Some Summer shots

William and Jonathan Duke, born just days apart. 

Typical. (They are watching Team Umizoomi.) 

The Home Group gals (sans Maggie and Rachel, one moved and the other recently joined) 

Check out these curls! 

At Smith Mtn. Lake for the Fourth. 

He found out how to pull a chair up and get to the cookie batter... 

William as himself. 

Priceless.  Jonathan and Jack at the NYCC fishing tournament, which my Grandaddy (Jack) helped found. 

Eating crabs at Grandaddy's house (so grateful my son likes this food I grew up on!) 

 Gettin' the groove on.

 William ADORES Poppa (my dad).

 At Sandbridge, my new favorite pic of the boys and me!

Strawberry picking late Spring.

My little corner

It is a fact universally acknowledged that a young woman in possession of a family and a house must be in want of a clean little spot that is never dirty, simply for her peace of mind.  While I cannot always find the time to tuck myself into said corner and cozy up with a Jane Austen novel I have created my own perfect little corner.

In my home there is often a mess in every single room.  On many occasions you can, yes, find the guest room and the "man" room in mint condition, (well, don't look too closely because dust bunnies are sneaky little critters), but on many more occasions even these rooms have been infiltrated by wayward legos, a little boy's blankie, or a spattering of goldfish mixed with drops of red juice.  I will only describe the kitchen, dining room, and living room by saying that the playroom is at the front of the house, it is not content with its stifled situation, and daily fights the battle to win the whole of the house.     In addition, I have not been the most successful with defining mealtime, so breakfast rolls into lunch rolls into the preparation for dinner and therein the kitchen sink is also fighting a like battle to that of the playroom.  They are against me.  My house is in conspiracy against me.

My mouth has fallen to similar consequence and while I know that gentle words are the way to win my family's heart, I often succumb to the power of my vocal chords and my volume can shock me often more than it shocks my children (there is something wrong with this).  I will not fall prey to the temptation to complain to you of my daily duties, but suffice it to say that I sometimes hide in the bathroom, convinced that being a mother/homemaker is the most impossible job ever created.  (There is something rewarding in this).  In the moments where I am on the point of dialing my husband to declare, "We are hiring a housekeeper, and also can you come home and wrestle with the boys because I think that's all they need," I need somewhere to look.  I need a little spot, just a small part of a single room, that is always beautiful.

And I did it. !!!!

At a furniture sale just a few weeks ago I found the couch of my dreams for my sweet little sunroom, and I will show you the picture now.  As a picture they say is worth a thousand words, I will end here.

Walking!

William's first steps at Sandbridge Beach, VA, at the Quacker Jack!

(May 26-May 31)

Yee-haw!

He is a natural!  This makes me glow with pride.

Laughable chaos

A bra is lying in my bathroom sink and there are dirty little boy clothes, inside out and twisted hopelessly together, on the bathroom floor.  Towels are strung, no, rather heaped, from one corner to the next and empty shampoo bottles bestrew the counter top.  A bag of Thomas trains has taken up residence next to the full length mirror, to sit idly (for weeks now?) rather than enjoy a go around the tracks.  I am fairly certain that a tube of fingerpaint is standing proudly next to my nail polish remover, chiding me mercilessly for not having put it back since three days ago when it was utilized. Yes, I say "fairly certain" because I refuse to go back up there and observe again the mess I have allowed to accrue.  Wet and dripping little bathing suits are hatching a plan to turn themselves into a science experiment next to the dirty-inside-out clothes.  I don't know how but this reminds me that my unfinished cup of coffee is looking dejected (again) behind the toiletries (etc.) piled up on the sink.  My brand new bottle of shampoo (though I have perfectly good shampoo already in the shower but this one is organic and smells like mint) did not quite make it to the shower, so it is teetering on the edge of the over-crowded sink and looking awkward and out of place as it is the first organic toilet item to be introduced to the circus that is my hygienic metropolis. 

The obvious question is: Why am I writing about it and not cleaning it?  The answer is simple and twofold.  First of all, I'd rather write about it.  Second, I love making people laugh so I hope you are guffawing, otherwise the entire mess is doing no one any bit of good.

[Boy's] Best Friend

Our new dog Madison (adopted 2 wks ago) with her biggest fan.

PS

No, the "expensive shoe" does not refer to his orthopaedic braces, shee whiz.  It refers to a $45 pair of the most adorable little Clarks you've ever seen.

Getting creative

A dear friend expressed to me earlier this year that in order to have a friendship with Christ at this busy time of her life with two young children and one on the way, she and Jesus would just have to "get creative".  A verse a day, a small reading, may be all she could make time for, but it would have to be something. 

Today I am trying to get out the door (with makeup on thank you very much because it is raining and the circles under my eyes will surely reflect the grayness of the day).   I am trying to get out the door because in running errands yesterday we lost one of William's rather expensive first shoes.  I am trying to get out the door amidst cheerios on the floor and a crying baby and a toddler who insists he needs more food again.  I am trying to get out the door but in reality I am trying to get out of my life for a minute... and my house in all its chaos is a microcosm of my life.

