We’re going to a superhero birthday bash in three hours, so I’m about to make some magic happen with a hot glue gun, felt and prayer. While I take care of that, you should read these. Enjoy!
My brain is fried. Seriously. I’m high on life; strung out on sweet chillins, laundry detergent and copious amounts of chili powder, as of late. I’ve learned a lesson or two in the last couple of weeks and even had an epiphany (post to come!), but for now I’ll jot down a few more of my “little known facts” (it seems as though some people were surprised by my last list). And now, for your reading pleasure/confusion/concern…
This week’s Quote is a two-fer.
“Hold still, Mamma Patient. I need to listen to your heartbeat,” said “Doctor Teagan”, child physician extraordinaire. Her tool of choice: an individual flosser (more specifically, a neon orange pelican, with it’s floss-holding beak open wide in anticipation of the dried apricots waiting to be plucked from between a toddler’s small teeth). Oh, and not only can you hear my heartbeat through an orange pelican, but, as it turns out, my heart is behind my navel.
[A Father-to-Daughter statement as overheard from the bedroom] “Kylie’s too little to play with knives*. Give her about a year and you can both play”. Gabriel, my love, what is going on in our kitchen right now?
I’m picturing our two-and-a-half-year-old and eight-month-old with those crazy knives that can cut through cans (even though we don’t have any; we’re still using the same eight piece set that we bought five years ago at Big Lots for $8.99 plus tax–I used to hate them, but my klutzy fingers have really come to appreciate dull, rock-bottom-priced cutlery).
But Daddy is there, giving boundary to samurai-sword-wielding warriors lying in wait behind those cherubim faces. Praise God for Daddy, who keeps his girls safe and his wife’s crazy imagination in check.
Our girls will probably grow up to be doctors or artists or ninjas. Or will form an exploration team and search the globe for neon pelicans. Daddy and I will be proud.
*These knives were plastic butter knives being used to cut play dough. Calm down.
Is it Monday? If you haven’t picked up on this yet, time is flying in our house. It’s sort of ridiculous. I keep trying to figure out how to catch up with it, but I’m finding that reining it in is considerably easier on the ol’ ticker and patellas (go ahead, Google that last one…I did).
We started a new experiment in time-taming last night with our first ever Lights Out Night. Instead of turning on lamps, computers and televisions, we turned off everything but the AC and the washing machine (lest the cloth diapers “brew” in their pail any longer) and lit a few platefuls of tea lights.
Who knows how long this will last (or how many of our neighbors think we’re hosting a seance), but right now we’re shooting for two nights a week. The first try was a winner! Yay for free headspace and lower energy bills!
- Agnes Obel (I just jumped a little when I pulled up her page. Side note about me: I’m jumpy. If you ever try to scare me, I take absolutely no responsibility for injuries to your person or valuables caused by my Chuck Norris-like flailing appendages. You’ve been warned.)
- Norah Jones
- Madeleine Peyroux
- 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess (by a local Austin author, Jen Hatmaker) –Almost done with this one. I give it two thumbs and big toes way way up!
- FOOD…enough of it to feed 3.5 people.
- Trying to decide between five different shades of yellows, blues, greens and reds to paint our new-to-us Craigslist freebie dining table AND chairs! My eyes are starting to cross and I think I may have created a new color. More details to come.
- Watching THIS over and over and over. I love her. It’s okay; you don’t have to thank me. The joy that I know is now at home in your heart is enough.
There’s a post coming, I promise. I just need to have a word with my calendar before we get started. April, I hardly knew you. *single tear* See you next year…unless the Mayans were right. dun dun dun! As for you, Miss May, simma’ down. Let’s take this nice and easy; can’t have you falling apart in this Texas heat.
Now for the business as hand: My husband is right. Often. He’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t always, but darn it all if he doesn’t have a nice track record. I’ve gotten much better at saying this out loud. A few years ago, I would’ve faked a seizure to avoid it.
It happened again. Gabe came home from work and announced that he was deactivating his facebook. **Cue eye roll** I spend too much time on facebook; there I said it. So when my husband said he was cutting it out, I heard “You have an addiction, but I’m better than that.” My inner cynic said, “He’ll be back. This is such a hipster move, not following the mainstream” (there were a few finger quotation marks thrown in for good measure). In a matter of seconds, I had brought balance back to my mind, ridding it of guilt by pinning my husband as just another indie guy with an agenda and what I was sure would prove to be short-lived will power. There.
Not so fast, You. He followed my silent rebuttal with an explanation that made my cheeks red with shame. While I had been busy painting Gabe as a social media anarchist, he was busy being humble. and right. Craaaapppp.
He told me about a conversation he had with a friend who, along with his wife, had “unplugged” for Lent. This friend, upon emerging from his lifeless cave of media deprivation (aka real life), was enjoying a quiet moment in a comfy chair with his faithful dog by his side. Like anyone with an iwhatever and a free minute, his first thought was “Awesome dog equals awesome instagram pic, equals lots of likes”. But instead he went with, “Awesome dog. Awesome life. Thanks, God”.
Oh sure, just twist the knife. It’s bad enough I spend too much time on facebook, but now we’re bringing God into this?! As hard as I searched for a loophole in this uncomfortable truth, I had to say uncle and start a slow clap to Gabe and Co., right there in the kitchen, in front of God and everyone. Well played, y’all. Well played.
I’m not getting off facebook/twitter/fillintheblank anytime soon, but oh my gracious…I’ve once more been faced with my chronic Wantmelovemetellmeitis, but also met by the God who cures it. Be on the lookout for cute baby pictures and random objects as seen through the Toaster filter, but for the love of cheese, don’t like them. (okay, you can like them, just slap me with a driving glove–old movie style–if I started getting cocky). Thanks.