Put on Glory

"Someday, we will put on glory…that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch.

We do not want to merely “see” beauty -- though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words–to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” - Lewis

Thankful today for the beauty that surrounds me -from kiddos with peanut butter faces to the first drops of the fresh relief of Spring to a good hard run and a hard working husband- and thankful for the promise that as beautiful as it is, it is but a sketch of what is to come.

Mug Shot

I've mentioned before how I have a pinterest problem. Not that I'm on it frequently, it's either feast or famine with me. Sometimes I pin manically, and then I don't even remember it exists for weeks. I rarely use anything I pin. There are braids I will never do and recipes I don't even think I can pronounce let alone make, that I've pinned just cuz I was hungry and having a bad hair day. Pinterest has that effect on me.

Recently, though, I fell into a manic pinning spree and came across these mug recipes. I mean, there is a recipe for everything from a cookie to thanksgiving dinner...all in a mug in your microwave. I can microwave stuff. Well, there was that time where I exploded popcorn in the microwave, but I still don't know that aliens weren't involved. Anyway, I decided what could go wrong? So me and the hooligans set out to make a mug of french toast. (That sounds really gross, but it pretty much just is regular french toast without the dirty pan and spatula.)

Ok, so I made french toast in a mug. They practiced the waltz that I didn't realize they knew existed. But while they were dancing I was microwaving a mean french toast. It turned our really well I think. Like I said, nothing fancy. I think mostly the excitement for the kids was that breakfast was in a cup instead of on a plate. And they might have thought they could drink syrup. Nope, guys.

We did also try a nutella cake in a mug that was really good. I almost burned my mouth off trying it, but  I like to live on the edge. If you can wait till a new dessert is cool enough to actually try and eat it you must really not be that excited about it in the first place, and should maybe just eat a carrot. Speaking of carrots and pinterest-mania, I also made "carrot fries" for the kids. I thought they were good, but don't try these unless you are the mother of bugs bunny, or the mythical not-picky eater. (I think if your kid eats healthy without complaining or flinging themselves on the floor you are either: lying, hallucinating, or sprinkling drugs in their dinner...but that's maybe my bitterness and peanut butter-and-jelly-making fatigue talking.)

A Little Bit of Jericho in My Life

I sometimes feel like the youngest of this brood gets a little lost in the shuffle. Although he's definitely working on asserting himself and throwing his significant weight around, he has always been such a chill baby that he gets ignored. Not ignored, but he's easy to overlook in the shuffle. (See Wednesday's post if you are uncertain about what I mean by "shuffles".)

So I just wanted to post a few pictures of his royal handsomeness, because do not be deceived, he is spoiled rotten. I think if he was my first baby he would be a holy terror. He pretty much bosses us all around. I gotta get a grip. I'm blaming those big brown eyes. 

Or maybe it's that goofball shaggy hair he has going on. It kind of grew really fast all of a sudden, and now he's sportin' a mullet of sorts. I haven't decided if I'm going to cut it or what exactly at this point. (I just heard my mother's deep sigh of annoyance thinking she may have two longhaired grandsons. ;) Sorry, Mom. No promises on that one yet. I kind of have to take kiddos' hair where I can get it, since at least one of my children (bless her crazy headed mop) cannot seem to grow hair while it just sprouts out of her brothers' stubborn noggins.) But I digress...his shaggy 'do is kind of irresistible.

He has been a blessing, and I cannot believe how fast his first year flew by. He still seems completely unconcerned with things such as walking, talking, and generally being a contributing member of society, but I'm not too concerned. The other two walked by 13 months (that date has come and gone), but he is content to crawl/cruise like some sort of shaggy headed bulldozer. Literally...he will crush anything in his path. He will master the walking/talking gig when he's ready, until then I will continue lugging his 25 pound self everywhere, and enjoying those gap-teefered grins of his in the process.

Exhibits A & B

Typically, you hear lots of moms saying things like, "I need a vacation". This is true. Moms need vacations. Even if it's a 2 minute all expense paid trip for one to the bathroom...we need a vacation. Most of us wouldn't turn down a real vacation though...where you actually get to sleep and eat something besides that piece of sandwich your kid is trying to pitch in the trash.

I was thinking, at the end of last week, just how much I needed said vacation, when I heard a large crash while fixing breakfast in the kitchen with Jericho. The other two were supposed to be getting dressed. I mean, typically, when I get dressed, it doesn't sound like a bomb went off. But everyone's different I guess. I hurried into the other room to check, and found this:

Thankfully, no one was hurt. Except for two lamps which were pronounced dead at the scene and one stuffed bear who is expected to make a full recovery. But, as my title suggests, if anyone out there is listening, I submit exhibits A & B as evidence as to why I really, really, really need a vacation.

Come Puke or High Fevers

Billy and I don't get out much...or ever, actually. 3 kids + 60 hour work weeks + 0 extra funds = 0 date nights. And the ones we do end up going on always seem to end in a text from whomever is watching them saying someone is sick back at the ranch. The kids are just trying to make sure they don't have to share us with any more kids, I guess. I should be flattered...right? ;)

This time we had planned for them to stay overnight for Valentine's Day. PF Changs, a movie, and the next day we were actually getting a couples massage. Gasp. I know, pretty out of control. We got through the PF Changs (yum!), and the movie, too, before we got the "Jericho is puking" memo. Le Sigh. At least I got to inhale a few lettuce wraps without anyone asking me to take them to the bathroom before that happened though, so I won't complain.

I also won't complain because the father of said puker stayed with the little sickie while I went and got my half of the couple's massage. It woulda been nice if the massage place had let us reschedule, or given us two massages at separate times, but they weren't feeling the love. So I got massaged, and went to the grocery store, all by myself. I must say, Valentine's Day spent alone couldn't have gone much better. If this is how it goes, I'm all for calling it "Single's Awareness Day".

I am always grateful to whoever is willing to take on these three animals when we do get a chance to go out (typically my sister, Abby, dubbed "aunt Abba" by my wild brood. She's pretty much a saint. A very brave saint.). I mean, it's not their fault our kids will risk puke and high fevers to get us back. And thankfully, so far, Jericho's little puke stunt hasn't affected anyone else. (More evidence to the fact that they just can't be away from me and will do anything to prevent me from even making a bathroom stop alone. Sweet little cling-ons that they are.) So maybe we'll try another date night again sometime. Maybe if I do it sooner rather than later I won't give the hooligans enough time to come up with a plan for sabotage?