My Grand Maw

To the average person, possibly even to my own husband, these trinkets that live on top of the bookshelf in our bedroom are meaningless. They appear to be just junk, possibly some random garage sale finds or some misplaced pieces to a not-so-complete collection.

But when I glance at them I see a passageway to my childhood. These things take my mind back nearly 25 years to a place where I spent my time doing nothing and everything all at once.

Looking at those Pepsi-Cola bottles and that tiny, little teapot, I can almost taste the sweet tea that I spent hours pouring back and forth between their narrow openings. I can smell the distinct fragrance of my Maw's house. I can feel the warmth of her propane heater as I sit at her kitchen table and pour and drink, pour and drink, pour and drink for hours on end.

And that is just how I remember my Grandmother's (Maw's) house from my childhood. Warm, sweet and wonderful.

As I sit here and think about all the things I cherished about her home as a small girl, I can almost hear the music floating through her den as it played from that little, wooden music box, pictured above. I feel my body spinning through her house as I dance and sway and pretend I'm a princess or ballerina or bride.

I remember the scotch tape and cotton ball bandaids she used to make for me when I got boo boos, whether they were real or imagined. I remember her special shelf, where she kept all sorts of interesting things. Most were breakable, like the bottles and teapot above, but all were just for my tiny fingers to touch and hold and enjoy.

I remember her singing to me as I lay in the window seat of her den, the words to "Goodnight Irene" floating through my head as she stroked my hair and I fell asleep on her lap.

I remember ice cream cones from the corner ice cream shop and finally being old enough to walk there by myself and get a cone to bring home.

I remember her neighbor's woodshop, where Mr. Reisner built things from scratch. And swinging on the playset in her backyard and sitting on the stool in her bathroom and playing with her makeup.

There are so many things I remember about my Maw's house. The laughter, the love, the way it was always just there. And as I sit here with tears streaming down my face, I know that in a few days all of the things I love so much about my Grandmother could be gone.

On Monday, my Maw is scheduled to have major heart surgery. My Maw. The woman who always bandaged my boo boos and let me use all her scotch tape. The woman who held me close and mumbled songs in my ear.

Four bypasses, a new aortic valve and aortic root. Someone opening up her chest and assessing a life's worth of damage. Someone who may not ever know just how precious she is to me or how much I still need her here. Someone who may not realize that I've been so very selfish and not allowed my own children to make the same memories with her that I now hold so close.

So I ask you. From today, until late into Monday evening, will you lift up my Maw to the One who can heal all things? Will you pray with me that the Surgeon's hands will be guided by the One who created her very heart?

My Maw, that poured countless pots of tea into that tiny brown pot and endured hours of dancing and music from a tiny little music box, seems so fragile to me now. I almost want to scoop her up into my lap, stroke her hair and sing into her ear.

I want her to be able to see our new Baby born and know that 6 little faces adore her just as much as I do. And, I want our kids to dance to the music and drink sweet tea from tiny glass Pepsi bottles. I want them to have scotch tape and cotton ball bandaids and have their hair stroked. I want them to know and remember their Maw like I do.

Because lots of kids have Grandmas. But we have a Grand Maw. And that's something that should never be taken for granted.

My Aunt Judy, My Mom, Me and Maw - 1979

Maw and Elizabeth - Christmas 2003

My Mom holding Lucas, Maw holding Ashlee, My Dad holding Elizabeth - July 2006

Maw and Lucas - May 2008

Maw with the big kids - August 2009

I'm 50

I just realized I have 50 followers. Which means absolutely NOTHING.

But...it DID make me think of this.



Hilarious.

Official Eviction Notice: 2 week warning

As I write this, it's late Monday night. 11:39pm to be exact. I'm exhausted. However, I cannot sleep.

It's begun.

That time in my pregnancy when I feel the most exhausted, yet I get the least amount of sleep. Not by choice, mind you.

Oh no. This sweet, darling, (and I'm sure) adorable child in my womb refuses to allow me sleep. It's not the hormones or heartburn or even the inability to get comfortable.

It's movement. Tons of it.

Last night Baby spent about 2 hours turning my belly into various geometrical shapes.

I can tell Baby is going to be genius already. Baby has mastered creating shapes such as triangle, rectangle, oval, hexagon and square.

It's almost artistic really. I'm sure the society of Mensa will be beating down our door as soon as Baby is home from the hospital. I mean, how could they NOT want such a young intellect to join them ASAP?

Baby could teach other fetuses all about prenatal geometry, I'm sure.

At least, Baby could have last night.

Tonight, Baby seems to be into shoving his butt all the way over to the right side of my stomach and then S-T-R-E-T-C-H-I-N-G the rest of herself as far up and down as her limbs will go.

I would appreciate the gesture immensely if it didn't make me gasp in pain.

Then, Baby gets hiccups. Which, I mean, are purely a joy. The rhythmic jolting of my body every 3.5 seconds for 30-45 minutes helps me not to forget that Baby is still there, happy as a agitated lark.

Earlier today Ashlee was standing beside me as I sat on the couch. I took in a deep breath as Baby shoved a body part into the wall of my abdomen in an obvious effort to reach through my uterus and touch my elbow.

"Was wong Mommy? Why you breafin' like dat?" Ashlee asked, clearly concerned.

"Oh nothing honey. The baby is just moving inside Mommy and it surprised me." I replied.

Then, Ashlee laid her hands upon me and prayed.

Or at least that's what it looked like as her face became somber and her 3.5 year old hand rested on my tummy.

Then, she skipped into the other room.

So now I sit here and wait for Baby to slip off to sleep. Truth is, I actually love this stage being pregnant. I know that so many women desperately want to be pregnant and feel the things I'm feeling. So, each time I try not to take it for granted or complain.

So, for the record, I'm not complaining.

Still, whatever Baby is doing on the INSIDE of me makes me really think that he wants to be on the OUTSIDE of me. Which I'd totally be fine with in another 2ish weeks.

So Baby, if you can hear me, consider this your 2 week eviction notice. Keep these wild parties up and I will do everything in my power to ensure that your time in "Momma's house-o-fun" is coming to an end.

And that's a promise, not a threat. Consider this your 2 week warning.

It's a chore

We are past the point of no return when it comes to having a small family. I mean, let's face it. Even if Baby #6 is our last baby, we will still have 6 kids in 6 years and that officially qualifies us as a LARGE family.

I mean, we do drive a 15 passenger van as our family vehicle, afterall.

