Sunday, March 22, 2015

A Week in the Life

Here you will observe a week off, in neither chronological order nor any type of order at all, except for the deep thought at the very end. So skip there if you are deep. Captions are above pictures, which confused me, so I switched them, but then that confused me, too. Man, a week off can make you tired!

We celebrated the Baby, who turned 5, and who was given some obnoxious singing birds by her sisters, who promptly wanted to take some money of their own on a field trip to Target and purchase their own obnoxious singing birds. 




I bought this hat (I figure a good Redneck wife should have a camo item at her disposal) and took this questionable selfie after an outing to a chocolate shop, Olive and Sinclair. We toured their factory, donned some hairnets, and bought some to-die-for chocolate. Oh, oh, oh, YUM! 





I also took this questionable selfie of the hat the Oldest gave me for Christmas. It will henceforth be known as my "mowing hat" and you should not be subjected to this again.



Lots of creeking went on, and they were thrilled to discover whole "new" wardrobes when we switched the clothes from Winter to Spring. There was a really tense moment over a pair of generic Keens which kind of fit two girls. Glad we made it through that crisis.


We thoroughly enjoyed the first fire of the Spring with some friends who are really family and family who are really friends. No one watched all the kids running around. All in all a delightful evening.


A day trip to Mammoth Cave was a worthy expedition and went smoothly except for a minor meltdown from the Oldest who is apparently claustrophobia. (I know that isn't right. If you don't get why that is funny, might I suggest you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram? Then you can join in the laughter being enjoyed by tens of people right now.)






Playroom School was in session despite the break everywhere else. Can't let the dollies get behind.


There are four faces hidden in this picture...


Sofia the First puzzle, done by Batman (???) and sister. 


Trampoline tricks. Looks like she's working on a cheerleading move, but Preston assures me he can use that on the basketball court.


Sister slumber party minus one sister who has a complete come apart if she is not in her own bed. 

I like to call this "Spring at the Side Door." I don't think anyone has ever come in through our front door. Side door guests are best. Or some Southern rhyme crosstitched on something.


That Girl did not actually help with this project, but wants everyone to think so. I also didn't have to help, so that was a bonus.





I read this book and died from laughing. Seriously. Well, not seriously, but for real, Jim Gaffigan is hilarious. I also loved his book Dad is Fat. Dying. Tears the whole time. And the Baby calls it "the hot dog wedding book mommy is reading" which makes it even better.


Look at him. He's just standing there thinking up projects for me to help him with. But he's so fine in his Sesame Street shirt. I'd do math for you anytime, Hot Stuff. This particular project is a grape arbor, which he spent all week researching. In a year or ten we will have some grapes to eat. In the meantime, I bet I can still get them at Kroger. 


I took this picture from the kitchen window so forgive the terrible quality. He enlisted the girls to help with the never-ending creek clearing project and I was afraid if I was seen he would hand me a slingblade, too. And I'm just about all slingbladed out. For the love.  


I have some crazy food allergies that reared their ugly heads about five years ago when the Baby was born. (and I will never let her forget it!) Most of the time I can ignore them and be ok, but occasionally I get too carried away with what I eat and start to feel like crap and have to push the reset button. I happen to be in one of those seasons. It is always challenging and requires way more time in the kitchen, and I hate it with a passion I didn't know I was capable of feeling. However, I made this honey caramel from a recipe in Danielle Walker's Against AllGrain cookbook. The spoon is there so I can get it into my mouth. Without putting it on anything. It's supposed to be a topping. But it's so good. It's topping my tongue, so maybe I actually am using it correctly.


And here is the last. The final hurrah. I took the girls to see Cinderella this afternoon, and it was amazing. They had already seen it, but I wanted to see it, too, so I just took them again. It is so, so, so good. I adored it. My favorite part was that the Baby was in tears, really bawling, at several parts, and her sisters held her hands, put her head on their shoulders, and comforted her. These girls. We have always prayed for them to be friends, best friends, and God is granting that supplication. 



Back to the movie. There was this line spoken by the narrator at the end (which took me forever to figure out was the Fairy Godmother, another character I loved) that resonated with me. I tried to get out my cell phone and "write" it down but my rule-following oldest daughter was afraid they would kick us out. Anyways, the Prince has arrived to fit the shoe on Cinderella, and she is dirty, in her housedress, and looks every bit the country girl she is. As she is walking down the stairs the narrator is saying "she would have to give herself as she was and would it be enough" and that the greatest risk we all take is to be seen "as we truly are."

This really hit me as I think about the last three months. For a long, long time Preston would encourage me to write. Friends would encourage me to write. But I was too self conscious about putting my thoughts out there. What if it wasn't any good? What if I'm not really funny like my hero, Erma Bombeck? What if people think things like, "Good try, sweetie." Finally God moved in me, and I was prompted to start the blog for which I'd registered a domain long ago. To allow myself to be seen as I truly am to the world (or at least the people who read this...probably not the world). 

Because to the One who matters, I am enough. Well, actually I am not, but through some big theological term called "double imputation" Jesus gave me His "enough," and He took all the risk. So I have the freedom to be seen as I truly am. I come in all my filth, in my housedress to the Father. And He loves me. 

And that is also how I come here.  

I hope you think it's a good try so far. Sweeties.

Grace, 
Martha










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