Easter nostalgia

Some Moms do the Christmas Eve photo in front of the Christmas tree with all the kids in their Christmas pajamas. I'm not one of those Moms. In fact, despite that I really enjoy taking photos, it's rare that ask my own children to sit and take a photo all together. And getting myself in the picture is even more rare.

For whatever reason, Easter is the one time a year I hand off the camera and force beg coerce bribe my kids (and husband) into taking a yearly family photo. It rarely ends well (and by well, I mean that we are all perfectly posed and I've not issued threats or made unreasonable promises), but it always makes me laugh. At least, afterwards. Many years afterwards.

It also appears to be the one thing that Lucas hates most on the earth. Olivia, on the other hand, has always rocked the Easter photo. I'm guessing it's her favorite holiday, ever. Besides her birthday and Christmas and whatever holiday is exactly next.

Easter 2010 can be found here on my blog. It's hilarious. But for comparisons purposes, here's a quick picture.

That would be itty bitty Ella on my lap next to Olivia. Goodness

Easter 2011 was apparently not blogged about and this is probably why:

The best one we got that year features our dog's back. Again, LUCAS. He's probably mad because he's wearing the exact same sweater vest that he wore the previous year. Fashion is clearly his thing. Or not. Seeing as how he's worn the same pair of jorts for the last week.

Easter 2012 things seemed to go a big more smoothly.

That's teeny, tiny Abigail on my lap.

You know, except for Lucas. At least Olivia is rocking it out. And Aaron. Clearly they were being bribed with excessive amounts of candy. Momma had a newborn. Momma was tired.

Easter 2013 apparently did not exist because I have no photographic documentation of it. Not even looking back through all the pics from my phone. So weird.

Which brings us to this year. Easter 2014. I knew I wanted a pic of all of us. My parents, my two grandmas and all the kids. Please note Lucas' over sarcastic smile because it took several photos of him not doing pointy, happy fingers at the camera, or throwing up some sort of gang symbol or staring off into the yard in the opposite direction.

23 photos later, grandparent photo: check. I mean, one kid out of 8 isn't looking but LOOK AT ABIGAIL. The cute. I can't even handle it.

And then, I politely asked Abigail to remove herself from my Mom's lap and sit with me for a nice family photo. She also loved that idea. Or not.

Okay, Abs, please just stop before you upset your baby sister.

Well, at least Lucas is happy for once.

I hope your Easter was a scream.

You are able. You are enough.

*I started this post a week and a half ago. Today, I sit back on my own couch, surrounded by 8 clingy kids again.**

I sit here on the couch in California, Evelyn napping beside me and Ashlee locked onto a movie, a whole country away from 6 of our kids and my amazing husband. Ash, Evelyn and I flew here to be with Amanda as she gives birth to her second child. She was due on Sunday should be having her baby any day now is eager to deliver her second daughter and is hoping baby girl will make her appearance very soon. They already have a beautiful baby girl who is 16 months old. So, in a few days, their house will be very, very busy. And exhausting.

A very pregnant Amanda with Harper and Nick, about a week before McKinley arrived

I keep flashing back to a conversation I had with another friend a few months ago. She was lamenting how dirty her house was, how she never had any time to complete anything and she feels so frustrated at accomplishing anything productive during her days home, aside from caring for her two boys aged 2 years and 10 months. And in that conversation, I remembered. I remembered the days of us having a 2 year old and 2 newborn babies. I remembered the days of having a 4 year old, two 2 year olds and a newborn. And I thought about it in comparison to my day to day life (when I'm not living up the relaxing life in California) now. Something leapt out at me and I knew, especially as we anticipate this sweet bundle that should come right this very second any day now, that it was worth sharing. These thoughts have been swirling in anticipation of the life Amanda and Nick are about to step into. So if you have young babies, all under 3 or 4 years old. This is for you, too, friend. I hope it encourages you.

Dear Momma (and Daddy) of many littles,

Your life is hard, most days. Diapers flow freely, your boobs see more fresh air than a topless mannequin in Abercrombie, your head rarely rests on your pillow for longer than hour and a half increments. Somewhere, deep inside you, you may wonder in the exhausting hours of the wee morning, when you've been on your feet longer than you've been horizontal, if you made a mistake with all these little people you longed for, prayed for and ached to hold. That's okay. I did that, too.

