The Cost of Love

 

Feeling a little sad this morning.  We decided it was time to say goodbye to our old boy Packer last night.  He was a fixture in our lives for 14+ years, and the house feels strange without him.  I missed him limping his way over to me this morning to give me a good morning hug.  He was a crazy dog...but he was so sweet and I loved him the best I could.

As I contemplate my heartache over a dog...it strikes me that God is love.  Jesus came in love.  The Holy Spirit ministers to us in love.  We are made in His image, and we are called to so thoroughly love that it's becomes a badge that enables the world to identify the followers of Jesus.

But there's a serious cost to follow that call.

It costs us to love.  It costs our very selves because love is an utterly selfless thing.  It is caring about someone else even above ourselves.  It is sacrificing and compromising and all giving...all pouring out.

Thankfully, love is designed to be a relationship - a two way street - a pouring out AND a filling up. 

We love God and He loves us infinitely MORE.

We love a spouse and they love us back.

We love and old dog and we're met with faithful tail wags, a little jump of joy when they see us, and a sweet friendly presence to be with us...even if they are a hairy mess with awful (AWFUL) breath!

It's designed to be good and beautiful - a literal reflection of the amazing heart and character of our Creator.

But still...there's a heavy cost when choosing to love in this lifetime.

Too often, love is not reciprocated.

Too often, "love" is selfish and cruel (not actually love, but a misuse of the word).

Too often, the one(s) who are meant to love us the most are wrapped up in fear and hurt and lies...the best they can do is respond harshly and selfishly instead of gently as they strive to protect their already wounded heart. All they can pour out to their partner is the fear and hurt and lies that they're ruled by...and this upside down culture of ours encourages this as "strength" or "toughness" or "independence".

And even when we do find/discover/develop a (near) perfect Godly love that removes fear...that is patient and kind...that is giving and humble...that is honoring and self-giving...that is slow to anger an forgives quickly...that is a source of joy and comfort

...even then, there is a cost.

There is the cost demanded by time itself.

We see the precious hands weaken and the wrinkles set in.  The hair grays and the walk slows.  Time marches...marches...marches...

We know where it's leading.  We tuck the dread away, and pray an earnest, "Maranatha!" 

Yet, despite the cost, I choose love.

I choose connection and tenderness.

I choose to give my heart...my whole self...away.

Yes, there is a very steep cost of love...

...and I believe it's worth it.

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Job Description: Don't Work

 

God whispered to me while I ironed today


Have --->  Do --->  Be

vs

Be --->  Do --->  Have

As one of my favorite teachers shared recently, the world would have us operate out of a place of what we HAVE in an effort to eventually work our way to who we ARE/ want to BE = Striving. Earning. Grinding.

The Lord teaches differently. He starts with who we ARE…our identity. And everything flows from there = Peace. Contentment. Confidence.

As I ironed, I heard that still small voice say “this is a perfect example”

I used to HATE ironing. I mean absolutely loathe it.

But today I found myself enjoying it because I adore my husband. I love being his wife. I relish little things I can do to help him and care for him.

I ironed carefully and lovingly out of who I AM. I am the well-loved, adored, and precious wife of Luke Fouch 

The reason I used to hate ironing for him was because I was operating from a place of “should”. It felt like an obligation and a chore. I thought that to be a “good wife”, ironing was something I needed to do. (To be clear, he never once asked me to iron for him. He’s quite capable and willing to do his own ironing.)

I was trying to DO in order to become someone I aspired to be.

Now, I know who I AM, and I do things out of that place of wholeness and strength.

Do you see the difference? It seems subtle, but it’s a massive 180° turn.

The irony is that when I operated out of obligation and “should”, I never actually achieved my goal. All my work was for nothing. I was left always feeling like I could have done better…and that I was never quite good enough.

Now, I START “good enough”. More than good enough, actually. Everything that flows out of that identity is just icing on the cake.

It’s the same with our relationship with God.

The world and the spirit of religion demand our obedience and hard work to achieve the title “good Christian” or “good child of God”.

But God asks us to operate differently. He tells us right off the bat, “YOU ARE MY CHILD AND I LOVE YOU”.

