30 Days Of Thanks

I've noticed over the past few years that a trend has been started to post daily, via your favorite social media outlet, one thing that you're thankful for. A lot of my friends have done it before so I figured I would give it a shot, too. Here goes nothing, y'all...

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November Thankfulnesses

Saturday, November 1st: Leftover Halloween Candy. Because I get to enforce Mom Tax while they're sleeping and because chocolate is my love language. My cousin Lani and I had a post-Halloween-candy discussion and we came to the same conclusion: Of all the lagniappe candy in our houses- THE CHOCOLATE STASH IS ALWAYS THE FIRST TO GO. Family genetics for the win, y'all. 

Sunday, November 2nd: Faith. It's my Safety Net. My Autocorrect. My Confident Expectation. My Compass. My Guide. My faith is the lifeline that tethers me to Jesus and I'd be hopeless without Him. 

Monday, November 3rd: Homeschool Preschool. It's a new week in my house. My oldest, Luke, (4) is at that age where he's absorbing and growing and learning and talking about absolutely everything in his great big, wide, world. It's awe inspiring to look at him and see his progress and know that even just the tiniest, littlest, smallest part of his new knowledge and the fact that he can now (almost) write his own name might just be because of me. Awesome sauce.   

Tuesday, November 4th: My Right To Vote.  Because God Bless America, that's why. 

Wednesday, November 5th: Breakfast Supper. We have a standing tradition that, before we go to church on Wednesday nights, we have supper at my Sister-in-Love's. About a year or so ago, it evolved into eating breakfast for supper with them. I grew up having breakfast suppers and I always loved them. There's something about giving yourself license to have pancakes and waffles in the same day that's somehow liberating. If you've never eaten breakfast for supper, I strongly suggest your trying it. I promise you won't regret it. 

Thursday, November 6th: Nathan's Eyebrow Raise. I caught it on camera today and I'm so glad I did.
 See what I mean?? So stinkin' cute. 

Friday, November 7th: Movie Night. Our kids are obsessed with our sofa bed. To them, hauling it out after supper on Friday nights to pile up in it with snacks (which lead to 1,372 crumbs) and blankets and every.single.pillow in our house to watch movies together is just about the coolest, bestest, funnest thing we could ever do together. Our Friday night Movie Nights are the hilight of their weeks and I'm OK with that. May our couch always be the coolest place for them to crash. 

Saturday, November 8th: Warm Krispy Kreme Donuts.  By the truckload. Hooray for shopping in Pensacola today!!! 

Sunday, November 9th: Mah Boo.  I got an awful flare up of mastitis (Sigh. Again. For like the millionth time since my oldest was born. Ugh.) and my husband, Matt, totally stepped up to the plate today to help. I woke up feeling awful, and managed to survive long enough to make it through teaching my Bible Class. I went ran home as soon as class was dismissed to dive into bed while he stayed and survived the 90 minute worship service while wrangling our three hooligans. He came home and left me (mostly) undisturbed in our bedroom under 4 blankets and a comforter and a quilt with a bottle of Tylenol, a glass of water and a Netflix marathon of Gilmore Girls while I slept and sweated and shivered my way through the worst of it. I'm so thankful for an awesome teammate like him. You are awesome, Boo!

Monday, November 10th: Netflix. Y'all, I limit my kid's TV times like the best of 'em, but LET ME TELL YOU that nothing makes a sick Momma's day quite like repeat episodes of Curious George and Strawberry Shortcake. Because today, I'm still sick and I'm in survival mode. KIDS- I'll fill your drink cups, throw a sleeve of Ritz crackers on the kitchen table, and if you need me, I'll be the one huddled in a chair under a blanket with a cup of hot tea in my hands. M'kay? Thanks, for understanding kiddos. Disturb me if there's blood or bone exposed. (Not really. But almost.)

Tuesday, November 11th: Chapstick. I must confess that I have a problem with this stuff. I am addicted to it. I've got tubes all over my house: kitchen sink window, junk drawer, nightstand, van door, diaper bag, purse, next to the sugar bowl- it's everywhere and in all the places. This time of year my lips take an especially hard beating and I am so thankful for those little tubes of Chapstick I have stashed everywhere that keep my lips from feeling like they've been burned by the fire of a thousand suns… And why is it so hard not to lick them???!

Wednesday, November 12th: Dollar Tree's Helium Balloons. Because, for $1, I have the best good behavior reward incentive EVER. We have charts up in our house, and if I catch the kids doing extraordinarily wonderful things, they'll be able to prance on over to their corkboard and color in a square on their cards. Fill in all the squares and Voila!: A trip to the Dollar Tree commences to purchase said child a $1 helium balloon or any other treat of their choosing. But 89% of the time, they're gonna choose a balloon. Thanks, Dollar Tree.

Thursday, November 13th: My Day Runner. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am in love with my planner. There's something about the paper pages, and the two-page-per-week layout that just sings to my soul. Today is grocery day so I'm cruising through my trusty paper pages menu planning for next week and starting my Thanksgiving shopping and cooking to do lists and figuring out what leftovers we are gonna eat on what days. My life is a zoo sometimes, and being able sit down and take 20 minutes each week to figure out exactly what I'm gonna feed my family for supper each night (because for some reason they have to eat every single day) has been a sanity saver. I love you, DayRunner! Thanks for helping me make sure my family doesn't starve!

Friday, November 14th: Doorstep Delivery Starbucks. Today has been a banner day, y'all because I got not one but TWO visits in with friends! This morning brought a good friend of mine from church over who just got back into town after working away for SIX MONTHS and we were able to spend the morning drinking coffee (and a chai tea latte- yum!) and talking over the audio from a Disney movie and just plain ol' catching up. Having another real, live adult in my house between the hours of 9-10:30 am was a welcome change. Hooray for adult conversation! And, as if that weren't awesome enough, this afternoon brought ANOTHER wonderful lady over from church who dropped off the cutest, most adorable, most magical Christmas jammies that she made for my three kiddos. I seriously can't wait to put them on the kids; she embroidred their names on the thermal shirts and they have the cutest matching striped pajama bottoms and I DIED when she showed them to me- but then she also brought along two cups of Starbuck's Hazelnut something-or-others and they were awesome. They tasted like sugar and cream and coffee and hazelnuts and heaven. Staying home is a blessing, and I realize that, but it does sometimes leave you starved for adult interaction. But today I got a nice break from the toddler/preschool talk (twice!) and it was so, so nice. I'm thankful for my sweet, encouraging Sisters.  

Saturday, November 15th: Date Nights. I'm serious, y'all. Matt and I hadn't had a real date night (I think) since before Nathan was born last October. I got to actually get dressed on a non-church day, put on my make up and pants with a zipper and grab a purse that DID NOT HAVE A DIAPER IN IT and go to supper with my husband. We got to eat (namely a Bloomin' Onion and a steak as big as my face) and hold hands and actually sit next to each other in a booth and not take anybody to the bathroom and unbuckle zero carseats and it was perfect and magical and just exactly what we needed. Date Nights are vital- and addicting! Now that we had a taste of being out by ourselves, I want a Date Night every weekend!   

