The Brann Clan

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes

2011-08-20T18:53:00.001-05:00

It has come to my attention that Pearce is quite possibly the cutest he has ever been. It has also come to my attention that this cuteness is accompanied by a generous dose of mischief. That dose of mischief comes with a side of "I can do it myself" and that comes with an over sized helping of mommy insanity.

Let me just tell you, life at the Brann household has been real interesting.

Sorry about my lack of posts these past few months. Frankly, I like to post about things that amuse me or I find humorous in life. And lately? Well ... not much amuses me.

Anyhow, Pearce "The Wild Man" Brann has been quite the handful lately and I am convinced I need to post these stories for the rest of the world to read so that Jimmy and I will have a strong case when one of us ends up in the looney bin. Ya know...I need our side to be heard.

First of all, I am a bit concerned that Pearce is actually smarter than us. I am not joking here. Maybe he doesn't know arithmetic and mathematics yet, but he certainly has the ability to try and out-smart us. The other night at dinner I got onto him for standing up in his chair... it went something like this:

Me: Pearce we do not stand up in our chair at the dinner table.

Pearce: Hey, don't say that to me...

Jimmy: Pearce, we DO NOT talk to mommy like that.

Pearce: (head sweetly tilted) I wasn't talking to mommy. I was talking to youuuu.

Jimmy: Well, you don't talk to daddy like that either.

Pearce: (deep sigh) But daddy, I was talking to my baby brother.

Jimmy: Pearce, we don't talk to anyone like that. We use kind words.

Pearce: Okayyyyyy...

Uh -huh. Or another favorite of mine, Pearce's confession after a day at Miss Sheron's:

Jimmy: Did you have a good day today at Miss Sheron's?

Pearce: Yeah daddy, I didn't hit.

Jimmy: Well I am glad to hear that. No hitting is a minimum requirement at school.

Pearce: Uh huh.(in a proud voice) I pushed Jackson.

Jimmy: You pushed someone? Why did you push Jackson?

Pearce: Because Jesus tells us not to hit.

Jimmy: Pearce, Jesus doesn't tell us not to hit. He tells us to be kind to others and that means no hitting or pushing or using unkind words.

Pearce: So we don't push?

Jimmy: No, we don't.

Pearce: (deep sigh) Okayyyyyyyy.

Also, Pearce has a pretty generous vocabulary right now. He uses words like actually and possibly on a daily basis and has no shame interjecting them into his negotiations. Like last week I was getting him some yogurt and when I asked him if he wanted strawberry or mixed berry, he replied, "Actually, I would like some applesauce."

And yesterday he picked up my keys when I dropped them so I said 'thank you'. His reply? "Good manners, mama." Glad I have his approval.

He is also perceptive and has a tendency to piece things together better than we would like. We moved him into a 'big boy bed' about three months ago and during bathtime the next night, he started asking questions about his crib.

Pearce: Why do I have a big boy bed?

Me: Well. you are growing so big and strong that your crib was getting too small for you.

Pearce: But where's my crib?

Me: Well, we are going to put it together for the baby.

Pearce: For baby brother to sleep in? We can put it in your tummy. It would fit, mama.

Thanks, kiddo. Thanks alot.

I can only imagine what the little sweetheart must be dealing with internally. There have been lots of changes here at the Brann household.

In the past few months we have moved Pearce to a big boy bed and survived a visit from the "Paci Fairy". I do love how proud he is in this picture. We colored a picture for the Paci Fairy and taped the baggie of pacis to our front porch for her to pick up. In their place she left two dump trucks and some new Biblical action figures. And for the record, Goliath and Joshua's limbs keep falling off. Literally. They just fall off. I owe Mardel a phone call on this one.

As if that wasn't enough, I quit my job to be home full time and started driving a minivan. I call it the silver bullet. It's pretty awesome.

Also, we celebrated potty training only to learn that a refusal to go on the potty was soon to follow. We've been having loads of fun here. Really.

These changes have clearly gotten to the sweet boy as Jimmy and I have found ourselves in the thick of the longest, loudest, most erratic tantrums we have ever seen from Pearce. His need to be in control is almost amusing but after we survive each episode, Jimmy and I are anything but amused.

For example, a few days ago it was naptime and Pearce didn't want to put on a Pull Up before his nap. Now, I am all for challenging our children to stretch themselves, however I am also 36 weeks pregnant and I simply don't have the energy to change bed sheets more than I have to. A Pull Up at naptime is necessary. Trust me.

Anyhow, the battle turned into a screaming, thrashing, 'do it my way' tantrum that lasted about half an hour. All the advice and reading I have done recommends simply ignoring the behavior and acting somewhat disinterested. So this is what I did:

I turned off all the lights downstairs and shut the bedroom doors. I informed Pearce that it was naptime and that I would be upstairs in his room reading a story. If he missed it, too bad. I also made sure he knew he would be downstairs all alone if he didn't come up and obey.

Now, about this time I was feeling pretty proud of myself for doing what all the experts advise ... a tantrum? I could handle this.

That is, until I heard a knock at the front door. When I came downstairs to get the front door, I saw two things:

1. Our new neighbor at the front door...looking a bit concerned. Let me interject here that we don't know them at all. It's worth mentioning that they also have a great pool no one uses. I was hoping to make friends with them really quickly.

and

2. Pearce's bare hiney... with no pants or Pull Up on, running back and forth between the front door screaming, "No mama! I don't want to!".

I was so proud.

Pearce finally gave in to his need for rest and this is how I found him when I went to get him from downstairs...

I mean, what's a mom to do?

The Name Game...

2011-06-13T15:23:00.001-05:00

So as this pregnancy progresses and Baby Bean continues to grow, I am getting more and more "large and in charge." My belly doesn't just grow. I get back fat. And knee chubb. And swollen ankles. It's awesome.

People often ask me how far along I am and while I have three more months to go, I am so tempted to smile sweetly and say, "Actually, I am a week overdue! With Twins. Don't I look fabulous?" If it wasn't for fear of getting caught in that lie, I might actually do it.

The second most asked question is, " What are you having?" ... followed by, "Do you have a name?"

NOW. I can answer most of those questions. I am six months pregnant. We are having a boy. No, I don't feel wonderful right now. Yes, the little squirmer moves all the time, etc. etc.

What I cannot yet address is the name of this child. Because frankly, we have no idea. Let's just say there have been some serious roadblocks in that department.

Let me give you a little history behind our name saga...

Have I ever mentioned that my husband secretly wants to be a Spartan? Well he does. He loves the movie 300 and is convinced that all little boys should grow up to be warriors similar to those we see in 300. In all fairness to him, he is not too far off from knighthood himself. He has such a gentle spirit, coupled with a brave heart and I love that about him.

A perfect example...
When we were dating, he came to OKC to stay one weekend at my parent's and while I was sleeping in Emily's room, he still wouldn't sleep in my bed because he wanted to be sensitive to my dad's feelings about any man in his daughter's bed...with or without her. I assured him that he was being ridiculous and that him sleeping on the couch would make people more uncomfortable. The next morning I went into my bedroom to find pillows at the foot of the bed. The evidence was clear. Sweet Jim had slept with his head at the foot of my bed because he felt that was less personal.

Simply put, I adore this chivalrous, knightly characteristic my husband embodies. Having said that, he can sometimes go too far. Take the example of Baby Bean's name. When we found out another boy was in our future, Jimmy immediately wanted something bold. Something with meaning. Something that would make you think, "wow, that kid is gonna be somebody."

Clearing my throat.

Jimmy wanted to name our boy Leonidas. Promise.

For those of you normal folks, like myself, let me tell you a bit about who Leonidas is. Leonidas is the historical warrior king depicted in the movie 300 and Jimmy was convinced "Leo" would be totally appropriate for a kid. Jimmy's Leo campaign went on for a few months, he even solicited the support of some of his friends on this one. I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself actually putting that on a birth certificate and then I immediately began to picture a hairy infant with a deep voice. No. Can. Do.

Needless to say, Leo didn't make the cut.

So we moved onto something more practical, but still solid in its meaning. The next name we considered means "Warrior" or "Ruler of the Army", and is less offensive to the ears. The next name Jimmy pitched was Walter. Now, I love classic names. I love solid names. But this name left me a little worried about self-fulfilling prophecy. Again, I immediately fast-forwarded to the future and pictured Pearce in the schoolyard, defending his little brother from incurring additional swirlies and wedgies. Walter was too risky.

The only problem? Pearce loves it... And thinks his brother's name is already Walter. I blame Jimmy for that one. He can be the one to explain.

I am happy to report that we have all but officially declared the little Bean's middle name and if it weren't for the similarity between Pearce's name and this one, we would be sold on it's probability as Bean's first name.

You see, I once went to school with twins named Orlene and Orlena (pronounced Or-leen and Or-leen-ah). I felt so badly for them because not only did they look alike, but they sounded alike and had to share so many letters of the alphabet in their names. Weren't they entitled to a little individuality? I always tried to be sensitive to them...until the day that Orlena knocked me off the monkey bars at recess. I didn't feel too badly for their name saga after that. Bygones.

Baby Bean's middle name has been unofficially declared as.... (drum roll please).... Price. And we love it. We chose Price for two reasons: 1.) We believe that we were all bought at a price, and 2.) Jimmy and I met at the Price College of Business. Cheesy, I know but we love the meaning behind it. Do you catch my dilemma here?

Price is a fabulous name and totally fits with the genre we have going here. Having said that, I keep thinking back to dear Orlene and Orlena and worry that the kiddos will be scarred for life. Pearce and Price are just too similar.

