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.

the power of an old red shirt.

I remember buying Luke this shirt. I put it in his Daddy survival kit just before Madelyn was born. When he put it on the day that she was born, I never would have dreamed that nearly four years later Madelyn would look this cute dancing around our living room in it!

I never would have dreamed that her laughter would literally fill our house

or that she would be so precocious, full of wit, charm and silliness.

If you told me that the little girl we met for the first time that day nearly four years ago, whose chest was pounding so fast that my eyes could not count the beats no matter how hard I tried, would be dancing through the living room singing, "My God is not dead, He is surely alive" at the top of her lungs in the same shirt that her daddy first held her in, I am not sure I would have believed you.

Tonight, after a day where her sassy little three year old personality almost made me crazy, I am immensely grateful for the way this worn out, red super hero shirt brought me to a place of humble thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving for this spunky girl who inspires me to enjoy the ins and outs of daily life more.

Thanksgiving for her health.

Thanksgiving for her thoughtful ways.

Thanksgiving for the way she loves unconditionally.

I am indescribably thankful to be Madelyn's mom.

Carefree and Three

The weather has been so nice considering it is July in Texas! We have taken full advantage of the amazing and unseasonably cool temperatures and enjoyed time outside. This morning MK and I took  one of her friends with us to our neighborhood park and made a morning out of it.

The girls played for hours, ate lunch and then played some more.

As I watched these four legs dangle from the bench as they munched on their raisins, I could not hold back a grin that stretched across my face. Someday all too soon these feet will take MK to school, then her first dance and to her first driving lesson. It is no secret that time speeds up when a child enters your life, and as much as I cringe at the thought of my sweet girl growing up, I am thankful that today she got to be three. She was able to play in the dirt, run across bridges, giggle as she hid from a friend during a game of hide and seek and just be three.

Some days I forget that she is only three years old. In one breath I can wish for time to stand still and then in the next expect Madelyn to act like a little adult. No whining. No talking too loud. Share with friends. And on and on. Sometimes I expect her to do all the right things at all the rights times and then I am surprised when she doesn't meet those expectations. Then today, as I watched her play with her friends at the park, I was reminded that she really is only three. Time passes too quickly to not just let her be carefree and three!