When I barely survive…

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.

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Those Little Feet

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.

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Cliff Hanging

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.

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It was never a promise…

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?”

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The Tough Spots

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.

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21 days…

21 days…


That’s what it takes to change from a small, ordinary, fragile, seemingly insignificant egg into a LIFE. A full, complete, perfectly formed little chick.

Just 21 days.

Under normal circumstances, the egg is just an egg, pretty simple, but put it in the right environment, add just the right amount of heat and moisture, turn it, guide it, and in 21 days…

a little chick.

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A Rush to Completion

“Why do you seem so unhappy?”
“You always seem angry or sad? You have everything you say you’ve wanted, but seems like it’s not enough.”
And that was how the conversation went…somewhat.
It’s true. I can’t name a dream that I have asked for that I don’t have. I mean…I’d take a personal jet to make travel quicker, but we’re talking practical things, answered prayers. I am writing about the things I prayed for, begged for, longed for…
I have a loving husband who supports and cares for irrational, often unlovable me. Though he may often find himself baffled by me (I baffle myself), he loves me just the way I am.

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My Weary Heart Smiles

As I slid into the bed with my two youngest daughters, snuggling and waiting for sleep to overtake them, I could almost hear the collective sigh of my fatigued mind, my worn out muscles, my exhausted bones, and my weary heart. It had been a long day. Every day is long lately. It seems it’s nonstop…the to-do list, the needs, wants, demands. There is never a lull in the craziness…

It’s always something…

My heart grows weary when I enter the bedroom and find an entire box of bandages emptied and opened.

But my heart can’t help but smile when she proudly announces, “look, I can open them just like cheese sticks.”

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Missing Ingredients

I made bread a few days ago. I searched the pantry and the countertop for a packet of yeast, but came up empty handed. I knew there was some in the refrigerator, but was unsure how long it had been in there. I also wanted fresher, more “active,” options. Well, there WERE no other options so I pulled open the door and reached in the WAY back to pull out the little jar.

Naturally, there wasn’t nearly enough for my recipe…about half. I wanted bread. The kids wanted bread. I WAS MAKING BREAD. I used what I had and hoped for the best.

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