I am definitely a fan of the Carnival of Beauty because among other things, it allowed me to “meet” a bunch of you that I probably would not have had the pleasure of knowing previously. I’ve enjoyed the comments you all have left and now that I’ve read them, I will vanish into oblivion for an undetermined amount of time. No offense.

It has nothing to do with you but everything to do with this child I’m carrying who is bound to arrive at any given moment and if he’s anything like my other two, will cause such a bad case of sleep deprivation that I will hardly function outside of nursing, sleeping and going to the bathroom for about who-knows-how-long.

I should probably also make feeding my other two children a priority lest they waste away, never to return. An occasional meaningful conversation with my husband should be a priority too—it’s the least I can do since I’m sure he will prove once again how exceptional he is by being a great labor coach, getting up with the baby in the night 5.46 million times, cleaning the house, cooking meals, doing laundry and occupying the time of the other two while I’ve got an infant attached to me 24/7.

I’m sure many of you other mothers can relate when I say that other than those few things, I expect the rest of my life to virtually fade into a fog around me. I imagine blogging will be one of those things.

Having said that, I’m not closing myself off to the possibility that a short post here and there might provide just enough mental stimulation to keep me feeling like a human being. But I’m not making any promises. My sister just gave birth to my first nephew on Tuesday and each time I talk to her (or my mom who’s there with her), I’m remembering—I mean, REMEMBERING—what it’s like to have a baby.

I’m not officially due until next Tuesday so there is a possibility you might hear from me up until then. But if you come back to visit and you see that I have not posted for a very, very long time, just know I am somewhere between giving birth and getting to the point where I actually feel like I might make it out alive.

Just thought I’d warn ya.

So today I’m making my debut in the Carnival of Beauty. The Carnival of Beauty is a weekly collection of blog posts written by Christian women from around the net. There’s a specified theme each week and anyone who meets the criteria is welcome to submit a post. This week’s theme is the Beauty of Aging Gracefully and is hosted by Carol at She Lives. Check it out!

My 5 year old was telling me about her recent shopping trip to the grocery store with my husband and our 3 year old son. The grocery store has kid-sized shopping carts which the kids love but I hate. (That’s because it’s a nightmare trying to keep them from banging into people & things and even harder to make them understand that they really should pay attention to where they’re going.)

Anyway, apparently daddy doesn’t share the same hatred for the beloved kid carts. On this particular trip, he let them each have their own cart—a nightmare times infinity in my opinion, but who’s asking me.

So, according to my daughter, the focus of this trip was to acquire 1 carton of buttermilk (which they had apparently forgotten to get the day before). As she’s telling the story, I’m envisioning the inevitable bickering which I’m sure ensued when they were faced with the very pressing question of who would be the one to carry the buttermilk in their shopping cart. Two carts, one item, big problem.

We’ll pick up the story there…

“So Peanut,” I ask, “you only got one thing when you went to [the grocery store]?”

“Yeah.”

“So who got to carry the buttermilk in their cart?”

“Well, we took turns.”

“Ooohh. What a great solution. Who thought of that solution?”

“Daddy.”

“That daddy. He sure is smart. He comes up with a lot of good solutions doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. How does he do that?”

“Well, that’s what happens when you get older—you get really smart.”

She pauses. The wheels are clearly turning. Her nose scrunches up in bewilderment and she finally says:

“Well, you’re not smart. How come you’re so old?”

We (Brian and I) got into a discussion recently with several others about the concept of being “fishers of men” (Luke 5:1-11).

Here’s one of the reasons he is the pastor and I am not:

Brian: We are all called to be “fishers of men” but being a “fisher of men” doesn’t necessarily mean we are all called to be evangelists. Some of us are called to make the fishing pole, some are called to gather the fish, some are called to cast the net…

Me (without thinking of course): And some of us feel called to throw the bad ones back.