Can Jeans Change Your Life?

Well, they changed mine, anyway. Here's how: I'm thrifty. I prefer "thrifty" because I'm not cheap. Or even frugal. And definitely not penny-pinching. Thrifty: this means I live my spending life according to two key questions:

Do I need it or want it?

How can I spend the least amount possible to buy it?

Clothes are one way I ponder these questions, sometimes daily. We have five people in our house and, yes, they all wear clothes. Nakedness is so out. Thus, we must purchase clothing for three growing children, one picky woman, and one XXLT man.

That's a lot of cotton.

Since I dress most according to mood and function, I find my clothes encompass what I call the Colorado "caz" - aka jeans and t-shirts. I also wear gym clothes. But only 3-4 days a week, after which I shower and then change into one of the aforementioned ensembles. So, I used to figure, why buy high-priced brands when I can shop clearance?

While I still adhere to this principal of shopping, I've added just one small addendum. After Judsen was born and I spent the next year sweating my way back to pre-baby size - for the third time, ugh - we knew we weren't having any more children, and I started wondering, "Why not invest in what fits my body and makes me feel best? There's now no more rubber-banding as I swell and shrink according to pregnancy, so now's the best time to look and feel my best, right?" Right. Enter jeans changing my life.

If women's fashion had but one commandment, I'm certain it would be "Know what works for your body and wear it." Period. Levi jeans work for my body. All of them. Really. 501 straight slouch? Check. 505 button fly super lowcut dark? Check. 524 boot-cut, wide-tab, twist wash? Check. I never need to alter my size. I never need to wonder about the cut.

They. Just. Fit.

And oh do they feel good! Now, they are not Lucky's. They are not 7's. They bear no fruit on the pocket, no designer name on the band. But they're also not the cheapest...that is, if you get the bonified brand. But wearing them makes me feel comfortable and functional. And pretty. And all those feelings are important. And that's okay. So now I buy just one jean - that's all that's in my closet. Now I'm not suggesting all women have to do this: I'm merely suggesting we consider figuring out what we want to prioritize in our wardrobe according to the simple mantra of buying what we need because it fits and it feels good. Oh, and did I tell you the kicker?

I found a little-known gem on the web: www.levisstore.com. Here, you can buy Levi's Original ("Bonified") Blues. I shop their clearance and wait to receive a free shipping code via email. I never buy a pair for more than $19.90. Yummy for the wallet.

So, do I want it or need it? A bit of both, I suppose. How can I spend the least amount possible to buy it? Find a gem like I did, knowing I'm adhering to a life discipline and feeling good about the product all the while.

Ah, Levi's.

They have changed my life.

Holy-huh?

Being holy is hard. Any concept that it elementally tough to define...well, you know it's going to be even harder to live it. To me, simply put, holiness is the condition of existing as Christ's character. Set apart. Consecrated. Living well as well is defined. By Him. Despite my fleshly tendencies. I struggle most in this area in one key way: overlooking others' sins and failures as they relate to my relationship with them.

It's a lifelong, ain't never gonna stop, hard-hitting, character-building, roller-coaster ride of total success and complete failure...and everything in between. But, like most things, it's worth the effort it takes when I hear Him saying to my soul, "Well done. That's it. You are capable of this." And the brutality of hearing Him say, "That's not me. Not this time. Try again." is always enough to make me want to do better. Be better. Be holy.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Other people's birthdays are a bigger deal to me than my own. I love celebrating the day God brought my dearest loves into the world. I mean, He picked the date, He chose the time, He celebrates your arrival every day...why not throw a party?

That said, our house doesn't mark the adults' birthdays with a party every year...or, at least, not a party in the standard sense of the word. Every year is something special and, we've found at least, that as we get older, the number in the party isn't as significant as the people in the party. In other words (surprise, surprise), once again, quality trumps quantity at the Covak house. Craig's 37th birthday party was no exception.

And boy did we have fun! Listen: there's a freedom beyond phrasing when a group comes together and can just be. Just be, I say! Your opinions aren't censored, your laughter isn't contained. You can be feisty or quiet, flamboyant or subdued, riotous or calm...whatever emotion you've got...well, you can just be. Sometimes, those opinions are coarse - nobody cares. Often, your level is just a skosh too loud - nobody cares. Maybe your demeanor is just a bit timid - nobody cares. But your presence, your joy, your feeling of being loved and valued - about that, everybody cares. It is the art of friendship savored.

