All I Want For Christmas...

On about the 3rd morning of kindergarten, Sam complained on the way to school that his teeth were hurting.  I made a mental note to check his mouth when we got to school...then promptly forgot about it.  (As I do with most mental notes...)  That night while eating corn on the cob, he again commented that his teeth were hurting, so Shawn took a look.  Sure enough, he had not one, but TWO loose teeth!  He was so very excited.  And I...well...let's just say I did a lot of blinking over the next 30 seconds or so.  His first day of kindergarten didn't bother me too much, but loose teeth in the same week?  Too much for this momma's heart.

The next day, because I am weird about such things, I decided an impromptu photo shoot was in order to get a few last pictures of his baby teeth.  Sam asked me why I was taking his picture, and I told him I wanted to get some nice pictures of his teeth.  So of course, I got lots of dinosaur growls.

And a few silly faces... 

Somewhere along the way, we have figured out that if we can find a way to chase Sam, we can pretty well trick him convince him to do about anything we want.  So he and I started playing a little game of catch around a tree in our yard. 

 Then he decided that he needed some pictures with his dog.  This boy and that dog...they sure do like each other.  We're pretty sure Molly thinks Sam is her puppy. 

A couple of weeks later, we were in the car for a little road trip, and Sam announced that "something had happened."  That "something" was his tooth coming out.  He was, of course, worried that the tooth fairy wouldn't be able to find him since we wouldn't be sleeping at our house that night.  But luckily, the tooth fairy knew just where he would be.

You know, I am a little sad that my kids are growing out of the baby stage.  I suppose it's a bit natural to longingly remember all of the little things they won't do anymore.  And every time I clean out a dresser drawer or place an outfit in the "too little" box, I choke back a wave of emotion.  But I have to admit...watching them grow up is pretty fun too.

Funnies For Your Friday

I thought I'd share a few little funny stories about the kids that I want to remember:

 

We're struggling with naps for Sydney right now.  She really needs one, but often if she takes one it is impossible to get her to sleep at night.  I suppose in a perfect world, we would cut out the nap and just move bedtime up to an earlier time, but we don't live in a perfect world.  So we're doing the best we can with what we have.

 

A few weeks ago, the kids were playing.  Sydney told me she wanted to rest and asked to lie down on the couch.  I was fine with it as long as she would be still.  So I got her pillow and set her up a little campsite in the living room.  I suppose she was even more tired than either of us thought, because she never made it to the pillow.  She just fell asleep like this.

 

 

 

Sydney's faces absolutely crack.  me.  up.  I have said forever that this girl could stop you dead in your tracks with one of her evil-eye stares.  I am sure there will come a time when her looks or eye rolls will get her into a mountain of trouble.  (Not that I would know anything about that, because I'm sure I never rolled my eyes at anyone.)  And did I mention that she might be just a wee bit stubborn?  Again, I have NO IDEA where she gets it.

 

Anyway, I don't know what her brother was trying to talk her into when this picture was taken, but she clearly is having none of it.

 

 

 

And can I just say that my kids have some serious fashion sense?  Can they put an outfit together, or what????

 

 

 

I absolutely do not understand the obsession that little boys have with the toilet.  (Please tell me that it's all little boys and not just mine...)  A few weeks ago, I walked into our bathroom to find Sam standing over the toilet with a dripping washcloth.  When I asked him what he was doing, he proudly replied, "I put the washcloth in the potty!"  This led to a very long, very detailed discussion about how you don't put anything in the potty.  It went something like this:

 

Me:  The potty is REALLY dirty.  You should NEVER put your hands in it.  Look at me!  You should NEVER put your hands in the potty.  Because it's dirty.  Right?  Are you listening?  The potty is dirty.  You should never take anything out of the potty.  Please stand still.  This is important.  You should never take anything out of the potty, and the ONLY things you are allowed to put in it are pee-pee and poo-poo.  Do you understand?

 

Sam:  (Without missing a beat.)  Well....what about toilet paper?

 

Shawn:  I think he's got you on that one.

 

Me:  Okay...toilet paper is fine.  But that's it!  Only pee-pee, poo-poo and toilet paper can go in the potty.  NOTHING ELSE.

 

Sam:  (Thinks for a minute, then as if a lightbulb just came on:)  And books!!!!  Books can go in the potty, right?

 

Me:  No!  Books NEVER go in the potty.

 

Sam:  Oh....yeah....right.

 

Shawn:  Yeah.....let's just not ask too many questions right now.

One night I had fixed chicken and broccoli for supper.  Sam, being a typical 4 year old, had decided that broccoli was disgusting and was refusing to eat it (despite the fact that he eats it every other time I fix it.)  Our rule is that you have to try one bite of everything on your plate.  You don't have to eat it all, but you do have to try it.  I was explaining the rule to Sam for the ump-teenth time when Shawn leaned over and whispered to him, "You should eat your broccoli.  It makes you let really big toots!"

 

Problem solved.  Broccoli gone.  Flatulence saves the day.

The Gift Of Presence

I've had this post swimming around in my head for a while.  I've been thinking a lot lately about being present when I'm with my family.  Not just being in the room, but being in the moment too.  I've been noticing that too often I'm mentally planning my to-do list for the next day as I'm going through the bedtime routine with the kids instead of really playing with them in the bath tub.  That I'm reliving a difficult situation at work and trying to find a "pretend" resolution while I'm driving instead of having a conversation with my son.  That I'm buzzing around tidying up things that could really wait after the kids go to bed instead of just enjoying a few quiet minutes with my husband. 

Or worse...doing none of those things because I'm mindlessly playing on my phone.  Ouch. 

I do not want to be that mom.  I do not want to be that wife. 

One day back in the fall, I took the kids to the park to enjoy some sunshine.  I was strolling around the playground keeping an eye on Sam, when I noticed a group of moms sitting on a bench while their children played.  Three moms...and they were all texting or playing on their phone.  And I'm ashamed to admit that I saw myself. 

There is nothing wrong with using a cell phone.  Mine makes my life easier in so many ways.  I often have my phone out when I'm with the kids because I take pictures of them to send to Shawn during the day.  Beyond that, I like the security I have in knowing that I can be easily reached by my family or I can easily reach them if need be.   And I probably use the internet function multiple times on any given day for any number of reasons.  But I don't want my kids to see more of the top of my head than they do of my smiling face because my head is always bent down looking at a stupid phone. 

I mean, really---when did our phones become such a crutch?  When did reading some article on child-rearing become more important that actually rearing your child?  And do I REALLY need one more recipe for cake?  I have a shelf FULL of cookbooks that rarely get used.  Why do I spend so much time browsing for new recipes instead of maybe preparing one or two of the hundreds that I already have? 

