The Jealous Wife


There are a lot of things that women want from their husbands:  love, attention, support, romance, helpfulness… Me?  I have learned that what I really crave is his presence.  I’m not sure if it’s because he is a bi-vocational pastor which means he is pulled in two ways most of the time.  I don’t know if it is simply the nature of the ministry that there are no set hours that he gets phone calls, drop ins, or has someone to meet with.

It could be just me.

Maybe time is my love language.  When I grew up my dad worked and then came home and was home.  It’s harder when your spouse has a job or jobs that causes that work and home boundary to be less distinct.  It’s very possible that it could be all of these rolled in together.

In general, our culture is distracted.  There are media distractions every where and in your hands at all times.  There are children pulling our attention every which way and things we waste our time with that become musts in our schedules like favorite t.v. shows or game apps that have become addictive.

After a long day at home, I thirst for my husband to be home and be all home…no calls, no visits, no emails, no sports, just home.  Of course we all have things we do and want to do and that’s fine, but I find myself in my marriage sometimes lost in a sea of an hour or two here and there rather than getting a full dose of the family time that I desire.

Do you know what I mean?  All of our family lives are so spliced by children’s sports, phone calls, errands, etc., that real un-disturbed, concentrated time for each other, be it the whole family or husband to wife, is gobbled up in daily life and responsibility.  Basically, if there is no set time to put down phones, shut the computers off and check out of your day to be with your family, the really IS no time.  Where there are no boundaries for family, there is no true family time.  Everything creeps and seeps into all of your moments if no moments are made to be just yours..just your family’s…just between you and your husband.

All of this just leaves me very hungry.  Hungry for presence.  Famished for something that is just ours and something that is irreplaceable: time.  My husband is great with our children and we spend time together in some way every night.  Still, as time goes on, I’m coming to see that I don’t feel like we have spent time together even when we are together, if the “job” doesn’t stop: the texts that need to be sent, the call that has to be taken, or even the blog that needs to be written.  I suppose what I feel is the lack of a break…an un-interruption of us or our family and if it’s always interrupted, I don’t feel like we have anything sacred.  Not even hours in the evening.

For me, it makes me feel a void and I find myself jealous for my husband’s time.  At times, I feel that way, even when I have his time because I don’t have it all. What I mean by that is that even when it’s my time, it becomes shared time.  I know we can’t have all of our husbands and families all of the time, but I’m afraid if you don’t set marriage and family time as a priority, you never really have true time at all. Not really. You have a lot of bodies together with no presence. You merely end up with fragments of the leftover minutes of your day.  You take what your life leaves behind rather than making your life made up of what you have to give, not what’s left after it’s all been taken and used up.

I’m not longing for my husband’s affection.  I’m not wishing my children had a better father because they couldn’t.  I’m not dreaming that we won’t have jobs and lives to live with personal time and relationships outside of each other because that’s not good or practical either.  I’m simply left longing for more true presence with my husband and more less disturbed family days. It sounds more simple than it’s become.

I’ve found that of all the things a wife can be jealous for, what I’m jealous for most, is his true presence of mind and body.  What I’m jealous for most, is his time.



The 10 Best Questions To Ask Your Spouse



Do you need a break?

What was your day like today?

Can I take the kids for you for a while?

Is there anything I could be doing better?

What is the most helpful thing I can do for your right now? {This is literal as in, what can you do in that moment?  It’s good to ask when they house is going crazy.}

What do you need me to be praying for?

Is there anything overwhelming you right now?

Do you need help with/me to do anything around the house?

Is there anything we need to talk about?

What is something I can do to help take a burden off of your day?



Solid purble background



When Parenting Isn’t Fair


Admittedly, I’m not a good STAY- at- home mom.  If I know I have to stay at home for an entire day, I want to shut myself in a closet with my phone and Oreos and feel sorry for myself.  I have to get out and go.  For me and my personality type, staying shut in with three kids four and under makes me feel lazy and like we are just spinning our wheels all day.  It exhausts me more to stay home on most days.

