Sleep Tight

Yeah, that's my boy.
He's sleeping on a bed with no sheets because, let's be honest.
I washed them two days ago and they are sitting in the dryer.
Yeah, so what, he pulled every last wipe out of the box.
And my very favorite, he has swapped his lovie snuggles for sweet smelling snuggles with the dirty diaper I changed right before bed.
What a weird kid. 

By all accounts, my kids will be scarred for life.
Or, maybe just maybe, they just won't take life so seriously.
Because really, who needs sheetz on their bed.
(No, I haven't gone rogue. I mis-typed and a Z came out. I giggled. I like the way it looks. sheetz. So it stays.)

I don't know what this guy does when I close the doors for naptime.
But he's not sleeping without backup.

Perfectly parked cars. 

I spy:: Sword & Shield.

Very important.

Instruments: Check. 

All of them. 

I can't even handle it. 

So Jake likes a bunch of crap in his bed when he sleeps. 

I'm having issues with my sleep. Because there's a baby in my bed. 

I never co-slept with my first two, and little Josephine has weaseled her way into co-sleeping with us. 

Totally her fault, you guys. 

Oh, sure. She'll sleep through the night. 

If my curves are her blanket and my swingin' arm fat is her pillow. 

::eye roll::

I mean, I love it. 

I love every little baby sigh and every neck nuzzle. 

I love every slap to the face and every leaky diaper on my sheetz. 

I love sleeping in with her and smelling her little baby hairs all night. 

I love sleeping on 1/8 of my mattress and not being able to pull the covers up to my neck.

I love being able to kiss her little head all night and not being able to move one muscle Or. Else. 

I love it all. 

But mostly. The very most. The biggest reason I love it? 

I love it because if she's in the bed with me, she doesn't wake up. 

Because if I lay her in her bassinet- it's on. 

What's on?

The Ultimate Quiet Game. 

Do you know this game? 

Do you know who usually loses? 

My husband. 

Why? 

Because he has ankles that pop. 

So loud. 

You didn't think the pop of an ankle would wake a sleeping baby? 

You are 

SO. so. so. so. 

WRONG. 

I'll cut his feet off some nights.
I'll straight up cut. them. off.

But instead of doing that, I pull her into the bed with me and snuggle her all night and play
The Ultimate Balance Game.
Do you know this game? 
Well, it's easy to play.
You get as close to the very edge of the bed that you possibly can.
And try not to fall off.
All night.
It's pretty intense.
I love it.

What games are you playing these days?
I'm losing at all of the games I'm playing.
You have never been woken up more suddenly than falling off of your own. bed.
I'm just saying.
I can imagine. It's never happened.
...

Until Next Time,
The Guff

Straight Up Mess

So I nursed Josephine and forgot to re-button my top buttons and then I went to Trader Joe's and everyone stared at me. And I gave them all the "What are you looking at" look right back. And then, when I got into my blue mini van I noticed the breeze. And then, I rolled my eyes and windows down and took a deep breath. It could've been worse, I thought. There could've been something for them to look at. 

I'm a mess. 

You know when you hear people say that about kids and it's like a "They are so clumsy and forgetful... but darn it, they are so cute" kind of backwards compliment? I'm hoping that applies to adults me. Because really, I'm a mess. I've always been this way, and anyone who has known me for any extended period of time has probably at one time or another said aloud about me, "That girl is a straight up mess." I get it. I know it.

I'm always about 17 thoughts ahead of whatever I'm saying out loud.
I'm usually making ::kind of:: no sense.
This blog, for me, is a way to try and say what my brain is saying... because it is so jam packed I just havetogetitout. Does that make sense? You following me here? Anyway.

I'm going to write a book.
There.
I said it.

It's going to be a straight. up. mess, y'all.

I feel like it's what I'm supposed to be doing.
It feels right.

Sometimes, I think it's a really, really dumb idea.
And then, someone encourages me.
And then, I remember that this is where dreams start.
And then, I remember that I really, really love writing.
And then, I remember that not everyone will like it.
And then, I decide that I shouldn't.
Because, I mean, really. Who will read it, and what do I really have to say?
And then, I remember that this is where dreams start.
And then, someone encourages me.

So. I'm writing a book. 

It will probably take somewhere along the lines of seven to nine years to write, because, hey.
I have children that I love and that I want to give my prime time to.
But I am working on it.
It has ideas in a notebook and chapters already written in my head.
But my head is a mess.
From my brain all the way to my split ends.

A straight. up. mess.

Until Next Time,
The Guff

Take Me Down to the River

This morning was the best morning I have had in a long time. Something about sunshine just absolutely refreshes my soul. I think that I get in a stupor over the winter. I'm generally just a little bit boring. unnerved. bleh. But the very second that spring decides to come along I get a little extra pep in my step. A little more song in my heart.

We woke up too late for church -time changes can go back to where they came from- and by the time I shuffled downstairs my man had already fed and dressed the big kids and made a plan for our morning. We'd head down to the coffee shop on the river, hike around, and take it all in.

He works from this river place sometimes- he wanted to share its breathtaking sweep of land and river and sunshine with us. I'm so glad. 

This man.

Best husband.

Best dad.

Best leader.

Best friend.

Best face.

Best all of it.

Swoon.

It was magical. It almost made me want to go camping. I said almost. 

I am kind of beside myself thinking about this summer. It's going to be the jaaahaaaam. 

That's me. Singing the word 'jam' as I resist growing up at all costs. 

When we were headed out to the parking lot, Chamblee asked, "Why do we have to leave this beautiful place that God created?" And then I almost died. I love that she thinks about Jesus when she sees beautiful things.

Oh, hey spring. I see you comin'. I'm ready for ya.