So I'm making an effort to really be present.  I'm putting the phone down.  It might mean that I don't immediately return a text.  Guess what---I lived just fine without texting for a long time.  It might mean that I miss that really cute picture opportunity, but I don't want to see my kids through the camera lens---I want to really SEE them. 

And it might just mean that I have more fun. 

Weekend Recap...aka No, I'm Not Making This Up

Every single part of the story you are about to read is true.  None of the details have been altered or fabricated.  Also, no animals were harmed in the making of this story.

Saturday, Sam's bff Carson had his 3rd birthday party.  I'm secretly a little glad that Sam isn't at the age where every single kid in his class invites him to a birthday party, but Carson is a special friend.  After all, he taught Sam how to run around naked.  That kind of thing just forges a special bond in young boys. 

Side note:  one day last week, I was putting laundry away.  I was buzzing around from room to room while Sam played in the living room.  When I finally got all of the laundry put away, I came back into the living room only to find my previously clothed son lying naked on the floor, watching cartoons.  Not a stitch of clothing.  And when I yelled, "SAMUEL THOMAS!" as moms are apt to do when they find their children doing something socially unacceptable (even if they're not in a social situation), he looked at me as if it was the most natural thing in the world to lie about one's house completely naked. 

Anyway, the party was to last until 3pm.  Shawn's only request was that we make it home by 4pm so he could watch the Cats play.  No problem.  We had fixed a large-ish, late-ish breakfast that day and none of us had really eaten anything before the party, so when we left we decided to grab a couple of burgers to take home.  The burgers took FOREVER, so by the time we got our order it was pretty evident that we were not going to get home by tip-off.  Being the loving and supportive wife that I am, I suggested a different tactic.  Rather than driving all the way to the other side of town to get back on the interstate, I suggested that we hitch a ride on the ferry.  It shaves off a few miles, I thought Sam would enjoy the ferry ride, and we FOR SURE weren't going to make it home by tip-off going the other way, so why not try this route? 

As it turns out, riding the ferry on a sunny Saturday afternoon is apparently a VERY popular thing to do.  I have only used the ferry service 2 or 3 times max, but I have never had to wait very long.  At most, I have waited for the ferry to return from the other side of the river, a trip that probably takes around 5 minutes.  On this particular day, we were the 10th car in line to board.  We waited through 2 complete ferry cycles.  Across....back....across....back.  Finally were were able to board. 

By this time, the game was well underway, but I have to hand it to Shawn.  He was very calmly listening to the radio and not fidgeting or getting antsy.  Those who know Shawn well know what a big deal it is that UK was playing and he was not either at the game or in front of a television.  So I really appreciated that he wasn't all crabby about it.  Especially since it was my idea.  And especially since we didn't get the added benefit of Sam enjoying the ferry ride since he conked out before we ever boarded.  Although, for the record, he might have exhibited the teensiest bit of road rage when, after we got off of the ferry, the car in front of us insisted on driving VERRRRRY slowly.  They were clearly sight-seeing, as you could see them pointing out landmarks as they drove.  It was at that point that he might have yelled, "C'MON!!!!  THE CATS ARE PLAYING!!!!" to nobody in particular. 

But the REALLY impressive part of the weekend happened on Sunday.  Our college student friend came over to watch the kids for a few hours that afternoon while Shawn and I stole away for a rare date.  We saw a matinee then grabbed a bite to eat.  And while I was SO looking forward to a little adult time and honestly NEEDED a little time to just be a wife and not a mommy, by the time we got to dinner I was missing my kiddos tremendously and kinda wanted to just go on home and eat with them.  And Shawn was like, "No!  We can do this!  We can have a conversation that doesn't involve the words 'bite-bites' or 'poo-poo'."  And I agreed, so then we sat there for a few minutes staring at each other, trying to figure out what we should talk about.  And then we took turns telling funny stories about the kids.  Eventually, we did finally have a real conversation, and while I couldn't really tell you exactly WHAT we talked about, it was nice to talk to my husband again. 

But anyway...the story.  So we enjoyed our lovely afternoon and came home to our kids, who were most excited to see us.  Our post-date bliss lasted for about 10 minutes.  Shortly after we got home, Sam informed me that he had gone to the bathroom.  We're still not hard-core serious about the potty training thing, but we do try to sit on the potty, especially if he initiates it.  So he and I headed towards the bathroom.  I won't share the gory details of the story, but suffice it to say that I ended up scrubbing poop off of our bathroom wall and the toilet seat.  Boy, nothing brings you back to reality like a little poop under your fingernails. 

Later in the evening, I was getting Sydney ready for bed when from the bathroom I hear, "Sam, no!  Nooooooo!!!"  Curious, I peeked my head in to investigate---and found my son with pee in his hair.  While running water for his 2nd bath that day, I asked Shawn, "So....how is it that you managed to pee on our son's head?" 

Shawn and Sam frequently play a bridge game.  Shawn spreads his legs, and Sam goes under the bridge.  It's all very funny, and he can only manage to go under the bridge two or three times before he collapses in giggles.  It seems that Shawn had gone into the bathroom to....well....do what it is that you DO in a bathroom.  Sam busted through the door (because privacy is a thing of the past around these parts) and, seeing Shawn standing with his back to him and his legs spread, immediately tried to go under the bridge.  And in the process, stuck his head right in the pee.

Yes, he did.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure some random guy in the Bonefish Grill parking lot saw my boob.  We were going to be gone during one of Sydney's feeding times, so I decided to take the breast pump with us.  I thought I had done a pretty good job of being discreet and keeping my sweater covering me, but apparently I didn't.  And what's totally funny about that is before my experience with breastfeeding I would've been totally MORTIFIED to think that I had flashed someone.  And now I'm just kind like, "Eh...whatever."

And I've gotta be honest with you---given the choice between flashing some stranger that I'll likely never see again and getting poop under my fingernails....I've gotta go with the peep show.

So...what did you do last weekend? 

Back In The Saddle

I went back to work this week.  I knew it would be hard, not only emotionally, but also logistically.  Going back to work full time meant getting up earlier than I had been, having longer days and being more organized and forward-planning (something that doesn't come naturally to me). 

 

And just to throw an extra little wrinkle into things, Sydney decided the week prior to my return to work that she wouldn't take a bottle.  At all.  (Nevermind that she had happily sucked down bottles on multiple occasions before that.)  We tried all week, but every time we offered her a bottle she would scream at the top of her lungs.  It was almost as if she had heard our discussions about Momma going back to work and had decided to do whatever it took to thwart those plans. 

