Sunday Morning Rush

Yesterday the creative juices were flowing so my husband and I stayed up until 1am. Definitely not the best idea we’ve ever had. Then this morning the cat decided he wanted to get into Moriah’s room at 6 am. Usually she will sleep until 7 but of course the one night we stay up late she is going to wake up early. This chain of events threw off our whole morning. We woke up early but some how we were running late. In the spirit of being efficient I got the baby bundled up as fast as I could while my husband put on his coat and shoes. I passed off the baby and he left to strap her in the car while I got my boots and coat on. Hurry, hurry, hurry!

I slipped my foot into the first boot and stopped my rush. Something didn’t feel right. I pulled my boot off and turned it upside down. A stream of Cheerios made their way out of my boot and onto the floor. “How did I get Cheerios in my boot?”

A big pet peeve for my husband is my things laying around. It drives him crazy. sometimes i remember to put them away but most of the time i don’t. My purse, the diaper bag, my coat, and specially my shoes all get left sitting where I take them off. He will never understand why I can’t take the time to put my shoes in the closet or hang up my coat. After all I just have to open the door to the closet and put them inside, but I rarely ever do this and he loves me anyway.

I proceeded to shake the boot to make sure they were all out and then I dug in the bottom of the closet to find my second boot. I found it, grabbed it and slipped it on in haste. But, it didn’t feel right. I stopped my rush again, slipped off my boot and turned it over. And what do you think fell out? Another stream of Cheerios. Okay, my husband is playing a trick on me. “Alright I get it. I left my boots out again.” I thought to myself.

I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. As I got in the car I looked at my husband and asked “did you put Cheerios in my boots?” With a chuckle he said “nope, guess I’m not the only one that noticed you didn’t put your boots away again.”

Gah! She got me. I guess Mama needs to learn to put her boots away! Maybe someday, but probably not anytime soon. 🙂

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Sunday Afternoons and the Dreaded Bowl of Doom

Sunday afternoons are supposed to be a time of rest and relaxations. It says so in the bible. I looked it up! After getting up early to go to church at 9 and then Sunday School afterward, we would all come home and enjoy a delicious homemade meal. A perfect set up for an afternoon nap. Then dad would stand up, walk over to the refrigerator, and grab the small bowl off the top. Every Sunday us kids would moan and groan, begging for mercy, but Dad would push on. “Who wants to go first?” he would ask. His question was always followed by a choir of “Dad, do we have too?” “Can we just skip this week?” “Can we have today off?” “I’m too tired.” “Please?” But dad was nothing if not consistent. “We can sit here all day if you want but we’re going to do this whether you like it or not.” “I’ll go first” I bravely proclaimed. My dad held out the dreaded bowl of doom. Then the other three siblings would follow my lead, and the last marble was dads. “Alright you four, those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.” Slowly, I released the small fist I made around my marble, one finger at a time to reveal… the red marble. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I yelled. The red marble meant I would have to wash the dishes. The most coveted job of them all! Matt had the black marble which meant he would dry, and Andy was blessed with the blue marble, put away. “Bek and Dad always get the green marbles” I complained. “Do you want me to empty the cupboards so you can wash all the dishes we own” dad would offer. “No” I would respond as I made my way over to the sink. “Alright then, you three better get to work.” Mom would always offer to help every Sunday and every Sunday Dad would force her to go upstairs and take a rest. She deserved a break from washing dishes the entire week.

“Get to it then, if I hear any fighting I WILL empty those cupboards” Dad would threaten. Mom and Bek would make their way up the stairs to relax and Dad would reside at his post in the living room, in the form of a recliner to keep a watchful eye on his little soldiers.

Sadly, I looked down at my freshly manicured fingernails and knew my labor from Saturday for beauty would be ruined after this excursion. I did my best to give dad the puppy dog eye but to no avail. My fate had been decided with no one backing down. “Come on Joanna hurry up! I want to watch the game” Andy would press.

Hanging my head in defeat I made my way over to the sink and counter full of dirty dishes; I filled the sink with water and began to wash as fast as I could and then passed them to Matt for inspection. Plop! A clean dish was thrown back into my sink of hot water. “It’s not clean” Matt said. Gritting me teeth I would rewash the dish and hand it back to him. Plop! He threw it back in my sink. With the look of a thousand demons on my face I glared at my older brother, “it’s still not clean” “Well then why don’t you wash it” I would whisper as sternly as I could as to not wake dad who had just begun his slumber in the next room. “I didn’t draw that marble, so I can’t.”

And so the bickering would start. And then get louder and well, let’s just say that sometimes, the cupboards were emptied on Sunday afternoons.

Matt and I washing the dishes. There really should be some child labor law in place, right? 🙂

Freckles on the Pasture

I found this little gem from my college years. This was written sometime before May 2005.

As I walk

I hear the peaceful sounds

The wind massages my skin

And I keep walking

I wonder far away

Not knowing where I’ll end up

I keep going

Through the woods and paths

My freckles are burning

The suns rays hit

They are stinging

Like they’ve been bit

I think of all the feet that have been before,

Walking my very steps

Wandering away

From everything

I wonder what reasons they had

Scared?

Mad?

Happy?

Their mind becomes important

What did they think?

Why were they here

What did they do?

I’m here

Sitting,

Thinking,

Wondering.

Why I came here

What I’m doing

How I got here

And if they thought of me too.

I love this poem and can’t believe I wrote it way back when… This sums up a lot of why I started writing again. I love knowing the history of our family and knowing who lived in our house before we did. There have been many times when a walk on the pasture is all you need to calm your nerves, share you happiness, feel the peace of the prairie, or just to pray. I’ve walked that pasture for many different reasons over the years but most of the time it’s to escape the chaos that can be normal life. The pasture at my parents house is where I go to breathe…

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