Just a Picture

THIS is What I Signed Up For

Most days as a stay-at-home leave me feeling a lot like this picture--pale, harried, and exhausted You're trying your very best to make life run smoothly--even be fun--for your children, while they both seem to be doing their darndest to make things complicated.

Or it can look like it did yesterday morning when Pace came running into the kitchen, where I was cleaning up breakfast, screaming "Mommy, Mommy come look! Quick!" She was grinning from ear to ear and clapping her hands in anticipation. I don't know if you've learned to dread your child's excitement much more than their cries, like I have. I know, when Pace gets like that, it's really bad, and she can hardly stand the suspense of seeing my face when I encounter just how bad it is. I follow her into their bedroom to find Mary Aplin standing by Pace's big girl bed (the one with the white background), with the sheets and comforter smeared with...poop. I wish that was the worst part. What was even worse was that little Napoleon was standing guiltily by her artwork SUCKING HER THUMB!!! Isn't there somebody else who is supposed to deal with mess like this? This is not what I signed up for when I volunteered to be a stay-at-home Mom!

However, there are also days like today when I look around me and say, "Wow, this is precisely how I pictured my life would be." Summertime, at the swimming pool with two tow-headed little girls in matching swimsuits that make them look so cute I can't stop grinning when I look at them. The baby is trying her best to do what I've taught her and kick her fat little legs behind her in the pool. My "big girl" wants to be like Mommy and has spread her towel ever so perfectly on the chair beside mine where she is doing her best to sun-bathe seriously. I am able to spend a good fifty percent of my time actually SITTING in my chair because both girls are playing so happily and obeying so perfectly. Thank you Jesus! THIS is what I signed up for!

Now don't think that it was perfect...Mary Aplin had a big fat poo in her swimsuit at the end of our time (is anybody else noticing a trend here??), and the only way to get off the swim diapers (that our pool forces babies to wear) is to pull the tight, wet, poo infested article down their legs. And, we were having so much fun that I let the time get away from us and both little parties were in stages of starvation melt-down as I drug them through the parking lot. HOWEVER, I will take little issues like these any day if I could have those three perfect preceding hours.

Now they are both sleeping soundly after wearing themselves out in the good 'ol fashion sunshine. I love summertime, and I love being a stay-at-home Mom...

And the Winner Is...

Mary Aplin is really debating over which one of the little pieces of paper to choose...amidst her Cheerios, strawberry chunks, and omelet pieces. And the winner is-----------------

My cousin Sarah! She just had a baby--Mary Evelyn--a couple of months ago, and she is deliciously cute! I can't wait to make her a little happy :) (I just thought it was neat that I had a recently made bookmark with Sarah's name on it. Sarah the winner, however, is married :))

Get Naked

I want to start out by saying, "If your name is Ken Clark, and you are my Dad, then stop reading now." The title of this blog is not just to get your attention only to find, after reading, that I am talking about making my soul naked or some such. This is about physical NAKEDNESS [so Retha, if you could not read this to Dr. Maddox, that would be nice too :)].

I took a shower at the gym again today, which, with all of the naked older ladies running around, got me thinking about nakedness. I feel like I keep waiting for that day to come, when I am in just the right shape, and have developed just the right amount of self-confidence that I will be able to run around our house butt-naked...like my Mom did. It hasn't happened yet. And, from what statistics say (and from the ninety-something-year-old bodies running pell-mell around me in the locker room) I would say that things tend to get worse in that department instead of better.

I have evidence of this very fact in my own short life already. I can remember, just before Jeremiah and I got married, I had sort of a panic attack about feeling like I was "tricking" him into marrying me without really knowing what he was buying into. I worked up the courage one night when we were watching a movie at his house to say as much:

Me: Jeremiah, I am worried that we are going to get married and you're going to see me naked, and then it's going to be too late for you to get out if you don't like what you see. I mean, do you think I should just flash you or something and get it over with? [way to help the weaker brother hold strong, sweet little Christian girl :)]

Jeremiah: I have seen you in a bikini lots of times. Is there really that much more to see?

