It's only Tuesday?

It feels like it should be Friday. With everything we've managed to cram into our lives the last 2 days, I am sure glad I relished the slow pace of our Father's Day. And, I am so glad I can still write about it, without being too behind. (I am still working on my Mother's Day post)

Father's Day was wonderful. It started out with a loud rain storm. I love rain storms. There are skylights in our bedroom and I love to listen to the rain pounding and watch the lightning light up the room.... I got up to shower and was interrupted with a phone call informing us that church was cancelled because the power was out. After making several phone calls to let people know it was cancelled, I resumed my shower, and restarted the day. Kyle opened his gifts, Savannah took a morning nap, and we headed to a park about an hour away to spend it eating good food and with great company. We found the perfect bench under a tree overlooking the lake and sat, feeling the breeze. The kids managed to get their toes wet in the lake, and then go a little further, and a little further, and a little further until their bums were wet. The state of relaxation I was basking in was so medicating, almost intoxicating in fact, that when I found Cade in the water I didn't go into hysterics. I just took off his shorts and let him splash in a pull-up. The irony of this is if Kyle was in charge of the kids and I happened upon my child thigh-deep in water on the Sabbath I would have wrung his neck. As it was, I was the one in charge and when Kyle happened upon his Sabbath-breaking child he cocked his head and chuckled.

Don't let the other pictures of Father's Day fool you. Kyle wishes he caught that fish. A man at the lake caught it and was kind enough to let Kyle touch the slimy creature. He said he just wanted to take a picture with it to show how big it was compared to Savannah, but I know he wanted to pretend it was his. We enjoyed the drive home, and closed the evening with our own sacrament meeting in the living room. It was a great day.

I wish I had an awesome excuse for not being so great about blogging our happenings the last several weeks. I'm not fighting hyperemesis gravadarium or learning to balance the life with a new addition to our family, or dealing with a life changing crisis, or heading up an important marketing assignment like many of my girlfriends.

My days have been packed with "stuff", that's all. And what do I have to show for it?

Well.... more like what don't I have to show for it...

My make-up didn't make it on today, the sink is filled with dishes, the counter is covered in dishes, the dishwasher is filled with dishes (and of course I forgot to start the dishwasher until a few minutes ago ah!), my table is covered in 5 hour-old barbecue sauce from making a transfer of the ribs from one pan to the next, the floor is covered in "guck" (dried up breakfast, lunch and dinner) from my indepedent, and might I add fiesty, daughter who will not allow me to feed her anymore, there is hair everywhere in the bathroom from Cade's haircut and not sweeping it up all the way because Savannah pooped in the tub while trimming his hair and I had to take care of that, I have a load of laundry in the washer and a load in the dryer, two clean loads in the baskets and they will all most likely stay that way until I remember I really needed the things in the washer to be dried and have to re-wash them because they smell like mildew, and then once I get everything folded and put away, I'll be ready to do another 4 loads, my bathroom smells like dirty diapers because when I was in my bathroom making an attempt to keep it somewhat not-disgusting by empyting the garbage cans into the poopy diaper bag to be taken outside,the phone rang and I had to go to another room to deal with that and then I forgot about the stinky trash bag until I got home tonight at 9.... My kids ate cake and ice cream and chex mix for dinner, they got to bed late, my office is covered with papers, the nursery looks like a bomb went off, my bed is not made.....

My house is a complete disaster. Thank heavens Kyle gets home late. I may actually muster up some energy to make it look like I was a "house wife" today instead of a "car wife".....

So on to part two of my post.

Why I am grateful I get to stay home and make all these messes??? Let's face it, if I worked, our house would be much cleaner. I wouldn't be home creating all the disaster zones with my special powers.

Kyle is an incredible husband who does a lot. He doesn't take it personally when I snap at him, "No! Taking the kids at 2:30 for a few hours will not solve the insanity of my day! They are napping!" when he was just trying to be helpful. He works hard, never complains about his long hours. He always manages to make me laugh when I am completely exhausted and about to drift to sleep. I would love to say that I am a fantastic wife who feeds him hearty meals at the end of his day. The reality is, he the one making sure I get fed. He plays with the children and has a fun disposition, as if he hasn't grown up since he turned 15. He truly is a remarkable example of "enjoying the journey" --- I am always trying to "get there" and then be happy. Kyle is happy all along the way. He doesn't complain when I go grocery shopping and come home with everything else except food. He is a wonderful worthy priesthood holder who lives in my messes and puts up with my clean-freakness (sounds like an oxy-moron, I know, but Kyle can bear witness that the two go hand-in-hand with my personality!). He thoroughly supports me in my calling, often leaving him a widow. Being married to me enrolls him automatically in an array of philanthropic duties, by association-- not choice, all of which he does without complaint. He goes with the flow, lives a life of spontaneity and allows me to travel to other parts of the world and stays with the kids. At the end of a long day on his feet, he comes home and gives me a foot rub. He gifts me with appointments at my favorite spa to prod me to have some alone time.

Thanks to my husband, I can be home, and I am grateful I can be at home to overschedule my life and over-commit my time, and yes, even make my disastrous messes because despite the frantic days we have, I have my kiddies with me, who willingly come with me everywhere I need to be. They don't complain if they are late to a birthday party, soccer practice, or play date. They, like their father, just smile and eat the cake for dinner and go to bed when I finally get them there. If they grow up to be just like him, I will be thrilled and that is the greatest gift a mom could ask for.