So, it’s 1:30 in the afternoon, and I just changed out of my PJs and into a much-upgraded wardrobe of yoga pants and a secondhand tshirt. Matt’s doing churchy things all day long, so I planned for today to have no plans at all. This meant PJs, pumpkin muffins for breakfast, sweet potato waffles for lunch, and who-knows-what for dinner. I cannot tell you what a perfect idea this was. Especially since I was up way too late last night finishing up my charting from work yesterday. Because in peds it seems like it’s either feast or famine… and if you consider every child in Johnston County being sick a “feast”, then it’s been like Thanksgiving on steroids at my workplace over the past few weeks.

Speaking of work, I’m happy to report that I’m back to working only two days a week. While Matt was out of class over Christmas break, I picked up an extra day each week because, well, we’ve gotta eat around here. I continue to have extraordinary esteem for moms who work full-time. I can’t do it. I felt like everything was falling apart around me. I was ready to be at home an extra day a week, and Matt was ready to be out of the house an extra day a week. We’re a match made in Heaven, I tell ya.

Yes, I celebrated my twenty-eighth birthday this week. I didn’t feel old until my dad called to wish me happy birthday and nearly shrieked when I told him my age. (He’s not senile, I swear. He just doesn’t do dates well.) Oh, and Carson keeps claiming that I’m now 55. What?! See if I feed you any more Twizzlers today, boy. I mean… I wouldn’t actually feed my children that junk. No way. All I asked for for my birthday this year was for a day to myself. And for dried fruit. Back to the day to myself, though. The idea came from Courtney who recently partook in a Day recently. My mind started spinning with all of the ideas of what I would do… or not do… if I were left to myself for an entire day. Well, Matt took my not-subtle-at-all hints and gave me a coupon for not one day but FOUR. Four days. All. To. My. Self. Oh the bliss at this glorious thought. Is it wrong to quote a hymn when referring to a day of complete selfishness? Probably.

On the adoption front, I continue to hear lots of great news about movement in Rwanda. Our sweet, sweet caseworker called while I was at work yesterday mentioning some “news” she wanted to share with me. I dropped everything (as in my charting… not the patients) and called her up, excited to hear whatever news she had to offer. She was immediately apologetic when she sensed the excitement in my voice. She had to drop the bomb that we’re actually 142 in line, not 122. Apparently, whoever told our in-country representative our number was a wee bit confused a few months ago and communicated the incorrect number. Matt and I had the same reaction: “whatever.” First off, it makes more sense. We were one of the last people to get our dossiers into Rwanda, so we were originally completely baffled by a lower number than many others. And really, when the wait is already this long, what’s another twenty in line? God has made himself abundantly clear that we need to just stop whining and trust in His timing. We’re in it for the long haul. We know our son is in Rwanda, and we’re going to wait till we have him in our arms. So that’s that.

Thanks for the encouragement on my new obsession with sewing. Aside from the few moments of nearly cursing at the stubborn elastic in The Dress, I have found sewing quite therapeutic. Kind of like writing but with cuter results. This morning, I threw together a bunch of bean bags made out of a few of Matt’s old tshirts. I sewed while Carson stuffed the beans. We made a great pair… until I noticed that he had poured the entire three pound bag of pinto beans out on the guest room floor. They have provided much entertainment this morning, though. I think he’s just as infatuated with my sewing machine as I am.

I can’t wrap up an update post without mentioning sweet Mary Grace. Sweet Mary Grace whose maternal instincts kick into overdrive any time she eyes a baby doll. Seriously, the kid can spot a doll from across Super Walmart at which time she starts screaming for it. Now, this is very reminiscent of how Carson used to act around Hot Wheels. However, back then I wouldn’t feel that bad about caving in every now and then to a new car at one buck a pop. I just can’t break it to my girl, though, that we can’t afford to be dropping extra twenties every time we hit the store for new dolls.

So there you have it. A quick and dirty (or maybe for you, a way too long and borrring) update on life in our house. We’re in a good place right now. The future is hazy and completely unknown but feels bright at the same time. And God is good. What more do we need to know?

1 Comment on life randomness

  1. Happy Birthday Catherine! 28…man, I wish I was 28! I am turning 35 tomorrow. Now THAT makes me feel old:)
    Maybe we'll be in Rwanda at the same time…we're 140. I don't think these numbers mean much anyways, personally. We are feeling like you-yeah, whatever. It will happen when it is meant to and it will all work out for the best. We can't control it anyways, can we? As long as things keep chugging along, we're content.

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