The Things That Matter.

We were on our second flight home after a long two days of cancelled flights and hanging out in empty terminals. Our group of ten (six adults and four children) was tired, exhausted with the happy-but-crazy feels that accompany a trip to Disneyworld with small children, and we were ready to get home. The plane hummed along as I tapped my husband on the shoulder and handed him my copy of "Love Does" by Bob Goff. "Read this chapter," I whispered, gesturing towards the open page. He read it, nodded in agreement, and handed the book back to me. I smoothed out the page that had the most markings on it, done by my own pen, and re-read the phrase I had circled. And underlined. And drew little stars around:

"And for me, I've realized that I used to be afraid of failing at the things that really mattered to me, but now I'm more afraid of succeeding at things that don't matter."

I looked down at Lydia, my great, big, three year old, fast asleep, and tucked her hair behind her ear. My heart was settled.

Surrounded by friends who homeschool, I have always had the thought of it tucked in the recesses of my mind, wedged somewhere between "Things I Should Try" and "Things That Terrify Me Greatly".  I assumed I would at least attempt to homeschool Cub through his preschool years, but the opportunity arose for us to send him to a Christian school for preschool, two days a week, and we chose that.

Then Kindergarten came. At his school, Cub goes all day, five days a week. The first few months were a little awkward for me, adjusting to a school schedule while I still had littles at home, and I assumed the unsettledness was attributed to this adjustment. I also assumed that it would pass with time.

It didn't.

It was difficult to process. I loved his school. Naomi was in the preschool and we loved that, too. We loved their teachers. We loved what they experienced there. So, why, why was there this restless feeling in my heart? We enrolled the kids for the next year and of course, after doing so, that's when it happened. That thought, tucked back in my mind, started to surface periodically, peeking to the forefront of my brain no matter how much I tried to shove it back:

Should we homeschool?

The thought of it was intimidating. My degree is in Family Studies, not Early Childhood Education. Why in the world would I ever think I could teach my kids? Where do you even buy curriculum??

And, most importantly, I DON'T OWN CULOTTES.

EVEN IF GAP SELLS THEM NOW.

(I kid.)

My mind reeled with endless fears.

What if I fail?

But the thought of it also would not go away, so after making extensive pros and cons lists and talking my husband's ear off and falling asleep at night with homeschool blogs open on my phone, I finally started to pray about it. I pushed the lists and blogs and (slightly irrational) fears aside and brought it before God in prayer, leaving it at that. Confession: I had not been the best pray-er for a while before this. My conversations with God more resembled shop talk than anything raw and honest. Praying about homeschooling opened up that conversation once again and I remember the day, distinctly, that He answered my prayer. After putting the girls down for naps, I laid down for a cat nap. Only a few moments later, my eyes popped open, I sat straight up, and I felt this overwhelming peace. In His fascinating and beautiful way, God had gently turned His desires into my desires and I knew that this was what He wanted for us. And that was that. As usual, God did not show up with lightning bolts on my front door or anvils falling on my roof--instead, He quietly nudged my heart until I released it. I had been so preoccupied with figuring out the logistics and the worst possible homeschool scenarios (if you check my Google history, you will find searches like "terrified of homeschooling" and "why in the world should I ever homeschool"), that I hadn't stopped to listen for His voice. Once I did, He spoke.

Amazing how that happens, right? Why, oh why, do I ever push pause on my prayer life?

He listens, and He speaks.

From there, things started moving forward. I had discussions with the kids' teachers about our plans for the following year and they were kind and supportive and everything I knew they would be. With tears in my eyes, I finally clicked "Send" on the e-mail to formally withdraw my kids from school next year. I truly believe God went before us by opening up slots for my kids at a local Classical Conversations campus in our town. Explaining our decision has been, for the most part, well-received. Some are completely confused--why give up an education at a great Christian school to homeschool? That's a good question. I'm not entirely sure why. I have my reasons why I am looking forward to homeschooling, but, as far as the reasoning behind it, I really feel like we're just taking a step of obedience and we'll maybe find out the "why" later. Or maybe we won't. Maybe God knows I need to experience this for a year before I can finally put it to rest. Or, maybe not. I don't know.

What I do know is that He has given us peace to homeschool next year. Beyond that, it's up to Him and where (or how) He leads us next. If God has shown me anything thus far in my life, it is this: My plans rarely turn out as I expect them to. From working to getting pregnant to staying home to now homeschooling for this next year, He continually shakes up the way I think things should look, and through the struggle of relinquishing control, my eyes are opened to the greatness of His plan every time. He is faithful. Oh, He is faithful.

So. Here comes a list of disclaimers to get out of the way:

-I do not hate public school.

