I have a problem. I like to get things done. That may not sound like a problem, but for those who know me, it is. I do not take my time, research, ask for help, nor do I take breaks. When we moved into our house, I was 8 months pregnant with Zeke. Our house was completely unpacked and put together the day we moved in. True story. I am thankful for the precious family and friends who were a part of that day. We are still on speaking terms with most of them.
This year, I pulled weeds in 100+ degree Texas heat because I decided our Father’s day gift for my awesome husband was a yard he could be proud of. He was out of town for the weekend and 8 billion weeds, and a near heat stroke later our yard looked awesome(ish). I welcomed him home dehydrated, sunburned, with a crick in my neck. Sweet man that he is, he probably would have loved a new cd, but I choose “crazy-huge-act-of-service-turning-down-all-offers-of-help-while-my-husband-was-out-of-town-with-two-kids-and-a-nursing-newborn as “the perfect gift”. (Now our yard kinda looks crummy again because I don’t quite understand the city enforced water restrictions. Something about if your address ends in 4, you have green eyes, and your favorite color is purple you can water every 4th Thursday of months that end in the letter “R”…? Anyway, I don’t think our watering day is until the Fall of 2014.)
Also, we did not peek to find out if Amelia would be a boy or a girl. We were elated that we were entrusted with a daughter. (Seriously, if you know our boys, you were probably surprised God gave us a girl too). Once we brought her home, I felt the need to grow a crafting bone and make her room more girly. We had a boring floor lamp in her room, so I decided to use some ribbon to cutesy it up. I pinned something like it on Pinterest. I didn’t actually read the how-to of the article, I just looked at the picture. I figured my newly acquired desire to make beautiful things was probably adequate. um. yeah. it was not. I used about half a double-stick tape dispenser, some cute ribbon, and created the saddest looking hand-crappted (I mean, crafted) lamp. Less is more is lost on me. I used as more tape and as more ribbon to make it as less cute as possible. Seriously, the saddest little lamp.
And here’s the thing about my cooking. I make 4 things really well. Everything else I attempt is sweetly pushed around plates and stuffed in napkins during purposely compelling(distracting) conversation. These poor men will eat just enough to sustain life, then we cover the “left-overs for tomorrow” (kind of like they covered all red things in that movie The Village, my food is “that which we do not speak of”). Anyway, “Left-overs for tomorrow” is defined by our household as it relates to new recipes as “covered with foil (while retching) to be thrown out in a week.” Last night, I was cleaning out our fridge of some such “left-overs” and I dropped a bowl of it all across the kitchen floor. So I called in our dog. I have seen this animal gorge herself on garbage, expel it, then re-eat it. She sniffed the food(?) then skittered across the tile floor as fast as her lanky legs would carry her, whining to be let back outside. I might be a better cook if I would follow a recipe or seek out advice.
And now for the growth…
I was cleaning off our patio furniture and this stupid branch that has been bugging me for a while kept smacking me upside the head. I looked everywhere for a ladder and a small saw or some sort of hatchet to cut that branch off. No ladder. No tiny saw. I did find our giant Paul Bunyan sized saw, and the patio chair was right there…
I stepped on the chair with the huge saw and started slicing. As I gauged the situation with debris falling on my head and squirrels chattering at my idiocy, I stopped, recognizing this was a bad idea. I climbed off the chair and hoisted the rusty saw back in its place. My children were overcome with relief.
Our neighbor, who was silently observing this scene, looked pretty bummed.