Me: (Feeling at least a moderate rush of relief at this realization) You know, I guess you're right!

Jeremiah: Now, go home immediately before I change my mind :)

So there I was, obviously insecure about nakedness then, and now I look back at our honeymoon pictures and wonder what in the world I was self-conscious about? That was the time to seize nakedness for all it was worth. I missed my chance!

Then, a couple of days ago, I finished reading (listening to actually) Great Expectations. I remembered there being a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke, so I looked up the trailer to see if we should rent it. This is what I found: SEDUCTIVE TRAILER

That scene, where Gwyneth sheds her clothes like it's no big thing and plops casually down to be painted made me say, "DADGUM, that is sexy. I want that confidence!" Isn't that what men always say (and women too for that matter)? The sexiest thing about a person is their confidence in themselves. There is no way that Gwyneth Paltrow doesn't have little boobies and some wobbly bits that aren't her favorites, but there she is working it like it's 1999.

So, I've decided that there is no time like the present...to get naked. I don't want to look back in ten years, at pictures that I am taking now, and wonder why I didn't go ahead and be confident in all my nakedness. Things are not like I want them to be, but will they ever be? Do I want to always be a little shy in front of my husband who loves me and just wants me to be as confident in myself as he is in me? No, I don't. I am going to throw caution to the wind, embrace my inner Gwyneth, and get all confident in my naked self. I encourage you to do the same :) and let me know how it goes. Just kidding, I think we all better screen that one...

P.S. I am drawing a name tonight, so you better comment if you want to be in the drawing!

The Flossy Finch

There it is. The address to my etsy sight and the name of my shop (can you call it a shop if you have never sold anything from it???:)). In case you can't read that, it's simply http://www.abbymaddox.etsy.com/ I want you all to buy something--for your own child or the child of your friend, and then MAYBE I will have almost enough to buy my nightstand :) In all seriousness, don't buy unless you really like it or need it. I'll get that nightstand somehow...Anybody need a babysitter :)

And for good measure [and as sort of an apology for using this blog to sell something--which I'd hoped to never do], I'll draw a name if you post on this blog [on Tuesday night since it is a holiday weekend] to win another free little something.

**And how bout this little stipulation...If you BUY something, then I'll add your name to the drawing three extra times :)

Now, I am Really In Trouble

I have fallen madly in love...with this nightstand. I wanted to show you the picture of the sides (because they are painted too) but I could not figure out how to "steal" that picture. This is why I should have never started re-decorating. It started out with a sweet gift, but now I've started looking, and you know what that leads to don't you...FINDING. I can't find things! I am not ALLOWED. There is no money for such FRIVOLITY!

But somehow I don't care. When I love, I love hard, and I am afraid I've got this little baby in my sights. I saw her and she said, "Don't you want to lay your old book on me each night, just before you turn out the light? Don't you want to tuck your embroidery inside my little drawers? Don't you think I would look just perfect nestled next to your new bedding?" I am serious; she said all of those things.

I called to talk to my best friend about it this morning. I told her that I knew I couldn't have it now, but I have bookmarked the page, and I am just going to keep an eye on her until something happens...like she goes on MAJOR sale. I was hoping Whitney would have told me that was a good idea. Lay low, keep your eyes peeled. BUT SHE DIDN'T. She said, "What if they sell out before you can buy her? If you love it THAT much, you should just go ahead and get it." Great advice Whit! Where did you earn your Money Management degree? :) It probably is a good idea to spend BORROWED MONEY to buy a NIGHTSTAND.

So I've been stewing over it. My friend Darby had a big garage sale to buy the camera she wanted...and it worked. To me, this offers a model example of what a good responsible person should do if they truly want something...WORK FOR IT. Then, how much sweeter is the purchase, when you know that you sweated out every dollar? I created an Etsy page a while back, in hopes of selling some of those little dresses I embroidered for the girls. I haven't ever told y'all about it, partly because it makes my stomach curdle to try to sell anything to anybody. Being a salesman is my worst nightmare. But maybe this Love of Nightstand will be the stimulus to go ahead and put myself out there. We'll see. I do love her...