Lucas (as a newly turned 2 years old) holding Aaron (the itty, bitty newborn).
Lucas' shirt was SO CORRECT.

In so many ways, your life with your 2 or 3 kids all ages 4 years (or 2 years) and under is SO MUCH harder than mine, with 8 children ages 9 years and younger. I promise, it really is. The thought of 8 kids overwhelms you, most likely. But I can assure you, my day to day life is a lot easier today than it was 6 years ago when we had a 2 year old and two newborns. Do you want to know why?

Because you are responsible for it all. I have at least two tremendous helpers named Elizabeth and Ashlee. But, not you. You, mom and dad to your two little bitties, you are all there is to keep the peace. Every pat, every feeding, every reinserting of the pacci, every diaper, every butt wipe, every snack, every meal, every drink, every boo boo that needs kissed, every cuddle and burp, all of it. YOU ARE THE ONE who has to do that. You and your husband is all there is unless he's at work, or deployed or just at the store for another round of diapers, and then you're it. You alone.

And I don't say that to overwhelm you or to make it feel even more exhausting, but to give you hope. Because, I can promise you, that one day you will blink and those sweet babies that are 16 months apart will be 9 years old and 8 years old and the very best of friends. You'll hear them arguing over who gets to sleep on the top bunk tonight, or who wore the stonewashed jeans last or who took all the marshmallow cereal and you'll have to think really, really hard to remember how exhausting today was for you. You'll hear them tell each other secrets that they only reserve for each other and your heart will feel so overwhelmed with joy and love it just might explode.

Elizabeth - 3 years (almost 4), Lucas and Ashlee - 2 years, and newborn
Aaron in my arms, about to take his first "real" bath.

When you have a rockstar mom day, and both babies sleep like they've been sprinkled with sleeping dust from heaven, high five yourself and enjoy it. But when it's been a cry fest day, all you've accomplished all day long is holding babies and the smell of your own person makes you cringe, remember that this won't last forever. Also remember that this is the hardest part. Yes, there will be days when your first born begins to grow breasts and has her first period, her first crush and is sassier than a Kardashian with PMS and you'll wish so hard she was still 4 months old and you could baby wear her and smell her baby head. Those days will be hard, too. Trust me.

But today, the day that you are everything and everyone and the most important person on the face of the planet to everyone in your home, these days are hard. Emotionally, physically, spiritually all of it. You'll fall into the bed at the end of every day and, if you don't crash immediately, you'll replay the day in your head, highlighting all the ways you feel you failed. And you'll probably cry when you think about how you've probably bruised their fragile, little hearts with your harsh, exhausted tone of voice at nap time because OH MY GAH PLEASE GO TO SLEEP IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES OR I WILL SNAP. Believe me when I tell you that you did not do permanent damage. It will be overridden by the hours you will spend rocking and holding and cuddling and kissing boo-boos and everything in between. Your babies will grow up, too quickly I can assure you, and you will long for the days when you had to hold your sweet newborn just so you could both nap while the toddler naps.

Luke and I with Luke's Dad and step-Mom.
Elizabeth is not quite two years old, the twins are newbies.

 The best advice I have for you right now, exhausted Momma, is to cut yourself some slack. And take lots and lots and lots of pictures. Journal if your arms are able to move at the end of a long day. Because you will forget. You'll forget the details you swore to yourself you'd remember. When I had my first 3 babies, facebook was relatively new and Instagram wasn't even a thought. Thankfully, with those two things, the picture part will be easier for you now. But journal, journal, journal. Even if you're a bad writer. Even if you can't write out complete sentences. Write it down. I wish, so much, I'd have blogged back then.

I *think* this is the morning of Elizabeth's 2nd birthday. If not, it's close to then.
Look at my tiny twins! Oh goodness I miss those baby cheeks.

Finally, my sweet friend, savor as many moments as you can. I know it's hard. I do. And sometimes it's all you can do to get through the day. But at least once a day, even if it's when everyone is screaming at fever pitch, stop, breathe, fake a smile and savor it. I heard someone say at a homeschool conference when Ella was just an itty, bitty baby (she's 4 now by the way) that, "The days are long but the years are short." It's so true. 

Savoring isn't the easiest thing in the world, either. So I don't say that flippantly. I love, love, love having newborns. But I know not all mothers are that way. And that is okay. It's okay if you don't love the newborn phase. Just like it's okay that 4 year olds aren't exactly my favorite age on the planet.

