March 28, 2012


Random photo of Mabes and her Kermie.
Some lyrics are spinning inside of my heart right now:
To the cross I look, and to the cross I cling. Of its suffering, I do drink. Of its work, I do sing. Only my savior, both bruised and crushed, showed that God is love and God is just.
At the cross You beckon me. You draw me gently to my knees and I am lost for words, so lost in love. I'm sweetly broken; Holy surrender.
What a priceless gift, undeserved life have I been given through Christ crucified. You've called me out of death.
You've called me into LIFE. And I was under your wrath, now through the cross I'm reconciled.
Oh the cross I must confess, how wonderous your redeeming love and how great is your faithfulness.
I'm broken for you, my Lord Jesus. What love this is.
Last night, Husband worked at the dining room table while I cooked. It's better than him having to be at the plant, so I'll take it. Anyway, I made something quick and healthy for the 4 littles first and they ate and went on their way*. Then, I sauteed shrimp for tacos for us. I don't care for taco seasoning (and the packaged stuff usually contains MSG, a no-no at our house) but I wanted to make a sauce that was sweet and zippy. Here's what I used:
1/3 C Ortega Taco Sauce, Medium
1/3 C honey
1/4 C plum jelly
4 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp cayenne
14 tsp ginger
3/4 tsp minced garlic
1 bay leaf
8-10 shakes Tabasco
1/2 tsp crushed black pepper
Let me tell you, it was DEEEELIIISSSSHHHHUUUUSSSSS.  Oh my, our eyes rolled back in our heads. I sauteed the shrimp in this sauce, warmed tortillas, and served with shredded lettuce, cubed avocado, diced tomatoes, TONS of fresh cilantro and parsley, shredded cheese, and sour cream. I could eat this 100 times a week. Just might. The shrimp would also be divine on long grain rice. 
Husband and I are planning our weekend to watch The Passion of The Christ with the kids. Mabel won't - she's too little. And Hayley might - she is newly saved, but still little. Also, I'm not sure she can read the Aramaic subtitles fast enough and I can't get lost in our Savor's sacrifice if I'm busy explaining or reading every screen. But the boys are old enough. Trevor wanted to watch it last year and Andy's said he'd like to watch it with us this time. It's sobering. It's a fictional portrayal yes, but it is without a doubt the closest I've seen to what I've read in historical documentation and in the Bible. So very moving. Last year we moved the couch up close to the television to block out any possible distractions. I'm looking forward to this event.
Here it is Spring and what happens to me in the Spring? And itch to sew. It happens every year. So then I start a project and by summer when it's sweltering hot outside, I'm inside with a quilt draped over my legs. I've tried to explain this to my brain but it won't listen. And the only thing really that needs creating are skirts for the girls (because who ever has enough twirly skirts?) and lap-size quilts for both quilts and downstairs. So you see my dilemma: quilts draped over my legs. Topquilter Mary probably already expects my phone call in July sometime. Makes me smile, though.
Do you ladies like ballet flats? The actual, unstructured, suck-onto-your-foot kind? I recently ordered Ballasox Corso Como flats, as well as some Lucky flats... and I adore both. I desperately needed summery shoes and these fit the bill. They are incredibly comfortable. Of course I suppose that is matter of opinion because everyone has different feet. Mine are bony with high arches. There isn't any arch support with this style of flat, but that doesn't bother me.
I am loving my haircut. I promise to post pictures shortly.
The boys are stressed out right now. They don't know if their dad is going to take them for the summer yet, and recently told me that they are frustrated when they talk to him about it. I give that a very wide berth because they are old enough to ask him about things, to tell him how much they want to see him, and he has a responsibility to answer them. Give them something to look forward to. They love him. They don't care about the details or entertainment (or lack thereof), they just want to see him and their family. So because they are stressed out and boys (who apparently bottle this stuff up for ages until it comes out in pre-hormonal whatever), they've been getting into trouble at home and at school for not listening, and for blurting out in class. Both have had detention as a result. Their grades have improved, they are HAPPY, but this is bumming them out. Please join me in prayer for their little hearts. 
We recently went spring clothes shopping for the littles. There are SO many stores selling what I consider to be inappropriate clothing right now! These are not little adults, little girls hitting a street corner after daycare. These are tall babies, Clothing Designers! Get your crap together! And so you have to try on everything to make sure it's not too short, too revealing, or too low cut. And it's a constant battle with the bigs to make them dress their age instead of the way they see on Disney or Nickelodeon. No thank you. No short-shorts, no mini skirt, no low-rise so your panties show. Not in my house! And I also dislike shirts that say, "Little Princess" or "Diva In Training," so that eliminates another whole section of the stores for us. It was frustrating and took 3 trips! Do you guys find an issue with that? Certainly I can't be alone...

