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.

a post about mostly nothing at all

i have started several and i mean several posts in the last few days.

i've tried to post pictures.

no worky.

i've tried to get my thoughts out.

no worky.

random here we come!

josh's 33rd birthday is in three days. 

my dad would be turning 52 in three days!  have i ever mentioned that i made my dad a cake for his 40th birthday (the last birthday before he died) but that i was panicked he wouldn't like it so on the way to his house to give him said cake, i threw it out and gave him a card instead.  at 18 i wasn't so confident in my boxed cake making abilities. 

so, obviously josh's 21st birthday that year purty much sucked too.  {i'll take being 30 over 18 any day!}

my kitchen has mounds of dirty dishes.  and clean dishes in the dishwasher.

i have a birthday party to plan.  um, i haven't started to plan.  but i'm planning on planning very soon.

the neighbor's llama continues to get out of their pasture and poop in mine.

the stray kitty that made our house home about a month ago went in to be spayed this morning.  we miss you, ruby!

i'm wearing socks and tennies today.

i dumped a bunch of flour on the table today so Sugar could practice her numbers and letters in it.  Spice thought she needed flour too and proceeded to destroy the table, chair and kitchen floor.  i have pictures.  i love them {pictures and kids}.

i made sausage gravy this morning and since we were out of biscuits i put it over toast instead.  num.

i have a girly appointment in a week and a half.  really hoping doogie isn't there this time. like really hoping.

there's been big stuff going on in my counseling appointments lately.  big. stuff.

my mom is taking the girls on saturday so i can get stuff done in time for josh's party.  i'm nothing if not a girl who procrastinates.  it's how i roll.

i have zero laundry in the laundry basket.  none. nada.zilch.  it's alllll done.

i really need to go do the dishes.  i plan better at a clean kitchen table.

My Top Ten {in random order}

I don't know how you look through your blogs but about a year ago I found a much faster way to go through the blogs I love without checking each one several times a day to see if they've posted.

I used to have them under "favorites" and each day I'd check each one and if there wasn't anything new I'd check it later.  Lather.rinse.repeat.

Then Emily introduced me to Google Reader.

Hallelujah!

Now I see the blogs that have new entries but don't have to go through the ones that don't.

It's a beautiful thing.  And it saves a whole lotta time.

Here are the blogs that - when I see a new post is up - I get super excited and make sure I have time to sit and read the entire post:

Denise @ Grace Upon Grace.  Denise is my sister-in-law.  We're as opposite as they come, yet more alike than either of us would probably care to admit.  She's one of my favorite people and one of my closest friends.  She's a beautiful wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend.  She's an amazing writer and photographer.

Liz @ Lemonade Living.  Mrs. Lemon is one of the first five blogs I started reading four years ago.  The girl cracks me up in almost every post.  She loves her husband, her kids, her Jesus, her music and...her birthday.  No, she like, really loves it.  As much as I do!  And our birthdays are only two days apart.

Linda @ Growin With It.  I was blessed to meet Linda before she moved to Texas.  Linda is genuine.  She's encouraging.  She's real.  I love how Linda treasures her boys.  She enjoys them.  It shows in her writing.  I love that she's transparent.  I love that I can email her, spill my guts and she'll email me back with no judging, telling me she's praying for me, that she loves me. 

Amy @ Amy's Humble Musings.  I love her sarcasm.  Her wit.  Her dry humor.  Her life on a big ol' farm.  Her heart for Jesus.  And that she's married to a rocket scientist.

Amy Beth @ Ministry So Fabulous.  I'm sitting here trying to think of how to put into words {sometimes I just don't have them} why I love Amy Beth, why I love her blog.  I love her writing.  I love her heart.  I love that she's willing to post whatever embarrassing moment may have happened to her on any given day.  I love her laugh.  She doesn't have children of her own but has been blessed with five little girls whose lives she's very much a part of.  She's taught me a lot lately about how to just love my girls.  And how I need to be intentional with my time with them.  I'm thankful.

