Wednesday, April 29, 2015

A Witness to Monday Morning

To keep with my goal of posting at least once a week, I should have had something up four days ago. And I tried, I really did. But I'm in hour nine of the Anne of Green Gables audio book and honestly...#priorities. I spend most of my free time time standing in our kitchen pretending to wash dishes, but really just crying whenever Matthew Cuthbert does something sweet like buy Anne a dress, or says he's proud of her, or just is mentioned in general. The only reason I'm even writing this now (aside from having a friend who has basically turned into an accountability partner, encouraging singing voice messages and all) is that I'm nearing that Matthew part and I just can't, y'all.

As you might have guessed pretending to wash dishes doesn't actually get the dishes clean. Apply that logic to cleaning in general, add in a kid whose elaborate forts are slowly spilling over into multiple rooms and you'll have a pretty clear idea of the state of my house this past week. And it was in this state when the Jehovah's Witness knocked on my door Monday morning.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

A "When/Then" Life

Sometimes when I'm struggling with what to write or how to put a certain idea into coherent sentences (read: all the time), I plead with God to give me the words. I will literally walk around doing my daily life with some form of this running commentary in my head. When I make lunch for the kids, "Please, God. Just tell me what to write." When I fold laundry, "Seriously, just do it. Please. Please. Please." When I give the dog a bath, "I know asked for the words last time, but just one more time. Please." When I finally sit down to write, "FOR THE LOVE OF YOU, PLEASE JUST OPEN THE TOP OF MY HEAD AND POUR THE WORDS INTO MY BRAIN. THANKS." Sometimes I even shut up long enough to hear the reply. Most times though, because I'm complaining and begging so loudly, I have to be shown the answer. And usually I have to be shown the answer in a big way, because again: complaining, begging, blah blah blah. You get it.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

The Nightly Routine

Picture this if you would: A rapidly aging mother (who is no longer considered to be in her mid twenties, thanks so much for that heads up, Google) has just gotten all three of her children to bed on a Friday night. The house is quiet. She pours herself a tall bowl of Captain Crunch ('Oops! All Berries.' Because you can take her youth, but you can't take her finely tuned Gilmore Girl-esque palate), sits down to stare blankly at the computer screen write a blog post, content in the knowledge that everyone is asleep and she can push the pause button on the "mother" role for the time being.

A quick side note about above said woman. She is an idiot. After six years and three kids she should know better. Nobody is ever really asleep. Even when they're asleep they're not really asleep.

Thursday, April 2, 2015


I was a fresh faced, barely 19 year old when Dan and I got married. Nineteen, y'all. If you would have asked me at sixteen when I thought I would get married I would have yelled, "Never!" and hid in a cave of blankets with my books and a box of cookies (which is still how I prefer to avoid most things, but I digress).