Home is Where Your Story Begins

I have this sign, one that says "Home is Where Your Story Begins" hanging above my front door . . . it's been part of us for years because I truly believe what it's telling us.

Tonight, though, as I was outside, I was suddenly struck with the idea of trying to see our "home" from a stranger's view, and the sign popped into my head. What kind of story am I helping my children write? While I long for their story to be one of happiness and unconditional love, of fairness and equality, one that's built on a strong foundation with faith and courage and family and determination written on all of the pages, I know that's not the story I'm writing on more days than I would like to admit. Days where I'm tired or they are fighting, days that I lose my patience and they are demanding, days where I don't have enough of me to go around.

As I stood outside and imagined what story this home would tell, I vowed to be less tired, more patient, to find a way for there to always be enough of me . . .

so that their story can be a masterpiece.

The Journey of his Footsteps

Many of you know Preston is my wild child. In a mere 2 months, he will be 5 and my heart just can't hardly fathom that "my baby" is going to be 5. How can this be? As that day grows increasingly near, I find myself thinking about these days and wanting to freeze each moment, to make time stand still while I relish in what itsy, bitsy bit of "little guy" there is left. And so today, I think about the journey of his footsteps for one day, this ordinary day, so that I will remember all the moments, the little moments in his journey.

9:15 a.m.~Preston demands his cup of chocolate milk-eyes half-closed and barely awake.

9:35 a.m.~The tickle monster attacks as I carry him to the bathroom, strip him down, and physically have to pick him up and put him in the shower, all the while he's screaming bloody murder.

9:40 a.m.~I'm now having to physically pick up said child and remove him from the shower, while you guessed it, he's now screaming bloody murder because he has to get out.

10:06 a.m. ~Informs his Daddy he wants 3 "frambled" eggs for breakfast and a waffle. Daddy fixes the eggs and waffle.

10:20 a.m.~Eats the waffle but decides he would rather not eat the eggs, even if that means Daddy is never fixing him eggs again.

12:27j p.m.~On the way out from church, he does his Sunday ritual and gets gum from Byron. Pure joy is written on his face, especially since an extra piece came out of the pack so he now has two pieces of gum.

12:30ish p.m.~While we are walking to the car. Preston is crying and begging for me to stop in the parking lot and tie his shoe which isn't really even untied, it just has a long string. My repeated attempts to explain that it's too cold fall on deaf ears and he cries until we get to the car and I finally "tie" his shoes.

12:33 p.m.~We arrive home from church and I walk in without opening his car door. He runs in behind me, promptly announces he hates me because of the awful neglect I displayed by not opening his car door, and slams the door. To which he then finds himself in his bedroom in timeout.

A few hours of the afternoon go by rather peacefully. Lots of "I Love Yous " in an attempt to figure out where in the house I am because if you didn't know, there are monsters in our house that might get him if he can't see me at all times.

Somewhere in there he begs me not to go the grocery store so he doesn't have to go. I assure him we will send Daddy or Daddy can stay home with him. All is well in his world for a little while.

5:30 p.m.~He is acting silly, talking about his boy parts and I decide to repeat his antics to my friend. Apparently this was not a good idea. In his obvious disdain for my actions, he turns my computer off while I'm working on a jewelry order. Again, he finds himself in his room. This timeout results in crying, near puking, and getting his time doubled, tripled, and quadrupled.

5:52 p.m.~Preston is released from his most horrid punishment and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

7:30ish p.m.~"Nap" time is over.

Another two hours pass relatively quietly, but with lots of hugs and kisses and a snuggle in my lap while I try to convince him we shouldn't do or say ugly things just because we are mad.

9:30 p.m.~He starts spelling his name for Peyton with the letters on the fridge. He can't find an "o" so he substitutes a "q". Have I mentioned he takes after his Dad yet?

9:42 p.m.~While playing in the living room, he lets one rip which results in comical giggles. He then says , "Yuck, that stinks forever," followed by more giggles, and then a "That weally stinks forever".

