A bit of a crazy morning around here today. And yes, it's all of 8:06am as of right..... now.

We woke up late. We usually get up at around 6:30, but this morning when I finally pried my eyes open and felt like I had enough muscle in my body to lift my head off my pillow far enough to peek at the alarm clock it read 6:58am. Usually at least one of the kids are up by about 6:30, but today none of them were stirring, and let me just say that I believe that it is really close to a sin to have to wake up a kid. That alone makes me want to revisit the idea of homeschooling. Anyway, since the kids catch the bus at 7:25 and I didn't make lunches the night before it was going to be a scramble.

Jeff showered and got dressed in record time to help me with the kids/lunches/dog/coffee making before he left for work, which ended up being a really good thing because after I shoved N and C out the door at precisely 7:24, we waited. And waited. And the bus did.not.come. Seriously, are you kidding me? How could we have missed it?!

Even though the bus hasn't ever come early, I realized that we very well could have just not heard it go by in the loud mess that this family was this morning trying to get it all together (dressed, breakfast, a turkey beard in C's backpack for sharing, library books, hair and teeth brushed-- wait no, we forgot the teeth). Luckily, Jeff waited and at the last minute we decided to throw the booster seats in his car (along with the older kids) and he would drop them by school on his way to work. It was pouring down rain, Jeff was late for work, I was frustrated for having made this whole mess by not getting up in time and the kids thought it was the coolest thing to ride with Dad to school. Jack wasn't at all impressed that he didn't get to go with them, and the dog almost had an accident on the floor during all the crazied rush.

But we made it. It was a stressful time for our family (she wrote, sarcastically) but we pulled together and ended up better people because of it (again, think sarcastic). After Jeff pulled out of the driveway with Natalie and Carter in the backseat, I grabbed the puppy to head outside and let him finally go to the bathroom. We walked around a bit and then right when we were heading inside I looked towards the front of the house and saw the bus fly by (23 minutes late). Oh well. It worked out.

Pretty random useless information... but it's all I got.

I need to run, and I don't mean I need to get outta here. I literally need to run. Well, jog anyway. It's on my list. You know what's not on my list? Blogging. But here I am because the boys are playing (well!) with each other eating a snack and Jack's clearly not ready for a nap and running was the first thing on the list so I'm voting that it needs to be the first thing checked off... so I'm waiting to get it done before I get anything else done.

Over the past few weeks I've found something out about myself. I don't really like running. I don't like the actual act of it, it makes me sweaty and tired and I can rarely do it first thing in the morning (because I have to wake up first... okay, drink coffee) so I have to plan my whole day around it. I have to do it when Jack's napping and Carter has a project going (or cartoons on-- judge me, it's fine). It's a big hooplah.. that I don't love doing. But I've sort of become addicted to how I feel about myself when I'm done. I feel accomplished. I'm certainly not in shape or tone or whatever, but when I step off the treadmill after running a few miles I feel like I am. And I love it. I love knowing that I can do it.

Jeff helped me pick out some new running shoes on Sunday (seriously, if you've seen my old Adidas could you tell me where they are?). The casual Sketchers I've been "running" in lately were NOT working out so we got some new shoes and I adore them. I felt like I was walking on a cloud when I put them on. I love New Balance (made in the USA, baby!) and was super excited to run in them-- I still am. When will he show signs of being ready for a nap!?! I'm going to lose my motivation soon. No. I won't. I've still got the shoes--- and "ear buds" (thanks, Renee for telling me what the "headphones that go inside your ears" are called). They're new, too. I'm real excited to watch a movie on my little DVD player that sits on my treadmill (because seriously, maybe reading is better than watching a movie, but who can read and run at the same time?). Anyway, I'm real excited about actually being able to hear what I'm watching. This opens new doors for me. I can watch something other than Friends because I don't have to know all the lines beforehand-- Yay, me!

Wow, that was a really random-makes-no-sense-why-every-paragraph-is-an-introductory-paragraph-with-no-follow-up blog post. But I really felt pressure, not mentioning any names (Jeanna!), to write something. So, random as it may be, here it is...

Carter-Discipline

From the living room we hear a door open and slam shut and little feet tip-toeing from the boy's room into our bedroom. Next we hear crying (Jack) from the boys room and then Natalie's voice calmly saying, "It's okay, Jack. It will be okay... MOMMY!"

I go into the boys room to check out the damage while Jeff walks back to our bedroom to investigate Carter's whereabouts.