Today, I did just that.  Well, I didn’t get a hiding place and Oreos but after a long night out-of-town, dare I say I actually felt like staying home.  I was such a total big girl and I think we all pretty well enjoyed it.  Still, by the time the night rolled around and we had to go to a church meeting, I was embracing the spirit of “Is it bedtime yet?”

Church meetings always go long and I’m a pastor’s wife so for me, they are the song that doesn’t end, yes it goes on and on my friend….

They provided childcare but I had to bring all three of my kids.  My 5 month old is a booby lovin’ mommy addict and my oldest’s diabetes numbers didn’t allow me to comfortably drop her off with anyone else.  Those numbers also make for a fun time for everyone but, such is life with three kids and the life is like a box of chocolates effect.  You make it work when you have to with what you’ve got and day-to-day you never know what your gonna get.

By the end of the meeting, one of my children had their shoes and socks off (as always), one was starving to death, and my baby was ready to nurse and go to bed.  My husband couldn’t help me really because he is the pastor and like parenting, it feels like an always on the clock job.  All I wanted to do was say, “Okay, it’s over.  Let’s go home.  Grab the kids and run.”  Basically, that is what I said.  Like many times though, I had to leave alone and deal with the chaos that ensues at bedtime all by myself…just like I’ve dealt with the blissful but chaotic life with kids for the 10 hours prior.

Sometimes, well, a lot of times, it is so hard to see your husband get the freedoms you desire and need.  The lunch breaks at work with friends and no one to strap into a chair or share your food with or tell to sit down.  The ability to ride to and from work in a car all alone, able to make phone calls on a whim without kids interrupting and the freedom to jam to any song that hits the radio. Being able to go somewhere with no thought of your milk letting down and needing to either get home to feed a baby or turn into two concrete speed bumps if you stay out as long as you’d like.  Even that husbands can go out with friends for a night or to an event and not have to have a fleeting worry or even the tiniest instruction to give you on your child’s care.  Why?  Because we know it better than anyone.  We need no direction and they need not worry when the kids are with us. Moms have got this.  We’ve always got this.  That’s an honor but even with the best of husbands, which I have, it’s not a simple pleasure that can be completely returned. We can’t just run off and expect they know every little thing to do. After all, they aren’t there all day for all of the steps, routines, and nuisances.  Because mothering is our specialty, we can’t just get up and go and unfortunately, lots of times become the assumed baby sitter.  You know the feeling of your husband saying, “Let’s go out to eat with so and so…”  and the first thing in your mind is, “Yeah, we will all go out and eat but you will get to do more of talking and focusing.”  You know that feeling because even with the best of the best on your spouse team, you are still mom and knowing best, typically gets you more of the load…even when you are together.  Many times I go through a scenario in my head and think, “Really, I’m not going to get to enjoy the company or myself so it’s just easier to keep kids at home than at Red Lobster.”

There is nothing else I would rather do than be stay-at-home mom right now.  I love being the expert because it means I’ve learned and loved all of the intricacies of my children. However, I would be lying through my teeth if I said that I’m always happy that he can book that trip, make that lunch appointment, or even run an errand on a break at work and all he has to do is jump out of the car and run in alone. I would love to pick up laundry detergent that effortlessly!  The imbalances feel unfair and I know a lot of couples deal with bitterness when they feel the gap between what each role requires.  Don’t get me wrong, our husbands work really, really hard and their jobs are important, valuable, and difficult.  I am so thankful for the JOBS my husband has.  He is a pastor but also holds down another job, too.  Life is busy.  Even in that work though, there are changes of scenery, quiet moments, and a clock in and out time.  There is an end.  Motherhood knows no time clock.

