Saturday, December 25, 2010

Happy & Merry & Bright

This Christmas finds us back in Oklahoma. This is the first Christmas for our youngest, the second for our oldest, and I'm officially without a bun in the oven. Thank goodness. For the past two Christmases I've been on the verge of popping.

These two have been having a fantastic Christmas.

This one has had more fun playing with her new cell phone, keys, remote, piano and microphone...all in her new tent.

And this one is beyond Tinkerbell-ed out.

And now the babes are napping, I'm still in my pajamas and glasses, Jason's on his third viewing of A Chistmas Story, and things are merry and bright.
We hope that all of you have a wonderful Christmas and that you are surrounded by those you love, and those who love you.

Happy and Merry Christmas- Love the Lashleys

Photography by the fabulous and ever-patient, Mandy Stansberry.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Simple Email

I received an email yesterday from a mom with two boys from a different part of the country. The oldest is 21 months and the youngest is 9 months. Just one week shy of being exactly a year apart. She told me that reading my blog was like looking at her life...and then I read her blog and said it was like looking at my life.

I guess my point is this. It's always nice to know that somebody out there is going through the same thing you are...the same struggles, the same triumphs, the same day-to-day life and routine as you. And sometimes I'm so consumed with my life, that I forget to look "out". I have to thank this mom for reaching out to me. Because it honestly feels like some sort of lifeline.

Most of the people I know who have had children very close together, have kids that are grown. And they just pat me on the shoulder, laugh and tell me that I'll survive.

Glad to know that there's someone out there surviving right along with me.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

If you don't think this is really sweet

Then you probably need to search for your soul somewhere. You probably lost it when you struck that deal with Satan.

Tinkerbell is the deal around our house. Chloe, who does not have the patience for any sort of TV or movies, could probably watch 24 hours of Tinkerbell or "Bell" as she calls it. She would only break to drink some milk and terrorize her sister.

When she's not watching one of our three Tinkebell movies, she's coloring in her Tinkerbell coloring book, talking to Bell on the phone, pretending to fly like Bell, or saying "Bell, Bell, Bell" until I turn the movie on.

In one of her coloring books she found a sticker of Tinkerbell. It's a small sticker and fits nicely on her hand. She carried around that sticker for two days. She would sing to it, talk to it and kiss it non-stop. Probably one of the cutest things I've ever seen.


She even loved Bell so much that she ripped her bottom half off.

But sometimes that's just what happens in the name of love.

And don't worry. She won't have to carry around a pathetic little sticker for long. I have it on good authority that Santa is bringing her a Tinkerbell doll for Christmas.

Monday, December 20, 2010

All She Wants for Christmas

She just wants her two front teeth, of course. And by the looks of things, I have a feeling Santa might bring her another by this weekend.


Which means that he'll bring a me a feverish and runny-nosed baby. Thanks a lot Santa.

Friday, December 17, 2010

A Little Ways Back: Part Two

There's a part two on my blog. This is a miracle.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

Here are a few pics of Chloe. I warned you that they were all of my girls.




You're Welcome.

I just want to let all of you know that I have showered every single day this week.

Showering hasn't occurred at this frequency in a really long time.

And... you're welcome.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Little Ways Back: Part One

One of my pre-New Year's resolutions is to clean out some old pictures I have on my camera. And by "some", I mean that I have a few hundred pictures that need to be downloaded, edited and deleted. And the pictures are mainly of my girls. So it's really cute, but probably considered annoying to anyone who did not carry and birth these two girls. Anyhow, so that I don't have to go through this process alone, I thought I'd drag you along with me. I promise I won't bore you too much. Only three posts consisting a of a hundred pictures each. I promise. That's it. Aren't I editing myself so well?

And just so you don't get too scared and ignore my blog completely, let me tell you about my blogging history. If I start a series of posts and use "Part One" in the title, there is usually never a "Part Two" or "Part Three". I'm just flaky like that.

So I bring you part one of the "series".

The first set of pictures are from this summer, when we first moved into our house in OK. I think these pictures are so funny because....well....I just think they're funny. So here you go.






Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A Little Thing this Idiot Mom Likes to Call Overstimulation.

When you take their favorite thing in the world, a Christmas tree, and place it on the dresser in their room.


Only to be accompanied by their third favorite thing in the world, Christmas lights. Their second favorite thing is their Daddy.


And then you take their favorite animal figurines.

A pair of cats that are normally housed in a birdcage on their dresser. (Maybe strange, but I think it's so funny. Cats in a birdcage. Get it? Am I the only one laughing at the hilarity of it all? Probably. I'm usually the only one laughing at my jokes.)


And a few...well, I'm not really sure what that is. Maybe a jackelope?


And you cover those figurines in Christmas lights.

And then you drape everything on their dresser in brightly-colored Christmas lights.


And when the girls freak out about their Christmasy room, your heart bursts with joy.

So you leave the Christmas explosion on while they fall asleep, because it's cozy. And you're clearly stupid.

And then you try to figure out why it takes your girls two hours to fall asleep when it normally takes them 20 minutes. Nothing comes to mind. And they are passing the time by playing peekaboo, screaming, laughing, crying and whipping their hair back and forth.

But eventually they fall asleep, and you think, "that was weird."

And then you repeat the same routine not one, not two, but three nights in a row.

And on the third night you think, "maybe it's the Christmas lights."

So you unplug them. And they fall right asleep.

And it only took you four nights to figure this out. Four. Not 30 minutes on the first night. But four whole nights.

Someone's an idiot.

Monday, December 13, 2010

21 and 10

My girls are 21 months and 10 months. Not today. Actually last week. But I'm just running behind like that.

I'm not going to come up with a fancy list about their milestones. Mainly because I don't have the memory capacity for that right now. But I will leave you with a couple of tidbits.

Stella is 3 inches taller than Chloe was at the same age. But they weighed the same. One is in the 90th percentile for height, and the other is in the 20th. In terms of weight....we'll just say they both carry their weight well. And in turn, I have the pleasure of carrying around almost 45 pounds of weight on a daily basis. Which is probably why I can currently bench press 350.


Every time we are out in public someone asks if they are twins. I think it's kind of funny because to me they look so different in age. But we are still asked all the time. And the conversation almost always goes exactly like this:

Inquiring Person: strange look. cock the head. look back and forth at the girl. "Are they twins?"

Me: "They're 11 months apart. Close enough."

Inquiring Person: obviously doing some math in their head. "Wow. That is close."

Me: laughing. "Yes it is."

Inquiring Person: "You have your hands full."

Me: "Yes, I do."

And it's true. I have my hands full. Really, really, really full, to be more exact.


But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Friday, December 10, 2010

What Can I Say?

She has a thing for trees. Like, real trees. Nature trees. Remember this post?

So you'd better believe when we put up a tree, with lights, and balls (as she calls them), and a star to top it off, she basically lost her mind. She danced and screamed and danced and screamed and danced and screamed for about two hours straight. And even after all that cardio, she was still too wired to go to bed.

Stella zonked out before we even got the tree out of the box.

So we stayed up really late with her, watched her and laughed at (with her) and watched and laughed at (with her) and watched her Christmas tizzy.

Christmas Tree

And it was one of the best nights. Ever.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

She'll Be Fine.

Stella is definitely the second child. And she is treated like the second child. And she is blogged about like the second child. And since I have already declared this blog, Chloe and Stella's Baby Book, I can tell you that I have about 30% of Chloe's milestones posted in this so-called baby book, and about 5% Stella's milestones documented on this mess-of-a-thing. I'm scared to think what will happen if we have another baby. You'll probably never even know...

I was watching Stella play this morning and I had to laugh at her playtime circumstances. Definitely a second child situation was happening. A few points of how this picture depicts a second child playtime scenario, if you will:

1. She was playing right by the edge of the fireplace. Mind you, it was not lit (only because I don't know how), but the edge of that thing is sharp. And where was I? Miles away from her. Admiring her cuteness. Not even thinking about the danger that lurked close by.

