Today was a tough day. Not every aspect of the day was bad, in fact we had some really fun things, but I hit some of my all time lows as a mother today.

I have two very passionate kids. I love this about them. Passionate people are the ones that change the world and my prayer is for them to do this with their lives. However, being passionate means that you have a whole lot of personality and that can be hard on a parent. David and I work opposite days in order to ensure that one of us is always home with the kids (my Mom covers for us one day a week for six hours, but that is the only exception). I LOVE that we have the opportunity to raise our kids this way. It is not the perfect solution for every family, but it works for us. The challenge for us is that we are either home alone with the two kids or at work. Rarely are both of us home together and parenting. So, there are days when we are just plain TIRED! Not always physically, in fact generally not physically, but emotionally. I have felt so drained this week. Brady is at the age where he is constantly seeing how far he can push us. Truthfully, that is what three year olds do. That is how they find out that they have boundaries and that is what makes them feel safe. But, man, is it exhausting! I know I am his mom, but seriously, that kid is smart. He remembers everything and is quizzing us on it often. I think this will serve him well in the future and it humors us sometimes now, but it can be tough. And Ella, she is just everywhere! She wants to be a big kid like Brady. She wants to explore everything (and for the record, I am totally for this as long as she is not disobeying. How else will kids find out what works and what doesn't?). But the tiring part for her is that she has a very set way in how she wants things done (dude, I know, the apple does not fall far from the tree).

Why am I saying all of this? Well, honestly, I need to hear from people who have BEEN THERE. I need to hear what worked for you. I want to look back on these years and CHERISH them, not think about what I wish I would have done. I may not follow all the advice that I am given, but I love to hear it. I think God blesses us with having friends of different ages and life stages so that we can learn from each other. So, what are your tips? How did you make sure that you were staying on top of things without getting exhausted? What really worked for you?

Lately...

Saw this on some blogs and loved it, so here's my list:

Obsessing over: house projects (I always have one in mind), paying off all our debt and finishing up the Ramsey steps

Working on: finishing up our master bath, finishing up our kitchen, taking the heater in Brady's room apart to find all the vinyl letters he shoved in there last night, finishing up some homemade pizza dough

Thinking about: what house project to do next, how badly I want to declutter so many rooms and closets in this house, making the back of Brady's closet a book nook, simplifying our lives in every eay, ways to get back in shape that are realistic with our schedule

Anticipating: Christmas, the week between Christmas and New Year's (always my favorite), being more intentional in 2012, starting Beth Moore's new Bible study in January

Listening to: quiet....the kids and dogs are all napping!

Drinking: home brewed Starbucks coffee with peppermint mocha creamer

Wishing: possibly a third baby (though the doctor said a VBAC is not an option for me and I am just not physically/mentally ready for a third c-section)

