Reasons I'm his biggest fan.

We married very young.  I had just turned 18 and he was 20.

We've had our share of ups and downs.  A big share of each in fact.

He's seen me through the death of my dad and the depths of despair.  He's seen me fail time and time again as a homemaker.  As a wife.  He's seen me through two pregnancies, labors and deliveries.  Holding my hand.  Encouraging me.

He's been by my side through appendicitis and was there the day my doctor told me they removed a malignant tumor along with my appendix.  Then he sat by my side in the hospital for a week after they removed half of my colon.

Josh has been my encourager.  When I'm down, he brushes my hair, rubs my back.  Hugs me.  Then makes me get back up.  He never criticizes the things I do wrong but is the first person to praise me when I do something right.  And we're now at a point we can laugh at the mistakes I made in the early years of our marriage.  Sugar rice, anyone?  (that's a story for another time.)

He thanks me for dinner every night. 

He thanks me for his clean clothes.

(when he has them.)

And, sometimes for no reason at all - other than he just loves me - he'll bring home a coffee for me.

He's a wonderful husband to me.  For me.

But, as wonderful as he is, I often will pick at the things I'd love him to do more of.  Or, sometimes, less of.

I find that I go through these seasons where he's just not "living up" to my expectations.  That's a dangerous place to be, friends.  I don't like it in myself.  I don't like what it does to my heart and I don't like what it does to mine and Josh's relationship, friendship and our marriage.

On Sunday I saw a beautiful side of my husband.  I just loved it.  His passion for his friendships.  I think part of it is that Josh has very few close friends.  Just a couple in fact.

And seeing this in him, I started looking at all the things about him I adore.

I'd like to take some time and share some of them with you.  We may be here awhile.

On Sunday we had some plastic up in our kitchen over the island that Josh is building me.  We'd made a tent of plastic over the island and Josh was inside of it sanding the island. 

We got a call from our friend Mandy.  Her husband, Dale, is the friend Josh has had for years.  They talk cars and grease and cars and, well...more grease.  On Sunday Dale was putting a fence up and was having some issues with his neighbors.  Mandy was very worried about Dale and asked if Josh would be able to come help.  Josh heard some of the conversation, came out from under the plastic tent covered in sawdust and asked to know the full story.

After I told him what was going on, he went outside, brushed himself off, kissed me and left.  There was no hesitation.  There was no, "this is my only day to work on the island, I can't go" attitude.  There was only, "my friend needs me and I'm going."

Joshua is always, always willing to serve.

This morning we met for coffee.  I unloaded one child from a car seat and he unloaded the other.  He took our girls' small hands in his and walked into the store.  He doled out quarters for gum because he can't say no to their pleading faces.

He needed to get to work.

We buckled the girls in their seats.  Doors were shut.  He could have just left.

Instead he asked me to unlock the doors.  He kissed Sugar and told her he loved her.  He went to the other side of the van and did the same with Spice, ruffling up her fine blonde hair.  He kissed me, smiled at me and told me I looked nice today.

He left for work with a smile on his face.

He always does.

Last month he took over 20 hours of his time and spent it at his parent's, doing work for them.  This was hard. 

HARD.  I didn't enjoy having him gone.  I'm often selfish with his time.

He'd work over 8-10 hours at his job and then head to their house and do another 4 hours there every evening.

He was tired.  I was cranky.  He was compensated for his time, which was great and totally unexpected.

After 12 years of marriage I'm slowly learning, rather - relearning something about my husband.

He knows what it means to give his life away to serve others. 

It's something we see his parents do daily.  He's learned by their example and he's choosing to live out his life that way as well.

It's beautiful.

(I'm sorry to the girls I complained to when he was gone so many hours.  Thanks for listening to me vent, though!)

Josh loves Jesus.  He doesn't shout his faith from rooftops but lives it out everyday with his actions.  And actions speak louder than words, do they not?

Even though it's not his number one choice, he serves in our church's nursery with me.  He loves kids.  Other people's babies make him nervous, though.  He doesn't want them to cry.  But he's always down on their level, playing with them, rocking them.  They are always soothed when he holds them.  I love to watch the ones that are just drawn to him and prefer him over me, cracks me up.  And think we should have five more kids because of it!

Kidding on that last one.  Mostly...

During this season of life with our little kids, Josh's hobbies have taken a back burner.  He loves to cycle, shoot guns, ski, rebuild motors and it's just stuff that he doesn't get the time for now.  He never complains about it.  Ever.

