Eighteen years from now, when we have two kids in college and one in graduate school at Yale, so we can't afford a turkey, DWH and I will be sitting in our rocking chairs on our enormous wraparound porch, waiting to see their cars appear in the driveway so we can celebrate Thanksgiving with our babies. We may have to wait a while, because it's a long drive from New Haven, so we'll reminisce about Thanksgiving 2014.
We'll say things like, "Remember that Thanksgiving, right after we moved to North Carolina, and we lived in that little apartment? Sweet Pea was almost five and she caught a stomach virus that thwarted all our Thanksgiving plans? And, Goo was ten months old and would scream so loudly it shook the windows whenever I walked away? Remember when he used to let us call him Goo?
"Remember how you went to K&W Cafeteria to pick up a couple of Thanksgiving dinner plates, because we had planned to go to South Carolina and Alabama for the holiday weekend and we didn't have any food in the fridge? Remember how Buddy wouldn't eat anything but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he ate some applesauce with pumpkin and cranberry? Remember how the dressing tasted suspiciously like a crab cake, but the pecan pie was heavenly?
"Remember how you went and searched out a candle for me to put on the table, just to make the atmosphere a little more cheerful, and because the whole apartment smelled like stomach virus poop?
"Remember that? Do you remember how grateful we were to have our family all together, just you and me and our awesome three? Even though we were disappointed to miss the chance to see everyone else, even though there was fever and yellow gravy and piles of laundry to do, it was OK. We were thankful. We had what we needed. Remember?"
And, we will remember. We will laugh. We will still be thankful. And, then, we'll laugh some more.
We have had much to overcome this year, but God has tempered the obstacles with blessings. All that we have, we owe to his grace. It has always been and will always be thus.
“Those blessings are sweetest that are won with prayer and worn with thanks.”
― Thomas Goodwin
November 27, 2014
November 13, 2014
It's Just Safer that Way
A friend posted this hilarious list on Facebook today. Well, I thought it was hilarious. I can see how some people wouldn't, either because they are the target of the list, or because they take themselves very seriously and are, therefore, easily offended.
Anyway, the list addresses twenty phrases that almost every mom I know has heard at one time or another. Many of them are uttered by well-meaning people who are under the misguided notion that because they raised their own children, they know what's best for mine. I can appreciate these comments in the spirit in which they are intended. That doesn't mean that they don't make me clench my jaw shut until I hear my back teeth beginning to crack, but I do understand that there is no malice involved.
Some people are just mean. Or nosy. Or both. I cannot be held responsible for what flies out of my mouth and hits these people. They deserve my snark, and they deserve it in droves!
So, here's the list:
And here are my responses:
1. This one doesn't bother me, although I understand that it flies all over some people. It could be a lot worse. Read on.
2. What?! My child isn't supposed to live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?? Yes. I have tried fruits and veggies. I am not stupid. He eats fruit, but if you can think of a solution to his "I don't like to eat" phase, I am all ears. I worry about it enough, thanks. Oh, and please don't shame him about it. It makes me madder than a wet hen.
3. I don't give my kids soda, either. No judgment. Your kids aren't my kids.
4. Really? How should I let him lie on the floor? He has a short attention span and he's bored.
5. I'm torn on this one. I don't know if the person speaking has gone to a kids' movie expecting peace and quiet, or if the masochistic mother has taken her children to see a romantic comedy. If the former, why would you do that?? If the latter, why would you do that??
6. I laughed until tears ran down my face at this one. That's like saying, "When I buy a house, none of the light bulbs will ever need to be replaced."
Kids are not dogs. You can't coerce them into behaving the way you want them to with Snausages. They are people, with ideas and personalities and minds of their own. I wish you good providence in your endeavors as a parent. (Insert maniacal laughter here.)
7. And, this is why we practice good oral hygiene in our house. Everything in moderation, folks.
8. Hm. You seem pretty upset that he's pretty upset. Should you just go home? He'll forget what he's upset about and calm down in about 90 seconds. Will you?
9. I've never had anyone ask me if they could give my kids candy because they were sad. I have, however, had the bakers at Publix and Fresh Market yell out, "Hey, can they have a free cookie?" Uh, sure. It's almost lunch time, but I didn't want them to have anything healthy, anyway. Go ahead, because now that they've heard you, I will never hear the end of it until they get their free cookie.