2. Now I don't really know what this thing is. It had a wire sticking out of it at one point. But Jason, in what I can only describe as "a fit of insanity" pushed the cable in (which left this gaping hole), and then proceeded to stick the end of a plastic ice cream cone in it, which in turn made the girls laugh hysterically. I walked upon this "fit of insanity" and was a little upset. At first I thought it was a real ice cream cone and yelled "what a waste of ice cream" but then saw that it was a plastic ice cream cone. Shoved into the wall. And the girls were laughing hysterically. And then they began shoving the ice cream cone into the wall. And then I said, because I was the only lucid person at this point, "isn't that a fire hazard?" No one answered me. The crazies just kept at it. I had to walk away.

3. She is oh-so-close to the electrical outlet. What can I say? At least they're covered. They might not have been before the picture was taken, but they also could've been too. Or maybe I just don't want anyone who reads this blog to have me reported, or worse yet, think I'm a bad mom, and so I covered them for the photo op. You'll never know. And I'll never tell. But I'm sure you can deduce from my ramblings exactly what happened.

-Point to be made about points 1, 2 and 3. Chloe never would've have been in the situation I call "The Trifecta of Danger". At any moment poor, little Stella could've stuck her finger in the electrical socket, while shoving a plastic ice cream cone into that other thing, and for the finale, fall against the fire place. But my poor second child was left there to fend for herself. And I didn't even think twice about it. And what was she left to play with?

4. An old formula can. I don't even know if it had been washed out or properly sterilized, but she was having a ball with it. Chloe was only given age appropriate toys that would advance her developmentally, but Stella was left with what might be presumed of as a piece of trash.


She is definitely the second child, and my mantra for her is "she'll be fine." If you're ever around us, and you see her with an entire cracker in her mouth, while starting in on a cookie, and you ask if she's okay. I'll give her a once over, look you dead in the eye, do some silly motion with my hands and say, "she's fine."

But this little girl is more than just fine. She is the apple of my eye. And she has made my heart stretch and grow in ways that I never would've imagined. And while I may not have every moment documented here, or anywhere else for that matter, I've got them all right where they belong. Inside this crazy head of mine.

Which makes me think that I should go ahead and write them down before I go off the deep end.

We love you, Stella Elizabeth.

Monday, November 29, 2010


We had a wonderful Thanksgiving break. We had a chance to relax, eat way too much food and spend quality time with both of our families. After spending the past five Thanksgivings in Chicago and Cleveland, Oklahoma gave us a nice chilly reminder of Thanksgivings past. And I was given a reminder of what it felt like to long for my maternity jeans. I realized that if you want to consume 500 pounds of food in 4 days, you might end up looking like you're well into your second trimester. Boy, the stretchy waistband would've come in handy.

Here are a few pics of the Lashley turkeys....or cousins, if you'd like to call them that. I like to call them least mine anyway. The other two are beyond precious.







I hope that you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving...and that you didn't eat so much that people wonder if you're due in May.

I'm not by the way. Just need to spend a little quality time on the treadmill.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

If I Didn't Laugh, I Would Cry (and possibly be curled up in the corner, rocking uncontrollably)

I've learned many lessons in the past 20 months of my mothering experience. Some lessons I hold near and dear to my heart, and some I forget and inevitably relearn, only to forget and be embarrassed by them again.

Lessons I learned yesterday:

1. When you bring clothes to change into after your workout at the Y, don't forget to pack a tank top. Because here's what you packed to wear, you idiot-- A flowered, white button-up, a little too short for your long midriff, shirt. A black bra that can be seen straight through your white button-up shirt. A pair of low-rise jeans. And finally, the kicker, a pair of somewhat granny undies that stick out over the top of your low-rise jeans, which then can be seen because your shirt is a little too short to reach the top of your jeans. Don't you see how a tank top would have solved all of those problems?

2. When you go to the pediatrician's office with your babies, don't forget to bring someone with you to help OR leave one of your children at home with a sitter. You are not an octopus. You have two arms. Deciding to go straight from the Y to the doctor's office was probably not the best move I've ever made, but once they're in the car, I hate turning back only to unpack them and then put them back in the car. It's a laborious process, and if you're a mother, you understand. So I had to convince myself that I was ontrend with my fashion and we went on our way.

