tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46407675882941706962024-03-05T04:45:37.259-05:00FIVE B's in a Pod{fka: "Three B's in a Pod" but somehow we keep growing and growing and growing}Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger563125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-7461347545846060332016-10-21T18:58:00.000-04:002016-10-21T20:13:57.695-04:00Just write. Stop waiting.There was once a day, and many of them, where I craved the time to write like I now crave sleep. It was my thing and it wasn't because I was necessarily eloquent or funny. But I actually enjoyed being fully exposed. Eww.Even before over exposure was cool via social media, I had an unhealthy habit of being way too real in person or on paper. I got it from my mama. I used to watch my mom in conversations and I would admire the way she made friends with the cashier at Publix. My grandmother had this same gift. No one met my grandmother without knowing she had 7 daughters. My favorite minutes of any day is making a new friend out of the man making my smoothie or the neighbor power walking by my house. My husband can attest, I make a special mid-day work-day phone call to him (I'm sure he loves this) just to tell him about the “nicest man I met walking out of Costco”. These are big deals in my world but not everyone feels that way about other peoples stuff. But I love a story and I used to love to write them down. And, transparency. I love that too.<br />
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Several years ago I would turn to “paper” in the form of a blog with my stories. That writing time had a life of its own. It felt like what I wanted dating to feel like before my gem of a husband began intentionally dating me. I will never forget him telling me “Betsy, I am intentionally pursuing you to date you." Somehow, writing in a similar way allowed me to be fully me and because I am not famous and only a few people read my words (not enough to actually be criticized) - I seemed accepted and loved. And I was very intentional about my writing. It was the perfect relationship!<br />
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In the years since producing little Bagwell humans I get a little sad and embarrassed to think of my former love that I just dropped one day out of nowhere. One day I just didn't have words that fit what was going on anymore. There was so much. So much refinement, sanctification, and beauty and pain too big that was brewing within our four walls in those first years of parenting. And then the exhaustion. Yes, the kind of tired that makes one want to sleep but more so, the other kind of exhaustion that you don't get until you are 2+ kids deep and dying for connection but dying from connection. Those days only long glares full of both "want" and "complete satisfaction" would suffice in our marriage. Words were too tiring. They took too much of what we didn't already have. So I dropped writing at least publicly and anything more than a quick note in my phone about the stats of the boys - "Bradford, 18 months, finally walking and so happy" - was lost. <br />
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Then we hit bottom. And hit it again. And here we are now. Hanging out on the bottom looking up and back at the long way down. Even with a beautiful baby girl on the side. It is still a bottom. But we are finding it is quite a comfortable place to be. <br />
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Throughout the days lately my mind spins with headlines. My own headlines. “She finally found sleep after years of searching for it!”. “Girl drinks water with lemon and cayenne and overcomes chronic sleep disorder.” Or even more realistic - ”The girl whose last pregnancy healed her for good!” Sometimes for atleast a day one of these headlines are true. We all get hopeful and have a few sweet tears and feel strongly that we suffered well but that the time has come…....And then the next morning the sun peeps out and I add yet one more completely sleepless night to the count that I thankfully stopped counting some time last year. <br />
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We are there today. Holding on to the last few hours of another bittersweet day. Theres a lot of good on these days. The good…..a selfless husband who is in it with me. Who has the ability to take off work yet again and tend to me and all of our children. And then the mother who once again in the midnight hours receives what I can imagine as a gloomy text of desperation and comes to our aid. Bringing with her always a coke, a box of sweets, some humor and endless compassion. Then this morning you have the angel, Brittney, who I think knows when Ill have a bad night before I do because dinner is always on our doorstep the next morning. Without her even needing to be seen. Dinner, oh and breakfast for the weekend too! Of course there are also baby smiles, and cute blonde haireds playing together in the backyard, the peaceful yet the sad sound of leaves blowing because that means yet another season has come, and there is always the encouragement from friends near and far. All of those things helped us get to this hour today. God truly delivers our hourly bread. Hourly. And each of these hard days I can remember every hour that He brought yet another carpool ride, a visit from a friend, or the perfect song or lovely scripture along with gobs and gobs and oodles of grace from my husband and family. He gives. We have certainly learned that treasure - He gives. <br />
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But there is still not a bow on this story today. Not the kind you are looking for. Not the kind that most people write books over or way too long blogs about. I have thought throughout this entire story from July of 2010 until now that it would culminate in some huge miracle story. Surely that is how God gets the glory? That is the kind of thing I have been suffering for…a big ole story.... "and they all come to know Jesus." Surely. But there is still no end. Finally today after years of writing this story in my head and waiting for the end to actually come about in order to acknowledge it on paper I had the thought to just write about it like it is now. Messy. Unfathomable. Severely beautiful. Unbelievable. Tragic at times. Painfully tragic. Like the leaves…the leaves are changing again and I remember sweating this summer in between contractions on our back porch and literally envisioning myself with my girl, my only daughter, taking a family photo of 6 in the yellow and orange of the season that was to come. I envisioned the birth of Anne Louise as the date where the battled ended. It seemed like such an intriguing story. Or better yet - the hemorrhage 12 days post birth. Surely that was my spiritual and physical bleeding that would make way for our new season. I just knew it. <br />
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……..And then we would have missed out on so much yummy treasure. Oh goodness, there is so much we have gained in these last 3 months. I feel guilty enjoying so much richness and not being able to send it with everyone who comes our way. That our life could have had a bow on it 3 months ago? 2 years ago? That we could have lived a fairly normal life with four kids this hard anyway season of parenting? That we could have taken family photos and smiled big and enjoyed one last summer jaunt to the beach or my husband could have gone to work most days and not worried the whole day about his wife at home? That could have been our story and it would have still been a God story. A big one. We would have missed so much.<br />
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Ours is still unfolding. Even still. And we praise Him. Even still. With burning eyes from days and years of lack of sleep and with a body that aches out my fingernails - I gratefully write. Our story is beautiful even without the ending I have been waiting for. I don't want to wait any longer to tell of His beauty. There is precious treasure in these thick middle chapters. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-46419521652869919512014-04-08T14:50:00.001-04:002014-04-08T14:57:02.062-04:00toothpaste<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtBYTPjgvx9weYsfRuQDKR6eMeI0oS7U-wAi_NJpVoAr5_HmQyBM7JYwrlyw6EhVVNxfkCiMcE7wY8aqsxo6tVHZeFitfxRYco3rgVaQrrQmO1w1PvMWZpg_0q69LmQru-H1Lq19_Ew8v/s1600/IMG_5599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtBYTPjgvx9weYsfRuQDKR6eMeI0oS7U-wAi_NJpVoAr5_HmQyBM7JYwrlyw6EhVVNxfkCiMcE7wY8aqsxo6tVHZeFitfxRYco3rgVaQrrQmO1w1PvMWZpg_0q69LmQru-H1Lq19_Ew8v/s320/IMG_5599.jpg" /></a></div>Yall. It’s everywhere. I feel guilty every time I take the big boys to the dentist, knowing that the toothpaste rarely got on their teeth as evidenced on the walls of our house. There isn’t a light switch that isn’t streaked blue. There isn’t a cabinet that isn’t sticky to the touch. And there isn’t a room in our house that doesn’t have a lost tooth brush floating around. <br />
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After a full day. You know the ones……my morning “plan” was bombarded by stubborn little boys just wanting to be at a park. So I pray towards lunch time because in the working world the lunch break used to pull me through…..open my head a little. But lunch is more like watching a slow train wreck on this particular kind of day. I relent to just suck slowly on chocolate chips. One, it keeps my mouth shut and any harsh words in the moment to slip out, and, two, it keeps my mind off the mess of the day. I work like a mad woman towards a refreshing nap period, to no avail. And all of that above just makes those witching hours, the b*%6ing hours, if I were to curse. Sorry. <br />
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We had one of those kind of days last week. Usually on these days all the boys are in the bathtub at 4:20pm because bed time is not long after. As I sat on the floor, the bottom of my jeans wet and clinging to my thighs, and my eyes burning seemingly just to remind me that it had been hard, I noticed the sticky blue in even more places than I had thought possible. Inside the empty bath room counter. In between the white tiles of the floor. Awesome. And then sliding down the trash can as if painted there on purpose. Maybe I should have been thinking, “these kids need a mamma who can actually show them how to brush their teeth and use tooth paste,” but as the Lord always does He gave me a moment that will stick to my soul endlessly. <br />
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I had this picture of me in maybe 20 years. I was in the same bathroom. I noticed the aging around my eyes in the mirror and the tone in my arms from carrying sandbags for children for so many years was barely noticeable. This 20 year older self was looking for the toothpaste to wipe up yet again. And then the me-forgotten-in-the-floor and the me-2-decades-later began to sob. There was so much in this picture that I was given. The desire to even make it to that day with even the slightest satisfaction that I did a job decently done. That I had made the most of the days in the bathroom where no one else sees us and hears our conversations. There was tiredness and heaviness thinking about all of the teeth brushing sessions that would need to occur to even make it to that lonely day. But mostly this was a picture of revolution. God has put a revolution in my heart over the last year to slow. it. down. And to literally not sweat the toothpaste that is everywhere. Or the fact that the toothpaste is on a 1950’s countertop, certainly not granite. This revolution in a culture of parenting that induces stress in my own experience, is freeing like nothing you have ever known. <br />
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Posts like these can seem ethereal. I read many like this one all the time….a pretty candid writer uses a seemingly small illustration to get on the same page with the reader and then ties it all up in a bow leaving me thinking, “Well, that’s nice.” That writer must have some weird gene that I just didn’t get having to do with patience and joy. She must have had a sweeter childhood or something. But I am here to tell you the genuine magic secret behind that authors apparent peace or aloofness, rather. I believe it’s three fold for our generation.<br />
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First, it is going against the grain of society. Many of yall are much smarter than me so thankfully you got this a long time ago but up until I became a mom I was a consumer of everything. I just did what everyone else seemed to do. I’m not talking about drinking in high school or those type of things but in the real world…..I was driven to achieve the next thing just like we all are. When we had a family we raced out and spent oodles of silly money on a nursery. There is nothing wrong with that but it really isnt me. And then before that baby could even stand in his crib I had him enrolled in preschool because that is what people do. Somewhere in the middle of it all I finally, like 3o years finally, realized I could be an active part in the outcome of my life. Crazy! Last night somehow my husband and I were watching a documentary about our food supply in the country and how it has changed so much from decades past. The documentary was totally disturbing and has me looking at the grass in my back yard as a great dinner for tonight but I heard something that will stick with me more. The author was talking about how as Americans we have become consumers of everything. We don’t realize that we can make choices for ourselves and that we have a voice. <br />
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Parenting was harder for me a few seasons ago. You wouldn't have known it on the outside but on the inside there was nasty inner turmoil over how well I was or was not doing especially in light of what the other moms around me were doing. I actually didn't worry so much as to how I was doing - I just wanted them to tell me what to do. Do you know what I mean? Would you please tell me when my child should be in school 2 days? 4 days? All day? Oh, hey. Will you tell me if my 3 year old son is going to lack confidence his whole life if he hasn't already started an organized sport? Will they ever swim if I don't pay a small mortgage to put them through swim lessons? Should we only be clean eating? Just tell me, someone. Oh, and when I am home alone and actually with my kids….could you tell me how to discipline them, love them, and enjoy them because I don't think I know how unless you tell me. Thank you very much. This is real, yall, and if most of us are honest, we spend so much of our precious awake time wondering about how everyone else is doing it and wanting someone to tell us what they did. Our mothers didn't have that. I often ask my mom if she knew what the other moms in our huge neighborhood were cooking for dinner. Did she know how many school choices they considered? And of course, she laughs. We have information being pushed to us and available at all hours. A month ago I felt quite stupid when it came to the situation in the Ukraine so I put the Foxnews App on my iphone. Well, goodness, I get up to potty between 2 and 3 every night and then I can’t go back to sleep from the images in my head after viewing the quick little push notification on my phone. We have so many choices and so much information that it has literally stifled our generation and caused what I think is harmful self-doubt. Where is the best answer for any of my questions anyway???<br />
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So the Lord and a dear student of the bible and precious teacher taught me how to sit before the Lord and ask Him for these answers from the only source. She says to sit in my chair and to not move until I have seen what the Lord wants to show me for that day. It could be a small thing. Recently we have been under the weight of a decision for our oldest son. One day last month, words jumped off the pages of the Psalms and I knew that is what she meant. There are no answers in even those around us that we adore. Only the Maker of our children, and my Creator, truly know me and my children and what He has in store for our family. Have yall experienced those moments too? The ones people talk about and we inherently think, “Oh, you don’t know me. The Lord doesn’t speak to me….” Those moments when something you are asking for about your children becomes so clear. And usually the answer is not as obvious as it looks. I have found that the answer is usually pretty counter cultural. As in…if everyone else is doing it or wearing it or getting one - usually the answer is the opposite. Don’t go on that trip. Don’t think that this seemingly small thing about my child is just that….small. Don’t buy the movie everyone else is singing to. Don't let this one pass. It’ll change us when we do just as He said, “ask…seek….knock.” <br />
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And number two. Turn off instagram. Just for two days to begin. I was a slave to social media all the while saying I never got on it. Its the same thing for me when I say that I am not a snacker but I just don't consider eating peanut butter cups while doing the dishes as snacking. So if social media hurts your heart even in the slightest. Turn it off. It doesn’t own you. You can decide what goes in your head. The first time I did this - I remember thinking how light my head felt. It felt so good to start to think the thoughts I used to think in the white space of the day. I wasn’t thinking about what so-and-so had for lunch or if that family was back from their cruise. And I wasn't bombarded with blogs just like this one telling me just one more thing to do or to consider. I was just doing those things and I was putting those things in to practice. But lets say "all or nothing" scares you - designate a time. For instance, from 1:30 - 2pm is my internet time. Today I used it writing. Tomorrow I may read something someone sent me. But it feels much more intentional if it isn't something just done all day, while in the car or on the toilet. It’s like my snacking….it doesn't seem real if I don't actually sit down with a plate and eat something. I’m working on this one…..as I just spit out my cashew! <br />
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And lastly, don't give in to the system. Don’t be a consumer. Baseball doesn't have to be 3 practices a week. Homework doesn’t have to consume YOUR day. Goldfish aren’t the only “healthy” snack. Most people (not in over privileged Atlanta) don't go on vacation every Spring Break. Once upon a time a child didn't have an ipad to entertain them every time they ate dinner. I can only write this because this is me. I am you. And many of the seemingly innocent choices we have made have held alot more at stake than just making the baseball team or enjoying a quiet dinner at a restaurant. The toothpaste doesn't just represent a hassle for me to clean. It represents a soul gifted to me to help shape, and ultimately, if you believe the bible, a soul entrusted tome to grow to be a light for God in a heavy world where most people don’t even know that light and freedom exist. Especially in parenting. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyazEk6KOOXq57rwxiJw74Pnl6uA2yTbuK90GjeV25DGSI9cuJ831DPyvBMYiBDB8eMuObR8sZqwQYOs2HdRA9LuhdEZIjoWalupr4hylyVKBlBxpWSNACHmhLVKdquvZIiG4nwDAwXyY/s1600/IMG_5719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyazEk6KOOXq57rwxiJw74Pnl6uA2yTbuK90GjeV25DGSI9cuJ831DPyvBMYiBDB8eMuObR8sZqwQYOs2HdRA9LuhdEZIjoWalupr4hylyVKBlBxpWSNACHmhLVKdquvZIiG4nwDAwXyY/s320/IMG_5719.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2kthKP3hJbfjO6ZGVbrDqGNBqLwWsYnYXV7Lm0HRRaK40V9Yx5nZegk4pHADXceJlOdvi17MVlxeyOi_nZvGjvGve_1Lj_e4fQn5FTphf_Qs3um5WZAi2flAeN_TQbXJ0LllW66GBkZH/s1600/IMG_5576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2kthKP3hJbfjO6ZGVbrDqGNBqLwWsYnYXV7Lm0HRRaK40V9Yx5nZegk4pHADXceJlOdvi17MVlxeyOi_nZvGjvGve_1Lj_e4fQn5FTphf_Qs3um5WZAi2flAeN_TQbXJ0LllW66GBkZH/s320/IMG_5576.JPG" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-23821910726620002242014-04-01T22:42:00.002-04:002014-04-01T22:42:58.484-04:00Been wanting to write, that's all...I’ve never been more terrified of something. Writing used to be therapy for me. It used to come easily. I didn’t even edit or reread what I wrote because that would have messed up the gig. But between the 8763rd diaper change (that’s actually an accurate calculation) and humming to myself for the whatever-eth time in the car to try to outdo the gut turning whining that had taken over - I lost it. I lost my wit. I lost my flavor and I certainly lost any relevancy to the real world. Oh and complete thoughts. I lost those about 2000 diapers ago. Im not just being humorous…it is a real thing this lack of anything of substance in my head. So now everyday I think “just go write this stuff down” because I know in a wink and a blink I will not remember any of the delicious or equally vile things that happen throughout these days of the little years and I know know that I know that I know there will be a mom like me – outnumbered and in over her head with too many little people to be legal and I will want to be able to recall the day my 3 year old dropped apple sauce on my toddlers penis while having a diaper changed in the middle of the park after my moms bible study. <br />
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Or the most memorable stage to date that my middle child went through that mostly reflects a child with an oepdipus complex (sp?). It started a month ago as I walked away from his classroom at my weekly bible study with moms. I was 4 steps to freedom and I hear a child wailing. I mean “whose child is that anyway” kinda wailing and I turn around to see my toe headed, vibrantly clad glasses boy bolting towards me with 4 nursery workers on his heels trying to catch him. I had never seen him exude such passion and determination before. It was a sweet and scary moment in front of every possible onlooker. He knocked me over and while sobbing over me exclaimed “You FORGOT TO KISS ME!” Rip heart out, stab it, spit on it, and throw it in the toilet. Why, of course I forgot to kiss you and until now I didn’t know it mattered but I am so glad it did. He was fine after that kiss but now even if I am leaving him with his daddy at night he looks me in the eye and kisses me smack on the lips with great fervor. Whew. He could eat me with a spoon while he is at it because this kind of affection and dependence feels so good. So so good. It makes me dig deep in my memory banks to remember what it felt like to be that dependent. That unsure but then sure all with the strength of a daddy's arm around my neck. On a funnier note he ran after Brad and I with the same exact zeal two weeks ago as we were pulling out of the drive way for a date night (IN OUR MINIVAN….a whole different story!). We were 6 feet from Van Morrison tunes and hand holding and talk about anything but the offspring this time when our little escape artist comes roaring up the driveway in hysterics. The babysitter was new that night (poor thing) and we had told her she could share my stash of secret chocolate with the boys if they ate everything that was on their plate (another post coming soon on when bribery is okay). The boys took note of this instruction and started to analyze it the moment it came out of my mouth. “How much chocolate, what kind? Who get’s more? What colors” Anyway….we are pulling our swagger wagon over the hump of the driveway, see the middle child, I open the door and he explodes “SHE CANT FIND THE CHOCOLATE!” And he had the alligator tears of all alligator tears. I thought she had dropped his baby brother in the trash or something or taken off her dress in the kitchen. It was mortifying and quite hysterical altogether. Don’t get in the way of our boy and his after dinner treats or his mommy kisses!<br />
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But today was good and I always want to write on the really good days because tomorrow will probably be a notch the other way and that’s okay, too, but it's nice to be able to read about the sweet times when all the strings are coming loose. My expectations have finally sunk back a little bit to a more realistic level and I am content with 3 out of 7 really good days and I have learned the really good ones give you hope on the “I can’t believe this is really happening” days. Today we were confronted earnestly by what I should just call an angel. We had made it out to the river, one of our favorite spots in the city for a pseudo jog and bike ride slash let's see how many bikes and scooters mom can hold-fun-run while pacifying the baby with food and coaching the newest bike rider not to ride in between two walkers of age 80! Side note – this is my next story. I NEVER want to forget what it feels like to watch your child triumph. My oldest picked up bike riding with no training wheels like he learned to eat chocolate…..without even a teency fall or look back. And the joy and pride and he has shown in the last month will make you want to go throw every challenge his way. This was truly a beautiful parent realization and a beautiful step in our oldest (and most easily over disciplined and over scrutinized childs life). I digress…Again, my expectations are really really low for this kind of spontaneous outing to a public venue. But today we were looking quite stellar if I am honest. The baby who isn’t a baby anymore was gnawing on an apple and not my usual sucker-pacifier. Organic at that. My blue rimmed blonde boy was singing in the double stroller as I held his bike and every other object we just had to have with us while my nearly 5 year old was perfecting his newest skill of bike riding. The boys had on their matching shirts as usual which many folks probably attribute to my awesome mom, she-has-it-together and probably sews, too, look but really it is so that I can keep tabs on three boys in public places. And that little tip is free of charge but let me tell you ….you NEVER want to be the mom of the three boys in green shirts that just knocked over the ENTIRE grocery cart in the checkout line of your local Publix with the baby in tow! NEVER! That is when you take your broken eggs and bruised pride and go home and change their shirts and turn on TLC! But on this day the vitamin D was working in our favor. My speech was seemingly beautiful and carefree to my little darlings…we talked about butterflies and the dogs that passed us by and why God made so many different kinds of trees. Are yall with me? This was just one of those hours – the kind that you once thought only made up motherhood? All the while a frazzled newer mom of one had crossed our paths on her bike pulling a bike trailer and an obviously demanding toddler. I really didn’t notice the woman much more than thinking – wow, good for her, she even has the bike rack and she looks like she does this a lot. Well, half way through the trek her toddler wanted to throw all her snacks out of her chariot. This was right where we were refreshing with our cucumber/mint water and reflecting on the blessings of the day…not quite but still, yall, we were looking magazine-ish without even trying. SO RARE. The sweet lady drags her daughter over to me and with more sincerity than ever and says quite desperately, ”Ma’am, I just have to ask you a question? You obviously have a lot of young children and I only have this one (who of course had her pants down and was hanging on her poor mamas leg) and it looks so easy? Do you have any tips you can give me?” And then she waited. Like she really wanted me to give her some answers. <br />