Ella's Birth Story

Ella Ave’s Birth Story
May 19, 2010
Ella’s birth story begins in September of 2009. David and I had definitely thought about having more kids, but thought we’d wait until the winter to start trying so that our kids would be two years or more apart. We were at the Cincinnati Zoo one September day and every time I saw a baby girl, I thought I was going to cry I wanted to hold one so bad. Seriously, it was the strangest thing. I thought I was going crazy. Later that day I had this really weird feeling that I might be pregnant. Remember, we were not trying at this time, so there was no reason to believe that we were pregnant. We went to the store and picked up a home pregnancy test. I decided to take the test the next morning. I usually work Sunday mornings, but I was off that day. I took the test, waited a few minutes, saw only one line and threw it away. Then I remembered that I had done the same thing with Brady’s test, so I went back in, took it out of the garbage and sure enough, there were two lines. We went to the doctor that week and we had to take a blood test there (for some reason, my urine pregnancy tests always come back negative at the doctor’s office). We had given the doctor permission to leave a message on our answering machine with the results. I was at Bible study that night, so David heard the message. He called me when I was on my way home and told me we were having a second baby. Though we were so surprised, we were even more excited! I decided to call my Dad and let him know since he is always the last to know things. He was at the Reds game when we told him. I then called my Mom and told her the big news. We decided to wait to tell David’s family because his younger sister had just had her first baby that day and we did not want to take anything away from her. But, the next day the news came out (we are horrible secret keepers). Fortunately, his sister was so happy for us. David told her on the phone while I was in the hospital room visiting her and the new baby. That was fun, just keeping the cycle going in that family! We wanted to wait to tell everyone else, but by the time I was seven weeks, people could already tell and starting asking (which was pretty brave if you ask me!).
We had quite a few ultrasounds with Ella early on. The doctor ordered one at around six weeks just to check on the size and all that fun stuff. I don’t think I really believed we were pregnant until I saw that little dot on the screen. We had one or two more before our twenty week routine one. We decided to take Brady with us to the twenty week, but since he was only about seventeen months, he was not too into it. We went back and forth on whether we would find out the gender or not. For awhile we thought about finding out ourselves and not telling anyone else (I love surprises), but in the end, we decided to share the gender and not the name. David was busy occupying Brady when the ultrasound tech started typing the letters on the screen. As soon as I saw that “G” I was overjoyed. I looked at David and said, “It’s a girl!”. I could not believe that we had our handsome little man and now we were going to have a little beauty. I had always wanted a boy then a girl, I felt so blessed! We called our family and friends to tell them the news and everyone was so excited. It was the best feeling, knowing that other people were already loving our little one.
My pregnancy went pretty well, minus the usual pregnancy symptoms, until my 32nd week. I thought I was having contractions and they were becoming regular, so my doctor sent me to the hospital. We went up to the hospital where I was told to be very careful and not do anything that I did not need to do. That was on a Sunday night. Just a few days later, on Wednesday, I was having contractions again. This time, I was sent home from the hospital on much stricter bed rest. I was devastated. This happened with Brady at 33 weeks and I had been adamant about this not happening with my second pregnancy. I realize that there was nothing that I could have done to prevent it, but I was hoping that if I said it wouldn’t happen again, that it wouldn’t. I was unable to work, but still went to church once a week with David and Brady. We made this deal because I had started to get depressed when I was not able to leave the house for four weeks when I was on bed rest with Brady. It definitely helped. I was anxious for our little girl to get here, but wanted for her to wait until at least the 37th week. Brady had been born at that time and minus a little jaundice, was perfectly healthy. So, I tried my best to take it easy.
We had scheduled Ella’s c-section birth for May 21st. Her due date was May 28th, so that was the earliest we were allowed to schedule. Since my blood pressure was fine (I was induced with Brady because it got dangerously high), we just waited around patiently (kind of patiently!). I had planned out our week leading up to the delivery. We would have grocery shopping one day, another day for packing, etc. Our good friends decided to host a grill out for us on Thursday, May 20th as a little party before our baby girl arrived. I was really looking forward to celebrating her with our close friends on that night. My parents and sister had traveled up to Michigan that week to visit my brother and his family who were in town. I repeatedly told my Mom to go since they would be home late on the 18th which was plenty of time. As now we know is typical Ella fashion, girlfriend had her own plans. Around 5:00 a.m. on the 19th I dragged my huge body out of bed for the millionth time for a potty break (seriously, I gained 60 pounds…I mean huge body). I laid back down and felt a really odd sensation, like bubbles. I then heard a snap and somehow got my big pregnant belly out of bed just in time for my water to break. And I mean it broke, big time. I woke David up and said “my water broke”. He responded with “really?” which made me question it, so I responded back with “oh my gosh, no, I am wetting my pants”. He looked up and said “nope, your water broke”. Brady was asleep on our bed through all of this and never woke up, he sleeps like his mama. We called my Mom right away (they had just gotten back in town about eight hours before this) and told her to come over. The hospital told me to come on up and I did my best to not leak everywhere. We grabbed our bags and headed out the door when my Mom arrived. I was contracting pretty regularly at this point, so the ride to the hospital was not my favorite memory. I am pretty sure I yelled at David a few times about his driving (sorry, David).
When we checked into Triage, we did all of the normal routine. We were back in the room when some of my water started leaking again. The nurse looked at it and looked at me. She asked if the water had always been that color and as soon as she asked that, I knew something was wrong. I had read about this and for some reason it had not hit me yet. The water had a brownish tint, which meant there was meconium in the fluid. The nurse started calling pediatricians and I started praying. The plan was to have pediatricians on standby at her delivery in case she needed to be taken to the NICU for complications.
We were taken back to the surgery prep area and I sent out the text messages to our family and close friends to let them know it was baby time. I tried my best not to worry too much and just kept praying for our yet to be named little girl. We were taken back to the c-section room and it was a much better experience than with Brady. There was not as much rushing, so the drugs actually had time to numb me. I loved our anesthesiologist, he was funny and kind. He sat right by my head the whole time. He offered to let me watch her being pulled out and I declined. He promised me that I would not see anything bad, so I agreed. I am so glad I was able to witness her birth! The anesthesiologist saw her and said “I bet she is nine five!”. He was close; she weighed 9 pounds 4 ounces. The whole surgical team was great and made the delivery so much more enjoyable and really calmed my nerves. The nurses started to ask her name and we told them we did not know yet. I knew I wanted her middle name to be “Averil” or “Ave” after my great aunt. I never met Aunt Ave, she died before I was born, but she had played a major part in my Dad coming to Christ, so she was important to me. Her full name was “Averil”, but she always went by “Ave”. We were going to pick the middle name based on how many syllables were in the first name (so a two syllable first name meant we would go with a one syllable middle name). We had been through so many names when we were pregnant. For a really long time, we were sure her name would by Lyla. Then I decided I really liked Cooper for a girl. We finally narrowed it down to Reese or Claire. Two days before she was born, I put Ella into the running. I had wanted to name a girl that for years and it was even Brady’s name if he was a girl. I had decided early on in the pregnancy that we would not name her Ella because I knew people who had daughters named Ella. But, right before she was born, I decided that I did not care if other people I knew had an Ella, I just loved that name. We told the nurses that her name was either Reese or Ella. They encouraged Reese and then we told them the middle name and they loved Ella Ave (pronounced like Ava, minus the “ah” at the end). As soon as I saw just how perfect and beautiful she was, I knew she was an Ella. So, as we were wheeled into the recovery room, we announced to the surgical team that her name was Ella Ave. It was fun sending out the message that her name was Ella because no one even knew we were considering that name.
My Mom and sister brought Brady up to the hospital as soon as we were settled in. They had him buy her a pink elephant (elephants are my favorite). I cannot describe to you the joy that filled my heart the first time our family of four was all together. This is it. This is what all is about. I am so thankful that God created families and loves us enough to allow us to become parents. My heart is so full.

