Note to self...

Happy Birthday Elliot!

2012-01-14T14:02:00.000-08:00

In honor of 'Baby Brotha's' First Birthday... I wanted to share the actual story of his birth...

My dear little boy, Elliot, was born on January 17, 2011. I woke up on my own that morning feeling wide awake and David got off to work pretty early. I sat down with a cup of coffee and turned on the news. I had hoped that 'little boy' would already be here by now... I was so uncomfortable. Waddling from place to place, waking up every night in a panic because I could hardly breath (or roll over for that matter) and withstanding the worst case of indigestion that is humanly possible for several weeks prior... I was ready. All of these wonderful symptoms had me praying the 'any day now' prayer... even though I was still a week from my actual due date.

As I sat there, sipping my coffee, the newscaster solemnly announced that not only was it MLK day... but also, Jan. 17 was officially the saddest day of the year. I don't know how they come up with this stuff... something about the 'holiday cheer' wearing off... and realizing just how much money you owe on said 'cheer'. I thought to myself 'please don't go into labor on saddest day'... but literally before I could complete the thought (or my coffee) I started feeling some contractions. I sat there for about 30 minutes... and realized that they were pretty predictable and getting stronger. I could tell almost immediately that 'this was it'.

As I heard Evangeline waking up, I grabbed my camera to take a few morning shots of my Doodle before she became a big sister. I love the pictures from that morning...

I got her out of bed and cuddled her extra long as the contractions started to pick up... once they continued to get stronger, I called my mom to come get Evangeline. As I gave her a sloppy kiss and a big squeeze, something inside of me grew a bit weepy... just realizing that my heart and attention would forever be divided. So off she went with the 'Dam Butta'...

I got a warm bath just to see if that would slow things down... which it didn't. I rode out the contractions for another hour or so before calling David. Once he got home... we packed our bags (yes, I'm a last minute kinda girl)... and once the contractions were only a minute apart... off we went, in the gloomy January cold, to the hospital. (I would've stayed home longer... but because I was GBS positive, wanted to make sure I got the antibiotics in time).

We got to the hospital around noon and my midwife checked me... "Hmmm... you're barely 3cm., so we'll just give you the antibiotics and let you go home." she said.
"Are you kidding me?!" I thought. (If you think I'm getting back in that car and driving all the way home... you're crazy!")
I quickly filtered all the drama and curse words... and ended up saying something like, "I'd really prefer to stay here if at all possible."

My wonderful midwife was so understanding and said that she really wanted to go by my 'mother's intuition'.

Once we got checked in... 'real labor' soon followed. I would have really strong contractions, really close together... then a long pause. My labor never really 'stalled', but it seemed slower than what I was expecting. She said that it was probably just his position and once he got his little arm out of the way, things would pick up.

Labor is painful. How do we forget the pain... then voluntarily put ourselves through this again?! Because of all the metal holding my lower spine together, I feel tremendous pressure on my back and especially in my tailbone. David was amazing... he would push on my lower back to counteract the pressure through every contraction. Despite the immense pain... it was pretty quiet and peaceful the whole time. The midwife didn't even have to be in there very much at first... then, when she did feel the need to stay close she sat in a rocking chair in the corner and knitted. I felt very in control the whole time... much different than with my first labor.

Each time the contractions worsened, I just remember thinking..."Why do we do this to ourselves?! ... and willingly?!"

"I am never doing this again! We'll just have to adopt."

Each time the midwife would check me, I thought... "O.k. this is it we're almost there." Then she would inform me... "Looks good, you're 5 cm. now."

"Oh my gosh, this baby is never coming out!" I remember having these random thoughts, but David would tell you how calm and under control I was the whole time. He says I'm even sweeter in labor than in real life. I took that as a compliment at first... but upon further consideration, decided to take offense to such a comment.

After several hours, I asked if I could get in the tub. They wanted to wait until I was in transition... or ready to push, but my back pain was so intense, so they hesitantly told me I could 'try to get in the tub'. So this is where things start getting interesting. I was open to having a water birth, but never really thought it through. I just wanted to go with the flow. Looking back... I wish I would've given it a bit more thought... mainly, my wardrobe.

First of all, I am an extremely modest person... modest meaning... my stomach has never seen the light of day. I don't use the bathroom in front of people and I don't even change clothes in front of my sisters.
But, let me tell you, all sense of modesty goes out the window when you're in the late stages of labor. As I made a bee line for the tub, like a race horse out of the gate, I remember slinging any remaining articles of clothing across the room and throwing myself into the water. I can only imagine the elation that a beached whale must feel when it's finally pushed back to it's rightful place in the ocean, where weighing a ton simply doesn't feel so big.

Once I got used to moving in the water and dealing with the contractions in a different environment, I felt a little better about the thought of actually having the baby, but not much.

My only panicky moment happened during, what I can only assume was, transition. I was in the tub, hanging over the edge, and David was outside of the tub, leaning over me to press down on my back. The longer the contraction would last... the longer he would push... and the lower my my face slid into the water. I remember feeling like I was being lowered into a watery grave, but not having the words to ask him to stop. In a single and final attempt to save my own life, I remember thrashing my arms in every direction and beating my poor husband until I could breath again. I am proud to say... this was my only 'I'm gonna die' moment.

This was also around the time that our dear nurse decided to pick up our camera because she 'thought it'd be nice' to have a few intimate shots of me in labor. Beached whale... enough said.

At some point, I remember David discreetly asking the midwife how much longer she thought I'd go. She 'quietly' told him 'just a few more hours as she left the room, I pretended not to hear, but secretly vowed that 'I'd prove HER wrong'.

Not even 30 minutes later, with only David and I in the room... I heard my water 'pop' and immediately started pushing. David called out in the hallway and the nurse and midwife rushed in. They discovered that there was meconium in the water... so they asked me to get out of the tub. But it was too late... Elliot was already coming... so they told David to lift me out of the water as I finished pushing. It was not the peaceful water birth that I had envisioned, but I was just glad he was out. They held him up for a second... he was completely gray and limp. Not at all how I remember Evangeline's birth. My heart sank as they rushed him to the other side of the room and called a team of doctors, who rushed in immediately. David assured me that he was fine... but I knew that he wasn't really sure. After what seemed like forever... we finally heard his little cry. He was completely fine. Perfect. They brought him to me and my heart just melted. It's amazing how you can just love someone so much in just an instant.

As my family came in and Evangeline held her brother for the first time... I remember thinking... "I don't have to divide my love for them... it just multiplies."

My favorite gift...

2011-12-27T12:14:00.000-08:00

This Christmas was quite peaceful. We didn't go overboard on gifts for the kids. I had to learn to let a lot of my expectations fall away as I've been dealing with pretty bad migraines over the past 2 weeks. I didn't get a chance to bake or even finish decorating the tree.
In past years, these things would've unnerved me and I would've been stressed and miserable... and made everyone around me stressed and miserable. But, I'm thankful that I can see how the Lord has been changing me... to be less like myself and , hopefully, more like Him. I was able to really enjoy my family and to celebrate even when I would've rather gone to bed.
I was just chatting with my sis this morning as she was showing me a crossfit promotional video. "I guess being able to challenge yourself and achieve the impossible would be great." I told her... "But it's just the very opposite of where I am in my life."
The theme of my story for a very long time has been... learning to accept and embrace limitations. Mostly physical limitations... which eventually bleed into the other areas in life. I am a desperate, incapable person on my own. Which is a glorious place to be. If I happen to have the energy or strength to accomplish a lot in any given day, then one thing is certain. It came from the Lord. It is definitely not any of my doing. Not because I'm 'in shape' or got out of bed early and did my 'devotions'... but because a gracious Father gave me a beautiful gift that day. And I'm so grateful that my eyes can see these days as gifts... rather than, 'what I deserve or expect'.

So, speaking of gifts... here are just a few things that I'm grateful to have received this Christmas...

1) Peaceful time to visit with family
2) Time to paint and bake cookies with my family
3) A fabulous husband who took both kids to his band practice at church, so I could have time to make photo books for my family

4) Time to rest and get rid of my migraine on Christmas Eve
5) My fabulous Ugg boots that Davy remembered me wanting last year!
6) Reaghan babysitting so Davy and I could shop together
7) A stocking full of dark chocolate
8) A fabulous breakfast with my sis this morning
9) A heart that could embrace the season despite many setbacks
10) ... and my favorite gift this year was the smallest one... about the size of a blueberry... with a very strong heartbeat.

It has been a very Merry Christmas...

Gone... but not forgotten.

2011-12-19T09:07:00.000-08:00

This morning, as I was dividing up loads of laundry that are chaotically organized in piles throughout my kitchen and den, I overheard my precious little Evangeline talking to Elliot.

"Sit down right here, Baby Brotha... o.k." She is very bossy these days. So I peer around the corner to make sure that she isn't dragging him across the room by his ankles... or sitting on him, which is typically the scenario. But instead of the usual... I find her sitting next to him, reading him a story. The 'book' is actually a photo album... all pictures of Hammie that I flip through often with her. As I just sat there to see what she was going to say... she continued... "O.k. I read you story... o.k.?" Poor Elliot sat there only long enough for her to get the first sentence out...

"Once upon a time... there was a little Hammie."

Happy December...

2011-12-05T12:30:00.001-08:00

So sorry for the 'Tomorrow post'. I realized it wasn't working, but never had the time to correct it. Things have been pretty crazy here for the past two weeks. Sick kids. Tired parents. Messy house.

Did I mention that I'm dancing again?! Yes, I went out with a few dance friends back in September... and after just a few sips of wine... completely volunteered myself to perform in a Christmas Service at KPC (a church in our area). So ,instead of spending my few precious moments out today Christmas shopping, I had to track down some extra large ballet tights. Then I was so exhausted and overwhelmed from shopping, that I scarfed down an entire Barbacoa Bowl from chipotle with a whole bag of chips. Needless to say... I am experiencing a bit of eater's remorse... and I'm well over my calorie count for the day. Go ahead... roll your eyes... (I used to roll my eyes at 'calorie counters' too... but I have a great new app on my phone, so I figured I'd keep track of my calories just to see where I am.)

I have done no Christmas shopping. My house is a disaster. My mind is all over the place... I even got some beautiful paper plates and napkins for the Christmas party that I forgot I cancelled.

I'm rambling... my kids just fell asleep. So I will clear off the couch, ignore the mess... and get some rest. I'll be unpacking my 'Christmas Cheer' from the attic as soon as I can think straight again.

Happy (or un-happy) December...

Tomorrow!

2011-11-30T16:34:00.001-08:00

So, I guess this is Evangeline's musical debut. I have to coax her into finishing... and she gets sidetracked several times... but you get the point. ENJOY.

Fat Moments...

2011-11-30T10:31:00.001-08:00

Fat moment of the day...

Having to explain to your tearful toddler that... 'mommy ate your last chicken nugget'.

Other fat moments...

Hiding all the good petit fours from your in-laws (usually during a holiday or birthday celebration)... because you know that they just won't appreciate them as much as you do.

Hiding food from yourself... so you'll be surprised when you find it.

Telling your child, "No, these are yucky cookies." ... so they won't want any.

and finally, from my dear cousin...

"Taking my half eaten Christmas Tree cake (a Little Debbie snack, if you're unfamiliar) to a friends house, down the street, so I could properly savor it." Natalie Brown

Journal Entry... November 28, 2011

2011-11-28T11:33:00.001-08:00

It's been a crazy morning. Mondays usually are. And while I should be using this precious nap time to shower or straighten up my chaotic home... I've decided to sit down and write.

My words, should this journal survive the toddler years, will last forever, but the same cannot be said of a clean house. So today I'm choosing to look past the piles of laundry and dishes... and set my eyes on the bigger picture.

When I look at the big picture I remember that these crazy moments ,with my sweet and unruly children, are fleeting.
I remember that it is much more important to stop and thank the Lord, than to get dinner started. To praise Him for these precious days that are overflowing with blessings, yet usually masked with exhaustion.

When I take the time to look at the big picture, I think of my children being able to look back through my journals in 20 years... and to see how much joy they've given me and what a gift from God they are.

I want them to remember (or at least read about)... NOVEMBER 28, 2011...

~ the day that the house was a disaster.

~ the day that we kicked the toys out of our way as we danced to 'It's a Hard Knock Life' for the 100th time in the past week.

~the day that grandpa sent a huge box of Christmas presents from florida.

~the day that Doodle opened all of her toys in seconds flat... then peed on them because mommy was so busy with the video camera that she forgot to set the timer.

~the day that Evangeline so kindly helped Baby Brotha open his new squeaker shoes from grandpa... then within 30 seconds pulled the squeaker out and bit it in half.

I want my dear little Evangeline to know that I love her more than she'll ever know... and that I'm so grateful for her sparkling personality. Because, seriously, who would read a book about a quiet and well-behave little girl?

I want my sweet Elliot to know that he is my best friend. That I would never trade a minute of the times we've spent together in the middle of the nights.
I want him to know that nothing in this world melts my heart more than his polite, half-smile that he gives to strangers... or the wide, gummy smile that he saves for rare occasions.

I want the Lord to know that I see his sweet love for me every time I look at my children. He has given me good gifts. Crazy, unruly, poopy, drooly, loving, snuggly, fussy,singing, giggling, disobedient yet learning, hungry, burping, messy, but beautiful gifts.

And now that I've taken the time to look at the big picture and get my thoughts onto paper, I will now zero in on the smaller, less attractive picture. First, I must discover the strange odor that has been distracting me for the last 10 minutes... then onto the piles of laundry (which, now that I'm thinking of it, could explain the odor). Happy Monday.

Thankful for the Rain

2011-11-23T11:17:00.001-08:00

As I'm sitting here the day before Thanksgiving, I'm trying to think of a unique or creative way to share the things I'm grateful for. A little 'thankfulness tree' or something else to display around the house. But then, as I started to list the things that I'm grateful for... more questions started popping into my mind. My list of things I'm grateful for could be endless. I am so blessed... in more ways than I can count... and I'm sure in more ways than I even realize.
I'm thankful for my children, but that's easy. They're wonderful. I'm thankful for my husband, but he's pretty fabulous as well. So I started to think... as a christian, shouldn't my thankful list look different? My was conclusion was... yes, it should! Of course, this does not minimize all of the wonderful gifts that we have been given and should be grateful for... just a different perspective.

1) Thankful for my bad days. The days that my back pain is at a 10 and I want to hurl things across the room. It's days like these that make me rejoice when my pain is only at a 7.

2)Thankful for feeling lonely. The days when friends fill my home are so much sweeter because I've tasted loneliness and desperation for true friends.

3) Thankful for having a colicky baby. It forced me to hold him more than I would've otherwise. I think little Elliot got way more attention from 'the mama' than the average second born. As I look back at those first several months, I know that it is only the Lord's mercy that I didn't loose my mind, though there were a few close calls.

4) Thankful that I've tasted heartache. Thankful for two babies waiting to meet me in heaven. As I remember these bitter and disappointing moments, I am forced to trust the Lord in a deeper way, especially during pregnancy. These moments have also made the sounds of a little heartbeat the most precious thing I can imagine.

5) Thankful for depression. This is still a hard one for me. But as I look back on my lowest and darkest days, I realize that's the time the Lord used to lift my eyes beyond this earth and to eternity. There's something sweet and relieving to know that this world simply cannot meet our expectations. We were created for a different place.

These are just my thoughts, for now. I certainly don't want to impose this way of thinking on anyone else in an insensitive way... and I don't expect all christians to thank God for all the bad things going on in their lives. There are still many things that I simply cannot thank God for, especially when I see suffering in the lives of those I care about. But I am thankful that our God is a Redeemer. He takes awful things like miscarriage and pain... and turns them into a sacrifice of praise. Things that we can ultimately thank Him for, instead of blame on Him.

He is teaching me to trust Him when the clouds hide the sun and I start to feel raindrops. To have eyes of faith to see the seeds that are just beneath the surface waiting for water... and to imagine the beautiful flowers that are about to bloom.

Fat Moment of the Day

2011-11-22T17:55:00.000-08:00

Finally seeing your 'goal weight' appear on the scale... followed by the word ERROR.

Oh well, at least I felt a brief sense of accomplishment for about ten seconds.

Other fat moments of my day would include:

1) Scarfing down a scalding hot piece of potato. While it would've been acceptable to simply spit it out, I proceeded to treat the challenge as if it were an olympic event.

2) Getting mad at Davy while we were cuddling... but too lazy to move.

3) Hiding while eating. Evangeline always wants my food.

Favorites

2011-11-19T09:04:00.001-08:00

Every year for our anniversary, I make David a photo book... except one year. I think it was the year after Evangeline was born. As I was trying to put 'OUR BOOK' together, I could hardly find any pictures of us... they were ALL of Doodle. So we have made it a point, since then, to take the time to get pictures of ourselves. It seems a bit silly and self indulgent at the time... but I keep telling him 'one day you'll thank me'. So here we are. My favorite boy. My favorite season. My favorite place.

Oh Doodle!

2011-11-16T12:55:00.001-08:00

The story you are about to read is 100% true. No embellishments or exaggerations. With God as my witness... the entire event unfolded in less than 10 minutes.

I guess it was sometime around 12:30 or 1:00. Doodle's friend, Emily, had been over all morning keeping her occupied so I could get a few things done. After she left, I agreed to let Evangeline 'wash dishes' in the kitchen sink while I finished running the vacuum. I cleared the sink and countertops from anything hazardous or breakable, put a few plastic dishes in the sink and let her loose. I was pretty confident that there was nothing she could make a mess of. Boy was I wrong. As soon as I turned off the vacuum cleaner, I went to the kitchen to check on her. She wasn't at the kitchen sink, but rather out on the back deck... naked. Apparently the dishes weren't amusing enough so she decided to strip down and wash all of her clothes in the sink.

She, then, proceeds to drip her clothes through the kitchen and out onto the back deck where she hangs them from random surfaces to dry. Before I'm able to capture her naked cuteness on film... she races back into the house to find new clothes to put on. I chase her down and try to put a diaper on her, but she wriggles free, turns back to me and says... "No diapy, my naked!"

I look at her and explain that she needs a diaper so she won't pee pee on the floor. She looks me straight in the eye and starts to strain a little. "Evangeline! No pee pee!" I shout, as I chuckle to myself. It's not like she can randomly pee out of complete defiance.

Well, apparently I was wrong. My adorable, rebellious little angel managed to squeeze just enough out to trickle down her leg and put me in my place.

Of course I dealt with her immediately while simultaneously trying to figure out how to put this whole incident into words.
After 'time out' was over, Evangeline immediately started taunting Millie Precious Darlin with some sort of toy. Millie had had enough so she started chasing Doodle around trying to jump up and nip at her curls.

Evangeline was amused, but still told Millie, "Dumb dog... cut it out!"
Millie did not cut it out so Evangeline runs to me yelling "Save my life! Save my life!"
Of course, I scoop Doodle up and save her, but my back starts to spasm. As Evangeline is 'actin a fool' I simply sit her on the edge of the kitchen table long enough to adjust my back.