I have a valid concern that once Bean is here, we may still be stumped in the name department. In that case, we'll just have to name him something catchy. Like Wheat... Or Oat.... Or Raisin. They go well with the last name Brann, right?

Some People...

2011-05-04T13:54:00.001-05:00

Oh my, oh my, oh my. How some people need a wake up call. You will be happy to know that I have made it my personal goal in life to provide the said wake up call whenever I can. Last week I struck gold in the land of "I need a wake up call." In fact, I actually found myself shaking my head in dismay as I replayed the week's events.

This past week I was faced with two frustrating and even mildly upsetting circumstances involving strangers. I am pleased to tell you that I resisted my immediate 'kick you in the shin' urges and kept my cool.

Sort of.

My first incident involved a woman who was quite possibly insane or just plain dumb. Either way I was not amused. I was at Panera bread waiting to meet with an agent over coffee when I noticed this very happy, friendly, individual frolicking around. As I entered the building, she greeted me at the door and even had the courtesy to hold the door open before she insulted me. I was at least thankful for that.

As I entered the building she smiled sweetly and struck up a conversation. It went something like this:

Crazy Lady: Ma'am what are you currently doing to lose weight?

Me: I'm sorry?

Crazy Lady: What are you currently doing to lose weight?

Me: Uh, nothing. I'm 20 weeks pregnant. (imagine a mild fightback of tears, followed by an overwhelming desire to kick her)

Crazy Lady: Well, congratulations! Gurrrlll, you have an excuse then.

And with that, she sauntered off. I imagine she was in the hunt for someone in a wheelchair to start a discussion on how many marathons they've run.

What. The. Heck.

After a tearful phone call to my hubby and some reassurance from him, I swallowed my pride and downed some tea and pastries. That will show her.

As if mankind hadn't abused this pregnant lady enough, another wonderful citizen threw me a curve ball on Saturday afternoon...

My mom and I went to Dillards at Quail Springs Mall...did you know they have expectant mother parking? Well they do. And it is right in front....thank you Jesus.

Anyhow, just as I was about to pull into the spot, another car whips in front of me and parks there.

In my spot...

My expectant mother spot...

The spot with the giant stork and the words "Expectant Mother Parking."

Oh no she didn't.

I waited patiently in my current 'ready to turn into this spot' position as the first gal got out of the car. She couldn't have been older than 17 and was clearly not pregnant. I also noticed that the driver was in her mid 50's or so. My instincts told me she wasn't expecting either.

And what I did next, I did for pregnant women everywhere.

I rolled down my window.

Me: Excuse me? Yes, you...are you by chance pregnant?

Girl: (awkwardly) Ummm, no.

Me: (pointing to the driver of the car) Well, is she?

Girl: (even more awkwardly) No....

Me: Excellent. Well, as you can see this is an "Expectant Mother" parking spot. Seeing as neither of you are pregnant and seeing as I am pregnant, I would actually appreciate the parking spot myself. Thanks.

Girl: (blank stare and some mumbling to the driver) Okay....

And they moved their car.

Four spots down.

Four spots down!!!

They couldn't just do the right thing from the beginning and park a few spots down to begin with? Seriously?

My mother was humiliated and was convinced that a good keying of our car was in our future. I, however, was so proud of myself.

And yes, it was that important to me.

Confessions of a Blog-aholic

2011-03-31T14:52:00.002-05:00

I am a bit of a blog-aholic. I creep. I click. I search. And I love. I love to read about the lives of others. I find joy in the shared joys of others and I often experience hurt and sadness as I read about others’ trials. Say what you want, but I think blogs are fantastic.

One of the things I truly enjoy about my blog is that I have found it sort of pulls down the walls I have built up. In the past it has been easy for me to keep my private life from the masses. Don’t get me wrong, if you were to ask me, I would be an open book. But I have never felt 100% confident in sharing some of the tough stuff with everyone. I prefer to be the fun gal, the one who cracks witty jokes and can lighten your mood. Pictures don’t go up on Facebook unless they are cute. My status updates are never sad. And I certainly don’t sign my emails, “Having a rough day…love ya! Brooke.”

No, it is often easier to keep the yucky stuff within close circles. But some things just need to be shared and I cherish the ability to share with others via my blog.

As this pregnancy progresses and the evidence of a baby growing inside me becomes more visible (officially wearing maternity pants! Woohoo!), I find myself conflicted. I am so happy to welcome this little life into our home but I am also worn down, frustrated with my pregnancy experience, and a little concerned about what will happen once the baby is actually here.

When I was a little girl, I daydreamed about having babies. My baby dolls all slept with me, I changed their diapers often, and I was often the nurturing friend to others. As I entered adolescence I took on countless babysitting jobs and even worked as a nanny one summer in high school. Having babies? It was in my blood. And even as we waited for Pearce’s arrival, I was a stellar caregiver. A friend of mine even dubbed me as the “Baby Whisperer” because of my ability to calm her cranky girl down. I was set up for maternal magnificence.

But all that confidence changed when I met sweet Pearce.

I remember when Jimmy handed him to me after he was born. I was so surprised at how calm I was. Where were the crazy tears? Why wasn’t I smiling from ear to ear? And why was I so content letting others hold him? I looked at his wild hair and puffy lips and waited for the life-changing electric current I assumed every other woman felt when a mother is face to face with her child for the first time. But it didn’t come.

And as the weeks went by, I found that motherhood was so tough. I wasn’t sleeping. I hadn’t showered. I was just lucky to brush my teeth. I was living on coffee and I spent most of my days sitting in a glider nursing. In many ways, I think it was one of the loneliest times in my life. I remember being greeted by happy smiles as people brought meals to our house and loved on our boy. When asked how I was doing, I would smile sweetly and reply, “I’m good … Just tired. Isn’t he precious?” Because I sort of thought if I said it enough, it would be true.

But I wasn’t fine. I was losing my mind.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved that boy more than anything I had ever seen. I did think he was precious. I loved his hair and his lips and his puffy cheeks. I loved how he stretched each time we changed his diaper. I loved that he was our boy…that I could see bits of his daddy in him each time I looked at him. I loved that child with all my heart. I just didn’t like him very much. He needed me all the time and half the time I didn’t know what he needed. So I just kept giving and trying and reading about newborns and nursing and rocking. Why was this so tough?

I couldn’t figure out why nursing was so hard for me and why I had to get out of bed every 2-3 hours to feed this little camel just so he could eat again in two hours. I mean, I never thought I would be jealous of someone’s milk supply or expertness at breastfeeding, but I was so jealous of everyone who already knew what they were doing. I remember sitting at a friend’s house while she pumped and saw that she got eight ounces on each side. Eight! I wanted to slap her.

I remember sitting topless in Pearce’s pediatrician’s office at his one week check up as she squeezed and yanked and poked at me, just trying to help Pearce get a good latch during nursing. I looked up at Jimmy with frustrated tears in my eyes as Jimmy gave me a sympathetic look and a reassuring squeeze of the hand. My body was no longer my own. I was officially being milked like Bessie the Cow. Brookie the Cow. Perfect.

For the first 4-6 weeks of Pearce’s life I cried each time the sun went down because I knew what was coming. For the rest of the world, the sunset meant blessed rest was right around the corner. For me, it meant the loneliness of dark and countless hours in the glider watching Paris Hilton is My New BFF (don’t judge me). Oh, those nights were so tough.

But like my friends told me I would, I quickly grew to like our son and love him more deeply than I thought possible. Simply put, I adored him. I loved the feel of his fuzzy hair on my face. I loved how he looked around at the world with wonder and I will never forget the first time he smiled at me. The mother-child connection was finally there and it was so strong.

And in many ways, this pregnancy has mirrored my emotions those first few weeks of Pearce’s life. I feel as though I am in over my head. While I love this child already, I am not too sure I like the fact that my body is not my own. I throw up everyday and spend the rest of my time gagging. And oh yeah, I have been known to wet my pants while vomiting. It’s my new thing. It’s awesome.

And to add insult to injury? I woke up on Monday with a fever blister…my first ever. My dermatologist asked me if I had been run down or stressed. I fought back tears as I nodded slowly and silently begged him not to ask me anymore pressing questions as I might just open the waterworks and cry all over his exam room floor.

But as I exited his office, an elderly lady opened the waterworks for him.

I had noticed she and her husband kept staring at me while we were in the waiting room. I think they may have been a little unsure about my fever blister and could have simply mistaken it for some sort of skin cancer. I don’t know why there were so fascinated. Anyhow, as I left the doctor’s office my nurse ran after me and said, “Here! Take this sample of viral cream to start using right now. That way you don’t have to rush to get your prescription filled.”

The little old lady, (who was clearly deaf or close to it), turned to her husband and practically yelled, “Ohhhh. She has a virus!”

Yes lady, I do. It’s actually quite painful. Isn’t that wonderful? And while I have your attention, do you happen to have a spare Depends diaper in your handbag? You see, I have been wetting my pants lately too and would appreciate your support on that front as well. Thanks.

Sigh.

There are some days right now that I am barely hanging on by a thread. But then I remember Pearce and our first rough weeks together, and I am hopeful. This will pass, right? Please Lord, let it pass.

Oh Boy, Oh Boy

2011-03-22T11:30:00.000-05:00

I am officially out numbered for the foreseeable future.