The fact is for me that right now I’m writing a blog at 9:30 that won’t be completely done for another 40 minutes.  I have a lunch to pack, three sets of kids clothes to lay out tonight so the rush to preschool will be less chaotic in the morning, a mess on the floor all around me, a shower that needs to be taken and it better get done before my baby wakes up to nurse again in 2 hours.  Then I will finally crawl in bed, wake every few hours in the night to nurse a baby next to a husband that gets to simply go to sleep and stay that way.  The best of dads are helpful and willing every hour of the day and night but really, only the moms are on-call.  Sometimes the weight of the unceasing job of parenting suffocates me.  I look down the days ticking away at the calendar and think, “How long will it be until I will get a break? A real one.” Not one where I’m rushing through a store racing against the next time I need to feed my baby or getting home to help with dinner.  When I see my husband’s schedule, it’s hard not to be frustrated when it feels like he catches all of the breaks.  It’s not that he doesn’t deserve them.  It’s just that we both do and it’s easier for one than the other to get them.

There are times that parenting feels unfair.  There are times that you are even jealous that he gets to leave at night for a meeting!  “Must be nice,” you say over the kids crying as you step over toys while he shuts the back door.

I am lucky that my husband is very helpful but just know, as a full-time mom, even though it lessens the burden of the job that never ends, all of us feel worn out and on the clock.  All of us, working out of the home and in the home, feel the unrelenting-ness of always being the “go to” person in the house for everything.  On hard days, it’s hard not to just want to throw your hands up at it all.

Twenty four hours a day since your children were born, you both became full-time parents.  It’s a job you both share and a role that doesn’t leave you even when you are 85.  Either of you.  We love our spouses.  We love the heck out of being mothers.  Still, sometimes it’s not even the husbands we resent or the spontaneity they still have partially intact or the ease in which they can do things on a daily basis we can’t.  Even when you are mad at your spouse for getting to do what you can’t, when parenting feels unfair, it’s not about the person.  It’s simply that by nature, there’s a difference.

And on sleepless, knock down drag out days, that pill is really hard to swallow. Sometimes it’s hard standing in the difference.


The Snoring Husband


Snoring is auditory waterboarding.  One rhythmic snort and breath at time makes you close to doing something that would appear on an episode of 48-Hour Mystery.  Take a sharp object and poke them in the leg?  My leg?  How do I make this misery end?

That is too violent, though.  You should do different things like squeeze their nose, smack their forehead, kick them in the leg, yell commands at them to roll over, and other verbal assaults.  I do these on a nightly basis.  It only works temporarily but it gives the same effect as punching a pillow when you are mad. (Except it’s on your husband’s snoring comatose body.)

This post is really starting to sound crazy…   Who wrote this?  I’m leaving.

At night I lie awake and listen to my husband snore and talk like I have every night for a solid decade now.

Every night.

For ten years.

He tells me I’m overacting reacting and I remind him:

every night…

for ten years.

I should be rocking back and forth in the corner and saying, “I’ll be a good girl.  No snoring.  I’ll be a real good girl.”

It makes me looney tooney bo booney.  When I’m nursing next to his out of control nose in the middle of the night, I stare at him with a blank face and dream of watching an invention on shark tank that could save both of our lives:  my life because I could sleep again and his life because he gets assaulted in the first degree nightly while sleeping snoring.

A few nights ago, I was so annoyed and bored that I formulated snore categories in my head.  It goes as follows:


The Drowning Gasper

This snore involves heavy breathes that are fighting to get out from behind his tongue and tonsils.  This alternates with nostril sounds as well. It’s sexy and I totally love it.  Where can I get more of this?

Rhythm Nation

There is no variety in the ole’ rhythm nation number.  Nope, just the same predictable sound in perfect timing like he’s nose clapping on beat to his favorite freakin’ song.

Surprise Attack

This is when he snores a single gallant extremely loud sound that wakes him up.  I’m okay with that because he deserves it.