God's still there. He's still honored. He's still observed. But there's no pretense of having to be, of needing to be, even, on your best behavior. You can just be. That simple.

So, we came together with valued friends and relished our time spent. At Craig's request, I made Chicken Arrugula (a Covak signature dish) and his favorite dessert, Peanut Butter Icebox. We laughed. A lot. There was never a lull of awkward silence and all time was forgotten. Then we laughed some more and celebrated our friend's birthday just because he matters.

Now that's a good time.

That's a party.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

The Zitzmanns, The Covaks, The Bowles

Is Love Blind?

Craig turned 37 on January 2nd. It's funny - I look at my husband and realize he's fast approaching 40, but in my heart's and mind's eye, he's still the 21-year-old man I saw walking down a hallway carrying his Bible as I thought, "This is it. This is the one. I love this man." Sometimes I wonder if he'll always be this picture in mind even when gray peppers his brow and laugh lines crease his eyes. If I asked some endearing elderly man married some 60 years who still pulls his wife's chair out to seat her, would he tell me his eye still sees the woman he saw walking down the aisle in white? Is love blind in the absence-of-vanity, truly-see-your-soul kind of way?

I hope so. I believe so. For it is so...at least for me.

Divine Dining

I don't like to cook. I like to entertain and cook for dinner guests because I like to be hospitable and serve in my home. But I don't like to cook.

Thus, it comes as no surprise that I love to dine out. My favorite date, it should go without saying, is my husband and my best friend. But second to him, my favorite dinner dates are my core group of women: there's nothing more fun than enjoying good food and better company with the gals who absolutely influence my very character. It's divine dining, this delicate balance of edibles and earnest edification.

On this staycation, I got to go out to dinner with my friend, Z, with whom I sat for 4 hours at a restaurant, laughing and chatting and having just the best time. I relish her sharp brain and key insight and invaluable ability to process a situation in equal light of emotion and intellect. She is more compassionate than I, more prepared to let missteps go in favor of embracing the subtle joys that even the hardest situation can bring. She is godly, pursuing God wholeheartedly even as she admits her shortcomings while crediting Him her successes. She makes me want to be better in those areas without ever making me feel as if I'm lacking.

This, to me, is friendship - that ability to see me truly while accepting me fully.

And I didn't even have to cook.

The Blessing of Staycation

Yep, it's an urban dictionary kind of word, not high English. No, sir. Of course, the activity it describes isn't an example of lofty living, either...unless you reconfigure how you define lofty living. Other countries have cornered the market on the idea already, otherwise Americans wouldn't quip about how we need a siesta or an all-day happy hour or an escape to...well, anywhere they have staycation built into their general culture.

I learned the term in the way all education foremost occurs these days...on Facebook! Joke, of course. But a friend from college posted she and her family of 7 were on staycation. Now, noting the number of children she and her husband have beautifully birthed, I deduced this must be code for "temporarily out-of-touch as we search for our lost sanity amidst the generally overwhelming chaos we face each day and call, affectionately, life." Alas, this was not the case. Upon my inquiry, my friend, Laura Lynn, explained to me that staycation is the world of escape where you spend no money to eat, lodge, or travel but still effectively remove yourself from everyday living. How you accomplish this feat is entirely up to you...here's some of what we do.

We steadfastly refuse to get up and moving from our house before the rooster-crowing hour of 10 am. Yes, 10 am. The only morning person in our flock is Grace who is, thankfully, happy to settle into a good book or craft project until the rest of the house is ready to engage. Craig and I take turns sleeping in and keeping the morning routine simple. I like to cook big breakfasts, so I'll do that when the mood and hungry bellies strike. After that, we have no schedule. The Covak Couple aren't big lovers of the schedule...surprise you? I may be type A, but I'm married to a man who has built his own type - one that most definitely does not include either the need for tight structure or the desire to please anybody. Thus, as God has ingeniously planned, Daddy has brought Momma around to his way of thinking, and I no longer need a schedule or structure to feel happy. In fact, I argue that having no plan is, in fact, having a plan. Let it go. Live. Make it up as you go along!

Some days, we go to the gym where Craig and I can work out at the same time, if not together, since we can't do this regularly. We either eat out or order in more often than our usually budgeted once a week so I get a relief from cooking. We play board games, turn on the Wii, and read whole books in one afternoon (well, Gracie and I do). Craig and Grace also play Farmville and strategize on the best crop return (yea, I don't get it. But they love it, so that's great). We might hit the library, paint a wall, crochet a new purse, or oil the kitchen cabinets. We take naps and only throw in laundry when the underwear supply gets low. Listen, this is the way to enjoy a vacation, and we highly recommend it. And, while it does take some sacrifice (Craig plans ahead to take the entire last week in December off to revel in a staycation), it's worth knowing that we've relaxed without the hustle and bustle true vacations require...how many of us have returned from a trip away only to droop our shoulders and moan, "I need a vacation from my vacation!" Uh-huh.