Kristie @ Finding Great Adventure.  I love to read about her everyday life.  I love when she opens up and shares her heart.  I love how involved she is in her boys' activities and takes pictures to record this time in their busy lives.  I love her dedication to her family.  And I posted here about what an awesome friend she is.

Emily @ The Learning Never Stops.  A blog friend turned in real life friend.  I love the pictures she posts, the honesty she shares, her heart for her children's hearts, her adoration of her husband and the wisdom she's given me over the last year and a half we've been friends.  Love you, Em.

Ree @ The Pioneer Woman.  Need I say more?  What's not to love about this woman?  She's hysterical.  I love that she's giving.  I love that she takes pictures of each step of a recipe because sometimes I need a dad gum picture to understand.  I love that she can make fun of herself.  I love her dog.

Sarah @ The Best Days of my Life.  I love her story.  I love that she loves Starbucks.  I love how she loves her husband and doesn't take a moment of their marriage for granted.  I love her way with words.

Marsha @ Other Such Happenings.  I've read Marsha's blog on and off for awhile now.  I think it was a few months ago that I started following her regularly.  The main thing that stands out to me when I read her blog?  Her relationship with Jesus.  I leave her blog wanting my own relationship with Him to be stronger, deeper, real.

Check these women out.  You'll love them.  I know I do.

I want to be that kind of friend

When Josh and I were first married the people we hung out with most were his sister and brother-in-law.  They lived near us and a year after we were married, we ended up moving to the same town they were in.  It quickly became tradition to hang out and play cards, eat popcorn and drink Dr. Pepper on any given night, weekend or not.

I got to see my nieces all the time and I had a best friend just across town.  My life was perfect.

And then they moved.

I don't remember them breaking the news to us that they were moving.  I just remember moving them to a town a little over an hour away and feeling like they'd moved HOURS away.  I remember on the way home from moving them that I cried all the way home.  All. the. way. home.  And I think I continued to cry for days and weeks afterward.

I mean, now whose dishwasher was I going to take my dirty dishes to?  Kidding.  Truly, I was broken hearted.

As sad as it was to have them leave, to not see my nieces several times a week and to not have my sister-in-law to hang out with for hours on end, they had a good thing going on in their new town.  Their family grew.  Grew in relationships.  Grew in the Lord.  It was beautiful to watch. 

One of the relationships they established while living there I'll be forever grateful for.

I've mentioned my friend Kristie from time to time.  Thing is, Treena introduced me to Kristie.  They're BFFs. 

We've hung out over the holidays, at birthday parties and of course, to scrapbook.  She's the friend who will send a card just randomly to say she's praying for me, sometimes it's an email.  One day during tax season we met for lunch.  She's an accountant.  Tax season consumes her time but she made time for me.  She's been a friend who has loved on me in ways I've needed.  If not for Kristie I wouldn't have sought professional help.  With her encouragement I made the call that's been - to me - life changing. 

I love how she loves Jesus.  I love how she strives to be more and more like Him.  I love how she loves her husband and her boys.  I love what an amazing friend she is.

I love that last week after my post explaining how tired I am, that she emailed and offered to keep our girls for the weekend.  Mind you, Kristie has three boys all active in sports, she has a full time job, a husband and a home to take care of.  Yet she was willing to take on two more kids (and my kids at that!) so that I could rest.

Friend.

Amazing friend.

We took them up on their offer.  Josh had just hurt himself, I was exhausted and...they offered!  She posted about their experience with our kids here.  I think it's a short post because she was in recovery mode.  ;)

It was so nice to just be.  Just be quiet.  Or just be able to talk without someone interrupting.  Or just be lazy and eat out every meal (which we did!)

Ted and Kristie, we're so thankful for you.  We look forward to the boys being done with sports so we can return the favor.  Thank you for being you.  Thank you for your friendship.

We love you.

And Treena, I forgive you for moving away from me all those years ago.  ;)  Thank you for introducing me to Kristie.

Head on over to Kristie's blog.  I've loved her last couple of posts a whole lot.

pieces of who i am

At age 14 I met a new best friend. She didn't like pink. So I pretended I didn't like pink either.