Weekend Review

First of all, I realize that I should include pictures with these posts. One day I will, I'm just not there yet. It's a time thing.

We had a good weekend (and beginning of the week, for that matter). On Saturday, we drove up to the Cochran's lake house to spend the day with our Hospitality/Connecting/Prayer team coaches and team leaders. The kids both fell asleep in the car (it's about a 2 hour drive) and then it hit me....we can listen to music that does not have a vegetable singing. I did the usual, grab the Lifehouse No Name Face CD. The look on David's face made it clear that he was not on board. Apparently, he does not enjoy listening to the same CD over and over and over again. I have had that CD since I was 18 and I have probably spent hundreds of hours listening to it. It was the CD that stayed in my CD player in the Probe, the Mustang, the Alero, the Accent, and now the Relay. It has seen some major life changes with me. I compromised and told David I would only listen to two songs and then we would switch to something we could both agree on. I am overly thankful that 700 WLW was not an option...how does he listen to that all day???? We agreed on a Dave Matthews Band CD and life was good. One of my most favorite things to do with David is road trip it. I get horrible car sickness, but I still love it. We are forced to do nothing but listen to good music and talk. And now that we have kids, we have the bonus of being able to sit down for more than two minutes straight. It's wonderful.

When we arrived at the lake house, we made the decision not to head to the beach. Ella can not get lake water in her ears and Brady was still a little sleepy. So, we held down the fort at the house. We put the kids in their swimsuits and let them play in the baby pool. They had plenty of fun running around the yard and playing. Ella made every grown man try on her pink polka dot sunhat. Brady made a new buddy with Max. Later in the day, David told Brady he could only have a cupcake if he picked up the crayons. A minute later we heard him say, "Max, pick up the crayons". Max helped him out, I think because Brady told us that Max was his favorite :) It makes my heart burst when I see people that we love, love our kids.

On Sunday, we had a swim day at our friend, the Montgomery's, home. David has known Steve and Nicky for years, but I am still pretty new to the group. Steve and Nicky have two kids who are just wonderful and get along great with our kids. We noticed this last fall when we were at a mutual friend's home. So, I contacted Nicky a short time later and set up a playdate. David laughs because he swears I can not leave a place without having at least one playdate ready to go with someone new. I like people, what can I say??? Okay, so we spent the day swimming, helping each other out with the kids, and just enjoying each other. Another one of my most favorite things, having friends who jump in and help out your kids and you can do the same with theirs. Just one big family feel...I love it. After we had a few hours to swim and play, we headed up to Anderson days. Being at Anderson days confirmed a few things for me: 1) No matter what side of town you live on, there will always be girls who think it is okay to wear bikini tops and cut off jean shorts to festivals. This is not okay. 2) There will always be old men who think blowing cigarette smoke near the kiddy rides is okay. Really???? 3) The egg ride will always be the best.

Brady rode his first festival ride, the car carousel. He rode with Sam the first time and then went on his own the next time. He loved it and I was so proud. We finished the night off watching fireworks on the grass. I don't care how old you are, fireworks are always awesome. We were at the top of a hill and the kids were running up and down the hill the a lot of the time. Ella scooted down backwards, pretty wise. At one point, Brady took off down the hill and ran up the other side. At the top of that was a parking lot. I ran faster than I can remember to catch him. Adrenaline.

Monday was a down day at home. Just a lazy day of cleaning, laundry, reading books and letting the kids watch too much TV because we were so tired from the weekend. Then Monday night, I met my friend Karen and we looked through old photo albums. We have been friends since we were 16, so we had a lot of photos. It is funny looking at those pictures thinking that in just a few years, I would be working at a church. And loving it. It's funny how fast we can change. I am so glad that I am not in that place anymore and so thankful to have friends that have grown up with me.

