Four Months Old

23rd November 2015

Four Months Old

Yesterday marked four months since my little chunk joined us in this world, and I love him so.

I truly don’t understand how I ever lived without him, and it’s so crazy to me how kids can make you feel that way.

His smile is absolutely contagious and he has the most loving personality.

He loves to grab my face and pull me in close for kisses, and he makes old ladies’ days wherever we go with his flirting ways.

Food is on the horizon and it’s a good thing, because he is beyond ready. He is always trying to take my food off of the plate, licking his lips and everything.

He’s desperate to catch up to his brother. Watching him fall into a giggle fit from “playing” with Declan is basically the greatest thing of all time.

Sometimes I’m blown away by just how much of a person he is already. I mean… you know what I mean.

It’s like, watching him respond and react to the things going on around him— it’s just an incredible thing.

This month he has had his two bottom front teeth coming, so it’s been extra nursing and extra cuddles up in here. I can’t say I mind it, though.

Honestly, knowing Bennett is my last has allowed me to really treasure each moment.

With Declan, I was always looking forward to his next milestone because I was so excited to watch him grow.

But I know from experience how fast it all goes, so this time I just want to soak it all up.

We got the okay from his pediatrician today to start rice cereal, which means my little man is one step closer to not needing me as much anymore.

I’ve got a feeling that the first time a spoonful of banana touches his lips he’s going to be like, “peace out, breastmilk!”

Luckily, he’ll have to deal with me for at least another 8 months until he is one, because mama isn’t ready to let that one go.

My in-laws are coming to town this week and will finally get to meet B, so that’s going to be really exciting.

He is so much better with people than Declan was, and really lets everyone and anyone hold him, so they will be able to get plenty of snuggles in.

It’s my goal to get back on here before Thursday, but in case I don’t (hashtag: mom life), I hope everyone has a fantastic Thanksgiving!


The Girl With The Hummingbird Tattoo

13th November 2015

The story— because there’s always one with me— goes a little something like this:

When I was 20, my grandma died.

Sad, but expected right? I mean, old people die.

The thing is, she wasn’t supposed to die. Well, I guess she was, because she did— but you get my drift.
One day she was fine and the next she was lying in a hospital bed doped up and barely able to communicate.
My grandma and I were very close.

Like, I legitimately would go to her house by myself to hang out with her, kind of close. She always treated me like an equal and I loved that.
So when she died, I felt like a part of my heart died right along with her.
Que in the empty heart tattoo I got on my right shoulder to represent that void.

It was the following year that my mom got diagnosed with terminal cancer, and the sheer thought of losing her too made the void deeper and ultimately, led me to start this blog.
Somewhere along the line I knew I wanted to get a tattoo that connected to my grandmas, for my mom.

I fell in love with the idea of a hummingbird because I had always likened my mom to one.

After all, she is quiet, graceful, and beautiful just like they are.

But as I began to learn more about them, I realized how much more in common they had than I had initially realized— I realized how much in common I had with them too.

Hummingbirds fly over 3,000 miles every year during their migration, in harsh weather conditions and over 100 of miles of water. They are fearless in flight and overcome several obstacles making them courageous, resilient, and determined.

Hummingbirds also represent joy and a lightness of being.

Because they are so swift and small, when they appear out of seemingly nowhere, they delight people.

Have you seen the way a person’s face lights up when they spot a hummingbird? It’s like finding a secret treasure in a garden.


So I took my empty heart and I turned it into a lock— because I wanted to lock away those pivotal moments of sorrow in my life.

I’m not erasing them, I’m not hiding them, I’m guarding them because they have shaped me into the woman I am.

And the hummingbird?

She drinks from the heart and fills herself up with triumph, love, and joy.

She is beautiful and colorful and full of life.

A glorious, exciting surprise in a world of darkness— bringing happiness to everyone around her— striving to overcome life’s hardships and persevere.

My tattoo is a lot like this blog.

Both ideas began because of my mom and both have grown to be even bigger than just a way to cope with her having cancer.

My mom has always taught me that we never stop growing and changing.

I’ve watched her go through a divorce, lose both of her parents, battle cancer, and fight kidney disease.