I've tried many times but I don't think I'll ever be able to drink a cup of coffee black. Must.have.creamer! {and a green straw, with some hazelnut and half and half with a barista would be fab!}

I'm in my third week of homeschooling and, dare I say it, I'm enjoying myself.

I chipped a top front tooth on a wheel barrow I was riding in when I was 9. It was full of horse manure.

I have a writing bump on the ring finger of my left hand.

I have long(ish) hair. I prefer my hair short but I want to make my husband happy.

If you asked, I'd tell you I don't like brussel sprouts. The truth? I've never had them.

Pieces.

I was an unimaginative child.

I didn't go outside playing make-believe, at least not much. I preferred books to toys. Allowing myself to escape my own world and enter the world and the lives of those I was reading about was {and remains} something I enjoyed.

I made my first friend at age five, quickly learning that any friendships I made would last only that school year. It's as long as I stayed in most schools and sometimes we didn't stay that long.

Life is unfair, life is hard. Cruel and ugly things happen to children. It wouldn't be until I was an adult that I quit thinking of it as unfair and see it more as a way to help others. And, a way to empathize with someone.

Going through hard stuff as a kid prepares you for the real world.


Pieces.

In Junior High I was awkward and lonely. Embarrassed that my mom was a bartender and that we had lived in a fifth wheel camp trailer. Now I'm proud as hell {pardon} of her for having a job that kept us fed and off the streets.

High school meant a new school. A new(ish) town. Familiar faces, though. Too bad awkward couldn't have stayed in Junior High. As awkward as I was I made new friends, glanced at some old. For the first time in my 14 years, I felt carefree. Much of that feeling was because I'd just found Jesus.

Not that life was without its hardships and, of course, heartache. It seemed I thought my happiness rested in the hands of this boy or that boy. I wish I'd respected myself more. And I wish more parents taught their boys to respect girls.

At 16 I saw a guy I knew I'd marry. I didn't know his name. I didn't know where he was from. But I knew I'd marry him.

With no clue how to be a wife, at 18 I became just that.

My friends were going off to college as I tried to figure out what being a wife was all about.

I wasn't successful.

That was the year depression swooped in.

A depression I wasn't fully aware of until a few months ago.


Pieces.

I have a sister four years younger than me. We don't speak.

I wanted a brother when I was little. My dad bought me a boy Cabbage Patch Doll for Christmas the same year I asked for the brother.

I like cheese. Haven't found a cheese yet that I don't like.

My dream date involves a bookstore, coffee, rain and some hand holdin'.

Pieces.

What I know now that I wish I knew when Josh and I first married is that a family doesn't begin when you have kids. A family begins when you say, "I do." I spent so many years waiting to start a family that I missed years of quality one on one time with my husband. I'd beg him for a baby. We hadn't been married long but he already knew me better than I knew myself. He knew I wasn't ready. And, he knew he wasn't ready. Instead of putting forth effort to make every day special with him, I put forth effort in a whole lot of resentment. I wish I could get back that wasted energy.

Another thing I know now that I wish I'd known then?

Being a wife and keeper of the home is not something women are born knowing how to do. It takes time and effort. It takes mistakes and trials. Blood. Sweat. Tears.

None of it is for the faint of heart.

Yes, it comes easier for some women over others, I've seen {and I'm related to} other women who take to the role with a grace about them. I envy them. I admit it. Yet I'm proud of where I am on my journey through my life as wife and mother. As keeper of my home. I've been working hard these last five years and yes, I could be doing better, but...but, I know I've done a lot worse so I am choosing to be proud of where I am.

Of who I am.

Pieces.

I had two babies without the use of medication in a hospital. If I have a third child we've talked about having the baby at home and again without medication.

Sometimes I wonder why I wonder why I'm crazy. {say that three times fast.}

I love giving birth.

I wasn't so much a fan of the stitches down yonder, though.

Pieces.

