Everything I ever wanted.

The other day, I time traveled. Here's what happened: I was just driving along with Bug and Bean in the backseat of the SUV when all of a sudden, a song came on the radio. You know those songs that have such strong links to the past that they immediately transport you back in time? The songs that remind you of eighth-grade dances, old boyfriends and summers at the beach? Well, this was one of those songs.

It came on the radio and BAM! I was 16 again, driving down the road with the tape blaring from the tape deck of my black Chevrolet Cavalier, windows cranked down, unglued red ceiling upholstery rippling in the breeze.

I can remember this scene clear as day. I remember feeling free, unfettered-- the world was mine for the taking.

I snapped back to the present and glanced in the rear-view mirror at my two children, both of whom had fallen asleep in the backseat. "I'm definitely not unfettered, now," I thought, looking at my sleeping fetters. And that's when I had a rare moment of clarity.

At 16, when the world was mine for the taking, do you want to know what I wanted to take? Everything I now have: loving husband, son, daughter, cozy home, energizing career, car with upholstery intact.

In other words, I have everything I always dreamed of. Which was quite a moment of clarity, considering I tend to keep a constant tally of what I'd like to have but don't (new couch, granite countertops, trip to Italy). Looking in that rear-view mirror, I was honestly overwhelmed with the reality that I am absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt BLESSED.

And I realized that if, at age 16, I had been able to time travel forward, into that exact moment of time, and seen myself, driving down the road in my big ol' SUV with my two precious fetters, I would have been blown away by how incredible my future was going to be. (Not to mention the complete awe I would have felt at my six-disk CD changer.)

The truth of my life--and I bet it's the same for yours--is that we are WAY more blessed than we generally take time to acknowledge. So, go ahead. Acknowledge it.

first smiles

Mia celebrated her two-month birthday this week by doing this:










SMILING!!



















I know. That's worthy of a big ol' awwwwwww.

Be anxious about nothing

Swine flu, a crapped-out economy, uncertain legislation, decline of the dollar...Sheesh, a girl can kinda get down these days (in a very non-Soul Train way). Especially a girl who is living in a postpartum, sleep deprived, hormonal haze. (That'd be me.)

So, today I was having a little chat with God about it. In the shower. Which is where God and I have most of our chats. I finally cut to the chase and told God that I am sick of worrying. Sick of fretting about all of the what-ifs and why-me's. Sick of walking around like Charlie Brown, wondering if someone's gonna yank away my football right when I gear up to kick.

And you know what God was kind enough to point out? That worry is a choice, and I can opt out. "Be anxious about NOTHING," He says.

"How?" I say, thinking of swiney germs and my newborn. Thinking of plummeting investments. Thinking of health care legislation that makes my skin crawl.

"Here's how," He says. And then He gives me three ways to do so.

1. "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" (Phil. 4:4) Okay, so I haven't been much into rejoicing these days. And I'm really not sure why because I have a LOT to rejoice over, starting with the aforementioned newborn.

2. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." (Phil. 4:6) I also have to admit that while I've been working on my Ph.D. in Worry and Stress, I'm barely passing when it comes to asking God for help. And let's not even talk about the "with thanksgiving" part...

3. "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." (Phil 4:8) Yes, there are real concerns and devastation and frustration in the world. And it's not like we can go around oblivious to it all. But we can choose to balance our thoughts with all of the admirable and noble things out there, too. So, for every worry I ponder, I'm going to try to think of something grand and lovely, too.

Starting now. I'm off to enjoy a grand and lovely evening with Hunk.

He's not a boy. He's a dog.

Tonight Bug helped Mommy give our dog Munson a bath. When Munson's normally white, fluffy fur was all wet, Bug gave Munson's tummy a quizzical look.

Bug (bending over and looking at Munson's belly): Oh, look! A poop coming out!

Me: Oh, no, Buddy. That's not a poop. That's Munson's wee-wee.

Bug (sounding delighted): Oh! His ee-wee!

Me: Yes, Munson has a wee-wee because Munson is a boy.

Bug (condescending): No, Mommy, Munson is not a boy. He's a dog.

Guess the birds-and-the-bees chat can wait for a few more years.

Mia's First Modeling Debut

Thank you, Summer, for these BEAUTIFUL, artful photos!!!

Our Best Issue Yet!!

The fall issue of LBD/LRW hit mailboxes this week! While I'm not the most objective person on the subject, I think it rocks. Here's a little sneaky peek at our covers:

Read it here.