I’ve also witnessed her bless people and fill their hearts with joy.

Countless times she would buy groceries for families that were struggling and leave them at their doorsteps and she always supported my endeavors when I saw a friend’s family in need and wanted to help.

My soft-spoken, shy mother, taught me how to be a voice for people who can’t or are too afraid to speak up.

The example she set through her kindness and resilience is the foundation in which I have been able to take a blog about sorrow and turn it into a blog about joy.

It is how I have been able to bless others through acts of kindness and giveaways.

And so we are both the hummingbird.

She represents the most wonderful parts of me— the qualities and traits I got from my mom.


Jesus And The Starbucks Holiday Cup

11th November 2015

It all started when Jesus took the wheel into a Starbucks drive thru line the other day.  He prophesied that holiday cups would be back way before it was announced, so naturally, we were the first people in line that morning. I was sitting shotgun, because I’m his fav, and we pulled up to the window.

“Thank you for choosing Starbucks, what can I get for you today?” 

J responded, “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

I leaned over and yelled out of His window, “He said just a moment please.”

I turned to Jesus and got serious.

 “I really want a shot of sugar free vanilla in my coffee, but I’m trying to be good. What would you do?”

And he was all, “I’d get crazy and go for it.”

So I did.

Because, you know, that’s what Jesus would do.

 He tried to order wine, but after I reminded Him they didn’t have any, He settled for a chia tea latte instead.

 Since J paid for all of my sins, I always buy the coffee, so I pulled out my wallet and handed Him my Starbucks gold card.

The barista handed us our drinks and J stopped in his tracks.

 “There must be some mistake. You see, I prophesied that your holiday cups would be back today, but the ones we just received are plain red. Where are the snowflakes? The reindeer? SANTA’S SLEIGH?!” 

 “I’m sorry sir. These are our new holiday cups.” 

 A fury unlike any we’ve seen since the first testament came out in Him.

 He tossed His chai tea latte out the window and declared, “this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

I looked down at His nail-scared hands and gave Him a look.

“Okay—second worst thing. But it’s a pretty close second.”

J always gets a little sensitive around His birthday, but I thought He’d be happy to see Santa gone from the cups.

After all, that guy has been stealing Christmas away from Jesus for years now.

Before I could talk to Him about it, a crowd had formed outside of the Starbucks and J insisted we join in.

 They were holding signs that read, “Starbucks hates Jesus” and “Merry Christmas Starbucks” as they yelled at people in line and urged them to choose Jesus over the peppermint mocha they came for.

By now, the crowd had grown into a mob. I turned my head for only a moment, and lost J in the chaos.

“Jesus? Where are you Jesus?” I yelled over the roar of angry un-caffeinated folks.

One guy thought I was contributing and gave me a high five.

“Yeah! Where is Jesus, Starbucks?” 

“No I’m sorry, you misunderstand. I’m looking for my friend Jesus. I lost Him in this crowd and we were supposed to go to the mall after this.”

But the man couldn’t hear me, or didn’t care to, and kept on chanting.

I finally broke free from the crowd and found myself sitting just outside of it, scanning the group for J.

This wasn’t the first time I had lost Jesus to an angry mob— He was probably mid-parable or something, so I decided to just sit back, drink my coffee, and wait for Him to find me.

Just then, I noticed a man sitting by the dumpster.

He had holes in his shoes and was covered in dirt from head to toe. A hoodie and long tresses covered his face, but somehow I could see sadness in his eyes.

Something drew me to him and I watched as he scanned the area to make sure nobody was looking before searching around in the trash. He pulled out a half eaten sandwich, an apple core, and the remains of a juice box. Then he carefully laid each piece out, as if to set his table for breakfast, and bowed his head in prayer.

I pushed through the crowd and walked inside. The same barista greeted me cautiously (since our last encounter involved J throwing his drink out of the window) and I ordered a breakfast sandwich, fruit cup, oatmeal, water, and— a venti coffee in a plain red cup.

She asked my name, but instead I asked if I could borrow the pen to write it myself.

She was reluctant, so I slipped a $10 bill into the tip jar and she passed the bad boy my way.