"He hit me! Then he spit on me and scratched my eye and stepped on my toe! Then he called me a name and tried to bite me! He did it all first!" I hear Carter explaining his version of what happened to Jeff but I can't hear what Jeff is responding with. Finally I don't hear any more have-mercy-on-me's from Carter so I just continue to love on Jack and he recovers in a minimal amount of time (which always seems to happen as soon as they realize the culprit is being disciplined---miracle cure).

I go back into the living room and Jeff enters shortly after. "How'd you deal with Carter?" I ask, knowing that Carter and I butt heads more than I do with the others and creative discipline with that boy is more difficult for me than pretty much anything else. It's almost like Carter doesn't realize that I have a fairly long "rope" because he seems to immediately pull me tightly to the end of it. Every time.

Jeff just smiles, looks at me and says, "After talking to him and hearing him admit that Jack didn't do any of those things to him before he hit him I talked to Carter about how it's important to tell the truth... Then I let him pick his punishment." "You what?" "Well, I asked him what he did wrong and he said he lied. So I asked him what would teach him that it's not okay to lie to Mommy and Daddy. And he actually thought about it for a bit."

"Yeah," I said sarcastically, "I'll bet he did. What did he come up with?"

"Well, he sat there for a minute and eventually looked up at me with somewhat hopeful eyes and said 'How about a time-out?' and I said, 'Okay, for how long?' He thought about it for a few seconds and then told me, '12 minutes would probably be long enough for me to think about not lying.' "

I looked at Jeff and said, "So, now he's going to think he scored if he gets to pick his punishment, even if it's a freakishly long time-out, he feels like he got off the hook."

"I'm not done." Jeff said. "I told him that he could pick his punishment and then I would approve or not approve it. He picked a 12 minute time-out and then I said that was fine. However, I told him that he wasn't going to take it right away. I told him he would sit in his 12 minute time out later. After dinner. When I'm wrestling on the floor of the living room with Natalie and Jack."

"Oh. Yeah, that's bad. What did he say?"

"When the tears stopped streaming down his face he just looked up at me and said, 'Okay Daddy... but is it too late to change it to less minutes?' "

Potty Training or Negotiations?

I love it when a kid is either fully not potty trained or is fully trained, but the inbetween part is such a pain (I guess that's the "training" part though, huh?)! Kids seem to have no ability to "hold it" for longer than 3 minutes and it inevitably always goes from not needing to go at all to emergency situation in 4 seconds flat. "Are you sure you don't have to go?" "YES!"...."Uh, Mommy...oops, sorry!" It's gotten to the point that I've debated slapping diapers on all of my kids when we have to go grocery shopping and I've got all of em' with me because it makes me crazy hualing three kids into the bathroom 7 different times because they never have to go at the same time and they always have to go more than once. I should buy stock in hand sanitizer.

Jack is now 2 1/2 and up until this point (well, not really even now if I'm completely honest) has he shown any intrest in potty training. Natalie was completely potty trained by about 20 months. Carter didn't do it (wouldn't!) until he was 3 1/2 (I know), but I'm ready to be done with diapers so I've been trying to prime Jack for the potty. We went out and bought a special "Elmo" potty seat for on top of the toilet and he has a child sized potty-- we're into choices here, people. Next I bought some treats that I thought would be good incentives for him (raisins, goldfish crackers, etc.) and some super cute big boy undies that he got to pick out himself. He was stoked for potty time and I was gearing up for the long hual.

So, this morning first thing I take Jack into the bathroom and exitedly (before coffee, even! I think I should get some raisins) ushered him on to the potty and we sang songs and I reminded him that when he goes potty he will get some raisins. He literally sat there with his elbos on his knees, hands under his chin thinking. Finally, he looks up at me and goes, "Uh, no raisins, Mommy. I want M-uh-M's." Since when was this even a discussion!? I could see the look on his face and the fire in his eyes saying, "As soon as you sat me up here and asked me to do something you have no control over!" And he's right. I can't make him go... and that's why it's so hard! There's a fine line between being encouraging and being so completely frustrated that you want to pull all of your hair out. You can't show that you're frustrated because if he feels like he's doing something wrong he might not want to even try next time, but good golly GO for Pete's sake!!

Finally, after some tough negotiations (his hands still holding up his face as if he wasn't budging until he got what he felt was fair) I suggested that if he went pee in the potty he could pick out a "treat" at Target in the afternoon. A sly smile crossed his face (jack-pot!.. no pun intended) and instantly I heard pee hitting the water. Suddenly fear struck me as I was calculating the cost of diapers vs. the cost of negotiations with my two year old to get him to go potty in the "big boy Elmo potty." Is there a such thing as low-intrest-potty-training-loans?