-I do not hate traditional education.

-I do not think I could ever be a teacher commanding a class, so if you are a certified teacher and are utterly confused as to why anyone without a teaching degree would think that they could take your place, know that I COULD NOT TAKE YOUR PLACE. I can (hopefully) teach my own three kids to read and write and maybe learn some history or how to maybe grow tomatoes. I could not command a classroom or deal with someone else's children on a regular basis. Bless it, you are awesome.

-I still do not own culottes. But we do still have the chickens.

My kids will finish up this school year and then we will begin homeschooling sometime this summer. My hope is that I will utilize this (poor, neglected) blog to record my experience. This is an adventure, folks. I know, to some, homeschooling sounds as exciting as dry toast, but, for me, following God's leading almost always results in some kind of adventure. I will be honest here, logging the good, the bad, the ugly. And the beautiful.

As I sort through the kids' curriculum and begin to create a framework for the summer, I still, at times, feel the familiar fear creep into my mind: What if I fail? 

You know what? I might. I just might fail at this. We might get to the end of this and have a good laugh, recalling that one time that Katie decided to homeschool and everyone ended up ripping out their hair and Katie had to be committed and the chickens ran away. But ... I don't think we will fail. There will be challenging days and great days and all kinds of days in between. I know that God has gone before us in this and regardless of what happens by the end of next year, it will be a success simply for the fact that we trusted, and we obeyed. And what joy there is in acquiescing to His plan. 

Praise be to God, Who continually draws us back to Him.

Have a lovely day.

Love: The Week.

Little Lydia Ladybug, on her way to church. I mean, really. The cuteness.

I got an order from diapers.com and the kids have had a hayday with the box. I fold the wings in and drag the kids to a new room. They like to try to guess which room I'm going to. I like to try to guess how long it will take before my arms and legs give out. PHEW.

Okay. Have y'all tried soap.com? I hadn't given them a whirl, but after my diapers.com order, I decided to try. I opened a Target.com window and a soap.com window and compared prices between the two, and they were mostly within a few cents of each other. With free shipping to boot, I happily placed a big order with soap.com. It came the next day and now we have plenty of toilet paper and fabric softener to last until June. I love running errands with the kids ... just not when it's a frantic we-ran-out-of-this-necessary-item errand! We'll see if I prepared wisely. And, don't get me wrong ... we'll still frequent the Bullseye. It has my heart.

We had massive storms last weekend, and they cleared the air for beautiful weather this week. This is baby bunting and I on a walk. Have I mentioned how much I love the sling?

I tried a new Pinterest-y recipe this week. I didn't have all of the ingredients, so my version is very modified. Anyway, the filling you see is avocados, red onion, cilantro, and olive oil. I wrapped them in won-ton wraps (which were supposed to be spring roll wraps ... oops ...) and pan-fried them in olive oil. HOLY YUM. They were delicious. Naomi ate three.

I was recently joking with some friends about the trends emerging for spring. I saw a link that listed twenty-five of them, and I liked only two: Neon being one, nautical stripes being the other. I'm old and un-trendy, I know. But, here I am, trying on neon for size. Hard to miss me in a crowd!

One of our hens absolutely refuses to leave her nest. We think she's trying to hatch this group.

And, lastly, poor buddy got a fever this week. I hate when he's sick ... but I do love the snuggle time!

Have a lovely weekend, friends!

Easter-y Preparations.

This year I am hosting Easter. Why? Because I excel at biting off more than I can chew. That's why.

But, really, of all of the holidays, Easter is an easy one to host. No bazillion gifts for everyone. No fireworks. No turkey that requires roasting or potatoes that require mashing. I can handle this gig. I think.

So, to prepare for our guests, the kids and I have done a few Easter-y things around the house. Firstly, I decided to spring-ify our entryway.

Yes, I am the old lady who puts silk flowers in her planters. I tend to kill living plants, so until I get the hang of ... what's it called? Watering? I will continue to use fake plants in almost all of my outdoor decorating. If you start seeing plastic pink flamingos springing up all over my yard, then you'll know I've officially lost it. Until then ... I just toe the line.

I love my green berry wreath. Please note that its berries are bordering on a dullish grey from sun-bleaching. I bought this wreath from Pier 1 two years ago and I just can't seem to bring myself to replace it. So, instead, I embellished it with (fake) flowers and the letter "B", which is the first letter of my last name. It is also the first letter in the word "Bazinga" from my favorite show "Big Bang Theory". Obviously, "B" has a prominent place in my heart.

While perusing the dollar aisle at Target, I found some metallic eggs and the kids had a fun time decorating our "Easter Tree", which has no purposeful significance, except that it was just something fun for the kids to do. The twisted hibiscus was pulled out of hiding once again and the kids love to see their handiwork.