I scribbled a note and walked back through the angry crowd. As I made my way, every person turned to me with words of distain over my purchase.

By the time I reached the man at the dumpster, all eyes were on us and the crowd fell silent.

I sat beside him and handed him the food, water, and plain red cup of coffee I had purchased.

He read the message I had written on his cup aloud:

 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13

Just then, he lifted his head and everyone’s jaws dropped.

It was Jesus.

I should have known He would pull a “test your morality” stunt— that’s so Him.

He looked out to the crowd and spoke:

“Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. – 1 John 2:9”

Then he gestured at me to continue. I don’t like public speaking, but it’s not like I could just tell Jesus no, so I went for it.

“You were all so consumed by hate that you didn’t notice the opportunity to truly celebrate Jesus that was right in front of your eyes.

Christmas is all around us, if you’re willing to fight for it. But fighting for it does not mean protesting cups— it means showing the world that despite their efforts to erase the true spirit of the holiday, it continues to live on through us. Jesus’s love is something that cannot be taken away— it isn’t phased by a new holiday rollout. So don’t let your love, your kindness, your spirit of Christmas, phase out with the snowflake red cups.”

Someone in the crowd started a slow clap, and before I knew it signs were on the floor and everyone was cheering. A car in the drive thru line rolled down their windows and Simple Minds, Don’t You (Forget About Me) started playing— and Jesus threw his fist in the air Judd Nelson style as He walked through the crowd and disappeared into the sun.

“Hey, you were my ride. I thought we were going to the mall!” I yelled.

And that’s the story of when Jesus made me take the bus home.




25 FREE Thanksgiving Printables

9th November 2015

Let’s cut to the chase— I love printables.

There, I said it. My secret is out.

The truth is, I craft and cook and bake and organize all the time. 

And I know people love to read about a good project or a seriously delicious dish with hidden veggies for your toddler, yet I rarely post about such things.

However, they are a big part of my life as a stay-at-home mom and so I would like to start sharing that side of me as well.

I never want to stop growing or changing, and the same goes for this little slice of pie I call a blog.

I’m not going to stop telling you all of my stories, because story telling is what I do best— but I’ve realized that I have more to offer this space than I’ve been giving, and I want that to change.

So don’t expect a decrease in my usual style posts, but do expect an increase in tutorials, recipes, etc.

And with that, I would like to share an awesome, Thanksgiving printables roundup.

One of my favorite things to do with D is scan Pinterest for fun, free printables.

From ones I can use for decoration, to crafts and projects for my toddler, print outs are an easy way to have some holiday fun for little to no money.

I did the dirty work for you and found 25, perfectly free and wonderful printables for your Thanksgiving enjoyment, so here you go!


These are all great for leading up to the holiday or even on the day of, to help keep your little ones occupied while you’re busy in the kitchen!

{Thanksgiving Coloring Placemats Printable via Ella Claire}

{Thanksgiving Activity Sheets via Itsy Bitsy Fun}


{Thanksgiving Coloring Page Freebie via Teachers Pay Teachers}

{Leaf Stamping Tree Sheet Printable via Crafty Morning}

{Free Thanksgiving Printables via Mommy Octopus}

{Dinner Activity Mat & Turkey Printables via Amanda’s Parties To Go}

{Free Fall Printables via Mommy Octopus}

If your kids are a little older than mine, this would be the perfect entertainer for those last 20 minutes before dinner is ready, when they are starting to get antsy!

{Thanksgiving Day Placemat Printable via Reading With Kids}

And who doesn’t love Photo Booth props? These would probably never make it into an actual photo set-up in my house, but I know that D would have a blast playing with them!

{Thanksgiving Photo Booth Props via The Dating Divas}


I have this one up in my house right now and I LOVE it!

{Thankful Tree Free Printable via Craftionary}

{Free Fall Bucket List Printable via Domestic Superhero}

{Fall is Fabulous Free Printable via The TomKat Stuido}

{Thankful Printable via Daisy Cottage Designs}

How sweet would this be as a fall surprise for your spouse? Especially if they walked into this after a long day of making Thanksgiving dinner. (Hint, hint guys!)