We're heading to our friend's house this weekend.  Josh worked 12 hours yesterday, and 11 the day before in hopes that we'll be able to take off most of tomorrow and head there early.

He's a hard worker.

He's a lover.

He tells ridiculous jokes and is the first to say that he only has one good one out of a 100. 

If you need him, he's there.  No matter the day or time.

He's kind and compassionate.

He's devoted.

He's faithful.

And I'm blessed beyond measure.

the post where i don't feel good

josh and i were just talking the other day about how blessed we are that our household rarely gets sick.  we know several families that seem to be ill quite often and, thankfully, it's not the case for this house.

i mean, i get cancer and appendicitis and such but never the flu.  :)

then two weeks ago spice comes down with chickenpox.  no biggie.  she was a trooper.  she got through and has just a coupla more scabs to flake off.

thursday night sugar came down with the pox.  the child we thought was immune, was in fact, not.  we were/are happy she got them.  but boy did she get a severe case of them.  on her gums, on the roof of her mouth, in her throat, on her lips and the rest of her body was covered too.  my tough, rarely complains about much kiddo was miserable.  she's much better today, woke up at 6:15 rip roarin' ready to go.

today i woke up to find that the neighbor's horse had pooped on our porch.  that junk was a sign as to how i was going to feel today.

i done woke up with the flu today.

friends, moms/women can't be sick.  there's too much to be done.  there's still food to cook {gag} bottoms to wipe and lawns to mow.

so, i got the puking out of the way, mowed the lawn with the walk behind mower so that the last mowing of the season would look good and now i'm sitting here trying to get the courage up to make lunch for the kids.  do they really have to eat?  can't they skip a meal?

props to sugar this morning, man.  she knew i wasn't feeling good so she took care of spice, fixing breakfast and keeping her happy and occupied until i dragged my sick rear outta bed.

looking forward to nap time.  i think i may actually try and get some sleep myself.

even though our household is sick, i'm remembering sugar's bible verse of the week, "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  1 Thessalonians 5:18

I've been Tagged

Where I'm from, when you say, "I've been tagged," it usually means someone has spray painted your house or your car with gang signs or four-letter words.

I'm glad to say that the tagging that's been done to me does not involve spray paint of any kind, nor did it involve any four-letter words.

Linda tagged me in this post.

To answer her questions:

What is my favorite time of day and why?
Any time my children are sleeping is a fabulous time of day!  Seriously, though, I love morning.  I love my cup of coffee and the anticipation of what the new day will bring.  It usually brings some fussy kids, some dog hair, someone on the dining room table and an overflowing toilet.

What has made me laugh lately?
Admitting that I threw a chair made me laugh, a ridiculous "I can't believe I did that" sorta laugh.  I was nervous to talk about it but my husband encouraged it and said that I can't be the only one feels that way on occasion and that it'd be good for others to read about.  It's been a good while since I've had a real belly laugh.  Thinking next weekend will remedy that.

What was my favorite toy as a kid?
I loved books the most.  But I do remember loving me some Rainbow Brite and I had a Hawaiian Barbie that I named Monique.  She was gorgeous and I wanted to look just like her.  Heck, I still do.

What do I remember about my High School prom?
I remember thinking we shouldn't have spent the money on prom since our wedding was set for about 8 weeks after that but Josh wanted me to be able to go to my high school prom.  I remember the limo was fancy.  I remember my soon-to-be-husband had a cut on the side of his head that made him even HOTTER.  I remember that my best friend and her boyfriend were with us and now I remember that that was probably the last time the four of us were together.

What would you find in my fridge?
2% milk, Almond milk, corn tortillas, cream cheese, salsa, 7 dozen eggs and not nearly enough butter or whipping cream.  Obviously it's time to go grocery shopping!

Which do I like better, hands or feet?
Hands for sure.  Feet creep me out.  And lately I realize I love me some arms too.

What's the craziest thing I've ever done?
Besides getting married and birthin' a coupla kids?  One winter night nearly 7 years ago, my friend Keri and I were bored.  It was late, the Chinese place we always ordered from for delivery was closed and we needed something to do.  She lived about three blocks from a very busy main road.  And I decided we should strip down to our undergarments, put on our tennis shoes and run to that busy road, cross it and play "King of the Mountain" on the snow pile at Red Robin. 

So we did.

