Supper prep conversations.

I stepped out of the kitchen while making supper, leaving Ruby at the realm. When I walked back into the kitchen, Ruby was coming out of the laundry room.

“I thought you were stirring this?” I said.

“I was, but I couldn’t for a minute. I was doing laundry,” she says as she throws the dryer lint away.

Precious, multi tasking three year old. I love you.

As Sterling saw me put brown sugar in the sloppy joes he asked, “Are you supposed to put that in there, or are you just doing that so that I’ll eat it?”

My dear boy. Equally loved, to be sure, but you are a goose.

Afternoon giggles.

Liberty woke up feeling the need for her fat pants this morning.

Or we got into a discussion about how I, in my high school years, tucked my shirts in but I never, ever do now… something about that post baby belly that makes that less than attractive. In went Liberty’s dress, into her leggings, and we got a giggle over the view of skinny Liberty with a less than skinny gut.

And then she wanted me to take a picture. To which, like any good blogger, I replied that I would – provided I was allowed to blog about it. She agreed.

You choose the scenario.

Pierce: 5 months

Tomorrow, this blue-eyed boy is five months old.

He gave me a fun short photo shoot this afternoon.

And then, he got bored.

Oops.

It happened. Ever since we got our new van, and every seat is no longer full, I’ve been counting heads before we leave in it. I used to just glance around… every seat with a head peeking up from it meant all was where it ought to be.
Today, headed to co-op in a mad rush because we were bordering on late, I got everyone in, bags in, lunch in, backed down the driveway about ten feet, and put the van in park to go get the sleeping baby out of his bed. Ouch.
Sterling, sitting next to Pierce’s car seat – his empty car seat – didn’t seem to think it worth mentioning that Pierce wasn’t in there. Pierce is in a rear facing convertible car seat, so until I did my mental, “Buckled Charlie. Buckled Ruby. Sterling’s there. Eden’s there. Liberty’s there. Pierce… oh no, Pierce!”
And yes, I looked around to see if anyone was watching. We live in the country… but still, the vision of me backing up, stopping, heading back into the house, and coming back out with the baby… it was a sorry sight.
There you have it, dear friends. I so do not have it all together.
Pierce was in the doctor’s office for his four month checkup. Never mind that he’s flying toward five months at a rapid pace. He was 17 lbs. 2 oz. and 26.75 inches long. He’s by far my biggest for his age – as in, Liberty weighed about that much on her first birthday.
Next up: a four five month photo. Because he’s sleeping now – and I’ve learned to let sleeping babies lie. You know, except when you’re going somewhere. Then it’s good to grab the baby.

Friday morning honesty.

Someone asked me yesterday if I ever get overwhelmed. Asked during one of those moments when everything is going well, no one is screaming and it’s looking like I have it all together, I stumbled saying something like this.

“Oh yeah. But then you remove your emotions from the equation and just do the next thing.”

Emotions are tricky things. They cause me to sin, often, when it comes to my kids. Sure, we laugh, we love, we have a ton of fun together. But when it comes to things not going well and the emotions in those moments, sin usually happens. Since when does you not having your shoes on right now have to be about me? But it does. I’m angry, you’ve sinned against me, you’re making me late.

You’re making me look bad.

Yep. All about me. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned – mentally, anyway – that if I step back and do the next thing, ignore the emotions running through my loud mouthed brain, I can get through the moment without adding my sins verbally to the situation. And one day, my brain might follow suit, do the next thing that needs to be done, and skip the selfish tirade that threatens to add itself to the situation.

Pursing Godliness. Thankful for His grace as I grow and those constant little reminders that I cannot do this on my own.

Hungry? You will be.

After very nearly taking out a sparrow on our way home last night, I said, “That bird was almost toast!”

“Oh, I get it. Because the window is so warm today,” said my new front-seat passenger, who is learning all she can on driving from her new vantage point.

Not exactly. So I set out explaining what “toast” can mean. The first thing that came out was “creamed”. Really? Are you serious? How many food references can one language take? And why on earth do I, in trying to explain one weird English word use, do I throw another one out there so that now I need to explain two?

I challenge you. Talk only in concrete verbs for a day. No weird English add-ons. It’s really, really hard.

You’ll be toast get creamed.

Insulated underwear.

Long story short(er), I had a disagreement over how many coats one dear daughter needs, I made a declaration that one church coat is adequate and the other, unworn yet this year, needs to be in the tote for next year. Since the well-worn, much-loved coat has been worn for, ahem, 4 winters now, it’s getting on the small side. I said to finish out the year with the much loved coat and then next year the other can be worn. Tears. Tears. More tears. After spending the afternoon thinking the tears were over the coat headed for the tote and then finding out it was over me having declared that the loved coat cannot be worn for a fifth winter, I asked, “Do you think if I still wore the coat I wore when I was your age now, would it be cute?”

Giggles. “No! It would be like a bra on you now!”

And just like that, there were no more tears. Except for me. I laughed so hard I cried.