I'm feeling very pregnant today, and discouraged about how pregnant I feel. That fine line between nausea and hunger, dizzy when I stand up, and so tired I could nod off mid-sent...zzzzzzz....
Sorry.
Bible study is tonight at our house, and it's a wreck at the moment. I worked yesterday and had a meeting this morning so nothing's been very well looked-after. While it's heartening to know that neither dadda nor the nanny can replace me in running our home, it's also slightly overwhelming to see what's left to do. Halloween costumes lie unfinished, waiting to be sewn together. Pots and pans line my kitchen counter, which is unfit for making dinner in a few hours, let alone hosting company and baking the pumpkin roll that I had hoped to offer them. Shoot, even my chocolate pudding is next to me unfinished. My stomach can't even follow through on that one small thing.
Honestly, I could cry. I blame a combination of hormones and circumstances. My feeling, my inner monologue is something like this: There is so much to do, so much I am failing at today, and I am not enough for it all. Wow, putting that into words actually bid tears into my eyes.
Can you relate? Are you a momma, or any hardworking person whose shortcomings sometimes (regularly?) leap up before your eyes, taunting you into giving up on your day, your dreams, yourself?
I am not enough. That is the awful, sweet, blessed truth. That same knowledge both undoes and saves me. "Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved." The same grace that shows my failings also lights the way to my salvation.
There is this great lie that we tell each other: "God will never give you more than you can handle." I'm sorry, but God has regularly and often given me more than I can handle. Nowhere and at no time has He promised to only give us what our humanity can bear. The promise is far bigger than that! God is faithful to overwhelm me, to crack and chafe my weakness into actual brokenness before His throne.
"For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives"
"God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?"
"For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it." [Hebrews 12: 6, 7, and 11]
And the very next verse?
"Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed." [12:12]
And in Ephesians:
"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith - that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do abundantly more than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." [3:14-21]
Did you hear that, precious brothers and sisters? Though my head droops low, though my feelings and my very body tell me that I am defeated, empty, not enough, Christ dwells in my heart. I, rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend the vast dimensions of that love. Not empowered to clean my kitchen or tidy the living room, necessarily. And perhaps not even strengthened to rise from the couch in the next hour. But the strength in my inner being to simply be turned toward Christ, and to be filled with all the fullness of God. I can rest my spirit and my body in that saving knowledge.
The Lord blesses us with weakness so that His grace might be magnified, as Paul writes, "But he [the Lord] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." [2 Cor. 12:9]
And in John 3:30, "He must increase, and I must decrease."
God is most glorified in my weakness when I cast my eyes and heart upon Him, not when I wallow there and mourn my failure. I am a failure, but one who has been promised a crown of glory. I am not destined to remain exhausted and discouraged forever, but predestined to be adopted as a daughter of Jehovah Jireh, our provider, El Shaddai, the all sufficient. Before the foundation of the world, God promised me to Jesus Christ as part of His people, His inheritance of nations, and Christ in His work on the cross closed his fist around me. I am given and bought from all eternity. Far from a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" or "God helps those who help themselvese" message, this is a glorious "you can do nothing, but I have done all things"promise!
So in my weakness, in my suffering, let me be reminded of my fragile state and great need. But let me also be moved on to great rejoicing and exultant song. The very longing of my heart after help from the Lord is proof that He's breathed life into these bones. His presence is life to me, hallelujah! The truth shepherds my emotions now, and instead of feeling empty I suddenly feel myself topped off to the brim and overflowing with spiritual riches.
"For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere." [Psalm 84:10]
and
"Enter his courts with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him, bless his name!" [Psalm 100]
Not only that, but what a metaphor is pregnancy - feeling so empty and depleted, but in truth, so full of blessing and life!
SDG!
My Kitchen Wall is Finally Happy!
Back when I posted about my first sort-of upcycle, I hinted that one day I would post a final "after" shot of everything up on the wall. The wait is over, loyal reader; that day has come.
Actually, please wait eight minutes longer while I go chase my daughter back to bed.
Also to prolong the agony, I thought I'd share that I totally just mistook a small toy walrus for a piece of poop in the bottom of one of my kids' bags. Because that is a totally plausible place to find that sort of thing. Welcome to my world.