March 27, 2012

On CoSleeping

When my babies were little, we coslept. Never once did I roll and crush anybody or drop anyone on the floor after nursing, despite the fact that I was a milk making zombie sometimes. Trevor probably did it the least, as I nursed him the shortest - only 2 months (too afraid to pump at the office). Andrew nursed the longest - 6 months - and while I don't remember nursing him when we lived in Kentucky, I do remember cosleeping and nursing him at my mother's house. The kids and I moved in with her when Andy was 3 months old as a transition to moving back home. Shoes stayed with his job in Kentucky and sold our house and I had them alone. Not the best scenario all around, but I loved the cosleeping. The boys both slept in my bedroom at Nana's house and Andy and I would nuzzle in the night for a few months when he was little and chicken legged. 
And then Moo. It was almost 6 years later when we moved back in with Nana. Mabel was a month old and we stayed there until we moved West. During that time, even when Mabel was no longer nursing - just 3 months - I would pull her into bed with me. I told myself it was because she was fussing and would wake my mother in the next room. But mostly it was because she was squishy and sweet, and I needed comfort in the dead of night. There were so many mornings when I would awake to her fuzzy head in my face. Or her toes or skinny fingers, usually in her mouth smackling away. She would lay there awake, politely waiting for me to wake up and cuddle her. She'd grin at me with her gummy self. What a sweet, sweet gift that cosleeping was for us.
So I suppose it wasn't too surprising this morning, when I noticed a change to our morning situation. Usually, I get out of bed, jack up the thermostat to remove the chill from the air, and then start waking the children one by one. First Andy, then Trevor, and finally Mabel. But on this morning I woke up Andy and then went downstairs. I went into Trevor's room and sat on the edge of the bed to rub his back and wake him up. Except the bed wiggled a little under my butt. I pulled back the covers and found Trevor... and Sassy Miss Crazy Hair, both sound asleep with foreheads touching. Little snore noises and all. I should have grabbed the camera. Trevor woke up first and told me that she'd had a bad dream in the night and started crying. When she was on her way up to us, Trevor consoled her and offered her a big brother snuggle instead. And so, she hopped in and coslept her way until morning.
I was overcome with the sweetness of my 11 year old son.
I remember reading a book by Dr. Sears when I was pregnant with Trevor. In the book he talks about a time when one of his oldest children went to comfort their baby's fussing. Just on his own... went and comforted the infant. Of course, the oldest child was taught that by his parents. And so I smiled this morning when I remembered how I loved the idea that a child can be so in love and in tune with a sibling that they instinctively care for them. I've always wanted to raise my children to comfort one another. 
"I only smashed her once in the night," he said, laying there in the bed. He grinned at her and she hugged him tight around his neck.
She's always been his pet. Always. My heart just melted to see her snuggle on him.

March 26, 2012

Sassy Miss Crazyhair

I am the most blessed mama. I get to wake this one up every morning. "Goot MOEning, Mama," she says every morning. Then she wriggles under her white afghan until her bahookey sticks out sideways and her toes curl. I tickle and rub that bahookey and she stands up so I can lift her. She rides on my hip down the hallway to the stairs and every morning, I soak in the smell of her. Laundry detergent, coconut body wash, and dirt. Sometimes (despite a bath, I assure you), there is a matting of something in her blonde curls. She always nuzzles my neck and I always kiss her face and ask her how she slept.