Sunday, November 16th: My (Other) Family. We worship with an amazing group of loving, laughing, and most importantly imperfect people at Gulf Breeze Church Of Christ. Our relationships with them have become some of the closest ones we have outside of our blood relatives. My best friends were made through connections here- and I'm a better person because of these women. We've put down roots for our family here, and I couldn't think of a better group of souls seeking Jesus to do it with. 

Monday, November 17th: Eggs. Specifically when they are packed by in a box of 5 dozen. We eat a lot of eggs in our house. It's nice not to run out every time I need to scramble some. Hooray for easy egg breakfasts! 

Tuesday, November 18th: Pediatric Dentists. I took the three kids to their first dental check up today and man y'all, things have changed a ton since I was a kid! The staff and crew at our office was spectacular. All three kids got gold star reviews and bags full of treats and temporary tattoos and toothbrushes and bouncy balls that have already been lost under furniture and between car seats. I spent the nights leading up to this visit panicked about cavities and imparting crazy childhood trauma on the kids and I'm relieved to report that neither instance occurred today. Yahoo! 

Wednesday, November 19th: Vick's Liquid Inhalant. Because today is the first day that I've had to break out our humidifiers and this liquid camphor that you can add to a warm mist humidifier is THE BOMB. Both Josie and Nathan have been battling congestion and coughing and are creating amounts of mucus that previously seemed to be phyically impossible. They are sick and crabby and sleep deprived and so am I. We have both warm and cool mist humidifers running in our house right now so walking into our living room has become akin to entering a Vicks VapoSteam Rainforest. The season of sickness has begun... 

Thursday, November 20th: Cadbury And Copycat Panera Broccoli Cheddar Soup. The kids are still crazy sick and I am in serious need for self medication and this stuff was perfect. I do miss not having a calorie ridden bread bowl to eat it out of, but even still, it was mighty tasty. And when you've got two kids who are sick and the other who is cranky that Daddy is gone for a few days and will therefore not stop crying YOU EAT THE SOUP TO SUSTAIN YOURSELF. Throw in the fact that my dear friend Amy heard my plea for chocolate and Ding Dong Ditched me an entire bag of Cadbury's Christmas Chocolates and I think I just.may.survive. 

Friday, November 21st: Pizza Sister. Yes, I'm thankful for food items two days in a row. But my husband is still gone and the kids are still sick and I'm still hanging on by a thread. So takeout Hungry Howies that was picked up by my amazing Sister-in-Love, Tammy and then delivered here as she arrived to run interferience for me between the two-sick-kids-and-one-kid-who-is-still-missing-Daddy was essential to my survival today. She stayed for supper and Movie Night and I almost wept to see her leave because sometimes (lots of times) I'd be lost without Tammy. And not just because she comes over with pizza and fresh arms to hold all the clingy kids but because she loves my kids and they love her and family and sisters are amazing. ::happy sigh:: 

Saturday, November 22nd: Operation Christmas Child. Want a sure fire way to turn yourself into a blubbering fool? Buy a couple of shoebox labels, watch the OCC video with your kids, then sit back and watch your 4 year old immediately begin to run back and forth through your house gathering all his favorite toys to "share with his friends who don't have any". Kick it up a notch by going to the store with them to fill their containers and watch them talk excitedly to each other about what they are each going to buy for each of their friend's boxes. Sob quietly as your 2 year old picks out the same exact dress up jewelry that she owns so that she and her friend can match. Then have the waterworks really start when you go to the drop off site and your kids hug the collection crew and boisterously tell them all about how they want to share toys and treats and PINK UNDERWEARS with their friends far away who may not have any. Yeah, a day like that will really turn you into a hot (Mom) mess. I love my kids and their generous hearts.  

Sunday, November 23rd: The Closing Song. Because some Sundays are tougher than others and TODAY WAS ROUGH. Today was the kind of Sunday when, as the last song is being sung, you are frantically gathering all of the Bible Class papers and all the broken crayons and all the crying kids in your possession and are running to your van like a Jamacian Bobsled Team in an effort of straight up self-preservation. Days like today are exactly why we sit in the back, near the exit because there are times when you must Rise And Run as soon as that closing song begins. And there is no sweeter sound than that closing song because it means you have survived. Hallelujah. 

Monday, November 24th: My Vacuum. I do have, what some might call, an unhealthy attachment to my vacuum. But, with three kids and a dog and a cat and a husband and myself- we create a lot of dirt and crumbs and hair to pick up. I take a break from vacuuming on Sundays, so by the time Monday rolls around there are crumbs in all the corners and grit on all the floors. It always amazes me how quickly our floors can accumulate that fine layer of dirt after being left undistrurbed for a mere 36 hours. I certainly don't remember walking through every room of my house crumbling a graham cracker trail for some little lost German children, but somehow by Monday mornings my floor looks like something Hansel and Gretel could follow to find a cottage made of candy. Wait... Did I just use that comparison and thereby make myself the witch?? Hmm.... Anyway, thank you, vacuum, for keeping us from being buried alive in piles of toast crumbs and crayon shavings. 

Tuesday, November 25th: Sam's Club. Because y'all already know we buy our eggs in bulk (see November 17th's entry) but with our young family of five, we go through beaucoup flour and sugar and toilet paper and dog food, too. So hooray for Sam's Club- because where else could you buy a gallon of pancake syrup or a tub of peanut butter large enough to bathe a baby in?? 

Wednesday, November 26th: A Godly Husband. Because of Thanksgiving tomorrow, we moved our Wednesday night Bible Class to Tuesday night. And instead of having splitting into separate classes like we usually do, we all gathered in the pews and had an impromptu song service and devotional. The men all took turns leading their selections, and after Luke saw one of the big kids get up to lead a song with his Grandpa, there was nothing stopping him from wanting to get up and lead a song with Matt. My heart just about burst wide open when I got to watch my husband stand up and lead a song with my oldest son in his arms. Luke sat there singing "Burdens Are Lifted At Calvary" at the top of his lungs, and I'm pretty sure I fell in love with Matt all over again while I sang along. (Isn't it funny how parenthood makes you love your spouse more and more like that?? Maaaan.) I'm grateful to have a little boy who loves Jesus like Luke does, but I feel even more blessed to be married to a man that will guide and point him toward Christ like my Matt does. There's not better man out there y'all, and that is a fact.  

Thursday, November 27th: Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all! I'm thankful for so many things today, it seems like a trite exercise to try and list them all. We had the opportunity to double dip our tryptophan consumption today by having lunch with our church family this afternoon and then having supper tonight with some dear church friends at our house. They have a daughter that falls right between Luke and Josie so the kids all had a great time playing while the grownups got to visit and eat and actually concentrate on the conversation instead of constantly havin to worry about one of the kids knocking someone down in the church foyer. I loved today. And not just because the turkey. 

Friday, November 28th: 99¢ Poinsettias. While I've never been one to stay up all night hitting stores in the Black Friday madness, over the past few years I have gotten into a pretty reliable routine. Being an early morning gal like I am, early on Black Friday morning well before the kids wake up, I sneak out like a ninja and drive across the highway to WalMart to score my cheap Rubbermaid boxes and then slide over into the Lowes next door and scoop up a couple of their cheap poinsettias to put next to my front door. They aren't the huge ones, but they are red and festive (two of my very favorite things) and when I inevitably kill them come Spring there isn't much guilt involved because I got such a good deal on them.   