I mean, I totally understand that I have been the out-numbered gender for 2 1/2 years now, however for quite some time Pearce was really only half a person because frankly, he couldn't talk much and still thought I was the coolest milk provider there ever was. Snuggling was his favorite past time and my ability to make him laugh brought out a sort of "bowl full of jelly" notion in the kiddo. About a year ago, all of that changed. He's a boy now, and boys would much rather run through the house channeling their inner Superman. Tools are the best playmate right now and the only snuggling he wants to do involves wrestling with his daddy.

He is wild and bossy. And I love every minute of it.

Having said that, there was a small part of me that wondered if my Transformers and Trains play dates would soon be softened by the aroma of freshly brewed pretend tea and crumpets. Floppy hats and bunny rabbits would be sitting next to our Hot Wheels. Instead, last week's doc appointment revealed two things: 1.) I am gonna have to figure out a way to rock the whole soccer mom stereotype and 2.) My hubby and I are about to embark on the adventure of one - on- one defense in the realm of raising little boys.

We are pretty excited. Other than the Great Name Debate, we are happy as larks. (More on that in a later post .)

First, let me tell you about our blessed appointment time.

We knew our appointment last week came with the probability that we would see Baby Brann's gender so we sent out invitations to the appointment. Unfortunately, our UPS man was busy. Our dry-cleaner felt we were getting too personal and my favorite checkout lady at Target had to work. Luckily Emily and Jon weren't offended by our invite so they popped in for the great gender reveal, which turned out to be a good thing because someone had to keep my mom from asking too many questions.

There were six of us crammed into the exam room and I think Dr. S may have been a little shocked to be greeted with such gusto. As many family events turn out, it was a bit chaotic at first. After we all shuffled into the room, it took about ten minutes of stepping over one another to get everyone situated.

And then came the common disruption that comes with all girl families:

Emily: Crud. I have to go to the bathroom. Do you think I have time?

Mom: Didn't you just go? You had better hurry. Go on...

Emily: No, I can wait.

Mom: Emily, you don't want to wait! I mean, this could take about 30 minutes or so. What if the baby won't cooperate?

Me: Mom, it won't take 30 minutes to do an ultrasound. Emily, just go on and we will make sure he waits until you are back.

Emily flinging open the exam room door...bumping into someone...

Emily: Oh, hey! Are you coming in here now?

Dr. S: I am, do I need to come back?

Emily: Well, I just need to go to the bathroom. Don't do anything major while I am gone.

Dr S: Why don't I just come back in a few minutes?

Strike. Oh yes doctor, please come back at a more convenient time. We are busy filing our nails and trying on lipstick right now. Give us ten more minutes please.

Knock on the door and entrance of Dr. S again.

Dr S: Whoa! This is quite a group!

Me: Oh, this is nothing. Just wait until delivery. The paparazzi simply doesn't have boundaries when it comes to me. Ummm, do you wear contacts?

Dr S: No I don't, why?

Me: Well, if you did I just wanted to make sure they were clean. I would hate for a speck on your contact to be mistaken for a baby boy part or something.

Dr S: Does this mean you want a girl?

Me: No! We really don't care. I would just hate to go a month or so thinking that there was a little penis growing inside me, only to find out you were wrong. Ya know, I need to be prepared for such changes.

Dr S: Well, let's take a look. (insert jelly goo on my stomach here) Ah....I already know what it is.

Me: It's a boy, isn't it?! Is there a circumcision in my future?!

Dr S: Well, I am trying to get a better look... yep there it is. Let's just say that if I wore contacts, there would be a speck in my eye.

Insert laughs, cheers, and ahhhhs from my family.

I, however, was panic - stricken. Two boys? I am officially in over my head.

But after a Diet Dr. Pepper and some time with sweet Pearce, I realized that I can totally be the mom of two boys. There is most certainly a minivan in my future, but I can do this.

And there are a few perks as well :

1. I will never hear myself saying, "No, that shirt doesn't make you look fat" to my boys.

2. I won't have to share my shoes. Or my lipstick.

3. I will never take out the trash again.

4. And lastly, I've always felt somewhat masculine...particularly during pregnancy. Now I have an excuse.

The Incompetent Need Not Apply

2011-03-15T13:50:00.000-05:00

Of two things I am certain:
1. Unborn children have one job in the first trimester: To keep their mamas from any productivity or life - living.
2. My unborn children choose to carry this job description well into the second trimester.

Mark my words...He or She is grounded immediately upon arrival into this world.

Anyhow, sorry for the lack of posts. Don't be offended by my negelct. You aren't the only ones...in fact, there is a "Brooke has neglected us" club here in Tulsa. Jimmy and Pearce are Co-Presidents. My unbrushed teeth and unwashed hair are Membership Recruiters.

I am trying. Really, I am.

Do you ever feel like you have no idea what you are doing? Do you often wonder, what the heck was I thinking? And as a parent, how bad did that one act of idiocy just screw up my kid?

Those thoughts cross my mind. All. The. Time.

If you are reading this and you can openly admit you are somewhat of a judgemental person, please stop reading immediately. I would prefer our online relationship stay positive and I can assure you that some of my mentionings here are sure to leave even the least judgemental of those readers shaking their heads. And if you're not judgemental, feel free to read on. I have lots to say on this subject.

Like many of you, I am often amazed at how easy it is for Americans to have kiddos. No application necessary. No blood work necessary. No proof of income necessary. Just procreate to your little heart's desire.

We have to apply and pass a test to get a license to drive. We fill out oodles of paperwork to buy a home. And we even have to have a doctor's prescription to pick up the medication needed to heal our ailments. Yet we can take on the huge responsibility of raising a little life. With no required training.

I am secretly relieved that I didn't have to pass a test to parent. Because I can assure you, this mama would have an empty house. As Jimmy and I navigate parenting, we are often amused at our toddler's ability to totally play us. The kid is an expert negotiator, and an even better lobbyist. We are so proud.

I mean, we shouldn't be too shocked at the little rascal's ability to out-wit his college educated parents. The signs were all there...even from the beginning...

When Jimmy and I were preparing for Pearce's arrival, we did all sorts of research. We found the safest car seats, the most recommended monitors, and even the most orthodontic friendly pacifiers were in our home. We were all set ... Until it came time to make decisions without the knowledge of consumer reports. To prove my point, let me share a little story about an important trip we made to Wal-Mart in order to get Pearce's last minute necessities. We needed to get a few things before our boy arrived and among those, were batteries.

Here is who the battery aisle discussion went:

B: Okay, we need a couple of different batteries. Some for the bouncer and others for the swing. The bouncer requires AA and the swing needs C batteries.

J: What's the difference again?

B: You know, the bouncer can easily move from room to room with us and the swing is the large thing in our living room. All the reviews I read made negative comments about the swing batteries running out quickly so we need lots of those.

J: No, I mean what's the difference between all these packages? Is C4 better than C6? Maybe that has to do with voltage?

B: Ooohhh, good question. Maybe the number has something to do with the power level? Or maybe we need a certain size of C batteries?

J: Yeah, that makes sense...but here is a package of C8 batteries. Should we get those instead?

B: I don't know babe. I don't want to get some that are too powerful. Could it blow a fuse or something?

(10 minutes and a series of puzzled questions later)

B: Oh no.

J: What happened? Are you hurting?

B: No...it's just...well...babe, we are total idiots. Those numbers? The C4, C6, and C8 are just the number of batteries in the package. The C4 has four batteries, C6 has six, and so on.

J: Are you sure? I... (grabbing battery package for closer study) ... oh no. How much longer until we are parents?

We were quickly slapped with the reality that our inability to read battery packages was scary. But not as scary as the fact that we were going to be responsible for a little life in just weeks.

We were clearly in over our heads.

And I am sad to say that wasn't the last time we embarrassed ourselves in the parenting department. As I have said in previous posts, I am pretty sickly with this little expectant Bean. And for some odd reason, Pearce is fascinated by my "frow up".

Anyhow, last week little Pearce was playing in his playroom and he lugged all of his musical instruments into the kitchen. After setting up his "stage", we began to ask questions.

Me: Pearce, what are you doing sweetheart?

Pearce: Uh, I doin' a music show.

Me: Okay, what are you going to sing?

Pearce: Just a minute. I got to get my guitar. (returns with guitar in tow and starts strumming away)

And what happened next left Jimmy and I with our mouths hanging open as we realized our toddler knew way to much about the facts of life.

Imagine the following to an off-key tune of music....

Pearce: Mommy's sick...she frowin' up....she stays in bed 'cause she is sick....she havin' a babyyyy....Mommy's sickkkkkkkkk....

Jimmy was amused.

I was humiliated.

And of course I immediately began to fight back tears as I imagined little Pearce twenty years from now, in a therapist's office as he tries to remember why he has a complex about sick people. Sigh.

How to Make Your Doctor Question His Profession of Choice ...

2011-02-16T21:38:00.000-06:00

One thing you need to know about me is that I was born with a big heart ... and an even bigger mouth. Unfortunately, this is a common casualty of us Watkins gals, however I seem to have been hit the hardest with this blessing/curse. I mean, it is only natural that we be this way... our parents are exactly the same.

For example, my mom was at Sam's Club one day and the door greeter was in a wheelchair and had two patriotically painted, wooden legs. Rather than smile and walk on, she felt compelled to squeal with glee as she exclaimed, "I love your legs!! Where did you get those?! I'm serious. Those are really awesome!" Upon hearing the story from my dad, us girls were mortified and promptly told my mother that wooden legs are much like gold teeth. You can admire them, just don't talk about them.