{“Why I Fall For You” Printables via The Dating Divas}

{Well, Hello Fall via Nest of Posies}

{Gather Here Free Printable via It’s Overflowing}

{Fall Subway Art Printable via Bombshell Bling}

{Thankful Banner Printable via Shanty 2 Chic}


I usually have everything scribbled down on a piece of paper, but this year I’m excited to use this checklist print out!

{Thanksgiving Dinner Checklist Printable via Capturing Joy with Kristen Duke}

Love, Love, Love these and will definitely be using them at my own table this year.

{Be Grateful Utensil Holder Printable via Moritz Fine Designs}

{Free Thanksgiving Gift Tags via She Wears Many Hats}

If you have a lot of distant relatives join you for the holiday, this would be an exceptionally fun way to get the conversation flowing. But even if it’s your regular crowd, I love the idea of having conversation cards!

{Free Conversation Cards via Yellow Bliss Road}

{Thankful For Freebies via Lil’ Luna}

These Thanksgiving Bing cards are killing it!

“Grandparent says something sexist/racist”, “someone makes a big announcement” (we announced our pregnancy during Thanksgiving prayer last year), “a child whines”— the list is just so good.

{Thanksgiving Bingo via Bit Rebels}

And if you tend to send people home with leftovers because you cook WAY too much food every year (like me), then these Thanksgiving leftover printables are a cheap but adorable way to make everyone think you are Martha Stewart!

Not to mention, if you go and grab some disposable containers you won’t end up tupperware-less until Christmas when everyone returns your containers with the cookies they made you.

{Leftovers Free Printables via I Heart Naptime}

There you have it, lovelies!

If you use any of this free Thanksgiving goodness, do me a favor:

Snap a photo and tag me on your social media— I would LOVE to see how it came out!

[Facebook] [Instagram] [Twitter]



DIY Strong Man Dumbbell

1st November 2015

Holidays have always made me all sorts of happy, but there is a new level of excitement that is added to festivities when children are involved.

I never want to be too old to play dress up, or dance around like a fool, or laugh at myself.

That is a big reason why I love getting the entire family dressed up for Halloween.

Since Derek and I joke that our life is like a circus, I decided that a vintage Circus family would be the perfect costume theme for this year.

We had Derek the Ringleader, Bennett the Lion, Declan the Strong Man, and mama the Tightrope Walker.

Normally our costumes end up being custom made, but my cousin who makes them moved this year, so I was on my own.

Fortunately for me, it ended up being really easy to throw together.

B’s lion suit was a Pottery Barn costume from a few years back that I managed to find on eBay in mint condition, and Declan’s strong man suit was from LeoTots.

The only thing I really had to do was fabricate his dumbbell, which ended up being a super fun and easy project.

I found this tutorial from Little Inspiration and got my craft on.

Want to make your own?

Here’s what you’ll need:

-Four half-circle styrofoam balls (I got these at Michaels)

-Styrofoam glue

-Empty wrapping paper tube

-Hot glue gun

-Black and white paint


1. Using the styrofoam glue, combine the half circles together to form two large circles. Let them dry completely.

2. Paint both balls and empty wrapping paper tube black.

3. Trace the size of the wrapping paper tube onto each ball, where the crease meets, and cut out using a box cutter.

4. Put hot glue around each end of the tube and insert in the holes.

5. Touch up paint and then write out the “weight” of your barbell in white paint.

**Optional step: Cut down the wrapping paper tube prior to glueing. Mine ended up being too flimsy at first when it was full length as you can see.

We had to pull one side out, cut it down, then re-glue it.

The new length was perfect and I loved the way it completed his costume.

P.S. How cute is this Trick-or-Treat banner?

My sweet friend Justine has a one-woman shop where she makes all kinds of custom banners and totes.

Christmas pictures are coming up, so go check out her awesome Easy shop, SugarDaisyDoo, and grab yourself a holiday banner!


My 21st Birthday 

30th October 2015


We all have turning points in our life and if you take the time to revisit your paths and follow the breadcrumbs, you will find yourself back to those crossroads and the “go this way or that way” decision that ultimately helped shape you into who you are today. 

