Well. We're 4 months into this three kid thing and let-me-tell-you, this gig is harrddd.
But ya know, even on days like Sunday where I sit in my cold minivan eating three brownies as I cry, I wouldn't trade it. All the craziness. All the messes. All the insecurities can't drown out the love and satisfaction that come when your four-year-old lives out a lesson you thought fell on deaf ears, or your two-year-old crawls into your lap after a long day of disciplining.
Though those small, tangible, examples may be few, they're enough.
Enough to make me step back, wipe the hair from my eyes, and see my situation for what it is. And it makes me happy. Painfully, ugly-cry-worthy happy.
In other news, we have no idea what to do about a house- I can't help but chuckle as I type this out. The good news is we aren't stuck with a mortgage we don't want. The bad news is renting in midtown is typically more than we want to pay and we don't want to buy a house we'll have to sell in 5 years, because we've outgrown it. I'm. so. tired. of. moving. The other tricky part is, Bob and I have renovated every home we've lived in. We love doing that sort of thing and if possible, we'd love to do it again. So if we are going to buy a house, one we plan to stay in, we'd prefer it not be renovated, because 1) Those houses are typically out of our price range 2) Everybody loves tan tile- I hate tan tile. Our wants, combined with the fact that we po-ah, makes for a sticky situation.
In the meantime, you can find us at grandpa's house, most likely through Spring, while we pray for a miracle- like the house we really love, but is $90,000 over our price range, miraculously falling into our laps. Oh, to be an American, with our first world problems.
Another Oh. Here are some pics to display our life. What our living spaces look like, what I typically look like, and what Avery is almost always wearing, or not wearing.
|My kids love you, Ree Drummond.|
|Picture wipes everywhere and a child's play mat taking up the whole floor. Then you have reality.|
|I didn't say it was pretty, folks.|
|The usual Sunday look. Tunic-y top, skinnies, and a baby-child that already puts everything in his mouth.|
|We love tattoos, say's Braydon James. Who graciously arranged this little number on his sister.|