And don't get me started on my dad's incessant need to tell unsuspecting strangers all about his many surgeries. He loves to compare surgery stories with passersby and us girls are often found sinking under the table as we listen to the banter that is sure to follow. But my dad loves people and they certainly love him. As a previous college football player, he has more stitches than a quilt so I suppose he can brag if he'd like.

I am reminded about my big mouth often. Many happenings in the Brann household are followed by a simple request from my hubby: "Brooke, please don't blog about this or post it on Facebook." Of course I am shocked by such accusations, so I sweetly reply, "I would never." My assertions of innocence are often followed by Jimmy's raised eyebrows and a simple shake of his head. He knows me so well. Anyways.

I often run into my "big mouth awareness" at my doctor's appointments. I am starting to wonder if they dread my appointment times and I wouldn't be surprised if there is a picture of me in the break room that reads ,"Do Not Get Stuck Talking to This Patient." And for the record, I am convinced that it has to be almost impossible for our doctors to remember us each visit. They see hundreds of patients each week and their smart heads are already crammed full of information about human anatomy, viruses, prescriptions, etc. They can't possibly keep everything sorted out. I mean, I have trouble keeping track of the Lord of the Rings characters. So I am certain that I have to leave some sort of impression so they will know who I am when I call with my pressing questions.

Our 6 week appointment left Jimmy blushing and me beaming ... with pride. I think I actually made our new doctor a bit uncomfortable. Our current OB is still fairly new to us so we are still in the honeymoon phase. I think he's great. He thinks I'm great. Life is good. I think it's important to really 'know' those who are responsible for helping bring your expectant child into the world so I have been asking lots of questions. Here's how the appointment went:

Me: Doctor S, do you have kids?

Dr.: I do...I have six.

Me: Six?! My goodness, you must love your life!

Dr.: I do love my life, you're being serious, right? ... Why do you ask? (insert rubber glove snap here.)

Me: Oh I don't know. I figure if I am going to have another kid it's important to have a doctor that either knows how to get themselves pregnant or knows how to get their women pregnant. Sounds like you have mastered that skill.

Insert Jimmy's covered face and shaking head here - I really should've stopped rambling at this point but I didn't. I kept talking.

Me: ...Besides, I don't really trust people who don't like kids. And seeing as you have six, I am assuming you like them. And since you like kids, I am assuming you can be trusted. Which is good because I figure if you are going to have your head, hands, and utensils in my unmentionable areas, I need to trust you.

Imagine Jimmy's deep sigh here. I had gone too far. He knew it. And I knew it.

Dr.: This is going to be a fun nine months, isn't it?

You have no idea, Dr. S. No idea.

I am sad to say that our next appointment got even more awkward. And I haven't entirely figured out if Dr. S. finds my big mouth endearing or just plain creepy.

The appointment started out just fine. They weighed me first, which is always a traumatic experience...pregnant or not pregnant. I tried leaning a bit to trick the scale into a lower weight but it didn't work, so I simply closed my eyes.

As I sulked past the nurse's station, Dr S. hollered, " How are you today?" I gave him my overused, sarcastic reply of, "Oh you know...livin' the dream." And then I did the weirdest thing to ever be done in a doctor's office. I saluted the man.

I really cannot explain why I felt compelled to show such a level of patriotism, but I did. And it couldn't be undone.

Strike One.

And with that, I plopped down on the table. After dropping trough and covering up with the generous white sheet on the table, I begin to scan the champagne colored walls. I immediately began to wonder who decorates these offices. I suppose the meetings consist of banter around which colors exude fertility and hope...what shapes won't make an overly nauseous pregnant lady hurl, and which waiting room chairs will be wide enough for the most pregnant of pregnant patients.

I want in on those meetings.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and the grand entrance of Dr. S and his nurse. We chatted a bit and then came the loaded question of, "How are you feeling? Any problems?"

Oh, doctor. You have opened the gate.

Me: Frankly, I am miserable. I am sick all the time and that Zofran just isn't working. I suppose I should be grateful but I am secretly feeling horrible. Any thoughts?

Dr.: Well, sick is good.

Me: Yes, I know. I just worry this baby will come out the shape of a saltine cracker. I mean, I eat mostly waffles, applesauce, and graham crackers. Is that a problem?

Dr.: (Glances at my chart) Well, you're gaining weight. That's good. Of course, it could be because you are eating so many carbs.

Me: Yes, thanks for pointing that out.

Dr.: Well, you should try to get a variety of healthy foods when you can. Besides, you need lots of fiber right now. Your digestive track slows down during pregnancy so fiber and fluids are important.

Me: While I understand this need for fiber, I don't want to be "that girl" on the elevator. Besides, my food hasn't been staying put long enough to digest. Can't I just have a beer?

Strike Two.

Dr.: A beer?

Me: Oh don't worry. I am not an alcoholic. I just love the smell of beer right now. I am tempted to take a sip of Jimmy's sometimes but I wanted your permission first. Again, most of my food isn't digesting anyways.

Dr.: I'd rather you didn't. As your friend, I would say take a sip. As your doctor, I would rather you didn't.

Me: Fine. You're the doc. No beer. How do you feel about pregnant ladies who eat ice cream for dinner? (wink, wink)

Strike Three.

I mean, I am no body language expert but one would assume that his blank stare indicated he wasn't amused. He might have actually been a bit concerned.

I can't be certain but I have a sneaking suspicion that Dr. S will be unavoidably detained during this baby's delivery.

Channeling my inner frat guy...

2011-01-31T12:58:00.001-06:00

I have to be honest here. I have a new alter-ego and I am not sure I like him too much. Moving forward, I will affectionately refer to the said alter ego as Frank. Frank the Frat Guy to be exact.

Let me preface this post with a little history on my many alter-egos. I have three, err four (sorry Frank)…but I suspect I will continue to adopt more as my life goes on.

Every year in the fall I come down with some sort of a head cold. But not just any cold, these are usually some sort of cold on steroids…the kind of cold that doesn’t just linger but brings its own sleeping bag and rubs your shoulders and watches Modern Family with you as it invades your otherwise healthy home. The dreaded cold comes complete with post nasal drip, cough attacks that never cease to hit while I am sleeping, and a raw throat.

Enter alter-ego # 1: Kathleen Turner.

Kathleen was discovered and named by my adoring husband. He began to notice that as my cold worsened, my voice got deeper than his. Naturally, he was a bit threatened so I presume he felt it was necessary to bring me back to reality. So he named me Kathleen. And for the record, we are not talking about the Kathleen Turner role in Romancing the Stone (though she was a bit masculine then). We are referring to the Kathleen Turner role from Friends, when Chandler’s cross-dressing dad appears. Yes, my sweet husband affectionately compares me to a cross-dressing man in the midst of my head cold anguish. Can’t you just feel the love? We know that every fall Kathleen has her plane ticket purchased, her bags packed, and is just bursting with excitement as she awaits the perfect time to crash the Brann household. She usually shows up at some perfect time with the plans to sabotage my pumpkin patch weekend. We love her. Let me just tell you.

But Kathleen is not the only other woman to be in our home. No, we also have a Princess … also courtesy of my hubby. Our Princess usually appears when I am lacking a sense of, shall I say, delicacy?

Enter alter ego # 2: Princess Fiona…from Shrek.

The ogre Princess Fiona, not the pretty, singing redhead. While I am certain my hubby loves this princess, I know he is sometimes taken aback by her actions. You see, Princess Fiona is not always mindful of her manners. She thinks it is quite appropriate to burp louder than her husband and is completely at home with a cold beer and cheese dip. Princess Fiona also has sisters who laugh hysterically at bathroom humor and often leave their spouses shaking their heads in dismay. Bet you didn’t know Princess Fiona had sisters, did ya? Well she does…their names are Heth and Pemily. Anyways. Princess Fiona often appears when I am tired, or too comfortable in a crowd, or just plain bored. Because sometimes I need to shake things up.

My third alter-ego is perhaps the most beneficial to have around. She loves to clean and often does it in a panic-stricken sort of way. Disinfecting the sink is a joyful occasion for this lady and I must say that I personally enjoy her appearances.

Enter alter ego # 3: Monica Gellar.

Monica has control issues. She isn’t very good at sitting and chatting after dinner because she is too busy imagining how to get marinara sauce off her son’s clothes. The dishes can never wait to be cleaned because that would just get in the way of folding laundry. She often clears her guest’s dinner plates off the table too soon and has been known to swipe the fork from an unsuspecting diner while they are mid-bite. Sorry ‘bout that. And she talks really, really loud. We know Monica has gone too far when Jimmy drops a subtle hint of, “Monicaaaaaaa. What are you doing?” It is at that moment I usually realize that Monica is no longer welcome and is sort making our guests uncomfortable.

The newest addition to my personality is even less appealing than Fiona…even more controlling than Monica, and a bit more masculine than Kathleen.

Enter alter ego # 4: Frank the Frat Guy.

Frank came to town when I got pregnant and I am certain that he is convinced it is his duty to keep me in the college life until this baby arrives. Frank doesn’t glow…he sweats…particularly at night. The thought of brushing his teeth upsets him emotionally and the concept of fresh veggies makes his stomach turn. He prefers the nourishment of dishes like ramen noodles and mac n cheese. He is soooo healthy. Frank doesn’t do much…he simply likes to sleep. A lot. He spends most of his weekends sitting in bed watching mind-numbing junk on TV and thinks it is totally appropriate to go out in public without showering, while donning only a baseball cap and the previous night’s pajamas. Yes, Frank is quite the charmer. He also has a very weak stomach (chalk that up to last night’s hall party) and has been known to gag at the sight of grilled cheese sandwiches. And like any frat-guy, Frank is really good at throwing up. In fact, it’s his new favorite pastime. We love Frank.

