Simplest Thanks

Update: I was informed that perhaps I needed to supply you with a bit more information. Yesterday at the park, Abigail fell on the bleachers and cut her head behind her right ear. Aside from reminding me that she can't have her hair washed (she thinks forever) she has forgotten the injury. And since she hates having her hair washed the stitches are a little gift.

the wise and gentle doctor

three little sutures holding skin together

friends to sing little girl songs

first aid kits in the car

courage and strength poured out

great big free shirts removed only for bath time

stickers, candy, and special drinks to soothe a troubled heart

park days and bleachers made fun

crayons found at the bottom of purses

a bath free of hair washes

races, stair jumping, and bed climbing--injury forgotten

one little girl

Vision

Moving in a week (or two). Husband hasn't decided on the exact date. Packing--boxes, tape, paper, empty bookcases and walls.

Dishes piled, yes piled, in the sink. Food stuck on. Soiled panties strewn wherever daughter has an accident and strips. Recycling spills from the containers designed to hold it. Folded laundry lounges on the coffee table. Another load wrinkles in the dryer and the underwear wait in a basket.

Flash cards. Books. Toys. Create an obstacle course throughout the house.

Still in my pajamas and little one without underwear.

I want to quit! Send in my two week notice. Retire somewhere with books and time and no one to intrude. Where I can drink a cup of tea without witness to the mess awaiting me when I am finished.

Ahh, but God whispers. All this is witness to life. Sometimes messy. At times overwhelming. But look at the little girl dancing without panties--just joy.

Maybe the lows are less about low and more about my vision.

Those hard days when nothing seems to get done regardless of how I work can bring condemnation

or

those hard days when nothing seems to get done regardless of how I work can give witness to the lives that are lived here in this home.

And that is reason to celebrate!

(I'm cheating. This is re-posted from the Uniontown MOPS blog.)

Almost and Sometimes

We were at my parent's house over Labor Day and we were discussing our new house. Abigail piped up, We have two houses.
Chris tried to clear things up, No, we just have one house.
As only a daughter can reply to a father, Well almost, Daddy.
Sort of true and too funny what can you say?

This morning I was greeted by an Abigail in her crib. I made a mud puddle.
Thinking it was a blanket carefully arranged to resemble a mud puddle, I was surprised to see a big wet spot in the middle of her mattress. Abigail, did you pee in your bed.
I sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean to. I made a mud puddle.
Trying to stop a trend that could mean more laundry for me, I explained, That is just pee, not a mud puddle.
Matter-of-fact, Abigail explained, Sometimes pee can make a mud puddle, sometimes.
Again she had me. If we were on Survivor, I would lose.

I sometimes feel like Rumpelstiltskin when he was named.
How can it be that I am outwitted by a two year old!!

Thankful

seeing baby via ultrasound

two year old help sorting candy

sticky elbows from sorting payment

sisters to make spaghetti sauce with

and the nearness to go for a day of sauce making

husbands sleep heavy arm holding me close after a weirdo pregnancy dream

September showers

no place to go

While I'm Here

It has been a while. I am not good with thinking while pregnant. Perhaps that is why the kids I worked with while pregnant with Abigail called me mean. Or maybe that was because of the hormones I had to take.

Anyway, I will try to better stay in touch, but no promises.

Pregnancy--still there, still feeling pregnant. Yuck, but I have seen the heartbeat, a promise of the future. And I am almost 9 weeks so only three weeks of yuck left.

Abigail--excited about brother or sister. Watching me take my vitamins said, "You taking medicine to help brother grow healthy? I hope baby grows healthy and arms and legs and big so I can see him."

Housing--after all my spouting about staying for the people, we are fleeing. Well not so much fleeing, but leaving. There was a shooting a street over. Primarily a fight over a woman, but also involved in the house that was somehow involved was drugs and pornography. More so was the idea that some of our neighbors have that calling the police should not be their responsibility. Like, Hey there is a street fight, I'll just let it resolve itself. What if it escalates? Oh, well, something more to complain about. If that is the attitude of the majority of the people here, the bad guys will prevail. And we have children to think about. So we are buying a cute little house in another part of town.

Naptime

My child insisted on sleeping in a jacket and under a blanket. It is 88 degrees here.