 

To say that Shawn and I dreaded Monday morning would be an understatement.   I was worried about how Sam would do going to the babysitter's house after 12 weeks at home.  I was worried about Sydney being hungry all day.  I was worried that after dealing with a hungry, screaming baby all day  our babysitter would decide she didn't want to be our babysitter anymore. 

 

On the drive to drop the kids off Monday morning, the Lord and I had a good, long talk (just one of many over the previous couple of weeks) about how I would really appreciate it if the kids would have a good day.  Asking for peace for all of us.  Asking Him to somehow supernaturally allow Sydney to eat from a bottle.  I got a couple of very sweet texts from friends saying they were sending up prayers on our behalf, too. 

 

I can honestly say that I felt all of those prayers.  The day went as well as it possible could have.  Perhaps too well, in fact.  When we got to Tammy's, she was thoughtful enough to have Sam's favorite cartoon already playing to give him a happy distraction.  But then I practically had to beg him to just tell me goodbye.  And I'm still not sure if the tears that I shed while driving down the driveway were because I was leaving my babies or because neither of them seemed really sad to see me go. 

 

I mean, I didn't want them to cling to my legs begging me not to leave, but a hug and a kiss might have been nice.  Don't they love me?  My children don't need me anymore!!!  Whaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

 

But when I got to work I was reminded why I love my work environment.  I mean, it's still WORK, but if I have to go, this is a great place to be.  My coworkers welcomed me back with these:

 

 

Clearly, they know the way to my heart---right past my sweet tooth!

 

Around lunch time I got a text from Tammy saying that Sydney had fussed for a while when she tried to give her a bottle, but she eventually calmed down and ate the entire bottle without protest. 

 

And later in the day a very nice lady delivered these:



They were from my sweet husband because he thought I might need a little pick-me-up. 

 

So all in all I'd give Day 1 a good grade.  So now I just have one question...

 

How long 'til I can take a vacation day???



A Cuppa Joe

Come sit and have a cuppa joe with me!  If we were chatting over coffee (or tea...or Diet Coke...whatever your poison is), I would tell you:

-I am in the midst of enjoying twelve. entire. weeks. at home.  I cannot fully describe how much I have enjoyed being a stay at home mom this summer.  I'm so thankful that I've had the opportunity to do this.  And it's not just me--I think the kids seem happier, and even Shawn admitted a few nights ago that things seem to be going much more smoothly.  So I'm sending up prayers every chance I get for God to show us what His plan is for our family.  I can't wait to see what He's got in mind.

-My blogging time has been pretty much nonexistent lately.  I'm reading and keeping up with the blogs I follow---that's pretty easy to do on a smart phone while I'm feeding a baby.  (And let me just tell you---this baby LOOOOVES  to eat!  She's got the prettiest little rolls to prove it.)  But I'm not able to actually write much lately.  And I kinda miss it.  I love recording our memories here, and we've made plenty of memories this summer.  But I'm becoming more aware that there has to be balance.  And I don't want to spend so much time RECORDING memories that I miss out on a chance to MAKE memories.  So I'm making more of an effort to put the computer down, turn the television off and just really be present with my family.

-These fall-esque temperatures that we've been having lately are spoiling me rotten.  And while I'm always a little sad to see summer drawing to a close, the cooler days have me thinking of sweaters and long sleeved t-shirts, jewel-toned leaves, football games and hot chocolate.  We're making big plans for fall this year including a visit to the pumpkin patch, a hayride, and trick or treating in our neighborhood.  And I know a certain little boy who will probably go to a football game or two with Daddy.

-And since we're talking over a cup of cyber-coffee, let me just say I've never enjoyed cold coffee.  I just didn't get everyone's obsession with iced coffee.  And I really wanted to like it because who wants to drink a hot beverage when it's 100 degrees outside?  Then a few weeks ago I tried a mocha coconut frappuccino from Starbucks, and I threw my no-cold-coffee policy out the window.  (And I realize that's not really coffee, but probably more accurately a milkshake with about 2 drops of coffee mixed in, but still...)  I highly recommend that you try one before summer is over and they take it off of their menu.

-I've already started my Christmas shopping.  I am both embarrassed and proud of this fact.  And I'm thinking of doing some homemade gifts this year.  I know...right?  The non-crafter is gonna craft???  Say whaaaaat?  But I've been pinning some ideas on pinterest, and I think I might actually be able to pull off some pretty cute gifts.  Now to just find the time to do them.

-And speaking of pinterest, I've been burning up the recipes since I've been home.  This is one of my new favorite throw-together dinners.  I've made these a couple of times.  They're a great way to use up some of that zucchini that I STILL have frozen from last summer.  We grilled out a couple of weekends ago, and these made an awesome side dish.  And I think we might give this ice cream a try before summer is gone for good.  I can't wait to see how it turns out!

Sam's Thankful List

We've been trying to teach Sam to pray. That may sound strange to some people. I mean, why do you have to "teach" someone to pray? But I don't want him to just recite some little rhyme every night before he goes to bed or before a meal and think that's meaningful prayer. I used to do that. And then when I decided to stop using those little memorized verses, I thought prayer was so hard because it needed to be well-thought-out and composed. I thought my conversations with God needed to sound as poetic as the Psalms and read like a vocabulary list, using words like "thine" and "omnipotent." But I finally figured out that talking to God should just be like is just talking to your best friend. 

So I knew from Day 1 that I didn't want to teach Sam any rhymed prayers like "Now I lay me down to sleep..." or "God is great, God is good..." There is nothing wrong with those, but I just knew I wanted us to take a different approach. So a few months ago, before Sam's bedtime prayers I started asking him what he wanted to pray for. For a while my inquiries were met with silence, but one night we had a breakthrough. He answered me with "Goof!"  So we rolled with it. That night, we thanked God for Goof (translation: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) and for how much fun we have watching it.

Since then, Sam's thankful list has exploded. So I thought today I'd share a little bit of it. Every night when we pray, Sam is thankful for:
-Lion King, Buzz, Goof, Pooh, Smurfs (These are always first and always in that order...sometimes we add Woody in there too.)
-Daddy
-Mommy
-Momo (Molly--I would like to add, though, that Daddy and Momo made the list a good 2 days prior to Mommy getting added. I'm sure there is no hidden meaning in that.)
-Baby (only if we remind him that we're thankful for her)
-Moondt (Every night before bed, Sam and Daddy take Molly out for her bedtime potty break and while they're out there they look at the moondt. For the life of me, I can't figure out why you have to say it like that, but you do: moondt)
-Sometimes at meal times we recite what's on our plate...especially if it's a hot dog.
-Juice

Some people might read this list and think, "Oh isn't that cute?" but to me it's so much more than that. My son is learning to have a grateful heart. And it may seem funny that these are the things for which he is thankful, but when you read the list you can see that these are things that are important to him.  And when I hear him giving thanks for them, my heart just swells with pride.  Maybe I should take a lesson from him. Maybe I should be more thankful for the everyday things that I too often take for granted. Things like the quiet time I have in the mornings before the kids wake up, the cows behind our house (I really enjoy seeing them), and chocolate. Maybe instead of me teaching him, he's been teaching me.