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Moms, don’t you agree? We have been waiting for this moment since we hiccupped and a baby came out. We are all just wanting someone to think we have done an okay job. We want someone to affirm us that the 1 or 2 hours of tv a day is just fine and that all of our countless, seemingly fruitless hours actually... bear fruit! My old, less experienced yet more weathered self may have had some typical remark like “oh, It just looks good but they drove me bonkers this morning” or the other take of “oh, me, this is nothing. Have you read the book on parenting by John Rosemond?” But thankfully, Ive been “her” a lot of times. Most of the time really. I’ve felt like my one child was going to break me while watching other women homeschool their 5 children all while ousting the internet and any tv in order to teach their kids how to be genuine volunteers or and make dinner for the family.” My heart deeply feels for her, for me, and for the moms I talk to everyday who are Just. Trying. To. Figure. It. Out. We are all trying to figure out this pretend game called house that used to be so dreamy and so....well, fun. Come on yall, we know the answer. Our story is only beautiful when it's our story. My story isn't so pretty when I try to wrap it and serve it and dress it and color it like you do yours. That's not how it works.<br />
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But how in the world as women do we even begin to be true to ourselves if we are so stinking dependent on how everyone else is doing it? Namely, we think, how can the internet tell me who I am and how to be the best mom? That’s a big part of it yall. You aren’t’ who your instagram image says you are. I'm not. I lose my temper. I say things that would make you cry to my little people. There is jelly on my kitchen island that has been there atleast since Christmas. Heck…there are still Christmas lights on our trees! And I may pin the best way to get little arms in five minutes but I promise you I am eating Cadbury mini eggs while doing so. We are all the same and if there has been something recently that has kept me up at night thinking it’s this…. and Ill go ahead and say it – I don’t think our instagram followers really know who we really are. It’s not the real thing, yall. It’s a cheap filler. It’s like the buttery bread before dinner. It's soooo good but it’s just not the real thing and it isn’t really helping anyone feel like they are “okay” just the way they really are behind the camera and the keyboard and the bright screen. End soapbox.<br />
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So I graciously thanked this woman and agreed that we looked pretty good…. this hour. I told her I was impressed with her too and when she pulled up in her Acura with her bike rack on the back I had some seriously generous thoughts about her as well. Fit mom, I thought. Fit mom with little arms and no Easter candy in sight. Working mom, too, with a glamorous travel budget. Must have a husband with a substantial income as well and a pool in her back yard. I thought about how sweet her ride with her one daughter must be and how much better of a mom she probably is because she gets to actually have a relationship with one child and real meaningful conversations. Meanwhile, my 3 are often clumped together and called eachothers names and never have me to themselves for even a bottom-wipe! (How are there always atleast two kids in the bathroom at one time?!?!?) Heck they are always dressed alike and referred to as “the boys!” They are certainly doomed and in need of therapy.....these thoughts definitely went through my head in those few brief seconds. But I still knew I was very much like her. <br />
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So then I told her not to be so hard on herself because she was out getting some vitamin D, enjoying some exercise and allowing her daughter to see God’s creation. In my book she was winning and the only tip I had for her was to love herself more. She went on her way and my middle one kept singing loudly, “Oh, how He loves us. Oh how He loves us…” because yall, He does. And the God of the whole universe sees me even when it all isn’t so rosy. He sees me in my mess and He sees me when I may be on the right track (for even just an hour) with my mothering or wifely roles and, ultimately, He has assured me that the matching outfits/singing praise music while on a jog and the applesauce on the penis days are ALL for His glory. He can use even me and even a messy me. Actually, a messy me is much more usable me than the Friend or Follower I am on the internet. And even at the river with my 3 barely grown babies during one of our few fine hours….. He can encourage me and He uses my story. <br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-1528642044409049702013-08-22T16:22:00.000-04:002013-08-22T16:22:01.503-04:00Week of (too many) FirstsThere is so much meat to this post but in lieu of winding up a puddle of sweet tears during my one smoke break during the day - I may just lean towards a picture and blurb type post. After all, as I have come to realize - I dont care how often a little old lady stops me to remind me to enjoy this....I WILL FORGET IT...in less than 2 weeks. Moms, can I get an AMEN? For example, Bradford has been semi-walking not even a week and now today my brain can't even drum up what that pitter-patter on all fours looked like. A WEEK AGO! And by the way, I don't really smoke. Yet. <br />
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To start, the oldest son started real live school. No more glorified babysitting here with an occassional Christmas program attached. Our boy wore an equally adorable and hideous outfit and walked himself into his classroom by himself. It's the big leagues now, kid! He came home that first night and this is what we got.....I just love him!<br />
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Later that evening he started to tell us about an old old old man who was about to die but made "booooootiful" music for God. His name was "CHE-KO-SKI". Let's just say in one week he knows more about the classics than I've ever known. I am excited to learn again through his eyes. <br />
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Certainly, the other boys were missing their ring leader. On our first day alone (sans the Big Brother) I thought I would be super mom and make up for all the turmoil I caused over the summer. We dropped off our boy and headed to a local toy store. Ahh, isn't that just precious. Well, friends, it was. And it is but not when your sweet middle boy exclaims to the store "MOMMY!!! After you buy me toys will you change my poopy diaper!!!!" Oh buddy, you haven't worn a diaper in 2 months! Needelss to say, I was quickly reminded that 2 little people in tow still requires a diaper bag and mom essentials. Having one boy in Pre-kindergarten doesnt quite let me off the hook yet!<br />
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That precious, pooping little child celebrated his 3rd birthday last week! I can see how we have a 4 year old and a 1 year old but it just doesn't register that my once "baby" isn't a baby and is in fact 3. We had an impropmptu celebration with the best kinds of friends - the ones that will come celebrate your boy with a few hour notice. He picked out a scooter (thanks Grandma!), a guitar (oh boy!), and a trip to the zoo (thanks Nise!) for his 3rd birthday and all he wanted was "panilla" cake with icing. This boys could eat his way through a birthday and not think twice about a gift or a candle or the happy birthday song. We had all his favorites on his special day - chocolate chip pancakes, quesadillas, and pizza all topped with a little cake and icing! It is fun to celebrate this wee one...he makes it easy for sure!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9cgap2RPDxlGP4bSAo4BDtE5NbVDoSmPeN4cVjII5hJ8MY6rBSErAZ2kQ0lnRiacm5_I8af78bOdlKFKmMwjDGTdho1Q3SEGar6PdCR7PB3opz5Igfg8OQq2ZAdaWk7-7vguovROxNR2/s1600/IMG_3017.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9cgap2RPDxlGP4bSAo4BDtE5NbVDoSmPeN4cVjII5hJ8MY6rBSErAZ2kQ0lnRiacm5_I8af78bOdlKFKmMwjDGTdho1Q3SEGar6PdCR7PB3opz5Igfg8OQq2ZAdaWk7-7vguovROxNR2/s320/IMG_3017.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T-l2qhLfPaK0zqWWaJNtQ386WKaRt4vz0PITHoTJHfsi_LvQnPTiOqsC1o-e_lr_GV7QTpRe4wK5QxMGD_K2ZwEXmgTBtLH7h692svitcC9oGysHMMJ4sq3pauZ53Yy5Bkji3F0OsDXD/s1600/IMG_3021.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T-l2qhLfPaK0zqWWaJNtQ386WKaRt4vz0PITHoTJHfsi_LvQnPTiOqsC1o-e_lr_GV7QTpRe4wK5QxMGD_K2ZwEXmgTBtLH7h692svitcC9oGysHMMJ4sq3pauZ53Yy5Bkji3F0OsDXD/s320/IMG_3021.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafjH12_HzZFXZsCqPHNjNKpjaWlx958o2Us6f3gHzEV1tYp1OmuHQHIEku2nsRsGrx20eQOZCqKNZlLbnhFaxCmnoaCOC2tLZvoF9NHo7-7uQs0WyqwF9_Vxp3CHdyYiAoNLAn8XQmKJW/s1600/IMG_4479.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafjH12_HzZFXZsCqPHNjNKpjaWlx958o2Us6f3gHzEV1tYp1OmuHQHIEku2nsRsGrx20eQOZCqKNZlLbnhFaxCmnoaCOC2tLZvoF9NHo7-7uQs0WyqwF9_Vxp3CHdyYiAoNLAn8XQmKJW/s320/IMG_4479.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcicvaITA3zbAX2KcOqBp4eAi-C11sCj9L3X58MG-WtbL2xXPXN2UnRfO-TTbYBGErsibYC8dgeuuClYwdbgdt2yzgxvN0BEAUHNVskY6KT4kevnu_6LEoOifjghFwpPDbc-oJz3Knqy_/s1600/IMG_4487.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcicvaITA3zbAX2KcOqBp4eAi-C11sCj9L3X58MG-WtbL2xXPXN2UnRfO-TTbYBGErsibYC8dgeuuClYwdbgdt2yzgxvN0BEAUHNVskY6KT4kevnu_6LEoOifjghFwpPDbc-oJz3Knqy_/s320/IMG_4487.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQs7RZV-9MvI256iG4GJJEKBZnsk7TEdbTJSHGHtFdhvYv4y0JEvYxq7VP2S6B71BxuEg71CvHCCWhfAny1WM_XDzbFOMBY0cUyqaVb3IJu3qTX3TOW0NSObAnzFff85OR36VHr2dyWYO5/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQs7RZV-9MvI256iG4GJJEKBZnsk7TEdbTJSHGHtFdhvYv4y0JEvYxq7VP2S6B71BxuEg71CvHCCWhfAny1WM_XDzbFOMBY0cUyqaVb3IJu3qTX3TOW0NSObAnzFff85OR36VHr2dyWYO5/s320/IMG_4496.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDoCz_hX2lk7TL2hRkOa6Ds4SxIwvT_xh3CRDSiUHfsdq2BE5YnLI9yoaC0CXH1ipvhMVKA0_pujC5IfyE3Ihoc_YknqECoHYV-9LdIq7AOffFHHMKE_trkCIJXUO0c_4YQ5SeymkEqY_/s1600/IMG_4544.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDoCz_hX2lk7TL2hRkOa6Ds4SxIwvT_xh3CRDSiUHfsdq2BE5YnLI9yoaC0CXH1ipvhMVKA0_pujC5IfyE3Ihoc_YknqECoHYV-9LdIq7AOffFHHMKE_trkCIJXUO0c_4YQ5SeymkEqY_/s320/IMG_4544.JPG" /></a><br />
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Then, not to be left out, the baby took his first steps. You would think we hadn't witnessed this before with the commotion around our house as our proud nearly 15 month old stomped around the kitchen with his hands high in the air. Everything this one seems to partake in is lively and full of laughter. His expressions are as delicious as his thighs and I can honestly say we are finally enjoying the littleness about little people. I think for a few years we were just trying to survive and keep humans alive and now we finally aren't alarmed by anything and we can see that this thing called parenting....flies! I have enjoyed even the little moments with this baby and I am grateful that he has redeemed my feelings about toddlers. (Pardon the obnoxious mom in this video)<br />
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As you can imagine this week (as all the fuss happened last week) we have done a whole bunch of nothing. It's crazy how the emotional stress at times is enough to wipe a woman out. My heart is so full and I am grateful to be the mom of these three little men. What an honor!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-30348285955643019512013-08-12T09:36:00.000-04:002013-08-12T14:21:46.617-04:00What do you have for me today, Lord? I asked this question first thing this morning. In my heart, silently, but on this morning I really did ask it before I even checked the time or put my feet on the floor. And then like it was His perfect answer I heard the whimper of our newest boy through our shared wall. On any other day, apart from this light but loaded question in my heart, I would have felt violated by the baby's early morning cries. Don't I have a right as an overworked mom to just a few minutes of quiet before the saturated day begins? Isn't there just one morning I can get up before the crazy begins? I used to be a morning person. The kind that bother non-morning people. I loved the world that existed well before 6am and I was completely comfortable with a little less sleep but a whole lot of stillness before the sun was up. <br />
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Thankfully, the Lord has been doing something deep in me about my rights and for once I didn't hear his cry as a personal assault against me as if the babe-child was staking his win over me once more. I heard it differently this morning. And it changed everything about the rest of the day. This must be the season for this weighty lesson. There's been a shift in my thinking and it has began to free me from so much disappointment and hurt and wounds and bitterness. If I'm honest with myself much of my day can be spent disappointed. By myself and by those closest to me who seem to run rampant on my so called "rights." The right to move quickly through the day. My right for a break from mothering each day. It's my right to be understood, right? The first time. The right to exercise. Daily. My right to have children and husbands and parents and siblings and friends who respect me and listen to me. The right to be thought of, delighted in, made to feel special. Whew. It's exhausting just writing these things that I so cling to. These things that if adhered to will bring peace to my day and my heart right? Right?<br />
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I've been going through a study called <a href="http://jennieallen.com/studies/stuck">Stuck</a> by Jennie Allen with some dynamic women this summer. I could write a series of posts over several weeks regarding this study but this has been the biggest thing for me so far - the loss of my personal rights. This truth couldn't be any more of an antithesis for our culture today where every segment of society seems to be fighting for their own little freedoms. But If I believe I am in Christ and He is also in me than ultimately I have lost my own rights and I take on His. <i>Does this work for you? Does that make sense way way down in there to you like it has for me lately?</i> In Galatians Paul said, <b>"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. </b>(Galatians 2:20)<br />
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Jennie Allen said it this way. Wow. <i>But let's start with your life, your expectations, your money, your family's approval, your right to a family, your right to move quickly, your right to be successful. I {God} know I am asking alot. But if you die to all of this....I will do things greater than you ever hoped, dreamed, or imagined. But you have to let go. You have to lay down the very things that are most valuable to you, if you love me. Do you trust me?</i> <br />
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Do I? Do I trust you Lord with my time during the day if I really give up striving to make the day go my way? Can you fill me in those holes in the same way (or more?) that I think a quiet, early morning alone, a long run, or a break during the bath-routine can fill me? If I stop defending myself and stop fighting for my rights will you protect me?<br />
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***<br />
I gathered the <a href="http://www.mustela.com">Mustela</a> smelling child and immediately his right cheek fell on the top of my chest. We crept back in the roomy, inviting bed. Isn't the bed so perfectly comfortable first thing in the morning? For 20 minutes he let me hear the increase and decrease in his lungs while my hands were serenaded by the softest hairs ever made on his little head. I didn't want to stop stroking him back to sleep. He would look up at me occasionally as if to stroke my soul just a little bit by affirming me that this was good. I remember that feeling. My grandmother used to occasionally rub the top of my back with her fingernails in the rarest of moments. It was always a little uncomfortable. Maybe that's just my personality. I loved the attention and I never knew that touch could feel so deep down good but I also didn't want it to stop so I couldn't fully relax without thinking about how the tender scratching would have to end at some point. Certainly, this theme hasn't left me in this season of mothering. It's all so sweet, so good but I know it will end and how do I live with that tension?<br />
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I think that was His soft answer to my innocent question this morning. <i>Be in the moment, Betsy</i>. <i>In this moment your perfectly rounded baby, the last of them thus far, is fully content laying on your chest feeling the touch of your fingers and everything else really can wait.</i> But I left the washed clothes in the washer overnight. And we start school this week, albeit two half days of school. And I want to be the kind of person that gets up early again to take on the day. But<i> you have a baby, and you wont always have a baby at home.</i> What about the empty fridge warranting no breakfast selections for the Crazies who will soon be scattering about the halls, too? <i>But the baby is asleep on your chest. He knows nothing else right now but the comfort of this moment. Can't you be like that, too? I'm giving you moments, Betsy, lots of them. They may seem inconsequential but I promise they'll go farther than checking the laundry off the list. Rest. You're gonna miss this. You're hidden in me and I will take care of even your deepest desires. <br />
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Then earlier this morning I saw this quote and I have no clue who wrote it but a friend reposted it just for me I think. Thank you, sweet <a href="http://and2became5.blogspot.com/">friend</a>.<br />
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<b>As I grow in my understanding of the way Jesus lived his life, I find great rest in knowing I have more to "unlearn" about the way I think I need to live and lead my life.</b> Help me "unlearn" quickly , Lord......I don't want to miss it all while I was too busy protecting my rights.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4eK-Umi6U0x9GfvfG0h7rIRnxXxD4V2XRYouN3WJgLRBuPRVDpJvyCfJ6gZaorLBXnAuIkEzXTGtE5dmIkzeKi68O1l-hNcBcZbcUUYIhAl3yz9BPBlpYzz8uR1jtWvCvzVNjZbIfooC/s1600/IMG_2505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4eK-Umi6U0x9GfvfG0h7rIRnxXxD4V2XRYouN3WJgLRBuPRVDpJvyCfJ6gZaorLBXnAuIkEzXTGtE5dmIkzeKi68O1l-hNcBcZbcUUYIhAl3yz9BPBlpYzz8uR1jtWvCvzVNjZbIfooC/s320/IMG_2505.JPG" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-52440722452784112932013-05-02T08:26:00.000-04:002013-05-02T08:26:19.947-04:00CleansingOh, sweet, salty tears. My heart moves a little faster and my gut literally feels like it empties a little more with each one that hits my neck. These aren't the shallow, steady kind that are usually easy to come by but those thick, weighted ones that are pretty sparse but carry so much.<br />
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Since having children I don't recall crying too often with the exception of those wacky months of pregnancy and the beginning of a nursing season where I would cry if the mailman came late or something. I'm not sure if it's lack of time to allow myself to feel enough to even cry or if it's truly just lack of feeling. I think it's the former though. As this last year has now been the longest stint in between pregnancies in the last 4 years (yet the busiest for sure) and it feels like it has been a rather dry year with very few opportunities to just indulge and let the healing flow.<br />
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Then this morning the Lord spoke personally to my heart. There's this icky thing. It isn't huge. But it isn't small either. It's huge to me though and I believe that my Creator, the one who made me just this way, knows that this small yet large thing is there. Occupying space. He sees it and I believe He wants to come alive through the cracks and creases in my brokenness. <br />
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So while watching my oldest son slurp the milk from his cereal bowl, and while in the background a rather corny Children's song about God's limitless love on a devotional cd played, I cried. And I felt the tears down to my knees and all over. <br />
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There's something about water. Whether salty held in tears, or the depths of the Gulf of Mexico (my personal favorite). It cleanses. And I always feel a little lighter, whether immersed in it, or covered by tiny drops streaming down my cheek. <br />
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And that's the definition of hope to me. The tears bring it. The water washes me and I know that things matter and that life isn't stagnant and that growth happens. Hope emerges. New beginnings can happen and my story is always in motion. It doesn't have to always weigh on me. The space in my mind can be taken over by truth, purity, and loveliness. This isn't groundbreaking but as a mom of three little guys it is eerily scary how life can only seem about the day to day. Survival from 7A to 7P splashed with moments of intense richness but a whole lot of doing the tasks, keeping everyone going and moving, just like the day before and the day before. <br />
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I welcome these seldom moments like this morning when Someone who knows me deeply, sees me intimately, and wants things to work for my good <b>only</b> for His glory nudges me out of the monotony of a waffle toasting morning to remind me of that very thing. His real, living love that is on the move for me which means all of me, even this small yet loaded thing that ironically feels a little less burdensome already.<br />
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I'm reminded that salt changes things and God's mercies are new every single morning we get to call "today."<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-84351337710145869842013-04-25T16:12:00.000-04:002013-04-25T16:18:41.451-04:00grace in the back yardI think God is showing off like a rockstar in our yard this month. Before owning a home I never knew I could feel such pride over the landscape we see everyday. When you live in Atlanta most of your life and get to experience the most brilliant seasons it becomes second nature to drive by dogwoods bursting of white in March, and Azaleas and their many colors painting the streets in April so I am ashamed to say that the Spring season has never impacted me the way it has this year...from the yard of our own little abode. I asked our oldest child to pinch me this morning to make sure I was breathing as we walked around the periphery of our yard looking for bugs. It baffles me that the flowers in our yards and the trees that are budding actually do just that - bud and grow. I don't do anything to them throughout the year and then all of a sudden we are bombarded with the most delicious colors and the perfect little shaped bushes all around us. There isn't a direction you could turn in our yard right now without a burst of color in your vision. It really is breathtaking! I feel very undeserving and it makes me uncomfortable. Like I should have taken more responsibility throughout the year in order to be able to enjoy something so much. I should have atleast put in a little hard work to have such a perfect product to adore every single day. Ive always been like this, you see. I can recall more conversations than I would like to admit where my husband (and dear friends at times) are trying to convince me of this kind of grace. God's grace. The kind that even shows up in the colors of Spring. Can it be true that I don't have to always struggle or sacrifice or work in order to enjoy the benefits of something? In our society today this just doesn't seem so.<br />
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This exposes something deep down in me doesn't it? Something in the way I was wired and shaped as a young lady I guess - that I have to work for everything and that there are no free gifts. I am the best Pharisee I know. Today during our unplanned nature stroll (which deserves a whole different post)this reality wouldn't leave my mind. Its like the lights turned on and I saw themes in my life and in my thinking that weren't ever so clear before. All in a sweet hike around the house. <br />
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Most of life seems that it's all about working endlessly, knowing the right people, putting in the hours and the sweat in order to experience the joy that comes from achievement. Sure, we all see little graces all around us but rarely in the big places in life. Most things need to be earned or attained and it rarely comes without a high cost. Isn't the saying - what you get out is what you put in? I am so wired like this and it is rather annoying. The other day I was telling my darling husband who endures these rants more often that he should that sometimes if I'm all alone during the day with the boys at home I start to feel like the work I am doing isn't valuable. And not because it really isn't valuable but because there is nobody to tell me that it is valuable. This whole idea came to mind after a beautiful saying was passed around my mom's bible study this spring. The leader who is so dear to me and is the picture of the genuine, intentional, graceful mother I will die trying to be, said that she would tell her children that "they have an audience of one." This motto came to play so often in her parenting - whether when her kids were young and their hearts were coming around what it felt like to share or to encourage a sibling or later in life when her teenagers were faced with those sneaky decisions that we all face when it comes to doing the right thing - the thing that we know deep down is right. So just like our leader said, I have repeated this phrase to myself often when I'm on my 5th day and 7th hour of mothering in one week and the only conversation over a 3 year old level that I've had is with the mail man. I do what I do for an audience of one. For me and my Maker. Yes, I want to do it for my husband to see and think how selfless I am. And I sort of want those people in the grocery store whom are often not so kind to a mother of 3 young ones to see my patience and careful instruction with my boys at home. I want my mom to think I am as good a mother as she was and probably somewhere in there I'd like a friend to think highly of the way I have chosen to discipline my kids. Or even to be thought of as the "expert." Who doesn't want their children to be known as the most well-mannered boys in the neighborhood? We are all searching for these little accolades. If you are like me, you like to see the fruits of your efforts.<br />
<br />