My point is, motherhood is hard. Mothering small armies of babies and toddlers without the help of an older sibling is exhausting. Cut yourself some slack. Take a long nap when you can and remember to date your husband as often as possible. You can do this. You were made to do this. I promise you were. God set those tiny people in your family with a specific purpose, at this specific time, for this specific season. When the days feel like you're drowning, remember that this time was ordained by The One who walked on drowning waters.

I promise you, you are able. You are enough. Now, sniff that newborn head for me and kiss those pudgy toddler hands (but check for boogers and mystery smells first). And if you forget that you are enough, just ask me. I'll be sure to remind you every, single time.

Love,

Me

Almost 4 month old Evelyn with less than 24 hour old McKinley

Evelyn at 1 month

My baby is a month old already. How in the world did that happen?!

I really wanted to take some of those cute photos of her every month, like you see on Pinterest and stuff. Pinterest is a joke. Clearly anyone who posts photos and crafty recipes there has nothing else to do with their life.

I've decided that taking photos of your own baby (as a photographer) is MUCH harder than taking photos of someone else's baby. This girl gives me a run for my money any time the camera comes out. (I just remembered I didn't share any newborn photos I took of her. I'll do that next post. She was by far the HARDEST newborn session I've ever had.)

At one month old here statistics are; 10 pounds, 2 ounces and 22.5 inches. Yes, she gained nearly 2 pounds and grew an inch and a half in a month. Holy moly, right? I'm not surprised since she likes to eat. A lot. Last night she gave me the longest stretch of sleep yet, 4 hours and 15 minutes! Yipee!

I gave up having her pose with Raggedy Ann after she insisted on being swaddled and having her pacci in her mouth. Oh well, there's always her 2 month photos, right?

The photographer's apprentice

A while back, as sort of a half-hobby, half-distraction from grief and life, I started a photography business. I still have LOTS to learn but I've enjoyed getting to know more about light, editing and learning more about my style.

For her 8th birthday, we got Elizabeth a little point-and-shoot camera. Since I bought my new camera a few months ago, Elizabeth has been saying that she wants to learn to be a photographer, like me. It's cute but I tell her over and over and over again that the best way to become a better photographer is to take lots and lots and lots of pictures.

Then, a few weeks ago, Luke had the idea for me to take Elizabeth, and let her have a maternity photoshoot with me. So, today, while the littles napped, Ashlee was at a friend's house and the boys were at karate, we did just that. I showed her the basics of working my camera, made sure the camera strap was nice and secure around her neck then handed it to her, gave her a few instructions about shadows and direct sunlight then told her to take over.

I'll admit, being 38+ weeks pregnant I don't enjoy being on this side of the camera. But, I also know that 25 years from now, when Baby #8 is likely starting her own family, she'll like seeing photos of her Momma's large belly with her tiny self squished inside. Here's my little photographer's apprentice's debut photos. I did the editing, but the photos are all hers. During my wardrobe change (read: I got cold and changed shirts) she took a photo of our school table,

and our pet bird, Alex.

She really got into telling me to look at my belly, where to put my hands and which side my hair needed to be on.

She told me that I'm not good at doing a real smile, because all my smiles looked fake. Ha!

Overall, for a 9.5 year old, I think she did pretty well! And, it really was fun spending time with my oldest girl, allowing her to feel the weight of the camera in her hand and having some creative freedom.

So there I am, in all my 38+ week glory. Y'all have a great Christmas! Hopefully, the next post will be one of a baby on the outside.

Simply Remember

I feel like I've spent a lot of the last 9 years of my life trying to remember things.

Return those library books, don't forget to get a gallon of milk on the way home, so-and-so's birthday is tomorrow, send a follow up email about such-and-such, don't forget to ask so-and-so about that thing, take the trash to the curb, take a meal to this family, etc, etc.

But then there are the important things. Don't forget the way Elizabeth said the word "juice" the first 5 years of her life. Don't forget the way Lucas and Ashlee liked to trade plates when they were still chubby-faced toddlers. Or the way Ashlee hid food under her leg and would eat it all at the end of her meal. Or the way Olivia would dance to any beat from the age of 6 months on. Or the way Aaron held his pacci in the side of his mouth like a cigar when he was learning to crawl. Or how an 18 month old Ella could be pitching an epic fit one minute and belly laughing the next.