9:58 p.m.~He's supposed to be laying down but comes to find me in the garage to tell me that he's not sleeping in Parker's bunk bed (that he's sleeping with me) because there are teeth under Parker's pillow and he is NOT sleeping where the tooth fairy comes.

10:1 p.m.~Considering he had a late "nap", I'm letting him chill on the couch with me while I have my final fb check of the day. He smells a pillow, says "yuck" and wants me to smell it. I said no and his reply "Well, it doesn't stink. It smells good." He's a fast thinker but later admits it didn't smell good AT ALL.

10:19 p.m.~Decides to show me that he's broken the heads off of my mother and child Willow Tree figure. After trying to explain how this happened, he's sent to the torture room where the teeth are waiting on their fairy. This puts him over the edge and he returns, begging not to have to go in there. The crying escalates to the point that Peyton gets out of bed and moves the teeth. A few mins later, Preston somehow is chillaxing on the couch again.

10:27 pm ~As proof of his boy part obsession, now after some careful examination, he asks, "Mom, how can pee come out a hole little like this?" I laugh which again is apparently the wrong response because I get a look that tells me all I need to know.

10:39 p.m.~After being told it was time to lay down 3 mins ago, he continues to whimper his fake little cry, taking a moment to do a double sniff and realize our dog is once again having gas issues, whimpers, looks at the ceiling fan, realizes I'm watching him, and on perfect cue whimpers again. Repeated by some booty shaking as he whisperers a song to himself.

10:45 p.m.~Still some intermittent booty shaking and whimpering. Remind me to not let "nap" time happen under any circumstance again.

10:52 p.m.~After nearly falling asleep on my lap, he tells me all about how a stranger could have a hammer, break into a house, take a little kid while he's sleeping, and when it's morning, the kid would wake up in a different place. (My heavens where does he think of this stuff?)

10:55 p.m.~He's now obsessed with how my earrings go into my ear and can't believe it doesn't hurt.

10:56 p.m.~"Mom, I know how to spell comfy. A-E-R-O (as he reads the letters on my sweatshirt)." Obviously, we refer to sweatshirts and sweatpants as comfy clothes in our house.

10:58 p.m.~He has declared he will be staying up by himself while I take a shower and everyone else is in bed.

11:16 p.m.~He continues to lay on the couch and chatter about everything that pops into his head and also informs me "I'm petting his toe" as I rub the big toe that's propped up on my shoulder.

11:19 p.m.~ In a minute, his little feet will finally be pattering in to lay down with Daddy. But wherever he footsteps take him in a day, one thing's for certain, their first and last place will always be on my heart.

7 years . . .

July 30 . . . 7 years . . .

7 years it's been . . . yet I remember when getting through just one day seemed too hard

7 years of being a mom . . . yet not having one of my own

7 years of needing you . . . yet a host of angel friends to fill the void left behind

7 years since my babies had their "Gram" . . . yet still they "know" you

7 years since I've been wrapped in your hug . . . yet I feel your arms around me each time it rains

7 years since I've heard your voice . . . yet I hear it everyday echoing in the words I speak

7 years since you walked this earth . . . now you dance with angels

7 years without you . . . but a lifetime of love you left behind.

7 years you have called heaven home . . . but your love, your laughter, and your spirit live on forever.

Sweet Summertime!

Man, how sweet summer is! We have had a busy summer . . . well sort of. We've enjoyed lots of time at the waterpark or swimming with friends. Our big vacation this summer was to Orlando, where Peyton competed in AAU Gymnastics Age-Level Nationals and we went to the most magical place on earth (Disney).

Once again, my baby's hard work paid off as she won 1st All-Around, 1st on vault, 2nd on bars and floor, and 3rd on beam! I am so proud of how hard she works and the dedication she has for the sport that she loves!

Disney was great . . . if you ask Peyton and me. We loved it, Parker liked it, Preston tolerated it, and Jerry was done after the first day! Ha ha I was super impressed with my daredevil daughter who rode every ride! Aerosmith was a bit much for me (I spent half the ride with my eyes closed and even braved breaking the rules to reach over and "reassure" Peyt halfway through only to have her say "Mom, that was awesome. I want to do it again" as soon as the ride slowed down! Since when did she become so grown up and brave?

