bsmiles and sunny days

I would dare say The noise Is the hardest part of having 9 kids. Every day. All day. Morning noon night.  Noise. Talking, laughing, screaming, crying, whistling, tapping, talking, exclaiming. Loud. Quiet. Constant.  Noise. The earplugs...  In the bedside table In the dresser. In my purse. In the car. I had a pair everywhere And then they lost them. All of them. "My water bottle! My water bottle! Ahhh!" "Your wata' bottle?"  *Giggle "Babababoo!!!!" *singing "Can I just pee my pants?" "Mom why can't we just go to hillcrest?" *baby screaming "Mom, when we get in da baff can we open dis?" This a snippet of what's happening right now, in my car, as I sit waiting for big kids to get done in the library. So. Totally. Normal. The noise. Someday I'll miss it.

I like to have things in place. Not that I always do, because I don't, but it's what I prefer. A place for everything and everything in it's place. That personality profile awakened me to parts of me that I tuck away. We have this room in our house that is piled with stuff, constantly. I clean it out, it piles back up. Most people have a drawer or a closet like that. I also have those, but this room... I need help. It's bad. So clearly, this tidy part of me is a difficult thing to reconcile with the fact that 10 other people live in this house and put their stuff around, random places. One kid leaves his drinking glasses on the half-wall in the entry hall. Every. Single. Day. One glass, two glasses, three sometimes. I walk by and retrieve a glass multiple times a day. 22 steps from the kitchen sink where dirty dishes are collected. Seriously. Help me. Another kid piles up him most valuable belongings on the shelves in our library, the entrance we use mos...

This week I took a personality analysis. Like, a real one. One thing that surprised me about my results was that I may be overly concerned with my physical appearance. I keep thinking about this because vanity is sinful. And I don't want to be sinful. I also don't want to look like a frumpy mom, or a too-tired-to-care housewife. I want to give the appearance that I care. Because apparently I do. Or, forgive me if this word isn't in your vernacular, but, I give a crap. I do. I don't want to be ugly. Do people want to be ugly? This occurred to me this morning when I ran into Dollar General to get some play doh. In my pajamas. With my hair like this.  But I couldn't go into Price Chopper to get my WIC milk because I wasn't dressed appropriately for Price Chooper, only Dollar General. I know you get this Platte City mamas. Even though Jasmine assured me that all the other WIC moms go into Price Chopper dressed like this. Ha! So I am trying to be something I'm no...

A few months ago I got a text message asking if I would consider being a Small Group Leader in MOPs. Funny story, I had been feeling like I wanted to step into something new, and I had considered joining MOPs, but my fear of commitment held me back. And $45. I thought about pursing a Sunday school class, but I was so in love with the one I was in, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it. This seemed perfect. Once a month. No prep work. Scholarships available. Yes. Absolutely, I would!! I didn't know how much hearing other people's stories would change me and inspire me and speak life into my troubled waters. I didn't realize that I would make friends and feel this intense joy about attending, so much so that I would show up dressed and ready a week early. It was a gift from God, this two hour session once a month with these precious girls that He chose for our group. Enter, Brenne Brown. She's a researcher. I'm not even sure what that means, but...

Who are you? It seems like a valid question, simple enough, but I dare you to answer it for yourself. I'm a mom, a wife, a writer, a sister, a daughter. I am a lover, a fighter, a ray of sunshine, a blessing. I am a builder, a giver, optimistic to a fault, an emotional train wreck. I'm waiting for your face to express, "Aha! That's it!" I like to give the right answers. I like to be approved. I do NOT like conflict, or uncomfortable situations. I do NOT like things to be undone. I do NOT like it when there is something wrecked and I can't do anything about it. I will keep trying to fix it until my fingers bleed and my brain turns somersaults. I'm a fixer. I get it from my dad. And my mom. I'm a perfectionist, only I'm a free spirit too. With all these kids, God knew I needed to be both. I had trouble answering this when asked. She waited, swaying side to side in her office chair. No pressure, just waiting. Who am I? Who is Bec...

I signed up for google plus a few months ago. I don't really get it, call me crazy. I add you, you add me back, we're in a circle...? My kids have referred to it as    " kind of like a facebook for people whose parents won't let them have facebook" Ok. I'm not even sure how I was prompted to fill out a profile or really why I would need to but I do things like that, so I did. It asked me for a tagline. After a few witless attempts at awesome, this one stuck. yes, they're all mine I say it every single time I leave the house with kids, sometimes multiple times a day. Nine kids is a rarity. What's funny is that I usually only have a handful with me when people ask. If the whole crew goes out on the town, people are so awe-struck by the sheer numbers of us that they just stare, unabashedly. I don't mind. Stare. Ask questions. I love it. Not all my kids feel the same way, but I'm the mom. My tribe is my pride. With that ...

The sky captured me today. I've been busy, managing things and stuff and people and thangs too busy to notice the incredible handiwork in the sky. Not today... today I saw it It changed with my day. Each hour and new display of wonder. Big, billowy clouds like giant hands with fingers. A spectacular blue masterpiece with cotton balls spread in strands with no particular intention Tiny wisps of light blue lined with pink reflections of the sunset. My last trip across the city was mesmerizing. Straight ahead of me in the shape of an eye there was a break in the clouds. The rest of the sky was covered with all variations of clouds except for the eye, as if it was a window to heaven. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of God peering through the sky at me. I'm so in love with Him. Seriously in love. I see His watchful eye everywhere I look and I'm comforted. He notices everything I do. Every thought I think is familiar to Him. B...