But the reality is that my only audience is the Lord. And the other reality is that the world isn't really walking around wanting to put a medal around my neck for being a mom. Even without the accolades how can I know deep down that my efforts are worthwhile and that the work I am doing is a noble work? My beautiful bushes give me that answer in this very moment. The fruit will come. The buds will open and the color will burst. All winter did I look at those mute little plants and compliment them on the way they were preparing for the growing season? I actually never did. I didn't give them one ounce of a thought until they displayed their splendor and now I am just obsessed with them. I stare at them, I have taken umpteen pictures, and I have placed beautiful vases of their handy-work all over my house but they were pretty much dead to me a month ago. That's harsh. But it helps me to be a mother. The harvest will come. No, I may not raise a president or a navy seal (but I hope I do) but I can't imagine the quiet pride I will have one day as I watch my boys show respect to a lady or show honor to a senior citizen. These are the things I am teaching them in these four walls in these short years (but long days). We may not be the fastest toddler paper cutters in the Metro area and I am pretty sure we are still confused about green and blue but I know that even if no one else sees it or better yet - notes it - I am giving them all I have and I can be confident that they will be beautiful, full grown plants one day with a story to tell through their exquisite colors.<br />
<br />
The bigger theme in this message though is that authentic grace that only comes from God. The most freeing thing I can ever know and teach my kids is that there is absolutely nothing I can do to earn God's love. He has already shown me that love and I couldn't have done a thing to make him do it. He just did because He loves me. Because he chose me first. Not because I deserve it. Because I don't. And not because I earned it. Because I can't. He just did it. He showed me his colors, He gave me real life and I had absolutely nothing to do with it. <br />
<br />
Whew. That changes everything, doesn't it?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciD0TjqYJvpkLADNHeEtxP4n1DBIVInONkJZhnFv-x2-U0lSemHh8-Vj97QO0ueZwVwOheBuHaiglX15EiGhudFeh1xou8a5FMpVeIaSUDyIrvBAtmxOTK3iUaUrSLldL8EfR4SzeT5th/s1600/IMG_1732.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciD0TjqYJvpkLADNHeEtxP4n1DBIVInONkJZhnFv-x2-U0lSemHh8-Vj97QO0ueZwVwOheBuHaiglX15EiGhudFeh1xou8a5FMpVeIaSUDyIrvBAtmxOTK3iUaUrSLldL8EfR4SzeT5th/s320/IMG_1732.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzCFght2uMlyf0eCxiNO9v_xTuuKrCpzXtUkPJ8BRUUVFSe9DIa7TqQKaR3KTHcs9HU7g7RD55vgsgeCjP-HfCtkeqBmL0Ji5KZtB2ADlO6IBW1B4_Iwh_CBaW_sPntYuyAe425kvJ7e7/s1600/IMG_1709.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzCFght2uMlyf0eCxiNO9v_xTuuKrCpzXtUkPJ8BRUUVFSe9DIa7TqQKaR3KTHcs9HU7g7RD55vgsgeCjP-HfCtkeqBmL0Ji5KZtB2ADlO6IBW1B4_Iwh_CBaW_sPntYuyAe425kvJ7e7/s320/IMG_1709.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYu2SQaXtB3oV0J87484JeE5fwZDGnb4Hm9WUP7IitdD3WWX6lHxxXxY5mDCKlLa0PzabcDzFEUYM3V5OufNeMGBDLcWIHvefQGxPumQu2JeQFnLp5JjEmUrWfp-PeHhY5CY2V6C6LVXe/s1600/IMG_1666.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYu2SQaXtB3oV0J87484JeE5fwZDGnb4Hm9WUP7IitdD3WWX6lHxxXxY5mDCKlLa0PzabcDzFEUYM3V5OufNeMGBDLcWIHvefQGxPumQu2JeQFnLp5JjEmUrWfp-PeHhY5CY2V6C6LVXe/s320/IMG_1666.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSVuX9lqobyd1aPZ81wTolLZb3aMzsQoN5CrrYAHUS1xorythE07XvXQAB8LDOIl7zJFXHsn4GEB_EdVk2S9fLTf637kaSCqDIt3Wzrm4yR3xr9FSdB0V0TXkq7sOdL_zf_t5SYOU-Y_I/s1600/IMG_1575.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSVuX9lqobyd1aPZ81wTolLZb3aMzsQoN5CrrYAHUS1xorythE07XvXQAB8LDOIl7zJFXHsn4GEB_EdVk2S9fLTf637kaSCqDIt3Wzrm4yR3xr9FSdB0V0TXkq7sOdL_zf_t5SYOU-Y_I/s320/IMG_1575.jpg" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-26419571436282150572013-04-09T08:43:00.001-04:002013-04-09T08:43:49.374-04:00Spotted in the last weekA red bird or a family of red birds all about our yard <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJO2y5_8MUacb_S71P_ditqoX10TvLMuzswGemburNHphlY93U9NyofDTLMHYP51XYLmf3TfkGzaYzEoeYCj0VwV2zbzAmMam-3C29RetdjQ_4gjxxmAr4bb2HRNFxHML-ri9jqMTVcdd/s1600/IMG_1499.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJO2y5_8MUacb_S71P_ditqoX10TvLMuzswGemburNHphlY93U9NyofDTLMHYP51XYLmf3TfkGzaYzEoeYCj0VwV2zbzAmMam-3C29RetdjQ_4gjxxmAr4bb2HRNFxHML-ri9jqMTVcdd/s320/IMG_1499.jpg" /></a><br />
yellow snow all around Atlanta<br />
brothers helping brothers (and making someone else crazy over the wasted toilet paper!)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sR4YdSm-DeuSJL1CGZ4Pm6HCFnPDgzbkg3TVbXf3f1OavnpMA-N54PIXHaqV7mp60StKdyuHAxCwQYoQgmDJPY2a_sgzpOSQZBK0or_-yy4HBimoNX1qxqSbS62spD5KwcqGoo-I9Z2i/s1600/IMG_1553.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sR4YdSm-DeuSJL1CGZ4Pm6HCFnPDgzbkg3TVbXf3f1OavnpMA-N54PIXHaqV7mp60StKdyuHAxCwQYoQgmDJPY2a_sgzpOSQZBK0or_-yy4HBimoNX1qxqSbS62spD5KwcqGoo-I9Z2i/s320/IMG_1553.JPG" /></a><br />
perfect temps in Augusta for our most favorite <a href="http://www.masters.com">sporting week</a> <br />
quinoa burgers, smoothies, and cakes....anything quinoa<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsV2lmmH28-UblczuzRzSOFw1PXRlJMh22h38Wd5hdB0jyNDdPvxNfAH8Nf6UGKMN96preHdtAnHtk3BbgWGD-KqikYgZYQmzaIoExuBvvgoZ6BKaFS_Jzum4Im5ZegKlU-sD3Pd7NN8d/s1600/IMG_1551.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsV2lmmH28-UblczuzRzSOFw1PXRlJMh22h38Wd5hdB0jyNDdPvxNfAH8Nf6UGKMN96preHdtAnHtk3BbgWGD-KqikYgZYQmzaIoExuBvvgoZ6BKaFS_Jzum4Im5ZegKlU-sD3Pd7NN8d/s320/IMG_1551.jpg" /></a><br />
pantless boys<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_M6vuYn3Z_s0BqW435ucnyZZO2KtgxQ2yHMv6k_CbSkgcgduUJuXQAwkYdHaAQb2tNVIwIP6XcojIa_fuMh8aNf1X96nuRQEYuomvORK6AOFjATW61a3zPRvh4UPykhyphenhyphensq2yWsQs0H6t/s1600/IMG_1381.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_M6vuYn3Z_s0BqW435ucnyZZO2KtgxQ2yHMv6k_CbSkgcgduUJuXQAwkYdHaAQb2tNVIwIP6XcojIa_fuMh8aNf1X96nuRQEYuomvORK6AOFjATW61a3zPRvh4UPykhyphenhyphensq2yWsQs0H6t/s320/IMG_1381.jpg" /></a><br />
baby Toms (and evidence of little boys playing in my bed. Stinkers! Atleast they took their shoes off.)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBY4VcE334m25wrR5NcGLItOSt27ynsQTI-AWIZ5zgtbkVQlk-Nql51VvANf69b7b6O2cVHTvhhApISq5z4W13QaNiho-ANRL-i8Ik4kavtkTywry4mo-S2IbKuYezCr-L4o4snOZFluEt/s1600/IMG_1571.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBY4VcE334m25wrR5NcGLItOSt27ynsQTI-AWIZ5zgtbkVQlk-Nql51VvANf69b7b6O2cVHTvhhApISq5z4W13QaNiho-ANRL-i8Ik4kavtkTywry4mo-S2IbKuYezCr-L4o4snOZFluEt/s320/IMG_1571.jpg" /></a><br />
vibrant spring colors<br />
lots of sneezing and coughing between our 5 noses and mouths<br />
a baby rocking all 4's...just thinking about a crawl soon!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGdlxfUZyepis6CaAw83AN6P6lfpUyglMRFoBAp1cEr-jGCU1EAKvRlzF6O58j5cV_FNEeOQ7usjJdrN9p_0BDornLoei8gk-_M8P1pCna8Ycpzt1y_cM9D9FtDKowhQUDfZVMLS73Qk3/s1600/IMG_1303.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGdlxfUZyepis6CaAw83AN6P6lfpUyglMRFoBAp1cEr-jGCU1EAKvRlzF6O58j5cV_FNEeOQ7usjJdrN9p_0BDornLoei8gk-_M8P1pCna8Ycpzt1y_cM9D9FtDKowhQUDfZVMLS73Qk3/s320/IMG_1303.JPG" /></a><br />
our first vegetable garden. And after 2 days it is still alive!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5NIbcvRpCFmx1NpENiEnL51WyQs3n0Y-Q0lb_TB6PvUgTh-B-MZyv1bnksc9OGydFdROdntYzGnTNIMKEq8rzi1FPPE6qcJmJb4BOKmXvtREEZueX8uoVV9JtW2qeqlZJswwmdK-4V44/s1600/IMG_1544.PNG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5NIbcvRpCFmx1NpENiEnL51WyQs3n0Y-Q0lb_TB6PvUgTh-B-MZyv1bnksc9OGydFdROdntYzGnTNIMKEq8rzi1FPPE6qcJmJb4BOKmXvtREEZueX8uoVV9JtW2qeqlZJswwmdK-4V44/s320/IMG_1544.PNG" /></a> <br />
A 3ft+ snake. No lie. On the trails at the river. It was awesome for little boys eyes.<br />
Big boys climbing<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_owJMYdpkW4odtknPBXljo4cNjflXfbGOWQ6J9YeyOsz7IRqICxtVsDfZYDsRXQwXpLu0oKM7QO55Ic5cDzF8-W_7HB7sOCO5CKdoJtmxllFTeM94Fm7c6tNeUSm8mO8MBcBO8PkNHnH/s1600/IMG_1568.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_owJMYdpkW4odtknPBXljo4cNjflXfbGOWQ6J9YeyOsz7IRqICxtVsDfZYDsRXQwXpLu0oKM7QO55Ic5cDzF8-W_7HB7sOCO5CKdoJtmxllFTeM94Fm7c6tNeUSm8mO8MBcBO8PkNHnH/s320/IMG_1568.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIYWRlmJWWvIU293HeXRIpAZCzoVSMEMrV2jTMim8Azm9vdLr93ar7ibeJt3XDLpnb-8T1O-Tp6sr8SrBL1eL6fqNeCkt19rnrjNshshqgcNweRuft-TurkrtHKCTHFyG2_HpTHXFT1jQ/s1600/IMG_1558.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIYWRlmJWWvIU293HeXRIpAZCzoVSMEMrV2jTMim8Azm9vdLr93ar7ibeJt3XDLpnb-8T1O-Tp6sr8SrBL1eL6fqNeCkt19rnrjNshshqgcNweRuft-TurkrtHKCTHFyG2_HpTHXFT1jQ/s320/IMG_1558.jpg" /></a><br />
Precious baby curls<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNDpFoCh-0QWhlksV6I86CUi6yjC01dDrEeeFf8kHqswrAh1EYyfQjF4bfiRMwgdOEyWlaHfgdyCGBJboAu-EsBHNYEqFUCzMk1c3fBBC41VNRZHo5pJ4RXXUnfLNtnkD5wVwijn1MhHm/s1600/IMG_1550.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNDpFoCh-0QWhlksV6I86CUi6yjC01dDrEeeFf8kHqswrAh1EYyfQjF4bfiRMwgdOEyWlaHfgdyCGBJboAu-EsBHNYEqFUCzMk1c3fBBC41VNRZHo5pJ4RXXUnfLNtnkD5wVwijn1MhHm/s320/IMG_1550.jpg" /></a><br />
RED X's everywhere....<a href="http://www.enditmovement.com">Why?</a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWEB85Gx_Ys1j0Y-k0t4Dv7cBVaSRHmgeWK_1ZaVl9SlJfXgy034tTlTppeXeBv2JjR1HKMpyD3Bcohyphenhyphen80qhO2kv50Mnpmqszliafsb1ig9AlEFqM1SojdyRqpk4V6P2Du4R8QroAsAfQ/s1600/IMG_1569.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWEB85Gx_Ys1j0Y-k0t4Dv7cBVaSRHmgeWK_1ZaVl9SlJfXgy034tTlTppeXeBv2JjR1HKMpyD3Bcohyphenhyphen80qhO2kv50Mnpmqszliafsb1ig9AlEFqM1SojdyRqpk4V6P2Du4R8QroAsAfQ/s320/IMG_1569.jpg" /></a><br />
Cars, cars in every corner.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrivso39iI_bU_Bsm7YTcEqB7Yc2Iuyzfo9REFV3G_h_Ct1upXxHf9np_HmuyHtrSI7OwLhW2FWpLEJiOvPVpXoxWmsnUEsTJRsQXfYjBFQ6PINsBNLQGL1f9DD5t_ciaPtq6mYR0_uxq/s1600/IMG_1515.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrivso39iI_bU_Bsm7YTcEqB7Yc2Iuyzfo9REFV3G_h_Ct1upXxHf9np_HmuyHtrSI7OwLhW2FWpLEJiOvPVpXoxWmsnUEsTJRsQXfYjBFQ6PINsBNLQGL1f9DD5t_ciaPtq6mYR0_uxq/s320/IMG_1515.jpg" /></a><br />
A baby trying big people food. Yes, sir! We loooove a finger feeding, messy baby around here!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNWBEvhTDF0B4nLFrmdMn7eVsK6PheLSQfUQqeRjEyzecqBY9KfwNiGQh_WXwvgvO-nIO-6s4d3WM-0HsMgcB8o6jEHkBARUUOmPsRsZav6JSnatYgE7FI9ZAJe_O3DU-x96bIP9me9sd/s1600/IMG_1520.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNWBEvhTDF0B4nLFrmdMn7eVsK6PheLSQfUQqeRjEyzecqBY9KfwNiGQh_WXwvgvO-nIO-6s4d3WM-0HsMgcB8o6jEHkBARUUOmPsRsZav6JSnatYgE7FI9ZAJe_O3DU-x96bIP9me9sd/s320/IMG_1520.jpg" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-16294423826724765682013-04-04T09:59:00.001-04:002013-04-04T10:23:04.167-04:00It's April. Some thoughts...On being a SAHM. <br />
Whew. Maybe I should subcategorize this one. I wrote SAHM (which I hate the acronym anyway) and 6 thoughts literally flooded my head at once. Here is the first one. It's hard not earning an income or being on someone's payroll. Luckily my husband is truly amazing and doesn't ever make me feel like it's his income and not mine, actually quite the opposite. He talks about "our" earnings and inside I feel a little silly taking any credit. I've read those studies that say that a stay at home mother is worth upwards of 200k a year and all, and sure, that is encouraging. About as encouraging as being the stand-in-bride at someone's wedding rehearsal. So all day long I feel like I try to save a dollar here by drinking water instead of my beloved half and half tea and I feel giddy if I have even two coupons at the grocery check out. But no matter what it seems all day long we are spending, spending, spending. And it makes my stomach turn because at night when the house is quiet and lights are dim I sometimes actually go on the internet just to look for more ways to spend the money . (That's the problem in the first place is seeing OUr money as "ours." More on that another day.) Don't turn me into a reality tv show, people. I'm not confessing a serious problem, yet, it's just how our society operates. What else can we buy? As a SAHM who doesn't love an amazon box at their door every other day even if the contents inside are baby food pouches? So, I spend spend spend...swim lessons, we need new sheets, deposit for private schools, let's eat out - it's easier and no clean up (I'll pay alot for that!) and all the while I am also trying to feel like I am being a good steward of the money but it's just all too much. The two combat each other too much and leave me feeling silly and hypocritical. This morning I was on pinterest for not even 30 seconds and a friend had pinned "15 ways to earn money as a SAHM." I usually would think I would never ever click on such garbage, knowing that right now in our world of 3 boys under 4 years old I don't even have 2 minutes to use the potty alone so how can I find time to "earn money from home"? Anyway, 30 minutes later and 2 stinky, ignored diapers and a whole bunch of other messes and I am 24% into a survey about BIRTH CONTROL!!! Seriously, maybe they thought they found the right audience, a crazy mom of 3 little ones in 3 years but clearly - birth control isn't my thing. As the 2 year old was pulling out the tweezers and nail polish from my make up bag I realized this earning from home thing is ridiculous. So maybe I took a whole hour one morning to answer a bajillion questions about things I dont even care about (and really the whole time I was just bitter that they were advertising the PLANB birth control so lightly. As if the chance of being pregnant should be thought about so lightly as swallowing a pill? I just opened a whole different can of worms. oops)Only to earn maybe $2! Not even a latte. <br />
<br />
I'll continue to wrestle with this I am sure until one day when I see a little check with my worth for the week on it. Maybe it's better this way. I know now my work is constant and it never ends and I know there are very little accolades for many many years to come but I also know there is nothing on this planet more satisfying than giving yourself up for your children. I know the grass isn't always greener and I am sure there isnt a paycheck out there right now that could make me feel as exhausted and as valuable as I do, at home, being a mom. <br />
<br />
On Easter and The Bible Series. <br />
I love how perfectly planned those media people are to have aired the final bible series on the night of Easter Sunday. I felt quite childish having to cover my eyes as Jesus was beat and mocked and the blood ran down his innocent body. How silly of me to not be able to stomach the agony? But I loved that on my television for two hours every Sunday these last 5 weeks the stories of the bible were unfolded. Our oldest was in the room one morning as I was re-watching one of the episodes and I could have frozen those moments as I saw his mind trying to come around this Jesus he was seeing and the one we talk about. These 10 hours of television have certainly brought a perspective to our home and a reality to the cross. Easter was something more for us this year and something much more real. We travelled to our favorite SouthWest Georgia town of Plains and attended Easter service with Brad's family. It was a sweet morning but how could it not be when seer sucker is the go-to attire. The chorus of 5 sang "Crown him many crowns, the lamb that was slain." It was perfect. I knew our home church, PCC, was probably singing the same thing at the Verizon Amphitheater, with 10,000+ seats. But thats just it. It doesnt matter where we worship or how or when, we should be all singing the same message. That Jesus Christ lived a perfect life, died a gruesome death, and it was all for God's glory. Yes, I reap a ton of benefits but the point is that God gets the glory for what He did to come to us when we couldn't come to Him. Ahhh....I love the freshness of this message in my heart lately. It doesn't matter when you first heard this it is still a life changing message everyday.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wBqKme0wxrHyEaJ5Aiwmb9M_WI5baYqDJYNKUNTewpLsmw6NK2JnzWxVC2dOYWfRP3RWFj_Uw8eXOCozCTTVztFxTcb4zx3BIw9FCDnAzt9JtO8jbbO_7TeBYVZcMSDfUWOiKC_iq_rS/s1600/IMG_1427.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wBqKme0wxrHyEaJ5Aiwmb9M_WI5baYqDJYNKUNTewpLsmw6NK2JnzWxVC2dOYWfRP3RWFj_Uw8eXOCozCTTVztFxTcb4zx3BIw9FCDnAzt9JtO8jbbO_7TeBYVZcMSDfUWOiKC_iq_rS/s320/IMG_1427.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGu5vnyW1vc9gagNY-W9a-W0MrC7k0ByAdiDLkaBdnOyMBSL7DRBIGrVQQcUNpzc5BeK5YxSoudiGzH5Qgu0bN_XSI_vgEF-ORqZRnhs0_5eHfoUo2JTZvJoMI7uQVdvI76KKIOtg_bCU/s1600/IMG_1480.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGu5vnyW1vc9gagNY-W9a-W0MrC7k0ByAdiDLkaBdnOyMBSL7DRBIGrVQQcUNpzc5BeK5YxSoudiGzH5Qgu0bN_XSI_vgEF-ORqZRnhs0_5eHfoUo2JTZvJoMI7uQVdvI76KKIOtg_bCU/s320/IMG_1480.JPG" /></a> (The sweet sound a quiet car ride home. Not one peep for the 2hour, 43 minute ride. Beautiful.)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmGgvv5GtV_xm4h7Sa0pBhn5GbR8x1oTqxhQTM6cRdA7SXxgSzZJJWAVi5ThJiQrX6KD7p0mdlNn7Wxsh-2b3tKcbOZvkz3_UHTPBdQV7XmZsvSkRyHhHpkDgEJjbMpy9-qbbPbtmFzSg/s1600/IMG_1455.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmGgvv5GtV_xm4h7Sa0pBhn5GbR8x1oTqxhQTM6cRdA7SXxgSzZJJWAVi5ThJiQrX6KD7p0mdlNn7Wxsh-2b3tKcbOZvkz3_UHTPBdQV7XmZsvSkRyHhHpkDgEJjbMpy9-qbbPbtmFzSg/s320/IMG_1455.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHMUUjxg8THBjpmtuTfo1ZBXYBUkUkFh9JzW5X4vA0QjvLpN6HR5Q8wsq_tTf2Ktlxo9Wn8-DQNDz1A3b_sJPkM7E01moJqBRwDAKFDT_9tPIWCbP9Qpr3_jLHnMLFAcUFs3BVVOqmE6m/s1600/IMG_1456.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHMUUjxg8THBjpmtuTfo1ZBXYBUkUkFh9JzW5X4vA0QjvLpN6HR5Q8wsq_tTf2Ktlxo9Wn8-DQNDz1A3b_sJPkM7E01moJqBRwDAKFDT_9tPIWCbP9Qpr3_jLHnMLFAcUFs3BVVOqmE6m/s320/IMG_1456.jpg" /></a> Not my most brilliant idea ever.<br />
<br />
On sick boys.<br />
We are going on our 11th day of someone's nose running. We've been told by schooled doctors that this annoyance is just allergies and it was, so we sent our kids to school and went on a whirlwind trip for 24 whole hours for Easter. But then came the fevers late Monday and the whining and the tears and the night time wakings. Oh, and now the rain. Bah humbug, right? Yes, I am feeling deserving of a vacation and a newspot on the evening news about being caregiver of the year but really I know this is our world. As moms, this is just what happens and though I feel like we aren't sick very often when it does happen it happens to the whole house and it knocks us out for what seems like a month. BUT...each of my boys have literally fallen asleep on my shoulder atleast once in the last 10 days and it is so delicious. That they could be so safe and comforted in my arms to just nod off is so so deeply satisfying to me. Yes, there is no paycheck that can replicate that. While I hope (pray, beg, plead, bargain) that they feel well enough to get back to our routine tomorrow, I have enjoyed being in the infirmary and I never thought I would say that as one who hasn't always been the most sympathetic one (sorry, husband, I admit.)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEm8P_roLpeS2lcKMOJJqRErcpHGk_ZJaMxnDJdEC4_vHjotPR1IM_8FtE0fNkcGD7T63hC3nQ5gP_QMKGChRZdwQzbNeH1XiVdREdKDn0jw7pTtWOek7cgMrloT8g_3rz7TjUxtG5gm2E/s1600/IMG_1460.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEm8P_roLpeS2lcKMOJJqRErcpHGk_ZJaMxnDJdEC4_vHjotPR1IM_8FtE0fNkcGD7T63hC3nQ5gP_QMKGChRZdwQzbNeH1XiVdREdKDn0jw7pTtWOek7cgMrloT8g_3rz7TjUxtG5gm2E/s320/IMG_1460.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Z_AcpIQ8RT-OYRLuGviPJLd_6_mPin2QRTxWIE3uj_MFPTisC1cu6fSwaCpDiTLeUnS8ATdgFMcjBXF54VBl7IGoYOZTB02RFuBVvl3fshogCMX8ybQ4ismuLlOdEbkCifbf-_o7YDDV/s1600/IMG_1486.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Z_AcpIQ8RT-OYRLuGviPJLd_6_mPin2QRTxWIE3uj_MFPTisC1cu6fSwaCpDiTLeUnS8ATdgFMcjBXF54VBl7IGoYOZTB02RFuBVvl3fshogCMX8ybQ4ismuLlOdEbkCifbf-_o7YDDV/s320/IMG_1486.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5HPnPHljfl_LhbTQZgL9K7tCg1mQ5EOC66ui0eJ7PYDHBYXCR34KXXqpluGZtdQQQGdTuYSkzfEhdC20WAWlF7HqJimqMqRFQeuuJqa2vmjNz3FhZgPjXB3Ll8m-ns6ghklNnBcKy_SG/s1600/IMG_1469.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5HPnPHljfl_LhbTQZgL9K7tCg1mQ5EOC66ui0eJ7PYDHBYXCR34KXXqpluGZtdQQQGdTuYSkzfEhdC20WAWlF7HqJimqMqRFQeuuJqa2vmjNz3FhZgPjXB3Ll8m-ns6ghklNnBcKy_SG/s320/IMG_1469.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
On my baby. Who.Is.Huge.<br />
In some ways he won't grow on me. He can't crawl, loves pureed food, despite how much I offer him a plethora of finger held goodness. Cookies, chicken, carrots..he won't touch it if it isn't almost in liquid form. .And I have I ever told yall how much I don't like baby food. I just try to close my eyes and wake up when this stage is over not knowing what nutrients ever ended up in their bodies. Atleast this time around I am still nursing the HUGE baby so I think that counteracts anything damaging? Right, right? Oh, but one lucky day he did try some bites of chick-fil-a and maybe he was in the right mood or just wanted to trick me but I was a believer in his new favorite! Look how big he looks here....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxjtoW3ylU1saJWu90cD7KegnmZwOFPIqMODmfQsh5Jv500UobZrVgRTET74VMJXX3Oivm6tqOa4Fva_IGPFE26SKispUpy27BlMMqcS8KQvRcCYDL9BmvZUtxJ-L5B8bFAPv3J02JkZV/s1600/IMG_1442.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxjtoW3ylU1saJWu90cD7KegnmZwOFPIqMODmfQsh5Jv500UobZrVgRTET74VMJXX3Oivm6tqOa4Fva_IGPFE26SKispUpy27BlMMqcS8KQvRcCYDL9BmvZUtxJ-L5B8bFAPv3J02JkZV/s320/IMG_1442.jpg" /></a><br />
He does clap his hands now and wave by-by to himself which is maybe the most adorable thing on the planet! But he likes to reside on my right hip in my right (bulging and gross arm. ALL DAY. EVERYDAY. I don't mind it a bit until you know, I need to potty, cook dinner, eat something, make a bed, wipe another nose, etc. I'm sure this is a phase and soon enough he will move on from me and be everywhere but right now, along with the above sicknesses, I am feeling just an ounce claustrophobic. And lopsided.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vN0HjIH7lmsdNlsrsYeTLkviXFc9T-YJxG4c75XNmCk2HH0r1REh-I2yJDH3bM60UDY7Acg_3TebfYVnjTPN1fXd0A93bKAA7YHHgilS36WUPk29FxUW7x2vqliSHfTdljPuEvIlb4Gs/s1600/IMG_1429.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vN0HjIH7lmsdNlsrsYeTLkviXFc9T-YJxG4c75XNmCk2HH0r1REh-I2yJDH3bM60UDY7Acg_3TebfYVnjTPN1fXd0A93bKAA7YHHgilS36WUPk29FxUW7x2vqliSHfTdljPuEvIlb4Gs/s320/IMG_1429.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6b4PQQwb40mdLwirh-NjoZurYquyN5T0hvKf3ZwmWb9jHE5mpZmpdFu-unfB-tNdQyp-a3uc13B2ifKWQNb2XdeT75B1ftfs-D4bnE5uUonegR_DQFOeChnnn6UaguXFe4fMVmXMREvK/s1600/IMG_1451.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6b4PQQwb40mdLwirh-NjoZurYquyN5T0hvKf3ZwmWb9jHE5mpZmpdFu-unfB-tNdQyp-a3uc13B2ifKWQNb2XdeT75B1ftfs-D4bnE5uUonegR_DQFOeChnnn6UaguXFe4fMVmXMREvK/s320/IMG_1451.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
And a few more pics on Easter, sick boys, and stay-at-home craziness.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzfQ4E2Py47mg-1pBRlbo_sGiynn0K3o51G57FGrdJHV_T-qwWJyhTPsFsqBKYg7DumOlTjvWoGlXfAAdXOJ1iAupt_gtm2YIH8Z3xZ847xjglWV52aBU8mDLu7FassdUCsmXciVBRFUf/s1600/IMG_3948.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzfQ4E2Py47mg-1pBRlbo_sGiynn0K3o51G57FGrdJHV_T-qwWJyhTPsFsqBKYg7DumOlTjvWoGlXfAAdXOJ1iAupt_gtm2YIH8Z3xZ847xjglWV52aBU8mDLu7FassdUCsmXciVBRFUf/s320/IMG_3948.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsFnlhf3mFOzR8nwUV-2W_rUdCkzl8YI3zgA4-G4AyGRs3fxuI3SGWzrJJFgU8Rpc5U60EOgHisAbDDXCkWvdEBXStnvkcl_00J8sMJRcACoGoGP1fSvhhkZ5pZBoSUnD90kweccozpJC/s1600/IMG_1364.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsFnlhf3mFOzR8nwUV-2W_rUdCkzl8YI3zgA4-G4AyGRs3fxuI3SGWzrJJFgU8Rpc5U60EOgHisAbDDXCkWvdEBXStnvkcl_00J8sMJRcACoGoGP1fSvhhkZ5pZBoSUnD90kweccozpJC/s320/IMG_1364.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUg79p3rOK7AWeLwMtlL1L53hPqzQiUx2gCRr71HSRKaWOU2SuB_Myad7OJ-FaW69h4qvdg5qR57QWqJXUqiVCXl2D9ddM61AQ41hE1-VcpMtYBGhifkGZv9YbaXvs1q22czsIewgQQZmh/s1600/IMG_4006.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUg79p3rOK7AWeLwMtlL1L53hPqzQiUx2gCRr71HSRKaWOU2SuB_Myad7OJ-FaW69h4qvdg5qR57QWqJXUqiVCXl2D9ddM61AQ41hE1-VcpMtYBGhifkGZv9YbaXvs1q22czsIewgQQZmh/s320/IMG_4006.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGdP9M3DW17qpZIE5PCmCxi8IqmOM2oUU_eEwokjNEDZpohCfBQWJ6Hr7hDfyaKJSrYmxR34uhgekLenVm27XISnNo9VNv2JLFCPyqxolYdZp7q0Sdtq75IhzPq24h4YcogUchyphenhyphenPVhtRa/s1600/IMG_1407.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGdP9M3DW17qpZIE5PCmCxi8IqmOM2oUU_eEwokjNEDZpohCfBQWJ6Hr7hDfyaKJSrYmxR34uhgekLenVm27XISnNo9VNv2JLFCPyqxolYdZp7q0Sdtq75IhzPq24h4YcogUchyphenhyphenPVhtRa/s320/IMG_1407.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOd6yAXNOJVJ6EVUCZrHVnuOkhPl-yg9nf_KJWTHVHlwoa95bY0mTPZKPIkGbK6BkJD3JWn1U3K5xPDOGvnwmrfeooEznfb8MkmYVpJsEbWX8jHMdhvo3xCbmKT9gdGGpPp-fE1e7sPqt/s1600/IMG_3954.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOd6yAXNOJVJ6EVUCZrHVnuOkhPl-yg9nf_KJWTHVHlwoa95bY0mTPZKPIkGbK6BkJD3JWn1U3K5xPDOGvnwmrfeooEznfb8MkmYVpJsEbWX8jHMdhvo3xCbmKT9gdGGpPp-fE1e7sPqt/s320/IMG_3954.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHfW7mpOXFat6VO6c3us0Y-0f9-JxdC_odmtFAEngESDRp1WE5i6fXtCHYw9ce4UZO4UvdKSLCWB1cmqfL1L2xIgmYXZGliYw7y7x__-EqDI65Tiha9QwhPPOwtSfHWzKRsUBM8N7arp7/s1600/IMG_1403.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHfW7mpOXFat6VO6c3us0Y-0f9-JxdC_odmtFAEngESDRp1WE5i6fXtCHYw9ce4UZO4UvdKSLCWB1cmqfL1L2xIgmYXZGliYw7y7x__-EqDI65Tiha9QwhPPOwtSfHWzKRsUBM8N7arp7/s320/IMG_1403.jpg" /></a> <br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-46319818390102039092013-02-10T17:22:00.001-05:002013-02-10T17:25:06.133-05:00My mountainI grew up loving this little mountain in the suburbs of the city. My love for running began there. Like, really running. Hills, and long stretches, and quiet quiet serene. You have to really enjoy running to run here. It's not the kind of run that might earn you some honks or kudos like running down Peachtree. It's the kind that impresses on you a romance for running. Not the kind of exercise you do for calories but for something so much better.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu8bU6b3mjr36EYJTl-9LU2w5Hjcr-_6Lb4GM9CcQpnPKt2hlNmOJycsmCiBFKDyhrRQNPp6kQFYDuv_lze63N0a-SSCpKAbDKV7pUgmkf7q01q1O-gFD69EqCJOH50GiK8aq3EOw534C/s1600/IMG_0861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu8bU6b3mjr36EYJTl-9LU2w5Hjcr-_6Lb4GM9CcQpnPKt2hlNmOJycsmCiBFKDyhrRQNPp6kQFYDuv_lze63N0a-SSCpKAbDKV7pUgmkf7q01q1O-gFD69EqCJOH50GiK8aq3EOw534C/s400/IMG_0861.jpg" /></a><br />
My parents didn't like me going to the mountain alone. Nothing had ever happened there but with its presence also came a little mystery. There were so many miles of trails....countless miles and infinite forks in the trails to take just winding through tall, weathered trees and an occassional rememberance of a fallen soldier from the Confederate War. So I never felt alone at all. I've never been scared there but I remember I always ran a pace faster when I ran there.<br />
<br />
So most of the time I was alone on my mountain. There was one season in high school I visited the tops of one of the little hills leading up to the mountain with my high school flame. It was one of those places you didn't feel like you had to talk. If you timed it perfectly the sun setting over the tops of the trees and the distant call of the train were more than words anyway. I specifically remember many trips up the mountain in the late afternoons after a classmate and dear friend of ours was tragically killed. Her funeral was one of the more impressionable things on my faith but that little hill up the mountain is where I wrestled and broke and healed over her death.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31jcg9n-QW74GhjEh0OYASNsmSTdLlogivzj2vaYEC987NbJLhrHEdDlD47j-4rXCXdBC748TNP-qduSno-a7bn2aOJcZms_VGsF9Jm9ulSTsmSIPj8qzz_8kNqIfRQBatEZWcNQEl4w5/s1600/IMG_0867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31jcg9n-QW74GhjEh0OYASNsmSTdLlogivzj2vaYEC987NbJLhrHEdDlD47j-4rXCXdBC748TNP-qduSno-a7bn2aOJcZms_VGsF9Jm9ulSTsmSIPj8qzz_8kNqIfRQBatEZWcNQEl4w5/s400/IMG_0867.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3xkW5jmEWOixCDhkbCSeSHRODajFkKed9_bejHyl1oKXaBiDYTsGiu21J_Awvp1WXX6iIuNbSbK86EBaYn4AqMFySZ9XRpQraCZhZF4mLGcnfxeAx6-io9wmui7izzyCSKANFU0Eso0G_/s1600/IMG_0859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3xkW5jmEWOixCDhkbCSeSHRODajFkKed9_bejHyl1oKXaBiDYTsGiu21J_Awvp1WXX6iIuNbSbK86EBaYn4AqMFySZ9XRpQraCZhZF4mLGcnfxeAx6-io9wmui7izzyCSKANFU0Eso0G_/s400/IMG_0859.jpg" /></a><br />