She fell through the icy snow at the top of the "mountain" and days later had a bruise all down her thigh.  On our way back home there were cars traveling up the road, so we had to lay down in the parking lot in the frigidness, in our skivvies.

I don't think I've ever laughed harder in my entire life.  Or been so close to being arrested for indecent exposure.  It was really one of the funniest nights of my life.

I'm prolly supposed to pick my own questions and bloggers to tag but it's almost 9 pm and I haven't had any chocolate yet today.  {notice the emphasis on yet}  So, if you'd like to answer these questions, feel free!  Then come back and leave a comment so I can check out your answers!

I gots The Crazies

Growing up in a house full of girls (my mom, two sisters and me) there was a whole lot of estrogen goin' on.

Like, a whole lot.

However, we weren't allowed to use PMS as an excuse for our poor behavior.  I'm pretty sure my mom knew that if she allowed us to wallow in PMS our household would have added chaos to the already dysfunctional status.

So, we hiked up our BGP's* (though they were a lot smaller BGP's for me at that time) and dealt with the horomonal wars that raged in us.

*Big Girl Panties

Honestly, as a teenager and in my early to mid-twenties I really thought the whole horomones and PMS thing was a joke.  I didn't buy into it.  I just did not believe it was a real deal.

Until I had children.  Actually, until I got pregnant with Spice, now age two.

While pregnant with her I noticed that I was moodier.  Angrier.  Quick tempered.  Even more so than my normal self (whatever constitutes as normal for me).

I chalked it up to pregnancy.

But after delivery and two years later, I notice I still get like this.  It hasn't been until the past several months of monitoring my attitude/behavior/feelings that I've pin pointed that it comes at the exact same time every month.

Go figure.

I now believe in horomones.  I now believe in PMS.

What I don't believe is that it can ruin your life and that you can't control how you react to it.

Yesterday was the beginning of what is now known to me as "The Crazies."  Thankfully it is only a couple of days where I feel almost out of control of myself and my emotions. 

There came a point yesterday - and honestly, I can't believe I'm admitting to this - that I got so frustrated and so angry that I threw a chair across my kitchen.  Why?  Because my living room was feeling a little cluttery.  My dishes were not done and it felt a little stuffy in my house.

I didn't know what to do.

I panicked. 

And I threw a chair. 

I have a pretty little scuff mark of blue on my kitchen floor now, too. 

I called Josh.  I told him that when he got home he'd have to take the girls far, far away from the house so I could clean it and gain a moment of sanity.

"Uhh, okay."

Wrong answer, dude.

I wanted him to tell me it was going to be okay.  That he understood (how can he?) and that he would just absolutely love to take the girls for me but that he would actually prefer it if I would light some candles and take a bath and he would clean the house for me.

Are you laughing yet?  Because writing out exactly what I wanted him to say and reading it to myself is making me laugh.

We hung up with him agreeing to take the girls out for a walk when he got home.

I slammed my cell phone shut, threw myself in the my chair and as quickly as I threw myself in the chair I stood back up.

I was not going to let these feelings - this rage - eat me up and ruin a beautiful afternoon.  You know, any more so than the throwing of the chair...

I opened up the windows to let the cool Fall air flow through my house, I took the energy that I normally use to be frustrated and I put into getting my dishes done.

There wasn't any elaborate prayer, but I did say, "God, I just need help."  I was embarrassed at my actions and preferred not to talk to Him about it in that moment.

While doing the dishes I asked the girls to clean the living room.  Piece by piece, toy by toy, they got it clean.  And just in time for me to vacuum.  By the time Josh got home, everything was done.  He still offered to take the girls but instead of wallowing in my ridiculousness, I chose to go with them.

We went to the park and then we went for a walk.  The outing, the air, the talk with Josh about how I feel - it was good.  It lifted the heavy. 

Josh and I talked about some things that I can do ahead of time, when I know these days are coming and these are a few things that I believe will help "The Crazies:"

• have a meal plan for the week with all ingredients for all meals
I find that if just one thing isn't in order - like forgetting an ingredient - I can be sent over the edge. and throw a chair.

• keep the house tidy
For the most part this is easy enough, but I need to make sure I keep the girls picking up their stuff throughout the day so that I'm not overwhelmed come 4:30 that there are toys everywhere.

• pray
Why is it that I find the simplest thing the hardest thing?  Especially when I know how calming it is to my soul?  I really need to pray more, fuss less.

