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My younger brother turns twenty-five today. Tyler and I could not be more different, and yet we could not be more alike. We share the same laugh and the same sense of humor. We share the same heart for the broken and worn down, the displaced and forgotten.

Sometimes I look at him and see the kid who tagged along to hardcore shows, determined to learn how to play guitar. And then I remember the sounds he’s produced in the years since, the songs that move people. Sometimes I look at him and see the kid who gagged down protein shakes over our kitchen sink, determined to gain enough weight to play football in college. And then I remember his national championship ring, the one our kids beg him to bring over so they can feel its weightiness.

I look on my little brother with pride, but I also look at him as a test run. A lesson on how to process the choices my own kids make as they grow into adults. You see, Tyler isn’t as driven neurotic as I. He wasn’t married and planning a family at his college graduation. He didn’t have a five-year plan and force it into action. Tyler hasn’t rushed, hasn’t missed a beat of what life has to offer. He’s stretching me and growing me as a mother, just by his example. And I’m grateful for it. My kids might not all end up just like me. If they end up a little like you, little brother, I’d consider it an honor.

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We’re six kids in and we still haven’t developed a great rhythm for washing clothes. Some times, we do one load per day. Other times, we wait and wait and are eventually forced to do ten loads in two days. Chris and I have reached a point in our marriage where we’re pretty neutral towards laundry. We’ve each picked other chores to love and despise, so we stick together on this one. Our people’s clothes must be washed, and often. No getting around it. There a few tips I’ve found along the way, that make this ever-present chore more bearable.

Bottoms up. Lately, I’ve gotten into a habit of washing everyone’s bottoms together. I go through each hamper and pull out all of the shorts and pants. I find it makes the drying and folding process quicker and simpler. Likewise, a whole mess of  t-shirts would be just as straightforward. Since I wash most items on cold, mixing colors doesn’t really matter here. When you know what you’re pulling out of the dryer, it’s possible to fold an entire load in a very small window of time.

Fold with a friend. Chris and I have found laundry-folding to be super healthy for our marriage. Some heavy conversations have taken place between us over a pile of fresh clothes. Eye contact isn’t required, hands are distracted with a menial task, and bottoms are forced to stay in the same room for the duration of the conversation. We’ve also had some great date nights at home with laundry. Finding a Netflix series on which to binge makes everything more fun.

Get it out of here. We make it a goal to put laundry away right away. There will be no pawing through baskets to find clean undies, or living off of piles of shirts at the foot of the bed. If we can’t sort and deposit items immediately (after bedtime, for example), then it gets done first thing the next morning. We’re doing laundry so often, it would be downright depressing to add to an already-present pile of clean clothes.

What about you? Give to me all of your washing wisdom!

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I don’t think mothers are naturally destined to wear ratty clothes and tired faces. It seems to have become something we’ve chosen for ourselves. I understand the eating cold meals and cold bath water thing. Really, I do. We’re wired to give ourselves away on a daily basis. We pour out; we empty. We leave it all on the field, and we don’t question or regret it. But the clothes and the accessories? I just don’t buy it, ladies. I think it’s just as important that we look and feel our greatest as it is for the rest of our family members. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not a supermodel mom. I do not rise before the sun and work out. I do not blow dry my hair or wear makeup everyday. I just try to keep my closet stocked with items that make me proud to wear them. I want to get dressed in the morning and feel confident about who I am, what I’ve been called to. I don’t want to be distracted throughout the day with an outfit that doesn’t fit or flatter, or a purse that’s falling apart and embarrassing me.

I try not to let my kids’ wardrobe expenses come before my own, and I do this by building a little Momma money into the budget. If you’re a regular around here, you know that I made a commitment this year to not buy any new clothes for myself. That did not stop me, however, from making two very important purchases in the accessories department. I used my work bonus on a new handbag and a watch. They weren’t the most expensive options out there, but I’d had my eye on both and it felt good to buy them. At the same time. While pregnant. See what I mean?