And He expects us to operate FROM His love and acceptance…not FOR His love and acceptance.

The heart of it is this: can I trust Him? Can I rely entirely on His Word EVEN if it’s contrary to what I see with my own eyes sometimes??

Will I be a “sensual” Christian, believing my senses and experiences?

Or will I totally surrender and believe the Word NO MATTER WHAT?

It’s ironic really…the hardest work God calls us to is the difficult job of STOPPING all the hard work!

Surrender
Rest
Enjoying Him
Peace
Wholeness
Contentment

It’s a great job to have…and the benefits package is amazing ;-)

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On Fear...

 

I used to be tormented...TORMENTED...by fear.

In the first few years of our marriage, Luke travelled for work more than he was home. You'd think I would have just grown accustomed to it. Instead, I sat in a stew of fear and dread and imaginary funerals. It was a horrible existence for me every time he packed a suitcase.

The birds of worry and fear not only circled overhead...they had a permanent nest there. The noise, smell, and mess under a nasty bird's nest is no place to live.

This morning, I woke to those familiar voices of fear whispering in my ear.

As I went to Luke, snuggled up in his arms, I was about to say "I'm afraid, will you pray for me?"...when I heard the Holy Spirit say "DON'T SAY IT. DON'T AGREE WITH THEM."

Instead, I simply hugged him and told him I loved him.

I will not speak the words "I'm afraid" because I recognize the voice that is suggesting that I live in fear today. It is the voice of the liar, and I will simply not agree. I will not use my voice to speak lies.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear..."

Lord, please apply your perfect love to the parts of me that are being tempted by the voice of fear right now. You ARE perfect love - thank you for casting out fear!

Fear, I reject you. I do not agree with your lies. You must go.

I will set my eyes on Jesus.

I will worship.

I will rejoice and be glad in this new day.

I will testify of His goodness.

I will agree with the Spirit within me and His peace, joy, patience, love, and goodness.

My flesh has been crucified with Christ, along with it's tendency to fear. I now live and walk by the Spirit of God Almighty.

I am free...I am free indeed!

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A Daddy and His Boy

Our little Thomas is typically too busy for snuggles anymore. He's an active 2 year old...we're lucky when the kid slows down enough to EAT!

He does enjoy a nice long afternoon nap every day though (thank the Lord), so when our little man was rudely awakened the other day by his older siblings the other day, he was Cranky (yes, that's "cranky" with a capital "C"!).

My wonderful Luke is a wise daddy. He could see that the problem was that Thomas just needed more sleep, so he rocked and snuggled him back to sleep while a football game played in the background.

I'm not sure who enjoyed it more...me, to see the two of them so sweet...Luke, to be snuggling with our busy little guy...or Thomas, who needed the sleep.

We never know.

We never know until days or weeks or months later...when will it be the last time that he snuggles like this? When will it be the last time that this little person will hold my hand? Call me "Mommy"? Enjoy talking with me? Want to spend time with me....heck, want to be seen with me at all?! Kiss me on the cheek?

I'm doing my best to soak it all in and not take it for granted.

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How Do I Rate?!

Hello world - this is my man.  Mine.  All mine!  Good grief - you'd think after 12 years, 4 babies, 3 dogs, and many houses that I might get sick of looking at this guy.  Not a chance.  I'm nuts about him.  Seriously nuts.  More nuts than the day we got married, which I didn't think was possible.  Love just grows, ya know?

I took this headshot for him yesterday for his new business cards.  He recently became a licensed real estate agent - he's still committed to and giving 100% to his long-time career with the company he's been working for (for the past 12 years)...he just wanted to do a little something on the side.  This man of mine, he's serious about taking care of this family.

I'm a lucky girl.

Anyone buying or selling a house in Idaho any time soon?  He's your man.  Well - my man.  But I'll let you borrow him for a little while.  He'll take really good care of you.  I'll let you use him I mean.  To buy a house.  

This just isn't coming out quite right.

He was an impossibly easy subject to photograph.  He smiled that smile the entire time and had me all tongue tied and flustered.  I don't know what he was so happy about.... just because I was wearing a bikini.  

