…which happen to scattered around the whole entire house included in the dishwasher and my bed. We don’t have an actual “playroom” right now (But that is HUGE on my wish list for the next home!) but we do have a play corner. However that corner is a monster that daily takes over every inch in my 950 square foot home. EVERY INCH. What is it about toddlers that make them desire to do the exact opposite of what you intend? I love my kids and I love letting them play but I can’t figure out why they must play everywhere but where they are supposed to! I have given up on keeping the toys contained. There really is no point in it. Toys are everywhere. Weekly I do try to pick the toys up, yes I only said weekly because I don’t have the time or energy to really worry about picking it up daily. Not worth the repeat efforts at all. But I don’t organize the toys except maybe once a month because I really can’t stand non “kitchen” toys being in the kitchen bin or books being on the wrong shelf. I am too OCD for that. Some days I dream about throwing away nearly all of their toys but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have decided that my life will be forever overrun with loud, obnoxious, bright toys and I am just going to have to be ok with it. Kids = Toys and kids are my whole world. So, if you are coming to my house, just remember it’s not really a house it is a 950 square foot toy storage building. Have fun!
…which happen to scattered around the whole entire house included in the dishwasher and my bed. We don’t have an actual “playroom” right now (But that is HUGE on my wish list for the next home!) but we do have a play corner. However that corner is a monster that daily takes over every inch in my 950 square foot home. EVERY INCH. What is it about toddlers that make them desire to do the exact opposite of what you intend? I love my kids and I love letting them play but I can’t figure out why they must play everywhere but where they are supposed to! I have given up on keeping the toys contained. There really is no point in it. Toys are everywhere. Weekly I do try to pick the toys up, yes I only said weekly because I don’t have the time or energy to really worry about picking it up daily. Not worth the repeat efforts at all. But I don’t organize the toys except maybe once a month because I really can’t stand non “kitchen” toys being in the kitchen bin or books being on the wrong shelf. I am too OCD for that. Some days I dream about throwing away nearly all of their toys but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have decided that my life will be forever overrun with loud, obnoxious, bright toys and I am just going to have to be ok with it. Kids = Toys and kids are my whole world. So, if you are coming to my house, just remember it’s not really a house it is a 950 square foot toy storage building. Have fun!
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I teamed up with my awesome big sister to write about cloth diapers on her blog, THE COZY DEN. The first part is up if you want to read!
Yo' Grandma's Cloth Diapers It’s hard hiding part of who I am, a lot harder than I imagined. I never fully turned away from my beliefs. It was very gradual. There was no turning point where I woke up and decided “I don’t believe.” No moment that stands out where I said “I give up.” It didn’t happen overnight but here I am 5 or 6 years later pretending I never cared at all. Pretending that I don’t want to go to church, that I don’t care if my kids never know a Bible verse, pretending that I am happy living this way. It is all an act because inside I am so broken. The person I once was is no longer and all that is left is an actress barely making it by. When I first met him I didn’t realize how it would be. Sure, I “knew” that having different beliefs in a relationship was “wrong.” I know it was frowned upon and “against the Bible.” What I didn’t know is that it destroys you. Never once growing up in church did anyone really explain what happens when you fade away from God and commit to something so far from where you should be. I don’t know why no one steps up and says “this happened to me. It was awful.’” But the truth is, even if they had, I don’t even know if I would have really listened. Being stubborn and strong-headed, I did what I wanted and now I am paying the consequences. I don’t even mention God, praying, church, or the Bible anymore. I laugh along with the negative comments and belittle those who still believe. I pretend like I hate the God to be able to pretend that I am loved by someone incapable of truly loving me. I live in a constant nightmare of fear and torment. Lying in a bed I made, too proud to admit my mistake, too fearful to stand up for myself or my children, I close my eyes and secretly cry for the life I could have had. There is no greater torture then denying who you really are inside. I look at the tattoos on my wrists “loved rom5:8” For God demonstrates His love towards us in that, while we were still sinners Christ died for us. I tell myself that God doesn’t really love me, He doesn’t care about me, or He just doesn’t exist. Most days I think about getting a cover up or using tattoo removing methods to rid myself of the constant reminder that no matter what I really still am loved and that despite all my awful decisions God is still there for me. I wear bracelets that cover them up and I dread every time someone asks “what does your tattoos say?” Marriage is forever. That is one moral I did hold onto. I will never be free from what I have done. I know every day will be the same way. I will never hear my children say…
Nothing could be better than lying on the couch with my children, enjoying some quality time in the morning before beginning our day. Surrounded by my favorite little people, I smile while watching a cheesy, supposedly educational show on Nick Jr. I can smell the fresh scent coming from the bathroom as my husband showers, getting ready for work. All too quickly the bedroom door opens and out steps my finely dressed man ready to take on his day. He kisses me and the kids good bye and heads off to work. Of course, we are sad to see him go but we know in a few hours he will be home to join us for dinner. After the show is over, I ask my oldest to set the table while I make my favorite breakfast, eggs and bacon. Everyone sits down at the table to eat and we laugh and talk and have a great time. Mornings are a peaceful and happy time in our house.
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