Well, it turns out that a split second was more than enough time for Doodle to find the one porcelain piece from her tea set that I had put up out of her reach. She grabs it before I even saw what she was doing and slammed it down on our tile floor. As usual, we were both barefoot, which only left me with one option. As I locked her out on the deck long enough to vacuum up the glass, I pointed to her clothes and said, "Now you go pick up that mess."

My dear, adorable child looked up at me and said...

"YES... MS. HANNIGAN."

As I glanced up at the clock, I was amazed to see that not quite 10 minutes had passed since I set her up to peacefully wash some dishes.
On the other hand... she was so exhausted from all of her shenanigans... that she took a 3 1/2 hr. nap! That's the only reason I can even laugh about it.
I figured I should also post a few of her 'personality shots' along with my story... just in case you're tempted not to believe me.

Busch Gardens Part 2

2011-11-12T19:10:00.001-08:00

In honor of my dear friend, Marissa, on her birthday... I figured I should finally finish our Busch Gardens Story. If you haven't read part 1... I'll give you a few moments to catch up.

So now that you are caught up on the first hour of our infamous Busch Gardens trip... let's continue. I've successfully navigated the tourists, fountains, mascots and unruly children in Elmo's world... and managed to give myself a rather compelling pep talk.

"You've already made it through a screaming, hour long car ride, waited in 20 min. lines and wrestled your 2 year old back into her stroller. You're sweating like a pig and wearing uncomfortably tight jeans which, at this point, you can do absolutely nothing about. You can't waver now! Just go with. It really can't get much worse." I tell myself, trying not to appear panicky to my calm, cool and collected friend.

Marissa decides to take her kids to ride the Lochness Monster as I sit down to feed mine. I regather my senses after a few minutes, put the kids back in the stroller and get the heck out of Elmo's World.
Reaghan and I catch up with Marissa as she's waiting for her oldest kids, Byron and Jaelyn, to get off the roller coaster.

At some point, Marissa decides to come with me to take Evangeline and Paxton on the swings which is totally across the park in another country (each section of the amusement park is named after a European country). Reaghan offers to stay at the exit of the Lochness Monster and wait for the older kids as we made our way out of Scotland and through most of Europe in search of the kiddy swings.

So off we go, pushing our strollers side by side through the crowded paths in the mid-august heat. In true mommy fashion we jump straight into some deep life issues. You see, busy moms rarely have a minute to think, let alone talk, so we must seize and utilize every conversation-worthy moment.

"I just don't know what to do." she says to me, over the crowds.

(Evangeline let's out a blood curdling scream, just for fun)

"Well, I know it isn't easy... but you just have to be genuine and loving." I yell back to her with my last breath as I push my rickety, double stroller up the cobble stone path.

We pick up the speed as Evangeline and Paxton start screaming in unison, but don't miss a beat in our conversation. I can't remember the specifics of our conversation, but I do remember throwing out terms like 'that's what Jesus would do', 'fear of man' and random scripture references as we're bulldozing through Italy with our tantrum filled strollers.

We finally make it to the long awaited swings... which Paxton refuses to ride. Then we venture over to the airplanes with our two little rebels (p.s. Baby Brotha is still sitting angelically on his side of the stroller... blessed child of mine).
For heaven's sake... Marissa and I really just want to get a picture of the two kids on a ride together, but they refuse to cooperate as Evangeline panics last minute and has to get off the airplanes.
So here we are... Marissa at the airplanes and me at the swings. It's funny how so many moms go through painstaking efforts to do things together, yet still spend most of the time alone. I'm sure we both noticed the irony as we casually waved from our individual locations.

We finally decided to head back to Elmos' world since we hadn't heard from Reaghan and the older kids yet. As we're crossing the bridge back to Italy, Marissa gets 'the call'. I could see that she didn't recognize the number, but she went ahead and answered anyway. I could see slight panic mixed with nausea as she tried to listen, but just then Doodle decided to pitch a fit.

"Umm... where are you?" the stranger on the other line asks.

"Who is this?" poor Marissa asks, trying to mask her confusion.

"Uh... I have your kids." says the woman, they've been scared to death, running around the park looking for you.

I could see Marissa's heart hit the floor right as Doodle took her tantrum up an octave.

Marissa tried to stay calm as she thanked the lady for caring for her kids and arranged a place to meet. We called Reaghan, who was a nervous wreck herself, and made sure we were all on the same page. As we raced back through Italy, once again, I can just see my dear friend's blood pressure rising (it's totally hereditary). Her New York accent thickened as she went through every possible scenario of "What were they thinking?!"... "How long have my kids been wondering around Europe?!" "That lady must think I've lost my mind... as well as my kids."

We reunited with the kids... and Reaghan. After warm hugs and stern warnings, Marissa turns to me... "O.K. Where to next?"

"Next?!" I think.

If it were up to me, I think a brief stop by Starbucks on the way to the nearest Psychiatric Institute would be the safest bet. But my dear friend was determined to stick it out in the august heat for a few more hours.

I tried to keep up with her. But it was no use. I lost all hope when nap time was suddenly upon us and Evangeline made me wait in line for the balloons only to throw a complete fit once the ride started. I quickly grab my child, while apologizing to the crowd who had now gathered to watch our spectacle. Then as we're walking off she has another meltdown begging to go back on the balloons.

After repeating this processes a few times, I decided to put my foot down. It's time to go home. I quickly bought Evangeline an over-priced 'Big-a-Bird' stuffed animal to commemorate this festive occasion, gave my friend a hug and wished her luck. She skipped off into the French Riviera with her naturally curly hair, cute kids and adorable, breezy skirt... while I trudged back to my car with my ill fitting jeans chaffing my inner thighs.

So this sums up our summer trip to Busch Gardens.... I'm glad I went, but I need about another year to regain my strength and motivation for the next time.

Note to Self: I know you hate buying super large shorts when you don't think you'll get much use out of them... but for heaven's sake... the chaffing... it just isn't worth it.

Doodle the Poodle

2011-11-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

Halloween was quite the event this year. It was one of my toughest 'motherhood' days ever. No naps among a million other things. Doodle eventually passed out on the couch right before we were supposed to leave for a much anticipated bonfire, so we had to give up on those plans and settle for trick or treating in the neighborhood. So here's my exhausted and fussy pink poodle 'Doodle the Poodle'... and my little green frog who hated his hood. I imagined our annual fall picture in the front yard with their pumpkins... but ended up with screaming and frustrated kids. So... here's to 'capturing the moment'... smiles or not.

Doodle and Darlin'

2011-11-08T17:25:00.000-08:00

The other day, as I was washing dishes, I noticed that Evangeline was occupying herself in the other room for an unusual amount of time. I heard her chattering, so I trusted that she was alive and well ... so I went ahead and got a few things done around the house.
Finally, I decided to spy on her just to see what was so entertaining... and this is the scene I had the privilege of witnessing. My very own private production of DOODLE and DARLIN'.

Evangeline had managed to get Millie's harness halfway on... as well as her bumble bee hat. Poor Millie precious decided that she had had enough by the time Doodle pulled out some powder and one of Baby Brotha's diapers, but she had Millie by the tail as she did her best to 'change' her.
The entire time she was torturing Millie Precious with this embarrassing charade, she's also giving her an earful of encouragement...

"Millie Precious DAR-LIN'... it's o.k. IT'S O.K. There's you hat. O.K. There's you diapy. WOO-WEE- STINKY. "

Then she grabbed Millie's face and added... "YOU a-DOR-able!"

Of course Evangeline found a hat for herself before she asked me to ..." Take picture mommy? O.K.!"

Our Love Story

2011-11-07T12:40:00.000-08:00

Each time someone asks "Oh, so how did you two meet?" ... I think, "Man, I don't know where to start." So I wanted to write out 'OUR LOVE STORY'. It's getting lengthy so I'm taking breaks, but it's been so wonderful to look back at the Lord's faithfulness as I consider all that we've been through. I hope it can encourage those that are feeling lost or confused by a relationship... or just waiting.

According to my personal research, there is no perfect method to 'finding the one'. I tried to do everything right... and failed. As I screwed up and everything fell apart... the Lord brought things together. This is His Story in our lives.

(or part of it at least...)

It's a 'Venti' sort of day.

2011-11-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

You guessed it! Both kids are down for naps. And here I am with time to post. My house is somewhat straight and cozy... and filled with the delicious aroma of a venti, caramel macchiatto.

I'm sure, if you're anything like me, you would read this first sentence, roll your eyes and think "Man, she's got it made" ,as you imagine me in my comfy sweats, sipping the caramel coated foam. But, before you jump to any conclusions... let me explain.

I got desperate today. I mean really desperate... like, 'take both kids to Chick-fil-a for no apparent reason by myself' desperate.

Now... to most people this doesn't seem like a big deal. But if you know me well... you are either applauding right now... or just very concerned for my mental well-being. I'm not a big fast food fan and I really hate those closed in play places, but with Evangeline on her latest nap protest, I was determined to get her out of the house and wear her out.

Anyway, it had been a rough morning. Nothing major, I've just been head-achy, hormonal and generally under the weather. So after Elliot woke up from his morning nap I began the 45 minute process of getting the kids out the door. I packed minimally since we were simply going to lunch and back... or so I thought.

As soon as I pulled into the Chick-fil-a parking lot I immediately chickened out (pardon the pun). There wasn't even one space available and the drive thru line was wrapped around the building. I went ahead and got some nuggets for Evangeline and promised her that we would find a new playground. So off we go to City View park with our lunch.

As I pull into the completely empty park I have to suppress the many complaints that were swirling around in my head. "Of course, the park is empty. Everyone and their brother is home NAPPING right now... but not us. We're desperately eating our nuggets by ourselves with no jackets in a completely empty and soggy park." (insert eye roll)... then repent.

It wasn't all bad. Evangeline and I had some meaningful conversations about birds and pine cones as she ate her nuggets and Elliot drank his bottle. After lunch, I pushed them on the swings because everything else was wet. With a greasy little nugget in one hand, Doodle kept yelling "Higher! Higher!" , then she would throw her head back, close her eyes and say... "Woah... that feels so good." That girl is really the cutest thing ever... (besides her brother, of course).

After chasing Doodle to the car and wrangling her into her car seat like we were at a rodeo... I let out a sigh of relief. The kids were tired and likely to take naps... and I was going to reward myself with a coffee from Starbucks. I had a free drink coupon... so I ordered a VENTI caramel macchiatto. Again, only those who know me well, know that I never get a venti... but this was clearly a 'venti sort of day'. I ordered it extra hot and decided not to indulge more than a sip before we got home.

As soon as we get home, I get both kids ready for naps as my delicious coffee is calling my name from a very safe spot on the kitchen counter. Elliot is scooting around the kitchen, playing with an assortment of plastic bowls and Evangeline is bossing him around. "Oh Brotha, these no your toys."

"Evangeline! He can play with those! Stop bossing him around! Come get you diaper changed!" I yell from the other room as I'm looking for her collection of pacifiers. She never goes to bed with less than three of them.

Then I hear her say... "Oh no! Pill... it pill!"

As I try to make out what she's saying, she continues... "It's o.k., I clean... ALL better. O.K.?"

As I make my way to the kitchen, I'm thinking to myself, "Please God... anything but my coffee."

But my prayers were a bit late. There... all over the counter and now cascading over the bottom drawers and cabinets... my free, venti, half caf.,only one sip taken, caramel macchiatto.

Doodle reassured me that it was yucky anyway... and "It's o.k... I no mean it." Apparently, as she took each bowl from Baby Brotha... she pushed them onto the counter and eventually knocked the coffee over. She's such a 'good helper'. I scooped her up and kissed her little, mischievous face. Then put her to bed immediately before she could 'help' some more.

Thankfully, both kids are sleeping and I have some down time. But, as for the delicious aroma haunting me from my kitchen... it's coming from the pile of sopping wet, macchiatto soaked towels in the sink.

Good Advice...

2011-10-30T17:01:00.000-07:00

"I give myself some very good advice... but I very seldom follow it."

This is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies, Alice in Wonderland. The Disney version, of course.

I must admit that I'm really regretting my most recent post. The 'jail cell' one. I seemed to go on and on about some nonsense... something about 'resting where God has you'. What was I thinking?! That's really hard to do. Maybe I could just wallow for a while? Or take back those words?

Or I guess I could just admit that I don't always practice what I preach. This has definitely been a 'jail cell' weekend.

The excruciating pain in my back and legs are the bars that separate me from the outside world... especially this weekend. The weather has a lot to do with it. My bones feel it coming. Sometime earlier this week, I tossed and turned trying to get into a comfortable position. I yelled out in frustration to my dear husband... "Is it raining outside?!"

"No... it's beautiful out." he responded.

"No... there's something wrong. I feel insane." Of course we both laugh because I am a bit crazy and dramatic. But I wasn't joking. Nothing was helping the pain in my legs. It was one of the times where I just wanted to cut myself so I could FEEL something other than the pain in my legs. Usually cutting is a temptation I deal with when I'm angry or frustrated, but I just needed to feel something different that night.
I didn't cut. It helps that David knows how I feel and that it isn't some secret I'm keeping.

Anyway... it has been a horrible week... pain-wise. And now it makes perfect sense after the cold and rainy weather that eventually came and proved to me and my achy bones that we're not completely insane.

So, what was all that hype about places of rest and trusting in God? Oh yes... trusting in God. Trusting that He knew my pain would keep me from going on a fun date this weekend or taking Elliot to a birthday party. Trusting that my husband won't grow to resent me when he hears of all the things 'all the other wive's' do for their families. Trusting that he will carry me through the days after those long, sleepless nights.

O.k. perhaps I don't totally regret my recent post. I just need to take my own advice, even when it's tough. So I apologize if my latest post was a bit too poetic and fluffy... as if Trusting God is a frolic through a meadow of daffodils... it's not, trusting God can be tough @%#^...
Man... I can really get on my own nerves sometimes. I'm glad I set myself straight. Thanks for listening.

Jail Cell... or Place of Rest?

2011-10-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

As I sat in the dark last night , trying to get Elliot to sleep, I glanced around his peaceful room. His little night light was glowing and all along the wall were the shadows of the rungs of his crib. It's a simple, white Jenny Lind crib. Nothing fancy, just round-ish, slightly decorative bars all around.

I think of my sweet little boy, arching his back in protest the last few times I've laid him in there. I empathize with him for a moment and think "Wow... it is a bit reminiscent of a jail cell. No wonder all he wants to do is get out."

It's so cute the way he 'scooches' to the corner and presses his little face as far as he can through the rungs. When he wakes up he screeches as loud as he can for someone to 'please come rescue him for heaven's sake'!
He doesn't realize that I am already aware that he is awake and that I also have much more in store for him that day.
I have great plans for us tomorrow... we have a pumpkin party to go to... lot's of friends to see and toys to play with. There are snuggles waiting for him when he fusses, lots of things to explore around the house... and he'll even be getting a huge serving of sweet potatoes for dinner.

But he fusses. All he can see are the bars that separate him from where he'd rather be. He fights against the sleep that I know he needs. So I put him in his little jail cell. I kiss him and stand nearby as he cries out, then fusses and eventually wrestles himself to sleep.

I know his crib is where he needs to be. I know he'll be safe there. I know what lies ahead for him the next day.

I even think back to a few times that he didn't need to nap, but I had to put him somewhere as I was dealing with some sort of 'play-dough-poop-dumping-pee-all-over-the-floor' disaster. I hated to put him down... and he would scream as I ran of to quickly deal with life, but I knew he'd be safe there. It was the best place for him at that time. A place where he wouldn't scoot through the broken glass that I'm sweeping up. It's a place where Big Sister can't step on him or poke him with bobby pins as she's styling his hair or dragging him down the hallway by one arm yelling "Walk Brotha! Walk!"

If only he knew that I have his best interest at heart and that there is a bigger picture that extends further than he can imagine. If only he knew how to trust. Trust that I will not leave him or forget about him. Trust that I am trying to meet his needs by placing him there. He could wrestle all night or he could just sleep.

The Lord has used my children to bring so much revelation to my eyes. I can be so childish sometimes in the ways that I complain or shake my fist against God. I think I know what's best for me. And if something doesn't look good in my eyes that , somehow, God must be asleep at the wheel.

How easily I forget that He will never leave or forsake me. That He meets my every need. That his ways are above mine. And that He is worthy of my trust.

What if I start looking at my currant circumstances as a quiet place of rest instead of a hindering jail cell? What if I stop shaking at the bars and longing for what seems just out of reach... and just trust? Trust and rest. Trust that an All-Mighty and All-Knowing Father has put me in this place for a reason... and rest in His promises.

Unexpected Gifts

2011-10-27T12:25:00.000-07:00

Pretty much the only time I get to write, these days, is during nap time. So one can safely assume that when the posts stop coming... most likely I am balled up in the fetal position somewhere in my home begging the Lord for just one moment's rest in the course of my 15 hr. days.

Naps have not been our specialty lately. There have been several days that go by with no 'Doodle nap' and not enough 'Baby Brotha nap'. These days are the worst. My back doesn't function without naps. My emotions don't function without naps. My kids definitely don't function without naps. Even Millie Precious Darlin' needs her nap time. I swear she jumped up and rolled her eyes at me the other day when Evangeline screamed at the top of her lungs "My awake! No nappy... maybe later."

Today was quite nice. Fall decorations up. My cozy house full of friends with their precious little ones. Evangeline was even somewhat behaved. Well, maybe not... but her friend was quite mild mannered and tolerant of her aggressive tendencies ... so her bad behavior simply went undetected until I happened to walk through the room and find her mercilessly beating dear Adam with her 'Grouchy Ladybug'. Adam took it like a man and was very patient with her... I think that's why they get along so great.

Anyway, at one point during the morning I walked past the bathroom and noticed quite the 'Doodle Disaster'... which automatically put me in a 'this is gonna be a no nap sort of day' bad mood.
My sweet, independent, disobedient child had decided to go potty BY HERSELF in her little potty. She then decides to scoot her potty over to the sink and flip it upside down to use it as a step stool so she can wash her hands.
Of course as I'm cleaning up pee off my recently mopped bathroom floor I'm trying to figure out just how many hours til nap time... but then lost track and forgot why I was counting by the time the floor was clean.

Anyway... all that to say... I was ready for the NAP TIME BATTLE. Multiple bottles made. Back up pacifiers at every exit. Millie precious was forbidden to bark for any reason. The house was quite. I went to the bathroom before putting the kids down. It's embarrassing to say... but I've even memorized the pattern of creaking floorboards as I walk down the hallway.

Now, I'm typically not this uptight about anything... I've just recently resorted to every insane measure because I'm desperate and exhausted. No judgement please.

I laid Elliot down first. Then Evangeline. Then.... nothing. Quiet. What?! Ahhh.

Thank you Jesus for the rare and beautiful gift of easy nap times. I've had time to read some beautiful and encouraging words in peace and quiet... and even time to write. Sometimes the unexpected gifts are the best.

Fall Favorites

2011-10-25T17:43:00.000-07:00

Late Night Conversations...

2011-10-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

David and I have been arguing all afternoon. Not in a 'yelling and screaming' sort of way... but it the ' put it on hold to play with the kids' sort of way.

