Turn it up!


God used music to heal us.

Every Saturday and Wednesday my articles are featured on Moms of Faith – Mom blog, but you don’t have to be a mom to visit, no one will check you at the door for mom parts. 😉

Over there you’ll find a different side of me than is usually present here at clothedwithJoy and it’s been a growing experience for me to push myself in this way.

This week I’ve written about music, worship and the healing that it has brought our family. Check it out at the link provided here – “Turn It Up, Mom!”

Thanks! – Rebecca



I’ve shared a few times what prompted me to start (and keep on) writing this blog (Why I Blog, Why Do YOU Write and Clothed with Joy.) One fruit of blogging has been the opportunity to be a writer for a faith based blog called Moms of Faith. Starting today my articles will be featured every Wednesday and Saturday.

This is very exciting, yet so intimidating at the same time. The articles I write for Moms of Faith are a different side of me than is usually seen here at Clothed with Joy – a much more vulnerable side. Plus, I’m writing for someone else and a bigger audience – so I’m sure that plays into the shaky elbow feeling as well.

My first article is called “When Everything is Not Awesome.” Even if you are Not a mom,take a minute and hop on over there – there’s no check in required, you will not need to show your stretch marks as proof of motherhood.

My hope is that the words I write hold messages of truth, blessing and healing that transcend gender, marital status, parenthood and belief system.

Find link here: When Everything is Not Awesome



Naked in a KFC Bathroom.


Not me. Not ever. Thankfully.

The five year old. She’s so petite that when there is input there is an immediate output. Hence, we visit a lot of restaurant bathrooms. And, of course, she cannot poop with anyone in the room. (Bonus for me.)

However, she must also be naked.

After a couple of minutes I’ll hear the call through the Ladies Room door.

“MOM! I’m done!”

In I go and there she is. Naked. On the pot. All articles of clothing including shirt, shoes and socks in a pile on the bathroom tile. As I redress her I ponder how this could possibly be the same child who says things like, “Can I eat this french fry?” after it’s fallen on our living room floor.

I assume they teach her that germ/don’t eat food off the floor stuff in Pre-K because she sure didn’t learn it at home.

If I Were Sherlock

This note, if I were Sherlock.


1. Author: Pre-adolescent girl. The sheer expressiveness of it makes that obvious, even if you failed to notice that the double exclamation marks were dotted with a smiley and the single exclamation with a heart.

2. The heart and smiley also indicate that she must comprehend on some level that her mother (to whom she is writing) will most certainly NOT take this note seriously, and after photographing and blogging about it will positively dump it in the trash (with all other notes of this sort.)

3. There is a pronounced annoyance that proclaims that the writer (said girl) could not move on with her life (which most likely means removing skinny jeans and replacing them with jammie pants and then laying on her bed watching Netflix on her Kindle) until she got this unpardonable situation off her chest.  I.e. – she is undoubtedly of the high drama sort.

4. The fact that she apparently could not handle (at almost 11) walking a 5 year old the three and a half blocks home from school, with the assistance of FOUR crossing guards, is somewhat alarming and tends to add weight to point 3.

5. It appears that dishing out some discipline to the younger sibling is the note writer’s call to action.


Bad Words

This post could step on some toes, but I’m just going to say it – I don’t like foul language. As in, I don’t use it. I think it has a lot to do with what I discussed in my post Dignity.

And as much as I don’t like it, my thirteen year old can’t stand it. The other night I said, “What the heck…” and all heck broke loose. “Mom, you already say ‘crap,’ now this is just too much.”

Sheesh, I didn’t realize I was such a potty mouth.

When I was growing up the “Sh” word meant “shut up” and the “F” word was “fart.” And I’ve kept it that way in my own home, although fart has moved into the “acceptable” language realm. Just don’t say it around my mother.

My seven year old is, of course, totally concerned with what is and is not appropriate to say. At least once a day we discuss words that may or may not be “bad.”

“Mom, can I say ‘oh my?’ Mom, is ‘yikes’ a bad word?”

The word stupid gets brought to the table quite often. Is stupid a bad word? Well, not technically, but like guns, it all depends on how you use it. Occasionally, “stupid” gets back on the list of words they can say but it rarely lasts five minutes before somebody done called somebody stupid and, just like that, “stupid” is once again off the table and back on the list of bad words.

English is a second language for all four of my children, so the discussion of what words are “bad” happens a lot around here. Of course I don’t use “bad language” at home but they still hear it in school and on TV so they are often confused about what is and is not appropriate to say.

The other day my thirteen year old and ten year old were discussing the word “dammit” and if it was a “bad word” or not. I explained the origin and clearly emphasized that it was on the “bad” list. Let’s fast forward to the next day while I am standing with the five year olds and their moms outside of school waiting to go into Pre-K. You know where this is going… My little P decides to hop across the center walk way and very loudly proclaim, “DAMMIT!” for no reason at all.




The fact is, I was more concerned with what others would think of me as a mother than why my little one said that. Sigh.

bad words

Little Stinker









PS: She was, of course, immediately corrected and set back on the straight and narrow. 

There’s a Barbie Band-Aid on My Ankle

At some point during my teenage years I paged through my mother’s yearbook. To my great surprise I discovered that Joan, my Very Own Actual Mother, was known for “always having her nose in a book.”


In all my live-long days I never witnessed this. Mom. Reading a book.


Today, speaking as one on whom motherhood has also descended, I get it.

In High School I was voted “Talks the Least and Says the Most” in the yearbook. Unfortunately, there was a typo and it actually said, “Talks the Most and Says the Least.” Ha ha yearbook editor person. Very funny.

The point is, I was the nerdy, quiet kid discretely reading my Piers Anthony Xanth novel hunched over behind the boy in front of me during Geometry class. Reading was my passion.


Neither do I. But it hasn’t been very many.

Oh Mom, I get it now.


I get it.

Mom’s Day Out


Once a year my BFF gives me a day all to myself. She promises to watch my kids, gives me a Gift Certificate for a massage and tells me to do whatever I desire the rest of the time.

Best. Gift. Ever.

Me.  Stymied.

On a regular day, hiding in my heat-less office feeling my toes go numb is what I do to relax. A trip to the bathroom with no one calling my name is treat. Shipping my kids off to bed at exactly 8:59pm on a Sunday night so I can watch The Walking Dead in peace? – Highlight of my week.

But a Whole Day?

What I’d really like to do is drive across the United States visiting national parks, but I doubt I can fit that into six hours. Dang it.

nat park

So, in the end, I will fall back on my old faithful.

Part 1. Massage

Part 2. Movies

Part 2 also. Eat lunch at the movies.

Pick up kids.

Massage and Movies – it’s not quite a road trip to Yellowstone, but I’m not complaining. It’s gonna be a good day.