On this morning I had just enough extra time to S T O P and look at her sassy crazy hair. And her cute skinny legs that sprout out from that bahookey.

March 23, 2012

If You Asked...

If you asked me.... I would tell you that I don't like stepford wifey things. Pearls make me nauseated when I put them on (love them, but can't wear them anymore). I don't say that to be offensive to anyone. After all, I used to live that way. If someone wants to chase a lifestyle they can have at it, but I might barf on them.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I believe in the fundamental GOOD inside of a person and grieve if they proove themselves otherwise. It is sad how often I am disappointed.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I typically have a very good grasp on the NOISE of life. Work, stress, activities, those are all noise. The meaning of my life resides in Christ Jesus, my husband whom I serve, and in caring for my children. Those must be FIRST before the noise comes in. I also don't care who knows that.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I am addicted to edamame right now.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I fear my children being gone for the summer. I would also tell you that I fear even more their disappointment if their dad cancels another visit.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that sometimes, I am terribly insecure. 
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I sometimes get a lump in my throat when I think how fast Mabel has grown up. It makes me sad.   
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I sent a text to my husband at 4am yesterday that said, "Instead of praying for God to give you strength today, I'm asking forh im to BE your strength. I'm asking him to step in and shoulder the load, as a way to protect you. I'm asking him to be your shield and sword today... Let God be your barrier in those meetings today when the bullets are aiming at you.  Love you!"
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I sang a song in my husband's office this week.  He's so used to me being me that he didn't look up.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that Shoes is on my shit list and probably will be for a good long time. I don't care who knows that one, either.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that Mabel knows all of the words to Firework, by Katy Perry. But her favorite song is America, by Neil Diamond. Girlfriend needs a dance routine to that one.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that my beer of choice is Michelob Golden Light, and they don't even sell that east of Chicago. It's a local favorite, I reckon. Fab with wings.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I do not avoid confrontation. 99.99% of the time - I'm right out there with all of it. Let's dispense with the bullcrap and get down to the issue and resolve it. Life is too short to wait on everyone else.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that our very best good friend, Plowman, left our company for another opportunity. To say that we mourned is putting it VERY lightly. We miss him DAILY.
If you asked me.... I would tell you that I am incredibly hard on my husband when it comes to how much time he spends at work. This is a direct result of the scars left from my first marriage, but it exists nonetheless. It's disrespect and I'm working on it. He is different. He is not the same. He is amazing.

