I think I may have mentioned that I’m in the heated, caramel center of a midlife crisis.
The good thing is that MY crisis isn’t costing Hubs a single dime. I’m not buying up all the nail polish with a double-coupon sale at Walgreen’s. I’m not looking for a tiny convertible to drive aimlessly around in at top speeds, and goodness knows I have no interest in a Harley motorcycle with pipes loud enough to blow my eardrums up. And I’m not at all interested in dating someone who’s still in college and spending his summer as a lifeguard, because I already have two children.
MY midlife crisis involves me wanting to unload everything in my house except my favorite coffee mug and my bed.
And maybe my Scentsy pot.
So when my mom showed up this morning and said, “Do you want help cleaning out your kitchen cupboards, since today is the last day to donate items to the church’s garage sale?”, I nearly jumped like a trapeze monkey on a donut overload, while I clapped my hands like a lunatic.
And THAT, people, is how I ended up at the church’s DROP IT OFF RIGHT HERE spot with seven overstuffed garbage bags, two cardboard boxes that were packed tighter than a sorority girl’s Honda Accord in the middle of May when she heads back home, and some bigger items, that didn’t actually fit into any container I had in our house.
Oh, Church Garage Sale! How do I love thee? Let me count all of my donated bags!
I keep opening my cupboards, over and over again, to stare at PRIME, empty kitchen storage real estate, and I swear it’s exactly like one of those musical greeting cards, where the Hallelujah’s shout themselves out with wild abandon when the cabinet door is opened.
So there was THAT little bit of productivity today.
And then, listen. Twenty-seven entire months ago today, Hubs and the boy and I jumped into our car at 4:45 in the morning, and (after stopping at the local Starbucks, because OF COURSE WE DID) we drove ourselves one hundred miles down the interstate to a little spot called Rival Town, because we had met a little birthmom nine weeks earlier, who was FINALLY in labor.
Nine and a half hours after we left home, I watched a beautiful baby boy enter the world and take his first breath. I bawled like a crazy woman, because WE HAD A SECOND CHILD! WE!! HAD!! A SECOND!! CHILD!!!!! And also because IF THIS BIRTHMOM KEEPS HIM NOW, I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO GO BACK HOME WITHOUT INTENSE GRIEF COUNSELING.
She didn’t keep him. Jesus gave him to us.
Thing 2 is twenty-seven months old today.
I absolutely CANNOT get enough of him.
Hubs thinks it’s time to cut them. My midlife crisis train feels like it’s going to derail and completely explode whenever I think about taking him to a salon to reduce the amount of curls crowning his head.
The curls are staying.
Of EVER, people!
And then I’m pretty sure Jesus just sat down and threw His head back with holy laughter, because He knew that Hubs and I would be parenting a new teenager and the terrible twos at exactly the same time.
I’m simply amazed that I’m handling this midlife crisis of mine without buying up ALL the wine at the local liquor store. It might be where my extra side of crazy is coming from right now.
My heart is full with these boys, though.
Just. Plum. Full.
Y’all have a fantastic weekend.