6 Podcasts for the Hungry Soul

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6 Podcasts for the Hungry Soul

Podcasts are my best friend (ACTUALLY, I AM CONVINCED THE PEOPLE ON THESE PODCASTS ARE MY ACTUAL BEST FRIENDS, RIGHT GUYS? LET'S HANG OUT SOON!). It's because my work as a stay-at-home mom demands a lot of my body but often not a lot of my mind. While I'm folding laundry or cooking dinner or burning dinner, it's so fun to be able to listen to edifying content that's less commitment than an audiobook (although I love a good audiobook and for the record, I also love commitment. HI LUKE! YOU'RE MY BOYFRIEND FOREVER!).

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Maybe We Need to Have Fun

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Maybe We Need to Have Fun

I did a study on personalities recently, and people with the personality type that best matched mine supposedly “have trouble focusing on boring things.”

Oh HAHAHAH I don’t relate to that at all it’s just exactly what my problem is every single day. I swear to you, I cannot clean and cook within the same week or my soul shrivels up and dies. It’s either a cleaning week or a cooking week and no matter how many tricks I try, this is how it must be if I am to stay nice and pretty and humble.

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Laughing Faith

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Laughing Faith

Two things make me roll my eyes: When we don’t take our faith seriously and when we think our faith means we always have to be serious. Every single college girl to whom I’ve ever spoken has gotten my lecture on this. We step onto a college campus thinking there are only two options: party with the fun people or sit alone in your dorm room reading the Bible. There may be a time or two when that’s the scenario, but generally, NO, FALSE, UNTRUE, GIANT RED X, not a great way to approach life. Frat houses do not have the market cornered on fun. UGH, IT MAKES ME SO MAD TO THINK WE WOULD GIVE UP ON FUN.

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Trophy Mom

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Trophy Mom

I am a Trophy Mom, which is less cool than a Trophy Wife (a title I relinquished long ago mainly because it was never bestowed upon me). Trophy Moms like me are not trophies themselves but rather the ridiculous and indiscriminate distributor of trophies to other people, particularly their children. I realized today that it takes nearly NOTHING to impress me. My kids stepped five inches into their new Parents’ Day Out, and I exclaimed, “I’m so proud of you!” and meant it wholeheartedly. When I was waiting to pick them up, I turned into an actual beam of light because I was so overwhelmed with pride that my babies went to school, a.k.a., did nothing special. I mean, I have been tap dancing ever since I picked them up. I actually think my face is not longer a face but a giant banner that says HOORAY. We came home and ate popcorn and I ceremoniously placed Olympic medals around their necks while singing the National Anthem and sobbing over the pictures they colored of apples.

Can you imagine what will happen if my children end up actually being good at anything?

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