So, how do large families do it? How do they manage their homes, keep their sanity and still love each other at the end of the day?

Truth is, I'm still figuring that out.

I'm still figuring out what it looks like to have all these kids, a house, a husband, homeschool, cook dinners, make lunches, change diapers, give baths, play games, have fun, kiss boo boos and still have the energy/time/desire to clean up my house.

It would be a daunting task for me to keep a clean house even if we didn't have (almost) 6 kids. But we do have (almost) 6 kids and we do do all those things I just mentioned above (I know, I just said do do). And you know what I've figured out?

What works now may not work forever.

It may not work in 2 months. And, I'm okay with things changing, obviously. But, I've figured out that my kids can work. At least the big kids can, and man are they good at it!

So, this past week we re-implemented chores. We did chores in the past and then Mom and Dad got lax on enforcing them and it had not been something we'd gotten back around to doing. And, truth-be-told, the last time we did chores I wasn't creative enough. The same kid did the same chore week after week after week.

But this go round looks to be much better. And, the kids seem to love it. I got our basic chore charts here and then customized them to fit our needs. Even the big kids helping in the little areas helps us BIG time.

Each week each of the big kids has "Helper Chores." These are things they do just because they live in this house. I do things just because I live here and so should they. Because they live here they can make their beds, clean up their rooms, pick up their toys and put their dirty clothes in the laundry room.

Simple huh? And basically, if they truly clean their rooms and pick up their toys, they've accomplished all 4 "Helper Chores" in about 15 minutes. Not to shabby.

Then, they have their "Chore Lists." The difference in their Helper Chores and their Chore Lists is simple.

Money.

They get paid for their Chore Lists and they don't for their Helper Chores. Helper Chores are things they do just because they live here, remember? I don't get paid for diaper changes. But oh how I wish I did.

They receive $0.05 per chore on their Chore List. Saturday is pay day. We keep track of which chores they do with a sticker chart. Each week the chart changes so that the chores for each kid for that week changes. They still do all their Helper Chores as normal but their Chore Lists are different.

I distinguished between Helper Chores and Chore Lists based on one very important principle. Helper Chores are always things they can do WITHOUT MY HELP. Chore List chores are things that they need my help with. I feel that they should pull their weight around here because they help make the messes. Thus, HELPER chores. Their Chore Lists chores are things that they do (work) to relieve my work load. Thus, things they can get paid for.

And, they take SO MUCH PRIDE in those chores, let me tell you. This week one of Ashlee's Chore List chores was helping with the laundry.

Have mercy, you'd have thought she'd hit the jackpot.



Naturally, all she does is either load the washer or transfer from the washer to the dryer. But, she's oh-so-proud of herself. In addition to laundry, Ashlee was also responsible for helping me cook and for checking the trashcans.

Elizabeth's chores were feeding the dog and sweeping/vacuuming under the table after meals. Lucas' chores included dusting (I pick a piece of furniture and spray a little dusting spray on a cloth and let him go to town) and setting the table.

Obviously, we do not expect perfection. I mean, look at this bed made by Elizabeth...

Now, check out her face. Serious pride right there. And you know what? Her sheets and comforter are on the bed and resemble a bed that is made and that's good enough for me!

Here's a shot of Lucas in his all clean room...

Yes, he had help with his bed on this day. Notice that his clean room it's NOT perfect. But, neither am I. And if you've been to my house anytime ever you'll know that I don't expect perfection often.

How could I?

It would stress me out. And, it would stress my kids out. So we go with our best effort?

And, for us it works. Our home is a little cleaner. Our kids a little prouder of their contributions. And we train them, little by little, to do it a little better the next time.

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What do you do to make your home run more smoothly?

Das Not Funny! Friday: Mommies, Daddies, Babies and Hearts

Wow. Das Not Funny! Friday again already? Guess that means if you're here you want some funny stories about things my family said or did. I'm sure that if you're here for a laugh, one of the following will surely not disappoint you.

It's two weeks' worth of funnies, so hold on tight and make sure your bladder is somewhat empty.

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The big kids are all into playing Mommy/Daddy/Child anything. Sometimes, it's just regular 'ol pretend play where Lucas is the Daddy, Elizabeth is the Mommy and Ashlee is the little girl. Other times it takes on a different spin where they are all horsies or dogs or kitty cats and they are a Mommy/Daddy/Daughter combo.

One afternoon Ashlee comes into the living room and says to me,

"Mommy, 'retend I am da Mommy and I'm weal-we sad and you gots to make me happy."

Since I wasn't really paying attention, I said,

"Oh Ashlee! I'm sorry you're sad. Please be happy..."

"No Mommy!" she corrected. "I'm a Mommy and I'z sad. Make me happy."

So, I speak to her a little differently, "Oh Mommy! Why are you so sad? Don't cry Mommy!"

She replies, "I'z a sad Mommy because someone killed me."

I look at her, puzzled and say, "Killed you? But you're standing right here talking to me. How are you dead and still talking?"

After looking at me like I'm insane, she replies "I need kisses. Kisses make Mommies feel better."

Yes they do sweetheart.

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On Monday, I went and picked up our new (to us) BIG van. (Which still needs a name, by the way, so if you're game for naming a silver, 15 passenger van leave a comment.)

That evening as I was preparing to leave for Bible Study, Luke and the kids were all sitting around the table talking about their evening plans while "Mommy was out."

Lucas asked if they could go out and play in the big van and Luke said that he thought that would be fun. Immediately screams and screeches followed.

"I wanna go play in the big van too Daddy!" Elizabeth squealed.

"Yeah! We can climb in it! I wanna go too Dad!" Lucas yells.

Then, Ashlee chimed in with, "Oooooo! I wanna go! I wanna go!"

(insert pause)

"Where are we going?"

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One morning recently the big kids were all playing their hand held V-Smiles. As Elizabeth stepped over Ashlee (who was sitting on the floor of our bedroom) Ashlee reached up and pinched Elizabeth right on the booty.

Naturally, Elizabeth did not enjoy her personal space being violated and Ashlee and I busted out laughing.

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On Wednesday I had an OB appointment. Elizabeth tagged along. As we are sitting in the waiting room, she leans over to me and whispers,

"Mom. Come close I need to tell you a secret."

I lean in and offer her my ear.

"Mom," she continues, "your boobies are really a lot smaller than your belly."

Yes, thank you, I know.

