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Tonight seemed like a good night to make donuts since D will be home very early tomorrow. I’ve always wanted to try homemade whole-wheat donuts, but lo I doubted. UNTIL I found this really great recipe at Heavenly Homemakers (through Works for Me Wednesday) a couple of weeks ago.
We started around 830pm (because that is how we roll) and I was pleased how quickly it came together. LittleBit and LittleMan helped me add the ingredients and then anxiously awaited fan-tab-u-lous fried happiness.
The frying and the eating did not disappoint, I assure you. The rolling out was a little odd. Let us not discuss the rolling out of the dough; it was a bit disturbing. La la… la la la.
Some of the rings came apart during the frying/flipping, but the happy golden wheaty brown made up for it. OOooo! I know! They could be educational! Do you realize how many letters you can form using a sorta-C shape?
YAY! Powdered sugar! Because we have priorities! But I did use sucanat in the batter, so hey…
Ah, a plate of golden yummy ready for sprinkling
Now, look above the plate of donuts and read the quote on our kitchen wall; that’s right, in a fantastic *ironical* twist, it says, “…No one can stop….” It’s actually part of a Scripture concept reference, and the beginning says “That which His hand has started…” on our other wall. But this line seems appropriate for homemade donuts, too.
(*Please note: the use of “ironical” is a hat tip to my fabulous husband. I do not normally engage in the use of “ironical.”)
Quality assurance testing begins.
I am pleased to add that it was successful; the Littles gave the donuts two thumbs up and three gulps down.
Domestic Diva One. No desperate housewife here, no sir. Would you believe I photoshopped in those under-eye circle so you wouldn’t be jealous? (yeah, I didn’t think so… blame it on my day)
Don’t they look good? (and the circles disappear beneath squinting, bunny teeth, and baked goods)
Domestic Diva One signing off… “Time to eat the donuts”
***Edited to add: immediately after eating our donuts, I had to go plunge a plugged toilet (I don’t think the two are primarily connected); my domesticity knows no bounds. I am woman; hear me gag.
Does it tell you anything that it’s now 15 minutes into a new day and this is the *third* installment of my day??? If you missed the first two, they are here and here.
Thank You, LORD that Your mercies are new EVERY MORNING!
Upon arriving home, my sweet baby girl is still not feeling well. I call the pediatrician’s office and wait for the doctor to call me back. LittleMan has inhaled two more pancakes during my dialing and fretting. LittleBit is sitting on my bed, covered in blankets with the ceiling fan on high.
I’ve boiled the chicken for barbecue and fajitas and browned the ground beef for chili and spaghetti when the doctor calls back.
AAaaaand we’re back in the car.
Gas is $3 a gallon and we’re going to Publix.
Publix doesn’t have what we need. So we pay for some juice and walk to God’s Truck. Upon opening the truck door, LittleBit gets teary and says, “Mommy, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” Oh sweet baby, *I* am sorry! Back into Publix.
Now we’re driving farther into town to CVS.
Did I mention gas is $3 a gallon?
CVS has what we need. We are waiting in line along with the other half of our county when a uniformed, name tagged girl huffily brushes by LittleBit and shouts to the wide-eyed youth attempting to check e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y out, “Call Carla so I can go EAT!”
Thank you, precious child. And enjoy your meal.
We say thank you for the medicine and our receipt and we’re steps from the door when Little Bit grabs my arm again.
If we ever get home, maybe my baby can feel better.
Once at home, I give LittleBit and teaspoon full of fake-cherry with a Pedialyte chaser and feed LittleMan another pancake (his request). We sit on the couch and play a few games on Playhouse Disney. I am so hungry but since one baby can’t eat and the other has had breakfast a-l-l-d-a-y-l-o-n-g, I’m going to wait.
