Where is God?

psalmThese are hard times, y’all. The violence is almost unbearable to watch. As I drove into work this morning on this blustery day, I thought about what I would say to those who don’t believe. Truth be told, even the devout have times where they struggle to reconcile the tragedy around them with the belief in a good and loving God.

As I watched the leaves blow, I thought about God. How I cannot see Him, but I can see the results of Him. Despite not being able to visually see wind, we know it is real because we can feel it. We can see the beauty it creates in its power; how it bends objects in its weight. We see how it changes the things it touches. We feel it on our face on a hot day, providing respite from the heat. We feel it in the winter, stinging our face, urging us to go inside. It exists. It is invisible yet undeniable; beautiful and healing; destructive and powerful.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Office Rug

Hey y’all! I posted this on my Facebook but I figured I’d elaborate.

It took me months to pick out the gray for the walls (Stonington Gray by Benjamin Moore), and nearly as long to pick out the rug. Hubbin asked me how many rugs we were going to buy until I screeched “AS MANY AS IT TAKES TO GET THE RIGHT ONE, OK?!” because I am a loving and graceful wife. Grays are so hard to match – I really feel like picking out paint colors shouldn’t be this hard, but it is. Since the gray is such a low toned gray, I didn’t want a dark rug to go with it.

So I finally settled on this one:

rug

I don’t get referral links because no one cares about me, but if you’re interested, it’s the Safavieh Indoor/ Outdoor Amherst Beige/ Light Grey Rug from Overstock. Wayfair carries it as well, but it was cheaper with Overstock (and they refunded me the difference when they knocked it down by $50 two days after I bought it). It shipped relatively quickly and made it without a mark on it (which will likely be short lived, since my kids seem hell bent on destroying everything I ever buy).

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Living with Hooligans

Over lunch with a vendor who doesn’t have kids, I remarked that having kids is like living with drunk people. Please see the examples below for backup to my theory.

Exhibit A: they sit in weird positions.

Exhibit B: they are really rude.

Exhibit C: they dress oddly.

Exhibit D: they dance on tables in their underwear.

Exhibit E: they do not understand physics.

Exhibit F: they think they are more musically inclined than they are.

Exhibit G: they sneak into your cabinets with the munchies.

Exhibit H: they are overwhelmed with your nonsense logic and reasoning.

Exhibit I: They are emotionally unstable.

So, fellow roommates of miniature drunk people, cheers to you and your child wrangling. For those of us that may regret “celebrating” too much in college, stop beating yourself up and consider that time “wasted” as a sort-of dress rehearsal for having children. Don’t worry, mamas of littles – you’re doing great.

The Stairs

So we have tossed around the idea of painting our staircase for about a year now. I cannot tell you how much I hate painting trim, though. Love the look. Hate the work.

Hubbin and I have come to sort of a crossroads with regards to the house. It’s zoned Residential/Commercial and located in between two cities. Do we move? If so, what work does the house need? If we sell it residential, it needs a lot of work. If we sell it commercial, they’ll likely tear it down. And where do we move? Do we move to the better school district that is closer to our friends and our church, but farther away from my job, adding to my already long commute? Do we move closer to my job, but farther from everything else?

So Hubbin and I have been in that dance for a while now, which has paralyzed us. It’s now time, though, to get to it. The house needs work, and we might as well do it in the meantime of deciding what we’re going to do or where we will go.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Shelves!

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s an actual post about home improvement!

Don’t faint, y’all. It’s been busy around here. And by busy, I mean I have thoroughly enjoyed laying on the couch doing nothing instead of finishing the things I’m supposed to finish. Like the office/playroom/dining room. So this post is really like more of a sneak peek, and not because I want to keep y’all in suspense, but because I realized after we installed one of the shelves that I lost half the parts. And then I didn’t feel like looking for them, so I gave up and now I’m laying on the couch again.

You know what, whatever, the whole title of this page is The Lackadaisical Mom. If you were looking for someone who rallied the troops, you’re on the wrong page. I am just what you’re looking for, if you want a blog with rare and random posts, most of which have nothing to do with renovation lately.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

The Family Picture

familyGrumpy Preschooler arrived home the other day with her packet of papers, eager for me to see them. As I flipped through them, proud of her work, I got to the last one – a picture she’d drawn of a little person and two taller people. I asked her what the picture was, and she replied “our family” and smiled. I asked–with trepidation–where Sissy was, and I felt my heart actually wrench (can hearts wrench?) in that moment, when I heard her reply softly, “At [her dad’s].”

And there were depths of my soul that actually hurt in that moment.

Happy Blonde, who is 11 now, has always lived primarily with me, and since her (very involved) father lives in a different jurisdiction, she sees him every weekend. This summer, we essentially switched custodial status, and she spent Monday – Friday with him, and weekends with us. It was my first taste of being a non-custodial parent–and it was awful. I learned the gritty part of it – how quickly the visitation goes by, how hard it is to readjust in a short period of time, and how it’s nearly impossible to have a child on weekends feel like they are part of the working household. It’s hard to mold them and discipline them, because you hardly want to spend what little time you have picking battles.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

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