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We were putting together a puzzle of the human body last night. When we finished, Luke and I took turns reading the different descriptions of the body from the puzzle. After I read about the heart, I asked the big kids if they remembered what we had previously discussed about the size of the heart.

"Guys," I ask, "do you remember what Mommy told you about how big your heart is? It's like what?" After some prompting, Elizabeth remembered that I had told them that their heart is about the size of their fist.

So I ask, "Elizabeth, about how big is your heart?" She holds up her fist.

"Lucas, how big is your heart?" He holds up his fist.

"Ashlee, how big is your heart?" She proceeds to spread her arms as far apart as she can reach.

And, I happen to agree with her.

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And finally, I saved the BEST for last....

Elizabeth has always breastfed her baby dolls. So, when I looked over at her during lunch one day this week and saw a baby shoved up her shirt, I knew exactly what she was doing.

But then I see Lucas, who also has a baby shoved up his shirt.

"Lucas, Buddy, what are you doing?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He responds with, "I'm feedin' my baby with my boobies."

"That's sweet Buddy," I reply, "but you know Daddies don't have milk in their boobies to feed their babies, only Mommies."

As scowl creeps across his face as his eyes dart over to his sisters.

"YOU GUYS TEASD-ED ME!" he yells.

And that's when I learned the importance of an empty bladder when you belly laugh at 34 weeks pregnant.

Y'all have a great weekend!

A Date

This past week has been pretty exhausting for me. I think being 34ish weeks pregnant and having 5 kids is starting to catch up with me.

Actually, I just think being 34ish weeks pregnant is starting to catch up with me. Seriously, I think God should have rethought the whole gestation thing. I mean, once you've had your 1st baby, I think He should have made each subsequent gestation period shorter. It just makes sense. I know what's coming, why drag it out?

Also, can someone please tell me why EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. for the last 6 weeks I wake up with a soreness that feels like I just rode a horse for the very first time the day before?

How I love my pelvic floor. NOT.

I blame Lucas and Ashlee profusely.

At any rate, I'm tired. I'm tired all the time. I'm tired when I wake up in the mornings, I'm tired when I pour bowls of cereal, I'm tired after I bend over to pick up the whatever I've just dropped for the 4,287th time.

I'm tired people.

But yesterday, for about 5 hours, I totally forgot how tired I was. I woke up yesterday, tired, and waddled to the bathroom. Then I waddled to find our laptop, opened it and found a note inside from my husband.

Tender words were written about how much he appreciated me.

"Awwwww," my little heart fluttered. So sweet.

I round up the troops and head them into the kitchen for breakfast. I pour bowls of cereal and myself a cup of coffee and reach into the cabinet to grab some new caramel flavoring I've fallen in love with. In front of the caramel is another little note, written in my husband's chicken scratch handwriting, telling me how much he appreciates me trying harder to keep the house picked up.

"Geeeee," my little brain thinks, "he sure is being a sweet man today!"

I continue through my morning of Occupational Therapy for Baby Girl and Elizabeth and I scoot out the door around noon to head out to my 34 week OB appointment.

When I get to the OB's office the secretary hands me a little envelope with my name written on it, in my husband's chicken scratch handwriting.

"Really?" I think, "How incredibly thoughtful!"

Did I mention that so far I've gotten a little teary eyed with each note (I blame pregnancy hormones)? Well, when I read the note my man left for me at the OB's office the tears start flowing.

Elizabeth asks me to read it out loud to her so I do, still teary and she says, "That Daddy! He's such a sweetheart!"

We both laugh and I tuck the card into my purse.

After the OB appointment, Elizabeth and I grab some lunch and quickly head over to the hair salon where I have an appointment. When I walk in, my personal beauty consultant hands me another card, again written by my husband.

I mean, he's earned about 1,157 gold stars for the day. I'm just so impressed with his thoughtfulness and care.

After my hair is cut an my face is melted off with hot wax, Elizabeth and I make one last stop for princess shoes and children's benadryl. While in the store, Luke calls and I thank him for his tenderness. He asks to speak to Elizabeth.

As I pay for our purchases (which ended up also including a stretchy plastic snake and a recorder - you know, like a flute) she finishes her conversation with Luke.

When we arrive home I remind Elizabeth of her conversation with Luke and she immediately launches into a full search of our laundry room. She recovers a note, hidden by my husband.

In the note I find directions to get dressed and be ready to leave our house at 4:45pm, ALONE. I spiffy myself up, pass off the evening's parenting duties to my Mom and Grandmother and crawl into my little red sportscar 15 passenger van waiting in the driveway.

I meet Luke at his office and think to myself that even if he takes me to Burger King for dinner it's been a wonderful date.

We have a NICE dinner and relaxing evening just hanging out together which also involved me crushing him in a game of NFL football on the Xbox display inside Best Buy. (He was getting trashed talked by a 8 year old who was watching our game. "You're getting beat by a GIRL!" the 8 year old taunted. And I egged on.)

We had ice cream at Cold Stone.

Then we drove home. It was awesome.

And, even though the kids and I skipped CBS today because I was so tired this morning, somehow today, I'm a little less tired.

School at home

I updated the homeschool blog that I co-author with my BFF. Can I still say "co-author" when I've technically only written 1/5 of the posts over there?

I'm gonna say "yes" and if Amanda doesn't agree I'll just delete her comment.

Kidding, kidding...sorta.

So if you care about our homeschooling adventures you can click here and read that post.

And if you don't care, well. Consider this your day off from me. Unless you count the previous 6 or so lines you've just read. Then, consider this an un-day off.

Or something like that.

Mmmkay. Buh-bye.

There's nothing mini about it.

Back before Luke and I ever had kids I SWORE that I would never be a mini-van Mom. I said that I'd never drive a mini-van and that, instead, I'd drive a suburban or some other large SUV.

You know what happens when you say that you will NEVER, EVER do something, right?

God gets humorous.

(Okay, God's always been humorous, but He really shows His sense of humor when we are adamantly opposed to something that is so clearly within His control. Which, in fact, is everything. I get such a kick out of people who think that God doesn't appreciate humor. HELLO? He invented it. If you don't believe me, come to my house for 24 hours. I guarantee you'll either laugh with us or laugh at us. Either way, you're laughing.)

(Wow, tangent much?)

(Anyway.....)

Not only have I formerly driven a mini-van, I've also driven a big, red beast.

However, I no longer drive either of those things now. Both of those could be percieved as cool, or...perhaps, in light of our most recent purchase, even mini.