Just kidding.  

Or am I?

Really - I'm just kidding.

???

See what that smile does to me?  It makes my stomach flutter around in my throat and my brain turn to mush.  Being around that smile is sort of like eating a big meal before swimming - you have to rest a bit before swimming for safest results.  The next time he smiles at me, I promise to wait at least 24 hours before trying to write ;-) 

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Crazy Busy Life

My sincerest thanks to you if you're reading this - I know I've been a terribly unfaithful blogger lately.  Times...they change.  Remember back in the day when I'd flood your brains with 3 or 4 posts every day?!  I can hardly remember having that much to say....never mind the time to sit down and write about it.  Lately, it's more like "what in the world do I have to say...and who would want to read it anyway?  I don't know anything!"  So again, thanks friends, for sticking around :)

Life has been nuts since school got out.  Dentist appointments, zoo trips, "concerts" on our piano, birthday parties, library trips, planting flowers, vacuuming the sand off my kitchen floor that's supposed to be staying in the sandbox....you know how it is.

I've also been working myself silly lately, trying to prepare for the little art show I signed up for.  I've been up until 1 AM for several nights now, getting photos processed and ordered.  I'm blowing my savings, but having lots of fun :)

That picture up there is of my little Thomas enjoying his Aunt Tiffany's birthday cake.  You know how hard it is to remove moist and gooey chocolate cake from the nostrils of someone who can't yet blow their nose?  Hard.  But the smile on his face made it worth it.

Can I just tell you the sweetest thing that happened right now?  I just about had a heart attack when I realized that we're out of cold and fizzy caffeine.  I sent my best friend (husband) an email titled "crisis", and the text was "NO COKE!"

Luke was on his lunch break, so he stopped by with a Coke about one gallon in size.  Now that, my friends, is LOVE.  Real, true, amazing love.  

I met him in the driveway to collect my drug Coke, and to deliver a kiss.  When I came in the house, Clara said..."Who was that?"

"My hero"

"Who?"

"My best friend"

"Who?"

"My savior for today."

"Yeah, but WHO WAS IT?"

"Your Daddy"

Sometimes love is patient, kind, and unselfish.  But sometimes, love delivers caffeine right to your doorstep.

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A Newly Discovered Male Condition: Mall Legs

My husband is a saint. I could go on and on about all that he does around the house and with the kids and for me...how handsome and kind and sweet he his...what a hard worker, great friend, brother and son he is. But there's really just one thing that I need to say, and it is perfectly sufficient in describing how amazing this man of mine is. That one thing? It's this: HE LIVES WITH ME.

Those of you who only know me via this blog might be thinking, "you can't be that tough to live with." But that's my fault - I try really hard to be as real as possible, but more often than not, I think you get my best side.

Those of you who know me in person are probably simply grinning and thinking something like "Um, yeah. He's a saint alright!"

The only reason I started this post with thoughts on the wonderfulness of my dear man is that I want it to be clear that he's not a complainer or a whiner (except for the occasional times when he has a man cold). He not only puts up with the daily grind of being married to me and being the father of 4 young rambunctious kids...he does so with a sincere smile and a peace about him that can only be described as a gift from the Lord Himself!

OK.

Now that I've laid the groundwork, you will be able to see just how serious and out of the ordinary his "condition" is. His problem? Around here we call it "Mall Legs".

Maybe you have a man in your life with this condition? Here's how you can identify a man suffering with this debilitating problem:

1. At the mere uttering of the words "Maybe we should go to the mall" or "I'll bet we could find that at the mall", you can notice (if you're watching carefully) a slight bead of perspiration on his brow, dilated pupils, and the wide-eyed look of an animal caught in a trap. Although we haven't tested it, I'm certain that if he were hooked to a monitor, you'd also notice a drastic increase in his heart rate and blood pressure.

2. Once he realizes that his near future involves a trip to the dreaded mall, said patient will begin to plan. This will be a marked change in behavior for some men. Those men who are more typically "take things as they come" kind of guys will suddenly and almost instantly develop a detailed plan of attack that will get them in and out of the mall as soon as humanly possible. Case in point: as we ate our lunch in the mall's food court yesterday our conversation went something like this-

Hubby: "So which store do you think would have the shoes?"

