Perks

There are perks to this job after all.

After spending the last 72 hours "holding the bowl" for three children, cleaning up their messes when they missed the bowl, doing COUNTLESS loads of laundry, and going on little- to-no sleep while my husband, quarantined to the bedroom, suffered in his own misery, he came home today with a "thank-you-for-cleaning-up-puke-present".



I must say--I've got myself a good man.

Question of the Day

What do you do when you are in the middle of brushing child #2's teeth, and you realize you are using child #3's toothbrush?

A. Stop immediately. Throw away the tainted toothbrush and finish brushing with the correct toothbrush.

B. Stop immediately. Put aside the tainted toothbrush and plan to boil it later, and finish brushing with the correct toothbrush.

C. Finish brushing with the wrong toothbrush and throw it away afterwards.

D. Finish brushing with the wrong toothbrush, rinse it out, and let the rightful owner of the toothbrush brush with it a few seconds later.

E. Other?

"Two Hands"

You see, this is why I don't write songs; somebody else always finds a way to articulate my thoughts/feelings much better than I ever could. I heard this song for the first time over the weekend and ran home to look up the lyrics.

It's more than a little comforting to know I'm not the only one frustrated with the battle...


"Two Hands" by Jars of Clay

I've been living out of sanity
I've been splitting hairs and blurring lines
I am a house that is divided
In my heart and in my mind

I use one hand to pull you closer
The other to push you away
If I had two hands doing the same thing
Lifted high, lifted high

I have a broken disposition
I'm a liar who thirsts for the truth
And while I ache for faith to hold me
I need to feel the scars and see the proof

I use one hand to pull you closer
The other to push you away
If I had two hands doing the same thing
Lifted high, lifted high
If I had two hands doing the same thing
Lifted high, lifted high

And if we just keep digging we can reach the foundation
Of our souls
And if we just keep cutting all the chains from our hearts
We'll lose control

And it feels like giving in
It feels like starting over
It feels like waking up, and you know it's coming
It feels like a brand new day
Open your eyes

If I had two hands doing the same thing
Lifted high, lifted high
If I had two hands doing the same thing
Lifted high, lifted high
Lifted high
Lifted high



One Day, I will
unashamedly,
ever-so-confidently,
without restraint,
permanently,
have TWO HANDS lifted high.

Crunchy Towels and Other Random Items

Welcome, April! Considering the fact that my mood often mirrors the weather, spring has never been more anticipated in this house. (When mama ain't happy...)

Along with spring comes the return of one of my favorite activities.




I've been accused of having some sort of sick love for hanging out clothes. In all honesty, I enjoy it more than I can explain, and certainly more than anyone should love a household "chore". It's not a chore to me, it is a delight. (It doesn't matter if you think I'm weird.) In His wisdom, God made provision for this by putting me with a husband who rarely complains about anything; he's never made even a peep about the crunchy towels which are stocked in the bathroom from April through October each year. Granted, they certainly don't feel as nice. In my opinion, however, the heavenly smell of laundry which has been dried outside more than makes up for its lack of softness. This goes for sheets too, and jeans (which are ultra-crunchy when line dried), and virtually everything else, except for whites. Even I draw the line at crunchy underwear.

When I explained my love for hanging out clothes to a friend awhile back, she gave it a try, even though she was less-than-excited about it. I soon received an urgent email. It was apparently a windy day; her unmentionables had ended up in the neighbor's yard, and she didn't know what to do. "Well, GO GET THEM!", I responded. My goodness! A good rule-of-thumb is that you don't hang out anything that would make you blush if your neighbor found it lying in his yard. We have dryers for a reason.

Onto other news:

I've been wondering how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?



Since winter, Matt has found his own joy in cutting wood. LOTS of wood. The original plan was to supplement our income by selling the wood. First problem--we don't exactly start turning a profit until the super-manly-top-of-the-line, "more power" chainsaw is paid off. Second problem--he needs to actually part with the wood in order to receive any cash for it.

Right now, as it has for weeks, it decorates our driveway, neatly stacked. (If he could only be so diligent about his dresser drawers.) It's my suspicion that he just enjoys looking at his "accomplishment" so much that he has yet to even advertise the fact that he has wood for sale. As for me, I'm thinking the wood stacked in our drive just makes us really fit into our surroundings here in southern Darke County.

Did I mention we have wood for sale?

One other thing to bring up today: It is rather eerie that people I haven't seen in years, people who I've run into here or there, have informed me that they've been reading my blog. May I just say, hopefully without offending anyone, that this is a little creepy. Not that I've talked to anyone in particular who's given me the creeps, but rather just the fact that people are "out there" reading and I don't know it.

(Secret silent blog-readers, now that I know you're out there, I dare you to leave a comment!)

Because of this, I've concluded that this blog will, from here on out, be only for pretty generic stuff. While certainly I haven't exactly spilled my guts in the past, I'm definitely not going to now. I have pretty much come to the conclusion that I don't really have any new thoughts anyways; nothing profound; nothing somebody else hasn't already said somewhere before. So, for now, I guess all I have to contribute to the public blogosphere is crunchy clothes and a pile of wood.