I can trace a pivotal moment for me back to exactly 7 years ago, on my 21st birthday. 

So much had happened in that year leading up to October 30, 2008. 

I lost my grandma, whom I was very close to. Lost my virginity. And lost my morals, briefly. (See: lost my virginity) 

I discovered a little less than a month before my birthday that my boyfriend had been cheating on me via “casual encounters” on dating websites, and I would have to spend the rest of the semester in the two classes that I had ignorantly taken with him at the beginning of the school year so that we could “spend more time together”. 

I think we all have at least one year in our lives that was so terrible we wish we would just delete it entirely— and that was mine. 

But then October 30th came. 

My best friend and I decided to do a one night trip to Vegas to celebrate us finally being able to drink together (legally), so I made my way to her house. 

A cop pulled me over on the way for going 50 in a 40. He made sure to tell me happy birthday as he wrote out my speeding ticket, because you know, he was sweet like that. 

But even a $200 birthday traffic ticket couldn’t get me down, because I was about to have my first big girl trip and I was so excited. 

It was everything a 21st birthday should be. 

We drank, we danced, we walked all the way from Mandalay Bay to Treasure Island in heels.

My parents gave me $100 and my mom said, “just don’t spend it on a tattoo”— so I of course, got a tattoo. 

And we found ourselves in Margaritaville where we had an impromptu photo shoot that led to this picture.    


It would be this picture that then captured the eyes of my now-husband less than a month later— catapulting us into a life greater than anything I had ever dreamed. 

I’m not saying Derek and I would have never met if I didn’t go to Vegas and get this picture, but it was the joy in my face that made Derek want to know more about me. It was the sheer happiness of that night emanating off of me, that showed my heart through a tough time in my life. 

And so my 21st birthday will forever be one of my most cherished memories. 

It was the first real step in healing from the pain of that year before, and the mark of the beginning of the rest of my life. 

I wonder if 28 will be another turning point. 

I’m looking forward to seeing what this new year holds for me!


I Am The 3%

27th October 2015

We had only been trying to conceive for two months when those two pink lines showed up.

We considered ourselves the lucky ones— My, look how fertile we are!

The first appointment was at 8 weeks and once we saw that tiny heart beating on the screen, we couldn’t hold in our secret any longer. They say it’s bad luck to announce before 12 weeks, but I was never one to place my life in the hands of luck anyway— I knew God was bigger than that.

So we took adorable “bun in the oven” pictures, and posted them to Facebook, and everyone cheered and shared in our joy.

     Our NT scan came at 13 weeks and I was shaking in the waiting room thanks to everything I had read on Google and those God-forsaken Baby Center forums where people post about their babies having heart problems or Down syndrome or a horse’s head and a lion’s tail.

My husband and I walked into the exam room where a nurse put cold gel on my little belly and began to take screen shots.

I couldn’t help but notice how silent the room had fallen, but I was  trying not to look too much into it.

She walked out without saying a word, and I knew—I knew something was wrong.

    My fears were confirmed when a doctor returned in her place.

She slowly tiptoed into the room— like a priest late for a funeral, and with compassion in her eyes, she laid any hope we had of our baby being okay, to rest.

  “Your baby has severe cystic hygroma. It has moved from the neck down onto the body. This child has a 0% chance of living.”

 A zero percent chance? Can doctors even say that?

She was sure. My baby was going to die inside of me, and if I chose to continue the pregnancy I would either: A. Die with them or B: Never be able to have children again.

I don’t know who’s sorrow was greater in that moment— My husbands, knowing that I would gladly give my life for our child, or mine, knowing that giving my life still wouldn’t bring our baby into this world.

    Everything I had ever believed up until that point had been put into question. They call it a medical termination, but I had only ever known it as one word:


Never in my life did I think I would ever have to worry about something like abortion, because to me, abortion wasn’t an option. 

That is, until it was.

We prayed vigorously.

We cried out to God, begging Him to help us understand why we would ever be expected to make a decision like this— pleading with Him to tell us what to do.

