tamara b

What to Write About

Much has happened and I would love to post about many funny little moments in our family. But you know how it goes, unless I write it down right away, it doesn’t get done. Life happens and we move on to the next funny thing. If I can remember any of the funny moments, I’ll incorporate them here.

While on the phone with mom yesterday, Scott needed some help wiping:
Me: okay Mom, I need to get. A child’s butt needs wiping.
Scott as he’s bent over in the wipe position: that’s me. Grammy, I need my butt wiped.
Okay, one of those moments where you had to be there. It was just humorous.

While trying to make life a little easier this weekend, I managed to add a little more chaos. It was time for once a month cooking. Only, I didn’t have time or desire to cook a months worth of meal so I started with seven or so. My plans to go Friday night didn’t work out. And Saturday morning thoughts of shopping were set aside when I decided to take the kids to the pumpkin patch instead.

Another story inserted here:
Stopping out at Kahler’s Korner should be nothing but fun right. Climbing out of the van, we were promptly greeted by the farm dog. This cute border collie made for a rough start in the cold and windy weather. The dog was all over the kids, one of which still isn’t real trusting of dogs yet. She was even climbing in the van to get to the kids. Now, it would have been fun to play with her but she kept jumping on the kids and knocking them over. Not real fun for a 2, 3, and 5 year old. With my hand on the dog’s collar, we made it to the pumpkins and eventually the dog settled down with her old volleyball. She wandered around the kids and managed to get in a few pictures with the kids before my little popscicles were ready to go home.

After pumpkins, picking up toys, an early lunch and naps, we headed to get groceries. My kids are, for the most part, well behaved children. Shopping with them is still stressful. I think I went down each isle twice. But that seemed to be fine with Judah who greeted people multiple times. This was also the first time in almost 5 months that I got stares from people. Lots of them. Seriously, I’m not sure if they just hadn’t seen a black child in person before or if Judah had some major boogers hanging out that were invisible to me.

Speaking of things, I can’t see, here’s another quick story:
I’m super anal about washing new clothes before they’re worn. I don’t care if its socks, jeans or a sweater. I do not wear clothes that haven’t been washed. Neither do my kids. But this one instance, I decided to just go for it. I mean seriously, I should be fun. Chances are they’re really aren’t poisonous spiders hiding in the new clothes, right? Okay, so it’s funny that on more than one occasion (at least 3 but who’s counting) I’ve found a sticker on the clothes that I’d been wearing around. Friday, it was the afternoon before I saw the little round sticker with the size on it. That’s nice considering I would typically not even wear them without being washed first. Anyway, back to my story.

Groceries with three children = not peaceful. Scott wanted to stay at his grammy’s and so I gave him a quick bath and packed his clothes. I managed to get a break from two kids while Bethany rode with Ryan to drop Scott off and stop at the clinic. In the middle of a few meals, I bathed Judah and got him in bed. Four meals and having put one more child to bed, I showered and headed to bed myself.

Having watched Legally Blond on Friday night with Ryan, I thought it was a good idea to watch the sequel at 1030. Beyond tired, I managed to fall asleep before the end. Surprise, surprise.

After a full day at the church, I got home at almost 4pm and Ryan headed out for another few hours of wood cutting and I started back in the kitchen. Thank you Jesus giving my children patience for part of the time. I managed to get a few more meals prepared, including supper. I fed the wild Indians who apparently weren’t as hungry as they’d been communicating. Stinkers. Bed time for them couldn’t have come too early as the drama continued even as I didn’t finish praying with them but decided to keep my sanity, turned out their light and walked out.

After finishing up in the kitchen, where I managed to avoid sweeping the floor, I headed upstairs. I really wanted to play guitar, but I put my sewing stuff in the office so that I could work on sewing while Ryan worked at his desk. Since Ryan was upstairs, I headed up as well. Good thing cause I had a pair of Jen’s kiddo’s jeans that I was patching for him. Of course, I’d broken the needle a few weeks ago and didn’t want to dig out a spare so I waited until a wallyworld trip to buy new ones. Back to patching Daniel’s jeans I went. What a frustration. I will never again offer to patch jeans where the butt of the jeans has the whole. My home-made patch kept getting doubled over and sewn under. So Jen, when you get Daniel’s jeans back this week, feel free to rip out the crazy strings that managed to get tangled more than once and let your mom fix them like you said from the beginning. Sorry friend, I tried. Bag to the bags I go. Only I don’t really want to do the next step at 1030 at night so I grab my laptop.

Now, a full weekend has past. And a full weekend it was. Only I was hoping to have a weekend full of sewing bags (still offering my “you buy one, I donate one” deal), cleaning house and getting rid of the gnats who are trying desperately to survive in my house. I did manage to fold loads of laundry, pick up my living room and wipe down the counter in the bathroom. So much for having a clean house! Right now I sit here, listening to some song in Spanish that I don’t understand and wonder how it got on my itunes. It does sound vaguely familiar. I look up from my computer and see the most amazing sight. It’s my husband, having had a full week, scheduled to get up in 7 hours, yet organizing bills on the desk.

Ooh, one more story, but not so funny:
I have some awful knee-jerk reaction this morning. Ryan was putting on a wrinkled church and thinking he couldn’t go out in public like that I tell him his shirt is too wrinkled. And when he asks me to iron it for him, I might have well fallen on the floor and thrown a tantrum. My reaction was that ironing his shirt would make me late for church (cause I was otherwise perfectly on time, yeah right). Instead of just serving my husband, and loving him, I tried to blame him for me being late. I suck like that. I did iron his shirt and went on to make him hot chocolate too.

He’s amazing. He’s studly. He’s strong. He’s loving. He’s handsome. He laughs at my dumb jokes. He takes time for our children. He pays the bills. He loves me when I’m selfish, mean, and ugly. He cooks. He’ll share the starbucks gift card he just found on the desk (subliminal messaging in case he reads it. Yes, I’m classy like that). He has an amazing smile. He serves others. He’s compassionate and passionate. He’s smart. He’s mine. I’m so thankful.

With all of that, it should take care of at least two, if not 5, days of posts that I’m behind on. Good night.