Nope, there is nothing mini about our newest ride.

Nothing at all.

Hey, at least I'm not a mini-van Mom, right?

10 Most Random Monday Ever

I don't really have a cohesive way to tie these thoughts together. So I thought a little list might do you good. And, for some reason, I feel the need to get these things out in the open.

1) The "As Seen On TV" section of Walgreens fascinates me. I could stand there for quite some time, taking in all the things that people have thought up to make life "easier." Some are interesting, while others do, in fact, make our lives and bathroom a lot cleaner.

Yes, I bought a Touch-N-Brush. Yes, it works. Yes, there is still toothpaste all inside our sink. But it's no longer on the counters and floor, which I consider a step up for us.

No, I will not photograph it because that would require me cleaning off the mirror and counter tops.

2) I purchased a Neti-pot. Here is proof of my purchase, if you need it:


In the not-so-distant past I claimed that this was the most hysterical thing I'd ever seen. I am officially recanting my less than uplifting statements in regards to the Neti Pot.

However, I continue to claim that it baffles me that water can run through my sinus cavities and pour out of my nostril. More importantly though, I must confess that it FRIGGIN' ROCKS and I will be a Neti Potter for life.

After getting a Z-pack from my midwife, I went to Walgreens, turned in my prescription, found a Neti Pot and stood in the "As Seen On TV" section until my prescription was ready.

After a couple of uses the Neti Pot flushed out ALL OF THE INFECTION in my sinuses before I finished my Z Pack. By day 5 I was feelin' good.

Miracle worker, I tell ya. Mir-a-cle.

And now, for a formal apology to someone very special...

Dear Chris Thompson,

I formally apologize to you for ever dissing the Neti Pot. I see now that you are a man of great wisdom and hair. Please accept this formal apology for what it is worth. And, I will cook you and the Mrs. a dinner really soon. If you can pencil us into your busy schedule. And if I have not delivered a baby by then. And if I am not attending a Neti Pots anonymous meeting.

Sincerely,

Me.

3) We have tentatively decided on a boy name. No, I will not tell you. You can continue to wait for 6 more weeks. However, I asked Luke if we were sure about this name and his response was, "Yes. For now."

I guess that means we are as sure as we cannot be.

If that last sentence makes sense to you, will you explain it to me?

4) Luke and I made another major purchase this weekend, WITHOUT going into debt. It is similar to this purchase we made just over a year ago. And, I can't wait to fill you in on the details later this week.

Be prepared people. When we go BIG we go BIG.

5) 6 more weeks til this baby is due, yet everyone I know thinks I won't make it a full 6 weeks. Most people said the same thing with the twins, yet I was induced at 38 weeks (which is considered 40 weeks with twins).

Who gets induced with twins?

Apparently, I do.

6) I saw some puppy training pads at Walgreens during my visit the other day. I'm wondering if I should get some to potty train Aaron. He poops 7-9 times a day and I really don't want to deal with that in underwear. What do y'all think?

7) I am amazed that a Neti pot cost $8.99 and yet an enema only $2.99. Aren't they basically the same thing?

8) I bought an exercise ball to sit on to relieve the pressure from my back and hips. If you come to my house and I answer the door sitting on a large, plastic ball. Pay me no mind, pay me no mind. It's heavenly I tell you. Like sitting on a large, plastic cloud.

9) Baby Girl's adoption will not be done before Feb 1st. Which bums me out, but I am trusting in God's perfect timing. The 10 day waiting period will begin when the social worker delivers one last piece of paperwork to our house.

10) I have somewhat re-entered the world of Twitter. But, I don't feel it deserves a spot on the blog until closer to time when the baby comes (which is the purpose for me re-entering the world of twitter). If you'd like to see my Tweets you can go here.

And now I feel really dirty for asking "if you'd like to see my Tweets" so I'm gonna stop now.

Happy Monday y'all.

Bathtime Beauty

Sorry for not doing a Das Not Funny! Friday post. Hopefully the following will make up for any extreme (or not-so-extreme) disappointment you may have and will tide you over til next week:

I'm still learning the exposures and shutter speeds and such on my camera and taking the advice of a photog friend I downloaded Picasa this afternoon and played around with the effects. I'm no pro, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Nomatter how photos are exposed or how well (or not so well) she's photographed, isn't this little princess a BEAUTY?

I sure think so. And I love her so much my heart will surely burst one day. She just makes me smile. I love her tender spirit and joy for life. And that toothy grin...geesh, just melt.my.heart.

I found out yesterday that a piece of paper was left out of the paperwork when we filed her adoption and the 10 day waiting period cannot begin until the social worker picks it up at our house and delivers it to the courthouse. So, hopefully, Monday our fabulous social worker will swing by, pick it up and deliver it to the courthouse to begin the 10 day wait.

But you know what? Until then, I'll just look at this sweet face and focus on today. And my sweet Bathtime Beauty...

And remind myself that she won't be the baby for much longer and I'd better soak her up now, while I can.

Photos of us...which is not what I said I'd post about but get over it

I am too tired to write about the Neti-pot. The comfy pillows that surround me right now as I sit on my bed are screaming at me to lay on them and slip into a slumber.

Perhaps I'll put something up about the Neti-pot this weekend. Just know that I owe someone a formal apology for dissing it and that it washed more snot/infected gunk from my nose than I thought possible. And, if it keeps making me feel this good I may have to attend a Neti-pots anonymous meeting in the near future.

Before I slip into a mid-afternoon coma, I'd first like to share with you a little something that we did on Monday. My sweet friend Beth came by on Monday and shot some pictures of our family. I don't think she nor I expected much from this shoot because

A) My expectations are extremely low when it comes to family photos since all of our children have such distinct personalities and desires, thus making it next-to-impossible to get at least 1 good photo of each of them on the same day.

and

2) Because Beth was bringing her own 4 kids along and her 4 plus our 5 equals 9 kids ages 6 and under. And all 6 kids LOVE each other thus producing mass amounts of squeals and screams and torrential gun fighting. And although it turned out that Beth's oldest had an opportunity for a last minute play date elsewhere, that still left 8 kids 5 and under. Not much of a difference, I'd say.

Still, the results were AMAZING. See for yourself....







What I love about my sweet, compassionate and patient friend Beth (aside from the fact that she just "gets" me and she understands what it means to have lots of little children and she too has a heart for orphans) is that she took these in about 45 minutes. And, there are about 30 more that are equally as good.