But seriously, here is the gloriousness of my kitchen wall, complete with twenty-nine square inches of writable space and the craftiest little menu board you ever did see. The cast iron skillet just completes the vision of hominess, doesn't it? That wooden bread box was a particularly awesome flea market find in the mountains of southern Virginia for just $5 (I originally typed $55 due to my ongoing Vacuum Cleaner Wrist issues, but that is not nearly as enviable a bargain, is it?).
I know the menu board is just a liiiiittle bit north of where it should be, but there are some things you don't tell your husband when he has just finagled all eighty pounds of this stuff onto the wall and hung the menu board twice in the process. He technically put it where I asked, as the tops of the skillet and menu board are aligned, so it isn't his fault he doesn't have theincessant perfectionism aesthetic eye that I do. I will quietly move the nail sometime when he is off doing more important things.
Don't you love how I tidied the buffet for the picture but left shoes all over the floor in the background? Ah, honesty, you get me every time.
Actually, please wait eight minutes longer while I go chase my daughter back to bed.
Also to prolong the agony, I thought I'd share that I totally just mistook a small toy walrus for a piece of poop in the bottom of one of my kids' bags. Because that is a totally plausible place to find that sort of thing. Welcome to my world.
But seriously, here is the gloriousness of my kitchen wall, complete with twenty-nine square inches of writable space and the craftiest little menu board you ever did see. The cast iron skillet just completes the vision of hominess, doesn't it? That wooden bread box was a particularly awesome flea market find in the mountains of southern Virginia for just $5 (I originally typed $55 due to my ongoing Vacuum Cleaner Wrist issues, but that is not nearly as enviable a bargain, is it?).
I know the menu board is just a liiiiittle bit north of where it should be, but there are some things you don't tell your husband when he has just finagled all eighty pounds of this stuff onto the wall and hung the menu board twice in the process. He technically put it where I asked, as the tops of the skillet and menu board are aligned, so it isn't his fault he doesn't have the
Don't you love how I tidied the buffet for the picture but left shoes all over the floor in the background? Ah, honesty, you get me every time.
I Might Vacuum Every Day
This post is not illustrated because I want you to be able to sleep tonight, safe in your ignorance of what was previously living in my bedroom carpet.
I bet you are SO. CURIOUS. now about what in the world this is all about. Fear not, your curiosity is about to be sated.
If you are Facebook friends with yours truly, you probably recall a recent focus group/market survey conducted to determine the best under-$200 vacuum cleaner available. The consensus was the Shark Navigator Pro, based on friends and family who either own or covet this machine.
Since we'repoor on a budget, we opted for the non-Pro version which, frankly, based on Amazon descriptions it is rather difficult to know what comes in the box. Based on the reviews, we concluded we'd be able to at least vacuum carpet and bare floor and probably reach the ceiling fans with some manner of extension wand/hose. Ok, fine. Beggars/choosers and all that.
We usually get our Amazon Prime orders in two business days but APPARENTLY large items "might" take longer. And even a "lightweight" Shark qualifies as large which...actually yeah. But understanding doesn't magically breed patience so it has been like a month (ok, five days) of waiting with dirt and toe lint and goldfish crackers continuing to build up in the carpets. Our navy blue bedroom carpet is particularly fond of showcasing EVERYTHING that falls onto it so I could practically count down to delivery by marking the layers as they inched up the baseboard.
I don't know where my daughter gets her propensity for drama and exaggeration.
Anyway, Joel arrived home from work today with a gigantic box and promptly incited all manner of excitement in our children for the new vacuum cleaner. It's amazing how saying anything with enough enthusiasm makes them think candy and unicorns are raining down from heaven. We pulled our basic Navigator out of the box only to find, instead of the lavender Shark Navigator, the white Shark Navigator Pro! And of course only the basic non-Pro attachments. I am still trying to figure out who ordered both and returned just the parts they didn't want. We've got the FrankenSweeper.
But holy moly, does it work like a charm!! Swivel steering, HEPA filtration, and a canister that opens with the push of a button. And it is practically self-propelling AND the canister and handle lift away to vacuum the stairs with a small attachment. I vacuumed the entire. house. including the hardwood dining room. I even "made" Mikayla stay up an extra fifteen minutes late so that I could vacuum the playroom underneath her bedroom. (It was a real sacrifice, I'm telling you. She struggled through one final episode of Daniel Tiger in her purple kitty hat, with naught but her Candyland cards to keep her company. So, basically two-year-old heaven.)
