I know what you’re thinking. I think he is too. The cutest kid ever, right? Right.

Not only is he strikingly handsome, he’s quite agreeable as well.

It also really helps that he’s a Mama’s boy through and through. I don’t mind this one little bit.

But I gotta be honest with you.

Teething? It’s about to put me over the edge.

My sweet, laid back, angelic baby boy has been replaced by a non-napping, whiny, fussy alien child. I know, I know, he’s in pain. I should be more sensitive. And I was, I really was, about 3 teeth ago. Now that we’re working on tooth #5, I’m ready for a break from this teething nonsense.

You see Bitzy cut her bottom 2 teeth around 6 months and didn’t cut any more until she was 13 months old. Then she got 6 teeth in one month. But really it wasn’t so bad. She handled it like a champ. And then the incisors came…OUCH. And we’re still waiting on those dreaded 2 year molars, but the great news is that Bitzy’s teething journey is coming to a welcomed close while Brother’s has just begun.

Do they really need teeth anyway? Why must it be so painful?

Also? I’m not so great at the whole whiny baby thing. It makes me nuts, like literally a little crazy. Perhaps you are one of those parents who don’t mind crying/whining and can carry on normally while your baby melts down. Me? I can’t handle it. And it’s not even that I’m so caring and sensitive and all of that, it’s more that it drives me bananas. So needless to say, over the past month of Brother cutting these teeth and being subsequently miserable, this Mama is ready for my happy boy to return. I miss him.

But there have been some smiles through the painful cries of my wee one.

Take a look:

Even through the tears, the endless amounts of Tylenol and tired eyes, he remains the sweetest little thing ever. I’m smitten indeed.

Happy Monday everyone!

38 pounds gone.

It’s true. All the glorious months of eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it are gone too. Unfortunately.

That’s the great thing about pregnancy. I just eat. And eat. And eat.

I figure that I have my whole life to lose weight, right?

That brings me to today.

It’s true that 38 pounds is a lot of poundage. It really is.

But here’s the catch, it’s all baby weight. Now I’m back to my not so skinny normal weight. Sure I’m not technically overweight, but still, there’s plenty-o-jiggle.

That’s the crazy thing about growing a tiny human in your belly (or 2 of them in 1.5 years), even when the weight comes off, your body is different. Or mine is anyway. All of you gals who look exactly the same as you did before you had a baby: congratulations. Really, I’m not bitter. Nope, not one bit.

I, unfortunately am not one of those girls. While I’m at a comfortable weight for me, the jiggle abounds.

That brings me back to your friend and mine, Weight Watchers.

Below you’ll see a graph of my weight loss since I began in mid-July. (Aren’t I fancy for showing you a graph! So unlike me!)

Notice how the weight at first it was practically falling off me? Then if you’ll notice around October, it was, um, NOT falling off me. Take a closer look below from October to now.

Basically friends, I’ve flat-lined so to speak. I’ve been more much interested in consuming as many cupcakes as possible rather than losing weight. I admit it.

And exercise? Forget about it.

The Holidays are a sugarholics dream/nightmare come true.

So now what?

I’m not gonna lie. My heart has just not been in it. I am a firm believer that in order to effectively lose weight your heart and your head have to be in the game….and mine hasn’t been.

(Gotta getcha getcha getcha head in the game)- Throwback to High School Musical. Holla!

Now that we’ve had our musical break, back to the situation at hand.

The fact is that I’m thrilled the baby weight is gone, but I really and truly want to lose more. I’m greedy like that. I would LOVE  to lose at least 15 more pounds before the dreaded bathing suit season. If not, I think I may purchase a swim dress while my babies are too young to be embarrassed. Wholesome Wear anyone?

I’ve gotta get back to it. Maybe…tomorrow?

Anyone feel this way? Frustrated and annoyed with the pursuit of weight loss. It’s like the Neverending Story, but without the cool flying dragon/puppy, Falcor.

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Brother: “Hey you, get outta my toy!”

Do you ever look at your life and think you’re dreaming? Do you look at the pictures of your spouse and/or your babies and think that there’s no way that they’re yours?

No? Just me?

As if I needed another confirmation that I am completely crazycakes.

Sometimes at night when all is quiet and the babies are nestled snug in their beds I look at the pictures on the walls and think, “Are those my babies? When did that happen? Could it be?”

You see, they are my dream come true. Really and truly, they are.

The messes and diapers and tantrums and nap strikes and books and hair bows and vomit, are part of that dream. Granted, some of those things aren’t exactly fun, but they are part of the job. And now, at this very moment, I’m living the dream.

Bitzy is currently choosing to jump in her crib shouting “Zoom, Zoom, Zoom” rather than taking a nap, while Brother is sleeping soundly in his crib snuggled with his lovey. As I watch them on the video monitor my heart swells with gratitude.

I have always dreamed of being a Mama, but now that it has come true, it’s almost more than my heart can bear. It’s too wonderful, too amazing. I am simply in awe of how magnificent they are.

When I sit back and really think about the intricacy involved in creating a human being, I am stunned into thankfulness. How God so masterfully knit these beautiful creatures together in my womb and so generously gifted them to Zach and me. We are not worthy of such amazing gifts. But by God’s grace He continues to help us love and care of these babies.

I am humbled by the gift of them, I really am.

Life is so precious, I want to soak them up and memorize them every single day.

Thank you Lord for the gift of my children, You are so good.

In my mind, everything is a Hallmark moment.

So, obviously everything is set in candlelight. Apparently, in my mind it’s always dark outside, hence the candles.

Also? There are children laughing and tiny feet pit pattering all over the house. There are no naps in my mind and memories.

And there is always, and I mean always, pie. Any kind will do. Just pie. P-I-E.

While my life is beautiful and fabulous and I would not trade it for a zillion trillion bazillion bucks, it’s not always picture perfect. And sadly, there are hardly ever pies.

