tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42093398999779806542024-02-22T10:07:28.434-08:00The Unlikely HomesteaderBrandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-48700351315104824482020-04-04T11:33:00.002-07:002020-04-04T11:33:43.990-07:00COVID-19: Week 2Sunday night I started running a fever. Coughing. Sore throat. Yikes. Got tested Monday. Spent four days in bed. Test was negative, hallelujah! Stayed in bed another day because I was still feeling so weak. Back at life yesterday, carving and building four-foot foam Easter eggs for our church's drive-thru egg hunt next week. <div>
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I have spent much of this morning looking back over the past three weeks. This season feels different for our family than it does for others, I think. We are not "stuck at home looking for stuff to do." We are trying to figure out how to get all the things done that need to be done in a day. Two work-from-home spouses and four school-from-home kids can make things feel a little overwhelming. </div>
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But today I feel a yearning to slow down. A gentle reminder in my spirit that this is a once-in-a-lifetime season. Like a snow day, but with beautiful weather and no end date in site. </div>
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I know things are scary right now. I'm scared sometimes. The heaviness and fear is palpable in the world and sometimes in my heart. </div>
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But in my little home, there is now an opportunity. For conversations. For creativity. For rest. For connection. </div>
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I have one more "push" week before Easter. But I am determined in my heart that I will not take this time with my children for granted. </div>
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It is a gift birthed out of the world's heartache, and I will not receive it lightly. </div>
Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-73474165567221249382020-04-04T07:41:00.004-07:002020-04-04T07:41:50.744-07:00COVID-19: Week 1So this is actually week 2. Week one was a whirlwind of brainstorming and creating content to move our kids church content completely online. It was a very full week, but it was so fun watching the team come together, get creative, and make things happen.<br />
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But this was week 1 under the "safer at home" protocols put in place by our Mayor. Here's a copy of the facebook post I wrote about this week:<br />
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This has been such a weird week. Writing it out here to remember our <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/coviddays?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#COVIDdays</a></span> and a new kind of <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/thixtonadventures?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#Thixtonadventures</a></span></div>
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1. Laundry room makeover was a fun, long-desired project (which means the rest of the house fell into complete disarray). This caused ZERO anxiety because nobody would be dropping by. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/socialdistancing?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#socialdistancing</a></span></div>
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2. I did venture out to Target to get some items for the makeover. I stood on a sticker in the checkout line to make sure I was 6' from the person in front of me (who was also standing on a sticker). The store was more quiet than I've ever heard it, and people still seem obsessed with toilet paper. </div>
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3. One of our chickens got sick. I had to take her behind the shed (where the kids couldn't see) and cull her. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/neverdonethatbefore?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#neverdonethatbefore</a></span> </div>
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4. Our backyard is basically one big mud hole where the kids played in the sprinkler for hours, two days in a row. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/hellowaterbill?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#hellowaterbill</a></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/keptthemhappyandoutside?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#keptthemhappyandoutside</a></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/worthit?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#worthit</a></span></div>
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5. The weather is so beautiful. I have been popping allergy meds and braving the pollen. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/cantresist?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#cantresist</a></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/alsoworthit?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#alsoworthit</a></span></div>
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6. I haven't put on makeup in 3 days. I also haven't looked in a mirror. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/sorrykids?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#sorrykids</a></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/sorryhusband?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#sorryhusband</a></span> </div>
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7. In my mind, this is temporary - like only a week or so. It's taking a moment to wrap my brain around the kids being home until April 24. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="oajrlxb2 g5ia77u1 qu0x051f esr5mh6w e9989ue4 r7d6kgcz rq0escxv nhd2j8a9 nc684nl6 p7hjln8o kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x jb3vyjys rz4wbd8a qt6c0cv9 a8nywdso i1ao9s8h esuyzwwr f1sip0of lzcic4wl oo9gr5id gpro0wi8 lrazzd5p" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/orlonger?__cft__[0]=AZU9lKqNCnam6keKzE03YqjC4AYbfjscth2hvq7jp7vQCowCedhYE6JteXQrluiSOcIYOmZirEbUo_byZWCC1dFCqrDAtfVU5v51TKXdui0-_ysClU-8t3HTAcbzONamkZo&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#orlonger</a></span></div>
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8. This week is one year since my Granddaddy went to be with Jesus. I miss him a lot. The world seems a little less... that's it, a little less... without him. In all the excitement and weirdness of the last few days, there has been an underlying sadness and a reminder that this world is not my home. </div>
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"You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you: because he trusts in you." Isaiah 26:3</div>
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Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-29449717557097396042015-12-29T09:21:00.002-08:002015-12-29T10:11:34.392-08:00Why I Stopped Blogging (and Stopped Reading "Mommy Blogs")I totally realize the irony of what I'm about to say:<br />
<br />
I can't read mommy blogs right now.<br />
<br />
I know. I know. I<i> am</i> a "mommy blogger." But I'm not doing much of<i> that</i> these days either.<br />
<br />
Can I just lay it all out here today?<br />
<br />
My life is messy.<br />
<br />
My house is a mess. My hair is a mess. My kids are sticky-messy. My car is a mess. My yard is a mess. Relationships are messy. Social media is messy. Parenting is messy. Marriage is messy. Holidays are uber messy.<br />
<br />
And I'm not talking about the "beautiful chaos" or "heavenly mess" or "I'm-letting-Him-refine-me-in-the-process" kind of mess.<br />
<br />
I'm not talking about the kind of mess that can be neatly wrapped up in a devotional-style thought at the end of 200 words or less.<br />
<br />
I'm not talking about "you will look back on these days and [fill in the blank]...<br />
<br />
... regret being so impatient."<br />
... regret spending so much time cleaning instead of playing with your family."<br />
... realize these are the best years of your life."<br />
... miss those grubby little fingerprints."<br />
... wish for one more day."<br />
<br />
I'm talking about sticky kitchen floors.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about kids with dirty fingernails. At church. On a Sunday morning.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about lice.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about old wounds.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about new pain.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about losing my cool because I stepped in <i>another</i> unidentifiable puddle <i>in my house.</i><br />
<br />
I'm talking about having absolutely no idea how to raise Godly, passionate, fully-alive children when I'm not doing any of those things well myself.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about being mortified when someone unexpectedly shows up at my front door.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about life. A messy, messy life.<br />
<br />
And these blogs would have me believe that because life is messy, I'm allowing the enemy to "steal my motherhood" (whatever that means). Or, on the other hand, that my mess is "beautiful," that if I set lovely music and soft lighting to most moments of my day, it would actually be beautiful.<br />
<br />
But neither of those are true.<br />
<br />
Because motherhood is messy.<br />
<br />
When my toddler finger-paints with ketchup on her baby brother, I'm not going to take a picture and call it artwork. I'm also not going to beat myself up for disciplining her. It's messy. And dealing with that mess was neither beautiful nor tragic.<br />
<br />
And that's life. There are sweet, soft, powerful, beautiful moments. There are also gut-wrenching, crazy, painful moments. The majority of our moments fall somewhere in between those extremes.<br />
<br />
But the trap is set when we start thinking in absolutes: Because we yelled at our children, we are ruining their lives, and the Enemy has won. Because our house is a disaster, we are failing as a wife and mother. Because we are fighting our own demons - depression, food, chronic illness, exhaustion, our past - we are weak.<br />
<br />
And if those messes are not beautiful, they are evil.<br />
<br />
Can we just stop?<br />
<br />
Can we stop categorizing motherhood as either beautiful or failing? Can we just say what it is?<br />
<br />
It's messy.<br />
<br />
And it's okay to be messy.<br />
<br />
Or it's not. I don't know. That's why it's messy. There are no clear lines. There are very broad boundaries, and no instruction manuals.<br />
<br />
At the risk of wrapping this up in a devotional-style thought, here's the verse I have been clinging, grasping, clawing to hold onto these days:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<i><span class="text John-8-9-John-8-10" id="en-MSG-11324" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Jesus stood up and spoke to her.</span></i><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<i><span class="text John-8-9-John-8-10" id="en-MSG-11324" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“Woman, where are your accusers? Does no one condemn you?”</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<i><span class="text John-8-11" id="en-MSG-11325" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“No one, Master.”</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<i><span class="text John-8-11" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“Then neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and sin no more." </span></i><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<i><span class="text John-8-11" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">John 8:10</span></i><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
What I know is this: He doesn't categorize me. He doesn't write me off as "good mom," "bad wife," "terrible housekeeper," or "weak woman."<br />
<br />
He's too busy <i>dealing with my mess </i>to categorize anything. He just loves me. And my mess. And my kids' mess. And my house mess. And my relationship mess. And my social media mess. And my holiday mess.<br />
<br />
And when those messes are all cleaned up, there will be more messes. Because life is messy. But He isn't scared of the mess. He's in the mess. That's what I know. I just thought you should know too...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-82655537267592391262015-08-22T11:57:00.000-07:002015-08-22T11:57:36.723-07:00True Tales from the Homestead...Four of our eight "baby" hens turned six months today. Happy half birthday to Lucille Ball, Ethel Mae, Agnes, and Mama! (Bitsy would have been six months today too, may she rest in peace.)<br />
