Category Archives: Personal

Day 6: Cry me a River {#write31days}

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Pardon me while I spill my guts…

For the past 48 hours, I have cried at the drop of a hat. A nail went into a board crooked: sobbing. My baby fell asleep while rocking: sobbing. I looked at our pitiful dog: sobbing. Our three-year-old decided he needed to jump on my back without warning me: sobbing. Stared at piles of boxes in garage: sobbing.

It seems that e v e r y t h i n g has hit me at once. It’s as if I didn’t realize until a couple days ago that this moving thing is actually going to happen–granted something could fall through last minute. {Please spare me your horror stories of closing day catastrophes}, but it seems things are actually falling into place and we are moving in FIVE days. We don’t have to be out until the 17th, but this coming Saturday is the ONLY one between now and closing. AHHHHHHH. So for the past 48 hours, anything I see triggers a memory or some thought that leads to tears. Thoughts about how we are leaving the only home my babies have ever known, or all our Christmases as a married couple have been within these walls. These walls have heard the first giggles and first words of my boys. They’ve heard my cries of desperation during middle of the night feedings. And I am suddenly scared to death to leave them.

C.S. Lewis quotable

I know the wise words of C.S. Lewis, “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind,” but if I’m being perfectly candid, that doesn’t help me not want to just curl up in a ball and cry. I don’t do well with change, but in the next five days, I’ll have to put my big girl pants on and “do the next thing.”

Any words of wisdom or encouragement regarding change/transition/moving?

Day 4: Izzy {#write31days}

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The only other female in our house, is our dog Izzy. She is my husband’s “daughter.” He loves her like a human being–they cuddle every night, and she craves his attention. Also, if the boys or I are messing with him in any way, all he has to do is say, “Izzy!” and she’s on the attack. I got her from a shelter six years ago as a Christmas gift for the hubby. For two years she was our only “child,” and she slept on our bed with us every night until baby boy two came along. She’s highly intelligent, fiercely loyal, active, loud, and loving. She also has lymphoma.

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We’ve known for a month now, and she’s on some medication to see if it will send it into remission–there’s a 50% chance. I dread the day–be is soon or far away that she is no longer with us. The boys LOVE her, and every time we walk in the door after being away, they say “Izzy!” and try to find her. Moving will be a HUGE adjustment, but losing Izzy will quite possibly be harder. Harder to explain, and I’m certain, will bring many more tears than packing boxes does. For now, hopefully we will fiercely love our crazy dog a fraction of the amount she loves us.

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Edited to add: On October 18, 2014, Izzy passed away in the arms of her “daddy.” We will forever miss her and are grateful for the way she fiercely loved us. 

Sometimes he teaches me

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Ever had a bad night? Like a REALLY bad night? Like you actually have the thought that you need to escape the room/house or you may physically harm an animal or dog? I hope that’s not just me….

Bedtime can be an absolute beast at our house, especially on football nights. My boys are generally well-behaved, fun to be around, full of laughs and sweet. However, if Daddy is gone and it’s after 8 pm, it’s like a switch is flipped. I know there are many nights my attitude doesn’t help–by that time of day, I’m DONE. EXHAUSTED. Between, work, house showings, cooking, the everyday runnings of a household, being a wife and mom, I’m just plain TIRED. So when 9 pm rolls around and both boys are STILL GOING STRONG, I start to have a slight mental unhinging. (Also, it never fails, our dog will bark or pace at this point, which usually leads to me spouting obscenities at her–in my head.)

Recently, the hubby was gone to a middle school football game, and bed time came…after 49 minutes of rocking the baby brother, I attempted to just lay down with him. After an additional 20 minutes of literal kicking and babbling, big brother came to join us. The following 15 minutes consisted of a lot of threatening, then moving big brother to his room. Finally, the boys seemed to be calming down, but only after lots of tears and screaming. At long last, around 10:02 pm, baby brother fell asleep, and when I went to tuck big brother in, he looked at me and said, “Momma, I want God to help me take a nap.” Me too, little guy! Me too.

How often, do I NOT ask God to give me grace during what seem to be the small, mundane moments? I have a terrible voice that tells me He has bigger fish to fry, and my boys going to sleep is not something I need to trouble Him. How wrong! He cares about the everyday, mundane acts–the ones that seem so small but can so quickly become overwhelming. I’m hoping and praying that next time bedtime is a beast, and I’m doing it solo that I am reminded of my toddler’s sweet thought that “God can help us take a nap.”

Ambition?

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I’ve been mulling over something Mark Bearden said recently at our church, ANY goal, plan, or ambition that is not driven by the glory of God and the advancement of His Kingdom is selfish ambition. {I’ve paraphrased, as I don’t remember his exact words.}

This REALLY hit home–how often do I make plans, dream of the future, and not give any thought at all to the advancement of God’s Kingdom and HIS ultimate glory? Instead, I focus on what will bring me the most personal fulfillment, pleasure, praise or monetary gain.

