Cowgirl Up.

Wives, wives, hear ye! 

If you know me at all, you know that I'm obsessed with my sister, Nikki Alexander. She is my guru, my champion, the voice inside my head and my very, very dear friend. So much of what I know of marriage and parenting, I've learned from living with her, observing her and communing with her. She is my forever girl crush.  

Last week's Tyke Mamas meeting and recent conversations with friends reminded me of a blog post Nikki wrote a few years ago. I want to share it with you. 

I have SO MANY thoughts on this topic of sex... words and phrases that are swimming around in my brain. They will materialize into a blogpost eventually. 

Today, though, read and meditate on Nikki's words. They are wise indeed. 


Sexual Healing by Nikki Alexander 

"You should never say no to sex with your husband."

This is a direct quote from my mom, the late Pamela Whitby Strong.  When I first got married, I took this advice lightly.  My mom was raised in a traditional mid-class American household of the '50s.  Being a feminist, I responded, "Mom, you're old-school and it's adorable."  As the years go on, I continue to hear her voice in my head holding me accountable as a wife.

I have been thinking about sex lately.

I have had some interesting conversations in the past few months with some of my sisters out there. Statements like, "sex is such a chore", "I'm too tired by the end of the day to have sex", "I literally never think about it"....sounds like we need some sexual healing up in here.

I'm no marital or sex therapist (disclaimer),  I am well aware that there are marriages with severe struggles -  I don't presume to know what you might be going through.  So forgive me if I sound simplistic or trite.  I am simply a wife with a few thoughts on the subject. I welcome your comments.

1.  This is an opportunity to serve.
I know, you feel like a servant all day long. People are asking things of you, whining, groping, fussing, tugging, talking back.... and then there's the children, whining, groping, fussing....
You feel like a vending machine.
You feel like a milk factory.
You feel like an ATM.
You feel like a taxi service.
You feel like a mediator, coach, counselor, teacher, housekeeper, disciplinarian, chief whip-cracker.
So by the time the family is back home in the evening, and everyone is fed, bathed and put in bed, the last thing you want is for one more person to ask one more thing of you, right?  Sisters, he's not trying to take from you - he's trying to commune with you.  Of all the requests of the day, this is top-tier priority.  If we truly are called to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ, and love one another, and consider one another before ourselves, this is a great way to serve.

2.  He wants you - this is a GOOD thing.
When your husband is initiating sex, that communicates that he desires you and wants connection with you.  Some men get shamed by their wives, as if it is sinful or selfish. Sex is a good and perfect gift from God - the gift of connection, oneness, and of pleasure.  Yes, there are other issues of intimacy.  Maybe you don't feel cherished or respected. Maybe he needs to pour into you emotionally.  I am well aware that in the midst of emotional tension it's hard to want physical expression.  But if you are waiting for all to be right in the emotional realm in order for you to give it up - you are missing out.  Withholding sex only makes him feel rejection and failure.  Coach him by modeling the act of giving. Then talk to him later about what you want and need.

3.  Pray! That'll get you in the mood!
Ask God to soften your heart toward your husband.  Ask God to bless your sex life.  Ask for a renewed desire.   Ask God for emotional favor with your man.  Ask for strength and stamina so you can give all of you.  Ask God to produce fruit (not just babies) in your marriage. Bring God into the room!

((SIDENOTE: don't worry, I almost went with, "Get your pray on so you can get your freak on", or "Get prayed up, then cowboy up". #whyamisoawesome))

Friends, marriage is hard work!  And striving for excellence and satisfaction in marriage is a never-ending endeavor.  By no means do I have it all together.  But I think it is important for us to talk about this stuff and to encourage each other.

_________

See what I mean? Pure gold! 

I'm here for you if you need to talk about this. 

In the meantime, Cowgirl Up. 

Love,
Chels

Shake your groove thang!

Welcome, my friends, to the new home for all my words!

Cue the disco ball and the dance music with the sick beat (Taylor Swift is in the process of copyrighting that phrase but, until the paperwork is final on that, I'm using it, baby!). 

Its a New and Improved Blog Party!

