Baking the Day Away!

I woke up at 4am and could not go back to sleep. I met a friend for coffee around 6:30am, went to some garage sales and read in the park all before 8am. I got home just in time for Luke to head out of town with the middle school students on a trip to Dallas. Honestly, I was sure that it would be a long, not so fun day based on the simple fact that I already spent four hours out and about before most people got to work. However, I was wrong.

This little ray of sunshine slept in until 10am and when she did finally emerge from her slumber, she snuggled in my lap long enough to read no less than 13 books together. It was perfect!

After all the Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and Mrs. McNosh Hangs Up Her Wash reading that we could take for one morning, we decided that the best possible way to spend the morning would be to bake. So, bake we did.

One dozen cupcakes.

Two cakes.

Two dozen cookies.

The yummiest blueberry pie/cobbler concoction I have ever tasted.

We delivered some. We tasted others. It was fun and before I knew it, it was after 3pm.

We laughed, made messes, cleaned them up, took pictures, loaded the dishwasher, emptied the dishwasher and loaded it again.

Madelyn is the greatest little helper. She loves to have a job. She's pretty great at cracking eggs these days and working the mixer. She takes whatever task you give her very seriously.

She took it upon herself to pick out a couple of blueberry recipes while I tackled the stack of dishes behind her from our first round of fun.

Mid bake fest, MK decided she needed a snack. I let her count out blueberries on to a skewer and then eat them.

She skipped seven both times. I was so confused so I asked her. "Mom, I don't really like the number seven. It isn't my favorite."

This kid was so proud of our pie crust skills. I must say, we make a good team.

It's now nearly midnight and although I can barely keep my eyes open, I can't seem to go to sleep. Luke is coming home and I can't wait!

he's a good man

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of one day walking down the aisle on the most magical day of my life towards a perfect man. Almost six years ago, I did walk down the aisle on a day that means more to me than any other single day of my life towards this man, but he isn't perfect.

In the 13 years that I have known him, our relationship probably hasn't had very many Hollywood screen worthy romance scenes. Our attempts at over-the-top-fairy-tale-special, usually end in bumping heads when we lean in for a kiss or spilling drinks in each other's laps.

But his love for me is real.

He went to no less than 15 different stores with me to find the shirt with the perfect shade of pink to match my dress to wear to our senior prom.

He is the man who walked me across campus in college in the rain on a day when he didn't even have class because he knew I stayed up all night the night before finishing an important project and he didn't want it to get wet.

He humors all of my odd requests to stop at hole in the wall businesses to look for little treasures to decorate our house with and sometimes he even seeks out new places for us to continue the search.

He forgives me when I have spoken out of line, acted in ways that I later regret even before I regret them or made a mistake.

He stood by me in the hospital when I was too weak to stand after having a c-section and held my hand so that I could shower.

He makes me laugh until it hurts almost on a daily basis.

He is slow to anger.

He plays for hours on end with our daughter, takes her on dates and enjoys each moment he spends with her.

He desires for above all else, my heart to be set on Christ.

This man stays up late with his night owl wife watching old, cheesy episodes of our Netflix pick of the month until the wee hours of the morning.

He cheers me on in my endeavors and wants me to pursue my gifts, dreams and talents.

He held my hand as I walked through my Grandmother's house for the very last time.

He works hard, even if that means working multiple jobs, so that I can be at home with our daughter.

He is the man that pursues me simply to let me know that he deeply cares for me.

He does the dishes after most meals, puts Madelyn to bed every night and joyfully serves our family.

He is humble, hardworking, selfless, funny and passionate.

He isn't perfect. He isn't the make believe man that I dreamed of from an early age. He is much better. He is real.

He's a good man. I am thankful for you, Luke Bilberry. So very thankful.