spirit at the core of the relationship, as deep as it could possibly be.  Let no man separate.

and what if, WHAT IF, His Spirit was at the core of everyone of my relationships too??  Emmanuel, His presence not just with me, but withIN me in every, single, one of my relationships!