Saturday, November 29th: Leftover Pecan Pie.  Should I really need to elaborate on this one, y'all? Because really- it's lagniappe pie- what's not to be grateful for? Bonus points are applied if you eat it straight out the pie plate with a fork. Because then you don't have to clean a plate and less dishes are always a bonus blessing in my book. 

Sunday, November 30th: My Show Purse. In a rare turn of events, I went to a movie today with one of my Sister-in-Loves and my niece. It has been ages since I've gone to a movie and as I opened my contraband chocolate and Diet Coke I was ever so grateful that I'd remembered to grab my oversized 'Show Bag' when I ran out of left the house this afternoon because snacks smuggled into the movies taste so much sweeter than the overpriced array they offer to you there. Yay for a girls afternoon! And yay for Mockingjay!!! 

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On this side of November, I can look back and say that I'm glad I made myself sit down and perform this little exercise of gratitude. I've always considered myself a grateful person- I've always considered myself somebody who knows how blessed she is to live in a house with multiple bathrooms and a microwave and magic machines that clean my dishes and clothes. I live a very "first world" life, and some of my daily gratitudes reflect that. I get it.

But below that; underneath the funny little, silly little things I've recognized that I'm grateful for runs a deep river of gratitude that springs from a realization I have that makes me understand that everything I have- every blessing and gift and funny ante-dote that I've ever been given- has come from Him. 

And that's what I'm most thankful for: Jesus. Because without Him, all I'd be left with is an empty shell of gratitude. Without Jesus, my thanksgivings would be like one of those old, hollow, hand painted eggs- it would be pretty to look at, but incredibly fragile and empty on the inside. The slightest shift or movement would crack the pretty exterior of my life and before I'd know it all the "blessings" of my life would be nothing more than a pile of painted eggshells on the floor waiting to be swept up and thrown away. 

So I'm thankful to possess a strengthened form of gratitude through Christ. Because thankfulness like mine was purchased with a price: Jesus. And it's with that attitude of gratitude I'm connected to Him, tied to His mercy in ways that make my daily reachings out to Him exactly the lifeline that I need to survive. 

So now that November has drawn to a close, I'll keep up with my exercises of thankfulness with a renewed vision of just exactly how much I have to be grateful for.  My blessings have abounded this month, and I pray yours have as well. 

"Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow." -James, Jesus' brother. (James 1:17)

Life, Interrupted.

Y'all, I am frustrated. And the source of my frustration is my kids. I hate to even admit that, BUT I AM. 

At 6:22am today, I sat down again to finally try and finish the 'Happy Halloween' post I'd started writing almost three.weeks.ago. :45 seconds later, Nathan woke up screaming. 
(I still haven't finished that post. True story.)

::UPDATE- It has taken me over seven, nine, TEN DAYS to writing this. Because- Motherhood happens, y'all.::

 It was literally minutes, no- moments after I'd just settled down with my warm blanket and freshly poured coffee that it happened. I'd barely settled in my comfy chair with my laptop; I'd just exhaled as I prepared to begin to write when I heard the first stream of his cries coming from the nursery down the hall. And, as selfish and hard-hearted as it makes me sound- for the first few moments when I heard him- my raw reaction was that it frustrated me. 

I went down to his room, changed his diaper, got his blankets arranged and found his favorite doggie pacifier. I got him snuggled back into his bed, tucked him in again, and by the time I closed his door like a Mom ninja, he was back asleep like the precious angel cherub baby he is. (Because he really is- that kid is adorable.)

Looking back on it now, it seems petty and selfish to have gotten so frustrated with such an innocent interruption- the logical part of my brain knows and understands this. But, in the emotional "Borderline Burned Out Mom" part of my brain I can admit that it frustrated me because for me, in the life phase that I am in right now, one of the biggest drawbacks I deal with is the constant, never ending, unceasing feeling of interruption and incompletion because sometimes, I JUST WANNA FINISH SOMETHING. 

And if you've ever stuck around for any length of time in a house with three kids preschool aged and under, you understand that completing things (much less actually finishing them without interruptions) never happens.  A typical day for me is a 13 (sometimes 16+) hour merry-go-round of interruptions. I start and stop so many tasks and chores and projects and errands that my mind feels like I'm an internet browser with 438 open tabs. 

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For example: A MORNING IN MY HOUSE
My two bigs usually wake up before the baby, so as I'm getting them out of their jammies and into their day clothes, I gather a load of laundry to run. However, just as I'm scooping up clothes and socks and random dirty pajama tops to wash, I'm interrupted by the baby's cries from the nursery. 
I leave the laundry pile on the floor in their room and leave the bigs to finish getting (mostly) dressed by themselves to go wake up and tend to the fussy baby. As I'm changing his diaper, my two bigs are finished getting dressed with their backwards undies and mismatched tops and socks that are pulled way too high. They've now made it into the nursery for me to help my middle child fish her arms out of the correct holes in her shirt (we are still working with her on dressing herself- she's 2.5) and are now begging for drinks. 
I herd the four of us into the kitchen (while I stop at the deck door to let the dog out) to fix my soon-to-be-dehydrated bunch of children fresh cups of 2% chocolate milk (Luke), grape juice (Josie) and Vitamin D milk (Nathan). I start some water boiling for oatmeal and as I'm handing them their cups, I peek around the open door of the dishwasher that's waiting to be unloaded and spy a lone dishrag I forgot to gather last night after I wiped off the supper table. That reminds me of the laundry I started gathering before the baby woke up. 
I dash back into their bedrooms to gather their clothes and make a pass through their bathroom to gather the 291 handtowels and big towels and cold, wet washrags that have been sitting in the bottom of their tub, unrung out from their baths  last night. (Ewwww.) 
It's while I'm in there that I hear the two big kids squabbling over the recently anointed, recently elected, prime drinking cup in our house: a 3 year old, faded blue plastic souvenier cup from the Aquarium of the Americas in NOLA. I'm not kidding. There have been tears and squabbles and wars and rumors of wars and blood has nearly been shed over who's turn it is to drink out of the blessed "Fish Cup". 
If I were a sane person, I would simply hide it in the back of the cabinet or try and find a duplicate, or give it away BUT I AM NOT THAT PERSON because, for some perverse reason, I feel the need to teach them an object lesson in loving and giving and turn taking EVERY SINGLE DAY- I set my sights back to the kitchen. 
As soon as I dump the mound of laundry to be sorted on the floor in the corner of my kitchen, and let the poor dog back inside, I take a moment (for what seems the millionth time) to drag both kids into my lap and go over the high points of sharing and generosity and loving others more than we love ourselves BECAUSE JESUS WOULD WANT TO SHARE THAT RIDICULOUS FISH CUP AND I WANT MY KIDS TO WANT TO SHARE IT TOO.  
We eventually eat our breakfast. As soon as our oatmeal bowls are stashed into the sink, we start our school work and the varied and numerous array of interruptions continue on throughout our day as I try to keep up with our laundry and our housework and our meals and our hearts and our minds and our souls. I need a nap and it's not even 10am. 