In fact, it’s more like a circus around here than anything. A wonderful and entertaining circus, but still yet, a circus.

There are tantrums and tears, messy meals and lots of screaming. Mainly the happy sort of screaming, but still, a scream is a scream. And when you multiply the happy screams with the sad screams with the hurt screams with the idon’tknowwhyiamsadijustam screams, that’s a whole lotta screaming.

I do it love though. Every single bit of it. It may not be perfect, but it’s perfect for me.

I love Christmas.

Like, a lot a lot.

Before I had babies, I really liked it. But, now? Oh, it’s just magical.

In the next few days, I’ll detail more about our Christmas adventures, including random visits from Leonard the Elf, our visit with Santa, and how we are trying to share the magic of Santa with the truth and beauty of Christ coming to Earth as a baby boy.

But for now, here is our Christmas house!!!! To say that I love it is an understatement.

I think it’s the twinkle lights…they get me every time.

Well, and this little reindeer. He’s a dreamboat.

Our Christmas dining room where we will host a family Christmas Eve breakfast.

“The Magic Stairs” as we call them these days.

Ah, the mantle. All my life I’ve dreamed of decorating a mantle for Christmas, and now I can. Have I mentioned how much I love our house, mantle and all? LOVE IT.

Tiny details like this throughout the house.

And our 9.5 foot tree…TA DA.

Bitzy and I sitting on the fireplace just snuggling. My babies are the best Christmas present ever.

And as Bitzy says about 100 times per days, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!” Ha!

Classic Bitzy.

Me: “Hey! I have an idea. Let’s go downstairs and eat bacon and read books!”

Bitzy: “UMMM…MAMA, DO ME A FAVOR AND MAKE ME SOME OF PIGLETS HAYCORN COOKIES FIRST. AND MILK AND BOOKS. OKAY MAMA? RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Sure thing! I just made you some, here they are.” (we are playing pretend you see. In fact, we’re playing pretend about 95% of the time).

Bitzy: OH MAMA. THEY ARE DELCIOUS MOMMY DARLING. YOU GOOD BAKER COCO. MAMA IS YOU NAME COCO MOMMY?”

Runs in the other room laughing.

Me: “Yes! My name is CoCo for sure. Mommy CoCo needs you to come downstairs and eat bacon. I know that baby CoCo is hungry, right?”

Bitzy: “MINE NAME IS NOT COCO. IT’S PRINCESS DARLING DARLING. RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Okay Princess Darling Darling, would you like to eat some royal bacon?”

Bear in mind that I am pushing bacon harder than the meth addict at the Wal-Mart because…

A. Bacon is awesome.

B. Brother is fussy and ready for a nap. In order to feed him and give him said nap, I need for a certain 2 year old to be still for about 6 minutes downstairs while I get Brother to sleep upstairs.

C. She is starving even though she doesn’t know it. A sure fire way of knowing that she’s hungry is her incessant begging for milk. She’s ALWAYS been a milk addict, but when she’s hungry it goes from “I WANT MILK!” to “I WANT MILK MAMA, MILK, MILK, MILKY, MILK!” And if she’s really starving it goes, “I WANT BRUDDERS MILKY MILK. I WANT HIS CAKE.” You see, she insists that “Brudders milk” tastes like cake. Granted, she has barely eaten cake in her short life, but really? My milk tastes like cake? Maybe I should market my magic cake milk.

And I digress. Back to the story.

Me: “Listen baby, we really need to go downstairs because Brother is fussy and Mama needs to put him down for a nap.”

Bitzy: “NO WAY MAMA. MY BABY IS NO SLEEPY. HE IS HAPPY BOY! HE MY BABY BOY, BABY BOY, BABY BOY. BRUDDER AND SISSY ARE BEST BUDDIES. MAMA! I WANT MILK. MILKY MILKY. PWEASE MOMMY, I NEED MILKY. BRUDDERS MILK. NOW MOMMY PWEASE!”

Me: “Baby, let’s have a happy day, not a sad day, OK? Don’t make me put you in time out. I’m going to ask you one more time to go downstairs OK. Do you understand?”

Bitzy: “SURE MAMA. BABY COCO DARLING DARLING LOVES BACON AND BABY SOOOOOO MUCH. AND CINDERELLA TOO. WES BEST BUDDIES.”

Me: “Great! Let’s go Darling Darling.”

Bitzy: “NO NO NO NO NO NO! MINE NAME IS SISTER BEAR, NOT DARLING DARLING. YOU SILLY MAMA.”

Clearly, my method isn’t working. I try a different approach.

Me: “Oh Bitzy! I think that Santa may have left a very special prize for you last night. Let’s go downstairs and get it!’

Bitzy: “OH SANTA! I LOVE HIM. HE IS SOOOOO NICE! HE GOT RUDOLOP AND ELF TOO. HE IS SO SWEET MAMA! OKAY LET’S GO MAMA!”

Me: “Great idea! Let’s go!”

Meanwhile I scan the room for a toy, book, crayon, ANYTHING that she hasn’t played with for awhile and may have forgotten about, but I got nothing.

So we get downstairs (finally) and she says, “OKAY! WHAT MY PRIZE MAMA?”

Me: “Guess what?! Santa brought you a baby brother! Sweet Santa! He brought you the best Christmas prize ever!”

Bitzy: “YOU SNEAKY MAMA. YOU TRICKED ME AGAIN! HOW ‘BOUT BACON TIME?!”

Clearly, this ain’t our first rodeo.

Ya know those moments in life where you want time to stop? The moments that should be frozen in time and celebrated again and again?

We had one of those yesterday.

