Dice crackled against the white trim like pop rocks in our mouths.
Squeals of "I got a 1, mama!" pelt out from little Casey face. "B" in hand, sleep wrinkles still yawning on his face from the afternoon nap, he smiles at me. His eyes twinkling with excitement.
There I sit on the hardwood floor in the foyer right in front of the front door where the light happies best and watch while popping my own speckled fireworks against the trim.
I shift my view to watch my other counterpart. This gambler, a long legged, brown butter bean with eyes so blue at times they play traitor to indigo. His hair straight up the side with points that he calls "fire hair" from his mid -afternoon slumber, he rolls with vigor.
'Mom, I got a 5 and 3." Eli professes. No need for excitement as he plays the role too well of i'mabigboy. Brows furrowed, lips protrudingly pursed, he pauses. I watch and wonder. Then, "That would be 8, mom. Eight. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. 5 and 3 make 8..." He trails off with a posturing glance at me. "That's right, huh Mommy?"
"Yes, sweet boy! It is." I resound with a rub-scratch-rub of his "fire hair". I am rewarded with a small sideways smile with lips and indigo eyes only quickly fading to brow furrows and dice shaking once again.
My late afternoon begins.
Amid the pop-cracking-counting, a man comes strolling up our front sidewalk with clipboard in hand. His walk is steady. His sunglasses tell tale of a sleekness and seriousness to his day.
Little eyes catch a glimpse of this figure and shouts begin. Clapping heeds way to jumps and banging on the glass door at this man on our front step. Sunglasses lift only to spy the silliest pair of google eyes as his militant lips turn smile into silly.
Daddy's home.
Hugs and high fives all around. Except me.
I stand back and watch this welcome parade unfold until it's my turn. This man then finds me with his eyes and comes closer.
"Hi, wife." he says through a soft smile. Then I feel his arms wrap around my waistline for a hug. I oblige. Stepping back he peers at me with his indigo hues and reaches his lips to mine almost to re-inact the pop crackling of the dice against the trim, we kiss.
With quick "How was your days?" exchanged, I listen as does he. I splatter off house dreams, teaching ideas with the boys, and the rundown of our day to him. He gazes at the computer screen in and out, and then I watch him stop.
He finds my eyes with his and they no longer play cat and mouse with the screen.
He knows what I need.
My evening begins.
With hot dogs grilling and fresh onions chopped, we hear, "Mama, Daddy, come outside!" Eli bellows from the back porch. "Casey and me are having circle time and we want you too."
I arrive first to see deck chairs in the sweetest little circle with 2 little barefooted boys awaiting our arrival. Daddy is on his way.
"Here we are. Our family is together in a circle. I like this. Look, all of our chairs are touching." so innocently with unabashed joy Eli utters through a smile.
I look over and see that same smile from my husband. And then see my wee one with "B" in hand and two fingers and a just-a-goin suckle-suck in his mouth.
And it's true. All of our chairs are touching.
Hands woven together around the table with food aplenty before us, we pray.
Daddy asks to pray tonight. The boys sigh and profess small whines for their way, but daddy resounds back that it is his turn.
With heads bowed, he thanks the Lord for our many blessings, for His will in our lives, for His work on the ones who don't know Him, and then pauses. My eyes, so curiously wanting to sneak a peak open, but I remain silent and shut knowing all too well that 2 pairs of eyes beside me have already indulged in sneak-a-peaking.
"God, thank you for my family. For my boys and my wife. Thank you for times like these that you pile on top of us. Our times of playing together, snuggling together, reading together and just being together in our home.
In Jesus name, Amen."
Bites in and thoughts out, we talk about silly somethings and big boasts of our day. Making our bed for the first time by ourselves, the toys spotted at the Dollar Tree, new k.Mac orders from the day, the last day of 2-a-day preseason practices...
2 more bites of grapes and the rest of your hot dogs later, I find myself in the studio beginning my night.
Amid the buzzing of my sewing machine, I sip my Cabernet and allow my ears to wander.
The sounds of music in just the other room giveway to the clanking of dishes against a stainless sink. Chatters of "I put my cup and plate in the sink!" back and forth to the other and then the scampering of little feet upstairs. With a quick clean of a simple hot dog dinner complete, husband makes his way up too.