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Being home with my three kids is a daunting task, and there are some days, like that day when I just want to be able to do something start-to-finish without stopping. Mornings like those leave me with the feeling that I'd be content to just get my dishwasher unloaded without having to stop 17 times in the process. 

Before I had kids, I could unload an entire dishwasher (that I'd only had to run every other day, ha!) in less than 4 minutes. Now that I've got a 3:1 child-to-Mom ratio, if I can get it unloaded by lunchtime I'm feeling pretty stinkin' good about myself. 

And I'm not saying that there aren't ways I've found to better equipped myself to help make my days run more smoothly. I've made and actually follow several routines for both beginning and ending my days. Because it's so much easier to have the kid's morning cups fixed up the night before. Not having three kids hanging on your legs in the morning begging for hydration is actually quite nice. I try and follow these routines EVERY SINGLE DAY because, when I do- I really can see a positive difference. 

I have a DayRunner that I love and adore. That bad boy stays open on top of a short bookshelf in my living room. I walk past it 372 times everyday and I would be positively lost without it because it's become my lesson planner and my calendar and my menu and my shopping list and my cleaning rotation and my routine and my brain. I would literally be lost without my trusty DayRunner. We've become organizational BFF's. Hooray for paper pages!!

But, even with all of those plans and to do lists and daily cleaning zones and routines and schedules, I can still get discouraged. There are still days that I am tired and cranky and fussy and frazzled and short with the kids and my husband. There are still moments when I long to be locked, undisturbed in a room with a blanket and a book and a cup of coffee for a couple of hours. Better yet- throw in a strong wireless signal and my Netflix cue and that may just about push me over the edge into an endless pool of bliss. For a burned out Mom like me, that situation happening would be like the equivalent of an entire lifetime of using towels straight from the dryer.

And I've had to realize something about my frazzled and frayed and burned out self. I can have all the paper pages of lists and tasks and reminders and post it notes and alarms and still feel ill-equipped to face my days and unprepared to accomplish all my responsibilities if I have not RESTED AND RECONNECTED with my Savior. 

I recently read my way through The Gospels. What I mean is, during my morning Bible studies, my plan took me straight through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John's accounts of the events in Jesus' life and ministry. And y'all, when I say it was a game changer, I am not exaggerating because after I wrapped up John I WAS CHANGED. My view of Jesus had forever been altered and I am a better person now because of it. 

I've always loved Jesus. I've always admired Him. Respected Him. Worshiped Him. But y'all, after reading through all the ins and outs and happenings of his life and ministry, I AM even more IN AWE OF HIM on levels that I never even thought about. He was a multitasker. A go-getter. An early riser. A night owl. A shepherd. A physician. A therapist. A life coach. A guide. As I read through the endless and tireless lists of places and people and situations He encountered- I couldn't (and I still don't) understand how Jesus could have physically and mentally and emotionally survived a life like his. 

For the life of me, I can't get over how unbelievably tired He must have been during his ministry. I mean, serioulsy, y'all- HE WORKED NONSTOP. Teaching. Preaching. Healing the sick. Kissing the babies. Hugging the people. Teaching The Word. I can not imagine what the pressure He endured felt like.This never ending stress, the constant pressure of the needs and demands of other people both physically and spiritually is something that, up until recently, I'd never thought about. How mentally and physically and emotionally exhausting that must have been for Him because everywhere He went- every town he visited, every shore his boat arrived on, every city he preached in- there were people waiting for Him. Because they needed Him. Wanted him. Sought after him. To heal their sick, bless their children, teach their people. I only have three little people's needs to meet every day, and even so- there are days I don't know quite how to handle it well, but Jesus did it for entire towns and cities and hillsides and regions and THE ENTIRE WORLD. Learning how to deal with stress like Jesus did is a lesson I needed to learn. 

There is one particular story that really struck me about how Jesus handled stress in His life. (Matthew Matt.4:23-25, Mark 1:21-39 **my favorite account**, and Luke 4:31-44) Jesus had just begun his ministry, and Luke's account tells us that Jesus had just been in Nazareth- his hometown- where his message was so ill received, that the people in the synagogue were in a rage against him. They were so mad they wanted to throw him off a cliff! 

Jesus left Nazareth and travelled to Capernaum, where he began teaching them in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Jesus was still a relative unknown, and while he was teaching, a man with an unclean spirit came up to him, declaring him "the Holy One of God". Jesus immediately rebuked him and the demon left. The news of this miracle got out, and pretty soon it was spreading like wildfire all over town. 

He left the synagogue and went to Peter's house where Peter's mother-in-law was sick with a debilitating fever. They immediately asked Jesus to see to her, and he healed her. While all this was happening, the people of the city and surrounding villages heard the miraculous news about the synagogue and started bringing him people to heal. Mark's account tells us that "the whole city was at their door". I can't imagine the crush of people that surrounded Peter's house, but Jesus saw to them and healed them. What a job that must have been. 

It's the end of this story that really struck me, because the VERY NEXT THING that Jesus did, after teaching and healing and preaching and caring for an entire city's worth of sick and afflicted people was to escape. "In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus go up, left the house, and went away to a secluded place, and was praying there. Simon (Peter) and his companions searched for Him; they found Him and said to Him, "Everyone is looking for You." (Mark 1:35-37) And y'all, I bet they were. 

Jesus had just spent nearly an entire night healing the sick and casting out demons, and the thing he needed most, the first thing he did to cope, the first steps he took to decompress was to rest and reconnect with His Father. He recognized where His strength came from, and He realized that He needed to lean on that Relationship to keep Him strong enough to survive the life and events and stresses of His ministry. 

I, on the other hand, have not always seen my need to rest and reconnect as being that important. When I'm stressed with the kids and need an outlet to decompress, I've been known to jump onto social media or browse delicious recipes on Pinterest or text my husband ridiculous ecards or just about anything besides what I really need to be doing to empower myself to survive this crazy life I lead: JESUS. 

Instead of logging on to Facebook or Instagram to decompress during stressful afternoons, I feel so much better when I escape into my quiet, dark bedroom, and seek Jesus' solace. The kids can knock on the door and bang on the walls for my attention just as well if I'm in there for five minutes as much as they could if I had my nose glued to my iPhone while I hid on the opposite side of a locked bathroom door. Reconnecting to Jesus is peaceful. Reconnecting to my wireless signal is playtime. And, if I'm feeling particularly stressed and void with my Instagramless moment, I can always throw a hashtag into my prayers with air quotes because Jesus will understand those, too. 

Before I became a Mom, when I'd read the story of Jesus calming the storm (found in Matt. 8, Mark 4, Luke 8) I'd always be surprised that Jesus could actually sleep through such a terrific thunderstorm such a tiny boat. Now that I'm a Mom I can totally get it BECAUSE HE MUST HAVE BEEN WORN SLAP OUT. His abilibiy to sleep through that storm, to me, is a testament to just how drained He felt. Stress exhaustion makes much, much more sense to me now that I've experienced my own versions of pressure and sleep depravation and . Because there are days when I think I could take a nap in the hull of a boat during a storm, too.