The cover beauty is Angela Richardson. Who is a mom of two. Who is the wife of Paul Richardson, Pastor of Outreach at West Ridge Church in Dallas. Who proves that you can be a mom of two AND a pastor's wife and still be hot. Nice to know, eh?

Wanna know who does our rockin' design? That'd be Tiffany Westbrook of Gala Design.
And what about our photographic talent? That'd be Summer Adams of Captures by Summer (covers and interior stories) and Jennifer Harris of Photographic Creations by Jennifer Harris (interior stories).

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed creating it!

Brotherly Love

This is Bug love:

just in case Mia wanted to build anything

Tagged

I've been tagged by a fellow beloved blogger to play this one-word game below. Now, if this was an e-mail forward, I might have deleted it, but some bizarre blogger loyalty is compelling me to play along.

So here are the rules:You Can Only Use One Word! Pass this along to 5 of your favorite bloggers. Alert them that you have given them this award. Have Fun!

1. Where is your cell phone? purse
2. Your hair? up
3. Your mother? Ph.D.!
4. Your father? Popi
5. Your favorite food? chocolate
6. Your dream last night? interrupted
7. Your favorite drink? mojito
8. Your dream/goal? family
9. What room are you in? bedroom
10. Your hobby? reading
11. Your fear? cancer
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? happy
13. Where were you last night? newborn....
14. Something that you aren’t? grudge-holder
15. Muffins? please!!
16. Wish list item? SLR
17. Where did you grow up? Marietta
18. Last thing you did? e-mail
19. What are you wearing? jeans
20. Your TV? GilmoreGirls
21. Your pets? fluffy
22. Friends? awesome
23. Your life? all-i-ever-wanted
24. Your mood? tired
25. Missing someone? my-not-tired-self
26. Vehicle? shrinking
27. Something you’re not wearing? shoes
28. Your favorite store? jcrew
29. Your favorite color? blue
30. When was the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? Mia-birth
32. Your best friend? many
33. One place that I go to over and over? fridge
34. One person who emails me regularly? dad
35. Favorite place to eat? Asian

I tag: Blooming in the South, Kessler Kido, The Kitchens Family, Kessler Family, and Crumbs in my Butter. :-)

A Little Girl's Room!

Here's the story of our nursery transformation, from Bug's blue-and-brown template to little Mia's pink infusion.

BEFORE:
(there's a 12-week-old Bug on the changing table... :-)

AFTER:

BEFORE:AFTER:

In place of the wooden "B's" (for "Bug," of course), I made French message boards by covering cardboard with quilting fabric, ribbons and pearl-head straight pins. Voila! Form and function!

This IKEA pillow-- a gift from Mia and Bug's uncle-- was the inspiration for the theme, which Hunk dubbed as "chirpy."

A chirpy little mural above the crib...

Another chirpy detail...

Her name:

Welcome, Mia!

Mia was born October 5 at 3:00 a.m. So far, she has mastered sleeping, eating, staring, pooping, peeing, crying, cooing...and stealing her mommy and daddy's hearts.

Big Boy Room

I have completely fallen off the blogger wagon. This is partly because we're running around like headless chickens getting our house ready for Baby Mia's arrival in six weeks. It's also partly because I'm running around chasing our two-year-old while also preparing for the arrival of Baby Mia. And partly because we've been working on our magazine's fun new Web site (check it out here) and putting out our summer issue (here), while chasing our two-year-old and preparing for the arrival of Baby Mia...all completely headless, mind you.

The irony is that our life is CHOCK FULL of awesome blog material these days! From creating Bug's Big Boy Room to working on decorating the nursery to getting hardwood floors and searching high and low for area rugs--my nesting craziness has been blogger's wonderland. But alas, the life of a pregnant nester leaves little time for recording or reveling in the results. I can't tell you how many blog posts I've written in my head (when it's attached) in the shower only to have them swirl down the drain with the suds.

Here's a little peek at our nest these days. Let's start with the big boy room, shall we?

Here's Hunk with a little helper, putting up the moldings in Bug's room. Bug is obsessed with any power tool that could potentially inflict a mortal wound.

Moldings going up:

And the finished room:

Bug approved!

A Bizarre Baby Dream

Had a weird dream about baby Mia this week. Put on your Freud goggles and help me analyze this one:

I looked down at my huge stomach (okay, so that's easy to analyze; it is huge in real life), and I realized I could see Mia through my skin. My skin was all stretched out around her, and her little feet and little hands were poking through; I could see them clear as day.

