The Original Michelangelo David Versus MY DAVID!

Look, I completely recommend seeing the original David.  There is absolutely nothing like it in the world.

Here is what you need to know:

It is located at the university—who knows where?  On some side street with no line, whatsoever, to get in.  And you will get very lost trying to walk to it.  But you can make it (we did!).  And it was worth every wrong turn.

And, as utterly amazing the sculpture is, I am not quite sure that it is as well mastered or divine as my very own David—my David that appeared out of nowhere to me yesterday while I was taking one of only TWO potty breaks that I actually had from the entire day.  Seriously, folks…one of two!

And here my David comes sauntering in (because of course I MUST take my potty breaks with the door open since I have two toddlers at home), completely naked.  (He can go from dressed to naked in about 3 seconds flat) And full of becoming his very own masterpiece.  Because, of course, as ALL LIFE WITH TODDLERS HAS IT, he was coloring with markers (washable, don’t worry), while I was finally sitting on the porcelain throne for ONLY the second time for the entire day.

My DAVID!  My Masterpiece!

And, I must admit, as divine as I believe the original Michelangelo to be, I think my David may be just as super awesome!

So, of course, after I got off the potty—you know—time’s up for dear ol’ mom, I decided to do my own photoshoot taking similar pictures like I took of the original David in Florence.

Except this David is a Brooke and Richard Masterpiece of God, who battled his own Giant (not Goliath but yet his Goliath of impending death), and now resides not at  Galleria dell’Accademia in Italy but in #villagelife Poland.

You scroll through the photos and decide which David is the greater masterpiece (and, if you choose the original, perhaps don’t tell this momma).


Let’s begin with the right hand of David that is holding the stone that is used to defeat the Giant Goliath:


And now the marker that is held in the right hand of my very own David used to defeat the sanity of mom (notice how it is even a homemade Crayola marker):


Next up!  The torso of the original David and his glance and piercing eyes, lightly holding the sling that was used to fight Goliath casually slung over his left shoulder:


And now my Masterpiece David, with his young and youthful toddler belly body (full of like 5 bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup) and his left arm up—holding nothing but air (just because I told him to).  Notice my masterpiece is even glancing off to the left:


Lastly, or at least what I will display on my page, the feet of Michelangelo’s David.  Seriously.  This young sculptor was truly an amazing artist, as the feet were even carved to perfection (out of marble):


But, as perfectly as they are carved out of marble, I still think that I find my Masterpiece to be just as perfectly carved.  Here are his feet:


And, of course, while I am sitting at the table type-typing this away, two of my greatest Masterpieces given to me by God, are mere feet away, at the window, creating a cherry-tree robot and a meow-meow (in their vivid imaginations, of course) on what was just moments ago very clean windows.

But, hey!  Who needs windows when I have walking, living, talking, breathing, statue Masterpieces to fill my home?

Not me!

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.  Psalm 139:14


With 3 kids, which kid gets lost in the midst?


It tears my heart to pieces to say it—but with three kids the MIDDLE does get lost in the midst.

And this is a MIDDLE child speaking!

I swore I would NEVER forget the middle…Until I had the older one in school and one million activities that required much attention.  Don’t forget the fact that she goes to school fully submersed in a foreign language (a language some declare the MOST difficult language in the world—others rank it in the Top 7 most difficult languages in the world)—POLISH!  Don’t forget that I make her do oodles of English work at home.  Don’t forget she is gifted.  She reads a ton.  She can sit and write a book in one day and would like for me to then plop myself down and illustrate it for her.  Don’t forget SHE WAS an only child for 6 and 1/2 years.

The Middle…Break my heart for my middle.

My Baby—my little Max in the Middle was only 11 months old when I got pregnant with Belly Josephine!  I immediately started spotting.  Cramping.  And then bleeding.  Which meant that Max in the Middle got put down, tossed crackers for lunch, and left behind.

I could hardly function—much less take care of a wee toddler.

Then the pregnancy, Belly Josephine, got really bad.  Like she decided at 30 weeks my belly was not 5 Star and she wanted out of there.  Which really put me on my back.  Feet up.  Staying still.

The Middle.  Break my heart for my middle.

Of course we made it to the end—HALLELUJAH!  But that meant the new baby was here.

Oldest has to have attention.  She has school, and assignments, and sports.

Baby has to have attention.  She needs extreme protection and sleep and food.

The MIDDLE can live off of crackers and Elmo.

And still seems to…

Ah the middle.  You would have thought that because my middle is the one that has had to fight the hardest in life to live that I would pay MOST attention to him.

But I seem to be the very stereotypical Momma.  I realize that the oldest achieve much because of the attention that they have always garnered from the start…

I see that the youngest get so much loving because we don’t want the baby phase to ever end…

And I see my middle on his favorite chair watching Elmo.

Over and over and over again.

Then I wonder why he throws a fit when I turn off the TV.

Poor Middles…

Now I better understand Me!