In an effort to ignore my dirty floors I’m feeling very reflective this Monday morning.

My Bitzy is at her Lolly’s, my baby boy is sleeping soundly and the sun is pouring in through our big beautiful windows. What a perfect way to begin the week.

This weekend we laid low and stuck around the house mostly. Those are the best weekends if you ask me. The ones where memories are made with crafts, playing pretend and snuggles.

In the midst of our beautifully boring weekend there were many tickle sessions. My babies? They love to be tickled. And Zach and I know the very best tickle spots.

That’s the crazy thing about being a parent. We know our babies inside out. We know the tickle spots that will make them chuckle, also the ones that will made them roar with laughter. They have different levels of ticklishness. Have you ever thought about that? That is a very intimate detail about a person. There are friends I have had for years that I have absolutely no idea where they are ticklish. But my babies? I know every last one. I know their favorite foods, toys and how to instantly make them feel better when they have a boo-boo.

I know them. Like, really know them, better than anyone.

I remember being a bratty teenager and my Mama once saying, “I know you better than anyone.” I’m sure that I rolled my eyes and stomped away like the brat that I was, but it’s true. She does. There is something about sharing life together that is so intimate, something that you can’t really put into words. Knowing someone so completely and understanding them is such a gift.

That said, if I know my babies so well and can read them so completely, how much more does God know us?

Luke 12:7 says, “Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.”

That’s right. God knows how many hairs are on our head. He knows our tickle spots too. And our tears and our sleep patterns and every single cell in our body. He made them after all.

He knit us together in our Mother’s womb (Psalm 139). He loves us with an eternal love (Jeremiah 31:3). He delights and finds joy in us (Zephaniah 3:17). He has counted our tears (Psalm 56:8).

I think that as people we all want to be known. We want to belong to someone, to be important and loved. I know that I do. It gives great pleasure to know that I am loved so completely by my family.

But more so, the greatest gift is being known and loved by my Creator. To grasp that the Creator of the whole wide world loves me. He loves me with all my ugly imperfections. He still loves me the most, more than I could ever imagine.

Of course He does. He’s my Daddy.

And He’s your Daddy too.

That truth can change your life.

The truth that God not only loves you, but knows you inside out.

That beautiful, amazing truth can give peace for the restless, hope for the hopeless, joy for the weary and love for the lonely.

That truth, can change the world.

My prayer for us all is to feel that love today in a very real and intimate way.

“Know that the Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; We are His people.” Psalm 100:3.

Amen and Amen.

There are many things about this picture that I love…and then some others that I find extremely disturbing.

As I always try to find the silver lining, let’s start with the positive. In fact, my friend Bethany has taught me the rule of PNP (Positive, Negative, Positive). So here we go:

Positive: Bitzy is having a blast. She’s a sucker for the playground. And the swing? Around 8 months old she began her love affair with swinging. Then, as suddenly as it started she banned all swings everywhere. Just the sight of them started her saying, “No, no, no!” Just recently she has shyly ventured back in. We’re starting slowly but surely. Kids are so strange and funny about things…

Negative: Will you look at me? I look like a frumpy Mommy. I may as well have on mom jeans. If I ever needed some motivation for Weight Watchers this is it. Well, and maybe a makeover from What Not to Wear. And I look old? When did I get so old?

Positive:  The owl hat. The cuteness just makes me die and go to heaven. Whoever came up with the concept of the owl hat needs a Nobel Prize. It just slays me. In case you need more evidence, here’s a picture of Brother wearing his too.

My Mama, AKA: Gammy got the sweet owl hats for my babies for Christmas. If you’d like to order one go here. (Linda has no idea that I’m doing this, so, SURPRISE Linda! I love the hats!!!).

I’m not one of those gals who gets all in a tizzy about her hair. I’ve never once cried over a haircut or color gone wrong. It will grow back after all, right? Hopefully?

Anyway, my days of non-tizziness came to a screeching halt a few months ago when I declared that I hated, HATED, hated my hair. Too long, too dark, too awful.

So, what did I do? I slapped it up in a pony-tail every.single.day.

I became the typical stay at home mom who had on no make-up, hair up and a coffee mug in hand.

I’m not proud of this folks.

While it’s not practical for me to wear high heels every day, for me, it’s important to feel good about myself. I figure that we all will benefit from mommy looking and feeling good. As they say, “If Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.” True dat.

So, I called a salon about one minute down the road and got an appointment. My sweet mother in-law came over and watched the babies and I spent one solid hour alone getting my hair did.

And…I love it.

