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).

Enjoy!

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

 

My Sweet Littles Saying Their Prayers and Dancing on Couches!

You must think that I only have two children with the fact that only Josephine and Maxwell appear to be in my videos.  Sometimes I feel as if I only have two children.  But I actually have three:  Sweet Adelyne, as well.  It’s just that, at 9 years of age, Sweet Adelyne has the most social of social calendars of ANYONE I know.  Not just of 9 year olds. Of anyone—9 or 90—that I know.

It’s awesome fabulous—because, you know, we live in this foreign land called Poland.  And it’s awesome fabulous that my daughter is not a foreigner in this foreign land—she is a Pole.  A proud one.  And she lives her life as a full-blown Polish gal.  Romping, playing, going to school, studying, extra curricular activities, and so forth.

She breathes White and Red.  I am so thankful to God for that!

But that also means when I am at home being Mommy 24/7…(last night daddy actually was home and by 6pm, so we had family pizza night.  twas awesome!)…

Anyhow…As I play this magical and amazing role of Mommy 24/7, I tend to video those subjects most around me:  Which would continue to explain the absence of Adelyne and Richard 🙂  Neither tend to be around me that often…

Hmmm?????  Perhaps it’s me?!  Haha!

Once again, I really hope you enjoy the videos of the Littles that steal my every moment—even my potty breaks.  But they fill my life with such amazing miraculous wonder, I can’t help but love my every minute.

Here continues the sweet adventures of my Littles, Jo and Max!  Enjoy.

GoGo, will you dance with me?  Asks her awesome Big Bro Maxwell!

Trying to get two toddlers that share a room to settle down and pray is oh so stinking sweet!

I walk into the living room and find Max on top of the couch dancing to Christmas music (yes—we’ve been playing it ever since the chill hit the air!).

I wish you all well and lots of warm love, Christmas music, and overall contentment with where God has placed you in life.

xo for now,

b

Time to Wash the Potatoes

Think of the tune from the famous (and delicious) “Time to make the donuts…” commercial and then say (instead) “Time to wash the potatoes…”

That’s the theme of our little village gal, Josephine Diane, today as she got to spend some time with daddy.

So, you see, we live in a village and they (meaning the farmers) just literally harvested the potatoes.  When you (not meaning me === meaning you in general === or, most likely, farmers) harvest potatoes, many potatoes remain on the ground.

It reminds me of the Biblical story of Ruth collecting the wheat that had fallen on the ground.

Anyhow, the potatoes remain scattered through the fields or pushed into rock piles.  Lots and lots of potatoes remain.

Wild animals, apparently, just don’t find raw potatoes their favorite.  Wheat?  Yes.  Cold and raw potatoes?  No.

So, after our neighbors harvest, we get to harvest.  (Insert woot-woot here!)

It’s a win for us and a no big loss for our neighbors that love when our Littles roam their fields scooping up the extras.

And what do you do once you gather your spuds?  Well wash them and make homemade fries, of course!

But—sometimes—potato gathering is so exciting that, after all is said and done, you can’t help but fall fast asleep with the mark of a great day all over your face 😉

The Pumpkin With The Light of Jesus…

Every year when it’s time to carve pumpkins, we do this awesome thing at church.  We carve pumpkins with the children.  And we share the story how God scoops sin out of your life and carves a smile on your face and puts his light in you for all the world to see.

It’s really great and the kids love it.

So, yesterday when I went to pick up Maxwell (age 3) from Sunday school and hear all about his pumpkin, I asked him whose light should shine in our lives.  You know…typical Sunday school review stuff.

“The pumpkin’s light!” He shouted.

There you have it, Friends…

Sometimes the best of intentions still get lost to the cutest responses.

What can I say?

#kids #pumpkins #carving #thelightofjesus

I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness. 

John 12:46

Laundry Mountain and Maxwell with his pretty shoes.

When you have one boy and two girls, you will most likely see your boy dressing as a girl than the other way around.  Now, mind you, he will have a wooden sword in one hand while prancing in pretty silver shoes at the same time.

But you do see his Batman underwear, right?

It’s like he’s all boy — with a dainty side 😉

Anyhow, I thought you may enjoy my laundry adventures with Max and Jo.  Which pretty much means I get no laundry done.

But I get the moments of love with my kids (although I am sure Josephine was feeling a little too loved tonight).