<br />
Last night, I went to bed a little sad. We have seen nary an egg from these ladies, and I expected to have at least a few by this point.<br />
<br />
Then I dreamed that I woke up, went out to the coop, and found a nest full of lovely pink/brown eggs.<br />
<br />
When I <i>actually</i> woke up, I told the PreacherMan my dream and said, <i>"Psh. I wish!"</i><br />
<br />
He was all:<i> "Right?! They should be earning their keep by now!" </i><br />
<br />
A couple hours later, I decided to muck out the coop as a Half-Birthday present for the girls. Since we're doing the <strike>lazy-homesteader's</strike> <a href="http://www.the-chicken-chick.com/2013/10/the-deep-litter-method-of-waste.html" target="_blank">deep litter method</a>, I simply needed to flip over the existing hay and add a fresh layer.<br />
<br />
I flipped compost, and reached up to grab some fresh hay to lay down. LO AND BEHOLD, I found a nest of pink/brown eggs!<br />
<br />
True story! I swear!<br />
<br />
26 eggs total. We tested them for freshness. 24 eggs passed the test!<br />
<br />
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<br />
I AM SO STINKING EXCITED RIGHT NOW!<br />
<br />
So in celebration of our freshly laid eggs, here are some pictures of the four six-month-old hens and their palace.<br />
<br />
Enjoy! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGjXfHQKFto-a0GjNePYpkGG8-SrzxMVaG32cRaicLboEaWigWLvHGMQm-FjgzOgvg5VVkb9B9qyB0qoFMLWTo71pUtHUgPttsCgNNka7TG19hBU1WDLD1Whz5FvX7fA6B1JCXo6zi-o-/s1600/coopexterior1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGjXfHQKFto-a0GjNePYpkGG8-SrzxMVaG32cRaicLboEaWigWLvHGMQm-FjgzOgvg5VVkb9B9qyB0qoFMLWTo71pUtHUgPttsCgNNka7TG19hBU1WDLD1Whz5FvX7fA6B1JCXo6zi-o-/s640/coopexterior1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our metal-shed-turned-chicken-coop. The flower pot under the window has some baby strawberry plants, just because. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDx7D3gdD4zmHof0JLMhoUuzN52kFPbjbT6Yuap7wgZSJ2NG97acJck8lZ_i3Da3bgKbHO8-GhB2-55qrSWeAVpkWn7PgaxCGhxBEIfj-kS8EIgT3vfBIZp5PycYL6X9DeAN-EH370kHbK/s1600/coop+interior1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDx7D3gdD4zmHof0JLMhoUuzN52kFPbjbT6Yuap7wgZSJ2NG97acJck8lZ_i3Da3bgKbHO8-GhB2-55qrSWeAVpkWn7PgaxCGhxBEIfj-kS8EIgT3vfBIZp5PycYL6X9DeAN-EH370kHbK/s640/coop+interior1.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the hens are Georgia fans. Go Dawgs! We use the Sanford Stadium picture to store hay bails. We turned an old bookshelf on its side to create the nesting boxes (that our ladies don't use. Oh well.)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ70qkZyTTRikaJSrxSZaXc37is2NJU-1wSvEQNrg8t6W7CFjddYlEhUMdc6RbWO69iOPJSBY-SiBztlIzBRb4rkXs_0OkW7UOoVwMqoCORBDlBAAvY2OuKYH4jbdzSktDiCKCVqx_VWv/s1600/run1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ70qkZyTTRikaJSrxSZaXc37is2NJU-1wSvEQNrg8t6W7CFjddYlEhUMdc6RbWO69iOPJSBY-SiBztlIzBRb4rkXs_0OkW7UOoVwMqoCORBDlBAAvY2OuKYH4jbdzSktDiCKCVqx_VWv/s640/run1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our run started as an old dog lot. We used PVC to create a roof line, and draped bird netting over it to keep out the hawks. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hZp9CI-1gi5MqZ7NvSHjqwDNTsU6122DEGjBAIEdCp6zgus3f_qUxlYF7zXrxz6-MyzL7NQ-P-bQ6zYFYiXqlHUsiwhMRQMtYN453aYTFZ55IiyzmQIsx7XgbyAgFNkh50aVUI5GlGsB/s1600/first+nets.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hZp9CI-1gi5MqZ7NvSHjqwDNTsU6122DEGjBAIEdCp6zgus3f_qUxlYF7zXrxz6-MyzL7NQ-P-bQ6zYFYiXqlHUsiwhMRQMtYN453aYTFZ55IiyzmQIsx7XgbyAgFNkh50aVUI5GlGsB/s640/first+nets.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "nest" where we found our 26 eggs. It's on top of the bookshelf, in the corner. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipusnYgtBZpbc7jknljsvte77xMyyLcPe2hS9aNnYcez6fbwKRJbCcyC35KRwnpXMCs-0WL3ni_KbIR1mlGWIVYG8uwJqixgv_RhSXEJwE9cXXhotrS3NnHi3VKJ5R_oMWit1AKSGqMLkg/s1600/roost1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipusnYgtBZpbc7jknljsvte77xMyyLcPe2hS9aNnYcez6fbwKRJbCcyC35KRwnpXMCs-0WL3ni_KbIR1mlGWIVYG8uwJqixgv_RhSXEJwE9cXXhotrS3NnHi3VKJ5R_oMWit1AKSGqMLkg/s640/roost1.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We cut down a bunch of small trees in the run, and we used a few of them to build the roost. It's propped up in the corner, and all eight ladies use only the top two tiers. Go figure. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDFSqzD7rhhOKvNPYZLvhz-mwCL-FPF0NyMF9JLOGpG4oA_jmewum1mRE8d3jT8AprSiN5x0uyCztD0YgRMAvJEEY1wBLV9VCya38KMwPbXnN-VBLRTrjDaEMtl58zRUCZZEt6OsJjzmt/s1600/minicoop1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDFSqzD7rhhOKvNPYZLvhz-mwCL-FPF0NyMF9JLOGpG4oA_jmewum1mRE8d3jT8AprSiN5x0uyCztD0YgRMAvJEEY1wBLV9VCya38KMwPbXnN-VBLRTrjDaEMtl58zRUCZZEt6OsJjzmt/s640/minicoop1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We call this the "minicoop." Brandon's grandparents gave us this beauty along with two fully-grown Black Australorps. They are gentle girls who give us a few eggs a week, but they don't get along with the new gals. So they're separated in their own coop and run until they go to the great chicken farm in the sky (aka: my stewpot). Then this will become the duck house. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXov7bhg4qMFn4Rt_lKJs8Vq8SenMcmOsIN3x73qrrQWQTixzLX_yU1-aQYGpWHQH_fEKN0L_RfphMvASmtNmyiI9401Ut_Wy9CfXObVf1gM0_h5j_qDhkYJA-iZ9Fa7yQCi-Yb0eSr9E/s1600/mama2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXov7bhg4qMFn4Rt_lKJs8Vq8SenMcmOsIN3x73qrrQWQTixzLX_yU1-aQYGpWHQH_fEKN0L_RfphMvASmtNmyiI9401Ut_Wy9CfXObVf1gM0_h5j_qDhkYJA-iZ9Fa7yQCi-Yb0eSr9E/s640/mama2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This
is Mama. She's the smallest in pounds, but she quietly and firmly rules
the roost. The other hens move out of the way when she walks by, and
she takes good care of them. We called her Mama because the day we
got the chicks, she was the first to find water, and then used her wings
(and her beak) to push the other chicks to find it also. She's mellow
and shy and the most calm when we hold her. She's my favorite. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdPgr6ZMH_gR6iuQ8ENpWv4EWbPZKbOHCQF7xycsyYoGZJQBEc80l-u5CeCPt4TVDFVlD0aCFX10rH63vxR35ckzsnfLB7dnICszHAz6izGZ_nR4b3v83pclnESn2r5352Ogr2NrPyPff/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdPgr6ZMH_gR6iuQ8ENpWv4EWbPZKbOHCQF7xycsyYoGZJQBEc80l-u5CeCPt4TVDFVlD0aCFX10rH63vxR35ckzsnfLB7dnICszHAz6izGZ_nR4b3v83pclnESn2r5352Ogr2NrPyPff/s640/DSC_0039.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another (blurry) picture of Mama. She loves to hide in the brush when she's free range. Sweet Mama. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgfrXeAMzUW8uld2LUYXHi4I3m-jFW8t82_lMf0Dy4gBHjuMF_Bum_dh8CGH1Q7SfHhi7Jrx-_xhI2AaxgVodAyeFWCBCKEcEbGR_LBVRwmZiB5NnkTDdgiwGQxgvjNXNA7Emk-_A5D-4/s1600/agnes3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgfrXeAMzUW8uld2LUYXHi4I3m-jFW8t82_lMf0Dy4gBHjuMF_Bum_dh8CGH1Q7SfHhi7Jrx-_xhI2AaxgVodAyeFWCBCKEcEbGR_LBVRwmZiB5NnkTDdgiwGQxgvjNXNA7Emk-_A5D-4/s640/agnes3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Agnes. She's fat and full-breasted and absolutely lovely. She's also a shy one, preferring the foliage and underbrush to the wide open yard. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgfrXeAMzUW8uld2LUYXHi4I3m-jFW8t82_lMf0Dy4gBHjuMF_Bum_dh8CGH1Q7SfHhi7Jrx-_xhI2AaxgVodAyeFWCBCKEcEbGR_LBVRwmZiB5NnkTDdgiwGQxgvjNXNA7Emk-_A5D-4/s1600/agnes3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQByxXtVKF016TqHk3EgpnECrOUBOt0sTqHpvaAbTP1YGSCPTkYyEnrbhDmusZDFRKGA8sJXI_QK4TxBEDx3rsj1VWrCGkStRlmvbUezbK_Uaxwss0GRggHER5Is1-Ncj6raqcoUc27sKw/s1600/agnes1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQByxXtVKF016TqHk3EgpnECrOUBOt0sTqHpvaAbTP1YGSCPTkYyEnrbhDmusZDFRKGA8sJXI_QK4TxBEDx3rsj1VWrCGkStRlmvbUezbK_Uaxwss0GRggHER5Is1-Ncj6raqcoUc27sKw/s640/agnes1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agnes's feathers through the foliage. So lovely. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgfrXeAMzUW8uld2LUYXHi4I3m-jFW8t82_lMf0Dy4gBHjuMF_Bum_dh8CGH1Q7SfHhi7Jrx-_xhI2AaxgVodAyeFWCBCKEcEbGR_LBVRwmZiB5NnkTDdgiwGQxgvjNXNA7Emk-_A5D-4/s1600/agnes3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhremDAgPKRw4zUEemsGbSjU_uFq0o2ycxSwPFqmdJbl20c7L3cbVQeBFPiCAdf2k0vieXy-luYB0XHA8R4Rk84mDw_XYB2F3lzf0YxB99iRs1JTNaYRbkxIS3O9FFZUT4wN2kPEx6m00-b/s1600/agnes2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhremDAgPKRw4zUEemsGbSjU_uFq0o2ycxSwPFqmdJbl20c7L3cbVQeBFPiCAdf2k0vieXy-luYB0XHA8R4Rk84mDw_XYB2F3lzf0YxB99iRs1JTNaYRbkxIS3O9FFZUT4wN2kPEx6m00-b/s640/agnes2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And those eyes, even in a blurry picture. *swoon*</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmzC671qdXmf88osUbqxUFmRx4cw9ujHcsmpvX8Z7XCc8ihVPj8xpvVxfdYODiYIxtMi1AH011OEqE8UKw0kdxVOKbMv-I6pk5XsIXrBORGk5l8Qt1PM4TkIQ_PouXeAyaFiSPkRLGuCA/s1600/ethelmae4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmzC671qdXmf88osUbqxUFmRx4cw9ujHcsmpvX8Z7XCc8ihVPj8xpvVxfdYODiYIxtMi1AH011OEqE8UKw0kdxVOKbMv-I6pk5XsIXrBORGk5l8Qt1PM4TkIQ_PouXeAyaFiSPkRLGuCA/s640/ethelmae4.JPG" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Ethel Mae. She's the neighborhood busy body. She wants to be wherever the action is, and and she doesn't play favorites. She's the only hen who doesn't seem to have a "tribe," rather preferring to flit from one cluster to the next, spreading the day's gossip. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup1w9R0kLRy8WxHpsi0gOE5fNH1omdBF2NwWTHoR1GNRTEXk5epG2i44AOacuXoGOP8b_KRupfGoBtKyUmB27vpTW1CD3PrYDiX-ZLsaOpANN-ggbfdHzu0fI-VULCxhodKLMnoYlJwh2/s1600/ethelmae5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup1w9R0kLRy8WxHpsi0gOE5fNH1omdBF2NwWTHoR1GNRTEXk5epG2i44AOacuXoGOP8b_KRupfGoBtKyUmB27vpTW1CD3PrYDiX-ZLsaOpANN-ggbfdHzu0fI-VULCxhodKLMnoYlJwh2/s640/ethelmae5.JPG" width="448" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She also likes to show off her legs. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zgX9YZ8oLBwwwOqkkNeJijdv0UZJl_Rd2HiWHM_etIZP3FC-45yT3jRIBN6KUQT3UfiEpVN1-AnA81m-I1UpEUTpAdTimkdF4nZ3-lWDcaKWx8MOjnq0pMSEAOPrWdPo1NluaXMZx7K2/s1600/lucille1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zgX9YZ8oLBwwwOqkkNeJijdv0UZJl_Rd2HiWHM_etIZP3FC-45yT3jRIBN6KUQT3UfiEpVN1-AnA81m-I1UpEUTpAdTimkdF4nZ3-lWDcaKWx8MOjnq0pMSEAOPrWdPo1NluaXMZx7K2/s640/lucille1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Lucille Ball. I'm pretty sure she thinks she a rooster. She's loud and bossy and always trying to push the other hens around. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_61wZeY8dlsqXAW5eacqNIk0_n59qJVjYqwMPdAsj-GY3ped_Igv3TzcKuRxFZYwfxRLm0wt-tuwZ_v-n93tWyXuTKUuvVWLFJh086XBr4FZp54hzgAmh_zSIHHuZvO1RPmn_C4f61QF/s1600/lucille3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_61wZeY8dlsqXAW5eacqNIk0_n59qJVjYqwMPdAsj-GY3ped_Igv3TzcKuRxFZYwfxRLm0wt-tuwZ_v-n93tWyXuTKUuvVWLFJh086XBr4FZp54hzgAmh_zSIHHuZvO1RPmn_C4f61QF/s640/lucille3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her beak is open in every. single. picture. because she never. stops. talking. The other hens TOTALLY ignore her (since they know Mama is the real boss). This annoys Lucille to no end and only serves to further encourage her clucks. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn80C561PtBPVLwiJaCOAvyXvQdytxMnZSOPTQjtiVxuMaRB2zeMCeLBek_XX02n8y4tZiY7TGFYXJtyT2MWKI3b9viS3xBiZoea-0qwiA0nt3FsL_E2TJx-0EW9-Nld_jaHN2ehpVJjp/s1600/lucille4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn80C561PtBPVLwiJaCOAvyXvQdytxMnZSOPTQjtiVxuMaRB2zeMCeLBek_XX02n8y4tZiY7TGFYXJtyT2MWKI3b9viS3xBiZoea-0qwiA0nt3FsL_E2TJx-0EW9-Nld_jaHN2ehpVJjp/s640/lucille4.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's literally leaning over a cluster of hens clucking with all her might. They don't even notice she's there. Silly Lucille. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So happy Half Birthday, my little hens! Although I'm pretty sure not all of you are laying yet, I'm grateful for the eggs (and the entertainment) you've provided thus far. Thanks for not beating up on the little-er hens (or the dumb ducks), and thanks for joining our happy little family!<br />
<br />
Happy Egg Day everyone! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-3041546056543843882015-08-11T08:56:00.000-07:002015-10-19T06:56:12.124-07:00The Beauty of the StretchIn a last-minute and strangely peaceful turn of events, both Miss Eight and Miss Six headed off to school this morning for their first day.<br />
<br />