Typically Monday mornings are tough because we’re all adjusting to Daddy being at work. I know that sounds silly, but it’s true. Bitzy especially has a tough time. It’s a real heartbreaker when she wakes up in the morning all bright eyed and bushy-tailed and in the middle of reading books, rocking and nursing she looks at me and says, “WHERE DADDY AT?” I say, “Oh baby I’m so sorry, but Daddy is at work.”

Then the cries come.

The desperate, “NO, NO, NO. I WANT MY DADDY. I MISS MY DADDY. HE COME HOME NOW?”

It’s truly pitiful.

After she rejoins the world from the pit of her despair we all have to readjust.

That said, sometimes Mondays are a good day for an adventure. We get out of the house and “go to town” as my Mama would say.

So yesterday we had some errands to run, nothing major, but a few things that needed to happen. Things like picking up a prescription, using a Groupon at the store, and picking up an order at the mall.

Note: This is literally only the second time in Bitzy’s life that she can remember ever going to the mall. We’re just not really mall people. We’re Amazon.com people.

Anyway, picture us strolling into the mall in our Cadillac double stroller (which is somewhat like driving a tractor trailer. It’s big and loooooonnnnggggg), while I’m wearing Brother in the Bjorn. Bitzy is all, “WOW, WHOA, DID YOU SEE THAT MAMA? AWESOME! DOWN, PLEASE DOWN MAMA! I GET DOWN, DOWN, DOWN PLEASE!” Note that she’s just looking at racks of clothes and imagining how she can destroy as many displays as possible. It’s not like little elves are dancing at her eye level. Just boring racks of clothes.

I really resisted the urge of letting her frolic aimlessly in the department store, so we finally made it out into the mall  as I was convincing her to be patient.

But then, oh then it was all worth it. “MAMA, DID YOU SEE? IT’S A HORSEY IN THE SKY. IT’S A SUPERHERO HORSEY IN THE AIR. OH MAMA, THANK YOU FOR MY WATERFALL HORSEY IN THE JUNGLE!”

There is a place in one of our malls here with a pond of sorts. There are coins in the water made from hundreds of wishes and horses dancing through the sky. There are even huge palm trees.

When I looked around through 2 year old eyes, that is exactly what I saw. Horses flying through the sky and waterfalls in the jungle. As she looked around, she was amazed. Truly amazed. Then, she made up a story about the horses. “MAMA, THE HORSEY IS STUCK IN THE JUNGLE. I SAVE THEM. I SUPER BITZY BOO!”

And then, she said, “WHERE ALL DAT MONEY GO? I NEED MONEY TOO!”

I told her that sometimes people make a wish and throw money into the water and their wishes all come true. Then I said, “Bitzy, what’s your magic wish?”

She said, “I CLOSE MINE EYES AND MILLIONS OF WISHES FOR MY MOMMY TO BE BEST FRIEND ALWAYS. AMEN!”

And then, I died from delight.

All the while, my baby boy is laughing at Bitzy like she is the funniest thing in the world (which she is, if you ask me).

This simple moment was absolutely magical.

After lots of storytelling and laying on the ground looking up at the jungle (Bitzy, not me), and even laying on her belly gazing into the water (and me asking her NOT to lick the floor), I convinced her to run, run, run and find “The Nuggie House.” AKA: Chick Fila.

While we’re “running” which is really a whole lot more like prancing, we walk by a store that has music blaring. She stops and says, “MY MUSIC! IT’S TIME TO DANCE EVERYONE! I DANCING, I TWIRL. I A BALLERINA! MAMA, YOU DANCE WIT ME?”

Oh my goodness. Seeing my beautiful precious girl twirling and dancing in circles and literally making every person within ear shot smile from ear to ear, well, it just made my heart sing.

So, we danced. My Bitzy, Brother and I we danced right there in the middle of the mall with our tractor trailer stroller and diaper bag for a good 5 minutes. She didn’t want to stop…

And neither did I.

Dear time, please stand still. I’m having the time of my life.

Well friends, it’s been 4 months since beginning my trek through the ditches of Weight Watchers. I’m not gonna lie, this past month has been really tough.

I know on my last update I was all, “Wow WW is easy peasy delicious! Everyone in the whole wide world should do it.” And then, October happened with all its candy glory.

For a candy addict like myself, October and WW do not mix well. So, I kind of fell off the wagon so to speak. In fact, I fell into a pool of Milky Way, Twix and Snickers bars. Honestly, it was kind of awesome.

But now, all good things must come to an end and I’m back together with WW.

So now, after 4 months I’ve lost 31.6 pounds. Hooray!

I’m only a few pounds from my pre-baby weight and I’m hoping that I’ll exceed my goal and lose at least 10 more pounds by Christmas. We shall see…I can already smell the Christmas fudge cooking (which is never a good thing for the ole waistline).

How are you guys doing? Any reports on your adventures with WW? Recipes???

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 have been accused of being many things in my life.

Some good, some not so good, but no one can ever accuse me of not taking enough pictures.

Often when I ride down memory lane I will remember the pictures I took at the time and then weave all the memories together.

What did people do without cameras back in the day? They were probably much more concerned about milling their own wheat and trying to not get eaten by bears, right?

Maybe that’s why in all the old pictures people look so mad. They’re just tired!

Anyway, it’s safe to say that I’m obsessed with my family, we’ve established that to be sure. Part of that obsession includes capturing each moment and taking time now and later to ooo and ahhh over my sweet ones.

That said, wanna oooo and aahh with me?

Shall we?

Oh lets!

Notice that Bitzy is trying to put her sunglasses on, upside down.

My big boy enjoying his head not flopping around. Neck strength is really something to smile about!

Enjoying the beauty of the mountains.

My sister Katie and Brother just hanging out.

My little explorer.

How about a little eggs and bacon for your morning bike ride?

Fun day at the zoo!

Ah, isn’t love grand?!

Have a great weekend ya’ll!

