zach n kali

A few weeks ago I went on my first "first date" in about 10 years.  I'm a bit out of the whole dating-game.  As we looked at each other across the table, each of us awkwardly clutching our drinks, I couldn't think of a single good conversation starter.  Each one felt stilted; I'd know this person for a few years, so the basics were out of the question.  I knew the number of siblings, the favorite food, their opinion on most sporting events.  But it just didn't feel right jumping into questions like their views on education reform or religious freedoms or political opinions.  Who wants to be that girl?  But as I looked into the most gorgeous blue eyes I'd ever seen, I felt myself wanting to know only one thing, asking the same question I had almost two years ago when I first held this beautiful little girl in my arms: "Who are you, little one?" A month away from her second birthday and I still don't know.  You would think that as a Stay-At-H

Dear Little One, How many more days of unending giggles and tickles? How many more "Mommy come snuggles!"? How many more looks of gleeful delight when I tell you we're having popcorn for snack? How many more times will you sit on my lap and read with me for hours? How many more stories like "Captain Hook and the Burning Bush?" How long till answers of "Fine." when I ask you how your day was? How long till you stop asking me to play Peter Pan? How long till sports will take over your life? How long till a new girl steals your heart? Can't think about the passing time.  Can't think about the days ahead.  All I can do today is take the snuggles and giggles, the silly sound effects, and spontaneous "I love yous!" and hold them close to my heart, thankful that I get to be a part of your life today.  I know it's only Preschool, but it marks the start of a new chapter, a scary one, one that says you're not a baby by a

There.  I said it.  Now, why is that so hard to admit?  Why is it that I feel the need to put on a happy face and pretend that I am so constantly energized by my two bouncing children that I want to take on the whole world; that being a stay-at-home mom is the greatest single feat I have ever and will ever accomplish?  Why can't I just say that I love what I do, but I'm tired - that there are highs and lows to every day, just like there are in the working world? ** Side Note: If you aren't a stay-at-home mom, feel free to insert your own job.  I simply say SAHM because it's my job.  But I'm sure everyone has felt these things, be you a teacher, a doctor, a marine biologist, or a wedding planner (those are just some of the other things I wanted to be growing up). So why can't I admit that I am bone-tired?  It's pretty simple, really. I would rather say, "Hi, I'm SuperMom!"  Because being honest, might make it seem like I made a mistake in my

Worship is a wonderful thing.  To live your whole life as such is something to strive for. I heard a story about a man who would set his alarm throughout the day to remind himself to stop and pray, with the goal being that he would train himself to always be in the Spirit.  But some days worship is the last thing on our minds.  Sometimes your environment - sometimes the very thing that makes you want to worship - tries to keep you from doing just that.  The nature that usually brings you closer to the Lord is suddenly hailing giant pellets on you as you run across the parking lot or blowing your lawn chairs across the pool.  The music that usually transports you to another place screeches in your ears as the microphones give off nasty feedback.  And sometimes "Mama!" is the last thing you want to be called.  The sound of your name being called for the umpteenth time as you are trying to have a conversation with another adult is grating to your ears.  The little body that usua

Over the past few months I've been in somewhat of a drought. A dark night of my soul, if you will. I haven't felt fulfilled. I haven't felt productive. I haven't felt like myself. I've wondered whether or not I should re-enter the workforce, whether we should take another foster placement, whether I can get away with spending the day in bed because I just feel so blah.   When I went to the dentist the other day, she asked how in the world I could possibly stay home with two little ones. She never would have the patience. Considering what I look like at the end of most days, I don't really have an answer.  Trust me, I do not have super-natural patience.  I've tried reading self-help books with campy titles such as The Stay At Home Mom Survival Guide and Stay Home, Stay Happy, hoping to find some validation, some joy, some peace.  And yet I still feel like I'm paying $300 a month to wipe bottoms (thanks, student loans!).   I've been struggling late

It's been a few weeks since our sweet baby D went back home to his family.  What a roller coaster! Sometimes fun, sometimes exhausting, sometimes frustrating, sometimes fulfilling... you name it, we probably felt it.  And our family grew in leaps and bounds.  After a very rough first week, I told Zach that I didn't think we could do it, that I was too tired, and that the kids were suffering - suffering, gasp, because they no longer had my complete and undivided attention!  Suffering because they had to wait their turn, and suffering because my lap was sometimes filled with someone else!  And Zach said the most amazing thing, the thing that carried me and will carry me through each new placement.  He said, "Our kids are fine.  They know that we love each other and that we love them.  Matt is at an age where he needs to learn that we have an open home, that we love other people too.  And Peyton is at an age where she needs to learn that she is not the center of the world.&qu