We haven't been on the same page since my miscarriage a month ago. I guess couples just go through things differently. I've been hurt by his obsession with his new truck. Basically, he decided to sell his more expensive truck and by a cheaper truck so he could get me a van... for baby number 3.

"You've been obsessed with this #^#@#^$ truck... and you seem to be totally unaware of the very reason you were downsizing your truck in the first place. Now it's turned into a hobby. We both were making plans a month ago and I guess you didn't get the memo... but my plans got flushed down the toilet... and your plan is sitting in the driveway." I said to him.

I made him cry. I didn't mean to, but I'm glad he at least seem to get it. My words can be sharp. I want to be softer in the ways I express myself... but I think it was o.k. tonight. Well, all except for the $#%&#$%& part.

The rest of our argument/ conversation tonight actually ended up being quite productive. We discussed priorities in our finances... the ways we spend our time... what our hopes and visions are for our family. Pretty heavy stuff... including his latest obsession, his new iphone.

I was trying to convince him of how distracted people can become with their phone/email/facebook always at their fingertips.

As he sat before me in a daze... I told him I would let him 'gather his thoughts' while I used the bathroom.

... and this is where the quote of the night appears.

"I'll let you gather your thoughts while I use the bathroom... and I'll be praying for you while I'm on the toilet... because I don't have an iphone to distract me."

2011-10-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

Well... The old internet's been out for a couple of days. May I apologize to my faithful followers. I must admit that I have had little time to blog over the past week anyway. I've been very preoccupied celebrating my 'birthday week'... and let me assure you that I will be blogging about birthday celebrations around here, since they are the source of many discrepancies... not this year, I am proud to say, but just in general... our biggest 'blowouts' here in the Rockey house almost always take place on a holiday or birthday. Stay tuned... more to come.

Now to the topic of the day... THE CABLE GUY.

As David left for work this morning, he let me know that the FIOS guy would be here between 8:00 and 12:00.

"Great." I said with a hint of sarcasm.

I rarely leave the house, but today seemed like a good morning to get out for a bit. Subconsciously, I'm sure the only reason that I really wanted to get out of the house was probably because I knew I couldn't. The human heart is funny that way.

Of course, David replied with his typical 'glass half full' attitude and a shrug of the shoulders.

"Well... it's before nap time." he says nonchalantly.

First of all... don't get me started on the nonchalant 'shoulder shrug'. It comes naturally to my husband, just like everything else. For instance... David had the kids for most of the weekend, since I had an unusually insane schedule. As I came in late sunday evening, he proceeded to tell me that the kids took 3 hour naps at the same time... so he reseeded the yard and got a nap in himself. Then they went out on the town for the evening, got home at 9:00 and , by the way, they went to bed perfectly. This is typical for anything my husband does. Life has always been easy for him... so I guess a shoulder shrug would be in order.

Anyway, I felt twinge of rage surge through my body as he shrugged his shoulders and started off to work. Now, don't get me wrong, I suppressed it quickly and we parted ways with a romantic, impromptu waltz around the kitchen followed by a twirl, dip and passionate kiss. We're very whimsical like that.
But, in the back of my mind I thought "Man... that guy has no clue what goes on here all day."

Anyway, I waited around for the cable guy to get here, hoping to catch him before Elliot's morning nap, but as 10:30 rolled around I had a very cranky little boy on my hands, so I decided to go ahead and put him down. Well... after spending ten minutes getting Baby Brotha to sleep... at the exact moment that I am laying him down... here it comes... hysterical, barking dog followed by loud banging on the front door. You see, most likely 'Cable Guy' has never been home trying to juggle sleeping babies... and his vicious knock proves my theory.

I quickly answered the door then checked on Elliot... and luckily he had soothed himself back to sleep. I took a deep breath as I prematurely assumed that the crisis had been avoided.

I guess I could go into annoying details of the next hour and a half of the day, but I'll just leave you with a brief picture.

Cable Guy, roaming around my front and back yard for 30 minutes, then finally pulling out a metal, clanking ladder... right outside of Baby Brotha's window. Cable Guy gets off the ladder and scoots it loudly across the perimeter of the house for the next hour. Of course Elliot was awake by then as Millie Precious barked for the entire hour.

Then I suddenly flash back to David's nonchalant shoulder shrug. That's it! He's about to get an ear full.
Not the 'I'm mad at you' ear full, but the 'I really wish you could try and understand' ear full.

Ear full went something like this...

"Hey baby, How's your day going? Oh, good... glad you got your new truck all fixed up this morning. Sounds like fun. What? You're walking into P.F. Changs for lunch? Oh, that's great... I'll keep it quick. Remember that nonchalant shoulder shrug you gave me as I expressed a little annoyance about the Cable Guy coming? Well... I just want to give you a little glimpse into my day. Now, I know that this is absolutely not your fault and there's nothing you can do about it, but I want you to understand why I get annoyed by your 'glass half full, nonchalant shoulder shrug'.
Cable guy. Banging on the front door as I'm laying Elliot down. Nap time... out the window. Yes... that's Millie barking hysterically, she's been at it for an hour. Thank God (and my dear friend Jennifer) that Evangeline is quietly watching 'LITTLE STEWART' the whole time. But that is just God's Grace on me. So... no nap, cranky baby, barking dog and I'm answering the door every ten minutes in between cleaning bathrooms and feeding children, in my opinion, that deserves a ROUND OF APPLAUSE... not a shoulder shrug.
I love you so much, baby. Thanks for listening. I can't wait to see you when you get home. Have a great day!"

A Day in the Life...

2011-10-14T13:20:00.000-07:00

I don't have any hilarious stories of my mischievous toddler or clingy mama's boy today. So I just decided keep my camera at hand for some 'Day in the Life' shots.

This is one of my favorite parts of the day. Baby Brotha squeals as loud as he can as soon as he wakes up... then shimmies to the corner of his crib, pulls down the bumper pad and stares at the door waiting for me to come rescue him. His smile melts my heart every time.

Evangeline's latest pastimes include 'sniffing' her play dough like it's ... (well, NOT PLAY DOUGH).
... and insisting on changing her own diaper. "My wear BIG diapy."

Basically, I wash bottles all day long these days.

Elliot's favorite past time lately, has been scooting to the grossest corner of the house... taking things apart and finding all sorts of treasures ( dead bugs, wires, dust balls... you name it.)

He also likes to stare at me from across the room.

The kids have just started playing together... it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

My workout for the day... pushing them up and down the hallway.

Grouchy Ladybug riding in the dump truck...

Yes... that is a bottle of rum in Baby Brotha's room.

Elliot's favorite hiding spot.

Millie precious has a bad habit of eating pacifiers... and pooping nipples.

Elliot loves the doggy bed.

Well... there's a 'day in the life' here at the Rockey's... thanks for visiting!

A break in the clouds

2011-10-13T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's been pretty cloudy around here lately... and I'm not talking about the weather. It just seems like there's been a heavy sense of gloominess over the past month. I've dealt with depression before, so this is nothing new to me. But dealing with these feelings as a mom, when I actually have to function through the depression, is new to me.

About 3 months ago, Evangeline was sleeping well and acting somewhat pleasant during the days. Elliot had just started taking a bottle and I felt like I was on top of the world. My back pain was annoying, as usual, but I felt like I was accomplishing a lot and managing the pain pretty well.

David and I were thrilled to be expecting another bundle of joy as we went on an overnight trip to celebrate our 5th Anniversary. We had a glorious time together... and I felt motivated and inspired to face the challenges of the daily grind again.

Just two days after getting home, all the 'miscarriage stuff' started to happen. That week I was on bed rest as much as possible... meanwhile, both kids got sick and were up several nights in a row. I guess Evangeline sensed that things weren't quite normal around the house, so she followed suit by squeezing in a few extra temper tantrums a day... just for good measure.

That week was also very rainy, chilly and overcast (yes, the weather)... and my daily pain average went from about a 7, to a strong 10. The kids were up crying every night... and when they finally slept, I would toss and turn unable to sleep myself. The nights were long and depressing, but I didn't want the mornings to come. I felt panicky every time David would leave for work... and I felt like some sort of failure as a mom. Once the kids started feeling better, Evangeline's night terrors got worse. She was literally getting up several times a night screaming, talking or crying in her sleep. She would wake up Elliot... and we'd be up all night trying to get them both back down without waking each other up again.

I spiraled downhill pretty quickly. I think I just started panicking at the thought of dealing with another episode of depression without medication... not to mention without sleep. David and I were 'at each other' constantly. Arguing over how to deal with Evangeline. Disagreeing about whether to let Elliot cry at night or go in and feed him every 2 hours. I was emotional... and he was insensitive. Which is not a great combination.

I'm sharing all of this, not because I think my situation is very unique, but because I'm sure I'm not the only one who deals with these feelings. The feelings that can overwhelm us in a second and convince us that there's no end in sight.

As a child of God, I'm ashamed to say that my first thought was not to run to Him with my burdens. I would tend to quickly fall into despair... or apathy. But eventually I just started praying. Not praying for a miraculous answer, or even complete change (although I am totally open to such miracles)... but simply praying for a 'spark of Hope'... a light at the end of the tunnel... a break in the clouds.

I didn't have the emotional energy to 'do my devotions' each morning... but, instead, cried out to the Lord for the strength to simply get out of bed. I didn't read any great christian books... I simply asked the Lord to keep my mind from my typical suicidal and self injuring thoughts. I asked for some light to break through the darkness.

I've prayed these sort of prayers daily... and I still do. There has been no significant or miraculous turn of events, but there has been a break in the clouds. For me, that looks like Elliot finally sleeping through the night for the first time last night ... or Evangeline actually sharing a toy with Baby Brotha (instead of beating him with it). It looks like David and I ending a huge fight with forgiveness and laughter, instead of sleeping in different rooms.

The clouds of depression and pain are still there, but I can see the light breaking through. I've realized the tremendous beauty of cloudy skies. That light is most noticeable when it breaks through the darkness... and more importantly, that I have a Saviour that comforts me in the midst of the darkness. He doesn't just get rid of it... but He redeems it... and turns it into something beautiful.

You know your priorities are out of whack when:

2011-10-12T10:52:00.000-07:00

1) You spend more time teaching your 2 year old how to put her own diaper on than you spend potty training her.(Evangeline insists on "I wear BIG diapy"... so she goes in her room, slams the door and says," I do it myself." Then she spends the next few minutes stripping down and trying to get her own diaper on. Most of the time she can do it herself, but today she ended up in the living room as I was feeding Elliot. It was almost nap time... so tired, naked and frustrated Doodle ended up pitching a 5 minute tantrum as I yelled across the room step by step instructions on how to put her diapy on.)

2) You congratulate yourself on your current rendition of "The Sun Will Come Out... TOMORROW" and eventually realize that you are harmonizing perfectly with your unruly toddler's screams.

3) Instead of disciplining your child for eating the play dough... you simply put a bib on them.

4) You spend time 'practicing' raising the side of the crib as quietly as possible as if it were an Olympic event. (Poor Baby Brotha' wakes up at the drop of a hat these days.)

5) You use words like 'boosy' (Evangeline's word for blanket) and 'Dambutta' (grandmother) in public.

6) You only give your child one Flintstone vitamin... but every once in a while, sneak 2 for yourself.

7) You waste time on your blog trying to think of 4 more funny things to say... just to make the list of 10... when, in reality, I only had 6 funny things to say... so we'll leave it at that.

My Favorite Boy

2011-10-06T14:09:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to my favorite boy... Elliot. We were spending our usual 4:30 a.m. date together, when he so kindly let me know that he's been feeling left out lately.

I must say that it is tough to capture my attention in the same way his sister does. Kind of the whole 'squeaky wheel' scenario. So for now, he seems to demand my attention at night. It seems to be the only way he can have some uninterrupted time with 'the mama' (and thanks to the bottle, finally his dada). I'm sure that eventually Elliot will have his 'squeaky wheel days', but until then he will have to let his sister have the spotlight.
I explained to him that I could write about his sweet smile and stinky hiney all day, but the public prefers to hear about Doodle 'standing on her head' and 'yelling at the ostrich at the zoo for taking her passy'.

Elliot totally understands... he's cool like that. He's the kind of boy that lights up as soon as he sees his mama. He sits in his stroller without pitching fits or throwing things... and he always says 'please' and 'thank you'. I'm sure he's even memorized Evangeline's Bible verse that hasn't even made it off the fridge yet. As soon as he's able to speak... I'm sure he'll spout off Hebrews 11 right away.

He melts my heart... just thinking about him. So even though his interesting story of the day is simply 'scooting from room to room' without leaving a disaster in his wake... he knows he does not have to play second fiddle with his mama.
He'll be 9 months old on the 17th... and I still can't remember how we ever did without him.

Happy Birthday... Auntie Beka!

2011-10-05T11:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Auntie Beka,
Mommy says that you are probably the only 'kindred spirit' I'll ever have. When strong will, drool, sideways stares and curls collide... it's you and me! People may think we're zoning out in a vacant stare... but really we're just contemplating our next puma like moves.
I wish you didn't live so fa-fa-far. Mommy keeps putting me in 'time out' for things like stepping on baby brotha and scratching him in the face... she doesn't know that I'm only trying to perfect my audition for the circus... and give him an exfoliating facial. Maybe when you come see me you can explain all that.
I love you so much! I can't wait to see you your face and hug your neck when you come see me.

Love, Evangeline

Unexpected Tears...

2011-10-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

I know it's not a very flattering term. But when it comes to crying, I can tend to be a bit 'emotionally constipated'... as they say.
I don't cry very easily. I guess lately I just haven't had time to be sad. But this week has been a different story. I guess I've held back one too many tears... so, over the past week, I've been caught off guard on many occasions. Go ahead and laugh... some are quite humorous.

1) Lorelei and Luke breaking up on a recent rerun of Gilmore Girls.

2) Watching the beginning of Happy Feet with Doodle bug... when all the eggs hatch at the same time, one doesn't. First, I cried because the egg didn't hatch... but I didn't remember that finally it does... so when it did, I was overwhelmed with happiness for that poor daddy penguin.

3)My 'ESPRESSO LOVE' mug broke... I got it on our honeymoon.

4)That crazy Sarah Maclachlan 'Save the animals' commercial. It really got to me this week.

5)The monkeys at the zoo this weekend. They just seemed so peaceful and happy. I teared up a little.

6) Checking my email today and getting the notification that I'm 10 weeks pregnant and my baby is the size of a kumquat.

7)A friend of mine emailing me to let me know that she read my blog about losing the baby... and she was crying at her desk at work. Which at first made me cry, but then I started to laugh at the thought of people 'tuning in' to my blog because it's usually pretty light and humorous... then getting slapped in the face with a sad post that they weren't expecting.

8) Searching the fridge and realizing there is no cream for my coffee.

9)I came across this picture today. David took it after I told him we were pregnant. We were in Edenton together... a perfect evening.

I imagine that sadness and grief, no matter how overwhelming or minute, can tend to sneak up on us at humorous or inopportune times. But if you've ever been constipated, emotional (or otherwise)... you must learn to take the opportunity when it comes.

NOTE TO SELF: Please don't venture into the delicate world of 'bathroom humor' again... it's just too risky... although this analogy was just too good to pass up.

Let them eat cake...

2011-10-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

In my last post, I tried to put several pictures up to, once again, capture the essence of Evangeline.

But, I really felt like I needed to explain this one. This particular picture was taken at a recent Rickards Family night.

We were all sitting around, just chatting in the living room. I guess it must've been a great topic, since none of the 9 adults in the room noticed Evangeline climb onto the coffee table... bend completely over with legs sprawled and balanced with her head upside down on the table.
At some point someone said casually... "Woah, how long has Doodle been on the coffee table... on her head?"

Of course we all burst into laughter and amazement at the fact that, not only has she been in this position for quite some time ... but she has also managed to eat her cake this way.
I grabbed my camera... and now this timeless picture is now part of her permanent record.

"God bless Doodle... AMEN."

2011-09-30T19:52:00.000-07:00

This post was a journal entry from yesterday... but after reading it, I'm sure you'll understand why I didn't have the emotional stamina to blog about it until now.

Thursday, September 29

Evangeline... I love that girl. But, Dear Lord, she's driving me crazy today. Just when you think you 'have a grip on things'... let me assure you... you don't.
Doodle has been particularly out of sorts for the past two weeks. She's been sick for most of the time, so I can't blame her... and with me being on bed rest for a few days last week, she's definitely taken advantage of the 'relaxed schedule' around here.

So let me give you a glimpse of my morning. Yes... all of what I'm about to relay to my 18 devoted fans... happened BEFORE nap time. No exaggerating. No 'adding a story' from yesterday to make things seem more interesting. In fact, may I appeal to you that I may ,very well be, leaving some things out... since my brain started turning to mush around 11:00-ish.

This thursday morning began with a delicious cup of coffee, after a blissful night's sleep. I say 'blissful' because, I am proud to announce... Baby Brotha' slept through the night for the very first time at 8 1/2 months old. Hallelujah! On the other hand... I am writing this with a hint of sarcasm. I can only imagine that the poor little thing perceives this 'all-nighter' as a terrible mistake... so he has since set out to prove his love for me by waking up every four hours as usual... as any truly devoted son would.

Anyway... as I sat on the floor playing with Elliot, David got Evangeline out of bed and brought her into the living room. She crouched down next to brotha and gave him a kiss and some snuggles. "How sweet! Good job! What a kind sister!" David and I jump on any chance to 'affirm good behavior'. For some reason, these opportunities don't present themselves very often.

She smiles, stands up,looks me straight in the eye and stomps on Elliot's pudgy, little fingers. David scoops up Elliot as I 'discipline' Evangeline... and carry her kicking and screaming to time out.
"No time out! No time out!" she yells in a tantrum of drool, snot and curls.
"Evangeline, you sit your bottom right there. Two minutes. Don't get up."
I turn my back to start the timer. I glance back at her as she slides off the chair and onto the floor.
"My no chair!" she protests.
After a lengthy battle of getting her back in the chair, I start the timer again and remind her not to move. I stay in the other room, tell David goodbye and wait for the timer. Before the two minute timer goes off, I hear her 'time out chair' scooting across the floor.
"What a girl" I think aloud "I told her not to move her bottom off that chair."
As I round the corner into the dining room, I see my mischievously stubborn 2 year old... still sitting in her chair as she's scooting it out of the dining room and starting down the hall.
"No get out chair!" she yells at me.
After a 20 minute battle, our 2 minute time out was complete... and I am proud to say that I won this one. We finished our time out with a quick prayer... "Dear Jesus, please help Doodle to be kind... and please help mommy not to be angry. AMEN!" Somewhere around the 'help mommy' part... she grabbed my face, told me to "Be careful"... then gave me a huge lick. I'm still not sure where in the world she got this from, but it's her 'new thing'. She ended up running off yelling "No pray!" before I finished... but I continued, since the prayer was mostly for me anyway.

