Gibee made an excellent point in the Comments section, echoed by Mandy. Gibee said, "Can I just say ... it bothers me every time I see the following on your title bar... 'sorta shallow Christian mom.' I don't think you're shallow at all, and I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit! I love coming to your blog, and I love your writing style -- it's awesome. And shallow? Naaahhh. I think you get pretty deep!"
I've been meaning to explain that little tag line: True confessions from the everyday life of a sorta shallow Christian mom. So why not now, since y'all brought it up?
That simply means that I know Who and what is important in this life, and that's not the stuff i'm usually talking about here. I fully believe we have a God whose Son died on a cross for my sins, then rose three days later. I know what it is like to experience a personal relationship with Christ Himself, and to be a friend and daughter of the King of Kings. But do I talk about that very much? Not really. It's just who I am. I am truly a Holy Mama, and I have it in writing! Look right here.
Here is where I'm usually talking about shoes reunions and poop. Here is where I expound upon the joys of chocolate and shopping. Here is where I come and talk about the silly and the shallow and the amusing and the frustrating. Are any of these things 'deep,' when you consider the important, good, and holy things in life? Of course not!
And yet here I am. 'Sorta shallow' to go on and on about the nonsense I find amusing, but I'm kinda good at it. And it's fun. (I'd really stink at writing a blog on the 'deep stuff', even though I love those blogs.) This is where one redeemed, holy mama of 4 comes and writes about the trivial. I'm sorta shallow, because I know what's really important, and don't let me confuse you - this isn't it! This is just a laugh for you to take with you. One for the road.
And as long as I'm claiming to be funny, here goes. A couple of hours ago, I'm in the car with the three boys, and we're doing an errand. Okay, FINE. We're going through a drive through. NO, NOT MCDONALD'S. (It was Wendy's.)
I'm driving with my purse in my lap, wondering if I actually have any cash on me, so I dig though it at red lights. And find that not only do I not have any cash, it appears I also do not have my wallet at all. Panic. I think of getting pulled over again, and not having my driver's license. I think of all the credit cards (that we never ever use and just have in order to 'build' credit - blah blah blah, but it's true) that would have to be cancelled. I get to the window and realize I have no cash and no card to offer in payment, and no driver's license to accompany a check, should Wendy's even take a check.
The lady is VERY nice, which is greatly appreciated by me, since she makes ZERO comments regarding my non-pregnant status, and that is very welcomed. I ask if they take checks, she says yes, and to put a phone number on it. YEA! I do the check, she never asks for my license, and I call Mike to ask if he took my wallet. (No, this makes no sense. He hasn't ever before, but I was FREAKING out a little, ok?) He said no, and I could hear his little financial genius brain calculating all the inconvenience that lay ahead, should I have really lost it. He says nothing, though, and ends the call rather than be tacky. (I read all of that into his silence, but trust me, it was accurate.)
We're driving away, and Ethan-5yr says, "Mom. You need to have a place for everything, and just PUT IT THERE."
(Ethan-5yr's room looks like a bomb exploded in there, may i just point that out?)
Me: "Oh, thanks honey."
Ethan-5yr: "You need a purse light. I saw a commercial. You turn it on and then you can see everything in your purse. It's not available in stores so you should act now."
Me: "Uh huh. I dont' think the problem is lack of light."
Ethan-5yr: "Oh, I know. But you didn't listen when I said you should have a place for everything and then PUT IT THERE, so then I went on to my next suggestion. The purse light."
I grit my teeth, rearrange sprite cups and Wendy's bags, and get my purse off my lap, moving it to the passenger's seat. And underneath my purse? My wallet. The stupid thing was IN MY LAP, under my purse the whole time I freaked, called Mike and worried him, and listened to an organizational speech/sales pitch from my five year old. I had a place for my wallet (no, a lap is not the best place, albeit) and guess what? I PUT IT THERE. Yeah. Yea, me.
And this thing? Oh, no. Never, Ethan-5yr. Never will your holymama put function THAT far above fashion. Ew.