To My Old Man

Dear Old Man Winter,

I love you dearly.

What's not to love about snowmen, icicles, and snowballs? And you know how I cherish my two little snow angels.

Is there anything sweeter than making cocoa for snow-chilled kidlets? You bring me such joy.

So, Old Man Winter, I mean this sincerely: I'll always love you. . .

In my own way.

But I've been thinking about us, and as much as it pains me to say this -- the time has come for us to part ways.

It's not you; it's me. Really.

See you next year?

Ready for March 20,
Becki~

Be Careful, Little You

I know I'm totally alone in this, but my kiddos. . .

They follow me everywhere. And everything they see me do, they try their best to emulate. The Preacher and I are readers, so:
Isn't that sweet? So sweet. And maybe, possibly just a tad overwhelming.

In entirely unrelated news, something strange has come over my camera lately. For instance, I didn't take this photo --

Or this interesting under-the-bunk-bed shot. 

And to be honest, after looking at this one. . .

I'm starting to think one of my kidlets has watched me take a few too many pictures lately.

(Wonder which child it could be?)

I think we need to print off copies of these pictures and post them around the house. It's not that they're masterful or beautiful or even particularly focused. But they're an awful good reminder for this sleepy mama:

Be careful, little Becki, what you do. 

Sharing the camera,
Becki~

http://raisinghomemakers.com/

What Fitz?

Pop quiz: List everything you own. Go!

^^You feel like one of those little cupcakes right about now, don't you?
_____
Today on my way home from the store, I watched as a slouched man with a mop of white hair shoved his grocery cart down the street.

Now, when The Preacher pastored in Baltimore, it was very common for us to see homeless people. But here, outside the big city and far from the eastern seaboard, I was struck.

I said to myself (Yes, aloud -- Don't judge!): "That man knows everything he owns - because he needs it." 

That ten-second experience made me wonder: What would fit in my cart? What do I have now that I would need and use then?

Over the summer, Little Man trapped Royal Princess in a pile of random things he'd found in his room. This was the aftermath:

Needless to say, we've got more stuff than we can list. In thinking about this "cart" thing, it occurs to me that I have stupid ideas about what I'd take. My Mac, phone, books, and coffee? Seriously?

And what about all the rest of it?

When spring cleaning gets rolling this month, it's time for me to purge and donate again. If we don't treasure it, use it, or even remember that it exists most days -- it deserves a better home.

Keeping just what fitz,
Becki~

Waking Up

After junior high, I pretty well stopped being a bandwagon person. For instance:

I don't own an iPhone. I don't wear Uggs. I'm not on a diet. And I don't have a blog. (Never mind.)

But a few weeks ago, I had a bandwagon urge I just could not resist. My friends jumped off a bridge, and strangely enough . . . so did I.

(Figuratively speaking. No worries!)

I bought One Thousand Gifts.

If you don't own a copy, I'm sorry to announce that:       1) I'm not having a giveaway because 2) my extra copy is already borrowed. But I'm not sorry to announce that: 1) You should get a copy anyhow because 2) seriously, it's only $9!

In the spirit of One Thousand Gifts, I thought I'd share a few treasures from our lives this week. Searching for them in the everyday muddle of sickness and clutter has made a difference for us; I pray they bring you a smile, too:

#355 - My spirited Princess, who'd rather take a nap than apologize. Yes, again.

#356 - Coffee with Almond Joy creamer.

#358 - Shiny wood floors, smudged by tiny feet.

#372 - The Royal Princess' tutu.

#373 - The way a church gathers around those who grieve.

Isn't it strange that as our church family prepares for a beloved member's funeral, the list still grows? The comfort, generosity, selflessness, and love that emerge from grief -- those truly are gifts.

Are you looking for your gifts this week?

Searching everywhere,
Becki~

*Thank you, Ann Voskamp, for helping open my eyes.

Sandbox

Since today's Thursday, I considered writing a recipe post. Usually I write them on Mondays, but it turns out I'm too random to use a system; I tell myself it's because I run on inspiration, but it's probably because I run on caffeine until 3 pm, when I have to quit for the day. It's now 10:30 pm.

(Explains a lot, doesn't it?)

So instead of offering up a recipe, I thought I'd thank you instead. Having the opportunity to write - and then enjoy the company of a friendly reader - is so good. It makes me very glad.

I read recently that a blog needs a purpose, and I agree. We all need a purpose!

Still, this blog isn't my soapbox; it's more like my sandbox. (The kind of sandbox with a lid, naturally, to keep the cats out.) This piece of ground is where I spill our funny, clumsy, real life. And hopefully it's where you and I share a smile as we dig into the dirt - together.

Today Little Man typed a message for me that made me smile wide. Since it captures my whole heart in three words, I thought I'd share it with you.

(Little Man's ready for texting, isn't he?)

Grateful,
Becki~

Just Write

Today has been a day of firsts - not exactly the sort that inspire you to write, but firsts nonetheless. After a day of fevers and more Things Unmentionable, my inspiration was flagging.

Then I decided to drive my poor sick Preacher home from church tonight. Suddenly, inspiration hit me! Or more like . . . turned on its flashing lights and pulled me over.

(FYI for those who've never seen one: That's the backside of a warning.)

When the police car behind me turned on his lights, I nearly fainted. But as I pulled off the road, I had this thought: By divine Providence, The Preacher and I were recently obsessed with Parking Wars. If you've ever seen that show, you know why we made sure the registration and insurance were in the car.

After we found our paperwork, I momentarily lost my head and unbuckled my seatbelt. Panic! Click it or ticket, Becki!! So I rebuckled it.

(I know - exciting, right? It gets better. Tomorrow.)

By the time the officer came back with my warning for expired plates, Little Man and Royal Princess were both giggling excitedly. Little Man said, "Mommy, I thought he was gonna take you guys away!" I joked with the officer about my children's giggling; but considering he was in danger of losing his latter parts to passing traffic, he didn't find it funny.

So at the end of my first brush with the law, I'm thankful to report that: 1) A warning doesn't cost anything; 2) The police didn't take us away; and 3) Tomorrow's post won't involve the authorities.

Just happy to be home,
Becki~

Cousins

Did you ever have a Best Cousin, way back in the days you ran barefoot outside all summer?

If you're like me, summer was one long slumber party with your Best Cousin; while you were supposed to be sleeping, you were really arguing over who was going to marry Davy Jones or Corey Haim. You were playing M.A.S.H., heartlessly mocking the one destined to raise 17 children in a shack.

You can relate to that, right? Right??

(So this is where other bloggers might say *ahem*, but you know how I feel about that. Moving right along. . .)

Since we live six hours from family, our visits home give Little Man and Royal Princess precious opportunities to spend time with cousins. This week, we spent four days with them - four days full of Legos:

And dogs (waiting impatiently for dropped cookies):

And just a little coloring on the floor.*

For four days, cousins played, fought, argued, giggled, and did a few unpleasant things related to the stomach bug. (I'll spare you the details. You're welcome.)

And as we come to the end of this visit, I know two things for certain:

1) I'm very thankful for family; and

2) Royal Princess speaks for all of us (minus, maybe, the cheese-curl face):

So, so ready for bed,
Becki~

*No carpet was damaged in the making of this photo.