Eight Years of Marriage (Hollaaa!)

Today is Dan and my eight year wedding anniversary (!!!). I was going to try and do a whole "8 Things I've Learned in 8 Years" post and click bait the heck out of it ("I never thought I'd live to see #3!"), but the list was getting long and exhaustive and my kids were getting sick of hearing, "I swear, mom's almost done on the computer. Just 5 more hours. Can you go hang out with your other mom, Netflix, for awhile?" I narrowed it down and boom!

Sippy cups are dumb (but I may be dumber)

Last week I decided to buy Matty his first sippy cup. After spending way too much time deciding, I bought a traditional soft spout lid and one with a straw (this is fascinating, right? Please don't leave me). I brought them home, quickly remembered it is literally impossible to teach someone how to drink from a straw ("Just...suck. I DON'T KNOW.") and settled on the spouted lid as his starter cup.

I tore it out of the package and threw the directions away immediately. Directions, are you kidding me? I have three kids, I think I know how a sippy cup works. The thing you do is literally in the name. Sip from this Cup. Give me some credit, please.

The Voice that Never Shuts Up

I spend a lot of time actively rooting against myself.

Part of me wants to succeed (however that may be) so badly. I want to create and be bold and release things out into the world, if only to say that I did. I've got some serious Ariel in an underwater cave longing, to do and be more. More than the stupid loud Voice in my head says I'm not.

Mabel Learns

My middle child is a risk taker. She's beautiful and feisty and a button pusher (both figuratively and literally. If there's a button, she's pushing it). She has to figure things out for herself. You can warn her all day long about the consequences of a certain action, but she won't stop until she has seen the end result for herself. For better or for worse.  

Case in point: 

Poor Abe. Fella just can't catch a break. 

Motherhood (and what I didn't know)

Before I had kids, I didn't know...

Well, I could end that whole sentence there, really. I didn't know so much. I wasn't prepared for all the things I didn't know. I don't just mean about kids (though I could write for a hundred years on that topic and still not be done telling you all that I don't know about them). What I didn't know about was motherhood, specifically how it affected the women around me.

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.

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.