The part I won't show you, because I love you, is how appallingly, shockingly full and disgusting that canister was after every room I vacuumed. The worst was our dark blue bedroom carpet. Double ugh. Apparently our Dirt Devil had been on the slow decline for QUITE awhile, or else we are truly slovenly people who roll in dirt and then grind it into our carpets. Actually that is really quite an apt description of at least two of us.
On the bright side, it scratched an OCD itch that has been hovering just below my conscious because I am feeling so stinkin' "aaaaahhhhhhh" about it all.
Unfortunately, I also quite overdid it and am now suffering from Vacuum Cleaner Wrist. Please excuse me while I apply ice and inspect the parallel-ness of my carpet lines.
I bet you are SO. CURIOUS. now about what in the world this is all about. Fear not, your curiosity is about to be sated.
If you are Facebook friends with yours truly, you probably recall a recent focus group/market survey conducted to determine the best under-$200 vacuum cleaner available. The consensus was the Shark Navigator Pro, based on friends and family who either own or covet this machine.
Since we're
We usually get our Amazon Prime orders in two business days but APPARENTLY large items "might" take longer. And even a "lightweight" Shark qualifies as large which...actually yeah. But understanding doesn't magically breed patience so it has been like a month (ok, five days) of waiting with dirt and toe lint and goldfish crackers continuing to build up in the carpets. Our navy blue bedroom carpet is particularly fond of showcasing EVERYTHING that falls onto it so I could practically count down to delivery by marking the layers as they inched up the baseboard.
I don't know where my daughter gets her propensity for drama and exaggeration.
Anyway, Joel arrived home from work today with a gigantic box and promptly incited all manner of excitement in our children for the new vacuum cleaner. It's amazing how saying anything with enough enthusiasm makes them think candy and unicorns are raining down from heaven. We pulled our basic Navigator out of the box only to find, instead of the lavender Shark Navigator, the white Shark Navigator Pro! And of course only the basic non-Pro attachments. I am still trying to figure out who ordered both and returned just the parts they didn't want. We've got the FrankenSweeper.
But holy moly, does it work like a charm!! Swivel steering, HEPA filtration, and a canister that opens with the push of a button. And it is practically self-propelling AND the canister and handle lift away to vacuum the stairs with a small attachment. I vacuumed the entire. house. including the hardwood dining room. I even "made" Mikayla stay up an extra fifteen minutes late so that I could vacuum the playroom underneath her bedroom. (It was a real sacrifice, I'm telling you. She struggled through one final episode of Daniel Tiger in her purple kitty hat, with naught but her Candyland cards to keep her company. So, basically two-year-old heaven.)
The part I won't show you, because I love you, is how appallingly, shockingly full and disgusting that canister was after every room I vacuumed. The worst was our dark blue bedroom carpet. Double ugh. Apparently our Dirt Devil had been on the slow decline for QUITE awhile, or else we are truly slovenly people who roll in dirt and then grind it into our carpets. Actually that is really quite an apt description of at least two of us.
On the bright side, it scratched an OCD itch that has been hovering just below my conscious because I am feeling so stinkin' "aaaaahhhhhhh" about it all.
Unfortunately, I also quite overdid it and am now suffering from Vacuum Cleaner Wrist. Please excuse me while I apply ice and inspect the parallel-ness of my carpet lines.
My First Upcycle - Sort Of
This is one of those super-Pinteresty project ideas that has been waiting far too long for completion. Our message board/menu board/grocery list setup in the kitchen has been, to put it generously, lacking. Everything had to fit onto one small board together, except "Projects" which earned their own little board because there are so many of them. Here is the "before" setup:
Please note that yes, I am holding the magnetic message board up with my hand. It's small. It's beat up. And the magnetic strips have completely loosed their hold, which sort of renders it useless. Our message board has since been migrating around the kitchen, spending time wherever there is counter space to prop it up. It even spent a few days on top of the pantry thanks to my husband but, as he would say, "You can't teach height" so I used my ladder to retrieve it. Also, yes, Isaac's appointment card is being held up with pants. It's not my fault. My children discovered that the magnetic doll clothes also stick to appliances, and we now find pants, dresses, even whole outfits strewn about the fridge. We occasionally make use of them because hey, they are magnets.
But this is not about how classy we are as parents of toddlers. It's about me taking trash and turning it into treasure! The essence of Pinterest! Yay!! So here's my $5 "trash" window. Clearly in dire need of stripping, sanding, and painting. One August day, I rolled up my sleeves (figuratively, because it was August and who wears sleeves in August) and got to work scraping the thing.
