thank you, matthew...

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye 

and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"

-Matthew 7:3 NIV

When we remodeled Shawna's bedroom after she married, one of her closets became Kevin's allowing me sole custody of our modest walk-in. Kevin has little patience for tedious organization so I gladly transfered his clothes from our room to hers. The fresh paint and carpet merited thoughtful arrangement of his clothing, each categorized comfortably in their spacious new digs. In the 1404 laundry cycle, I take the clothes from hamper to washer/dryer to closet. He takes them from closet, to body, to hamper. Usually. Perhaps in fear I'll interrupt the laundry cycle and allow his favorites to hibernate in the hamper, perhaps just because he can, he will often omit the hamper step completely and instead stock pile the clothes on the shelf where his neatly rolled socks await their destiny. I can't stand it. Just can't stand it. I slide the door open to put his socks away and there they are. Assorted shirts, pants and socks, saved like gum on the bedpost overnight. And now my point.

You should see my closet.

I have purses all over the floor, too lazy to put my summer assortment away and swap them out for the winter ones, so there's a mix of both collecting dust; the chest of drawers that is more than willing to store my jewelry in complete organization is a total mess, while my collection of bling is spread out across my dresser in the bedroom. My clothes: well, suffice it to say I probably waste 15 minutes each morning searching for a specific item that's probably laying in a small, but inexcusable pile by my bedside.

And it hit me the other day, this is how I am. I have advice (Matt would probably describe as judgment) for everyone else on the planet, whether I know you by name or not. I can lose your unwanted weight, manage your finances and raise your children. I am armed with more know-how than a blonde's ever been credited with having and yet I whine about my pot belly and walk out of Wal-Mart with crap I'll never need. Thankfully my daughter was predisposed to turn out well so she makes me look like mother of the year, but I'm just a common plank-er truth be known. And Matthew, well, take it easy. Fat bruises...

Just to give you an idea how small she is :) And no, Kevin couldn't catch her...

Their cup routine..."Lord of the Cups"

Chandler in the Baldwin Talent Show...

pokey...

John: You ready? Shawna's on her way there...

Me: In a sec. I'm feeding your puppy.

John: You know, you might be taking this a little too seriously. It isn't real...

Talent Shows: 12 

Concerts: 35

Recitals: 12

Contests: 6

Dances: 10

Softball Games: 100

Volleyball Games: 100's

CIY's: 5

Bookbags: 12

These are all estimates of course, but my head's a blur with the amount of life we have lived since we watched Shawna's 5th grade Baldwin talent show. My sister is a mere two years behind me in the time line of our lives, but her middle child Chandler just stood on the same stage yesterday as I watched his 5th grade Baldwin talent show.  That's a chunk to wrap a mind around let me tell you. Makes me...well it makes me tired, honestly. That doesn't begin to measure the other milestones an 11 year old has ahead of them. For Shawna at that age meant checking off braces, boobs, and periods. There were standardized tests, pimples and parties as well as an intense church calendar to keep up with. Much of it over and done with before we even met Chandler.  Twelve years have checked themselves off since we wedged ourselves into those front row seats to hear her sing. Wow. And I haven't even begun to think of all we have experienced post-school; her wedding for one thing. We've switched churches, made tons of new friends, walked where Jesus walked and watched her say I do to her lifelong crush. We've lost loved ones, closed and opened doors and colored our hair a dozen times over.  That's a lot of life. And to think that not only Chandler, but Emma and Harrison have the bulk of that to come not only blows my mind but shouts a warning to hang on. This ride is far from over...

more bark than bite...

So Mighty Mylie just started barking her little head off in the direction of our light less foyer. She was barking fairly intensely for such a little squirt and with enough passion for me to call out and see if Kevin was trying to scare her. She persisted, but with each rousing yelp began negotiating her way, rump first, to where I was seated at the kitchen table. Apparently she has some chicken in her bloodline as well as Shih Tzu and Terrier...pansy. Had flashbacks of my little sister watching "The Wizard of Oz" on our living room floor. By the time the monkeys hit the skies she had backed completely up into dad's enveloping lap...

signs of the saved...

"Be an organ donor. Give your heart to Jesus."

Come. On. People.

more mylie...

We felt safe enough vaccination-wise to let Mylie outside recently. Her first experience with grass was priceless. She still hops around akin to a young bunny on the loose, but she's just hilarious.  And fast. Really, really fast. Not a problem until we're ready to head inside. The neighbors have to think we're complete idiots. If they didn't already...

I hear myself mid-story and simultaneously realize I'm probably boring the snot out of anyone who happens to find themselves captive to one of my puppy tales. She is just the cutest thing. Without apology she is tale-worthy. She has blessed my soul from the moment I found her online. Strangely in the last couple days I have fallen even farther over the little squirt. She looks like an glorified alley mutt, nothing especially "designer" about her save the breeder's asking price, but I figure if half the ladies my age are injecting their salaries into their sagging bits, she's worth every penny for the lift in my face when she sees me walk in the door. Without exception there is no one on the planet that is that happy to see me. Ever. I have never wanted for love, but this Mylie of mine has managed to tap into a source of emotions in me that make me feel amazing. Just amazing. Silly little dog. 

misery loves company...

Brian Lowery hits the big "30" on Friday :) 

my morning surprise...

"it's time to switch to those candles shaped like numbers." love, Kev...