March 22, 2012

Stripey Buns

Yesterday morning, I woke up late. So late that if I didn't remove something from my morning routine, I would certainly be late to work as well. Nothankyouverymuch. So I showered and didn't wash my hair (blowing it out straight takes almost 20 minutes because I do it the hard way and do not flat iron on day 1). Instead, I decided to take a crack at a fluffy, puffy, messy bun. I ponied and teased and then wound chunks of my hair in BOTH directions, bobby-pinning each chunk. Voila. Many compliments as it turns out! Love it when that happens.
Also yesterday morning, I used some of that saved time to pony up the little one. She was feeling very stripey as you can see. This is the pose I get when I tell her to smile. Mmm-hmmm. 
This morning it's irish soda bread for breakfast. Not because it's my favorite, but because the way I came to have it IS. On St. Patrick's day my very Irish mother-in-law stopped by the house to say hello, visit with the kiddos, check on her son, and well... we all know that she came to see moi. Bryon will tell you that she loves all of us... but the truth is, she and I are sort of besties. I had a bad day last week and called her to vent. Her ears are lovely. Plus she lets me cook for her and loves that I'm crafty like her mother, the late and great Grandma Darleen was. Do you know how amazing it feels to be LOVED by your mother-in-law? I wish that for all of you. She was quite an unexpected surprise. In any case, my husband rolls his eyes when his mommy walks in the door. Then he smiles, smacks my butt, and says, "my mom is here to see you."  GRIN.
They talked about the local weather on the radio this morning, commenting on how strange it has been this winter for Da Plains. We were FAR below of typical snow total of 36" and the average temp for this January was 34 degrees. Last January, the average temp was 1 degree. Uh huh. Yep. We've had 50+ days over 50 degrees this winter as well. Last year, only a handful. The farmers are predicting (because that's what farmers do) that we will have a scorching summer. They're concerned about rain, but shouldn't be today because it's falling fast and furious from the sky this week. As long as the ground gets wet enough this spring, the crops will do great this year. Don't I sound like I know what I'm talking about? Ha.
Some new cookware has come to live at our house. Yes, yes, I kept all of my Le Creuset pieces (and use them often), but the rest of our cookware was part of his ex-wife whatever. It was old and crappy and I thought of her when I used it. Meh. Husband and I love watching Food Network together and over the past few months have been checking out the pots and pans. Once we looked past Giada's b00bs, we found her cookware most loverly. Consumer reports gives her tri-ply cookware high ratings. We've been watching the set at Target, waiting for it to go on sale. When it did recently, we snapped it up. I went home and hugged the pots. I kissed then pans. Then I cooked a bunch of stuff and tried to make it stick. It didn't. I am absolutely, most certainly in looooove.
This morning, Husband got a phone call at work at 4am. Been up since. Let me tell you, I'll be passing out before Grey's is over tonight and that makes me cranky.
Did I already tell you all that my current hair salon doesn't offer deep treatments? Nada. They don't stock any and they don't do any for service. Who isn't trained on a professional blowout (hello, people pay tons of money for a shampoo and good blowout alone!) and hair health? Until I reconcile my thoughts on finding a new stylist (that breaks my heart because I like her as a person, but the girl CANNOT do a blowout and that is... well, look - I don't pay money to be disappointed when I leave a salon, only to go home and re-do my hair) I decided to take my hair health into my own hands. Because I have always been uber involved in my hair, I know that the treatments I used to receive back home (when blonde) were Kerastase Vita Ciment. It just so happens you can buy that on Amazon, and so that is what I did. Then I called my closest Kerastase rep salon (Omaha, thank you) to verify how to use it. I've given myself one treatment so far and it is amazing already. I also stocked up on Kerastase Vita Ciment Reconstructing Milk, which is a leave-in, heat-activated conditioner. I bleached my hair and I know that I need to take very good care of it. It's frustrating to not have help with that. And, how do you breakup with your stylist without leaving a mark? Argh.
Last night's dinner was orange chicken with baby corn, water chestnuts, and fresh mushrooms with white rice and edamame. Yummers.
I am tormented with work right now - in ways that I cannot explain on my blog. But it festers in me that I cannot update regularly and that my weekly posts on Wednesdays and Thursdays have basically gone to shit the past couple of months. For you regular readers who keep coming back, thank you for doing so. And thank you even more for your prayers and support.

March 20, 2012

Grandma's Gift

Shortly after I met Bryon, we each began sharing things about our families. I treasured the stories he shared about his mother's mother, Grandma Darleen. At almost ninety, she'd battled and won two cancer battles. She'd lost her husband and then remarried. She raised 3 children. She was an artist and a lover of God (though she was quiet on that last one there until it was time to go Home).

Grandma was a scrapbooker, far before it was trendy. She considered it art and loved embellishing her photos with stories of what was going on at the time. She made birthday cards for everyone, and ornaments for all of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren every Christmas.

One year, she gave Bryon a picture book full of memories of both of his parents. It's something that we'll cherish even more now that she's gone. Her handwriting is so powerful, the tilt and penmanship is so classy.
One of my favorites is Bryon (little chap sitting all the way at the end of the table there, in the red shirt) sitting with Grandma's ceramics class, painting with her.

And one of his favorites, some photos of his late Uncle John (on the left, his father's brother, whom Bryon looks most like) and of his father with John after a fishing trip.

THIS is why I blog. This is why mommies scrapbook and sew and make things out of love. The stories last forever and comfort hearts once loved ones are gone. What a story they tell. Amazing.

March 19, 2012


Grandma Darleen did ceramics. Bryon remembers painting with her when he was very, very little. She fashioned probably hundreds of gorgeous figurines, ornaments, and vases in her life.

At her wake a table was set up in the back of the room, next to two photo displays that Gretchen, Alexis and I created on our living room floor in tears and giggles. On that table was a variety of things that Grandma Sharon and her twin sister Karen had collected to showcase her talent and love for painting.