 Spring has sprung here in southern California, and the gorgeous photogenic days mean one thing in the Hocking household - dirt.  I saw this adorable wall decal once that defined "Boys" as "noun.  Noise with dirt on it". Truer words may have never been spoken.  But let's not count out little girls.  Sweet P might be sugar and spice and everything nice, but earlier today she looked like she had a beard.  I'm sure the dirt offers some sort of protein.  I think I've already swept up an inch of dirt off my living room floor today.  Dirt has always been my enemy.  I'm not fond of camping because of dirt.  I don't like gardening because of dirt, and sometimes I don't like the beach because of dirt.  And then I had toddlers, and Dirt became a supervillian that you could make a movie out of.  When I look at my dirt-speckled children, all I can think about is how all that dirt will soon be in my house.  I'm just done.  Over it.  Ready to grab the

I will be the first to tell you that I am not big on exercising.  At least not on the actually ACT of exercising.  I love the theory of it - taking care of your body, extending your life, increasing your endorphin levels, becoming stronger and more balanced... but if it requires me to become the least bit uncomfortable, I'd rather pass. I'd also be the first to tell you that I'm passionate about many things.  The first probably because my introverted, shy, and rather passive personality does not leave me big on expressing these passions.  If it will cause contention or disagreement, count me out.  If I have to speak in public, eek.  If I have to defend myself against a difference of opinion, I'll keep my mouth shut. Now what if there was something that could get me off my lazy butt and support a cause that I care deeply about?  What if I could get myself to exercise and get all those benefits while using my voice to spread a message?  Well wouldn't you know it,

My sweet husband came home for lunch today, my birthday, with cupcakes and a grand gesture - he would let me take a shower while he kept an eye on the kids.  Great.  This is what my life has come to.  My birthday present is a shower.  And... I'm excited about it. The past three months of three three and under have been rough.  Some days I have felt like I've just gone through the motions.  Some days are so monotonous that I really can't even tell you how the week's been.  And some days have been so rough that I just want to cry into my pillow at night, feeling like an utter failure.  And some days are so fun that I can't wait to tell anyone and everyone that I am the luckiest person in the world with the best job.  And those days often have to carry me through the others. The problem with all of that is that I'm relying on other people and circumstances to make me happy.  I am relying on "something" to make the day worth it.  And in this process, I

I love Anniversaries!  Be they wedding anniversaries, birthdays, celebrating the first day you bought a car, I love taking time out of the mundane to celebrate special moments.  Our wedding anniversary is one of my favorite times of year.  We are really bad at having regular date nights (unless zoning out while watching The Good Wife counts, because we're really good at that!), so it's really important for us that we take time to just be together, distractionless, reliving our highs, talking through our lows, and recharging.  For our fifth anniversary last year we went to the Bahamas for a week.  Other years we've gone back to our favorite spots in Cambria and St. George. This year we managed to swing a private viewing of the Aquarium of the Pacific with a romantic dinner for two from one of our favorite restaurants.  We had a babysitter, a romantic table, and a piano nearby with someone ready to serenade us as we ate and watched the sharks swim lazily by.  The table migh

Philip Yancy.   Torn .  Rachel Held Evans.  Thomas Keller.   What's So Amazing About Grace?  God Will Use This For Good.   John McArthur.   The Wounded Healer.   Joni Eareckson   Tada.   In The Name Of Jesus.  These books and authors have helped me work through countless questions, fears, and heartache.  They have encouraged me in my darkest times and helped me heal through the pains of life.  My Goodreads "To Read" shelf is full of books like Max Lucado's It's Not About Me and The Missional Mom by Helen Lee.  I have wept through them, journaled quotes that stood out, and been lifted up as God shows up time and time again.  These authors, and countless others, have put my own struggles into beautiful words, and have found answers to things I thought were hopeless. But do you see something missing?  Where's the Bible on this list?  Why is it that when my heart hurts I Google some of my favorite writers or bloggers to see what they have to say on the matte