Random picture for you. Sometimes my “excited eyes” become my creepy eyes. Yikes. Good thing my girl is SO CUTE.

As I sit, my two miracles are napping, I just took a shower, cleaned two bathrooms and sat down to write something wonderful for you, my sweet friends.

But, as I have suspected for awhile now, my brain is only firing on half cylinders. I have stared at this screen for five minutes without one original thought. And then I remembered a friend of mine once told me that after she had kids (she has 4), she lost some intellect and gained strengths in organization, multi-tasking, cooking, etc. At the time I thought she was nuts…but now, has this happened to me?

I can cook dinner with a baby on my hip with no problem, but for the life of me I cannot spell.

I can fold and put away laundry all while dancing like a champ to the Hokey Pokey, but I can’t remember the words to the Star Spangled Banner (could I ever?).

I am teaching my 22 month old how to count to 20, but I can barely remember how to do long division.

Am I alone here? Perhaps it’s exhaustion or forgetfulness. Maybe my brain will snap back.

All I know is when I look at this screen, my ideas take a nap and I’m left to wonder what kind of mush my brain will become with a couple more kiddos.

“I’m going to count to three.” (In my most stern “I mean it” voice).

“No Mommy, I sorry.” (In her “I’m so little and precious” voice).

“Baby please put on your listening ears and walk up the steps with mommy.”

“No, No, NOOOOOO.”

“Bitzy, do not tell mommy no.”

“I sorry mommy. ‘Give you?”

“Yes baby, mommy forgives you. Please come up stairs honey, brother is crying and we need to help him.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I sorry mama. I sorry. ‘Give you?”

“Yes baby, I forgive you. Please don’t tell mommy no. Now come on we have to go up stairs right now because brother needs us.”

Then she begins dancing in circles singing her version of Dora the Explorer theme song.

“Bitzy, please come on. We need to help brother now. I’m going to count to three and if you do not come here then you’re going to time out. Do you understand?”

“Yes mama. Luv you. Bootfull mama.”

“One.”

Continues dancing.

“Two.”

Runs into the kitchen singing more loudly.

“Three. OK, come on, you’re in trouble. Time-out time.”

Walks to me with her head down crying.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“I sorry mama. I luv u. Me troobull?”

“Yes baby. You’re in trouble for not listening. You have to go to timeout for one minute for not listening to mama.”

“OK mama. I sorry. ‘Give you?”

“Yes, I forgive you. Now sit still for one minute on the mat, it’s time-out.”

She starts crying (loudly).

“i loove you mama. ‘Give you. Pweese ‘give you. Make cup-cups for you?”

“Baby, please be quiet, you’re in time-out.”

More crying. Lots and lots of crying.

“Okay baby it’s been one minute. Give mommy hugs and kisses. Mommy loves you so much. You need to listen to mommy okay?”

“Okay mama. I loove you mama. I sowrry.”

“Baby, let’s go upstairs and help brother.”

“Sure, Mama. Fun baby, shuweet baby. Tiny baby.”

“Great! Let’s go!!

CRYING.

“NO, NO, NO. No like it.”

Runs away screaming like I’m asking her to gouge out her eyes with a spoon. When in fact I’m asking her to walking up the freaking steps where her baby brother has been whining/crying for 3 minutes as she loses her mind in Toddlerville.

“Bitzy, do you want to go to time-out again?”

“No mommy, no! Loove you mommy much.”

“Okay, then let’s go upstairs now.”

Rather than finally getting her to go up the steps of her own accord like a good mommy, I pick her up kicking and screaming and drop her off in her room and then tend to Brother. Meanwhile, she sits in the floor with her books and acts like she’s the happiest she’s even been.

Is this normal or should I invest in some kind of protective gear for when she turns two?

The kid is a roller coaster all day, everyday.

But, ya know what? It’s the greatest time I’ve ever had at a theme park!

Ha!

This picture has nothing to do with the post. Just a little eye candy for you.

In the land of mommy’s and daddy’s everywhere there are lots of questions that arise in the pursuit of raising tiny humans. Like, LOTS of questions.

While my experience is limited, having 2 babies under 2 hardly makes me an expert, I still have to make daily decisions for my family that are sometimes hard.

That said, let me preface this post by saying that these decisions are best for our family. Never in a million, bazillion years would I try to impose these decisions on other people. Because, well, they’re your babies, not mine.

Here are a few examples of daily decisions that come up:

1. Should we allow pacifiers? Yes, Yes, Yes. I love a good paci. We stuck a paci in Brothers mouth when he was only a few hours old. He has never had any issues with nursing because of it. I am a believer. Bitzy will sometimes still use one at naps and bedtime, but she has never been attached to it really, so I see no need to take it away at this point.

2. TV. I admit that I am psychotic about how many “shows” (as Bitzy calls them) she watches. I want TV to be a treat, not the norm. The TV is never just on. It’s only on while she is watching a show. Most days she watches 1 or 2 25 minute shows and I’m okay with that. I admit that sometimes that 25 minutes is a lifesaver. I can feed, change, snuggle Brother, unload the dishwasher, make breakfast…you get the idea. But again, that decision is one that our family has made. Sometimes it would be much more convenient to turn it on and let her watch endlessly, but we really want to encourage active playtime rather than TV.

3. Food. Again, I’m psycho, I do admit.  But honestly, I think my psychosis has paid off. Bitzy is a VERY healthy eater. As an infant I made all of her baby food and only offered healthy organic choices. Her favorites foods are cucumbers, apples, blueberries, peaches, oranges, peas and turkey bacon. She didn’t have sugar until her 1st birthday and didn’t again until she was 18 months. We don’t give her juice, only milk and water. She doesn’t ask for sugary treats, she asks for apples and tomatoes. It’s awesome.