One of those pieces has a story. A mighty one that was a surprise until Monday evening after the visitation. You see, Grandma had selected one piece for her grandson Bryon, and inside was a note that she had written, depicting her wishes.

He was scared to death to hold it, and amazed that Grandma had gifted him a statue of Christ. After all, just because he was raised in the church and confirmed, doesn't mean he had an intimate relationship with God. Bryon himself would tell you that this relationship didn't exist in this capacity until just a couple of years ago. So for Grandma to select this for him, well, quite meaningful.

It was after the wake when we were headed back to the hotel, where we stopped after the grocery store run. We were parked in the lot of the hotel and my three were talking to their dad. Bryon reached down and cradled Jesus in his hands. Tears welled in his eyes.

You guys, this statue is beautiful. The care Grandma took to fashion his face, to paint his eyes and lips and hair... you can feel it when you hold him in your hands.

So on that night he flipped Jesus upside down and peered inside.

It was dark, but we could see her handwriting even then. Our breaths caught in our throats. Bryon untwisted the piece of fragile paper, that had been neatly tucked inside since February of 2007. According to Grandma's story, she'd been cleaning her bedroom that afternoon and as she dusted this piece, she was overcome with a knowing that it should go to Bryon when she died.

In addition to that explanation, she wanted him to know that God would take care of him. She reminded him that FAITH would guide him through all of the valleys of this life. She told him that she knew that happiness was just around the corner for him.

The note she wrote was placed inside of the statue just a few months before his wife left with another man. And just before his dad died of lung cancer in his arms.

He asked me how I thought that she knew.  I answered very simply. "She didn't know. God told her. And so she passed that on to you."

It was a few sweet moments that we sat in that lot, staring at Jesus. The kids finished their phone call and ants filled their pants, wanting to go inside. I kissed him and patted his hand.

No doubt in our minds that Grandma Darleen is rocking it out with Jesus right now. And no doubt that He told her 5 years ago to remind her grandson that, while his life would get very, very difficult, HOPE was waiting for him - in the arms of Jesus. 


Jesus is sitting on our dresser now, watching over us. Reminding us to be still and have faith, always.

March 14, 2012


Peeps, I am so behind.
I'm so, so sorry that I've taken my hands off of the blog for this long. I knew it would be a few days, but I just wallered around in family for an extra. I hope you'll forgive me as I get back to work after being gone for days, and supporting a husband who has a very big job and was also gone for those same days. Oy!!! I'm behind is what I'm saying.

We went to Bryon's hometown of Mitchell to bury his grandma Darleen. We saw family we haven't seen since grandpa Delmer's death a few months ago, as well as family I've never met. Grandma Darleen's sisters Nadine, Bev, and Dorothy continued their love affair with the Moo. Trevor and Hayley read a poem at grandma's funeral! Cousin Kaden got 4 stitches after a backjump gone awry in the kiddie pool at the hotel. We drove past the Corn Palace eleventy times. Lots of hand holding, lots of tears. I fell in love with the Krutsch family all over again.

But mostly we just spent time together. We visited grandpa Larry's gravesite. We watched as they dug the hole for grandma Darleen's vault about 20 feet away. My husband gripped my hand and rubbed my fingers so hard they went numb for a few minutes when he realized he'd be standing within view of his dad's grave, while attending grandma's interment. Neil Diamond played a lot. And, Bryon got a Jesus surprise - that's one whole post on its own.

More to come, Friends. Thank you for your prayers.

And Dear B: Thank you so much for making me a part of your family. Making me a Krutsch. I am proud and I love them all most dearly. Thank you for your after-hugs when we got home last night, for spilling your guts to me - for trusting me enough. Honesty over golf balls and spaghetti. I tell you what, that is the best right there. I am THE luckiest EVAH.

March 9, 2012

Quiet: Heaven is Plus One

All will be quiet for a few days, as Grandma Darleen met our Lord this morning. Heaven is most definitely plus one today. We are totally jealous.