Five minutes into my scraping, it felt like too much work. I grabbed some sandpaper to see if that went any more easily. Meh. Another two minutes later, I headed inside to Google "how to remove chipped paint from an old window". Partially because there had to be a better method, and partially because I could feel myself starting to sweat and that means it's time for a break.
Fast forward to a delightful "after" shot of my beautifully finished white window:
Isn't it SO impressive? It hardly looks like the same window, does it?
Well I fooled you because it's TOTALLY NOT. The same window, that is. My hard-learned strategy for refinishing things? Let it sit for close to two months on the back porch and then purchase another, way better-looking used window for $5. Everybody wins!!
(Does anybody need an old chippy window? I know where you can find one cheap.)
My two windows next to each other for comparison, with toddler shown for scale:
I think my new window, in addition to requiring no work whatsoever, is a better size for the message board project because the panes are wider.
So all that was needed was to put something behind the glass in order not to showcase the bare wall behind it, and to make our dry erase writing clearly visible. I debated using the fabric from my curtain and menu board, but didn't want to get TOO matchy-matchy. This will hang next to the menu board and I didn't want it to be, you know, "Much".
Instead I chose a Polo Ralph Lauren queen-sized flat sheet that I bought for making cloth napkins. I roughly measured the size and sort of eyeballed it as I used my rotary cutter (seriously, LOVE that thing). At this point, I feel it should be known that I learned better than this. My father instilled in me a deep appreciation for the old "Measure twice, cut once" mantra of home improvement entrepreneurs everywhere. I think he mostly followed it himself, too. But I had plenty of fabric and it was going on the backside of my window so...it didn't have to be perfect. In an act of sheer over-achievement I even ironed my fabric. A little Elmer's glue later (I went all out on this one), it looked like this:
It's a little plain, but I hope that next to my menu board and the cast iron skillet I plan to hang with this, it will all look nice and slightly rustic together. I don't know if you can tell, but the paint on the window isn't perfect - it has some scuff marks on it - but it also isn't chipping. Perfect for a slightly-distressed, interesting look to the final project. OH, and the big groove in the long side of the window, previously used to make it go up and down in the window frame, is now on top and perfect for holding a few fat dry-erase markers! I need my man to help me hang it but watch for a final "after" picture sometime soon.
Please note that yes, I am holding the magnetic message board up with my hand. It's small. It's beat up. And the magnetic strips have completely loosed their hold, which sort of renders it useless. Our message board has since been migrating around the kitchen, spending time wherever there is counter space to prop it up. It even spent a few days on top of the pantry thanks to my husband but, as he would say, "You can't teach height" so I used my ladder to retrieve it. Also, yes, Isaac's appointment card is being held up with pants. It's not my fault. My children discovered that the magnetic doll clothes also stick to appliances, and we now find pants, dresses, even whole outfits strewn about the fridge. We occasionally make use of them because hey, they are magnets.
But this is not about how classy we are as parents of toddlers. It's about me taking trash and turning it into treasure! The essence of Pinterest! Yay!! So here's my $5 "trash" window. Clearly in dire need of stripping, sanding, and painting. One August day, I rolled up my sleeves (figuratively, because it was August and who wears sleeves in August) and got to work scraping the thing.
Five minutes into my scraping, it felt like too much work. I grabbed some sandpaper to see if that went any more easily. Meh. Another two minutes later, I headed inside to Google "how to remove chipped paint from an old window". Partially because there had to be a better method, and partially because I could feel myself starting to sweat and that means it's time for a break.
Fast forward to a delightful "after" shot of my beautifully finished white window:
Isn't it SO impressive? It hardly looks like the same window, does it?
Well I fooled you because it's TOTALLY NOT. The same window, that is. My hard-learned strategy for refinishing things? Let it sit for close to two months on the back porch and then purchase another, way better-looking used window for $5. Everybody wins!!
(Does anybody need an old chippy window? I know where you can find one cheap.)
My two windows next to each other for comparison, with toddler shown for scale:
I think my new window, in addition to requiring no work whatsoever, is a better size for the message board project because the panes are wider.
So all that was needed was to put something behind the glass in order not to showcase the bare wall behind it, and to make our dry erase writing clearly visible. I debated using the fabric from my curtain and menu board, but didn't want to get TOO matchy-matchy. This will hang next to the menu board and I didn't want it to be, you know, "Much".