Those are just a few examples of things that we have faced as new parents and continue to enforce on a daily basis. Another decision that we have made as a family is for me to continue nursing both Bitzy and Brother. The technical term is tandem nursing.

If you’ll remember I thought about weaning around 20 weeks into my pregnancy with Brother and it just didn’t happen (Read it Here). Bitzy simply wasn’t ready and honestly, neither was I.

I wish I could tell you that I did mega research on the benefits of nursing a toddler and memorized all the stats and was a card carrying member of the Le Leche league, but friends, I didn’t do any of that.

I simply went with my gut.

My gut said that my sweetheart wasn’t ready to wean and boy am I glad that I listened.

Nursing them both has made the transition from one baby to two so much easier. It’s as if Bitzy knows that her and Brother are on the same team. They have equal footing. She hasn’t showed any signs of jealousy or aggression toward him at all and I can’t help but think that nursing them both has played a part.

While I am proud to say that I nurse them both I realize that it’s not for everyone. It’s a personal choice.

Just like it’s my choice to not breastfeed in public. I have never been comfortable with nursing cover-ups and I personally do not feel comfortable pulling my shirt down in public to feed so I leave the room and feed them privately. I am not ashamed, I just feel more comfortable in private.

Sidetrack: One day in Target I met a gal with 3 little boys, ages 5, 3 and 10 months. She had the infant in a baby carrier and he was crying as we chatted. To try to appease him she pulled out her breast and began feeding him. For her, it was perfectly normal and acceptable. For me, it was uncomfortable, I’m not gonna lie. But ya know what?  To each his own. Feed in public, feed in private- whatever dudes.

I guess the reason that I am writing this is to enforce that the quote “To each his own” is especially true in parenting. There are so many strong opinions about this that and the other and I just don’t understand why people get so bent out of shape. We’re all just doing the best we can, no?

Sure, if you see a child being abused it’s your responsibility to speak up, but otherwise I think it’s wise to remember that “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say it at all.” I am forever amazed at how people feel so strongly about the craziest things that do not effect them in any way and use harsh words to express their opinion.

Aren’t we all in this together friends? Raising babies is tough and we need to support and love each other, right? Can I get an AMEN?!

Thoughts? Comments?

As I have said before, I don’t really understand grammar. Sure, I have a basic understanding and I try to not sound like the total hillbilly that I actually am (thank you mountains of NC), but overall, I have more questions about grammar than I have answers.

Rather than taking responsibility for this shortcoming, I’ll blame it on public education. Blame is the American way after all. Darn public schools! It’s all your fault! (Truth be told I was probably combing my hair or drawing pictures of rainbows rather than actually learning whether I should use “I” or “me” or when to use that blasted apostrophe).

All this to say, my precious Bitzy has formed quite the vocabulary these days. The word “sponge” comes to mind. You say it and she’ll repeat it. It’s incredible!

So while I won’t become an English professor anytime soon, I may have a future in Toddler Translation.

You see, Bitzy’s words aren’t exactly clear.

So I am her self designated interpreter.  

Here are some examples:

“LADY, STOORY, BIRON, COW, MOO, PEAS, FANK YOU, WECOME, NICE, SHWEET.”

This is translated, “Today at the store, we bought a barn with a cow and bird. We gave it to the lady at checkout, she was nice and sweet. We said, please and thank you and she said, ‘You’re welcome.”

Another? “CHIDREN, TEENY, JEEZSES, SONG, PEAS.”

Translation: “Can we sing Jesus loves the little children please?”

More? This is fun, no? “MAMA, MILKY, COUCH, HELP, PEAS, TEENY, BOOK.”

Translation: “Can we sit on the couch with the baby, read a book and drink milk please?”

I know that I’ve said it before and I’m sure to say it again, but every single day is better than the last with these little people. It is shocking how much fun it is to be a mommy. I knew that I would love my babies, but I didn’t consider the absolute JOY they would bring.

These days my friends, just get sweeter and sweeter.

Or SHWEETER and SHWEETER as my Bitzy would say.

When I’m in the midst of a millions beautiful moments I continuously vow to capture them in my mind and lock them in. I can’t imagine ever forgetting the tiny details that seem to make up my every day.

But then, I did and I do.

I forgot all about newborn cross-eyes.

How could I forget this? It’s just about the cutest thing ever. My little sweetheart will be looking around smiling away and the next thing you know his sweet little eyes are crossed.

I forgot all about newborn squeaks.

The yummy sounds of contentment from a precious new life.

I forgot all about spit up.

Yup, I sure did. No worries, now I am very familiar.

I forgot about burping.

The first two weeks of my darlings life I didn’t burp him once. How could I forget this detail? I dunno, but I did.

I forgot about the tininess.

Even though I birthed a big boy, his features are still so tiny. His adorable little toes, fingernails, button nose, and wrinkly little tushy. In fact, Bitzy named him “Tiny” the day he was born. She met him and said, “Tiny Baby” and ever since if you ask her his name she says, “Tiny.”

I forgot about the intensity of the love.

With Bitzy, I have had 20 beautiful months to fall head over heels in love with her. I know her likes and dislikes. I understand her broken English, I can read her moods. I know her. In fact, I know her better than anyone. She is my heart. My precious gift, my miracle.

But with Brother I love him just as hard as Bitzy amazingly enough. How did my heart grow a million times bigger when I met him? Can a heart explode from loving too much? I hope not because I am seriously smitten. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that I would be. But I forgot about the intensity…the amazing gift of a mommy’s love for her new baby…I simply forgot how it felt to experience it.

But don’t worry, it’s all coming back.

Life is so good.

*Thank you to www.kathlynparrottph​otography.com for the beautiful photography!

Lately, my hair is a wreck. I can’t even remember the last time it was cut. It’s big and poofy and I am sorry to admit that it’s in a pony tail 99% of the time. But guess what? The babies don’t care about my silly hair.

