Sacrifice

When my husband got home from work yesterday, I had just gotten out of the shower.  As in, I walked around smellin' funky because I didn't have a moment to myself until 5:30.
P. M.
That shower felt soooooo good.  I went straight to PJ's and B.daddy's Buffalo Grill sweatshirt.  Feeling warm from my head to my toes, I soon found myself sitting on the couch with a sleepy Rascal on my lap and a glass of wine in my hand.  Bliss!
Tonight my husband got home from work, and I looked just like I did the night before.  Minus the shower and the warm fuzzies.  Same PJ pants.  Same sweatshirt--but now with coffee spilled on it.
My house is a wreck.  My kids are surviving on Cheerios and pretzels.  My dog stinks to high heaven.
You'd think I had a newborn to take care of, or felt seriously ill, or was sinking into depression.
But, no.  You know what it is?
We started school yesterday.
We took a two week break for our anniversary and Thanksgiving.  Two blessed weeks to clean and cook and plan and read and check Facebook and Pinterest and watch mindless t.v.  Being the forgetful soul I am, I wondered during those two weeks why I couldn't always keep my house so neat and tidy.  Why can't I tackle one major project a day?  Why can't I usually cook five meals ahead of time?  Why can't I always feel so rested and refreshed?
Oh, now I remember!
I'm here all day long, but I can't actually do anything.
I'm schoolin' my kiddos, which means I have something very closely resembling a full-time job.  I enjoy this job--most of the time--and I'm thankful everyday that I get to keep these three people so warm and safe and near.  In the end, that's what keeps me doing it.  The fact that I get to be with my kids all day.
I remember very well the days of having these tiny, demanding people tugging on me morning till night....and on into the night.  In those days I wished hourly that someone would just watch my kids and let me be alone!  Imagine my surprise when I realized a couple years later that I actually love spending everyday with these hooligans!  So much so that I'll keep homeschooling when every fiber of my unstructured, rule-breaking being wants to do anything but.
So here I am, doing what comes so unnaturally to be with the people I want most to be with.
I guess you could say I'm feeling the sacrificing end of the bargain today.  Sacrificing some of my standards, so I won't drive myself insane when the bathroom is messy and dinner is just so-so.  Sacrificing sleep if I want a hot shower to start the day.  Sacrificing long-distance phone calls and play dates because I really can't spare a minute.  Any minute I'm not teaching my kids I'm trying to either, 1) clean behind their ears, 2) read and snuggle just for fun, or 3) do something about this pigsty!
Sometimes I remember to get on here and groggily write this all down.  Not often enough.  I have sisters near and far who are either in this boat or climbing in.  We need each other.  We need to be able to seek as well as give advice.  We need to laugh at our own ridiculousness and commiserate over the desperate moments.  We need to hear that we aren't the only ones wearing PJ's all day.  And for that, you will always have me.

I Bought My Dog Christmas Pajamas

No, seriously. I bought my dog Christmas pajamas.  I took him to Petco to get his facial and pedicure--i.e. I can't groom those parts of his anatomy--and I saw rows and rows of Christmas gear for dogs and cats.  As in sweaters, coats, running gear, Santa costumes, etc.  I was super tempted to get him a cheesy Christmas sweater, but I controlled the urge.  It's silly to dress animals.  Clothes are for persons.  Persons.  Not animals.
Well, then we went to Target to run another errand, and would you believe what I saw?!  Christmas pajamas for dogs.  For dogs!  This is significant because our family's Christmas card photo always includes the entire Jones clan decked out in Christmas PJ's. (Except last year. Sorry, no card.)  How could I NOT get those adorable little PJ's for only $9.99.
Whether that's ten bucks waisted or well spent, I don't care.  I have officially prioritized my dog's existence over ten bucks in my pocket.
I always wanted another sweet Shih Tzu to love. (Harvey was the love of my life for 15 years before he passed away.)  But I could not believe my husband jumped on my bandwagon last May.  Maybe he knew we were nearing our lost baby's due date and I'd need some comfort.  Or maybe he just saw enough photos of adorable Shih Tzu puppies.  They really are the cutest puppies on. the. face. of. the. Earth.
Seriously.  They are.
Long story short, our little creature shipped up to Boston via The Shermee Express, and we've been in love ever since.  As soon as he got here I was struck by what a comfort he actually was.  To hold him, to feed him, to be near him when he sleeps.  There is something very Unfallen about mankind looking after animals.  But I'm pretty darn Fallen, so it struck me as strange.  Still does.
In the end though, I know that this hairy, smelly creature is a blessing from God.  Do you think that maybe God comforts us where we are--even if it appears ridiculous to us?  To others?  I think God cares enough about us that ridiculous doesn't matter.
So we have a dog.  And I got him Christmas pajamas.
And he most definitely will be on our Christmas card this year.

Beware: B.daddy Brag

I try really hard to not brag.  My husband.  My kids.  They make it really hard to not brag.  I usually manage to control the impulse to shout out to the world how awesome they all are.  And then B.daddy goes and does something like this...

It has been a long day.  And tonight was going to be my night out.  (Oh yeah.  He gives me a night out every week.  He knew before I did that I need to be Alone on a regular basis.)  See, he wanted to work from home today, so he could handle home maintenance appointments.  But meetings at work...you know the drill.  So I schooled our kids on how to play hooky and not get caught on discipline and the three R's and the Romantic Period.  Instead of packing the kids in the van AS SOON as lessons were complete and heading to Trader Joe's for a cheap bottle of wine, I had to stay here to let strange men into my house and ask them Man Questions about boilers and radiators and chimneys. B.daddy knows that this sort of situation makes me very uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to be home to handle it. But he couldn't. 

To top that off, my hard workin' man called around 6 to let me know he was on his way home.  Forty minutes away. This is SUPER late if I'm going to have a night out.  I just said, grab a bottle of wine on your way home and that'll be my night out. It was too late to do anything, and frankly I was too tired to even put on jeans and go see a movie.

Not only does he come home with a bottle from my favorite label, he brought me their best pinot noir.  This is a big deal.  A very big deal.  So right now I'm sipping the best wine I've had in years listening to my Babydaddy wrestle with our hooligans.  He'll read to them, sing with them, and put them to bed.  All while I sit here and feel grateful and blessed.  That's my kind of night.  My kind of man.

I'm done bragging.

Accepting a homemade Christmas gift, which included a one dollar bill. :)

Sailing on the Adriatic Sea.

It's almost that time of year again!