"In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God."

Linking up to Black Tag Diaries today

A List For Sydney

I haven't kept it a secret that I'm a little nervous about having a 2nd child.  With Sam, we were so elated about being pregnant and so clueless as to what we were getting ourselves into that all I really talked about was our excitement.  (Ignorance truly was bliss...)  And it's TOTALLY not that we're not excited this time around.  Quite the contrary.  But I think this time we have a better idea of what to expect, we know that even though we've done this before you're never FULLY prepared to add a new member of the family to your house, and we know there will be an adjustment period for all of us.  Change is good--this change is exceptionally good--but it is a change and one that will take some time for us to figure out a new normal. 

One of the reasons I have this blog is so I can record memories for my family.  But I also like recording a little piece of me.  Someday when I'm gone, my children and their children and their children's children can look at this and know me a little better.  And I got to thinking that Sydney might read my posts about this pregnancy and think that we were less than happy about her. 

Let me say this right now, for the record:  NOTHING COULD BE FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH.

But I also think it's important for her to know that I wasn't a perfect mother, and I knew it.  I didn't have it all together.  There were times that I was pretty sure I had screwed up her life.  That way when she's feeling the same in the face of whatever is going on with her children, maybe she won't feel entirely alone.  Maybe if I'm not around to give her a hug and reassure her, this can be almost like a cyber hug through the ages...preserved forever. 

So I thought it might be appropriate for me to post a list of things I'm looking forward to about having a daughter.  Do I have concerns?  Yes.  Am I certain that the joy she brings to our hearts will far outweigh any of my insecurities or anything I could ever mess up?  A thousand times yes.

So here it is...just for my Sydney...a list of reasons I'm glad God picked us to be her family.

 1)  The moment I see her for the first time will be unforgettable.
 2)  The new baby smell.
 3)  Pigtails.
 4)  Painting her toenails.
 5)  Getting our toenails painted together.
 6)  Taking a break from Christmas shopping together to get some hot chocolate.
 7)  Sharing the books that I loved as a child with her.
 8)  Feeling her baby breath on my neck when she falls asleep on my shoulder.
 9)  Hearing her call me Mommy.
10)  Hearing her play with her brother.
11)  Hearing her dad sing to her.
12)  Little sundresses.
13)  Eskimo kisses.
14)  Teaching her and her brother that licking the beaters is half the fun of baking.
15)  Secrets between just me and her.
16)  Secrets between just her and her brother.
17)  Little sandals.
18)  Telling her she is beautiful on her wedding day.
19)  Sending her flowers just because.
20)  Watching her eyes light up when she "gets it"...be that a hard math problem, a football defensive strategy or the punchline of a joke.
21)  Learning what makes her tick...be it music or sports or theater or science...or all of the above.
22)  Helping her find her niche.
23)  Talks late into the night when she's home from college.
24)  Phone calls late into the night when she's at college and feeling homesick.
25)  Whispering "I love you" to her even when I know she's asleep and she can't hear me.
26)  Hearing her tell me "I love you" back.
27)  The first time I hug her and she really hugs me back.
28)  Movie dates with her to see chick flicks.
29)  Pony tails.
30)  Letting her try on my lipstick.
31)  Shopping for a new shade of lipstick together.
32)  Cannon ball contests off of the diving board.
33)  Watching her roll her eyes at her dad participating in the cannon ball contests.
34)  Shopping for shoes with her.
35)  Knowing that she will reach for me and that alone will be enough to make her stop crying...sometimes.
36)  Teaching her that it's polite to share your food when eating in a restaurant.
37)  Beach trips as a family of four.
38)  Hearing her tell me about "the one" when he really is the one.
39)  Games of patty cake.
40)  Games of peek-a-boo.
41)  Hearing little girls giggle into the night during sleepovers.
42)  Planning birthday parties together.
43)  Twirling together.
44)  Teaching her to walk in high heels.
45)  Watching her do something that she is good at and seeing her confidence soar.
46)  Singing silly songs with her.
47)  Coloring with her.
48)  Saturday morning cartoons.
49)  Watching her brother make her laugh.
50)  Going to football games as a family.
51)  Going to basketball games as a family.
52)  Going on vacations as a family.
53)  Letting her play in my makeup.
54)  Introducing her to new foods.
55)  Going wedding dress shopping with her.
56)  Going maternity clothes shopping with her.
57)  Holding her baby in my arms--and telling her that no matter what she will always be my baby.
58)  Baby dolls.
59)  Coordinating Easter outfits.
60)  Spending the day with her on her birthday just doing something she likes.
61)  Trips to the zoo.
62)  Going to see the Nutcracker at Christmas.
63)  Helping her pick out her first-day-of-school outfit.
64)  Watching her and her brother share an inside joke that their dad and I have no idea about.
65)  Picnics in the back yard.
66)  Saying "the kids."
67)  Teaching her that praying is just a conversation with God.
68)  Hearing her pray.
69)  Chubby little hands.
70)  Chubby little feet.
71)  Feeling her grasp my finger in her tiny hand.
72)  Watching her play in the mud with her brother.
73)  Seeing her brother hold her.
74)  Heavy-lidded eyes when I'm rocking her.
75)  Getting hugs from two kids at once.
76)  Reading the Christmas story on Christmas Eve.
77)  Little hair bows and barrettes.
78)  Learning her toddler language.
79)  Learning her teenager language...or at least trying.
80)  Hearing her laugh in her sleep.
81)  Sharing old family traditions with her.
82)  Starting new family traditions with her.
83)  Cooking with her.
84)  Teaching her to swim.
85)  Hearing her squeal as she runs from her dad--and knowing that she really wants him to catch her.
86)  Afternoons at the park.
87)  Having 2 kids come running and jump in bed with their dad and me on a Saturday morning.
88)  Blowing bubbles in the yard.
89)  Sticky kisses.
90)  Frilly dresses with ruffles on the panties.
91)  Backing her up when she stands up for something she believes in.
92)  Just one more bedtime story.
93)  Hearing her laugh.
94)  Running my fingers through her hair.
95)  Teaching her and her brother to spit watermelon seeds.
96)  Halloween costumes.
97)  Easter egg hunts.
98)  Snuggling on the couch with some popcorn for a movie night.
99)  Tea parties.
100) Seeing me in her.  Seeing her dad in her.  Seeing her in her.  And loving all of her.

