My Poor Son

You know, I'd like to have a cute little blog dedicated to all of the delightful and precious little things that my son says...but I can't because it would have to be censored and no, and unfortunately, I am not kidding. It all started, well you know, I'm just going to go ahead and throw it out there. My son says "demmit". That's exactly how he says it. Where on earth did he hear that word? He isn't in pre-school, he's really only around us, his sister, church kids and the babysitter...ahh, the babysitter! It's Karen! She taught him "demmit"!!!! No, no, settle. It wasn't her. Although she was cussed out by him. I shouldn't say that he cusses people out. It's not nice, funny to type out but not funny, I'm sure, to live out. Moving forward. We asked him this (once we figured out what he was saying and man that was a horrifying and sanctifying moment) "son, where on earth did you hear that" and we said "was it mommy" he says "noooo", "was it daddy" , "nooo" "my pop pop says demmit". Oh, Pop Pop. THANKS! Hey, I'm not saying that Chad and I are above saying such a thing but I do know that it wasn't us (this time).

So, Karen was finishing up babysitting when I came downstairs. I told her about what he had been saying and she said "ooooooh, yea, he said that about 100 times". Lovely.

Organization (sorry, not my life part 2 -- but that's coming!)

My husband brought to me the notes from the Men's retreat (he was unable to go, so someone from the church faxed them to him) and asked me to answer some questions for him and I did. I felt so badly because I answered them rather quickly, but it also made me search my self for areas that I'd like to be held accountable in.

You see, I hate to visibly see a mess in my house. I hate clutter. I don't mind if the kitchen cabinets or the linen closets are a pure wreck because you just can't see it. If I can see that something is out of place I just can't function. Can't. I've actually been convicted lately that this is a lazy way to live. Not only is it lazy, it's really ineffective. Being a Home manager means that every aspect of the home is my job to take care of wholly. If my drawers, closets and cabinets are in disarray what does this say about my life, my character, my love for my job as the Home Manager, a wife and a mother to my children? It reeks of selfishness and disorder. Just to give you an idea, here are the things that are unorganized in my home:

1. underneath my bathroom sinks
2. my refrigerator (not right this second because Chad cleaned it yesterday and chucked 5 sippy cups in the sink saying -- hmmm...5 sippy cups!)
3. my linen closet
4. my kitchen cabinets. I'd like to blame the lack of space, but that should make me want to keep it organized.
5. my basement.
6. my closet.
7. the kids closets.
8. the kids drawers
9. my office files
10. the desktop to my computer
11. our family pictures
12. my diaper bag
13. my purse

I think that's about it. Could there actually be anything else? What does that say about me that my house looks good on the outside, but it is a mess on the inside? Probably the way my life has been going over the years where everything appears good, but really? Not so much!

Lord, I pray for your strength. I pray that you would change my heart to want to be organized to better serve you, Father, my husband and my children. I am so encouraged by many girlfriends that take their jobs as Home Manager's very seriously. Please help me to be conscious of your calling on my life Lord, that I might not just take bits and pieces of what I am called to do and excel in that, but with the things that don't come naturally, the harder things Lord. Please help me to be a better home manager. I know that this will bless my husband, it will honor you and it will teach my children the proper way a mommy should love her job and her home.