*For the record, this last picture isn't just a, "Yay, I peed!" It's a "Yay, I'm going to Target and I'm going to take Mommy for all she's worth and I'll probably tell her I have to GO four times while we're there, you know, just for fun..."

Bumps, Bruises and Blood

The life we lead as parents is constantly full of surprises but no matter how hard you try to be prepared you're never quite ready to wake up to, "Hey Dad, check out all the blood on my hands!" followed by Jeff saying, "Oh my--wait! Have you seen your face yet!?"

Let me back up. A few days ago Natalie started getting these mosquito bite looking bumps on her arms and legs. I immediately assumed they were just spider bites and washed all her blankets, sheets, pj's, etc. but the next morning she had more (31 over her whole body to be exact). This should have been my first clue that the next few days were going to be... interesting.



Last night after the kids and I got back from my Dad's birthday party Jeff and I threw them in the tub (let me rephrase that: we ran water and they got in the tub themselves in a timely fashion). As we were washing Natalie up, I showed Jeff all the "bumps" on her body and we agreed that we should take her in to the doctor today. As we are examining Natalie's sores, Jack tries to stand up in the water and slips and crashes his little chin on the side of the tup which instantly bruises his little face and blood fills the inside of his mouth. Well, that's two of em' with injuries now. Jeff gets Jack out of the tub and applies a bag of frozen veggies to his face as I take care of the other two finishing their baths. We finally get them all tucked in their beds, say prayers, and call it a night. Or so we thought.



Apparently in the middle of the night Jack comes in our room to tell us that Carter's on the floor. I say "apparently" because I didn't wake up for this, Jack always goes to Jeff's side of the bed (God bless that little boy) so Jeff got up to check. Sure enough, Jeff could barely see in the dark room that Carter was in fact on the floor and Jeff just scooped him up and laid him back in his bed, left the light off and went back to bed. Well...this morning is when Carter woke us up with the whole, "Hey Dad, check out all the blood on my hands!" bit. We found out (after a little detective work) that Carter fell out of his bed, hit the side of his forehead on the bookcase, it started bleeding, but never woke up during the whole ordeal. So, this morning as I'm examining Jack's bruise and Natalie's "bumps" (which, after going to the doctor we find out aren't bites at all but is apparently a skin/staph infection... yeah, nice huh?) we get to examine not only the cut on Carter head, but the blood covering his floor, blanket and whole bed... not to mention his face.



I sort of feel like I should have an honorary Nursing degree after this week. Like I said before, life as parents is constantly full of surprises, but hopefully after this week we can keep the "injury" surprises to a minimum.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I remember being a kid and going outside with my Dad. Watching in awe as he would prune fruit trees, chop wood, water the garden, feed all the animals, move irrigation pipes, and a long list of other chores that are required of living on 40+ acres. Although I didn't realize it then, I now look back and know that I was blessed to live on a corner of heaven right here on earth. I loved watching my Dad work (and still do, actually). He seemed to do every task with amazing ease even though beads of sweat were running down his face. I can still remember the sound (and smell) of the chainsaw and what the flecks of wood looked like as they were rushing out from between the teeth into the air, at last landing on the ground all around him. I remember sitting on the top rail of a fence, swinging my feet back and forth asking a million questions met with thought out answers while he was repairing a broken gate. I remember him teaching me how to saddle my horse and then how to walk her up to a stump to hop on bareback for a quick ride. I remember being read to at night, all four of us kids sitting around the smallest room of the house by the wood stove, listening to Dad's voice read Bible stories out of a big worn out red book that had frayed edges and a soft cover.

I love that because of my Dad's love for the Native American culture, Carter is so intent on learning all there is to know about it and can't wait to sleep in Grandpa's teepee this summer. I love that the kids look forward to canoe trips with my Dad and doing the little things like looking for snakes under the tarps in the garden and getting to hold all the baby pigeons in the bird barn. I love that they like to go into the woods and "help" chop wood with Grandpa and I love that he always lets them carry the kindling and set it up to be lit in the wood stove. It's all of these little things that make this man so special. I'm honored to call him Dad and so very thankful that my children have the priveledge of calling him Grandpa.

Happy Birthday, Dad. You are loved more than words can say.

List. No, New List. Whatever.

