Life...

...is just crazy with the loop-de-loops and whoop-de-doops and it feels like a giant roller coaster that for a nano second seems like it will slow down but then WHOA! it speds right back up and then flips you upside-down. And you want to toss your cookies.

After the move, I was sans Internet for a week, and although the first few days I had this horrible feeling that I was missing an important email (who am I kidding?) or a super wow status on Facebook (again, who am I kidding?) I felt this immense FREEDOM. Imagine this, I was actually able to fold all the laundry and empty the dishwasher and vacuum and put things away in my new house. All in one day!

And you guys, I've been reading BOOKS. Some real live with-pages books, and some Kindle books. But I've read all 7 Harry Potters (again) and almost all of Real Marriage and some of Feminine Appeal. And I've been keeping up with my Bible reading plan (which usually I've ditched by February because I'm behind already!) It's like a whole-new me! Seriously, I haven't read this much since Ladybug was born, and I have missed it!

Yup, so now I'm all convicted about what a TIME SUCK the interwebs are, and y'all know I'm right. Right? Right?! Seriously- between email and blogging and Google Reader and Facebook and Pinterest and Words With Friends think of all the valuable time I'm choosing to pour into cyberspace that I'll never get back.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing anything drastic like cancelling my Facebook yet... but I'm am more conscious about my time online now... especially when I start to wonder why the laundry's not folded or the dishwasher's not empty...

I will say that being a Muggle is hard work. Can you even wrap your mind around how useful spells like "Accio _____" would be for a mom? Or how Mrs. Weasley does some configurations with her wand and the vegetables start chopping themselves for dinner. Amazing!  If only I had a wand! I guess I just need to get off the Internet and start doing my Muggle mom work by hand...

Moving Eve & Stuff

It's moving eve. Ya know, the night before the big truck comes and burly guys who don't understand the more delicate things in life toss my valuables around, and then suddenly I'm sitting in an empty house with all these boxes around me and I'm supposed to sort it all out and put it all away.

Have you ever noticed that it costs like seventy three thousand dollars to move? OK, OK, I jest (slightly). But seriously. New light fixtures, new paint, new rugs, new frames, new curtains, new lamps... pay the movers, pay the painter, pay the cleaners, pay the electrician.

Really, we haven't even paid all that much yet (mainly because Hubby is doing a great job of keeping me out of IKEA and our country's equivalent of Home Depot) , but there's this list in my head that stretches beyond tomorrow (Moving Day!).

And it's too bad because Hubby told me today we're out of money.

And you'd think I'd know better anyway because ohmygosh where did all this junk that the movers will put into a big truck tomorrow come from????? Two years and four months and seven days ago we arrived here with an assortment of suitcases and carry-ons holding our earthly belongings and now we are arranging transport for enough stuff for a small village of people.

And have I told you I'm supposed to read 7 by Jen Hatmaker? I was supposed to read it over Christmas vacation and do a blog review of it. It's downloaded on my Kindle and ready to go. Friends have emailed asking if I've read it and what I think.

And y'all I can't even bring myself to open the book. I know it's gonna rock my world. I know it's going to make me want to get rid of stuff, of stress, of extra. But I just feel too doggone tired to be convicted and inspired and to do anything about it.

So there you go. I'm avoiding the book 7 right now because I just can't handle it. I feel a storm brewing over the island of my life and it's gonna be a dozie... doozie? dousy? douzie? Ah whatever.

Trouble

I seem to find our third-born in a lot of naughty messy interesting circumstances lately. Tonight I walked into the kitchen to find this-- unlucky for me, he's learned how to climb up to the table by himself, so nothing is "safe" by just setting it up on the table. 

One night Doodlebug walked into the living room chowing on a lollipop he had fished out of the trash that was covered in hair. (And that's not the only instance when I've discovered Doodlebug eating from the trash.)

I swear, I feed this kid three meals a day plus snacks!

Another day recently, I was sitting on the couch, and he walked up and put the toilet cleaning brush on my lap with a triumphant grin. After gagging, and washing all of his extremities (and mine), I declared that the bathroom doors must be kept SHUT so that Doodlebug could not access the limitless "toys" bathrooms contain.

Good thing he's cute.

Mid-Week Momfessions

Last week all three kids had strep throat.

Strep throat is like my kryptonite. I swear, I can hear that some random person, I have never even met has strep throat and BAM! I'm in the bed feeling like death. Cross my heart- it's been that way as long as I remember.

And no sooner were we kinda sorta maybe on the upswing this week when it's like we have this nasty head cold- coughs, snot, low fevers, more snot, headaches, sinus aches, and snot. Lots of snot.

And when weeks are passing like this- wave after wave of something- there is not even a thought of cooking healthy family meals, preparing stunningly awesome family devotions, writing copious amounts of amazing blog posts- it's more like I have to make it through this sickness alive, if I die Ladybug will never go in public with her hair brushed again because OH MY GOODNESS if it doesn't seem to bother Hubby that he's walking out the door to take the kids to school and her hair looks like a commune for a colony of rats (again).

Can I be honest that that is really one of my main fears about my own premature death? Does that make me shallow?

Sweet Siblings

...and my heart is a puddle.

(And although I know they will want to kill me when they are 17 and 16 for sharing this with the interwebs at large - I just love it too much to keep it to myself. You're welcome.)

The Dentist vs. The Superheroes

You know what you don't want to hear two hours before you're supposed to be at the airport to catch a plane out of America?

"You need a root canal."

Now I'm half a world away and half-way done getting my first root canal. (I'm not sure if that's normal, but the dentist here said she's not done and I need to come back next week. Oh life overseas, you never cease to amaze.)

Luckily, I have these adorable superheroes on my side:

...and if stuff goes sour at the dentist on Friday, I know they'll be able to bring me around with their super-powered, sticky-handed hugs and super-strength, slobbery kisses.

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