Some Mornings You Wake Up to This:

It's been a long couple of days. Isn't it always when you come back from vacation? Well, what about when you come back from vacation (after leaving your over-tired husband and your dog the run of things), your husband has had his best friend in town for the weekend (who is very neat and a great helper but still a BOY), AND you have two house guests rolling into town at almost the same moment as you. Fortunately, the house guests were just my sister Kendall and her boyfriend Watson, or there might really have been some cause for alarm.

Aren't they cute :)? I feel like I just name dropped in picture form. Yes, how did you know Watson played football for Auburn and we're really proud of him? Could you tell from that picture I accidentally dropped there :) They've been dating (ummm, sort of, bumps in the road you know) since 8th grade and we love him. I especially love him, considering he is the big quiet guy pictured above, but then I sneak into the computer room, after not seeing him or Pace for around 45 minutes, and this is what I find:

He had Pace enthralled with the "paint" program. Mary Aplin was also content for around half an hour to sit on top of his chest while he laid on the couch with cartoons on. She won't let me hold her like that EVER. He is so good with kids, it's sort of amazing. And there were several times he saw me getting flustered and just sort of scooped them away. He is going to make a good daddy one day.

I have REALLY digressed...back to my house. Who wants to clean, or unpack your gigantic suitcase, while you have a sister to hang out with? Who could resist the opportunity, if you have all three of your sisters and their significant others in one town, to have a little dinner party? Who, if their sister and her boyfriend offered to take your children to the zoo for the whole day, would want to spend that precious time cleaning when you could be...decorating?!

I hate my bedding. Just before we got married, my mom and I ransacked TJ Maxx and Tuesday Morning to find our bedding. I can remember being adamant that it could not in any way be girley since this was going to be a boys room too (I remember Mom rolling her eyes at how much I emphasized this new life development and the state of decorating crisis it was putting me in). I think by nothing girley, I must have meant nothing pretty because this is what we've been sleeping in (an old pic but you get the idea):

If you count them, there are TWELVE non-functional (as Jeremiah calls them) pillows on that bed. There is an elaborate routine every night for taking them off, and Jeremiah despises those pillows in a way that my dissatisfaction in the way they look could not even touch :) This is where Mrs. Linda (MIL) comes to the rescue. FOR MY BIRTHDAY SHE IS LETTING ME REDO MY BEDDING!!!!!!!!!!!!! She told me a month or so ago, and I have been sketching and dreaming ever since. Jeremiah has added one, rather large, stipulation...only ONE non-functional pillow allowed. That means only ONE, of all the beautiful fabrics I've been drooling over, could make the cut. It had to be perfect. Here it is. Are you ready?

I don't feel like these pictures do it justice, but I love it. I love it so much that when I saw my neighbor Lauren in her front yard yesterday afternoon, I didn't care that she was digging a hole to plant a shrub, I ran right over to show her. The bedding is ruched and cream and then my grandma:

is going to cover the 48" bolster pillow I have ordered (if there's only one, it's got to be big right? :)) with the fabric.

I have majorly digressed AGAIN. So, I had lots of fun the past few days, but my house stayed filthy until late yesterday afternoon when I finally unpacked my two huge suitcases that were stuffed beside my bed and CLEANED. I expected to wake up this morning and finally start the day right, but that picture above, the one with the trash strewn all over the floor, is what I awoke to find. Apparently the smell of roast remnants in the trash bag, were just too much for Locks last night. He even took some of his favorite trash pieces to the French doors...I suppose he wanted to enjoy his midnight snack with a view of the yard.

I was so mad, I could not even punish him. I am so tired of disciplining people (have I mentioned we now call Mary Aplin Napoleon), that I have lost the will to fight. Last night, I was thinking that I should just record my voice saying "No" over and over again, tie the recorder around my neck, and let it play constantly while I go about my housely duties. That is what I feel like I do anyway. I took one look at the smushed peas, coffee grounds, and unidentifiably dirty paper towels, and I had the same thought I have often encountered as "the mother"--"Isn't there somebody else who is supposed to clean up this nasty mess?" Only to find, again, that the answer was, "Nope, just you, so get to it." Happy morning to ya :)

Happy Birthday to Me

Remember when I said I was thinking about moving to the beach??? Well, I didn't move, but I did go and spend a few days. We left Jeremiah in the slave pit and went with Dad, Taylor, and Caroline to celebrate my birthday.

