Seven Years of Good Luck

This past weekend Georgia Boy and I celebrated 7 years of marriage.  The success of our marriage has actually had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with the grace and guidance of God.  When Georgia Boy and I married we created a blended family with the two of us and my Bonus Son Cole who was 4 years old at the time.  As anyone who is in a blended family can attest, the road is difficult and full of struggles.  But we knew that God had put us together for a reason and we were determined to create something beautiful with our new family.

Two years into our marriage we were blessed with the birth of Superman and four years after that we were again blessed when we added our precious Sidekick to our family.  After seven years of living, loving and creating shared memories we have built a family that is as wonderful and flawed as any family.  I am blown away with what we've been given and look forward with anticipation to the memories that are still to be created.

In a perfect world Georgia Boy and I would have celebrated by dropping the kiddies off with a set of grandparents and heading to New Orleans for a couple of kid-free days to enjoy everything that our city has to offer.  However, since we're approximately a 12 hour drive from any set of grandparents and BOTH babysitters were busy, we went out to eat with the kids and gave each other a high-five at seven years of hard work...and God's grace.

At a 2010 LSU/UGA baseball game in Baton Rouge.  You can't see it but I'm 7 months pregnant with Sidekick.

At the happiest place on Earth.  As you can see, I'm wearing my Cheap Mama uniform.  Oh how I love the zip-up hoodie.

The night of Bonus Son's guitar recital.  Yes, that is a boa poof bow on Sidekick's head.

Here's to 7 more years of God's grace and provision.  And 7 more after that.  And 7 more after that.  Well, you get the picture.  

Donut Shop

*This is a post I wrote for The Red Dress Club.  

The alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. and I groan as I sit up in the dark.  Around me my high school girl friends lay sleeping where they will most likely stay until around nine or ten on this Saturday morning.  But me, I'm up, dressed and driving in my dad's hand-me-down Camaro to be there when the donut truck arrives at Spencer's Short Stop promptly at 5:30 a.m.  Mr. Spencer is a retired school teacher and baseball coach in this sleepy Oklahoma town who realized his dream of being a small business owner when he opened a gas station / donut shop on the main street in town.  Each morning the Dunkin Donuts truck arrives with fresh donuts on plastic yellow trays that we display in a corner of the store.  There is a small counter with barely enough room for a cash register and six plastic booths in front of the window overlooking the parking lot of gas pumps.

I put the trays away in their proper places and begin to make the coffee.  The first customer is always Walt Guthrie. He pulls up in his old pick-up truck before the doors open at 6 a.m. and I usually let him in early so he can settle in with his coffee and newspaper.  We sit there together, the elderly man and the high school girl and watch the sun rise over the flat Oklahoma land.  Although I'm only seventeen years old I feel like I have an adult's appreciation of the reds, oranges and yellows that slowly creep over the sky bringing another day.  I love the quiet and the anticipation of the sunrise.  It is my favorite part of every Saturday.

As dawn gives way to morning the street begins to come alive with dads in mini-vans coming to get Saturday morning breakfast for their families, moms grabbing a quick bite on their way to the grocery store and cars of children yelling from the backseats, "I want a glazed! No, a bear claw!"  The hometown heroes of last night's Friday night football game stop by for a half dozen donuts each on their way to watch the film of last night's game and to work on the game plan for next week's rival.  These sleepy boys caught between adulthood and childhood with the bodies of men but the easy smiles of children are my childhood friends.  I cannot fathom that one day they will be husbands and fathers.  I can't imagine that I will be anything other than a daughter, cheerleader, student, friend.

I pop a few donut holes in my mouth between customers but rarely do I eat more than a few during my shift.  I'm like the kid in the candy shop who has eaten so much candy that it's no longer a treat.  I fill Mr. Walt's cup for the third time and chat with the other familiar faces who come and go on this fall morning in America's heartland never knowing that these memories will remain with me for the rest of my life.  That these seemingly innocent mornings spent trying to earn a little bit of spending money are shaping a young girl on the precipice of life.