My husband informed me that I would share this with all my blogging friends.
I said I would not.
And now I am.
Once again, he is correct.
(And now he is framing this post.)
Sunday we went to church. We haven't been there in forever because the boys have been sick and I refuse to leave the house if my husband has to plow. I figure if he has to plow, we need to stay home.
We have junior church duty. We had all boys aged 7 to 5. When I asked them what they could ask God to help them with, something they were having a tough time with, one little boys squeaked out, "I fart a lot. Like, a whole lot. I think God needs to help me not fart so much."
The boys agreed solemnly in unison.
It was a struggle they all had.
My supportive husband left the area laughing, I had to agree this was definitely something to ask prayer for.
We will be discussing this further next week.
Ya'll may need to pray for me on that one.
Apparently it was a great church service to miss because the congregation was feeling all convicted. Husband felt we should get the cd from the service but ignorance seemed the perfect bliss to me. I was okay to not feel convicted on my sunny Sunday.
I think we'll get the cd on Wednesday.
Apparently my husband is correct AGAIN and it's always good to grow.
(He is for sure to frame this post now. Two times I say he is right!)
I told you all that to tell you this....
Some of you may be shocked to know that at times....my boys can embarrass me.
And Sunday was one of those days.
Jake and I left the church to head for the suburban and round up some boys - any that wanted to go home with us, basically - and S4 seen us and began to wail.
And hold himself.
From clear across the parking lot, he began to yell in pain.
"I have to go number one and I can't hooooooooooold it!"
So what does my husband say?
"Here! Just lean against the tire and pee here."
I, mortified, got in the suburban and sat down.
My now happy son climbed cheerfully into the vehicle.
My practical husband said, "Oh, you know you'll blog about this."
"Oh no", I said, "I don't think they need to know what redneck hillbillies we are. Or rather, YOU are."
"You married me," Jake grinned.
This whole blog post makes me feel the need to shop for shoes. High heeled girly ones.
(And...all the labels were already in my list of blog post labels...pee, church, fart and embarrassing. Sigh. Welcome to my life.)