Hickory Dickory You Stupid Dock

This is a special sort of snore that results in soft mouse squeaking sounds.  It is so subtle yet still apparent that I am hearing something.  However, it has the effect of sounding like a soft cry from a different room so I think one of my kids has woken up.  I lay there and think, “Oh crap.  I hope they go back to sleep.”  I lay there holding my breath and then I realize it’s Lance softly snoring.  Instead of relief, I’m so mad that he had me prayin’ on my knees in bed that my kids would “fall back asleep” that I resent his snoring even more.  I smack him in the forehead.  Don’t worry.  He doesn’t even wake up.  That makes me even more angry.

The “Oh No I Didn’t”

The “Oh No I Didn’t” is what happens when arousal from an intense snore session occurs.  You punch the snorer somehow, somewhere and they awake from their lonely slumber only to be aggravated and say, “I wasn’t snoring!”  I need to take a timeout before I respond to that comment.  I don’t mean to throw you off guard, but I don’t.

“Yes, you were snoring.  Do you know how I know?  Because I have been laying awake while you snore all night long.”

He responses with, “You are waking me up.  Don’t touch me again!”

This is the part in a dialogue in a t.v. show where you would cut to commercial because you can’t believe what a character just said and you can’t WAIT to get back to see what happens next.  Well, let me just tell you.  The waiting is over.

I say, “I’m waking you up?!? So, you want me to lay awake so that you can snore comfortably?  You want me to not be able to sleep so that you can make sound effects all night???!!!  I’m so sorry that your nasal jamboree was disturbed.”

Once this conversation happens, it’s very dangerous for him to follow with a Hickory Dickory You Stupid Dock, Rhythm Nation, Surprise Attack, or a Drowning Gasper.  They say the most dangerous time for a snorer is the first attempt at snoring after a “Oh No You Didn’t”.  Statistically, the violence perpetrated on them after returning to snore increases 30%.

In other news, I may need anger management classes at 1, 3, 4, and 6 a.m.





And So She Helped

When you have heard something a million times, you give it little thought.   Unfortunately, a lot of good is lost in repetition.  Lately, there is one scripture that has taken on new light to me and it’s this:

Genesis 2:8-2518 The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”

God made wives helpers.

I know that.

I knew that but I haven’t really thought about that.

I’ve read it and heard it in so many weddings that hold up, I forgot He was talking to me about me, girlies.

I get so caught up in that I’m EVERYONE’S helper in the home that I have forgotten that God intended me to be my spouses helper. I’m so use to being the one needing help that I have forgotten that I’m not the only one in need.

Obviously, children need help by nature and we are called to be their…well…everything, but God specifically says we are our husbands helpers.  Now before some of you barf up your feminism on to the keyboard, husbands help too.  If there is a woman who is all about some equality in the home, it’s me.  Don’t miss though that being a helper doesn’t make you his subordinate.  Maybe it makes us awesome because they need us so bad.  Yes, that is what He meant.

Husbands are supposed to love their wives and that’s an all-encompassing blanket of a command.  A husband loving his wife DOES help.  That is how he loves her…hopefully.  What wife doesn’t feel loved when her husband helps by cleaning or taking the kids?  Helping is loving.  That goes both ways.

Still, really think about that you are called to help your husband by design.  It must be important if we are made to be a support to them.

I get it.  You are tired and you have helped your husband in the biggest way: you ran your household and all of the kids in it.  When he comes home, the last thing you want is to wipe the spit up off your cheek, the Goldfish off your feet and say, “And yes, how may I help you today?”  I feel you.

Maybe you have worked a 40-hour week, picked up your kids, walked in the door, slipped into the biggest sweatpants you have, and the last thing you want to say is, “Honey, I have endless energy.  How may I serve you, me laddie?”

Tired is tired to any mom and spent it spent.

What happens to both husbands and wives is that we feel justified in not helping each other because we have done _________ all day.  Fill in the blank.  If you can’t fill in the blank, you are always ready and willing to pull out a list if your spouse acts like they don’t get it.  Both the wife helping and the husband loving take effort.  It doesn’t help that the effort has to come in between a continuing night of children bedtime mayhem and so on.