Gosh, I wish I knew how to spell all the words that make up the dance music that is playing in my head right now. All I can think of is "uh, uh, uh, uh..." 

Anyway, I'm energized by the new use of this space and the vision behind it. I hope you are too and that you'll keep coming back here to sit, think, love, pray and just be with me. 

Also, I owe a super deep bow of gratitude to my sister, my guru, my social media director and my dear, darling friend who worked to bring my blog up to date. Nikki Alexander, you are a woman among women and, like I've said 1 million times, I continue to be in awe of the fact that you love me as much as I love you. 

Friends, I look forward to the future of Love, Chels and the joy of having you to share it with.

Thank you for celebrating with me! 

So much more to come!

Love,

Chels

#kidmom

So, as I was saying, becoming a kid mom is a big deal. 
A delightful, scary, wonderful, exciting and life-changing big deal. 

So, naturally, a hashtag is in order. 

I had another "becoming a #kidmom" moment today when someone asked me what sports we were signing up for. 
Eloquently, I said "Um, huh?" 

Add it to the list, my friends! Baby moms don't get asked about sports or dance or gymnastics or science club or computer class or cheer camp or any of those other "extra-curriculars". 

So, yeah, there's that. Just prepare yourself. If you are approaching #kidmom-dom, questions about extra-curriculars are headed your way. 

Also, there was that time I was minding my own business, just flipping some pancakes, when Laila asked me out of the blue... 

wait for it... 

"But Mommy!! HOW does the daddy put the baby seed INTO the mommy's tummy???" 

Choke, cough, flip a pancake. 
Gather courage. 
Take a deep breath. Flip a pancake. 
Give self a mini pep-talk. You're a #kidmom now, Chapman. GET IT TOGETHER. 

"Well, my love, THAT is a very good question..." 

Stall, stall, flip a pancake... Look over the shoulder to see if she's still there. Yep. Still there. Irritated that I'm stalling (typical KID behavior)...

------

A little background for you, dear reader. We have SEVEN pregnant friends in our lives right now. Well, actually, three of the pregnant friends have given birth in the last few weeks so we now have 3 tiny babies and four pregnant mommies. For a super observant and analytical 4 year old like mine, this brings up all kinds of questions. So, the "Where do babies come from?" question came, like, 2 or 3 months ago. At that time, the conversation went something like... 

LG: "Mommy, where do babies come from?" 
~pause~
Me: "God! God gives us babies and they are precious gifts!"
LG: "Ok, great!" 
Me: (Whew!)

A couple weeks later, after she had thought about it awhile, she asked...
LG: "So, God gives us babies but HOW does He give them to us?"
~pause~
Me: "Well... see how Auntie's tummy is getting bigger and bigger? Remember how big (huge, gigantic, whale-like) Mommy's tummy got when Lydia was in there? So, we get babies from all the mommies' tummies!" 
LG: "Oh! Ok, great!" 
Me: (Yee-haw! I'm rocking this whole birds and the bees thing!)

A few days after that... 
LG: "But, Mommy, HOW does the baby get into the mommy's tummy in the first place??" 
~pause~
Me: "Well, a baby seed grows..." 
Interrupting - LG: "Mommy!! From where? What do you mean a baby seed?? Who waters it? Who feeds it? What does it look like??" 
Me: "Uh, I think I hear Lydia crying..."
LG: "Mommy!!" 
~pause~
Me: "Okay, well, the daddy puts the baby seed in the mommy's tummy, see, uh, and then God plus the mommy's body waters it and feeds it and it grows! It's a really beautiful and wonderful thing!" 
LG: "Ok, great! Maybe he puts the seed in her belly button! (giggling) That's silly!" 
Me: (RUNNING AWAY. LETTING HER DRAW HER OWN CONCLUSIONS. RUNNING FAR FAR AWAY.)

------ 

SO that brings us to that morning... when I was flipping pancakes... and shiz was about to get REAL. 

I put down the pancake flipper in order to communicate serious-ness. 
Deep breath. 