March 7, 2012


Mabel wore a new ruffly headband today. "The purple one, Mommy." Could someone PLEASE tell me how to bottle this kid up and keep her exactly like she is right this very second? She BOUNDS through the house, as if her feet were only designed for hopping and skipping and jumping.
We had a drop in of friends over the weekend while dad was at work (both days, Peeps; it sucked ass). Uncle Dennis brought his oldest with him and the 3 boys tore through the house playing Harry Potter with lego wands while D and I discussed golf. 'Petrificus totalis' this, 'Expelliarmus!' and 'Accio!' all kinds of things. The most embarrassing part was, when they would forget which spell they wanted to use, they asked Dennis or me. And we KNEW. *shakes head*  I could use a Lumos in the middle of the night to pee, couldn't you?
I finally took my iPod to work the other day. I felt a little nervous about sitting there listening (and believe me, I was in total control of the singing and chair dancing... this time), but price updates are the perfect time for this. Turns out the music allowed me to block out all of my usual distractions (open cube environment where 38 people are on conference calls at once and an overhead loud speaker pages (my husband usually) throughout the plant all. day. long.). And, I was able to do my job AND think through gosh, a whole afternoon's worth of stuff at the same time.
So yesterday, it was 71 degrees here. Today? 34. Welcome to Da Plains in spring, Folks. Still, I'm ready to move past this half-assed winter we've had. I've loved every snowflake, but I'm ready for green grass. If we're not going to cover up the brown, dormant grass with snow, let's green it up shall we?
Husband are starting a running iniative in our hizzhouse. That just means we both keep saying, "I really want to run today!" and "We should go for a run!" repeatedly. Eventually, it will morph into one or both of us getting our butts out onto the sidewalk. The snow is melted. It's time to go. No more excuses!
So, my hair is blonde.
I want to plan a spring party. I got home from the salon last night (what?) and Husband informed me that Uncle Joe Joe was in Texas, texting him about crawfish. SAY WHAT? I ate them while vacationing in the Gulf. Twice. That's it. That's all it took to form a strong addiction. Pinch the tail, suck the head. I of course sat down and began texting Joe all about his shellfish. Jackass sent me a picture to rub it in, too. So, a spring party will be planned. It will include these little buggers. Red potatoes, corn, and bay leaves all over the place. Nice, cold beer. And yard games. And a fire. Oh yes. A spring party will be planned. Good thing the Husband has a birthday coming up, yo.
Last night, Bryon said to me, "You are beautiful, as always. Every time I open my eyes, you are more beautiful." Now THAT is some good stuff for my soul. Thanks for calling me purdy, Baby.
I have lauched some serious prayer about the kids going with their dad this summer. May 26 is fast approaching! I would love for any of prayer warriors to join in with me. I want them to go so much! They need to see him and their family; it has been more than seven months. Trevor's grown 4 inches himself in that time. There are several things that could keep this visit from happening, though not on my end. Pray for Shoes to feel encouraged. Pray for all of the logistics and the ability to fall into place for him. Pray for peace and safety and planning. Pray for him to feel KINDNESS coming from us. Pray for the kiddos hearts to be filled with him. Thank you, Friends.
There will be new nude heels purchased this season. Saving up is in process. If you might remember, I didn't want to shell out a wad so I bought a pair of nude heels from Target. OUCH. They aren't even two hour shoes. Lesson learned there. Years ago I could wear heels from Target, but their quality has really hit the pooper. Ahem.
Last Sunday before church, I felt the devil irritating, poking at my family. This happens almost every Sunday. We're all up and ready to go worship and the arguing starts. Someone pokes someone. Somebody is running behind. Husband and I are irritated. So last Sunday I decided enough was enough, and I laid my fresh-from-the-shower self down on the floor to pray. Knelt with my forehead on the floor and just talked to my Heavenly Father. Oh how I appreciate the intimate relationship I have with Him. I prayed for my husband and I to be outright SIEZED by the Holy Spirit at church. And boy howdy, we were! The lesson was AH-MAZING. It was on resting IN Jesus instead of ON him. Giving up full control of aboslutely everything is the only way that happens. That is a lesson we sorely need. Also? Jesus wants to rest IN us.  Psalm 3:5-6  I stretch myself out. I sleep. Then I'm up again—rested, tall and steady, fearless before the enemy mobs, coming at me from all sides.   WOW. And, He wants US to allow Him the same peace.  Isaiah 66:1-2  Heaven is my throne; earth is my footstool.  Know how you get there? The pastor demonstrated by getting down on the floor, kneeling with his forehead on the floor. You BE the footstool. Hmmm. How about that.  God is the coolest.
Yeah, I said blonde. Time to take a bigger walk on the wild side. With 30 volume. (And the next time I decide to do pastels or something fun and funky, I'm going to use hair chalk, which will show up remarkably on the light blonde - and will wash out right away.)
I wish I had the time to moisturize daily. My face and hands and body are so dry. Yeah, winter and all, but also, I'm getting older. My skin has changed so much. California Baby Lotion is still my face lotion of choice though I will admit to you I'm considering trying out some Clinique Turnaround Cream. Would you believe I used to use that stuff in high school when it first came out, but I stopped because duh, I wasn't even 20. Can you imagine how beautimus my skin would be had I continued? Ugh. So yeah, time for something.
OH! Must divulge report on my false lash trial. I was inspired by Natalie to try this out instead of multiple layers of mascara. So I found a pair of reusable Ardell lashes at Target for $5, including the adhesive. They were gorgeous and so very girlie. I spent weeks trying to carve out the time to play with them and finally, last Saturday, those lashes and I had a party right before gymnastics. My eyeballs were on fire the entire time I was watching the girls flip around. Itchy. At first I figured it would just take some getting used to, you know. But um... no. I think I had an allergic reaction to the adhesive because by the time I got home 90 minutes later, I was ready to remove my entire eyelid from each eye. For two days I have been rubbing and soothing and ouch, ouch, ouch-ing. Sigh. I don't think false lashes will work for me is what I'm saying. But they looked gorgeous for those 90 minutes. Try them and let me know what you think, or if I could have done anything differently.
Mabel came to sit by me before bed the other night. She squirreled up right against my hip and tucked her feet under me. Then she chirped and lisped about her drawing. Which was quite magnificent for a 4 year old, I must say.

