I Would Do Two Loads of Laundry, but I've Gotta Save Something for Tomorrow

Now that my husband is back at work and my in-laws continued on in their journey and headed up north, I'm back to being a sleepy housewife. I don't know what's up with this whole sleepy thing. I just really love taking naps. If I don't get a nap in, it's as if my world is out of whack. My work schedule used to be from 7:15 to 3:45. By the time I got home between 4:00 and 4:15, it was too late to take a nap, AND I had a crazy puppy to let out of his crate. So I'm not sure when this desperate need for naps began. I still indulge myself either way. Every day.

Sabre is sniffing under the front closet door at the moment. It's where we keep his toys. I'm not sure what he thinks sniffing under the door accomplishes, but he does it pretty consistently throughout the day. And adds a little whine periodically. At some point, I should probably go out and play with him. Tatum just likes to bark at him while he focuses on chasing the ball. They're quite the duo.

Today I'm going to share with all of you a few things I've learned about life over the past few weeks of moving into my first "home."

First of all, I've learned that my skills do not lie in interior decorating. I mean, I am very good at walking into my home and saying, "This doesn't look good," but I really have no idea how to make it look better. Which is very frustrating. I really want to be able to make my house look all pinterest-y and beautiful, but I neither have the skills nor the money to waste on buying stuff that doesn't actually look that great. One of these days, I'll track down a friend or family member that's amazingly skilled and just has "the eye" to help me get my house looking people friendly while still remaining 80+ pound dog friendly. Sounds fun, huh?

Having my in-laws here for a few days, I got to hear a bit more about my husband as a small child. Now, I genuinely love my husband. He's pretty amazing. And I know that part of the reason he's so amazing to me is because he is nothing like me. And quite honestly, when I think about having children with this wonderful man, I can honestly say that I would MUCH rather they end up laid back and easy-going like my husband. None of my ridiculous high-maintenance drama. But then I hear about what a little terror he was as a child. I hear about all the injuries he brought upon himself and his apparent inability to sit still. I find out that he never seemed to tire (or at least, he never realized he was tired until he was absolutely made to sit still for a couple minutes). The best way to entertain this crazy kid was to let him do other supervised crazy things. Like crush cans with a can crusher of sorts. Or use a drill press to drill holes into a random piece of wood (at probably about 2 or 3 years old, no less!). Yet he'd still find non-approved activities to partake in. He'd destroy all of his sisters' toys because he needed to see how they worked. Or he'd destroy his own toys for much the same reason. And as I hear more and more, I start to panic at the idea of having a son like my husband. I have no brothers. Most of what I know about boys I have learned in the last [almost] two years of being married. My sisters and I never destroyed toys. We played outside, sure, but I don't recall that we got hurt a whole lot. At least, I didn't. I was over-the-top cautious. I have never once gotten stitches or had a broken bone. I've never had to stay in the hospital or even really go to the hospital for an injury. If I have a child like my husband, it will be because, contrary to outward appearances, my heavenly Father truly believes that it will make me a better Christian, a better wife, and a better mother. That's the only way I know to look at it. :)

Throughout this move, between my husband graduating without a job with no idea where to find a place to live, to getting a job and finding a great house, I've seen that no matter what, God is always good. He's good even when we aren't. When I'm telling Him that He's taking too long to provide a job or a place to live, He's still good. When I'm not consistently spending time with Him because I'm frustrated, He's still good. I'm not saying that He rewards those who try to tell Him what to do or avoid coming into His presence, but He doesn't turn His back either. He's already said that His timing is perfect, so He waits for that very timing. And all the while, He listens to griping and whining and endless refrains of "why are You doing this to me?!" and still stays true. He still loves. He still provides. And He simply waits for us to realize that He always knows best. And while it's been an extremely slow learning process for me to give up control each and every day and truly trust that God has it all in HIS hands, it's a wonderful process where I get to experience life with the Almighty Creator of the universe in charge, instead of my flawed human self.

The puppies are eating ice. And when Sabre steps on my feet it hurts quite a lot. And ice seems to give these pups endless crazy energy, and I'm considering ending the "ice snack" in the afternoon. I'm pretty sure Tatum just knocked over every food/water bowl, and I'm afraid to go check.