Countdown

I’m walking the boys home the other day and noticing the trees. All the oranges and reds and yellows. It’s your basic God’s glory kind of material. The usual off-the-hook stuff that He specializes in.

And I’m all:

 

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Prancing home in the leaves, like a happy little Leonardo.

Also, since Halloween is on Monday, we are having one of those “Dress Crazy Every Day Because This Will Help Us Not Do Drugs” weeks at school. Because Halloween is scary, and so are drugs. And dressing up is fun!

Ok, I am not, my friends, providing any snark about this. Ok, maybe just a little, but it’s from MY end, not the kids’. The kids are cute and adorable and yes, we need to tell them about drugs. But, just a note: Sometimes, when I am trying to find the ONE Captain America glove that has curled up in a little ball and is hibernating VERY SUCCESSFULLY in our house, at 6:46 am, and yes, I know, it’s Superhero Day and if a Superhero doesn’t wear his gloves then he’s Captain Loser and the world has lost all meaning… Sometimes? It’s at times like these that I, just for a teensy tiny minute, think something like this:

“I might really like to have some of those drugs right now.”

Irony, eh? It’s here to keep hitting us upside the head every once in a while. Helps us feel alive.

And I know. I’m awful. I promise I won’t take up drugs just because we didn’t get organized enough to find all the Captain America accessories (of which there are more than BARBIE has, for the Love of Thor). That would just be silly. Hugs, not drugs.

ANYHOW. Back to Fall, where we take the Obligatory Pictures of Children in Costumes (these are of Superhero #2, also known as Flash, which is SO not really in his personality profile, but for the time that he did wear the costume, he did actually TRY a few times to be quick while moving at the same time. He ran into a wall. It was endearing.)

I like to call this series:

The Dog Gets Increasingly Embarrassed

1.

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Oh, and there was Crazy Hair Day. Also known as: Spray a lot of Glitter on my Children Day and Hope They Don’t Get Close to An Open Flame.

I took this picture of a rather grumpy Red:

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And I realized something….

He kinda looked like:

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Which, as you KNOW… is part of the cast for this classic:

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So, I am reminded, logically….

CHRISTMAS MUSIC EVE WILL BE HERE IN FOUR DAYS!!!!!! Woo HOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Thank you for staying with me through my thought process on this post, which was brought to you by:

  1. Allergy medication
  2. NO other drugs
  3. Possibly a little glitter

 

Merry Christmas Music Eve!!

I’m coming for you, Joshie!

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Sunday and Time

Cheer_Up_coffee_cupI am home today, sitting very still with some hot coffee, and trying to get well.  It’s been two weeks now with a horrible cough and fever (the fever is past now, but I mention it because I want sympathy. Loads of sympathy), and the thought of attempting a church sermon without hacking up copious amounts of lung onto my pew neighbor was demoralizing.

I am pretty sure my pew neighbor, whoever you are, is very happy I stayed home as well.  It would not have been the best way to greet someone at the stand-up-and-say,-“Good morning!”-part with this: “Erm, that’s my lung.  I’m so sorry!  Could I help wipe you up?  I have some wet ones in my purse.  And good morning!”

In fact, I kinda sound like one of these lovelies:

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Except, I am NOT alone.  I have had two toddlers, a husband, and one angry cat circling me for days now (they don’t seem to “go away” as often as I tell them, in my head, to do so).

Those of you who are mommies, and especially those of you with young children, probably know the fresh form of hell that is:

When the Mommy is Sick.

IT’S JUST AWFUL.

I have no words.*  Really. ** You kind of just zombie yourself around, feel guilty about the copious dosages of PBS Kids that you are inflicting on ’em, wonder occasionally if making dinner will actually succeed at sucking out your soul, and contemplate your bed as THE PLACE OF HAPPINESS AND LIGHT. That is, until a toddler comes in, right up in your face, and says, “Mommy, I pottied a bit.  And Daddy is sweeping on da couch.  So I am here.” And then he starts to crawl up in the bed with you and you actually have this thought:

“Urine is sterile.  If he lies still I might be able to go back to sleep.  Oh.  He’s damp but it’s ok.  I haven’t been able to smell anything, since like, 1998, and he doesn’t seem to mind, so we’re good.”

You get the idea.

However, I told you that to tell you this:  This post is actually going to be about Jesus and His love for me.  I know, right?  Only Momsie can leap from a urine soaked bed of despair and Marlboro-like coughing to…  Our Saviour.

He’s with me on this one, so you can come along too:

Here’s what I read this morning in my devotional:

Today can be lived in the consciousness of God’s contact, upholding you in all good thoughts, words, and deeds. If sometimes there seems to be a shadow on your life and you feel out of sorts, remember that this is not the withdrawal of God’s presence, but only your own temporary unwillingness to realize it. The quiet gray days are the days for doing what you must do, but know that the consciousness of God’s nearness will return and be with you again, when the gray days are past.

This is taken, incidentally, from a lovely little book called 24 Hours a Day.  In it, it kindly and gently instructs me about the hardest lesson I have ever had to learn in this life:  Try to live one day at a time.  God has the rest of it.

So, in all my whining about being sick and sooooo tiiiirrrrred, I realized my devotional had yet again slapped me upside the head (it is sometimes necessary for me, the whacks upside the head.  I am not saying this is the BEST educational tool, but it works for me.)

You are here, with your coffee, and Groban’s Ave Maria (sublime).  And stillness.  And for right now, this is Where You Are.  So, say thank you.

And later, when the three wise men come home from church (angry cat doesn’t go to church, with explains a lot) you will need to keep saying THANK YOU.

Amen?  And amen.

Also, there is this, from my sweet-once-a-student-now-friend-and-new-mommah Melania (remember her?)  She emailed me recently with precisely the same thoughts.  She’s so smart.  🙂

Today I messed up. I decided I needed some taupe suede pumps to go with my leg warmers (because the 80s never died). So we made our way to the store. Forgetting of course that we are within the 12 days before Christmas. The shoes were purchased, even got some pj pants for the hubs, but it took longer than I anticipated and suddenly we found ourselves bumped up against nap time. My sweetie boy Henry was looking awfully cute in his tiny jeans and tiny smoking jacket but he was not sounding so cute with the shrill crying as I hustled us and our purchases out to the car. Which is when the cute little old lady said, as little old ladies are wont to do in these situations,

“Enjoy every minute of it!”

Maybe it was the cuteness of the little old lady, maybe it was the wreaths and Christmas music, but I didn’t respond in the normal new-mom-grumpy way of which my peers and I are often guilty. I just smiled.

As I was folding my stiff-as-a-board tiny demon into his car seat I realized what these little old ladies are saying.

“I miss having my babies. They grow up so quickly. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Amen.

*Ok, I had words.  Quite a few. A whole blog post, nearly. Did you really think I would stay mum?  Not possible.

**Yes, really.