March 5, 2012

Bedtime Routine

The boys have a bedtime routine in our house. It's nothing like the girls (tuck in, kisses, prayer, dream suggestions, and a song). It is, however, a requirement so that they sleep properly. The will wake in the night, get up, need 15 drinks of water, etc. if this routine doesn't take place.
The routine goes like this:
1    Good night boys, love you.
2    Mom hugs the boys and aims their bodies off into their bedrooms
3    Boys ricochet off ivisible bedroom barriers and land on Bryon
4    Mom jumps out of the way and plugs her ears
5    Shouting
6    Laughing
7    Someone punches someone
8    Andy starts crying, which morphs into VERY LOUD laughing
9    Trevor hurts himself instead of his opponent
10  Someone takes a hit in the balls
11  Mom checks to make sure that someone wasn't dad, but quickly hides once she finds out he is safe (for now)
12  A preteen body flies through the air and tumbles down the hallway with dad legs wrapped around
13  Laughing
14  Screaming
15  Mom starts shouting, "Go to bed! Go to bed! Enough wrestling!"
16  Kids try to listen
17  Dad comes back for more, dragging their little half-limp bodies back onto the carpet
18 Repeat steps 5-16 fourteen times
19  Dad almost takes a sideways crack in a delicate spot and declares it officially bedtime
20  2 boys stand up, sticky with sweat and mostly giggling, snot all smeared everyplace and come back to Mom for hugging.
21  Good night, Boys. Love you.
22  1 man stands up, sticky with sweat and the smile of victory (most nights) and comes back to Mom for snuggling.

March 2, 2012

ONE (plus a story)

One year has passed since I became the fabulous Mrs. Krutsch (having been made fabulous by the Mrs. part). We arranged for two babysitters to manage our crew (alot like herding cats in my opinion) for three days and we took off to an undisclosed location for our anniversary weekend. Plans were as follows:

Eat at 'our' restaurant (where I observed the cutest blonde haircut)
Listen to fantasic music (such as you will see below)

Listen to live music and enjoy adult beverages... and flirt. A lot. There was big ole' kissing circa 2010 - WOOT. (Yes, he's yawning - past his bedtime!)