While Pinteresting some Easter ideas, I came across the idea of cutting the kids' Easter lunch into bits and putting it in plastic eggs for them to open during their meal. For example, one egg could have part of a sandwich, one egg could have a few grapes, one egg could have some pretzels ... you get the idea. This is genius because it means the kids will be occupied for at least five minutes opening each egg, giving their parents time to take maybe five whole bites of their meal instead of the usual two. Score! I decided it would be fun for the kids to paint the crates where we will put their Easter Lunch Eggs, and of course they had a blast doing it.

Speaking of Easter eggs, my Mom and I were commiserating over what to put in the kids' plastic eggs this year for their Easter egg hunt. I'm not a huge fan of tons of candy, plus, much like Christmas, I want to keep the gifts to a reasonable limit, since this holiday celebrates something much greater. We thought maybe something like fruit snacks or graham crackers .... and then Voila! The idea hit us:

Why not fill their eggs with fun Annie's food? Fruit snacks, cinnamon bunnies, chocolate bunnies ... all delicious and not too horribly bad for them. And shoot, it's BUNNIES! After all, we aren't total bunny haters when it comes to Easter. This is fun without being, you know, grotesquely indulgent.

And, for us, we celebrate Easter because we celebrate the resurrection of Christ. I think the eggs and, yes, even the bunny, are harmless and fine, but we still want to make sure we do our part to rein it in and teach our kids why this holiday really is a reason to throw a party! I plan on stringing up some spring garland and flowers the night before, so the kids will see it when they wake up--a very easy visual of the LIFE that we have in Christ. And one of our projects this week focused on that, too. Taking a cue from the sun we did in their bathroom, I taped a cross with some masking tape on a canvas and the kids did a lovely job painting all over it. I then removed the tape once it dried and the kids loved the finished product!

(The blue swirls are courtesy of Caleb. "I paint gently," he explained while painting. He then walked to a corner and read a volume on the philosophical approach to existential theology. And then he solved a Rubik's cube. Five times. Eyes closed. One-handed.)

Ta-Da! They are so proud of it. I know they do not totally understand the concept of Easter, but I want to at least introduce it. Even if it means scraping dried paint off of my kitchen table when we're finished.

There you have it! Our Easter preparations. How about you? Do you have any crafts or traditions you want to share?

Have a lovely day!

Going Through The House: Kiddo Bathroom.

I detoured from decorating the formal dining room yet again to make a quick stop in the kids' bathroom. I promise, someday I will decorate the formal dining room. Someday. Someday when my brain is able to focus on a singular goal and take the appropriate means to achieve it.

Possibly when Lydia is eighteen.

Where was I? Oh yes, the kids' bathroom. It's a simple bathroom, with tan walls, white cabinets, and a seafoam shabby sheek-ish shower curtain. Do you like that gross misspelling? That gross misspelling of "chic"? For some reason, "chic-ish" looks like it should be pronounced as "chick-ish", whereas the pronunciation of the phonetical spelling of "chic" is mostly undeniable. Sheek.

See? NO FOCUS.

SHABBY SHEEK-ISH SHOWER CURTAIN.

(My apologies for sub-par picture taking. I had a camera in one hand, a baby in the other, and two toddlers attached to each leg. Awesome workout. And, it's not even a "before" picture. It exists only to show you the only color in the bathroom. The only shabby sheek-ish color.)

Anyway. It's safe to say the bathroom was lacking in personality. Since this bathroom does belong to the kids, I wanted them to contribute in personalizing it a bit. With Pinterest inspiration, I used masking tape to create a sun on a blank canvas. I then put paintbrushes in little hands and my cuties went to work, covering the entire canvas with happy yellow paint.

When the paint was dry, I removed the masking tape, and Voila!

Seriously. How fun and easy is that? The kids are so proud, so proud, of their sun. I am, too. I then coated some letters in white spray paint and stapled some teal and brown patterned fabric (to coordinate with the shabby-sheekish shower curtain) inside empty frames.

*I used fabric instead of scrapbook paper for durability, given this bathroom's frequent occurrence of steam treatments during croup season. Boo, croup.

I chose to create our little collage above the bathroom mirror, since there is some extra space up there and I thought it might help to heighten the room. Plus, its message is the first thing the kids see in the morning.

Ta-da!

I had been racking my brain for a while, trying to think of what words and decor to use before I started this project, and the inspiration struck during a midnight feeding with Lydia (the time when most inspiration strikes). What a happy way to start the day, referencing Isaiah 60:1--"Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!"

