Martin (the Warrior Slayer of Rats) and I are having a sad day. I'm all alone today and missing my girls terribly, he is a mopey little dog today missing his Bet girl smooch his nose, Janie misses Anna and is hiding upstairs. The girls went into town yesterday with me and stayed over night to help Rebecca get ready for Mike's parents to come for a month long visit. I am sorry to miss out on their helpfulness to me today but I am more pleased to be able to loan a good friend good help.
They are a real blessing to us, as their older sisters were and still are. I am very thankful to God that years ago he showed Dirt and I that children did not need to go through a teenage stage, that a person could become a normal adult without having to go through an eye-rolling, snarking talking, isolationistic, disrepecting time where the only people they care to related to are their peers and the only work they do is for money and someone else. Our girls are twenty-six, twenty-two, (the older two have been married since each were eighteen) seventeen, and fifteen (almost) and none of them were ever sullen teenagers.
Buttcha know I am supposed to be writing a book about our parenting adventure of having brought four girls to maturity and marriage without dragging them through rebellion, dating, and the ilk. My friends don't bug me very much about it, the book, like they used to, but the day before yesterday my husband brought it up, quite unexpectedly and quite affirmatively. I can't say that I would necessarily be the writer because while I am the one who types it out and works the words around to say what we mean, Phil is always right there when I write out stuff, whether he actually is and is verbally saying his input or if his voice and principles just play in my head while he is off at work. Did I mention how much I love him and depend on him?
So maybe I'll get started on that,
just as soon as my girls get home.