Me: "I don't know. We're at the mall! Let's just shop around. There seem to be quite a few sales on right now, maybe we could find a deal. And maybe we could grab a treat and sit and watch people for a while (one of my favorite mall activities)."

(Hubby looks at me with mouth hanging open, an incredulous look on his face.)

Hubby: "No. That's not the way this works. We sit here, we make a plan, we go there, we buy the shoes, we get out. That's how this mall trip works. Clear?"

3. A nearly debilitating weakness in the patient's legs as he takes his first physical steps into the shopping mall (hence the name "mall legs"). His usual energetic and sure step is replaced with feet that can almost not leave the ground. He will be slightly winded at the sheer effort of moving his feet.

4. An unspoken camaraderie with other men at the mall. As they carry their wives' purses and sit on the benches surrounded by their wives' packages, they look at each other. To the uneducated eye, those glances appear to be a simple "Hi there" type of look.

But if you know that your man is suffering from Mall Legs, you can be certain that there are volumes being spoken in those stolen glances with fellow sufferers. Those looks say things like "I KNOW, I can't seem to escape either. I've tried everything.", and "I thought I was a good man during my life. I know the Lord, even. I don't understand how I've died and ended up in the pit of H*LL.", and "Can you help me? I've been trying to work up the nerve to pull the nearest fire alarm, but just can't seem to make my legs walk me over to that little red box. Quick! Before you sit down and can't get back up...go pull the alarm and we can all get out of here!"

5. Any comment like the one my dear husband made yesterday during lunch: "Man, I can remember the last time we were at the mall eating lunch. I remember it was a Sunday, and the Packers were playing. The kids were all wearing their Packer sweatshirts and we ran into one of my co-workers here. That was a good year ago! We haven't been to the mall in a year. (deep sigh) It was a good year." Seriously ladies...can your husband remember what the kids were wearing yesterday? I'll bet mine can't (I can't either for that matter). But he can remember details like that about his last mall trip...a sure sign of deep and lasting trauma.

Living with Mall Legs:

So what do we do? It's simple...have mercy. This is a real and physical condition that can not be helped. Do all you can to help your man avoid the mall. Even if it means dragging the kids to the mall (gasp!) by yourself, it will be less painful for you than it would be for him if you insist that he comes with you. The only reason my hubby had to come to the mall yesterday was that we were shoe shopping...for HIM. I couldn't pull that off without him, so he was stuck.

And if you feel you must have him at the mall with you, go easy on him. Keep in mind that it's a physical endurance test for him, so try to keep the trip short. If you see your man fading to the point of needing medical assistance to make it back out to the car, you might want to plan a mid-trip swing by Sears' tool department (or the electronics store, whatever floats his boat). This will usually perk him up to the point of being able to make it through the rest of the trip.

Do you feel frustrated by his inability to shop the mall like you do? Try to remember his good qualities...all the reasons you married him. And remember too that the mall is made for women, so leave hubby home and bring a girlfriend if you want to shop for a new purse.

That concludes this long-winded public service announcement. Happy shopping!

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WhoooHooo!

Well, I was just going to jump on to tell you that I found a great new blog to read, but then I saw something interesting : my last post? It was post #500. FIVE HUNDRED, people! Can I talk or what?! Just in case you're counting, that's 500 posts before my one year bloggy-versary (which is some time in December I think). Oh boy! My sincerest thanks to all of you who have actually stuck around to read this blog. I just love my bloggy friends :)

Okay...now I'll tell you about that great new blog. It's called Single Solitary Things. I found this wonderful woman today at Rocks In My Dryer. She was a guest blogger today, and wrote a great post about what it's like to be a single adult in this family oriented society of ours. It was so interesting, that I clicked over to her blog...only to spend 45 minutes of my life reading! (and I was going to use this nap time for photo processing, dang-it)

Stop by, say hi, and tell her I sent ya. She's lots of fun.

She's got me thinking, I'll tell you. This day has been crazy. I've been thoroughly convinced that God was pulling something on me after my post yesterday about my sweet little Mommy life and how nice it is. It hasn't been feeling so sweet and nice today!