I'm a wife and mama. Those are my roles. But as just Sarah? I'm 30 years old. I have frizzy hair and crooked teeth. My nose is too big and I chew my fingernails. I laugh too loud and I talk too much. I crack my knuckles. I weigh 20 lbs more than I'd like to. I have stretch marks on my once flat, toned belly. The belly isn't pretty, but honestly - I love every single stretch mark etched into my skin.

I have two sweet babes to show for those stretch marks. I carried them in my womb. I loved them before I ever felt them move inside me. I talked to them. Prayed for them. Praised God for them. I nursed each of them for a year and have to buy extra support bras because of it.

Stretch marks aren't the only scars on my belly. I have three 1" scars from an appendectomy at age 26. Just a few days later they told me my appendix wasn't all they'd removed. A tumor was removed that day too.

A malignant tumor.

So, back into my guts they went, a week and a half later. Removing half of my colon and leaving a nearly 7" scar in its place. Just a few weeks ago I went in for a routine check up. My doctor asked me to lie back and lift my shirt so he could see my scar. He shook his head. "Well," he says to me, "it's not pretty, but it's strong." Like me, I thought. I told him I loved it. That I didn't care what it looked like. It's a daily reminder to me that I'm alive.

Pieces.

One St. Patrick's Day, many moons ago, I drank too much, ran a stop light and slammed my Mitsubishi Lancer into a Dodge Ram. I could have killed someone. I could have killed someone. Needless to say - but I'll say it anyway - I've never driven after having a drink again.

Not only was I voted "Most Likely to be Seen on Jerry Springer" my Senior year of high school but five years later, while working at Pier 1, I was given an award for, "Most Likely to Provide Comic Relief."

Years after receiving these awards I wonder, "what the heck?!"

Again, pieces.

Books. I love them. Coffee, too. I love the rain, the way it smells, but sunshine feeds my soul and keeps me sane. I love the changing leaves in the Fall but would prefer weather where flip flops could be worn year round.

I love art. I love self expression in the most random ways. For now, mine is through writing on my blog, though someday I'd love it in a hardback book. My dad was an artist and my mom, well, I believe my mom is still figuring out who she is. Having an artist father always had me dreaming I'd one day be an artist too. When I turned 18 I wondered if he'd hire me on as a business partner one day.

At age 19 my dreams drown the day he did. Dreams of being an artist and working along side a man I never really knew, were gone.

I'm terrified - immobilized sometimes - by my fear of failure. To the point I often don't take leaps of faith because I have none in myself. So any thoughts about art are gone.

Pieces.

I'm enjoying my life. Mostly.

I fight my flesh.

My heart wants to do right. Be right. But my flesh cries out. So often I keep it to myself the war that goes on. No one wants to hear it, right? I wouldn't want to send anyone in a panic that the old Sarah is back. She's not. I'm here. And I choose daily to be here. It's a battle. I won't deny that.

I'm just a girl.

A girl who, at 30, has finally found a routine for cleaning house. Who finally is okay inviting friends, family or, heck, strangers over for a meal. I'm finally confident in the way my house looks, how my food tastes and just in who I am as a hostess.


Pieces.

I love my family. Love, love, LOVE my family. The in-laws and the outlaws (my side).

I'm crazy about my friends. Absolutely crazy about them. I think it's because they choose to love me. They don't have to but choose to. The fact that they've chosen to love me blows my mind and I'll be forever thankful.


I love my husband. I without a doubt want to spend my forever with this man. He makes me crazy - drives me mad, makes me laugh, pisses me off, brushes my hair, tells the most ridiculous jokes, has the world's best hands and is the most forgiving man I've ever known. He knows me and loves me.

Everything I've written here is the tip of my iceberg. Merely pieces of who I am, and some pieces I'm definitely not proud of, but still others that I am. As simple - as plain as I am, there's so much more that makes me, me.

While not everyday is a day I'm comfortable in this skin - the days are more and more.

My Living Room As-Is

I don't know why I feel compelled to take a picture of my living room As-Is and post it for you to see.