A few Christmas's my dad gathered the troops, as I am the oldest of 4, and we all hit the mountain together. This wasn't the most popular of ideas among a house full of new shiny things but somewhere deep in me this was the most special thing under the tree. My siblings make fun of me to this day about how I euphorically recall these few hikes even when their memories aren't as shiny. Don't we sometimes memoralize the things that really get us? Those family hikes meant something to me that I wasn't certain of at the time. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHHxACphNImwkCQrJKf80MeukxRZww59cvOvf5dXAK4U002tpBJjUQxiIu7h4AbS7AxyJRK-WgaNH7QR8YnhbQ6eAJNIjqFhagUQoSMRrMire-xTujx_l5PN0B330FbR_h34X3et1O6ho/s1600/IMG_0879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHHxACphNImwkCQrJKf80MeukxRZww59cvOvf5dXAK4U002tpBJjUQxiIu7h4AbS7AxyJRK-WgaNH7QR8YnhbQ6eAJNIjqFhagUQoSMRrMire-xTujx_l5PN0B330FbR_h34X3et1O6ho/s400/IMG_0879.jpg" /></a><br />
My parents moved away from our home town when I was a sophomore in college. I would come "home" still on some weekends and I would always go to the mountain. I didn't have a home to go to in Marietta anymore but I didn't feel even a bit out of place rounding the end of the 5 mile run just as the sun started to bow and the trees had whispered to me the whole way. Exhaling so hard and feeling the cold burn my lungs all the way down to my toes. I can close my eyes and feel 19 so clearly. I wondered and questioned alot on that mountain and sometimes after some answers came I would sing aloud, too. It's like this place knows my whole story. The yucky and the beautiful.<br />
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Luckily years later my would be husband had a thing for the outdoors, too, and he even decided to train for a half marathon while running with me on those trails. Or maybe it was just to make an impression. Either way it worked. Since we have been married we have spent many long Saturdays allowing the woods and the inclines to witness to our needy souls. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEievlxm4RH8QdxxC2lKZ3-xKri-UEbV8RXJz_LxwEaYsDmw1AW6jlPzyFbSn43wuMnPPEiKxCNdswr4D9pbAv5M7tkDjQ1QGdgxp1eanIp2xbu7g5UpYI0p_wgijkf7ABQS0aLjOOcAnNS9/s1600/IMG_2661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEievlxm4RH8QdxxC2lKZ3-xKri-UEbV8RXJz_LxwEaYsDmw1AW6jlPzyFbSn43wuMnPPEiKxCNdswr4D9pbAv5M7tkDjQ1QGdgxp1eanIp2xbu7g5UpYI0p_wgijkf7ABQS0aLjOOcAnNS9/s400/IMG_2661.jpg" /></a>Lately I have been getting to know my favorite place again. Anew. My parents now live so close to this precious place that I can't go visit them without making sure to have time to get on the mountain. This past Wednesday the trees and the quick switches up the mountain were just the therapy I needed. This place is where I can worship. Yes, I may really raise my hand on occassion but it's an even better kind of worship. Do you know that feeling where your insides literally dance? Where everything seems to be just for you? How among all of this can the Lord be speaking to me, too? And that's what draws me closer to God more each passing year. That the mountains and the burning orange sunsets can be in the same thought as me and my fragile little heart. Yet all of it is for His glory. That's the thread that has been the constant in my love affair with this mountain. God's glory. My joy. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEJPkFLpDlsJG3kmeO-eGTk8Dz-pFRhatKPaQhFk6dq41OiRdRRm8sJBbgs6C0az19RW1Z0wIH21pGENNmUFuVMMDHEVGgcWqj6YDpN-T7gdMpC5BROZRsdfibDUl9vhHNgqBlSF5Ml61/s1600/IMG_0876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEJPkFLpDlsJG3kmeO-eGTk8Dz-pFRhatKPaQhFk6dq41OiRdRRm8sJBbgs6C0az19RW1Z0wIH21pGENNmUFuVMMDHEVGgcWqj6YDpN-T7gdMpC5BROZRsdfibDUl9vhHNgqBlSF5Ml61/s400/IMG_0876.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfadh6fiaE4G7UojKu5p7GzLQvk_j3r9znQdRSic1SwLhBwqam0uut5z9svwJLZ9m3IMQkogypGZ50pNdF7WZ8hZyop-hBEhrKc-PNYynLEOrHagljwkcNguXNqhJDoUPYOMC7RGZk5a_/s1600/IMG_3930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfadh6fiaE4G7UojKu5p7GzLQvk_j3r9znQdRSic1SwLhBwqam0uut5z9svwJLZ9m3IMQkogypGZ50pNdF7WZ8hZyop-hBEhrKc-PNYynLEOrHagljwkcNguXNqhJDoUPYOMC7RGZk5a_/s400/IMG_3930.JPG" /></a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-4036850076038807452013-01-29T15:39:00.000-05:002013-01-29T16:59:46.515-05:00Some needed cheer around hereWe have the January-funk. Or by "we" I mean "me." The boys have traces of the awful sickness. Their sweet baby fine bangs are covering their eyes out of neglect, their clothes go on a 3 day rotation with a rare washing, they start finding crumbs and pony tail holders and kitchen tongs to use for toys, and they actually get tired of boxed mac and cheese. For me it's much more severe. I get stuck in the January rut and I just can't fathom that the sun will ever stay out for longer than 2 hours, and Christmas just seems so darned far away, and, I, too, go on more like a 2 outfit rotation and may even have been known to just turn some pants inside out to wear two days in a row. Eww. Things just start to get stale and by things I dont just mean food and hair but like my ambition and my optimism. Are you still here? You are a true friend because who wants to read about a whiney stay at home mom with major first world problems? Not me!<br />
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So in light of my <a href="http://www.passioncitychurch.com">church</a> getting a hold of my icky little heart this weekend. I have decided to push out all of these cobwebs with worship. And by worship I mean this:<br />
<b>Worship is our response both personal and corporate to God for who He is and what He has done expressed in and by the things we say and the way we live<i></i></b>. -Louie Giglio, Passion City Church <br />
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Further, he said, "<i>There is a direct connection between our appreciation for grace and my expression of worship."<br />
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Ouch. My tummy just turned retyping that from my notes. Judging by the way I am living this week my worship is pretty pathetic which just means my gratitude for what has been done in my life and on my behalf is non-existent. This morning I woke up with this funk that I thought surely would have shaken by now but it was just there.....lingering powerfully over me. I decided to do what a wise man (thank you, Jeff Henderson) taught me to do a few years ago in looking at my "pillars of faith" to see Gods hand in my life but also to know He <b>has </b>worked and<b> is </b>working all the time.....even if the January's feel like they're winning. If I can better see what God has done for me not just in the circumstances of my life but in what He did for me on the <a href="http://www.passioncitychurch.com/watch#PCC-012013-V1">cross</a> then wouldn't my worship explode! I'm not just talking singing and going crazy in church (though that's surely a byproduct) as you may think but like the definition states....worship in the WAY I LIVE. <br />
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So, here are some pillars in order to turn the cloud over our home into a place of genuine gratitude and beautiful worship.<br />
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1)Brad. The one that gets me without any words and even at my worst. Worth the wait. Period. Thank you, God, the ultimate Romancer. <br />
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2)Sleep, sweet sleep. I'm kinda eerie when it comes to making notes on how this body of mine is doing. My apple calendar at home is full of every workout I may have ever done, every sickness I've ever even started to catch, every doctor's appointment I've had, and every pregnancy fact I never thought I would care about. When I look back at the calendar for 2011 it is stocked full of <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2011/03/still-standing.html">pain</a>. Looking back I see that this "note keeping" only fueled the process. 9 out of 10 days were full of notes about how many hours I slept, how much ambien, melatonin or drug of the week I took that night, and any physical symptoms I was feeling along side of the severe exhaustion. Until recently I couldnt even look back at those long months and heavy days but as the months of better sleep add up and I get farther and farther away from that monster I am more able to look at the whole thing objectively. And goodness is God's hand all over that year! While the January-itis is heavy it doesnt stop me from thanking God every single morning for even an interrupted 5.5 hours of sleep. We have come a looooong way, baby! Thank you, my Redeemer and Healer. <br />
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3)Three energetic, edible little boys that always can get a smile out of me and a good belly laugh even on the worst of days. Each one of them has their own gifts they bring to our family make-up. The oldest boy makes me believe in love and all things good on this earth with his huge heart. The middle boy keeps us young and on our toes at all times. ANd the little guy, oh boy, he doesn't move yet but he just makes me relaxed. He is the one that set our house into pace of life that I love....much slower and less cluttered than without him. What a number these little people have done on my faith. What a walking display of Gods hand they are for me and Brad. Thank you, Creator of life.<br />
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4) And last but most importantly, the cross. This is by far the pillar on which all of the other ones stand. It is radical grace that God came all the way to me when I couldn't in my own effort get to Him. Thank you, Savior of the world. <br />
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And here are some pictures that surely turn my lemons into lemonade.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuyEqS8j4lYMN1aPhB0RqcfyOPQ9fclvbvlWhQNYMEsqB6H_aBKUApYG7JR2A9H1zcM_JG95lrOUZyQfGHT-s4z6BGMgwds4cHmXPkrmEtsPZORHNpBvLfAAub4AEprrL1_u6pP4ORZqB/s1600/IMG_0740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuyEqS8j4lYMN1aPhB0RqcfyOPQ9fclvbvlWhQNYMEsqB6H_aBKUApYG7JR2A9H1zcM_JG95lrOUZyQfGHT-s4z6BGMgwds4cHmXPkrmEtsPZORHNpBvLfAAub4AEprrL1_u6pP4ORZqB/s400/IMG_0740.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwIQ8BgB7rHrFvUAejVuL411BQP2QWgIqt_msj4mUGznAK6FLlKNLSdkCPcBLF6pfgApbpF4WqC1QXravvYqA13-Ym6pLj6zmj3cG7qkCSCzeD5BwiJaLH81cdVWMvjaoUxYxeEZic71L/s1600/IMG_0432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwIQ8BgB7rHrFvUAejVuL411BQP2QWgIqt_msj4mUGznAK6FLlKNLSdkCPcBLF6pfgApbpF4WqC1QXravvYqA13-Ym6pLj6zmj3cG7qkCSCzeD5BwiJaLH81cdVWMvjaoUxYxeEZic71L/s400/IMG_0432.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8Tl7gorv4wvWZ-MxfSw6qMwNRmCtaM32pMy5N8-BEkegDY-uRZliURCIw7lAy2sdvb78BJP6HOr9BeoaF5nkVhm-Nq3F8y0A6rwx8EkkYdTrV08kb77SCLgMEeBG2SxJFRaK2w2_RWm8/s1600/IMG_0474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8Tl7gorv4wvWZ-MxfSw6qMwNRmCtaM32pMy5N8-BEkegDY-uRZliURCIw7lAy2sdvb78BJP6HOr9BeoaF5nkVhm-Nq3F8y0A6rwx8EkkYdTrV08kb77SCLgMEeBG2SxJFRaK2w2_RWm8/s400/IMG_0474.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDCTTyPhu3hvzU-B1AjcpM0S1JBM-uM4Cp54teyCxFfMplK673fyx_Mu_46a8E00rZRh1cw2HjtObaMg2-Mb7PL28maTTSr5ii5jTvCw_SngXBDnsIY8UMGbGuD3s7fA_apt1CHFZnh33/s1600/IMG_0532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDCTTyPhu3hvzU-B1AjcpM0S1JBM-uM4Cp54teyCxFfMplK673fyx_Mu_46a8E00rZRh1cw2HjtObaMg2-Mb7PL28maTTSr5ii5jTvCw_SngXBDnsIY8UMGbGuD3s7fA_apt1CHFZnh33/s400/IMG_0532.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbaCgTJp6XtI506QiopE4dRXmbNZtORy2QU8tFxhS3ChxoRzRKbQz4y8QyATdyNKWTLPCRpNNd111fscHHHDuLBtJur9i1eY6Oo2HwKJUAyL_8ZyFJJm-tCobO_T1t9ruqxxUlRaGhvzvG/s1600/IMG_0535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbaCgTJp6XtI506QiopE4dRXmbNZtORy2QU8tFxhS3ChxoRzRKbQz4y8QyATdyNKWTLPCRpNNd111fscHHHDuLBtJur9i1eY6Oo2HwKJUAyL_8ZyFJJm-tCobO_T1t9ruqxxUlRaGhvzvG/s400/IMG_0535.jpg" /></a><br />
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What are your pillars of faith? What can you look back on and know for certain that God was at work in your life?<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-13964095110653367102013-01-17T10:04:00.002-05:002013-01-17T10:22:22.169-05:0017 days into 2013And the only thing I know for certain is that the ground is wet. <br />
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I like to think I have the ability to dance, sing, or bake my way into happiness even after 6 days of rain but no amount of boxed cakes and new <a href="http://www.christomlin.com">music</a> can beat these winter blues this week. Excuse me for my little bout of SeasonAffectiveDisorder but I just can't take rain boots and drive through trips to the bank anymore. We are floating away here in Atlanta and with each passing hour of rain I think I lose a little more ambition to ever do anything more than watch morning television like I'm getting paid. I even considered calling in to the Kelly and Michael show yesterday....starting to feel a little too "close" to the only adult conversation I've had this week. And, I tell no lies - we have not changed our pajamas all week long. Day 1 and 2 of the rain were quite refreshing....laziness coupled with extensive time rolling on the floor with the babies and the excuse to cook soup and drink hot chocolate. But yesterday we hit a wall and the teller at the bank and my drive through laundry friend both refused to talk to me again on my 2nd trip of the day. <br />
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But......there are a few take aways from our week in the rain that I'll put down in the books. <br />
*Our older boys are pure entertainment these days...for me and for eachother. Yesterday I finally went to check on them after surely more than an hour of quiet from the basement. They had made a car and of course the oldest was driving while the youngest was taking pictures of the zebras. They were driving to get hot chocolate they said. I was pretty sad to not have been included for the past hour because I shorty realized that their pretend world was way better than my 4th segment of The Dr's telling me about the flu epidemic. Then yesterday during the time when I had anticipated all would nap and I would actually find my way out of my pajamas, the boys instead played hookie from that desirable nap. They both stayed in their rooms thankfully (for way longer than should be allowed). This is the conversation I heard....{William} "<i>Broooooooooooks! Brooks Bag-y-well! Wee-yum needs you! Brooooooooks!"</i> The little man called his brother using his first and last name for maybe 40 minutes. The rule following, oldest child sat at his door and just repeated over and over "<i>Lillam</i> (which is William in 3 year old talk), <i>I can not come help you. Mommy will get mad at you and you will not get to eat oatmeal and we will have a consequence and we will never get to go to grandmas or have treats.</i>" Geez! Whoever is the mama to these poor boys is certainly a little too intense! Anyway, moral of this story - the two oldest boys are certainly getting to that divine place where they LOVE playing with eachother, they are wildly imaginitive, and they don't always need me! If I could only now take advantage of these sweet hours of relief and get-something-done! For the love....<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXCabdo-IcXgxkVk73U3cnCCwWtHoltG3UZzzKknfCdeg8Xj0s9FBii2Bu3UZPM1ZM6n_Y5MWuFH3JEnLHbgG0hTkrGsFhGM4XRxUpmbV6ojhZsULMbu39cN569LE2cC_Yb_F4DZnFJP8/s1600/IMG_0474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXCabdo-IcXgxkVk73U3cnCCwWtHoltG3UZzzKknfCdeg8Xj0s9FBii2Bu3UZPM1ZM6n_Y5MWuFH3JEnLHbgG0hTkrGsFhGM4XRxUpmbV6ojhZsULMbu39cN569LE2cC_Yb_F4DZnFJP8/s400/IMG_0474.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNp7xqYOFbUzt12H-7rRg3yaVNnbwQ1buVKuxp1ntMJhNYbcu_yFHLB0pI9WgZwI8IvHfytRQH0fk6OXC3XRfDmDKX3jzmLRWHnLMuoju0V6m9Qc2irIO0mcyI4vC6vEZpP1q2_LrKj_QT/s1600/IMG_0464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNp7xqYOFbUzt12H-7rRg3yaVNnbwQ1buVKuxp1ntMJhNYbcu_yFHLB0pI9WgZwI8IvHfytRQH0fk6OXC3XRfDmDKX3jzmLRWHnLMuoju0V6m9Qc2irIO0mcyI4vC6vEZpP1q2_LrKj_QT/s400/IMG_0464.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7NTfl500DeOE1AOiqdeI97P3Ov7UQiPvY040c4iWtaRLkwXQaSfhUGLzdrNmuPmKDI2gr4Z3lVH4OzgCOZ3DH7jyJs65K7t_7N2ym9PsXRo0TT6A2lT1dgNePgA1theuqqES1nS2nwXe/s1600/IMG_0371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7NTfl500DeOE1AOiqdeI97P3Ov7UQiPvY040c4iWtaRLkwXQaSfhUGLzdrNmuPmKDI2gr4Z3lVH4OzgCOZ3DH7jyJs65K7t_7N2ym9PsXRo0TT6A2lT1dgNePgA1theuqqES1nS2nwXe/s400/IMG_0371.JPG" /></a><br />
*Ironically, just as the two older boys are entering the world of childhood play, the littlest weeble is needing me to do things for him! Seriously, I didn't sign up for this. I signed up for a chunky, immobile, always happy, and easily entertained 6 month old. I was surely thinking as my 3rd boy that he would just jump into self care straight from the womb. Now I can barely walk out of the room without the chubster yelling for me. Literally. It's not a cry. It's a half grunt and half squeal that makes you turn around in your tracks and run to see what could be the awful matter. If I so as turn my head towards the terrible shows that have been on this week in our living room, the once-self soothed little boy stomps his feet, kicks his legs, and makes "that" sound until I turn to him and acknowledge his cuteness. What have I created? This all must be planned. I start to feel some breathing room in my daily routine and sure enough the littlest man, grows up, needs real food, and wants someone to look at him all day! (And all joking aside - I do love it! It just doesn't help my quest for even slight productivity.)<br />
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All this self sufficient talk has me sounding like a waste of a mother. That's okay. It's just the rain soaking up all of my creativity, energy, and ambition for things other than processed foods, reused clothing, and useless television. Yesterday I did hit an all time low. I will use this (not so forgiving place called the internet) as a confessional. Here's the gist of it....<br />
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I'm sure if the floods ever surmise I'll get back to those 60 phalanges that need to be tended to and I'll actually care if we eat something other than a carbohydrate (and I'll stop hiding in the bath tub) but for now it is still raining. We are still in our pajamas and The Dr's is about to start. Bring on the life altering information. Atleast we know what to do should anyone come down with the flu this season. And atleast I have cute rain boots.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5I-ZzDty-SzE220GG97O6OpOumzEdfL6B4g_9mi4s_3LTdiJxcMbCXog3WEtK8H1FvUS3iEVNxrJ78xiRORa8eCQqbqaMaJn7geq3F0Ok3YWhQOUax-CS6oFn1O27yV6DQMZzjbKXlHdi/s1600/IMG_0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5I-ZzDty-SzE220GG97O6OpOumzEdfL6B4g_9mi4s_3LTdiJxcMbCXog3WEtK8H1FvUS3iEVNxrJ78xiRORa8eCQqbqaMaJn7geq3F0Ok3YWhQOUax-CS6oFn1O27yV6DQMZzjbKXlHdi/s400/IMG_0374.JPG" /></a><br />
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Oh, and we did celebrate a birthday this rainy week so atleast we have 2 cakes to keep us going. The rain certainly hasn't stopped the aging process or our craving for sugar!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-748177454782072632013-01-07T14:38:00.001-05:002013-01-07T15:27:05.573-05:00New year but no promisesAs I sit down to write for the first time in weeks I realize that my time could be just as useful talking to my washing machine right now. I have become one of those half-blog-hearted moms that I used to resent. Resent is harsh but think something with about half that much intensity. Even two young kids in and I still found time atleast once a week to "commune" with the internet world but now 10 more fingers and 10 more toes under my care and I am one of "those" that get forgotten about after months of neglect. <br />
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I don't vow to write much more than I did last year but there is a small hope deep inside my warm puffer vest right now that maybe I will be able to chronicle these tales somewhere even if it's not always here. These moments with three little boys not even tall enough to ride the big rides yet are so monumental even in their own small way and I just have to be able to look back on them some how when Im more rested and less physically needed in a few years. With that little semi-promise being made I will also say this...It has been nice to start to peel my fingers off my grip on social media. I don't think I am any worse than the average conversation starved stay at home parent but my attraction was bad enough for me to want to do a little purging. It was after some well circulated blog that I read last year urging moms to look up from their phones and actually be present with their children (novel idea huh?) that it all finally clicked, pun intended, and I was okay allowing moments inside our young home to be just that - moments - and not tweets or titles of blogs or some status update somewhere. So I have certainly been a little AWOL on here but I haven't been sitting around catching up on soaps I can assure you of that. (Though I have been severely drawn to Sex in the City reruns these last few months because I think the first time around I didnt fully appreciate the fabulous character typing.)Anyway, I digress...<br />
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In complete random-Betsy-like fashion - here are some things I would like to consider doing (or stopping) in this new year and maybe some things that I just thought were fabulous about last year. <br />
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1) Can I get an "amen" to this in advance? MY CHILDREN ARE SPONGES AND THEY ARE TAKING IN EVERY SINGLE THING I DO/SAY/EAT/WATCH/SING/YELL/ENJOY/CRY OVER/DESPISE/APPRECIATE/OBSESS OVER and EVERY MISTAKE I HAVE EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT MAKING. So in this new year I need to get my act together just a tad. Christmas was a perfect example of this. I went into this gift-showering season feeling quite confidentally that our oldest boys still only knew about Jesus' birthday and had no desire for any shiny new toys. Sure candy canes make them perform any task I would like but the thought of ole St. Nick (I thought) had no power over their ever impressionable minds. Did I ever learn how wrong I was Christmas morning when our oldest bounced out of bed as early as I used to but barely after Santa had left the house and the dissappointment that boy showed that morning would cause you, too, to be considering a petting zoo for his 4th birthday party - just to make up. Santa didn't wrap the presents. "Why mommy?" Santa took au unopened toy that had been stashed in the way back of his closet for over a year and (so stupidly) gave it to his younger brother for Christmas. "Why did Santa bring William the toy that was in my closet, mommy? Will you go get my same toy that is up in my closet." {Eeek} Santa also didn't bring the poor-pitiful child the one item he had asked Santa for the 4 times his mama drug him to see him this season. "Why didn't Santa bring my magnet blocks, mommy?" {Crickets. Crickets. You, see, Santa, didn't really know that you would really remember what you had even wanted. I mean you are only three and you are as easily entertained with an empty box as you are a pet pony so Santa just didn't really go with the pony this year.} The bottom line is that once your child inches past that 2 year old mark you can't make up the stories you once made up and you can't slip the words you usually slip and you can't complain to your husband about how your neighbor was rude (and maybe some other words) because those little eyes, ears, and hearts are sucking it alllll up and it WILL come back to haunt you like when your 3 year old asks that neighbor why he doesn't have Jesus in his heart since he is mean on that cold Halloween night. Ooopsie. <br />
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2) I seek (not promise or vow) to juice my way back into health! I kmow I am pretty behind on this band wagon but I assure you we have made up for lost years of kale and rutabaga smoothies. My children BEG me every day for a frog-smoothie and I can't tell you how redemptive it feels to happily serve them up a little spinach, carrot, avocado, kale, apple, and banana cocktail. Seriously, it makes all the syrupy pancakes and weeks and weeks of peanut butter and jellies instantly vanish from my guilt thermometer. My whole family has eaten more green leafy vegetables in the two weeks since Christmas than in the last 4 years. We took the plunge and bought the 2nd most expensive "staple" in our house (next to the double bob stroller) and bought the super-duper-make-any-meal-into-a-drink Vitamix and we are sooooo glad we did! Let's just hope we continue to use this thing everyday for good reasons rather than sliding the smoothie setting down to the icecream setting and experimenting that way! We've also made baby food, soup, and mashed potatoes and I may or may not have tried to make a cake just to say I did but that will certainly go in the FAIL category. Brad says we should fry up some bacon and add it to my drinks because bacon makes everything better, right?<br />
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3) Sometime recently I also looked at that Guilt factor thing that I spoke about with the peanut butter and jelly's. It's a real thing yall and unfortunately something I have always done well. But I do have some refreshing thoughts about unneccessary guilt and I hope to see them playout this year. It's easy as a mom to fall into the same category with every other mom - the category of moms wanting to literlly be everything and do everything and make their own bread, too. Having our third child FINALLY freed much of my mind up from feeling silly guilt over silly things. I used to only take my kids to the gym nursery for 35 minutes because....well I don;t know why - so the nursery ladies wouldn't think Im a lazy mom always handing my kids over? Well, lately, I have finally started to let go a little bit and man does it feel good! Brad and I served at <a href="http://www.268generation.com">Passion 2013</a> {which deserves it's own post soon} this year and one of the things that stuck with me was actually from a <a href="http://www.lecrae.net/">Christian rapper</a> - I never even knew that existed - he said, "If you live for peoples acceptance you'll die to their rejection." I don't know how this exactly fits with my guilt-ometer but it does. Half of my guilt is because I fear what others might think.....that I am lazy because I don't own a grass fed cow or that I am careless because my children don't know Spanish....whatever it is it's all silly and useless guilt. Luckily, our little chunkster sort of forced me out of this circle of guilt and I couldn't be happier for it. <br />
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4) Back to the social media revolt that is rising up deep in me is my desire to get back to note writing. In my corporate days I remember a man I respected actually calling me out in a team meeting for writing notes to others in the office. In college my dear friends and I wrote each other throughout the year and as you well know there is nothing like getting a hand written note in the mail. I still have notes my 11 years younger sister wrote to me in college when she was just learning how to even write sentences. I ordered my new stationary and I have a list going of the "just because" notes that I hope to start writing. 5 a week? That seems like a good place to start. Maybe you'll be a lucky receiver and if so, I urge you to pay it forward! I open my devotional (almost) everyday and have a note written to me 8 years ago about being positive. I laugh and cry about every time I look at it. My mom should be a motivational speaker when she grows up. (And obviously I should be on Hoarders!) But that brings me to my next un-promise....<br />
