on Mommy marathons and icky job/illness inflicted solitude.

**Click to see larger. It's worth it.**

My husband's job that is. Oh, and my husband's illness.

**Disclaimer: This post is meant to neither impugn my wonderful, hot, hardworking husband or his job. Seriously. It's meant to merely complain.**

My hubby doesn't read my blog anyway. :)

So here's how it goes down.

6:00 a.m. Hubby's alarm sounds. No bother, it's the kind that simulates the altogether soothing sound of church bells. Oh, and it commences softly, like your sweet Mama's voice on Monday mornin' when it's time for school. And he turns it off before it gets obnoxious.

by 7 a.m. One of my darling kids decides it's the perfect time to meet the day. Or at least to jump in bed with yours truly. Zion is particularly endearing and well, interested. In cuddling with me that is.

7:30 a.m. We make a choice. Breakfast at the coffee table? Insert watching child's brain turn to a watery pulp as they watch the boob tube. Why do they call it that? -OR- Breakfast at the table with charming morning banter about nightime dreams and plans for the day. I'm ashamed to say it's usually the making and loathing of watery pulp.

9:30 a.m. Do we play? Do we hit Target? I'm sure we need something. Oh yes, we go to the Pool. My kids are in heaven and well, so am I.

12 noon Lunch at home or at the pool.

12:45 p.m. Quiet Time & Nap for the kids while I enjoy a little bill paying, virtual-internet swashbuckling, or some good ol' fashioned R&R. For the record, the swashbuckling consists mainly of mommy blogs, facebook and email. It's really not that adventurous. It would be more accurately described as virtual-internet slothful relaxation. Or downtime.

1:45 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.

1:47 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.

1:49 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.

1:49 p.m. I let her get up. We get a treat and find a nice spot to play Polly Pockets or American Girl or baby dolls. Polly Pockets is my her my current favorite. We play and pretend and teach our Polly Pockets to think of others before themselves. It's really quite charming.

3:00 p.m. Zion wakes up and joins the fun, only we add farm animals, cars, trucks, motorcycles and baseballs. Polly Pocket takes leisurely rides on said farm animals and car crash after car crash after car crash ensues. On the coffee table. Off the coffee table. Aaaaaaaand we do it again. This is actually one of the most wonderful things to do with him. He's pretty much de-lish.

4:00 p.m. Oprah? This is a recent thing. I keep telling myself I'm on vacation and it's okay.

5:00 p.m. Storytime on the couch. Some days yes, some days no. But only by lack of remembering.

5:45 p.m. I should start dinner. Then again Brian hasn't been getting home until...

6:00 p.m. I've forgotten about dinner.

6:15 p.m. Remember dinner but realize it's too late to make anything meaningful. I'm thinking Brian will be home any second and maybe something magical will happen like he'll walk through the door with Papa John's. Afterall, I'm on vacation.

6:30 p.m. I'm forgetting that my kids need to eat so they can go to bed, but the fact that Brian isn't home is tricking my mind into thinking it's 5:00.

7:00 p.m. Brian walks through the door with Papa John's. We eat, we play, the kids are in heaven with Daddy home.

8:00 p.m. (unless they're having a particularly good time, then it's more like 8:45... errr... even 9:00) Kid's Bedtime. Brian takes Jers. I take Zion.

8:30 p.m. Yes! Time with my man. Maybe we can have an invigorating metadiscourse about world peace and spending money on high-end shoes. Oh yeah, he's sick. Bummer. I guess it's hard core analysis of market segmentation as it relates to Cheer, Era, and Dreft. Usually Dreft. I actually happen to dig this topic.

10:00 p.m. Talk of bedtime drags me down. I'm feeling spent and lonely and desperate for some real time with Brian, other Moms. Mostly Brian.

Can anyone relate? Do you see all the loveliness of my day or did I centralize too much on the negative? I'm actually quite happy and content with my life. I actually love my life. But as much as my kids fill me up with joy and love and laughter and peace, they also drain me. And that's not a criticism or an admission of their high-maintenance-ness. It's just the truth for all Kid-Parent relationships. Anyway, can anyone relate? Oh, and did this sound contrived? Seriously.

FIERCE LOVE. No limits.

So this is my current compelling but shaking-in-my-boots-at-the-very-sound-of-it mantra. Fierce love. No limits. An act of the will. No matter what.

I can't do it. Not even close.