(click picture to enlarge)

Maybe I'm just proud of the waffle box on the table between the chairs?

Or proud of the laundry basket that's been sitting by the window for days on end?

It might also be that I'm proud of the dog hair. Oh, the dad-gum dog hair!

Maybe the toys strewn about?

The plant on the bottom left that the cat peed (pees) in?

Clean sheets to the right?

Okay, I don't feel compelled to show you my living room As-Is for any other reason than the new bookcases.


And this little buddy on the top shelf.



You might remember him better from this post.

Please pray for Josh

So often he seems indestructible to me.

But today he was hurt on the job.

Pretty bad. I can even hear it in his voice

He's hurt his left arm. We're thankful to Jesus that it wasn't his right arm, he said he wouldn't be able to shift the gears if it were. He can't lift it and can't even let it hang loose completely because it hurts so badly. It's swelling at his tricep and elbow.

Will you pray for healing, please? And will you pray that he'd stop being upset with himself for getting hurt?

Thank you, sweet friends!

TGIF

Dude.

I'm thankful it's Friday. Even if today is a long working day for my husband, at least I know when he gets home tonight we have two days together. (mostly I'm just thankful for an extra pair of hands to help with the girls!) (did I say that out loud?)

This week wasn't easy. Are they ever going to be easy again? Please, Lord. Purty please?

There was one day I didn't get out of bed much. Depression isn't pretty. Neither is the mess the girls made while I laid in bed. But I feel things are looking up.

Girls were in bed pretty close to bedtime a couple of nights this week. That's a start!

School was done. Maybe not well but it was done. Sugar is realizing that every day that Daddy goes to work is a school day. It makes her groan. And makes me laugh. Now that we've cut out History, Science and Geography, school is lasting about 45 minutes. Much better than the 2.5 hours of pulling teeth.

Candee is coming over today. How sad that she lives 20 minutes away and it's been two months since I've seen her?! She's bringing me coffee. I'm supposed to bake. I haven't shopped in weeks, this could be interesting...

Spent time with my mom and sister last night. Oh.my.word. I always leave there with my belly hurtin' from all the laughter. We ate dinner. Watched two movies and had snacks. Um, and we may have wrestled on the floor.

We had plans to go camping this weekend. Not sure we're going. We were offered a night without kids from my amazing friend, Kristie. If we don't go camping.... :)

For the last two nights I've slept. I feel amazing. Like a new person. Like I can accomplish the world! Or at least the laundry.

What are your plans for the weekend?

Anyone need a 2 year old, I seem to have one needing a home.

God gave me children to humble me.

Case in point:

This morning I was getting dressed while Spice (age 2) was in the room.

She points to my belly.

"Ewww, Mama!"

Like I need her to point that out for me. Like I'm not already aware of the stretch marks her and her sister blessed me with. Like I'm not aware of the not so pretty, nearly 7" vertical scar down my belly or the fact that the scar has completely messed up my belly button.

I'm aware, Kid, I'm aware!

Guess she thought I needed a lil reminding.

{big sigh}

Sleep evades me

I haven't been sleeping.

I've been trying to sleep but it just doesn't come.

I lay there.

And lay there.

For nearly two weeks I've been surviving on 3-4 hours of sleep per night. Sadly, the hours are not consecutive. When I finally fall asleep, I usually wake a couple of hours later. I wake in a panic. Thinking about everything I said during the day that may have been dumb. Did I leave a dumb comment on someone's blog? did my email come across the way I intended? what was that phone call about? me? And so on. Then it turns to did I love the girls enough? why did I speak so harshly? why do I expect so much from their little selves? did I smile enough at them? I didn't smile enough at them. I never smile enough at them. Do they even know that I love them?

I think about the laundry that's washed and dried but has been sitting for days and some of it weeks. It's wrinkling. It's taking up space on the couch. I think about the pile of paper on the right side of the fridge that I never seem to get control over. I think about the lawn that's partially mowed. The pasture that's partially mowed. I think about how I'm just not keeping up.