I thought about Abraham and how God had asked him to sacrifice his own son and to trust Him.

I didn’t understand, and I knew He wouldn’t be running in before it was done to save my baby and thank me for my faith— but I knew that this was something I was supposed to do.

   I know that sounds absurd.

Why would a loving God ask me to take a life He created from this world?

I can’t explain it, and maybe I was wrong— but I felt like that was the right decision at the time.

So, with the heaviest heart, I walked into Planned Parenthood on May 16, 2011.

My doctor stressed the urgency of a termination as soon as possible for my safety, and our hospital was not able to accommodate, so they sent me to PP.

I was so thankful that there were no protestors outside on that day, condemning me even more than I had already damned myself.

      We checked in at the front desk and they advised us that I would be there for about 3-4 hours and that my husband was not allowed to accompany me past that point.

Anxiety set in and I couldn’t breathe.

How was I supposed to get through this without him by my side?

      They called me in for a private interview where I was asked a series of questions.

    “Is somebody forcing you to terminate this pregnancy? Do you understand what you are about to do? Are you sure you want to do this?”

 I broke down.

 “This is the last thing I want to do. I love this baby. I want this baby. But it cannot survive.”

My response made the woman stop what she was doing and read my file.

Upon realizing my circumstances, she went and talked with her boss and they agreed that they wanted to help me in any small way that they could.

    “We aren’t supposed to do this, but your case is special. You have to take a pill to soften your cervix and it takes about 2 hours to set in. Normally, you would sit in a room with all of the other girls here, but we have a conference room and you and your husband can go in there so that you don’t have to be alone. We are so sorry that you are going through this.”

  I was so grateful, and I couldn’t believe the kindness I was receiving from a place I had demonized my entire life.

     After a few minutes they came to get me for an ultrasound. The tech talked to me as she looked at my baby.

She had been briefed on my situation and explained to me that before she started working at PP she worked at a clinic that was specifically for medical terminations for 18 years.

She took one look at my baby, and gently grabbed my hand.

   “I want you to know, you’re doing the right thing here. There is no way this baby could have survived.”

 I cried some more, and thanked God for the comfort this woman had given me in that terrifying moment.

  My husband and I tried to keep our minds off of things while we waited for my cervix to soften.

We laughed a little, cried a lot, and sat in silence just holding one another. When it was time, I was taken back to the operating room alone.

The doctor came in and she too, held my hand and told me she was sorry.

Tears trickled down my face and I heard her say this would be over soon before I went under.

I woke up in a different room, with dental-style chairs everywhere.

The seats were filled with other women clad in hospital gowns and somber expressions.

The entire room felt like it was frozen in time, and I wondered if I was dreaming—until a woman came over near me and said, “Oh good, you’re awake.”

I looked down and saw that they had put a pad and underwear on me.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmingly aware that my baby was gone.

I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t feel.

I was catatonic in that moment, and I remember wishing they had killed me too.

Going to sleep was the easy part— it was waking up, it was having to be awake for the rest of my life, that left me feeling dead inside.

     This is such a heavy topic, and with good reason.

But life is not black and white and neither is abortion.

We prayed for our pregnancy. It was planned and our baby was wanted— loved.

Everybody says that cases like mine are “just” the 3%, but I matter.

My right to choose my life, mattered.

My right to end my child’s suffering, mattered.

I believe that my baby was a person from the moment of conception. I saw that heartbeat— I heard it.

I also believe in science.

I believe my doctor was telling the truth when she said my baby would suffer and then die, never meant to share this world with us.

Am I a murderer because I chose to end her pain, even if it meant causing myself to live a lifetime of it?


But that is my cross to bear.

    My hope isn’t to make a case for the pro-life or pro-choice activists. It is to shed light on the forgotten 3% in this war.

It is to remind people that there are some of us stuck in the middle— forced to make the tough decisions that nobody else behind a keyboard full of hate has had to make.

   I hope you never have to become a faceless, nameless, shoved-to-the-side statistic.

I pray you never have to feel the tear in your heart as you read debates clumping you in with the likes of Charles Manson and Hitler.