Granted she could have given me a crew cut and I would’ve liked it better than the matted long mess of hair that I had.

Thankfully, she did exactly what I asked her to do and I’m in happy hair heaven.

I’ve even worn make-up for 2 days in a row!

Shut the front door, Molly is back!

Here are some pictures:

Front

Back

It’s slightly embarrassing how much better I feel. My step is lighter and slowly but surely I’m feeling like myself again. I’ve been pregnant/breastfeeding for nearly 3 years! Crazy.

Now that my hair is cute and my baby weight is almost gone I’ll probably get pregnant again any second…because that’s how I roll (relax Mama, I’m joking).

Where have I been, you ask?

Well, basically having the time of my life! Literally.

I don’t want to be all cliche and annoying, but honestly, having a loving, handsome husband and two adorable babies makes for one happy mama!

Also, I’m thrilled to report that I am officially a stay at home mama now. This is a long answered prayer and I am overwhelmed that God has so graciously given my family this gift. This is my dream job!

Being with my sweet ones all day, everyday, is honestly my dream come true.

I am also able to serve Zach in many simple ways that add up to be gifts that I love to give him. Things like, the gift of dinner on the table every night when he gets home from work, a clean house, clean clothes, the gift of praying for him throughout the day, but most importantly the gift and mission of kissing every boo boo, teaching every song, dancing every dance and loving on our babies all day long. Like I said, it’s a dream come true for both Zach and I.

I cannot, and will not take this gift for granted.

So, that said, here’s what we’ve been up to…

This, my friends, is the good life.

I would be all cliche and annoying and make a big ole list of everything I’m thankful for this year, but friends, the whole world wide web couldn’t contain my absolute and complete sense of gratitude that I feel.  There is no need for a list when the Lord has so completely filled my cup so beautifully full.

The past couple of Thanksgivings haven’t been as blissfully sweet as this one, as 2 years ago I was grappling with our miscarriage and struggling to make sense of it all and last year I was living on little to no sleep and spent every waking second trying to soothe the blood curdling screams of my beautiful Bitzy. So, this year seems extra sweet.

I have a gorgeous and healthy family. My husband loves me and is a faithful servant of Christ and of this family, A healthy baby in my arms and one growing and kicking in my belly. Not to mention that my parents are wonderfully funny, healthy and as precious as ever. My siblings are smart, fun and loving Jesus….I told ya that my cup overfloweth.

So this year, I’m soaking it up. I’m breathing in the air of gratitude and enjoying the moments…for I know that I’m being filled just to be emptied again (lyrics to Hillsong’s Desert Song).

So from my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving.  God is good indeed.

My darling love,

I’ve been dragging my feet on writing this…not sure why.

I’m 2 weeks late on professing my amazement at watching you, my sweetheart, grow and change every day.

I’m not sure if it’s because you’re 1st birthday is looming ever so closely and I’m in some kind of mourning of your babyhood, or that I’m so enthralled by your blooming toddlerhood that I don’t want to look backwards, but forward.

At any rate, forever and always I love you more today than yesterday.

It’s true.

The tragedy of being a child is that you’ll never understand how much I love you until you have a baby of your own. Because baby girl, your mama loves you more than words could ever express. I hope and pray that when you become a mother I will be holding your hand just as your Gammy was holding mine as you entered the world.

But, back to the magic of your 11th month.

You are talking more and more. You are still reluctant to walk, although you have taken a few steps here and there. I must confess to you that I’m in no hurry for you to conquer the world of walking. We’ve all become quite comfortable with you crawling, walking seems like a whole different ballgame.  But when you do, I’m sure it would be the most beautiful thing and you’ll be filled with joy as you are each and every day.

It’s true. You are a delight. When you were in my tummy Daddy and I prayed each night that God would fill you with joy and a lighthearted spirit. That you would find excitement in the small things in life and that you wouldn’t be bogged down by the worries of the world, but that you would first and foremost find your joy in Christ alone.

And honey, each time that you clap your little hands and laugh I am reminded of God’s unbelievable faithfulness. He has truly answered all of our prayers for you.

In only a few short weeks we’ll usher in a new year with you and I gotta say, I’m not sad. I’m thrilled that you’re mine and I can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.

I love you sweet baby,

Mama

When I was a little bitty kid, like 3 or 4, I was obsessed with the movie version of “Annie.”

Coincidentally, my Zach was too.

We were totally made for each other, this my friends is proof.

Anyway, I would sing all the songs to the top of my lungs and I would recite all the lines that Molly had. Clearly she was my favorite.