The beautiful thing is though is that one should spur on the other.  Helping your husband makes his acts of love more natural and your husband’s acts of love makes your helping a desire.  I know marriage strife muddies those waters because since we are human, it doesn’t quite flow on that perfect merry-go-round status.  Either way, by design, when both are striving, it really does blend beautifully.

So for me, I’ve confronted my feelings of “I earned to sit on the couch so you do something” with the truth that I should be a helper and not just because I love him, but because God chose me to help him in love.  How does that look for a washed up, sleep deprived, stay-at-home-mom of three?  It’s so simple it probably goes un-noticed.

When I have the girls playing outside and they have pulled out every object in tarnation into the drive, instead of leaving the toy cars in the driveway knowing he will be home soon and can just get out and put them up on the way in, I grab the toys amongst an overdue nap time and hungry tired kids.  He will never know that I almost left them there.  He may never understand on a long day why that even took effort.  He will never know it happened for him to appreciate the tiny gesture.  But when I just want to walk past the cars, I remember I’m a helper.  Being a helper to my children makes to too tired to want to help anymore but I’m a helper to my home.  I’m a helper to their dad too who just pulled in from working an 8 hour day.

It looks like moving over the wet clothes to the dryer right before I crash on the couch for my daughter’s quiet time.  The load wasn’t finished from wash to dry to being folded but when I was tired, I did just a little bit more.  It’s not about moving mountains like some awesome gargantuan personal assistance, it’s about sacrificing in small helpful ways.  Even in ways that he didn’t know ever happened.

It’s laying on the couch with him when you just want to be on the couch NOT piled up with someone.  It’s the kiss you definitely don’t want to give over the green beans you don’t want to be cooking.

I’m as exhausted as I thought I would be with three kids and then some.  So tired, in fact, that I can forget the basics of what I’m called to do, numb to the fact that I’ve heard it so many times that my ears have become deaf.  I’m now keeping on the forefront of my mind during the day that before my children came, I was first a helper to someone else.  His helper. Sometimes our children make us forget that even they were founded from our marriage.  Marriage came first. I was a wife first, then a mother and being beat from helping all day as a mom doesn’t exempt me from acknowledging that God saw some reason I was suited to be a helper to Lance.

The spoon you threw in the dishwasher, the letter you mailed, the food you made for his work, the hand you put on the back of his head while he drove, it’s all simpler than you think and probably more important than we know or it feels.  Like I said, he may never even notice but that just means you helped by him having one less thing on his mind and one less thing to do.

And to be clear, I stink at all of this because I’m just like you.  I’m just currently enlightened, honest, and happen to run a blog.   All stinkiness aside, God gave this command to stinky wives to be suitable for their spouse.  Not perfect.  Suitable.  You are equipped to help, not the perfect husband, but the husband you’ve God.  That is harder in some marriages than others.  Still, we love our husbands and helping them should be part of our nature just as it should be part of theirs.

You are his.  He is yours.  You know each other and how you help him may not look like what is helpful to mine but you know what it looks like for your marriage.

Today, I had lunch close to his work so he could meet us and see his family . I also went outside and figured out why our garage door wasn’t opening. It wasn’t much, but it was exactly what I was made to do.  I needed to help…and so I did.




Photo Credit:  Joel Ham Photography

Collision: When Being A Mom And Wife Collide


It’s weird because I remember being very different.  I use to love to cuddle and kiss when my husband and I were dating and during the earlier years of marriage.  Somewhere after the birth of my first child and the stress of life with a baby, those desires of physical affection got choked out of me one sleepless night at a time.