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5) Last but what probably would be first if there was any order to this little list is my desire to be light in this world. <br />
<i>“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.</i><br />
Have you ever just listened to yourself throughout the day and wondered why anyone would want to be around you anyway? Sometimes Ill preface my little post-busy day rants to my husband with "Im not complaining, Im just saying..." Seriously! I can't believe he doesn't slap me right then! Last year I posted about the book <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2012/06/gratitude-project.html">One Thousand Gifts</a> by <a href="http://www.onethousandgifts.com">Ann Voskamp</a>. My take away from her book was to look for and even <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2011/11/things-that-just-make-me-smile-lately.html">write down</a> things that I am grateful for as it is the only way to truly experience gratitude. I don't know what my excuse is but somehow I guess I think being home with fairly helpless little human beings all day affords me the right to "just say" anytime I would like. Would you not agree that the most attractive women you know are the ones that aren't "just sayin" things for no reason. I can have a splendid day with the boys, enjoy a good run, the sun can be beaming, and my (tolerant) husband will come home to me giggling with the monsters on the floor and then Ill greet him with the list of things that went wrong or an even worse list of the things our house needs to be more comfortable. But then Ill always say - "no really, we've had a great day." Yuck yuck yuck. I hope I can look back next January and recall this as the year that I finally and seriously took control of my ungrateful heart. Even if it means writing my little daily joys down and literally zipping my lips like my mom used to say if I have nothing nice to say. The truth is - I have a treasure in knowing my Savior, and therefore, I want nothing but sweet words to come from my mouth. Words that might even show a glimpse of my heart that has been rescued by the only true redeemer. You can 'amen" that, too!<br />
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And a few more quickies<br />
6) I VOW to keep my hands off my husband and maybe have our 2nd year in our 5 year marriage of not being pregnant!<br />
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7) Umm.....Budget? I loathe the word but I love the outcome. Come on, Mr. Husband, let's do this for real this year and experience the fruit that so many speak of when you really know where your money goes.....<br />
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8) Now that we are pretty back to cruise mode over here we are ready to have friends again. We hope to host and be hosted throughout the new year. It is so easy for us to say no to every invite and every uneasy thing and while we hope to protect our family first I do hope we can connect with our friends, new and old again. Though there aren't too many people that care to invite a family of FIVE over for a relaxing dinner we are happy to add your chaos to our chaos and pop open a bottle of wine. We have truly fallen in love with our new <a href="http://www.passioncitychurch.com">church</a> and though we barely know too many people we already feel like a little family. We plan to make the effort this year to cultivate these relationships....and many others that have fallen prey to multiplying our family.<br />
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9) Sign me up for Hoarders for real! Christmas broke the camel or snapped the straw, whatever, it was insane the amount of items that came flooding into these walls! I may only have 30-45 minutes a day where little people aren't making forts out of every object in the house but I hope to spend many of those "breaks" purging every drawer and corner of this space and truly taking on a simpler attitude when it comes to "stuff." We really only need our double stroller, my <a href="www.vitamix.com">Vitamix</a> and boocoodles of Costco wet wipes to get by. The basics.<br />
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10) A <a href="http://surrealgrace.blogspot.com/2013/01/7-quick-takes-friday.html">friend</a> recently wrote about reading 5 pages a day in order to read 9 books a year. I'll sign up for that. I want my children to love the classics but maybe I need to freshen up my appetite for the classics first? Maybe. :)<br />
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11) Eat at home more, people! This could contribute to about every item on this list. Yes, I'd rather over pay for a chicken sandwich than to have to clean up the kitchen again but can't we learn that three children, at dinner time, all not fully capable of caring for themselves just isnt fun and the tip we have to pay someone to clean up after us is just atrocious. For the love of all of my beloved and unused cook books - EAT AT HOME!<br />
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12) We plan to vacation this year! Woo hoo! Every year my selfless (and not much of a planner) husband has to let much of his vacation time go to waste. So far..... (keeping with number 6) we are not pregnant this year and unpregnant women are much more fun to travel with so grab your flip flops, baby, and let's live la vida loca. We need it! Our kids need it for us to be away and every once in awhile we can be even crazier and take the whole gang and make some memories. Let's pledge to not waste those days this year!<br />
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13) Which leads to the last and most important. We vow to hire lots of babysitters and I promise to not feel guilty about it because as many wise women have told me - babysitters saved their marriage in these early years and I couldn't agree more. My munchkins are my world. I don't put a thing in my mouth or attempt to use the potty without one of them questioning me so I think it is okay to have a little time for ourselves at night to just dream together. As I slowly get out of the post baby funk that I have been in the last 4 years I start to realize that I am pretty fun to be around and all of a sudden my husband reminds me of the music loving, outdoor guru, fashionably considerate hunk that I first fell for....and my goodness...it is so fun to be young and in love! BUT LET"S MAYBE TRY TO HAVE MAYBE JUST ONE YEAR WITHOUT A BABY. MAYBE? (Obviously, I say that giving God all the credit and all the control over that but just maybe???)<br />
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Cheers to a new year....hopefully a few more posts....lots of encouraging words, stock in spinach and kale , and a budget that alots plenty of funds for a babysitter!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-33790115472496850282012-12-12T09:57:00.000-05:002012-12-12T10:01:08.855-05:00A day in the life of....I am going to start this now at 7:12am and see if I can finish by the end of the day. The Crazy boys are all contained or distracted for the time being so here is my first attempt. <br />
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It's amazing the thoughts and stories that come to the surface when I have the chance to write them down. All of a sudden I am flooded with the kind of gratitude you feel all over your body and out through your eyeballs and fingertips. Therefore, many of the posts here end up feeling the same... "life is crazy but so thick and juicy...full of yummy but fleeting moments." What's ironic though and quite exposing is that every day doesn't always feel that way. 5 out of 7 days end with me recounting to my husband the 3 moments in that day that everything fell apart. Like fully fell apart. I treasure my authentic friendships the most so I am going to give you some doses of that reality today. {Sprinkled with precious smiles from the three as the perfect reminder of their sweet sides.} <br />
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1)Monday a new friend with three youngens as well invited our clan to a book fair benefitting her childrens' school and the very school that if money grew on the rosemary plant next to me we would send our children. The possibility isn't thrown out the window or atleast it wasn't until Monday. We pray (and beg) daily for this door to open but I think after Monday the door could have shut for us for real. (I'm being a little dramatic.)<br />
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Anyway, everything in me knew this was a very bad, no good, terrible idea. I had volunteered all morning in the 2 year old classroom as the teacher's helper. I had already dropped a 2 year old polly-pocket type of precious pig-tailed girl in the toilet (not knowing a thing about a girl when it comes to the potty) and my very own glasses-wearing, heart melting 2 year old had all but sent me into the corner in tears with his horrific "my mom is in the classroom" type of behavior. Yall, he literally clung to my leg 1/2 the morning and while I was assisting the teacher I drug him around like a vacuum. If he wasnt on my leg he was slithering down the hall like a snake and never once did I see him walk or be-bop as most two year olds do. I needed a toddy by 9:15am...put it that way. So, the baby was tired from his day away from any normal nap (because he was worn on me in the baby bjourn the whole time the two year old was attached to my left leg) and the two year old really just needed to be home in an empty room for awhile....alone. But against my inner instincts we ventured to the book fair where the melt downs began. <br />
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The boys have never been in a book store, only a library where books are allowed to be taken away, read, left on tables, and mostly touched. We got there way early on accident - like 25 minutes which in toddler time is like an hour and 45 minutes. I had used my 2 diapers on my 2 year old that morning because the child who the teacher says normally never goes #2 at school went #2 twice while his mama was there. I guess he is more comfortable when I am around?? So since I used both diapers of course law would tell you that the little stinker would go again and by go I mean GO! Enter the principal and admissions director for said school to pick out their books to read to the polite little children who just left their manners-heavy schooling, clad with ironed uniforms and happy smiles. Oh, and my two tired, hungry, never been in a book store, and now stinky toddlers. Do you see where this story is going?<br />
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Now I know boys will be boys and toddlers will be toddlers and I am just sure that this precious little school knows the difference in my fairly un-schooled toddlers and their well-mannered 5 year olds but still.....it got so bad, yall. My boys just had to be at the front of the story time in front of a slew of sweet boys and girls and what felt like gawking parents. They had to complain about the story being read. My stinky toddler nearly sat on the principals feet to get close enough to see the story and then threw the fit of the year when a little boy sat next to his older brother. Like any mother would do - I bribed him with his big brothers candy cane that I was holding for him and instead of staying next to me to eat it he went back to those high-heeled feet and drooled nice red drool down her leg, all the while older brother sees his candy cane being devoured and loses it. LOSES IT. This is about 8 pages into the 20 page book. HE LOSES IT! Do you feel me sweating. I was literally because I had the baby in the baby bookbag again and I had yet to have a second to take my coat off. It was hot in there yall and my insides were stirring and cringing at the scene before me. Could I walk away and look for the real mother of these two obviously badly parented children? Could I bribe them again to please come with me and get out of the middle of the circle..away from the spotlight?<br />
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Let's just say we got out of there with not a hair of my pride left intact and way too much money spent on books just to hopefully glaze over the scene that took place and distract the store and the benefitting school from the zoo that had just exited the building. <br />
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2) And then later that evening I ventured to the gym for a quick 30 minute run-all-of-my-angst-over-the-book-store-dissaster run. It was healing even if only 30 minutes. As we all piled back into the car on the first cold day and aptly, the first day I realized all of our winter coats are occupying someone's lost and found, I realized that it was the night my husband said he would be home late...like after bed time for the boys kinda late. This called for a drive through dinner kinda night but as we drove past "the pancake place" aka the flying biscuit the boys squeals for special pancakes took over my logic. Luckily there wasn't another person wanting pancakes for dinner so we had the place to ourselves. Thus when the ornament bearing a candle crashed on the floor no one else heard it. Nor the 2nd one. And when the two year old poured the peppercorn balls all over his pancake thinking it was syrup no one was there to witness the defeat in my eyes. And luckily the scene that followed as I realized the boys had stuffed my credit cards in the couch at home that afternoon while I was feeding the baby and was just happy that they were entertained went unnoticed as well. "Umm, will you take a check for our dinner?" No, okay..."how about my Flex Spending Card?" "Can I wash a few dishes for you while you hold me three tired and sticky little boys?" Luckily, the manager was so ready for us to leave that he literally took an IOU and allowed me to call him later with my credit card info. I definitely spent more on the tip that night than I did on our 3 pancakes and eggs. My tummy just turned recalling that whole day. I'm just glad His mercies are new EVERY morning!So yesterday we awoke to a new day and we stayed inside the whole day! Lesson learned yet again the hard way.<br />
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3) Being a stay at home mom is certainly not all tennis matches and lululemon shopping trips after a coffee date at starbucks. Atleast it isnt for me. It's crazy mixed emotions all day long. Joy from seeing your children play with their plastic nativity set for the first time this season. To fear from then seeing your boy try to flush baby Jesus down the toilet. Gratitude while watching your boys, 14 months to separate them, play "Christmas" in the basement while you finally begin to unpack the 4th basket of cleaned and now wrinkled clothes. And then comes the defeated feelings when the same best of friends get into a pushing match on the stairs just to try to be first to the top. Didn't you just teach them that being first isn't always best and letting others go first is really the rewarding action to choose. Laughter fills our home each night as we watch these boys pretend and make up words for their little world. Its especially heart warming when they are all snug in their matching footie pajamas. But often in the very next moments tears can fill my weary eyes when the sweet bed time routine has turned into yet another drawn out battle of wills. This job is certainly not what I ever imagined it would be. It's not what my mom made it look like because let's be honest - from the eyes of the young child you never have true appreciation until you are actually in the drivers seat. Until you are actually the one awake at night thinking about the things you said during the day to the little ones still mendable heart. Or until you are the one actually seeing your child struggle to figure something out or rejoice when he has clearly amazed even himself. Goodness, if I could now years later truly give my mom thanks for the days and years spent at home, in a pony tail maybe having gone days with only conversation from the mouths of babes - it would feel so good. Now I finally really get it and all of the cards and presents I tried to gift to her over the years not fully knowing the gratitude they could represent would now carry so much weight. Thank you, mama!<br />
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So as you can see staying at home all day every day with your children can leave you feeling a little awkward when you finally get out into the real on-time, fully-dressed, paying jobs to tend to type of people. Saturday Brad graciously gave me the day to myself to get some things done. We have lived in our house 8 months and have yet to hang a curtain nor lay a rug. In the grand scheme of things - rugs and curtains are silly but when you have boys running around mostly nude most of the day a little privacy could be nice and a rug or two may help the immobile baby start to want to move. So, I headed out feeling a little silly. I had all this freedom and no real place to be, no one to be with and no budget or checklist to adhere to. I wound up at a fabric store in midtown. I spent the majority of my day away browsing the aisles full of color and pattern and with every rack my mind jumped from place to place in our home, which meant I really got nowhere. I couldn't focus nor did I have an inkling of an idea of what spoke to me. That very morning I couldn't even decide on the creamer I wanted in my coffee. Don't get me wrong - I think I know myself more than I have ever before but there is so little margin in my head to think about anything other than taking care of people so when I get the opportunity it's like my creative brain goes to sleep from overload. It certainly leaves me feeling like a cardboard box in a sea of freshly painted Van Goh's. Needless to say, I left 3 hours later a little defeated but certainly grateful for the time to just wander and dream. I went straight to the upholstery shop to turn the little swab of (plain) fabric I did find into some pillows. Sonny, the owner was a foreign petite little woman with about 50% accuracy in English. We had a 30 minute broken conversation about pillows and then out of nowhere the tears came. Seriously. I am crying on a Saturday in the pillow shop. There were Buckhead women waiting behind me to just pick up their treasures and all the while I am having a melt down with Sonny - my newest and dearest friend. As she could sense my frustration with attempting to decorating my house she goes into a half English version of her take on motherhood. I couldn't understand half of it but I understood all of it. Do you know what I mean? In a nutshell, she was assuring me that pillows don't matter. And bland walls and floors aren't important. All of this I know but yet it still tugs at my heart beckoning for me to pay it some attention on the rare occasion that my husband gives me a free day. Really, my free day should have been spent over coffee with a friend or hiking Kennesaw mountain...doing something that feeds me and allows me to feel like more than just a caregiver. <br />
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Pillows and rugs will have their day, Sonny says, but my children will be grown before I know it and they don't even care about pillows. I left the shop and my day away with not one take home but yet I did take away the best thing of all.....that grateful heart that I spoke about above. Yes, there is no time during the day - not any spare minute to be selfish. And yes, our house is a conglomeration of lousy art projects and pinterest fails. But there is so much goodness in my day. There is so many sweet things happening for the first time that everything else seems silly and useless. <br />
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I told Sonny she was hired as my pillow maker when I get around to doing it but in the mean time I would stop by for a pep talk every few weeks. It's amazing what a genuine conversation with an adult, albeit a stranger, can do for the soul. Much more than a boutique pillow I am sure. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-11143467246565175522012-10-31T17:08:00.000-04:002012-10-31T17:08:04.014-04:00Post interruptedI was starting to put together a pretty thoughtful entry full of newly learned wisdom, some tough lessons, and even a recipe (yes, I turned into that blogger momentarily) and then it happened. <br />
In a pretty monotone voice (as if your college-summer flame just walked right through your kitchen door like he was coming over for supper) I said, "Oh my freaking goodness." And then the newest member of the Bagwell Academy of Manners and Excellence exclaimed even louder, "OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS!" I gulped remembering that #threeyearoldsrepeateverything but carried on with my excitement by simultaneously making out with my 5 month olds cheeks and cuddling his little feet in my arms. <br />
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I fear writing this little anecdote because I know when #2 looks back in years to come he will vow to not help me with my sponge bath in my old age due to the obvious lack of obsession that I had over him as a baby compared to his 21 month younger sibling. But I just cant let this get by. <br />
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I am OVER THE TOP for this little baby. It's bad. My ovaries literally sing (and cringe) when I look at him knowing that any baby fever I have left in my tired body starts to boil. It's not healthy, yall. <br />
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Don't misunderstand me I have loved each of these boys with everything in me and it has literally hurt to watch them grow into little people but for some reason Mr. Stork put an extra dose of yumminess in this newest one and it has caused me (and my marriage) serious trouble. I know like everyone does that this immobile, extra Pillsbury-dough boyish, big eyed, cooing, only satisfied in me stage doesnt last long but this time around this stage is soooo good that it makes me think I could do this three more times in the next three years. And trust me, I haven't made it to the shower yet today, I've lost my temper thrice and apologized twice, and my three year old asked why my booty was poking out this morning as I was getting on my (dirty) yoga pants. AND I WANT TO KEEP ADDING TO THIS MADNESS (only in the moments when I look at #3 and he melts my heart which unfortunately for my husband is ALL THE TIME! EVERYDAY! AND AT NIGHT WHEN I WAKE HIM UP TO FEED HIM NOT BECAUSE HE IS HUNGRY BUT BECAUSE I WANT TO HOLD HIM!)<br />
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This post is going to be the post I call "THE TIME I USED ALL CAPITALS TO TRY TO EXPRESS MY GUT-WRENCHING FASCINATION WITH MY 3rd CHILD!"<br />
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So back to the "Oh my freaking goodness" comment....As if my insides couldnt dance or scream anymore over this little one he went and did the thing I dreaded. The thing I have always wanted but hoped it would never really happen because I knew that would be the last straw. And of course today he went there and it's over. I'm done.<br />
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He sucked his precious-ooey-gooey-fattened-2 rolls before the knuckle RIGHT thumb just like I did as a little baby (and almost until I started school.) Aghhhhh!!!!! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1WDtVGsvDsataxwh1-ONWS1rQcPZwUXlfBGhR5wEoFD3HGMe3mN_ZJAlrPDhW27jAfz0muYGRLcOqEApOXMijZ4oj7GCbS0vOhIOrlgRKWDwLa7eJ4SHZvAI-xrgfNW5G6_pPMBNwGDg/s1600/IMG_5461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1WDtVGsvDsataxwh1-ONWS1rQcPZwUXlfBGhR5wEoFD3HGMe3mN_ZJAlrPDhW27jAfz0muYGRLcOqEApOXMijZ4oj7GCbS0vOhIOrlgRKWDwLa7eJ4SHZvAI-xrgfNW5G6_pPMBNwGDg/s400/IMG_5461.jpg" /></a><br />
Can you handle that? I mean, I know it's not your child and I know I am sounding like that typical mom whom other women have started blogs over or something but I only relay all this because I need serious help. As we "speak" the toddler monster is walking around in his Bulldawg helmet getting ready for Halloween having already found my stash of tootsie rolls. He some how got them into his bed for his nap and I came in to find all FIVE wrappers stuck somewhere to his bed or body. Please call me and rescue me. Tell me that my babbling, THUMB sucking, always happy little baby boy WILL (repeat it WILL) one day crush my heart and dissappoint me and probably even marry a bigger city girl and run off and get married to her and never come to see me. Come to my house and take me outside, ugg house slippers, those same yoga pants and all and literally squeeze my cheeks and WAKE ME UP! How could I possibly after the third baby now want a whole bunch of babies? This is how.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfq3u6dhmQ6rdIjrHlLT8qkstzTMxqIycaMTlZWkwP7FN9LqQT8T4QZlUNbowMusf3TBVyq7v2NLRI4YHILCCd1wNwOW-koZW3aGrEfJre8Z5vDqFoqVPDGUVec01nRL2143mAyVZuEya/s1600/IMG_5409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfq3u6dhmQ6rdIjrHlLT8qkstzTMxqIycaMTlZWkwP7FN9LqQT8T4QZlUNbowMusf3TBVyq7v2NLRI4YHILCCd1wNwOW-koZW3aGrEfJre8Z5vDqFoqVPDGUVec01nRL2143mAyVZuEya/s400/IMG_5409.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZalwh7JCFdsS1OeFvhgDWV43L6zIQX6vKH2H_yqIi_zneakNLN4hl0RAoOKz75L78yaHoL9dcijtWesNGRSzdvQl0kBreqqNgXSRhhYbxr6ilS1PK8q77vSSX8n6bOaz2CdfiaXH74q6/s1600/IMG_5428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZalwh7JCFdsS1OeFvhgDWV43L6zIQX6vKH2H_yqIi_zneakNLN4hl0RAoOKz75L78yaHoL9dcijtWesNGRSzdvQl0kBreqqNgXSRhhYbxr6ilS1PK8q77vSSX8n6bOaz2CdfiaXH74q6/s400/IMG_5428.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfQ_FGmCxXXvB-vvrBfnQtGrCbEu3AkPiXWJPvrSdbHL2Hi-l4WFtAnwXlLRE1kwjhLlRpChoCYvCYIj1v3m1CSxNm_-NOjJLOkX6CqjNFMNnwy348VLfiBuMhHiI4OhXMnVIE6TSv1-p/s1600/IMG_5376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfQ_FGmCxXXvB-vvrBfnQtGrCbEu3AkPiXWJPvrSdbHL2Hi-l4WFtAnwXlLRE1kwjhLlRpChoCYvCYIj1v3m1CSxNm_-NOjJLOkX6CqjNFMNnwy348VLfiBuMhHiI4OhXMnVIE6TSv1-p/s400/IMG_5376.jpg" /></a><br />
And this is why. <br />
He waits with his mouth opened in a perfect "O" shape when anyone walks by just wondering if they will look his way. <br />
He eats his fist when he is hungry, ne'ry a cry. <br />
He can't move because he is a little overstuffed so when he gets excited he slams both of his legs down at the same time over and over as if he is clapping with his legs. <br />
His eyes sparkle. <br />
HE SUCKS HIS RIGHT THUMB and doesnt even really know how to do it yet so he looks even more scrumptious. <br />
He is the only thing I've ever known that is 110% satisfied with just me. Now, I know this is a little weird were it to continue but it touches my little mushy heart. And it makes me think about my desire to be FULLY satisfied in Jesus. <br />
He giggles if you even glance his way. <br />
He sleeps in the car, in the bed, in the swing, in your arms. Is this for real?<br />
He makes those precious baby sounds everytime he eats reminding me just how relaxed he is in my arms. <br />
He completes our family in ways I never knew possible. <br />
