I’m cheating. And I’m okay with that.

To those of you who know my witty writings babblings, you might have noticed that the style of my posts have been a bit different lately. I know, you’re so clever. I can’t pull anything over you. *smile*

Any way, the truth is, as I have stated before, that I’m writing a pregnancy journal that I submit an entry each week. I figured that since I’m writing that one, I might as well publish it here too. That way, I’m not totally ignoring this blog of mine. I’m still writing, obviously, just in a different, non-familiar way.

Which, in it self, is not a bad thing. Only you don’t get bits of wisdom like these:

I don’t like spicy food. If you eat spicy food, then you’ll drown in the lake. And I don’t want to drown”  ~ Malachi

King snakes are okay. But it’s the boa constructors you have to watch out for. Those are the ones that can eat you. ~ Maacah

Daddy, what do you want me to be when I grow up?”, Isaac asked Adam. “I want you to be a good boy”, Adam said. “I want to be a missionary.” “To where, Isaac?”, I asked. “To Africa.”, he replied. “Why to Africa?” “Because the people need to hear about Jesus and I want to see the snowy mountains.”  ~ Isaac

 

And you don’t hear about eye opening sights like these:

* I walk into the kitchen from the bathroom, thinking about what I need to do before bed. I walk around the end of the table and something catches my eye. The door leading to the upstairs is moving. Strange, I think to myself. Everyone else is upstairs already. Not so. As the door swings slowly shut, there on the back of it, hanging by his fingertips, is Malachi. He looks at me over his shoulder and says, “Mommy? I can’t get down. I don’t want to fall.”

* We were up at school, the children were playing in the gym and I was in there keeping an eye on them. Nathaniel wants something and begins to walk across the floor to me. He walks faster and faster, until he’s running at full speed. With his hands in his pockets. Before I can tell him to take his hands out of his pockets and slow down, he falls. Flat on his face, on concrete. And he just lies there. No sound. No movement. I run up to him, quite alarmed. I gently pick him up, asking him if he’s okay and he says to me, “Mama, can I have a sucker?”, with his hands still in his pockets.

* We are up at the senior meal on Friday, at the shelter. Grace is just coming back from the salad bar, with a plate full of food. I look at her that says clearly, “That is way too much food for you, little girl.” She pretends not to see me and sits down. Only she misses her chair and lands smack dab on her backside. She struggles to get up, banging her head on the bottom of the table, knocking over 2 glasses of water. She then steps back to far and trips on the leg of the chair next to her, sending her sideways into the lap of Damaris. Who then takes her mashed banana hands, smearing them on her forehead, nose, and grabs a handful of Grace’s hair. Once I have control over myself from laughter, I get up and help Grace to detangle herself from her sister’s grasp. We set the chair in it’s place, have Grace sit in it with her hair going every which way (thanks to the banana) and clean up the water. All before the prayer.

That is a moment in the life of a little girl who has yet to live up to her name.

Bored? Who me?

Jennifer