That old Lamb Chops Sing Along song came to mind tonight as I was desperately trying to get our son to sleep with a lullaby. A lullaby that just wasn’t working its magic.
Or so I thought…
My husband and I sometimes wonder if God gives Isaiah a song for us just when we need it.
I mean one of us will be about to lose our minds or in an incredibly bad mood and he asks us to sing something so happy that you just have no chance to not smile.
Unless your heart is truly made of stone I suppose.
Tonight it was bedtime and the song requested was “One thing remains” which Isaiah calls “power”.
I kid you not. I sang the chorus 23 times.
At about time 20, Isaiah completely awake, I prayed a very desperate prayer of “Lord make this kid sleep.”
And it was almost as if He whispered to me “Child, you’re singing this so many times because you need to let it sink deep. I want you to believe it.”
Talk about finding peace in the midst of your circumstance.
So 21, 22, and 23 I continued to sing,
“Your love never fails.
It never gives up.
It never runs out on me.”
with the sweetest and deepest sense of assurance.
An assurance that was a very timely word for this Mother’s Day.
And my sweet babe drifted to sleep.
This is a list composed of a few things I have learned this winter about myself that are making life a little more awesome.
- Make a list or the thought will float away into the great abyss of lost thoughts that should have been written down.
- Make food for the week ahead of time but salmon does not taste as delicious once it’s been in the microwave…
- When all else fails…pizza
- Work out or you will start getting WEEIIIRD
- A Muppets Christmas Carol is terrifying…seriously don’t let your son watch that again.
- Don’t get hangry…nobody likes you when you hangry
- DANCE at that Christmas party it’s fun every.single.time.
- SHUT YOUR MOUTH and listen…still working on this one.
- Purge the pain in writing and in prayer
- Ride out jokes for at least 10 minutes and find people that will go there with you. My husband is that person. I love him.
My husband rocks. After Isaiah’s nap Joel said “you get some alone time. I’m going to take Isaiah to the park.”
And the heavens opened and angels started to sing.
I got my nail polish out, put music on, and plopped on the couch.
Left hand done.
Oh that brown is pretty…
Right hand…what the what happened here?!!!!
I’m a righty so painting my right hand has always been a bit tricky but today it was brutal. I mean paint everywhere brutal. And I realized something… I haven’t done this in a really long time.
I haven’t taken time for myself I mean really taken time to do something FUN for just me.
So in this season it’s time to focus.
Here’s to simplifying schedules. To make time for really important things like FUN.
Here’s to painting my right hand without it looking like I’m 5.
Standing in my kitchen smelling the rosemary quinoa, the sweet salmon, and warm bread.
It’s almost time.
These nights are sacred.
We joyfully and excitedly await these nights all week long.
Late dinners due to a complete day of finishing chores and preparing our house for a restful evening and day to come.
Entering into Sabbath rest as a family (minus the babe who is currently sleeping In his crib yay!)with a delicious meal.
My husband playing sweetly on the guitar.
Slow, relaxed conversation at the table.
The now and not yet. A celebration of things to come.
No, we did not do cry it out.
Yes, we co-sleep.
No, that was not plan A.
Sitting here on the couch during nap time which is currently being taken on me. My body is tangled in a most awkward position and I’m cold.
So cold. Right in front of the A.C.
But my sweet boy is sick. So I snuggle him close and I think these moments are so incredibly priceless.
He just giggled in his precious slumber and I’m thankful I got to hear it.
I’ve been meaning to write about this incredibly weird experience for a few days.
Last week I was walking Isaiah to the park in his stroller. Walking, walking, walking. I start hearing giggling girls a way back behind me.
The giggling gets closer.
Suddenly they are about to pass us and I hear “meeeeeoooooooow.”
Never have I ever seen what I then saw.
The meow emerged out of a tall, middle school girl who was dressed as a cat…wearing a collar…
attached to a leash…
being “walked” by her friend wearing a maid costume.
But then I laughed really loud by myself.
So many circumstances have called for midnight pizza in our family.
Really by midnight pizza I mean midnight-3 am.
It’s the moment when your son finally goes back to sleep after hours it seems like of “oh, he’s definitely asleep” and then suddenly “you chewed too loud and now he’s definitely awake again because of you!”
You know…perfectly rational…
Anyway, it’s 2 am, the baby is finally asleep for the moment and immediately you want…you need pizza.
Or when you’ve been painting your living room starting at 10pm but now it’s 1 am and you’re frustrated because “dangit I really should have taped off this trim…it looks as though we hired a kindergartener.” And just when it seems all hope is gone, you remember …pizza.
Pizza. It will forever be tethered with memories of sleepless nights with my best friend.
I don’t hate it.
Honestly I don’t think I have ever had a pizza that I haven’t liked. I realize that’s a very bold statement.
Well actually there have been two separate occasions where I have really not liked the pizza.
- In Turkey Joel and I obviously were craving American food because we got so desperate that we decided to order pizza…in Turkey. The Princess Artemis Pizza… We still talk about the mystery meat that was on that pizza.
- I went gluten and dairy free for awhile and bravely attempted such a pizza. There is no such thing. That was not pizza.
But in my whole life really 2 pizza experiences gone bad. Those are pretty good odds.
Thick pizza, thin pizza, cheese filled crust pizza. I guess they have hot dog pizza now which just…wow. I have yet to try that but since my second food love is hot dogs I’m pretty sure it will be a match made in heaven.
No I’m not talking about the breakfast pizza with egg and veggies.
I’m talking actual deliciously greasy pizza for breakfast.
I love the moment some mornings when I wake up and remember that there is left over heaven in the refrigerator. I would bet that I get out of bed faster for pizza than coffee in the morning.
I love that my husband doesn’t share this same breakfast pizza love otherwise I would have to share.
I love eating cold pizza for breakfast.
I love eating hot pizza for breakfast.
It’s aaaaall good.
Writers block, I suppose.
This is sort of new territory for me and I did not expect to come against writers block so quickly.
I guess when writers experience writers block they are encouraged to write about not knowing what to write about.
So here we are.
I almost wrote about pizza. I love pizza. I could literally eat it for every meal for the rest of eternity.
I almost wrote about adult naps. I love naps so much but when you get a weird one in there and you wake up and it’s suddenly night… those naps are of the most confusing kind.
I almost wrote about our son and how he is getting big so so fast and it’s the most bittersweet thing I have ever experienced. To watch a human, your human, grow.
I almost wrote about how I will probably have paint on me for at least the next 5 years.
Catch ya on the flippity flip