Finding myself through the darkness

 



I have to admit that I've been hiding from you. 

Yep--you, with the face and the eyes and whatnot.

A week ago, I came home from a dreamy, long-anticipated week-long beach vacation with my family.  In the midst of my pre-vacay cleaning/prepping/packing frenzy, I {intended} to schedule three blog posts to release during the week I would be gone.  My vacation to-do lists are usually endless, and of course I did not get to do any blogging before our trip.  Heck--I didn't even bother to shave my legs.

It's okay--I thought.  I can always take a week off and get right back to it. No harm, no foul.

We had such a great time on vacation that we extended it by a day, and then we went to a birthday party the day after we returned.  I was exhausted, and a week away from the blog quickly became two.

{Insert neurotic inner dialogue about why I was suddenly quitting the blog.}

Peace in the eye of the hurricane {or grace at the peak of frustration}

I wrote this post on Wednesday evening {7/15/15}, while cooking dinner... in the middle of a dramatic hormonal breakdown.  We all spaz out from time to time.  I hope someone else finds comfort in knowing that it's okay to kirk out, just as it is okay to give yourself a pass.
*****

 

 

I am smack dab in the middle of one of THOSE days... if you know what I mean.

Nothing catastrophic has happened, and I've been counting blessings the whole way, believe that.

It's not what I would call a BAD day.  It's been quite the opposite, really.  I am just--frustrated.

Frustrated with the doctor who spent a good hour trying to convince me that I didn't have strep throat (which I've probably had half a dozen times in my life and could practically diagnose myself, WebMD be damned), just because the rapid strep test came back negative--which has always been my experience. 

Frustrated with the 2 loaves of banana bread that I found 4 perfectly ripe bananas at the store for, and dumped my last 4 cups of flour into... which wound up burnt.

Frustrated with my general lack of energy (courtesy of the aforementioned strep throat).

Frustrated that this is one of those days when I have to tell my kids something several times before they tune me in to listen.

Frustrated because I've been sweating like a beast for at least three days now, and it's been about that long since I last had a shower.

Frustrated because we are leaving for the longest vacation we've ever taken as a family--next week--and I am totally overwhelmed with what I want to accomplish around the house before Sunday.

Frustrated because the everyday things just feel so difficult to get through sometimes.

• The dishes are piling up again (didn't I just wash them yesterday?).
• It's taking SO long to prepare this meal.  THIS one, the one I've made at least a hundred times--the one I could probably throw together in my sleep.
• It's taken me three days to fold and put away one load of laundry.
• Sweet Baby K dumped out the crayon box... the toy box... the pan lids... my lipsticks... for the umpteenth time.
• {insert your own ridiculousness here}

I finally broke down because, I'm really just frustrated with myself and the way I am handling--or not handling--this day--which has not been a bad day, I'll remind you.

In the midst of my tears I can see my O-boy.  The one I was just yelling at {not the best idea when you have strep throat, in case you were wondering} for doing something I've repeatedly asked him not to do.  He slowly approaches me and, in that sweet, small voice, says:

"I know sometimes things are hard to do, but sometimes all you can do is your best."

And I can't even fathom how he could possibly know how much I needed to hear that in this very moment, because I'm not really talking anymore at this point.  Just crying.

The Princess asked if I was cutting onions.  I said Yes, Mommy's cutting onions.

I can't help but to thank God for not nagging me or yelling at me, like I do with my kids sometimes.  He always speaks in a sweet, small voice--small, but full of grace enough for me, and enough left to share with my kids... and even enough for myself.

Chore Charts and Veggie Farts (because my rhymes are *tight*)



 

I probably should have named this blog Chore Charts and Veggie Farts, because that basically sums up my life right now.

Hindsight is 20/20, ain't it?

Every once in a while, I take the easy route while cooking dinner and skip the veggie.  Too many skips is murdah on the digestive system, let me tell ya.  Help me, Dulcolax.

Welp, I can also tell you that suddenly eating all the veggies also blows...