As this pregnancy progresses and my mind, body, and soul are changed thanks to the little human growing inside me, I am certain there will be newer alter egos to channel. Because let’s face it, I am not the most gracious of pregnant ladies. Much like my friend Frank, I don’t glow. I sweat. I don’t welcome the new, curvier me. I get stretch marks and a big butt. And I don’t really “nest”, I simply shop til I drop and hope I picked up a thing or two that will suit the new kiddo.

I suppose we can’t get much worse than Kathleen … or Fiona … or Monica … and certainly not Frank. But in the event that I do get larger, louder, and lazier I suppose I could name that alter ego something fitting. Like Roseanne Barr. (insert obnoxious laugh here).

Conversation Hearts...

2011-01-25T22:48:00.000-06:00

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and I secretly love this time of year. Trips to Target and Hobby Lobby are laced with pink placemats and bubbly picture frames. Heart shaped dishes and red and pink dishtowels brighten our kitchen. Candy Conversation Hearts fill candy dishes with the sweet sentiments I often think about my boys, but could never tell them enough.

If I could, I would pack a “Miss You” candy heart in Jimmy’s lunch everyday … because I miss him terribly when we are apart. My heart is at peace when I hear the garage door open and I smile inside when I hear the sweetest words, “Hey guys, I’m home!” Jimmy is home to me and I cherish the quiet strength he brings to our family.

For that matter, Pearce needs a daily “Miss You” heart too. I miss this kiddo when he sleeps, I miss him when I take him to Miss Sheron’s, and I miss him when he is busy playing in the other room. His presence is life in our home and his laughter is the song that we want to keep on repeat.

Pearce also needs a “Sweet Pea” candy heart for every minute of everyday. Because that’s what he is: a sweetpea. He is the cutest pie in all the cutie pies of the world. His cheeks rock the “Chubby Bunny” look and his eyelashes ought to be featured on Maybelline commercials. I love to hear him sing and strum his guitar as he rambles jumbled lyrics and shakes his money maker.

And I would give Jimmy and Pearce both a “Me and You” message for each time I see the duo together. They are quite the pair. I love that Pearce shadows Jimmy’s every move…how I can often find Pearce’s shoes parked next to Jimmy’s in the closet. I love that Pearce wears his play glasses while Jimmy wears his real ones. And I adore how patient Jimmy is when he is trying to repair something as Pearce insists on helping daddy “fix sumthin” too. Jimmy often situates things just right so that Pearce can add the final touch and beam with pride at his handy-ness.

And lastly, I would share a “Smile” message with the rest of the world ...

because that is exactly what I was doing when we saw this last week…

A strong heartbeat for our Baby Bean, due in September.

We are excited, and hopeful. While it is early, we wanted to share with you to ask for continued prayer over the growth and development of Baby Brann. Many of you have offered love and encouragement these past months and for that, we are so grateful.

I find it completely fitting that we announce this today, January 25th, otherwise known as our 2nd Baby Brann's due date. While Jimmy and I are saddened by our previous losses, we are so grateful for our gain.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;

may the name of the LORD be praised.”

Job 1:21

How honest is too honest?

2011-01-21T22:22:00.002-06:00

Here's the deal: I have always been pretty good about telling others what I think. I don't hold my tongue. I say things that are often followed by blank stares. And I have been known to lay in bed at night and panic as I replay all the potentially insensitive comments that I threw out during social gatherings. Jimmy swears I verbally vomit for shock factor.

But the truth? I simply have no filter.

For example, last week we were at dinner with our sweet small group friends and I started to get really sick. The stomach bug had been running rampant around Tulsa and I was the next victim. Rather than leave quietly and explain later, I promptly walked out of the bathroom and stated, "Here's the deal: I just had explosive diarrhea and I think we need to leave." I was comforted by a few sympathetic smiles, a couple of chuckles, and one blessed "Hey! We're among friends here!"

And here I am blogging about it. On the world wide web. Again, I have no filter.

I am sad to say that this need to express what is pressing on my mind has carried over to my parenting. Jimmy and I always try to be honest with Pearce. I mean, I have certainly been tempted to tell him that if he tinkles in the bathtub a crocodile might get him, but someday he will actually tinkle in the tub and learn that my crocodile threats are much like the ice cream carton after a long day: empty.

So we try to be honest. For example, we use the real words for private parts when talking with Pearce. (Gasp!) I just feel odd using kid-friendly words with Pearce when discussing his anatomy. I figure he needs to hear it from Jimmy and I rather than some preteen book on adolescence. I even tried once to tell Pearce how he got his bellybutton. But would you believe the poor kid glazed over when I started using words like "placenta" and "umbilical cord"? Too much too soon, Mom.

Pearce likes to drink his bathwater and I am forever trying to remind him of the day's previous poopy diapers so he too, will grossed out about the concept of drinking dingy bathwater. I use words like germs, dirt, poop, and yucky to scare him into bathwater abandonment. He has also been chewing on those crazy Zany Bands lately and I am constantly telling him not to put them in his mouth because he could choke and die. Because he could choke and I am not sure I remember all the steps to saving a choking victim. Again, he needs to know.

But there are some things poor Pearce doesn't need to know and I have been known to share too much with the kiddo. This was the reality that slapped me smack in the face today. Like most two year olds, Pearce is quite dramatic. And he loves fruit snacks. So everyday we have the same discussion.

Pearce: "Mommy, I want some fruit snacks."
Me: "No Pearce, you can't have fruit snacks for breakfast. You can have some after your nap."
Pearce: "But I want sommmmmmeeeee." (picture a tot dropping his toosh to the floor)
Me: "Well sweetie, we don't always get what we want."
Pearce: "But I want some, puhleasssseeee."
Me: "Well, Mommy would like a lift and lipo-suction but it's not happening so we have to accept it."

Silence. And it always settles the conversation.

Until today.

Today started out like another other day. Pearce wanted fruit snacks before his nap. And for the record, let me just tell you that this kiddo has never had fruit snacks at breakfast. He is sort of an Olympian. He eats things like eggs, berries, and yogurt for breakfast. And he loves toast. So the news that fruit snacks are a "pre-nap no-no" should not be shocking for the little negotiator.

Anyways, we started our usual dialogue of "What Pearce Wants" after lunch today. The conversation went something like this:

Pearce: "Mommy, I want some fruit snacks."
Me: "No Pearce, we don't eat fruit snacks before our nap. You can have some after your nap."
Pearce: "But I want some fruit snacks before my nap."
Me: "Well sweetie, you know what I want?"
Pearce and his wide eyes: "Bipo -sucton?"

I was shocked. Stunned. Amused. Inspired.

I should have been intentional.

"Yes dear, now that I know you are listening, take notes and tell Daddy. I do want lipo suction. And a minivan. And a vacation. And a massage every day. And a live-in cook. And an unlimited clothing budget. And world peace."

"Don't forget to tell daddy!"

... If only it were that easy.

To be a kid again...

2011-01-10T21:23:00.001-06:00

Do you ever wish you were a kid again? … The time in life when nothing else mattered except what mattered to you?

Stereotypes didn’t exist. Elation and joy were defined by running around the house in the buff. Fruit Snacks were a completely appropriate option for breakfast. Your mom and dad were hilarious. And working outdoors was fun, because that’s what grownups did.

I miss being a kid.

While I have found my adult life to be wonderfully rewarding, there are times I wish I could go back in time and just be a kid. Not younger. Not smaller. Just childish. You know, the time in life when you are expected to act like an emotional, erratic, control freak.

Like this one time I was headed to the checkout lane at Target and this crank of an old lady totally cut me off in line. She knew it. I knew it. It took all I had not to stomp my feet and throw my Yoplait yogurts to the ground as I shouted, “She just cut me in line. Mr. Checkout Guy! Did you see that? She cut me!”

Or the time that I tried to return a large frame to Hobby Lobby because the glass broke when I tried to put the backing in. The store manager asked me if I was sure I hadn’t done something to break it. I insisted that I hadn’t, so he went and got another one of the same frames to test it out. And you know what? The glass broke for him too. Again, I wanted to channel my inner two year old and stick my thumbs in my ears and shake my hiney as I sang, “Nanny nanny boo boo, I told youuuuuuu.”

But that would be totally inappropriate, wouldn’t it? I mean, what sort of an adult has a meltdown mid shopping? Not me. I would never.

Moving on…

Since being a kid again is not an option, I suppose I will enjoy one of the obvious blessings of adulthood: A kiddo of my own. I sometimes live my life vicariously through Pearce and I must say, it is a wonderful life. His orneriness is still cute. He doesn’t have to get up and do his hair in the morning…in fact, his bed head is quite glorious. His pot belly is precious, not a recipe for diabetes. His temper tantrums in public are met with the sympathetic stares of strangers as they try to analyze what I must have done to him to cause such an uproar. And frankly, I love his ability to throw caution to the wind.

One time when I really wish I was a kid again, is at Christmas. I have always loved Christmastime. I am often guilty of enjoying Christmas music in June. And again in October. And finally in December.