The kids love to see the sun they painted, greeting them every morning. And the encouraging words are pertinent to all of us when we start the day. Mornings can be cranky and let's face it, Mama isn't always shining, either! I'm totally happy with how it turned out. Love.

Have a lovely day.

Going Through The House: The Kids' Wing.

On my way to decorating the formal dining room, I got a little sidetracked and took a detour through the kids' hallway. Because, what can I say. I just love these guys.

We lovingly (and jokingly) refer to this hallway as the "kids' wing", even though it is, obviously, just a hallway. But, aside from the laundry room and a closet, this corridor is the kids' domain, housing their bedrooms and bathroom, and I wanted to add a few personal touches to emphasize that.

The first project was an idea I saw while I was Pinterest-ing during a middle-of-the-night feeding with le bebe. I came across a contributor who put the outfit her baby wore home from the hospital in a shadow box. Love it! Instead of using the kids' take-home outfits, I used the outfits they wore when they were dedicated. I dug into their hope chest and went to work!

This is the bonnet and shawl that my Memere made for my Mom when she was dedicated as an infant, so it's extra-special that Naomi got to wear it, too.

Loved his little vest!

If you come into our house through the laundry room, these are the first things you see, and I love that we get to look at them every day. And yes, there is a space on the wall for Lydia's, too!

Further down the hall, I took a cue from my genius friend to display the kids' masterpieces. I found a celadon green curtain we were no longer using, and, after stripping its backing, I cut it to size and stapled it to a bulletin board and then pinned some of the kiddos' works of art to it. The kids love it! Their artwork is out there for all to see. Totally fun. And, my refrigerator isn't quite as cluttered ... :)

And, lastly, a photo collage of the inhabitants of this hallway. They grow so quickly. Love them.

There you have it--a peek into the much-adored "kids' wing", ha ha! And now, onto the formal dining room.

Um, after I finish the kids' bathroom first ... :)

Have a lovely day!

Mom Jewelry.

You may remember my post a year ago regarding mom jewelry and how it used to kind of scare me to death. Then I realized that I could have jewelry that I like that is simply representative of my kids, not necessarily caricatures of my kids dangling precariously from my neck and my wrist.

Behold: Three rose gold stackable rings--two with white stones to represent my two girls and one with black stones to represent my big boy.

Worn on my left hand because I'm still terrified of cutting Lydia's little thigh with the solitaire of my wedding ring. :)

Yay. I love their sparkliness. But mostly I love the loves they represent.

Have a lovely day.

Even Bathroom Breaks Are Accompanied By Little Hands Knocking.

I sneak in a quick shower before the kiddos are up.

The breakfast show gets up and running and both are fed. I call the doctor because Naomi is congested and hoarse.

Help with shoes and boots and dressing and diapers and pottying and etc.

Loading in the van. Buckling, adjusting, toy-distributing. Sippy cups, check.

Trip to the grocery store.

Trip to the doctor. Just a cold.

Drive-thru lunch.

Naomi falls asleep in the car and gets put down at home.

Cub and I eat lunch and play a game.

Cub goes down for a nap.

I organize our pantries and chop the peppers and chicken for fajitas for dinner.

I sit down on the couch and Naomi promptly wakes up.

I feed Naomi lunch.

I attempt to make pumpkin spice muffins while Mouse plays at my feet.

The muffins are an epic fail and all I have to show for them is a pile of dishes.

Cub wakes up.

I put both kids in shoes, grab some paperwork, head out the door.

More loading, buckling, adjusting, toy-distributing. Sippy cups, check.

I drop paperwork off, run to Target.

Zoom through Target with a brief pause to check out the Christmas trees with a wide-eyed Cub.

Come home, unload Target purchases, walk to the end of our loooong driveway to retrieve our huge trash can and roll it back. In the rain.

I let the chickens out, collect eggs, and head inside to clean dishes from the muffins.

Dishes get done, time to start dinner.

I start dinner while two hungry kiddos observe and occasionally beg.

We sit down to dinner and my legs ache from not sitting for a long time.

Prayer, chatting, nudging to take more bites. Crumbs on the floor, on the table, on the Mouse.

Dadda comes home as we finish up.

I run and give him the biggest hug and tell him I'm so glad he's home.

While he eats dinner, Naomi bonks her head and comes running to me for comfort.

She cries so hard she throws up on me.

I change her and myself.

I load the dishwasher and wash the remaining dinner dishes by hand.

My husband puts her to bed as I pick up a few wayward toys.

All with a 30-Week pregnant-for-the-third-time-in-three-years belly. My body is beside itself.

My husband is now playing with Cub while I sit down for ten minutes by myself to type this post.

One word to describe motherhood?

Constant.

The good, the bad, the busy.

Have a lovely day.

Intuition!