So, I said, "Hunk! Get the camera; this has to be a miracle! I can see her!" (but in my dream I called Hunk by his real name. That would be weird if I called him Hunk in my dreams). And he grabs the camera, but he really just grabs a camera phone, and I'm mad because I know the quality isn't going to be good, and this is-after all-a Guinness Book moment here. But, anyway, he's snapping away, and then I realize I can see her face, too. Her features, her eyes. She is so cute. And I momentarily worry that the flash from his camera phone (not sure why his camera phone had one, but it did) might blind her.

But then I look at her face and she's smiling at me. And then she reaches her little arms out to me. And I sit there and hold her, even though she is still under my skin. I know, that sounds so gross, but in my dream it was just really sweet.

Okay, so that's it. I'm going to sit up from the couch now and leave you to interpret that one.

Saggy Boobs

I love children. I love having children. I love raising children.

But I do not love what having and raising children does to the ol' girlish figure.

And so I appreciated this joke (which, appropriately, was sent to me by a pregnant girlfriend today):

One saggy boob said to the other saggy boob,
'If we don't get some support soon, people will think we're nuts.'

(I know it's crude, but I also know you laughed.)

A name!

We have been literally burning the midnight oil these days. The summer issue of Little Black Dress/Little Red Wagon Magazine hits mailboxes this week! In addition, we're launching a brand new, awesome website in a few days. And, I'm in full-blown nesting mode (translation: every unorganized place in my house fills me with rage). I'll post pics of all of our house projects soon (our downstairs now has hardwood floors, and Bug’s big boy room now has moldings! Just needs paint…oh yeah, and a bed).

In the midst of all of this, a portion (okay, the majority) of my brain has been trying to process the idea that soon I'll be Mommy to kids. Did you catch that? There's an "s" on the end of that word. KidS.

I would be lying if I didn't say I am sooo excited about the upcoming arrival of our little girl in October. But I'd also be lying if I didn't say it scares the poop out of me. (Well, at least my potty language is in prime condition. Major mommy-is-funny points from our potty-training toddler for using the word poop in any context whatsoever).

While my brain is still processing the idea of two, my heart is really falling in love with this little girl. And, speaking of which, we have decided officially on a name. Mia Elizabeth.

For you etymologists out there, Mia means "mine" in Italian, and Elizabeth means "dedicated to God" in Hebrew. So, her name means that she's mine, but she's really God's. Which feels exactly right.

Nest image by mosswood.

Carbilicious

Oh my goodness, am I ever glad to have passed my three-hour gestational diabetes test. After having GD with Bug, I became painfully aware of what limiting sugar does to me. It's not pretty. If I have one addiction in life, it's chocolate, and although I know this doesn't compare to, say, detoxing from meth, my chocolate withdrawals can be pretty intense.

If I had been diagnosed with GD this go-round, I would have had to take drastic measures. Like buying stock in Breyer's Carb Smart ice cream. And removing Bakerella from the sidebar of my blog.

So I was extremely relieved to get the all-clear today! When the nurse said, "You passed!" all I heard was, "Go get yo'self a big ol' Hershey Bar." And so I did.

I'm off to eat popcorn. Or maybe ice cream. Or maybe both.

It's Official: She has a Name!!!

Baby 2 officially has a name. Well, according to Bug, anyway. He has dubbed his little sister "Tubby" and "Ah Mee" from the main characters in his current favorite book, Tubby and the Lantern. He tells anyone who asks that she is "Tubby" or "Ah Mee," depending on the day (or his mood).

She's not even born, yet, and her big brother is already giving her a hard time.

:-)

A Daddy's Heart

Hunk loves Bug. He loves being Daddy to our wild little boy, and watching them wrestle and tackle on the family room floor is one of the highlights of my day. But you should have seen his face as he stood by me in the ultrasound room and found out Baby 2 is a girl.

He is already completely and totally in love with her, as documented by this letter he wrote her (which he was nice enough to let me post, with the caveat: "My heart on my sleeve--take care of it.") Hope you enjoy glimpsing his Daddy heart as much as I do.

5/27/09

Little Girl,

Yesterday, I saw you for the first time. As the ultrasound tech diligently scanned your mother’s abdomen, carefully documenting your miraculous and perfect development, she shared the news of your gender with us, and we celebrated your identity—a girl! And I must confess, I was instantly and totally smitten with you. Your mom and I shared tears of joy as the ultrasound monitor displayed the four chambers of your tiny heart, your arms outstretched, your tiny hands balled into fists, your adorably crossed ankles (taking after your mom), and your beautiful smile (you turned to look right at the camera)! Our hearts were overjoyed, and we thanked God for you.

