Day 15: Home {#write31days}

Day 15: Home {#write31days}

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Make a Move {#write31days}

I am joining The Nester and tons of other great bloggers for a challenge to #write31days. I could be absolutely insane adding this to my already full plate; however, I’m eager to use the accountability to increase my writing as well as connect with others across the ‘net.

I thought long and hard about what I could write about for 31 days–and I finally decided that I should just address the current challenge in my life–Making a Move. Our house is {finally} under contract, and we will need to be in a new place in a month! While my initial response is to absolutely FREAK. OUT. I’m reminding myself that God has got this–the birds of the air are taken care of and so am I!

 

Make a Move 300
Check back October 1st and the 30 days following to see how CRAZY life can be when you’re making a move and {hopefully} how to survive {and possibly thrive} in the middle of it all!

 

Perhaps an update is appropriate…

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.”

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

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.

brownies

Picture Dump

I’ve been playing around on PSE 10 and making a few collages and things…

hudsoncollage

My Chill Boy {16 Months}

An ode to 16 months…

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

Smiles, Brown Bear, Brown Bear,  brothers laughing, chasing…thuds, screaming!

“Puppy!” “Doggy!” “Izzy!” belly laughs.

Applesauce pouches, pasta, FRUIT, goldfish crackers, Momma’s milk.

Raspberries on my belly, gap-toothed grins, chasing bubbles.

“Nana” “Papa” “lalalala” “Dadda,” dimpled cheeks.

Squirmy, running, exploring, spinning, ear-tugging.

Water play, eating dirt, dirt in hair, running in rain, chin-quivering grins.

Sweet snuggles, lap-sitting, airplane-watching,

up

and

down

up

and

down

stairs, couches, steps, beds.

Bouncing, bouncing, Momma’s songs….lean to the left, itsy bitsy spider, VEGGIE TALES.

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

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My sweet chill boy (when you’re not teething),

I love you so! You bring us such joy and laughter. Your big brother loves to play (and sometimes torture) you. Your daddy loves to make you laugh, and I count you as one of God’s greatest gifts.

You are a treasure, worth more than anything under the sun or the moon.

Love, Momma

 

Six Years

Happy Anniversary to me and my man! Six years ago today I was all nervous-giggly and talkative. (I get SUPER talkative and giggle WAY too much when I’m nervous or anxious.)  A lot of our wedding day is a blur, but I do remember a cold shower–our hotel had hot water issues–make-up at the Clinique counter with some of my bridesmaids, not having much to eat because of nerves, and having some of my closest friends hold my wedding dress up while I used the bathroom. I remember our pastor encouraging me to always be Rusty’s cheerleader and encourager…something I admit I could work on more. I remember our limo driver driving off with our wedding meal, and I remember my mother-in-law calling my new husband just minutes after we drove away….not funny at the time, but it’s something I can laugh at now.

wedding

Little did I know that six years, two houses, two kids, one dog, two churches, and four schools later, I’d love this man more than I did on the day we married. It’s not a grand, romantic love like the media tends to portray, but a better one. It’s deep, unconditional, and reassuring. I am blessed to have a man who loves me enough to change dirty diapers, clean up poop, wipe snotty noses, give numerous baths, read thousands of bedtime stories, wake up early, pick up milk and eggs (and probably some cookies), and make sacrifices for his family. He loves the Lord, and he demonstrates his love for me in ways I never imagined. He gives up time with his friends, watching live sports events (thank the Lord for the invention of the DVR!), and extra duties at school in order to make his family a priority. I am forever grateful for his leadership, commitment, sacrifice, and that he can always make me laugh (and probably roll my eyes too). He’s an amazing father, husband, and friend, and I’m so excited to see what is in store for us in the years ahead

Three is HARD

Someone should’ve warned me just how difficult a three-year-old can be. I’ve always heard about the “terrible twos,” perhaps I’m looking back with rose-colored glasses, but in our house, 2 didn’t seem all that terrible. Sure there were tantrums, the whole potty-training bit, and general neediness, but that was nothing compared to 3. When did this adorable, intelligent, energetic baby become such a demanding, constantly negotiating, very opinionated child? One minute he’s strangling his baby brother and the next he’s saying, “I love you mama” in an aren’t-I-so-sweet-and-innocent voice.

This morning was especially hard. Dadda had to be at a powerlifting meet by 6:30, which meant everyone was awake extra early–like 5:45 AM. (In my honest, accurate opinion, if the sun is not up, then I shouldn’t be either.) Curious George was not the babysitter I hoped for, so anything more than 10 minutes for shower, make-up, etc. was out of the question for this momma. Both boys needed to be held and cuddled, and it’s times like this that I wonder why God didn’t give parents more arms.  Sadly, when both are crying and having meltdowns, I tend to have less patience (and since it was 6:15 AM on a Friday, I had zero patience) with my three year old. I know I should be more understanding….he was INSISTENT on wearing his basketball pants. (Again, I needed a warning that my 3 year old boy would have such strong opinions about his wardrobe.) Unfortunately, someone is behind on laundry and the basketball pants aren’t clean which caused an even bigger melt down, and it was all down hill from there. After lots of tears, the forceful putting on of pants, we loaded up and headed to school. I felt a wave of relief when I dropped the boys off, followed by immediate guilt.

Sure, three is hard. But three is also very entertaining, imaginative, inquisitive, and just plain fun. I love his constant questions, his playful imagination, his need for social interaction and the great outdoors. I love that he wants to read books over and over and play “school.” I love how he {sometimes} want to play with his younger brother (this of course is short-lived because the next minute he’s pushing or choking him).  I’m certain every age will be hard, but I don’t want to waste the time I’m given with them. I don’t want to react in anger or not have any patience just because it’s still dark outside on a Friday morning. My boys are not inconveniences. They are precious gifts. I can only pray that God’s grace will be sufficient, that His power and strength will be evident in  my NUMEROUS weaknesses.

On another note, I’ve discovered that I tend to accompany apologies with food…like, “I’m sorry this morning is rough. Want to grab a donut before school?” Pretty sure my boys will be in therapy someday for emotional eating…