Silence

I have spent a week in silence. It's all because of this whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" business.

I'm all discombobulated. It started when Chris got to fly home for 24 hours this weekend but the notsotrustyold Jeep broke down on Metropolitan and then again on Freedom Parkway. He landed at 6:30 on Friday. It took him until 1:20am to drive the blasted hunk of metal home. If it weren't for Homeless Eddie and his magical bag of tools stashed behind the Atlanta Fire Department in the hood, he might not have even made it at all.

I got sick. Cooper got sick. My work schedule went topsy turvy. Chris' travel schedule is INSANE over the next two months. I'm talking like crazy insane. Like I need a golden retriever and mommy's helper insane. He's in NYC, Chicago, Minneapolis, DC, Texas. Everywhere but home. He's always traveled but all of a sudden it's lost its shimmer and shine. He's sad, I'm sad, and Cooper is walking in circles shrieking DADA! He walks to the luggage in the closet and says DADA. He stands at the shower door and says DADA. He hangs from the vacuum cleaner and says DADA (have I ever mentioned that Chris is the mack daddy vacuumer??! Without prompting he fires the Dyson up and swivels it all around making those pretty lines in the carpet. It's true. I am blessed.)

So, re-reading this has made me realize that I am a big old baby. Time to dig out the big girl panties and deal with it. Chris is healthy and we have our sweet baby Coop and the rest is just details.

Sad that I spent the week in silence, after all.

What I did not do, was spend the car ride home today in silence. Cooper hadn't napped all day, so I had to whip out my opera singing and flash dance car hands to keep him awake so that he would sleep when we got home. I sang the Wheels on the Bus for 15 minutes. He kept saying "moh!" "moh!", so I decided to make up some new verses. His favorite was:

The Dentist on the bus says open your mouth, open your mouth, open your mouth. The Dentist on the bus says open your mouth, all through the town. *Insert digression. When are we supposed to take little people to the dentist for the first time?? I've heard conflicting info. Suggestions?*

The zipper on the bus goes zip, zip, zip. Zip, zip, zip. All through the town.

The Butcher on the bus goes chop, chop, chop. Chop, chop, chop...

I <3 Wednesdays, remember?

Boc. Boc.

We did a little Fall shopping this week. Coop's ready for cooler weather. We came out of Old Navy with a tiny pair of blue jeans, seven tops, a pair of pajamas, four pairs of socks, and something that looks a little something like this:

 Boc. Boc. This one flew the coop.

I just had to. I couldn't resist. Halloween is 56 days away, afterall. The full get up is absolutely priceless but our little chicken is chicken and only wanted to share a tiny little preview for now. Don't want anyone thinking we're insane-o for going on and getting our Halloween costume early and all. But y'all, how great is this for this Chick-fil-a lovin' Mama?!

W

Is it possible to love one day of the week more than all of the other days? If so, I am having an affair with Wednesdays. I simply can't get enough of them. They are my zen. My harmony. My entire rhythm of the week is set by gloriousWednesday. Besides being smack dab in the middle of the week and being spelled with that ironic "dnes" business, I just love them.

Wednesday means I get to sleep in. Coop too. (Sorry Dada). Wednesday means I get to snuggle and watch Chuggington and Dinosaur Train with my little Love. Wednesday means I get to feed Coop his pancakes and yogurt. Oh yea. Wednesday means pajamas til noon. Wednesday means I don't dry my hair after my shower because Coop, Woody, and Buzz need me for a skit and hair can wait. Wednesday means trips to the splash park, the store, the mall, the bank, the dry cleaners, the pharmacy, the library, the post office, and Chickfila (who'm I kidding, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday mean trips to Chickfila too). Wednesday means Coop and I chase each other around the dining room until the garbage truck comes. Wednesday means pressing our noses to the front glass screeching "tuh!" "tuh!" as we watch the little men take away the weeks' mess in the giant, smelly truck.

Wednesday means a ride on the "whore". Um, Cooper. It's "HorSe", silly.

"Gee-uh, whore, gee-uh". (Translated: Giddy up, horse. Giddy up.")

Wednesday, I love you. I treasure you. I adore you.