• have praise music playing quietly
I've seen the affects it has on our entire household if I have praise music playing.  It's soothing.  Comforting.  And it's so good to praise God even when it's the last thing we feel like doing.  Really helps take the focus off ourselves.

and the last one...

• recognize that it's just going to be a rougher coupla days and allow myself some grace.
I'm really good at beating myself up for my failings.  And more so during my crazy days.  What I want is to just allow God's grace to penetrate my soul and allow myself to actually accept it. 

A few simple things that will help during my few days of crazy.  Maybe I'm the only one who gets like this and finds these things to be helpful.  Or, maybe you get like this too and didn't even recognize what it was, the way I haven't for so long.

Whatever the case may be, I just want this down on my blog so that I can come back to it when the need arises.

What are some things you do to help keep yourself sane during The Crazies?  Assuming, of course, that I'm not the only one who has 'em.

Lessons from a Kindergartner

Today is not a typical Monday.

But sometimes that's better, right?

My attitude wasn't the greatest waking up this morning {may have something to do with waking up to a certain kitten vomiting in the kitchen.}

The girls were at the top of their naughty game this morning.  Attitudes all around.

9 am and I ask Sugar to sit down with me to start school.  She begins to cry. 

"I hate school!" she yells.  Some disciplinary action followed.

My normally mellow, easy going kid was having "a moment."  I let her go about playing with her sister and decided this was not a battle I really wanted to get into.  With none of our attitudes being what they should be, I didn't want school to be a fight this morning.

I've had an idea floating in my head for awhile and decided that, while I had some free time, I should just put the idea into action.  I grabbed a picture frame, a Sharpie and a couple of pieces of scrapbook paper.  I sat down at the table and put the Sharpie to the paper.

In no time I had two little girls who wanted to sit at the table too.

Sugar asked if they could color. 

I got out blank coloring paper and the crayons and they went to town.  Sugar did some school on her own even though she didn't realize it.  She was writing out her numbers, saying them aloud and showing them to me.

After she was through with her numbers I asked her to draw a picture for me and then tell me the story about the picture.

She sits for a minute and then goes to work.  Finally, she's finished and begins to tell me the story behind the picture.

"There once was a little girl who had no mommy or daddy.  She didn't have brothers or sisters.  And she didn't have aunts or grandmas and grandpas.  She had no friends.  She was lonely."

Exact words.

I found it rather depressing and didn't know what to say. 

"But you know what, Mom?  God was with her.  Even when she was lonely, He was there.  Because He's always with us, right?"

Right.

This five year old.  This Kindergartner.  She's teaching me.  Reminding me. 

Even in some of my loneliest times, He is with me. 

And He's with you, too.

I'm not feelin' this Monday

It's about 8:30 Monday morning.  I very rarely post this early in the morning.  Mostly because I try not to be on the computer until nap time or break/recess time.  Many times I write and set to auto publish, it's nice.  Today, though, we're live!

The girls are {sorta} playing quietly, lesson plans are done {how much planning can there be for Kindergarten?!} and the coffee is asking that I sip 'er slowly.

Facebook - check!

A few blogs - check!

Twitter - check!

Fox News - check!

Email - check!

And now I should log off, shud 'er down and put on a bra and deodorant so we can get this party started!

Instead, I just want to crawl back under the covers of my bed and pretend it's Saturday morning.

Someone wake me when it is Saturday.

A few of my favorite things on this crisp October morn

Pandora

Teaching

Last minute coffee date with Denise.

My husband

Text messages from across the US

My kitchen

Chickenpox baby

My life

Emails from my sister, Erica {just writing that makes me cry - in a happy way.}

Couch cushions, blankets and tunnels strewn in my living room

A card from Treena with a picture of us on the front - she's my Barnabus

Planning my mom's 50th birthday

Dinner and movie nights with my mom and Meg

Friends coming over

Our cats

Talking about a long vacation come Spring {think long drive across US}

New relationship with my God

Thinking about my dad without a sad heart

Thursday cleaning day

Being alive

What are some of your favorite things today?

His Arms

My husband is the most amazing man I know.

Hands down. 

Or, in this case, heads down.

When I first met him I noticed his hands first.  And for a very long time they were my favorite feature of his.  As the years have gone on though, I've realized I'm a huge fan of his arms.

 Look at the veins.  I love the veins.

He's a fabulous daddy.  I mean, seriously amazing.  He is patient with our girls.  He's loving.  And he's fun.

And, when he has to be, he's firm with the girls.  Hence the spoon in the back pocket. 