In the last two weeks, Peyton and Parker celebrated their birthdays! I can't believe my kiddos are 9 and 7 (and Preston is 4). It seems like yesterday that they toddled around and drank from sippy cups and had sweet little hands that reached for mine. Now they run through the house like bulls in a china shops, mix crazy soda concoctions at McDs, and although their hands still reach for mine, they aren't such little ones anymore.

This coming week, Peyton and I will be going to FlipFest gymnastics camp for a week while leaving the 3 "boys" to run the roost . . . this should be interesting! I'm so looking forward to a great time with my girl, but am a little worried about the fellas surviving without us! I'm sure there will be many stories to tell!

FlipFest will be the end of our summer fun as I'll have to start getting my classroom ready and our sweet summertime will start winding down . . . makes me so so sad to know my time with my kiddos everyday is coming to an end. Sweet, bittersweet, summertime it is!

Only a piece of the puzzle . . .

I found this online a year or two ago and have saved it to serve as a reminder to me that all events in our lives have a purpose . . . whether we understand their purpose at that time or not, they will in someway, change us or shape us as we continue our journey. I know this is long but I promise, it is SO worth your time to read it and think about your own puzzle. :)
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Only a piece of the puzzle…

Did you ever watch a child put a jigsaw puzzle together? What’s the first thing that they do after dumping the pieces from the box? Come on, you remember don’t you? They’ll look at the picture on the front of the box so they know what the finished product will look like, right?

We’ve all heard about the importance of focus and keeping our eye on the end goal in order to get there. But how many times do we focus on just the piece that we happened to pick up that day rather than focusing on the photo on the front of the box?

I believe that life is just like that jigsaw puzzle. There are a lot of pieces and sometimes we’re looking at just one piece and we think we know what the entire puzzle “should” look like. Or, we’re looking at a piece saying, “No, this isn’t my piece. This belongs in another box.” We pick up an orange piece and think to ourselves something like, “If this is a picture of the ocean, then how can there be an orange piece in this puzzle? The ocean is blue. This isn’t mine!”, when we know that it is. We focus on the orange piece and lose sight of the big picture, in this case, of a beautiful sea scape, ah… with a gorgeous sailboat with yes, you guessed it, a sail with an orange stripe. Why do we sometimes have to see the end before we have faith that the pieces will fit and actually belong in our puzzle?

It’s only when we can see the entire picture that we realize that all of the pieces are not only indeed ours, but all of the pieces play in important role in making the entire picture complete- and beautiful. It’s fairly useless to look at just one piece and try to predict what the entire picture will look like, but how many times do we do that with our lives?

We’ll look at one circumstance and very quickly lose sight of the big picture that we were creating, only to focus on that one tiny piece and question why it’s in our box in the first place!

I believe that as the pieces of our puzzle show up in our individual lives, it’s important to remind ourselves to look at the picture on the front of the box! Keep the big picture firmly in your mind and in your consciousness. See it. Dream it. Feel it. Be that picture! Don’t try to second-guess if the puzzle piece should or shouldn’t be in your life. Trust that it’s there for a reason even if you can’t see it in this moment. When the puzzle is complete, then and sometimes only then, are you able to look back at those individual pieces, especially the ones with the tricky edges and odd shapes that were so difficult to fit in, and know that they too were necessary to complete the entire beautiful picture.

That nasty divorce that allowed you to find the new relationship, getting fired from your job to make way for a better one, and perhaps even the car accident that created unwanted circumstances in your life where you can’t yet see the benefit- all are pieces of the puzzle. All have a place in the grand scheme of things, even if you can’t yet see how they fit.

