Turning Over A New Leaf. (Pun intended.)

Ok, BUT FOR REAL- there are absolutely zero oak shoots/renegade liriope/dollar weed to be found in my front yard's flowerbeds, y'all. That hasn't happened since the summer before Luke was born. (Yikes. I KNOW.) 

Having all the babies and subsequent toddlers and then inquisitive preschoolers (and a truckload of neglect, let's be honest) has kept me out of my flowerbeds for over six years. Have you ever tried to weed things while your youngest kid cries in his exersaucer, your middle toddles just well enough to smash her face on the sidewalk every 7 seconds and scream like she's lost a limb and your oldest tries to cut his fingers off with the pruning sheers?? Mercy sakes alive. IT WAS NOT HAPPENING.

 But now that I can trust all the kids not to eat fertilizer or impale themselves with garden spades or wander into the street- I'M BACK, BABY. I started clearing out some of my front flowerbeds a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to stop. My Mom came last weekend and we were able to get into even more of my poor, neglected beds (and get soaked to the bone during a morning working through 1" of rain BECAUSE WE ARE STUBBORN LIKE THAT) and once this week got underway I've powered through the last two areas I needed to clean out by myself. (With more of the three kid's "help" OF COURSE.)

We've discovered a garden snake's nest complete with 8 unhatched eggs that we can't wait to watch hatch, pulled up enough dollar weed to fill up 614 trash cans, disturbed approximately 17,482 earthworms and spiders, accidentally chopped one other poor garden snake in half, pulled our fingernails back opening 21 bags of mulch (It never goes as far as you'd think it should. 2 cubic feet is tiny!) and ripped out the knee of my very favorite pair of old jeans. I'm currently Pinteresting DIY patches. 

I haven't worked outside this much in YEARS. (Don't judge.) My Mom loves her yard and toils endlessly in her beds to keep them looking like the cover of a Southern Living magazine.FOR REAL. They are beautiful and amazing and so perfect people drive out to my parent's house to have their pictures taken around them. She puts me to shame. I'm not there by a long shot, but I will say it feels good to look outside and see the results of my hard work.

 I love you, sweet Summer Time! 

::throws her hands in the air::

When my oldest was a toddler, all his dresser drawers were labeled. He had separate places for socks and shorts and shirts and pants and jammies. I PRINTED PICTURES OF THE ITEMS AND TAPED THEM TO HIS DRAWER FRONTS. Putting laundry away was like an episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I may have sung songs about it. It was insane. I was insane. It was my OCD/Type A Mother's dream. 

Fast forward six years and two more kids later and I've thrown up my hands on it all. As long as the clean clothes are in the dresser, the drawers can still relatively shut and the dirties (AND ONLY THE DIRTIES. Washing a shirt that's still folded makes me want to call down fire from heaven.) end up in the hamper, I'm like LIVE AND LET LIVE. Hakuna matata, perfectly folded pajamas. I'm just trying to keep everyone alive until bedtime. INCLUDING MYSELF. 

"Oh, you need clean undies?? You better get to diggin'. Check the back of your bottom drawer 'cause I'm pretty sure you've shoved a pair back there at some point. God gives us all trials and refining fires. THAT is your needle and THAT is your haystack. May the odds be ever in your favor and may God guide you on your journey." 

One day, they might care more about specific drawers for specific items but TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY. Until then, I'll just drink more coffee to suppress the panicky feelings I get when I see the amalgamations they call their dresser drawers. I'm currently only up to 7 cups a day. Bless it. 

Thanks for stopping by, y'all! ~Katie