Today we had our Tuesday standing playdate with Natalie and Toby. I am so thankful for those people. Natalie has become such a great friend over the past few years and our families get along so well. We can talk for hours and both have issues with how many blogs we follow. Toby is like a cousin to my kids and I love that. Brady talks about Toby in conversations all the time and it is so stinking cute.

After our playdate, I took the kids with me to get my haircut (they were shockingly well behaved), and then we met Amy here for dinner. Oh,by the way, you should totally go to Amanda Wendling-Morris to get your haircut at her new place. Okay, back to Amy. We have been friends FOREVER! She got married seven years ago and moved to Indiana, but she is finally home!!!! I look forward to spending a lot of time with her now that she is home. Her husband is still in Indiana (job thing), so until he gets a job here, I'm sure she'll be having many dinners with us. I love, love, love spending time with Amy. When David found out that she was moving back, he asked if he was ever going to see me again.

Okay, it's almost 1 a.m. David is up doing some work for his job and I am waiting on the oven to finish up. I hope the kids sleep in tomorrow!

So It's Been Awhile...

I had good intentions when I started this blog, really I did. Kind of like the start of the school year where I would promise myself that I would read every chapter of every book and complete every assignment to the best of my ability. That usually lasted one week. After that, I would remember that I liked socializing too much to actually do everything that my teacher wanted. Don't worry, I did very well in school, it came easy to me. I always feel like I have to tell people that after this statement is said: "Your brother is a brain surgeon?? What happened to you???". Yes, my brother is a brain surgeon. Yes, that conversations has taken place (more than once). But, I'm cool with it now thanks to the epic film,
Legally Blonde.

So...what have we been up to this summer? We've been swimming often and I have my first tan lines since 2007 and that just makes me happy. We have been on boats, jet skis, to water parks, many play dates at many houses, have hosted many play dates and have pretty much just enjoyed life. We have it good. We have good families and good friends.

Brady is going to be 3 in a few weeks. Three. I can not believe it. That little man is just so fun. He's smart (I'm not just saying that, it's legit), funny, crazy, energetic and a good sleeper (like his mama). We don't enjoy anything before 10 a.m. Most days he does not roll out of bed until after 10 and for that, I'll forgive him the 18 hours of labor. He loves going to the preschool area at church and has asked about starting preschool. Since he won't start kindergarten until he is 6, due to his birthdate, we are not ready to send him to preschool for 3 years. I can't handle the idea of that much tuition (I know, I sound cheap, but $2000 a year for 4 hours a week is CRAZY!) and more importantly, I need him home with me for a few more years. That's right, I said need. He's my buddy, we're on the same team against dragons (this was discovered yesterday) and he melts my heart. I'm not giving that up a second before I have to. So...we are doing homeschool preschool this year. I have put my foot in my mouth once again. It will be pretty simple and more or less me playing "teacher" like I played "house" as a little girl, but it will be fun. He'll learn and get to organize things (another trait I am proud to have passed on). We'll make more intentional educational outings and hopefully form a co-op for next year. It'll be fun.

And where do I start with the one and only Ella Bean? That girl is just delicious. She has not lost those chunker cheeks yet, so I pretend to eat them. This was working well until Brady decided to eat Ella too. He did not realize we do not use our teeth..whoops. Anyway, she started walking a few months ago, but rarely does. Girlfriend prefers to run. And climb. And eat dog food. I have found her in the closet with the bag of dog food. She has a ridiculous vocabulary. It's amazing. I wonder where she got that talking a lot trait from...hmmm... She now packs a diaper bag, puts it on her shoulder, and tells us she is going bye bye. If a bag is not to be found, but it's laundry day, she'll just use dirty clothes. She's fun.

David and I have a good life. Love those munchkins....

Brady's Birth Story

I have been inspired to capture my children's birth stories. So here's chapter one...