I figured that we were the only 2 people in the world named Molly, so we were destined to be best friends.

It was lost on me that she was a fictional character.

Turns out, I may still have a little issue with fiction vs. reality: Ahem Grey’s Anatomy.

What? Me? Never.

Anyway, I loved the movie, loved the songs, love my Molly and Annie. LOVED them.

So, when my mama had a little sister for me at the tender of 8 years old (I was 8, not my mama), I was thrilled. Albeit, a little confused about how it would work with a tiny little human in the house, but still excited.

And then, they named her Annie.

WhWhWhWhAT?

It was perfect, just like the movie. Annie and Molly, together forever.

Let the record show that she was named after our Nana, not the movie.  But still, the movie had to have had a tiny bit to do with it, right Mama?

So, we played dolls, beauty shop, and games, with a healthy amount of torture to be sure, but still sprinkled with lots-o-fun.

Over the years I just assumed she would be a kid forever, I mean, I am 8 years older than her after all. If she gets older then, (gasp) so do I, so clearly, she’ll stay a little kid in pig tails riding her bike endlessly. Here are a few “through the years with Annie” pictures.

Annie, 2 days old.

Annie, 2 months old.

Annie, 5 Months Old.

Annie, 1 Year.

Annie and Me. 1 year.

Luke, Me and Annie. She looks real thrilled doesn't she? 2 Years Old.

Annie, 3 Years Old. (BTW: She was OBSESSED with Minnie Mouse).

Annie and Me. 4 Years Old.

Notice no pictures of awkward adolescence.

You’re welcome, Annie.

Annie and Katie, 12 years old.

Annie, 18 Years Old. High School Graduation.

From Left, Annie, Luke, Me, Katie. My Sibs:). 2008.

Annie, Mama and Katie at UNC in 2009. PS: Annie was kind of a big deal there.

Annie, 2010, UNC Graduate!

After your year book view of her growing up, you guessed it. She did get older.

She even went to college.

And today, my little sister started law school.

Did that register?

Law School.

Like, school for smart people to understand the Constitution better.

I can’t even spell Constitution (thank goodness for spell check) and my little sissy is now a student.

Unbelievable.

So, I would like to shout out a big “I’m proud of you” over the World Wide Web.

I’m so proud of you Annie Bananny.

And remember…even on rough days, “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow…”

Although I’ve lived away from my hometown for almost 8 years (which doesn’t seem possible), I still refer to my “home” as my sleepy itty bitty town in the mountains of North Carolina.  I suppose that I always will.

My father-in-law always says that the shortest way to a woman’s heart is through her Mama’s house, and I can’t really argue.  My heart is safe and happy at my Mama’s house.  It’s the house where I have a zillion memories of learning to fix my hair with a purple curling iron and burning myself countless times (I’ve still got the scars to prove it).  Nights that I spent talking on the phone to my random “boyfriends” about absolutely nothing for hours on end. Times when my brother and me would play Nintendo and he would treat me like his minion and I would hit, kick and holler at him but I secretly loved just being near him. All the days that my little sisters and me played with make-up and beauty shop.  So many memories and growing up has happened in my home sweet home.

It’s funny though, you know on commercials and movies when kids come home for the holidays or for visits and Folgers in brewing in the coffee pot and banana bread is baking in the oven?  The Mother is wearing an apron and vacuuming when her children pull up in a fancy SUV wearing North Face jackets and toboggans while snowing is pouring down.  She beams as her family trudges through the snow to meet her on the steps of their million dollar colonial mansion.  You know those commercials, right?

Well, that’s not how it is at my Mama’s house.  Nope, not at all.

For one thing, who drinks coffee in the middle of the day?  And more importantly, do some women just wear aprons around the house all day and night?  Is this 1953?  Also, in commercial land, do families ever get together when it’s not Christmas time?  And lastly, where is the Daddy and where does he work in order to pay for the mansion? I bet he’s a workaholic.

At my Mama’s house you have to fight 2 very hyper dogs to make it into the house.  When you finally make it in, you don’t see a museum filled with priceless antiques and oil paintings on every wall, and it’s surely not a mansion.  Bedrooms are traded and people are stashed in different bedrooms with old baby dolls and toys of the past, it’s certainly not like the movies or commercials.

It’s better.  Way better.

It’s a Mama who is your biggest fan who greets you with arms open wide and a smile that lights up her whole face.

It’s a house that holds secrets that will never be told.

It’s the smell of childhood and memories and love.

It’s the joy of family.

It’s home.