Mostly, you rested during the appointment (except we poked and prodded you a bit to get a better look around). You were quiet, save for the wondrous sound of your heart beating—so strong, so full of life, intention, and spirit. And when I least expected it, something happened. Although you could not talk, you…spoke to me. In sacred silence, I heard your voice. As I looked into your eyes, your voice spoke deep into my heart with a simple question, “Do you see me, Daddy?” Immediately, my heart lept, and I answered back softly, “Yes my darling, I see you. You are beautiful, you are perfect. You are a blessing, and you have mine already. You are my beloved daughter… you are my girl."

Don’t tell mommy—I’ve fallen for a younger woman.

Already Wrapped Around,
Daddy

Help! Tick Invasion 2009

The woods behind our house are TICK CITY this year. Seriously, they should put up a sign with blinking lights and apply for a liquor license. They are EVERYWHERE. In all the years we have lived here (seven to be exact), I have seen ONE tick—on our dog Munson—several years ago. This year, we have picked SEVEN off him in the last TWO weeks. Just picked another one off him yesterday. AND, we use Frontline Plus on poor Muns religiously, which is supposed to help with that sort of thing. What gives?

Looking for answers, I googled "ticks" and discovered that there are two types that could be invading our woods. Brown dog ticks and "paralysis ticks." Now that doesn't sound good. Bad news: these ticks we're finding ain't brown.

Oh, and I got a lovely chigger already this year, too. Nice.

If anyone has ANY ideas for limiting ticks on your property, PLEASE SHARE! I'd love to turn Tick City into a ghost town. SOON.

It's a....

GIRL!


We found out this week that Baby 2 is a girl! We are so incredibly happy and feel doubly blessed to have a delightful little Bug and now a pink little Bean.

I'm a happy mama. :-)

Where I am today...

In Colorado with my siblings and mom today! Here's my day in photos:

You Know You're Pregnant When....

Okay, so I was sitting here on the couch, minding my own business when suddenly it hit. You know: the random, unavoidable, highly irrational, completely inconvenient, second-trimester craving. I just ate dinner like two seconds ago, and already my brain has been completely hijacked by my stomach (or is it the other way around??), and I can think of nothing but Nabisco Harvest Crisps 5-Grain crackers.

What are Harvest Crisps? Well, until about five minutes ago, I couldn't have told you. They are a cracker that, also until five minutes ago, I wasn't even sure still existed. I probably haven't eaten them in over two years. Maybe three. But suddenly a vision of their little hexagonal goodness popped into my mind, and there you have it.

Luckily for Hunk, I am not one of those pampered, self-indulgent pregnant women who forces her spouse on midnight runs to Wendy's to satisfy a fry craving. Or to Brewster's for chocolate-chip ice cream. Or to Publix for Harvest Crisps. No, luckily for Hunk, I just ran to the pantry and downed the remaining contents of a box of Carr Whole Wheat Crackers instead.

I totally had to put up with the fact that they're round. But I think, shape aside, my stomach (or is it brain?) is fairly appeased.

For now.

Happy Hubby, Ugly Walls

Hunk talked me into getting the family room wired for surround sound and (gasp) the TV mounted above the fireplace- something I swore I’d never do. He convinced me by pointing out that we could then move the TV armoire to Bug’s soon-to-be Big Boy Room for toy/book storage and move the couches around to make room for a couple new chairs and, hence, more seating for guests. So, he got me on three fronts: nesting, shopping and hospitality. I totally got played. Now our TV is above the fireplace, three unsightly speakers are adorning my mantle, and the walls are completely butchered with rough drywall. Oh, well. It’ll look good in a few weeks when all the pieces fall into place… And in the meantime, I’ve got a happy hubby: worth its weight in A/V wires.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