The truth is, I don’t really like being touched now.  When my husband comes home from work and I’ve had a long day of “hold me” and a marathon of errands with three kids, when he walks in, I want to get something done or just get a way for a minute.  I don’t want to stand in the kitchen and hug.  I’ve been touched all day long and I’ve quite frankly, gotten touched out.  From nursing every three hours to picking up each of my three kids on rotation, I don’t want anyone else to “need” me. I don’t want anyone else to be in “my zone”. Unfortunately, that ends up being my husband, too.

When I hear the blissful sound of the garage door opening, I feel the wonderful relief of two hands coming to help and feel the hope of me partially clocking off duty and having assistance.  It’s like a countdown in my head to when that back door knob turns so I can actually do something for me or get something done, both of which feel like doing something for me because everything is hard with children at home.

Where this gets even messier is that my husband loves physical affection and my need for a break and productivity clash terribly with his desires.  I know when he walks in he really wants to just stand and kiss in the kitchen for a second and because I so don’t, it starts to feel like another thing to do and another person to take care of.  Another person wants to touch me and another person wants to be “all over me”  which is what a day being with my kids leaves me feeling like.  Don’t get me wrong, I know these things aren’t good feelings.  I recognize their dysfunction, albeit an easy dysfunction for moms to understand.

On dates, I love to hold hands, have eye-to-eye conversation, and everything I remember enjoying before life got a dose of reality.  Ultimately, the problem is not that I don’t enjoy physical affection with my spouse, it’s that the desire to do so occurs in restaurants and Starbucks alone together and not daily in the living room standing over stuffed animals.  That leaves a lot of empty days in between.  A lot.

Between “I do” and the vision of my first baby being held up in the delivery room, I lost a piece of what it was like to be a wife before everyone needed me.  This evolution leaves me with a gigantic gap between the wife I should be, the wife I once wanted to be, and what he needs me to be.  Usually the battle of those things just brings forth more guilt than progress.

Even if it’s understandable for moms to not want to be needed every second day or night, it puts us as mothers in a less than desirable state in what we have left over for our marriages.

What is even harder is knowing that part of being a good parent, is being a good wife.  Our kids are always watching…watching to see how their father and mother love them and learning how mothers and fathers love each other.  Marriages always trickle down to children, for better or worse.  It’s good for children to see their parents be affectionate.  It’s good for children to see parents love each other well.  It’s one of the million things you hope to teach them by example and it’s definitely something I want my children to take away from their years at home.  But, parenting isn’t easy and being the wife you want to be isn’t either.

Still, as hard as they both are,  sometimes the greatest challenge isn’t being a mom or a wife.  It’s learning how to be both.




Husband Speed & The Pace That Kills You


My dad and I are a lot alike.  When I was growing up he was ALWAYS walking fast to everywhere we went and I would make fun of him.  He always seemed to be on to the next thing and made even walking from store to store an efficient use of time.  It didn’t dawn on me that I had turned in to him until early in our marriage when Lance would be annoyed that I would be ready to IMMEDIATELY leave the restaurant when we had finished eating.

“We are done.  I just don’t want to sit around here when we could go do something else.”

“Oh my goodness.  I am my dad.  I am making even efficient use of even date time.”

Needless to say this tendency got way worse after having kids because free time became as rare as a four-headed goose.  I’m DEFINITELY not wasting time now.  If I was ready to roll and “out pacing the lot” waiting for the check at dinner as Lance claims, you better believe I ask for the check before we are totally done eating now.  Oh, I sure do.

Given my nature and type 1-ness, now that I’m a mom, when it comes time to getting ready at home, I am a well-oiled machine.  Only a mom knows what all goes into getting three short humans ready and out of the door for any event.  This event could be going to the grocery or the President’s house.  It doesn’t matter.  Both require staying on schedule to the millisecond, if you plan on getting somewhere fifteen minutes late. Notice I didn’t say on time, I totally meant to say late.  It takes most mother’s everything to get somewhere after it’s started.