On this side of the never ending, never quitting, never-gonna-clock-out-for-the-day stream of the stress of Motherhood and all the interruptions that come along with them: I GET IT NOW. Jesus needed to reconnect and I do, too. His life, His ministry, His mission was one of constant interruptions. There was even one time when he was in the middle of preforming one miracle, was interrupted- preformed a second- then went back and completed the first miracle that he'd started. (Matt. 9, Mark 5, Luke 8) And I thought my struggle to complete a full circut of laundry from hamper to closet was tough. Mercy, y'all! Jesus was the Master multitasker.

And that's my takeaway. I used to live an uninterrupted life. I used to be able to start and finish tasks. BUT THEN I HAD KIDS. And now, my life is different. The value of my life is no longer based on starting and finishing tasks. It's surrounded by three precious little interruptiosn and the duties I've been given to raise them. I can take steps and measures to ensure that my waking hours are as productive and fruitful as possible, but I have to let go of the comparision of what my life used to be like to what it is now. Because there is no way I would ever want to go back to my 100%-completed-to-do-list, perfectly-folded-towel-and-washrag, spoiled-milk-sippy-cupless life. Because my kids are blessed messes. I may be tired, and my days may be long, and I may not get to wash my hair everyday, but it's the best kind of exhausted I could ever think to be.  

Jesus knew the value of taking time to himself to rest and reconnect when He was stressed. And it's time I took that lesson to heart, too.  

I Will Be Aretha Franklin This Winter

The first day you have to break out the family's humidifiers is always a depressing one, don'tcha think?? 

It means that you've got croup and congestion and runny noses and fussy babies and earaches and long nights filled with Vicks Vapor Rub smear downs and hallway hoverings while you try and discern which of your children's rooms the last croupy cough came from. 

It's the season of lying awake listening for phantom baby cries and cleaning the pharmacy shelves of every single decongestant and essential oil and camphor mist and Vapor Rub and box of Kleenex they have to offer. 

If you're like me and are dealing with a sick (or in my case, TWO sick kids), I salute you. I lift my extra cup of coffee to you as I begin to Lysol all the things and wipe all the noses and suck out all the sinuses and pray that my one remaining healthy child doesn't succumb to the Mucus Monster that rears it's ugly head in my house each winter.

But I've got good news, y'all, because we will survive this season, friends. 
WE WILL SURVIVE. 

The Fastest, Bestest 12 Months Of My Life

Happy 1st Birthday, Nathan!

(Photo credit goes to my awesome BIL Clarence. Our family gatherings would never be properly documented were it not for him. Also, for the future Josie who will read this someday and potentially accost me for not including her in the picture: You were there, Sis. I promise. You were just glued to your Aunt Tammy's lap and would not budge to sing and blow out the candles with Nathan. So yes, you were there, even if you weren't in the picture. Booyah.)  

Nathan, right now- you are sleeping in your crib, snuggled in your favorite blue Bundy blanket, wrapped in the quilt made by your MawMaw Valerie and squished next to the Lamby that your big brother bequeathed to you a few months back. If I were to judge the amount of people that love you just by the contents of your crib alone, it would be an easy call to make to say that there are plenty of people around who just can't get enough of you.

But it's bigger than that. 

There are currently 12 cups of variously tinted shades of buttercream icing sitting in our icebox waiting to be spread on top of the soon-to-be-baked cakes for your party on Saturday. Just about every relative you have and friend that you've made is going to be making their way (Some from four states away!) to our house for your party tomorrow. There are presents stashed in closets and in the back of my van and in bags that will certainly more than cover the top of the fireplace hearth on Saturday. If I were to judge the amount of love that people have for you just by the amount of birthday party preparations that are currently taking place, it would be an easy call to make to say that we love you.

But it's bigger than that, too.  

Nathan, I've been trying to write this post for two weeks now. I've never seemed to be able to get much farther than past that first sentence without welling up, breaking down into a ball of tears, and closing my laptop. I can't seem to write you this amazing, wonderful, fabulous HBD letter without crying because I just can't imagine our lives without you. 

It's been a year since you turned us into a family of five and my days have never been better. I've blossomed and bloomed and been blown away by the changes that you've made in our family. And, when I think about how we weren't trying to get pregnant when God decided to bless us with you- I'm overcome with thankfulness because we have you and sadness that we almost didn't. I'm in awe of the plan God put into place by blessing us with you, our very own "Bonus Baby". We may not have been expecting you, but for every second that we've know about you- every single moment since we saw that little pink plus sign on our bathroom counter- WE HAVE WANTED YOU. You completed our family in ways that we couldn't even imagine. 

You have come into our lives and blessed us beyond measure in more ways that I can even fathom. I can't talk to you yet about what my pregnancy was like with you because honestly, I'm not ready. It was a scary, uncertain, and at moments paralyzing time for us. It literally brought me to my knees and shook me to my core as a parent, as a child and as a person. It was the most stressful, fearful, worried time of my life- but I am so glad it happened. Because people don't always grow when life is easy. And as much as I grew in pounds and inches while I was pregnant with you, I grew even more in God's grace and favor. You were growing inside of me while I was growing inside of Him.

It's through that time that my relationship relationship with Jesus got even deeper. He carried me while I was carrying you. He held my hand (and your Dad's) through all the extra high risk doctors and ultrasounds and blood work and genetic counselors. As we went forward after church one Sunday and asked the congregation to lift us up as we prepared for news and waited for answers. As I foolishly Googled every possible genetic abnormality and accompanying physical and mental handicaps associated with them. Jesus was with me as I mentally renovated our house to make it handicap accessible and as I installed a wheelchair ramp into our front door. At the end of all of things, we ended up not needing to call that contractor about that ramp installation, but I'm a stronger/better/wiser Mom and wife and woman because of the journey. One day I'll tell you the rest of the story. But not today. Right now, I want to put the Kleenex away and break out the balloons. 

So for now, I'm going to celebrate you. I'm going to rejoice in the extra gallon of Vitamin D milk I get to finally see in our icebox again. And in the 32 baby wipes I found strewn across the living room floor late last night with the empty Huggies box beside them. I'm going to laugh at the dog's turned over water bowls. And the clementine I pulled out the fruit drawer this morning for your Dad's lunch that had a conspicuously Nathan-sized hole in the rind where someone's tiny teeth had recently been. (By the way, I finished peeling it, stuck it in a Ziplock and we are gonna eat it for breakfast anyway.) I'm going to celebrate the fact that I'm once again doing visual scans of surfaces and floors and rooms looking for potential infant choking hazards. (How did we acquire so many SMALL TOYS?!) I'm so excited that I get to see another baby learn to walk. And talk. And do that adorably cute spider/crab crawl across our living room rug again. I can't wait to have more tiny teeth marks on the two unprotected side bars of the nursery crib or see those teeny smeared handprints on the bottom window panes of our French doors. 

You're ONE YEAR OLD NOW, and while it's been the busiest, blurriest, fastest, most whirlwind 12 months of my memory- they have been the best times of my life. Spending my days with you and your brother and your sister are honestly the most fun I've ever had in all my born days.   