You can say, “it if was me I would have (fill in the blank)”, but I can tell you from experience, that you have no idea what you would do until you are face to face with it.

And I pray you never are.


8 “What The?!” Moments With Toddlers

23rd October 2015

Kids are incredible. They absorb everything with their sponge-like brains and leave us in awe, daily. I mean, there’s a reason why we can’t stop bragging about them and post pictures/videos of all that they do— they’re awesome.

But kids are also gross, and weird, and sometimes, downright creepy. It’s not their fault— they are discovering the world, one booger at a time. But that doesn’t mean that we are immune to their crazy, and often times they leave us slowly backing away from them with our jaws open.

So I’ve composed a list of 8 moments with toddlers that make us side-step and say, “what the..?!”

1. When you notice whole pieces of food in your water cup AFTER you finish taking a giant gulp.

Seriously— how is it possible that they manage to regurgitate an entire animal cracker in the cup without you noticing until that cracker is now in your own mouth?

2. When they expect you to share all of your food with them.

If you try to take a single piece of popcorn out of their bowl all hell breaks loose, but you’re expected to give them 75% of everything you put on your own plate. So instead, you starve yourself until nap time so that you can actually eat an entire sandwich— because you can’t live off of the table scrap portions they force on you.

3. When they walk in on you every single time you accidentally leave the bathroom door unlocked.

They are always way too happy about what you’re doing in there too. Like, “Hey! I see you’re trying to take a shit. That’s so cool! Can I watch? Can I see? Can I help? Here, let me grab your iPhone and I’ll snap a photo for us to post on Instagram. We’ll hashtag it: Poop Party.”

4. When you hear them say their first swear word.

And you know it’s your fault, and you try to convince them that they are actually trying to say “ship” or “truck” instead. But they insist that you’re wrong and somehow know the exact context in which to use said words, so it’s not even like you can convince other people that they are trying to say something else. Then, the one day you find yourself in a Christian book store looking for a present, you accidentally drop something, and they yell “Oh, shit!” — and now you’re thinking “Oh shit!” too— only yours is because you notice that everyone in the store is now staring at you with damnation in their eyes and praying for your child’s soul.

5. When you see them picking their butt for the first time.

 Like, really getting in there. My kid can’t be the only one that does this. Please tell me he isn’t the only one that does this. Because he straight up digs, and then laughs about it. And after telling him several times not to do it, I can’t help but just stare at him like, “what is wrong with you, you filthy animal!”

6. When they talk to nobody.

 Nothing makes a grown-ass adult pee their pants faster than watching a kid have a full blown conversation with the air. Are you talking to the ghost of Whitney Houston? Is that why you started saying, “I will always love you” out of nowhere? Because at first I thought it was sweet, but now I’m creeped out.

7. When they start tantruming out of nowhere.

I’m sorry— five seconds ago you were really excited about going on the swing and now you’re acting like I tricked you into a medieval guillotine. Looks like mommy and toddler could both use some Xanax today.

8. When they are so sure of what they’re saying, but it’s not English.

They repeat it over and over again, but even the best linguistics scholar couldn’t decipher what “glob-eehaw-shodanaha” means. So you find yourself playing I Spy— naming everything within a 5 mile radius of you before finally giving up and saying, “Yes honey, glob-eehaw-shodanaha.”— only to have them look at you like you’re an absolute moron afterwards.

And who knows, maybe they’re right. Maybe they are really trying to say, “what the..?!” to us because we are the gross, creepy, weird ones. After all, we spend our days trying to live up to a social standard while they eat pizza, take naps, and chase butterflies like nobody’s watching.  So who’s really the crazy one?


Three Months Old

22nd October 2015

(Onesie from JamJamsJam)

I’ve had my hands full recently with both boys.

It’s crazy, and chaotic, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Bennett still seems to think we are one person, but I know these days are numbered, so I’m soaking it up while I can.

He’s already over 15 lbs. which blows my mind. Declan was only 17.9 lbs. on his first birthday— a number that B will probably surpass by Christmas.

He may be only 3 months old, but he knows how to communicate what he wants and will let out a loud squeal when he’s trying to get your attention, or gibberish when he’s trying to have a conversation.