Last week, another friend of mine lost her baby. The son for whom she prayed and waited so long was born still at forty weeks of pregnancy. My brain tried to stop working there for a bit. What do you say to her as she waits for the induction to work, both of you knowing she will not meet a live baby on the other side? What do you say after she and her husband arrive home with an empty car seat? What on earth, Lord?

I’ve often felt useless, unable to encourage hurting moms when I myself have never experienced infertility or miscarriage or infant loss or failed adoption. I’ve grown to feel almost guilty when I receive such sad news from the women I call my own. But I’m learning something… those guilty feelings are not from the Lord. As I walk through these tragedies on the sidelines of my friends’ lives, I’m learning that it’s okay not to know what to say.

For now, I’m sorry will have to work. I’m sorry and I’m hurting with you. I’m for you, and I’m behind you. I’m believing that He is good and faithful. I’m saying it for you, holding your arms up when you cannot. And I’ll still be here to say the same things when everyone else expects you to feel better.

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My girls have a tendency to take both their joy and their unhappiness to ear-piercing levels. They can sing and shout and squeal and holler with the best of them. My ears are sensitive and my temper is short. When the sisters get loud, I do not always find it cute.

But Isaiah Jane has the sweetest voice. It’s a cross between an angel sucking on candy, and an old lady whispering. Honor Rose has recently developed a fake belly laugh that brings tears to everyone’s eyes. The first time I heard the girls call the dogs by name from the front porch, I thought I’d melt into a puddle. They also love to cup their hands around their mouths and shout, “HEY YOU GUYS” when they spot the big boys walking back from the neighbors’ house.

My girls are loud. In my house. In my car. In my head. In my heart. Someday, my house will be too quiet. I will cry and look back on these days with fondness. So I say bring the loud, sisters. Bring the loud.

Today’s post was sponsored by the beautifully talented singer/songwriter Reeve Coobs. She just finished writing an album that took her nine years to complete. Talk about calling! Work Ethic! Commitment! “What Love is All About” releases on November 1st and will be available online November 4th. Reeve was gracious enough to offer a copy to one of my readers. To enter, follow the instructions below. The winner will be announced on Reeve’s blog October 8th! Happy weekend, folks.

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On-the-go evenings can make for tricky dinners, especially in large families. It might be more convenient to eat out, but it’s not always the easiest or most affordable option. Is a deliciously greasy drive-thru trip in your imminent future? No worries! I’ve got you covered. Use these tips to feed as many as ten mouths for less than twenty-five bucks!

Small items on repeat. Remind the kids that this is a utility meal. There is not a lot of room in the budget or the schedule for each person to get crazy and select their own combo meal. Order ten cheeseburgers and keep it moving.

Picnic style. Grab a few large fries, instead of one order per person. This meal is intended to be shared, quickly and simply. Believe it or not, serving fast food family style can actually make the entire dinner more fun!

Water. Sodas tend to disappear before the rest of the meal, and they make us even thirstier when we’re on the go. Order a few large ice waters and distribute amongst the water bottles you’ve already packed.

DIY dessert. Pull those apples and grapes out of your diaper bag and call it a success. Cheers!

I call our kids blessed, to watch them grow up in a musician’s home. Christopher finds a song in everything. There’s usually music filtering through the halls at some point or another, and the babies nap during their dad’s rehearsal time. Imagine the heavenly stuff taking place in those sweet little dreams! All of the kids enjoy singing along, but Ames in particular has developed a fondness for worship. He is most comfortable with a pair of drum sticks in hand and a spirit-filled tune on his lips.

Yesterday morning, I hurried Ames through the readying process and practically shoved him into the truck. I didn’t want to be late to women’s group, and I wasn’t in the mood for his chatter. One million and one things raced through my head as I fumbled with sunglasses and iPhone and  keys and all of the things. Per usual, Ames asked me to turn on some music before I’d even made it to the end of our driveway. I obliged, and my son began to sing one of his current favorites. He absolutely brought it. Grateful for a kid who knows how to minister to his Momma.

We can trust our God
He knows what He’s doing
Though it might hurt now
We won’t be ruined
It might seem there’s an ocean in between
But He’s holding on to you and me
And He’s never gonna leave, no
He is with us, He is with us
Always, always
He is with us, He is with us
Always