Instead I chose a Polo Ralph Lauren queen-sized flat sheet that I bought for making cloth napkins. I roughly measured the size and sort of eyeballed it as I used my rotary cutter (seriously, LOVE that thing). At this point, I feel it should be known that I learned better than this. My father instilled in me a deep appreciation for the old "Measure twice, cut once" mantra of home improvement entrepreneurs everywhere. I think he mostly followed it himself, too. But I had plenty of fabric and it was going on the backside of my window so...it didn't have to be perfect. In an act of sheer over-achievement I even ironed my fabric. A little Elmer's glue later (I went all out on this one), it looked like this:
It's a little plain, but I hope that next to my menu board and the cast iron skillet I plan to hang with this, it will all look nice and slightly rustic together. I don't know if you can tell, but the paint on the window isn't perfect - it has some scuff marks on it - but it also isn't chipping. Perfect for a slightly-distressed, interesting look to the final project. OH, and the big groove in the long side of the window, previously used to make it go up and down in the window frame, is now on top and perfect for holding a few fat dry-erase markers! I need my man to help me hang it but watch for a final "after" picture sometime soon.
Enchiladas and Hannibal Lecter
This morning I woke with an intense craving for Mexican food. As Joel kissed me goodbye at 6:45 a.m., I mentioned this to him. He appeared confused and, in a well-intentioned effort to be helpful, suggested that we have nachos and salsa in the house. Nachos, smachos. I was dying - DYING - for chicken and beef enchiladas in ranchero sauce, runny black beans and rice. I wanted it so badly I could taste it, and yes, this would have made the perfect breakfast.
This is only the latest in a regular string of pregnancy-induced dreams and cravings. In fact, this was both. Before waking, I had been dreaming of a delicious enchilada dinner at some random Mexican restaurant. Pregnant dreams are vivid, powerful, and linger long after you've awakened. Which at times can be awkward because pregnant dreams are also WEIRD.
Case in point, I dozed off again after the Mexican food discussion and promptly dreamed of Anthony Hopkins as a smooth, suave figure in a spy-movie-type plot that I can't quite remember but will probably make me feel uncomfortable any time I watch one of his movies. WHO KNOWS.
And this all interspersed with thrice nightly bathroom trips already. I'm only five and a half weeks in. It's going to be a looooooong (and probably entertaining) nine months.
This is only the latest in a regular string of pregnancy-induced dreams and cravings. In fact, this was both. Before waking, I had been dreaming of a delicious enchilada dinner at some random Mexican restaurant. Pregnant dreams are vivid, powerful, and linger long after you've awakened. Which at times can be awkward because pregnant dreams are also WEIRD.
Case in point, I dozed off again after the Mexican food discussion and promptly dreamed of Anthony Hopkins as a smooth, suave figure in a spy-movie-type plot that I can't quite remember but will probably make me feel uncomfortable any time I watch one of his movies. WHO KNOWS.
And this all interspersed with thrice nightly bathroom trips already. I'm only five and a half weeks in. It's going to be a looooooong (and probably entertaining) nine months.
This Strep Throat or the Cure Might Be the End of Me
I awoke this morning with a very low-grade fever and continuation of the sore throat that's been plaguing me since Monday. I couldn't deny that I felt like garbage. It was supposed to be a full day - Isaac's 18-month checkup at 10:00, back home for lunch and naps, and a doctor consult for me at 2:45, followed by Bible study at our house tonight after dinner. Yeah, no way.
I canceled Isaac's checkup as soon as the doctor's office opened. About twenty minutes later, as the kids ate breakfast, I checked my throat and saw the telltale signs of strep throat. Great. Thankfully, our doctor's office offers walk-in visits all morning so we loaded up after breakfast and arrived at, you guessed it, 10:00 a.m. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. But hey, we get to do this again on Monday morning to make up Isaac's visit so that's a bonus, right?
The doctor checked me, blah blah blah, and yes I have strep throat. I don't get sick often, but when I do, there's a better than average chance that it will be strep. So far, this was all kind of routine for me. Plus it was a new doctor, and she was gaga over my adorable kids which is always nice. Still, they saw me sitting on the examining table as an open invitation to climb up and lie down and almost fall off the sides amidst gales of laughter, and the whole visit was frankly exhausting. Especially since my main momma tool, MY VOICE, was bringing its C game at best.