And here I sit, sipping coffee, watching a sleeping baby on the video monitor, listening to Miss Toddler hum while she colors in her highchair, and <span style="font-size: large;"><i>not homeschooling anybody. </i></span><br />
<br />
Isn't it funny, the little twists and turns that life takes?<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I have an entire school year stretched out before me - just me and my two bambinos at home during the day. It feels easy. Peaceful. Slow.<br />
<br />
And it reminds me of the stretch. That painful, difficult, uncomfortable, awkward place we find ourselves when we are expanding our capacity (or it is being expanded for us, whether we like it or not).<br />
<br />
There was a period of stretch after my first baby was born. Sleepless nights. Spit-up in my hair. Changes to my body. I had no idea what I was doing. I was three months pregnant when my brother taught me how to change a diaper. Seriously. I didn't know how to bathe her. How to feed her. How to be alone in the house with her. It was all so hard.<br />
<br />
Until it wasn't.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I could change diapers in the dark. I could feed her without having to sequester myself in a bathroom stall for 30 minutes. I could care for her daily needs without really thinking about it.<br />
<br />
And then another little blue line, another 9 months, another sweet baby girl. And I found myself once again in unfamiliar territory. Stretching beyond what I thought myself capable of doing. Balancing the feed-me cries of a baby with the hold-me whines of a toddler. Losing sleep at night <i>and</i> forgoing nap time during they day. Feeding myself was hard. Feeding a finicky toddler and a collicky baby felt impossible.<br />
<br />
Until it wasn't.<br />
<br />
We found our rhythm and our grace. I strapped the baby on my back, strapped the toddler in the high chair, and prepared our meals while singing to them both. Toddler brought me diapers and wipes for changing time. Baby entertained big sis while mom folded laundry. It became - doable.<br />
<br />
Then baby three. Then baby four. Each time a stretch. Each time painful and difficult and uncomfortable and impossible.<br />
<br />
Until it wasn't.<br />
<br />
Because that's how the stretch works. It pulls and tugs and spreads us thin. It takes us just to the place where we almost snap. And in the meantime, all that new space gets filled in with strength, and grace, and ability, and even comfort. Until it's no longer a stretch. Until it's doable.<br />
<br />
So where are you today? What area of your life feels painful, difficult, uncomfortable? Odds are, you're being stretched. And here are a few things you need to know...<br />
<br />
1. Just because it's difficult doesn't mean it's not God. On the contrary, the Lord often uses these seasons to grow our spirit man. Where our weakness is obvious, His strength is magnified. Where we lack, His grace abounds. And in the meantime, we are forced to rely on on Him. As my Memphis pastor says, "We hate these seasons because it feels like everything in us is dying, but God loves these seasons, because everything in us is dying." Less of us. More of Him. Sigh.<br />
<br />
2. You can't do it on your own. Ask for help...<br />
... from God. Prayer and His Word will strengthen you and guide you in the unfamiliar, uncomfortable places.<br />
... from those who have gone before you. Find a mom who has been where you are. Seek out someone who has done this job before. Look for the pioneers, the leaders, the forerunners who have blazed this trail you now walk. And if their are none, turn to someone who blazed another trail and ask them how they did it. Iron sharpens iron, my friend.<br />
... from those who love you. Let your mom wash the dishes. Let your friends keep the babies while you nap. Let your husband take care of you. Let your friends see you vulnerable. It's all okay. It's all lovely. <br />
<br />
3. Grace. Grace. And more grace. No one gets it right the first time. We often see quips about how our character is revealed during difficult times. If that's true, my character sucks. But God's grace is bigger than that.<span style="font-size: large;"><b> God's grace says our character is <i>developed</i> in the hard places.</b></span> It's where we grow. It's where our capacity expands. And it doesn't happen overnight. We must extend grace to ourselves (and to those around us effected by our sucky character). And when you're done, throw on a little more grace, <i>just for good measure. </i><br />
<br />
4. Take a moment to look back. Remind yourself of all the things you do now which once felt impossible. Remember when you couldn't run a mile without stopping? Remember when getting out of bed in the morning felt like it would crush you? Remember when you needed just one more drink? Or one more smoke? Or one more bite? You have done hard things before, and you are capable of doing them again.<br />
<br />
It's painful and difficult and uncomfortable and impossible.<br />
<br />
Until it's not.<br />
<br />
So today, I'll sip my coffee and blog and tidy my house and remember that this - this right here that I'm doing today - once felt impossible. And the things on my horizon that feel daunting and uncomfortable - <span style="font-size: large;"><i>they won't always feel that way. </i></span><br />
<br />
And that's the beauty of the stretch. Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-81129994529076974812015-07-29T07:51:00.001-07:002015-07-29T07:55:02.682-07:00The Redneck Mom at the Dollar GeneralI have a story to tell you readers. It's full of drama, adventure, criminal acts, violence, shock, forgiveness, and humor.<br />
<br />
And it all takes place in a Dollar General in Gainesville, Georgia.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7CS-TffpIs9GhW-ViaNvPzEUCbFnXZfeDpe0xllFgbj31MXJyt4g89ZaL2Uq4j_kuy42PG7gxohSBwkRKxbwW6hWoPpPdUapYprpiUlNNOIr2pgt4M0NhRWO7X1uTzByA_DKiEaVvANa/s1600/dollar+general.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="72" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7CS-TffpIs9GhW-ViaNvPzEUCbFnXZfeDpe0xllFgbj31MXJyt4g89ZaL2Uq4j_kuy42PG7gxohSBwkRKxbwW6hWoPpPdUapYprpiUlNNOIr2pgt4M0NhRWO7X1uTzByA_DKiEaVvANa/s400/dollar+general.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Scene: Mama and four kiddos (Miss Eight, Miss Six, Miss Toddler, and Mr. Baby) are heading down the road to camp meeting. Mama has wet hair and no makeup because she wants to finish getting ready at the campground so she'll look fresh for service. As she drives, she decides she's going to be <i>prepared </i>to entertain her little ones during the two-hour service; so she whips into the local Dollar General. Her intentions? To get all manner of coloring books, crayons, paper dolls, and small figurines for her kiddos to quietly enjoy while absolutely NOT disturbing the adults around them who are intently listening to the singing and preaching.<br />
<br />
Mom pulls into the parking lot, grabs a $20 bill because surely that's enough for the handful of items they will need, unloads the children in a calm and orderly fashion, and files into the store.<br />
<br />
Four feet inside the entrance stands a rack of Frozen book bags for $8. Miss Six promptly decides she needs one for school. Mom agrees it's a good price, and agrees to think about it. Miss Six waits exactly 30 seconds before asking if Mom has made up her mind.<br />
<br />
As she holds Mom's hand through the very narrow and very packed aisles of the DG, Miss Toddler sees a hot pink bouncy ball that she must have, because Ball. Ball. That ball. All the balls. BAAAALLLLL! B-B-B-BAAAAAALLL!<br />
<br />
<i>Can I get the book bag, Mom? </i> <br />
<br />
Ball is $.50. Mom agrees, like she's a rookie or something.<br />
<br />
Items come flying off the shelves as Miss Toddler plays dodge ball with her sisters and her new pink ball.<br />
<br />
Sisters take exactly 1,247,430 hours to pick out one coloring book. Meanwhile, Mr. Baby grabs the pack of crayons mom holds too closely to him. Crayon box empties all over the floor. (Seriously, it's like Mom has never held a 9 month old baby in her life.)<br />
<br />
<i>Mom, what about the book bag? </i><br />
<br />
1,247,432 hours later, Mom (<i>Mom! The book bag?</i>) and four kiddos (<i>It's only $8!</i>) make it to the register. (<i>The Frozen book bag. That one!</i>) The ball only knocks 4 items off the shelf (<i>It's Elsa AND Anna, Mom!</i>) while they wait in line. Miss Toddler only melts down twice.<br />
<br />
<i>Moooom, the book bag!? </i><br />
<br />
Mom decides to get the book bag. She's losing ground by the minute. <br />
<br />
Judgy cashier side-eyes the crazy lady with no makeup and wet hair and gives the total: $20.33.<br />
<br />
Lord help us all. Mom is $.33 short.<br />
<br />
Miss Eight rushes out to the car to get another dollar.<br />
<br />
Three more items fall off the shelf. <br />
<br />
Miss Eight can't find it, or gets distracted, or forgets why she's out there, <i>or something. </i><br />
<br />
The line starts backing up behind Mom and kids. <i>Four. Five. Six people. </i><br />
<br />
Mom can't leave the store with all kiddos in tow, and judgy cashier is waiting. Mom does the only thing she can think of at the time.<br />
<br />
Mom goes to the door, and yells across the parking lot, "Miss Eight!!!! Let's go!!!"<br />
<br />
Person #3 in line says, "Oh, Lord." <i>Thank you for that valuable input, Person #3 in line. </i><br />
<br />
Mom turns around to walk back into the store, all eyes on her. Only they're not on her. <b><span style="font-size: large;">They're on Miss Toddler, </span><span style="font-size: large;">who's running through the open door with an arm full of candy she knocked off the shelf with her pink ball. </span></b><br />
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Mom, with no makeup, wet hair, baby on hip, yelling from the front door of the store, grabs Miss Toddler with one hand, drags her back into the store kicking and screaming, pries <i>every. single. piece of candy </i>from her little clammy hands, takes the $1 from Miss Eight, pays the judgy cashier, grabs the bless-ed aggravating Frozen book bag, the pink ball, the two coloring books, the random loose crayons, tells the judgy cashier to keep the change, drags Miss Toddler back out the door, and loads all four kids into the car - but not without a few threats and disciplinary actions towards Miss Toddler, who refuses to get into her car seat without her new pink ball.<br />
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Person #2 and #3 in line have now checked out and are standing next to their cars watching the crazy lady load her poor kids into the minivan, no doubt taking a mental snapshot of her license plate should they be asked to testify later.<br />
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30 minutes later, Mom and kiddos walk into service. Mom has fresh makeup and clean hair. Kiddos are quiet and polite as they color in their coloring books during the two-hour service. The sweet white-haired ladies at the campground comment on how well mom handles her children and how sweet their little family is.<br />
<br />
And the moral of this story?<br />
<br />
Don't assume the redneck mama at the Dollar General is a terrible parent.<br />
Don't assume the sweet mama with the perfect kids has her act together.<br />
<br />
And for the love of all that is good and right, <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">GIVE A MAMA $.33 WHEN SHE NEEDS IT. </span></i></b><br />
<br />
The end. <br />
<br />
<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-69213404420855577092015-06-04T05:26:00.002-07:002015-06-04T05:26:54.476-07:00Rosemaries [and] Baby Funny story.<br />
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At the beginning of my first pregnancy, someone gave me a cactus. The instructions were simple: Twice a month, I was to put an ice cube in the pot, on top of the soil. It would melt and provide all the water the little prickly plant needed.<br />
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Simple enough, right?<br />
<br />
I killed it. Two weeks before Miss Eight was born.<br />
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Fast forward two weeks and three days, and I am home, by myself with my newborn for the first time. I'm holding this beautiful, perfect, sleeping baby girl, and all I could think about was <i>that cactus</i>.<br />
<br />
Because I thought: <span style="font-size: large;"><i>I can't even keep a cactus alive! Whose idea was it to put me in charge of a <b>human being</b>?!</i></span><br />
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Luckily, babies prove to be a lot more hardy than cacti. Hashtag, PraiseTheLord.<br />
<br />