I found some really good help with the girls :)

Went out for a nice dinner (thanks Dad!)

And even got to blow out a birthday candle.

Pace and Mary Aplin got to model the new swimsuits their Aunt Ashley bought them (thanks Sashey!)

And the cover-ups. I'm sorry, but these were THE CUTEST outfits I've ever seen.

I had some panic attacks as my two daredevils hurled themselves off whatever ledge they could find.

And I pinched that cute little hiney-butt.

Don't think priss-pot was willing to build sandcastles on her own.

And this one earned the nickname of "Napoleon" for her strong will and intensity (and fits!).

But, then, there is this smile...

We had a great time, and it was a beautiful birthday to remember. 27 and counting!

And We're Off To...

SEATTLE!!!!!!!!! We are so excited and surprised! It was Jeremiah's number one choice throughout it all, and we just got nervous because we didn't feel like we ever got a for sure "the spot is yours" from them. Jeremiah, and his Honest Abe self, refused to contact any other programs for fear it would look dishonest...knowing he wasn't putting those other programs first.

Anyway, the spine surgeon in Seattle that Jeremiah really respects and got to know a little bit on our trip out there, called him this morning. I wish you could have all heard Jeremiah's voice when he called to tell me the news. I felt like the Rocky theme song was playing in the background and he was ready to go toe to toe with the world. I was standing in the Walmart parking lot and I am pretty sure everyone around thought I had won the lottery :) I am so proud of him. So thankful to see God rewarding all his hard work with some validation. Thank you all for praying for us and sharing in the excitement!

And Then He Reminds Us That Life, Indeed, is Good

I've been in a tizzy about some things. Could you tell by that last post? :) There's Jeremiah's schedule, which left me being exasperated with my children/feeling like an evil stepmother to them. Then, I have been having some body (insert butt) issues, with summer approaching and the realization that things aren't as I would like them to be. I actually wrote a funny post about this particular issue, but I am afraid it got filtered by my husband. Then there was this underlying worry I had about my sister Taylor, who was trying to finish the last weeks of Architecture school and was having a genuine nervous breakdown. There wasn't anything I could DO for her, really, and that was a weight. Finally, there was my home. I love our house, but it is old, and the plummer has had to visit us not one but FOUR times in the last couple of weeks. Not to mention my Dad and Jeremiah spending a Saturday making repairs of their own. Couple that money drainage with the fact that I read all these books about houses and their timeless beauty...I've been itching for a makeover (or overhaul) and the money to do it with.

So there they are. The issues that have been plaguing my mind for the past month and turning me into an all-around grouch. Turning me into one of those people you ask innocently, "How are you doing?!" only to be answered with a laundry list of negatives that you didn't want to hear. But today, as I was cleaning my kitchen, my heart was tranquil, and I felt like God spread before me the sweet ways He has been addressing each of my silly little grievances.

The evil stepmother issue: I received one of the most sincere and beautiful letters from my friend Aubrie that encouraged me in my role as a mother. Although I don't feel like a lot of it is true, it was the type of letter that backed each compliment with personal observation and just made my heart sing.

The body issue: On Friday morning I took a shower at the gym after my run. There was an 80-something-year-old woman, half naked, putting her make-up on beside me in the mirror. She was 80, and so was her body, but she was at home in her skin (much more than me who would never step out of the private shower without being completely dressed), standing there in her undies talking to me about my babies and my husband and her own life. It made me happy to see her confidence. It made me realize that this body I've been worrying so much about, is really just a shell to get the real me around in the world.

Taylor: The picture above is my family celebrating Taylor's graduation in true Auburn style--a tailgate with good BBQ. I am SO SO proud of her, and thankful that it is O.V.E.R.

