Confessions of A Woman Proud.

And so, here we are...
A little over two weeks into life at our new place.

New surroundings, new routine, and new rhythms to learn and grow accustomed to.
And deep, soul friends who we've walked many roads with together...

Moving the girls...courtesy of two awesome friends and their rigs..

A final garden pillage.  I left lots for the newcomers as well...

We have never attempted to live together, however...
...with anyone, for that matter.

So, this is all so very new to me.

Awesome big backyard.  Zip line included.  1 of the Mamas once flew along that thing...she took out 2 of the boys...AND she peed her pants from laughing so hard.  It. Was. Awesome.

Throw in a teething baby who rarely naps, a Mama who is attempting to wean herself off of caffeine in the attempts to see if naps elongate any, an awesome head cold that's hanging on for dear life, my first year at homeschooling more than one child, my three loud Hooligan boys with loud, flappy Hobbit feet living above our friends' sleeping quarters, and living life raw and vulnerable in front of four extra pairs of eyes....and...well...that's just about the perfect recipe for Humble Pie...one in which I get to partake in multiple times each and every day - courtesy of my four small children and my own ugly pride.

London's male protection squad just got raised from 4 men to 7.  She's golden.

Because, you know when you have a play date scheduled into your little week for friends to come over?  That timeframe of 11:00-1:00...just two bitty hours where your kids and her kids can play and share toys, you can all eat lunch together, and then everyone goes about their merry way, back into their own little worlds, tucked safely and securely back inside those four square walls and little picket fence where no one on the outside world can ever see or hear what you're doing...or what you're saying...or how you're living...

The front of the house with our porch and our entrance.  We live up above.  And my boys' feet are very VERY loud.

One can pretend just about anything for two teensy hours, can't they?  I know I can...
And one can give a pretty perfect picture - when all that you ever show anyone is what you choose to write on your blog or in your witty facebook status updates...

Our entryway.  A bistro of sorts...

Right?
Can I get a witness?
Or is this just my own glaring form of ugly....

Well, now that's all been stripped away from me.  In the name of "community" and in the quest of "walking alongside"....of honestly and truly walking and living life raw and real together... in a culture where we really don't have a sweet clue in how to do it well...in doing this, and in wanting to do it right - all pretenses of perfection very swiftly get chucked right out the window.

They have to be.
And it is right and good.
But, it is painful.  And it is exhausting.  And it is humbling.

Because when one of my boys hauls off and whacks one of his brothers in the safety of my own four walls - well, that's no big deal.  I can just have them both sit on their beds for a time out and then we all go on our merry way.  But when one of my boys hauls off and whacks one of her boys....well, that really hurts my pride.  And it's embarrassing.

Because, it's a reflection of me.

And when you live together, everyone can see how much t.v. you actually let your kids really watch....and they hear when you raise your voice at your children.  They know your little quirks, and your flaws become glaringly obvious.  They see how you really and truly live your life day in and day out.

5 sweet Hoolie boys.  With 2 big Daddies.  And 1 Baby Girl.  Going on a lion hunt...

Exploring the property.  Checking trail cams.  Learning trails so that I don't get us all lost someday...

And it strips you down bare.
And it makes you feel exposed.
And pretty much after day #1, it is oh so obviously clear to all around you, that you don't have it all together.

But what good has it ever done anyone to pretend that you have all of life tied together in a neat little bow... and who has it ever helped if you never drop your walls first and honestly bare your truest you, but instead you choose to flash your painted shell of a self to the people whom you allow into your little world?  And how long can that really last, anyway?

The new digs.  Rather ginormous.

So this is me.
The tired-est, true-est me trying to learn to walk alongside well.

The me who would so much rather be at the total top of my game the first time I try a communal living together experiment...but instead it's the me who is waking up most mornings completely bleary-eyed, fairly overwhelmed with the day, with an entirely different standard of "clean" and "tidy" than I would ever have dreamed of pre-four-small-children-in-my-life.  This is the me who honestly has no idea how I will ever teach two boys with a crazy four year old running around and a non-napping infant.  The me that can barely fit time in for a shower, and the me who can't remember the last time she went for a run.  This is the me who has no idea where anything is anymore, who has yet to cook an honest to goodness meal since we've moved in, and the me who wonders if her students are really even learning anything.  This is the me who is finding a new routine of cooking and laundry, of mothering and teaching, and of meshing five small little boys - brothers at heart and sweet little friends - but five boys nonetheless, learning to love and to share, to include and to be gentle with each other's hearts - all under one massively ginormous roof of a house.

Kev told me to go to Starbucks so I could write.  He came home and found this...

This is me.

The Mama overwhelmed.
The wife tired.
The teacher insecure.
The waitress attempting to speak coherently.
And the friend trying her best to walk life real.

It's messy.  And it's beautiful.
It's exhausting.  And we're learning.
It's embarrassing.  And it's hilarious.
It's scary.  And it's comforting.
It's daunting.  And it's exciting.

All wrapped up into one crazy bow of two little families living life together under one roof of Crazy, Messy Beautiful.