10 & 11. Don't. Just don't. For this one, like many of the others, let's just assume that I know my children better than you do, because they're mine. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but you're saying this because you have no idea that my Buddy is very warm natured and if I put a jacket on him right now, the process will go like this: 1. He will begin to complain that he's too hot. 2. He will make a desperate attempt to take off the jacket, with or without unzipping it. 3. He will be red-faced and sweating buckets. Please just assume that I know my kids well enough to know whether or not they are comfortable, unless it's snowing and they're wearing tank tops and flip flops. Thanks.
12. Probably. Are you offering to babysit? I'll pay you with cookies.
13. Again, I'm torn on this one. If you say this when my kids are mad because I poured their milk into the yellow cup after they asked for the yellow cup and then changed their minds, go for it. Hug all you want. If you say this while I'm trying to discipline my kids, may God have mercy on your soul.
14. So...what? Yes, I chose to be a parent. Now, I'm going to choose to admit that it's hard.
15. Tony Danza. Also, see #6.
16. Maybe, but how do you know that child doesn't have developmental delays? Be kind, please.
17. Funny. I never gave anyone time to say that to me. But, my mom could give you an earful about it, I'm sure.
18. Absolutely! Why don't you bring your lunch and sit on the public toilet and eat it, too? No? I can't imagine why...
19. That's between the parent, the kid, and the pediatrician or dentist.
20. No. I'm saying this as both a dog lover and a mom. I spent some wonderful years with my dog, and I know how it feels to truly love a dog, and a cat, for that matter. Dogs are our first lessons in unconditional love. But, no. It is not the same. Until you have either carried your child in your body or brought your chosen-in-love child home, maybe it's hard to fully understand. But, it's not the same.
We're all on this journey together, y'all. Be kind. Our ultimate goal is the same. We all want to raise kids who love and are loved. Your kids are not my kids. My kids are not your kids. Our homes are not the same. Let's just arrive at our destination the way that's best for our own families, without judgment. And, even if you think you know better than that mom who is doing it totally wrong because you read it in a magazine or your friend's cousin's next-door neighbor's aunt's chiropractor said that kids shouldn't eat that, keep it to yourself. It makes it hard to enjoy the itty-bitty years when your parenting methods are being critiqued. And, the itty-bitty years are only here for a minute.
Peace, Love, and Cheerios.
Anyway, the list addresses twenty phrases that almost every mom I know has heard at one time or another. Many of them are uttered by well-meaning people who are under the misguided notion that because they raised their own children, they know what's best for mine. I can appreciate these comments in the spirit in which they are intended. That doesn't mean that they don't make me clench my jaw shut until I hear my back teeth beginning to crack, but I do understand that there is no malice involved.
Some people are just mean. Or nosy. Or both. I cannot be held responsible for what flies out of my mouth and hits these people. They deserve my snark, and they deserve it in droves!
So, here's the list:
And here are my responses:
1. This one doesn't bother me, although I understand that it flies all over some people. It could be a lot worse. Read on.
2. What?! My child isn't supposed to live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?? Yes. I have tried fruits and veggies. I am not stupid. He eats fruit, but if you can think of a solution to his "I don't like to eat" phase, I am all ears. I worry about it enough, thanks. Oh, and please don't shame him about it. It makes me madder than a wet hen.
3. I don't give my kids soda, either. No judgment. Your kids aren't my kids.
4. Really? How should I let him lie on the floor? He has a short attention span and he's bored.
5. I'm torn on this one. I don't know if the person speaking has gone to a kids' movie expecting peace and quiet, or if the masochistic mother has taken her children to see a romantic comedy. If the former, why would you do that?? If the latter, why would you do that??
6. I laughed until tears ran down my face at this one. That's like saying, "When I buy a house, none of the light bulbs will ever need to be replaced."
Kids are not dogs. You can't coerce them into behaving the way you want them to with Snausages. They are people, with ideas and personalities and minds of their own. I wish you good providence in your endeavors as a parent. (Insert maniacal laughter here.)