You're the biggest bonus blessing in my life, Nathan. You're the best gift I've ever gotten that I never even knew to ask for. God blessed us so much with our surprise in you, my sweet fella. I'll forever be grateful to Him for that.  

Don't ever forget that Momma loves you heaps and gobs and bodacious amounts. 
And I always will. 

"Let the wild rumpus start!" Maurice Sendak

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A Dave Ramsey Renovation

So, as many of y'all know, a few months ago, this happened: 

(Yep, that's probably gonna have to be replaced.)

And, as house fires go, ours really wasn't that bad. 

The morning after the fire, I quickly snapped some pictures of the kitchen's damage and started to feel pretty good about what my clean up process would entail. It didn't look awful, so I figured I would grab a big bucket of soapy water, a couple of old rags and things would be good as new before lunchtime. 

I COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG, y'all.

See what I mean? It doesn't look awful and burned out and crumbling. There's some cabinet door damage above the microwave, but everything else *looks* pretty fine, right?

Another BEFORE shot of my kitchen, from standing in my laundry room/garage entrance doorway. Excuse the mess. I'd just had a fire, ya know.

I happily filled my mop bucket with some sudsy water, and while the sink was running, I noticed my kitchen window sill had some flaked ash on it. 

It didn't seem major, so I quickly wiped it off and plopped my bucket of suds down by my breakfast nook table so I could get that wiped off before we ate breakfast that morning. (We had donuts. And, over the course of the next few months- we ate a LOT of them. The kids didn't hate it.)

That's when I noticed the flaked ash had also settled on the mini blinds in our breakfast nook. 

UGH. I was so aggravated that I didn't think about cleaning into all those little nooks and crannies. Sheesh. But- in my mind at that point- my clean up plan was still manageable. Long and tedious, but manageable. 

Then I swiped my hand across my table top. And my vision blurred. And my heart started to pound. And I needed to find a paper bag to breathe into. Because I realized then that this thin layer of flaked ash was on EVERY SURFACE AND EVERY CEILING AND EVERY WALL AND EVERY THING OF MY HOUSE. 

I snapped this picture seconds before I decided to put a call into my homeowner's insurance and submit a claim to help me with the clean up. I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to get everything cleaned by myself and I figured the insurance company could help us get in contact with someone who could professionally clean and remove the soot and ash to keep our house from becoming a melted-and-burned-plastic toxic wasteland. 

The need to breathe into a paper bag became more and more intense as I started to walk into the rooms and swipe my hands across furniture and walls and toys and every.single.time my hands kept coming up grey. 

I had ash on the kids' bedding. And in Nathan's crib. And on every single popcorn ceiling in our house. Our A/C was running at the time of the fire so the unit pulled the smoke from the kitchen, into the ductwork and then pushed it out into every bedroom and closet and bathroom and time out corner we had under our roof.

I dialed the 800 number on our policy and started ugly crying to every single person I was transferred to. Bless the sweet people at Frontline Insurance Company. Our claim representative, Tracee, was just about the sweetest gal on the planet. I ugly cried/hyperventilated on the phone to her for about 20 minutes that first day as I had to recount the story of the fire and then completely melt down to her when I realized that my kids were currently walking around on melted plastic soot covered floors. 

She dispatched a crew of professional fire restoration specialists who arrived THAT DAY. PuroClean came, surveyed the damage and got a game plan in place. The dirty AC ductwork system is one factor I hadn't thought about before they came. The restoration contractor started talking about soot dispersion rates and inhalation risks and I got tunnel vision. I escaped to a soot free playdate at a local park with my kids where we breathed in fresh, ash free air while they got started on the clean up. 

We got back less than three hours later and my kitchen looked like this:

 (I had another paper bag moment.)

I don't know how they did it, but in less time that it takes me to bake a pan of homemade lasagna, those three guys tore apart my kitchen. They took down an entire bank of cabinets, exposing a ton of burned wood behind the uppers (which was thankfully just done to the wood of the cabinets and not to the walls), scraped my entire kitchen and breakfast nook ceilings and moved 80% of my furniture from the kitchen and into my living room. 

I couldn't believe how quickly they worked. (It was like they were professionals and they did this every day for a living or something.) I went to bed that night realizing my house looked drastically different already. I didn't realize at the time this was just the first phase of many more furniture shuffled, plastic draped, dust covered days that were ahead of us.

At first, looking into my hodge podged living room like this made me itch a little. If I'd only known then how much worse it was going to get before it got better. I had no idea how NOT AWFUL this set up actually was... 

Luke walked in and said "Momma! What has happened in here?!" 

Do y'all see that red box/fan looking thing on the floor? IT ROCKS. 

It's called an Air Scrubber and it became my post fire BFF. The contractors ran two of them night and day while they cleaned and y'all- my house never smelled better. I'm pretty sure the air circulating my rooms smelled better than the break room at a Downy factory. 

Seriously, my air has never been fresh like that before. I need one of these in my life. I may have joked with the guys about trying to stash one of them away while they were packing up the trucks to leave on their last day. (But not really, because they were kinda loud, and I'm pretty certain those cost more than the van that's currently sitting inside my garage.)

After the cleaning was complete, it was time to start thinking about the renovation. At that point, we hadn't heard from the insurance company yet so we weren't really sure what we were going to be able to afford do but we knew we needed to get some sort of plan in place so we could get the ball rolling once we got final word from our claim. 

 One of my friends, Amanda, who is an amazing interior designer came over one afternoon to help me pick out cabinet colors and wall colors and countertop colors and backsplash tile options and lights and accents and PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING that I couldn't do by myself without some major waffling and a huge dose of smelling salts. (Because Pinterest can only take you so far by yourself, y'all.) 

Between Amanda's amazing recommendations and my text-versations with another interior designer friend of mine Dusti about exactly how to use a can of spray paint- I would have been as lost as a goose in a hailstorm. For sure.

Here was our "The Sky Is The Limit, Paint All The Things All The Colors" color scheme. 

Then, Matt and I heard from the insurance company and our plans became drastically more realistic. (We weren't going to be painting all the things.)  

Here is our "Dave Ramsey Renovation" scheme. Because we paid for all of our repairs and appliances and post fire renovations in cold, hard cash from the insurance company and our savings account, I like this color scheme MUCH BETTER. (And our bank account does, too.) I'd like to have the kids smear peanut butter and jelly onto cabinets that are paid for, ya know what I mean? 

A few weeks passed, and the first piece of the puzzle was delivered: our brand spankin'  new stove:

(Yes, he is wearing a fire man rain jacket. Because, why not?)

(I snapped this one to send to our insurance representative, Tracee to tell her thanks for pulling some strings to get us our stove money a little faster. We love her!)

I honestly never thought I could love a kitchen appliance. But, after going for a few weeks without a working stove- I LOVE A KITCHEN APPLIANCE. 

During our no-stove interum period, I got lots of good use out of our crockpots, my toaster oven, and my $9.97 Black Friday WalMart griddle. (Seriously, I bought that thing a few years ago and I honestly don't know how I ever cooked pancakes or egg-in-a-nests without it. Man! All those wasted years trying to cook one or two pancakes at a time in my small skillet. Mercy!)  

