Life’s a Beach

My mom picked up my kids yesterday so they could witness the digging of the swimming pool- to an adult that may seem like watching paint dry but give my kids a tractor to watch and that is getting close to best day ever.  Porter and I had every intention of going over after swim lessons this morning but Miss Tracy was sick, so we dropped off some insulin for Clay and picked up donuts(ironic I know) and came home to do a little house upkeep(you can only label it cleaning if you can still tell you did it by nightfall- house cleaning last exactly 3.5 minutes here which makes it futile and wasteful) I pour my first cup of coffee and take to my chair ( my kids know the one cup rule- mommy is not doing it until after that cup)  sip and realize forgot the sweet n low, I get up and go back to the cabinet, I hear a grating sound I assume is the sand on the floor but in fact is the handle of my coffee cup breaking and punctures me (cue CSI crime scene music) I bled everywhere like a someone trying to shake off a shark bite in my kitchen.  This infuriates me because obviously this was caused by the obnoxious amount of coffee cups we own… that makes perfect sense? SO I bandaged my finger and immediately went to the garage and got a box and filled it with a cabinets worth of mugs no one ever touches- face it I drink from three #olered, #parkcity, and #momfuel.  I load this box into the car and head to my moms.  Pick up kids and come home and immediately start on porch maintenance, because sand…..  I take the baby jumper up the stairs where I discover the apartment is in disarray and think I can knock this out in 5 minutes ( we have guest coming this weekend and I need my work space clean #haircutcity)  Porter informs me he pooped in his  undies- which leads us down the stairs and to the shower- can I just tell you this kid screams like you are water boarding him if you turn the shower on- then I forgot about current job and was on to something new. In the span of the afternoon my kids tracked in 5 loads of sand and changed clothes 10 times, I sat down to clear these thoughts and enjoy some sand soup they made from mint, sand and water and then taste yuck!! For anyone who doesn’t have kids there is a witching hour- for every house it is different but it happens at 6 here, I am trying to cook dinner the twins are asking 15 different questions about what we are having and what it contains, I turn on the greatest showman which holds Porter for two minutes before he is on his helper stool unpacking the produce and dumping water on my recipes then proceeds to throw the grape tomatoes I am dicing onto the floor(I Promise I make my kids mind) I finish dinner which everyone professes to dislike before they even taste it and I have a moment straight off of Beauty and the Beast, you know the one , Belle refuses to come down for dinner saying she isn’t hungry and he roars THEN GO AHEAD AND STARVE!!! I did that- I said eat or go to bed hungry.  To which my daughter replies- Can I go to bed hungry? I think she saw the smoke escape my ears because she changed her mind. 7 oclock strikes and Porter is defcon 5 tired, no nap for someone under 2 is like climbing a mountain he cries hysterically for 10 minutes through teeth brushing and bed routine, we decide to move family devotional to twins room and lay him down, I lay down with him for a moment (not our usual I am a bedtime Nazi) If I close my eyes he watches me – if I open my eyes he closes his, if I try to get up he gives me the ‘slam on the breaks stiff arm’ every mom inherits to get me back on the pillow.  I get up after 20 minutes of this and he wimpers and says I need you- I said nope its bedtime mommy is going downstairs you got it-  (cutest yes ever is uttered ) and I closed the door.  I get down stairs and Clay says I am sorry you had a rough day, all I can do is laugh… rough day? DUDE you are a doctor and the state of Ok voted for medical marajuana yesterday, but he is so graceful, even though he will go back to work after  bed time he is still present with us.  Which cued this thought;

The beach is the perfect day dream for most people, we wish to be in a lawn chair watching the waves roll in and our toes in the sand holding something cold to drink- the good life right? It looks fantastic in pictures and in my mind, I remember going and thinking how cute it is that the cottage floor felt sandy – like you were bringing some of the beauty home.  I no longer feel that way- my house has the feel of a beach house….I find this mind numbingly hilarious, it started with a simple turtle sandbox because Porter loves the sand box and I was looking for a cooler #oklahomasummer option than under the playhouse ( I high fived myself on this purchase because. . he can play there while I cook GENIUS as you can see from above that doesn’t happen) This sand box  is a stroke of genius because well the kids love it, but they are covered in sand constantly.  The other day I exclaim to Clay- ITS LIKE LIVING AT THE BEACH THIS IS RIDICULOUS… to which he replies ehhh and I laugh uncontrollably. This often happens at the ridiculousness that occurs in our wild house but the thing is Life really is a beach isn’t it? It is beautiful, God created it to be wondered and astonished at, but it isn’t always as beautiful as it looks on the post card the mess of it tracks around on our feet and ends up in all the corners and cracks we didn’t even know it could reach, but sand does crazy things the more you track in, it softens your feet, wears down the rough edges of everything it touches…. so I am grateful for the sand on my floor and in my bath tub because it taught me something  -that the fun of life is messy but everything is washable. Even my soul.

2 thoughts on “Life’s a Beach

  1. Witching hour today was 830 tonight, the rude home from church. Gladly no one was behind me. You are so not alone sister! I’m so glad you saw the good in your day and family. God bless you


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.