The music stays in just the next room though. As if lonely, the melody lingers its way to my studio just down the hall.
Vibrant fabrics before me, I create. Stroking this design, my fingers ever-the-double checkers for my near perfectionist mind.
The Paper Doll. A handbag created in my mind long before order forms, a website, and clients knew of its name.
I sip and sew all the while listening to the splashing of 3 men in a tub with squirt guns and laughter loud.
I smile and sip some more.
Voice inflections and train sounds bellowing, it's reading time for my men. "Just 2 books" gives way to a scattering of 6 or ll. But whose counting.
Seasons of songs later, yet all what seems in the blink of an eye, it's time to punch out my time card. I settle for a brief and easy clean up and say good night to my little haven.
Freshly ground coffee makes its way in at its usual time and place, I ready for the morning before heading up to finish off my night. Shuffle stepping, my way upstairs is filled with anticipation of what will be before me.
With a toss of the dirty kitchen linens into the laundry basket, I round the corner into our bedroom. I am greeted by grins and giggles 3 all nestled under our bed's quilt.
It's late. Long past is the hour of little boy slumber.
But that's okay.
Okay because 2 boys are growing up much too fast not to pounce on the smallest opportunities for lovin' and snugglin' from one daddy bear.
I pile in. Dirty feet and all as I am serenaded with, "Get in, mama. Get in!"
And I gladly oblige.
The smell of warm snuggles and clean soapy necks all hugged up with fresh jammies is a scent that can never be re-created nor forgotten; my smile grows.
A double bed full bodied with love, happiness, contentment, and togetherness; I am home.
Time for bed finally makes her grand entrance much to my little ones dismay. Her welcome committee of yawns and eye-rubbing never is quite welcomed by the boys.
Down the hall we go, a boy for each, we split at the fork in the road to each room. Bedtime prayers and begs to be rocked crossed off the checklist in Casey face's room, he swiftly finds his peaceful slumber.
I dance a two-step partner exchange as Kenny and I trade off to say our last nite-nites to the other boy. Walking into Eli's room, I am greeted by the darkness, the flickering fan above, and his silhouette. He's little boy body propped on his side up on one elbow waiting for his mama's last kisses. He's growing big.
"I love you, sweet E-man. Have good dreams. We will play in the morning." I say as I pepper his face with sugars.
"I love you, mom." he resounds and quick as the wind, he is out. As if all he needed was my last love bits, I like to think.
Their daddy and me have plans for a movie. The comfort of the pillows and the rain outside trickling down has other plans.
Touching in whatever fashion fits us best, skin-to-skin, we close our eyes and all is well.
My evening's end.
Perhaps my everyday prayer that Eli spoke of will be answered.
Our chairs will always touch...
.mac :)
PIG TOUR!
Meet my mother-in-law, Carlene. {take note of the piggy coffee cup and shirt, please}
Allow me to explain. Ahem. Pig Tour stands for:
This year makes our 6th year to celebrate Pig Tour. Every year there are so many ridiculous outfits we have worn to "Fancy Night", countless silly pig garb accessories such as pig slippers, pig hats, pig earrings, feather boas, pig necklaces, pig sunglasses all that we have been gleefully guilty of wearing in and about our pig outings.
Basically it's a free-for-all weekend devoted to nothing but the sheer pleasure of being around one another and eating the most delightfully disgraceful-to-your-waistline of yummies. {Yes, we ordered that many. Yes, we eat that many.}
The cabin is decorated with pig motif the minute we walk in. Pillows, throws, cups, pictures; it's the most pig paraphernalia you will ever see in one place. I kid you not.
Alas this year, every piggy voted on a weekend to rest and relax. Our normal public social functions like pig bowling, "Fancy Night" eating, swim meets, and Fanny Farkle footlong corndog contests were pushed to the side this year for a weekend of no bras, no make-up, and whole lotta togetherness in our cabin. Here are Kathy, Melissa, and Becky in full game mode. Game night is every night on Pig Tour.
Sow Kristi giving her team her piggy all in Pictionary. {Yes, those are, in fact, pig glasses atop her head.}
Queen Sow Bea, Sow Becky, Sow Kristi and myself spent the early afternoon lounging at the pool. {Why yes. Yes, of course that would be a pink pig sequined visor on my head.} Queen Sow Bea is quick as a whip with humor. The camera catches us all on the brink of her funny. 