We got our stove installed and then got to work scheduling contractors to come and give us bids on the painting/cabinet work/texturing that we needed to have done. We worked numbers for just about every possible renovation scenario imaginable. There were cabinet refinishers, cabinet reFACEers, and new cabinet installers who came by to give us (shockingly high) estimates. We had several paint contractors come by to give us their quotes on the refinishing and texture work that we needed to have done on our walls and ceiling. 

At the end of the day, we were blessed with a recommendation from a friend to a cabinet contractor that is a member of the Church of Christ out in Pensacola. Their estimate was much, much less than the other renovation options that we had pursued. So, new cabinets were going to go in!

We also had to decide what we were going to do about our backsplash tiles. The microwave/stove hood unit that was installed before the fire was waaaaaaaay too low. To get our new cabinets to code, we needed to shorten the upper cabinet to 12" and raise the top of the microhood to a 30" minimum from the range surface. Doing so would leave several gaping holes in the backsplash tile directly above the stove.

(See? Ain't it purdy?) 

And, I realize that big holes above your stove is completely a "First World" problem, but if we were going to be renovating the kitchen for the ONLY TIME EVER in the history of our bank accounts, I wanted to try and come up with a cost effective plan to either hide the holes or completely eliminate that problem. 

Our solution: DON'T HAVE A BACKSPLASH. 

Y'all- have you walked down the aisles at Lowe's or Home Depot lately? Backsplash tiles are crazy expensive. Replacing our backsplash with tiles similar to the ones that we previously had would've cost us $10-$12 a square foot. And we have almost 50 square feet of backsplash tile to install in our space. Even when I found the perfect white subway tiles that I instantly fell in love with at less than $4 a square foot, our budget still just wasn't going to support that kind of addition. 

So, we decided to just demo the old backsplash ourselves (Yay for husband and wife demo day date!) along with the rest of the kitchen cabinets and have our contractor just skim and texture over the walls above our countertops before he painted it. We chose a wipeable/washable texture and finish for our paints so clean up hasn't been bad AT ALL when I've gotten flour or spaghetti sauce drips on it. 

We have plans to continue to save for some future backsplash tile installation (along with a new vehicle and a mini Disney vacation) but, in the mean time, I think my kitchen looks just as fantastic without having those expensive tiles above my countertop. 

At this point in the renovation, I escaped from the kitchen-less house with the three kids for a week while the contractors were here scraping and sanding and texturing and making about a 3.75 inch of fine drywall dust on every surface of my house. 

They were amazing contractors, they really were. They taped off the kitchen doorways and sealed in as much of the mess as possible, but even still- that fine, powdery dust settled in a thin, ghostlike layer on top of absolutely everything in the house. Truth be told, even now- a few weeks later- I'm still swiping up a fine layer of dust when I wipe down the furniture and tables. So, if you're ever in the neighborhood and want to come by, you are more than welcome to come write your name in the settled dust on my coffee table. (True story. I love company.)

This is what happened while we were gone. 

We got back home from our week at the Louisiana Grandparent Circuit (The kids had a blast! I need to blog about it- there was fishing and eating and playing and cousins and a never ending hunt for bouncy balls at my inlove's house after Luke bounces them underneath every dark, heavy piece of furniture they own. Ask them about it. It's fuuuuun stuff.) to a freshly painted but EMPTY kitchen (pictured above), and a living room that looked like this: 

 Y'all. Living like this was SO MUCH WORSE than during the clean-up-anti-soot phase. Bring on the paper bags for real this time.

So, if you ever want to find out just how well you handle stress and mess in your life- just live like squatters in a house with three kids in a dwelling without a kitchen for 4 days. I may have failed this real-life stress test in the beginning. BIG TIME. 

You get a real glimpse at what really matters, at how "First World" your life really is when washing your dishes in your bathtub makes you groan. I was inwardly complaining to myself one morning as I washed out my coffee cup in the kid's tub when I had to stop and make myself realize how blessed I really was in my current situation. I'd recently read this article, and- after pondering on her words for about the 17,385th time, I realized how fortunate I really was. Even if I was living in a house without a stove. 

I had hot, fresh, running water at my immediate disposal. I was on my knees in front of a bathtub in the SECOND bathroom of my house washing one of 472 cups we have that are devoted to consuming only ONE TYPE of beverage. I was complaining to myself because I had to walk tens of feet into my kitchen with a working icebox to take out my half and half to pour into my automatically brewed coffee. 

God humbled me that morning, and for the rest of our insane eating-like-vagabonds-and-tripping-over-the-highchair-in-the-middle-of-the-living-room kinda days that we spent camped out in our living room, I didn't complain. 

And then one day, it happened. One glorious morning at 8:17am, men came to my house with a truckload of cabinets, just for ME. It was like Christmas in adult form. I didn't want to be that homeowner who wanted them to stop during every single step of the process so I could take pictures, so I didn't. I just went full-out 007 on them during their 14 second trips into the garage to cut trim and grabbed the fastest pictures ever taken. And here are the two sneaky "I'm gonna be like James Bond" shots that I got. Enjoy.

They never saw me coming. Thankfully.

Even without a sink. Or a stove. Or a light. Or a microwave. This was the most wonderful, grateful, blessed feeling I've ever had. And boy, did that feeling get even more powerful as the rest of the kitchen came together. 

Y'all! I can't even wait to upload the rest of the pictures.

I put this guy to work holding a box down while I was unloading dishes and spices and cups and plates and saucers the very SECOND the contractors had pulled out the driveway that day. Momma was READY to get her kitchen put back together. 

These two also got in on the action that day. Luke was more interested in building mountains out of the packing paper and empty cardboard boxes and Josie was more interested in taking the lids off the sprinkle containers she found and eating the sugar she found inside them straight from the tap. 

And then, before I even got to cook my first meal in my swanky new kitchen, this happened the next day instead:

So yeah, at that point, I'd say it was officially broken in. 

But the day after that, Josie and I really broke it in with a big ol' pot of Chicken and 

Dumplin's. 

My friend Sara and her family are missionaries in Japan. I was telling her about fixing supper in my new kitchen and I realized that she has never eaten C&D. Y'all. I can assure you that the first meal I fix for her as soon as they are back in the states from Japan will be this. (Unless she'd rather Red Beans and Rice, of course.)

If y'all could see like three inches on the outside of that frame, you'd probably notice a sink full of dirty dishes and a spilled cup of milk dripping onto the floor. Now that I think about it, I probably shoulda tried to get the mess into the shot, too. 

 Josie was really excited to help me roll out the dumplin's. And I'm pretty sure that's probably because "helping Mom" meant she had a prime raw-dough-swiping position. I can't say I blame her logic. 

In my humble opinion, the amount of dumplin's Betty Crocker Cookbook's tells you to fix is NEVER ENOUGH- so we triple it. Because that's how we roll, y'all.

Things still aren't completely finished. There are no pictures on the walls and the breakfast nook windows still don't have the blinds in them. (But, silver lining bonus: SO MUCH LIGHT!) Even still- functionally, it is complete and I absolutely love it. 