So the next time you’re going through a challenging circumstance, or as I like to call it, a growth opportunity, ask yourself if you’re focusing on the individual puzzle piece or the beautiful picture on the front of the box. It’s only when the glory and the beauty of your finished picture is stronger than the drama of the individual puzzle pieces, that the pieces of your life will easily fall into place creating the wondrous picture you carry in your heart. I wish you a beautiful puzzle and fun putting it together. ☺

Heaven "Scent"

Just when I think I've made it through every milestone one can endure after losing a loved one, I'm unexpectantly sent another one . . . one my heart was so not prepared for. As the years have passed, it's been harder to remember the sound of my momma's voice . . . the feel of her arms as she would hug me . . . the sound of her voice . . . the way she smelled.

When I came home tonight, I knew my shirt would probably smell like smoke and need to go to the laundry . . . for some reason, I decided to smell it. And in that instant, before I even knew they had formed, the tears were running down my cheeks. In that instant, I could smell my sweet momma so clearly . . . as I held my shirt in my hands, it was like I was holding her, like she was right there with me. In nearly seven years, I have never experienced that. In that moment, my heart was so full . . . I felt sweet, sweet joy. For a split second, I felt whole again.

And as suddenly as it was there, it was gone again. But the tears still fall . . . my patched up heart needing to be mended again. Yet, I wouldn't trade that minute for anything . . . that minute given to me by God to feel my Momma with me. . . oh how bittersweet.

Thank you God for the smallest, simplest gifts that are heaven "scent".
*************
Edited to add: My apologies for yet another blog about my momma . . . this moment was one I don't want to ever forget and so I write . . . :)

A letter sent to heaven

Dear Mom,

Today is your 7th birthday in heaven. It's so hard to believe that I've lived nearly 7 years without you . . . without hearing your infamous "Good morning, Sunshine", without going to a yard sale with you, without eating your amazing pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, without sharing so many stories about your grandbabies with you. There's so many things I wish you could be a part of, but even though I know you can't be here with us physically, the rain always comes and so I know you are never as far away as it feels.

Oh, how I wish you were here to see these grandbabies of yours. I'm pretty sure they would have you wrapped around their finger (you know like the time you drove circles in the parking lot with Peyton when she was a baby so she wouldn't cry -even though you never did that with any of your own 8 kiddos). I wish you could see Peyton doing her beloved gymnastics. She is so dedicated and so focused-I know you would be her #1 fan (next to her momma and daddy). Parker has grown into quite the little jokester who loves animals of any kind. He would certainly be your bird watching pal! And then there's Preston . . . sweet Preston who you never got to meet . . . he is my devil child whom I know would make you laugh so hard. You would never believe some of his antics, like just last week when he stacked a dining chair and two little kid chairs to make stair steps to reach the vitamins on top of the fridge.

Mostly, Mom, I just want you to know how blessed I feel to have had you as my momma. In the years since you went to heaven, I've realized just how different we were. Not every daughter has a mom she could count on to save her wedding cake from crashing before the reception ever started, nor a mom she could call at 4 in the morning because her firstborn is running a 103 fever. Not every daughter talks to her mom daily on the phone . . . oh how many times I picked up that phone to call you in the months after you died before I realized it wouldn't be your voice I heard on the other end of the line.

As I raise these kiddos of my own, I realize so much more then I ever knew about you. Thank you for loving me when at times I know I didn't deserve it. Thank you for always making me a priority. Thank you for running me everywhere and making sure I had everything I needed. Thank you for making and standing by those choices that I know I challenged (like the not getting to date until I was 16) because even then I didn't think so back then; Momma really does know best. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a good person-to work hard, to think of others first, to never give up on what your heart wants. Everything I am today is because of what you taught me.

For what it's worth, I spent months blaming myself for not getting home soon enough to save you, to spend just one more minute here on this earth with you, to tell you just one more time how very much I love and adore you. I still have the cans of tomato soup you asked for that day . . . it made the move from the little house to the new one 5 years ago. I guess it serves as a reminder that although I failed to help you that day, I didn't totally fail as your daughter. I hope you felt my love as you made your way to Jesus' arms that day and that you continue to feel it everyday. Thank you for sending the rain as a constant reminder that you are here with me . . . I can never explain the peace that comes during those moments. I love you and miss you so so much, but know I will see your face and hear "Good Morning, Sunshine" as you wrap me in your loving arms again one day in heaven.