On to breakfast. I put Evangeline in her highchair to eat her yogurt. She was absolutely loving it... thoroughly enjoying each bite, complete with humming and sound effects. "Ahh... a few seconds of normality." I think to myself.
After I served Doodle her second bowl of yogurt, I picked up Elliot to put him in his pink, princess walker. (Note To Self: Must buy more 'gender neutral' baby gear in the future)... and, before I could even get his squirmy little legs in the seat... Doodle busts the tray off of the highchair with her bare belly, in a fit of jealousy. I abort 'Plan A' (putting brotha in the walker) and settle for "Plan B' (catching the yogurt mid-air with my left hand while gracefully balancing 20 lb. boy on my right hip). I successfully avoided the yogurt disaster, but Doodle won this battle as she slid into the pink, princess walker before brother.
I believe I said another brief prayer as I pulled Doodle out of the walker with one arm and managed to put Elliot in the walker with the other... and quickly moved on our second 'time out battle' of the day.

As the timed neared for Elliot's morning nap, I thought ahead and pulled Doodle's highchair into the living room, turned on an episode of Olivia, strapped my precious toddler in and let her play with her play dough. As I fed Elliot his bottle and laid him down in his crib, I congratulated myself on a graceful transition and went to rescue Evangeline from confinement. As I cleaned up the play dough, I realized there was an extra tub with nothing in it, but just figured it rolled under the couch and I would retrieve it when I straightened up later.
I moved on to vacuuming, picking up a few toys, laundry and even had some sacred reading and play time with my favorite toddler. I was feeling emotionally drained, but somewhat productive when I heard a knock at the door.
There, on my front porch, a dear friend with a pumpkin spice latte and scone. "Ahhh!" Now, I've totally asked Jesus to send Starbucks to my front door before, but I supposed He knew that I would really need it today. My friend came in for a brief visit and even played blocks with Evangeline before she left. I enjoyed the latte, but put the scone on the kitchen counter for later. A few minutes after our blessed visitor left... Doodle decides that it's time for a scone. She helped herself to my scone and also preceded to leave a trail of sugary crumbs all over the rooms I had just vacuumed.

I took another deep breath and decided that 'enough was enough'... I put Evangeline outside on the back deck with her scone and locked the door. She was completely 'unphased' by this strategic move, so I went ahead and re-vacuumed the floors. Besides... the deck is 'Doodle proof'... what could she possibly get into out there?

I finished cleaning up the scone disaster, and think ahead enough to make Doodle her bottle for nap time. I glanced out the back window to discern if it was time to bring her in or if I had enough time to quickly unload the dishwasher. Well... let's just say that the dishwasher is still full. As I peek outside, I see Doodle... standing there completely naked with poop all over her butt. She is hovering over her poopy diaper, feeding Millie the poop from one hand and playing with the poop in her other hand. I decide that the damage has already been done, so I run down the hall to get her soap and bath towel. As I go out to the deck and turn the water hose on, I notice the purple, clay-like consistency of the poop. One can only conclude that the missing play dough is not under the couch.
We have a delightful bath time, outside in the cold water as I glance next door to make sure our new neighbors aren't out.
I bundled Doodle up, zipped her jammies up her back in efforts to avoid another poop disaster and laid her down for her nap. Elliot woke up 15 minutes later. I glanced up at the clock... 12:30.

Doodle was up by 2:30. Elliot never went back down. My husband called home from work and asked if it was a good night for him to play softball.
I went off on some dramatic rant. Something like: "If he wanted to kill me off, collect the insurance and hire a live in nanny before 7:00... then he could play softball that night."
I guess I overreacted a bit. We aren't speaking now. Don't worry... we'll be fine. It's the first fight we've had in a long time... so it's bound to be a doozy. On the other hand... I guess I shouldn't be so shocked at my angry and dramatic two year old. She gets it honestly.

P.S. Please excuse all the typos and inconsistencies... I believe I've had to get up at least 20 times since I began this post. It's either 'proof read' or pee... Mom's always choose 'PEE'.

Journal Entry from Friday...

2011-09-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

Today would've been my Great-Grandma, Hammie's 95th birthday. It's so sad and strange that she's not here with us this year.

This day has also been sad for another reason. We have lost another little baby that we will not get to meet here on this earth. I can't be completely sure, since I haven't been to the doctor. But I remember losing our first little one and this one feels pretty much the same.(at this point, the miscarriage was not complete).

It's so strange... the grief of a miscarriage. I would never be presumptuous enough to compare it with the grief of losing a full term baby or even a young child, but it still leaves you with an overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness. We were expecting a baby in April... and that baby will never be here.

The thought of having three little ones before Evangeline's 3rd Birthday was fun, insane, exciting... and yes, a bit scary. But even that dream, as small and insignificant as it seems... is gone.

I am so grateful that I haven't experienced the grief or fear of not being able to get pregnant. I guess that's partially why David and I decided to have another baby so soon. I remember hearing of several friends that have been trying to conceive for quite some time... and I imagine it is a similar sort of grief that they're going through as well. The kind of grief that typically goes unspoken... or unacknowledged.
As I talked to many of these dear friends, I remember thinking how silly it seems to think that we have such control of our own lives.
I guess there are many who get 'their ducks in a row' and figure out exactly when to get pregnant each time. But at some point we must realize that we are not the ones in control. We obviously have a choice in the matter. But ultimately, life and death are in the hands of an All-knowing and All-powerful God. A God who loves and cares for our souls more than our momentary pleasure.

The sorrow that I feel right now is heavy, but I understand that it is not nearly as grievous as the sorrows that many others are bearing.

I wanted to share my thoughts from my journal because I know there are many who have experienced the same sadness of multiple miscarriages. It seems like a strange sort of grief that people don't talk about or understand. I wish I would've known more the first time I miscarried. I was very sad when we were told there was no heartbeat, but I was never prepared for what I was about to go through physically. The contractions, the pain ... essentially you're going through a miniature labor that you definitely were not prepared for.

I know this is too much information... so feel free to log out now. But I wish I knew what to expect, especially the first time. There was something precious inside of you. Something that you would do anything to protect... and suddenly it's gone with the flush of a toilet. You stand there wondering if you were suppose to do this alone in your bathroom... or rush to the hospital. Your grief seems overwhelming... and you expect your husband to be equally as upset. But eventually, I realized that it was o.k. that David didn't feel the same bond or grief that I was feeling. He was sad... but it's different. I know it's a bit risky to even discuss these things... I'm sure many have differing opinions, but this is my experience... and I know I can't be the only one. I pray my words would in some way help someone who is dealing with this some day.

Anyway... thank you all for your thoughts, prayers and kind words. They mean so much to me. This miscarriage has been easier on me, physically... but a bit tougher, emotionally. Maybe it's because I have two precious babies already... and I remember the hopes and dreams when I was just 9 weeks pregnant with each of them. Ironically... with Evangeline and Elliot, I was a nervous wreck until I heard their little heartbeats... and with this one I never even considered losing it. I know that God is Good... and I am happy and at peace with the rich life that He has blessed me with.

2 Here... and 2 There.

2011-09-26T10:36:00.000-07:00

Well... it's a good thing that I've been practicing 'casting my cares' lately. You never know when the next 'big one' will come.
I'm sick and in bed. I have have two precious, sniffling children whom I am beyond grateful for... and ,now, two little babies in heaven.

2011-09-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

Casting My Cares...

So, a few nights ago I simply could not sleep. Usually when I can't sleep, I end up turning on the t.v. or computer. I know it's a terrible habit, but I just can't seem to quiet the noise in my head. Reading isn't a good idea for me... because it just promotes more thinking. Now, for some, thinking is usually encouraged, for instance... I 'encourage' my husband to think all the time. But for me, thinking looks a little more like Lewis Carroll meets Tim Burton. My thoughts go dark pretty quickly. It's just my natural tendency.

For example: Here's a conversation that took place between David and I just a few weeks ago, as we were driving home from church.

Me: "Wow! Isn't the sky just glorious?!"
David: " Man, it is! Beautiful!"
Me: "It's perfect. Actually, a little too perfect. Kinda like Truman Show perfect... like we're gonna slam into the wall of life at any moment."

Or another example would be a conversation that I had with my Aunt Rhonda just the other day. She and I are very similar in the ways we think and handle our emotions... not to mention her fabulous sense of style and great sense of humor.
Anyway, she called to congratulate me when she heard that I was pregnant... and not even 5 minutes into the conversation we found ourselves discussing life insurance policies and funeral arrangements. Of course, once I mentioned the irony we found ourselves in... we nearly died laughing. Then I got to congratulate her for happening upon some very valuable 'bloggable' material.

So I guess you get my point. My thoughts just seem to drift to anything morbid or somewhat apocalyptic. And , while I'm shedding a bit of a humorous light on it now, it has been and still is a huge struggle in my life.

So the other night, as I tossed and turned... and mauled over the many issues that I encounter on a daily basis, I remembered the command to 'CAST OUR CARES'. In true 'Jessica Fashion' I even started to over think this simple statement. But I quickly stopped myself from, yet another, rabbit trail and asked the Lord to please take these anxious thoughts from me.
"Whew, I'm glad I thought of that." I said to myself as I rolled back over, closed my eyes and proceeded to maul over the very thoughts I had just asked the Lord to take.
"Wait a minute!" How on earth did this thought find it's way back to me so quickly? Then I started thinking about what it means to 'cast' your cares... and I remembered my grandpa teaching us to fish when we were little.
When he taught us to cast the fishing line... he taught us to throw it out as far and as hard as we could. Of course, it doesn't get very far when you're a beginner, but the more you practice, the better you get at 'casting'.
So this is what I've been doing at nights lately. Practicing. I cast my burdens as far as I can... and as soon as they drift back to me... I do it again. Now, I must admit... sometimes I get tired of all the casting and fishing... and just turn on the tv. But I know that when I do cast my cares... there is someone who is waiting to catch them, because HE CARES.

Baby Brotha'...

2011-09-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

"I must be insane," I think aloud to myself... "Seriously, people don't do this." I look down at the letters that I cut out of fabric... and am now trying to iron onto a onesie.
I have the 'artsy tendency' to become completely obsessed with one project... today it happens to be 'making a onesie for baby brotha'.
But this could honestly include anything. Like the time I insisted on making new curtains, even though I don't know how to sew. I constantly joke that my house is like the set of a movie, or better yet, one of my favorite t.v. series Arrested Development. Things look great at first glance, but heaven forbid you actually try to open the curtains... or , in this case, wear the onesie. Nothing is meant to be used... just looked at. I must admit that my house is beautiful to 'look at'. But if you look close enough, you will find an ungodly amount of safety pins holding together any one item. Or random nickels and dimes taped to the backs of pictures to keep them hanging straight. Details are not my strong suit... but rather, overall affect.

Anyway, all this to say... the onesie looks pretty good if you cross your eyes or squint a little, but don't look too close. The edges of the letters are frayed... and I actually ended up outlining the words in a black sharpie. (No, I will not be starting a 'crafting segment' on my blog).
Also, as soon as I put the onesie on Elliot, all the letters stretched out and started to pop off. It was frustrating... but my obsession was not to be thwarted this time. So outside in the front yard for pictures. It happened to be quite a muggy afternoon and, come to think of it, I believe that I still had my pajamas on. So, here I am in my front yard, with an array of quilts spread across our perfectly manicured lawn, which happens to be my husband's unhealthy obsession. I sit Elliot on the quilt, in his adorable new onesie, and start actin-a-fool trying to get a decent picture. I'm sure the traffic that was stopped in front of my house was quite amused and grateful that I prepared this afternoon side show to break up the monotony of their drive home.

Once the mosquitos started swarming and the sweat started dripping down my back, I decided that enough was enough. I gathered the quilts, toys, camera and 'Oh yeah! My child'... and headed inside, hoping for at least one good picture.

The pictures turned out o.k. Don't look too close... but I guess you get the general affect.

You may think I'm insane... but consider the alternative. Walking into the Carter Store... "Ummm... yes, that's my unruly 2 year old running around the sales rack and this is my adorable 7 month old. By the way... do you have a 'BIG BROTHER' onesie in a 6-9 mo.?"

Baby Rockey #3... Coming next spring!

Marshmallows and Dandelions

2011-09-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

When you used to ask Evangeline, "Where's Hammie?"... she would quickly reply "Shhh... Hammie sleeping".
The last few times we took Doodle to visit her Great-Great Grandmother... 'Hammie' was only able to sit up for a few minutes before having to get back in bed. Even until her last days, Hammie would sit up and pretend to have a tea party with Evangeline... she would do her best to eat (or hide) every morsel that Doodle would shove in her hand and command her to "Eat Hammie! Yummy!"
Not many people get to witness such a precious sight... A Great-Great Grandmother having a tea party with her Great-Great-Granddaughter. But I have been uncommonly blessed to have witnessed such an event... One of my life's most beautiful moments.

Hammie 'Marylene Hamm' lived a long and healthy life, compared to most. A long, but hard life. She grow up working in the tobacco fields of North Carolina during The Great Depression. She lost her mother at a young age and lost her husband to a long battle of lung cancer when my grandma was just 16. After that, she never lived alone. She spent those early years ,after his death, living with her eldest daughter (my Aunt Geanie) and her family... then spent her later years living with my grandma, here in Norfolk.

Now, I'm sure there are many out there who remember meeting their great grandma once in a nursing home, or going to visit a few times during there childhood. But, once again, I have been uncommonly blessed. Blessed to have endless memories of my dear 'Hammie' in my everyday life. She pushed us around the malls and neighborhoods in our pram when we were little. She even babysat us on occasion. We spent most birthdays and holidays together for as long as I can remember. She sat through years worth of dance recitals and performances... even up until last year. She was at my bridal shower, my wedding and at the hospital the day I had Evangeline.

So, I guess that gives you a better idea of who Hammie was... and why I am so blessed to, not only have met my Great Grandma... but to have truly KNOWN her.

Anyway... these are my recollections of her final weeks here with us...

Eventually, I stopped taking Evangeline to visit Hammie. I don't think Hammie wanted her to see or remember her in such a weak and fragile state.
About a week before Hammie passed away, I went up to visit her at the nursing home where she spent her final year. I took Elliot with me. She had a hard time communicating at that point, but I took him out of his car seat and held him up close to her so she could see him. It took her a while, but finally her bright, blue eyes lit up as they focused on him. She glanced up at me and mouthed the word 'PURDY'.
That was it. So worth all the effort of everything it takes to get your children up to the nursing home for a short visit. I can still see her face in my mind as she mouthed that single word. All the love, wonder and sense of pride that comes in seeing these two precious souls cross paths on this earth so briefly... all in one word... "PURDY". (For any 'northerner's' out there, let me clarify. 'Purdy' is simply the refined, southern word for 'PRETTY').

A few days later, I visited Hammie without the children. We knew she was in her final days. She was 94 years old. She lived a long and healthy life. It was a hard life, but one surrounded by those she loved. Even still, it was hard to let her go.

She sat up for a few brief minutes that day. She seemed uncomfortable and 'in and out' of consciousness. We believed that she was a christian, but it was the sort of thing that she never really discussed. I sensed that she was perhaps a bit fearful of letting go and I wanted to know what she was thinking. I desperately wanted this to be a peaceful transition for her.

So I grabbed her hand... and yelled into her ear so she could hear me clearly. It's kind of funny to imagine my final, shaky words to her echoing through those sterile halls, but I wanted to be sure that she understood me.

"Hammie?! Can you hear me?!" she didn't respond right away, but eventually gripped my hand as tight as ever. I knew she was listening.

"You're going to be with Jesus soon." I yelled at an uncomfortable decibel. "You don't have to be afraid... you're going home!"

She was slumped over in her wheelchair, staring down into her lap. It took her a few seconds, but finally, her eyes wandered up to meet my gaze. She looked deep into my eyes for a brief moment. I knew that she could hear and understand exactly what I was saying. She nodded her head and squeezed my hand even tighter. I went on describing, what I can only imagine heaven must be like. The beautiful gardens of flowers, the people that she'd finally see again... I even recall rambling on and on about very comfy beds and pretty wallpaper. What can I say? It's just what came to mind, so I went with it.

Our family gathered around and prayed that her transition would be peaceful and that she wouldn't be afraid. We sang to her... "I'll fly Away". I remember visiting many nursing homes when I was younger... all of the old people just loved that hymn. They wanted to sing it every time we visited. We sang it to Hammie that night. I kissed her and told her that I'd see her soon. It was the last time I'd see her on this earth.

A few days later, Hammie went home to be with the Lord... peacefully and in her sleep.

If you ask Evangeline now... "Where's Hammie?" She'll playfully say, "Sleeping? No! Hammie's with Jesus!"
She doesn't understand now, but someday she will.

We buried Hammie back in her earthly home town of Walnut Cove, North Carolina. It was a beautiful monday afternoon. I had the privilege of reading some beautiful words about Hammie, written by my mom ... who put me on the spot last minute by handing me a folded piece of paper and tearfully saying "I can't do it."
I think I nervously cracked a few jokes... but I'm thankful that I got to honor her in that way. I packed a few 'emergency snacks' for Doodle, because Lord only knows the kinda trouble you can get into at a funeral.
At the graveside, Elliot was an angel... and Evangeline kept everyone entertained by passing out marshmallows and picking dandelions.

This friday would've been Hammie's 95th Birthday... If you remember her, please leave a comment... one word that best described her.

Give Them Grace...

2011-09-17T17:49:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and looked at the clock... 7:30. Ahhh! I could hear the rain pleasantly pattering against the windows... and my eighty year old joints were telling me to stay in bed. Besides that... both of my kids were still sleeping, which really made me want to roll back over and finish my dream.

But instead of a cozy morning in my p.j.'s, snuggling with my favorite people, I had something else on the agenda. A parenting seminar that our church was hosting... from 8:30-3:00. I have been somewhat looking forward to it, but mostly going because that's what a 'good mom' would do... right?

My 'inner monologue' was going on and on about all the reasons I had to stay home... and I must say that my inner monologue can be quite convincing. But I rolled out of bed and jumped into the shower despite myself.

As I got out of the shower, I heard Evangeline waking up and getting her morning snuggles in with her daddy. She peeked in my room as I was getting dressed and gave me a big, drooly kiss on the lips... "No mommy go!" she exclaimed quite emphatically, "Mommy stay home... me."

I was still half heartedly getting ready, but still not fully committed to actually going when Doodle started to insist that I go potty. Now, usually I accommodate her, but since I was somewhat distracted, I just told her 'no' and kept getting ready. I believe that's when she started playing in the toilet water.

"Evangeline! No! That's gross! Are we allowed to play in the toilet?" I yell in one panicky breath.

Evangeline throws herself back into one of her typical, but brief tantrums. I scoop her up before she knocks her head on the edge of the tub... and before I can even address the tantrum, she starts hurling herself toward the sink begging to wash her hands. I give in, based on the fact that I haven't had my first cup of coffee this morning or even a simple 'Come to Jesus' moment for myself.
Doodle continues to throw the bath mats aside as she forcefully shoves a chair up to the bathroom sink. I simply give up in defeat and think "Well, at least this will buy me a few more minutes to get ready."

