Like crazy

There was no one before him.  I prayed for a one-shot deal.  Lord, just don't make me have to date around, and I'll be a happy girl.  

He gave him to me.

Nothing was/is/every will be perfect.  There's no happily ever after here.  The learning and loving curve has not dropped.  There's not a day we don't have to work for our marriage…some days tooth and nail.  

He's loved me through all of my hangups and insecurities.  We've been down the dark, curvy paths of loneliness, judgmental spirits, greed, self doubt, God doubt, debt and depression together, hand in hand.  Sometimes this was solidarity, and sometimes this was just because one was dragging the other along.  From the days of stilettos and tailored clothes to those of  an ankle brace, tennis shoes and yoga pants…he's been there.  He's been ever-present through the pounds, stretch marks, hormonal craziness and recovery birthing three kids in 5 years brings to the table.  

Heck.  He even hung in there through my short hair phases : )

He used to romance me with orange tipped yellow roses and things that cost way too much.  Nowadays, he surprises me by teaming up with his dad to make me a table out of a door, bringing me flowers that look like they could've been snatched out of a field, and a running dishwasher when I walk in from grocery shopping.  

Leadership.  Consistency.  Support.  Companionship.  Those are the things that speak to my heart these days.

It's not that our love has grown lazy or tired.  Laziness isn't really an option with the vows "till death do us part" and 3 kids.  We love every day. In every meal prepared, with every hour clocked and dollar earned,  in every joining of our hands as we halfway doze on the couch after a long day…there it is.   In the elbow jabs to the face he endures as all three kids pile onto him…there it is.  In the simple gestures and gifts that nourish my soul…there it is.  

Love.

  I love this man in a way I never knew existed.  

Like crazy.

So this is 30

Yep.  It finally arrived…the big 3-0.

And I'm excited about it!  Will I miss my 20's?  Sure.  But this next decade is going to bring me lots of things, like potty trained kids and more advanced readers that don't make me wanna gouge my eyeballs out with a hot poker when I listen to them.

The 20's were beautiful, heart-breaking, soul-searching, baby-producing, love-stretching years for me.  They're when I married my first and only love.  It's when I went from taking care of a sick husband and being the primary source of income, to being able to come home to serve my family while he provided for us.  In this time I bore and birthed three amazingly healthy, beautiful, and funny blessings.  Between college, summers and marriage, I lived in at least 8 different homes during this time of my life.  This is when I learned all about medical collections, credit scores, and financial frustration.  I've seen friendships fade away, but I've also met some incredible folks who I can't imagine not having in my life.

I've had plenty of stress and "why God?" moments in this season of my life.  So many times I felt like I was completely broken and bone dry, only to be blindsided with a new problem, bill, or sick baby.  But…and I know some of you are about to give me a big ol' eye-roll here…I'm thankful for each and every moment my 20's gave me.

You can stop rolling your eyes now.

Seriously.  They've molded me so much…to the point of being nearly unrecognizable in some areas.

I've slowed down.

I've learned that saying "no" for now is OK.

I prioritize my marriage more.

I'm more receptive to grace and give more of it.

My heart hurts for people and burns over injustice.

I could care less about what society tells me my kids should be doing academically, athletically or socially.

I've realized everyone is doing the best they know how with what they've been given.

I focus less on being religious and more on being a disciple.

I own like 5 pair of shoes and wear several items multiple times a week (my nickname used to be Imelda Marcos).

How could I not be thankful?  I've had experiences some don't see in their lifetime.  I can talk to and empathize with people I wouldn't even make eye contact with years ago.

Gifts.  Precious and priceless.

The gift of cooking for, snuggling, teaching, disciplining, discipling, and nurturing these kids every day.

A husband who knows, really knows, ME, and gives thoughtful, simple gifts.

Experience that's taught me to value relationships with my kids over perfection and schedules.

So.  If this is 30, bring it.

Breathing room

Breathing room.  It's something you don't get a whole lot of as a parent…especially as a parent to littles.  They're touching you.  Talking (and talking and talking) to you.  As in, their hot little breath is so close to your face you could detect exactly what they ate for their last meal...even if you hadn't been the one who shopped for, prepared, served, and cleaned up after it.  They NEED you…like really, really need you.  Brandon commented that feeling the "need to be needed" is not something I will struggle with for a very long time.  So true, darling.

When we looked at this house, we both said it felt like a place we could breath.  There's plenty of space inside and out for everyone to do their own thing, but not so much space that it's a huge chore to care for.  Since we knew we'd be homeschooling here, space was important.  And not just square footage, but space in all the different nooks and crannies of our lives.  In the Slay house, we operate best with a little extra space.  Tight schedules, crammed spaces, maxed out budgets…they all make us crazy.

Leeway.  Margin.  Breathing room.  Now you're speakin' my language.

So far, we've reaped mostly benefits from having a little wiggle room in our lives.  It's been lovely to be able to wake up to a sweet little voice calling "momma!" from his room instead of an alarm.  Nope.  This chick isn't afraid to admit she sleeps till 7 or 7:30 every morning.  Most mornings, we're all able to eat together.  It's been so nice to be able to prepare ONE breakfast for everyone instead of feeding folks in shifts.  Cooking a hot breakfast for my people is one of my favorite things in the whole wide world.  I'm just crazy like that.  I'm pretty sure there's not a wound a buttermilk biscuit can't heal or a trouble a pancake can't fix.  We're talkin' the answer to world peace here.

So, yeah.  We've just kinda been chillin', getting a feel for what homeschooling is going to look like for our family, and resting in our wiggle room.

Oh, and of course, I have photos of my favs : )  I think all of these were taken within the same week.  So, yes.  Within the same week my children ate barefoot on the front porch and (kinda) caught snowflakes on their tongues.  Craziness.

Time out.  Sniff.

I was super sneaky and got a few shots from the hallway.  These two have become the best playmates.  It's done my heart (and ears) good to hear giggles coming from these two instead of whining and screaming.   

Mr. Independence.  Since he IS about to be 2 and all.  

Yep.  This is all we got.  No snowcalypse in Canton.

Squint your eyes.  Now move your face about 5 inches closer to the screen.  There.  See those five white specks?  Those were the "fattest" of the flakes. 

4 days later…and no they're not freezing.  It was in the 60's, and Eve is only wearing a coat because she was in a leotard and tights.  

Who is this BOY?  My baby is gone.

No worries.  The tights came clean.  I was certainly worried about their welfare since she's worn this getup 3 days straight and starts having a panic attack when I tell her it's in the process of washing or drying.  She's been on an "Angelina Ballerina" kick here lately.  I'll take a sweet little ballerina any day over the girl who MOONED HER BROTHER BEHIND MY BACK AT THE DINNER TABLE LAST NIGHT.  How'd I know her brother was telling the truth about her offense?  In her rush to sit back down before I caught her, she forgot to pull her pants back up.  So when I turned around, there she was…"minding her own business", chewing her bite of pizza, with her booty naked as can be seated on her chair.  

I'm not really sure how I started out talking about breathing room and valuing time, and I ended with my 4 year old's bare butt, but oh well.  I'm rolling with it and calling this post "done".  Goodnight.