Brady’s entrance into the world started in the fall of 2007. I had baby fever….bad! I wanted to start our family, but David was not completely on board, so I did not push it. Then one day he gave me a card with a binky and told me he was ready to try. We both thought it would take a while to get pregnant, so I wanted to have plenty of time. We decided to try to get pregnant the week of Thanksgiving. The week before Christmas we found out we were pregnant.
It was a Sunday night when we had a positive pregnancy test. David and I went to Target to buy a test because I had some minor signs that I could be pregnant. Honestly, I thought I was just being dramatic. But, we were bored, so off to Target we went. We ran into my sister and my Dad there (they were Christmas shopping for my Mom), but I hid the pregnancy test because I did not want speculation to start. So, we went home and took the test. I threw it away after a few minutes, certain it was negative. I went into the living room and just hung out with David for a few minutes. For whatever reason, I thought I should check the test one more time. I grabbed a tissue and took that test back out of the garbage. I could not believe it when I saw that blessed second line. I was astounded. I googled pregnancy test pictures to see if the line was dark enough to be real…seriously. I could not believe we were already pregnant. I called the doctor the next day to schedule an appointment. We went in that Tuesday for a pregnancy test. They took my urine sample to confirm that I was pregnant. It came back negative. I was devastated. David had brought along our pregnancy test in a Ziploc bag and showed it to the nurse. She said that was definitely positive. I asked for a blood test and they agreed. We had to wait until the next day for the results. That night was so incredibly long. I called the next morning as soon as the doctor’s office opened. That was December 19th, 2007. The nurse told me that I was indeed pregnant. I was ecstatic. I called David at work, but he did not answer. I wanted him to be the first to know, so I had to keep calling and calling. I tried to trick him, but he caught on. We were elated. We told everyone!
The pregnancy progressed well. I felt nauseous the first trimester and was exhausted, but still hanging in there. I loved the second trimester and could not wait until April when we would find out the gender of our first born. I was pretty positive we were going to have a little boy, but wanted to have it confirmed. He behaved wonderfully for the ultrasound tech and I was looking at David when she said “It’s a boy”. I’ll never forget David’s face. We went to Old Navy after the appointment and bought him his first outfits. I was so proud to show off his ultrasound pictures, I took them everywhere.
Everything was going well until our 33rd week. I had gained the right amount of weight and was feeling pretty good. I woke up on a Wednesday morning in July with some puffiness in my face and hands and what I thought were contractions. David and I happened to both be home that morning. I called the doctor and they were able to see me 15 minutes later. Dr. Firestein examined me and sent me to Good Sam to report to the Triage floor. I was scared, but found comfort knowing that we were at least 33 weeks along and that my contractions were not regular. The kept me in triage for about six hours before admitting me to the hospital. After two long, horrible nights at the hospital, the doctor sent me home on strict bed rest. I was devastated, but prepared to do whatever it took to keep my little man healthy and in there longer.
After four weeks of bed rest, I had had it. I was emotionally drained and missed the world. One night, I had a weird feeling that my blood pressure was high. I had never had blood pressure problems before, but I just had a feeling. I took my blood pressure with an electronic cuff and it was crazy high. I woke David up and took his to make sure the cuff was working. His was normal. We called Triage and the doctor was not worried. I did not like this, but could not do anything at that time. The next day, the doctor on call called me to check in on me. She wanted to see me right away. I went into the office that day and she decided to induce me at 1 a.m. (a day and a half later) due to hypertension. I was nervous and yet relieved that we were going to meet our little man.
We had to be at Good Sam at midnight on August 14th. I packed so many bags, I looked ridiculous. I did not care though, I had weeks to make our checklists and we were not going to leave anything unprepared. They began my induction at 1 a.m. The nurse that came in to get all my IV’s started for my Pitocin did a very poor job and I had blood all over the sheets. I was hoping she’d change them, but she never did. I should have known this was not a good sign! After about six hours, I asked for the epidural. I tried to hang in there, but I needed some relief. The epidural was administered and I experienced some moderate relief. After a little bit of time, it wore off and I was in a lot of pain. The worst part was that I could not get up and move because of the epidural. I know visitors starting coming in at this point, but it gets hazy. I know David’s Mom was up there, as well as my sister and my Mom. I told my Dad to stay at work and just come up after. I was not too optimistic that we would have our little guy before 5 p.m. I think David’s family was beginning to gather in the waiting room, but I was too exhausted to pay any attention to this. I did not want anyone in the labor room but David. I was just too miserable to be the “hostess”. We watched hours of the Office on DVD, but after a while it did not distract me anymore. David’s Mom brought him a sandwich and he apologized like crazy for eating it. The last I wanted to do was eat, no apology necessary! The time all seems to mix together here, but I know that at one point the nurses and doctor rushed in because they were concerned about the baby. They put a monitor on his head and put an oxygen mask on me. I started having panic attacks and the nurse bent down to coach me through it. I was so scared. I tried to rest, but it would not come. I begged the nurse to do something about the epidural. The doctor came back in and gave me stronger drugs. They worked for about 20 minutes and I was back to square one. I kept begging the nurse to fix the epidural, but she insisted it was fine. Around 7:00 p.m., the doctor finally came in and told me that he would need to perform a c-section because the baby was not descending. I was so happy, I cried. I just wanted it to be over. I asked David to grab my family so I could see them. My Mom, Dad, and sister came in the room while they were putting orders in for my surgery. I just wanted to see them to help ease my nerves. They rushed me down to get my c-section. David did not even have time to grab the cameras. Our first pictures of our son are on an iPhone. All the weeks of preparation to make his entrance into this world perfect and we did not even have a camera. Lesson number one in parenting….it is never what you expect.
When I entered the operating room, things went crazy fast. The nurses and doctors were all a part of a team and I loved how they worked so well together and were relaxed. It helped me to calm down and see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could feel the doctor pulling the baby out, but it was not pain, just pressure. At 7:37 p.m., Brady Davison entered our world. I was so exhausted; I could barely open my eyes. I turned my head to the left, saw that beautiful little person and fell asleep. I was able to rest knowing that his Daddy was taking care of him.
At some point later, I was wheeled into the recovery room. I was shaking so bad that I was scared to hold Brady. David left to tell the family he was here and safe. Two people at a time were allowed to be back in the recovery room, so he took turns letting people come back. It was wonderful seeing our family love our little man, but I was so tired that I just did not know how long I could make it. I just wanted my Mom to be there and to take care of me. It’s amazing how even when we become moms ourselves, we still need our own.
After that day (and the complications that followed), I told David I could not ever do it again. Brady was so worth it, but I could not imagine ever going through it again. I don’t think you ever forget the bad parts, but you heal from it. And 21 months later, Brady became a big brother.