Real Life With A Toddler

I know why a lot of moms out there feel like failures.  I know why they walk into their homes and feel like even if they had a 36 hour day and never slept it would never. all. get. done.  Ever. 

The world tells you your house should look like this:

(Source)

-perfectly organized playroom

-coordinating colors

-an area for art supply storage--to stimulate artistic growth and development

-chairs neatly pushed under the table

-books arranged on the bookshelf according to height

Here is what my house actually looked like after a day at home with my little boy (Just keepin' it real, people!):

-absence of a playroom altogether

-remainders of the laundry that I FINALLY got folded hanging on the mantle (FINALLY being the operative word because a certain 2 year old likes to help with the laundry...by unfolding every 3rd piece I fold)

-toys scattered haphazardly across the room...just begging someone to trip over them

-a mattress in the middle of the floor because Nana visited last weekend, and since Sam thinks it's the coolest thing in the world to have it there we moved it back.  Just because.

-DVD's littering the floor in front of the storage center because a certain someone believes they look better in the floor than stacked in rows

-an area rug that hasn't been vacuumed in days...and it ain't lookin' too good for the next couple of days either.

 But despite the...ahem...minor differences between the world's point of view and mine, I consider yesterday a success.  Why?  Because I did FINALLY get that load of laundry folded (and another too boot!), I managed to cook supper, we played outside, my little boy laughed hysterically at his daddy and the little boy next door playing catch (and it was a beautiful sound), and I even finished a little project for Little Girl's room.  (More on that later.)

As Shawn likes to say, the rest is cream cheese.

Are you a mom whose living room looks like mine?  Embrace it.  Your kids will love you for it.

Things I Have Learned In My (Almost) 2 Years of Being A Mommy

1)  Being picked up and kissed by Mom will cure about 95% of boo-boos.

2)  An envelope of sugar-laden, gelatinous fruit snacks will cure about another 3%.

3)  Some days you just have to throw the schedule and the to-do list out the window.

4)  If a toddler likes a certain food and eats it like a ravenous dog on Tuesday, that is no guarantee that the same food will not be viewed as completely disgusting and inedible on Wednesday. 

5)  Mud and grass stains will wash away.  Memories stick around a little longer.  When in doubt, forget about the mud and make the memories.

6)  If you run out of hair gel, pancake syrup can be used as a substitute in a pinch.

7)  Waking up at 3am to chase away bad dreams and rock away tears is sometimes more fun than getting a full night's sleep. 

8)  With enough creativity and an impatient toddler,  you can make a game out of almost anything.

9)  Sometimes you just need to give a little boy (or girl) the yogurt and the spoon and let them figure it out.  That's why they make Oxy-Clean. 

10)  The laughter produced from a good, solid belly kiss is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

11)  Sometimes the only appropriate answer to the question, "Why did you do that?" is "Because he's two."  I suspect that in future years we will adjust that.  "Because he's five."  "Because he's twelve."  "Because he's a teenager."  Lord, help me.

12)  Just when you think you can't take anymore whining or fits, God whispers in their ear to give you that special little smile.  And suddenly--just like that--you're ready for another round.

13)  If you're not running, you're just wasting time.

14)  Running is more fun when you do it with your arms spread out to the sides like you're an eagle.  And even MORE FUN when you yell at the top of your lungs while you do it.  (It also makes you faster.)

15)  That first time you hold them, you think, "I will never feel more love than I do at this moment."  You are totally wrong.

How is it possible that my baby is almost 2 years old???

Search and Rescue

Sam has a Pooh Bear that is very sacred to him.  And by sacred, I mean goes everywhere with us, stinks to high Heaven because he chews on it, I cannot imagine what a crisis it would be if we lost that bear.  Matters of national security would probably take a back seat (at least in my mind) if "Boo" were to go missing.  Sam sleeps with him.  He sits at the table with us when we eat.  (Sometimes, if a certain little boy is being picky about his food, Boo has a bite or two to get everyone else interested in their food.)  He runs errands with us during the day.  He has seen us through some pretty scary times, including doctors' appointments and our visit with Santa this year.

One day last week, Ms. Tammy texted me at work and asked if she could just drop Sam off to me a few minutes before closing time.  Her grandson was in a play at his elementary school and that was the only way she could make it on time.  I'm always willing to go with this plan, because it shaves off about 30 minutes of our evening.  I excitedly let Shawn know we would be home a little bit earlier than normal and began planning how we would use our extra play time that night. 

I should have known better.

As we were leaving the clinic, Sam started to get a little whiny so I went to his bag to get Pooh out.  And HOLD THE PHONE, STOP THE PRESSES--POOH WASN'T THERE!!!  I immediately tried to call Ms. Tammy, thinking maybe...JUST MAYBE...he was still in her car.  But she had already turned her phone off for the play.  I sat there contemplating our options:

1)  Go home and try a night without Pooh.

2)  Wait around until after the play and try to find Pooh.

After a very brief analysis, we decided the wait option was the only way to go.  I took off to the school, still hoping that the bear was just in the car and it would be an easy retrieval.  I drove to the elementary school and pulled into the parking lot.  Hmmm...that's strange.  You'd think if they were having a play, there would be some cars here.  Then, remembering which side of town her grandkids live on, I decided to check the other elementary school.  Just a few minutes later, I was again sitting in an empty parking lot...the only car there.  Confused and perplexed, I called my coworker (aka, my source of information about anything Irvine-related). 

"Where in the world is this silly play?" I demanded.

"What play?" she replied.

"Tammy's grandson is in some kindergarten play, and I can't find it.  And she has Pooh!  I have to find that bear!"

Sensing my panic, she calmly gave me directions to yet another school where the play was most likely being held.  And then, as I was driving down the street, I noticed a man mowing his yard.  And his boxer dog was riding on the hood of his lawn mower---almost like an 80 pound hood ornament. 

I am not making this up.

It was at this point that I became convinced that Pooh was not, in fact, missing.  Rather, I was having a stroke.  I voiced my concerns to Amanda, who was still on the phone talking me down from my panic attack, and she just laughed saying, "I know exactly where you are!  Yeah...that guy's dog just likes riding the lawn mower with him.  Every time he mows he rides up there." 

