guffey love: July 2013

No, I didn't pack up my computer, I'm just a bad blogger.

We've had a steady flow of STUFF going on, and blogging just hasn't hit the radar. Until now.
Now, when I'm sitting at the table with my eldest, waiting for her to finish dinner. Yesterday it took her ::count it:: 2.5 hours to eat breakfast. I'm not making this up. She's a slow eater, she gets distracted, she never ever stops talking, when we are making dinner she is so hungry she will ask you over and over if it's ready, and as we all sit down... ... ... she's not hungry and she has to go potty 6 times before we give up and put her to bed. Plate still full. Does anyone else have this "problem"? We've tried it all... but I think. we might. just have. an HLBC eater on our hands. I said it. We're learning through it. And by that I mean: i'mpullingmyhairoutwhatdoido?

We had a yard sale. It was alright. I like the money in my pocket but I don't like a lot of the other parts. Y'all. For real, two people got in a fight in my driveway. If I'm lyin' I'm cryin'. I couldn't handle it. Couldn't stop laughing. so I walked away... but my sweet friend legit had to mediate. I guess. It was hysterical and kind of scary. Over a $1 item. Seriously. This is real life. My very favorite part of the whole thing was the fact that I had a "bachelorette party kit" set out. I know, weird. whatever. But it had a boa, and a game and napkins and some straws. You know what I'm talking about. And no one touched it EXCEPT for every person who didn't speak English. And every one of those people happened to be a man. And they would walk over, open the box and we would ~~snicker~~ cringe, and they would either ask what it was or slowly open and then close the box. I died. This happened like 6 times. Where's the hidden camera? It was maybe the most entertaining thing of my life. Maybe. Ok, for sure, it was.

It was so hot.

Don't mind the dead plants.

My thumb is pale. almost clear.

not green.

My sweet frands came and hung out with me.

Including tonight we have 3 more nights in this house. Everything is packed. For real, everything. Poor children. No toys. They've actually been packed up for over a week... and I'm so tempted, you don't even know, to give them all away instead of moving them into the new house. What wild imaginations these kids have:: making cars out of pillows and blankets, using kitchen tiles as railroad tracks and playing baseball with balls of packing tape and a plastic spoon. I love it. I do love some of their toys. And the ones I didn't love or find educational or beautiful I tossed or sold. #winning. I think once a year (ok, maybe two years) we should all pretend we're moving. Clean stuff out. Fix stuff up. Imagine it.

Our neighbors are probably like ALERT! HOARDERS! So many trash bags. So many trips to donation bins. So. much. stuff. What an awakening it's been for me. We don't need for anything material.

All this empty space in our home has made the perfect place for lots of dancing. Cartoons? No. Chamblee requests music. Fast music for dancing.