Then ... in a brilliant moment of clarity... as I lean against the bathroom door to catch my breath and slightly relieve the spasms in my back... I look back at , now naked, Doodle... in a hand washing, soap flinging frenzy. All of a sudden, my inner monologue switches her story and suggests that I 'run... not walk' to the nearest parenting seminar 'for heaven's sake!'. My inner monologue and I finally agreed... and that's all it took for me to be fully committed.

I gathered the rest of my things, wished David 'good luck', gave Evangeline a big squeeze as she continued to fling water all over the bathroom... and out the door I went.

Let me tell you... it was totally worth it. One seminar is all it takes... and now I am quite the fabulous mom. Just a few tricks and pointers... Evangeline now keeps all of her clothes on and I'm quite convinced that her tantrum days are over.

Haha... not quite. It was worth it, though. In short, the seminar was all about GRACE. Basically, just the Gospel. What christian parenting is... and what it is NOT. It is not about 'performance'... it's not about acting a certain way. She encouraged us ,as parents, to be content with the fact that we can't make our kids turn out a certain way. We can't 'save them'... only God can do that. She talked about raising kids in a home where they don't have to 'pretend' to be christians. But can freely express their doubts... and to come along beside our kids and let them know that we, as parents, have our doubts and weaknesses as well. That there's little difference between the kids that 'follow the rules' and the kids that 'outwardly rebel'... that they ALL need a Saviour. We ALL need a Saviour.

Honestly, it was so refreshing. How exhausting it could be to feel like you have to be 'a perfect parent'... or your kids will go amuck. Or to be so worried about your child's behavior... that you forget to have fun and enjoy having a relationship with them.

Anyway, I'm probably leaving a lot out... or mixing things up. So check out GIVE THEM GRACE By: Elyse Fitzpatrick

You have to be Assertive...

2011-09-13T18:17:00.000-07:00

I am still chuckling to myself over the amount of 'blogg-able' material that I stumbled upon while driving up to Williamsburg. I honestly have been sitting here, wracking my brain, trying to remember specific conversations... but my memory fails me quickly these days. I do, however, remember our first hysterical moment that really started our trip off in true 'Rickards' fashion.

My mom: "Man, traffic here is horrible... and it's getting worse. People from out of town say they hate driving here."

Me: "Really? I guess I'm just used to it."

Mom: "Yeah... me too. But people are crazy out there."

Me: "Well, the thing is (I say confidently, while changing lanes with ease)... You have to be on top of it... you have to be ASSERTIVE."

Mom: "That's right, you gotta stay one step ahead of the game."

Me: "That's right."

Mom: " Wait! That was our exit!"

Conversation of the Day...

2011-09-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

Me: (randomly bumping into a friend at J. Crew) "Hmmm... I never remember the European size chart... what's a 32?"

Sharay: "Umm... I'm not sure."

Overly Eager Sales Clerk: " Did I hear a sizing question?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out what size I am."

Overly Eager Sales Clerk: "Let's see... a 25 is a zero... wait, or is it a double zero... ummm, ok... a 25 is a..."

Me: (annoyed and impatient) "Obviously... no need to waste your time. Just skip ahead to the '30's'..."

Sharay: (bursting into laughter... either at me or the seemingly 'taken aback' Sales Clerk) "This is a good one for your blog."

Me: (turning to the Sales Clerk) "Yes... I have a blog. (I say as if I'm some sort of celebrity.)

Overly Eager Sales Clerk: (unimpressed and bewildered) "I'm sorry if a 25 is 0... then..."

Me: "It's o.k., at least these are a size smaller than the ones I'm wearing."

Sharay: (cheering me on) "Yes! Good job!"

Me: (Glancing over at an eavesdropping sales woman) "... and if you can't find me a size 8, navy blue chino in the next two minutes, I'm gonna give you my 'Size Discrimination' speech."

...AND SCENE.

Dear...

2011-09-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

My six loyal 'followers',

Oh never mind, make that five. I accidentally 'followed myself' while trying to figure out how this whole network blog thing works.
Anyway, I thought I'd let you know that I'm alive. I've got so many fabulous stories in my head... so stay tuned, maybe one day this week I'll make blogging a priority and just skip the whole 'eat, shower, sleep' thing. Maybe.

I've been losing my mind a bit lately. Mostly because Elliot is up several times a night still... and Evangeline has decided that she doesn't like to go to bed. TANTRUMS are the new thing around here. I don't have the time or emotional energy to expound on this one... but just imagine Doodle in her tight, zipped up the back jammies, unruly curls everywhere and her plethora of pacifiers... and jumble it all up into a small tornado-like storm around the perimeter of her crib... and there you have it. Bedtime at our house.

So here's my list for tom.:
1. Make it to church without a major meltdown
2. Strategically keep Evangeline from noticing the communion table and yelling "I NEED FOOD!"
3. Toddler classroom
4. Nap time at home (wishful thinking)
5. Paint my fingernails... well actually, just my right hand. I painted my left hand yesterday, for our anniversary date... and failed to notice this unimaginable faux pas until the second coarse of our meal.
6. Adjust this list based on what I actually accomplish:)

Thanks for tuning in tonight... all five of you:)

Just a spoonful of sugar...

2011-09-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

This morning I was presented with a small dilemma. I needed to check my facebook messages before Evangeline's nap time. Yes... that was the 'dilemma'. Now, I'm sure many of you are rolling your eyes at me thinking, "For Heaven's sake... that doesn't qualify as a legitimate problem." Well, I guess I would agree, but at the time it was an impossible situation. You see... the second Doodle sees me get my laptop out, she goes into this panicky frenzy. She's obsessed with watching videos of her friends on facebook... so, needless to say, when Doodle is awake... the computer stays in hiding.

Anyway... I planned ahead for today's facebook encounter. I let Evangeline 'wash dishes' in the sink while I checked fb. I made sure she had a sink full of plastic dishes and lots of soap... and let her go to town. It seemed to work out quite nicely. I had some computer time... and she had some 'creative/messy' time.

As I finished up and went to the kitchen to check on her... I find her sitting on the counter beside the sugar bowl. Now I bet you can just imagine my dear little Evangeline dipping her little finger in the sugar to get a sweet, little taste.
No, not Doodle. She managed to find a huge spoon and was eating the sugar by the spoonful.

Happy Birthday...

2011-09-01T18:40:00.000-07:00

How do I begin to wish my mom a 'Happy Birthday'? I guess I could thank her for her 'godly example' throughout the years... or tell her how much she means to me... or tell her that, of all the people I've met and known throughout my lifetime, she has ,by far, impacted me and taught me the most. All these things are true, but I'd like to take you back in time... when fresh white keds were the standard...
White keds and bright lipstick. One of my favorite memories of my mom is getting a bright lipstick kiss on my hand, every time she and my dad would go out.

Ahhh... my best memories of life either happened with, or because of, my mom. So, of course, I can't include everything I want to describe right now... but I'll try to give you at least a glimpse of, hands down, THE MOST FABULOUS PERSON I KNOW.

I remember my mom pushing me around Disney world in our old, navy blue pram. I'm sure I was old enough to walk, because I actually remember being in it with my brother, Jacob. She would pile us in that thing no matter how big we were getting... one of my earliest memories.

I remember sitting in the balcony at Chrysler Hall every year on 'Dress-rehearsal night'. After 'all us kids' finished our dances... she would put our jammies on us, give us a few snacks and we would sit in the balcony and watch my mom's dance class practice for the rest of the evening. I thought my mom was the most beautiful dancer I had ever seen. I definitely loved ballet because of her.

One day, when I was in the fourth grade, my mom dropped me, Jacob and Rebekah off at school just like any normal day. We had only been there about 30 minutes before we each got called to the principal's office.
"Your mom needs to pick you up." we were told.
As soon as we got to the car, my mom and dad let us know that 'we had lot's of days for school... but only one day for Busch Gardens'.

I never remember my mom getting 'stressed out' when we were little, (although I'm sure she had her moments). We always had a house full of neighborhood kids. She never seemed to mind the chaos or the mess that came along with all the fun.

I remember my family going through a pretty rough time when my mom was expecting my youngest brother, Reed. We lived with my grandparents throughout her entire pregnancy. I was about 13 years old and just starting to make friends at our church. Every sunday, while my dad was working to build our house, my mom would pack all four of us kids in the car and drive from Norfolk to our church in Virginia Beach, just to drop me off at church by myself for sunday school (I was too embarrassed to go to the worship service alone). She did this by herself, every sunday for nine months.

Fast forward through endless birthday parties, ballet performances, years of homeschooling, family roadtrips across the country and back... she was always 'game for anything' and was never thrown off by my dad's fabulous sense of spontaneity.

I've learned so much from my mom. She was always perfectly content to be at home with her kids. Not in the 'a woman's place is in the home' sort of way... but in a 'I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing' sort of way. 'HOME' has always been my favorite place to be because of her.

My mom is a strong woman. Sometimes a bit too strong... I don't think I ever remember her crying... EVER. I always tell her "We're gonna work on that one"... a few tears are good for the soul. I think she's gotten better lately.

Several years ago, as I was going through my second back surgery. My mom was having some health issues as well. Her doctor found a 'DVT'(pretty dangerous blood clot) in her leg. They wanted to keep her in the hospital for observation, but she didn't want me to be alone during my surgery. She had to give herself painful shots in the stomach... the whole time she was caring for me. I'm sure I could've made it without her there. But she saw how hard the first surgery was on me and just didn't want me to be alone. Looking back, I guess we were quite the sight... talk about the blind leading the blind.

My mom has taught me to put other's need above my own. To put God first. She has quietly, yet not so subtly, reminded our family of God's word, by taping index cards of scripture on any random surface you can imagine... inside closet doors, boxes of cereal in the pantry, etc.

I'm a lot like my mom. Anytime there is a family discussion, I will confidently give my two cents, though mostly I prefer to contribute at least 50... my mom will glide through the room a few minutes later and give the same opinion. We usually all get quite a chuckle, although it is a bit disconcerting, especially for my husband. My mom taught me to enjoy my kids... no matter what else is screaming for my attention. She has taught me that sometimes 'enough is enough' and at that point the only thing left to do is to screech out of the driveway leaving a billow of gravel and dust in your wake. (I didn't want to leave you with the impression that she's some sort of Saint). I even learned how to hurl a mug across the room from my mom. Not directly at someone, as to severely injure them... but close enough for dramatic effect. But more importantly, I learned how to ask forgiveness for throwing the mug across the room. I remember my mom asking us to forgive her for being angry... and she changed. I see my mom losing control of her dreams of 'how things should've been'... and instead of tightening her grip... I see her opening her hands to receive whatever the Lord brings to her. She is a remarkable woman... and the only thing I regret inheriting from her is her 'sense of time'... being that her birthday was two days ago.

I love you mom. Happy Birthday.

Life at the Rickards....

2011-08-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday evening my family gathered around the t.v. to get an update on hurricane Irene. We spent a good 20 minutes each, voicing our own opinion on what we perceived the current state of the weather report to be.
After several differing opinions were presented... we then proceed to argue over each other about which news channel we watch and why.

My mom interjects by saying... " Well, if it's only a category 1... and it's missing us completely, I guess we don't need to worry."

"Where did you get THAT from?" I ask, trying to figure out if she's joking or not.

"Isn't that what your dad just said?" she responded, throwing the conversation back to my dad's ballpark.

"What I said was..." my dad tries to repeat himself, but is cut off by an uproar of new opinions.

"Wait a minute!" I yell, taking charge of the situation. "Let's all watch this report together... quietly, no interrupting."

We all settle down and turn up the t.v.. After, what could only have been a mere sixty seconds, someone busts out...
"Oh my?! Is that lady's neck really thick... or is it just those tacky pearls?!"
We all bust out laughing and quickly add our own fashion critique to the mix.
"What is she wearing?" "It's way too early on a thurs. for hot pink polka dots!"

Uhhh... where were we? Oh, the hurricane... nevermind.

The Adventures of Doodle and Darlin'

2011-08-25T10:41:00.000-07:00

I was just trying to figure out why Millie Precious is frantically chasing Evangeline around the house. I thought it was cute at first... but then it started getting a bit intense.
I track them both down and separate them before someone gets hurt.

"Hmmm... What's that smell?" I ask myself.

"Oh... I see!" I pull up Evangeline's dress... and there, plastered to her chest, is an entire piece of salami.

I simply thought she was extra hungry at lunch today, but apparently I've forgotten to feed her one too many times... so she has honed her hoarding technique as a survival strategy.

"I save it.. LATER." she informs me, with her brow furrowed while nodding her head... "Pocket."

That's it... time for a nap.

Lat night conversations...

2011-08-24T19:34:00.000-07:00

David: "So... I picked up a box of granola bars today... to eat while I was on the road. I even read the box and got healthy ones."
Me: "Good job baby."
Davy: " No! It was awful... I couldn't stop eating them!"..."I'm sure one is healthy, but not five."
Me: "Lord, control yourself."
Davy: " I did... I threw them out."
Me: " Out?"
Davy: "Yeah... out the window."
Me: "You threw a granola bar out the window?"
Davy: "No, I threw the box of granola bars out the window."
Me: "Why didn't you just through them in the back seat?"
Davy: " I was desperate."

Conversation of the Day

2011-08-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

Reaghan: "UGH! (growling like a bear)... I feel like I'm gonna DIE!"
Me: "What did you eat?"
Rea: "A lot of plums."

Reed: "How ironic is it that this episode of the Kardashians is about Rob having indigestion?"
Me: "We really need our own reality show."
Reed "Can you believe I'm gonna be away at college in a year?"
Me: "Reed, *insert eye roll*, it seems like you've been away at college for 2 years, you've been talking about it so much."
Reed: "Well... your reality show won't be as funny if I'm not in it."
Rea: "No! I'll be way funnier when you leave... like when Bek moved away... I got pretty funny, didn't I?"

Rea: "UGH!!! I'm DYING!!!"
Me: "Take a shot of vinegar... it'll help." "Everybody slow down! I'm trying to keep track of our conversation!"
Rea: "You didn't even mention me in your last blog... the one about watching Taylor Swift... I was totally right on that couch."
Me: "But you didn't say anything."
Rea: "Yes I did... it was funny."

(brief lull in conversation)

Rea: "I worked out today... so I'm giving myself an egg."(currently on a 'raw diet')
Me : "Congratulations! You just made it onto my blog."
Reed : "Do we have to watch this? (The Proposal) Reaghan is like , THE QUEEN of awkward romantic comedies."

Reaghan: "UGH!!! I feel AWFUL!"
Reed and I in unison: " SHOT OF VINEGAR!!!"
(we roll our eyes and chuckle as Reaghan leaves the room)
Reed: "Man, I hope we're not the villains in our family novel."

Me : " ugh! Everyone stop talking! I don't even know if this is funny anymore."

Me: (getting off the couch) "Ahh! My poor tailbone!"
Reed: (snickering) " You say that as if it has it's own personality and neck brace."
Me: "That's enough... this conversation is all over the place."

Busch Gardens... Part 1

2011-08-21T13:27:00.000-07:00

So basically, I'm giving myself the 'Mother of the Year' award for this one. A day at Busch Gardens with my friend Marissa Noon, her 3 kiddos, Auntie Rea Rea and my kids.
(pause for round of applause)... thank you.
It all started with Marissa calling Reaghan on sunday evening and asking if we were up for the adventure. Marissa knows me well enough to assume that it wouldn't work out... but I told her I'd see how I felt in the morning and let her know.

I wake up the next morning... 2:45, 6:30 and eventually up for good at 7:30 with two energetic children. I survey my atrocious house. No, I'm not exaggerating... dishes piled in the sink, piles of laundry everywhere, every horizontal surface covered in snowdrifts of papers and random things that I put up so Evangeline couldn't destroy them. My house is usually pretty well managed, but I had a horrible few days with my back... so I just let things go completely.
As I gear up to tackle this mess. I am reminded of the many times my mother has encouraged me to "just enjoy your kids"... so I picked up my phone and texted Marissa 'let's do it'.

Now... I must introduce you to my dear friend Marissa, before you can fully appreciate the magnitude of this event. She is barely 100 lbs. of total energy, northern attitude (as we southerners like to call it) and high blood pressure. "It's totally hereditary." she'll remind you, as she yells for all her kids to "Cut it out! Do you think I'm 'tawlkin' cause I like the sound of my own voice?!"
She grew up in New York... and I'm told ,from a source who shall remain nameless, that she was quite 'ghetto fabulous' back in the 90's. Gold rings on every finger... a pair of 'fresh Tims' for each day of the week. But now she's quite refined, although I'm convinced that she keeps a few spare velour jumpsuits in her closet 'just in case'.
Marissa manages to squeeze an average of 'Jessica's annual activities' into one week.
"So... Marissa, what are you up to today?" I'll ask nonchalantly.
"Oh not much..." she'll reply.
"I was at Harris Teeter at 7:00 for triple coupons, then we stopped by the zoo and 'the Y' to let the kids get some energy out... we'll probably hit up botanical gardens after naps, then swing by the Marine Science Museum on the way home."
Marissa will offer to babysit or have the entire family over for dinner at the drop of a hat. She will make sure to make it to your child's 2nd birthday party even if it's the fourth party they've been to that day.
If her daughter doesn't have the perfect bow to correspond with the outfit of the day, Marissa has no further to go than her craft closet, where she whips together a pair of matching bows on the way out the door for school. She and I are nothing alike... but that's what I love about her. She and her husband, Josh, are dear friends of ours... but unlikely friends... and that's the best kind.

Anyway, I guess now you understand the level of braveness that it took for me to text those three words... "Let's do it!"

I pull up to Marissa's house at about 10:00 that morning. She proceeds to tell me how surprised she is that I'm actually getting out of my house for the day. (she knows me too well). Her three kids are already in the car, plugged into their 'individual electronic devices'... there is complete peace and quiet in her car... so she calls her mom to chat for the 1 hr. trek to Busch Gardens.
(Pan over to my car)
Reaghan and I basically have to stand on our heads and sing every silly song known to man, just to keep Evangeline from screaming the entire time and waking Elliot. It was an exhausting trip just to get to the godforsaken amusement park... I could even feel my own blood pressure reaching a record breaking high.

We finally get there and park. Wait in lines for the tram... wait in lines to even get inside the park. Reaghan immediately takes Marissa's oldest son, Byron, off to ride a roller coaster. So I'm off to Elmo's world where I bravely let Doodle out of her stroller. Marissa decides to take Jaelyn, her 'demanding diva'... and Paxton, her adorable 3 year old, to ride on the kid's coaster. She also has the daunting task of strategically avoiding all mascots on Paxton's behalf while in Elmo's world... which is obviously not a simple feat.

Once I look around, and come to terms with the fact that I am, indeed, in tourist stricken Elmo's World by myself with my two children... slight panic sets in. I give Evangeline a little freedom by letting her venture into the water fountains while I sit nearby with Elliot in his stroller. She's a little timid with water... so it didn't seem like a big deal. She wasn't crazy about the water... so I suggested that she get in the stroller and we go 'find Paxton'. Well, that didn't go over so well. She immediately bolts across the play area like a bat out of... 'a cage'... by her self.