3. Always carry safety pins. I knew I was in for an embarrassing, yet exciting trip when I started getting the girls out of the car at the doctor's office. I overpacked the diaper bag and things were falling all over the parking lot. Then the buttons on my shirt started popping open. So now, not only could fellow patrons, nurses and their doctor see my black bra through my shirt, but they could actually see my black bra. Awesome.

4. Don't think that you'll get a word in edgewise with the nurses or the doctor. Your daughters like to talk. They talk a lot. And they like to talk over you, apparently. While the doctor was examing Stella for her nine-month well visit, she would not stop talking. She kept saying, "hi, hi, no, no, hi, hi, dada, no" uncontrollably. So while we were trying to talk over her, Chloe decided to chime into the conversation. The doctor would talk to me, and while I was trying to respond, she was trying to answer him too. And then when Dr. M and I would laugh about something, Chloe would throw her head back and fake laugh, like she was in on the joke. And then she learned that if she covered her ears and talked really loudly, it was really loud in her head. And that was really fun to try and talk over. And keep in mind, this whole time, the buttons on my shirt are flying open. There's no telling what this poor guy saw.

5. When your daughters are getting their flu vaccinations, and the nurse offers to get another nurse to help hold your babies, take her up on the offer. Me, trying to convince myself that I can handle the two of them on my own, made a rookie mistake. I knew better than this one. I decided that while Chloe was getting her shot, I would sit Stella in her carseat (which was on the floor), unbuckled. I think I even said at one point, "She won't roll out. She'll be fine in there." While Chloe was getting her shot, I hear a loud thump and crying from the floor behind me. I look down, and Stella was on the floor, flopping like a fish, screaming, in her diaper. It was pathetic and funny. But trying to be a model parent in front of the nurse, I didn't laugh. But I did pick her up and make a joke. I don't even know what the joke was, but I remember that the nurse didn't think it too funny. And then I started praying that she wouldn't report me to DHS for being such an idiot. And then I started praying that they didn't think I was a floosy because of my magically unbuttoning shirt, my underwear hanging out of my pants, and my super low-rise jeans. And then I prayed to be an octopus.

5. Don't ever think that people aren't laughing at you behind your back. Because you know they are. And sometimes they will just go ahead and laugh at you in front of your beet-red face.

6. Don't ever think that God's going to stop giving you blogging material. He just seems to keep 'em coming.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Peas are Good.

While I only contributed about .5% of the girls' genetic makeup (thank goodness, right?), I did pass on their love of food. But more importantly their love of eating food.

In fact, they enjoy their food so much, the sing the entire time while eating.

Here's a little video of the girls eating peas last night. And keep in mind, they're eating peas. Not cake. Not cookies. Not a vat of ice cream (which is my personal favorite). But just plain ol' peas.

And at one point, you'll see Chloe reach for her sister's tray. This is a normal occurrence. Except that she normally pulls the high chair over right next to her and eats Stella's food as well. Maybe something she also picked up from me.

But the freakish upper body strength. I can guarantee (and anyone who's ever seen my try to open up a jar of pickles) that did not come from me.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I'm Turning into My Mother: Part One

Titled: Repeating things your mother says.

I was at the Starbucks drive through today (only because I have a gift card, I'm too cheap otherwise), I gave my order of a small (I refuse to say tall) non-fat latte, and the ever-so chipper Starbucks guy said, "That sounds scrumptious!!!! I'll whip that up for you right away!!!! Pull around and I'll give you your total."

I swear that I heard birds chirping as rainbows were being painted across the sky by magical fairies.

I convinced myself that the sugar from the 500 mochas he must have consumed that day had ravaged his brain. That had to be the excuse for his enthusiasm.

When I pulled up to the window, the chipper kitten handed me my drink. He looked really nice. Really, really nice. And I felt bad for thinking bad thoughts about him and for obnoxiously rolling my eyes 86 times while he was taking my order. (I'm in a really bad mood before my morning coffee.)