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But mostly (and here come the hormonal tears) he reminds me of the <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2011/11/long-but-beautiful-story-of-miracle.html">miracle</a> that he was for our family. At a time when I was at the lowest that I never knew existed he was Gods answer to me. Somehow God knew the unthinkable, a pregnancy while using an IUD for birth control would be the thing to help reset my year of insomnia. And as I write this he is tooting like an 80 year old man after bar-b-que. Pure love. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5JoynXqSlFYUzNsMWINjQB9ilzPpCw3mQF8kZ45LH0Icwxcn6xTPdIVcnFoY7mvSUSSvnRqWPiEbJGUpxrgTyaPMNU6a92nNdZjRCFM-clYuGppmQ8E90c8ddC2H4-qeustJpQ0plDMX/s1600/IMG_5317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5JoynXqSlFYUzNsMWINjQB9ilzPpCw3mQF8kZ45LH0Icwxcn6xTPdIVcnFoY7mvSUSSvnRqWPiEbJGUpxrgTyaPMNU6a92nNdZjRCFM-clYuGppmQ8E90c8ddC2H4-qeustJpQ0plDMX/s400/IMG_5317.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIy3OsRZct_a_e0SAIG5YzGs6Akkj0F85jPk7xCKwJLdNcCmvizRcvAzBPgi_oabDnAVydI_Kj3nhSCu09Cbde2YLqPw1bobDun35Cz-HwK_mt6UgfXpYTshs8WRpiAktt4_JwbobTqQgc/s1600/IMG_5311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIy3OsRZct_a_e0SAIG5YzGs6Akkj0F85jPk7xCKwJLdNcCmvizRcvAzBPgi_oabDnAVydI_Kj3nhSCu09Cbde2YLqPw1bobDun35Cz-HwK_mt6UgfXpYTshs8WRpiAktt4_JwbobTqQgc/s400/IMG_5311.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjs9t8YFsUiA-h9ESfdF9_S5NOJm8u_VYzdrtwUTeVGM6qssYKaMrEGRW6PnkDhOW13hTWECM6u1CwYAOJnrwgeNlw9uw5JeftSw6wxvX7Z-kdRK378GqQBys9jUifqxRAy9FQxtFJ91Y/s1600/IMG_5306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjs9t8YFsUiA-h9ESfdF9_S5NOJm8u_VYzdrtwUTeVGM6qssYKaMrEGRW6PnkDhOW13hTWECM6u1CwYAOJnrwgeNlw9uw5JeftSw6wxvX7Z-kdRK378GqQBys9jUifqxRAy9FQxtFJ91Y/s400/IMG_5306.JPG" /></a>Now please don't think I am slighting my other darlings. Once you have kids you do finally get that you and your siblings were all "equally loved unequally" meaning loved as much but differently if that can happen. I think it can. Again, it is a picture of the Fathers love for us - were all loved more than we could ever know but also loved personally and individually. Many of my 3-time moms have agreed with me on this. For some reason the third time really is a charm and in my case it makes me want to keep going and complete our little basketball team. There I go again. Call in the reinforcements NOW (before my husband gets home). But I guess by #3 you aren't stressed about whether you are doing it right now because you know it all works out anyway and you aren't feeling guilty like you did after your 2nd by ruining both #1 and #2's life for ever having to divide your time between two needy little people. There is an ease, a joy, a confidence, and energy, and a sense of peace despite being pulled and pushed and yanked and screamed into three different directions. And, that my friends, is why my husband may never sleep in the same room with me again.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-3667819248048187222012-10-15T16:02:00.001-04:002012-10-15T16:04:44.926-04:00An update hashtag styleFolks, this is about all I can muster up these days. I have started 6 posts since the last one and have yet to finish one. Life is rich, full, constant, draining, so sweet and flying by right now in our house with three little ones. We recognize that these days are long but the months and years just keep stacking up and it makes me want to hyperventilate! My heart is so full. My eyes are so heavy. But most of all we are just so grateful to be right where we are with our little family. It is rarely glamorous but it is mostly always entertaining. I never knew I could be so comfortable driving to the beach with a turtle on top of my car, ending my 5 year anniversary celebration at Micheals...yes, the craft store, and spending most of my days in a pony tail and yoga pants. But I also never knew I could feel such satisfaction by serving little people all day (and all night) long. This is certainly one of those big seasons in life where the dots connect, things make sense, and my priorities are aligned. I only hate that I dont have the time and energy to really get my thoughts down as I know I will look back on these young years and see so much of my foundation for my faith in my God, in myself, in my husband, and in my story being built. So, here it goes.....hashtag style...<br />
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#weALLloveour<a href="http://www.passioncitychurch.com">church</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxWFUL5yrxoeESvyQiPX7oj-XIoPvgDecmxlylJI_0IpIeFziarKEiLs8118OsZvnl4x_fNMvKL6GoYLQfHdqQy-r_DSFdqnmWdG5V6oMEFQpYArlJM2L3TU-_4b6ILSVUHXb8MD-72dJL/s1600/IMG_5301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxWFUL5yrxoeESvyQiPX7oj-XIoPvgDecmxlylJI_0IpIeFziarKEiLs8118OsZvnl4x_fNMvKL6GoYLQfHdqQy-r_DSFdqnmWdG5V6oMEFQpYArlJM2L3TU-_4b6ILSVUHXb8MD-72dJL/s400/IMG_5301.jpg" /></a><br />
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#exploringoutside<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QsVeZwuNN_ljCf6pLH2YOT-0a0zhGdqRlwx6aSpoUMW0cuMVMaFF_4S7dYVi61ajIC2cQXre6yEIiKOrhIqxLOTJ7pnExqov3PjgLPHjSO1QaXeXgvyWyyxuRHj55hvbp9WxRlhluyKH/s1600/IMG_5298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QsVeZwuNN_ljCf6pLH2YOT-0a0zhGdqRlwx6aSpoUMW0cuMVMaFF_4S7dYVi61ajIC2cQXre6yEIiKOrhIqxLOTJ7pnExqov3PjgLPHjSO1QaXeXgvyWyyxuRHj55hvbp9WxRlhluyKH/s400/IMG_5298.jpg" /></a><br />
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#weALLloveourbabysitter #firsttimeleavingALLthebabies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAR5rA7uvUB4WMwy4qe9mSW8egW1rsUQo8o-kmXaOMCnidOV7k6s3UZ0lbhqHMnO_qFzap0Q2eSeC8JArrktUmc2Ia6FdgYHZssCe4u_VmsB7FOj_OpCoF6sBTxKFlfoKTotAtcVnQKArR/s1600/IMG_5290.PNG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAR5rA7uvUB4WMwy4qe9mSW8egW1rsUQo8o-kmXaOMCnidOV7k6s3UZ0lbhqHMnO_qFzap0Q2eSeC8JArrktUmc2Ia6FdgYHZssCe4u_VmsB7FOj_OpCoF6sBTxKFlfoKTotAtcVnQKArR/s400/IMG_5290.PNG" /></a><br />
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#hellobabyblues<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfe0yCxFnjffp0d2crkn1MYSB25bFgUXlcooVMcRF973C0mp70nhczoTHx6YHYapH7h5bRgHxe2EUeL722Vc0xOIaf2mzWPIL61yumKfP3t7Jsbj9doloAy2SbVEfloXRS924lJY0OGB1S/s1600/IMG_5287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfe0yCxFnjffp0d2crkn1MYSB25bFgUXlcooVMcRF973C0mp70nhczoTHx6YHYapH7h5bRgHxe2EUeL722Vc0xOIaf2mzWPIL61yumKfP3t7Jsbj9doloAy2SbVEfloXRS924lJY0OGB1S/s400/IMG_5287.JPG" /></a><br />
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#whosaysonlygirlsgetintomakeup #thankGodhiseyewasnotpoked<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9-zn42bwMc6ZiCJ_rIgBMbKLtJJH0OaBJJbIMrq_kR7NgTA-KRfwGI8q0BkCHJSCxnELbIe-v8hDPHA4aAirxHaOd4hK7NVFfWoHdIwCadHRf3fEaAObqilNsIYAnJQPWwuZnOJ1s8lj/s1600/IMG_5270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9-zn42bwMc6ZiCJ_rIgBMbKLtJJH0OaBJJbIMrq_kR7NgTA-KRfwGI8q0BkCHJSCxnELbIe-v8hDPHA4aAirxHaOd4hK7NVFfWoHdIwCadHRf3fEaAObqilNsIYAnJQPWwuZnOJ1s8lj/s400/IMG_5270.jpg" /></a><br />
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#boysatthebeach<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4hKZGd8_f3Br3cpl4FO3KQT3XJYFg5UoHTJEFISGsI5eVvEsrKi5Vktts0zJZpk2NWDZCLSLOQch-7nSPCujSVBipbXV2hA6xWXVpItfU3DQX4riTylZ_052xNz78aXxV8GvYhaiCzxZ/s1600/IMG_5172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4hKZGd8_f3Br3cpl4FO3KQT3XJYFg5UoHTJEFISGsI5eVvEsrKi5Vktts0zJZpk2NWDZCLSLOQch-7nSPCujSVBipbXV2hA6xWXVpItfU3DQX4riTylZ_052xNz78aXxV8GvYhaiCzxZ/s400/IMG_5172.JPG" /></a><br />
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#agiantsandbox #aboysdream<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTo3tf4dDAkhLINTWn3329thZK_uS4DZoXeKCAh_UG02i1WHAeIjLE1gKMNOVR1mAgLi9Ri3hSJuRHtLnNNO8eve90bvUbsF9wo48HGv5AbdaZEHh9UmyRTZ2J3i2Qi2wWZC1zSwb7Bb-/s1600/IMG_5193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTo3tf4dDAkhLINTWn3329thZK_uS4DZoXeKCAh_UG02i1WHAeIjLE1gKMNOVR1mAgLi9Ri3hSJuRHtLnNNO8eve90bvUbsF9wo48HGv5AbdaZEHh9UmyRTZ2J3i2Qi2wWZC1zSwb7Bb-/s400/IMG_5193.jpg" /></a><br />
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#firstfamilyoffivebeachtrip<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvLADC-PSEFz3WK2wriyU28cgeqSIQY72AUt6tpLYCUCL_SNsT96nJu7l2xIB1NKhrwtn_bFoMXNkzWkAVl5F2UDA6Wd9pLAec42zCME0EUKIOi9LgCu6RbQw2arWidMmPUPgJMtUOJxH/s1600/IMG_1592%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvLADC-PSEFz3WK2wriyU28cgeqSIQY72AUt6tpLYCUCL_SNsT96nJu7l2xIB1NKhrwtn_bFoMXNkzWkAVl5F2UDA6Wd9pLAec42zCME0EUKIOi9LgCu6RbQw2arWidMmPUPgJMtUOJxH/s400/IMG_1592%255B1%255D.JPG" /></a><br />
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#chocolateicecreamfordinner<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAxdLjbhakORaBicb4VqUtXaTT9DdL44fnCpzqJODSQtAKts4I0gEbVpWn3gJFHR5AKt5oO7Idn7gzCfnVz2R-8lIJNFoOC_nd8yvfwdGWvfQME9PTHn1tXjN1xScWB4KU2IMdd7INrwe/s1600/IMG_5204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAxdLjbhakORaBicb4VqUtXaTT9DdL44fnCpzqJODSQtAKts4I0gEbVpWn3gJFHR5AKt5oO7Idn7gzCfnVz2R-8lIJNFoOC_nd8yvfwdGWvfQME9PTHn1tXjN1xScWB4KU2IMdd7INrwe/s400/IMG_5204.JPG" /></a><br />
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#agreatwaytostartvacation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kMkS676MK5X0a7HDV84knvKaSI0WahyphenhyphendS7eoCNenE7IpjlZcTmU7Q2yBFIWBJoSGRlDbl1el0Kg8XIoqRo0AJkDqH5z9kFjmLvkC7z4xNMwX4UbBDw19Tj9st0UedGS2t85qHZfUFSHP/s1600/IMG_5130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kMkS676MK5X0a7HDV84knvKaSI0WahyphenhyphendS7eoCNenE7IpjlZcTmU7Q2yBFIWBJoSGRlDbl1el0Kg8XIoqRo0AJkDqH5z9kFjmLvkC7z4xNMwX4UbBDw19Tj9st0UedGS2t85qHZfUFSHP/s400/IMG_5130.JPG" /></a><br />
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#4months!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9p38KVSmHuPeqXr_IlgzoruElDyXXVl8K2pHvZGN9FMzeKBgFvMo7SSSLjwj09lL9FMkbF1bXjN4udc3anDdiTKMyTRcJ14VHI8uUIbvczR2Ah6NUV4rgIOMIkCxCjNIhRvQXXcaLvfq0/s1600/IMG_5074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9p38KVSmHuPeqXr_IlgzoruElDyXXVl8K2pHvZGN9FMzeKBgFvMo7SSSLjwj09lL9FMkbF1bXjN4udc3anDdiTKMyTRcJ14VHI8uUIbvczR2Ah6NUV4rgIOMIkCxCjNIhRvQXXcaLvfq0/s400/IMG_5074.jpg" /></a><br />
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#showingoffatthedoctor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjIuwkSjcOk3LXoRTL7KlVn_CqGDu7fuQxhK-AAtDFUKoSrYGtTOeYii3vl-UrSRwxjXzaOCY4ccD5haTxSmPGJnZWy3vgNk-FfkOGMD-4_9wQBv7W_qTM8Q5jb4VoaXWsm17RQeinwQf/s1600/IMG_5122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjIuwkSjcOk3LXoRTL7KlVn_CqGDu7fuQxhK-AAtDFUKoSrYGtTOeYii3vl-UrSRwxjXzaOCY4ccD5haTxSmPGJnZWy3vgNk-FfkOGMD-4_9wQBv7W_qTM8Q5jb4VoaXWsm17RQeinwQf/s400/IMG_5122.jpg" /></a><br />
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#mybogboy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrw0R3iD27959RVCnIXFDNg7cA6liByW78Uo6_ort8WtXMiO8wlTdtAHLe-Miu-8G2vjD6EBSFCTYndzZDr7ql3RGyAm0iX7idrqCTVnnenAaIBKHLSFxwClhTj6jBW7_aCVq3el_FidzR/s1600/IMG_0822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrw0R3iD27959RVCnIXFDNg7cA6liByW78Uo6_ort8WtXMiO8wlTdtAHLe-Miu-8G2vjD6EBSFCTYndzZDr7ql3RGyAm0iX7idrqCTVnnenAaIBKHLSFxwClhTj6jBW7_aCVq3el_FidzR/s400/IMG_0822.jpg" /></a><br />
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#bigandlittle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEKUTlK_EomTIeVrh-G2NAcoVZC0KJ0KHTY2minrYDXIRD8y2MqFGqNjmkeVNZEcrajZskDBsqtdH65kDJnRKgh2q69cutbWhv0DqlOWGo-VvlKubZuK-jIMwNA7YA_S2vNuPdZnZCqfk/s1600/IMG_5021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEKUTlK_EomTIeVrh-G2NAcoVZC0KJ0KHTY2minrYDXIRD8y2MqFGqNjmkeVNZEcrajZskDBsqtdH65kDJnRKgh2q69cutbWhv0DqlOWGo-VvlKubZuK-jIMwNA7YA_S2vNuPdZnZCqfk/s400/IMG_5021.JPG" /></a><br />
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#bigandmiddle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjooEBp332MmTNRE_r8JEtz9rt9uyF6hfLp2mIVHtrVryj37zzqIbfgn1fzaCyDdrw8CbB4RmJqNyuF2niGohX8OH_5jcHAcI7_DTx_-f0LStXOQPPzJhjqvQ9cGD6_IuLC7ivWLu6uUa/s1600/IMG_4986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjooEBp332MmTNRE_r8JEtz9rt9uyF6hfLp2mIVHtrVryj37zzqIbfgn1fzaCyDdrw8CbB4RmJqNyuF2niGohX8OH_5jcHAcI7_DTx_-f0LStXOQPPzJhjqvQ9cGD6_IuLC7ivWLu6uUa/s400/IMG_4986.jpg" /></a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-90087728431524417082012-08-28T16:12:00.000-04:002012-08-28T16:12:35.993-04:00Monthly purgeI can't explain what happens to me when the house goes quiet and I sit down with a blank piece of blog paper in front of me. Many of you have read along for years and you may remember there was a season before life exploded and there wasn't nearly a day I would miss the chance to sit down and put the stuff on the inside- out and available for anyone. I actually enjoy writing more than animal crackers which if you have known me longer than this blog you know that is a whole lot. At one point in college I calculated that I had spent close to $600 on animal crackers in about 5 years. I was concerned by that number and decidely quit but it didn't last long. So as you see I really do enjoy stringing my thoughts together on paper or on here but I don't like to edit and reread so I have never made a solid writer with real credentials. I worked for the Atlanta paper in high school and one summer after and it proved to me that getting paid for what you love to do isn't always the best thing, especially if you aren't a rule follower. So like my writing, much of who I once that I was has gone by the waist side for a bit. I know full well that the "she" that I once thought I knew is there but there just isnt a spare second to develop her character right now. (And even as I write that I chuckle on the inside knowing that what I am doing now is molding me more into who I really am anyway than any of the writing, exercising, hostessing, party planning, trip taking, exploring ever would do.)<br />
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I say all that because I am so surprised at my half-efforts made to come here, to one of my favorite places to unwind. I would think even among 60 extremeties to be cut every 3rd day and the diaper trash that goes out atleast daily (I'll worry about my carbon foot print on another day) that I would find a few minutes to steal to atleast get a little writing done.... a little part of the true me out there..but as you have seen.....it just doesn't happen. But neither do alot of things. If anything profound comes from this season it is that I have learned the art of loving myself and I have slowly learned to give myself grace and not be so hard on the me that can't seem to do the things I used to do....even with <i>just</i> two kids. I can't believe that I was any better at paying attention to my talents and ambitions just one short kid ago?!?! Somehow, 3 has been the number that has broken me, and I am truly grateful it has....<br />
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Because it has allowed us the <b>pleasure</b> of truly living in the moment. <br />
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It's raining now and it will probably rain for a few days so come Thursday I may change my mind but for now I am being romanced by the rain. The boys and I sat in the garage earlier today just smelling the rain as it just began. Then on our way into our favorite rainy day lunch at Chick fil A we found every puddle in our path and made sure to get wet enough to leave foot prints once inside. I will never claim to have the patience or creativity of a teacher but in the car today me and the big boys talked for atleast 10 minutes (which is a long time in toddler years) about the rain and how it comes from God, nourishes the trees and the flowers, and it is a gift to us. Then, for one of the first times in his short three years, Brooks, started to pretend he was on a ship in the water (while we were driving) and he was opening his map to find our way home. I never thought hearing your child <i>pretend</i> would be so beautiful? Would you read into all of this with me? Many of you may be bored by our little morning but I just have to write these things down because I know that they will go and be gone quickly and how I would have hated to have been on my phone during all of that. How I will want to have had a real memory, deep, deep down of our often long days together - even the ones drenched in rain.<br />
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This isn't at all where I thought this little "monthly purge" would go but that is what I love about this living in the moment type of thing that I have <i>finally</i> started to appreciate. Honestly, before this most recent season (aka - 3 years and 3 kids)I was always looking for the next date on my calendar or the next trip, or the next milestone to celebrate. Lately, the conversations in the rain and the 20 minutes playing with the boys deep inside the slide at the park hold even more excitement for me than anything else. Having our kids close together has done this to me. It's shown me just how quickly each phase goes by. Brad said it best the other day and it sunk deep in my gut and it kinda hurt. He said, "Just think...William will be 3 in a year and 3 seems to be the point where things are a little more easy so by this time next year we'll be 2/3'rds of the way through with the hard stuff." Ouch. He didn't mean it to wish away where we are but more as a high place to look to...a place to set our sights. But in my gut I wanted to melt into a puddle. Though an easier season would probably do all of us some good around here - I don't want it to come quickly for any reason...not even for the thought of throwing out the diapers or donating one of our now THREE cribs to a new family or having anymore time to myself. It is obvious, I have never been more needed (and physically drained) in my 30 years but I have also never felt more useful. For so many years leading up to my plunge into motherhood I just wanted to be used. I didn't need to make a ton of money or be the best at whatever my title was - but I did want to feel like I contrubuted. FInally after all of that searching and praying, I <b>know</b> I am contributing, even without the paycheck or daily kudos from coworkers to prove it. And there is so much to be said for feeling available to do whatever it is you are truly needed to do. For my sake, I am grateful I wasn't deep in the middle of a demanding and satisfying career when the call to mother children came my way. I know it would be impossible for me to be excellent at both and that is all I ever wanted...to be all in to one thing. To be all about it no matter the sacrifice.<br />
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The other big secret of this season of life that we are in is that you don't have to make sense to anyone but the 5 people within your own walls. Often I tell people that my family feels so <i>fragile</i> right now. There isn't a more perfect word. The big boys would mimic someone skipping into 285-traffic if they had even the slightest ounce of trust in that person. This makes the world all of a sudden seem like such a threat, from the things on tv to the words in the songs on even B 98.5, to the way a toddler friend treats his little sibling. They are sponges and it seems my job is to filter the water that touches their surface. But then there's me.....I am an even bigger sponge. Being a mom is a weird role in many ways....of course I am interested in how everyone else is doing it but only because somewhere along the way something taught me that I didn't know how to do it in the first place. My most freeing days are when I unplug from social media, turn off the tv, put down the parenting book, and think for myself about how I would like to train, rebuke, teach, love and instruct my little people. Our most natural moments come when I draw from within me....what my mama taught me and what is in my core and then decide for myself and for our family how we should preceed. I finally get the silly saying my mom always said about everyone else jumping off that bridge. <br />
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And with that - I have found myself more confidently saying no. Can you feel the burden fall off my shoulders just writing that? It has never felt so good to JUST SAY NO. <i>No</i>, we are not going out of town for a short 24 hour trip even to a fun place with our fragile little family, <i>no</i> we are not buying an ipad for the three year old (yet), <i>no</i> I can't come tonight...it just won't work for us. The other theme these days is "what is simple?" Dinners are simple, weekends are simple, birthday gifts are often homemade, morning activities involve a few solo cups and some string, and with these short little words - no and simple- I have experienced more authentic joy than all of the alternatives combined. The best part is - for the first time ever I don't feel the need to explain to anyone either. For one of the first time's ever - it doesn't have to make sense to every one else. It just has to fall in line with our values and our priorities. Though we may be fragile right now, we do have a well fortified wall around us because of these boundaries we have set. We are on a lock down of sorts but inside these walls it feels so darn good...and, it's oh so cozy, therefore, I don't mind the looks or comments or opinions one bit. What a sweet place to live!<br />
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Aptly, this is what I have been reading over and over and over this month and if you know me well or have texted me for any reason in the last few weeks I have probably sent you on your way with these beautiful words. This is from Psalm 138. How perfectly lovely and pleasing to a mom, a daughter, a wife, a husband, anyone..... These few words speak so much louder to me than any pat on the back or 100th like on facebook. These words assure me that I am known, no matter how far away from myself I feel and no matter who understands what I am up to these days. What perfect, perfect words on this perfectly rainy day.<br />
<i>Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit down and you know when I rise. You perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with all of my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord.<br />
You hem me in behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty to attain. </i> Psalm 138<br />
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And here are just a few of the smiles that make the long days worth it all. Trust me, there are just as many whiney hours, nose bleeds, scrapes, and tongue biting moments so it isn't always tied in a pretty blue bow but hopefully you know that about us anyway.Enjoy! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwe6kv4mmatL4JwpbJDS2vdtPBetH6cE-rRcpa3bVIAyEK07AcdniNePHUAlulDafApzRfEt7U-Bzr6WFdtt9qSC9cizk5YjnW1FtUg5FREZCgS3WeZEzr6QiqQEkY6agdx_vJZq7jli0Y/s1600/IMG_1492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwe6kv4mmatL4JwpbJDS2vdtPBetH6cE-rRcpa3bVIAyEK07AcdniNePHUAlulDafApzRfEt7U-Bzr6WFdtt9qSC9cizk5YjnW1FtUg5FREZCgS3WeZEzr6QiqQEkY6agdx_vJZq7jli0Y/s400/IMG_1492.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBRygjwXpaBKv9PE4At-oc_ZudLIB7FkeEhFxcG4vACYPlbxCbS2VyZp3B_aAUhlfEhHXdVwdN5LIFUCIZ4faN4c22ZJnc68JInyQNmhmJuZWM4NvDUqOQfR42vQu0xR9eSI7Tch4gX0K/s1600/IMG_1463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBRygjwXpaBKv9PE4At-oc_ZudLIB7FkeEhFxcG4vACYPlbxCbS2VyZp3B_aAUhlfEhHXdVwdN5LIFUCIZ4faN4c22ZJnc68JInyQNmhmJuZWM4NvDUqOQfR42vQu0xR9eSI7Tch4gX0K/s400/IMG_1463.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdA_wIK3M66Sm1cepww9vXFtZAa58125gyUrPWSnmZntaCeF6KBn1_lybQYKs60gBXUfJgL3yhm0kwiw9p0-4qW_xtyFVL0uiWDwu5v0U71jPJ2t3pA1GTOoW36u2QZ6J4mM99NnTAAR8K/s1600/IMG_1415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdA_wIK3M66Sm1cepww9vXFtZAa58125gyUrPWSnmZntaCeF6KBn1_lybQYKs60gBXUfJgL3yhm0kwiw9p0-4qW_xtyFVL0uiWDwu5v0U71jPJ2t3pA1GTOoW36u2QZ6J4mM99NnTAAR8K/s400/IMG_1415.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY6xLq4APCsD1L8JvSWfhJixopOIVwY0I6-u9zdjsepldW38TjAMT9Xhzn248uEiXPK9_sdXKSdR_8ZsEj0PGzSRSgqb7GkVdKNDbbRANeRRYdkj7LAXoo7Fz5bEScRjwjkGhFeqZbPZt/s1600/IMG_1452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY6xLq4APCsD1L8JvSWfhJixopOIVwY0I6-u9zdjsepldW38TjAMT9Xhzn248uEiXPK9_sdXKSdR_8ZsEj0PGzSRSgqb7GkVdKNDbbRANeRRYdkj7LAXoo7Fz5bEScRjwjkGhFeqZbPZt/s400/IMG_1452.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvjrq78FNMop2LeUsomST_uZ3cKWzMYU4ghKF6tcaZLejpJ1p-7Yx09YOYO7UM1W-mpSNVAzAolrwTbsV4dZcXIoIYpDlhsu-7JUrS818ixyiArGFBalwnHX6JjZszDHRjnIBh60JdizQ/s1600/baby" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvjrq78FNMop2LeUsomST_uZ3cKWzMYU4ghKF6tcaZLejpJ1p-7Yx09YOYO7UM1W-mpSNVAzAolrwTbsV4dZcXIoIYpDlhsu-7JUrS818ixyiArGFBalwnHX6JjZszDHRjnIBh60JdizQ/s400/baby" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpII8mPhLWcsof5zKZ9JGj7-SJHnKWABPXJ05aBwRnGLqaFH-4q_xAskMmTibieGbubJw7GhqPFuu7Dvu6hux0aZM5uhudMyM9EC4Aky_5qIHfK9zIhyphenhyphen3_a3JSR6vW-92ixU3M2oxiefqE/s1600/slide" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpII8mPhLWcsof5zKZ9JGj7-SJHnKWABPXJ05aBwRnGLqaFH-4q_xAskMmTibieGbubJw7GhqPFuu7Dvu6hux0aZM5uhudMyM9EC4Aky_5qIHfK9zIhyphenhyphen3_a3JSR6vW-92ixU3M2oxiefqE/s400/slide" /></a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-21350036991385841002012-08-22T17:42:00.000-04:002012-08-23T14:03:44.488-04:00Needed this todayI have had this <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/08/10-ways-to-be-a-happier-mom/">blog</a> in my inbox for a few days and just got around to reading it. It was the perfect timing. <br />
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10 Ways to be a Happier Mom (by Ann Voskamp)<br />
1. Life is not an emergency.<br />
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Life’s a gift. <br />
Just. Slow. Down.<br />
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2. Now is not a forever grace but amazing grace.<br />
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Do whatever it takes to wake to wonder right here.<br />
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3. Sometimes the slowest way is the fastest way to joy.<br />
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Make time today, even a moment, to read Scripture and memorize it.<br />
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Without the lens of His Word, the world warps.<br />
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{Slowest=fastest to joy}<br />
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4. Laughter is the cheapest, holiest medicine.<br />
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Preschoolers laugh 300 times a day. Aim for double that. Tickle someone, (yourself!), if necessary. This is good!<br />
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5. Motherhood is a hallowed place because children aren’t commonplace.<br />
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Co-laboring over the sculpting of souls is a sacred vocation, a humbling privilege.<br />
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Never forget.<br />
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6. Homemaking is about making a home, not about making perfection.<br />
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A perfect home is an authentic, creative, animated space where Peace and Christ and Beauty are embraced.<br />
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{Perfect does not equate to immaculate.}<br />
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7. A pail with a pinhole loses as much as the pail pushed right over.<br />
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A minute dawdled here, a minute scrolling here — they can add up to your life. Write down your intentions for the day and prayerfully ive the intentions and spend your life well by paying attention to the moments — which pays thanks to God.<br />
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A whole life can be lost in minutes wasted, small moments missed.<br />