Remember that one time when I had a huge list of things to do, a goal per se, and I just kept sitting down at the computer for 8 minute intervals wasting the day because I was so unmotivated to do ANY of the things on my list? Remember how "shower before noon" was on the list along with run 4 miles beforehand and then remember when none of it got done during the timeline I had written out first thing? Yeah, that was today... right now actually. But hey, I got my list written! That should be sticker-worthy, eh? I think I need a new list. I'll write it and cross stuff off as I go. It's going to be the best list ever. Ready? Buckle up, this is going to rock your socks off--

LIST:

1. Wake up. (Yay! Checked that one off first thing.)

2. Get out of bed. (Check. Although I'll admit, I waited a few minutes before accomplishing that one this morning but I can honestly say I did do it eventually.)

3. (This one is HUGE) Get kids ready and off to school. (Check! Double check. There are two of them that have to be ready by 7:30... AM. I know. I did not make the school schedule, believe me it would look a lot different if I had.)

4. Drink coffee. (Double check, again.)

5. Turn the pages of the "Where's Waldo" book a million times for Jack to find the same guy in the same places over and over again. (Check.)

6. Talk on the phone for one hour and 4 minutes with my bestie while she sips coffee accidently made with sour milk and I literally hear her all but throw up in the sink. (Check.)

That's as far as I've gotten today. Nice list, huh? I need to revise my "afternoon" list as it's gotten a lot longer due to my inactivity this morning. I might put "make revised morning list" as numero uno just so I feel better having a quick win. I'll let you know how it goes... but it might not be for a couple of days as clearly, I haven't been as on top of accomplishing things in an orderly fashion as I'd like.

Mother's Day

So yesterday was Mother's Day. It was fun and busy and we barbequed it up in the backyard with family and all. The kids gave me their sweet little projects that they made at school but it didn't really feel like "Mother's Day." I guess because I don't feel like it was a normal day, which I suppose is the whole point, but still... I slept in, Jeff made me breakfast. Jack walked around all day saying "Happy Mommy, Mom!" It was fun and such a treat but this morning I felt more happy being a mom than I did yesterday. This morning as I waved out the window with Jack as Natalie and Carter climbed on the big bus to head to school. It felt more like Mother's Day today when I woke up at 3am to Natalie saying she couldn't sleep and just wanted me, and then again at 4:30am when Jack was trying to climb into our bed without being found out. It felt more like Mother's Day when the milk from cereal got spilled all over the tablecloth and when I was sleepily pouring my coffee as Jack was trying to stand on my feet to "dance." It felt more like Mother's Day as I was stuffing lunches into backpacks, zipping coats, and tying shoes. These are the things I love about being a mom. I revel in the normalness of it all, in the day to day happenings of our home. I loved having everyone over yesterday; eating outside and then coming in when it started to rain, building a fire in the living room as we catch the tail end of a basketball game and chat it up over coffee. I love those things, too, as it was great to get to spend the afternoon with my own mom and grandma but this morning at our crazy house trying to get everyone rushed out the door, as Monday snuck up on us like it usually does, is what it's all about for me. My husband, my kids, my home, my life being a mom. I get to celebrate every single day when I watch my kids literally run into my arms when they get off the bus after school. I get to celebrate when they hug me so tightly right before bed and I make my promise to be right down the hall all night. I really do love Mother's Day but what I love even more is getting to recognize the opportunity to celebrate what an honor it is to be the mother of these amazing children of mine every single day.

Friday Fun Night

I don't know why, but I always tend to start conversations as Jeff is walking out the door for work. It's never super important stuff but as I see him grab his stuff for work and head for the door I panic like if I don't say somthing now I'm not going to have a chance to all day (as if we don't have email, cell phones, etc... well, I guess there's not really "etc."--cell phone and email about cover it). This morning I casually asked him what he wanted to do tonight. It being Friday and me having spent the whole week in the house and all. I always ask this fully expecting him to have some profound idea as to what we could do as a family that would be fun, out of the house, and... well, yeah-- fun and out of the house. That's all of the prerequisites for a Friday evening that I can come up with. Actually, it doesn't even have to be "fun" as most Friday evenings I'd just settle for out of the house. Pretty much I just need motivation to finish the week strong. Get through the day with purpose. By Friday I need more of a reason to shower than just "it's the right thing to do." He knew that yesterday was rough (and not because his "team" is bigger than mine) so he asked me what I wanted to do, to which I answer (as usual) "I dunno" leaving the decision up to him. Apparently this morning he wasn't on his best game because after recognizing that I'm not in the greatest of moods he forgot to start his sentence with "You always feel better when you..." and just said the last half, "Get yourself dolled up today." Nice. Thanks. I feel a little like garbage and now I feel like I look like garbage, too. Okay, I do, but that's beside the point. In his defense though, "dolled up" means dressed and on a good day, a bit of make-up. I don't do dolled up like a lot of girls do. To me it means not wearing sweats and sometimes blow drying my hair.