The Bliss of Ignorance

I am aging. I don't care what you 50 somethings say, I am getting old. As of Sunday, I am officially in my late 20s, which means, I'm kind of a grown up.

I know growing up isn't all bad, but I really, really liked being young. But for now, I've decided to grab life by the horns, accept the fact that I am too old to shop in some stores, and drive my minivan like the mama that I am.

The good thing about getting up in years is that you do get wiser. You learn things that you could only possibly learn from life experience and from "being there". I often find myself thinking, "If I'd only known then what I know now"...

But the truth is, I'm glad I did not always know what I know now. If I would have known how much a broken heart hurts, I never would have loved with wreckless abandon. I would have kept walls up and never let anybody in. And we won't even go into if I knew how hard marriage was going to be, but then again, if I would have known how great it was going to be, I could have made even more mistakes to get there sooner.

I learned at a young age that kids can and do die. That's a harsh truth to have to come to terms with. When I was 12, a friend of mine died after being hit by a car. I'll never forget how life changing that was. Ever since then, when I hear of a death, I immediately think of the enormous amount of pain so many people are going through because of the loss of one person. Though I learned this lesson young, I am glad I did not know anything much about death before then. If I would have know that kids really did die young and were not invincible, I would not have had at least 12 years of that bliss.

I am glad that I did not know that my niece was going to have brain cancer at 3 years old. The argument could be made that we would have been even more diligent about our time with her, etc., but then we would have had a dark cloud over us the first 3 years of her life. Everytime she hit a milestone, we would have been thinking,"This is amazing, but she's in for something horrible soon". And I am glad that we did not know that she was going to be a survivor right when she was diagnosed. I know...that sounds really grim, but if we would have known, we would not have spent hours on our knees praying and becoming closer with God. We would not know as much about His love and mercy and peace.

And I am glad that I did not know how hard parenting was going to be. There is no way to prepare yourself to have a part of your soul walking around outside you. There is no way to prepare yourself for the crazy amount of love you'll have for this little person. There is also no way to prepare yourself for how stinking hard it is going to be. How you are "on the clock" 24 hours a day. How you can never slack off at your job because a little future depends on it and because the last thing you want to do is give less than 100%. How your body will never be the same and you won't even have time to try to help get it there. How you become one of those people who deal with bodily fluids all day and do not mind because it's your munchkins. How you will go out in public realizing that your child is dressed way nicer than you because you have not shopped for yourself since that baby was born. But what I am really glad about is that I am living in bliss over how hard it is going to be to send them out into this harsh world, hoping that they will cling to the fact that they will always come home to a mom and dad who love them regardless and to the fact that they have a God who loves them. I am really dreading the day when I see my kid get left out. Or the day one of them is hurt because people are just plain mean somedays (and as a warning to all of you out there, hell hath no fury will be the understatement of the year if I get involved...just letting you know).

For now I am going to enjoy my ignorance. I am going to look back at the past and be thankful that I could be blissful then, but that I am wiser in so many areas. And I am going to live in the present, always striving to learn more, but smile because I don't yet know what those old 30 somethings know :)

And I'm Turning Into My Dad As Well

Recently I have realized that I am also turning into my father. My Dad is a great guy and has a lot of wonderful things about him, I just never thought of all the things I could pick up from him, this would be it.

My Dad loves simplicity. He loves that he grew up in the 50s and 60s where kids played in the streets, Dads went to work in the one family car, Moms stayed home and cooked big meals, and the whole neighborhood sat on their porches at night. When we were growing up, he always said how he wanted things simpler. He thought we only needed one car (by the time I was 16, we had four), he did not see any need for power windows, and he still does not know how to check voicemail on his cell phone (and the only reason he has a cell phone is because my Mom got him one).

