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"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace." (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, ESV)

For everything, a season. And it seems that our 3-year-old and our almost-2-year-old have joined together to drag us all—kicking and screaming—through the "break down," "weep," and "war" seasons of life. Every day feels like a cage match. Every. Single. Day.

This week is an exciting one for me for several reasons: 1) We’re in Georgia visiting our families. 2) Tomorrow morning, Brian and I will hop on a plane to go to Chicago and leave our kids with my parents…for FIVE days. 3) I forgot what else I was going to say. I can hardly […]

Can we still be lifelong friends who pretend like I never did the embarrassing puppet bit back in 2012?