7. And, this is why we practice good oral hygiene in our house. Everything in moderation, folks.
8. Hm. You seem pretty upset that he's pretty upset. Should you just go home? He'll forget what he's upset about and calm down in about 90 seconds. Will you?
9. I've never had anyone ask me if they could give my kids candy because they were sad. I have, however, had the bakers at Publix and Fresh Market yell out, "Hey, can they have a free cookie?" Uh, sure. It's almost lunch time, but I didn't want them to have anything healthy, anyway. Go ahead, because now that they've heard you, I will never hear the end of it until they get their free cookie.
10 & 11. Don't. Just don't. For this one, like many of the others, let's just assume that I know my children better than you do, because they're mine. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but you're saying this because you have no idea that my Buddy is very warm natured and if I put a jacket on him right now, the process will go like this: 1. He will begin to complain that he's too hot. 2. He will make a desperate attempt to take off the jacket, with or without unzipping it. 3. He will be red-faced and sweating buckets. Please just assume that I know my kids well enough to know whether or not they are comfortable, unless it's snowing and they're wearing tank tops and flip flops. Thanks.
12. Probably. Are you offering to babysit? I'll pay you with cookies.
13. Again, I'm torn on this one. If you say this when my kids are mad because I poured their milk into the yellow cup after they asked for the yellow cup and then changed their minds, go for it. Hug all you want. If you say this while I'm trying to discipline my kids, may God have mercy on your soul.
14. So...what? Yes, I chose to be a parent. Now, I'm going to choose to admit that it's hard.
15. Tony Danza. Also, see #6.
16. Maybe, but how do you know that child doesn't have developmental delays? Be kind, please.
17. Funny. I never gave anyone time to say that to me. But, my mom could give you an earful about it, I'm sure.
18. Absolutely! Why don't you bring your lunch and sit on the public toilet and eat it, too? No? I can't imagine why...
19. That's between the parent, the kid, and the pediatrician or dentist.
20. No. I'm saying this as both a dog lover and a mom. I spent some wonderful years with my dog, and I know how it feels to truly love a dog, and a cat, for that matter. Dogs are our first lessons in unconditional love. But, no. It is not the same. Until you have either carried your child in your body or brought your chosen-in-love child home, maybe it's hard to fully understand. But, it's not the same.
We're all on this journey together, y'all. Be kind. Our ultimate goal is the same. We all want to raise kids who love and are loved. Your kids are not my kids. My kids are not your kids. Our homes are not the same. Let's just arrive at our destination the way that's best for our own families, without judgment. And, even if you think you know better than that mom who is doing it totally wrong because you read it in a magazine or your friend's cousin's next-door neighbor's aunt's chiropractor said that kids shouldn't eat that, keep it to yourself. It makes it hard to enjoy the itty-bitty years when your parenting methods are being critiqued. And, the itty-bitty years are only here for a minute.
Peace, Love, and Cheerios.
October 28, 2014
Clumsy, or Normal?
You've seen Goo, right? The final installment of the Head trifecta? The baby who was wearing 18 month clothes at 7.5 months old? My child who is now nine months old and wears 2T-3T socks? The one who wears the same Alabama jersey his big brother wore two years ago, but looks like he should actually be playing football in it?
I love that kid.
I think he might be a little clumsy, though.
If you've seen him, you have doubtless seen him with a bruise on his head or a scratch on his face. Ever since he started crawling, he has been in a much better mood. However, he smacks right into stuff. Today, it was the TV stand. And the table leg. And his bedroom door. Last week, he had a big ol' goose egg on his forehead from crawling directly into Sweet Pea's bedpost. I spend a good portion of each day consoling him after he has crawled himself into an injury.
Now, he is much faster and more mobile than either of my other two, who have mostly been content to play a game or to occupy a lap and read. So, that leaves me wondering if this perceived clumsiness is actually a normal part of the active infant's life, and I just don't know about it because my first and second children were so calm and relatively quiet. I know that's the case with the sleep thing. Sweet Pea and Buddy sleep like champs and always have. Not Goo. He's getting better, though.
He is just so different from his brother and sister. If you roll a ball for him, he crawls at lightning speed to retrieve it and giggles with sheer delight. So, I'm thinking he might be athletically inclined. Great.
