In my defense, this should have never been my responsibility in the first place.

Step 1: Go to the thrift store and locate the PERFECT overcoat in my 8-year-old's size to dress up as Ben Franklin for a speech she's giving tomorrow.

Step 2: Neglect to read coat's tag and completely fail to register the fact that the coat is, in fact, made out of wool.

Step 3: Machine wash cold and tumble dry medium.

Step 4: ...?? Dress the two-year-old up as Ben Frankin as a stand-in?

I like it the way it is. (Mostly.)


Double-Income, No Kids.

Have you ever fantasized what it would be like to be one half of a DINK? I could, but I always feel uncomfortable about it because, you know, the kids are non-existent and now I feel like a good mom because even in the chaos I would still choose my completely rambunctious children over sunning myself on the beach in Maui without having to watch three kids like a hawk so they don't drown themselves in the ocean.

I often close my eyes and remember the time roughly between mid-college and our firstborn, when I could go anywhere and do what I wanted without it being a mental and physical challenge. I also lived in the Midwest, where all the main attractions were pretty much located on the same stretch of road and it took me no longer than 8 minutes to get to any of them. What The Husband and I lacked in money, we made up for in freedom. What, it's 4 a.m. but we are both inexplicably awake? Go to the diner for milkshakes or muffins, then head over to wander the aisles of Wal-mart. How romantic!

Actually, that does kind of sound romantic. It beats staying home on Friday nights and trying to outfart each other. Marriage is funny that way.

So they made this movie of my life and didn't tell me.

I just got done watching Mom's Night Out, which I got from Netflix.
I might never give it back.
Sorry, Netflix.

PotD: Guttation


Control Freak Blues

Is it just me, or are there so many talking heads lecturing about the right way to parent, and so many different pieces of advice (many of which conflict), that no matter what you do, you are doing something wrong?

And when I'm doing something wrong, I'm not just doing something wrong. I'm doing something WRONG! W R O N G ! And now it's too late to make it right! I've completely wrecked my kids!!

But I don't think there is anything wrong with the kids. I think it's me. I think I'm a control freak.

PotD: Peace


Shaving Sheets with Jesus

I spent 10 minutes this evening shaving my bed. You know, with a safety razor.

No, I didn't loose my marbles, although the look on my husband's face may have indicated otherwise. Rather, I was shaving a rather disappointing set of sheets that I purchased last November that haven't really held up so well. They are the nicest sheets I've ever bought and yet not even four months later the bottom sheet is covered in pills. Hence the crazed Hausfrau wielding a safety razor over her bed.

Have you ever invested resources in something that you believed to be of good quality, but in the end it let you down?

The parallels between my lackluster sheets and other investments are many. I have invested time in pursuits that I felt were a path to more and better opportunities, but they were dead ends. I have invested money into countless books about how to get your baby to sleep through the night, potty train your toddler fast and effectively, get your kids to eat healthfully, stop sibling rivalry, etc., only to find that the promises never were fulfilled.

I know I'm not alone. We've all made bad judgement calls when it comes to our resources, and I have found that the most memorable lessons are the ones we learn the hard way. And yet, we are left with empty promises and pilly sheets. And then we, okay I, act crazy trying to squeeze some value out of overpriced wares.

Are we sort of like these inadequate sheets? I mean, yeah I've gotten lumpy over the years but that's not exactly what I meant. I could be something SUPER GREAT! In my wildest dreams growing up, I imagined myself becoming something of a super woman, a world-class physician of some sort of exotic specialty, a self-sacrificing humanitarian whose world-wide medical servitude knew no bounds, and a 21st-century June Cleaver all rolled into one.

Is that even possible?

Well...maybe? Regardless, I never even came close to realizing that dream, unless you count the June Cleaver bit, but I only drag the pearls and heels out once or twice a year. No, I never went to graduate school (medical or otherwise, yet anyway), and my life has taken a very divergent path from my imagined one.

Realistically, we are all going to fall short of what we ambitiously think we can do. We want to live up to our potential, but for many of us (hey, fellow overachievers!) our potential was really imagined way too high.

I can't do enough to make myself satisfied. I can't be enough to make myself satisfied. I am always, always, just not perfect.

But I don't have to be. Because I know, deep down in my heart, that I am loved by my Creator, who is also my Father God. He made me just the way I am, even the part of me that needs to sleep 8 hours a day when I could be doing super woman things. He has a plan for my life, and even though it's not a plan I would have necessarily chosen when I was a young adult, I know it's the right one. I am so happy with my life, happier than I ever was as a student. And even though I'm not perfect, he sent his son to be sacrificed as atonement for my sins.

Christians aren't perfect, sinless creatures. We can (and often do) fall prey to the very sins we abhor. We Christians are like the Super Fancy Big Money sheets that go four months and then get covered in pills. But then we have Jesus to shave us with a safety razor.

I need to work on my metaphors. Things are getting out of hand.

"What's right isn't always popular. What's popular isn't always right." -Howard Cossell


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