I do not think that all these things are bad, I just finally get where he was coming from. I no longer want a huge house. I always thought that I would be so happy if we had a huge house...and growing up I often expressed my discontent to my parents that we only had a 3 bedroom house. Now that I have a mortgage and have to do the cleaning and repairs (well maybe David does those), I get it. I don't want to spend my whole pay check or all of my free time on my house. I love redecorating and turning our house into a home (I think I have redecorated the living room six times in four years, no kidding), but when that becomes my identity, there is something wrong. David and I dream of building our own house one day, but I am okay with building something small, I just want it to be ours...a smaller version of the house from the Notebook would do just fine :)

I see where he was coming from with technology too. I am by no means against technology...I am sitting in my kids' playroom as I type this, watching them play and catching up on my to do list, but it makes me sad when technology has replaced so many real things. I still have a basic Nokia phone. No internet. No e-mail sent directly to my phone. I see why people have these options on their phones. David greatly benefits from having a GPS on his phone for work and it is convenient when we are out. I just hate it that people are so glued to their phones. Are we really so important that a work e-mail can't wait until tomorrow...or at least until we get to our home office? Or do we just need to feel that important? It's just sad that so many of us find our identity in that. I recently thought about getting a Blackberry, just so my calendar could be on my phone. I was not having enough time in the day to look at my day planner, so I thought that would simplify my life. And then I realized that there is something wrong with the fact that I don't have ten minutes a day to look at a planner and schedule things. I know that having kids makes life more difficult, but I must being doing something wrong if I don't have ten minutes. I did think about how nice it would be to be able to check e-mails at any time, but then I reminded myself that my kids do not need to be raised in a home where their parents are constantly working, even when not at work. And when it comes down to it, my brother is a neurosurgeon and he does not even have a cell phone for every day use and his job survives without him, so I think we are good.

While I'll still learn about technology and enjoy my DVR and laptop, I think I will remind myself of the simple things in life that make life so good. I don't want to look back over my life and remember days of checking my e-mail and phone messages while my kids played in the background. Because the number of e-mails I receive and how fast I respond to them does not make me who I am and it certainly is not how I want my life to be measured.

I'm Turning Into My Mother (and that's okay)

I think the first few years of parenting, you just have to come to grips with the fact that you will have your foot in your mouth. At all times. It is nothing short of pure embarrassment how I was so critical of my parents, siblings, and even friends on their parenting styles. And then I had Brady. We won't even talk about how much worse of a hypocrite I became when I had Ella just 21 months later. I think God did that on purpose. Humility is something I was lacking.

My Mom and Dad always let us sleep with them. At one point, all three of us kids slept in bed with them. Did I mention they had a queen size bed? Yep. When I was pregnant with Brady, I was sure to tell my parents that we would never do that. It was too dangerous and my baby would be able to sleep on his own. Then we spent five weeks sleeping upright on the couch holding Brady. We knew we would have to change something, so we bought the Snugglenest. Cosleeping without actually cosleeping. That worked until he was three months old. Then he slept in his own bed as long as it was in our room. Then at ten months old, he discovered the beauty of a pillowtop mattress. We have not had the bed to ourselves since June 2009. When Ella came along, we tried to keep her in her own bed, but she just would not have it. We were tired enough that we let her in too. And that's how it works for us. I know there are people who are scared of cosleeping, but it is actually the most natural thing for a family. If parents have alcohol or drugs in their system, this will not work, but if you are sober, it has proven to actually help prevent accidents. Will we always sleep like this? Of course not. When the kids are ready, they'll have their own beds. I don't even remember sleeping with my parents because I was on my own by a young age. But I love that they let me. I love that they believed like I do, that an infant should not have to cry it out and figure life out for themselves. God gave us the beautiful gift of babies and He trusted us to love them and hug them when they cry.

My Mom always let us pick out our own outfits. Perhaps it was because it was the 80s and 90s when she had kids, so she did not see any point in trying to help the cause, but I love that she let us. It gave us a sense of independence and pride that we had put our outfit together. No matter how neon it ended up being. I have to say that I do not let Brady just go into his closet and pick out clothes, but it turns out that I am becoming more and more laid back on this. He even wore his tacky Toy Story shoes today when I would have preferred the nice brown ones :)

My Mom always had time for us. The mess could wait. I am extremely organized and OCD and hate it when anything is out of place. I used to tell David that our house should look like a magazine, like no one actually lives here. And then I had a toddler who asks to snuggle and I had a baby who needs to be held when she cries. So our house is so incredibly far from perfect. And that's okay. I should not receive my pride on how my house looks. I receive joy in the smiles on my kids faces as they play and stamp (even our floor this week, but it was washable, phew). And now I finally get why my Mom was okay with cleaning up later.