"Okay, Laila Grace, I'm going to tell you. But, before I do, I want you to understand that this is VERY SPECIAL and that a LOT of other kids don't know about this. You can always talk to me and Daddy about it but you may not tell any other children about it, got it?" (See, I'm thinking of you, fellow #kidmoms... Don't worry, your time will come, but I don't want it to come any sooner than it should on account of my "convictions" about age-appropriate honesty and, lets face it, my big mouth.) 

She nods. 

"AND ALSO, dear one, this is ONLY for a mommy and a daddy who are MARRIED to each other and who are GROWN UP, okay? Like, really grown up, like 30 years old, okay?" 

I didn't really say that part about being 30 but ya'll know I was thinking it! I mean, can I get a witness?? 

She nods. 
Deep breath. 
Internal panic. THIS IS REAL LIFE. 

"It's actually kind of silly, girlfriend, but the baby seeds are, get this, INSIDE the daddy's penis!" 

Blank stare. 

"SO... the daddy... puts his penis... inside... the mommy's vagina... and that is the whole truth about how the baby seed gets in there... okay?"

...

At that point, Laila looked at me wide eyed and, with utter sobriety, said "Mommy, that sounds dangerous!" 

"Yes, yes, Laila, it is. IT IS VERY DANGEROUS. NEVER EVER DO IT!!" 

Actually, ya'll know I didn't say that. Because I'm all about the truth (obviously - eye roll) and we all know that the truth is that sex is super awesome and totally so much fun!! 

Seriously, I love it. 

So, instead, I said... 

"Well, it can be, darling, if the two people aren't MARRIED and GROWN UP and in love with each other. IF they are married and grown up and in love with each other, it can be super fun."  

Then, I smiled sweetly at her, walked back around to the stove and finished making pancakes. Taking deep breaths all the way. 

My very observant and analytical 4 year old ate the pancakes happily and went on with her day.  Amazingly, everything was ok and she wasn't traumatized and I wasn't traumatized (too much) and I wondered if it had even sunk in... 

Until the next day when Laila declared that she was never EVER getting married because, "you know, the THING about the penis and the vagina???" 

So I allowed myself a little giggle and she giggled too and I said "You might change your mind, lovie." 

She vehemently assured me that she would not change her mind and I thought... #kidmom. 

This is the stuff of becoming a #kidmom. 

And I'm sure it is only the beginning. 

Love,
Chels

Sit with me awhile...

"Go home, weather, you're drunk." 

Yes, yes, on Sunday I wore a tank top, jeans and wedge sandals to church. This morning, its 28 degrees outside and my tennis shoes and running clothes are sitting right where I put them last night in preparation for my 5:15am wake up call. Because, when I looked at the weather app at 5:15am and saw that it was 28 degrees with a 10 mph wind, I thought to myself "Oh, heck no!" and picked up my computer instead. 

Its one thing to run in 28 degrees when its been, like, winter and your heart, body and mind are in the right state but, when you wore wedges to church less than 48 hours ago, your heart, mind and body are just plain confused. 

At least, mine are. 
Running has been a challenge for me lately anyway, ever since my ankle injury. I'm just not experiencing the same joy, excitement and "high" that I did when I was running in the summer and fall. I think I have to just keep putting on my shoes and getting out there over and over and over and over and over and over and then maybe the joy will come back to me. Maybe. Please? 
I hope so.

I'm just not putting on my shoes today. 

Instead, I'm here. 

Do you know how scary writing can be? And how dang hard it is? I'm reading "Yes, please" by Amy Poehler and she dedicates her entire preface and many, many sentences throughout the first couple chapters to talking about how hard it is to write. So many sentences that it gets a little tiresome... and, yet, my heart was cheering in agreement as I read. 

Because you want it to be good. 
Because you care so damn much. 
Because you want it to mean something. 
And, for me, when its been awhile since I've written, I feel so much pressure to really say something. You know? You KNOW? Saying "you know" always makes me think of Cuba Gooding Jr. in Jerry Maguire... "YOU KNOW??" 

Anywhoo.

But today I've decided not to feel too much pressure. So I apologize in advance if I don't say anything today. Maybe we could just be here together for a few moments, you and I. And maybe I won't have to have it all together... or make you laugh... or wow you with my grammar and vocabulary. 

Maybe we can just be. 

----

How was your Valentine's Day? 