I have dreams of operating a successful photography business, dreams of an Etsy store, dreams of being a SAHM/WAHM, dreams of gardens, and *gasp* maybe even a couple chickens and a compost bin. Are these things that I want to do for ME or will they bring God glory and honor? Will I advance His Kingdom and make His name known?

Will what I do MATTER in eternity?

Perhaps an update is appropriate…

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This will probably end up being a rather lengthy, random, catch-all post of sorts….perhaps I’ll find the time to add pictures later.

Summer is over. {Insert sad-face emoji here} I had some rather good intentions about blogging over the summer, but chose instead to ignore those intentions and focus on putting our house on the market. We spent June “playing”–zoo trips, parks, walks, play dates with friends, VBS, Jim Thorpe game, cleaning, decluttering, more cleaning, more decluttering. On July 1st, we met with a realtor, and by July 6th, our home was listed online with photos. Ever since, we’ve had a s t e a d y stream of showings along with one offer (the buyers backed out within two weeks of offering though). Unfortunately, things don’t seem to be moving very quickly. I’m learning more in this time than ever before to just trust God’s timing. He holds the world in His hands, so I’m pretty sure He can handle the selling of our place. Also, since football season is in full swing, I’m not too keen on someone buying it *NOW* because I’d end up doing 90% of the packing, searching for a new place, and the stressing. Oh and  Mom and I have less than a month before Junk Hippy, so there’s that….

Basically, life is busy, overwhelming, and I’m having to DAILY choose to meditate on Isaiah 26:3-4, “You will keep {her} in perfect peace, because {she} trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for in God the Lord, we have an everlasting rock.”

Well, poop.

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Almost four years ago, I was expecting my first child. With that came certain expectations–in all honesty, I wanted a girl. I wanted a dainty, precious, tender-hearted sweet girl who would sleep on a schedule, never get into anything dirty, play with dolls, and paint nails. God has a sense of humor, and at times it seems a little twisted to me. Four years and two boys later there is nothing dainty about our house, and there is LOTS. OF. DIRT. See this precious face….would you guess that this face has to be washed EVERY night because it’s usually covered in dirt, snot, food, and who knows what else?

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That sweet face, well, he ate poop. The hubby and I were sanding and cleaning off the siding on the house in an effort to get ready to sell (whole other post), and the boys were playing at their sand table. I glanced to do a check and make sure they were still getting along somewhat peacefully. I was puzzled when I noticed H was chewing something with a rather disgusted look on his face. Immediate panic set in when I crammed my fish-hook finger in his mouth to scrape out what he was chewing…poop. Dang dog poop. In four years we’ve had our fair share of poop encounters, but this was the grossest to me…my child was eating poop. I debated googling what to do, but figured that would just end in the assumption that he was going to die from it, so cringing, I broke out the water hose, did my best to scrape any remains of feces out of his precious mouth, and let him guzzle water.

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Thank you God for your sense of humor, precious boys who eat dirt and poop, but thank you most of all for letting them survive it! Also, if my little guy ever argues with me about trying a new food, I’m going to remind him that he was willing to try dog poop, so he sure as heck can try anything!

 

Three Point Five {on my baby being three and a half}

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T I M E   F L I E S

Last night, he walked out of the garage to follow his daddy and “help” mow. I reminded him about staying off the street because of “fast cars,” and he immediately replied “I’ll be fine” with a thumbs up. I laughed on the outside, but mostly in an effort to avoid crying.

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Everyday he says something clever, new, and I am amazed at what a spectacular young man God has given us. I worry (waaaaaaaaaay too much) that the influences of the outside world, other people, and media will harm him, but I MUST remember that our Heavenly Father loves him infinitely more than I can even begin to imagine.

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He admires his Daddy, me, and by the Grace of God, we’ll do our best to show him Christ’s love and help him learn that his greatest calling is to glorify God, love Him and love others.

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Having him look at me with his 3 and half year old wisdom and say “I’ll be fine,” was a heavenly reminder that God is in control and the plans He has for my little man are greater than any I can think of.

DSC_6775He is a fierce lover (and sometimes fighter), passionate, assertive, creative, intuitive, and just plain fun! I can’t wait to see what the rest of “three” is like!

Brownie Baking {also known as the time I realized my baby isn’t a baby}

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So, my hubby took some fun pictures of C licking the brownie bowl. (Sorry, Betty Crocker, I know you have a note on the back of your box saying never to consume raw brownie batter, but c’mon! In my world, 87% of the reason I make brownies is so I can lick the bowl and/or spoon.) Anyway, when I uploaded these images, I may have gotten a little teary. My baby is not a baby, and I’ve known this for a while, but now he doesn’t even look like a toddler! He is a boy! A small man-child!

Random side-note: we have been ruined and can no longer make brownies without adding Reese’s peanut butter chips.

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