I think about how I haven't menu planned in weeks. Weeks. I've been throwing stuff together. None of it very good. I think about how my husband has been putting in 12+ hours a day at work and 4+ hours in the evening somewhere else and I can't even provide him a decent meal. I think about the money he's been making and how instead of using the extra to pay off debt, I blow it.

I think about how I'm failing.

Last night it took me nearly two hours to fall asleep. Just as I felt myself drifting off, Spice woke up. I got up, plugged her pacifier back in and headed back to bed. It was 1:45 and Josh's alarm was going to go off at 3. I was still awake when his alarm went off. I tried to ignore the fact that he was up but it didn't work. I finally got out of bed to make his sandwiches but then headed right back to bed. He left at nearly four and I kept hearing things, sure that someone was outside our door.

When I did fall asleep I had a dream that I was in a large house with three children and someone was trying to kill us. I was rounding up the children, trying to escape out a two story window. It was awful and scary and I woke up because Spice woke up again. It was 6 am. I'd been asleep for a bit but the dream wore me out so much that I felt even more tired.

Today we won't start school until the afternoon. I need to clean my mother-in-law's house, I need to finish folding the laundry.

I need to wake up.

I need to go to sleep.

Content

This happens every so often.

Now is one of those every so often times.

I compare my blog, my writing - my drivel, to the other blogs that don't have drivel.

They have content.

I don't have content.

I have drivel.

Drivel = nonsense.

I want to have content. I want to make sense. I want to have a purpose for my blog other than just the randomness that oozes from my fingertips to the keyboard. I've been wondering if I should make my piece of the blogosphere have a little more depth than random.

I mean, I'll always be random, I'll always have random - but maybe it's time to put more thought, more heart, more time into what I write.

You see, I write what I live, what I think, what I do. I'm just random. I'm shallow. I'm noncommittal. I don't think about much for too long. (unless it's 2 am and I wake up panicking over a blog post, wondering if I said the wrong thing, misspelled something, offended someone, etc. then I think about something too long.)

I want to do better. Be better. Not just in my writing (though it's a goal of mine), but in most areas of my life. The only area I don't need to get any better at is eating. I'm a really good eater! I know how to eat! I love me some food.

Seriously though.

If I'm going to write with more content I need to live with more content.

I want to be purposeful.

Intentional.

I want to make the most of my time.

My skills. (though they are few.)

My energy. (huh, energy?)

And maybe if I'm living with more content, I'll write with less drivel. Maybe it'll make sense.

Maybe it will matter.

i'm so tired of busyness

We are a busy family.

And I don't know why.

Last week we were in our home only two evenings of the week.

Two.

For four homebodies, that's not much time at home. Yes, it's known that we love to be on the move but the ol' saying is true, "There's no place like home."

If there's no place like home then why does it seem we're never here?

Last week my husband put in over 15 hours at his parent's house working. I worked along side him a couple of the nights but the third night I needed to change it up so the girls and I headed to my mom's.

I don't remember Thursday night. I know that Friday we made the decision to head to Portland but we decided to wait until Saturday morning to leave. So Friday was spent at home, playing Candyland and then cleaning out the van. Simple things but it was so nice to be at our house.

Last week was a little nuts with our first week of home schooling and with being away from home most evenings.

My house, my laundry, my yard, my brain...they're all suffering.

It's hard to say no to things. It's hard to tell someone "no" or "not right now." Yet I think I'm going to need to start doing this a little more because I feel like our home is falling apart.

And not just the house itself.

But the people and the relationships going on inside this house.

It's time to set priorities and boundaries and it's time to stick to 'em.

Not every evening is going to run smoothly and not every day is going to go as planned but I think having a plan, setting priorities and boundaires - will definitely help life to not be so busy and hectic.

I'm looking forward to easy, comfortable, planned yet flexible days and evenings ahead.

I'm looking forward to conversations with my husband at a decent hour instead of waking him in the middle of the night to talk to him.

So, here goes on setting a new, at-home-more schedule!

Monday Bits (and bites, too)

We're home from Portland.

