It was the middle of the day. Saturday. Brad was going one direction, I was going another, and the kids were everywhere in between. I was surrounded in my usual controlled chaos.

Despite constant motion, other than getting my bed made, everything seemed undone.

I was that chicken with her head cut off. Running around frantically, trying to get ahead so that I could start this first school week in perfect peace.

You know, peace? That mirage that looms in the distance.

If I can just get to that, and get that other thing done, and iron that dress, and get that meal prepared, and clean that thing, get all those school things done, oh and put on my happy face, all while carrying my precious sick baby on my hip. Then. Then the sun will rise on Monday morning, angels will sing, birds will chirp, I will float out of bed in my house coat and prepare a lovely breakfast for my family of 6 before we have a blissful day of school. 

Anyway. Back to Saturday. My parents were on the way back home from a trip to the mountains. I knew they were coming but still. Brad was sweetly washing my car for me and there I sat. In the middle of the den, fresh off the phone dealing with an incompetent uniform company. My laundry basket was full, as usual, the things that had managed to get folded half covered the sofa, the rest were piled a mile high in the basket and on my chair. My three crates of half organized school books, papers, binders, and assignments for three children, covered the den floor. I was in the middle of telling somebody to do something and in walk my parents. Mom walks over, gives me a quick hug, and starts folding.

I just looked at her and asked,

"Will I ever not be drowning?"

"Yes." She laughed. "When you're old." 

I proceeded to dump all my self doubt and insecurities about what I'm doing and how it sucks the ever lovin' life out of me and I started to say,

"I'm just.....

"investing." She finished my sentence. "You're investing."

Trust me, I was thinking more, "going crazy" but she said, "investing in your children." 

 

in·vest  v. in·vest·ed, in·vest·ing, in·vests v.tr. 2. b. To devote morally or psychologically, as to a purpose; commit:

 

Yes. I am investing. Have no idea what the return will be but I sure believe in the product.

 

Meanwhile, Daddy quietly turned my vacuum over, pulled it a part, and fixed it. He knew it hadn't been working right, and I hadn't taken the time to get it repaired. He then took 10 minutes, straightened and blew out my garage.  I love him.

Could I be any more blessed? Don't think so. 

I got a clean Suburban, a repaired vacuum, a little less laundry to fold, and a whole lot of love from people who support and value my "praise-less" occupation. All on a Saturday.

I'm so thankful.

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Well, It's now Wednesday night, my week has been a blur. Good. But still a blur. 

I got my hair did today.  An hour in the salon chair was nice, I guess. I could have my hair washed all day long, but other than than, I don't love it. Maybe if I had earphones in, I would love it. But that's rude, right?

Anyhoo, I love my new do. It's a little darker and I have a little side bang thing. The last time I had it cut was JANUARY. Awful, I know. 

 

My kids have uniforms and I l.o.v.e. it! It makes the mornings amazingly simple!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy School Starting! 

 

~stacey 

 

 

I could not be any happier than I am at this very moment.

I'm sitting in my cozy den, watching Swamp People. My husband has a slight obsession with this show. Their Cajun accent fascinates me and just imagining how bad these guys must stink makes me cringe.....so I'm okay with watching. Brad is eating ice cream, Emma is sleeping, and my other three are giggling upstairs.

*Okay, I would be a smidge happier if Brad wasn't eating icecream, because he smacks like every fourth bite. Picky, I realize, because he is a very polite eater, which is why I casually have one finger discreetly pinching my left ear closed, and am now pecking with one hand.*

I'm hyper sensitive to mouth noises, Please don't hate me. I cant help it. It may as well be fingernails on a chalkbord.

ANYHOO!

Have a marvelous rest of the weekend!

 

 

Here's to life. Smacking, Swamp People, and IceCream. It's all a blessing.

 

~stacey

Jake recently watched, ""Indiana Jones The Last Crusade".

You know the creepy part when the guy drinks out of the cup that he thinks will mean eternal youth but actually causes him to age in about 20 seconds and then his bones explode?        

(I know it's a little intense, but it's a great movie. And he's surrounded by so much girl stuff every day of his life, I figured a little Indiana would be right up his alley.)

Anyway, he got tickled at himself telling me how he got scared, and got goose bumps, but because it was such a short scene, he was fine and it really wasn't that bad. He proceeded to tell me however, that if that thing was real, he was going to get a hammer and sleep with it, along with a host of other weapons.

He had a great plan to go out guns blazing if necessary.

I love this boy of mine. The other day we got into a discussion about some word definitions. The word "intense" had a negative connotation to him and as a result, when I told him he was sometimes intense, he was completely taken aback by this, and a little offended. I told him, "Your Daddy can be intense. It's not a bad thing."