People always look at him and say, "Look how big he is! He's going to be a snerginflergin!" (That's what I hear when you use football words. Every time DWH watches ESPN and I hear someone say, "Nickelback," I'm terrified that I'm going to have to suffer through "How You Remind Me.")
That's great if he likes the whole sports thing, but if this continues, I'm a little nervous about letting him play.
But, this is normal, right? It's a normal part of being a nine month old with lot of energy and I shouldn't worry that he has depth perception issues. Right? RIGHT??
I love that kid.
I think he might be a little clumsy, though.
If you've seen him, you have doubtless seen him with a bruise on his head or a scratch on his face. Ever since he started crawling, he has been in a much better mood. However, he smacks right into stuff. Today, it was the TV stand. And the table leg. And his bedroom door. Last week, he had a big ol' goose egg on his forehead from crawling directly into Sweet Pea's bedpost. I spend a good portion of each day consoling him after he has crawled himself into an injury.
Now, he is much faster and more mobile than either of my other two, who have mostly been content to play a game or to occupy a lap and read. So, that leaves me wondering if this perceived clumsiness is actually a normal part of the active infant's life, and I just don't know about it because my first and second children were so calm and relatively quiet. I know that's the case with the sleep thing. Sweet Pea and Buddy sleep like champs and always have. Not Goo. He's getting better, though.
He is just so different from his brother and sister. If you roll a ball for him, he crawls at lightning speed to retrieve it and giggles with sheer delight. So, I'm thinking he might be athletically inclined. Great.
People always look at him and say, "Look how big he is! He's going to be a snerginflergin!" (That's what I hear when you use football words. Every time DWH watches ESPN and I hear someone say, "Nickelback," I'm terrified that I'm going to have to suffer through "How You Remind Me.")
That's great if he likes the whole sports thing, but if this continues, I'm a little nervous about letting him play.
But, this is normal, right? It's a normal part of being a nine month old with lot of energy and I shouldn't worry that he has depth perception issues. Right? RIGHT??
October 3, 2014
And, the Difference Is...?
Recently, I read a blog post that was written by a young wife and mom whose husband asked her to stop wearing yoga pants everywhere. At first, I was appalled that her husband would take it upon himself to make his wife's fashion choices for her and worse, that she would allow it to happen.
But, the more I read, the more I saw that he actually had a valid point and was glad that the wife chose to look in the mirror and see what he was saying. In fact, I had caught myself thinking along the same lines, although my reasoning is a little different.
As a husband, and apparently a very pious one, he was concerned about his wife wearing clothes that are tighter than her own skin, especially when men are around, because it was making men have lustful thoughts about her, thereby forcing them to commit adultery in their hearts. That kind of thinking suggests that anyone with a Y chromosome should be released from the burden of personal responsibility, and also lends itself to the oh-so-popular American cultural assertion that all men are too dim-witted to control themselves.
Here's my thing:
You're walking around Target with your children in the cart, wearing your yoga pants and your monogrammed, chevron-patterned tank top that shows your bra and probably a little side boob. You hair is in a perfectly positioned pony tail, and you are wearing your pristine, multi-colored tennis shoes. Don't look at me like that. I just described 90% of the women in Target and at the park.
Guess what?
I can see every single nook and cranny God gave you. All of it. You are leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. And, based on my knowing several of you, I'm going to venture a guess that you are a champion of the "modesty movement" and monitor every article of smocked clothing your little girl wears below that giant bow.
You may also be the type who wonders why, on the football games that come on Sunday, the cheerleaders are essentially wearing nothing but sequined bras and panties. Or, maybe that's just me. At any rate, I can see yours. Bras and panties, that is.
I'm not just picking on yoga pants, though. I can imagine that if your babysitter showed up wearing this:
You would ask her, politely, to go home and change clothes, and then come back when she was dressed appropriately to be with young children. And yet, if you change the fabric and add a Nike symbol so that it looks as if you've just come from working out, it's entirely appropriate for a suburban mom to wear to the grocery store.
Why? What's the difference? You're still showing just as much skin and wearing shorts that are just as tight with that tank top and sports bra.
Julia Roberts had on more clothes than that in the first thirty minutes of Pretty Woman.