When I get my kids ready everyday, I have a game plan.  I lay out their clothes the night before and I make them stand in one spot while I completely get them ready start to finish.  Before I did this I would get a shirt on and then they’d  run off and play princess for five minutes.  Then I would double arm catch them as they ran down the halls and strap their pants on.  It was a marathon of stop and start dress-a-thon.  No more. From their hair to their toes, it all happens in one spot and I have all of the garb ready to go pre-dressing them.

Because I do this every day I know it takes using every second of working towards leaving to actually leave.  I always wish I had help and I love when my husband helps and he does help a ton.

But, friends….everyone know there is mom speed and husband speed.  I actually sometimes get them out faster on my own than with help.  See the well-oiled machine part for that.  Its my sole job most everyday so I know I don’t get points for awesome mom speed.

When I lay out the girl’s clothes and ask if he could get them dressed and then see him standing in front of the T.V. holding a bow in his hand with no kids around for miles, I feel like I might explode.  Combust.  Commit myself to the loony bin.

“We are going to be late!  Can you please just put their clothes on?”

In my head I’m wondering how in the world is this complicated.

Tune in 10 minutes later and each girl is wearing half of an outfit and he says he’s looking for something.  I start to twitch.  I analyze his lackadaisical pace and I start to feel the time ticking away and feel like I’m now getting ready in slow motion.  “There is so much to be done,” I think as I stroke on my mascara.  I hear and see all that needs to be done and envision my husband happily skipping through the house and I feel like I’m in one of those bad dreams where you are being chased but can’t run fast.

“Why is my hairbrush brushing so slowly?”

“The toothpaste won’t squeeze out!!!  What’s happening to my hands?!  I’m losing strength!!!  We are never going to make it!”


My husband is killer good at helping out and I know I’m lucky but sisters,  can we all agree that hubbies just don’t operate with mom-like efficiency?  Case and point, Lance is putting the girls down for me tonight so I can write my first blog since being on vacation.  He has been at it for about 25 minutes and he got one in bed for a few minutes and now she is up running circles in the living room saying, “Look at me!” and the oldest one hasn’t even looked at the bed and he has called her in the living room to sing musical notes and seeing if she can match pitch.

So what we have to show for almost a half hour of bedtime routine is everyone awake in the living room singing and running.  It pains my type one personality heart down to its well organized and controlled beats.

Lance reminds me of a fun-loving hippie kid who wants to color in their coloring book in their underwear when everyone else is loaded in the van with the vehicle running.

You yell to the hippie kid, “Come on we are 20 minutes late to the wedding!”

They say, “Hold on mom I’m almost done coloring this butterfly wing.”

Five minutes pass.

“What are you doing?!?!?”

“I’m naming all the butterflies.”

“Johnny, Georgie, Flutter Butt….good done!  COME ON!”

That’s my Lance just namin’ ole’ Flutter Butt while I twitch and shake trying to put on my kid’s sock.

To be fair, he wouldn’t be coloring butterflies.  That was rude.  It would be something more manly like WWF wrestlers or beards.

Lance, I appreciate you helping me and your colorful beard drawings but God bless America…..we gotta go.


Photo Credit:  Geek Philosopher:  Free photos for personal and commercial use.



Happy 9 Years To Us

11 years together dating and marriage total, 2 cities, 3 houses, 1 apartment  = 4 moving days, one house built and one flipped, 3 1/2 cats, 1 seminary graduation, 3 cars with one finally getting to be the sassy minivan, 2 years of infertility turning into 2 daughters, 4 real vacations (Mexico, Vegas, Chicago, NYC), 1 church plant, 3 hospitals stays between us all, and only 1 man I would want to do it with.  To be continued.

Happy 9 years to the most wonderful serving husband and father I could have married.  I love you!


One picture of us with a big ole flash on it from our wedding day at 21 and 22 years old.


And one blog catching it all:

Watch Out For Singing Rabbits

Part One:  Love & Mairwage

Part Two:  Love and Mairwage


How It Happened:  Love and Crackers

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