Lately, I only wear yoga pants and spit up stained shirts, and I look like a hot mess constantly.  But guess what? The babies don’t care about my clothes.

Lately, I am exhausted. Turns out that being up several times a night with a newborn and playing like a crazy woman all day with a toddler is tiring. But guess what? The babies don’t care how tired I am.

Lately, my housekeeping isn’t quite what it once was. Sure, the house is still clean and tidy, but it’s far from spotless. There are clothes that are currently in the dryer that need to be folded and put away, and the rugs could really use a good vacuuming. But guess what? The babies don’t care about how clean this house is.

Lately, I find myself desperate to relish this precious time with my babies and soak up every second. I want to play and teach and hug and kiss and cuddle and sing and dance and laugh and LOVE. And Guess what? That’s what my babies need the most.

My beautiful boy.

Well friends, tomorrow marks 6 beautiful weeks since I met my little boy. In some ways it feels as if I’ve known him forever, like we have always been a part of each other, and others it feels like just yesterday that I gazed into his eyes for the first time.

Time is funny like that I suppose.

That said, in the land of medicine six weeks is the magic number given for women who have pushed a tiny human (or in my case, not so tiny- 9lbs, 9 oz), to begin losing weight and begin exercising.

Not that I followed that advice with Bitzy. With her I totally ignored the whole six weeks thing and waited four solid months before lifting a finger. I’m going to blame that on winter. It was freaking freezing outside and I just couldn’t bear to begin until the spring. Well, and those chocolate chips were amazing.

This time around it’s just too hot outside to be fat. I’m totally grossing myself out with my thighs rubbing together in this dreadful heat. So, it’s time friends. It’s so time.

I’m a large lady. It’s so time for WW. However, my handsome Daddy and baby Bitzy are quite stunning, no?

No more Dairy Queen French Silk Pie Blizzards (totally amazing). No more Banana Pudding Milkshakes from Chick-Fila (although they discontinued them, apparently my efforts to keep them around forever weren’t enough). No more french fries, Dr. Pepper, pizza and chocolate. It’s all over.

This is, of course, for the best. One cannot live on junk food forever. It’s time that my body meet vegetables again. Molly meet squash, squash meet Molly.

WW are me are old pals so hopefully it won’t be too painful. Although now that they have a new points system I’m going to be a novice (which is scary). Not to worry, since I’m nursing my new handsome prince at least 59 times per day I get extra breastfeeding points which will help curb my candy addiction. Hooray!!!

I’ll keep you posted on my progress. Hopefully my thighs will thank me soon enough!

PS: If you have any WW or low-fat recipes you’d like to share I am all ears:).

I’m gonna go ahead and warn you, I’m full of all sorts of post-partum lovey dovey hormones, so if you aren’t in the mood for a lovefest then I suggest that you stop reading here…

Because friends, I gotta tell you, I’m in love, I mean IN LOVE, with my “station” in life at this very moment.

There is truly not a day that goes by that Zach and I don’t talk about how blessed we are to live this life. How absolutely incredible our Bitzy is. How miraculous it is to have a new tiny human, Brother, that has entered our family and has integrated so easily. How beautiful it is to watch our babies grow each day, learning and experiencing new things.

This life, it’s a miracle.

A beautifully blessed miracle.

Today while Brother was taking one of his epic 3 hour naps (amazing I tell you), Bitzy and I were playing in her room after she woke up from her nap (yes, they were both sleeping at the same time, thank you Jesus). Before I put her down for her nap we read the Golden Book version of Alice in Wonderland. After her nap she wanted to read “ABBIT, ALICE, AGHEEN,” translation: Rabbit, Alice, Again. So we read it again and then she hopped off my lap and started looking under the ottoman and saying “ABBIT, HOLE, TEA, COOKIE, HAT, ALICE!” At first I couldn’t figure out what in the world she was doing, then when I got in the floor to look  under the ottoman to see what the world she was babbling about, it dawned on me. She was playing pretend that Alice and the White Rabbit had a hole under the ottoman in her room where they went to the tea party with the Madhatter.

SERIOUSLY? My 19 month old is in an imaginary world and is allowing me to be a part of it. Have I ever had more fun in my entire life you ask? Nope. Never. We played Alice in Wonderland in her room for a solid hour, just me and my girl. How in the world am I so lucky to live this life?

And my baby? My tiny little precious baby boy is 4 (whole) weeks old. He’s always hungry and growing like crazy, and he’s healthy. Amazingly, beautiful, miraculously healthy. This fact is not lost on me. I think of all the sweet people that spend their days in the NICU with their littles and how incredible it is that I had a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby. It honestly brings tears to my eyes that he is so beautifully healthy.

I’m not gonna lie, the past 4 weeks of having a newborn with a young toddler hasn’t all been easy and sunshiny. There have been moments where both the babies were screaming, I’m carrying them both up the stairs while the phone is ringing and someone is at the door and I am about to hyperventilate from the stress of it, but for the most part, it’s been a beautiful transition. We are continuing to grow and figure out what works and what doesn’t, but all in all, we’re enjoying one big lovefest up in here.

(This would also be a good time to give a shout out to my amazing husband, my partner and my love: without you, this family wouldn’t work at all. You are the cheese to all of our macaroni.)

I’m still not sure why and how I get to live this life, but boy am I thankful.

What are you thankful for today?

Introducing…

Tatum Bennett Nelson

9 pounds 9 ounces 21.5 inches long

Born May 26, 2011 at 2:29pm

Love at first sight.

Well my due date has come and gone friends.

It’s true. My womb is apparently awesome. My babies love it and refuse to leave it without a good ole fashioned eviction notice.