We finally made it to the school and I spotted Tammy's vehicle.  I parked behind it and peeked inside.  No bear.  As I sat in the parking lot wondering how much of a stalker I would look like if I just went inside to find her, people started flooding out of the school.  Thank the Lord for kindergartners and their short attention spans!!!

In the end, Tammy realized that she had left Pooh at her house, and we made a hasty retrieval before heading home.  Instead of getting home 30 minutes earlier than anticipated, we got home an hour later than usual, but it was so worth it when bedtime came.

Then, this weekend while out picking up a few random things, Shawn spotted a Pooh bear that was almost exactly identical to ours.  So we bought two more.  We left the store patting ourselves on the back for our brilliance.

That night, Sam insisted on sleeping with all of the Poohs.  Awesome.

What Our Prayers Sound Like To God

Have you ever wondered what God thinks when we pray?  Sometimes I wonder if he gets tired of hearing me ask for the same things over and over.  Or when I ask for something that isn't really good for me if He rolls his eyes just a little.  Or when I have a hard time seeing how He's answered my prayers if he just patiently sighs and waits for me to get a clue. 

Over the last several months I've been praying off and on for some direction in a few areas of our lives.  There are some things that I feel burdened about and I feel led to action in a certain way but I'm not really sure how to carry that out.  There are some areas of our life that I think we're being called to change, but change is hard.  There are some parts of our life that I know are temporary and are coming to a close and I'm not really sure what the next step is.  And I hate not knowing. 

So sometime a while back I began just asking for God's will to be done in our family.  I asked for direction on decisions that needed to be made, but I think what I really meant is I wanted God to carry out my will.  I had a plan for how things would work best, and I really wanted God to follow my neatly laid-out plan.  Then when a couple of parts of that plan got delayed or started looking like they weren't going to work like I wanted them to, I threw my hands up and said, "God, we talked about this!  I thought we agreed that you were going to show us Your will!  Surely this isn't it!"

But lately I'm starting to wonder if my plan isn't God's plan.  And I'm having a hard time giving up my ideas for what's best for our family.  Initially, I just thought that maybe my timing was off, but what if the problem isn't timing?  What if the problem is the whole big plan?  What if what I thought should happen--would happen--never really happens? 

And frankly, I'm getting tired of praying about it.  I'm getting tired of asking for--waiting for and expecting--an answer and instead getting silence.  I came home one night this week just really frustrated.  It had been an overwhelming day, and I honestly couldn't tell you why.  I just felt tired.  Impatient.  Grouchy.  The tears were there--just begging to be let loose--and it only took one word from Shawn to burst the dam.  I wasn't in the mood to talk to God so instead I whined to Shawn.  And, ladies, we all know how much men just LOVE having the same conversation over and over again. 

Then later, something changed.  Not a definite answer, but just a little reminder from God that He's still there.  Listening.  Working it all out.  Keeping everything under control.  It couldn't have come at a better time.  I don't know if we got our answer, but I do think I got a gentle reprimand and a loving, "Cool it." 

The same way I quietly tell Sam to cool it when he's the one throwing a temper tantrum.  Ouch.

Being a mom has made me reevaluate how I think God sees me.  I look at Sam and think about how much I love him.  How I would do anything for him.  How when he's hungry and he's telling me over and over and over and over that he's hungry it doesn't really get on my nerves.  In fact, it makes me want to provide for his needs as quickly as I can.  But sometimes he crosses a line and I have to remind him that I've got it under control.  Sometimes I have to tell him he can't have that cracker right now because I'm working on something that's better for him.  And he just needs to wait.  Patiently, please.  (In my best Mommy voice.  And punctuated by the look.)

So that's what I'm trying to do.  Wait.  And stop whining for a cracker.  God's fixing me a steak.

And Then There Were Four...

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you.  Things can happen sometimes that are so unexpected...so out of the blue...that they just smack you right upside the head with a little dose of what-the-heck and a sprinkling of whoa! 

Shawn and I found out a few weeks ago that we will be welcoming a new miracle into our home next summer.  I've always heard that every pregnancy is different, and this one is already vastly different from my pregnancy with Sam...even down to the way I told Shawn.  Last time, I bought Shawn a UK baby blanket, wrapped it up in a nice little gift bag and met him after work for dinner.  This time, it looked more like me walking out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test with a completely shell-shocked look on my face.  Shawn took one look at me while feeding Sam his dinner and said, "Uh-uh."

Don't get me wrong--I'm not unhappy with this pregnancy.  It's just that the timing isn't really what I anticipated.  I always thought when/if we had another baby our finances would be in a position that I could stay home or at least work part time.  I thought I'd weigh ten pound less.  I thought Sam might be potty-trained.  I thought my closets would be organized.  I thought our basement would be finished.  I had all of these things on my to-do list that I thought had to happen before we could have another baby.  Don't you just love it when you have everything all planned out and God chuckles and says, "Yeah...that's one way to do it.  But how about this way?" 

I have to be honest--I'm a little nervous about another baby.  Every life is a blessing and a miracle.  But with great blessings come great responsibilities.  It's an honor and a privilege for me to be a mom, and it's a job I take very seriously.  My only trepidations about having another baby lie solely with my doubts about myself.  What if I'm not cut out to parent two children?  What if I don't have enough patience?  What if I can't give them each the time and attention they need and deserve?  What if I don't pray for them enough...hold them enough...teach them enough?  One night I was hurling all of these questions at Shawn, and he just looked at me and said, "It might not be how we planned it, but God doesn't make mistakes."  I just love how he can cut right to the heart of the matter. 

I'm worried about my blood pressure.  Last time, even though I had a healthy pregnancy, I developed post-partum preeclampsia that led to post-partum hypertension.  I took blood pressure medication for about 9 months after Sam was born.  What's gonna happen in a few months?  Will it spiral out of control again?  And it if does will I be able to handle the anti-hypertensive-medication-yuckiness on top of the I-just-want-to-sleep-all-of-the-time-pregnancy-fatigue?

I'm worried about the delivery.  Last time, I had reservations about an epidural all along.  During one of my OB appointments, I mentioned my concerns to my doctor.  He's very vocal about his faith, and he told me we would deliver the baby however I wanted but he felt like epidurals were a merciful gift to allow women to avoid unnecessary suffering during childbirth.  Shawn, out of concern for me, always wanted me to get an epidural, and when we left the office that day he triumphantly looked at me and said, "God wants you to get an epidural."  But after the terrible experience we had with it last time, I'm pretty convinced that we should deliver this baby without one.  And that scares me.  Because by the time I got the epidural I was honestly pretty glad to get it. 