Until Next Time,
The Guff

'Like'

I don't even know who I was talking to about this
-because I can't remember anything anymore-
but I need to stop saying the word 'like'.

I sound like a ten year old sixteen year old, and dude. I need to grow up.
::face palm:: I have got to stop saying dude. 

Lent starts today. 
I've never really been one for giving anything up, but this year I am giving it a go.
I am checking out of Facebook. K changed my password today.
I'm hoping that in the time I spent scrolling through dozens of status updates while nursing, I can instead scroll through scripture and like, actually learn something. Open my eyes to what God is doing, and not so much what the world is doing. Search for the perfect picture of Christ instead of the newest post of so-n-so's new baby. (even though I'm a total sucker for a baby picture! squeeeee!) Talk with my gurl frands (see. i have GOT to grow up.) about what He is doing in my life- instead of what everyone else is doing in theirs.
New perspective.

So, I won't be liking your pictures. Even though I'm sure I would love them.
Also, I won't be liking your update. Even though I'm sure it is HILARIOUS. or very deep.
I will be missing the -sappy, make me cry all through nap time and question my parenting- articles.
So hey. Can you, like, text me those?
Thanks.

Until Next Time,
The Guff

p.s. I just straight up finished this blog, went up to the tool bar and typed in "www.facebook.com" out of habit. What an idiot.
This. is going to be so. hard. 
see also:: This. is going to be so. good. 

The Fab 5

Last weekend my brother dropped his beautiful babies off at our crib and headed off for an overnight date with his bride. We were so. excited. 5 kids 3 & under. ::fist bump::

We started outside around 12 and didn't come in until after 6.
It was beautiful. 
The weather, the kiddos, all of it.

I have never had so much fun. I have never heard so. much. giggling.
I've never given more kisses and gotten more hugs.

Those babies laughed until they had to catch their breath.
They hugged each other so tight, we had to pull them off of each other.
And they did not. want. to say. goodbye.

I didn't have much extra time or many extra hands but I did manage a few snapshots along the way...

S&C

The Fab 5

Giggles for days

K herding 4 of the 5

way outnumbered, obv.

Snack Pack in the Red Ryder

Wearing. Them. Out. 

Two little book worms having a slumber party

I love. these. kids. 

I love that they love each other. 

I want to have eleven babies. 

I need for all of my nieces and nephews to live on our cul de sac. 

Cheers to the weekend. 

Until Next Time, 

The Guff

In The Weeds

I'm in the weeds. 

I saw a Facebook post the other day that said that, and I gave a big sigh of relief.
That's what I am. I'm in the weeds. 
I have been having a hard time putting into words how I'm feeling recently.
And that. is it.

Because I don't feel really overwhelmed or that I'm wasting my time.
I'm just in the weeds.

There's a dead fish on my counter. No, really. He's been dead for ::I'm so embarrassed to say this:: 5 days. I haven't flushed him yet. Partly because I haven't had time and partly because I don't know where on earth I will put all the crap that comes with a fish now, and partly because I don't feel like telling my kids that he is dead. Oh, Biggity Bop. Why now? What's worse is that he isn't floating. Aren't fish supposed to belly up? So I honestly forget he's dead until my kids ask me at lunch if I've fed him today.

I've attempted to save this fish twice. One time when I was cleaning out his bowl and he jumped right out of the spoon and straight into the garbage disposal. I debated flipping the switch then. But instead, I narrowed my hand down into the hole of the sink and felt around until he flopped back into my palm. Jerk, I thought. And again when I saw last Friday night that he might be on his last gill. I cleaned out his tank and swirled him around to give him a boost. He lived for about an hour after. Wah.

For about two weeks now I have been trying to put away laundry. At one time there were seven loads stashed around the house- se.ven.- on top of the dryer, on my closet floor, on my bed, and stored. in the dryer. I'm having a hard time. When the kids are awake, I'm not doing laundry. I'm just not, okay? I'm doing art projects and building rocket ships and certainly, definitely playing hide and seek. I'm not missing that business to fold and put away 324709857 items of clothing. But listen. When they are asleep- I can't put clothes away. Because they are in their rooms. What. am I supposed to do? Help me. Help me right now, because if I have to step over that pile of laundry again to get to my shoes- or dig through six piles to find a pair of socks for much longer-- I might just stop right in the middle of that pile and go to sleep for a few days.

If I start talking about the number of toys that I found in between our couch cushions yesterday I might pass out. And crumbs. Dear Heavenly Father, how do they get there? Where do the crumbs come from? I don't let our children eat in the living room, let alone on the couch. So I am wondering-- who is sneaking into my house and pouring what looks to be the bottom of a cereal bag in the crannies of my couch? I can't even.

So much has happened in the month that I've been MIA. A month. 
I'm so absolutely captivated by making seven thousand peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I can't complain. My kids are growing up and I'm tagging along with them. I'm trying to be better at paying attention. and putting the phone down. Turning the music up. Rolling the windows down and throwing my kids up into the air. I won't be able to lift them like this much longer. Their smiles won't always be as pure and as wide. I'm taking so many more mental pictures. At the end of the day, I'm soaked in spit up and swollen from hugs and deaf from cries and sticky with glue and exhausted from being touched all. day. I'm sore from smiling, my eyes are blurry from scanning every nook and cranny for where in the world the tiny little piece of that obnoxious toy went. (i found it. winning.) ((and... they lost it again)) I'm hungry because they thought my lunch looked delicious, and I can't teach them how to share if I don't share myself. I'm anxious to see my husband and embarrassed that when I picked Cham up from school she was wearing a spare pair of panties and sweatpants- in a teenager's size- an affect of having had an accident and also a mom who failed to pack her an extra set of clothes. Again.

I'm in the weeds. But my kids are the weeds, and they are growing up all around me.
And that, I can dig.

Until Next Time,
The Guff