Have a great day and enjoy the episodes of Laundry Mountain!

xo b

Laundry Mountain and Maxwell Pretty Shoes!

Snow angels in the clothes!

GoGo my special sister!  Declares Maxwell.  Jo does NOT feel the love tonight 😉

Is Miscarriage In The 1st Trimester a Big Deal?

It is October 1st—which means that it is, once again, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month.

Five years ago, I suffered my first and only miscarriage.  And, oftentimes, people will ask “When I miscarried?”

When they hear it was in the first trimester, most replies resemble “Oh—1st trimester.  Phew.”

They don’t technically say “Phew,” but you often feel or sense that.

And then you begin to feel bad.

Like—Why am I sad about this loss since it is  just first trimester?

Why do I care so much?

Why do I cry so much?

Why do I feel so shallow?  So empty?  So much death?

I can tell you my answer to my first trimester loss of my baby—and it’s a 3-part answer:

1.  Adelyne—I found out I was pregnant with this beauty that made me a mom at 6 weeks.

2.  Maxwell—I found out that I was pregnant with this ultimate troublemaker at about 4-5 weeks.

3.  Josephine—I found out I was pregnant with this little lady the weekend after I ran through fire and climbed 10 foot walls, and jumped and fell into huge mud pits at around 4-5 weeks.

These are my three answers to WHY it is a big, big, big deal when you miscarry…

Even in your first trimester.

Remote Basket…Coming off a sugar high!

Welcome to our world of parenting.

Here are the stats of the wee ones that made us parents:
Adelyne: 8 years of age. On the couch. Pleasantly happy at the moment.

Maxwell: 2 and 1/2 years old. On the floor. Had a great morning. Ate his oreos from Saint Nick for breakfast. Now miserably unhappy, fighting his little sister.

Josephine: The youngest. 10 months old. Did not have Oreos for breakfast but KNOWS…oh, yes, even at 10 months old, she knows which remotes work the television.

The problem is…Maxwell will have NONE of that.

Ruby Max, Elmo, Caillou! Is what you continue to hear him shout.

And, of course, our little 10-month-old drama queen is so traumatized that her brother’s grubby little paws steal her remote that she must flail her head onto my belly and cry (to put it mildly).

We are doing a GREAT job raising our children, right?!

In any case—we enjoyed every minute filming their Remote Basket moment and hope that it gave you a great chuckle for your day.

Enjoy our life of crazy—I guess our blog is perfectly titled, eh?!

xo,
b and r and our wee 3

The Way a Toddler Prays. Don’t Hinder It. Learn from It!

My son does not start his prayers reverently with, “Dear Heavenly Father…”
Or even, “Dear Lord God…”
Not even, “Dear…”
He starts them by folding his hands in front of his body.
He hovers over his food.
He looks at his plate of food.
He looks all around him.
And then he prays.
“Mommy, Daddy, Sissy Adelyne, GoGo (our family’s affectionate name for Josephine), Nana, Papa…”
This is where he pauses and looks around,
“Apple juice, nana (for banana this time), Minnie plate, ah, (short pause and then he points his finger up in the air as if he thought of it) Ruby Max (as in the television show), fork…”  And the list goes on.

Maxwell takes his time when he prays.  He prays for those dearest to his heart first.

After that, he begins thanking God for what he loves (not people related).

Following that, he takes time to look around him and thank God for what is in his surrounding, appreciating even the fork that he uses to eat his food.

Sometimes we hold our hands forever while we wait for this little boy to finish his lengthy prayer…I may even sigh.  Or try to hurry him along.

But, and perhaps it’s because it’s the 2-yr-old age of stubbornness, he does not allow our influence to affect his prayer.  When he is done sharing with God what he is grateful for—when he is finished sharing his heart of gratitude, THEN and only then does he shout excitedly, throwing his hands into the air, “AMEN!”

And his small sister next to him, Josephine, gets a HUGE grin on her face and wildly air slaps her hands (because the coordination of clapping them together is still to be learned—she is 10 months).

Maxwell and Josephine rejoice in prayer time.

And by the end of his prayers, no matter how cold our food is getting, his heart of gratitude and devotion to express praise for it all, rubs off on us, too.  Where we may have found ourselves sighing moments earlier in hopes that his gratitude would run out, seeing his excitement and rejoicing about those he loves and the gifts of life around him rekindles sparks in our hearts that serve to remind us that our time with God, no matter the circumstances, should never be rushed.

Even at the dinner table.