Let's have a little fun and show my age for a second. Twenty years ago, if I had tried to leave my house wearing "workout shorts" that showed most of my leg and probably some of my underwear, or pants as tight as the yoga pants that moms wear today, I would have been swiftly sent back to my room and told that I forgot some of my clothes.
I'm not kidding, ladies, you can see everything.
Why is it that if those skin tight pants were sold at Hot Topic and came in zebra print, you would accuse the wearer of looking slutty and trying too hard to get attention for her body, but when those same pants are purchased at Academy Sports in basic black, they're fine because they're "yoga pants?"
If your argument is that the other woman is trying to entice men by dressing that way, let me ask you something. What is it that you think entices them? Isn't it the fact that they're skin tight and show off all her body parts?
Um...
I know that not everyone notices things like this and I'm sure it doesn't bother everyone the way it bothers me. But, I am the queen of pet peeves, right?
I guess my problem isn't really that I can see all your body parts while I'm shopping for toothpaste, but more that I hope you're not telling your little girl to keep herself covered when you're not doing it yourself. Or, that you won't be shocked when she wants to wear next to nothing when she goes to middle school. She's just following your example, right?
OK, one last thing, and it has nothing to do with revealing clothes and everything to do with my own quirkiness.
I have chosen to make being a stay-at-home mom my career for a few years, while my kiddos are itty bitty. Did you see what I called it? My career.
If I were going to a paying job every day, I would be showered and dressed in real clothes. Why is that? Because my job is important to me, so I should look like I care about what I'm doing and that I'm putting my absolute best into every aspect of it.
If Dad wears nice clothes every day because what he's doing is important and meaningful and he needs to be at his best in order to do his job, what does it say about my job if all I do throw on some yoga pants and a ratty old t-shirt without so much as a quick shower?
I do understand that I'm a morning person and that it's harder for some to get that done than it is for me. Again, it's my own issue inside my own head, but I thought it might be a little food for thought.
But, the more I read, the more I saw that he actually had a valid point and was glad that the wife chose to look in the mirror and see what he was saying. In fact, I had caught myself thinking along the same lines, although my reasoning is a little different.
As a husband, and apparently a very pious one, he was concerned about his wife wearing clothes that are tighter than her own skin, especially when men are around, because it was making men have lustful thoughts about her, thereby forcing them to commit adultery in their hearts. That kind of thinking suggests that anyone with a Y chromosome should be released from the burden of personal responsibility, and also lends itself to the oh-so-popular American cultural assertion that all men are too dim-witted to control themselves.
Here's my thing:
You're walking around Target with your children in the cart, wearing your yoga pants and your monogrammed, chevron-patterned tank top that shows your bra and probably a little side boob. You hair is in a perfectly positioned pony tail, and you are wearing your pristine, multi-colored tennis shoes. Don't look at me like that. I just described 90% of the women in Target and at the park.
Guess what?
I can see every single nook and cranny God gave you. All of it. You are leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. And, based on my knowing several of you, I'm going to venture a guess that you are a champion of the "modesty movement" and monitor every article of smocked clothing your little girl wears below that giant bow.
You may also be the type who wonders why, on the football games that come on Sunday, the cheerleaders are essentially wearing nothing but sequined bras and panties. Or, maybe that's just me. At any rate, I can see yours. Bras and panties, that is.
I'm not just picking on yoga pants, though. I can imagine that if your babysitter showed up wearing this:
You would ask her, politely, to go home and change clothes, and then come back when she was dressed appropriately to be with young children. And yet, if you change the fabric and add a Nike symbol so that it looks as if you've just come from working out, it's entirely appropriate for a suburban mom to wear to the grocery store.
Why? What's the difference? You're still showing just as much skin and wearing shorts that are just as tight with that tank top and sports bra.
Julia Roberts had on more clothes than that in the first thirty minutes of Pretty Woman.
Let's have a little fun and show my age for a second. Twenty years ago, if I had tried to leave my house wearing "workout shorts" that showed most of my leg and probably some of my underwear, or pants as tight as the yoga pants that moms wear today, I would have been swiftly sent back to my room and told that I forgot some of my clothes.
I'm not kidding, ladies, you can see everything.
