The Flower Girl

Posted on by Becky

I’ll apologize in advance. I planned my “Wordless” Wednesday pictures, but then somehow, I had to journal a little bit . . .

We were in my sister’s wedding together–Mara and I. I was the matron of honor. She, the flower girl. For days afterwards, she referred to me as “The Maid of Honor.”

“I would like to sit by The Maid of Honor,” she would say, as if I were The Queen of England. She told everyone she saw–from three-year-old friends to our retired neighbors next door to the pediatrician–that she was “The Flower Girl,” insinuating that she was The One and Only Flower-Girl-Princess, Most Beautiful.

It was the highlight of her little life!

She walked down the aisle with the handsome ringbearer, Connor–who, yes, is precisely airborne in the picture. (Being in the bridal party–and a mother of three preschoolers related to the bride–limited my ability to capture these moments the way I would have liked. I missed a lot of good pictures that day!)

But I wanted to share my few snapshots of The Flower Girl. Special thanks to Grandpa (my dad) for the final snapshot in this sequence!

During the couple’s first dance at the reception, my dad looked at his daughter, the bride. His eyes brimming with tears, he said to me, “She’s all grown up now, isn’t she?”

I nodded, and as I looked down at my little girl, I couldn’t help fast-forwarding 20 years . . .

We Made It Through . . .

Posted on by Becky

We made it through . . .

  • A couple months of bedrest and endless contractions
  • The birth of a precious new baby (and the whole post-partum recovery time)
  • Flying to Florida with three kids, three and under
  • My sister’s wedding, with me as the matron of honor and Mara as the flower girl

Now we are home again. Life is settling into a new “normal” for our family of five.

I’m hoping to return to blogging more regularly (I mean, daily!). But right now I am desperately working to get organized around the house! I feel like I can keep up with the kids, meals, groceries, and laundry–but the clutter and deeper housecleaning are always challenges for me.

Thankfully, this weekend I enjoyed some small successes–steps in the right direction, at least. So I’m encouraged!

Someday I’ll figure this “SAHM”-thing out!

The Reach of the Promise

Posted on by Becky

“It is not the distance of the earth from the sun, nor the sun’s withdrawing itself, that makes a dark and gloomy day; but the interposition of clouds and vaporous exhalations. Neither is thy soul beyond the reach of the promise, nor does God withdraw Himself; but the vapours of thy carnal, unbelieving heart do cloud thee.” – John Owen

With a Kid Like This, Who Needs Mom?

Posted on by Becky

I suppose I should be embarrassed to admit my “Not Me, Monday” moments. But hey, this is my life! I just have to laugh. Yes, that was me. And I love to share the laughs with you.

All too commonplace around my house are quotes like these from my three-year-old: “I need to go potty. Will you keep an eye on Micah?”

Without moving my head, I glance at her, perplexed, perhaps even mildly insulted.

Sure, I say . . . I’ll ‘keep an eye on’ him.

On Sunday morning, I was awakened by the same three-year-old, knocking on our bedroom door. I had a terrible headache, but the 8-week-old was still sleeping–so yes, I was “sleeping in,” past 6:30, past 7, even past 7:30! [Gasp.]

Unacceptable for this three-year-old, who had already taken off her pull-ups and PJs and decided to “get ready for the day,” as she always says.

Imitating the sounds wafting toward my ear from baby monitor, she made three clicking sounds: “[Click. Click. Click.]. . . Hear that, Mommy? It’s Micah!”

Just then, as if on cue, her brother screamed over the monitor. As if it wasn’t obnoxious enough three feet away, she picked up the monitor and held it up to my ear. “Hear that screaming?!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “That’s your son! Go get your son out of his crib, Mommy!”

Wow. . .

————

Then there was Saturday. I had all three kids with me at the mall. Micah and Carissa were in the Combi Twin Sport.  They were both sick, so I had Mara walk. Before we went inside, I told her she would have to be sure to walk quickly and stay close to Mommy . . . I’m walking along at a pretty reasonable pace–reasonable for a mom, anyway.

My very loud three-year-old is running behind me, as fast as her little legs will take her in her summer sandals, swinging her arms back and forth, yelling: “Mommmmmmm! SLOW DOWN!” over and over. I’m sure it was a funny site. Me. Bookin’ it through the mall. Pushing the carseat and Micah in the double stroller. With the 3 year-old 10 yards back, yelling. . . Wait a minute, surely that’s not how I sound when we’re going for a walk and Mara gets too far away? . . . or . . . is it?

Occasionally I will think, “If I died, the kids would be okay.–They’d have Mara.”

With a kid like her, who needs a mom anyway?