As I mentioned in previous posts, I am a bit of an idealist so you can imagine the wild thoughts that run through my head as the picture perfect season of Christmas rolls around. I shop early. My gifts are usually perfectly packaged weeks before Christmas. I daydream about baking homemade fudge and wrapping it in candy cane cellophane, tied up with a red ribbon. I imagine a round of Christmas carols with the family, all gathered around the old family piano. I scour my cookbooks and magazines for unique spins on Christmas dinner classics: the kinds of recipes that cause one to say, “This is how my aunt Brooke makes it. She always adds her own touch.” Dishes such as Roasted Garlic and Sausage Stuffing, and Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Grapes are recent discoveries I have come to love. And I always love my Christmas tree…one that exudes a sense of “welcome home” to all who enter.

Yes, these are the Christmas expectations I truly enjoy. But not Mr. Pearce.

No, his ideal Christmas consists of candycanes and hot chocolate. Glimpses of inflatable Santas leave him baffled as he wonders why Santa is outside. Christmas lights equal glee. And Christmas presents are synonymous with the old adage “the sky’s the limit”.

For example, Pearce could’ve had it all this Christmas. First of all, his daddy is a total sucker and wants Pearce to experience all things wonderful in the world. Second, his mother happens to have a black belt in shopping and gets an unhealthy high from finding the perfect gift for someone else. Pearce was poised for present perfection. He should have been raking in the big gifts: A real pony. A circus. A Porsche four-wheeler. But no, Pearce knew what he wanted this year and that was all that mattered to him.

Ahem, Pearce wanted a car. Okay, a Barbie car to be exact. And a Barbie to go with it.

He didn’t care that Barbies are ‘girl toys’. He wasn’t aware of the fact that I am totally putting this in his baby book. And he certainly didn’t know that pink cars are reserved for Mary Kay superstars. Nope. Pearce simply wanted a Barbie and a car she could drive in.

Christmas Eve I started to feel guilty that we did not get the one gift sweet Pearce really wanted. So like any other black belt shopper would have, I braved Toys R Us early Christmas Eve. We compromised and found the Playskool Loving Family and minivan for him. Jimmy felt this was more gender appropriate since there was at least a dad doll and they all stayed fully clothed at all times. The problem? Well, Toys R Us was a little picked over and only had one African American dad and daughter set left. After leaving Toys R Us with only the minivan in hand, I high-tailed it to Target. Would you believe I found the last mom and baby and dad and daughter set? It was meant to be...

Having said that, our neighbor felt so badly that we mean parents weren’t getting Pearce his exact beloved Barbie that he took matters into his own hands. On Christmas morning we found a mystery package for Pearce. One crackle of the plastic and I knew we had a Barbie on our hands.

She is a brunette and he named her Mommy.

You will be happy to know that the first thing Pearce did once she was out of the box was slam her down to the ground and holler “Touchdown!”

I feel so loved.

New Year…New Me?

2011-01-05T09:29:00.000-06:00

Okay, let me preface this with the statement that I am not a goal-hater … I just get nervous this time of year. I don’t like failure anymore than the next guy and in my opinion, each new year just offers up another opportunity to set some unattainable, yet wishful goal that I will get bored with, fail at, forget, etc., etc.

At dinner the other night, Jimmy asked me if I had any sort of resolution for 2011. I paused, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Well I would like to lose the rest of my baby weight but I would love to have another child….seems counter intuitive to me.” And with that, my potential New Year’s Resolution went right down the kitchen sink, along with our 3 day old veggie stew.

I mean, I would like to say that I have held on to at least one of my previous New Year’s resolutions but I don’t think I can. Hummmm…Nope. Not one stinkin’ resolution has been carried heroically to the next year.

I get distracted. I get bored. I get hungry. I get complacent. And frankly, I get real with myself. So this year, I am going to set a New Year’s Resolution I am sure to carry forward: I resolve to be real.

And like many of you reading this, I am not sure what ‘real’ looks like for me. Because sometimes I am north and other times I am south. Every now and again, I prefer 2% over skim milk. I teeter totter between Act II popcorn and Smart Balance popcorn. I will go weeks while wearing only my pearl stud earrings, only to switch to a week long marathon of flashy diamonds.

For example, every few months I pick up the horrible bad habit of biting my nails. You can count on the fact that every now and again, my cuticles will be freshly chewed. My nails will be perfectly bitten to the quick and my hands will hold an uncanny resemblance to those of a middle school quarterback. Having said that, there are those months when my hands look fresh. My nails are perfectly manicured in a Whitney Port sort of fashion. They are pretty. Delicate, even.

And these are the quirks that make me, Me. Surely you know what I am talking about here. Can I get an “amen?!”

Like most of you moms and wives, I am desperate to keep a clean house. Having said that, my kitchen desk is littered with the following: random junk mail, expired coupons, a broken picture frame, a stray red crayon, and some pictures Pearce colored that I have yet to put in his 2 year box.

Why then, do I spend 5 minutes a day fluffing pillows that are only going to be flattened by the next butt to sit on them rather than taking 10 minutes clean off my kitchen desk?

How do I find time every week to vacuum, yet my wooden floors haven’t been cleaned in months?

And how is it that I religiously take Pearce to Mr. Will for a haircut every month, while I use Jimmy’s grooming scissors to unevenly trim my bangs in between my six month haircuts?

Why do I feel compelled to take a 30 minute shower in order to scrub the shower tiles, only to realize that I haven’t bothered to shave my legs in over a week?

Because I am a mom. And that is what moms do.

I can hear Pearce crying from a mile away. I still stumble in high heels and try desperately to tuck in my “post baby muffin top” on date nights with Jimmy. My closet is still packed with my pre-pregnancy jeans…just in case. My red lipstick is often uneven and I have been known to leave the house in mismatched shoes. Most days you can find some sort of “keep your kid’s nose clean” remnants on my otherwise clean shirt sleeve. This Christmas I bought everything we needed to make Jesus a birthday cake…but I forgot to make it. The pumpkin pie worked just as well.

And I am still puzzled by my ability to go to Target for eggs and milk, only to return with $100 worth of groceries. But no eggs and no milk.

And my purse. Ooohhhh, my poor purse. I have it all in there: a James Avery charm I have been meaning to mail a friend, one of those snot suckers for babies, receipts that date back to the Civil War, four tubes of chapstick ( I am addicted), and two empty raisins boxes are just a few of the items you can find in my bag. In fact, I weighed myself at the OKC Science Museum as part of a “what would you weigh on the moon?” exhibit. I was stunned to realize I had gained 8 pounds since Thanksgiving. Then I noticed my purse across my chest and those 8 pounds miraculously disappeared.

And you know what? I am okay with all of this. Because this is Me…real, scattered, hoarding, forgetful Me.

Maybe I can’t fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. It’s okay, because jeans come in bigger sizes.

I may stumble in my high heels, but I wear flats most of the time so why should I be an expert?

And my lipstick? Let’s just chalk that one up to the grubby two-year old hands that often touch my face.

And I may forget some of the essentials at the grocery store…but I can make one heck of a grilled cheese sandwich and somehow couple it with avocado and blueberries to cover some much needed nutrients.

Here’s to keeping it real in 2011.

Happy Everything From Our Family to Yours!

2010-12-24T10:39:00.000-06:00

Idealism in Reality

2010-12-16T15:12:00.006-06:00

I have a confession to make: I think I am a bit of an idealist.

For example, I subscribe to seven magazines. Seven. No, those are not typos. I really do subscribe to seven magazines. In all fairness to me, four of them are gift subscriptions. The other three are crammed full of information I am certain I will need to know at some point.

I love getting them in the mail. I earmark the pages. I circle ideas. I even have a binder of Parenting ideas that I want to keep in mind. I scour these publications in hopes there will be some tidbit of information to make my life easier. Something that will change my life forever. I love the gift ideas I get in these magazines. They would be so fun in a perfect world, one where you can give as generously as you would like. For example, one magazine suggested giving a $300 cashmere scarf to your girlfriends. Another had a cool Kate Spade iPad cover. I imagined myself handing them over to my gal pals, perfectly wrapped in brown paper and twine. They would open the gift and, "Gasp! You shouldn't have! But this goes perfect with the iPad you got me last year. You are so thoughtful!"

Headlines such as" Your Most Stylish Year Yet!”, "How to Raise a Grateful Kid", and "How to Know you’re Amazing in Bed" (I am not making that one up) pull me in as I continue my never-ending quest of "fabulous at everything-ness".

Once when I was little I decided that I would be married by the age of 23 years old. It seemed like a good number to me, the age of my parents when they got married. Wouldn't that be romantic? To be married at the same age as your parents? And you know what? I was married at the age of 23.

But idealism simply isn't working out for me.

This is tough for me to admit because I consider myself pretty grounded. Realistic, even. But as time goes by, and I am haunted by life's curveballs, I find myself shocked. Pouting. Whining to myself, "But that's not the way it was supposed to turn outtttttttttt."

I need a mute button.

Our original Baby Brann due date is quickly approaching. When we lost the little one, I found comfort in the expectation that by the time January 25th rolls around, I will surely be well into another pregnancy. Because that's the way it works, right? I imagined myself as one of those women who sits rocking in the baby's new room...thankful for the little life growing inside her...Finally at peace with the loss of the previous unborn child because without that loss, she wouldn't be expecting the perfect darling soon to arrive.

Well folks, it's December, and much to my chagrin, there is no little life inside me.

Let me explain the history behind my expectation for immediate pregnancy gratification:

Pearce was a total surprise for us. We weren't trying. In fact, we were in the beginning stages of international adoption. We began our adoption application in November 2007. December 2007 rolled around and presented us with a shocking, even terrifying New Year's Eve reality: we were going to be parents. In nine months.

