If I told you my story
You would hear hope that wouldn’t let go
If I told you my story
You would hear love that never gave up
If I told you my story
You would hear life but it wasn’t mine

—My Story, Big Daddy Weave

Monday, August 17, 2015

Today was (so thankfully) a normal day, beginning with dropping the kids off at the bus stop. I began what would be a 30 minute commute into work, not before stopping for an extra large cup of coffee.  I stayed up way too late the night (the insomnia) / morning before, working on prepping posts for JustTyra and CraftSwag.  I loved getting back into a normal routine after several weeks of ups (the big move) and downs (one of my precious babies was sick, really sick).

We received tickets for the Notre Dame vs. Texas game, along with a few other games in what appeared to big a fancy container to cradle the tickets.  I felt odd (old, like ancient..actually) once I realized that one of the football “legends” on the tickets (who shall remain nameless, to protect the year and thus the calculation of age) was someone I remembered during my first year on campus (Really?).

An organized shelf of bookbags full of little homework assignments and songs to practice (R-E-D – Red!, R-E-D, Red! I can spell red! I can spell red!) needed to be completed, along with dinner (potpourri of chicken strips, Sunday’s homemade pizza, fries, broccoli for the kids, cornish hens and fancy vegetables for the adults), baths (water was everywhere), book time and prayer of gratitude and thankfulness for a normal day (versus a day, not to long ago, spent in the hospital, in the same clothes for 2-3 days straight, waiting, not sleeping).

I sat down long enough to watch a little TV and Jimmy Fallon and off to prep pics for this blog post along with other design team assignments.

By now it’s super late (I can’t sleep), a few dishes are undone (I ran out of steam), but at least we are all home.