We watched three soccer games in about six hours' time. My nieces' reward for winning 2 out of 3 of their games? Watching my girls while their parents and I enjoyed a feast of Chang's Mongolian Grill and then going to a movie.

Thanks, girls! (and that ten bucks WILL make it back to you, punk!)

**

On our way home we stopped at Ikea to pick up a couple of bookcases for the living room. I've never been able to display all of our books. They're either packed in boxes, drawers, sprawled out on the floor, littering my countertops, etc. It makes a crazy girl even crazier. I decided it was time to do something about it.

We agreed on the bookcase (no small miracle) and we came home and put them together in about 10 minutes. Nice! We have a large window in our living room and the bookcases are now on each side of the window.

With a very large speaker on top of each of them.

BIG SIGH!

Yes, the very speakers you see in this post.

My husband has been instructed that those speakers need to find a new home immediately. His idea is to place the bookcases on top of the speakers.

Seriously, folks, what am I to do with the guy?

**

Today was working on the number 2. Sugar is none too thrilled with writing the number 2. I'm none too thrilled with her being none too thrilled. All she wants to do is be read to. Which I'm cool with but still, the writing of the numbers and letters must be learned.

**

I have approximately 83 loads of laundry to do. I'm about as thrilled to do laundry as Sugar is to write the number 2.

Will someone please come read to the both of us?

**

Date night with my mom and sister tomorrow. I'm stoked. Tacos and a movie. Most likely a lot of laughter mixed in.

**

The laundry is not getting done while I blog. Neither is story time.

What's your Monday lookin' like?

My Brain on a Friday

Randomness for a Friday:

Yesterday I thought it was Wednesday, so I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that it's Friday.

It's a good problem to have.

We've had a busy busy day today.

My day started before 2 am. {sigh} I woke up, unable to go back to sleep I woke my husband up. Poor guy. He already was planning to get up at 3 for work. We've been really busy this week and honestly, this was the only free alone time we'd had.

I voiced my concerns again over worrying about what our friends and our family and the people at the grocery store think of our education choice for our kids. Maybe this is normal for new home school families, I don't know? But it's seriously an issue for me, obviously - since I can't sleep.

We went to Starbucks yesterday and Sugar started talking to a woman behind us.

"I'm in Kindergarten!"

"You are?! Do you like Kindergarten?"

Sugar nodded.

"Do you have a lot of kids in your class?" the girl asked her.

"No. Just one."

This morning we had a few errands to run. We needed to go to my in-laws to mow and then to Nana and Papa's to mow. The grass was still pretty wet so we went to the park first.

We went to the library next and at the suggestion of a few friends I encouraged Sugar to pick out a couple of books on anything she wanted. We came home with two dolphin books for her, an insect book for Spice, Little House on the Prairie for all of us, a Jodi Picoult book for me and a book on composting.

This morning I decided (rather impulsively - because that's how I roll) that I wanted to go to Treena's for the weekend to see my niece's first soccer games of the season. They're in sports in winter and spring and we've seen them play then but we've never been to a soccer game (bad aunt!) and I wanted to remedy that - stat! Plus, I want all the goods on what's going on in the first week of high school and middle school for two of my favorite girls. Treena's up for my idea, Josh is mostly. Now it depends on if the paycheck arrived today like it's supposed to and if he gets home at a decent hour.

My lawn and my pasture need to be mowed. Is it just me or does it seem like they always need to be mowed?! I've already mowed two lawns today, can that be my quota?

The girls are down for naps but I can still hear them talking. I kinda wanna take a nap myself. I just don't roll like that.

I miss my sister Erica.

I'm working on whispering when speaking to my girls. My temper flies. Instead of handling a situation immediately, I often wait until I'm really ticked. And I yell. I'm sick of me. Sick of yelling. Today I've been intentionally speaking softly even when I've been frustrated. It's amazing how it's after 2 and my nerves aren't shot yet! Praying this lasts longer than a day.

Okay, I'm going to read some of my new book. The girls are quiet! Yay!

What are you up to this weekend?