"Ahh! Do I chase her or turn around and grab the stroller?!"
Of coarse, I grab the stroller, but it is too crowded to chase Doodle through the crowded park with a double stroller. I calmly keep my eye on her giant, white bow as it moves further away... and secretly vow to myself "I'm NEVER doing this again"... and "NOTE TO SELF: NEVER make fun of those parents with leashes." (they are definitely one step ahead of me).

I finally catch up with Doodle, who immediately starts flailing around yelling "NO SPANK! NO SPANK!". I'm sure I ended up bribing her with some sort of snack food in order to get her buckled into her stroller. I sit back, notice that I have quite an audience, take a breath and and wipe the sweat from my upper lip.

Elliot starts crying. He's hungry. Thankfully he's just started taking a bottle, otherwise, I probably would've given my audience a different kind of show... not at all appropriate for Elmo's World.
At some point Evangeline met Abby Cadabby and Big-a-bird... as Marissa hid behind the bushes with poor Pax. And, soon after, Auntie Rea Rea returned and took her on something fun... as I had a brief 'Come to Jesus' talk with myself.
O.k... I survived the first hour.

AC-CEN-TU-ATE the positive...

2011-08-18T18:21:00.000-07:00

"It's-o-k mommy" Evangeline says as she rubs my head and gives me a kiss.
"I get towel? O.K.!" she runs off down the hallway and returns with a dish rag for my head.
"All betta now? O.K!" She runs to the door of my bedroom, pushes Millie Precious out... tells me "Night Night, ya you" and slams the door behind her. Ahhh! My heart just melts.

It's been a rough week with Evangeline. I've had to discipline her constantly for... hitting baby brotha, yelling 'NO!' every time I make eye contact with her, growling at me, snapping her teeth at me like a vicious animal, hitting baby Titus (sorry Kate:), screaming for no apparent reason, spitting at me when I correct her... the list goes on.

I've been praying about how to handle her. Praying with her "Jesus, please help me to be kind." Asking experienced mothers for advice. I've tried being extra loving when I feel like she just needs attention. I've tried appealing to her emotions... "Doodle, you can't smother baby brotha. It HURTS him. It makes him cry... and turn blue."
"It's o.k. ba-by-brotha" she says, then looks at me as she 'mushes' him again.

Just as I feel I'm reaching my 'wit's end' in dealing with her... my vision starts fading in and out. My hands start going numb. Perfect, the beginnings of a migraine. I quickly call David to see how close he is to getting home... make Elliot a bottle, get Evangeline a snack, pull the shades, guzzle down some coffee and excedrin migraine... and wait.

David gets home... and I rush off to bed.

As I lie in bed contemplating whether I'd rather cut off my own pinky toe or endure yet another persistent migraine... I hear my little girl's feet pitter-patter down the hall toward my room. I brace myself for the inevitable scream... but instead, I receive compassion and much needed encouragement from my 'spirited' two year old.
I've always prayed that she would be a compassionate person, easily able to empathize with other's needs. Needless to say, I lost sight of this prayer sometime around the twentieth 'smothering incident'.... then allowed complete defeat to set in near round fifty.
But as I braced myself for the 'usual'... I was blessed with a brief window into my answered prayer. A fleeting, yet glorious reminder that God does not lose sight of my prayers.
Just another reminder that God is at work in her little soul... and in mine.

There are many negative (yet completely hysterical) things I could write about my little Doodle. But instead, I'm gonna accentuate the positive... at least for today.

Coffee at the Rickards

2011-08-14T19:28:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am in my parent's living room. It's a friday morning and I just didn't feel like dealing with life on my own today. So I came over just to be a little lazy and to give Evangeline a change of scenery since she's been getting in so much trouble at home lately.

Let me set the scene. Reed and I are lounging on the two love seats... curtains drawn... because the glare of the sun is way too much to handle at 10:45 in the morning. Neither one of us are 'morning people'... I am now simply because I have no choice. We are watching some random Taylor Swift story on 'E'... but we prefer to add our own commentary, so it's on mute.
The front door has been quite testy for the past few weeks... so it only opens from the inside. However, my mom and Evangeline are in the front yard weeding... which means that every time Doodle decides she needs a 'new bucket of food' or a baby doll, they must come to the front door and tap a few times, loud enough for us to hear, but soft enough so the dogs don't bark and wake up the baby.

In the middle of our intense discussion of 'magic nets' (as seen on t.v.'s solution to slamming doors)... "That seems like a catastrophe just waiting to happen" says Reed. "I know!" I reply, "Heaven forbid someone with braces run into this 'magic net' and wind up tangled up in a jumble of metal mesh." "Not fabulous"... we both agree... we hear three taps on the door. Reed jumps up and peers through the faded curtain like we're in hiding during the Nazi occupation. He cracks the door open so the dogs can't get out and Doodle pushes her way through in a hot tempered frenzy. "SHISHY HONGRY! SHISHY HONGRY!"... my mom chases her inside, trying to explain that she can feed the fish later... but with little success. Evangeline was already halfway around the house, shrieking and dancing around in true 'holy ghost' fashion when I finally catch up with her and escort her outside quickly, hoping that Elliot didn't catch on to the fun he was missing out on and wake up. Of coarse, amiss the chaos, the dogs (Millie Precious and Maggie Darling) brush past my legs and out into the front yard.

My mom calms Evangeline down by wafting a bucket of pretzels under her nose like smelling salts... 'ahh... much better.'
They continue weeding the front flower beds as Reed and I plop back down on our individual couches, take a sip of coffee and try to get back to the important topics at hand... 'our hidden talents', 'new games we can play next time we people watch' and, of coarse, magic nets. But before we can decide which of us could hide out in an attic longer in case of an apocalyptic emergency... there's another tap at the door.
"You need to call the dogs in." my mom says.
Reed rolls his eyes and walks halfheartedly to the front door. At the Rickards' house, calling the dogs in can be quite the humiliating event... especially if you're somewhat perturbed or moody. The dogs will come in for nothing less than a 10 minute round of applause... along with the high pitched promise of 'TREATSIES!'
Once Reed finished his 'encore'... we decide that the mood is over and our previous witty discussion is best left in the past.

As I go to take another sip of my, now lukewarm, coffee... I pause as I question the aroma of seared beef. "Why does our house smell like a Thanksgiving feast?" I wonder aloud.
"Mom's making food for Maggie." Reed informs me... "Her condition isn't improving." He says in dismay.

"Mom's or Maggie's" I joke... but I take it back. Maggie has been battling systematic candida and must be fed a very strict diet... and this is no laughing matter. Just the fact that their house could easily be confused with the nearby golden corral at all hours of the day is a little humorous. Not to mention that my mom gets a bit distracted these days... which means that a liver or pan of ground beef could sizzle on the stove top for quite a while before it's noticed.

Anyway, we got the dogs in and fed. I am happy to announce that Elliot slept through it all... and Doodle even got to feed the 'shishies'. Definitely, not the luxurious morning cup of coffee I was envisioning as I traipsed to my moms that morning, but what did I expect?

Late Night Conversations...

2011-08-10T19:01:00.000-07:00

There's nothing very witty or funny about this conversation... other than the fact that we're desperately trying to have some sort of coherent conversation... and missing the mark on so many levels.

Me: "Baby... I think I've lost my touch."
Davy: "What touch?"
Me: "Maybe I never even had it."
Davy: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "I don't know. I just can't get it together. I'm over it."
Davy: "Well... you've had a rough go. But this is a new phase. Things are looking up."
Me: "What are you talking about?"
Davy: "It's been a rough week, but Elliot's sleeping better. What are you talking about?"
Me: "Uhhh... Life... and the last 10 years have been a rough go."
Davy: "Oh."
(long pause)
Davy: "D@#m this scale... it won't go under 190.2!!! I bet I'll break the barrier tomorrow."
Me: " Yeah, I haven't seen 135 in a good 24 hrs... whatever. Oh Cr@p! Did I just zone out and miss my favorite girl?! THAT'S IT!!" (SYTYCD)
Davy: "I guess you have lost it."
(meanwhile... Elliot wakes up hungry. Keep in mind, I just fed him and put him to bed 2 hrs. ago)... AND SCENE.

I guess we'll get back on the 'same page' one of these days.

Doodle and Darlin'

2011-08-09T10:10:00.000-07:00

I put Evangeline outside to eat her lunch today. Less mess... less opportunity to get in trouble for throwing food on the floor and feeding Millie.
I peek outside to check on her and...
she's shoving her chicken through the mesh chair... down to Millie who is waiting underneath. As soon as Millie gobbles it up, she throws her head back and laughs hysterically.
I decided to simply grab the camera and laugh it off. Especially since our entire morning has consisted of her running up to me, looking me in the eyes... and yelling "NOOOOOOOOO!" at the top of her lungs... followed by her throwing her head back and laughing hysterically at herself... and ,of coarse, getting in trouble every time.

Consider the Lilies...

2011-08-08T18:34:00.000-07:00

(or for lack of a better picture... a weed.)

Click. Click. Clickclickclickclick....long pause. (inner monologue) "Why did I think this would be fun? This is insane. I hate roller coasters. This would be a stupid way to die. I think I'm gonna throw up." Eyes closed. Chest tightens. Jaws tingle. Pure panic.
This is usually what's going on in my mind after I finally get on the front row of my favorite roller coaster. Then... "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "I love roller coasters!" "That was fun!" "Let's do it again!" The ride is over. I didn't die or even throw up. The panic, anxiety, fear... GONE.

"I guess that's the best way to describe how I'm feeling" I told David the other day when he asked how I was doing. "Except I just feel stuck at the top."
"Oh, I 'm sorry baby." was all he said. After almost five years of marriage, he's learned that I don't always want a list of answers... sometimes just a little compassion goes a long way.
I haven't dealt with this much anxiety for years... and even then, I was on so much medication I don't think I ever REALLY felt it.
Now,the heat is on. I've been off all meds for almost 3 years. My physical pain has seemed to multiply since Elliot's birth. I'm getting up with baby brotha at least twice a night still. And there are many nights that I lie in bed, with my mind racing, only to barely fall asleep before he wakes up again.
Looking back at my childhood, I can remember feeling this way a bit. The sense of 'impending doom' when, in reality, there were no circumstances to warrant such feelings. I guess some of us are just prone to anxiety. It just comes naturally to me... as opposed to my fabulous husband who can find 'the glass half full' in any situation.
So... what does a person do when the the circumstances they face really DO warrant extreme anxiety, doubt and worry? On top of my natural tendencies to worry... a mountain of very real and painful obstacles. Chronic pain, broken relationships, unsaved loved ones, hopeless family situations, lives that seem wasted and defeated by sin... these are the things that weigh heavily on my heart.

Whatever is troubling to you...I believe there is an answer. Christ. Christ is my answer as I look to these mountains of trouble in my life. He came to pay my debt and save my soul. He is preparing a place for me in paradise. He intercedes for me to the Father. He has given his spirit to us so that we can love one another and bear each others burdens. He comforts my soul at 3:00 a.m. when I can't sleep and restores me at 6:00 a.m. when my precious little boy wakes up. Sometimes his 'answer' is granting me sleep. But lately, his answer for me has been 'walking through the storm with me'... reminding me of his presence even when I'm overwhelmed with anxiety.

Feelings are a funny thing. They can be overwhelming and consuming. At the top of the roller coaster one's mind can go a bit frantic... the drop seems way too steep. Those harnesses seem a little too flimsy. But once on solid ground, things come into perspective and the scary things become less scary. My 'solid ground' is His word... and the promises I find there. "He will never leave or forsake us." "He cares deeply for us." "He uses all things to work for good, for those who love Him and are called by Him." "Though sorrows may last for the night... Joy comes in the morning." "Our ways are not hidden from Him." "When we walk through the fire we will not be burned."

I'm looking forward to that relief that I know will be mine one day. When the roller coaster ride is over and I'm not just stuck at the top in fear and panic. Hopefully I can look back at the mountains and praise the one who got me over them... and even thank Him for those times when I had no other option but to cling to HIM and trust that He wouldn't let me fall.

Day in the Life... part 2

2011-08-05T12:58:00.000-07:00

After naps... Daddy gets home. Doodle finds her 'wormies' and asks 'mission' after she'd already eaten most of them. Doodle helps daddy in the yard. We go out for dinner. Come home... and BED TIME. Nothing special... just snapshots of life around here:)

Sleeping babies... lights out... A day in the Life.

A Day in the Life

2011-08-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

I just decided to carry my camera around all morning. This is 'a day in the life' before nap time... 12:00. So more like 'half a day in the life'. Nothing is staged or taken from another day.

Doodle has been quite 'motherly' lately. First, she was making her baby watch her little t.v., then she decided it was time to clean up... then decided that Millie Precious needed a handshake.

Change Baby Brotha. Garlic oil in the ears. Get 'fed up' with a screaming baby and try to give him a bottle. Miraculously, he took the bottle and gulped down 5 oz. of formula AFTER I nursed him. I hate to disappoint my 'Le Leche friends'... but my poor boy has been starving apparently. Finish feeding Elliot... and discover Millie Precious pee... all over the floor.

Discover Doodle in the fridge looking for the hidden gummi worms. Put Doodle in time out for throwing a hellacious fit. I put baby brotha in his swing... Evangeline puts her baby in the swing.

Snack time... kisses.. nap time.

P.S. by the time I got Elliot down and sat down to 'blog'... I hear Doodle yelling "Millie! Stop It! No!" (keep in mind Millie is in the other room sleeping and I'm still in my p.j.'s.) It's gonna be a long afternoon.

It's a Fine China sort of day...

2011-08-03T13:12:00.000-07:00

It's been a long week... and it's only wednesday. Last night we finally got Elliot to bed around 10:00. I'm not sure what's going on with him... hungry? ear infection? reflux? Who knows. Anyway... I've had a really hard time falling asleep lately. I can't seem to shut my mind off. I finally fell asleep around 12:30... and Elliot wakes up to eat at 1:00... seriously. After that he was up either fussing or hungry every hour. This morning came way too early, but thankfully, I had a house full of fun and chaos... I can't complain. Doodle found a poisonous ant trap that David 'hid' and finger painted herself and the kitchen in sticky clear ant poison (but did not eat it)...sigh of relief. As soon as I cleaned her (and the kitchen)... I put her down for a nap.
(Cue baby brotha)
Two hours later... I finally get Elliot back to sleep. I take a breath. Start to do the laundry, no, coffee first. I start to straighten things up, since this is the first quiet moment I've had all day. As I walk through the dining room, I see that Millie has peed all over the floor. This only calls for one thing. My Fine China...
I step over the pee (feeling no guilt whatsoever). Pick out my favorite mug among the cabinet of china reserved for special occasions. Pour myself a cup of half caf. Scoot all the laundry off the couch and onto the floor... prop my feet up and... ENJOY.

Fat moment of the Day...

2011-07-30T15:31:00.000-07:00

Sales Person: "Hi, Can I help you?"
Me: "Oh, I'm just trying to figure if these outfits are the right sizes for the right seasons."
Sales Lady: "Oh, o.k. When are you due?"
Me: "Uh... I'm not...(awkward pause).. well, He's six months old."
Sales Lady: "Oh... (awkward pause) Well, let me know if I can help with anything else."
Me: "Oh no... you've helped quite enough (under my breath)."

Fat moment of the day...

2011-07-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

Sitting down on a chair after getting out of the pool and getting up to see that you've left a huge 'butt print'!
There are many courses of action to take in such an emergency...
1) You can stand there and guard the spot... until it dries.
2)You can douse the chair with more water... thus erasing the butt print.
3) You can just point it out to everyone... and get the embarrassment over with.

I went with #3 today... although I have tried each solution and they all work:)

"Dada!"

2011-07-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

Being a parent is wonderful in so many ways. One way in particular that I'm so grateful for, is the way it gives us a glimpse of our relationship with our Heavenly Father. I remember thinking that when Evangeline was about 5 months old and I had to stop nursing her and give her a bottle. I was still not very good at figuring out just how much she needed or even when she'd be hungry, since it was so different than nursing. She's always been very demanding and vocal, even at such an early age. She would realize that she was hungry... then immediately fall apart like it was the end of the world. At first I would try to hold her in one arm, while frantically trying to make a bottle. Soon enough I realized that it would be better for both of us, and ultimately quicker, for me to put her down as I made her bottle, even if she was screaming. As a new mom, it unnerved me that she was crying... but I knew something that she didn't. The bottle was on it's way. The second she let me know she was hungry... I sprung into action. I always heard her and I was never far off. Even though she couldn't see me and couldn't comprehend that I was just in the next room preparing exactly what she needed.

The same thing struck me again as she woke up this morning. David and I were aware the second she was awake. Rolling all over her crib. Counting the numerous passies that she insists on going to bed with. Looking out her window. Yelling at the cars as they pass by. David and I even turned her video monitor on and just watched and marveled at how smart and adorable she is. We were willing and able to go in and get her at any time. We continued preparing for the day, always mindful of what she was doing in there. After about 10 minutes, it was clear that she was ready to get out. Jumping up and down... running in circles like a caged chicken... she slung her bottle across the room and yelled "Oh No!" as it crashed into the wall. David and I were right outside of her door... waiting. Waiting for the best part of our morning. "DADA! DADA! Come see me! DADDY!!!" She called with complete expectation. Not even a question in her mind that we wouldn't come. Of coarse we couldn't wait to rush in immediately and scoop her up.

How often I forget that God is ever mindful of me. He knows when I sleep and when I rise... He knows my thoughts from afar. I forget that He takes pleasure in hearing me call out to him. Too often I tell myself "He knows what's going on. He's sovereign. He could change things if He wanted." These things are true... but could He be waiting right outside my door? Waiting for child like faith. Waiting for me to call him... "Daddy!"

Blissful Day at the Zoo...

2011-07-27T12:48:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just me... but the zoo is exhausting. I guess it's my 'inner perfectionist' that imagines my energetic, yet obedient toddler and I, skipping hand in hand through the uncrowded paths as my mom pushes my napping baby in his stroller. I think I'm smart enough to foresee that this, most likely, will not be the case. But I somehow always default to my own 'Donna Reed-like' movie... in which I am the star, complete with my very own soundtrack following me from place to place. I guess that's why reality always seems to slap me in the face. I am , however, getting better at readjusting my expectations... recreating my movie scenes... and tweaking the soundtrack. It's a work in progress.