I'm still moving stuff around and rearranging shelves (for like the bajillionth time this week) and forgetting where I store the cutting boards and finagling just the right saucepan/skillet/pot lid ratio in my pot drawers. I say thankful prayers every morning as I fill up my new deeeeeeeep sink full of soapy water. I am grateful every time I wipe off my new Formica-fake-granite countertops. I feel blessed every time I switch on my ceiling fan or fancy new Pinterest inspired spray painted light above my breakfast nook table. 

I spruced up my kitchen one morning last week and shooed the kids into the living room after breakfast and school was over to play with their 4,071 piece bag of blocks so I could take some pictures of the finished kitchen to share with y'all. 

I love my new kitchen, and I hope y'all do, too. 

(And, if you're ever in the neighborhood and want to come over and dig through my cabinets or open and close my pot drawers repeatedly or run a humongous tub full of soapy water in my new sink- COME ON OVER! I'll brew us some coffee!)

Ta-Daaaaah! 

Our breakfast nook. 
All our meals happen here. As does school. And art projects. And PlayDoh. And some pretty intense games of Minnie Mouse Bow Bingo.

The main view of our kitchen, standing sort of by the corner of the pantry door. 

The dishwasher/cabinet that holds coffee cups and drinking glasses and a million mismatched tiny plastic cups. (How did we acquire so many kid's cups, y'all???)

At 5:11am, this is the most vital area of my kitchen. My friend Olivia brought me back my teacup and saucer from a deployment she made to Germany a few years ago. My beehive sugar bowl was from my Grammy Elaine's house. I love it so much- I'm on the hunt for some fabric to coordinate so I can try to sew a valance or dish towel or something to put up in my kitchen because how cute are bees?! My cutting board was my birthday present this year.I found a gal's shop on Etsy who does personalized glass cutting boards and I customized one with a scripture that, to me, is the motto of my life. And my new kitchen! 

(By the way, she didn't ask me to send y'all a link to her site. I just loved her, and her business- she donates 10% of her proceeds to an organization that helps victims of human trafficking- and I really love my cutting board. I'm dying to get one for everyone I know.)   

Kitchen sink. Complete with childproof locks. Because y'all- toddlers happen.

More sink! 

This is, in my opinion, the deepest skin ever created. It's a whole three INCHES deeper than my old sink and I'm pretty sure Josie could bathe in it. (And she maybe has already had to.)

 View from the sink looking left. Plates go in the upper cabinet next to the sink, then it's Tupperwear (Who am I kidding- it's mostly lagniappe butter tubs along with cottage cheese and yogurt containers) and then spices go next to the stove. 

Work space, y'all! Along with my string light/Mason jar combo. MY FAVORITE THING EVER. (And yes, I may bribe my kids with candy corn pumpkins every now and then.) 

Thank you, Sears, for having a spectacular sale when I needed a new stove! It's got five burners on the top so I can put my tea kettle on the middle back eye and keep the water hot while I drink cup after cup after cup of hot tea this winter. (Or coffee- because I wouldn't want to hurt either of their feelings by playing favorites.) 

Also- families of three or more: GET A TOASTER OVEN. I got one for Christmas last year and it has been a game changer. I can fix over SIX SLICES of toast. At once. My life has been forever changed for the better. Thank you, Hamilton Beach. 

 My ice box and pantry. 
(And no, I wasn't going to give y'all a shot of the open pantry. Because nobody needs to know just how many bags of Community Dark Roast I store in there.) 

One word: MAGNETS. 

My friends and family know how much I love magnets so they'll sometimes add to my collection for me. My Mom just went on a trip to Natchez, MS and brought me back an awesome Gone With The Wind magnet. I also have a magnet I got from the last restaurant we ate at the night before Nathan was born. (Because I'm a sappy sentimental fool that way.)

Also- the first addition to the kitchen: A brand new fire extinguisher. That I have been shaking like every.single.day. Just in case. 

Another view from the breakfast nook looking toward the pantry and ice box. If you take a left right at that red stool, you'll walk into our dining room. 

A view standing at the pantry door of our breakfast nook. Check out my awesome spray painted Pinterest creation. I really love my light, y'all!

And this is Nathan's favorite part of the kitchen: the pot drawers. I didn't have these before, and I've gotta say- I love them as much as he does, too. I have so much more usable storage than I did before. That bottom drawer has an 8 qt. crockpot inside! Mind boggling, right?!?! 

Also- check out his thighs. They are down right bite-able, aren't they? Man, he's a cute kid. (In my own opinion, anyway.)

Now that you've seen the fancy schmancy "perfectly cleaned kitchen" pictures, I thought I'd throw in a couple of "this is how my kitchen really looks on any given morning" shots, too. 

Just so y'all know I'm keepin' it real.

 THIS IS MY REALITY.

Lagniappe dishes left to dry from supper the night before. 

We'd just had two of my sister's in love over with their crews for spaghetti the night before they left for their Disney cruise. 

I could just about polish my cooktop every hour, on the hour. (How does it get so dirty so quickly?!) BTW- That stovetop cleaner to the right is the BOMB, y'all. 

 A mom's life, in picture form.

A cold cup of coffee she never got around to drinking that was stirred with an iced tea spoon because all of both the soup and cereal spoons are dirty. And supplies to bandage her freshly gouged hand after she cut it coring an apple for her oldest son with her brand new post-fire replaced knife set. (PSA: Brand new knives are REALLY SHARP, y'all.)

 Dishes and school work and coloring pages. 
All three are present on my table at any given moment during the day. Ring my doorbell unannounced and you can see for yourself. 

Y'all. I almost couldn't post this one. 

Bottles of Cokes from Luke's birthday party TWO WEEKS AGO that we will never drink but I haven't gotten around to pouring out and recycling. Breakfast condiments and a dishwasher FULL TO THE TOP of clean dishes that need to be put away. Also, an open cabinet door because, as much as I know it drives my husband crazy, I can never remember to close an open cabinet door. Or the microwave. It's an illness. 

How my sink really looks. Half the time I forget to drain the water and it gets cold. The other half I forget to turn off the faucet and the bubbles rise above to cover the top of the faucet. It's a 50/50 shot either way.

Last shot of the post. This'll be my favorite part of my kitchen because it's evidence of who I get to cook for: MY FAMILY. My kitchen may be a mess, and those pictures on the wall may not get hung tomorrow, but to me- it's still perfect just the way it is. 

There will be (and already has been) jelly smeared on the cabinet doors. Water will overflow the sink and somebody is gonna drop a cup of chocolate milk onto the floor any second now. 

But kitchens are for living. And living is messy business. Especially when you've got three little ones you're living with. I'm gonna treasure my new kitchen. I'm gonna polish my new stovetop like a maniac. I'm gonna wipe off the cabinet doors like I'm the Karate Kid. And I'll scrub out the crusty bits of dried cereal off the table tops. I'll wipe down the syrup smudges off the breakfast nook chairs. EVENTUALLY.

 But, if you drop by sometime and notice that there's a coffee ring on the countertop or crushed Cheerios on the floor or if the chairs feel a bit sticky- it's because we've been living in our new kitchen. Because that's what kitchens are for. 

Now get in your car and come over for coffee, wouldya! 

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