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8. Believe it: I have all I need for today.<br />
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The needs of our day are great but our God is greater and we call Him Providence because we believe: He is the One who always provides.<br />
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{And when God provides, He should be praised, and if God always provides, shouldn’t praise always be on the lips?}<br />
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9. Slow. Children at play.<br />
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The hurry hurts the kids.<br />
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Time’s this priceless currency and only the slow spend it wise enough to be rich.<br />
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If we had to actually buy our time, would we spend it more wisely — spend it more slowly?<br />
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{God’s Word never says Hurry Up. God words only whisper: Wake Up.}<br />
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10. Love is patient.<br />
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Parenting’s this gentle way of bending over in humility to help the scraped child up because we intimately know it takes a lifetime to learn how to walk with Him.<br />
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Patience. Love always begins with patience and patience is a willingness to suffer.<br />
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Bonus:<br />
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The art of really celebrating life isn’t about getting it right – but about receiving Grace.<br />
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The sinners and the sick, the broken, the discouraged, the wounded and burdened — we are the ones who get to celebrate grace!<br />
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Regardless of the mess of your life, if Christ is Lord of your life, than we are the celebrants out dancing in a wild rain of grace — because when it’s all done and finished, all is well and Christ already said it was finished.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-30017668626294003772012-08-07T21:55:00.001-04:002012-08-08T07:02:07.190-04:00ContinuedOriginal post <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2012/06/gratitude-project.html">here</a>. This one may sound like I am a paid food blogger but I think it's just my post pregnancy appetite on fire. Hello maternity clothes still in play almost 3 months after birth! And, yes, these are all truly blessings I want to remember one day when these little years are so far away or even one day in the near future when I can't find anything positive in the minutia of the day. These are more than just "likes" - they are heart felt little things that make my heart swell with gratitude.<br />
58. Baby giggles. OH. MY. WORD.<br />
59. Matching outfits (so I can easily tell when one is missing)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZ2bDPP7dnLJDBP0JlZBzxcGZzYe_aEXHfNkV7xebiM2UGSFYwxN_oflwbIcXFxUZh5UZhB2uW091nVWbJkfsKZU9j5pxB4q2tZPsSabarBXjvsDoc33kTSUlrOGxLFXHqdcH6uY6jL9S/s1600/IMG_4601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZ2bDPP7dnLJDBP0JlZBzxcGZzYe_aEXHfNkV7xebiM2UGSFYwxN_oflwbIcXFxUZh5UZhB2uW091nVWbJkfsKZU9j5pxB4q2tZPsSabarBXjvsDoc33kTSUlrOGxLFXHqdcH6uY6jL9S/s400/IMG_4601.JPG" /></a><br />
This picture also reminds me how much I love trips to Costco for entertainment and on Saturdays for a good meal worth of samples!<br />
60. Trying new <a href="http://theoptimistrestaurant.com/">restaurants</a><br />
61. Fresh seafood in Atlanta<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TObku71kNBx-6O0Jz4Oa9kxpypw8IzfDhKscR5CSHLSGJ8K8mepKDsHZToR777S_OGHLv0es7AOwR7lCt_iHpQkcJABOvlGxBpWp2KZyYCbA1z8oNMto5GT6nCoPTtUJKkell58JNSFG/s1600/IMG_0700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TObku71kNBx-6O0Jz4Oa9kxpypw8IzfDhKscR5CSHLSGJ8K8mepKDsHZToR777S_OGHLv0es7AOwR7lCt_iHpQkcJABOvlGxBpWp2KZyYCbA1z8oNMto5GT6nCoPTtUJKkell58JNSFG/s400/IMG_0700.jpg" /></a><br />
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62. Grandparents close enough to visit <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxetSTC1zL5cPuJCPTQ3E_r0t5NugX6UXm3czUOHuyO2MwDaCrQlpmZNOMohwRCiQePLgLSa4tlYJFh-C2Yl15kAC87UclSclLU7Gm58pE6iq_ueXzcPYsGApb_Y4YK6DwS2YnZUyWvRdE/s1600/IMG_4694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxetSTC1zL5cPuJCPTQ3E_r0t5NugX6UXm3czUOHuyO2MwDaCrQlpmZNOMohwRCiQePLgLSa4tlYJFh-C2Yl15kAC87UclSclLU7Gm58pE6iq_ueXzcPYsGApb_Y4YK6DwS2YnZUyWvRdE/s400/IMG_4694.JPG" /></a><br />
63. TOMS on little boys<br />
64. Summer tomatoes from a friends garden<br />
65. Pink tennis shoes or anything pink with all the testosterone in my house<br />
66. The netti pot - ewww <br />
67. Le Croix on a hot day<br />
68. a VIDEO monitor! Yes, after 3 kids we FINALLY caved and yall....I AM ADDICTED. Hi, my name is Betsy and I am obsessed with watching my child in a scary way. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyw_of_JrIi6su-uLSyoIfFdO9WR2qMJzY-6TxbVRUoN9arraUtV5Chfc78ES0nMqmjDi2x6r-iqgpFZ7wELAcXwmhq-vZrXCbSQXzNJYknHmSw5kQzB6qxfuM0ndj4YnCswpa3MF3SBxI/s1600/IMG_4741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyw_of_JrIi6su-uLSyoIfFdO9WR2qMJzY-6TxbVRUoN9arraUtV5Chfc78ES0nMqmjDi2x6r-iqgpFZ7wELAcXwmhq-vZrXCbSQXzNJYknHmSw5kQzB6qxfuM0ndj4YnCswpa3MF3SBxI/s400/IMG_4741.jpg" /></a><br />
69. Baby fat rolls at all the right places, wrists, ankles, above the elbow <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gkfkDJDK3RgQwlIAv0L0flRRFRCV_WmDYVTsMaxObleqhD2O9sIv_KLhlrczN5JI-PRlFci2hALx5FKdJgFtmHlNPg6jFLPoIFoXwS7wgO_-iYMdJN7trkck54MpF07991JJAl9phzFD/s1600/IMG_4720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gkfkDJDK3RgQwlIAv0L0flRRFRCV_WmDYVTsMaxObleqhD2O9sIv_KLhlrczN5JI-PRlFci2hALx5FKdJgFtmHlNPg6jFLPoIFoXwS7wgO_-iYMdJN7trkck54MpF07991JJAl9phzFD/s400/IMG_4720.jpg" /></a><br />
70. new baby boy bedding for the nursery (after 3 straight years we needed some new spunk)<br />
71. Alessi White Balsamic and those summer tomatoes (with fresh mozzarella)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCGHkWSTrBr3tLFVTJubfCcEgMVxzrevD2QpMMnIZn9WvlDkcSwhetqvk1iX29Q-E4YJNezj24D3K1QQ8NQvaaknbYV1zEt1KQLfGgxh4F1650xVTDgDUEbWBrZnShpJum8VURVnfzUX8/s1600/IMG_4743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCGHkWSTrBr3tLFVTJubfCcEgMVxzrevD2QpMMnIZn9WvlDkcSwhetqvk1iX29Q-E4YJNezj24D3K1QQ8NQvaaknbYV1zEt1KQLfGgxh4F1650xVTDgDUEbWBrZnShpJum8VURVnfzUX8/s400/IMG_4743.jpg" /></a><br />
72. My mother in laws fresh pound cake sent just for me (so I ate the crust off of half of it before I decided to share)<br />
73. 3 year old giggles (aka driving while videoing your children who undid their carseats)<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/luu0reEbPQs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>74. 2 year old bed hair <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgdLroBjUf0UrOMLmiFlr14I3762gKrWP9Lm7MhX6mBqPZG_ri6FKYg6AwRfg8Aw8Xxx8jy5n9gQSFVeULpsnmS6qfjYZlc3KrOufBN7joMuV9aQ_f3fQGwfYdHWSmqdikzNELEv5VpkM/s1600/IMG_4730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgdLroBjUf0UrOMLmiFlr14I3762gKrWP9Lm7MhX6mBqPZG_ri6FKYg6AwRfg8Aw8Xxx8jy5n9gQSFVeULpsnmS6qfjYZlc3KrOufBN7joMuV9aQ_f3fQGwfYdHWSmqdikzNELEv5VpkM/s400/IMG_4730.jpg" /></a><br />
75. An unexpected weekend with only the baby and the baby's daddy<br />
76. <a href="http://www.taqueriadelsol.com">Dinner</a> out with my favorite person <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Lo56bsnlWlWlWFiRamE3YAm0NqqjfsdubaMs_avzzPO69dld3kLYeXNMySzU47k_BX6060RxBIK1NMTSiJt5k6bE1tNahNNAZaq0SdDD4OLVi5Qf0kOFNNaQUCGL7RDNqKNBWmR7YiBk/s1600/IMG_4672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Lo56bsnlWlWlWFiRamE3YAm0NqqjfsdubaMs_avzzPO69dld3kLYeXNMySzU47k_BX6060RxBIK1NMTSiJt5k6bE1tNahNNAZaq0SdDD4OLVi5Qf0kOFNNaQUCGL7RDNqKNBWmR7YiBk/s400/IMG_4672.jpg" /></a><br />
77. Dinner out again with my favorite person and brother and sister in law<br />
78. Dinner with those 3 over <a href="http://www.lunacyblackmarket.com">4 hours and a few bottles of wine</a><br />
79. Internet shopping<br />
80. A quiet car when the toddlers are at grandmas<br />
81. My favorite trees in our back yard blooming for the 2nd time this summer<br />
82. PEACH COBBLER ICE CREAM. OH MY STARS. This better be in heaven.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91olAIAsos-BoR2EBq4aWl_rhSLAmYHu2M3_9vBpu1GbvUI87A4mHvXSPd8m8lyvL7mEJMT9ag7FM6xfnebw3LmU2DVfeLZDnp2j8ZqCjqpzCT75QTlh5K85jqOH5p32OAETKmTA1uvEv/s1600/IMG_4742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91olAIAsos-BoR2EBq4aWl_rhSLAmYHu2M3_9vBpu1GbvUI87A4mHvXSPd8m8lyvL7mEJMT9ag7FM6xfnebw3LmU2DVfeLZDnp2j8ZqCjqpzCT75QTlh5K85jqOH5p32OAETKmTA1uvEv/s400/IMG_4742.jpg" /></a><br />
83. Hearing my babies laugh and say they "wuv me" over the phone <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUg1v7ueWLHga6ROlZLa5yfW9usCxeAfaBc4uYQ28RDR7Ico86veYn08nzCsuAemr2XjID-2pzSNwlBuSgAhXQvVJUyBVI7l-CzP3DkxQkosIrlmGVZNwm6mbE5mMS8BCROssbhCAyIsc/s1600/IMG_0696+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUg1v7ueWLHga6ROlZLa5yfW9usCxeAfaBc4uYQ28RDR7Ico86veYn08nzCsuAemr2XjID-2pzSNwlBuSgAhXQvVJUyBVI7l-CzP3DkxQkosIrlmGVZNwm6mbE5mMS8BCROssbhCAyIsc/s400/IMG_0696+-+Version+2.jpg" /></a><br />
84. Our new preschool starting in a few weeks - an answer to prayer!<br />
85. Afternoon thunderstorms<br />
86. My abs starting to hurt again because they have been used<br />
87. Sleep. Ahhh. What a miracle.<br />
88. TEAM USA!<br />
89. Recalling what we were doing during the last olympics....before 3 kids and 3 moves!<br />
90. The view from Brad's office on the 20th floor. <br />
91. Strolling the mall while the kids are away...wasting time like I used to when my biggest worry was what I might wear out that weekend<br />
92. And taking 2 hours to work out and then even take a long shower just because I can<br />
93. Words with friends to make me feel like I am with some of my favorite <a href="http://www.charlsiekate.com">friends</a><br />
94. A mosquito free yard to enjoy<br />
95. Baby dancing (kicking) on the floor after a good meal<br />
96. Feeling those first date type of sparks again - almost 5 years later<br />
97. Watching a man work in his yard with pride<br />
98. Sweet prayer time with a friend - the kind that never ends without sweet tears<br />
99. Planning parties<br />
100. The good feeling I get after knowing I finished my water bottle for the day<br />
101. A new dress<br />
102. A manicure with my mama<br />
103. A goofy baby <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfFNGt0k-STP1Bh0tsTa-2XJpEKd0z5o-ethElJ4auS4flzTEY6PS5P6FxyoOOTXFNZhcccyenW211lkeMrykw3DZth_H9m5FT0KspAdZVA5MbU4nGLPJtrBdyJQgi9FSHv_0TeyXToFY/s1600/IMG_4713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfFNGt0k-STP1Bh0tsTa-2XJpEKd0z5o-ethElJ4auS4flzTEY6PS5P6FxyoOOTXFNZhcccyenW211lkeMrykw3DZth_H9m5FT0KspAdZVA5MbU4nGLPJtrBdyJQgi9FSHv_0TeyXToFY/s400/IMG_4713.jpg" /></a>104. An oversized teddy bear, aka wrestling toy and cuddle friend <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bfGSC98YmyYboA9_zZMeo6B7rM1fyvpuya0WTu1Bj8SE0H9mqC4MSKX_TT_yKYrF6-9Ph8TtQp4i2Xjt1UdjtKmADV7RJ0jxKcV4BdgXL074xhKMzQKnyCOJHmjhyphenhyphen68Xla4Jai0fzyzP/s1600/IMG_4738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bfGSC98YmyYboA9_zZMeo6B7rM1fyvpuya0WTu1Bj8SE0H9mqC4MSKX_TT_yKYrF6-9Ph8TtQp4i2Xjt1UdjtKmADV7RJ0jxKcV4BdgXL074xhKMzQKnyCOJHmjhyphenhyphen68Xla4Jai0fzyzP/s400/IMG_4738.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiZobzM_B3io3lVJqzd0N6-NG2gnV1llqAAXuuRHAYzdTiwhQUGR2mWvZdy2MfuAToEspLHznHzxxtaC6O5Z8rLDxSA_4-Ol8KssJOgYagMnGyYdq8zxjDDb8KygjaqITDttuI-io7tap/s1600/IMG_4739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiZobzM_B3io3lVJqzd0N6-NG2gnV1llqAAXuuRHAYzdTiwhQUGR2mWvZdy2MfuAToEspLHznHzxxtaC6O5Z8rLDxSA_4-Ol8KssJOgYagMnGyYdq8zxjDDb8KygjaqITDttuI-io7tap/s400/IMG_4739.JPG" /></a><br />
104. Potty training successes <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHTRD-KifMwe6IojgaSqac447ncz6Clac_ntk3OWfnynE2cf6H-GTdKiCcaIbAUiP8KaNy281CRqE33SxVvBeCULCA9CSImtzd0EUdmSq_715QpCp4FPL40MDmoUCbNftgQOjm-Drdye4/s1600/IMG_4627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHTRD-KifMwe6IojgaSqac447ncz6Clac_ntk3OWfnynE2cf6H-GTdKiCcaIbAUiP8KaNy281CRqE33SxVvBeCULCA9CSImtzd0EUdmSq_715QpCp4FPL40MDmoUCbNftgQOjm-Drdye4/s400/IMG_4627.jpg" /></a><br />
105. A fun, private back yard <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0k2T5FBZtesDrQoQYDFhA8KmriOUhpzh1ZwGDRqvZaKVL2h4Bmzp3gmcGFBKrMCTU4OzLDbvq8CZ2lfQ8JdTX90bVRtJz1OXILc_oFwmpeqHKr6mpwGIPJQkGNGE2wIh27KWQr6FDmZbP/s1600/IMG_4678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0k2T5FBZtesDrQoQYDFhA8KmriOUhpzh1ZwGDRqvZaKVL2h4Bmzp3gmcGFBKrMCTU4OzLDbvq8CZ2lfQ8JdTX90bVRtJz1OXILc_oFwmpeqHKr6mpwGIPJQkGNGE2wIh27KWQr6FDmZbP/s400/IMG_4678.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBd-ngszu6z8efehgdrKY2z8so6kxAoO7CFUKCNEVBu6uZegwAaUKM5UHdkA-jA0BPuplTJtQ_PD0WOOBgZOt34J08G4FKaCMygH1YmnSFQTeOUJuLM4QWcl3lx-T2lHReEh65tfo5u9n/s1600/IMG_4674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBd-ngszu6z8efehgdrKY2z8so6kxAoO7CFUKCNEVBu6uZegwAaUKM5UHdkA-jA0BPuplTJtQ_PD0WOOBgZOt34J08G4FKaCMygH1YmnSFQTeOUJuLM4QWcl3lx-T2lHReEh65tfo5u9n/s400/IMG_4674.jpg" /></a><br />
106. Precious baby time that only happens when the big boys are sleeping<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QKH6hKU5kJ8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
107. Talking like a baby when you swore you never would<br />
108. Staying up too late to watch the London Olympics<br />
109. Laying 5 deep in "daddy's bed" to watch diving together (and clapping excitedly after every dive)<br />
110. The Sandy Springs farmers Market on Saturday's<br />
111. Clean baseboards. And a good workout.<br />
112. Pandora on the radio computer while cleaning<br />
113. Nutella for breakfast<br />
114. Nutella anytime<br />
115. Nursing a baby while eating Nutella and knowing atleast a bite of the calories have already been burned<br />
116. Nursing a baby<br />
<br />
Stay tuned...<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-6543608933032823282012-07-20T09:23:00.000-04:002012-07-20T09:23:27.607-04:008 weeks. Like yesterday or like ages ago?You know how when you are in the thick of a season of life you can't really tell if the minutes are crawling by or if you blinked it would feel like you were right back at the beginning? I often can never express adequately how time feels when I am right smack in the middle of it all. <br />
In many ways it feels like hours ago that I was walking around like an overstuffed penguin hoping to be rid of my extra baggage as the summer heat started to ignite. That last day of pregnancy the boys joined me in the basement for some prenatal exercises in hopes to bring on a baby and sure enough just a few hours later our squats and lunges paid off. I can vividly and painfully remember every single contraction in those short 2 hours before we met our 3rd son and often I still lay on my back in bed wishing I wasn't pregnant so I could roll to my stomach....one day soon it'll hit me that I am actually not pregnant anymore but after 3 straight years it's just sort of what I know. <br />
So it shocked me when I went to put a date on our calendar for September? How is the peace of the fall season just around the corner already? We LOVE the fall around here....it's our anniversary season, a time when the doors are always open, and Saturday's remind me much of my child hood with the smell of fresh grass wafting through the house while Larry Munson (tear tear) commentates on our families favorite team. I can already feel the calm that the fall usually brings even with three boys running circles through the house. Yet I just bought my first pair of summer sandals and I just cleaned up from our 3 May birthdays??? Why does experiencing life through the eyes of children make time seem to soar by?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjvnols0K-WTR3yRak4foHTxXDL4mJkHMNMhwGpYosMNQdTFouya1GvxGIndbuk9lQl8Ll-BHjT39jntIJ-DC8X9ZTAwgypT7fTbslK8TpmRaS1IihU5V2mBv5iz9wXlwPtNhWh_Js3bA/s1600/IMG_4606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjvnols0K-WTR3yRak4foHTxXDL4mJkHMNMhwGpYosMNQdTFouya1GvxGIndbuk9lQl8Ll-BHjT39jntIJ-DC8X9ZTAwgypT7fTbslK8TpmRaS1IihU5V2mBv5iz9wXlwPtNhWh_Js3bA/s400/IMG_4606.jpg" /></a><br />
But then it also feels like years ago that our sweet baby was waking every 3 hours to eat at night and sadly, I don't even remember those middle of the night feedings and they happen to be some of my most treasured newborn moments. There were weeks in the wee wee beginning that Bradford didn't open his eyes but for a total of 15 minutes all day and now we get to soak up the gummiest, hammiest, goofiest little smiles for about 30 minutes every 3rd hour of the day and he doesn't even care to wake us at night. I remember wondering if he would ever really wake up and then worrying that maybe something was wrong. Many of those first days felt like decades as we waited patiently to get to know our new little baby. I heard a friend say last night to an expecting mother that if anything feels like it's forever with a newborn it's usually only about 7 days. That couldn't be more true. As soon as you think you have figured something out about the new little one - the pattern changes and you can hardly remember what was so exhausting just days before. But - during those hours with a crying baby or a baby that doesn't seem to wake up the minutes seem to just inch by one by one.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdORpLYtx-Ac6jlZN4USniUQKrmwoimneMnb0TTisvjvtYb5uU823__xPpqz-bCGb5CU3BWTZ-SR-3gBp8qj0Dk3I1bJ0FSCRIvXqy-8R7lQDNPYr3QQAU1cW-DMmXW42Cf7lBB0loTew0/s1600/IMG_4579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdORpLYtx-Ac6jlZN4USniUQKrmwoimneMnb0TTisvjvtYb5uU823__xPpqz-bCGb5CU3BWTZ-SR-3gBp8qj0Dk3I1bJ0FSCRIvXqy-8R7lQDNPYr3QQAU1cW-DMmXW42Cf7lBB0loTew0/s400/IMG_4579.jpg" /></a><br />
Today our baby is 8 weeks old. I guess by most he is still considered a newborn but much of his newborn traits have disappeared. He sleeps and sleeps so well that I catch myself throughout the day thinking "this is too easy....when is the payback coming?" He is pretty predictable but he doesn't get upset if I'm not. I think we have heard him cry 3 times in his 8 weeks and none of the episodes lasted longer than 3 minutes. He is the prize possession in our home. The big boys like to boastfully announce to the whole house or store or restaurant anytime the baby's eyes open or he he so even makes a peep or if he starts to open his mouth for a cry or if he needs milk and so on. The boys don't let him get away with even an ounce of joy or rage without excitedly commentating his every move. After I first feed the baby in the morning we all gather on our bed and watch Bradford as he giggles and smiles like he was sent here on earth to do just that. How can you start a day off in a foul mood after a morning like that? I'll say it again as I've said on here before- there is nothing as sweet as sibling love.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmx5uHqOFFL-kBKQiFtK4dTq6nbzZPqad0u3Tj0QeHv1RJGY9661hX3e2lbWk1iDLghys3I5J2bYd5103j_KhZ_IwWX1nL5JbBeO9ybPDxoyZfYk0xRggu9NnZC0bFVM7cHqzPod4gaFTo/s1600/IMG_0664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmx5uHqOFFL-kBKQiFtK4dTq6nbzZPqad0u3Tj0QeHv1RJGY9661hX3e2lbWk1iDLghys3I5J2bYd5103j_KhZ_IwWX1nL5JbBeO9ybPDxoyZfYk0xRggu9NnZC0bFVM7cHqzPod4gaFTo/s400/IMG_0664.JPG" /></a><br />
While I am certainly relieved to have those first few weeks behind us I do hope the next 8 weeks do not feel as quick. We do more and more each day that assures me that life does carry on and we all do adjust and in a way - I'm not ready for that. I like the closeness our family feels after a new member has joined. I like being on lock down and having sweet friends bring us meals. I like the calls and emails and pop-in visits and I love the help offered to a family with a newborn. It's like we are all starting over together.....learning to get back out into the world as a team. This week we (meaning me and the three babes) hit the trails for our first run and while I felt so empowered I also mourned that time had moved on and I no longer have any "I just had a baby" pass cards left. We also conquered the post office, the grocery store, Costco, and a preschool visit altogether. 8 weeks ago or even 2 weeks ago I would have bet against me or any crazy mom of 3 doing any of the above. Moms you can relate - most of the fun of mastering these seemingly usual tasks is the kudos you get from most of the rest of the sane world. I'll take the encouragement any way I can get it...even if I get in the car and cry after completing such tasks. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6ZViVQN7sYqtGfZmCQNG2sn1LjVRFhWmwYSfgl70ENzCXYyfqVUmcJtaQWfOnT2CEr8oFzYf1DzPb6O8n8Isqktau9rH-k1zgcv45UUCan1pqlW0A6h062WQjkhOljC1VKvOQMU9LIzP/s1600/IMG_4571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6ZViVQN7sYqtGfZmCQNG2sn1LjVRFhWmwYSfgl70ENzCXYyfqVUmcJtaQWfOnT2CEr8oFzYf1DzPb6O8n8Isqktau9rH-k1zgcv45UUCan1pqlW0A6h062WQjkhOljC1VKvOQMU9LIzP/s400/IMG_4571.jpg" /></a><br />
I read an article in the Wall Street Journal yesterday about stay at home mom's on the go who are always trying to squeeze a workout in to their day even in the most humorous ways - jogging to the store or doing yoga in a park. The article said that these moms are labeled "crazy happy." How perfectly fitting. I'll take crazy happy any day over many of the labels I would have given myself over the years when things weren't quite as hectic. Bring on the next happily crazy 8 weeks ....though hopefully at a little slower pace. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLELPjI5prnntmUp4MZ6fHFneMzIBmGt-0PJcWu_DLClXpiEy5xo43kbIGnfMaJdJRz_sOlKnM4MCL_ThldKL0btPLwcd60u8eXf8yTONKsERxf6oIzEFpoKSSEtlsqiydgqXvYjX5Kows/s1600/IMG_0662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLELPjI5prnntmUp4MZ6fHFneMzIBmGt-0PJcWu_DLClXpiEy5xo43kbIGnfMaJdJRz_sOlKnM4MCL_ThldKL0btPLwcd60u8eXf8yTONKsERxf6oIzEFpoKSSEtlsqiydgqXvYjX5Kows/s400/IMG_0662.JPG" /></a><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-11210734453830012112012-07-15T09:23:00.001-04:002012-07-15T09:23:30.820-04:00Match box carsIf a family's wealth and happiness were measured by the number of 3 inch mostly aluminum toy cars that it houses then our family would surely be as happy as clowns even on the worst of days and we'd use dollar bills instead of Costco wet wipes for every house hold need and dirty nose/diaper. There is not a secret nook in this house that does not have a brightly colored car/truck/van/jeep crammed deep inside. <br />
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This is surely the mark of a house with boys. Yesterday I went to said Costco to fill up the family car with gas. I open up the gas cap and out falls a yellow race car and one of the boys favorites - an orange conversion van. So I opened up the passenger door to toss the cars inside and I start to clean out the mounds of cheerios/graham crackers/goldfish that have accumulated in oh....the last 3 days...and stuffed deep inside the seat belt whole is yet another favorite - a blue hatch back. Before I finished my fill up I had acquired 9 of the little boogers, many of which were at one lucky day in a cars life - the boys most favorite of them all. Poor, forgotten about matchbox toy. <br />
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The oldest boy likes to sit as any oldest child would do and line up his cars in perfect rows along a table or dresser or even the cracks in the hard wood floors. He could do this for hours and he would know quickly if one were missing. <br />
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The youngest boy likes to do two things with his cars. First of all - according to the oldest none of the cars are actually the youngest's - they are just being borrowed temporarily. And like any 2nd born - he really doesn't care because his attention span is nothing short of nonexistent. First he uses them as defense and throws them or mischievously pushes the perfect lines of cars off the table just to get a rouse from his oldest brother. Secondly, he transports them to and fro. To and fro where you might ask? Oh, the usual and necessary places - to the bathtub and from the dishwasher. To the small space behind the tv to behind the toilet...where every car toy would like to be. And he likes to use the oddest of vehicles to transport "his" cars....a glass bowl, a plastic bag from the grocery store, a shoe, a helmet...whatever holds things aptly holds his cars and you would think the little one was getting paid in lollipops to take these cars and put them in the most unlikely places.<br />
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There is not a purse or bag without two cars deep inside. This comes in handy at a restaurant or the doctor. And there literally isn't a corner, crevice in the couch, basket, drawer, oven, or cabinet that is not home to a matchbox car at any given moment in this home of little boys. <br />
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AND I LOVE IT! In my fluctuating hormonal state I started flooding tears when I opened my gas tank yesterday and the two cars toppled to my feet. I love these little boys like I never knew I could and I love watching their personalities come to life even in the way they love/care for/abuse and hide their little cars. I am grateful that we have many many more years to accumulate many many more little cars and I hope when the house is a little more quiet in the years to come that I can always open a drawer for a rag and find a little car taking cover.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-48080921313475938442012-07-09T15:38:00.002-04:002012-07-09T15:46:05.326-04:00Up for airThe only thing I know about serious swimming is the one aqua arobics class I witnessed several years ago when an orthopedist told me my running career of 15 years was over. I pulled out a very unattractive one piece swimsuit and hit the pool with every other senior inside the metro Atlanta area. It was one of the more entertaining hours of my life and I think I was too distraced by the circus in the pool to really understand the countless benefits of exercising under water. I do know, though, that activity done in water is hardly felt by the joints and therefore is extremely kind to your body whether your'e 25 or 75. <br />
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When youre <i>in</i> the water - everything feels weighltess. <br />
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That's the perfect picture of our lives right now, these 5 B's in a pod, on a Monday in the heat of July. <br />
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People often gawk at me when I am in public with 3 humans not yet tall enough to ride the big kid rides and honestly, I welcome it. I just hope that we leave our gawkers with a prettier picture of 3 kids in 3 years than they had imagined! You see, we are a moving circle of chaos right now and I don't say this to just make a joke - this is real life for us right now. At any moment one of us doesn't have a shoe or shoes on and another one of us probably doesn't have on underpants. Usually 2 of us are wearing some sort of breakfast in our hair and to say I don't mind this is an understatement because the smell of syrup smells a whole lot better than a 2 year olds feet after a day of hard play wearing Crocs. Every hour someone has a meltdown and every hour an important item is missing - ie: "bubby" (William's stinky blanket), his glasses, my keys, the baby's pacifier or Brooks' prized toy of the day that he "must" have at all times...you name it, if we need it - it is missing. But really, none of that even phases me when I am this deep in the thick of a young family. <br />
