Mish Mash.

My "why can't we all just get along" post has been removed for another day. After I repeated the process of "post" and then "edit" about ten times, I decided that it just wasn't happening today. Typically, I write these things pretty "stream of consciousness" like, and if I have to keep going back to something, I feel it maybe just wasn't meant to be. For now, at least.

This is generally my "happy spot," anyway. My choosing to see, and finding the joy, and slowing and being space that helps me to remember to savor. So, that's the theme we shall run with until I get another little burst of spitfire within me that just needs to come busting out....

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This week has been a busy week for me - a week where I feel like I "scored" in the friend department. I had three different playdates with three different Mama's in exactly the same stage of life as me. What a blessing, really - to be on this journey and to have great friends to walk it out with you.

And for me - maybe it's because I'm third boy into this whole gig of parenting and I couldn't fake that I have it all together, even if I wanted too...or maybe I'm just becoming more secure in who I am as a woman and a mother...whatever it is -- I'm just so totally and completely done with any form of pretense.

What you see is what you get, Baby, and if you show me some grace, you'll get a boatload in return. These three mama's and I - we are all walking the same journey, and we're all walking it differently. Different styles of parenting, differing ways of disciplining, different mountains we'll each choose to die on, different ways we're going to live it out. Rock on.

The best kinds of friendships are the "loving you just the way you are" and the "I won't judge you and you don't judge me" and "the give and take" anyway. Sharing the joys, commiserating together in the sorrows. Seeking advice and maybe being able to offer a little in return. Being vulnerable with the struggles and being humble with the successes. Deep. Real. Intentional. Vulnerable. That's when it's good. And I am a blessed woman.

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Tonight, we are finally getting around to "formally" (and finally) celebrating the October birthdays for the Booker men in this family. That would be Kevy, Sir Rancey Pants, and Uncle Shawn.


Our gift to Ransom is this $2.00 car we scored at a yardsale this summer:

His little cousin has one, and she graciously lets him live in it when he goes over. Now he shall have his own rockin' wheels. I used to hate large plastic children's toys. I used to say my kids would only play with quiet, wooden things. I used to be the world's best mother. And then I had kids. They're good for helping with humility.

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Behold, my craft for this week:

I give this wreath, one month before all of the berries are strewn all over my living room floor as a result of epic dart gun battles, wrestling matches, and ball games. I also used to say that my kids would be quiet inside and only be rowdy out of doors. And then I had three boys. There is a reason that most of my decor now costs $0.00 and can easily be replaced by a swift jaunt into the forest.

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This is the picture that Jesse drew that "looks JUST like you, Mama! Doesn't it?"

"I drew you with your sticked up hair but not with your glasses, because you look funny when you wear your glasses."

Compliments from a four year old. Priceless.