Doc called in a prescription for amoxicillin and we headed to the pharmacy. Not before I lingered a few minutes to straighten out a minor blood work issue from earlier in the week because parade. of. incompetence. somewhere in our local lab system. Sweet people, but Lord have mercy. ANYWAY, I'm only sharing this to fully enlighten you as to the joyous nature of my day.
Ok, so pharmacy. Typically, the drive from doc to pharmacy is ample time to dispense a prescription. But not today, no, the good pharmacist techs at Weis Market were positively slammed. I waited in line, took Mikayla to the potty, came back and waited some more, and still when it was my turn at the window I was told it would be a few more minutes.
Grand. Because an aisle full of soap, hair dye boxes, Hello Kitty hairbrushes, and a full display of vitamin bottles are NOT A TEMPTATION to my children AT ALL. And it's not like I need this medication because I'M SICK and therefore not quite maximizing my mothering potential at the moment.
We waited. And we waited. And then the kindly pharmacist lady called me up to show me a giant bottle full of horse pills that was, apparently, my antibiotic.
I'm sorry, what? My throat is so inflamed and swollen that I can barely swallow nothing, and you want me to down an uncoated tablet the size of my thumb?
The main pharmacist, when consulted, looked at me like I was a little slow, and said, "You can cut them in half." (The implied completion of his thought: duh, you moronic girl.)
Oh right, because if there's anything better than a thumb-sized sticky tablet when you have strep throat, it's one slightly shorter but with corners. Why didn't I think of that?
So. While my son destroyed an entire bottom shelf display of bar soap and my daughter casually leafed through an adult glamour magazine, I phoned my doctor's office to see about tweaking the prescription for a smaller form or dosage, and was told she would get my message in, oh, an hour when she was done seeing patients for the morning. I barely held back from asking the receptionist if she would like me to send photos of the pharmacy when my children were finished waiting there for the next hour.
Needless to say, we headed home. The pharmacy tech who helped me originally was very sweet, and offered to call me when my meds were ready. I think she could tell my sanity was hanging by its last thread, which speaks to her incredible intuition because my annoyance and exhaustion were NOT AT ALL obvious.
What's also obvious is that we survived the ordeal, and that the kids are successfully down for naps because I've just had the opportunity to share all this fun with you. It's these moments when I need a gigantic perspective shift, and remind myself that while this might be an example of sharing in the suffering of Christ in order to be made more like Him, this is also NOTHING compared to the suffering of Christ, and is also not worthy to be compared to the glory that will be revealed in us through Him.
Which will be pretty incredibly glorious, if I think back over my lifetime of various sufferings.
Thanks be to God for His sustaining grace, and for designing toddlers to require two hour naps.
Library Books and Failed Photo Ops
Full disclosure: This is one of those Pinterest Mom moments for me, where I dress my kids in coordinating fall outfits and take them on an educational outing. And it's hilarious that I just made it sound like this happens, like, more than once. What I'm saying is, don't be fooled. This is on the blog because it is momentous, not because it is routine. Ok, I feel better now knowing that YOU know that I know I am not super mom.
Moving right along. Today, the kids and I went to visit Joel at work "with all the BOOKS!!" Mikayla is certain there are at least ten books at the library. That girl is good with estimating. We started planning this two days ago, and I still managed not to bake the banana bread that I wanted to take for his coworkers. I totally want to be That Wife but alas, see above, not super mom. Life happens.
What I DID manage was getting the kids dressed all in brown and orange, Mikayla in her fancy embroidered jeans that I usually avoid like the plague because isn't the point of jeans that EVERYTHING matches them? Why would you get into a situation where you have to color and style coordinate with your jeans?? Isaac wore this totally handsome brown and orange striped shirt with that fake long-sleeve layer look going on. Oh man. Between that, shorts, and his preppy sandals, the college guys on campus had nothing on my little dude.
I'm bragging because my daughter has been dressing herself lately and has little regard for concepts like a color wheel and that you're not supposed to mix stripes with a bold fruit print. And Isaac...it's a good day when he simply remains dressed. So matching themselves and each other? I deserve my fifteen minutes for this, ok?
Did I mention I also wore a cute brown shirt?
In my secret heart of hearts, I was hoping that somebody would notice how fantastic we all looked together and insist on taking a photo of us for the university website. Realistic dreams, guys, all the way.