But then God brought me to SST, and put me in my place. I'm not saying that I'm thinking "Boy, sure glad I'm not her!" Not at all. I hope I don't give that impression. Her posts about the single and dating life just brings me back 15 years...to life before my hubby and kids. Looking back, that time in my life seems to be a mere blink. But then? Oh...then it seemed eternal. And lonely. And frustrating.

Wow. The memories are just flooding back. I see a "How I Met Hubby" series in my near future.

Stick around...I'll be up to 600 posts in no time!

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Bliss

My amazing hubby whisked me away for a surprise birthday weekend last weekend - just the two of us - it was so amazing! We hadn't had a weekend alone for 7 years (sad, I know), and we hadn't had an actual vacation for just us in 11 years (downright pathetic!).

The fun started as soon as we got in the car to drive away from the house. We buckled in, started driving down the street, and looked at each other in complete and deafening silence. It was incredible! You mean I don't have to break up a fight, pass someone some pretzels, give the baby his binkie, and wipe someone's nose while I'm trying to have a conversation with my husband?!

The silence didn't last long, because it was about that time when the giggling started. Every now and then I'd just start giggling at the sheer joy and craziness...a vacation....for just US!

Once we got to our gate at the airport, I had to seriously fight the urge to go to the desk agent, ask for a stroller tag, and then cackle like a crazy woman! If I hadn't been worried about being kicked off the plane before I even got on it, I would have done it. Instead, I just giggled some more.

Those of you who have done airline travel with small children can appreciate what I'm about to say: I packed a book for the airplane. And I got to read it. AND I took a nap on the plane. Amazing, I know!

A mere hour and a half after getting on a plane in cold and grey Boise, Idaho....we saw this....see that little white strand of sand against the ocean? That's where we're headed:

Our hotel was incredible! We stayed at the Beach House in Hermosa Beach.

I could hardly believe it when I opened the patio door and saw this:



The folks at this hotel...they thought of everything! Crisp white sheets with a goose down comforter, a little basket filled with Aveda beauty products, piles of fluffy white towels, a couple of cold bottles of water in the fridge, even a rubber ducky on the edge of the tub:

There was even a real fireplace complete with a duraflame log ready to burn! This, however, caused quite the ruckus our last night there. Some moron poor guy pulled the grate out of the fireplace one night, and tried to light a fire on his WOOD deck. Lucky the brain dead idiot guy didn't burn the whole place down! As it was, the ocean breeze blew the smoke from his crazy foolish fire into his room and set off his smoke detector...which set off the system in the entire hotel in the middle of the night. We all had to evacuate to the parking lot. There's nothing quite like waking to a blaring fire alarm in the dead of night...I at least had the clarity of mind to grab my camera bag before leaving the room. Yes I did!

We walked up and down the coast, and found all sorts of wonderful and beautiful things. Everything looks wonderful and beautiful when it's 76 degrees, sunny, and you're holding hands with your greatest love :)

And, of course, we thoroughly enjoyed the California sunset like a couple of tourists from Idaho.

We woke the next morning to surf filled with guys on boards, and another gorgeous day.

We decided to take the short drive to The Getty in LA. The problem with the Getty Center is that there's just nothing decent to take pictures of. You can see from the following 2.3 million pictures that I took:

My favorite sculpture, "The Vexed Man" by a German named Franz Xaver Messerschmidt (from 1770):

I love Claude Monet's paintings. What a thrill to see his brush strokes and signature up close!

One of my favorite paintings, "Portrait of Jeanne Kefer" by a Belgian dude named Fernand Khnopff (1885). Isn't it just so sweet?

Hubby had me laughing out loud when we saw this outdoor display of sculptures of the nude female form. This isn't a great picture - can't really see much of the display, but there were all different shapes and sizes of women. Some "heavy", some "thin", some realistic and some more abstract. I said "Oh look, how nice of them, they put up a sculpture of little ol' me!"

Hubby's response was "Oh yeah? Which one?!"

"Well, which one do YOU think?"