Because he pitched a fit in Publix (while I was safely locked in the stall next door with his sister), LittleMan had to go to bed a half hour early. This gave me 30 minutes of uninterrupted time with LittleBit. We played matching games, she showed me how to “paint” the pictures on the screen, her feet resting on me the whole time. It’s the first *real* happiness I’ve seen from her in hours.
We snuggle together and pray our goodnights and then she looks up with the longest lashes ever and says, “Mommy, can I sleep in YOUR bed? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?”
She’s tucked in on Daddy’s side of the bed.
Once they both drifted off, I made myself a quesadilla, put the chicken pot in the fridge next to the ground beef, eyed my “to do” list again, switched loads of laundry, checked on the Littles, flipped on the tv, picked up my laptop, and ate.
It’s been a L-O-N-G day.
Not a bad day, just a long one. I won’t lie, today I would have flown Darren home if I could have. The kids were wired, I was wired, we were busy, we’re having company tomorrow night — it’s just a hot mess (the day, that is… well, and the house too).
*But hear me* — I wouldn’t trade it.
God wouldn’t have invited Darren to do what he’s doing if He didn’t call me to it as well. And lest you think I’m writing this saga to whine, please know that it is these kinds of days that absolutely crack me up! It’s just too random to make this stuff up! I love that! And it won’t always be like this; one day, things will look shockingly different and I’ll wonder when it happened. So I’m ok tapping out my amusement here (and it’s cheaper than therapy).
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I have a lot of housework to do, beginning with the bathroom stools behind my headboard.
In case you missed Part 1, suffice it to say that I have HAD A DAY, friends; and it is a good thing that the LORD made it because I might not be writing about it otherwise.
18 minutes out of the driveway, I am on the phone with my favorite aunt and we’re hustling into our church to pick up said item and rush madly to the UPS store before noon. I discover that retirement-genre aunts do not do well with background noise from two small children and 58 seventh graders passing on their way to lunch. I offer to call her back after retrieving the item. She delightedly agrees.
At the UPS store, I hand the gentleman the package, the thingy from church, some packing material, the printed label, and ask him to please make sense of the hot mess at hand. He does so and in packing recognizes the equipment and begins to ask me band-ee kinds of questions (”So where do you get your ears? I need a new set, I’ve got Big-Name-You’ll-Know’s and does your company do molds?”) Fortunately I know *JUST PRECIOUS LITTLE ENOUGH* not to embarrass myself and give him the Fabulous Company name and SuperSalesman’s name and ask him if he’s already using dual drivers and explain how SuperSalesman can ship him a mold kit he can return for custom ears. He seemed surprised and interested.
Have I ever mentioned that the discussion of “ears” and “molds” and such actually reminds me of Lord of the Rings rather than sound equipment?
As I turned to collect my children from the Oh-thank-You-Lord-for-the-UPS-store-Lego table, I run into — nearly literally — another church member who asked me where everybody was today and where they’d be this weekend. I tell him they were and where they’d be and when they’d be home.
He hath no clue I know only b/c I just mailed something. He thinketh I am a good wife.
We’ll leave it that way.
As I slide into God’s Truck, my phone is ringing. It is one of my favorite girls who was once my in my Sunday School class and is now in college, phoning to see if we can meet for lunch since her roommate is in town. Considering the grating tones and painful whines from the backseats, I say yes before she can finish the question and drive Andretti-style to the Chick-fil-A to carb our attitudes before the girls arrive.
One expired coupon, two fruit bowls, and three nuggets later, my children are once again the shining angels of perfection I adore.
Until LittleBit attempts to slide down a padded pole in the play area and gets a tremendous scratch and LittleMan nearly tackles a whining 2 year old whose sobbing at the end of the slide is nearly more than my perfect son can tolerate. Nice.
Time flies with the girls. It reminds me that relationships — iron sharpening iron — are of Kingdom importance. The sweetest days with my children, the moments laughing with my husband, the conversations with “my girls” aren’t the icing, they’re the essentials.