But my brown thumb never really improved. I'm not even sure I have a brown thumb, because that would imply something earthy. I have, like, a neon blue polka-dot thumb.<br />
<br />
Until today.<br />
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Do you know what I did, people?<span style="font-size: large;"> I successfully rooted TWO herb cuttings. </span><br />
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What, what?!?!<br />
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<br />
This mint was part of my first ever homestead barter.<br />
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I traded some lambs ear and got a mint cutting, which I promptly forgot about and left in my car, sitting in a cup of water. Thankfully, my car acted like a green house, and the sturdy little plant rooted in just a few days. I stuck it in some dirt, and here it grows, almost six week later.<br />
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But this baby...<br />
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This one I'm REALLY proud of.<br />
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This was cut off a Rosemary bush that belongs to the PreacherMan's grandmother. The plant is strong and beautiful and just begging to be propagated. But there's one thing I know about Rosemary (or any green thing, really):<span style="font-size: large;"> if it can be killed, I will be the one to do it. </span><br />
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So I babied these cuttings. The day I got them home, I shaved the "bark" and leaves off the bottom three inches, and I put them in a glass jar full of room temperature water. Then I stuck it in the kitchen window, which receives the best morning sun.<br />
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I have NO idea if any of that was right (except I did read somewhere to shave off the bark, I think).<br />
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I changed out the water every couple days, and wiped the stems of any "slime" that might have formed. <br />
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A week went by.<br />
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<br />
Two weeks.<br />
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Three weeks. <br />
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<br />
When we left for the beach last Thursday, there was nary a root, and the leaves were starting to shed and feel brittle.<br />
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I knew I had killed it and was preparing myself to dry it for later use.<br />
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So imagine my surprise when we returned from the beach to find these beauties floating in the water!<br />
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Lovely, delicate, NEW roots!<br />
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I'm letting them grow a couple more days in the water, and then I plan on potting them. Again, I have NO idea if that's the right thing to do, but I'm hoping a lot of prayer and a little luck will yield me some vibrant, fragrant rosemary by the end of summer.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy planting, y'all! </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>*Edited to Add: I recently found out that rosemary roots best when it's a smaller cutting (think: 3-5 inches). So if these babies survive the planting, you better believe I'll be trying again with smaller, greener cuttings. </i></span> </span>Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-61541538114559875512015-06-02T09:41:00.001-07:002015-07-10T04:58:56.926-07:00Happy June 1, Everybody! Well, it's June 1, and summer is in full swing. Miss Six was up bright and early, singing at the top of her lungs and waking up the neighborhood. Miss Eight stayed in her bed until 9am, reading and watching the chickens out her window. Miss Priss (who will soon be Miss Two) has torn the playroom apart. And Mr Little Man is having a blast watching all his sisters and chewing on his hands. And me? I'm reheating my first cup of coffee for the third time.<br />
<br />
So let's catch up on life and get a glimpse of what's to come, shall we?<br />
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<br />
1. Miss Six and Miss Eight graduated Kindergarten and 2nd Grade, respectively. Homeschool decisions are still up in the air. What we know is this: Miss Eight will definitely homeschool. She thrives in the homeschool environments and is self-motivated enough that both she and I feel confident she'll do great! All is undecided about Miss Six. She is my extroverted child, and LOVES the socializing aspect of school. We will see how the summer goes and make decisions accordingly. But honestly... it's great to know we have the options. We love their school. And we love having them home. And that's a comforting thought.<br />
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2. The chicken coop and run are 95% complete. Updates coming soon! Yay!<br />
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3. As part of our journey to embrace the homesteading lifestyle, and return to all things natural, I've decided to become an essential oil Wellness Advocate. I LOVE learning about all the oils and how they can benefit our family. I'm thinking we might take one post a week just to talk about oily things and how awesome they are. What say ye? <br />
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4. We decided to focus on animals (aka chickens) this year and start the garden next year. But, as part of preparation for next year's garden, we will begin our "Lasagna Garden" within the next month. Don't know what a Lasagna Garden is? No worries! We will learn the process together! In the meantime, I sure am enjoying our morning strolls with the babies through my granddaddy's garden.<br />
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5. The wild blackberries are just starting to ripen. This makes me happy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Eight, cutting the weeds away from the wild blackberries so she can reach them better. </td></tr>
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Here's to green, Georgia summer and sunshine and early, crazy mornings and nap time and lemon water and swinging on the swing set.<br />
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Happy June 1! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-79880032891987662472015-05-19T17:22:00.000-07:002015-05-19T17:23:52.962-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 20<br />
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Well, people, tomorrow is Day 20. We made it!!! Way to go, my friends!!!<br />
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How did you do?<br />
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I'll say it like this: I'm not where I want to be, but I'm a lot better off than I was. Am I right? <br />
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So now we look to the future. What projects do you have left? Drawers that need sorting? Closets that need emptying? Items that need to be culled?<br />
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If you're like me, just the thought of all the little piles of hidden clutter make you break out into a cold sweat.<br />
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Never fear, my friends. The final challenge is just for us!<br />
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Thanks for tagging along with me in the Clutter Busting journey! <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 20 Challenge:</b></span> Take 20 minutes to sit down with a pencil and a calendar, and whatever hot beverage makes you happy, and make a plan. You have spent a few minutes every day, for the last twenty days, clutter busting your home. Why stop now? Maybe <i>daily</i> clutter busting isn't possible. But how about weekly? Or even two or three times a week? Make a plan to bust up that clutter a little bite at a time! And remember: don't worry what you haven't done yet. Celebrate what you've already accomplished! Now get out there and clutter bust away! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-20345644639444460002015-05-15T06:16:00.002-07:002015-05-15T06:16:46.985-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello, internetlings. </div>
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So we are on day 15 of our Clutter Buster Challenge. No, you did not miss anything. We may or may not have skipped a couple days. </div>
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So here's today's lesson: Sometimes we get thrown off our goals. Babies teeth. Kiddos get sick. Schedules fill up. And the housework has to stop for a bit. </div>
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But you know what? When the dust settles, we can pick back up where we left off and get back to work! </div>
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Today, I will dive into a large, messy, cluttered closet. My plan is to go through one box at a time, only pulling out what can be put back in about 20 minutes. </div>
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Won't you join me? </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Today's Clutter Buster Challenge: </b></span>We've done lots of little steps; now it's time for a big one! Let's tackle that big project you've been putting off. Start with a small bite. Pull out one box. Sort through one stack. Only pull out what you can sort in 20 minutes. After that 20 minutes is done, you can make the decision to stop and return tomorrow, or go another 20 minutes today. (Pro Tip: minimize, minimize, minimize! Don't just pull it out, move it around, and put it back! Ask yourself: Do I love it? Do I need? When was the last time I used it?) </div>
Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-4192833196346591222015-05-13T20:32:00.001-07:002015-05-13T20:32:24.127-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 9Day 9 Challenge: Recruit the family! Grab the kids and clean out that toy box! Bat your eyelashes at the hubs and work on the master bathroom closet. "Many hands make light work" and all that. So ask for help and see how much you can accomplish together! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-35944163508431401922015-05-11T18:42:00.002-07:002015-05-11T18:42:31.916-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, my people. It's Monday, and we're back at it!<br />
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We all have them. Hiding there, out of site. The all consuming junk drawer.<br />
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Oy.<br />
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I actually have one in every room.<br />
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And you know what? I am totally okay with that. I love my junk drawers. They are the perfect "holding place" for items that don't have homes yet. Better they fill up a random drawer than clutter up my tables and counter tops (and floors, and beds, and minivan....)<br />
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But there's one problem with using them - they fill up. And right now, I can't open mine at all. It's too stuffed with, well, junk.<br />
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So I spent my 20 minutes re-homing all the items that have been temporarily stored in my primary junk drawer in the kitchen.<br />
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I dumped it out on the kitchen table, replaced some of the items (like matches and rubber bands), threw out or donated a few things, found new homes for everything else.<br />
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A place for everything, and everything in its place. And all that jazz.<br />
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I will probably never get rid of my junk drawers completely. I love them and use them too much. But I will add them to the regular cleaning schedule to be organized and maintained more frequently. <br />