I started talking myself into going to the zoo as I lay in bed last night. I'm such a homebody that these things take major motivation. My mom would ride with us... Elliot would get a cat nap in the car, we'd spend an hour or two walking around then head home for naps. Yes... I can do this.
As the kids woke up this morning I started 'preparing for takeoff' immediately. Nothing major went wrong. I guess getting two kids out the door is just hard work (especially when one of those children is Doodle). Elliot had to nurse... Evangeline had to pour baby powder all over her room.
Once we got everyone packed, ready and out to the car, I realize that our trunk door is broken and the double stroller is not in the car. O.k... I take baby brotha out of the car, take his car seat base out... fold seat down... and throw my back out in the process of shoving the stroller into the car. I finally get both kids back into the car... get Millie Precious back into the house (she likes to run out into the garage and try to sneak into the car)... and get into the car myself. I take a deep breath... wait for my back to stop 'spasm-ing' and wip
e the beads of sweat from my upper lip. As I glance in the mirror at my dishovelled hair, I think, "It's a good thing I put these fabulous, flashy earrings in. It'll definitely distract from the unshaved legs and ill fitting shorts."
We pick up my mom and finally make it to the zoo. We really were having fun... watching the monkeys swinging... watching Doodle (who doesn't find the animals nearly as fascinating as the children around her). She stares at people like she's never been let out in public before. Everything was great until Elliot started to break down. Ahhh! I guess he's hungry. As I try to rush off to find a place to nurse the baby, Doodle decides to 'throw down'. Thankfully my mom was there and could deal with her while I went ahead. I found a place to sit... not private, but I couldn't be picky at this point. As I'm feeding Elliot, a swarm of summer camp kids encrowch upon us from every direction. A few of them even craned their necks to look at me as if to ask "What kind of mammal is this, nursing her young?" as they walked by. I even got a bit defensive as one yelled "Look! An elephant!" ... then I looked through the trees and there was, indeed, an elephant so I decided to let that one go.
As Elliot is finishing up, I look over at Doodle who is standing very still and quiet. This can only mean one thing... I let her finish her business, then try to discreetly change her diaper in the stroller. All was well until she started yelling "Shoo-WEE! GROSS! WHEW!" of coarse that prompts everyone to look our way right as her diaper unrolls and the contents 'plop' onto the pavement. We clean up while chuckling at how a blissful trip to the zoo can turn on a dime.
We proceed to the giraffes and elephants... which you have to walk uphill a bit to get to. It wasn't until about halfway up the ramp, that I realize that in all of the morning chaos... I have not had a bite to eat. No wonder I feel as if I'm wandering aimlessly through the Sahara in search of a waterhole.
Anyway, the rest of the trip was a blur. We did make it out successfully, although I do remember Doodle throwing a hellacious fit on our way out. We made it home and even managed decent naps. I'm sure the mugginess, sweat, temper tantrums and smell of poop will fade over time... and we'll have these snapshots of life to remind us of our "Blissful Day at the Zoo".

"Salutations!"

2011-07-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

"Hey! How are you?"
This 'American' greeting has always bothered me a little. I'm sure they say it in other parts of the world... but perhaps not so casually. I remember a friend of mine from Russia commenting on the way we greet each other here. "When I ask someone 'How are you?' (KAK dela?)" they said... "It's because I REALLY want to know how you're doing. Otherwise, I just say 'hi' (Previet). Of coarse... such common sense. So simplistic.
I remember our pastor mentioning this in a message he gave about 'Caring for one another' and being honest in our speech. He challenged us... "Are you honest in your response? ... or do you just say 'fine' and move on?" Well, I must admit that I've never had a problem being honest with people... in this way. Usually, if you ask me something, you get a straight answer. It's wonderfully refreshing when someone asks "Hey how's it going?!" and you come back with a "Terrible... and you?" ... and instead of passing by casually, they stop to ask how they can help or pray for you. This should be the normal... but instead, we continue on an oblivious path of habitual rudeness. I can't tell you how many times I've left an event, full of people I know, feeling totally alone. So many faces grinning the words "Hey, How's it going? ..."Oh Hi! How are you?!"... and passing me by before I can even get the words out.
"I'm horrible. I'm really not doing well today." "I think I'm at the end of my rope." "Life is painful and overwhelming."
Even worse... how many people have I done the same to... without even realizing it?

So this is fair warning! If you ask me 'how I'm doing'... you better be ready for an answer! And if I ask you how you're doing... you better have a more descriptive answer than 'fine'! I can just see the multitudes spotting me in the church lobby or the next family gathering... and doing a side-step-polka-fox-trot to avoid running into me... but there's no need for that. If you are simply in a rush or don't have the emotional energy, just say 'Hi.'

Late night conversations...

2011-07-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

Me: "I really need to be pampered."
Davy: "Well, I need to be pampered too."
Me: "What do you want? Back rub, foot rub?"
Davy: "Well, I'm way better at pampering you than you are at pampering me."
Me: "I'm great at pampering you... you just don't know it." " Besides, I wasn't feeling very pampered when I was up feeding your child last night... or when I was in labor for 12 hours."... by the way, your laundry's been looking pretty pampered lately."

I'm not sure, but I think I won that conversation. Either that... or I just wore him out.

My First Baby

2011-07-22T19:44:00.000-07:00

As I was looking through an old journal today, I came across a letter. One that I had forgotten that I ever wrote. It was to our first baby that we never got to meet... then I realized that it has been exactly three years ago... today. A day full of anticipation and excitement, but instead, met with unexpected sadness. July 23, 2008... David and I eagerly waited as the ultrasound technician searched over and over for a heartbeat that was never found. We were sent home to wait... I had had no signs of a miscarriage. Our doctor tried to console us by saying 'Maybe your estimated due date is a few weeks off'... 'We'll just wait and see.' It was kind of her to be so optimistic... but I knew that the due date was not off. We went home... disheartened. The next morning was met with the dreaded cramps and contractions... and ultimately the miscarriage of our first baby. I think I must have been prompted to write this letter sometime in September, right around the time we'd be finding out the gender. It seems a little corny to share... but something that so many women go through... so I'm sure some out there can identify?

My Baby,
I'm so sorry that I never wrote to you when you were still inside of me. I thought I'd have plenty of time to get to know you and write you letters. I'm missing you so much today. I thought that losing you would get easier with time, but it seems to be the opposite. I just keep thinking of how you would've had a name this week. Boy or girl... it doesn't matter... I just wish I could feel you growing inside of me right now. You will always be our first baby. Nothing can replace the moment when I first learned that I was your mommy. I could have 10 more babies, but could never relive that moment. I can't wait to meet you in heaven one day. I bet Jesus gave you a beautiful name when you met him. I can't wait to hear it.
Mommy

Finding this letter today, affected me on so many levels. First of all, that our God is a REDEEMER. How else can you explain the blessing of two more beautiful children within three short years?
On the other hand, I found myself asking... "What about those who have only had the sadness of multiple miscarriages, without the joys of being a mother?" "What about my dear cousin and another friend I grew up with, miscarrying at even later stages in their pregnancies?" "What about our friends who have carried their precious babes to term, but never heard them cry." "What about another dear mother who lost her little girl after only knowing her for ten days?"... or another precious friend and mother who had to bury her son before his fifth birthday... or a grieving mother that will never see her daughter again or meet her first grandson.
These are the thoughts that flood my mind... and dwarf my own grief. The questions that will never have adequate answers this side of heaven. These are the things that remind me that I am part of a broken world... that I 'bump up against' fragile people each and every day. These things make my own prayer list very short. I don't need to pray that I will become more compassionate or less selfish, I simply need to open my eyes to what's going on around me. These things make me grateful for any speck of pain or suffering that I've endured throughout my relatively easy life. Grateful that my heart breaks for others. Grateful that I have a 'sad date' on the calendar... because many out there have 'sadder days' on their calendars. It makes me realize that this life is fleeting. It makes me long for a place where we will hold those little hands that we never held on earth... a place where "every tear will be wiped away".

Girl with the Curl

2011-07-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead
And when she was good
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

"Sounds like fun!"

2011-07-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

As David rushed off to work this morning, he asked me what my plans were for the day.
"I think Kate's coming by this morning." I replied.
Actually... We've been trying to get together all week. Literally, everyday this week something has come up. Migraine... dentist... appointments... odd nap times... you name it. Oh well, I needn't explain all the details. How does my fabulous husband always confuse my 'detailed explanations' for complaints?
"Oh great!" he replies, with sickening optimism... "That'll be fun."
Of coarse it'll be fun, I don't have many friends in my life on a daily basis, so it's wonderfully refreshing to have an adult conversation, with a dear friend, every once in a while. But the way he says ' Oh great... it'll be fun.' like I'll be sitting poolside with a mojito and people magazine, chatting it up as my children nap peacefully in the summer breeze, makes me defensive. I ignore my need to pounce on this viscous untruth and simply answer, "Yeah, it'll be fun."
This morning started off 'with a bang' as Evangeline (who went to bed at 10:00 and woke up several times throughout the night) starts yelling "Hey JE-CI-CA! HEY JE-CI-CA!" I pause to listen to my darling toddler... and remind myself to 'RELAX, RELATE and RELEASE'... Ah, yes... I can do this.
Kate shows up right after 9:00 with her adorable little 'Ti'. Titus is just a few weeks younger that Elliot, but they totally ignore each other. Titus also reminds me a little of how Evangeline was at his age. Very interactive, yet independent... but I'm learning that timing is everything when you say something like "Oh! He reminds me of Doodle!" Let's just say that today was one of those 'not a good time' days.
"Titus is home!" Doodle yells, as she stands in the front window. She is wearing nothing but a diaper and random leg warmers on her left leg and arm.
Kate comes in, amiss the chaos, and makes herself right at home. I love that about her. As we juggle the children from bouncy seat to swing to exersaucer... turn on another episode of Olivia... look for another missing pacifier... we decide to skip any polite small talk. When you're a busy mom trying to have a decent conversation, you really learn to sift through your words carefully. At times, even polite pauses to catch one's breath seem like a waste of time. I often find myself thinking... 'If I don't get this sentence out into the open immediately, it will be forgotten and lost altogether.'
As Kate and I rounded the topics of God... the meaning of Life... marriage and family, Doodle decides she's ready to potty train. Since I've been waiting for her to show a bit more interest ... I decide to 'go with it'. She puts her 'big girl unnerwears' on and prances around proudly. I set the timer and continue the previous activities. The timer beeps... we go potty... HURRAY... she gets a treat. I am so proud that Doodle chooses a time we have company to 'show off'. I set the timer again and think to myself ' I bet Kate's so glad that she has someone with an older child she can look up to.' 'Yeah... she could really learn a lot from me.'
Before I could even finish the thought... I see Doodle's wet foot prints trailing down the hall. "AHHH! Not even 10 min.?!"
"Treat mommy?!" Evangeline asks, running in her pee soaked 'unnerwears'.
"No Doodle... Only when you go on the POTTY."
"Two treats? Mommy?"
"No treats... and you only get two treats for poopies."
I clean Doodle up. Clean up the floors. Throw a load of laundry in. Set the timer again. Nurse Elliot... and 'Hi Kate'... 'Where were we?' 'Oh yes... things that make us angry'. We pick right back up. Not five minutes later, I hear Doodle talking to herself...'My get TWO treats' 'My do poopies!'... oh gosh! She's in the bathroom! I put Elliot down, who screams in protest, and rush to the bathroom. Naked Doodle has apparently pooped, out of sheer desire for more treats... sloshed it across the bathroom and flushed it already. As I quickly try to pick up some of the mess before Millie Precious gets into it... Doodle flies down the hall, through the kitchen and around to the living room where poor Kate is trying to manage my fussy child, not to mention her own. I immediately flash back to Doodle's poopy butt that has yet to been wiped... and poor 'first time mom' Kate who has probably never witnessed such a scene. I decide to run full speed down the hall and intercept my filthy child before she lands on anything. If you were to break this down into an instant replay, it would look like this. Poopy, drooly, no bow in her hair Evangeline running like a wild stallion through the living room, jumping over a puddle of pee, dodging an array of dog toys and baby gear... ME running toward her, hurdling over the exersaucer and catching her mid-air, just before she makes a crash landing belly flop onto the newly washed couch cover. I finished the successful interception with a nonchalant pirouette... and carried doodle off to her room, kicking and screaming, most likely because her plans of overthrowing the monarchy have once again been foiled.
I deal with Evangeline, put a diaper on her (we are done potty training for the day) and put a bow in her hair to make her appear a little less 'tribal'.
I come back to the living room, Kate had cleaned up my child's pee and grabbed herself a granola bar. We continued our conversation without missing a beat. We made grand plans for our next get together. I'm always surprised that she comes back. I guess that's what 'A REAL FRIEND' is.

Elliot

2011-07-20T13:20:00.000-07:00

I can't believe that 'Baby Brotha' is already six months old! Time goes by way too fast. Someone once told me that the 'days seem to drag on at times, but the weeks fly by'. I think I'm starting to understand what they meant.
Evangeline seems to take up most of my writing time (and energy for that matter), she's just so active and out of control. But my little Elliot has stolen my heart. He's so different from his sister already. He's a 'momma's boy'... and I love it. He constantly has a pensive, thoughtful expression on his face... like he's always in such deep thought. Maybe he'll be Evangeline's therapist when he grows up.
My sister, Rebekah, nicknamed him 'Little Foot' from the Land Before Time... it's like he's always gazing off into the distance, in search of a long, lost tree star. Although, I believe he's just day dreaming about 'his momma'.
Whenever Millie Precious and Evangeline storm through the room, he nearly jumps out of his skin, then must be comforted. He wants me to hold him... ALL THE TIME. Whenever I get tired of it, I just look at Evangeline, running around, so independent... and I squeeze Elliot a bit tighter. I can't hold him forever, better soak it in now.

The Adventures of Doodle and Darlin'

2011-07-19T10:47:00.000-07:00

Every time Doodle does something crazy or cracks me up... I want to make sure to write it down, since my memory has been heading south lately. There seem to be so many great stories of Evangeline and Millie Precious... they're just too funny to pass up.
Yesterday, I gave her a piece of an apple and let her watch 'Olivia' while I was straightening up. I had already cleaned the living room floor... and, seriously, how messy can an apple be? Anyway, as I peer around the corner to check on her... I catch her... chewing up mouthfuls of juicy apple and spitting it back out, onto the floor. She did this in a nice, little trail across the living room (probably 15 piles)... laughing hysterically as Millie would eat a pile of 'apple' and get closer to her. When Millie finished all the apples, she swatted her on the back and yelled "Good job Millie Precious!"... She then spotted me spying on her and yelled... "Hey mom! It's o.k.?"..." Yes, Doodle... it's o.k. You are so helpful!"

Checklist...

2011-07-14T18:56:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here at the end of a very long day... zoned. Let's just say that today made my 8:00 a.m. trip to the dentist to get 3 cavities filled (2 without novocain), look like a day at the spa. I'm not complaining... it was actually a nice day. Just very full and no rest for my eighty year old joints. Evangeline and Elliot 'tagged teamed' it last night... I don't think one hour went by without one of them up. So I'm not sure what, exactly, inspired me to take a trip to the zoo before nap time... but, what can I say? I'm a free spirit and the mood struck... not to mention the gorgeous weather (it makes me want to throw on a full length calico dress and frolic through a meadow). Anyway... after a wonderfully exhausting afternoon with Auntie Reaghan at the zoo... and no naps (I never count a nap that is less than an hour, it's just a tease)... I'm sitting here, staring off into space, trying to remember if I ever ate or used the bathroom... and I am quite proud to say that I did both today!
I'm tempted to look around... discouraged that I've accomplished absolutely nothing. Then, I remember something that always makes me feel better. My own little version of a 'TO DO' list. While all of you 'taskmasters' out there might shake your heads in pity... I think my fellow 'spirited procrastinators' will definitely find this very useful. I guess you could call it the 'anti-check list' or the 'TO DONE' list. Here's how it goes. You think of everything you've done that day. "I woke up today"...( and you put a well earned checkmark by the achievement)... CHECK. Go to the dentist... CHECK. Pick up dog poop out of the hallway... check. Go to the zoo. Don't vacuum the floors. Check! (Isn't this so easy and uplifting?!) Make a bowl of chocolate ganache and eat the entire thing. Check!Do not feel guilty about chocolate ganache. CHECK. Feed baby. Feed Millie Precious Darlin. Feed Doodle. Get Doodle to stop feeding Millie. Check. Forget to run the dishwasher...check. Let your husband grab leftovers out of the fridge for dinner. Check. Sing silly song to Evangeline... sing serious song to Elliot. CHECK. Kiss husband goodbye. Adjust attitude over fabulous husband abandoning you to play softball.CHECK. Think of something interesting to write in blog... check.
You will go to bed with a great sense of accomplishment... and a neat and organized check list to prove that you did absolutely everything you set out 'to do' that day. Your welcome.

Words can't describe...

2011-07-13T11:33:00.000-07:00

While all these pictures weren't actually taken today... I felt like they really captured the essence of today with Doodle. I'm congratulating myself for simply making it til naptime... or should I say "Naptime... TAKE 2."

"Other-one side mommy..."

2011-07-11T13:44:00.000-07:00

So... The other day Evangeline insisted that I nurse her baby doll. I mean REALLY nurse the baby doll. She made sure I was doing it right, then yelled "Other-one side MOMMY!" I accommodated her. It was REALLY awkward.
NOTE TO SELF: Nursing your toddler's baby doll is as embarrassing as you'd think.... And twice as embarrassing when you're in a 'heated discussion' with your husband.

Even Spandex has it's limits...

2011-07-09T13:12:00.000-07:00

With my recent 'Things that Make you Feel Fat' posts, I sense that it's necessary to give a brief explanation and background on the topic. I would never want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or add fuel to the fire in a society that is so obsessed with appearance. As a ballet teacher, it has always been very important to me that I did not 'pass along' my own body issues and insecurities to my students. In my 'Fat Posts', I'm simply trying to bring some humor to something that most of us struggle with at some point in our lives.
I've struggled with my weight/body image for as long as I can remember... honestly, who doesn't these days? Growing up, I was never 'overweight', but always a bit pudgy. In my early 20's, I went from a healthy size 8, to a starving and miserable size 0. I'm sure I alienated many friends and family members with my selfish focus on my own appearance. Now, as a mother of two... I WISH I was a size 8 again... but it just isn't worth losing any sleep over at this point in life.
I had to chuckle at myself as I came home with a new pair of jeans the other day. LONG and LEAN... size 10 short. Yep, that's me.( FAT MOMENT: When the sales lady at GAP approaches you and says she has the perfect jeans for you to try... "they're OPRAH'S favorite's.")
Anyway, I went to my monthly prayer group a few weeks ago. This is always a 'self esteem challenge' being that just about everyone in my group is a size 2 and made it through their entire pregnancies without having to buy even a pair of maternity jeans. (Girls, you know who you are... and I love each of you:). I must admit, however, that each time one of them confesses that they wish they looked more like a Victoria's Secret model or that their body just isn't the same since having a baby... a little devil appears on my left shoulder and tries to convince me to tackle and pin one of them between my chubby, cellulite covered thighs and show them what a fat roll really looks like. But, after some serious thought, I decline... after all, prayer group just isn't the place for such a display.
On a more serious note... I pray for them. Because it's a very real struggle... whether you're a size 2, 20 or somewhere in between.
NOTE TO SELF: It might not be a good idea to ask for prayer in this area, when there is someone much larger than you within arm's reach. IT'S A HUGE RISK.

Priorities...

