Bath-time.

Bath-time is a much anticipated nightly ritual at the Morgan house.

For at least 20 minutes a day, the kiddos play together... happily... in one place.

During which, Brandon and I lay around like sloths, reading or getting in some computer time-it's pretty fabulous.

But tonight...bath-time was an epic, epic fail.

Not even ten minutes into the bath, Brandon and I hear an intense scream.

Noah.

Brandon heads upstairs to see whats going on.

Shortly following I hear 3 things: The shower turning on, a huge thud and a second scream coming from Graysen.

I run upstairs for the assist to find Brandon in the shower, fully dressed, holding Noah upside down under the spray of water.

Graysen, is clutching her eyes like someone just poured hot acid into them-screaming all the while.

I won't go into how the situation was resolved, but I will say that Graysen received a "talkin to" about washing her little brother's hair.

After the "talk", Brandon told her to give Noah a kiss and apologize-which she did gracefully.

She then said, "Look, Mommy. Wuh Wuh is happy!"

"Yes, Graysen." I replied. "Noah is usually pretty happy until someone puts soap in his eyes."

She looked up at me with a huge grin and said, "Hey, I'm someone!"

Well done, Graysen... A+ Pin It

My little Provider...

My children have very loud personalities.

Or maybe they don't, and Brandon and I just see them as "loud".

Regardless, my son, Noah, is just coming into his personality.

And...well...he's kinda, I dunno....tribal?

He's like an aggressive, affectionate, tribal, alpha-male.

He isn't using words yet, which doesn't help.

He just walks around-half naked, because inevitably none of our children like clothes and we're too lazy to fight that battle, chest bowed out, grunting at inanimate objects in and around our house.

When he wants food, he violently pushes me to the kitchen and grunts at the refrigerator.

-Maybe that's just the example that's been set by dad. Maybe that's just because boys are different from girls...

When he is finished eating, he pushes his food away with a loud "ugh" and shake of his head.

Again...example? Again...boys?

Anyway, so yesterday he comes up to me-naked, chest bowed, and holds out his chubby little hand in an offertory sort of way...

I look up from facebook my copy of War and Peace and see him glaring at me intently, waiting for me to accept his love offering.

I move to sit in front of him and look into his sweet little face.

His eyebrows are furrowed with seriousness. He grunts at me again...

I peel back his fingers and accept my gift...which was...of a rubbery, spongy texture...sort of...brownish red?

While examining this unknown object, I realize he's chewing...

I...gave him cheerios...This...is...not a cheerio.

Gag.

Hmmm...He looks at his offering, then back at me...waiting...

"Um, buddy? Whatcha want?"

He grunts again...Obviously he wants...me...to eat this.

Never gonna happen, man. Never gonna happen.

I examine the..."object" again, hoping for his sake that it is food, when I realize with relief that it's a piece of a hotdog.

Sigh.

Panic.

We haven't had hotdogs... in days. Pin It

My mistake, G.

Funniest. Graysen. Moment. Ever.

So for some reason Graysen has been acting terrible today. Terrible.

Probably because Brandon and I have actually been trying to be productive.

Anyway, so at some point today, sending Gray to her room ceased to be a successful form of discipline. At that point, I pulled out the heavy punishment and tied her to the hot water heater(totally kidding) I gave her a light(ahem) swat on the booty.

She immediately broke into hysterics.

I sat down with her on the bed, waiting for her to calm down so that we could discuss her bad behavior.

As she began to get quiet, I started.

"Graysen, Mommy loves you. But I had to spank you because you have been a very, very bad girl today."

She broke into another fit of frantic noise-making-or so I thought. Moments later, I realized these "noises" were words that came together to form a response as follows:

*Side note: Please insert a gasp in between each word. Thanks.

"No. Ah. eh. Mo-ham-ey. Aye-eh not-ee ah bad gir-sniff* girl."

"Look. eh. It's ah me, sniff* Graysen...See?"

Bahahahahahaha. Oh. Yes, sorry. I must have been mistaken. Pin It

Chips and Cheese

Today, Graysen and I spent some extra-special quality time together in the absence if Daddy.

We were both pining for him I guess.

First, we made tea with fresh orange in it. Graysen stirred.

Then, we cleaned. Graysen watched.

And last we enjoyed our freshly made tea alongside our snack-that's right...chips and cheese. In case you haven't been let in on this tiny golden nugget of information...cheese sauce is the key to a 3 year old's heart-the less identifiable the ingredients, the better.

So about half-way through our magical cheese snack, a lightbulb went off.

I remembered the oh-so-yummy salsa I had tucked away in the bottom of the fridge.

I thought to myself, Man, I am going to get some major extra brownie points with this one. Take that, Daddy! Whose the cool parent today?

I returned and plopped a spoonfull of salsa down on the plate alongside the cheese. Big dumb expectant grin on my face, I'm sure.

I looked up to find an expression of shock on my 3 year olds face.

Shock.

Shock, that quickly turned to disgust, which turned to anguish. Have i mentioned she's incredibly dramatic? Wonder where she got that...