I finally decide that I'll make dinner and take it out to his parents house for a visit since they've been gone for a few weeks and we haven't seen them since they got back. Fun and out of the house. Meets all the criteria. Suddenly my day has intention. I guess I'll go shower now...

Team Jeff vs. Team Karey

It all started the other day (okay, like 2 weeks ago) when I casually asked Jeff if he was sad. He looked at me and asked, "Why would I be sad?" I say, "I'm just wondering if you're sad that I'm so much funnier than you are. You used to hold the trophy, but it's been taken. And now it's on my shelf. I'm just wondering if you're sad about it. I would be." He no longer looked sad. He raises his eyebrows as if to say, "Oh, we're going there are we?" What he actually said was, "Listen here, grasshopper. I taught you everything you know. It is impossible for you to pass me up. You got that?" I didn't. And I still don't. It came up again last night. Let's just say I was having an "off" night and my sweet wonderful I-like-to-rub-your-face-in-your-non-funny-jokes husband let me know. Again and again. He sort of hit a home run and ran me off the top of humor hill.

The kids were brushing their teeth before bed and Jeff was taking the dog out to go to the bathroom. I sit down and unfold the laptop. My desktop picture was gone, it was all black except for a medium sized square picture in the middle: (under "Dishes" it says, "do them. now.")



I refuse to let him see me laugh so when he comes in I try to look like I'm fuming. I'm not mad about the picture, and I'm certainly not going to do the dishes now, I am mad that he's now one up on me. I literally thought my head was going to explode when he finally stopped laughing long enough to stand right in front of me and hold his hand up making a circle motion with the sound effect of a race car getting passed on the track. Up by two, I want to strangle him. I am not funny when I'm mad (seriously, do you know anyone who is?) so he's pretty much got me all night, and he knows it.

For the next two hours I hear joke after joke (which I refuse to admit were pretty funny) and prank after prank and after each and everyone I hear the race car sound effect which makes him laugh even harder at his own wittiness. At one point we were watching NCIS and one character says to another, "She's funny, beautiful... what's not to love." And I say, "Huh. Sounds an awful lot like me, don't you think?" Apparently I interupted the next line, which Jeff so sweetly rewound for me. It was, "Well, that was 12 years ago. She's had a few kids, so I doubt things are the same." I know. I don't even know how I put up with him. He finished that off with the stupid race car again and I almost went for his jugular.

Finally I decide to call it a night and head to bed. He's in the bathroom brushing his teeth when I crawl into bed and freak out when I find a zhu-zhu pet crawling around under the covers on my side of the bed. From the bedroom I can hear him doing the race car noise one last time.

I'll admit. Last night he had me. Big time. But I told him this morning that I'm going to be making up Team Karey and Team Jeff t-shirts and we'll just see how this turns out. It's so not over.

ps. Katherine, you'd better be proudly sporting Team Karey at work. Someone's gotta represent at BowTech.

Mornings with Jack

After Natalie and Carter get on the bus and Jeff heads to work, it's just Jack and me. The time I get with just him is special. We read stories, color, pretend to make alphabet soup with letter blocks. We both treasure this time. Sometimes (like this morning) I felt like I had a bunch of stuff to get done before the other kids started getting home from school. I had laundry that I was falling behind on, the floors desperately needed to be mopped, and I needed to unload the dishwasher so I could reload the sinkful that were sitting on my counters. My little Jack did not like that he got pushed to the bottom of the list. He started to throw fits as I was rinsing dishes. He threw socks and sweatshirts everywhere as I was trying to gather them for the washer. He ended up sitting on the floor of the kitchen with his legs and arms crossed, brows furrowed with a super sour face. So I stopped. I realized that he just needs me. He needs my time and my attention and he needs it now. I sat down right in front of him, criss-cross-applesauce and looked him in the eyes with my arms open. He ran into them and sort of started to cry. I gently rubbed his back and whispered, "Alright. Mommy's done for now, what do you want?" Fully expecting him to just nuzzle me back and love on me, I was really surprised when he sat up realizing that I'd just asked him what he wanted in a voice that sounded promising. He looked right at me, smiled and confidently (with just a hint of attitude) answered, "I want Daddy!" Figures.