As soon as we figure out how to help him channel his persistence in the right direction, he will be unstoppable. When he learns to apply the same focus he had on finding, purchasing, and receiving his WWII helmet to his school work, August through May will be a walk in the park.

 

 

At a water park earlier this week, he rode that terrifying body slide thing. You know, the one you have to climb like eight flights of stairs to get to. The one you can't wear shoes on because they'll fly off. The one where you drop nearly straight down to the bottom. Yeah, that one. He marched right up by himself, waving to his sick-to-her-stomach, nervous mother the entire walk up. Cool as a cucumber.

 

 

He's on his way to being a warrior of a man.

But until then, he's a boy.

A boy who is learning that it's okay if you don't win Chinese Checkers.

A boy who would rather play outside than do school work.

A boy who is learning to understand little girls.

A boy who worries about thunderstorms.

A boy who, when he told me about a friend who's mom is leaving, got genuinely sad and said, "I never heard of that".

 

~stacey

 

 

I'm not going to lie. I wouldn't mind being here:

 

  

Nothing on my mind.

No work to be done.

Nothing to plan.

 

However, this is where I am:

~Cleaning up her sticky finger prints on the shutters by her high chair~

(which I am NOT complaining about) 

~Trying to ignore and deny the knots in my stomach about this second showing tomorrow~

IF they like it, IF they make a decent offer, IF it appraises for enough, IF the inspection goes smoothly, and IF closing actually works out,

Where are we going to move?

~In  complete denial that the time has come to order school books~

~Counting the days until Brad's board exam is o.v.e.r. ~

(I'd almost forgotten what he was like stressed out, 100% immersed in books)

~That being said, I'm excited about what lies ahead and so thankful for this day that I've been given~

~Today is a gift~

 

~stacey

 

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Baby Girl.

~I love your sweet fuzzy head~

~The dimples on your perfect hands~

~And your blocky little feet~

 

~I love the pitter patter of your bare feet on the floor~

~and the way you squat down like a little sumo wrestler~

~ I love the sound you make when you see your brother and sisters~

 

~And how you pull the blanket over you when you're in a chair~

~I have loved every day of your 17 months.~

 

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~stacey

 

 

We're showing the house today. (Which means I'll spend the next couple hours in blitz mode) ~yuck

I don't like cleaning for a showing. When I clean for myself, I feel good about what I get done. When I clean for someone else, I'm extremely critical and there is no clean clean enough. 

All I see is the dust I missed, the pile in the corner of the basement that shouldn't be there, or the weed in the flower bed. 

I need to get over that. 

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Ifeeltheneedtocutsomeluxuryoutofmyroutinejusttoexercisealittlemoreselfdiscipline.

Does that make sense?

Something I do that I don't have to do that I will choose not do for a month or so. 

Like drink only water. Like don't go to Target. Like don't shop for anything except groceries. 

That's it.

That's what I'm doing. 

Until August 1, I will drink only water(and maybe an occasional single cup of coffee in the mornings ), I won't go to Target, and I will only buy groceries.

(August 1 is not a full month, but by then, I will have to buy school supplies, so that's my date.)

I'm scared!

Wish me luck.

 

 

~stacey

 

 

    

    

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

  

 

  

 

 

 

~stacey

 

 

 

 

 

O beautiful for heroes proved 
In liberating strife. 
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life! 

 

   

 

Happy July 4th! 

 

~stacey

 

 

 

 

If you have a hard to find item you really really want to find, just casually mention it to my parents.

Odds are, they'll find it.

They are garage sale gurus.

I've been re-thinking the kids' playroom. It's over crowded with toys they don't really play with. What they do love, however, is role play.

~School, dress up, house, etc.~

I played office with Beth for years it seemed like. We scrounged up old checkbooks, adding machines, telephones, and receipt books and played office for hours at the time. We had boyfriends, fancy office names, and big plans for when we finally got off work. Loved it.

So, I mentioned to Dad that I wanted to find an old typewriter for the kids to play with. A week or so later, I get a phone call.

"Stacey, we're at this garage sale and there's a typewriter for $15. I don't know if it works. Do you want it?"

Would you believe it works?!

 

~stacey

Educate me.

I got a 50mm lens. Supposedly it should give amazingly clear shots. BUT. So far, it's driving me crazy. It's finicky and only has one tiny focal point. 

Here's  my question. I've kept it on F1.8 because I love the light for indoor photos. Is that the reason for the limited focusing? 

 

Avery's right eyeball and cheek is the only thing that is remotely in focus. 

 

And here, Emma's pinky,G, A, A#, and B are the only things really clear.

  Help. 

 

~stacey