We moved from our first house when I was around five. I still remember sitting on the couch one night with my Mom. She was letting me sit on her lap and I was snuggling on her, my head under her chin. That's what she had time for. She did not run around the house like a crazy lady, yelling at all of us to make our beds and organize our toys. She just loved us. I remember that night saying that a woman on TV was pretty, but I immediately told my Mom after that that she was much prettier. I never wanted my Mom to doubt that I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.

So I'm going to go step over laundry that needs to be put away and toys that should be in the playroom and play with my kids. Maybe even have a dance party, unless Brady yells at me for embarrassing him, because that is what moms do. And it's okay that my house is a mess, my Mom was the only one that saw it that way today and to her, that means that I finally get it.

Why I'm Not A Thrifter

I have a few friends who are amazing thrifters. They can go to just about any thrift shop and find the chic-est, most stylish finds. I used to go with one of my friends back in high school. I ended up buying one of my favorite sweatshirts there, but that's all I have to show for it. She is one of those people who can go to a thrift shop and find a t-shirt that you can pull off with jeans and stilettos. I, on the other hand, find t-shirts you can wear to the gym, but even those look a little cheesy.

I have thought about becoming one of those thrifters. Those people who manage to always look great in their own style, but I still have not gone to a thrift store. Not even for my kids. It makes total sense for us to shop at those stores. David and I both have jobs that lead us to say "we do the job because we like to help people, not for the money", which is 100% true, but still kind of funny on the bank account. But, even as I thought about going recently as I am still hanging onto some baby weight, I have not gone, and I think I know why.

To be a thrifter, you have to see the potential in an item. What you could pair it with, how you could make it work for you. I don't like that. I like having items that are already pretty and perfect. The kind that are crisp and new and when I hang them on the clothesline downstairs, they are just waiting for the next season to hit so that I can wash them and put them away like some sort of prize that promises with a new season comes a fresh start. And this leads me to an "area for improvement" (as a job would tell you) in my own life. I want people, life, everything, to not be from a thrift shop. I want everything to be perfect and new and crisp and clean. I don't want to search for the potential in it.

I want my husband to be perfect. I don't want to have to look for potential in him. I want my body to be brand new after having my kids. I don't want to have to look in the mirror and tell myself why it is okay that I do not look like my 20 year old self anymore. I want my house to be fresh and clean and organized, I don't want to look at my pink bathroom and brainstorm how pretty it could be.

I am so glad that God does not have anything against thrifting. He looks at us and sees the potential for greatness in our lives. I wonder what it would be like if I could look at people and do the same.

Time Well Spent

I am finally posting my first entry on this blog. It's a long story on why I am even attempting to keep up with a blog on a regular basis (I think this is round four), but regardless, I hope I grow from this and that maybe you can smile and laugh with me along the way.

So I actually like it when I am just going along in the world, minding my own business, when I am suddenly hit with a new perspective on a view that I held so dear because I just knew it to be true.

I was at work last night when all of a sudden something hit me. I have always told myself that it is okay that I am intentional about making time for my kids, no matter what, and that I am unapologetically selfish with my time with them. I have even put my marriage on the back burner because I only have a small window of time with my kiddos at home and I'll have forever with David. I knew this meant our marriage might need a little patchwork after the kids flew the nest, but to be painfully honest, I think I was doing okay with that. I mean have you seen Brady's curls or Ella's cheeks? So back to my point. Last night it just hit me. I don't know if I'll have David with me after the kids are gone. Not that I am worried about a divorce. I realize that could happen, but I'm not to the point of worrying about that. It just hit me that the reason that a 50 year anniversary is so special is not just because a divorce did not occur, but because you both made it! Like really, both people are still alive and ticking. With all of the tragedies and sicknesses out there, it really is nothing short of a miracle when two people make it to old age together.

This leads me to my next point. Even with knowing all of this, it will take discipline to spend time with just David again. As a married couple. Not Brady and Ella's parents. Discipline is a dirty word to so many people, but it actually is a good word. It's easy to love my little ones. When they do things that are less than perfection, all I have to do is look down at their cute little faces and my heart just about bursts. When David does something less than perfection, my heart just about bursts. But that's because I am so upset that my standards were not met. Yes, that is how I think. I'm admitting it because that's the first step to recovery, right?

I don't know how long my kids will be living under my roof. But I don't know how long David and I will spend living under one roof either. Not to be all melodramatic, but we all know of someone who was taken before us way before our time, not God's time, our time.

I'll spend this year, every second of every hour, loving my kids. But I'll also spend them loving my husband. Even when I don't feel like it. Even when he untucks the sheets at night and leaves the light on after he leaves a room. All I have to do is watch him love on our kids and I am reminded of why I chose this cute guy to be my partner in this wonderful, crazy life we lead.