As he handed me my drink I said, "Thank you so much. You seem like a really nice young man."

Let me repeat that. You seem like a really nice young man.

Let it sink in. You seem like a really nice young man.

I'm officially 82.

And I'm pretty sure that I hid my face, while poking myself in the eyeball as I drove away in disbelief.

And I'm pretty sure he rolled his eyes 86 times while I drove away for the following reasons: I might have been a little rude to him. I hadn't washed my hair in 5 days. I had two screaming babies in the backseat. I was the youngest looking 82 year old he'd ever seen. And I said... You seem like a really nice young man.

Until next time...

Friday, November 5, 2010

Lions and Monkeys and Pacis

I've decided that Halloween is not intended for an 8-month old, a 19-month old, and a mom who is not crafty or creative or who procrastinates about Halloween up until the very last minute.

As you know, Halloween is celebrated in the evening. And my babies are in bed in the evening. 7:00 PM to be exact. And if they are not eating dinner at 6:00 PM, having their baths at 6:30 PM, and in bed by 7:00 PM, they are grumpy. Beyond grumpy. They are a little scary. Which I guess for Halloween, is spot on.

So when, at 6:00 PM, I was putting on their costumes and not feeding them dinner, it was a little perplexing for the girls. And the meltdowns commenced, and did not stop until 9:30 PM, when they finally hit the sack.

This year Chloe was a lion and Stella was a monkey. I'm just awesomely original like that. I should have tried Stella's costume on sooner than right before we left the house, because we had a little situation. I just assumed that Chloe's costume from last year would fit her, but I somehow forgot that Stella is tall and has grown out of her 6-9 month clothing (which Chloe wore until a few minutes ago). So the costume was a little tight and we could barely fit the monkey head over her head. And when we did fit it over her head, we had a little "camel diaper" situation. And if you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, you should count yourself lucky. The camel diaper sent me straight back to when I was a kid wearing one-piece swimsuits. A one-piece swimsuit is wonderful, but it's a nightmare to wear when you're long-waisted like me. They just ride up oh, so badly in a certain area. And unfortunately, I'm digressing, so I'll stop now.

Here are some pictures of the girls and I. They looked so cute!

And one of the family. I love the way the girls look at the camera.

And a picture with their crazy uncle and awesome aunt.

And the sweetest moment of the night, when their awesome aunt got a sweet little lion kiss. She doesn't hand those out freely. She only kisses if she really feels it.

And of course someone had to have a little meltdown and threw herself down on the ground while trick-or-treating.

But instead of getting upset, I seized the photographic opportunity to get a cute shot. Then I immediately spanked her little lion tail.

And a beautiful picture of her and her Ya Ya.

To top the night off, we went to a Halloween party where the dressing up theme was "Something That Scares You". So naturally, we dressed up as our children. I was Chloe and Jason was Stella. We had their names on our shirts, bows in our hair, and pacis attached to our shirts. This was the most important element of the costume, because you will never find them without pacis attached to their shirts. It's a way of survival around here.

When Chloe saw our shirts, she freaked out. She was beyond obsessed with the paci on my shirt, and I had to hold her while all night while she sucked on the paci. It was really funny. At one point I told Jason, "This is the closest I ever want to be to breast-feeding again." Not that I don't want to have kids again. I do. I just like the bottle. Love the bottle. Can't live without the bottle.

She looks a little confused, doesn't she? And I don't know why I thought that she could wear makeup without smearing it all over everywhere.

So that pretty much sums up our Halloween this year. Full of fun, chaos, and meltdowns. Which is just a regular day around this house. Hopefully next year, I'll be a little more prepared. And hopefully I won't use the phrase "camel diaper" when describing my daughter's costume.

We can always hope, people, we can always hope.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Dear Everyone

Dear Stella;

You are such a big girl. And you are way ahead of where you are supposed to be developmentally. But I didn't know that you were old enough to steal the home phone and dial 911 this morning. This is WAY too advanced.

