I told her she was NOT going to church in her pajamas again.
She’s 4. She’s putting on a dress or she’s NOT going…
But then I stopped. I decided I was making a BAD decision.
What was I telling her? Why?
What was I teaching her? What was she going to learn?
Why does it have to be a fancy, “church” dress? Who cares? Do I, really?
Do I need to “win” this issue? Is it even an issue? And what would I really be winning?
“Jesus wants you as you are,” she told me…
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…,” I wanted to tell her.
I probably did after I hung up the phone. Thing is, she wouldn’t have cared if I had said it TO her. She loves me like that.
The truth…I wanted to lay on my living room floor in a puddle of tears as I placed an online order for pizza delivery, then drag myself to my bed to watch Netflix for the rest of the evening while I polished off the remainder of our chocolate truffle ice cream. I don’t know what the kids were going to be doing during this pity party, probably stealing my ice cream, jumping on the bed, and talking over my shows.
But…I didn’t do what I WANTED to do.
I barely survived yesterday…
I almost LITERALLY barely survived yesterday. It could have been bad…
I was exhausted. I didn’t sleep much the night before..restless legs, carpal tunnel, frequent bathroom visits…all pregnancy delights…
and a snoring husband…
The rain had been coming down all night. The kids were driving me nuts…so much pent up energy.
I needed out of that house…I needed greener grass…
I needed Chicfila chicken noodle soup.
Like BAD.
Caesar salads (my other MUST HAVE item) are kind of off the list for the moment since e.Coli and pregnancy, I’m sure, don’t mix. Dang recalls…ugh
We hopped in the car and headed off towards town…short drive.
We’ve finally reached the point where those little (though they are pretty big) feet of your’s can be felt by everyone, not just mommy.
It’s amazing how the mystery and excitement those feet bring to us now will turn into joy and delight when they emerge into this world and we are counting 10 tiny toes.
That joy and delight will turn into giddy excitement as we watch those little feet trail behind a wiggling, crawling tush before taking their first steps.
Do you ever feel like you are dangling on the edge of a cliff?
The ground is crumbling beneath your feet and you are TERRIFIED, but you are not falling. It seems you are being held by a thin thread that has unraveled from the hem of your shirt.
Will I fall? Is this it? Is my entire world going to shatter at this particular moment? Maybe the next?
You have? You’ve felt that way? Me too.
You snuggle close and whisper, “I love you, mama.”
“I love you too, baby.”
All day long, you challenge that love.
You trust it.
I must be doing something right if you trust me enough to hand me that fiesty sass and never doubt my devotion.
Yes, we know the gender of our next little miracle. I’m not really into surprises.
Want to know a secret, though?
We have known for about 10 weeks and we are pleased with how our life is playing out.
It seems not everyone understands…
The thing about having a house full of girls is you get constant comments, everywhere you go. These comments seem to imply that your life couldn’t possibly be complete without a son…
Comments that ring in the ears and hearts of my precious daughters.
“Look at all those girls. Are you going to keep trying for YOUR boy?”
She sat down to draw a picture for me on her LeapPad.
She opened up a fresh canvas and I noticed that she immediately went for the eraser. She took to scrubbing and rubbing with that cyber eraser, but to no avail. The spots she was trying to remove from her canvas were not going to be removed by her…at least, not with THAT eraser.
Peanut Butter in My Hairbrush 