After we left Chick-fil-A and the girls and the playground and the crying 2 year old, we went to Wal-Mart. Hast thou traveled the Wal-Mart with thy young? It is a joy, oh yes, and it is a joy.
We are 3 aisles away from the bird seed (our purpose in coming) when LittleBit sits down on a shelf and says she feels funny. We go to the bathroom.
Then we go to the bathroom after we get the bird seed.
We go once more after check out.
But I am assured that everyone is quite well to go to the Dollar Tree.
At the Dollar Tree (because lo, we have priorities), LittleMan climbs out of God’s Truck and walks ahead of me. THUD, COLLAPSE, SCREAM.
My son has just been clothes-lined by the rear view mirror on the sedan next to us. And I am nauseated by the divot on the side of my baby’s head. LittleBit prayed for him as we knelt on the sidewalk trying to assess the damage. I knew he was going to be ok when I said, “Ok, let’s go home and we’ll get you some ice for your head” and he *emphatically* retorted, “NO, MOMMY! But I want to go in!”
So we’re halfway down the fourth aisle of the Dollar Tree when LittleBit grabs my arm and says, “Mommy! I have got to go again! I am SO SORRY!”
Do you know how many Dollar Tree bags it takes to hold $22 worth of happiness?
S-e-v-e-r-a-l
If you’re not bored to tears, there will be a final installment (it’s ok, you can breathe while waiting for me to hit ‘publish’ but please remain on the edge of your couch, it makes me feel important)
We had only been awake 20 minutes when LittleBit decided it was a good idea to get in the tiny crevice behind our headboard and then couldn’t get out, so LittleMan threw both bathroom stools over to her so she could hoist herself up.
I hear the clunking of the stools toppling off each other and the frantic whispers from the culprits on my way from the laundry room.
Did I mention that they both got sick last night and wound up in my bed? And that we all three squeezed into one bed because their sheets were dirty?
Yeah.
So, anyway, 22 minutes after we woke up and I started the sick sheets and then heard the brouhaha, I walk into our bedroom and rescue my now-bawling daughter from her precarious perch.
We had a raw-ther firm Come-to-Jesus meeting in the bathroom and she seemed fully recovered.
58 minutes after the rescue effort, my son picks up a plastic climbing wall piece (that will be used in a swing set this spring, right, Darren???) that had just come in and was leaned against the wall. Because I, Betty Crocker, was busily milling wheat and mixing batter for our oh-so-wholesome pancakes, I did not hear exactly which bad guy LittleMan was excitedly battling, but I *did* hear the sickening WHOOOOOOSH of the plastic piece as it coasted down the entry stairs and the gi-nor-mous SMASH as it hit the entry and nailed the door.
I cameth a little u-n-g-l-u-e-d.
15 minutes after the second Come-to-Jesus of the day, we sit down to eat our pancakes and I make a list of what we needed to do around the house. Three bites and two items in, the UPS man shows up with a package. I call Darren to tell him and learned he needed the package and something from church shipped next day to Somewhere-In-Northland.
45 minutes after that conversation, both children had been showered, the shipping labels printed, the item’s location confirmed at church, and we were walking out the door.
With no makeup on, mind you.
But fabulous hair.
Because I’m not shallow. I’m southern.
I call for the third time to check on my bff who was having outpatient surgery this morning and learned that the doctor had been running late and she had just been taken in to surgery. Oh, and that I didn’t need to make chicken for them tonight. Some other kind Baptist ladies beat me to the bird.
If you’re happily flying along, stay tuned for Part 2. If not, pray for me — you just read the slow part of the day!
by my husband of all people 
So, since he’s identified me here, I suppose I should properly introduce myself to you. My name is Sarah Hughes; I’m married to the amazingly talented and wonderfully gifted Darren Hughes (who is now blogging, oddly enough). Darren is the production manager for a band called Casting Crowns. We’ve been in ministry with these guys and gals since way back in Daytona.