I'm worried about the recovery.  What if I go crazy again?  I remember how, for months after Sam was born, I questioned everything I did.  EVERYTHING.  I wasn't confident in anything, and I constantly felt like I was doing it all wrong.  At least this time we have a better idea of what we're getting ourselves into, but are you ever really prepared for a new baby?  Whether it's #2 or #22???

But somewhere in the midst of all of that uncertainty, I'm reminded that this is a gift.  A precious, life-altering gift.  When I lie in bed at night and think about all of the questions I have, God whispers His peace to me and I drift off to sleep.  It's all going to work out.  And in the end, Sam will have a friend to walk through life with.  My heart will grow bigger than I thought possible.  We get to experience it all again--the sweet coos, the little grunts, the slobbery kisses, that precious first time they reach for you to pick them up, the 1000th time they reach for you to pick them up that is every bit as precious as the first, the baby food facials--we get to do it all again.  Our cup runneth over.

Welcome to our hearts, Baby King.  It's a good place to be. 

Sam's Big Break Part II

When last we left our story, Sam had just gotten a cast put on his leg for a broken tibia.  The first thing I did when we got home was google "fractured tibia, toddler".  It turns out this is a fairly common type of break in small children.  So common, in fact, that it has been dubbed a "toddler's fracture."  It happens when the little guys are just learning to walk (check), they have what appears to be a normal stumble (check), and they somehow twist their ankle or fall at just the right angle to cause a little fracture.  It made me feel better to know that this happens with some frequency...although only marginally so.

So Sam had his little cast, and he did really well with it.  He didn't really seem to have any pain associated with his injury, and he quickly learned how to crawl with his new accessory.  We had a couple of sleepless nights, but I really don't think he was hurting.  It almost seemed like he would wake up and see the cast and forget why it was there.  Once we could get him fully awake, he was back to our normal, happy Sam. 

The biggest problem we ran into was bathtime.  Remember how we used to feel about baths?  It was kinda like that only PHENOMENALLY worse.  We had to wrap Sam's leg in Saran Wrap to keep the cast dry.  Saran Wrap must have some kind of flesh-eating properties in it, because as soon as we would even touch it to his skin, Sam would go into hysterics.  For a week, we experimented with different ways to do baths, and I was seriously considering just letting the dirt and grime pile up on his little body until the cast came off.  It was that traumatic for him.  And me. 

Then, my husband saved the day.  He came home with a cast protector.  It's basically a big, silicone sleeve thing that we slip over Sam's leg.  It forms a seal around the cast so it can't get wet.  I have to admit, I didn't think it would work, but we decided to give it a try.  As soon as we started to put Sam's foot into the sleeve, he began to fuss.  In a moment of divinely-appointed Mommy-ism, I told Sam he looked like an elephant and showed him how to flop his elephant trunk. 

Magic, I tell ya'.  Pure magic.

Sam spent his entire shower kicking his leg up in the air and making elephant sounds.  Hey, whatever works. 

When we went for Sam's one week follow-up, the nurse showed a little concern with how far down Sam's cast had slipped.  The wanted to repeat an x-ray anyway, so we  decided to remove the cast and see how things were looking.  Unfortunately, Sam had Houdinied the cast down his leg far enough to cause a pressure wound on his heel.  So, in an effort to keep the cast in place a bit better and prevent him from walking and putting more pressure on the wound, we put him in a full leg cast.

I was so worried that the full leg cast would just result in two weeks of pure misery for Sam, but I should have known better.  Sam took one look at the cast that goes halfway up his thigh and thought, "These guys think this will keep me in one place?  Amateurs..."  That thing hasn't slowed him down one single bit!  Within an hour of us coming home, he figured out how to crawl.  With his entire left leg stationary, he has to throw his leg out to the side when he crawls, which leaves about a two foot wide path of destruction in his wake.  It's heartbreaking and hilarious to watch him get around.  He has also been playing with some of his walking toys in the last few days.  When he walks on his cast, he sounds like a pirate with a peg leg taking a walk.  ***step...CLONK...step...CLONK...***  I have to admit, Shawn and I were worried that he would be reluctant to walk again after he gets the cast off, but it looks like he may just take off running as soon as he gets the go-ahead.  (Or maybe before...)

When we go back next week, they're going to take the cast off again so they can check on how his heel is healing.  (Momma is really looking forward to the cast saw again...I haven't told Sam about that part yet. But judging from his reaction the last time I'm guessing he won't be too crazy about the idea.)  If you are a person that talks to God regularly, would you say a prayer for Sam Tuesday morning?  Pray that he'll chill out while they take the cast off and that his heal will be all better.  We'll post another update as soon as we can.

Sam's Big Break

So a really brief recap of what's been going on in our lives lately: 

We are the Griswolds.

A slightly less brief recap (because really you just need the full picture): 

Last Saturday night we got home from a WONDERFUL week at the beach and started trying to ease back into normal life.  Sunday night, I was working on a little project in the dining room while Shawn was folding laundry in the living room.  Sam, who had really perfected his walking skills while we were at the beach, was toddling around with Molly at his side.  As he was coming through the kitchen towards me, we heard a fall and then crying.  Like serious crying. 

Shawn and I rushed to check things out, and we quickly decided we were going to the ER.  Sam just wasn't calming down, and every time I tried to get him to stand up he refused to put pressure on his left foot.  We loaded everyone into the car and headed towards the hospital. 

This would be a good point to pause and explain a difference between Shawn's personality and mine.  When crises arise, I tend to downplay everything.  "It's not that bad...things will be fine..."  I feel like if I say it enough times, it will be true.  Shawn, on the other hand, who tends to be happy-go-lucky most of the time, usually assumes the worst during emergencies.  "My baby's hurt!  Get out of the way!  Coming through!! STAT!!!"

Just a few miles up the interstate, we came up on a traffic stand-still.  For miles ahead, we could see cars that weren't moving.  By this time, Sam had finally stopped screaming, and I was already telling myself we were just being freakishly overprotective.  (Not that we would ever be that way, or anything.)  I mentally turned the car around in the median, but Shawn didn't even hit the brakes.  He swerved over onto the shoulder and kept barrelling past dozens of cars, all while hitting buttons on my console and screaming, "Where are your hazard lights?!"  Did I mention that it was raining, too?

Trying to remain the voice of reason in a stressful situation, I screamed calmly asked, "What's your plan for when we get to the front of the line?  Clearly there is a bad wreck or something up there.  They won't let us through."

"Oh yes they will," he replied.  "I'm going to tell them we have a medical emergency and we have to get through!"