My own face slowly sank...

She looked up at me and said, "'Mommy..." Long dramatic pause...

"Mommy," She started again..."That makes me have sad feelings."

Crash

And

Burn. Pin It

Pillow Talk

Preface--

In case it isn't common knowledge, I'll begin my post by informing you that we are in the process of moving.

Again.

We're exactly dead center in the middle of it, actually.

And at the moment I'm tucked away in Benoit, Ms--aka, Egypt--with my parents, while Brandon and his dad load the budget truck six hours away.

And however silly it may be, I still pine when seperated from my husband-if even for a night.



So last night, as Graysen and I snuggle into sleep in a foreign bed, she rolls over and asks,

"Mommy, you love me?" I reply sleepily, "Yes, baby. I love you so much."

She rolls over again, grinning smugly.

She wrinkles her nose definitively states, "I make you happy."

I smiled and replied again, "Yes, baby. You do."

She sighed, smiling larger still, and murmered as she knodded off to sleep, "I'm special."

A lump rose in my throat.

Oh! I think so too, Graysen...I think so too. Pin It

More Musings

Tonight, Brandon and I decided to celebrate life over two savory, perfectly seasoned, bleeding, half-mooing slices of cow. -More sophisticated people refer to it as "steak".

They came off the grill, sizzling, and smelling divine.

The kids' steaks which were really just glorified hamburger patties,( hey, back off... We don't cast our pearls before swine.) came off first, so I cut them up and dispensed ketchup.

We prayed, and eventually all sat down to eat.

Brandon, looking very smug over his manly provision, glanced over to find Graysen staring at this unidentified food with unquestionable disdain.

Okay, Side note--

Every night is a fight with this one. She never wants to eat what is put in front of her. It's some sort of pre-adolescent rebellion. I don't know.

Anyway, resume.

So Daddy points out, logically-go figure, that tonight she shouldn't want to make a fuss about eating because steak- especially steak cooked by Daddy, is a delicacy.

This, to Brandon's frustration, served only to increase the whining. The word steak could now be reiterated in a tiny, nasally, God-forsaken little voice to emphasize the object to which the 3 year old objected.

Anyways, the battle raged on until Brandon nonchalantly said, "But Graysen don't you like hamburger?...It's not steak, it's hamburger."

She replied, "Hmph." in a little high pitched grunt, and gobbled it all down before we had a chance to say anything else about it. I'm telling you, swine. Pin It

"Everything Looks Perfect from Far Away"

The fire is hot this season. Really hot. And my only hope upon realizing myself in this fire is that I can come out on the other side a little more new.

Yesterday, I watched my husband sell his old identity for a measly month and a half of rent money.

I'll explain.

For as long as I have known him, I could categorize the space in his heart by three earthly loves:

Music

Kentucky

And who knows why, but me.

His love is of the most devoted nature. Consistent. Unconditional. I'm blessed that way.

So yesterday as I watched him hand over his beloved bass guitar to a completely unworthy stranger, my heart sank. And a sickness crept up my spine that I carried with me most of the day.

It wasn't just a piece of wood he was getting rid of...It was himself. It was his worldly identity as a musician that he has treasured for so long. Music was one of his constants in this ever-changing world. And now it's gone.

We drove to Cincinnati to sell it, so we decided to go through Lexington on our way home to Bowling Green.

Brandon grew up near Lexington and has since had visions of the perfect little house with the basement that sits in the middle of the most green, grassy field that a kid could hope to play in.

Since he was a kid, he's dreamed of going back. I think part of him thought maybe he had imagined this place.

I've listened hours upon hours of him talking about that wonderful old house with the basement and the memories that he holds so dear..."Mom making fish sticks while I adventured with the farmer's baby calf" "Dad taking me running with him on cold mornings when I could smell the tobacco from the neighbors barn" "My faithful dog, Scout, saving me from the pains of death almost inflicted by the treacherous mountain lion"...

It was his happy place, a 7 year old boy's heaven.

The tales go on and on. And it's never been hard to tell that this place, to him, contained some sort of unearthly magic that would always be his.

And after so many years of pining for this long lost love, we went back.

I can only imagine how he felt as he turned down that familiar dusty road after fifteen long years of dreaming about that moment. I can imagine the anticipation growing, the lump rising in his throat as he imagined how it would feel to sit on this wonderful piece of earth with his wife and two kids.

And then we found it.

An old, worn down, lifeless house sitting on the most overgrown piece of property I've ever seen.

It bore no resemblance to that mystical place in his dreams. And I could tell by the silence on his lips and the confused, horror struck expression on his face that he had just lost his oldest, dearest friend.

He got out of the car, slowly looking around, and walked a few paces to the back of the house. He stood for a minute, turned, and walked back to the car.

And we went home.

The things we love in this world were never meant to last...And they don't.

But he's found a new love, one that never turns to dust. And he's given up everything to be faithful to it.

"For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Matthew 16:25

"Fair are the meadows, fair are the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring:
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful heart to sing" Pin It