If you live in the area and are looking for a photographer for your family you should really check out her stuff. While I have SEVERAL friends that are photographers (all of them fantastic, I might add), I can say that Beth is supremely patient and will not stop until she is sure she has gotten some good shots.

So hop on over to her site, check out her stuff and book her ASAP. You know, if you want to. And if you live nearby. And if you don't, well never mind.

Okay, I'm off to the land of Nod, at least for the next 45 or so minutes. It's rainy and cold out and I can't think of a better way to spend nap time than curled up in my bed.

Peace.

Waffle House floors no more!

This morning some amazing women at our church are watching copious amounts of preschoolers to that we "young moms" can have a Mother's Morning Out. Is that not ridiculously amazing?

Guess what my morning out is consisting of (other than writing this post and the Snickers I'm currently devouring like it's my last morsel of food)?

House cleaning.

Yes, I'm serious.

I figured that this might be the LAST time that I will have a chance to clean my house, without my children present for a very, very, very long time. And, especially before the baby gets here. And, since I pretty much confessed yesterday that my floors rivaled those the Waffle House I figured I could use a good 3.5 hours alone in my house with just the mop, broom and windex.

It's been a productive morning. Productive enough to make my lower back hurt like it's not hurt in a long time and my kitchen and dining room floors look 75x better than they did just an hour ago.

I swept up a pile of dirt and hair so large that I wondered if maybe I wasn't mistakenly sweeping off our back patio and then I snapped to reality and remembered it was, in fact, from underneath my table.

It was disgusting y'all. Utterly disgusting.

And now I just remembered the booster seat in our laundry room sink that MUST be cleaned before I pick up my brood of children in 45 minutes. So, I'm off to deal with all things nasty.

But, before I do I would greatly appreciate it if you all would go to this old post of mine and read it because tomorrow I will have a related post and it just will make no sense if you don't go read that other one first.

Or don't and be in the dark. Either way, I'm blogging about a neti-pot tomorrow and I can assure you even watching that video link on the old post will cause you a chuckle or five.

Toddlers and my randomness, a recipe for a mediocre post

Hey y'all. Hope you had a nice, relaxing, long weekend. We sure did. This week will prove to be full of stuff, once more, and we are now only 7 weeks away from Baby!

Holy moly. I should probably begin nesting. But, as I told the girls in my Bible Study group last night, I'm not a natural-born housekeeper. I wish I was, but I'm not. So, I'll probably wait until 2 weeks before this Baby is due and dig out 1 boy outfit, 1 girl outfit, the bassinet parts that go on our portable crib and all the things necessary for a new baby.

I should probably also look into getting some new tubes and bottles for my breast pump. Aren't you glad I'm making this post into a checklist of things I need to do? Glad we are in this together.

Today I take Aaron and Elizabeth to the dentist. Elizabeth LOVES the dentist and Aaron, well, I'm sure he'll continue his current attitude of "touchmeandIwillscreamlikeabanshee" for the duration of the visit.

I think his terrible 2's have officially begun. He is the PICKIEST eater and by picky I mean he eats all of 1 thing at dinner then refuses the rest and screams until you acknowledge his disapproval of the other foods.

So, most nights dinner time is a battle. Which I loathe. Because this ain't the Waffle House and Momma ain't a short order cook so you eat what is cooked already or you go hungry.

Call me mean. That's the way we roll.

(And by "this ain't the Waffle House" I intend to imply that I don't cook what you want on demand. The floors of my house may or may not be exactly like the Waffle House. I'm not sayin'.)

The crazy part is that he usually likes EVERYTHING on his plate, yet eats only one thing and rejects the rest. Starches are his favorite. If there is bread withing a 6 mile radius of our table he will scream and abandon all other foods demanding ONLY BREAD FOR DINNER.

Which does not fly with me. At all.

Ahhhh, I love todderhood.

Yes, my 2nd son is proving to be more stubborn that my 1st son. Even though I was sure that Lucas was the most stubborn child on the planet at 2 years old. Guess I was wrong. I've determined that since Aaron has little-to-no control over anything in his life, he chooses to exercise his "perceived" authority at meal times and when I change his diaper. I use the term "perceived" loosely here because truly he has no authority over either of those situations either.

Good thing he's super cute and has big, blue eyes that melt my heart or he'd be in BIG, BIG trouble.

Mmmkay, I think I'm done rambling for today. Except I still need to mention that I plan on responding to your name suggestions soon, so be on the look out. If you care. And if not, then don't look out and I'll post my opinions anyway.

Good day.

Das Not Funny! Friday: Polar bears in the jungle who speak Spanish

Welcome to this week's (late) edition of Das Not Funny! Friday. Want the skinny on what Das Not Funny! Friday is all about? Click here.

Don't care what it's about but what a laugh?

Read on.

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If you've been reading Das Not Funny! Friday for any length of time, you know that a lot of the funnies come from when the kids should be in bed, but stagger into our room well past bed time.

This week is no exception.

One night this week, after bedtime, Ashlee cracks open the door to our room. Our conversation went something like this:

Luke: "Yes Ashlee. What do you need?"

Ashlee: "Polar bears are white and they live in the snow. And penguins are different colors and they live in the snow. And penguins don't have hands. And brown bears don't live in the snow.

Goodnite."

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One night this week I texted my friend Grace and asked if she could skype. When my phone jingled, Luke picked it up to read her reply.

"What's it say?" I asked.

"It's from Grace. She said, 'sigh'?"

"Sigh? Huh? Let me see."

I grabbed the phone from my husbands hand and burst out laughing.

"Um. Honey...that says 'Si'." I said, still chuckling.

"See? How does that say see?"

"Not 'see,'" I said, "'Si,' as in yes in Spanish."

Yes people. I'm serious. I'm suppose to tell you he took French not Spanish but I think that's hardly an excuse.

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"Hey Mom, has the baby come out of your tummy yet?" Elizabeth asked one afternoon.

"Um. What do you think sweetie? Does it look like the baby is out yet?" I replied.

"No. Your tummy is still really HUGE."

Thanks baby. Mommy feels so good about herself now.

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Finally, Lucas and Elizabeth dressed themselves one night this week before bed. They were playing "Jane and Tarzan." Here are their "costumes."

Why yes! That is a tank top and leggings with a swimsuit on top.

And, for the record, I believe that Tarzan is much more jungle-ly with his sister's panties on top of his Pj's. Especially when the crotch is worn inside-out on your hip.

Happy Friday y'all!

