Livin' the dream.

A friend of mine gave me that phrase yesterday, and I'm claiming it.  Because that's what I'm doing.  Seriously.

I get to live the dream every day.

And yesterday afternoon started out as a very perfect looking dream.  I lit a candle, turned on DI solo piano, and set to work with Blake a seriously gigantic pile of free apples.


Blake and I worked for about an hour processing apples for apple sauce, and then we decided to make a pie for Nate.

And that's when it all broke loose.

Somehow Abby got her hands on the disc-thing that goes in my food processor, and even more-somehow, she got her finger stuck in it.  When she tried to pull her finger out, she came away with only half of a fingernail and lots of blood.

I'll spare you the details, but quickly, my afternoon went from looking like this


to this.


And then I got the blood stopped, and I figured I'd better finish the pie, 

and then Abby fell asleep in her high chair.  

Because she managed to play all through naptime yesterday (see Monday's post...).  And I was afraid she would fall out of her high chair and she was wearing underwear and I totally wasn't going to put her in her bed with the new clean sheets on it.  She's not that trained yet.

So I picked her up and held her and stared once again at this.


And Nate would be home soon and he'd probably be hungry for supper, and I was powerless.

So I called my mom.

And she said, "Just hold her," and then, the ever-encouraging follow-up, "she'll pee on you."

I think she meant it to be encouraging.  And it was, because she followed it up with, "Maybe this is just God helping you to slow down a little bit."

And she was right.  I looked at Abby and realized there probably won't be too many more times when she'll sleep in my arms like that.  And I realized I have the most amazing husband ever, and he's not going to care if the flour canister exploded over the entire kitchen.

And I realized- this is it.  I am living the dream...messy as it can be.








Comments

Amen. Well-said, friend.

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