Working Overtime

You ever have one of those days where you wake up and just know the day is going to be a little harder than usual? My first confirmation was when my five year old was trying to get his socks on before school and says, "This S-WORDs!" and I have to go in my seven year old's room to find out that the s-word is "sucks." Not my favorite word, but it could be worse I guess. Then I over hear Natalie tell Carter that she's his "hooker." I keep quiet long enough to find out that she meant that she was holding his coat for him, her hand was the hook and that made her the "hooker." Again, could be worse, but not really something I'm stoked about hearing.

Later I remember that Jeff could be home early (his plane lands at noon and he could come home early from work) so I scramble out to the back yard to pick up all the dog poop that I don't want him to know I was slacking off on while he was gone. Oh, and in the poop I found a marble, gum, and the side mirror to a Barbie car. Not kidding. Next, I find out that while I'm vacuuming the rug in the living room Jack is in the master bathroom "playing" with my earrings. He's pulling all the dangly parts from the hooks that go in my ear. I walk in and see him on the counter and he shrugs his shoulders and goes, "All fixed!" Right. Thanks. Oh, and as I'm pulling Jack off of the counter I glance in the mirror to realize that I have mascara all over the front of my t-shirt. When did this happen? I don't even have any make-up on!?

It's on days like these that I feel like I should get paid over time (or just get paid, period) for having the dishwasher, washing machine and dryer all running at the same time. I should get paid for remembering to make the two year old lunch or taking the dog out to go to the bathroom. I should get paid for showing up at the end of the street when Natalie gets off the bus. I should get a bonus check for finding time to shower... and then I see the three of them together all cuddled up on the bed while Natalie reads a book out loud. They look up at me and as I gaze at those smiles I forget about all the headaches of the day and I realize that I do get paid. I get paid a lot.

Age is just a number... right?

Apparently (according to all the magazines that I will adamantly deny I read if you ask) 40 is the new 25, 30 is the new 20, etc. Pretty much they're saying that as you get older it's fine because "old" is back in. It's the new "young." I don't know. I don't really get it. I'm a good 7 months away from the big 3-0 and I certainly don't feel like I'm turning 20. Hello, I have almost 9 years of marriage and 3 kids under my belt. In my situation I feel more like 30 is the new 35. But whatever. Seems like a bit of a scam to allow people to deny the enjoyment of getting older. Taking away from the priveledge it is to actually get to grow old gracefully.

However, I can't deny that I do agree with all of that to some extent. For us it's the opposite though. "Younger" is the new "older" in our house lately, that's for sure. I've been getting the eye-roll treatment (well it happened once, and unless a certain five year old has a death-wish it won't happen again). Natalie (at the ripe old age of 7) thinks that it is a daily requirement to talk on the phone with at least one of her classmates (which she doesn't) or she just can't call it a day at all. But the one that never ceases to amaze me is Jack. He won't look me in the eye when he knows he's done something wrong. He shrugs his shoulders. Maybe you didn't get that one... He's 2 and he shrugs his shoulders instead of answering with words. It's like his facial expressions combined with his little shoulders going up and down are saying (when his words won't) "I don't really care, Mom. Are you still talking? Seriously. I have blocks to stack right now could you finish up, please?"

I don't know if 40 is the new 25, or if 30 is the new 20, but I do know that 7 is pushing to be the new 17, 5 the new 15, and 2 the new 12 but if I have anything to say about it (and I do) it won't be this way in my house.

Rain

I woke up to the sound of rain this morning. To some, waking up this way might sound like a downer. You know, not waking up to sunshine pouring through the windows; the rays beautifully announcing the beginning of not only a fresh new day, but a new week, especially after the beautiful weekend we had. But I was not bummed when I heard the rain trickling off the roof into a puddle outside our bedroom window. I was thankful. Very thankful. Thankful that because I could hear the rain it meant that I wasn't hearing crying children. Because I could hear the rain I wasn't hearing a whining puppy ready to be let outside. Because I could hear the rain I wasn't hearing the blaring of an alarm clock screaming at me to jolt awake and rush to start my day. Because I could hear the rain I got to watch Jack sleep for a few minutes (he sleeps in my bed when Jeff's gone on trips). But most importantly it is because I heard the rain this morning that I got to lay in bed and listen for God for a few minutes; I got the chance to give him my day before it officially even started. Thank you Lord, for not only the rain, but for the perspective.