Forever your sunshine,
Kel

My Little Man

He's Daddy's Best Buddy . . .




but My Little Man.




My Little Man was started as a dream in my heart to have something in our lives to look forward to, something to celebrate after losing our moms a year apart. As much joy as Peyt and Park brought to me, I needed something "more" . . . my soul needed a tidbit more sunshine.

And so, my little man became more than a dream in my heart. As my tummy grew, the pieces of my broken heart slowly found their way back together. I treasured every second of his pregnancy, knowing it would likely be my last.

4 years ago today, the dream in my heart became my reality. My sweet little man made his way into my world . . . and it has NEVER been the same! For all the messes he makes (and trust me, there are MANY) . . . for all the obnoxious, unbelievable things he says or does (and embarrassingly, there are MANY) there are a thousand more moments that melt my heart . . . that take my breath away . . . that make me grateful to my very core that he is My Little Man.

Although I didn't expect that Preston turning 4 would be difficult for me, it has. I feel like I'm moving into a new era . . . one that is leaving all the baby/toddler stuff behind. And honestly, I wasn't as ready for that as I thought I was. Tonight, as he wrapped his arms around me and said his famous "Mom, I wuv you SO much", I realized no matter how old he may be, he will always be My Little Man.



Happy 4th Birthday my sweet, precious little man! I love you SO much!

Dreamland

Tonight, I hear a place calling my name . . . Dreamland.

I LOVE my bed . . . I LOVE sleeping . . . have LOVED to sleep in since I was a kid. So blissfully happy that my mom's belief during my childhood about Saturday mornings and summer mornings was that a kid should get to sleep for as long as they need; that they'll wake up when their body is rested. Man, she sure was a smart woman. (LOVE ya, Mom)

Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . bed . . . sleep . . . dreamland is calling my name. And I happily, blissfully answer the call.

My Own Little Cupid

Even though he came close to starting a fire in the microwave today(evidenced by the smoke he came running to tell me about), spilled a whole bottle of water in my bedroom floor, took a 2 hr nap about 6 pm so is still awake now at 11:30, and just spilled a glass of lemonade in the floor . . . I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this little guy . . . my very own little cupid.

Fairytale Life

Cinderella at the ball . . .





Beauty and the Beast . . .





Snow White . . .






One of the things I LOVE most in life is that fairytale, happilyy-ever-after ending.




Some people get their fairytale handed to them on a silver platter (or so it seems to the rest of us) while others (usually ourselves) are left on the sidelines waiting and wishing for our very own happy ending. What I've learned though is that anyone can have that fairytale ending . . . if they choose. So many of us (myself included at times) like to throw ourselves a pity party at the first speckle of adversity. What we need to realize is that we aren't like Cinderella or Beauty or Snow White . . . it's not necessary for us to wait around and hope our "prince" will come along. We have the means within ourselves to create our own fairytale. Rather than pumpkins and mice, a fairy godmother and a glass slipper, all we really need is a little hope and faith and a lot of LOVE.


I LOVE "my" Fairytale life . . .



complete with my very own Prince Charming . . .







and my own "3 little dwarfs" . . .










What are you waiting for? Go LOVE your fairytale today!

'Tis the month of LOVE

Because this is the month of LOVE, (and maybe because I feel the need to have something to blog about consistently) I'm devoting a blog a day to something that I LOVE. Since this is day 7 of the LOVE month, I guess I better get busy!

In no particular order, here's the first installment of (7) things I LOVE:

1. Jerry's chili

For the entire time I've known him, he has been the "chili maker". If we're having chili, you can bet he'll be the one who's making it, not me, no way Jose . . . this girl knows when she's beat . . . when it's time to give. So I happily let him take over and just enjoy being the loser . . . the loser who gets to eat some really amazing chili!

2. Weekends

Getting to sleep past 5:30 a.m. . . . enough said.

No, really, I love knowing I get this sacred time with my family . . . to go and do, to chill at home, just whatever we want. Weekends help "settle the score" with our busy, crazy, chaotic, never-enough-time-together weekdays.