With Bitzy, I was 10 days late and literally on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was losing my ever loving mind. With this little boy (for the most part), I’ve accepted the awesomeness of my womb and declared that his papers will be served on Thursday and that is that.  No tears, no frustration, no heartache…just a calm readiness.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take what I can get. If he decides to come tonight, I’m not arguing…but I’m not holding my breath either.

In the midst of watching my due date come and go, I can’t help but be grateful that I seem to produce very full term, big, healthy babies.  There are plenty of families in the NICU who would love to be overdue rather than delivering at 25 weeks gestation.

This, my friends, is the perspective that I need when I’m practically doing a three point turn in the bed at night just to roll over. Or when my little one kicks my privates so hard that my sciatic nerve buckles and I can hardly walk. Or even when carrying around a toddler all day in addition to the huge watermelon in my belly makes my back ache and takes the word “exhaustion” to a whole new level, I am finding myself grateful.

This, is a gift my friends.

God is faithful in giving me these tough reminders.

Anyway, there’s your update on the baby in my belly…hopefully I’ll have pictures of his perfect little self on Thursday!

Maternity pictures are a funny thing. They document the miracle of pregnancy, however, they also capture the hugeness of a person during her final and most unfortunate looking days of pregnancy…the “they” that I’m speaking of is “me.”

I’ve seen the “sexy” maternity photos where the mama is practically naked with wind blowing through her hair, she looks glorious and glowing and bursting with life.

You see friends, I have come to a conclusion about pregnancy. Are you ready? It’s really profound. Get ready.

There are some people (not me) that look amazing while pregnant. They look better, feel better and seem to GLOW. Then, there are people in my category. We are tired, look awful and rather than glowing it’s more akin to sweaty.

I’m not complaining though. I do not take the absolute miracle and gift of pregnancy for granted for one single second. I know plenty of people who would love to feel the pains of pregnancy. So, that said, I have accepted the fact that I get massively huge during pregnancy.

Truth hurts people. Again, not complaining. Just gearing up for my next round of WW in a few months.

Anywho, back to maternity pics.

Perhaps I should have had them taken when I was around 5 or 6 months before every surface of my body decided to celebrate pregnancy by expanding…but alas I did not.

At least I can show these pictures to my darling children and remind them of how I completely forfeited my body in order to grant them life…I can see a future guilt trip coming on. I gotta put these things in my back pocket for them they are teenagers and I have to prepare all the ammunition possible.

While I don’t love the way I look, I do love my amazing family…this picture makes me smile.

Hopefully it’ll make you smile too.

Me to Zach: “I really need to write a blog, but I’m just so tired. I can’t do it.”

Zach: “You should write a blog about how you’re too tired to write a blog.”

So there you have it. Here I am, whining about how tired I am. Original isn’t?

It’s true folks, I’m a pooped puppy.

I know that the whole wide world is tired and there are starving children, so really, what do I have to complain about?

I like to consider it whining more than complaining though. There is a difference ya know.

Me and my dear friend Julie. We’re due only a week apart! Crazy isn’t?

So anyway…I’m now 34 weeks preggers and feeling every bit of it. Up until this point I have honestly felt great, like surprisingly great. I have had the energy to chase after my Bitzy, clean house during nap times, work 2 days a week, cook every night and not be a total zombie in the evenings. I have been shocked at my energy levels…but friends, times they are a’changing.

Almost overnight I have been slapped silly with exhaustion.

Not to mention that I’m bigger than Mount Olympus. It’s true, I’m a large lady.

At my 32 week ultrasound they estimated that our new little Buddy was already 5 pounds. That’s scary folks.

Bitzy was 8 pounds, 9 ounces and 21 inches long at birth and she was 10 days late…it’s looking like little buddy may blow that outta the water.

I know that some of you probably had 10 pounders, (God bless you every one)…but I’m telling you, pushing an 8.5 pounder out of my body for 3 hours wasn’t my favorite experience ever.

All that to say, in addition to the Banana Pudding Milkshakes that I’m wearing on both of my thighs I have a huge baby that is encompassing my belly.

So excuse me for being a blogging slacker…right now my main priority is taking care of my little family without totally passing out.

Love to all,

My sweet pea,

I fear that I’m awfully late on writing your 16 month letter simply because it’s way more fun to play with you and be with you than writing about/to you!

It’s true…you are so much fun to be with. I laughingly call you my sidekick, but it’s true. You’re my little best friend. I just love being with you, laughing with you, playing and delighting in you darling.

Playing with babies is a common theme in our house. You LOVE to put your babies to down for naptime.

There isn’t one morning snuggle time, daytime playtime or evening night-night routine that I take for granted. I absolutely cherish every moment with you…I believe that our sweet heavenly Father has given me this gift. I never tire of you…ever. I hope and pray that He will also give you the gift of appreciation of this beautiful life that we get to share together. We are blessed my love…so very, very blessed to have each other.

These days you are still completely obsessed with being outside. You love it like no other. You love your puppies (as per usual), coloring, playing with sticks, blowing bubbles and digging in the dirt. It is such a joy to watch you piece this puzzle of a world together through the wonderment of the outdoors. I’m looking so forward to the weather warming up so that we can play outside all day, every day.

Bitzy with her sweet cousin. They are so precious together.

The clock is still ticking on when your baby brother will arrive…only 6 more weeks ’til you’re a big sister!!!  You’ve been hearing a lot of this term “big sister” and I know that it means nothing to you at this point, but you’ll learn soon enough how much little brother is gonna change your life. I just know that you are going to be an amazing big sister. You are so loving and compassionate I’m positive that you will be the best big sister ever!!!

Again, I just cannot stress to enough have very much your daddy and me love and adore you. We are so grateful and thrilled to be your mommy and daddy and we thank God every day for you and your precious heart.

Love you to the moon and back,

Mama

1. The other day I ate 12 miniature peppermint patties in 1 minute. That’s right. There was no timer or contest, it was just me eating them ravenously. I don’t regret it. In fact, I’m kind of impressed with myself.