Fast forward to 2010. Jimmy and I decided we wanted another little one. I got pregnant the first month we tried. When we miscarried in June, the doctor said to wait one month and try again. In August, I was pregnant again. Naturally, I was a bit over confident. I mean, I don't intend to brag here but I was feeling pretty darned good about my fertility. So...based on previous experiences one would assume another attempt to grow our family would be well under way. Naturally.

You would be wrong, my friends.

I am beginning to think that pregnancy and I don't have a healthy relationship right now. Each month I am pretty level-headed...until ovulation week. At that point I turn into a paranoid, calendar watching, neurotic as I monitor unmentionable things in hopes of bettering our chances of conception. Once that week passes, I count down the days until I can take a pregnancy test.

And can we just pause a moment to discuss the ridiculous price of pregnancy tests? I mean, I literally spend a small fortune on these things. What's worse? The fact that I essentially put $20 a month in the trash. For no good reason. Because I am not pregnant.

I consider myself pretty reasonable. I am for the most part, practical. But all that changes when you are trying to have a baby. (Well...that and romance. But that's another post.) Each month my Reason, Practicality, and $20 in pregnancy tests hold hands. They put on my red lipstick and walk right out the door. I always envied reasonable, practical people.

But I know my day will come. One day I will be the one wearing red lipstick and holding hands with my new friends Reason and Practicality. Because that's what happens when you get the desires of your heart. You become more reasonable, right? Probably not.

One desire of my heart that I must mention is someone I couldn't love more if I tried: Precious Pearce. This kiddo really is a doll. It's funny, but when I think about how he came to be, I have to smile at the Lord's cleverness. Here I have the dearest little man I could ever ask for, and I didn't even have to ask. The Lord just brought him to us unexpectedly.

He's fun and compassionate. He's healthy. He makes me laugh. He's bright and clever. He is beautiful. And he is real.

Maybe reality isn't so bad after all. :)

Black Friday Frenzy...

2010-11-28T22:10:00.004-06:00

I did it. I went shopping on Black Friday. And not just any shopping, but a get up at the crack of dawn - brush your teeth and possibly your hair - kind of shopping. It was awesome and I intend to do it again.

First, let me say that there was absolutely nothing on my list that required a bolt to the stores in the wee hours of the morning...but I chose to go anyways 'cause any gal who is a serious shopper needs to go at least once in her life. And I totally made my mama proud.

It all started Thursday night. Jimmy's mom Patty, and myself had decided we were going to be 'those women' this year and go out early. In the midst of mapping out our route and perusing the Black Friday ads, we got a little bonus. Much to our surprise, some stores open before Black Friday. Gasp! Can you believe it? We did. And we were super pumped. We decided to go for it. Toys R Us opened at 10pm on Thursday night so we thought, "What the heck?! Let's go." We loaded up on extra carbs (my excuse for that third helping of mashed potatoes), cranked on the coffee, and bundled up in our most intimidating "get out of my way" attire.

As we pulled into the parking lot, we grew a little concerned. Would you believe that hundreds of other women had the same idea we did? I mean, I consider myself a tough driver. I have driven in Dallas plenty of times and I even drive in New Jersey at least once a year. You would think I could handle a little parking lot traffic. Wrong. These people were out for blood. Parking spots were suddenly treated like Starbucks coffees on a Monday morning...the concept of a Christmas Spirit was totally eliminated, and I swear I even saw some women develop a nervous twitch while searching for spots.

Patty and I began to wonder what on earth we had missed. Were they giving away real babies this year or something? Was there a second time black Friday-er tax credit this year? Was Rob Pattison supposed to make an appearance? I mean, what in the world could cause these family women to snarl at one another?

I'll tell you what...Rock. Bottom. Prices. That's what.

Patty and I tiptoed up to the line to see how bad the wait was. We were greeted by a number of suspicious stares and a couple of downright hateful looks. The hateful looks were followed by a panicked slur of women telling us where the back of the line was. (As if we didn't know). Those Crazies were inadvertently accusing us of contemplating a little cutting in line. And frankly, I seriously considered it just because I would totally be amused by the kickback to third grade type of tattle-telling that was sure to follow. But, Patty is a fair woman...and I knew she wouldn't let me so I kept my cool.

As we looked at the line, we learned that it not only wrapped around the entire complex...but also wove across the street. Huh? I was pretty certain there was a residential type road behind the building. I immediately began to wonder what the line of shoppers did when someone was trying to drive through the neighborhood. I suppose the line parted like the Red Sea, which is appropriate because clearly this was a religious experience for many of these people.

After about ten minutes of standing outside, we both realized we had officially become just like the prices we were hoping to get. We too, had hit rock bottom. There we were : two educated, intelligent women and we were standing in the freezing cold, staring face to face with a bunch of territorial neurotics who had clearly been standing in line for hours just to save 50% on Polly Pockets. And much like the Thanksgiving turkey we enjoyed earlier that day, we were done. So we left.

We later learned that the police were dispatched because people were trying to cut in line. What are we? Five years old? I can only imagine how that 911 call went...I suppose it went something like this:

"911. What is your emergency?"
"Yes, I need the police out here. People are trying to cut me in line!"
"Someone is cutting you in your spine? Are you in a safe place?"
"No. They are cutting me in line. I am at Toys R Us in line to go shopping."
"Your boys are a mess and your spine is popping?"

And so on, and so on. Because no one in their right mind would call the police about line hopping. But hey, this is the monster we have created. And I am officially proud to be an American on nights like this.

Not to be defeated by our recent reality check, I had the brilliant idea to look online to see if the advertised prices carried over. And you know what? Many of them did. As I sat there in my warm PJ's, next to my sweet and slumbering husband, I shopped Black Friday prices in the comfort of home. I had to chuckle as I thought of all the teeth chattering, panic stricken, and dirty look casting people in line at Toys R Us. I seriously thought about delivering cups of hot chocolate to the masses, coupled with napkins imprinted with my online Toys R Us receipt. Luckily, I thought better of it.

Friday morning was a much more pleasant experience for us. We hit Target at 7am...a solid three hours after it had opened. The Crazies were already home ... probably hugging their shopping sacks tightly as they rocked back and forth, humming their own rendition of "Don't Stop Believin". The shelves were still stocked pretty darned full and we were actually able to walk right up to the checkout lanes. Another added bonus? The store associates were no longer laying face first on the floor and were able to help us locate what we were searching for. (Store employee roadkill is a common Black Friday causality).

The lesson we learned? Black Friday prices are totally worth a trip to the store. Having said that, I might just be plotting my midnight shopping online next year. I am still having flashbacks to Thursday night ... but those fears are waned each time I look at my ToysRUs.com sales receipt. Smile.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

2010-11-20T21:25:00.000-06:00

I am thankful that I have so much to be thankful for.

When I first began this "Thankfulness Commitment", I honestly worried that I would be grasping for straws as I found new things to write about. Friends and family have also asked me if it is difficult to think of what each day's topic will be, and the answer surprised me. It has been exceptionally easy for me to come up with each day's thankfulness topic. Each day, The Lord has laid something new on my heart. And that is what I write about. In fact, I sort of find myself scrambling and wishing I had added something else to my list. In retrospect, this 21 days could've easily been 31 days, or 51, or any other number of blessings I allow myself to acknowledge. The truth is: we are all blessed in so many ways. It is the measure that we use to count these blessings that sets us apart. I know people who have very little, but are so grateful. I know others who have much, yet are discontent. And I have often bounced from one side of the fence to the other.

My prayer is that these past 3 weeks will be the start of a new chapter in my life...one of a grateful heart. As I wrap up this endeavor, I have to smile at all the sweet things the Lord has brought to my heart. While we still live in world of hurt and loss, I have so much gain.

And for that, I am thankful.

Lord, thank you for speaking to my heart these past weeks. Your blessings overflow and while I often forget to say it, thank you. You are so good to me.

DAY TWENTY

2010-11-19T16:28:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for praise and worship music.

I am thankful for the way praise and worship speaks to my heart. I love that I can be having a rough morning and be lifted by a song. I love that my good days are made better by joyful music. And I love that there is a consistent comfort in familiar worship music. The Lord speaks to me often through such music and I am so grateful for that.

Here's the deal: I am not a great singer. I can carry a tune in a bucket, but that is the extent of this gal's vocal endeavors. But I love to sing. If I could ask the Lord for one talent, it would be singing because I always love to hear the music of others. And I often try to imitate that music. But I will never be able to sing in front of a crowd. In fact, some of my best singing is done in the shower where the running water muffles my vocals. I love that my imperfect vocals still make a joyful noise to the Lord.

I am thankful for my iPod and the fact that I can shuffle my praise and worship music to mix it up. Praise and worship often puts my heart in the right place. Car rides pass more quickly. Long days are suddenly shortened. And cleaning house becomes less of a chore.

And I love the truth that Pearce has learned through praise and worship. Did you know that kiddo can say hallelujah? Pretty special. The Drake's got Pearce a personalized praise CD for his second Christmas...we listen to this alot. The music actually has his name in it and he loves hearing "Jesus Loves Pearce". He is two, and knows Jesus loves him. The joy that brings my heart is more than I could have imagined. We often rock out to his little CD and I am grateful that there is music out there for little ears to hear.

Lord, thank you for the blessing of worship to You. Thank you for the talent of others and for their calling to spread Your Word through music. Thank you for allowing me to live in place where I am free to sing to you whenever I want.

DAY NINETEEN

2010-11-18T21:30:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for my job.