The home issue: I got out of my car today, and my neighbor/friend Ashley (Noah's Mom for you faithful readers) called from across the street, "Can I come over and start trimming your bushes?" I called back, "I'll watch your boys. Come on!" You know it's bad when your neighbors are so tired of looking at the undergrowth consuming your house, that they offer to come over and take care of it themselves :) No seriously, she is just a very sweet friend who swears she ENJOYS yard work.

While Ashley was the catalyst, and the hardest worker, there ended up being a crew of three woman (Ashley, my sister Taylor, and me) in my front yard, with four babies running wild in the flying brush. It was hard work, but it was fun to do together. It was especially fun to see the immense progress we made. Here is a before and after, and a picture of all the bushes/vines/TREES we conquered.

Today was exactly what I needed to give me a jump start on wanting to make more affordable, doable progress on this old house. The trimming...along with the discovery that the Mr. Clean magic erasers take grime off my baseboards, cabinets, and floors that I had signed off on as permanent long ago. As hard as I'm nesting lately, I just hope I'm not pregnant. :) (I'm not.)

I hope God taps your heart with reminders of the ways He takes care of even the silly things that tax you. And tick tock, tick tock we find out TOMORROW!!!

Put OBAMA on Trauma

My girls have not seen their father since Cinco de Mayo dinner. We left El Cazador, and Jeremiah asked if I could do the girls' bedtime routine so that he could cram for all of his cases the next day. Since then, we've been rising around 4:30. He gulps down cereal while I make his lunch--because they certainly don't give him enough time between cases to go somewhere and EAT--then I shove his coffee in his hand as he rushes out the door. He hasn't gotten home until around 9, and then I warm his dinner. I sit there while he eats, and one of us looks at the other and says, "SO, how's YOUR life goin'?" and we both laugh really hard. We go to bed EXHAUSTED, and it starts again. This is Trauma at UAB, and it is horrible.

Part of the problem is that he has had a couple of really good rotations in a row. We've grown accustomed to seeing each other--even hanging out together. The girls are missing him bad. Pace jumps out of bed in the mornings like a dazed animal and says frantically, "Did I get up early enough to see Daddy??!!" Then, she goes to bed at night saying, "Is Daddy going to come home soon and eat his dinner?" It is sad.

It makes me feel petty to be overwhelmed by ALL ALL ALL the one-on-one time I've had with the little ruffians, when I know Jeremiah is being worked to the bone. But the fact is, I AM overwhelmed and this is only his FIRST week of a TWO MONTH rotation. I'm thinking about moving to the beach...Anybody else want to come?? :)

When we were first married, I got mad at Jeremiah about these long hours. Surely he must be an over-eager beaver?! Surely EVERYBODY isn't working like this? Then, I realized they were, so I started getting mad at "the hospital." I have drafted many a letter to "the hospital" telling them just what I think about them,...but I think Jeremiah would have killed me if I had ever sent one of them. So now, I've decided to transfer my anger to...Obama.

Now that I can see end of the strenuous treadmill they call residency, I've started to be eager for a little compensation for these hours we've both been pullin'. I've started to feel like we've ALL (the girls included) sacrificed a lot for this all-encompassing career, and by goodness, I don't feel bad about wanting to be paid real live money for it! But now, NOW we have Obama, who thinks Jeremiah should work for free. Could somebody ask Obama how he expects us to pay off all of Jeremiah's student loans and the debt we've been accumulating just to LIVE over the past four (going on six) years? Could somebody ask Obama if he has ever had to take trauma call and witness the kind of discipline, skill, endurance, and knowledge it takes to do that? Can somebody ask Obama what kind of people are going to WANT to live through this kind of hardship, if you refuse to pay them well for it?--not SMART people. Do you want your doctors to be smart?

So, it's 9:30 on Friday night. I'm mad because I know my husband is standing over a body in some cold OR starving to death, and the best person I can think of to be mad at is Barack Obama. There! Thank you for listening to all of that.