Ours was absolutely dreamy. I mean, seriously, when I was a little girl and I thought about what life would be like with my husband and children, I'm sure that this kind of day is what I dreamt of. 

Valentine breakfast with heart shaped pancakes and roses from Trev for each of his girls, time with my love on the back porch drinking coffee while the girls played, a family walk with a stop at the park along the way, Trev sending Laila and I to get Valentine manicures together while he and Liddy napped, getting to take a long, leisurely shower and take my time getting ready for our date and then an amazing evening drinking beer, eating greasy hamburgers (with fries AND onion rings, because duh, its Valentine's Day), cheering the SMU Mustangs on to something like a 20 point victory over last year's NCAA tournament champions, coming home to exchange Valentines and love... It was absolutely perfect. 

With all the bad publicity that parenting sometimes gets, remind me to share more of those kinds of days with you. Because, seriously, our children are fun and funny, inspiring, creative, lovely creatures who bring so. much. joy. 
The good days far outweigh the hard ones. 

They are getting older. Obviously. This is the first season of Laila's life where I don't feel like I'm spending a lot of time looking forward to the next season. She is 4 AND A HALF and I don't know... 5 just seems so big. So kid-like. 

Her 5th birthday represents a new batch of experiences for her, kindergarten being the BIG ONE, and it also launches me into a whole new role. One that I've been feeling the magnets of the earth pulling me towards for some time now. Its a role I like to call "Kid Mom". 

She'll be a KID, not a baby or a toddler or a three-nager but a real, live kid. 

There are a whole host of things that kids do that babies do not do. 

Kids buckle themselves into their car seats. 
Kids wipe their own booties. 
Kids pick out their own clothes and heaven and earth be doomed if she doesn't get to wear what she wants!
Kids reason with their moms. 
Kids sometimes out-reason their mom. Wait, yours doesn't? That's just me? Oh, well, ok. 
Kids can be expected to sit sweetly at restaurants. 
Kids order their own water "in a kid cup, please". 
Kids go to bed with little to no drama. HallelujahthankyouJESUS. 

So, you see? Newness. New and wonderful and scary newness. 
I know that she is up to the challenge. 
She is already one super, incredible, amazing kid. 

I just hope I'm up to the challenge. 
Because there are things that Kid Moms do that Baby Moms do not do. 

Kid Moms answer tough questions. Maybe tomorrow I'll have the courage to write about my conversation with Laila Grace in which I told her the WHOLE TRUTH about s-e-x. Yes, yes, that. 
I did that. I'm a Kid Mom. 
Kid Moms nod encouragingly when seeing their kid take a risk. 
Kid Moms stand still with every muscle taut, ready to pounce like a lioness if said risk involves any sort of danger, all while smiling, nodding and saying "You can do it, my love! Go on!" while maybe feeling more like saying "You're too little for that! Come back! You might hurt yourself!" 

Because they're not too little, you know. She's a kid now. 

Kid Moms pack a lunch and a kiss and send their kids into that big, huge building with a prayer on their breath and a weight like bricks on their chests. 
Kid Moms get more sleep but less sleep because science projects and bullies and school field trips and other adults having influence and terrorists and monkey bars and glass doors and pressure to succeed and fear of seeing her kid fail and long division and BOYS... 

Geez Louise. 

----

You can do it, my love! Go on!

Go on. Come back.
Go. Wait, stay. Go.

Go, my darling. Mommy will always be here for you to come home to...

Go.

---

YOU KNOW?? 

Thank you for sitting with me here awhile. 

Love,
Chels

2 Presents Left

Well, its December 28th and there are 2 presents left unopened "under our tree". 

I say "under our tree" in quotation marks because we decided, in keeping with the tradition of not having a Christmas tree when we have an 18 month old in the house (we didn't have a tree the year Laila was 18 months old), we didn't get a tree this year. Our presents still looked lovely stacked in front of our fireplace, our stockings were still hung by the chimney with care, the rainbow lights still adorned the outside of the house, our Christmas knick-knacks still made it out of the boxes (placed up high, mind you) and Christmas still came. Even without a Christmas tree. 

