Look what I found!

Here I sit deep into the night on the Sabbath.  The children and Mr. Handsome are all tucked away in their cozy beds. Well, I take that back. Our bed is not cozy. The mattress has been "taconized." That means when the hub and I get on we roll to the middle and become the meat and lettuce.  You can decide who gets to be the beef and who gets to be the lechuga.  We need to get a new one. Perhaps that is why I am procrastinating my slumber.  I think it is time for us to stop talking and start doing.  We have certainly addressed the problem long enough.  I think we discovered the impending sag when we still lived in Arizona. And yet we hauled the violent perpetrator of half my back problems across the country only to sleep miserably in a different state and to have my mom mention at each visit that it is time to say goodbye to the taco.   I should be studying the scriptures or the Ensign or reading something spiritually beyond my comprehension by James E. Talmage.   The computer beguiled me.  It called to me. It started chanting, "Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog."  While I was  catching up on a few other blogs I decided to check mine to see if anything had changed.  Nothing. Who's in charge of this thing? Oh, yeah.  I started flipping through my old post lists and found a handful of drafts I never published. Neglecting to click the "publish post" button doesn't bother me.  I won't lose sleep over it tonight.  See "taco mattress" for a description on what I lose sleep over.  I deleted most of my drafts, but I came across these fantastic pictures taken back in March during spring break. We took the kids down to Ohio's renowned Hocking Hills and did some hocking, I mean hiking.  Looking at these pictures this evening in the stillness of our home has reminded me how much I really love what I do. This is what I am meant to do.  When I was a little girl I didn't want to be an astronaut or a chef or a race car driver. I wanted to be a wife and a mom.  So, I may sleep on a taco mattress for now.  Mr. Handsome still puts his dirty clothes on the lid of the hamper instead of dumping them inside.  Dashle spends countless hours complaining that Coy won't stop touching him.  Addie's proclamation AT LEAST 4 times a day is that someone else distracted her which caused her then to make poor choices.  Emery forgets sometimes she is the oldest as opposed to a wild Dingo destined to harass and devour the other children.  Coy refuses to lay down to get his diaper changed.  We're not perfect.  Did I mention that I yell sometimes?  Yep. I do.  Life is good. Life is really, really good.  A large part of it is thanks to these imperfect people that belong with imperfect me.  I have no gratitude right now for the taco that's waiting for me upstairs.