We are parents of the two most AMAZING children ON THE PLANET, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. They are the diamond on my life’s pendant; other links may have value, there is precious metal to be found, but nothing compares to the fire and brilliance of our daughter and son. The *greatest* gift of my entire life is worshiping with them — to hear them sing to Him, pray to Him, learn Scripture, and love Him loudly leaves me humbled and speechless.
My life is so far beyond what I could have ever imagined; I have definitely traded the miniskirt for the minivan, and grad-school took a *serious* backseat to preschool. The reality is, I’m one fabulous teddy-bear-laden sweater atop a denim jumper away from my own shock and horror — but I *love* it! (the life, not the sweater-jumper-combo, folks, no offense).
So, for those of you who’ve been here before… some stuff I’ve written before makes more sense. And now that my husband’s blogging (wow… never thought I’d type that) I will likely return to more frequent posting. Competition fuels the market, right?
Anyway, it’s nice to “meet” you again!
We *love* to sing! Some days it’s more “joyful noise” than “Heavenly refrain,” but we have a VERY good time! And I’d like to share some of our favorites with you.
We are currently LOVING Phil Joel’s Deliberate Kids CD! You *need* to check out both the Deliberate Kids and Deliberate People sites; Joel’s passion to see people involved in a daily walk through God’s Word is contagious.
VeggieTales’ Worship Songs has a great story line (Bob & Larry come to help the kids during children’s choir rehearsal) and a host of powerful worship songs. Featuring an appearance by Matt Redman, the Veggies introduces children to a host of popular worship choruses arranged for them to understand and sing. We were excited that our Littles were able to join us singing the same songs in worship at church!
Hillsong for Kids is AMAZING! Its Biblically based, energetic worship gets our kids — and all their friends! — jumping and moving and worshiping in body and song.
Our next music purchase for the Littles will be Seeds Family Worship. On a recommendation by one of my favorite authors/bloggers/people, Ann V., we checked the Seeds site and *LOVED* what we heard! Each song teaches a specific verse or passage with accuracy and appealing repetition. I can’t wait to get my hands on each of the Seeds CDs!
I think the sweetest gift God has given me is that of worshiping with my children.
And finding tools that help us meet Jesus together definitely works for me! Hop over to Shannon’s for more great ideas!
I think it’s time you and I had a chat.
You’ve spent a lot of time outlining and listing all the features of everyone else we know: she bakes, she sews, he writes really well, she’s very wise, he can fix anything, etc, etc. And while I’m glad to acknowledge others strengths and talents, let’s be honest — we’re not them. We’re me. And you’re the Wanna Be.
For too long I’ve listened to you as you pointed out every “opportunity” to “become” something else, someone better.
And now I’m done. Any input you may have presented has been passed over because I’m me. Not them, not her, not him, not wanting, just me.
See, I am fearfully and wonderfully made. His works are *wonderful* and I know that very well. He calls me the righteousness of God in Christ. I am altogether beautiful in His eyes, precious in His sight and He loves me. He gave His Son in my place. He created my inmost being and knit me together in my mother’s womb; He saw my unformed body and He ordained each day of my life before one of them began. He prepared in advance the good works for me to do. And He has given me everything I need for life and godliness. He supplies my every need according to His riches in glory and I shall not want. The Holy One of Israel watches over me and He will not slumber nor sleep. He who knows the end from the beginning is actively at work in my life; He will accomplish the purposes He has for me. I am not finished because I AM is faithful.
So it’s really time for you to move on. We’ve long been shackled by the chains of dissatisfaction, the tyranny of comparison, the torture of “good enough.” And now I’m done because He is not done. I am ready for freedom — which is the purpose of His freeing me.
You’re right on one count — I’m not there yet. But I can forget the shame of my youth, the ashes of embarrassing memories, the flush of guilt because He who has started a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.
So I don’t want to be.
I know I AM.
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