She's almost legal: Baby Girl Update

For those of you who may have just joined our journey through the world of fostering and adoption let me catch you up to speed semi-quickly. For those of you that already know this story, walk with me for a moment down memory lane and check out a few pics you may not have seen before.

Baby Girl is our 15 month old daughter. She was added to our family when she was a wee 4 days old. Look how tiny and precious she was the day I brought her home from the hospital.

15 months ago, as I sat in the nursery at the hospital and waited on paperwork to be processed, I had no idea how this little girl would continue to steal my heart time and time again. What an incredible stroke of luck display of God's timing that we had already planned (weeks before) family photos for the day she arrived!

Her tiny little head fit perfectly in the palm of Luke's hand, just as her tiny little self fit perfectly into our family.

We were all smitten with this little, bright-eyed beauty from the moment we laid eyes on her.

That was 15 months ago.

This week, we celebrate our love for her once more.

On Friday (as in, tomorrow!) I will excitedly meet Baby Girl's adoption social worker at our county's courthouse and file the necessary paperwork to make her a legal member of our family!

We feel so blessed that God has led us to this place and that she will be our daughter legally, on paper, as she has been for so long now in our hearts. The process to file is relatively simple. The Clerk of Court will hold our adoption paperwork for the mandatory 10 days. At the end of the 10 days he should sign them making Baby Girl officially ours!

With Aaron it took 17 days for the clerk to sign and with some friends of ours it took much, much longer. So, I'm praying that by the 1st week in February she will officially be a Beaver! We couldn't be happier!

And, I don't think she could be either!

I choose just Him

Our family is different. I mean, you can look at us and see that. It's obvious that all of our children are not biological and, aside from the obviousness of that, we have a lot of them. I mean, who else do you know that has 6 kids aged 5 years and under? In about 8 weeks, we will. Can you think of anyone else?

Me neither.

Not that I think we are exceptional, just different. I mean, I know there are other families out there who have lots of kids. Like The Duggars and Jon and Kate and this one (which I've never even watched). And countless more that go unrecognized and unpublished.

I know that having 6 children isn't something that we thought up. I mean, come on people, ask your grandparents how many siblings they have and most likely the answer is 3 or more. But today, in our American culture, more than 3 kids is a lot.

And, now that I'm finished with the puking part of this pregnancy, dare I breathe to anyone that I'm so flippin' excited about this new baby that I can hardly contain myself? Dare I breathe that I am also sad that this pregnancy is almost over? Dare I breathe that I'm already thinking about the next time I might get pregnant?

I know, insane right?

I don't claim to have the most well-behaved children. I don't claim to know everything about this thing called Parenting. Heck, I don't even claim to be that extraordinary of a mother. But, I do claim to love Christ so much that my life goal is to be obedient.

Obedient to what Luke and I feel God has placed within our hearts. Obedient to the call that we will allow Him to lead us in the area of how many children we have and where they come from. And, to most people, that thinking sounds crazy.

I mean, afterall, who are we trying to be like, The Duggars?

Um...no. Because as much as I think the Duggars are good people, surrendered to God's call on their life, can I just say that I don't know if I could handle being a mother to 19 children? Holy moly. And, that is my opinion after reading their book (which is great, by the way, especially if you enjoy reading about how other families function on a daily basis).

Still. If that's what God called us to (19 kids and such), I would try my best to be obedient and listen. And if God called us to have or adopt no more children, then I would try my best to be obedient and listen.

Because, what I have found to be true is that obedience to God is costly and hard and difficult. But, above and beyond that it is joyful and exciting and humbling and blessed. It's both sides of a very unique coin and with the blessings and joy and excitement and learning comes hardships and persecution and tears.

For the most part, I can handle the persecution. For the most part, I can handle the hardships. For the most part, I can handle knowing that when Luke and I walk through the church parking lot, with all 5 kids in tow and my very pregnant belly sticking out, people are looking at us and, most likely, talking about us. For the most part, I can handle being "those Jesus people" in the family with "all those kids."

I can handle the comments we will get when we begin driving a 15 passenger van in the near future. I can handle the comments and remarks and looks that say "oh, I could NEVER have so many kids." For the most part, it's bearable. After all, this is OUR calling of obedience, not theirs. I don't expect everyone else to "get" what God has called us to.

But somedays it's just too much. Sometimes, when it comes from people you love, it hurts more than anything you could imagine. Sometimes, it feels like everyday is an uphill battle to follow the One who you know is lighting your path.

Sometimes it feels like the people who should be rallying for you are waiting to watch you fail. Sometimes it feels like the ones who should be loving and holding and cherishing these growing times with you are the ones who salt your wounds and refuse to hear the cries of your heart.

It's painful and, often, it's more than my heart can bear.

And that's when I get stuck. That's when I look around and wonder why God chose this path for us. That's when I dig deeper and know that a life surrendered to Him is a one that also includes scrutiny, pain and hurt.

Over the last two years, I've watched people we care about back peddle out of our lives for various reason. It's painful to know that because you've chosen to follow God's calling, to be obedient, that others find you too messy. It hurts to have folks who love you also seem to wait in the wings for when you're vulnerable, then they attack.

BUT.

God is good. His mercy is worth this pain. His love is enough. And though it may be difficult, I choose to continue to seek His desires. I choose to continue to live a life that looks crazy to the people around me. I choose to obey Him, nomatter the cost.

Because with that choice comes the richest blessings I could ever imagine. With that choice comes joy, happiness and life worth being shared. With that choice comes a testament to the truth of what He has done for us.

And I pray, that anyone who sees our crazy life, anyone who wonders why we do what we do, anyone who crinkles their forehead or takes a second look at us would only see one thing.

Him.

Not our mistakes. Not our flaws. Not our own selfishness.

Just Him.

I choose just Him.

Stomach Bugs, Similes and Toe Slaughtering

What a LONG weekend we had. And I don't mean that in a good way. On Thursday, I went to pick up Aaron from his class at Community Bible Study only to find him asleep in his teacher's arms.

Not good.

Aaron is fiercely independent and rarely allows for a drive-by-hugging, much less excessive cuddles or more-than-a-split-second holding session that would enable him get comfortable enough to nap.

It's unheard of.

When he refused lunch, I knew something serious was up. So his temp of 102.6 came as no shock to me when I checked it less than an hour later.

Then, Lucas got diarrhea. And, Ashlee puked before she went to bed.