And without missing a beat or step (but I'm certain his eyes widened as they darted around searching for the nearest emergency exit) he said, "None-of-them-of-course-none-of-them-are-nearly-beautiful-enough-I'm-hungry-let's-eat-wow-look-at-that-bird!"

That boy, he's a quick one!

The sunset that second night was made even more stunning than the night before with some low clouds to spread the color around a bit. I didn't get many pictures because I was having too much fun combing the beach for seashells in bare feet. Believe it or not, I do (occasionally) go places without my camera.

We woke the morning of our departure to a drastically different climate! It was chilly with a howling wind. It made for some monstrous waves:

Ahhh, I guess it's time to go. Back to the sweet, drooly, loud, crazy life. I'm ready (I guess).

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Checking Out For The Weekend

Well, Happy Birthday to ME!

Hubby surprised me with the most incredible gift tonight...an itinerary for our long weekend somewhere warm, sandy, and with great Italian food! My sister and her husband are coming to stay at our house with our kids, and we're takin' off...like real, live grown-ups :)

I can't remember a getaway that lasted more than a few hours for just the two of us since...wow...since before Ben was born, I think. That's 7 years! We're long overdue.

Needless to say, I will not be blogging for the next few days. I love y'all, but a girl's gotta have her priorities. And this weekend? The sand between my toes and the most wonderful, thoughtful, kind, and (ahem) smokin' HOT man on earth will be mine. Priority, that is.

Why am I blushing...I'm a married woman, so leave me alone!

I'll be back Monday. Have a great weekend everyone.

PS. What's wrong with me? I'm dying for this trip, yet I'm so freaked out to leave my kids!

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The Letter "M" On The Floor

There was a time when I had a clean AND neat house. The windows sparkled, the floors squeaked, the wood glowed. Everything had a place, and everything was in it's place. The laundry was folded and put away. There was a small stack of mail to be sorted, and all the bills were paid on time.

My car...my car was shiny. It smelled nice. It had vacuumed carpets and a shining dash. It was free of any clutter, except for the bag of m&m's I kept in there in case of a chocolate emergency. It had a sunroof.

And then there was me. My nails? They were done. I exercised several times a week. I took my leisurely time shopping for my favorite and most nutritious food, and it was a joy to fix a healthy and delicious meal. I might have even had a glass of wine with my dinner. I loved to shop for clothes. I'd take my time and try things on. Maybe I'd get the nerve to buy something I wouldn't normally buy.

And, of course, there was us. I lit candles in the evening so the house smelled and felt cozy on cool evenings. We took long walks, or maybe just sat on the couch to watch TV and talk. Every now and then I'd go on a business trip with hubby just to get away. We went to movies. We ate out. We held hands and took our sweet time.

Fast forward 7 years and 4 babies later...

My house. Oh, my house. The outside is covered in chalk art done by my two year old...not on the sidewalk...on the house and the windows. It comes off fine, but it's just so much dang work!

And if you come over? Please remove your shoes. I'm trying to limit the dirt on the floor to mashed cheerios, bits of popcorn, dried play dough, and the occasional puddle of drool...or something.

And do you know what I just did? I was putting some things away in my closet, and I walked right past a green letter "M" magnet on the floor.

I'm past trying to figure out how strange things end up in strange places. I've moved on to just trying to prioritize. Do I stop to pick up the letter "M", or do I walk right past and finish what I was doing? These days, I gotta stay on track. If I stop for the letter "M", then what? The "Q" by the fireplace? The shoe on the couch? The blanket in the kitchen that's left over from making forts? If I tried to do all of that, I'd have to put the bag of "Honey Nut Scooters" away that's been sitting on my desk for 3 weeks. And the wrapping paper that's made a home on the bookshelf. And the dead begonia that I forgot to water. There's just no end. So I have to stay on track, or before you know it we'll be out of clean underwear.

The wood and glass doesn't shine so much anymore...it's more like they display fingerprint art. It's amazing how perfect a hand or face or nose print you can make with just the right amount of drool or otter-pop juice in the mix!

The faux-wood blinds used to look nice. Until someone...not naming names...thought it would be fun to use his/her new scissor skills to cut the strings in between the slats. They just don't hang quite right anymore.