When I was pregnant with Cub, I knew he was a boy. Instantly. I had no idea what his name would be (my husband named him later on in the pregnancy), but I sure knew there was a little guy in there. I don't know how or why, but my instinct? intuition? something? told me I had a son on the way. I was confidently confident and, well, I just knew.

With Mouse, I had no idea. None at all, but I hoped she was a girl. Yes, I hoped for a specific gender. Is that bad? I'm the little sister to a big brother, so I think I just naturally hoped my second would be a little lady, since I understand that kind of sibling dynamic. I think it goes without saying that if Baby Number Two had been a boy, we would have been madly in love with him the way we're madly in love with all of our kids, and the brother dynamic would be just as awesome. But, we were thrilled when we found out that there was a little sister in there.

With this pregnancy, as soon as I took the test, I patted my stomach and said, "It's Lydia." The next few days were spent in a bit of a blur, with some crying and almost-passing-out-from-pregnancy-shock and such, but amidst it all my gut just told me that this baby was a girl and that girl was Lydia. We had an early ultrasound and the doctor thought it could be a boy, but I was doubtful, even though, truthfully, the thought of two boys was easier for me to handle than the thought of two girls (crazy, I know!). I wanted a later ultrasound to know for sure (which ended up being quite a feat--Lydia is quite a bashful little pea!) and sure enough, the doctor gave us 90% certainty that our baby was a little lady. And, of course, we're thrilled. I realize that the ultrasound could be wrong and my gut could be wrong, too, but I'll be surprised if it is!

What about you? Did you have a gender inkling during your pregnancy?

Have a lovely day, friends!

The Thanksgiving Tree.

You might remember my post about a Thanksgiving Tree last year...can you believe it's that time of year again? I can't! Here's a little refresher on the Thanksgiving Tree if you're interested in doing it with your family!

A sweet friend of mine shared this idea with me a while ago, and I'm happy to pass it on.

Firstly, you take fall-ish colored construction paper or cardstock and cut out enough "leaves" to represent each day from November 1 until Thanksgiving Day (this year Thanksgiving falls on November 24th, so you would cut out 24 leaves). Since I used cardstock, I used the first leaf as my template.

Poke a hole in each leaf and feed a piece of string or twine through.

Create a "tree" using a large stick or a bundle of sticks. I have a dried twisted hibiscus I'm using this year. You can either attach all of the leaves now or attach them one at a time. Cub wanted to help me this year, so we went ahead and put all of the blank leaves on our tree.

Every morning, write what you are thankful for on a leaf.

It's an easy way to focus on the poignancy of a thankful heart, and to teach it to our kiddos at a young age. We kept our leaves from last year and plan to continue keeping them--it's so fun to look back!

Plus, it's a great fall decoration. :)

Have a lovely day, friends.

Shopping Savvy.

Caleb has a shopping cart that his G-Ma gave him and it recently made its way from her house to ours. He loves it. He uses it to transport all kinds of things around the house, namely trains and books and cars and such.

A few months ago, he got it in his mind that he would like to take his cart to Target, please. Naturally, the execution of such a suggestion would be tricky with a one year old and a two year old, so we put it on the back burner, but kept the burner lit in case the opportunity ever presented itself to go.

And it DID!

While Naomi spent some time with the grandparents, I decided it would be the perfect chance for Cub to take his cart to Target. As soon as he woke up, I got him dressed and we loaded his cart in the van. We parked in the closest spot we could find and unloaded his cart. The store had just opened and was pretty empty (part of my plan!) and when we walked through the doors, the manager greeted us and was delighted in how cute it was to see a little guy pushing a cart, so I knew we were good to go.

He got to go to the cereal bar aisle and pick out his favorite flavor (always strawberry) and put it in his cart. Y'all, it was a BIG DEAL. So cute!

We only stayed for about fifteen minutes, and it was worth every second. Cub was elated. I remember always wanting to take my little cart I had as a kid to the store, so I could only imagine how happy Cub was to do it. Such a big boy.

Way fun.

Have a lovely day!

Sabbath Shmabbath.

A professor in college once encouraged me to keep a sabbath as best as I could, to the best of my ability, one day a week. Obviously, the Sabbath is on Sunday according to Christian tradition, which typically involves church and a nap. But his challenge was a little different. He said for one day, put all work, including homework, on hold (some people have to work on Sundays, right?). For those of you who have a handy-dandy college diploma hanging on your wall, you know that you earned it through lots of homework. Going through an entire day without doing anything--no emails, no Blackboard, no quick 1-page summaries, no reading ... no READING--could be quite a challenge. Especially considering I was a senior when this challenge was issued and my major, Family Studies, was basically a huge pile of reading and paper writing. But, I liked the premise of his suggestion.