This was our first official checking-books-out library trip as a family. (Yeah, that not-super-mom thing again. My kids have never had library books before. We've done story time though, if that counts.) And can I tell you how cool it was to have Dadda as our librarian? He showed us where the children's books were, recommended a few, and then took us down the secret back stairs to where he showed us how he checks them out with the "Super Computer!" as Mikayla proclaimed. (Thank you, Super Why!)
They helped Dadda run them through that magic thing that makes the alarm not go off - not that we needed to. We were ushered out a secret back door because I'm married to one of the top bananas, or because we had already caused enough disturbance out in the open. I can never tell if we are special or a liability.
Isaac was a little behind; they were already bagging books when he decided to jump in.
Putting all our books into the bag, with Sister Joanne's help.
And of course there were plenty of book carts, the perfect size and height for tiny hineys to sit on.
I never did get that Pinterest-perfect shot of the kids and me gloriously and patiently reading a new library book together while sunlight streamed in through the tall library windows. Probably because that never actually happened. You know what matters more, though? I got to see, in real life, my children delighting in books, greeting friends and strangers with smiles and open hearts, and generally bringing lots of sunshine to our little learning opportunity. I'm thankful sometimes when the photo ops don't pan out, and we are stuck with just plain old life. It's good to view the world and especially the ones we love through our own eyes, capturing the moments in our hearts instead of through a lens.
I'll take a blurry shot of my daughter not looking at the camera and Isaac missing because he ran at the last minute, as a reminder that they are too full of life to stay still and pose just right. They are just right the way they are.
Thanks, Dadda, for making our first library visit a memorable one!
Moving right along. Today, the kids and I went to visit Joel at work "with all the BOOKS!!" Mikayla is certain there are at least ten books at the library. That girl is good with estimating. We started planning this two days ago, and I still managed not to bake the banana bread that I wanted to take for his coworkers. I totally want to be That Wife but alas, see above, not super mom. Life happens.
What I DID manage was getting the kids dressed all in brown and orange, Mikayla in her fancy embroidered jeans that I usually avoid like the plague because isn't the point of jeans that EVERYTHING matches them? Why would you get into a situation where you have to color and style coordinate with your jeans?? Isaac wore this totally handsome brown and orange striped shirt with that fake long-sleeve layer look going on. Oh man. Between that, shorts, and his preppy sandals, the college guys on campus had nothing on my little dude.
I'm bragging because my daughter has been dressing herself lately and has little regard for concepts like a color wheel and that you're not supposed to mix stripes with a bold fruit print. And Isaac...it's a good day when he simply remains dressed. So matching themselves and each other? I deserve my fifteen minutes for this, ok?
Did I mention I also wore a cute brown shirt?
In my secret heart of hearts, I was hoping that somebody would notice how fantastic we all looked together and insist on taking a photo of us for the university website. Realistic dreams, guys, all the way.
This was our first official checking-books-out library trip as a family. (Yeah, that not-super-mom thing again. My kids have never had library books before. We've done story time though, if that counts.) And can I tell you how cool it was to have Dadda as our librarian? He showed us where the children's books were, recommended a few, and then took us down the secret back stairs to where he showed us how he checks them out with the "Super Computer!" as Mikayla proclaimed. (Thank you, Super Why!)
They helped Dadda run them through that magic thing that makes the alarm not go off - not that we needed to. We were ushered out a secret back door because I'm married to one of the top bananas, or because we had already caused enough disturbance out in the open. I can never tell if we are special or a liability.
Isaac was a little behind; they were already bagging books when he decided to jump in.
Putting all our books into the bag, with Sister Joanne's help.
And of course there were plenty of book carts, the perfect size and height for tiny hineys to sit on.
I never did get that Pinterest-perfect shot of the kids and me gloriously and patiently reading a new library book together while sunlight streamed in through the tall library windows. Probably because that never actually happened. You know what matters more, though? I got to see, in real life, my children delighting in books, greeting friends and strangers with smiles and open hearts, and generally bringing lots of sunshine to our little learning opportunity. I'm thankful sometimes when the photo ops don't pan out, and we are stuck with just plain old life. It's good to view the world and especially the ones we love through our own eyes, capturing the moments in our hearts instead of through a lens.
I'll take a blurry shot of my daughter not looking at the camera and Isaac missing because he ran at the last minute, as a reminder that they are too full of life to stay still and pose just right. They are just right the way they are.
Thanks, Dadda, for making our first library visit a memorable one!
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