Read Online No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) by Michelle Stimpson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Stimpson
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work.
Once we’d finished with the
kids’ baths in the evenings, you would have thought we were newlyweds who had
just recently discovered God’s bonus perk to being married.
We finally came up for air on
the weekend. Stelson served me breakfast in bed that Saturday morning.
“Where’s Mommy?” I overheard
Seth asking my husband in the kitchen.
“She’s resting.”
“ Resting ?” Seth asked
as though it weren’t humanly possible.
“Yes. She’s resting in bed.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes, when she’s ready.”
Since Zoe was only good for
about twenty minutes in her swing and Seth wasn’t the type to sit in front of a
television without finding some other way to entertain himself, I scarfed down
the toaster waffles, turkey sausage and orange juice.
Plus, I wanted to see my
babies. I couldn’t have Seth feeling I’d all but abandoned him.
As I showered, washed my
hair, and blow-dried my straight, brown mane, I wondered how my appearance
would change with thick, curly coils like Peaches’ hair. I pulled my bangs back
and took inventory of my forehead. Head-on, it was fine. But the profile. Nuh-uh. Too big . Besides, people said natural hair was way more work than permed
hair. The whole point of me leaving my job was to gain more time, not
reallocate it to caring for my hair.
My little ones both squealed
when I joined the family in the living area. “Hi, Mommy!” Seth threw his arms
around my neck.
“Hey, Seth!”
Still a bit protective of my
toe, I tucked it safely underneath the rim of the couch.
“Daddy said you were resting.
Are you sick?”
“No. I’m feeling great.”
“Then why were you resting?”
His long eyelashes fluttered as he questioned me.
“Can’t mommies rest?”
“No,” he insisted.
“Well, this mommy
does.” I tickled his stomach.
He backed away, laughing.
I hoisted Zoe from her swing
and smooched on her neck until she burst into gurgling giggles. I cradled her
in my arms as I joined Stelson and Seth on the couch again.
And there we were: the
picture-perfect all-American family. Dad, mom, and son, and a baby daughter.
All we needed was a dog, which Stelson and I had both agreed wasn’t going to
happen until Seth was old enough to assume the responsibility.
“Who wants to go to a movie?”
Stelson asked, though he must have already known the suggestion alone would
drive our son bonkers.
“Me! Me! Me!” Seth jumped,
raising his hand in the air.
“Okay. Let’s make it happen.”
The theater hadn’t been on my
agenda, but how could I resist all this delicious family time? This was my new
identity, right? No longer super- every - woman . I could whittle it
down to super- wife and super- mom .
With the promise of movie
plans, Seth hopped on his Saturday chores—straightening up his bedroom
and picking up trash in the back yard—while Stelson and I had our monthly
budget meeting at the kitchen table while keeping an eye on our son.
My husband presented a Dave
Ramsey disciple, a spreadsheet with color-coded categories and clearly labeled
dollar amounts. Most of the time, I came to the budget meetings and simply
listened. Really, I didn’t care what Stelson did with the money in our joint
account so long as the bills got paid and money was both given and saved.
The only account I watched
like a hawk was my personal account, which was separate from what I put in the
family pot. Stelson didn’t mess with my personal account. I didn’t mess with
his, either. We could both view each other’s account activity online, but I had
learned early on not to even click on his links if I didn’t want to get upset
about how much he’d spent on a pair of cufflinks.
“So,” he started, “in order
to stay on track with the kids’ college funds and our retirement accounts,
looks like we’re going to need to renegotiate some of our existing contracts
and cut back on several non-essentials.”
“Like what?” His definition
of non-essential was usually
Once we’d finished with the
kids’ baths in the evenings, you would have thought we were newlyweds who had
just recently discovered God’s bonus perk to being married.
We finally came up for air on
the weekend. Stelson served me breakfast in bed that Saturday morning.
“Where’s Mommy?” I overheard
Seth asking my husband in the kitchen.
“She’s resting.”
“ Resting ?” Seth asked
as though it weren’t humanly possible.
“Yes. She’s resting in bed.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes, when she’s ready.”
Since Zoe was only good for
about twenty minutes in her swing and Seth wasn’t the type to sit in front of a
television without finding some other way to entertain himself, I scarfed down
the toaster waffles, turkey sausage and orange juice.
Plus, I wanted to see my
babies. I couldn’t have Seth feeling I’d all but abandoned him.
As I showered, washed my
hair, and blow-dried my straight, brown mane, I wondered how my appearance
would change with thick, curly coils like Peaches’ hair. I pulled my bangs back
and took inventory of my forehead. Head-on, it was fine. But the profile. Nuh-uh. Too big . Besides, people said natural hair was way more work than permed
hair. The whole point of me leaving my job was to gain more time, not
reallocate it to caring for my hair.
My little ones both squealed
when I joined the family in the living area. “Hi, Mommy!” Seth threw his arms
around my neck.
“Hey, Seth!”
Still a bit protective of my
toe, I tucked it safely underneath the rim of the couch.
“Daddy said you were resting.
Are you sick?”
“No. I’m feeling great.”
“Then why were you resting?”
His long eyelashes fluttered as he questioned me.
“Can’t mommies rest?”
“No,” he insisted.
“Well, this mommy
does.” I tickled his stomach.
He backed away, laughing.
I hoisted Zoe from her swing
and smooched on her neck until she burst into gurgling giggles. I cradled her
in my arms as I joined Stelson and Seth on the couch again.
And there we were: the
picture-perfect all-American family. Dad, mom, and son, and a baby daughter.
All we needed was a dog, which Stelson and I had both agreed wasn’t going to
happen until Seth was old enough to assume the responsibility.
“Who wants to go to a movie?”
Stelson asked, though he must have already known the suggestion alone would
drive our son bonkers.
“Me! Me! Me!” Seth jumped,
raising his hand in the air.
“Okay. Let’s make it happen.”
The theater hadn’t been on my
agenda, but how could I resist all this delicious family time? This was my new
identity, right? No longer super- every - woman . I could whittle it
down to super- wife and super- mom .
With the promise of movie
plans, Seth hopped on his Saturday chores—straightening up his bedroom
and picking up trash in the back yard—while Stelson and I had our monthly
budget meeting at the kitchen table while keeping an eye on our son.
My husband presented a Dave
Ramsey disciple, a spreadsheet with color-coded categories and clearly labeled
dollar amounts. Most of the time, I came to the budget meetings and simply
listened. Really, I didn’t care what Stelson did with the money in our joint
account so long as the bills got paid and money was both given and saved.
The only account I watched
like a hawk was my personal account, which was separate from what I put in the
family pot. Stelson didn’t mess with my personal account. I didn’t mess with
his, either. We could both view each other’s account activity online, but I had
learned early on not to even click on his links if I didn’t want to get upset
about how much he’d spent on a pair of cufflinks.
“So,” he started, “in order
to stay on track with the kids’ college funds and our retirement accounts,
looks like we’re going to need to renegotiate some of our existing contracts
and cut back on several non-essentials.”
“Like what?” His definition
of non-essential was usually
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