3. Caffiene

4 words-Coke, Mt. Dew, chocolate, & McDs Sweet Tea

4. Birthday parties

Cake, ice cream, fun, friends, celebrating the precious lives of those we LOVE . . . Birthday parties ROCK! (P.S. Kason, we had much fun at your party today!!)

5. Now that you mention it . . . Ice cream

My family and I seem to have developed an affinity for vanilla ice cream with Hershey's chocolate syrup lately. In fact , as I type this, I hear Jerry upstairs banging the spoons and bowls. It's quiet now . . . guess he's dipping it. Wanna take bets on whether he brings me some down or not?

6. My Chi hair iron

For years, my sister tried to convince me to buy one . . . For years, I thought she was nuts to spend $100 on a hair appliance. Eventually, I finished my degree, got a job that paid "real" money (well ya know a teacher salary kind of "real") and with my first paycheck, decided to reward myself with a Chi . . . For years now, I've loved every second of it . . . and believe me, my hair thanks me.

7. The miracles of modern medicine

No explanation needed. :)


Come back tomorrow to see more of what I LOVE . . . I can promise you, it's not Mondays.

Would LOVE to hear just what it is you LOVE . . . either in a comment or in your own blog!
*Toodles*

No time to rewind

Geez, where has the time went? I haven't blogged since July . . . oops. That would be a sign of no time to unwind . . . or shall I say rewind. So let's "rewind" now . . .

Lots of fun things happening here since July:

Peyton's 1st day of 3rd grade.

Parker's 1st day of 1st grade.

Preston's first day of preschool. (Oh my, since when is my baby old enough to go to preschool?)

Peyton's first gymnastics meet of the season (she placed 2nd in All-Around)

Other than work, soccer, and football, I think that's about it for this "time to rewind".

Doesn't everyone need a little Poo-Pourri in their life?

Ahem . . . men, you may want to turn back now. This post may not be for you, you may not find this post exactly, um, very manly. If you choose to read on, don't say I didn't warn you.


So many of you that know me, know that I've spent the last 10 or 11 years suffering from IBS. Any of you that attempt to go out to eat with me, know that when I have a flare up, it's not pretty. Flare-ups result in my becoming quite knowledgeable about whatever bathroom gets the pleasure of my company . . . ok, so really, it isn't very pleasureable for me . . . or the poor bathroom.


Hence, let me introduce you to my new best friend during flare ups . . .





The bottle reads:

Spray the Loo Before No 2
and No One Will Ever Have a Clue!







This bottle reads:

There once was a young lad from Rhone
whose odor he'd rather disown
now he's taming his poo
by anointing the loo
and now happily sits on his throne!



Now, even though this isn't KFVS 12 and Does It Work Wednesday, I can assure you, this product receives an A+ . . . not just from me but from my friends who have tried it( I mean really what kind of friend would I be if I didn't pass on something this good?), from my hubby, from my kids, and yes, even from the poor bathrooms. No really, I've had toilets bow down and thank me before! :)




So, if you are in need of a little Poo-Pourri in your own life, you can find it at Will Miller. No need to thank me now . . . just wait until you experience it yourself!

Sacrifice and Perspective

My last two blogs have reflected the wonderment of being a mother . . . the magic, the love, and yes, even the work. Only by being a mother myself, have I been able to realize the pure sacrifice, and the cost of such, that mothers give. You see, my own mother knew she was fighting lung cancer for a month without telling anyone except my dad . .. all in the name of sacrifice. I was preggo with my dear Park-man and she desired to protect me even in the midst of her own hurt and pain. 6 years later, her strength and resolve still amaze me.

However, that sacrifice was nothing new to my mom. She spent my entire life sacrificing so my brothers and I (my sisters were pretty much grown at that point) could go and do. Only recently have I realized the extent of the sacrifices she made just coming to our basketball, softball, and baseball games alone, (boy, that takes more energy then I ever knew) not to mention all the other sacrifices one makes when raising children.