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<b>Day 8 Challenge:</b> Clean out your junk drawer! In the kitchen, the bedside table, the coffee table. Wherever it is, re-home its contents! Easy peasy mac 'n' cheesy! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-40702088442436712152015-05-10T19:24:00.001-07:002015-05-10T19:25:29.683-07:00Happy Mothers Day<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOGfJpCEczGad9GhJF2ByzmKImH6AZ8i8iiuQz-4sOnrrP1WsTwoBHc2PjLwi2PKN8vxxQtMQChEVlsJYB9pW6Mjd89WSsWI25z-ePuLXhNJPWHkiedLw1r_57c0bd9P40c8hkRv04_yQ/s640/blogger-image-1538367477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOGfJpCEczGad9GhJF2ByzmKImH6AZ8i8iiuQz-4sOnrrP1WsTwoBHc2PjLwi2PKN8vxxQtMQChEVlsJYB9pW6Mjd89WSsWI25z-ePuLXhNJPWHkiedLw1r_57c0bd9P40c8hkRv04_yQ/s640/blogger-image-1538367477.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Tonight I crawled into bed, shoulders sore, feet aching, heart full. I reached up to take my hair down and realized it was actually up in a clip - the clip I use to pull my hair up while doing my makeup... <i>Before I fix my hair in the mornings. </i><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>I had walked around all day with unkempt hair in a 1980's style clip. <br></i><div><br></div><div>And all I could do was laugh. Because, as Mother's Day comes to a close, I can't think of a more appropriate representation of this phase in life. </div><div><br></div><div>Sore shoulders. </div><div><br></div><div>Aching feet. </div><div><br></div><div>Hair that hasn't been brushed since yesterday morning. </div><div><br></div><div>Full heart. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So Happy Mother's Day to all you mamas. To you with the whiny toddler who sat in your lap while you ate your Mother's Day lunch. To you with the crying baby who wouldn't let you sit through a whole church service. To you with the teenager who is growing up too fast. To you who will someday hold your baby in Heaven. To you who mother children not your own. To you who long for children to fill your heart and home. To you who miss the children no longer under your roof. </div><div><br></div><div>To all the mamas and the mamas' hearts: Happy Mothers Day. May your shoulders be massaged, your feet propped up, your hair forgotten, and your heart overflowing. </div></div>Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-49640442615662462642015-05-09T03:36:00.001-07:002015-05-09T03:40:05.489-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 7Sometimes life gets really busy, and I don't know about you, but when that happens, my housework is the first thing to fall by the wayside. <div><br></div><div>Such was my day yesterday. </div><div><br></div><div>So what do you do when it's Friday night at 11pm, and you realize you haven't completed your clutter buster challenge? And you haven't blogged about it either? </div><div><br></div><div>You remember all the things you did right that day, give yourself a little grace, and make plans to clutter bust tomorrow. </div><div><br></div><div>So I'm up and at it a little earlier this morning, with big plans for the weekend. </div><div><br></div><div>And you know what will get a lot of use this weekend? My swagger wagon. The minivan. Her name is <i>Dot</i>.</div><div><br></div><div>But poor Dot has been neglected of late. He is full of wrappers, and toys, and books, and crumbs, and sippy cups, and something sticky in the very back cup holder. </div><div><br></div><div>So my 20 minutes this morning will be devoted to her. Twenty minutes won't make her perfect by any stretch. But it's enough to get the "stuff" cleaned out so we can vacuum and wash her another day. </div><div><br></div><div>Day 7 Challenge: Clutter bust an area your family uses frequently. Maybe it's your car? Maybe it's the basket of bathtub toys? The shoe holder by the back door? Take 20 minutes to clean it out and organize it. Your weekend will thank you. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-12146671680211270912015-05-07T17:12:00.001-07:002015-05-07T17:12:39.431-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 6This mama has a cold and a migraine. <div><br></div><div>This mama has two babies with ear infections. </div><div><br></div><div>This mama doesn't feel like busting anything except a nap on the couch! </div><div><br></div><div>Nevertheless, the clutter busting must go on. </div><div><br></div><div>So today I sat on the couch and cleaned out my many bags - my wallet, my purse, my diaper bag. Just call me the bag lady.</div><div><br></div><div>At least now they're organized bags. </div><div><br></div><div><b>Day 6 Challenge: </b>Clean out your bags! Pull up your Netflix, grab a cup of warm lemon tea, complain to your husband about how crappy you feel, and spend the next 20 minutes organizing your wallet, purse, and/or diaper bag. Enjoy! </div>Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-81879280266092184242015-05-06T05:08:00.001-07:002015-05-06T05:08:07.011-07:00Clutter Buster Challenge: Day 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Getting organized is fairly easy. It's about rearranging our "stuff" in a way that it's easily accessible (and pleasant to the eyes). Refold the sheets, and stack them neatly. Line up the spices in alphabetical order. Put pencils in one box, crayons in another, markers in a third.<br />
<br />
Easy peasy, mac 'n' cheesy.<br />
<br />
Staying organized - now that's a horse of a different color.<br />
<br />
That's not even a horse.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a unicorn. </span><br />
<br />
It's magical, and elegant, and peaceful, and always elusive. No one really knows if it exists. (At least, no one who lives with other <strike>horses</strike> human beings.)<br />
<br />
I myself have only experienced the "staying organized" unicorn once in my life. It was when we were living in South Korea. That entire year - even with a toddler and a newborn running things - our home stayed tidy and organized.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because everything we owned could fit in 6-8 suitcases. <br />
<br />
We had one outfit for "church" that we wore every Sunday. Two pairs of pants and six or seven shirts for the other days of the week. Toys fit in one small box in Miss C's room. A couple pairs of shoes each. Minimal kitchen gadgets and appliances. (I didn't even have a coffee pot - what?!)<br />
<br />
So what's my point? You and I can rearrange our "stuff" all day long, and it could look tidy for a minute. <span style="font-size: large;">But if we really want to live an organized <i>life</i>, we have to cull.</span> Cut. Reduce. Minimize. Get rid of that junk. <br />
<br />
My Goodwill pile is growing by the day. How about yours?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 5 Challenge:</b></span> Find 10-20 items in your house that you can sell or donate. Then go put them in the trunk of your car. Don't create a pile in your home; you will be too tempted to put some of the items back. Put them in the trunk of your car, and swing by your nearest donation place the next time you're out and about. Be sure to comment and let us know what you're getting rid of today! Maybe it will be something we haven't thought of, and we can join you! <br />
<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-16568898908782240322015-05-04T10:24:00.003-07:002015-05-04T20:41:16.220-07:00Clutter-Buster Challenge: Day 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My favorite cleaning tool in the world is a simple egg timer. </div>
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What's that you say? An egg timer isn't a cleaning tool? </div>
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<i>I beg to differ, my dear. </i></div>
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I am convinced that an egg timer and a good apron are all that's required to keep a semi-clean house. (And semi-clean is about as good as it gets 'round these parts.) </div>
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<i> </i></div>
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Here's why: </div>
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1. An egg timer helps me tackle big projects with small steps. I determine how much time I have, or how much time I'm willing to give. Then I set the timer and get to work. <span style="font-size: large;">It helps me overcome Perfection Paralysis</span> which tells me that if I can't do it all right now, then I shouldn't even start. It also defeats my procrastination when I just don't feel like spending three hours cleaning something. I tell myself, "I'm going to clean for 20 minutes." <i>I can do anything for 20 minutes.</i> When the timer runs out, I stop working, whether I'm done or not. </div>
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2. An egg timer keeps me focused. Studies have shown that<span style="font-size: large;"> multi-tasking doesn't actually help us get more accomplished.</span> On the contrary, dividing our time and energy among too many things can hinder our momentum and wear us out more quickly. So my kiddos and husband know: if the timer is set, leave mom alone (unless they want to get recruited for work). I can get more done in 20 minutes (with a timer), than in an hour full of "multi-tasking." </div>
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3. An egg timer shows me that housework doesn't take as long as I think it does. Today I woke up knowing I had to mop my kitchen floor. Ugh. I really hate that job. It feels detailed and time consuming, and I just wasn't in the mood. So I pulled out the handy dandy egg timer and set it for 20 minutes. By the time the bell dinged, I had swept my entire kitchen, moved the kitchen chairs out of the way, and mopped 3/4 of my floors. It took me an additional 4 minutes to finish the job (which I did). Who knew that sweeping/mopping my floors only took 24 minutes?! </div>
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If you don't have an egg timer, you can use a microwave or oven timer - or even your phone! I like the egg timer because the "tick tick tick" reminds me to stay on task,and it has a very satisfying "ding!" at the end. So grab your timer today, turn on some upbeat music, let your family know what's going on, and get to work! </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Day 4 Challenge: </span></b><span style="font-size: small;">Pick one area that you have been putting off. Maybe, like me, it's mopping your kitchen floors. Maybe it's wiping down cabinets or cleaning behind your toilet. Maybe it's an overflowing closet. Set your timer for 20 minutes and get after it! When the timer goes off, you're done! Comment below and let us know how it went! Did you finish in the 20 minutes? Did you realize it would only take a few more minutes to finish and kept going? Did you make a dent in an otherwise daunting task? We want to celebrate with you; so let us know! </span></div>
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<br>Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-15743101145467858162015-05-03T18:16:00.001-07:002015-05-03T18:16:23.700-07:00Clutter-Buster Challenge: Day 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBjWxqNWNu8ndeN0v4H1euk-tcSGI4NAtMFxhOohRostqV9OyoP3GgFghd7NCCh_TNG5q8VAXwzpjT02dL-09k_IMbUUiQGcX5MbPgJa2tD9hSamQDkQ-gfBp_dPbGw15KDT951uqHRt9/s1600/EXT+HERE.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBjWxqNWNu8ndeN0v4H1euk-tcSGI4NAtMFxhOohRostqV9OyoP3GgFghd7NCCh_TNG5q8VAXwzpjT02dL-09k_IMbUUiQGcX5MbPgJa2tD9hSamQDkQ-gfBp_dPbGw15KDT951uqHRt9/s1600/EXT+HERE.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
A few days ago, two large shelves in our laundry room fell.<br />
<br />
Off the wall.<br />
<br />
And spilled a can of paint.<br />
<br />
Yeah...<br />
<br />
We were within an hour of having our entire youth group (and families) descend onto our property for a bonfire and had no time to deal with any of it.<br />
<br />
We laid down some paper bags over the paint so we could have access to the items we needed for that night. We stacked the remaining paint cans in the corner. And we made plans to come back later and clean it up.<br />
<br />
Only, later, the paint had dried and caused the paper bags to stick to the laundry room floor. We peeled up what we could and re-stacked the paint cans a little further out of the way. But the whole room has become an impractical storage area that needs a few hours of concentrated work. <br />
<br />
Eight days later, it still sits like that. The only evidence of our presence is the increase in the trashcan lint from cleaning out the lint trap.<br />
<br />
So why am I doing things like de-cluttering a corner of my kitchen cabinet when I've got <i>that mess</i> going on? <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Two reasons: </span><br />
<br />
One: I don't have hours to dedicate to a big project. I have minutes. <span style="font-size: large;">And our temptation when we have minutes, and not hours, is to do nothing.</span> Because, really, what can we do in minutes when there are so many hours of work to be done? But minutes make hours, my friends. Two days ago I spent 20 minutes organizing my cleaning closet. Yesterday, I spent 20 minutes de-cluttering some counter space. Today, I spent 20 minutes on a drawer under my stove. And you know what? In the last three days, I have spent a total of <i>one hour</i> de-cluttering my home. Over 20 days, that's a minimum of 400 minutes. <span style="font-size: large;">A little more than 6.5 hours. </span><br />