Why is it that if those skin tight pants were sold at Hot Topic and came in zebra print, you would accuse the wearer of looking slutty and trying too hard to get attention for her body, but when those same pants are purchased at Academy Sports in basic black, they're fine because they're "yoga pants?"
If your argument is that the other woman is trying to entice men by dressing that way, let me ask you something. What is it that you think entices them? Isn't it the fact that they're skin tight and show off all her body parts?
Um...
I know that not everyone notices things like this and I'm sure it doesn't bother everyone the way it bothers me. But, I am the queen of pet peeves, right?
I guess my problem isn't really that I can see all your body parts while I'm shopping for toothpaste, but more that I hope you're not telling your little girl to keep herself covered when you're not doing it yourself. Or, that you won't be shocked when she wants to wear next to nothing when she goes to middle school. She's just following your example, right?
OK, one last thing, and it has nothing to do with revealing clothes and everything to do with my own quirkiness.
I have chosen to make being a stay-at-home mom my career for a few years, while my kiddos are itty bitty. Did you see what I called it? My career.
If I were going to a paying job every day, I would be showered and dressed in real clothes. Why is that? Because my job is important to me, so I should look like I care about what I'm doing and that I'm putting my absolute best into every aspect of it.
If Dad wears nice clothes every day because what he's doing is important and meaningful and he needs to be at his best in order to do his job, what does it say about my job if all I do throw on some yoga pants and a ratty old t-shirt without so much as a quick shower?
I do understand that I'm a morning person and that it's harder for some to get that done than it is for me. Again, it's my own issue inside my own head, but I thought it might be a little food for thought.
September 21, 2014
Finally!
My Crock Pot has been returned to me, safe and sound. I can't say that much for my bread bowl, but the casualties of the move were few, and we are all together again in a home that does not require a plastic card to open the front door.
This weekend, we attended our first traditional Winston-Salem annual event as a family. We went to Apple Fest, which is a nerd's paradise if I ever saw one. Therefore, we fit in perfectly and had a great time! We bought apple butter, drank apple cider, smelled apple pastries being baked, and watched a woman in Colonial-style garb bake an apple pie in a Dutch oven over an open fire. We saw people party like it was 1799. Sweet Pea, of course, wanted to sample every morsel of apple-y goodness we saw. Buddy wanted to climb rocks. Then, he didn't. He wanted to make a craft. Then, he didn't. He thought he might want to sample some honey. Then, he didn't. But, if you know our Little Buddy, you know that he is always easy going and happy to be wherever he is. Goo fell asleep, because that's what you do when you're eight months old and your parents drag you to their dorky festivals.
I assume DWH would have preferred to spend the entire day watching football, but he was a great sport and I'm pretty sure he had a good time, too.
So, who wants to be the first to come visit us and get dragged to stuff like this? We're taking volunteers!
This weekend, we attended our first traditional Winston-Salem annual event as a family. We went to Apple Fest, which is a nerd's paradise if I ever saw one. Therefore, we fit in perfectly and had a great time! We bought apple butter, drank apple cider, smelled apple pastries being baked, and watched a woman in Colonial-style garb bake an apple pie in a Dutch oven over an open fire. We saw people party like it was 1799. Sweet Pea, of course, wanted to sample every morsel of apple-y goodness we saw. Buddy wanted to climb rocks. Then, he didn't. He wanted to make a craft. Then, he didn't. He thought he might want to sample some honey. Then, he didn't. But, if you know our Little Buddy, you know that he is always easy going and happy to be wherever he is. Goo fell asleep, because that's what you do when you're eight months old and your parents drag you to their dorky festivals.
I assume DWH would have preferred to spend the entire day watching football, but he was a great sport and I'm pretty sure he had a good time, too.
So, who wants to be the first to come visit us and get dragged to stuff like this? We're taking volunteers!
September 10, 2014
We're Here!
We have, as of last Sunday, arrived in Winston-Salem. I guess we're not really official since we still have Alabama driver's licenses and car tags, but we have a new address, a new preschool, a new grocery store, and have begun the process of church shopping. The people here are incredibly friendly, and the weather has been nice.