Earlier that afternoon, I suspected what was happening and sent Elizabeth to my Mom's. Good move on my part. I'd venture to say it has now earned me Mom of 2009 status.

You see, everyone who stayed in our home got the stomach virus. Everyone, myself included, except my husband, praise God! We surely needed someone to care for all of us. Lucas continued with the diarrhea and Ashlee just the one round of puking. Then Baby Girl got the pukes and Aaron's fever continued and he had some interesting diapers.

It hit me like a ton of bricks around 2:00am on Saturday morning and I kept NO LIQUID in my body until almost 3:30pm Saturday afternoon.

It was a rough day, y'all. At noon I called my midwife to ask about dehydration and secretly hoped she'd offer me an epidural. The cramping was incessant.

8 hours later, it was all becoming a distant memory. Isn't that amazing? Saturday evening Elizabeth came home (after 3 days at my Mom's house) and by Sunday morning I felt fine. We all did.

Wow, I got a little long-winded on that part. The point in me telling you all of that is to say that I didn't get much time with my oldest girl this weekend. With me toilet hovering and her being on a Mom-imposed ban from our home, I was craving some time with my funny, sweet and thoughtful princess.

So, last night we had a nail party. Just the two of us. We've had them before but this one was super special. We agreed that if I painted Elizabeth's toes, she could paint mine. It started off innocent.


Look at that grin. So stinkin' proud of herself. In all honesty, she did pretty well those first 2 toes. But, it was all downhill from there.


By the time she moved onto my 2nd foot, I was beginning to wonder if it would look better if I just went outside and killed a small animal with my bare feet. But, it wasn't for lack of concentration. Focus was her first name.


After a second coat of polish on each foot, her work was complete. Except for a few "touch ups" where she accidentally got "a little" polish on my skin.


See how she's wiping off my 2nd toe. There, removing that little spot should finish it up nicely. Now, for a side by side.

Please note that the smear of polish you see on Elizabeth's right foot was caused by her overwhelming desire to see the photo I'd just taken of my own foot. Unfortunately, she learned the hard way that wiping your foot across the toe of your client's very wet nail makes a lasting impression. And not in a good way.

45 minutes later my toes were moving into the drying phase. To say that I had a lot of polish on my toes would be like saying that the north pole is balmy. And to be honest, I sure hope that the metaphor (or is that a simile) that I just used made sense and adequately conveyed to you that my toes had a WHOLE LOT OF POLISH on them.

Because they did. Gobs of it. In fact, as I write this post at now-near midnight, I think they may all be dry. She polished them at 8:15pm.

But, despite the bottle of polish she used and despite the amount of polish remover I will have to use tomorrow to "touch up" my feet, it was so worth it.

Spending time with her and allowing her to make my feet look like this week's find on an episode of CSI: was as amazing as finding a $1,000 bill in a pair of jeans you've not worn in 2 years.

See, that simile was meant to show you that it was rare and special. Because $1,000 bills are rare (or maybe even non-existent) and wearing jeans you haven't fit into in 2 years is special.

Unless of course they're your fat jeans, then you'd need the $1,000 to prove to yourself that gaining all that weight was actually a financial investment. Or you could just go buy yourself a lot of chocolate. Whatever you need to do to justify yourself.

My point is, my feet look terrible but my heart is full and that's rare and special no matter who you are.

Das Not Funny! Friday: Welcome to 2010

I bet you all were beginning to wonder if I had forgotten all about Das Not Funny! Friday. Well, I have NOT! In fact, so many hilarious things have happened in the last few weeks that this might be the longest Das Not Funny! Friday post in history. Maybe. If I can remember where I saved them all.

New to Das Not Funny! Friday? Wanna know what it's all about and why I blog about it? Click here for details.

Alrighty peeps, I'm telling you, these things just had me cracking up. Most of the time my laughter could not even be contained. Pure hilarity I tell you. I hope they make you laugh as much as they did me!

Aaron has a terrible habit of refusing to keep his feet off of the table while we eat. He puts his feet up there, we move them down and tell him "NO!" He looks at us, spitefully, and places them back on the table. After hearing me correct Aaron one too many times, Luke crosses the kitchen, grabs something to "spank" Aaron with and comes over to the table and pops Aaron on the exposed, table-resting foot with.....(are you ready for this?).....a Barbie leg.

Not an entire Barbie with just the leg extended for optimal spanking.

Nope.

A random, detached Barbie leg just like this one:

I say "just like" because I think we threw the original Barbie leg/spanker away. Lucky for me you, I knew where another one was being "kept" so I snapped a pic so I could add this photo for visual effect. I'm not sure what having 2 detached Barbie legs says about the state of my home or my childrens' ability to play with Barbie dolls.

Annnnnnyway....moving right along.....

Baby Girl has the foulest smelling diapers I've ever encountered. How a 19 pound someone can have such a horrid stench is beyond me. She can make grown men gag and it is not uncommon for her to crawl into another room and poop and me smell it without even entering into her presence.

It's bad y'all.

One night Ashlee gets out of bed and comes to our room. Our door creeps open and she says, "Mom. [Baby Girl] poopt."

"Okay honey," I say, "I'll be right there to change her. Go back to bed, okay?"

She obeys and shuts our door. About 90 seconds later our door reopens.

"Mommy," Ashlee says, "my woom wealwe stinks and now, I can't go to sweep."

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Driving home one afternoon, we stop at an intersection just in time to see an ambulance, with sirens blaring, cross in front of us.

"Look Mom!" Lucas yells, "A firebus!"

"No, baby," I correct, "that's an ambulance."

"No! A firebus!" Lucas insists.

"No sweetie, that was an ambulance. It's going to help someone who is sick." I say.

"Yeah," Elizabeth inserts, "someone is hurt and blooding everywhere or got smashed by their car. Or, their leg fell off."

Hummmm.....maybe that explains the Barbie leg.

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Earlier this week, while I was at an OB check up our babysitter texts me the following:

Lucas: "Why did God make this house?"

Elizabeth: "He didn't. He just told other people to make it. Then we put all this stuff in it. But God made the doors. And Aaron."

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Last night 3 of the 5 children starting coming down with some sort of stomach/fever virus. After Ashlee finished puking into the toilet and as I was wiping off her face she states, breathlessly,

"Oh. Da baby's makin' me grow up."

(If you can't figure it out, Lucas and Ashlee both say "grow up" for "throw up." Good to know hat this pregnancy has had a lasting impression on my 3 year old daughter.)