For teaching me to ride a bike. For teaching me to cook. For teaching me to use my creativity when I was bored. For teaching me I could aim high and reach it. For teaching me that a mom can be an awesome mother and still be successful at something other than being an awesome mother. For charging us 25 cents when we were mean to each other. For paying us to do chores. For coming to my room in the middle of the night when I was scared. For coming to all of our school ceremonies and recitals. For coming to our classrooms dressed up like a witch and teaching us how to make bread sticks called witch's fingers. For taking us on vacations. For taking us on summer picnics at the river. For taking us to state parks. For taking us to the pool. For letting us pick our own friends. For letting us pick our own colleges. For letting us pick out our own clothes and never commenting that my purple and yellow shirt didn't really match my pink sweatshirt. For letting us get whatever pets we wanted, even if the cats ate the pet mice, the gerbils had 87 babies in 6 weeks, the cats ate the pet chicken, the hermit crab died and stunk, the fish spent more time swimming in the toilet than in their bowl, the cat ate the gerbils, the hamster wheel squeaked all night, and the parakeet went through more newspaper in a week than a recycling center. For insisting on blinking, colored Christmas lights on the tree. For insisting on early curfews. For insisting on always knowing where we were and when we'd be home. For making us homemade cakes. For making us homemade Halloween costumes. For making us whatever meals we wanted on our birthdays. For making us real hot chocolate on snow days. For making 300 gingerbread men every Christmas and inviting every child we'd ever met to come to our house and decorate one. For making our house a creative, secure, loving place to grow up.

Thanks, Mom.

First Question

Bug asked his first real question today. His first, honest-to-goodness inquisitive question. Now, I know that within a few months, he'll probably be a font of inquisition so constant I'll feel like I'm on trial in The Crucible, but today was a first and thus worthy of an atta-boy.

In Sandra Boynton's book Doggies, there's a picture where the dogs howl at the moon. The other day while reading this book to Bug, I explained that some dogs howl when they see the moon. Tonight, he was looking at a set of alphabet cards before bed, and he pointed to a picture of the moon and said, "The moon is outside. In my other book, the dog book, the doggies howl at the moon." (Okay, he actually said, "Moo's ow-eye. In oh buk, doggie buk, doggie ow ah moo."-- but I took the liberty of interpreting).

And then he looked at me with this inquisitive face and asked, "Does Munson howl at the moon?" (Munson is our dog, whom Bug actually calls Mai, so his question was really, "Mai ow ah moo?") I know what you're thinking: I've got a freakin' genius on my hands. Oh, sorry- that's what I was thinking.

:-)

Potty Party

We had an extraordinarily busy week with the second issue of our little mag hitting mailboxes. My inbox has been flooded with encouraging e-mails-- most of which are from people I have never even had the pleasure of meeting! How nice! And the response to our two giveaways has been overwhelmingly positive so far. Yea! Two lucky ladies are sure going to be in for a treat. :-)

So, after our busy week, Hunk and I decided that a nice quiet Sunday was in order. Unfortunately, Bug did not receive the memo on this one, as evidenced by how he greeted us when we went to get him out of his crib. He was sitting there with his footy pjs half off, his diaper completely off, and two fists full of the contents of his diaper. (Let's just say it wasn't pee.)

"That's it!" said I. "We're doing it! Today! It's time for the big boy potty."

Hunk looked at me incredulously for a fleeting moment, made some comment like, "Shouldn't we read a book about this, first?" and then, thinking better of arguing with a woman scrubbing poop from the spindles of a crib, obligingly trekked to the garage to retrieve the training potty I purchased a couple weeks ago (but had been procrastinating about bringing inside the house).

We announced to Bug that we were going to have a Potty Party. He was all ears. First, we put together the potty. Then, he got to pick out which pair of big boy pants he wanted to wear (it was a close call between Thomas the Train and a green brontosaurus, but Thomas won out). Then we broke out the apple juice (a rare occurrence in these parts).

Bug drank to his heart's content, promptly peed all over Thomas, plunked down on his potty, announced he didn't have to pee pee, got off his potty, put on brontosaurus, climbed on the couch, and promptly peed all over brontosaurus (and the couch).

So we abandoned the big boy pants in favor of going buff. Which worked! After one more accident, Bug caught on to the goal and began fervently broadcasting (about every 15 minutes), "B make pee pee!" He would then run to his potty and make good on his proclamation, to the jubilant glee of Mom and Dad, who showered him with kisses, praise and M&Ms.

By the end of the day, Bug only had one more accident (in his high chair during dinner--that was fun to clean up), but about 10 more successful trips to the potty! We're so proud of him!

And to celebrate his success and cap off our Potty Party, we had cake. Which Hunk declared to be more for the parents than for the kids. Let's just say we all needed a little sugar buzz after today.


Amendment, posted on Day Two:
Only one accident today (in the high chair, again-- but it was Mom's fault. I had the dog in the utility sink in the laundry room, washing off his muddy paws, and didn't hear Bug asking to get out of his high chair to go pee pee...until it was too late). And- no pee pee on Thomas, today. Go, Bug, go.