<br />
So let's suppose I do suddenly have a free Saturday, where I can dedicate hours to a project. Instead of splitting those hours clutter-busting my house, I am free to dedicate them to the big project of cleaning out the laundry room. See how that works? <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And Two:</span> Willpower is a muscle. We often think it's something we "do have" or "don't have." But the truth is that it is something we build. So maybe I don't have the willpower today to tackle a huge task like reorganizing the laundry room. But I do have the willpower to clutter-bust for 20 minutes. And maybe tomorrow it will be 30 minutes? Or even an hour! Soon, tackling that mammoth project will feel normal, maybe even easy? (I'll be sure to let you know when/if that happens.) Regardless, we don't have job-specific willpower. Building that muscle affects other areas too: eating, exercising, daily quiet times, patience with our children (and spouses). So let's flex those muscles, people! You can do anything for 20 minutes! <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 3 Challenge</b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">:</span></b> Do something just for you! Clutter bust an area that no guest will ever see, but you know needs work. For me? It's the pots and pans drawer under my stove. It seems to be a magnet for crumbs and food; so I emptied it, washed it out, and reorganized it. For you? Maybe it's a jewelry box or "unmentionables" drawer. Maybe a linen closet or the bottom of your clothes closet. Do something that will make you smile to look at, even if it's never seen by anyone else! Be sure to jump in the comments and let us know what you're tackling today! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-27662361700824266152015-05-02T18:30:00.000-07:002015-05-02T18:32:34.125-07:00Clutter-Buster Challenge: Day 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBjWxqNWNu8ndeN0v4H1euk-tcSGI4NAtMFxhOohRostqV9OyoP3GgFghd7NCCh_TNG5q8VAXwzpjT02dL-09k_IMbUUiQGcX5MbPgJa2tD9hSamQDkQ-gfBp_dPbGw15KDT951uqHRt9/s1600/EXT+HERE.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBjWxqNWNu8ndeN0v4H1euk-tcSGI4NAtMFxhOohRostqV9OyoP3GgFghd7NCCh_TNG5q8VAXwzpjT02dL-09k_IMbUUiQGcX5MbPgJa2tD9hSamQDkQ-gfBp_dPbGw15KDT951uqHRt9/s1600/EXT+HERE.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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*<i>M</i>y <i>computer is having issues loading new pictures. Hopefully I'll get the issue resolved and be up and running tomorrow! </i> <br />
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Today is a busy day for our family. So I literally have only 15-20 minutes to focus on a clutter-buster project.<br />
<br />
I decided my kitchen is a great place to start because it's the room where I spend most of my "mom" time. It's where we do homework. Where we do arts and crafts. Where I cook. Where we eat. Where the kids' get dressed. (Yep, the kids' dresser is in the kitchen, where it doubles as a coffee bar <i>for moi</i>.) <br />
<br />
So I looked around the room and tried to find one spot that bugs me. One spot that seems like things are not quite in the right place.<br />
<br />
For me, it's in a corner of my counter top between the sink and the stove:<br />
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<i>*See, this would be a perfect spot for me to insert a picture</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> of said corner, complete with piled up dishes and baby bottles. </i></div>
<br />
This spot is supposed to be the "dish drain" area. I have a <a href="http://www.target.com/p/boon-lawn-drying-rack-large-green/-/A-13600340#prodSlot=medium_1_4&term=bottle+rack" target="_blank">Boon Lawn Drying Rack</a> where, in theory, my bottles and accessories dry before being put away. I also have a cheap-o plastic dish drying rack that usually contains our juicer parts and a couple large cookie sheets that won't fit in our dishwasher.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>*Insert second picture. Stupid computer. </i> </div>
<br />
This corner is always cluttered and impractical. My dish rack isn't the right shape for the items I usually dry (cookie sheets and large pots), and since I nurse 99.9% of the time, the Boon Lawn has become a catch-all for any small plastic item that doesn't have a permanent home.<br />
<br />
I set my timer for 20 minutes and got to work.<br />
<br />
First things first, I have too many bottles for one mostly-breastfed baby boy. So all but 2 bottles went into the Goodwill bag, as did my beloved Boon Lawn. Farewell thee well, faithful companion.<br />
<br />
Moving on, the dish dryer isn't working for what I need. It too landed in the goodwill bag after a good washing.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I had to decide what would work for that space.</span><br />
<br />
For now? A dishtowel.<br />
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*<i>Insert picture of newly organized corner, complete with </i></div>
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<i>clean towel for drying future clean dishes. It would've been inspirational, trust me. </i> </div>
<br />
It absorbs the moisture, is easily replaced if it gets dirty or soured, and has the space for the items I need to drain in that corner.<br />
<br />
Total time: 23 minutes.<br />
<br />
It's not life-changing, but it is a peaceful place for the eyes to land. And it will make washing dishes and cooking that much more enjoyable. And mainly? It feels good to check it off my list.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Day 2 Challenge: </span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Clutter bust an area that you see everyday. You know what I mean. That corner of "stuff" you meant to put away after your last camping trip. Or the mound of mismatched socks sitting on the loveseat. Some small pile of clutter that you can bust in twenty minutes or less. Turn on some music, set your timer, and have fun! </span></span><br />
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<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-26921861977818598752015-05-01T08:25:00.001-07:002015-05-01T09:04:21.358-07:00Clutter-Buster Challenge: Day 1Spring turns me into a spaz. The first string of warm days feel a little like waking up from a long winter's nap, only to find your nest has been ravaged by squirrels. The warm rays come streaming through my dirty window panes, and land gently on the layers of dust and clutter that have accumulated during the gray, winter months.<br />
<br />
There are <i>suddenly</i> piles of clutter that need to be sorted (and taken to Goodwill). There are rooms that need to be painted, furniture that needs to be steam cleaned, cobwebs that need to be swatted, and blinds that need to be dusted.<br />
<br />
But when it comes down to it, I just want to <strike>play</strike> work outside. I want to separate bulbs and lambs ear. I want to paint my chicken coop. I want to mulch the flower beds and plant the garden and <strike>lay on a blanket and read a book and sip lemonade</strike> do other productive things.<br />
<br />
And this year, having chickens and ducks roaming the yard while I'm outside <strike>playing</strike> working has made the temptation so much stronger. <br />
<br />
I'd love to tell you that I have chosen housework. I've been a good homemaker and mopped my floors and dusted the cobwebs and kept the laundry in check.<br />
<br />
I'd love to tell you that....<br />
<br />
<i>Anyways. </i><br />
<br />
Today is the first day of May. The last month my two older kiddos will be in school. The month before the chaos and fun of summer.<br />
<br />
This is my best opportunity to get these things in check.<br />
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So I'm declaring May to be...<br />
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<a href="http://bit.ly/1HYd6UJ" target="_blank"><img alt="http://bit.ly/1HYd6UJ" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZLmTvERjRTyTAdATLGZWTN464FJ9ERGeWsGikq9y5BHvwqQkE_pK_4RCqU2Zk24Q4j70ROv4W0l_bsGjR6Ci6o2MiIDvkxbBqANODD7MRAGhEiGtFR3_ww8Akm8dAhCSO5kw52dDRRRk/s1600/EXT+HERE.png" height="400" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Why not 30 days? It's very simple... I'm going to the beach at the end of the month. (WOO HOOOOO!)<br />
<br />
Everyday, there will be a new homemaking challenge. Some will be a quick 10-15 minute job (like knocking down cobwebs or dusting ceiling fans). Some will be a bit longer, but still manageable (like culling my summer wardrobe). Each challenge will be something that can be completed during nap time because, ya know, that's all the time I have.<br />
<br />
You can join me in doing the challenges I'm doing, or you can spend 15-20 minutes on your own challenges! Either way, be sure to check in every day from now until May 20, and let us know how you're de-cluttering your space!<br />
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Let's make peaceful homes for ourselves and our families before summertime hits! <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 1 Challenge</b><b>:</b></span> Get prepared! Spend a few minutes today going through your cleaning supplies. Throw out empty bottles. Make a shopping list of items you might need for cleaning and organizing. Throw your apron in the wash so it's pretty and clean for tomorrow's challenge. As you go about your day today, start making a mental checklist of things you want to accomplish in your home in the next 20 days. Remember: nothing that takes longer than one nap time! Have fun! <br />
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<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-41527615202360885312015-04-15T07:45:00.000-07:002015-12-29T10:28:32.545-08:00The Galileo Effect: Let's Talk About ChurchYou are invited to a dinner party, and you are asked to bring one guest. It can be any person - dead or alive. Who do you bring?<br />
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My answer is always the same: Galileo Galilei.<br />
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I love that dude.<br />
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His name alone is epic. <br />
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Philosopher. Mathematician. Astronomer. Physicist.<br />
<br />
Einstein called him "The Father of Modern Science."<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He invented the telescope, for gosh sakes. </span><br />
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But here's what I love most about him:<br />
<br />
Before he (and a guy named Copernicus) came onto the scene, the scientific community operated under the false assumption that the <span style="font-size: large;">
universe revolved around the Earth.</span> (This belief is called <i>geocentrism</i>. There's your random fact of the day.) Everyone's calculations were all out
of whack, and no one could understand why. Then 'Pernicus and 'Leo
said, "Slow that roll. Y'all have got it all wrong. The universe
doesn't circle the Earth! The Earth (and the rest of our Solar System)
circles the Sun! WutWut?!?" <span style="font-size: large;">And then the human race sent a couple guys to
walk on the moon.</span> More or less.<br />
<br />
I would love to sit down with 'Leo and ask him: How? How did you know to question the very basis for all stellar calculations? And more importantly, after you questioned it - and proved it wrong -<span style="font-size: large;"> how did you go about changing the minds of the entire world? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I want to know</span> because we have our own version of geocentrism masquerading as a fact in the American Church. </span><br />
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It goes something like this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">My life's priorities should be...</span><br />
First - God.<br />
Second - Family.<br />
Third - Work.<br />
Fourth (or Tenth) - Church<br />
And so on and so forth... </blockquote>
We operate (and make our daily calculations) around the assumption that our lives - our family, our jobs, our volunteer efforts, our passions - are central. And the Church must fit into and around those priorities.<br />
<br />
But let's take a look at what Scripture says in Ephesians 1:23(MSG)<br />
<span class="verse-23"></span><br />