China Court

I am only 74 pages into a book, and I can already tell it is going to be one of my lifetime favorites. It is China Court by Rumer Godden, and it has nothing to do with the Orient (if you are like me and completely turned off by the title, thinking that you are about to be immersed in Chinese Culture). The book is about the generations of a family who have all lived and loved and died in this house--China Court. I bet you'll never guess where the house is located :)--oh wow, that's a change, THE ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE in the 1800's to mid-1900's.

If I could place an order to heaven for the kind of writer I'd like to be, I think I would be Rumer Godden. Her words are so rich, and thoughts so provoking, that I want to savor every bite. She creates the sights, and sounds, and smells, and touches of home so perfectly delicious that you will want to cry. But (at least so far) it's never too much. I never find myself skimming over her descriptions to get to the meat of the plot, because her words are not over-flowered, they are simple. She takes simple words and makes them beautiful:

"If he had seen me at any other time he would never have liked me," said Tracy afterwards. "He wouldn't have let himself like me," and it was true that he would not have spoken to her if he had seen her as she had first appeared to Cecily that early morning; in her traveling suit and matching coat she would have been like any of the girls in the world he had run away from--St. Omerland he called it now--and instinctively he would have run away from her too, but now she had tied one of Cecily's aprons round herself and was getting breakfast....As he saw her now she was standing at the table slicing bread, too absorbed to see him. Behind her the range was well alight, making the gentle rushing sound of a fire drawing well up the chimney; the front was open and the glow filled the room. There was a smell of breakfast, and Peter felt almost faint remembering the mug of coffee, half warmed and full of grits, that he had snatched before milking,...but the smell that assailed him now was of coffee, fresh and hot, of milk simmering, of bacon and fresh toast, of warmed china.

Am I crazy to think something as simple as that beautiful? Do the words "warmed china" make anybody else's heart melt at the thought of what a snug kitchen that must be? Does anybody else want their husbands to walk in the door and be caught up in raptures of thankfulness at the sight of you slicing fresh bread in a simple apron? I just love her writing, and I can't express why.

Then there was this paragraph on hands that actually made me cry. I have a thing for hands, always have. One of my most vivid memories from "the drama" of mine and Jeremiah's dating relationship has to do with the sight of his hands--those hands calloused from throwing hay bales and picking his guitar, with short nail beds from his dirty biting habit, and so much bigger than mine. Hands that had cupped my face and swallowed my own inside his as we walked through the woods at night. I saw THOSE hands, resting casually on his light bluejeans, on top of his knees, and those knees were bumping playfully up against the knees of a girl he had brought home with him from Montana--because he wasn't sure that SHE was not "the one" for him. It wasn't the sight of the two of them together on a haybale at The Maddox barn Bible study that sent me over the edge, it was the sight of his hands so close to hers and the terrifying thought that they might grab hold of her as well.

That is the first time I recollect hands representing a whole person to me, but since then I could list a dozen times that the remembrance of someone's hands that I love has brought me to my knees. The last thing I did before I left Mom, was touch her hands. Wanting to blaze in my mind one last time, the sensation of feeling warmth from them. Anyway, I came in here this morning to tell you how much I love a book, and I've worked myself all into a tizzy. I'll just leave you with Rumer Godden's paragraph on hands:

"And we have been here all that time?"

"The house has never changed hands."

"Hands?" asks Tracy, startled.

"Yes, hands." Hands to direct, to sign letters and write cheques for bills, to put a latchkey in the lock and bolt the doors at night. Other hands that hold keys too, but household keys; write notes that are dispatched,...These hands often write recipes: "Our apple jelly with lavender and rosemary flavouring." "Our duck with cherries." "Our velvet cream." The recipe book is still in the kitchen and Tracy's Great-Great-Grandmother Adza's velvet cream is still made on rare and especial occassions. These lady-like hands sew and knit; garden--but in gloves--play whist, leave cards, rub ointment on bruises; smooth hair back from hot foreheads, spank. There are younger, slimmer hands that embroider, and do the flowers, play the piano, cut the pages of novels, sketch--"and twiddle their thumbs," says Eliza. There are small hands, very often dirty, that pry and poke, into cupboards, workbaskets, jam-pots; make mud pies and cut out paper dolls;...There are humbler deft hands that sweep and dust, wash china and clothes and linen; iron, mend, sew, cook, bake, make fires and beds, sound gongs, carry trays; and rougher hands still that chop wood, clean shoes, groom, dig, wash the motorcar, mow the lawn, "but all our hands," says Mrs. Quin.