Hotel was within walking distance, don't worry.
The jacuzzi in the room. Cannot. Forget. The Awesomeness! We sat in it eleventy times.
Lots of comfy clothes walking and socks and sleeping in.
Lots of other things much less sleep-related.
Fancy sushi; the husband decides eel is not his favorite, but eats it again.

Time alone to read Janet Evanovich and Golf Magazine. Yes, in the jacuzzi.
Lots of hand-holding. Okay. Also in the jacuzzi.
Talks about when we met. Reminiscing and all that yumminess.
Not great photos, but we were living in the moment.
And then, when we got home Sunday night, we read our vows to one another again. Best. EVAH.

Happy first anniversary, Love.

Now, I need to tell you good people a story. It's a great story about the blessings of marriage and the power of two. I've thought for days how to write it all out correctly, for you to feel the gravity of what is happening along with me... but I'll just have to wing it. And it's a great story to tell you in this post.

Bryon and I have been dealing with some very serious work stresses recently. They are affecting our family and we are working with our Heavenly Father to navigate through them. These stresses cause arguing (for no bloody good reason either), they cause us to be short with one another and the kids, they make us too exhausted to move, and most certainly distract us from our purpose on this earth: to walk as Jesus and be His light. Enough of that. Even though yes, we find each other every single day and work hard to preserve our love and prioritize it, ENOUGH OF THAT. Enough of letting it get to us. Enough of letting it in. No. We say NO.

On Wednesday night, we were discussing again. Hayley was dropped off already and the other 3 were in bed finally. We collapsed on the couch in a mess of tired bones, too exhausted to even pet each other. "What if this?" both of us said, with different trailing questions. After a time, it became increasingly clear to both of us that we cannot fix this world swirling around us. We cannot make it better or less stressful. ONLY GOD CAN. And so, because I am the vocal Jesus Freak in our house (of the hand lifting, Amen-ing in church variety), I said just that out loud. I encouraged my husband to give it up to Him again. I told him a story of how, one time after Shoes, I lay there on my kitchen floor in my very own house and sobbed to Jesus for help. 

And so after a while my very tired husband stood up and moved Kiki and her brown ottoman (that is HER ottoman, by the way) across the living room floor (she didn't flinch). Then he walked back in the dim light and took my hand. He knelt in front of the couch, beside me with his black pinstriped golf shirt on, and asked me to join him. "We are going to do this differently tonight," he said. I stood up and kneeled beside my husband. And the moment my knees hit the carpet, my heart changed for my husband yet again. Pride swelled and I felt Jesus right there with us. I know he's everpresent, but I mean I FELT him. We wrapped arms and intertwined our hands into a knot. Then we leaned our foreheads in and down, and we prayed together.

Wherever two or more are gathered in my name, there I will be also. 

For several very long minutes, we prayed and sniffled. We prayed until my forehead was stuck to the brown leather from dried up tears. Bryon prayed until the rims of his eyes were pink and he was calmer than I've seen him in months. Then we opened our eyes and looked at each other and smiled. And we stared silently off into space for several minutes more, quietly adding postscripts to our prayers. I thought of my daddy in Heaven, about how he used to pray just like that with me when I was little, kneeling with me at the edge of my white canopy bed. Despite the difference between the powder blue carpet in my childhood bedroom (with the pink shag rugs), and the beige carpet in my home with my husband, the feeling was exactly the same in my heart. And also, both my husband and my daddy are very hairy. All of this likeness made me smile and thank Jesus.

That night was the most restful sleep we've had in so very long.

And yesterday? God answered. He answered each of us by way of something distinct and good. We felt the pull to obey what He was asking of us - to do our part, and so we did. Such beauty comes from obedience. 

Even today, more joy is happening around us. Our God is amazing!

All of this to say that I look forward to so many more years with this man! He is a GIFT.