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<b>"The church, you see, is not peripheral to the world; the world is peripheral to the church. </b>The church is Christ's body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence.<b>"</b></blockquote>
Did you catch that? Everything we do. Our life. Our world. It's all peripheral to the Church.<br />
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We think like this: We are moms. We are wives. We are employees. We are volunteers. We are home makers.<span style="font-size: large;"> And we go to church. </span><br />
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When scripture tells us it's more like this: We are the church. And in being the church, we fulfill our rolls as moms, wives, employees, volunteers, or homemakers.<br />
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It's not that church comes first in our long list of priorities. It's that church is a part of every single thing we do. It's who we are.<br />
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Galileo's discovery changed the course of humankind. It changed our most basic calculations, and thereby shaped our history. It mattered.<br />
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But why does it matter that the world is actually peripheral to the church, and not (as we have assumed) further down in a long list priorities?<br />
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Let's look at the second part of that verse:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>"</b>The church, you see, is not peripheral to the world; the world is peripheral to the church. <b>The church is Christ's body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence."</b></blockquote>
Did you catch that? Do you see it? <br />
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How will human trafficking be stopped? Through the Church.<br />
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How will addictions be broken and families restored? Through the Church.<br />
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How will adoption overtake abortion? Through the Church. <br />
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How will the hungry in our world be fed? The homeless find homes? The lost and hurting find redemption and healing?<br />
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It's all through the Church.<br />
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Because it's all through Christ. And "the church is Christ's body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence."<br />
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So let's bring it home.<br />
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How will your marriage be strengthen and restored?<br />
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How will your family find peace and joy?<br />
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How will you battle depression?<br />
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How will you make a difference with your life?<br />
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How will you raise Godly children in a world stacked against them?<br />
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It's all through the Church, y'all.<br />
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And not just attending on Sunday mornings. The change starts when we begin to live this verse, when our world becomes peripheral to the Church. When we stop saying "I'm serving at the church instead of spending time with my family" and we start saying, "I'm spending time with my family by serving <span style="font-size: large;">with them </span>at the church."<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So what can you do this week to start making that shift?</span> What is your next step? If you don't have a local church where you are planted, maybe start by attending one this Sunday morning. If you are faithfully attending a local church, find a place to serve. Change a diaper. Clean a toilet. Make coffee. Open doors. Do something. Get connected. <br />
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And if you are already planted in a church and serving faithfully, <span style="font-size: large;">what is your next step?</span> Can you tell someone about how it changed your life? Can you encourage someone to take their next step? Can you start the Galileo Effect in your local church? (We will chat about this over coffee later...)<br />
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Comment below and let us know what step you plan to take <span style="font-size: large;">this week</span> in making the Church central to your world. <br />
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<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-1994268756598257332015-04-09T06:37:00.000-07:002015-04-09T06:49:06.887-07:00Pinterest Perfection: Playroom ArtSpring Break has come and gone, and though the forecast called for rain all week, it actually only rained the very last day. Luckily, in anticipation for a whole week of rain, I had some fun art projects stored away for the kiddos to do.<br />
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Primarily, I wanted some art to hang in the playroom. We will be painting/redecorating in there shortly, and I wanted to create a few "inspiration" pieces to use for color scheme, etc.<br />
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Thank you <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/brandythixton/new-playroomschool-room/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> for this wonderful idea! <br />
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Thursday night, Miss M (5) and I went on a "date night" to - where else? - The Dollar Tree. Give a five year old a five dollar bill and a trip to The Dollar Tree, and she will take five hours to pick out five things. No joke. We didn't have five hours; so we worked together to pick out a few toys for our little project. <br />
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A turtle. A butterfly. A dinosaur. A boat. A whale.<br />
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We also picked up a few 5x5" wooden squares from Hobby Lobby. My plan was to use canvas, but the wood was a fraction of the cost. Whoop whoop! <br />
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The next morning, I put a plastic table cloth on the kitchen table and set out our previously chosen paint colors.<br />
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These babies were on sale at Hobby Lobby for about $.75 each. </div>
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We took turns painting each piece - the blocks and the toys. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3ImweOxzqY59qDB2XNwRk9a3AJOCNRFymEgNMRQ0gSvfuXIkxq5jEOC-Cb-NTZlFO-vugYgJQ4xu3w-XJaj89sVvY0lPW2tdRj4qr21N1eCEgl6aDA7P-GJJuIGjhMeUqVjgbpOCoQaj/s1600/DSC_0478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3ImweOxzqY59qDB2XNwRk9a3AJOCNRFymEgNMRQ0gSvfuXIkxq5jEOC-Cb-NTZlFO-vugYgJQ4xu3w-XJaj89sVvY0lPW2tdRj4qr21N1eCEgl6aDA7P-GJJuIGjhMeUqVjgbpOCoQaj/s1600/DSC_0478.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss C (8)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicVNUjQWiedhh5gjl1CbsnzUYMfec7f8RB5MOeOZPS7P47C4LVTv3zk_WttCJsAogP6Suo3dX_PEWgL837aky1E8DcRMJ8Y7HxQo5sX_04GmNegSXQmTvbZtOFNk_OiXZ_hyIO4d7KHHp/s1600/DSC_0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicVNUjQWiedhh5gjl1CbsnzUYMfec7f8RB5MOeOZPS7P47C4LVTv3zk_WttCJsAogP6Suo3dX_PEWgL837aky1E8DcRMJ8Y7HxQo5sX_04GmNegSXQmTvbZtOFNk_OiXZ_hyIO4d7KHHp/s1600/DSC_0448.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss M (5)</td></tr>
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It took several coats, and a pretty big mess. </div>
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One site said spray paint was the fastest way to cover everything, but where's the fun in that? </div>
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When everything dried, we positioned the toys on the blocks and secured with hot glue. </div>
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Then we hung them up above the window in the playroom.<br />
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Easy peasy, and fun to boot! </div>
Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-90848037725083585292015-03-23T10:02:00.000-07:002015-03-23T10:14:15.045-07:00We Can Do Hard ThingsA couple weeks ago, I started a post to tell you about a fun art project I did with the kids. It was Spring<br />
Break, and we spent a rainy day gathered around the kitchen table painting, and laughing, and creating art for the play room wall.<br />
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A few days later, I set the table for dinner, complete with "fancy" glasses and candlesticks. This is something we do a couple times a week, and I had plans to tell you all about it.<br />
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Then I started a post entitled, "5 Things that Happened When I Stopped Saying 'Hurry.'" I had big plans for that one.<br />
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I had a post about how the chicken coop is coming along. (Most of the chickens and both ducks have "officially" vacated my coffee table and bath tub and are now residing in a semi-completed coop.)<br />
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I had plans, folks. Big plans.<br />
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But my plans never seem to work out these days.<br />
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Mr. J (4mos) is teething (maybe???) and goes on periodic nursing strikes. He's fussy to the max, but refuses to eat or sleep. So that's fun.<br />
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Miss PJ (18mos) is going through a "cognitive leap." That's a fancy term the "professionals" use to mean she's going <span style="font-size: large;">bat-**** crazy</span>. She's transitioning from two naps to one, wanting a later (less peaceful) bedtime, cutting <span style="font-size: large;">four</span> teeth, working through some food allergies, and trying to talk. (That last one means this: she wants to talk, but can't, gets frustrated by her lack of communication, and flails in the floor while her parents and siblings frantically hold things out to her to see if it's what she wants: "Snack? Water? Doll? Ball? Blanket? Hug? Duck? <span style="font-size: large;">Prozac?!</span>")<br />
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Miss C (8) and Miss M (5) have been ever so patient with the crazy babies while fighting their own double ear infections, sore throats, and fevers. So there's that.<br />
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I have never worked so hard in my life for so little results. From the time my feet hit the floor until the last Little is asleep at night, I<span style="font-size: large;"> do not stop</span>. Yet at any given point, my laundry is behind, my dishes are piled up, my floor is unswept, and my hair is unwashed.<br />
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In the midst of it all, the PreacherMan and I have started working out again. And here's what I know about the first few weeks back at the gym. My muscles don't work right. Everything feels awkward and silly. I'm sore for days after a workout. And I see zero results. It would be easy to give up.<br />
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But here's what else I know: with time and consistency, those muscles start to build. The movements feel less awkward, and even fun. My body is a little less sore and a little more defined. The numbers on the scale and the reflection in the mirror start to change.<br />
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So here's what I'm telling myself, and what I'm telling you, in this season of parenting: This is all new. It's hard. It's a stretch. It feels awkward and painful and yields little results.<br />
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But we keep going. We push a little harder. We dig a little deeper. We find that survivor - that champion - that's inside each of us, and we push her to her max. Because someday (hopefully soon), it will all become a little less awkward, a little less chaotic, a little less painful, with a few more results. And it won't be because life has become easier, it will be because we have become stronger.<br />