Thank you LORD for reminding me that I am in great need of Your wisdom.  It struck me that in order to accomplish the impossible (i.e. get out the door without yelling at the little boys) I would need to recharge.  Thus, while William pulled on my leg crying to be held and Jonathan snuck to the computer though I had told him not to, I read my CS Lewis devotional.  While the boys pulled every pot out of the cupboard and metal clashed against metal creating a cacophony of toddler music, I recharged. 

The "heavy metal" (now a good ten minutes later) is just starting to subside, but I have had my creative time with my friend Jesus. 

Thank the good LORD for His sense of humor and flexibility.

Easter, Soccer, Life is fun!

 Opening day of baseball season... pretty amped up at our house!

 That's right ladies, I'm a'growin.

The "Terrific Tigers" getting it done. 

Perhaps the highlight of every game: snack.

-"So, is this kid serious?"

-"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's going to get past us."

 Lookin' good!

 Ready to go.

Call me biased, but my son is already picking up on appropriate footwork on the field.

Jonathan's biggest fan:)

Father-son huddle.

In other news... William had his first lollipop.  He liked it.

Easter Sunday: William Kyle with Uncle Kyle.

 Easter baskets:)

The flowers

A not so good photo taken with my "dumb" phone, but you may get the idea. 

No good thing...

It is a truth universally acknowledged that your favorite tank top (and the only one that will match perfectly with that soft pink shirt you want to wear) can only be found in the bowels of your tee shirt drawer or at the bottom of the abyss of unwashed laundry.  Another universal truth is that no good cake worth serving from a cake plate can be made from a box.  Why is it that everything good must be so necessarily impossible to accomplish?

Sometimes I have to remind myself of this as I hear that predictable cry a mere forty five minutes into naptime.  As I reach into the crib to pull out my squirmy, squishy, red faced William I have to think about how if he weren't so exhausting he probably wouldn't be so great.  And then he points to the photos on the wall and coos, looks at me with tears still in his eyes and emits a questioning, "Uhh!?," and I smile.  I don't know how I do it, but I guess it is because I know that even for all of the alone time he is depriving me of, he's probably worth it.

My friend Emily showed up at my house on Saturday with her daughter and a box of scary looking art supplies.  That mass of pastel paper, sparkly Modge Podge, florist tape, and paint pens made me squirm.  I thought we were just making Valentine heart garlands??  She introduced the project: homemade flowers, with individually cut out and painted petals to be wrapped together and set off nicely with the sparkly stuff.  I took a deep breath, gave the kids full rein of the house, and dug my heels in.  Hours later (and several meltdowns from the little ones... several more from the moms) I was sitting at my dining room table in the dark with my petals strewn around me and everything glittering.  Now they are my prize bouquet, and one that will not die, one that I can set at the table every Valentine's Day and be proud of.

I know this is cliché, and I write more as a reflection for myself than anything, and I think that it is appropriate that I reflect on this on Valentine's Day.  Marriage just may be the most poignant proof in the pudding.

A thought

I don't usually blog about my thoughts concerning God.  They are pretty personal.  However, I think a good deal about what it is God has called each follower of His to do and I think I am ready to share some of them.  Jesus said to His disciples when they asked Him what work were they to do, "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent."  (John 6:29)

He asks us to believe, and I think that evangelism follows.  It is not a prerequisite for heaven as it were, but it is a byproduct of our belief.  My brother just broke a Virginia Tech pool record in his meet this last weekend.  He broke 20 seconds in the 50 free and he is now second in the Tar Heel history of swimming that event.  Do you know how many people I have told?  Everyone.  Every person I have talked to since Sunday now knows about my brother's swimming prowess.  At church, on the phone, out in the neighborhood, and anywhere people ask me, "What's new?," I am ready with the headlining details of my little brother's talent.

Perhaps it should be that way for evangelism.  Jesus didn't shove it down our throats to sweat, cry, and lose sleep over how to shout his name from rooftops and our back decks.  He did, however, sweat, cry, and lose sleep over what it would take to save us.  In doing so He experienced the greatest joy-- giving God his own life towards God's glory.  He lived a life of service and sacrifice, and yes, evangelism.  He wasn't depressed, he wasn't bored, and he wasn't boring.  He was fascinating, exciting, an adventurer and a lover of people.  He was full.  Full of life, full of love, and it poured out in the form of sermons and parables and stories about His Father.  He believed in every fiber of his being that God was worth talking about, and so He did.

I don't think the question is how much should I talk about Him, but rather if I haven't talked about Him to someone recently then how much do I really believe in who He is?  To say I believe in Jesus, that He is the way and the truth and the life, is one thing.  To actually ride the white water rapids of that belief is something so much more terrible and exciting.  Where in the name of all that is holy is that raft??