When we heard that our small group was moving to Wednesdays, it was like the stars aligned for us. It's our best day of the week. We can count on all being together (and home) before 8pm. Chris is working like crazy these days and it's nothing short of a miracle when he pulls in the drive before bed and bath time. We were oh so happy. We LOVE our small group. They are just the best people in all the world. We missed out last semester because we had just moved (to the boonies) and we couldn't make the drive out to Harbins on a week/work night. We were so sad. Deflated. We just felt weird. Like we were walking around in our underpants. With no watch on. That kind of weird.

When we got word that the group had changed days back to Thursday, we sat and pouted. Kidding, we were crushed. Just crushed. But since we know egocentrism has it's place in preschool, but not in adulthood, we pulled ourselves together and finally took a hard look (and listen) at something God has been stirring within us for over a year now. It's not about us. It's not about what day of the week is cooler (gimme a W. gimme a E.) It's not about what's comfortable. It's not about what is easy.

We instantly knew God was moving us in a different direction. We had been wrestling with something for a long time. We kept pushing it away. Pretending it was a message for someone else, somewhere else, some time else.

We're grabbing the bull by the horns and starting a new small group this semester. We're calling it "When Big Things Happen to Small Groupers." Complete with Toss the Tissue Night and glimpses into God's grace in tough times and laughter and pizza rolls and prayer chains. We have been inspired by so many special people who have developed "blue jean faith" in the midst of chaos and we just can't miss out on this opportunity. We wrote and re-wrote the email we sent last night a dozen times. We kept waiting for God to tell us now's not the time. He never did.

We are praying for an incredible semester. We can't wait to see what He has in store for us. And I sure do thank him for Wednesday. (gimme a D. gimme a N.)

Pinterest

So this pinterest.com business. It's got me all confused. I avoided it. Fought the urge tooth and nail. Lawd knows we've got quite enough time snatchers and I just wasn't going to do it. No siree.

So I joined last week. These pin boards. They are oh so fun, I totally agree. The joy, oh the joy! Snagging pictures, pinning them up to oober cute little boards. Craft ideas. Fashion ideas. Home ideas. Kid ideas. Gift ideas. Quote ideas.

But it's got me thinking. Is there any multimedia modality that doesn't encourage us to stalk network with one another?

Here's the thing. Say you find a super fabulous gift idea and you eagerly pin it up on your board labeled "gift ideas". Within ten seconds, fifteen of your closest girlfriends (marked recipients of said fabulous gift idea) have seen it on your board, liked it, and pinned it on their own boards. Am I lost? Have I gotten so distracted by the ribbon holding baskets and mason jar wall art that I don't, in fact, get it?

I still can't eat ice. And don't stroke, but sweet tea tastes funky. I know. What is this all about? I think I need a vaca. New York City in October? I think so. It's time. Have I mentioned that Hubs is doing several events for Betsey Johnson at her Soho store? It's true. I helped him pick out a pink polka dotted tie to wear to one of the shindigs. We chickened out before we reached the counter, but it was quite fab, in a doublebubble kind of way.

I'm a super slacker these days when it comes to posting. It has everything to do with the iPad. I'm not so much a gadget girl, but I LOVE this little gadget. Incredible is what it is. User friendly for blogging and uploading pictures, is what it's not.

My big bro came to visit this weekend. He's older than me. And always will be. *Love*

He brought his honey, Uncle Kevin. We love them so :)

They came for a food extravaganza down on the farm. The menu included all of Christopher's very very favorites: Buffalo chicken dip (v.1 Ranch; v.2 Blue Cheese), Fresh Air Bbq coleslaw, Mom's famous homemade potato salad, pinwheel sandwich roll ups (oh the pinwheels! oh the pinwheels!), ribs, chicken, hot dogs,  hash brown casserole (ooh-wee), and about a million other things all baked up in 9x13s smelling all kinds of good.

Mom, are you reading this? I should have packed to-go boxes like you told me (twice).

Coop ate so much he puked. Sister says it's because he ate 2 spoon fulls of everything (and then some) and then ran around the kitchen table 14 times. I say it might have had something to do with the gallon of Blue Bell's we caught him eating.