I accepted his challenge and found that even if I took a day off, it was possible to get things finished. If I took the time to kick back, relax, pray, refocus, and enjoy the freedom of my day, I was actually more productive throughout the week. A nice little way to recharge. I've taken this practice with me first into newlywed-ness and now into the busy life of a Mom, cleaning up hurriedly on Saturday night so on Sunday, the day of my choosing, I will truly rest.

Because if there is a mess, chances are I won't rest. It's just my personality. My new personality. Because frankly, a mess never really bothered me before I demanded a bit of order in my life to survive the daily (albeit fun) chaos of a young family.

So.

I typically go to the grocery store on Monday mornings.

When I go, the store is usually pretty empty, and the other customers who do happen to be there are usually other Moms. I don't know about you, but I go into the grocery store with a PLAN. I have my shopping list itemized in accordance with the arrangement of the products for which I am hunting, my purse is packed with two sippy cups and some snacks, and I zip through as quickly as I can, knowing my two year old and one year old could potentially lose it at any moment and I don't want to risk it. It might sound nutty, but experience has taught me that a little preparedness is never a bad thing.

Basically I'm a super anal shopper.

ANAL.

Gah. I hate that word.

Anyway! After my luxurious nap on Sunday, I, for some reason, felt compelled to write out my menu and make up my shopping list for the week. After Googling some new recipes and itemizing my list, I looked at the clock and figured that Meh, why don't I just go today? I could get the shopping over with and be done by the time Monday arrives!

Genius!

Stupid!

I loaded up the kids and headed down the highway to our usual place. As I parked my Swagger Wagon, I noticed that the parking lot was rather full. I also noticed that it was a bit like a demolition derby, with SUVs and sedans vying for parking spots amidst crowds of people pouring in and out through the sliding doors. Very unlike Monday mornings.

Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge into the store.

We were lucky and found one of Cub's favorite carts--a cart with a fire engine attached on the front where he can ride. I plopped Naomi in the front of the cart while Cub crawled into his red plastic contraption and away we went, with me chugging at my usual Shopper Mom pace. Which is fast.

As the grand sliding doors parted for our entrance, I stopped short when I saw the droves of people milling about the store. There were just ... just ... so many of them. I took a deep breath, whipped out my list, and charged through the produce section. I tossed our spinach, squash, grapes, and snobby cheese into the cart before peeling around the corner towards the turkey pepperoni and Smart Chicken. I almost ran into a couple that was perusing, yes, perusing, as in, taking their time, in the meat department, but quick maneuvering avoided a potential accident as we buzzed on towards dairy. I tossed in the heavy whipping cream and organic milk before stopping short by the yogurt. A lady was standing there with some Oikos in one hand and Chobani in the other, trying to decide which to get. Oikos, Chobani. Oikos, Chobani. I stood there with my foot tapping impatiently as I watched her head go back. And forth. Back. And forth.

THEY'RE BOTH GREEK. PICK ONE.

She finally settled on one (ONE!) and meandered away. I slid my cart into her empty spot and chucked five Chobanis in the basket.

I checked my pulse. My pace was still good, but boy howdy, these crowds were about to give me an aneurism.

We hit up the rest of our spots, squealing through frozen bread (Rudi's!), charging through the cereal (cereal bars!) and zooming through pasta (wheat spaghetti!), weaving between customers parked in the middle of the aisles to chat. How nice. Chatting. By the time I yanked the massive cart to the checkout, I was sweating, Naomi was fussing, and Caleb had his legs dangling out the window of his faux firetruck. I organized my items on the conveyer belt (ANAL) and said three cheers for drive-thru pick-up as I hoisted my girl on my hip and held my little boy's hand and trekked across the parking lot to our car. I picked my groceries and away we went.

Oy.

By the time we got home, I was a cranky hot mess. The kids were cranky because I was cranky. As the cargo door on the van slowly lifted in our hot garage, I stood there glaring at the sacks of groceries I had to carry inside. They were heavy. I was hot. I heaved each sack onto the counter before trudging back to the garage for another. The kids were getting hungry and whiny and I was feeling the same, but after the groceries were all schlepped inside, I still had to unpack them. Ugh. I put them away as quickly as I could, with whatever energy I had left, and tossed the kids some cereal bars before slumping onto the couch. I noticed that the kitchen trash needed to be emptied. I winced and let my head fall back on the couch. Meh, trash.

Some sabbath, yes?

What's really so sad is that I have time to get groceries on Monday. And, if worse comes to worst and I get busy on Monday, I have time to get them Tuesday. But for some reason, for SOME REASON, I decided to take a detour from my Day of Rest and instead forge through a massive commercial building enduring the perils of consumerism with two little kids. A good idea in theory and a really terrible experience in practice.