It also came without the physical presence of Nonna and Papa. While we were face timing on Tuesday afternoon, Laila asked "Papa and Nonna, when will you be home?" Papa responded with something like "As soon as we can, sweetheart..." and she broke our hearts when she said "But its Christmas!" 

... 

We've been thinking that surely, SURELY they would be home next week. I told Laila so. 

But they won't be. 

Yesterday, Dr. Sands told Papa that he would need to stay in the hospital until Monday or Tuesday AND that he'll need to stay in Florida so that Dr. Sands can check him out until the following Tuesday. So, at least another week until they can come home. At least another week until Papa will start Tasigna, the chemo that will keep those leftover cancer cells from growing. 

To recap, a week after the surgery to remove the recurrent tumor, Papa developed a leak in the area of the rectum at the surgery site.  This required that he go back into the hospital for a temporary colostomy, a second surgery, that would allow the damaged area time to heal. After several days, he was released from the hospital.  During what we thought was a final follow-up to that second surgery, Dr Sands discovered an abscess in the wall of the rectum that needed to be flushed several times a day and drained in order to heal.  It also required IV antibiotics which meant he had to be admitted to the hospital a third time... and he's still there.

And, get this, apparently a LOT of people in the world like to go to Miami for the week between Christmas and New Year. Like, a lot a lot. As a result, Nonna and Papa are having a super hard time finding a hotel room that actually has a double bed or bigger for less than $300/night. Like, theres no room in the inn sort of thing. 

Friends, you can pray about that. An affordable place for Nonna and Papa to stay from the time they get out of the hospital to the time they are released to come home. 

You can also pray for Dad as he continues to learn how to handle "the apparatus" as we like to call it... and for the pain he's experiencing, as that has been a continuous struggle. 

I know that I usually end these sorts of updates with something about being positive and grateful. 

Yes, we are grateful and, yes, we are focusing on the positive but the bottom line is that Nonna and Papa are weary... weary of living out of suitcases, from hotel to hotel, hospital room to hospital room, paying for rental cars, being woken in the night for blood draws, pain medicine, IVs, laying in a bed, sleeping in a chair and being away from their children and their grandchildren. 

They are troopers, no doubt, but they are weary. 

Even so, every time we talk, they are both full of encouragement for me, love for each other and for all of us, words of wisdom for whatever I've needed to vent about and gratitude for each of you and your prayers. 

Onward! 

Love,

Chels

A Hitch

I should never have left Miami. 
I should have stayed on that sunny beach enjoying the adorable, overly-tanned, happily-retired, bike-riding, sun-bathing old people. 

Everything was fine before I left and now everything is in an uproar! 

Hear ye, hear ye, an update: 

Due to a weakness in the surgery area, a leak of sorts, Papa will undergo surgery tomorrow morning to have a temporary colostomy. 

A temporary colostomy is exactly what it sounds like, a "diversion" which will allow the surgery site to heal. The temporary part is what we're focusing on. 

Here's the deal: This surgery wasn't as cut and dried as the first one. The tumor was different, alive and kicking, whereas last time, it was calcified, like picking up a rock. When the surgeon was removing it, it crumbled, "seeding" the area, as they say, and making it very difficult to remove every single little bit. So the plan was to heal up, come home and focus on aggressively attacking whatever cancer cells were left behind with chemo. 

The plan was working. When I got to Miami on Friday morning, the day after the surgery, Dad looked great and was in great spirits. We laughed about the language barrier that existed with some of the nurses (hola, Miami!), the danger of catching pneumonia at the hospital and the super comfy cot that mom and I took turns sleeping on. (Or, actually "the cot on which my mom and I took turns sleeping... " if you're the kind of person who pays attention to dangling participles and all of that English major stuff...)

He was released to go "home" to the hotel on Saturday morning and all was well. We even took a sunny walk on the beach Saturday afternoon and attended the adorable little Hollywood community Christmas parade Saturday night. 

I left Miami Sunday evening, confident that everything would go as planned. 

Even Thursday, when my parents had a pow-wow with both Dr. Sands (the surgeon) and Dr. Trent (the oncologist), everything looked good and there was talk of Dad being cleared to come home to Texas early next week. In plenty of time for Christmas, I might add.