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In the meantime, don't worry about what you're not. Ain't nobody got time for that. Think about who you're becoming and what you're accomplishing in these little people. Take a deep breath, a sip of coffee, and a moment to pray. Then jump in and do it. We got this, you and I. We can do hard things. Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-37376587603135879232015-03-14T19:37:00.003-07:002015-03-14T19:42:42.926-07:00Animal UpdateIt's been a bit since we last chatted. So allow me to catch you up:<br />
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1. We got four more chickens."Easter Eggers." They will have blue/green eggs. I might have a problem.<br />
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2. The first set of chicks we purchased are getting huge. They love to roost on the edge of the brood box, <i>tail feathers out.</i> You can imagine how this thrills me. Cleaning chicken poop off my toddler's hands is <span style="font-size: large;">my favorite.</span><br />
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3. We put chicken wire over the brood box to keep the chickens from roosting on the edge. This works, most of the time.<br />
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4. <span style="font-size: large;">Ducks are disgusting animals</span> who grow like they've been injected with radioactive material. They have no business in a human's home. They will be venturing into the great outdoors promptly.<br />
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5. But they're really, super cute, with lots of personality. And the girls love them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0ZGD3xWE2IJ_IB6hh1vHGpkalb-Tyzj3pSjZbZqSCh2qSSG2z7mmib4UZeY9VHKBj2hfTn-B0EzJrsvB5ga28YsQtMSacAh5fgsm47IHIfQqZb5Jga_72n3dgWXjZPP8WglMgnUKOWv2/s1600/chloe+and+duck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0ZGD3xWE2IJ_IB6hh1vHGpkalb-Tyzj3pSjZbZqSCh2qSSG2z7mmib4UZeY9VHKBj2hfTn-B0EzJrsvB5ga28YsQtMSacAh5fgsm47IHIfQqZb5Jga_72n3dgWXjZPP8WglMgnUKOWv2/s1600/chloe+and+duck.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Miss C (8) with her duck, Edmund. </td></tr>
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6. It's Spring Break for the kiddos, but not for the PreacherMan. So I'm here at the homestead, by myself, with four kids, nine chicks, two ducks, and two guinea pigs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknqm5BjtRCMBxZf6wfIgE_xvpxJhvPvSzukMQ2riiWi_JMU2J34tPVQhzVQUaotptOVqa1ipVSzQ18_u8SPtuldijR8LSpKC2lu5klH6cj2ehBdKQLIeMpr7P4fbCh3AVezHppkSTkXG3/s1600/Guinea+Pig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknqm5BjtRCMBxZf6wfIgE_xvpxJhvPvSzukMQ2riiWi_JMU2J34tPVQhzVQUaotptOVqa1ipVSzQ18_u8SPtuldijR8LSpKC2lu5klH6cj2ehBdKQLIeMpr7P4fbCh3AVezHppkSTkXG3/s1600/Guinea+Pig.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caspian the Guinea Pig and Dot the Duck meet at last</td></tr>
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7. My house may or may not smell and sound like a zoo. <br />
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8. We have officially named the birds. Ducks: Edmund and Dot. Chicks: Mama, Lucille Ball, Ethel Mae, Agnes, Bitsy, Minnie Pearl, Special, Chipmunk, Jamima.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFMwqimV9mxyZciRO-Njzhpre6AlGZ2KxEIApjKRukVtY48bIaaNj6zb8fLlZ7-0oOfeLB-CCKlK7tkxj0pvRsoNKWQ0xzU0TlDTYYmd6Bxv9q7iP1j-z0xi6g9a7G2Y5NLl_1q6K574U/s1600/chicks+and+ducks1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFMwqimV9mxyZciRO-Njzhpre6AlGZ2KxEIApjKRukVtY48bIaaNj6zb8fLlZ7-0oOfeLB-CCKlK7tkxj0pvRsoNKWQ0xzU0TlDTYYmd6Bxv9q7iP1j-z0xi6g9a7G2Y5NLl_1q6K574U/s1600/chicks+and+ducks1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dot and Edmund</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDf2sYgoY_zkgy4vQAo2D-eGNY6srefiqV0gosAXd7U6sjWf1Fdf9d-ifj-qI3X0pMQrsq8_ewjN3o5L-donkPdC7QTBXOtEouyYNqL49_vozYXT1LLnJ8zQA_nPOrN2NzvEefTbTNRf6/s1600/chicks+and+ducks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDf2sYgoY_zkgy4vQAo2D-eGNY6srefiqV0gosAXd7U6sjWf1Fdf9d-ifj-qI3X0pMQrsq8_ewjN3o5L-donkPdC7QTBXOtEouyYNqL49_vozYXT1LLnJ8zQA_nPOrN2NzvEefTbTNRf6/s1600/chicks+and+ducks2.jpg" height="400" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bitsy</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCSD0EXu4eMBEZXffCs-GCujfqYOmbqxcau3KeAucclF8im1bxHbC5Vrti-CCzQtOOB-CUiWx26hDgs8I_c7csH462hqnVsKLtMHw7nE-OXP6aRC4peddDqlIozxy9MK1bFUnYivI0piB/s1600/chicks+and+ducks3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCSD0EXu4eMBEZXffCs-GCujfqYOmbqxcau3KeAucclF8im1bxHbC5Vrti-CCzQtOOB-CUiWx26hDgs8I_c7csH462hqnVsKLtMHw7nE-OXP6aRC4peddDqlIozxy9MK1bFUnYivI0piB/s1600/chicks+and+ducks3.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucille Ball</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqV8rPXWw-l3IrAPe4BGh7AYIvwyFeqbrq4kOwZ1r056EKqFHdj0Rrlx2filenMotJGzLDV3HUV1QjMtNffxV_1QHhNKmklthsFXg-ProXqf91h2upgPZPqsuxseIMjkqaYiXOGrGYMrPx/s1600/chicks+and+ducks4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqV8rPXWw-l3IrAPe4BGh7AYIvwyFeqbrq4kOwZ1r056EKqFHdj0Rrlx2filenMotJGzLDV3HUV1QjMtNffxV_1QHhNKmklthsFXg-ProXqf91h2upgPZPqsuxseIMjkqaYiXOGrGYMrPx/s1600/chicks+and+ducks4.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ethel Mae</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUMVQPx8Q7ZPJrl6koqzcniUvJplyYGuS9FhtsnzfGjUkWFi8ifkLyo3USccNflNEa_srA07yXLc1PtiL8dEoirtQ8zAEymsYxgX_m057AVnxH7gga58DvXcas_Y4J5SW43Hy9vELs-JC/s1600/chicks+and+ducks6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUMVQPx8Q7ZPJrl6koqzcniUvJplyYGuS9FhtsnzfGjUkWFi8ifkLyo3USccNflNEa_srA07yXLc1PtiL8dEoirtQ8zAEymsYxgX_m057AVnxH7gga58DvXcas_Y4J5SW43Hy9vELs-JC/s1600/chicks+and+ducks6.jpg" height="273" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mama" and Agnes</td></tr>
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9. Taking showers with ducklings is fun (and sometimes necessary when the brood box has become too small).<br />
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10. Life is messy. The house is messy. The kids are messy. The animals are messy. But we're having fun and riding out this "season" with a little patience and a lot of laughter. Two more weeks, and all the animals are heading outside. Just a little longer....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjzdF8azvQld9shS-_3xgqe80QdeXx74eyl6SvyVgy1gjykeHskAOvlSLJqTfu20VDKXu-QsUp7xP06dKPr0uZ34fjJqlHHNSig5xQD7pPiB6UGS0DfFwexGbHgnDdtYwJvDoX_rh6Ijf/s1600/Maple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjzdF8azvQld9shS-_3xgqe80QdeXx74eyl6SvyVgy1gjykeHskAOvlSLJqTfu20VDKXu-QsUp7xP06dKPr0uZ34fjJqlHHNSig5xQD7pPiB6UGS0DfFwexGbHgnDdtYwJvDoX_rh6Ijf/s1600/Maple.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss M (5) with dirty face and wind-blown hair. The best kind of (5) to be. </td></tr>
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<br />Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209339899977980654.post-34701750016711010052015-03-01T15:42:00.001-08:002015-03-01T15:42:41.441-08:00Unhurried LoveI heard it in her voice as she shooed her three kiddos out of Starbucks, that tone of frustration and impatience as little feet hurried through the door she was holding open. <br />
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She was the third mama who had ushered kids in and out during the hour or so that I sat with my laptop, pretending not to eavesdrop. All three moms had walked through those doors - both into and out of the coffee shop - with similar tone and words: <i>Hurry up. Come on. Move. Go go GO!</i> <br />
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This one seemed particularly perturbed as she added:<i> Faster, please!<b> </b></i>The "please" did not mask her impatience as well as she might have hoped. <br />
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I sighed and shook my head and thought: <i><span style="font-size: large;">That's me. I'm her.</span></i> <br />
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I remembered just the morning before, when I sent Miss C (my eight year old) to her room for the third time to get her shoes on. As I haphazardly brushed my five year old's hair, I yelled down the hall: <br />
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"What are you DOING?!"<br />
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"I'm putting my shoes on!" <br />
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"It shouldn't take you this long!!"<br />
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She yelled back something I couldn't understand. <br />
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"Just get them on and get in here, <i>please!</i> We have to hurry!" <br />
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I don't think the "please" masked my impatient tone either. <br />
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She hobbled into the room, one shoe on her foot, holding out the tangled shoelaces of the other shoe. She couldn't get them untied. <br />
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In the meantime, Miss M (my five year old) was tapping her feet to a song she was in the process of writing. <br />
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I whipped her hair through the ponytail holder. "I can't do this while you're moving. Be still." <br />
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She loves to do things at her own pace, often singing or dancing or talking her way through them. I just needed her to focus. <br />
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As I handed Miss C back her untangled shoelaces, I started in: "We are going to be late if you can't pick up the pace..." But before finishing that sentence, I looked up and saw their faces. Like, really saw them. They were tired. And not the kind of tired that happens from a lack of sleep. It's the kind of tired that happens when you're worn down, weary, shrinking. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it wasn't life wearing them down or causing them to shrink. It was me.</span> <br />
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And that realization is what left me sucker-punched as I sat in Starbucks that Saturday morning. Was I rushing my children through their childhood? When they're old and looking back, will they remember only stress and frustration and busyness? C (my eight year old) loves to brush the same handful of hair over and over again "until it's shiny, Mommy." M likes to stop every few seconds to use her toothbrush as a microphone while she belts out her latest Top Hit (that she made up). They both love to pause to give the babies kisses <i>every single time</i> they walk past them. But I wasn't seeing the shiny hair or creativity or deep love they have.<span style="font-size: large;"> I was seeing minutes on a clock.</span> <br />
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So I vowed right then and there that I would stop being in such a hurry. Literally, I would never again say the word "hurry" to my children. If we are late, so be it. Being on time wasn't worth all the stress and frustration and weariness that came with it. <br />
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That was a month ago. And can I tell you? We have never been late. Not once in four weeks. You know what else hasn't happened? Tears as we're getting in the car. Yelling down the hall to get shoes on. Panicked, painful hair brushing. <br />
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I have been forced to find more creative - <i>and loving</i> - ways to get everything done. If a shoe is lost, we all stop and look for it. If Miss M is having a difficult morning getting dressed, I stop and help her, giving snuggles and tickles in the process. They love it when I brush their hair; so we made a rule that if they are completely ready before five after, I'll brush and fix it. After that time, they are on their own, and a simple pony tail will have to do. I honestly can't believe what a positive motivation that has been.<br />
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It has changed the tone of our home in so many ways. <br />
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So I'm issuing a challenge to all you mamas out there. Give it a try. Commit for one week, or one day, or even one morning, to stop saying "hurry." Don't rush them or remind them of the time. Be okay with being late, just once. <br />
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We can do this, you and I. We can change the tone of our home and the memories of their childhood. We can choose not to give into the rush and the panic. We can choose to love slowly and deliberately.<br />
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Give it a whirl, and let us know how it goes in the comments below! Brandy Thixtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07737181993172276008noreply@blogger.com0