I understand now why God suggested, nay, demanded a Day of Rest. Not a "One Extra Day To Get Things Done".

So, this is just me saying that I totally failed with resting today because of an apparent attempt at overachieving. But I really didn't achieve much, save for some food in the fridge and a bad attitude.

Next Sunday? Hopefully there's a little more rest in order.

Have a lovely day.

Fruits of Labor.

I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Happy Labor Day, friends.

Blast. Off.

I jumped in the car this morning to grab some coffee at my new favorite coffee joint in town and, rather than turning on the kiddos' CD, I instead tuned into a local country station (I live in Oklahoma, remember). As we neared our drive-thru destination, the host of the morning show announced that a viewing of the space shuttle Atlantis launch could be seen at the Planetarium of a local Air and Space Museum and as I turned up the volume, he shared about the poignancy of this launch, the last manned shuttle launch of the space program.

Last manned shuttle?

I peered in the rearview mirror, saw my two kiddos smiling back at me, and decided that the Planetarium was exactly where we needed to be. It was still early, but I was now on my own mission of making this mini trip happen, in a blaze of the-kids-need-to-experience-this glory. I called my friend and told her about the launch and asked if she wanted to enjoy a historical adventure (and a chaotic one), a challenge which she graciously accepted. I came home, packed some snacks, put on makeup, and went to pick up my friend and her daughter. As we cruised in the minivan to the Planetarium, we reminisced on what the space program was like when we were kids. Who didn't want to go to space? Most kids, at some point, want and expect to experience space travel. When I was Cub's age, the Challenger shuttle had just been lost and the country mourned together the brave souls who were so close to space but never made it there. The space program was an important part of our education and it was a little sad to think that our kids, while they will probably be exposed to the exploration of space, won't necessarily live in a country that budgets for its own astronauts to go there. An understood cut, but a sad one, nonetheless. The end of a chapter in an endless book.

We pulled into the parking lot, put the girls in the jogger, and headed inside. By this time it was standing room only, the dark room full of spectators and local TV crews filming the launch on the large screen. We got there with nine minutes to spare and watched as mission control gave the go and charged the shuttle with safety and "godspeed". Those few minutes were punctuated with switching the babies and taking trips to the lobby to walk around, but when the twenty second mark came, we were all in there together, standing at the very back, watching history unfold. Cub held onto his Bullseye horse and watched in complete silence and astonishment as fire poured out of the burners. When the countdown came to ten, everyone in the Planetarium started counting out loud, the excitement building with each number. When it came to ONE! all of the cell phones came out, snapping pictures of the shuttle as it poured smoke, trembled, and all 4 million pounds of fuel and ship slowly rumbled and lifted off of the ground. There were cheers, and, I'm sure, a few tears.

And that was it. Within a few minutes, the moment was over.

We gathered the kids and schlepped them back to the car, and drove home.

I know that the kids won't remember what they saw today (although Cub loves saying, "Today I saw a space shuttle fly high in the sky!"), but I love that they were able to experience the poignancy of sending their fellow countrymen to space for the last time, for a long time. To enjoy, for a few moments, the unifying excitement that it brings, in that small Planetarium, full of strangers who, on a countdown from ten, cheered for the same thing.

To remember that, no matter how frequent, it is a bit of a miracle to witness men piercing our atmosphere, forging into the vastness of outer space.

Have a lovely day.

If This Never Happens To You, I'll Go Ahead And Bury My Head In The Sand.

The other day I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for my husband. He had eaten some at the party the previous night that made him swoon, so I figured I would try to replicate the awesomeness so he could have some sweets to take to work.

I started in the evening and about halfway through, I realized this was going to be a rather lengthy endeavor. The kids were getting restless and cranky and were pulling on my legs as I rolled out the dough. My husband and I got them to bed and I returned to the kitchen to finish the rolls. I can't pintpoint exactly the moment of epic failure, but between too much butter, a misread extract, and not enough dough, I found myself up to my armpits in what I thought was perhaps an unsalvageable mess. But, I forced through and my determination resulted in three pans of cinnamon rolls. Fresh out of the oven, they tasted pretty good. At least, I thought so.

My husband tried one and nodded and said it was okay.

That's it.

My hours of slaving for a nod of the head and a "it's okay".

I'm not sure what snapped in my head, perhaps a feeling of underappreciation mixed with exhaustion (and, let's not forget, pregnancy hormones), but I gave him a glare and with much dramatic huffing and flailing of arms, I stormed to the bedroom and shut the door.

A few moments later he cracked it open and asked if I was okay.