Friday evening, however, things took a turn for the worse. Mom and Dad found evidence of infection, called Dr. Sands and were back to the hospital for IV antibiotics for the weekend. You can imagine my surprise and disappointment when I went to answer the FaceTime call, expecting to see Papa lounging at the beach in a wide hat and Hawaiian shirt, sipping an umbrella-ed beverage with old people in the background and found him in a hospital bed instead. 

And, somewhere in the course of the weekend, Dr. Sands decided that the infection... caused by the leak which was caused by the tissue weakness... meant that a temporary colostomy would be necessary in order to ensure a complete healing. 

And, obviously, complete healing from the surgery is what we want. What we must have.

It's also what we NEED in order to carry on with the plan of aggressive chemo to zap away all the leftover cancer cells. 

SO, join us in prayer, dear ones. 

Let me be honest. What would be awesome is if God would just do the miracle of zapping the cancer cells FOR us and we could leave the whole pesky chemo thing out of it. How about we ask God for that? And also pray for Papa as he figures out all this colostomy stuff... for it to be as temporary as is wise and for Dr. Sands and Dr. Trent to know exactly how to proceed. Join me in praying for Nonna as well as she acts as Papa's support, laundrywoman, administrative assistant, liaison to the nursing staff, communicator to friends and family, etc, etc, etc. 
That woman is one amazing creature. 

And you are amazing too, friends. We appreciate all your hugs (physical and virtual), your texts and calls, your Facebook messages, your prayers, your friendships... Thank you. We could never say it enough.

Love,
Chels (and co.)

"We're taking the next train to Miami to see Papa!" -Laila Grace

I smile.

Well, after an afternoon spent decorating the house for Christmas and wrapping presents, there is a mountain of colorful and sparkly glitter in my dustpan.

I smile.

...

Yesterday, I overheard the following from Laila, behind a closed door:

Laila: "Jesus, why did you not make unicorns?... (pause)... Ok!... Well, thank you for making my Texas Rangers shirt... Goodnight!"

I smile.

...

And today, from the backseat:

Laila: "Lydia, repeat after me... Papa!"
Lydia: "Papa!!"
Laila: "Nonna"
Lydia: "... giggle ... Nonna!"
Laila: "Starbucks!"
Lydia: "Dy-puh!! (Diaper)"
(Hysterical little girl giggling...)

Smiling. Smiling. Grinning like a fool.

...

Yesterday and today, parenting by myself with no voice went far better than expected. The truth is that I have the sweetest, most understanding and darling little girls in the universe. As a result of this little bout of sickness, Lydia has learned to whisper (mimicking me) and blow her nose (mimicking me).

I smile.

...

Today is the day that my parents flew to Miami for my father's second tumor removal. Second sending into a deep, dreamless and unnatural sleep. Second waking to (aha!) no tumor pain (focusing on the positive) but also a process of recovery that is sometimes painful, always inconvenient and will likely mean that Nonna and Papa won't be home to spend Christmas with their granddaughters. They won't be spending Christmas with their children and children-in-law either but, let's be honest about who's really important.

Laila Grace. Stella Sloan. Lydia Kate.

Even so, we smile.

...

If, after all the things that go wrong in our lives go wrong and all the traffic that slows us down holds us up and all the things we are anxious about come to pass and all the difficulty that has to be endured is endured, I think that, if we try to smile... and we keep trying to smile... and then, one day, we DO actually successfully smile, I think it must get easier to smile again the next day. 

And the one after that.
And all the ones after that.

A recurring tumor is something. But so many people whom I love dearly have had to go through so, so much more. And, yet, they rejoice on facebook over their son's Christmas list, they meet me in the morning for a giggly and companionable run, they plan their wedding with excitement, they open their hearts to the hope of loving again, they find peace in the memory of the beloved parent they miss so desperately... they smile. And, by smiling, they inspire me, they challenge me, they fill me.

For all of you out there smiling in the midst of the pain, I join you.

I will smile.

Today marks the beginning of our family's second season of moving through cancer.
Today marks the beginning of our family's second season of moving away from cancer.
We have so much to smile about.

Love,
Chels