And I'm glad that after a week of sleepless nights with you, your first tooth finally came in and you're feeling better. Again, ahead of where you're supposed to be, at least ahead of your sister. She didn't get her first tooth until she was almost 15 months old.

Dear Chloe;

Last night you threw up all night long, poor girl. The next time you think you want a bite of spicy Thai food, turn and run the other way. And the next time your mom hesitantly says, "I think it's okay if she has a bite," turn and run the other way. In fact, every time you see me, turn and run the other way. I think it might work out for the best.

One more thing, I would appreciate it if you stopped calling every guy you see, "Daddy!!!!" It's starting to get a little awkward for all parties involved.

Dear Police Officer;

I'm sorry you had to come to my door today. And I'm sorry that the first thing I said to you was, "who died?" Thank you for smiling and saying, "I hope no one. Is everything okay? We got a hang up 911 call from this number." And thank you for not making a point of my beet red face. And thank you for saying this sort of thing happens all the time. And thank you for believing me when I said it was my 8-month old that dialed 911, because it really is the truth.

And I'm sorry that my 19-month old ran up to the door and yelled, "Daddy!!!!" I realize it was a little embarrassing for us all.

Dear Jason;

I'm sorry that I air all of our dirty laundry on this blog. Literally and figuratively. I'm sorry if I'm a little crazy because I haven't really slept in over a week. I'm sorry that a police officer was called to our house today, and I'm sorry that our daughter called him "Daddy!!!!" I think it's pretty obvious that they are yours.

I totally understand if my ineptness in mothering as of late makes you feel the need to hire nannies. You can even hire four nannies like that lady off of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. And I'm sorry that I watch that show... especially sorry for the Atlanta one. But back to the nannies.... I would hate it* if you hired one, or four, because I'm opposed* to the sort of thing. But if you need me to send out an ad, I will hate* every second of it, but I'll send that out right away.

*obviously sarcastic

Dear God;

Are You There God? It's Me, Morgandi. Thank you for the book about Margaret. It really helped me through those awkward pre-teen years. But I need another book. One for moms, and their changing bodies, and emotions, and daily dealings with their children. I need a book that I can hide under my pillow, and pull out at night when I know that no one is watching. A book that will make me feel not so alone. A book that lets me know that EVERY mother goes through this sort of thing. And since you're the writer of books...really, really life-altering, best selling books (or The Book)....could just help me out with this one?

Dear Me;

Don't ever assume that just because your 8-month old is feeling better, that your 19-month old won't puke all night long, thus; not allowing you that night's sleep you assumed you'd get. In fact, quit assuming that you'll ever sleep again. Maybe, just quit assuming.

And don't let your husband convince you that Thai food can be consumed by your toddler without making her puke.

And don't forget to keep the phone out of your childrens' reach. Apparently they know how to dial 911.

And don't wear a red shirt ever again. Because every time you wear a red shirt like you did today, you get embarrassed, and your face turns red. And you know what people are thinking. "Her face is as red as her shirt." And this will make you feel like you're dying inside.

And don't greet police officers at the door with, "who died?" Let the man (or woman) speak.

And teach your daughter not to say "Daddy!!!!" to every guy she sees.

And quit writing really long posts on your blog. Learn to edit.

And I think you should just end this post now, because it's headed nowhere fast.

Thank you, and good night!!



**Update-- Stella just started puking. So apparently it wasn't the Thai food. Unless someone snuck her some Thai food. And I know it wasn't me. I think. Oy.

Monday, October 18, 2010

It's Really, Really Bright

This fat, little chunk turned 30 yesterday.

And I think I've accepted the number....................... 30.

It just sounds so................ old.

And I don't feel a day over...................... 65.

Actually, I feel like I'm 24. I might even feel better than I did when I was 24.

I guess that age really is just a number.

I had a great birthday! It was a birthday weekend, to be exact. I was able to celebrate with my family and friends. And it reaffirmed my love of being home. For the past five years, I've felt so lonely on my birthdays, but not this year. Everybody was there. And we celebrated.

And I couldn't be more thankful to be 30. Even if it does make me an old woman.