I was recently gifted with his first real giggles— something I am really happy about, since Derek was Declan’s first real laugh. He didn’t believe me, but I managed to get the adorable sound on video.

Baby laughter is just the best, am I right?

B is really interested in food, and has tried on more than one occasion to grab a snack right off of my plate. It’s clear that eating enough is never going to be an issue with this one.

Watching the two boys interact is the best. Bennett is so obsessed with Declan and always wants to be involved in whatever he is doing. And D, for the most part, is really good about trying to include him in playtime however he can. It’s going to be so fun watching them grow and really play together.

I can’t get over how sweet the guy is. He gives big, wet, tongue kisses and burrows  his head in my neck for hugs. His smile is absolutely contagious and he literally jumps for joy.

I can’t believe I ever lived without him, and I pray to God I never have to again.

Speaking of, is anybody else having their heart strings ripped apart by this season of American Horror Story?

Because seriously, after every episode I just want to hold my kids and never let them go.

As a matter of fact, I think I will go and do that now.

Until next time!


Grim Grinning Ghosts

20th October 2015

Grim Grinning ghosts, come out to socialiiiize.

 If you’ve never been to Disneyland before then you think I’m a fool, but if you have then you probably recognize the above as a line in “The Haunted Mansion song” aka, “Grim Grinning Ghosts”.

So why am I singing this song around the house? Because it’s almost Halloween of course!

Oh, and because my house is haunted.

Or rather, I’m haunted.

I’ve talked about this before. I even showed you guys pictures and video clips in our old house of spooky things that we saw. (Here)

And now that it’s the month of all things spooky, I thought I would update you on the latest haunts in our home— because they are back.

About a year ago, we were feeling a little overwhelmed with all of the scary nonsense in our house, so we went out and bought some white sage— they say it cleanses your house.

Word of caution: If you have a ghost infestation that you are trying to get rid of with white sage, be forewarned that it smells terrible. We had to open all of the windows and leave the house for hours to let it air out because it was so bad.

Anyway— things seemed to calm down for a long time after that. But in the past few months we have noticed a shift.

I’ve walked into my hallway and noticed that the bathroom light is on behind the closed door, despite being the only adult home and knowing I hadn’t gone in there at all.

I catch things in the corner of my eye and get that eerie feeling like someone is watching me.

 But the scariest developments have come from Declan.

I know that kids have vivid imaginations, but this feels different.

He has pointed and talked to “mama” even though it was just him and Derek in the room— he has said “he says he misses you dada” out of nowhere— he told us he doesn’t like the one in the closest and everyday guides us to the spot he is scared of (Derek’s side of the closet)— and he even flat out said he saw a ghost. A concept we don’t even understand how he gets yet.

Directly on the opposite side of Derek’s closet is our office/guest bedroom.

On Sunday night while Derek was putting Declan to bed, I was sitting on the couch nursing Bennett, completely unaware that Declan was talking to Derek in our room about someone being in the closet.

All of the lights were off and suddenly I noticed a light inside of the office. It kept reflecting off of the wall and then disappearing, similar to how a room looks when a tv is the only light.

I was spooked so I waited for Derek to come back before investigating.

When we walked into the room, we found our computer on. Neither of us had been in the office all day but the computer was in sleep mode. So somehow my screen was going in and out of sleep for those 20 min. before Derek came.

We almost always leave our computer in sleep mode and this has never happened, so I was really taken back by this. We decided to shut it down and close the room door.

How spooky is it that at the same time this was happening in the office, D was telling his dada that he “didn’t like that one” in the closet— which is directly on the other side of the office.

This morning I had to go in there for tape and when I opened the door I immediately got chills all over my body and noticed the room was about 20 degrees cooler than the rest of the house— probably because the door was closed and that room gets no direct sunlight— OR it was a ghost!

If I’m being honest, I don’t know what I believe. I know that I have had several experiences that I cannot explain, but are they spirits or just an overactive imagination? Is there something evil lurking in my home? Do we have guardian angels? Is nobody there at all?

What do you think? I’d love to hear from you. Share your own personal story or why you don’t believe, in the comments below!