That's the thing when you add 1 or 2 babies every two or so years, you tend to be caught up in the busyness of the day to day and you forget a lot of things. Luke says the first six months of the twins' life is a complete blur to him. I say the first three months. I remember getting up one morning a few days after the twins were born. I walked into the living room and my Mom had swaddled two of Elizabeth's babies up. She was pretending to nurse them, sitting there in just her underwear. All of the sudden she seemed SO BIG. And I just started crying.

I'll never forget this though, the twins were tiny, less than a couple months old. I was getting Elizabeth ready for bed and I stripped off her shirt, pants and undies. The stench that came from her small, 2 year old body was enough to make me recoil. I looked at Luke, shocked, and asked, "When was the last time we bathed Elizabeth?" We both thought for several minutes and we could not remember. I'm sure it had been over a week.

I've always taken a lot of pictures. I guess somewhere subconsciously I knew that those pictures would be the lifeline to my memories. But with the purchase of our smartphones and the conception of my photography business, using a real camera on my own kids is something that's sort of slipped onto the back burner.

So yesterday, when Abigail was upstairs "helping" me make lunch while the other kids were happily entertained with the electronic babysitter, I could have gotten swept up in the moment of hungry kids, lunch time, my pelvis begging me to sit down, my bladder beseeching me to empty it's contents. Again. But instead, I noticed my sweet 21 month old, in a princess dress that she INSISTED on wearing, standing on top of our shoe bins, eating a banana and completely captivated by a squirrel doing only-a-squirrel-knows-what in our front yard. The light hit her face and I moved as fast as my feet could waddle me to grab the camera. My real camera.

Because THIS is what I don't want to forget.

This girl, a cheek full of banana, pointing at a squirrel, telling me to "come 'ere," giggling when I say, "That's not a puppy!"

Her dimple on that one side. It's becoming less obvious the bigger she gets. I've seriously prayed it will stay forever even though she'll probably hate it as a teenager,

sticky, slimy banana finger prints all over my window sill,

her amazement at how fast that little squirrel ran away when she knocked on the window,

and how I wouldn't let her stand on the microwave, so she would stretch a tulle covered foot over there, then look at me over her shoulder and grin.

And how after she realized the squirrel wasn't coming back, she spent the rest of her time "helping" me make grilled cheeses by licking the butter when I wasn't looking. For me, it's less about not forgetting and more about remembering the little things. Savoring the details, letting go of the things that are suppose to be these big memory makers and just enjoying my kids exactly where they are. Breathing them in and trying my best to simply remember.

Ella is THREE!

Somehow it happened.

This baby girl grew into a big, beautiful three year old.

And girl, is she a mess. Independent, determined, full of know-how (or so she thinks), nothing stands in her way if she's decided to do something. And as much as that drives me crazy, on some level, I totally understand. After all, she's the 6th of 7 kids ages 8 years and younger, she needs some fight in her!

Luke and Grace both say I let her get away with may more than anyone else has. It's true. Not because she's my favorite. Or even because because of her incredibly cute self (okay, maybe that is true just a bit). But I think I've learned some things over the years of motherhood. Yes, it's important to win the big battles with your kids. It's important for them to know who is in charge. But you know what? I don't have to prove that with EVERY battle. And with my determined little girl, I'd be fighting A LOT of battles if I did.

She's lively. Hilarious. Energetic. Full of personality. Affectionate. Head strong.

And now. She's THREE. That's so hard for me to wrap my head around. I think somewhere in my mind I have frozen her at about the same age as Abigail. That'll be healthy when she has her own kids, I'm sure. (That's a joke. Laugh people.)

The girl loves animals. So for her birthday we went to an animal park where you can drive through and feed animals. She was beside herself with joy.

But don't be fooled by those stunning blue eyes and gorgeous blond locks of hair. This girl was born to live in the country (despite the fact that we live well within city limits). On Sunday, God provided a miracle and we had all the children up and dressed well before it was time to load up for church. So we sent them outside for a few minutes. Ella is notorious for peeing in the yard. I saw her squatting from the window and I flew outside to tell her sternly that we DO NOT PEE IN THE YARD! (Especially since our yard is visible from a pretty major roadway through town - particularly driven by many members of our church on Sunday morning - Ahem).

With equal determination she said right back to me, "I DID NOT PEE! I pooped!"