There is a stack of mail and school papers that is no less than 2 feet deep. I'm not exaggerating. At all. I know there are bills in there, but where...exactly? I know, I know, I should have some sort of system. But what's sorting the mail compared to holding a teething baby, helping with homework, or responding to, "I'm DOOOONNEE!"?

The car? Oh, I just don't want to go there. Let me just say that it most definitely does not have a sunroof anymore. Do they even make vehicles that can hold a family of 6 with sunroofs?

And little ol' me. Do I have fingernails? Oh yes, they are those things I keep chewing off in nervous fits. And my clothes...my summer wardrobe was several v-neck t-shirts that I bought at a superstore for $7 each. I tried one on, it fit, I picked one up in every color. Then I washed them and they all shrunk to the point where they do a great job of showing off the flab that gets squished out under the back of my bra. Am I the only woman out there who has more flab squishing out of the bottom of the back of my bra than in the front...where it's supposed to be? I'm hoping the snot that's perpetually smeared across my shoulder is adequate distraction from the fat. I'll shop for different shirts next spring since I'll be losing 15 pounds this winter. I'm sure of it.

Us...sweet US. Real candles are a hazard with so many little hands around, you know. We take walks, but we have to shout, "NO, not that way!", or "Wait for us!", or "No, we can not bring all those rocks home with us" every now and then. We hold hands...but usually not with each other since we're carrying, pushing, or otherwise herding our little flock. We watch a weekly movie for our "family movie night". Does it matter that it's usually animated and/or by Disney? Does it matter that we can't speak to each other over the din that is our children trying to get our attention? Does it matter that we can rarely even sit next to each other?

I think it matters. He's still my boyfriend, and I'm still his "dream girl". And we can still sometimes take our sweet time...when it matters most.

Do I sound like I'm complaining? I'm not. In the least! I wouldn't change a thing. Not a single smudge, or pile of laundry, or cup of curdled milk found in the car after 2 weeks. When my boyfriend (aka hubby) and I look at each other over all those little heads and voices at the dinner table...sometimes the sparkle in his wonderful green eyes is all I need. Words aren't necessary. He loves me. He's happy. Me too.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it smells like I have a diaper to change. The girls are screeching at one another, and Sammy's still in her jammies even though it's lunch time.

And that "M"... it needs a home besides my closet floor. I'll get to that though...probably tomorrow.

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A Quick Ride

Hubby's exercise of choice lately has been bike riding. The other day, when we had library books due, he announced that he'd just take his bike to drop them off.

"I thought I'd take the 3 older kids."
"Yeah! That'd be somethin'!"
"No, really."
"Wha? Huh? Really?"
"Yep."
"Yeah, good luck with that one!"

I still didn't quite believe him...until he told me to grab my camera and meet him out front. Just look what I found:

I wonder if this trailer is rated for 100 pounds of kids?! Just look how they're stuffed in there!

Sammy just loves it when she gets to be a "big" kid.

Everyone ready?

READY! LET'S GO DADA!!

And they're off...all for a couple of library books. (I totally would have just gotten on line and renewed them for another 3 weeks...but that's why he's the "fun" parent I guess.)

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I'm Tired Of Listenting To Me Talk...

...So let's look at some cute baby pictures!

Here's my little man with my big man. Check out how they're wearing the exact same color...I believe the color is called "Thomas Eyes".

When Daddy comes home around here, everything comes to a screeching halt as everyone makes a bee-line to the door. "DADDDYYY!!" Is his welcome each day. Everyone wants their kisses and hugs and snuggles and wrestles. There's lots of "Look Daddy!" and "Guess what Daddy?!" It's gotta feel good to be so adored. Makes me glad I'm the Mommy...I get the first hugs and kisses :)

Good grief...could he possibly be cuter? I just don't know how...

Dadd''s a punk sometimes. There's no shortage of giggles and smiles when he's around.


Ahhh...life is so sweet. I'm off to find the chocolate chip cookies now - I'll split one with my little jammies clad Sammy. Oh, who am I kidding. I'm having my own cookie.

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