Welcome to the place of overflowing grace in the midst of messy motherhood.
There are a lot of kids up in here, a lot of noise, and a lot of life. It's raw and real, and often sticky.
But I wouldn't trade it. (Except maybe the sticky part.)
Join me for the journey.  

Death by Grape Soda

We went to bed early on our twelfth anniversary. I was battered and bruised from the marathon of having a baby three days prior, and Josh and I were both exhausted.  We did have steak and good ice cream that evening, but when our heads hit the pillows, we promptly slept.  (For a few minutes anyway, until the baby woke up hungry again.) Every year is an adventure, but I have a lovely marriage and a wonderful husband.  I wouldn’t trade a bit of it. So it came as a shock to him when I nearly killed my husband in the kitchen this past week. That sounds like something from the boardgame Clue.  “Mommy did it, in the kitchen, with a bottle of grape soda…” I’m learning the benefits of fermenting dif

The Quiet Messenger in Aisle Four

(Disclaimer: I started this post the day before I had a baby, so all references to my pregnancy are purely intentional, but about 10 days late.  I’ve been busy…) The grocery store cart looked like a spaceship.  It had seats for two drivers, and jet packs painted on the back plastic. On land and laminate tile, however, spaceships are ungainly.  It is hard to brake quickly when the jets are powered by a five year old behind and a seven year old in front.  We’ve scraped past many an end cap as we tried to clear the corners of aisles without taking up the whole intergalactic space. I’ve utilized these spaceships on a regular basis.  Joe, the grandfatherly man in a baseball cap, calls a cheerful

Beautiful Feet

Ouch. I did it again. I had a baby. It didn’t go as I planned it, surprise.  (Pfft, what does?)  I wasn’t due for another two or three weeks, depending on how we measured.  First, they wanted to deliver him by c-section.  I had one the last time, to get Ben out. A c-section protected his life; I have no regrets.  Plus, I didn’t have to go through labor.  Yes, that was nice.  But our local hospital wanted to automatically repeat that surgery this time.  I didn’t; the recovery time is so much harder.  Then there  were other concerns.  First, I had placenta previa.  There was simply no natural escape if the exit was blocked, so surgery would be the only way out.  But prayer can move previas.  A

Lord of the Flies

I was cleaning cold spaghetti worms off the floor after supper.  The boys had gone out to ride tricycles in the summer dusk.  It had been raining, but rays of sunset pierced through a few less resistant clouds. Distant thunder rumbled far on the horizon. A cold pea gleefully skittered away from my broom.  I was debating whether to use up tupperware and fridge space on a half serving of spaghetti and meatballs when the dryer beeped that it was done.  The sound reminded me that I had towels on the clothesline.  Thunder rumbled again, closer now.  The towels had been out there twenty four hours and a solid rainstorm already.  I really couldn’t procrastinate bringing them in any longer; the neig


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