Sow Melissa was a pro with the waffle iron to produce the best breakfast any pig could want. {along with the bacon in the above picture} Upon returning from the pool, I was asked to jump in and help with dinner preparation...
I tried my best to duplicate Mrs. Piggy Crocker up above! Perhaps aprons aren't my thing. For sure aprons with bathing suits and pink pig sequined visors aren't!
The hot tub was right off of our top balcony overlooking the mountains you saw above. It was divine to be the one in the "bathtub" instead of the one on her knees giving the bath for a night or 2.
The last day is always deemed "Awards Day." {Yes, there are sashes. What kind of Pig Outfit do you think we run here anyway?} There are ballots too. We vote for the following awards based on the events and ongoings of Pig Tour weekend:
What award isn't complete without a certificate?
And guess who won Best of Show for the 2nd time? None other than k. of k.Mac! Sow Kristi brought home the pigware. {Meet Spamela. She is the Best of Show trophy. She lives at the recipient's home for their year in reign. She is one beautiful piece of purple clay, isn't she?}
Here are Carlene and her girls.
And here's the cast and crew of Pig Tour! {Yes, thematic t-shirts are made every year, duh?}
As of late, my mind has been waltzing with the idea of perspective. Gliding about nonchalantly as the rhythm sporadically takes us; we dance. The way at which and from which you look at any given circumstance really is an illustrious beat. I'm enjoying my skirt swaying to and fro as we make our turns about the dance floor of life. Me and Perspective. 
I use the word illustrious for the first time, in a way, as I feel like I have always been a typically closed minded individual. I don't know if this is due to the way I was raised or just simply because this is the pattern in which my mind works best. I feel like that to each there is comfort in knowing that their way is the way. Their thoughts are what is right. 
And this multiple choice way of looking at life isn't wrong to me. God's plans and his expectations for us are clear. To love, not to judge, to live on fire for Him, to forgive, to reach His potential that He has set for each of us.
Because you never know when you may be looking sideways at something when someone else has the full frontal view. Profile views offer us with many hardships. They can be skewed. They can hurt. They ache. They can even leave you questioning the intentions of others. Angles are sharp, aren't they? 
Being open minded doesn't mean that you agree with the perspectives of all. But it does mean that you punch your dance card of compassion and step into their shoes for a dance or two. It brings a whole new hope to your heart, I do believe.
Whether it be the unrequited love from someone dear, the couple trying to desperately to have a baby yet with no luck, the mama grieving the loss of a little one, the family member who just doesn't fit, the church member who thinks they're always right, the one who lets you down, the grandfather who is never pleased, the hurt, the helpless, the homeless. Me and Perspective through God's grace and humility can look in with illustrious eyes and find our place and peace for each.
And we can do so because He made us each with different intentions. His grand plan is to feed our hearts and dance cards full. To teach us and to remind us that we are all here to give Him our all and show that all to others each and every time we can. His dance steps are hard to learn at times, but well worth the try.
Illustriously I am reminded in this unfair world that I have a choice. That at times I will fail. But that I can always slide my heels back on, straighten my skirt, and hold out my arms as He takes mine in His to find our rhythm once again. Me and Perspective.
Be it a little mister, well, that's my expertise, I like to think. I love to share infancy stories of Eli and Casey all the while helping my client find the most clever of fabrics to fit the little tike nesting on the inside. I pride myself in keeping a wide selection of collections for boys in stock as I know the road is rough when it comes to variety with little guys.
No prob. k.Mac's got it covered. This Hipster was designed for twins, Andrew and Abigail. Their dad a HUGE Atlanta Braves fan and their mom ecstatic over pink and green.
With a total a 12 pockets and the cutest of k.Mac design, this client's wishes were granted.
5. Keep finding inspiration in your everyday. Believe in the ideas and dreams you have. Others may find them lofty, but others don't dream them, now do they? You can do it, you can do it, Cinderellie, Cinderellie. {Phil. 4:13}
7. Be more compassionate. Remember what it feels like to have a cold, be scared, try something new, or feel alone. 
9. Your boys watch you. They watch everything about you. Whether you realize it or not, they do. Make it count.