Yes. In the yard. And she executed well, I might add. Not a trace of evidence of her, um, performance was on her or her clothes.

Crazy determined and Olivia's "bes fran." She's one of a kind. A total comedian and always in the mix of whatever is going on (which was exactly what she wanted to do when she was just a baby too).

At three years old, Ella loves her morning sippy of coffee juice, to watch Go Diego Go! or Dora the Explorer. Recently, she's be on a Team Umizoomi kick, too.

She loves to dress up, ride her stick horse "Pepper" and she can swing like a crazy lady. She loves sweets and just this morning I had to stop her from squeezing (another) helping of chocolate syrup into her gaped open mouth.

She can sort of spell her name outloud "E-L-A. Ella!" and she can count to ten with ease. She and Olivia share a room and Ella sleeps on the bottom bunk. Well, sometimes. Okay, really they switch about every night.

She LOVES shoes and just recently retired a pair of "flashlights boots" (the ones that light up on the toes when she walks) for a brand new pair of PINK cowgirl boots that MeMe and PawPaw got her for her birthday. She adores pink and every.single.meal she wants a pink cup, pink fork, pink plate. OR ELSE.

I have no doubt that God will use this daughter of ours to teach us a thing or thousand about patience, grace, mercy and perseverance. In fact, he already has.

Happy Belated Birthday my sweet Ella Joy! I love you so very much.

Click here to read about Ella's birth

To see Ella's first birthday

To see Ella's second birthday

My treasured friend

Almost exactly four years ago a super skinny college girl walked through our front door and into our life. I was uncertain about leaving my babies with a stranger and, though she's never said it, I think she was a little uncertain about me too.

I asked a lot of questions, gave a lot of instructions and had high expectations.

At first, I cautiously left our young children with her in small spurts; to run quickly to the grocery store for a gallon of milk or to pick up a prescription.

But over the course of a few months, I could see that I had every reason to trust her with my most treasured possessions. My babies. She met, no exceeded, my expectations.

Back then, we were just barely more than acquaintances. While I cared about her, we both kept our distance emotionally. There were hard questions I wanted to ask her about her walk with the Lord but I was afraid of offending her, or worse, scaring her off and being left with out help. She was good and I couldn't afford to lose her.

We functioned in harmony almost immediately. She loved on our kids and I could tell she genuinely cared about them from the start. Weeks rolled into months and months into years. And somewhere along the way that super skinny college girl became one of my dearest friends.

Two years ago, she and Nick got engaged.

Sixteen months ago, they got married. She was a stunning bride.

Over the last three years, Luke and I have had the privilege of calling Nick and Amanda our friends. Our dear friends. Somehow, in a delicate balance, Amanda has continued to work for us and, if anything, our relationship has been strengthened by her being here nearly every day.

And this is where the story gets sad. Well, at least in some respects.

In about a month, my dear, beautiful (and still ridiculously skinny) friend will deliver her first child. A daughter. Yesterday, I had the extraordinary joy of taking her maternity photos.


As I stood behind the camera, knowing what my camera had captured of Nick and Amanda over the last two years and what was yet to come, I continually choked back tears.

While I'm thrilled for them to experience the joys, trials and overwhelming love of parenthood, I'm going to miss this girl so much.


Instead of taking care of other people's kids, she gets the joy of caring for her own child and being a stay-at-home Mommy herself.


And while I'd never want her to forsake her calling to be a wife and mother exclusively, I'm just not sure how I'm going to function throughout the week with out her smile, friendship, love and warmth walking through my door consistently every week.


I know I'll still see her all the time. I know that our kids will get to love on baby Harper regularly. Because, the truth is, Nick, Amanda and baby Harper, they're not just our friends anymore.

Over the last two years, they've become our family. Treasured family.


Amanda and I have moved from once-awkward roles to nearly like sisters. She calls me out on the things I need to be called out on and gives me access to her heart and front row seats to her life. I'm just so blessed by her.


So while my heart is sad at the changes that are to come, I know that the joy ahead is worth this momentary sorrow.


My beautiful, loving, thoughtful friend is becoming a mother. The mother she's been preparing to be her whole life. The mother that God foreknew she would be before the world was set in motion.


And I have no doubt that she will be wonderful at motherhood. Not only because of the years of practice she's had with other people's children but because of who she is.

I praise the Lord for the blessing of her and that super skinny college girl that walked into my home four years ago.

I treasure her more than she could know.