2011-07-08T12:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was quite productive. Despite having a toddler with diarrhea... and doing several poopy loads of laundry... I also managed to get a few projects done, straighten and vacuum the house AND steam clean most of the floors. Yes, I am bragging. Probably because most of my days aren't nearly this triumphant. Anyway, all of this was about to change. As I was unwinding and browsing facebook... THERE IT WAS. 'COW APPRECIATION DAY' TOMORROW?!(insert dramatic music). How could I have let this terribly important day slip past my radar?! Stay calm. While all of my friends are proudly displaying their cow costumes, my mind is racing... 'I'm sure I have a few things,for a perfectly acceptable cow costume, lying around the house... no big deal. So... I'm off... in search of white onesies and a black sharpie. An hour later... VIOLA! 'BABY BROTHA COW' and 'BALLERINA COW' onesies... CHECK. Now, let's get some sleep, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Wake up... CHECK. Caffine... CHECK. Complete onesies with fading black sharpie... CHECK. Now we need... tails, tutu, ears. A couple hours later... amiss an array of red felt, tulle and ribbon, emerge the necessary accessories. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK.(cue calm nature-like sound effects).
As I put the kids down for a nap and take a minute to catch my breath, I realize that I desperately need to use the bathroom... haven't brushed my teeth or even changed from my pajamas. But, as I glance across the room at my proudly displayed cow costumes... I reassure myself, 'It's o.k. You are totally normal... and definitely have your priorities straight.'
Now... the goal is to actually make it to CHICK-FIL-A. (CHECK pending).

Cookies...

2011-07-01T10:46:00.000-07:00

Late night conversations between exhausted parents can reveal a lot. David and I have been pretty 'disgruntled' with each other lately, mostly because I'm worn out and snap at him... and partially because he can be a bit insensitive at times. Either way, we have learned to be loving and to enjoy each others company until we have a chance to have a 'real discussion'. But, at times, this leads to quite superficial topics.
Davy:"Man, I really want some cookies." Me: "Why do you never want cookies when I want cookies?" Davy: " What are you talking about?" Me:" Lately, when I suggest making cookies, you don't want any." Davy:"So? What's the big deal?" Me: "It's annoying! Who wants to eat cookies by themselves?! It's embarrassing... and it makes me feel fat!" Davy: "Well, whenever I want some cookies, I go get some d*#! cookies! Anyway... I really want some cookies." (I roll over in silence) Davy: "Are you mad?" Me: " No, I'm memorizing our conversation for my blog." Davy: "You're crazy. Goodnight, love you." Me: "Love you too."
NOTE TO SELF: Life's too short to be embarrassed by a cookie.

Diaper Duty...

2011-06-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a day around here. A 'my job is to keep them alive' kind of day. One of the 'pros' of having a crazy day is that it gives me SO MUCH to write about. For instance... I just went to change Elliot's diaper. First of all, he screams simply because I must lay him down. Once he calms down, I precede with the blessed event. Talking and actin' a fool the entire time to keep him from falling apart. Wipe his cute little hiney... boy parts... diaper creme... round 2 of Itsy Bitsy 'pider... tape the diaper... snap the onesie... pick him up... go to grab the dirty diaper... AND. THERE... neatly folded by the wipes a clean, unused diaper. One can only come to a single conclusion. The diaper was never changed.
#NOTE TO SELF: Repeat the process... must use clean diaper this time.

#1 Fat moment of the day...

2011-06-28T18:59:00.000-07:00

Pausing to seriously contemplate, before sitting, whether one should pull the elastic waistband OVER or UNDER the fat roll.

Things that make you feel fat...

2011-06-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

1. Baking a chocolate cake from scratch simply because 'the buttermilk was about to expire'.
2. Correcting the Barista at Starbucks. Barista: "So that's a grande, half caf., non-fat, latte'" Me:"Ummm, no.. It's a half caf, FAT, latte'... Thanks."
3. Undressing ,at the end of the day, and finding crumbs in your sports bra.
4. Coming to terms with the fact that you are wearing a sports bra for comfort... not because you are 'sporty'.
5. Finding granola while cleaning the floor... and subconsciously eating it.
6. Viciously devouring a salad, while wearing the baby in a sling... upon 'coming to your senses' you realize your poor child is covered in pieces of stray lettuce and chunks of blue cheese.
7. The treadmill in your room has turned into a 'make shift' clothes rack.

...and the 'parent of the year' award goes to...

2011-06-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

NEITHER ONE OF US. David and I put doodle to bed about 45 minutes ago. We were very proud of getting things settled early, especially since mondays always tend to creep up on us so unexpectedly. Anyway, we're spying on her as she's whining, kicking, tossing and turning. "Man, what's her problem?"... We figure that she's just having a hard time settling down... then we take another look... she's viciously chewing on the side of her crib... "She can't be hungry" I think to myself, we just had dinner. Wait a minute, "David, did you feed her?"... "Uh... No, did you?" "Hmm... me either." Wow, aren't we the worst parents?!
On the other hand... we have been at my parents all day. Which means that Evangeline has more than likely been carrying around a small, metal pail (decorated to correspond with the nearest holiday)... full of some sort of snack food... my mom started this habit early on. I think it began when she started feeding my sister's dog... and now the dog likes her the best... so I guess she figured it would work with the grandchildren.
All that to say... we wouldn't win any parenting award today... but if there were some sort of 'Whose that adorable child prancing around with a 4th of July food bucket and matching bow' award... WE'RE YOUR WINNERS!

Dear facebook fans,

2011-06-25T15:41:00.000-07:00

As I'm contemplating the early stages of writing a book. I keep getting paranoid about facebook privacy/ copyright issues. So, I'm coming back to the ancient art of blogging. For some reason, sitting down and posting on a blog is so much more intimidating than quickly posting something on facebook. Anyway, I'm gonna try to be consistent. Many publishers, these days, suggest that 'new authors' gather a following through the blog world first. So... if you're a fan of 'Evangeline's Chronicles' or 'The Doodle' stories we've all come to know and love... spread the word and have people check our stories out here!

We speak 'Evangelinese'...

2010-09-07T05:07:00.000-07:00

Well... my daughter is definitely a 'late bloomer' as far a verbal communication goes. She's way too busy chasing her dog, climbing on things and kicking her ball. We're assuming that this is yet another 'Rockey trait'... since most Rickards' babies never attempt to do anything 'physical' until well after one year... yet can speak in complete sentences by 9 months or so. All of that to say that my wonderful Evangeline has finally uttered her first words! Yes, I'm quite proud... and quite aware that many of you have been anxiously awaiting her first words as well. Let's see... where do we start?

"MAMAMAMA" (that's me) . "Da" (daddy, of coarse). "Gog" or "Miyyeee" (Millie Precious). "UHMMMM NO!" (no). "Happy" (cake or food). "Bad-bad-bad" (what she says to the dog or other children). "I-know" (what she says to me after I tell her something). Ball... Bowl... and Baa (words she uses for everything else). "all-dun" (dinner was fabulous, thank-you-very-much). "Guck" (duck). Guck (truck). "Goose" (juice)... and "ya-you" (love you)!

I'm sure this little update has made your day, as it did mine. Stay tuned for more...

MISS AMER-I-CAN!

2010-07-29T10:32:00.000-07:00

It's been too long. My perfectionist side wants to catch everyone up on life since Sept. 2009 (my last post)... however, my practical side is telling me ' Just post SOMETHING'! So... here is 'something'. This is one of my favorite pictures of Evangeline... a.k.a. Miss America, Proud to be an AMERICAN... or simply AMER-I-CAN.

Goodnight...

2009-09-14T18:31:00.001-07:00

I wish these moments would last forever...

Mercy

2009-08-14T10:47:00.000-07:00

A definition of mercy (according to webster)... a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion : a fortunate circumstance: compassionate treatment of those in distress...

MERCY... this word comes to my mind often. I've always been familiar with the term, but lately it has come alive to me. I have found myself in the 'fortunate circumstance' of being the mother of an unbelievably good baby. Of coarse, I think Evangeline is beautiful and practically perfect in every way... I imagine most mother's think this of their children. But I'm talking about GOOD. She has been consistently sleeping 6-8 hrs. a night since she was about 7 weeks old and just last night had her first 12 hr. stretch. This includes a good 4 hr. nap on most days, not to mention her little hour cat naps here and there.
I'm not sharing this just to brag... or to make any new moms out there jealous, but to simply share with you how the Lord has been merciful to me.
Most of you know of the back problems that I've dealt with over the past 12 years. Many years of therapy, unsuccessful surgeries, experimental surgeries, depression, medication...
I knew that I would be able to physically have children, but was warned that it would be very difficult. My pregnancy was painful, but otherwise normal... not as bad as I had prepared myself for... MERCY.
My labor and delivery couldn't have gone any smoother. I remember hearing of a friends brief and normal delivery back in march. After we left her hospital room I looked over at David and rolled my eyes... "Of coarse, she would have a perfect delivery... with my luck, I'll be in labor for days."(sorry Katy, love you!). Well, five days before my due date, I woke up with strong contractions, got to the hospital around 7 and Evangeline was born before 1:00 that afternoon. Other than having back labor, everything went perfect... so much better than I had imagined... MERCY.
Of coarse, like any new mom, there were many sleepless nights for the first few weeks. At times I have just cried because it hurt too bad to simply bend over and lift my sweet baby out of her crib. Sometimes I cried out to God and sometimes just cried. But although my pain has increased quite a bit lately, being a new mom has not been as hard as I had imagined... MERCY.
With every morning that I wake up refreshed and every nap time that I'm able to lay down and rest my back, I am overwhelmed by God's active favor and compassion to me when I'm in distress. He is a merciful God.

Good Morning Auntie Reaghan!

2009-08-10T06:58:00.001-07:00

I miss you... come home soon!

A simple picture?

2009-07-15T08:46:00.001-07:00

Is there such a thing as taking a simple picture? I'm always the one behind the camera... so I decided that I would capture a sweet moment with my daughter as I was on the computer... little did I know that my lil' darlin' wanted to get in on the action. She snuck into a few pictures on her own... and then proceeded to 'attack' my ponytail (one of her favorite pastimes).
So, for all of you out there who said I was crazy for getting a puppy when I was 5 mo. pregnant... you were right!

Millie Precious Darlin'

2009-07-15T08:15:00.000-07:00

This little one has been demanding the attention lately... she now has her very own 'passy' that she takes everywhere she goes. Just an update for all you dog lovers out there!

My favorites

2009-06-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

The many faces... Evangeline

2009-06-10T18:29:00.000-07:00

Introducing...

2009-05-20T15:14:00.000-07:00

Miss Lily Evangeline Rockey!!!

6 lbs 14 oz... she was born at 12:50 pm
and she is absolutely PERFECT!!!
Jessica and David are both doing GREAT... jessica is ready to party and david is ready to sleep!! :)

here are some pictures of the cutest baby EVER!!

OK here are just a few... i'll get some more "close ups" soon!

Hey everyone!! Just to make it clear her name is Lily Evangeline... but they're calling her Evangeline!
here are some more for you aunt Kim!!

Baby Girl!! (edit)

2009-05-20T05:50:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone!!

at 6:30 this is Jessica and David left for the hospital!
They're checked in and all i know is that the dr. said she should have the baby by noon!!
we would appreciate your prayers for Jessica and the baby!
i'll keep you guys posted through here.

~Reaghan

WAITING... it should happen anytime!
Jessica is doing great!!
she should have the baby anytime!!

NOT YET... ugh we're getting restless.

The Belly Shot

2009-04-20T14:47:00.000-07:00

Well, this is baby girl Rockey at 35 weeks! Everyone keeps telling me that I'm not that big... but I feel huge! Her head is already down and she's about 5 1/2 lbs. I have to laugh at myself every time I act totally pregnant... waddling to the bathroom every five minutes, moaning each time I try to roll over or get up. It's pretty hysterical.
On a serious note... I have been in a lot of pain. My lower back and hips are really hurting. Many of you have been asking how my back is holding up... I usually sugar coat how I'm really feeling. I'll just be honest now and let you all know that I need your prayers. The pain has become overwhelming and it affects every minute of my day. Mentally, I've been starting to breakdown a bit, which is starting to make me nervous.
I'm so grateful for this season the Lord has blessed me with... I just know that I need the prayer and support of my dear friends. Thanks for listening...

Things that make you feel fat... part 3

2009-02-24T10:08:00.000-08:00

1. Being pregnant.
2. Dropping a huge blob of spaghetti sauce on you belly... changing shirts, treating the stain... two mins. later dropping another blob on the same spot.
3. Your husband, nonchalantly, referring to you as 'full figured'. ( Yes, true story)!
4. Your stomach growling as you eat.
5. Refusing to wear any material that 'doesn't stretch'.
6. Having a pudgy roll on top of your pregnant belly. I thought the belly was supposed to be round and firm?!
7. Resting anything 'atop' your stomach... tea cup, purse, plate of food, chocolate ice cream.
8. Getting unbelievably giddy when you see the 'Hot Now' sign at Krispy Kreme.
9. Taking off your scarf at church and finding an array of crumbs floating down around you... from multiple food sources.
10. Your husband calling you full figured... yes, I'm bitter.

Just a few funny thoughts to get you through the day... especially if your feeling fat.
I'll try to update more... soon.

Pregnancy Update

2009-01-12T10:50:00.001-08:00

You guessed it! Our baby girl is the size of a large banana! I wish I had something a bit more glamorous to compare her with. During our 20 week ultrasound,(before we knew the sex) the doctor announced that the baby was big for her age and being extremely difficult. I just knew it was a girl at that moment! Now I'm dealing with the guilt of passing on my chub and high-maintenance tendencies to this defenseless child! Oh well, hopefully she'll get a thick, curly head of hair from her daddy... that would even things out a bit.
No belly yet, for those of you who have been asking for a picture. I refuse to take a belly shot until it is obviously a baby belly!

Sugar & Spice...

2008-12-26T08:22:00.000-08:00

And Everything Nice...
THAT'S WHAT GIRLS ARE MADE OF...

Introducing... My New BFF... Millie

2008-12-19T11:59:00.000-08:00

Pregnancy Update

2008-11-29T17:24:00.000-08:00

We're 15 weeks today! Lil' Jr. is about the size of an apple. Isn't that weird? I don't feel pregnant anymore (no nausea) and I'm not showing yet... so sometimes I feel like it's a crazy dream. We did, however, hear a strong heartbeat last week... Yeah!
Just a quick update!

Tag!!!

2008-11-24T07:07:00.000-08:00

Ok... So this is the 5th picture from my 5th file... It's a funny one! So glad it's not of me!
So, Reaghan tagged me for this... Guess I have to 'tag' 5 people... Hmmm. Michelle Swingle,Linda Stewart, Rebekah McCallum, Catherine Hugo and Ginger Perron. Girls... go to your pictures, pick the 5th picture from your 5th file and....POST IT! Then tag 5 more people. Have fun!

Floating Babies!

2008-11-11T06:16:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not having eight babies. My fabulous sister, Reaghan, thought it would be funny to intrude upon my blog and totally creep me out! No offense to those of you with those crazy pregnancy tickers... but they totally creep me out! I don't know why... but they give me horrible nightmares, they evoke extreme panic attacks and they make me feel claustrophobic . Anyway, that's why I have chosen a pleasant stork traveling across a quilted pattern as my pregnancy ticker.

In case any of you are wondering... my other horrible dream is that I'm holding my precious baby in my arms and I look down... and it has a goatee and glasses! It really upsets me... seriously. Oh yeah... and I also have a strange fear that our baby will be born with a full set of teeth.

All that to say... I'll leave the creepy, floating babies on for another day or two (just for laughs)... but, hopefully, there's only one beautiful, toothless baby floating around in there... minus the goatee! Thanks for listening.

Sarasota, Florida

2008-11-06T08:59:00.000-08:00

Here are a few snapshots of our fabulous vacation! Hours in the car... only one major argument... our favorite music, sunsets on the beach (of coarse wrapped in blankets due to a cold front). Davy seeing his first gator, searching for Daddy, mommy and baby seashells! Taking naps, riding bikes, getting lost in Tampa (Davy wanted to take the 'scenic' route). We finish our trip with a visit at my grandpa's and a 13 hr. trip home... no fights this time! I'm so grateful for such a wonderful vacation, courtesy of Integrity and our change we've been saving for 2 years! Enjoy the pictures!
P.S. Katy, thanks for the snacks and the c.d.! I had to fight back tears as we were listening to it... so thoughtful!

Jessica's Top Ten

2008-10-13T07:24:00.000-07:00

1. Crying when Richard and Emily renew their vows on a random episode of Gilmore Girls.

2. Suddenly repulsed by the smell of Starbucks.

3. Staying up all night wondering how many animals I could save after watching that Sarah McLaughlin commercial.

4. Getting enraged when Davy refers to his nieces and nephews as 'kids' instead of 'children'.

5. Crying when Luke and Loreli break up... again, been watching a lot of Gilmore Girls.

6. Becoming emotionally invested in the polar bear that's searching for food on Planet Earth.

7. Scarfing down a value size bacon cheeseburger and fry from Wendy's.

8. Returning to Wendy's the next day for another burger (no fries this time... self control people!).

9. Never leaving the house without a 'trusty' ziploc full of saltines.

10. Unable to make it through a coffee date without rushing to 'The Angry Chef' for some garlic mashed potatoes.

These are my 'Top Ten'... Reasons you might be PREGNANT... AGAIN!

30 DAYS!

2008-10-02T14:47:00.000-07:00

I believe this is the first time in 11 years that I have been completely 'drug-free' for 30 days. It has been a horrible month and I'm so glad it's over! No pain meds... no sleep meds... no depression meds... no anti-inflammatories.... no muscle relaxers! I'm not feeling normal yet, but the worst is definitely over. Praise God!

Ballet Shoes

2008-09-22T18:20:00.000-07:00

My new favorite movie! Its BBC, but my dear Davy picked it up at red box tonight. It's got the key ingredients of a perfect 'Jessica Movie'... yes friends, I'm claiming this one! Let's see... babies found in carpet bags (a lifelong dream of mine has always been to find a baby in a carpet bag), Russian Ballerinas, a young actress finding herself as the lead role in 'Alice in Wonderland' (complete with the ribbon in hair), glamour, love, there's even tap dancing! Most of you will even recognize some of the actors from your favorite Jane Austen films. This is a must watch! And if you're as lucky as I am... your fabulous husband will watch it with you!

The Point of No Return

2008-09-14T11:07:00.000-07:00

ANTS: Ahhh.... I literally feel like I have ants crawling all over me! I've stopped swatting at them, I don't want to look crazy, but I still feel them!

Brain Zaps and Nerve Zaps: Pretend that that annoying kid that sat behind you in 5th grade, is following you around and randomly 'zappin' you with a rubberband!

Leg Cramps: I have no sense of humor about this one. It's just cruel.

That's what they call it... Once you've made it past day 7 on the road OFF antidepressants and benzodiazepines (ambien, for me). I'm at day 13... and what I thought was the worst of it...wasn't. It's still been downhill for me this past week. The more research I do, the more I learn of better ways I could've weaned myself off. I've found a great website, www.theroadback.org . I wish I would've found it a year ago!
Anyway, here are some images I found to help some of you relate. Just some crazy symptoms that I'm experiencing this week.

P.S. I do realize I mixed up some of the symptoms... I get a bit unfocused and confused... point made.