My momma's final sacrifice (although it has caused me much guilt) was dying alone. She had a brief time span of 10 mins between the time my sister left her and I arrived home . . . it was in this time that she made her way to heaven on this day six years ago. My sister told me later that she felt much like mom was wanting her to leave. Only a mother would sacrifice her own comfort, peace, and security to protect her children.

Sometimes I look back at those days and wonder how I made it to this point, six years later. My mother was my world . . . my greatest fear had always been that something would happen to her. As a child, my sleep was often plagued with nightmares in which something bad would happen to her. I still remember those nightmares today.

But today, I also finally realize that what was my worst nightmare come true, was my momma's sweet, relished fate. For although I lost my mom, she gained the pure joy of meeting Jesus and being held by her own mother. See, I didn't mention earlier that she received her biopsy results the day of her mother's memorial service . . . this is just one of the reasons her strength and resolve amaze me . . . I am so proud to be her daughter. And I can't think of any better healing for a broken heart and weary body than being held by Jesus and her momma.

While I won't deny that I shed a few sad tears today,with my new-found perspective, I was able to celebrate my momma's glorious arrival in heaven 6 years ago. As the rain came today, just like on all the days I've needed her since she left this earth, I watched my children dance and play in it and whispered my thanks to the heavens above, not just for my amazing mother, but also for the gifts of sacrifice and perspective. Like the name of a candle a dear friend gave me today, she truly is a "Bird In Paradise" now.

Forever your sunshine . . . I will always love you mom!

One single moment . . .

One single moment can change a life forever . . . like the moment I became a mommy. I never dreamed that in that one single moment my heart could instantly love SO deeply and SO completely. In that one single moment, I saw God's pure majesty and was awed by it.

Nothing I could have imagined or dreamt could have prepared me for that moment when I held my first child. From that one moment, I would never be the same. In those first few months of parenthood, Jerry and I would argue and race to see who could get to her first . . . we just couldn't get enough . . . we wanted every single moment.

In that one moment, I finally understood what it meant to love something or someone so fiercely you would give your own life. I understood the sacrifices my own momma had made . . . the pride . . . the love . . . the fear . . .

In that moment, I became so much more than I ever knew I could be. I was her mother . . . how incredibly amazing. In that moment, I saw pink (and lots of it), I saw pigtails and frilly dresses. I saw shopping trips and slumber parties . . . I saw me as I never had before. I was now her mother.

And in every single moment since, I have thanked God for this awesome privilege and blessing. What a gift it is to be her mother . . . every single moment.

6 years ago today . . .

6 years ago today . . . we were expecting to make our family a little more "pink". However, it was a sweet, 8lb 10 oz bundle of blue that made his way into my heart that day. Despite the very pink nursery I had labored over for hours (for real, the stenciling was murderous, especially for a perfectionist like myself), we were delighted to have this "biggest surprise of our life", especially Jerry who had answered my question (en route to my induction) "Are you sure you don't want to talk about boy names . . . just in case?" with a very resounding, "There is NO way I'm getting a boy". And so, the first five minutes of his life was filled with laughter, a little shock, and a lot of discussion about what his name was going to be. Somehow Kerrigan just didn't seem fitting. :)

6 years ago today . . . I began to learn just what it means to be the mother of a boy. It means dirt, and LOTS of it. It means trucks, tractors, four-wheelers, fire trucks, boats, airplanes, trains, and pretty much anything else with wheels that moves . . . yes, even baby doll strollers sometimes. Being the mother of a boy means kisses and snuggles and fixing boo boos. It means tricks and jokes and lots of pats on the booty. Being the mother of a boy means worms and frogs and bugs, not to mention cowboys, bulls, and horses. It means in someone's eyes, I will always be Cinderella at the ball. But mostly, being the mother of a boy means a piece of my heart will always be found in his sweet, dimpled smile.

6 years ago today . . . God already knew how much I would need this little blessing. It was his sweet, dimpled smile that healed my broken heart in the months after my momma died. It continues to be his sweet dimpled smile that makes it all right with the world-my world anyway- when I've had a bad day. It will forever be his sweet dimpled smile that is etched into the corners of my soul . . . my baby boy, my Park-man, my son.