I am mesmerized and awe-struck at the love I've witnessed in others. Inspired even. I haven't had to love like this. Yet. I'm captivated and otherwise charmed by the love of a fellow Mama, Kate, who both suffered and embraced a level of love for her lost son that is equal parts heart-wrenching and beautiful. Or Gayle Haggard who chose to love her husband because of who he was, not what he did.

Love.
Without fear.
By choice.
Given freely without asking anything in return.
Does not lose heart.
Perseveres patiently and bravely.
Endures misfortunes and troubles.
Kind.
Does not envy.
Does not parade itself about.
Is not provoked, irritated, angered or exasperated.
Does not rejoice in injustice.
Endures all things.
Conceals the errors of others.
Protects.
Believes.
Hopes.
Never fails. Ever.

Nope, can't do it. I can't seem to love like this. Oh, I want to be loved like this, but I can't pay it back.

*May the Lord make you increase and overflow in love for one another. This love, agape, is love by choice, an act of the will; an unconditional love demonstrated by an undefeatable benevolence and unconquerable goodwill that always seeks the highest good of the other no matter what; a self-sacrificing love that is given freely without asking anything in return and without considering the worth of it's object. You do this so that God may establish and strengthen your hearts as blameless and holy before your God and Father.* 1 Thessalonians 3:12-13 (taken from several sources: 'In Pursuit of God's Heart' by R. Crawford, NIV, and Strong's Concordance)

So with God I'm decked out, geared up, stocked, feathered and endowed. He will increase my love for others. Terrential downpours of sticky sweet, undying, enduring-heaping-mountains-of-crap-with-not-the-least-bit-of-ill-will, patient, kind, long-lasting love all for me to dish out to my preferred list of love suckers, I mean, friends and family.

That sounded crass. Was that crass? Darn, meant to sound genuine, honestly.

I'm merely scratching the surface with my attempts at this ridiculous, crazy love that I know is being asked of me. My amazingly beautiful, majestic, gloriously gracious God is asking me to love like this. Because I think, with His unrelenting help, it's possible. Christine Marie Sweet, choose love even when it hurts. Even with it feels like a thorn, no, a machete in your side. Even when your spent, empty. Even when it's undeserved. Do it especially then.

O God, are you here? Are you listening? I need you for this so desperately. How I long to love my husband, children, everyone the way you endlessly love me. I'm at least armed. I'm at least presumably equipped. What am I saying, I'm totally equipped. Hmmm, now how do you use this blooming thing? Anyway, we'll see how it pans out. Stay tuned, or call my husband at 757-333-LOVE.

simple and in love.

Dear my Dearest Hubby ever,

First of all I must say that I'm stealing this idea from a fellow photog blogger, the idea of writing to you about the little things we may forget... that I may forget. Because they're simple and nothing especially noteworthy. Just the pure lovliness that is my life with you. I'm such a sucker for these kinds of sentiments. Such a sap. ** I'm seeing you do that half head-cocked laugh and the slight roll of your eyes that isn't quite rude, just a little playful mixed with the YES, we've been married for 7 years and 364 days and not afraid to show it a little.**

Anyway, this is what makes my heart happy today and everyday.

Last night while ironing your shirts, hating it but loving that your shirts radiate that smell that is only you. I love that smell. It makes me feel at home and happy. And remember my birthday? Wasn't it perfect? You made it perfect. Thank you. My roses are still amazing. I love that you gave me the 'we've been married for like 50 years card that says, "For my Wife" in that fancy cursive font with the music notes floating in the background. Oh, and I loved laughing with you last night. You actually laughed at one of my jokes. You NEVER laugh and my jokes. I love keeping you awake when you so desperately want to go to sleep, talking a mile a minute and you not hating me for it.

My favorite part of today was seeing our daughter run to you as you were leaving the house for your special goodbye ritual. Kisses and big hugs and hopes of your return. Oh yes, and it made me happy when you asked yesterday why there wasn't coffee brewing. Can't explain it. Just made me feel all warm and cozy.... or is it cosy? I've seen it both ways. And no, it wasn't by a 3rd grader.

I like reading with you, walking with you... that is, JUST you. :) Haven't done that in a while. I like playing Warlords and drinking coffee and talking about Micro-Economics and your genius theory of Certainty. I love your mind. It completely fascinates me. I love that when I bring up my parents dog you say weird things like, "What your Mom needs to do is weigh the benefit of having a dog with the opportunity costs she is blah, blah, blah...." See? I'm not even saying it right. Ughhhhh!

Anyway, you are the craziest, most intelligent, hottest man in the world and I'm glad I get to spend normal everyday days with you.