"All belonging." And Tracy gives a sigh of content.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

We turned in Jeremiah's fellowship rank list last night. Meaning, we will find out in one week (on May 12th) where we will be transplanted for a year. I would have no hesitation about telling you where he ranked the nine various programs across the country he interviewed with, BUT the programs still have not turned in THEIR rank lists and (while I realize it sounds a little paranoid), I don't want any of them to haphazardly google "jeremiah maddox" and find his stupid wife has listed out his preferences and decreased his chances.

I am excited, but a little nervous too. I think it will be a fun adventure for our family, although there are a couple places on this list (one of them his NUMBER TWO spot) where I can't say I have ever had any inkling desire to want to live. I can do anything for ONE year...right?

Last night, before he made the final list, we both prayed together. I am thankful to have a husband who makes me feel like an important asset in all of his big decisions. I feel like he values my opinion (way more than he should, honestly) and always makes great effort to ensure me that this is OUR journey and not just his. It was a sweet time, where God reminded me of his awesome provision throughout Jeremiah's journey in medicine. I wish I had had this blog back when he was in medical school/matching for residency programs. We saw God involved in such intimate details of that process! Every time we come to a new juncture I get scared and have to remind myself of all the ways He has proved that He is holding us tenderly in the palm of His hand.

I'll let you know when we find out! Tick Tock, Tick Tock

(BTW, we will not actually be moving to this place for another year--summer 2010. I know that's a little confusing.)

DeLocking Locks

We haven't talked about Locks in a while. He is probably the sweetest dog ever made--enduring being drug (literally) all over the house and neighborhood by my children and the neighborhood friends. He has gotten a lot better about having accidents in the house and, until THIS MORNING, I could say I could not even remember the last time I ushered in the day with a big pile-o-poop.

However, those gorgeous locks of his had gotten a bit--matted (I couldn't even bear to take a picture of the matted Locks, so the one above is an old one). It wasn't SO bad just to look at him, but if you tried to part all that hair, you discovered that there was no separating the strands.

He has seemed hot and miserable in this weather, and I found that I was dragging him by the leash half-way through our runs. It was time for a "summer cut." On Wednesday morning, we had a playgroup at 10. I allotted 30 minutes for giving Lockety Locks a quick shave down and then thought we'd get showers and head to Melissa's. THREE HOURS LATER I was still in the backyard with no signs of success ahead.

His undercoat was so thick, I couldn't distinguish it from skin. I was terrified of nicking him (which I did four or five times before all was done), and in the matting was not only hair but hay and oats and twigs from his adventures throughout the farm this past weekend. IT WAS A NIGHTMARE! I thought I was just going to zip the razor over his fur like I do over Jeremiah's hair. Oh no, not with that fur. I cut (with scissors). I shaved. I brushed (tugged really). I cut. I shaved. I brushed. I started out with these ideas of the kind of "hair style" I would give him, but by the end I just wanted it ALL off.

It took me a total of six working hours. That is not an exaggeration. What, you may ask, were my girls doing all that time. Well they started off playing in their PJs in the backyard. They stripped down to their underoos and played in the water hose, when the monotony started getting to them. AND THIS is how they ended up--butt naked, eating chocolate ice cream sandwiches.

I must add that Locks was an angel. Can you imagine any dog sitting still for that long while you ripped his hair out, nicked his skin, and ran a hot, vibrating razor all over him. I love that little creature--and now he is acting so very cocky with his new cut. Pace said, "Mommy! Locks turned into a puppy!" And with HALF of a tall kitchen trash bag filled with his hair--decreasing his size by half--she's right.