What a precious gift I was blessed with . . . 6 amazing years ago today.

Parker's first ride on the big surprise.

Fishing today with his BFF and cousin, Blake!

A Whole Luau of Fun

A whole Luau of fun was happening here tonight as we celebrated Peyton and Parker's birthdays.

Water balloon fun!

Boys chillin' with the slip n slide.

My sweet babies are growing up . . . Parker will be 6 on Saturday and Peyton will be 8 on Monday.

Park-man

Peytee Brooke

The kiddos had a great time . . . a Luau of a great time. . . I'm thinking my yard and garage may never be the same though! Something tells me I'll be picking up water balloons this fall when I'm raking (ok so when Jer is leaf blowing) the leaves away. It's all worth it though for the smiles on their faces and the sunshine in my pocket!

More pics later!

Toodles! :-)

How Lucky Am I?

I'm not going to tell you how many Cokes & Mt. Dews I have drank today. I'm not going to tell you how many times I raised my voice with my kiddos today. I'm not going to tell you how badly I needed the peace and quiet I got while in the tanning bed this evening. I'm not going to tell you how many times I've complained to friends or begged for their advice on parenting strategies the last week. However, I am going to tell you that in his ever-present, all-knowing ways, God reminded me tonight how lucky I am.



How lucky am I to have had three wonderfully easy pregnancies that resulted in three beautiful, precious children?



How lucky am I that I have these three beautiful, precious, healthy children to drive me bazonkers, get me high on caffeine, and make me question my ability as a mother?



Yes, this last week has been a doozy. But I am so thankful that our amazing God chose me to be their mother, in spite of all my inabilities and shortcomings, in spite of all their fighting, wild-goose-chasing, ignoring-their-momma ways.



They are rotten. They are loud. They've forgotten how to listen. But they are MINE. And they teach me so much about this life.



They so easily overlook my mistakes. Why is it that I am so stubborn to forget that they are only my babies and not so easily overlook theirs?



In their simple child-like ways, I am taught that life is short . . . you've got to live hard, forgive easily, and love with all you have.



I hope they forgive me for not knowing all that they know . . . for not loving them today the way they loved me.



Tomorrow comes anew. Tomorrow, when I am high on caffeine, somewhere over in the land of bazonkers, and wondering how to perfect this mommy thing, I will simply remind myself how truly lucky I am.

The Simple Things . . .

So many times in our lives, we lose focus and only see the "fancy" things or the expensive things, or the things wethink we need or want. The grandest things in life most often aren't really "things" at all.


Today, as I sat and watched my darling, monstrous Preston enjoy a pretzel at the water park, I was reminded that it truly is The Simple Things in life that matter most. The look of pure joy as he chewed on his pretzel will be forever etched in my memory as a reminder to not lose focus on, or take for granted, The Simple Things in life.


My list of The Simple Things:


-spending the summers with your kiddos


-sharing a sappy movie with your best gal pals


-savoring a strawberry cheesequake blizzard, especially after remembering you haven't had one of those since that night almost 6 yrs ago that your momma was in the hospital and wanting a treat from Dairy Queen


-hearing your youngest son scream for chocolate milk as soon as he is somewhat coherent every morning . . . cracks me up that this happens EVERYDAY.


-seeing your kiddos smile at you


-the smell of rain


-the laughter of babies . . . you can't help but laugh yourself when you hear that baby belly laugh


-true friends


-late night chats


-getting sweet hugs and kisses from those same kiddos that you wanted to strangle only a few minutes ago


-your own bed


-a clean house


-watching your 3 amazing kiddos grow and learn and just . . . be


-summer nights


-flip-flops (speaking of which, for the life of me, I can't figure out how one little navy blue flip flop can disappear without a trace)


-getting comments on your blog (hint hint)


-sunshine . . . in whatever form it takes (literal or not) that brings a smile to your face



Take pleasure in The Simple Things . . . always.
(And don't forget to tell me about them . . . in the comments section below! Ha ha)








Toodles!