I may or may not have yelled something to the effect of, "IT WON'T DO US ANY GOOD TO GET TO THE ER IF WE'RE ALL DEAD WHEN WE GET THERE!!!"  All while Sam calmly sat in the back seat looking very not-hurt.

We finally got to the front of the line, and a policeman was letting cars through using one lane.  Shawn rolled his window down in preparation to explain our situation.  I braced myself for the lecture we would get from the policeman when he saw how "hurt" Sam looked.  Suddenly, a space opened up between cars.  Shawn swerved into the space and we drove right through the traffic stop.  I slouched a little lower in my seat and tried to avoid the eyes of the other motorists who were undoubtedly hurling cuss words at us.

We got to the emergency room (thankfully in one piece) and signed in.  And then we waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Turns out a holiday weekend is the worst time possible to go to an emergency room.  Sam ate Teddy Grahams, flirted with the lady sitting behind us and watched football while I silently berated us for over-reacting so badly. 

When we finally got called back, Sam barely even whimpered while the nice gentleman examined his leg, he smiled during the x-rays, and I was even more convinced that we had made a wasted trip.  When they came in and told us he had a fractured tibia, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  My baby has a broken bone?  Put the cuffs on me!  Take me away!  I'm an unfit mother!!!

They splinted Sam's leg and we went home.  The next day, I was off and Sam and I just hung around the house nursing our wounds...his physical, mine emotional.  We got in lots of snuggles, I spoiled him like crazy, and I even gave in to a temper tantrum or two.  Just this once...  He seemed to be doing well with the splint, so I felt reasonably good about sending him to the babysitter the next day. 

Sometime in the afternoon, Tammy sent me a text saying Sam's splint was loose.  Sure she was over-reacting and he had just loosened the bandage around it (there's my reaction again), I eased her concerns and told her I'd check him out when I got there to pick him up.  However, when I arrived, I saw that he had worked the splint down his leg from knee level to about mid-calf.  Because apparently ONE visit to the emergency room per week just isn't enough...  So it was back to the ER we went where they splinted us again and sent us on our merry way...again.

The next morning, we had an appointment with an orthopedist, and Sam was a total rock star.  He got his cast (UK blue, of course!) and wasn't the least bit scared.  I was so proud of my brave little man!  Shawn and I were relieved to learn that because babies heal much more quickly than adults, he would probably only have to wear the cast for about 3 weeks.  More good news!

All set up and ready to go!

He looks great, right?

One of the many advantages of being Mommy:  I got to be the first to sign his cast!

But the story doesn't end there...

Embracing the Camera

So...I'm embracing the camera today. 

This picture is a few months old.  We went to the park for Sam's birthday, and we just had a great time.  It was one of the first really pretty spring days.  We played on the swings and slide, then afterwards we went and got ice cream. 

Here is why I love this picture:

1)  It's of Sam and me.  Duh.  But really, I don't have many pictures of my mom and me.  One reason is that she was always taking the pictures, but mainly because she didn't really like being photographed.  She always wanted to lose 20 pounds, or her hair wasn't fixed right, or her shirt didn't look good with those pants.  And to be honest, I really couldn't care less about the weight, her hair or the shirt. 

2)  This is not one of those everybody-smile-and-say-cheese pictures.  We're laughing.  You can tell we're having a great time.  Shawn captured us in the middle of a moment.  This picture has a memory attached to it. 

3)  Sam's nose is wrinkled.  It's cute.  I don't specifically remember, but he probably snorted either right before or right after this picture was taken. 

What about you?  Wanna embrace the camera?  Head over to The Anderson Crew and give it your best shot.

Does This Make Us Dysfunctional?

One night this week, I came home from work, greeted each of my boys with a kiss, then turned to go change clothes.  As I walked past, Shawn swatted me on the butt, and Sam giggled. 

Intrigued, Shawn swatted me again.  And Sam laughed again.

So Shawn smacked me one more time.  And this time, Sam cackled. 

So there we were, Shawn smacking me in the rear, and our son watching and howling with laughter.  And I couldn't help but think, if someone were to peek in our window right now, would Child Protective Services get involved?  And how long would it take us to regain custody?

Who Knows...

Someday these pictures might be worth a lot of money. 

They might be the first glimpse into the budding passion of a musical prodigy. 

But for now...they're already priceless to me.

Bye Bye, Bottle!

I started to include this in my "Since The Last Time I Posted" post, but I decided it was noteworthy enough to write about on it's own. 

Sam has been down to only a bedtime bottle for a couple of months now, but I really thought we would struggle with dropping that one.  Our normal nightly routine has evolved into me giving Sam a bath and putting his pj's on, then Shawn gives him his bedtime bottle while I pack his bag for the next day.  Sam has really learned to look forward to that time with Daddy, and by the time I pass him off, he is anxious to get his hands on the bottle.  While Shawn was gone to Michigan, Sam didn't take his bottle that great, but I blamed it the fact that our routine was a bit out of whack.  The night that Shawn got back he sat down with Sam as usual, but this time when he offered him the bottle, Sam adamantly pushed it away. 

We made a split-second decision and decided to follow Sam's lead and say goodbye to the bottle.  He never looked back.  This picture is one I took during Shawn's trip to send him a goodnight text.  It was probably Sam's last bottle. 

So I'm once again having all of these conflicted mommy feelings.  While I'm glad that we didn't really have a struggle to lose the bottle, I'm a little heartbroken that my baby is growing up so quickly...too quickly.  I'm proud of my little boy for his accomplishment, no matter how small.  And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't amused that Sam made the transition in true Sam style.  When he made his mind up that it was time for a change, he very plainly told us his plan and WOULD NOT be convinced otherwise.  While I'm sure it will cause problems in the future, I can't help but smile when I see the same bull-headed, stubborn streak that I have had all of my life. 

Slow down, Sam.  You have the rest of your life to be a grown-up.  Be my little boy for just a little while longer.

A Good Plan...

Normally on my days off, I wait until Sam takes his morning nap to get my shower.  But lately his naps have been getting later and later, which sometimes leaves me still in my pj's at noon.  (Not that there's anything wrong with that!)  But last week, we actually had somewhere to be at a scheduled time, so I moved Sam's Pack & Play into the bathroom so I could keep an eye on him. 

Great plan, right? 

Smart thinking, Mom, right?

FAIL!

We have this little drawer in our bathroom vanity that is just the perfect size for storing make-up, tweezers, manicure scissors, and various other dangerous, messy, and fascinating things.  I peeked out of the shower just in time to see my son standing on his tippy-toes, grabbing at whatever he could reach and throwing it towards the dog's water bowl.  What?!  I can't make this stuff up!

Don't you just hate it when you have a good plan that is poorly executed???