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When you are under water, you just dont feel the heaviness of things weighing you down...youre just in it and that's all you know. And this is really the blessing in disguise of having children who will most likely occupy the top three grades of their high school at once. We have never left the toddler or even the baby stage in our last 3+ years enough to know that life beyond diapers and sippy cups and 7pm bedtimes can be a little more freeing....a little less physical work. So when bystanders comment "how do you do it?" often my first thought is "how do I do <i>what</i>?" It's not at all that this (prolonged) season of babyhood doesn't require effort it's just that after awhile you really don't know anything different so your perspective of normal is a little skewed. You just keep kicking and keep pushing the water behind you.<br />
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Normal for us is loud car rides and afternoons in the driveway counting rocks <strike>passing the time</strike>. Normal right now is unfolded heaping piles of laundry and mismatched shoes (I am talking about me here, not the boys!). Normal is a scoop of peanut butter for lunch and a "date night" on the front porch when two of the three kids are asleep just for a change of scenery. Cheers over a big poopoo, and even using the word poopoo are quite usual along with whole days spent in pajamas and doing chores with a "baby on board."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QW1UdpEgVq59toXZ4o1Ld128QGfZ9daSVe5dHzuL5zL1_Pe1biuAkSGHxoRRwGkH1yQGDeHRvzUeEBaa9aqquLZbEHV5jpRMfKXdnFtARtkK9w9KoWFE3Xd7BZHeYOPei6YMaI_yqPhU/s1600/IMG_4528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QW1UdpEgVq59toXZ4o1Ld128QGfZ9daSVe5dHzuL5zL1_Pe1biuAkSGHxoRRwGkH1yQGDeHRvzUeEBaa9aqquLZbEHV5jpRMfKXdnFtARtkK9w9KoWFE3Xd7BZHeYOPei6YMaI_yqPhU/s400/IMG_4528.jpg" /></a><br />
<i>{The sad look was my face after seeing the heaping piles of undone laundry. Sigh...}</i><br />
Oh, and making a plan to do anything is long gone for now. We literally have to take each day and then look at the waking hours and focus just on what needs to be done that hour - whether it be a meal, a cleaning, a changing, a sleep, or a teaching.<i> What needs to be done this hour?</i> That is what I say to myself throughout the day. <br />
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The other reality about being in the thick of it right now is that we just can't even come up for air barely. I don't say that for sympthy, really. It's just our reality and if we choose to focus on our inability to breathe or rest (ie -excotic vacations and long weekends with a book and a cold glass) then we will literally drown but we have to focus on end of the pool and on all of the work that is behind us. I don't wish these days away, I really dont. I look at some of my aunts whom had kids several years before me and I know that many of them would love to squeeze the cheeks of their babbling 2 year old or to sit and snuggle with a newborn. That's not to say they'd go back but you can see it in the eyes of parents in the next stage - there is certainly an innocence and a sweetness that is gone so quickly. So I know that I am to savor each of these moments but honestly, it's a task to try to truly enjoy all the work when youre in the pool, paying the dues. From what I do know about swimming or anything that requires great endurance - you get the best feeling when you look back at what you've done and you think about the distance you have gone. <br />
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But here are the little things that bring infinitely more joy than the work that goes into them - <br />
*Overhearing the two big boys as they live their lives together each day and grow closer by the minute. There is nothing on this earth that I have experienced that is more genuine and that fills me with more joy and pride than witnessing these two siblings talk, encourage, giggle and even argue with eachother. So much of it is unrehearsed and unscripted. It is just their little personalities and their innocent views of the world coming to light. And it is absolutely the most fufilling thing I know. It makes each <i>stroke</i> worth it. <br />
*The 30 minutes of absolute silence that happens maybe once a day when all the little people are resting up for an afternoon of chaos. Those quiet minutes are so quiet it is frightening but they are enough to keep me going....atleast until I hear the sweet sound of a green truck pulling in the driveway come late afternoon. <br />
*Hearing your son pray out of the blue for <a href="http://thereformedwesleyan.com/2012/06/30/a-tribute-to-jay-williams-he-loved-jesus/">his dad's best friend</a> who just lost his life. I can't type that without turning into a puddle. And I can't wait to see Brooks, William, and Bradford grow into the man that our friend Jay was to everyone he knew. That will make it all worth it. <br />
*Witnessing the fresh smile of a 6 week old who really requires nothing in this world but a little food and alot of sleep. He usually likes to smile for about an hour around 4 am and I actually don't mind it a bit. It gives me enough air to keep going. <br />
*Feeling the weight of a two year olds huge head on your shoulder after a long day. His only request is that we "wock mommy." 5 minutes of rocking your all-boy toddler is enough to get me through to the next special 5 minutes of rocking the next day. <br />
*Seeing the smile on your husband's face as he drives down the drive way to greet all of the people he is responsible for...I know there is also an "Oh my <strike>crap</strike>, thats alot of people" type of feeling I am sure but I can see the pride beaming from his eyes and it makes it alllll worth it....every last crumb and tear and wet wipe and booger. <br />
*The taste of my sweet tea from McDonalds EVERY SINGLE DAY even after it took 40 minutes to get in the car to get it. WORTH IT!<br />
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I am grateful that the Lord gives us the little things to hold onto while we are deep into the minutia of raising children. Being a parent in general is no joke but I know we could have made it a little easier on ourselves having perfectly spaced out our children just as each older one had learned to use the potty. But I also know we would have missed out on this beautiful feeling of utter dependence. I can't imagine being anymore helpless and exhausted than I am right now but oh, what a place to be! I am fully dependent on the Lord's grace to give me the perespective I need to even do this job. I am 110% dependent on Brad of course for his helping hands but mostly for his broad perspective too when I can't see past the hour and the 5th dirty diaper. I do not have what it takes to be this selfless everyday (and every night right now). It's just not in me but I thank God each morning for the little moments He gives me that allow me to know deep down that we are running the race well and one day we will be able to look back at all the work and feel the reward of a job well done. <br />
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Here are some tangible "breaths of air" that keep me going:<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-43653248475487515422012-06-21T15:54:00.001-04:002012-06-21T15:54:49.905-04:00The gratitude projectEmbarassingly, I started a book over six months ago and I even urged you, dear reader, <a href="http://thebagwells.blogspot.com/2012/06/year-ago-today.html">here</a>, to read the <a href="http://onethousandgifts.com/">book</a>, too. I even gave the book as a gift to half a dozen people and I subscribe to the blog everyday and read it...occasionally. But here I'm about to admit one of my many short comings to you and hopefully you'll feel just a little better about yourself and maybe give yourself some grace should you have the same little flaw. <br />
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I don't finish projects. My husband just reread that sentence as his eyes got bigger and his jaw dropped I am sure. Yes, honey, it's in writing. I am a great initiator and I love to get all the supplies I need for something and then lay them on the dining room table....for months. I even love to make people dinners when they have a baby or are going through a tough time and then they sit in my freezer because they never got delivered. Just like how I buy books off Amazon and I sometimes even expedite the shipping and then after a few chapters I add them to my stack of to-be-completed books and projects. <br />
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Well, last fall in my bible study for moms many women I admire spoke about how transformational this book was for them who, like me, can often get stuck in the rut of being a mother. So immediatly I ordered two copies, read several chapters, raved about what I was reading and then sort of forgot about the book and with that, forgot, really, about what the book had even taught me in my few days of digesting every thought I could about this whole "gift" idea. In the book, the author stumbled upon a way to really <i>feel</i> grateful after spending so many of her adult years sort of luke warm or neutral. I've never liked feeling neutral. I think a life lived vibrantly is the best gift we can give others and the best medicine for ourselves. Of course, we all go through those seasons where our day to day life is so black and white and there isn't even a way to imagine a splash of color. I've been there many times and I was there for nearly 18 months before this pregnancy snapped me back to "me." <br />
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Just like me, Ann, the writer, began to despise her lack of gratitude for things big and small in her life so she started writing down every single thing that she was grateful for throughout her day. Her book is difficult to read because she has a stream of conscious type of style so I have to read a paragraph multiple times but when I do I find myself smelling the things she smells and seeing the things she sees on her farm property. The heart of this book...the challenge to notice and then take note with a pen (or keyboard) of my blessings - truly has been the biggest gift given to me yet. I mean it. And sometime between changing a diaper, laying awake at night alone during one of my many nights of insomnia and now peacefully nursing a newborn baby it all hit me... the weight and privilege of living gratefully and I am so glad it did....and when it did. <br />
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It's all about gratitude. Like, really deep rooted, sincere gratitude felt throughout the day and at specific moments over specific things. What Ann realized is that if she wrote down the things that she appreciates as she appreciates them then she is better able to literally feel and express gratitude. It all sounds so simple and obvious but I think it is the rarest secret that so few people really have unlocked. I am not there but I have a taste of it and I want more. <br />
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Thank you to a <a href="http://thedouglasfam.blogspot.com">friend</a> and her recent quest to write down her "<a href="http://thedouglasfam.blogspot.com/2012/05/learning-curve.html">gifts</a>" I started leaving myself voice memos on my iphone for things throughout the day that made my heart warm up a little - even on the worst of days. This has opened up a whole new world for me and yall.....it is sooo sooo addictive. I don't know where my thankful heart had vacationed to these past few years? You would think among 3 births and a new home that my cornucopia would be overflowing but as life often goes - the more blessings equals more responsibility that often feels more like burdens than gifts. Atleast that is what our society would have you feel. So without further adieu....the start to this renewed way of living in a society that I think has forgotten how to be thankful:<br />
1)the realization that my heart was missing the biggest gift yet - gratitude<br />
2)my iphone to record and write my "gifts' no matter where I am....{ahem} the bathroom?<br />
3)the hour in the day when there really are three other sleeping humans in our home. If you'd told me that would ever happened before I had kids I would never have believed you!<br />
4)the weeks post-baby where you just have to give yourself a little grace about everything<br />
5)His mercies that truly are new every single morning<br />
6)the purple flowers on the trees in my back yard <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpWwKbEO4NXqb7t4FvZiu42vlCyMFXtPiH4d7ST9qcsf_NyaWrsBAWIjCL94LxH_0zUcDEweh-HxuAUTBOU6yddF_fXhyphenhyphenKtc5liUsMiNICeLAi-yCIiivoAklZNcOsiZ34YtYSbyhdxol/s1600/IMG_4299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpWwKbEO4NXqb7t4FvZiu42vlCyMFXtPiH4d7ST9qcsf_NyaWrsBAWIjCL94LxH_0zUcDEweh-HxuAUTBOU6yddF_fXhyphenhyphenKtc5liUsMiNICeLAi-yCIiivoAklZNcOsiZ34YtYSbyhdxol/s400/IMG_4299.JPG" /></a><br />
7)the mama bird out my window whose babies hatched the weekend we had our baby<br />
8)watching how patiently and dependently the baby birds wait for their mama to fly back with food<br />
9)the bay window in our living room<br />
10)visitors <br />
11)visitors baring the food for my babies since this mama isn't out cooking up dinner yet!<br />
12)the new energy I feel each day as I get farther and farther away from Bradford's birthday<br />
13)the crazy idea to get out of the house this morning<br />
14)living near the Chattahoochee River<br />
15)public parks and libraries....a mother's love! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jrNlYJJ2E5S2Pa9w1zGV258OtMfbnDHosYRE-i2e_gXGoBR67ENUODTrLh_sk1AFW9vkQixai_yi35lVoFY12x6_kr6xSUErWxMwsS-hlhRZvcTylLMXLND7hoS2-So1p_KMPdv3TIZo/s1600/IMG_4337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jrNlYJJ2E5S2Pa9w1zGV258OtMfbnDHosYRE-i2e_gXGoBR67ENUODTrLh_sk1AFW9vkQixai_yi35lVoFY12x6_kr6xSUErWxMwsS-hlhRZvcTylLMXLND7hoS2-So1p_KMPdv3TIZo/s400/IMG_4337.JPG" /></a><br />
16)the double-bob stroller<br />
17)a flat walk by the river<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtuAlch9F3TvmndJvh9mciD3OFZL92_5BahMQEephuzdUW0S8RO-M7mFrBHpg4cIISinHrioIj8Ysqvmsd04kzJX9-GaUX83roi6ld3-YImr7BuRYm0gCorFqA27GMcl6Texsjp7cnstsA/s1600/IMG_4335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtuAlch9F3TvmndJvh9mciD3OFZL92_5BahMQEephuzdUW0S8RO-M7mFrBHpg4cIISinHrioIj8Ysqvmsd04kzJX9-GaUX83roi6ld3-YImr7BuRYm0gCorFqA27GMcl6Texsjp7cnstsA/s400/IMG_4335.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d_nXQgXFqVutbWFcPKWImlOzI3DCPbd0TmwS7kIRc4hfs5lTLVKKnSS2ipbTRHr8JJPZMpsgm2TNdRLm6630aJJt-Vbx54Dg06UnQJ35XKlMc6hV6TXUFnlqEVKYwpjFxqpDWWISuAdV/s1600/IMG_4332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d_nXQgXFqVutbWFcPKWImlOzI3DCPbd0TmwS7kIRc4hfs5lTLVKKnSS2ipbTRHr8JJPZMpsgm2TNdRLm6630aJJt-Vbx54Dg06UnQJ35XKlMc6hV6TXUFnlqEVKYwpjFxqpDWWISuAdV/s400/IMG_4332.jpg" /></a><br />
18)talking to the boys about what they see outside<br />
19)forgetting my iphone at home<br />
20)positive words from strangers<br />
21)a sense of pride from just getting out the door<br />
22)getting to stay home with the boys everyday<br />
23)watching ducks bob for fish<br />
24)having two little boys to ask me questions while we stroll the path<br />
25)running into friends who help out when your hands are tied with three little people needing something at the same time<br />
26)picking up lunch<br />
27)my husbands ring on my phone that is unique to him <br />
28)my husbands ring on my phone mid-morning when he is calling just to check on us<br />
29)half sweetened ice tea<br />
30)with a lemon<br />
31)lactic acid in my legs<br />
32)1:45pm everyday<br />
33)and getting the mail<br />
34)Pierre, the mail man, and sometimes the only adult conversation until B gets home<br />
35)sleeping babies<br />
36)newborn noises<br />
37)newborn smells<br />
38)newborn feet<br />
39)the crazy thought while holding a newborn that maybe one day I'll want another newborn<br />
40)DVR<br />
41)the feeling of actually finishing something I started (my walk today)<br />
42)racing the boys to the top of the stairs<br />
43)watching the lil man copy the big boy as he points to the ducks and the squirrels<br />
44)Thursday<br />
45)how far God has brought me/us with my insomnia<br />
46)getting enough sleep to feel pretty good throughout the day<br />
47)medicine that actually works (when there was a time that nothing helped me sleep)<br />
48)dancing a few steps while cleaning the kitchen<br />
49)a clean kitchen<br />
50)the fresh smell of lemon and pinesol in the clean kitchen <br />
51)noticing the height of the shasta daisies in the front yard<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DCj8MIcn3hxbDU6pzRjQTVNayBVG-OIshpRd7djm7hPJC2lmnvHHUEJZYBFQXZ7IBC1AnHKxPVt66AqgNkWP2D3f2UoLdUREYHoKRSbZb7lthabmHFx1v1QXX1aJV91MOkeCJSY5_UkG/s1600/IMG_4340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DCj8MIcn3hxbDU6pzRjQTVNayBVG-OIshpRd7djm7hPJC2lmnvHHUEJZYBFQXZ7IBC1AnHKxPVt66AqgNkWP2D3f2UoLdUREYHoKRSbZb7lthabmHFx1v1QXX1aJV91MOkeCJSY5_UkG/s400/IMG_4340.JPG" /></a><br />
52)watermelon drool <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxX1buI9HFMwcLn5XmrklBBJaB3E9UHnQ6VV3cysEa3_GWa5yA_oy1u7XEsFodTJTrZcL5x7xq7VuJOcn0nyXPSsJT9Snj0714JOeNBRwojzMUdw7kjqhyphenhyphenFapEdQkiabr6-qvVVtO-J1I/s1600/IMG_4342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxX1buI9HFMwcLn5XmrklBBJaB3E9UHnQ6VV3cysEa3_GWa5yA_oy1u7XEsFodTJTrZcL5x7xq7VuJOcn0nyXPSsJT9Snj0714JOeNBRwojzMUdw7kjqhyphenhyphenFapEdQkiabr6-qvVVtO-J1I/s400/IMG_4342.jpg" /></a><br />
53)catching the sparkle from the diamond in my ring and remembering the day I said yes<br />
54)rocking the 22 month old as we sing Jesus loves me before a nap<br />
55)Jesus loving me<br />
56)feeling loved<br />
57)really <i>feeling</i> grateful<br />
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<i>To be continued</i>. . . . . {Try it for yourself. It may not change you but I promise it won't hurt.}Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-22368677152779070172012-06-18T08:06:00.000-04:002012-06-18T08:07:03.864-04:00So much joy all at onceBig boys, please stop growing bigger, stop learning more than me, stop busting through your shoe sizes every two months, stop mocking me throughout our day together, stop saying something out of the blue that I said days before, stop using multiple word sentences. I just can't take it. No more climbing onto the barstools by yourself or running to the toilet without me knowing in the middle of a day. And certainly no more dressing yourself (however creative the outcome may be), and saying phrases like "I'm sorry, William, I was mean to you" and <i>"I love you all the way to the moon and back" </i>unsolicited as you go up the stairs with daddy for bed. I don't know if I can handle another play date at the park where you master the really tall slide that even petrifies me. Oh, and then you go and make something up on your own that had nothing to do with my teaching or prompting! Like, your "funny" walk that you boys do back and forth to each other in the basement. (A video must follow) Whatever happened to you needing me not only for your daily needs but for entertainment every minute of the day? Singing? Who knew you could pick up on my country songs so quickly in the car? Then, sometimes in the morning I will actually <i>eat</i> some breakfast or even watch a little of the Today show because you two edible little monsters are playing....for a solid long long time in my book - and you aren't even needing me to pretend with you. <br />
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So, seriously, please STOP! I can't take all this in all at once. The minutes are moving too fast. Your clothes are all too small (and too dirty to go through a 3rd wear with your new brother.) Your curious minds they will not slow down and in the mean time the months are flying by just as everyone before me said they would do. I have even vowed to put any cleaning and real cooking to the side while I get to witness these little-precious years but I still find myself wanting to squeeze each moment into a jar, seal the lid, and just hold on and never let it go. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-K1R-L3UO5am101UCsf5C7HA0RTu-ZNBzAThO4sx3HTywbGaHex7nHd7ZwVh2j02Vr_55LmQwHelVYm2OXDovZQROJ7umPZzwI55mLla6VMbeJKy9ZMp4Lylwl0dphfDbUe18h-NcIWJ/s1600/IMG_0546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-K1R-L3UO5am101UCsf5C7HA0RTu-ZNBzAThO4sx3HTywbGaHex7nHd7ZwVh2j02Vr_55LmQwHelVYm2OXDovZQROJ7umPZzwI55mLla6VMbeJKy9ZMp4Lylwl0dphfDbUe18h-NcIWJ/s400/IMG_0546.JPG" /></a><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640767588294170696.post-17813377986862334082012-06-15T22:38:00.003-04:002012-06-15T22:44:47.864-04:00A year ago today<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtXhIqaWhyphenhyphenL2a7VMyoeSKAKD_PUlMlcnxJQqUDj4xSvEQNgrNP8THAkQYXjdDoGqeJyaFe_bj80cWkaYzqxQvczbYaNgwPkDWosUeXC73g1FdPhjEoO7_DQ5xLeDdGayHInnVQo1pgdMa/s1600/IMG_1633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtXhIqaWhyphenhyphenL2a7VMyoeSKAKD_PUlMlcnxJQqUDj4xSvEQNgrNP8THAkQYXjdDoGqeJyaFe_bj80cWkaYzqxQvczbYaNgwPkDWosUeXC73g1FdPhjEoO7_DQ5xLeDdGayHInnVQo1pgdMa/s320/IMG_1633.JPG" /></a><br />
A long yet fast year ago today one of my most favorite women in the world made a quick and surprising flee to heaven and the void in my heart and so many others can never be filled. I remember that afternoon like it just happened yesterday as well as the events that would follow. As anyone who has lost someone close to them can attest the first weeks and months to follow are quite a blur and the loss doesn't really set in right away. It's when her birthday comes around that flashes of her many birthday's spent among her loves, her daughters, pop into my head. Or that first Sunday a few weeks later where I would have literally done anything to sit around her dinner table and enjoy her company and her pound cake. She would cook all Saturday night and all day Sunday and then often quietly serve anyone that chose to show up. Now I get it - she knew she was blessed and she was taking it all in. She understood the true gems in this life - family and relationships. Then, of course, her favorite holiday came around this past Christmas and the lack of her presence was felt deeply by everyone. Yes, she was always known for her radical gift giving to her huge family (and any boyfriend or girlfriend that was brought around more than once) but it was really just her that we missed. She was one of those women that may not have made a fuss when she walked in a room but you always knew she was there and she made the atmosphere better - more welcoming, vibrant, and peaceful. <br />
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But then there was that other side of her that I miss more than anything. I can laugh about this now but often after a large family event we would talk about who got to "meet" Mawmaw. Though she may have seemed quiet she knew how to tell a story and she loved sharing her life with even the newest stranger. What a rare quality these days when so often it takes years and years to really know someone. I love that many of my friends at my wedding surely complimented me about the perfect October farm setting but there was more talk over the breakfast conversations had with my Mawmaw the morning after the wedding. You couldn't have met Mawmaw, learned her name, and not heard about her family - namely her 7 daughters. It's funny - I remember every second of her at events like those - a wedding, following the birth of one of my babies, or one of her daughter's 50th birthday parties. She knew how to celebrate life and like I said before - she really knew what mattered most and I see that now. I knew it when she was alive but I didn't appreciate it the way I do now - and it didn't change me until this past year when I would think back about this special Mawmaw-like-presence that I so craved. <br />
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Unfortunately, isn't that how it often goes...we think we know how much we value a person but it's not really until their chair is empty that we recognize the richness of their presence? This year I have taken in so many treasures that I wouldn't have had I not this unique space left open in my heart. She really was just an easy person but I would never call her simple. There was alot to her but her character really came through her actions - not just some empty words. She loved others exceptionally and without obligation. She didn't require much. And as you would assume with 7 daughters, 16 grandkids, and a bunch more great grandkids she was quite a mother to many. 3 weeks ago as were quietly enjoying our stay at Northside hospital after the birth of our 3rd son I had one of those moments where I literally craved my Mawmaw's presence. If there was anyone who would champion a woman having a whole lot of kids and even having them back to back to back it was her! Even though she had experienced many births of her own and of her own grandchildren she always made me feel like I was let in on her secret through the birth of my own children. I loved getting to share that secret with her. So it was such an honor for us to get to use her middle name in naming our newest little boy. I love getting to call our little boy by my sweet grandmother's middle name as many knew her as Mary John. It makes me smile every time I talk to him knowing the life and legacy behind his name. <br />
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And then there are the things this year that just made me laugh as if she was sitting in the kitchen with me over a cup of coffee. I can't hear Randy Travis and not picture my 70+ year old grandma in her cowboy hat and dancing boots. That woman was never shy of a dance floor and really there isn't a country song that doesnt make me think of her. Then a few months ago I decided to try to make one of her cakes with some of the very utensils that stocked her tiny but inviting kitchen. I literally laughed myself to tears at what would have embarrassed her to say was a mock up of her cake. She could make the most perfect cake at 2am with her eyes closed. What I would have done this year to really know what she meant by half of her loose directions in her recipes that were compiled into a family cook book several years ago. I now know that her "2 cups" is really about 3 cups of flour if you use her measuring standards! <br />
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I do not believe that the years will get any easier especially as we continue to encounter many of her most favorite things- Christmas, birthdays, Memorial day cookouts and new births. But I do believe we'll continue to get to know Mawmaw even more as the marks she left on so many begin to shine through even the things we do and the way we treat other people and the way we learn to treasure the most important things like she did - relationships and family. <br />
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Thank you, Mawmaw, for continuing to teach me so much and mold me into the selfless servant and mother that I hope to be. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpeoWMr2i6cuaH1fCpWJN5M4W6Xy4vX3XP1fqAkixEsEl9MfIn5xlytIYHuxglWtb5tqTAU2ySQo1TGfLJ77zD4vmhgqSHfdr141YtZyYk9OKmFe88E0-g6F_7Yjjb9Pv7ACKc1q5wdxp/s1600/IMG_0999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpeoWMr2i6cuaH1fCpWJN5M4W6Xy4vX3XP1fqAkixEsEl9MfIn5xlytIYHuxglWtb5tqTAU2ySQo1TGfLJ77zD4vmhgqSHfdr141YtZyYk9OKmFe88E0-g6F_7Yjjb9Pv7ACKc1q5wdxp/s320/IMG_0999.jpg" /></a><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2