Alrighty peeps, now it's your turn if you wish you play along. All you've gotta do is write your own Das Not Funny! Friday post and then enter your info into MckLinky. Then, visit and laugh and have a great start to your weekend.

I'm hoping ours turns into a good one and NOT one filled with fevers and squirts and "growin' up" as last night's behaviors seemed to indicate.

Happy Friday Y'all.

Brown Hairy Bucky Eager Beaver

I thought that title might get your attention. ;) I need your help. But first of all, a little background info.

In the past, when Luke and I were choosing names for our children it sort of came easily. With Elizabeth I had just finished reading the book of Luke and I was struck with the faithfulness of Elizabeth (John the Baptist's mother). Thus, Elizabeth.

Her middle name is Grace because 1) I had just experienced the life changing Grace of God in the form of a new relationship with Christ. And 2) We really liked it.

With the twins it was easy because once we found out they were boy/girl twins, we had the boy name solidified. Lucas has Luke's name. Easy peasy.

And, I think the name Ashlee is just beautiful. My former middle name (before I took my maiden name as my middle name) was Lee so that is why we went with Ashlee rather than Ashley. Ashlee's middle name is Faith.

We chose Aaron's name because we liked the name Aaron (plus it was a family name on my side) and his middle name, Thomas, has special significance to us with our journey to and through fostering.

Baby Girl's first name is one I've always liked (I'm hoping to be able to reveal it to you all SOON when she will be, hopefully, legally free for adoption. We are set to file her adoption on January 15th!! Then, there will be a 10 day waiting period - which usually stretches beyond 10 days - so hopefully by February 1st she'll be legal!) and her middle name will be Hope.

So for our girls their middle names are Grace, Faith and Hope. Sorta fruit-of-the-spirit-ish. That means if Baby #6 is a girl, then we would most likely stick with the fruit of the spirit-ish theme and her middle name will be Joy.

Geesh, can you imagine what we will do if we have another baby girl and continue with this theme? I can just picture myself yelling out the front door to my yard-frolicking children, "Self-Control Beaver! It's time to come in the house!" Er....or I can't imagine that.

Anyway, I feel like we pretty much have a couple solid girl names nailed down, with the middle name being Joy. If you're looking for me to spill the first-name beans here, you can keep looking. Luke and I like to torture surprise our friends and family and tell our birth childrens' names upon their arrival. My mom loathes this choice.

As for boy names, we keep coming up empty handed. I like the middle name Jesse because it is my grandfather's name (this granfather, my "Paw" if you're wondering and yes, that is whom I am named after) but for the life of us, we cannot come up with a first name that goes well with Jesse as a middle name and Beaver as a last name.

We have a few mediocre options but with the time a ticking (did you see that counter on the top-left sidebar...does that say 61ish days to go? Sweet cider that's soon!) I am feeling the pressure to have a couple solid name choices in my pocket.

SO here is where I need your input. What names can you think of that would be good for Baby #6 if he is a boy?

Here's the criteria:

1A) If you know me well enough IRL or even via this blog to choose a name it should have some sort of significance. It doesn't have to be deep, just significant. For example, I have blogged quite a bit about the book of Jeremiah. So that could be significant enough. Then, choose an alternate middle name.

or

1B) It can be a random name that goes well with Jesse, since that already has significance and we are struggling to find a first name.

2) It MUST go nicely with the last name Beaver (duh!). I realize there is a significant temptation to submit to me the name "Brown" or "Hairy" or "Bucky" but please refrain. I mean, come on people, it's not like I haven't heard them ALL before.

If you submit a name and we end up choosing it, I wish I could tell you that you would win some sort of a fancy prize but, truth be told, you'll just get the joy of boasting about your name entry sometime mid-March when Baby #6 makes his or her appearance.

SO, let the name game begin. I'm an Eager Beaver to see what you come up with!

Spreading noses good cheer like buttah

Here it is, January 4th. I should probably be blogging about a Christmas recap or telling my resolutions for the New Year. But honestly, I'm so done with the holidays.

I mean, done. D.O.N.E.

I am ready for our Christmas tree and decorations to be put away and this Christmas to be one written and sealed in the books and only opened many years from now when I can actually find some humor in it. Today is not the day for me to find that humor, so I choose to move on.

Actually, there are a few things that were pretty humorous in regards to our trip out of town. One of them being that I apparently packed my suitcase in the dark. On the Sunday morning that we were out of town, as I prepared to go to church, I dug through mine and Luke's bag to find the only pair of black shoes I packed to go with my black and white outfit that I planned on wearing to church that day and the Christmas Eve service the following Thursday.

Instead, I pulled out this "pair" of "black" shoes.

Oh yes I'm serious.

So much for my fancy black outfit. Instead, I wore jeans I think and a different pair of brown shoes for which I forgot to pack any socks other than white athletic socks. So by 12:00pm my feet smelled like a middle school boy's locker.

I should have heeded the shoe gods' advice and realized that the rest of the trip would be downhill from there.

**For the record, that was a reenacted photo. I actually think I packed both right footed shoes, but for the sake of time and laziness I grabbed the first two of the same foot I could find. Sue me. And, in case you can't tell that shoe on the left is brown. Notsomuch for the one on the right. Have mercy.

In other news, not at all related to Christmas, my nose is growing. Spreading actually. It's becoming massive and threatening to overtake my cheeks. It happened when I was pregnant with Elizabeth, though I failed (somehow) to recognize/accept it. And, Lordhavemercy, with the twins my nose became so big I'm surprised that Luke even recognized me. Thank goodness I never got pulled over those last 3 months of the twins' pregnancy. I would have probably gotten arrested for driving with a fake license or something.

Can't you just see that headline?

Woman Claims That Her Unborn Twins Caused Her To Drive With Someone Else's License

Never say never people. We do live in America, and I do live in the south. All things are possible.

Anyway, in an attempt to prove my nose spreading point, I almost just now posted a picture of myself. But I refuse. Just take my word for it, IT'S MASSIVE.

Even my BFF didn't deny the fact that it was getting bigger. That's friendship folks. When your own husband refuses to acknowledge a specific question, yet your best friend takes it head on and says, "Yeah. It is!" That's quality, heaven-made friendship people. The best part is that I didn't even get offended.

Okay, so now I'm feeling all guilty about not even addressing the whole Christmas thing, so I'll end with a photo recap of our last 2.5 weeks.








Happy New Year Y'all. May 2010 be as smooth as room temperature buttah. Or something like that.