When the girls hear the '85 Suburban coming up the driveway they yell, as loudly as possible, "Daaadddyyy!!!"  They run out the door and into his arms.  He always has his arms open to them and a smile on his face.  They adore him.  The feeling is mutual.  It's one of my favorite parts of the day.

In my journey to feel with my whole heart that God is my Dad, I picture His arms looking like Josh's. 

Just...bigger.

When I see Josh scoop the girls up, squeeze them tight and love on them, I'm able to get a glimpse as to how much He loves me.  How much He adores me. 

Gives me just one more reason to love my man's arms.

the time where i freaked out over some red spots

Saturday night my mom and my sister came over.  I made them chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.  In return for the amazing food (har har) they took care of the girls while Josh and I went to the movies.

Upon entering the theater I silenced my cell phone but kept it in my pocket. 

Just in case.

An hour into the movie I feel my phone vibrate.  It's a text from my sister informing me Spice has a fever of 101.5 and that I don't have any medicine in the house.  She said they gave her a cool bath and that she was sleeping.

After the movie we went to Wal Mart and picked up some fever reducer.  We woke her from her slumber and she drank the grape syrup right down.

The next morning was church and I was to work in the nursery.  Josh stayed home with Spice who was in a great mood but still a little feverish.

I got home, we had leftovers for lunch and then while playing with trucks on the floor with the girls (no Barbies here!) I noticed a water blister on Spice's chest. 

I flipped out.  It panicked me.  I stripped her clothes and found several more red bumps.  I was ready to rush her to the ER.

I'm a freak.

I Googled "Chickenpox" and was relieved to see the pictures looked exactly like what I was seeing on my youngest child.

We've exposed Sugar on three occasions, in hopes that she would contract the Chickenpox (yes, we're those kinda folks) but she never came down with them.  I finally asked the doctor about it.  She said it's rare but that some people just seem to be immune to Chickenpox and that, very likely, Sugar is one of those that is immune.

I guess we'll see after living, sleeping and eating in the same house as an infected sibling.

Spice seems completely unaffected.  In fact, she's been in such a silly mood.  Delirious, maybe?  She's not feverish today but her spots are multiplying like crazy!

Dirty booger face on Friday night.



Dirty booger Chickenpox face Monday morning.



Pretty, huh?



She's running around with Sugar right now, chasing her with a can opener (I'm a great mom, no?) and laughing.  It's nice to see her in a good mood even though she has itchy blisters all over her body.  She won't let me take her clothes off to get dressed though. 

Guess it's a jammies day for her.

What my grief has looked like

I say I want to live and write with more content.

Yet I seem to just post pictures of this really cute (and naughty) little girl that I have.  Or, I just give a random list of stuff I'm feeling on a certain day.  And I also tell you stuff about me you may or may not have cared to know.

I feel like I'm at a weird place right now.  Next Tuesday is my last counseling appointment.  I'm being kicked out of the nest.

I don't feel ready.

The last few sessions have been about my dad.  Dealing with his death.  Really grieving for the first time.  Like, really allowing myself to feel.  Allowing myself to grieve not only these last 11 years without him but grieving the 19 years I didn't really have with him either.  I don't remember a lot of what happened after the phone call we got telling me my dad had died.  I remember flying home from our vacation in San Diego.  I remember that the drive from Seattle to home felt much longer than 2.5 hours it took.  I remember sitting in the chair as his eulogy was read.  But when I remember sitting there, I don't remember feeling.  I look back on it as if I was watching me.  I don't remember planning the funeral or picking out the casket even though I'm told I did all of that.

I've felt raw these last few weeks allowing myself to grieve.  Grief looks so very different for every one of us who have had to go through it.  I have always tried to deal with it instead of heal from it.  I've done a poor job and because of it, I've not felt whole.  A piece of me wanted to grieve but the logical side of me would just say, "deal with it."  I've wanted people to believe I was tough.  I've wanted people to think I've moved on.  But mostly I just wanted someone to say, "it's okay to be sad, it's okay to cry about it."  I'd only let myself cry about him being dead a handful of times.  I didn't think I was supposed to cry about it - crying wouldn't bring him back, so, in my mind I saw no point in it.