But the best part of staycation is the mood it strikes. Though we're all at home, we're removed from the "real world," engaging only when and how we want. This leaves us all feeling rejuvenated, open to the peace that type of calm brings. So we end up having the conversations we most want to have when we're trying to squeeze in dinner around school, church, friends, jobs, errands, chores, basic hygiene....We talk to Grace about how much she loves her brothers. Elijah explains whole chapters of his internal book of how the world works and God within it. We notice that Judsen's face is becoming more little boy and less baby. I hold my husband and watch silly movies, thankful for another year of hearing his heart beat. And, best of all, I sit on my couch and look at them all...every face and little body...I hear each laugh and smell every head, reveling in how God's let them all be mine. At least for now. I picture every friend's face and reflect on spending time with each one of them, and find my cup overflows. I have been blessed.

So, try it some time, and let me know what you think. And, if you do it already, viva la difference! Screen your calls and leave your evenings to yourself to recline emotionally and physically, engaging your family more than your planner, Iphone, Blackberry, or Outlook. And hear your body and soul as they sigh, repleted, with a hefty, "Ahhhh. Thank you." And know that you are blessed.

I'll Take Note of the Lesson

Most parents will tell you, if you wonder what your selfishness and self-centeredness looks like in the eyes of another, you need look no further than the same behaviors in your children. I write a lot about the positives of Mommy land, probably because there's far more positive than negative about it in my heart. But, just to be clear, that don't mean there ain't none!

Tonight was a perfect example. We're on staycation this week...the explanation of that will come in another post. But, in summary, this is code for lazy week at the Covak house. We usually do it this week every year because, well, we can. Craig has the time off work, the kids are on week #2 of break, my honey's marking another birthday, and there isn't much happening on the social calendar. So we spend our days on no particular time schedule, flying by the seat of our pants and relishing each family moment. Today's agenda was a case in point: Craig slept in while the kids and I fixed breakfast and laughed. We opened each one of the kids' new board games from Nana (another annual treat) and played them each in turn. Daddy made lunch while Mommy blogged (wink, wink) until it was time to finally get out of jammies and go on a "family date." In short, we gave our days to our kids, just because we love them and enjoy embracing time with them. We asked for nothing in return...until one request sent the evening into a tailspin.

After dinner, Craig and I decided to squeeze in a quick errand to an electronics store (we're shopping for a flat panel...aghast!!) and I asked Grace to keep her eye on Judsen as he circled our feet. And what do we soon see? Judsen, strolling ever so nonchalantly toward the open automatic doors while Grace is 15 feet away staring at open space. Um. Huh? When I ask her what's going on, she replies, "It's hard to focus. And I didn't want to watch him anymore because it's boring." At this statement, I'm inwardly spinning in violent circles until I find myself airborne, flames sparking behind me as I shoot into the stratosphere.

Yeah, I was ticked.

Outwardly, as Grace continues to ramble on, I say, "No more talking. No. More. Talking. I need silence from you until we get home." We then complete the questions we had, gather up the wanderer, and secure the other two blondies, too, before we head to the car. I inform Craig of the happening, to which he only sighs. I mean, seriously, what else can one say to that?

Well, how about this: Grace still has the potential for irresponsibility in the slightest of areas. Red alert! ALL children do. But here's my big learning moment: this moment is also about me, for as stupified as I was with Grace's behavior and her subsequent explanation of it, I've done and said worse to my own Father. I've told Him I'm too tired when He asks me to serve or complained to Him of my sacrifice without sufficient love in return. I've whined about my lack of focus and willingness to obey Him. I've even hung my head in self-pity and wondered if I even matter to Him at all. And this in response to a Son sent to die on a cross for my salvation. Hmmm....

So, I'll call myself student on this one. Of course, I'll teach Grace...again...about responsibility and playing on the family team. About sacrificing for one you love despite your emotion at any given instant. About how it's hard to be the oldest...but it's great to be it, too...and about how love transcends any mistakes we make with any consequences that come.

But as I'm teaching her, I'll take note of the lesson myself...seems maybe I need to be reminded of those truths, too.