And then the crying started.

The ugly crying. The heaving. I can't remember the following conversation verbatim, but here's the basic gist of it:

"YOU DON'T LIKE MY CINNAMON ROLLS!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I KNOW YOU DIDN'T LIKE THEM! I MESSED THEM UP!"

(Snort, snort, sniffle.)

"It's fine! They weren't bad!"

"'WEREN'T BAD'?? THAT MEANS YOU HATED THEM!"

"KATIE. The cinnamon rolls are fine! I appreciate you making them!"

"THE KITCHEN IS A MESS AND IT'S LATE AND I DON'T WANT TO CLEAN IT!"

"Uh, okay. Don't clean it then!"

"I'M GONNA HAVE THREE KIDS!!"

(Pause.)

"Um, what?"

"WE'RE GONNA HAVE THREE KIDS!! HOW IN THE WORLD CAN I HANDLE THREE KIDS?!"

"I thought we were talking about cinnamon rolls."

"I DON'T THINK I CAN DO IT! I DON'T THINK I CAN BE A GOOD MOM TO THREE LITTLE KIDS!"

"Uh, Katie?"

"I DRIVE A MINIVAN!!"

"Oh boy."

"I'M GOING TO HAVE THREE KIDS AND I DRIVE A MINIVAN! WHO AM I?! I CAN'T EVEN MAKE CINNAMON ROLLS!!"

"Oh geez. Okay. Katie, I think you're overthinking this ..."

"I HAVE TO CHANGE DIAPERS AND TEACH OUR KIDS TO WALK AND TALK AND THEN I HAVE TO KEEP THE HOUSE CLEAN AND COOK AND BAKE AND KEEP THE LAUNDRY UP AND (snort, snort, sob) ..."

"Calm down. You do a great job."

"AND MY JOB DESCRIPTION IS JUST 'STAY-AT-HOME'!" ARE YOU KIDDING?? WHAT BOZO COINED THAT TERM?!"

"Katie, go to bed."

"I'M JUST ... I'm just ... (sob, sob)"

"You're tired."

"I'm tired."

"It's not about the cinnamon rolls."

"It is a little."

"Go to bed."

"THREE KIDS."

"Go to bed."

(Pause.)

"Okay."

And I did.

Have a lovely day.

And The Rockets' Red Glare ...

Dear Persons Celebrating the Fourth of July Early,

I understand the obsession with watching things explode in the sky. Bright colors! Neat!

However. I do not understand the obsession with watching things explode in the sky prematurely, before the actual holiday for which they were intended.

Wait, do you even know the holiday of which I speak? Or do you just see "Bart's Fireworks" on the side of the road and get giggity giddy because Firework Day is closely approaching? Yeehaw!

You see, this is where I think we have a lack of understanding for each other. I have small children who need to sleep. It's just something they do. Large explosions in the sky can prevent that from happening. Also, I am pregnant, which can just make me plain mean, and when you couple a mean lady with two sleepy children, it's dangerous. More dangerous than, say, explosions in the sky.

So, tonight, as I type this amidst the fireworks show outside of my house, I would like to say that if I wake up to a toddler poking me in the eyeball because he was awakened by the aforementioned blasts, then this firecracker will be at your front door to wag my finger in your face and to confiscate your explosives until Monday.

Until then, you can light matches.

Yay! Liberty!

Most Affectionately Yours,

Katie

Thursday Randomness.

* I am now obsessed with making s'mores in the microwave. I stack a little chocolate on top of a graham cracker and top it off with marshmallow. Then I start the microwave and wait until the marshmallow begins to balloon up ... then I snatch it out and place another graham cracker on top. It all melts together. Amazing.

* I have recently discovered the joy that is makeup remover wipes. Confession: I do not wash my face before bed. Thusly, these wipes are what I believe to be the next best thing.

* I am eleven weeks today. I can't believe next week I'll be out of my first trimester. Crazy.

* At one point today I was cleaning coffee out of the carpet, opening a can of corn, and texting. I'm not sure how all three were accomplished at the same time, but they were, and I am proud.

* I made manicotti for the first time last night. Huge hit.

* The nurse checked my chart today and confirmed that this was my fourth pregnancy, correct? I told her yes, that the first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. She then raised an eyebrow and proceeded to tell me I have been pregnant every year since 2007. I think my head exploded.

* Naomi just crawled in with a graham cracker in her hand. She found my stash.

* Speaking of my daughter who inhales everything, she is still in the 28th percentile for her weight. I'm fairly certain she will be her father, who had knobby knees until after college.

* Caleb just crawled in my lap and we took this picture. I love him so.

* Now this same Cub wants to sing a song. So, see you later!

Have a lovely day.