2. Also? I love Samoas guts. Like, really love ‘em. There is no limit to how many I could eat. While I have no record (yet), I love them with my whole heart. Thank you Girl Scouts, thank you.

3. Oh, and I love this too. That’s right. It’s my new bath tub! Every time I look at it, “Hello Lover” pops out of my mouth. Historically I’m not really into taking baths, I’m much more of a shower kind of girl…but with this beauty, times, they are a’changin’.

4. Also, I’m bigger than a barn. It’s true. I stood beside a barn today and practically swallowed it. It’s a real situation. My doctor assures me that I’m measuring “right on”…but I know he’s lying. If I’m having twins and he’s not telling me I’m gonna be real upset.

5. Speaking of twins, praise the Lord that no one has asked me (yet) if I’m growing two tiny humans in my womb. I think I may just burst into tears if they did. But we should get the tissues ready, because it’s inevitable. Some idiot will ask me and I’ll have to blush and say, “no, just the one” and then I will verbally abuse them in my head for the next 50 years of my life.

6. The other day I had a thought about what I was really good at. Ya know, like really good at…and NO LIE, three things popped into my head. 1.) Being a wife. 2.) Being a mommy and 3.) Being the best dang chubby bunny competitor on the planet. The fact that I am positive that I could beat anyone, anywhere, in a chubby bunny competition is a bit disturbing to even me. Do I need counseling?

7. I love my new house. LOVE IT.

8. Do all mamas think that their child is the cutest kid in the whole wide world? If not, I’m in trouble…my Bitzy just keeps getting cuter every day (even if she hates having her picture taken!).

9. I’m 31 weeks pregnant in case you’re counting. Not that I am or anything.

10. And finally, in an effort to covet things that I cannot afford I want to share this beautiful patio table with you, click here. Also, I want these chairs too (while we’re daydreaming of course).  I dare say that even if I were a bazillionaire I would feel weird about spending $900 on an outdoor table and $399 PER CHAIR, that my puppies could/would destroy. So since I’m NOT a bazillionaire I think I’m going with this patio furniture instead. Good and inexpensive, just the way I like it.

Love to all! Have a happy day!~

PS: Like my little stories? I would really appreciate it if you’d vote for me here and here.

I was around 24 weeks in this pic. Now at 28 weeks I’m at least 899% bigger. It’s a real situation.

Remind me never to get pregnant again in the winter okay?

No really.

When I was preggers with Bitzy we found out in February and by the time I was actually showing and starting to feel the effects of growing a tiny human, it was spring. I totally missed the plagues of winter.

Granted I had a whole lot of other annoying pregnancy issues, but at least I wasn’t sick all the time.

On the other hand, with this new little baby boy growing inside of me we found out in September, which puts me smack dab in the middle of pregnancy misery in the dead of winter.

So far, I have had two terrible bouts of bronchitis coupled with the special treat of a sinus infection, and most recently, a stomach flu which put me inches away from having to get fluids at labor and delivery.

Again, remind me that pregnancy is winter is a really bad idea. Sure, there is no swelling from the hellish heat, but standing at deaths door from the plagues of winter and apparently nonexistent immunity, make for a tough few months.

(Maybe this has something to do with the fact that I am, in fact, growing a tiny human as well as nursing a toddler…hmmm..something to consider).

Anyway, the moral of the story is that I hate being sick. Hate it. And I have become quite familiar with sickness this winter, which is a drag in general.

However, I will pledge to be sick forever rather than to watch my sweet little angel be sick ever again. My goodness that sweetie is so pitiful when she’s a sicko.

There is generally a 1-2 day window between when I contract the disease and when Bitzy gets it.

For example, on Friday night around 8:00pm I began feeling terrible, and by 3:00am I was on the phone with my OB begging him to call me in medicine to help me stop vomiting in order to not have to go to labor and delivery due to dehydration. I was in a bad place.

Fast forward 48 hours to Sunday night and around 9:00pm I hear my sweetheart crying on the monitor, which despite our sleep wars of the past, nowadays if she wakes up in the middle of the night it is very strange indeed.

After obsessing and pacing with my handy dandy video monitor I finally ventured upstairs to check on her.

I was not prepared for what I found .

She was covered from head to toe in vomit. The sheets, her lovely, even her sleep sheep were covered.

Needless to say, she was completely confused and pathetic.

I practically broke my neck to run to her and cuddle her despite her unfortunate stench. She whimpered and snuggled close to me.

She was so completely covered that we had to give her a bath, which was confusing to her and apparently devastating. The entire bath she wailed and screamed, it was pitiful.

Unfortunately this particular virus wasn’t a one vomit wonder. There were lots. Like lots and lots. Finally, after several rounds of changing her pajamas and changing my shirts we ended up back in the rocking chair skin to skin with a blanket wrapped around us.

There was something so simple and almost primitive about it. It was beautiful in fact. A mother and daughter clinging to each other, not only for heat but for reassurance. I needed to know that she was okay and that this would pass and she needed to know that her mama was there.

I probably whispered, “It’s okay baby, mama is here” at least 100 times in the wee hours of the morning as we clung to each other.

It was a rite of passage I suppose.

Motherhood isn’t just about reading the same book 20 times a day. Or giving baths and snuggles. Or even about begging God to protect the little person that has totally captured my heart in a short 15 months.

It’s about being there.

Being present.

Being the one person that she wants most in all the world when she feels that her little world is being shaken apart.

I don’t have to be the prettiest or the funniest mama ever. I don’t have to know all the right answers and always do everything right. But I do have to be there. To hold and rock and whisper that everything is going to be okay. To comfort, adjust and teach. To love.

To always love.

That’s what I learned about motherhood through the plague.

A hard fought lesson, but a necessary one nonetheless.