As for that new address, it sure will be great when we can live there. Now, if you're a mom with more than one child or any children who are not potty trained and/or cannot feed themselves, you might want to sit down for this one. We have been in a hotel room with three children under the age of five for nine days, and will be here for six more days. The moving truck has other places to go before bringing our belongings to their rightful owners, so here we are, crashing at the ol' Residence Inn. Yes, we have two bedrooms, but have you heard the way that little one can howl?? Plus, I miss my Crock Pot. Taco soup...mmmmm.
While the current accommodations are not exactly ideal for a territorial control freak - I am, of course, referring to the children, certainly not myself - this isn't forever and we will be back in the land of three bedrooms (with doors!), sleeping in our own beds, on sheets that only have our cooties, in six short days.
Next week at this time, hopefully, I will be watching this odd little PBS cooking show on our very own TV that was made around the same year America learned the ZIP code for Beverly Hills. No more of this fancy high definition stuff for us! No, sir! OK, I might miss having a TV that's easy for my antique eyes to see. But, that's it.
The youngest of my brood just announced to the entire hotel that his nap is over. That was a peaceful twenty minutes. Back to the salt mines...
As for that new address, it sure will be great when we can live there. Now, if you're a mom with more than one child or any children who are not potty trained and/or cannot feed themselves, you might want to sit down for this one. We have been in a hotel room with three children under the age of five for nine days, and will be here for six more days. The moving truck has other places to go before bringing our belongings to their rightful owners, so here we are, crashing at the ol' Residence Inn. Yes, we have two bedrooms, but have you heard the way that little one can howl?? Plus, I miss my Crock Pot. Taco soup...mmmmm.
While the current accommodations are not exactly ideal for a territorial control freak - I am, of course, referring to the children, certainly not myself - this isn't forever and we will be back in the land of three bedrooms (with doors!), sleeping in our own beds, on sheets that only have our cooties, in six short days.
Next week at this time, hopefully, I will be watching this odd little PBS cooking show on our very own TV that was made around the same year America learned the ZIP code for Beverly Hills. No more of this fancy high definition stuff for us! No, sir! OK, I might miss having a TV that's easy for my antique eyes to see. But, that's it.
The youngest of my brood just announced to the entire hotel that his nap is over. That was a peaceful twenty minutes. Back to the salt mines...
August 27, 2014
On the Road Again
I don't think I'll apologize for neglecting this blog for more than a month this time. We've had a lot going on. Also, I have three children and preschool isn't in session during the summer. I'm surprised I have time to breathe, let alone blog.
First, I want to thank all of you who have prayed with us and for us during these months that DWH has been out of work. Your prayers and love have meant more to us than you will ever know.
Second, I would like to congratulate my favorite hubby on his new job! He has worked tirelessly, searching for the right job for himself and for our family, and his efforts have finally paid off.
So, it is with much excitement, along with my trademark hand-wringing and a few hives, that I am officially announcing that the Heads are once again on the move.
We are headed to Winston-Salem, NC!
It all happened very quickly, but we are excited and can't wait to settle in to our new home...as soon as we find one. :)
The area is not altogether unfamiliar, as DWH lived there for two years while attending Wake Forest, and I made the trip from Atlanta to Winston-Salem for weekend visits on several occasions during those two years.
Now, all that's left to do is pack up the minivan so that the kids and I can join DWH on our new journey, and to thank God for merciful provision.
"On the road again.
Just can't wait to get on the road again..."
First, I want to thank all of you who have prayed with us and for us during these months that DWH has been out of work. Your prayers and love have meant more to us than you will ever know.
Second, I would like to congratulate my favorite hubby on his new job! He has worked tirelessly, searching for the right job for himself and for our family, and his efforts have finally paid off.
So, it is with much excitement, along with my trademark hand-wringing and a few hives, that I am officially announcing that the Heads are once again on the move.
We are headed to Winston-Salem, NC!
It all happened very quickly, but we are excited and can't wait to settle in to our new home...as soon as we find one. :)
The area is not altogether unfamiliar, as DWH lived there for two years while attending Wake Forest, and I made the trip from Atlanta to Winston-Salem for weekend visits on several occasions during those two years.
Now, all that's left to do is pack up the minivan so that the kids and I can join DWH on our new journey, and to thank God for merciful provision.
"On the road again.
Just can't wait to get on the road again..."
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