{I know you see what I did there, and now you can't un-see it, can you?}

My older kids are at the age (7 & 8) where they are totally into helping out.  Just the other day, my Princess complained that she hasn't had a chance to learn how to mop the floor. 

What Princess wants, Princess gets, baby.

Is your home a haven?

 source



This weekend, my mom and I took my oldest two to visit her aunt, who is nearly 90 years old, and some other family members.  The trip down (and back) was nearly four hours long, and much too long a trip for Sweet Baby K, who stayed home with his daddy. 

I almost didn't go because K had a fever on Friday, but my husband insisted that we go and spend some time with relatives.  He is a loving father of four, and more than capable of caring for a sick baby. 

From the moment we arrived at my aunt's house, I was blown away by how comfortable my kids felt talking to everyone, most of whom they had never met.  O-boy and the Princess had a blast running along the countryside, blowing bubbles and playing with their cousins.  By the end of our trip, they became fascinated with my great aunt's house--the house her husband (God rest his soul) built many years ago.  O-boy was particularly intrigued, and eager to explore the grounds.

Aunt:  Where are you going?
O-boy:  To look around inside your house.
Aunt:  I don't think you should do that without asking first.
Me:  If you wander around someone's house without asking, it's impolite, and called snooping.  But if you want to see the house, then you can ask for a house tour.
O-boy:  Can I please have a house tour?
Aunt:  Well then.... come on!



My aunt showed us around her house, some places I had never seen before.  I thought about how she and my great uncle, and their four children all lived in the house together.  I imagined the good, bad, happy, and sad times they shared, and the things that brought them together.  I imagined what it must have been like to deal with the outside world, and return to a beautiful, cozy abode in the mountains.

My mom dropped the kids and me off at my place late that night.  My head didn't hit the pillow until after 1 am, but Baby K woke me up four hours later for an early Sunday morning snack.  After putting him back down, I found it hard to fall back asleep.  I couldn't get this thought out of my head:

The results are in!!! Baby #4 is...





 

We had a small gathering of family and a few friends over this weekend to unveil Mystery Baby's gender.  It was kind of bootleg and totally thrown together at the last minute (hence the very few pictures), but everyone in attendance had a good time. 

 

No shame anywhere in my game. 

 

Even I was able to chill out (even with 5 kids running around my house) without so much as a sip of wine.  Yes indeed, thank You, Jesus.

 

{Side note:  I'm totally, I said totally done throwing my own soirees.  I love to celebrate, but I'm not a party planner and definitely need one in my arsenal for future shindigs.  #knowyourself}

 

Ahem--so, without further ado--

 

The Big Reveal.... BOY or GIRL???

B and the kids came to my 20 week sonogram on Thursday.  This was the moment my Princess has been waiting and praying for. 

So... now let's have a little fun!  

Here's some info on the cravings, aversions, and symptoms I experienced with my first 3 pregnancies.  See if you can guess whether Mystery Baby is a boy or girl. :)

Caution: Parenting While Introverted

When I asked about permanent birth control options, my doctor looked at me like I had two heads.

"But you still have four or five months left!!"

Don't play with me, chief-- is what I wanted to say.

"It's like I told you before: I was content with one, and then two, and three... now I think I'll finally be content with four!"

Even the nurse looked hurt.  "But you make such pretty babies..."



Dear Mama {in my Tupac voice}



My mother is one of the sweetest, most giving people I've ever known.  She gives without question, and she sometimes gives her very last.  I wish I were more like her that way.

We celebrated Father's Day with a very low-key barbecue (as in, I didn't put on makeup or mop my bathroom floor... #sorrynotsorry)  at my home with my dad, mom, and sister.  My mom and sister came and saw me elbow deep in food prep, and jumped right in.  On the real--I'm no domestic diva.  I like to have people over and have a great time, but hostess-ing wears me out quickly.  Naturally, I blame the introvert in me.  The heat and humidity may have also been a factor.

After everyone else finished dinner (and I sat down to eat, because I spent the duration of dinner looking for the baby's binky), Mom started cleaning up.  As she opened my kitchen sink cabinet, she commented on how organized it was. 

{insert record scratch}