These last few weeks I've done just that, though.  I've cried.  And I've written him letters.  And I've felt stupid while I was doing it.  But man, it felt good to get some of that stuff out that has just been in my heart.  The first letter I had to write was to tell him what he's missed in the 11 years he's been gone.  Here's a small part of it:

"I don't know what happened but around the fourth year Josh and I were married - I went off the deep end.  I was an emotional mess.  I remember one day sitting in this orange chair we had from Goodwill and I started wailing.  Not just crying - wailing.  Gut wrenching sobs.  Snot.  Sounds from my heart.  Josh didn't know what do with me.  I remember him asking what he could do for me, asking what was wrong.  I told him I didn't know what was wrong but that I missed you.  You'd been gone three years and that's the first time I can remember letting myself just cry over it." 

The second letter was to tell him everything he missed while I was growing up.  Part of that letter:

"You missed my birth and the first eight months of my existence.  You denied me.  Denied I was yours.  Until you saw me and could deny it no more.  You missed my first steps.  You missed rocking me to sleep at night.  You never brushed my hair after my baths and you didn't tuck me in bed at night.  I don't remember learning to ride a bike, but I did, and you weren't the one to teach me.  You didn't hold on to the seat and run beside me.  ...Being there for my first dance, first kiss and first heartache don't matter to me as much as you missing the hand holding, rocking, hair brushing days when I needed a daddy's comfort."

And a part of the last letter, which was to just tell him anything that I had wanted to say to him when he was alive but held back:

"I'm sorry I never called you Dad.  I'm so sorry.  For both of us.  You deserved to be called Dad.  You were a good dad and I don't know if anyone ever told you that.  But you were.  You really were.  ...I think the thing I wish the most that I had said to you is that I love you.  I did then.  I do now."

These letters were extremely difficult to write.  And excruciating to read out loud to my counselor.

She said that people who had/have a poor (or no) relationship with their earthly father almost always have a hard time with their Heavenly Father.  They have a hard time grasping that relationship.

She told me flat out that I wouldn't ever lose Him.  That He won't drown and leave me without a Father.  She reminded me that He was there those 19 years when my dad wasn't always.

She told me He's still here.

It's stuff I know.  You know?  However, having someone say it to you feels different.

I feel like I'm just now learning about Him.  How weird is that?  To be a Christian for 16 years and just now feel like I'm learning Who my Father is.  I'm having a hard time grasping it, I am.  When I pray, I pray to Jesus.  God feels off limits.  God feels too big.  Too distant.  Jesus came to earth.  He was a man.  I feel like I can understand Jesus as a person but not God as a Father - as my Father.

Does this make sense?  Does any of it?

It doesn't even to me and honestly it scares me to even put this out there.  I probably sound like a weirdo.  {what's new, right?}

I crave a personal relationship with God.  I want that.  I want to understand it.  I want to get it.  I want to feel it.

I feel different than I did a few weeks ago.  I know things are changing.  Things are happening.

And I know it's for my good.

So there was this time when I was mildly obsessed with a certain boy band

and maybe I was still obsessed 18 years later....

Wednesday Morning "Helper"

It's a wonder we get anything done with this kiddo.

Isn't she squeezable?

as of tuesday the fifth of october

quiet

cold

macaroni and cheese maker

lonely

frizzy haired

socks

recipe searching

ritz and peanut butter

reading a book

that's overdue at the library

curious

impatient

lover of big, open kitchen

no caffeine so far today

plans for tomorrow evening

bored

sad

waiting

showered

woke up late

teacher

still hopeful

thankful for family and friends

thinking

praying

diaper changer

nose wiper

lost

excited for tomorrow evening

annoyed at the dog

maybe just annoyed in general

nail biting

done



I love being a girl. Totally gives me the excuse to change my mind when I fancy. And right now, I fancy.

Remember a really long time ago, like so long ago when I quit Facebook?

You know, a month ago.

I've realized over this last month that I'm okay without it.  I'm okay without Facebook.

I'm okay without knowing where everyone is and what they're doing at all times.

I've realized over this last month that I can control the amount of time I'm in front of the computer, in front of Facebook, in front of a book (or, uh, food if I choose.)

But, I also realized I miss the connection.

Sure I'm okay without posting what I'm doing, what my girls are doing, where my husband is going, etc.  But I really miss knowing what's going on in the lives of my friends.  Not many of my friends live close by, Facebook is a great way to be all up in their bidness.

So.  For now.  Facebook and I are back together.

{adorable} Distraction

Sometimes a certain someone wants attention while school is going. 

Sometimes she pulls out every possible antic to get our attention.

This one definitely worked.

And made us laugh very hard.