And even if it compels my mom to say, "it's really, really bright," when referencing the candles on my cake.

But to be honest, it was really, really bright.

One more thing.... I made a little wish list last year. And I think most of my wishes came true. Except for number 7. And number 8. I kid! I kid!!!!! I spent my 30th birthday without a bun in the oven. And it's a good thing. My two daughters are running circles around me.

One more would age me beyond recognition. And I can't handle being any older than I already am.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Because I Simply Cannot Resist Stella in a Tutu

I have to share 456 pictures of Stella. Because I simply have no self control when it comes to posting pictures of my girls. But you already knew that anyway.

This girl melts my heart every time I look at her. Hold her. Kiss her. I mean, look at those chunky arms. How am I supposed to resist those chunky arms?


And I simply cannot resist the funny and dramatic faces she makes. I have no idea where she learned that from. Maybe from me. Maybe her sister. Yes, probably from me. Definitely from her sister. I should keep those two separated.


And I simply cannot resist those blue eyes. Those dimples. Those sweet, little lips. And that crazy duck hair that I cannot tame.


And I simply cannot resist her. I love her more than I could ever imagine. And it's true what they say. There's more than enough room in your heart to love more than one child. I never imagined it possible, but it is.


She's a perfect fit in this crazy, little family of ours. Poor kid. She has no hope.

But you already knew that anyway.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


The day that I found out I was having a girl with my first pregnancy, was the day that my mind began racing. How was I to raise a daughter? Am I equipped enough? Do I have the right tools, the right mentality, the right amount of faith, the appropriate amount of shoes so that she won't think the only thing in life that matters are shoes?

Well I don't know if I always do the right thing, but I know that I love my daughters and feel thoroughly compelled to raise them the best way I know how. And really, it's only by the grace of God that I feel like I have moments of success.

I had one of those moments last week.

I had my first one-on-one date with my firstborn.

This past Friday, was our special day. We went to the hair salon to have her hair trimmed, and then we went to the mall. And this is when it really got exciting. The mall might not be that exciting for adults. But for a one-on-one date with your mom? Pretty exciting.

We hit Forever21 first. I told her that we were only going to look at fall trends (she has to learn about fashion somehow), but in the end she convinced me to buy a couple of shirts for my birthday on Sunday. (My 30th birthday................................okay. I can breathe again.) Then we went to the playground in the mall and played for awhile. I decided it was time for us to leave when she tried to rip a monkey backpack off of a little boy's back. After the near-thievery incident, we went to get a kid's meal from Chick-fil-a in the food court. This is where the fun happened. It was her first time on an escalator, and you too would've gone up and down the escalators about 10 times if you heard the squeals of laughter coming from the sweet girl's mouth. After the security guard asked us to quit playing on the escalators (I told him that Chloe made me do it) we hit the food court. We got a kid's meal, a sprite, and an ice cream cone. NOT a normal meal for this little girl. Maybe a normal meal for me, but not her. I didn't think she could be any happier than she was on the escalators, but this girl hit a Nirvana-esque state when we sat in the car booths (she loves cars), she found a book in her kid's meal (she loves books), and I let her consume nothing but ice cream and sprite (she's strangely possessive with sprite).

I hit my Nirvana-esque state when I saw the joy on her face, and how proud she felt for this special time together.

And in the clarity of that moment, I realized something. There's nothing better than doing special things with your mom. I'm almost 30 years old, and it still makes me giddy. It's exactly the thing I missed most when we were away from home. And it finally dawned on me that it's just as much, if not more fun, when you're the mom. It's beyond special.

It was one of the best days of my life.

And I'm so thankful that one of these days, God-willing, I'll get to treat Stella to the same thing. I can hardly wait for her to pick out shirts for me from forever21, rip a monkey off a kid's back, ride the escalator, get in trouble for it, and then eat nothing but ice cream and sprite for lunch.

I just love these girls so much. And I love being a mom. The blessings of motherhood continue to reveal themselves. And yes there are trials, and yes, I don't have all the answers. But it's days like this that charge me to continue to do my very best.

I don't think I could be more blessed.