Muffin Top

The flu made me do it.

The flu makes me emotional. Partly because I am a champion pity-party-thrower. Partly because... well I have no idea why. But I do know that I laid in bed for a shameful number of hours watching the 2nd season of Parenthood on Netflix and bawled like a baby.

While watching the aforementioned shameful number of hours of Parenthood, I realized that I am going to sorely regret the lack of documentation I've been making of the life of our sweet little family.

I think I get too caught up in needing to write something really meaningful. Or really witty. Or really wise. And so I don't write. Because who can live up to that?

But what if I could actually get myself to believe it's not about that. What if I write something just average? Would that really not be okay? 

What if I write just to remember?

If I don't write things down, life will get hurried, and I wil forget. I know this about myself. That is why I write the silliest little reminders to myself -- like the huge note I taped to the door that said "TAKE PICTURE" so I wouldn't forget on the kids' first day of preschool this month.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Sidnote - have no fear, Matt finally agreed to get that sweet boy a haircut the next day.)

I mean, one would think that it would be impossible to forget such a thing, but trust me, I'll forget. And I know that no matter how I tell myself I'll never forget what Molly's bed-head looked like that one morning, I'm going to forget.

And as impossible it seems that I could forget the sweetness of finding Owen in his bed, tuckered out in a pile of trucks, wearing the beloved cowboy boots - I know that it's these sweet, small, seemingly insignificant moments that will fade the fastest.

 

So I'm going to write. I'm going to write to remember. And I'm going to write because it will be good enough. It will not be the greatest, the wittiest, or the wisest. But you know what? I'm okay with that. I think I'm finally okay with that.

I'm doing a Bible study written by Beth Moore on the book of Esther. If you've never gone through that study, I cannot recommend it enough. But one of the lessons really broke my heart open more widely than the others (and that's saying a lot).

This particular day in the study really spoke to the perfectionist in me. The me who grew up making good grades & doing well in sports... and then went off to college & beyond, and started living in the real world where there's always someone who runs faster and thinks deeper... and suddenly being "great" at something required being "perfect" at everything.

And, well, that's really hard.

And somewhere along the way, I started believing that if I wasn't the greatest at anything, then I wasn't truly doing anything great at all.

And then I read this from Beth Moore, totally unexpected and perfectly timed, in the middle of the study on Esther:

Christ summons the disillusioned to the paradoxical bliss of spilling life lavishly, sacrificially for the glory of God and the good of man. Those with presence of mind and semblance of health are called to pour out the drink offering of their lives until the cup is overturned and every drop of energy slips - perhaps unnoticed, uncelebrated - into the vast ocean of earthly need. The last imperceptible drop of your well-lived life will sound to the hosts of heaven like a tidal wave hitting the floor of the Grand Canyon.
In effect Christ says, "I'm already great enough for both of us," relieving the willing of their woeful burden. "Just follow Me." 

So, here we go. Whether it's writing or cooking or laundry or whatever. I'm not here to be the greatest. I'm here to follow the Greatest.

Phew, that feels better.

Quote taken from esther by beth moore, p. 173.

Running Buddies

I loathe running with a jogging stroller. So, I rarely do it. But, yesterday was so gorgeous that even the prospect of pushing 50+ lbs uphill couldn't deter me.

Here are my running buddies, ready to go.

 
Here they are, 3 miles later... "Mommy, look - Molly's snuggling on me!" They were so cute, I might have to start running with them more often. Maybe. Probably not. But it's tempting. Kind of.

This and That

Before I try to pick up where I left off in Africa (Day 5 forever, baby!! That was for you, Ginny.), I thought I'd post some other random thoughts that have been floating through my brain. Mostly having to do with how cute I think my kids are and how much I'm enjoying this season of life...

Owen, let's start with you, buddy. You're 3. I know that you know this, because you tell me you're 3 at least 3 times a day, and every time the number 3 is spoken, heard, or seen. You.  Are. Three. And Owen, I have to tell you - all the people that talk about the "Terrible Two's" probably haven't had a kid turn 3 yet. Because this is a whole different ball game. You've entered the arena of "sass." And I've got to hand it to you - you're mastering the art.

But seriously, son, you are one of my favorite people on the planet. And most definitely my favorite 3-year-old. You are hilarous. You make me laugh out loud everyday. You love to sing songs - and lately you love to be hilarious and change the words. A current favorite is, "Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a... PANCAKE!!!" <insert side-splitting laughter here> Except you still say "pampake" instead of pancake, which makes it even funnier.

You love to build things. You love to help me wash dishes. You love to do anything with your Daddy. You love to make your sister laugh. You love to do jumping jacks. You love to play soccer. You love to hop on one foot. You love to make funny faces. You love to read books. You love stickers. 

Now, Molly... You, my dear, are just plain delightful. Okay, you have started refining your tantrum-throwing skills - your current go-to is the throw-yourself-on-the-floor-and-scream-but-stop-and-check-to-be-sure-someone-is-watching method. But usually those only last a few minutes, and you're so stinking cute that we don't mind. Okay, we kind of mind. But you really are cute.

You're now officially a card carrying member of the I Can Walk club! Oh, how I love that you are walking! And you are so funny about it too. It's like you know it's this new skill and you are in extreme training. For example - you will pick something up and just carry it back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. Your destination isn't really in either place - your mission is just to keep walking. Or, you will literally just walk in a circle around my legs. Continuously. For five solid minutes. It's impressive, really.

You love to clap. You love to eat. (oh my word, you love to eat.) You love to climb all the way up the stairs before I even notice you're missing. You love to wave & say bye. ("Bahhhye" - you little southern belle, you.) You love to swing - frighteningly high. You love taking baths. You love to sing Jesus Loves Me. And Baa Baa Black Sheep. You love to laugh at your brother. You love to dance.

And of course, I can't forget my baby daddy, Matt. Seriously - hands down, best season of our marriage yet. Matt, I feel like my heart could explode on Monday evenings as I'm standing by your side at the soccer field, yelling for our son to get his finger unstuck from the goal netting while our daughter is walking circles around my legs.

I mean for real - you & I are married. Still. And we have childREN. Who are as sweet, tender, & funny as their daddy. Thank you, Jesus.

Remember sitting in the rain in the parking lot of the Oxford Wal Mart? Isn't this even more fun than what we could've imagined then?

Mmmmm... it's a good life.

 

31

I turned 31 on Sunday. Here are some highlights of "Life at 31" thus far:

- my husband (who is only 3 WEEKS younger, thank you very much) is now referring to himself as "cougar bait"

- my 2-yr-old son has successfully lodged a raisin so far up his nose that no manner of probing could remove it

- upon recommendation from a friend who is an expert in removing things from children's noses, I successfully - and heroically, I might add - removed the aforementioned raisin from aforementioned nose by administering MOUTH-TO-MOUTH and essentially blowing out that damn raisin FOR HIM.

Yes I said damn. It was totally called for. 

Snow!

And here we are, all the way into February!

Friday night brought us some fantastic snow! That, of course, meant that Saturday morning was full of fun times outside for Matt & Owen!

(and fun times inside for Molly & me!)

 

It never ceases to amaze me that my 2-year-old can look so big and so little all at the same time. You know all those people that tell you "they grow up so fast"? - yep, they're right.

Oh, and my new favorite phrase from Owen: "Mommy, watch this!"

 

Hard at work on Owen's first snowman!