Being a working mom is never an easy task. In fact, making the choice to continue my career was a tough decision but my company has consistently supported my need for balance and for that, I am grateful. I get to work part time and still be with my sweet boy. That is such a blessing. I totally take it for granted that I work for a great company, with great people, and for a product I believe in.

So let me start with my co-workers. They simply crack me up, while at the same time, I respect them. The cast of characters you will find at our company meetings are certainly worth mentioning. My co-workers are sharp, motivated individuals who are always willing to share ideas and help a girl out. I am grateful that even on the worst days, I have friends at work. I also work with the dearest group of agents. They are not only my agents, but they too have become my friends and confidants. They came to the hospital when Pearce was born, sent meals after my car accident, and have loved on me through our miscarriages. I have been blessed by these relationships in so many ways.

I am thankful for the material benefits of my job. I have a company car and that has been such a blessing for Jimmy and I. I started working for Chubb right before Jimmy's paid off, older car had seen better days. We knew that a replacement was in our future...we just didn't know when. I am thankful for the Lord's providence over our lives and for bringing us this opportunity at just the right time. I am thankful that I have gotten to visit some great places through my career with Chubb. Business trips have taken me to places like New Orleans, Park City, Austin, New York City, and Tampa Bay. While being away from home is never easy, seeing different places have always made the trips easier.

And I am thankful that I even have a job in this economy. We always have enough and the Lord has continued to provide for our lives. I have a job...that I enjoy. I work with great people. I am so grateful.

Lord, thank you for providing me the opportunity to work. Thank you for the friendships, lessons, and opportunities my career has afforded our family. Thank you for leading me to a company that supports my need to be with Pearce. You are so good.

DAY EIGHTEEN

2010-11-17T14:29:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for (sigh) Facebook.

Okay, don't judge me yet. I have a very acceptable explanation for including FB on my list. For many of us, Facebook can be a serious time-waster. We creep on people's pages and we become discontent when comparing our life with others'. Having said that, there are a lot of wonderful things about Facebook. So let me put it this way: it is not FB itself that I am thankful for, rather what it represents.

I am thankful for the connections I have through Facebook.

For instance, I have always dreaded the concept of attending my high school reunion. I mean, I sort of felt like that part of my life was over and I was happy for that. High school was a time of insecurity, uncertainty, and pressure. Frankly, I was not too hip on the idea of revisiting all those insecurities. The thought of having dinner and drinks with a bunch of people I hadn't seen or talked to in ten years seemed a bit absurd to me.

That was before Facebook came along.

Thanks to Facebook, I had reunited with many people from my graduating class well before the reunion rolled around. My classmates and I had commented on eachother's pictures, congratulated one another for family additions, and even chatted online...all through Facebook. It allowed us to pull down any stereotypes or barriers that often come with high school relationships. By the time our invitations went out, I was eager to see so many people from my class...people I didn't take the time to really 'know' in high school.
In a way, FB has offered some sort of security blanket for many of us. We can befriend those we never truly did, but secretly wish we would have. We can look up old elementary school classmates. We can find old teachers. And we can stay in touch with others as our lives drive us geographically apart. I am so thankful for that.

I am thankful that I can keep up with old and new friends alike through one source. I love seeing pictures of my friends' kiddos everyday. I love that I know when someone is newly engaged, married, or pregnant. I love that we get to celebrate with one another through words of encouragement and congratulations. And I am thankful for the warm fuzzy feeling that FB connections often provide. Little things like a picture comment, wall post, or personal message let you know that people care about you...quite a bit more than we could imagine.

So today, I am grateful for so many people that I get to 'see' online everyday. I am grateful for the encouragement, advice and laughs that FB connections provide.

Lord, thank you for those that I have reunited with through Facebook. Thank you for the re-flourished friendships and for the new ones altogether. While online sites can be such a distraction, help me to focus on the positive and use those connections for You.

DAY SEVENTEEN

2010-11-16T11:07:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for my friends.

I have some of the dearest friends, ever. I don't even know where to start here. So I will start at the beginning.

First, I am thankful for my childhood and high school friends. My childhood friends and I have known eachother way too long...long enough to be brutally honest. Long enough to go weeks or months without talking, but pick it up right where we left off. Our entire families were at each other's weddings. We saw eachother through breakups, rumors, and the toughness of adolescence. And we genuinely celebrated when the other one got married, because frankly, we were so happy to see the other one settled down with the perfect man for her. I am thankful for the history and love I have in these friendships. They offer familiarity, comfort, acceptance, and joy.

Then there are my college friends whom I hold so dear. Other than a few select childhood friends, this is where deeper, committed friendships started for me. There is such an easiness about these friendships. On the outside, we are an unlikely group. We had different majors, different upbringings, and very different personalities. But we love each other so much. I am so thankful for the late night chats at the Kappa House and for our commitment to reunite on a regular basis. These friends have offered more love an support than I could have ever asked for. Whether it be a quick trip to Tulsa to love on me after our miscarriages, or a long drive to come celebrate a marriage or baby shower; these gals have always been by my side. We have surrounded one another too many times to count and that is so precious to me.

And last but not least are my Tulsa friends. I am so thankful for the network of love and support we have here. These friendships have been so vital to our calling Tulsa "home". We are walking through life together and some of our best conversations are over coffee with 10+ kiddos hanging from the rafters. These friendships are easy too, I often feel as though I have known them forever and I cannot imagine life without them. . We can totally count on one another to watch our kids, bring us a meal when we are sick, or just offer an ear over a glass of wine. We pray together and we laugh together. It is such a cool combination.

Lord, thank you for my wonderful friends. You have truly blessed me with a family of friends to enjoy in life. Thank you for the love you have shown me through these friendships.

DAY SIXTEEN

2010-11-15T15:53:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for my parents.

This past weekend we were at my parents house helping them finish out their newly remodeled kitchen. In the midst of their kitchen goodies, I found a card I had written my parents in college. The purpose of the card was to thank them for their love and support over the years. I went on to tell them that I was genuinely happy in life and that I wanted them to know I was happy and healthy thanks to their support and love. As I read the card I realized that it has been years since I told them how thankful I am that I was blessed with parents such as themselves. So, I thought today would be a perfect opportunity to be grateful for their role in my life.

From the time I was young, I never doubted their commitment and love for us girls. In fact, as I look back at our childhood I realize that they were probably too committed to us girls at times. They rarely went away just the two of them, we always went as a family. Birthdays were a special event at our home … complete with good morning balloon bouquets, special birthday breakfasts, and great presents, however their birthdays were always more low-key. They gave us all the fun and joy that they truly deserved. I am so thankful that they made such an effort to make our special occasions memorable.

I am thankful that my parents are still married. This year they will be celebrating 37 years together and while I know their marriage isn’t picture perfect, us girls always had the security of knowing they were committed to making it work. Holidays, birthdays, and even weekdays were spent together as a family unit and we were blessed to experience a life where we were all together.

I am thankful for their support all these years. Whether it was helping me campaign for state office in high school, or attending awards ceremonies at OU, I could always look out and see their proud, smiling faces. They have been so supportive of Jimmy and I as parents. My mom spent many nights with us so we could juggle Pearce’s ‘up all night’ episodes. My dad is always tinkering with something in his garage to bring a smile to Pearce’s face. And they are always just a phone call away if we need a night out or help during the week.

I am thankful that they still take care of us. When they come to visit, my laundry is always clean and folded by my sweet mom. My dishwasher miraculously empties itself, and the counters are always wiped down. And my dad always has his tools in tow just in case there is something he can do to take care of us. Whether it be walking us through ceiling fan installation, or adding more freon to our AC unit, dad is there taking care of his girls. And it’s not that he doesn’t trust his sons-in-law to do it themselves, he just loves to serve us in that way. And frankly, he is a mechanical genius so we have often been saved by his knowledge of all things mechanical.

No matter how great or how tough life has been, my parents are right there with me. And for that, I am thankful.

Lord thank you for blessing me with my parents. Thank you for the wisdom and guidance you instilled upon them as they raised us girls. I thank you for a loving relationship that has been built upon mutual respect for one another.

DAY FIFTEEN

2010-11-13T09:48:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for the wisdom of those who came before us.

Sometimes I have no idea of what I am doing. When Jimmy and I first got married I could barely cook. I had little knowledge of how to get stains out of clothes, and I was learning to be a wife and meet my husbands needs. I needed direction and counsel on living life as a married woman. So I turned to the knowledge of others. Whether it be conversations with women I respect or time reading a book on these topics, I am so thankful for the insight they provided.

Life is tough and I do not believe we were created to go at it alone. No, the Lord has better plans for us. He has blessed me with many who provide Godly counsel in my life. I am also thankful for the direction and guidance scripture has offered us.

As we navigate our way through parenthood, we have relied on the wisdom of others often. I spent hours with friends and my mom as I learned how to nurse Pearce. The lactation consultants were programmed into my phone and I read every online article I could find. I specifically remember one day when Pearce was a few months old and I was having breakfast with a group of friends at someone's house. I nursed Pearce for about 15 minutes and he acted like he was done. I remember saying, "He can't be done. He usually nurses for 1.5 to 2 hours." Screech.... The room came to a stop and my best gals were staring at me wide-eyed. After a brief run down of what is normal and what is not, I learned that sweet Pearce was using me as a pacifier. I was grateful for the guidance because frankly, I thought all little ones were hungry little bulldogs.

We are at a particularly difficult time right now with Pearce. He is two and is Mr. Independent. He is bossy, cranky, disobedient, and just plain crazy at times. But he is also so sweet and obedient at times. When the tantrums take hold, Jimmy and I often stare at each other as we try desperately to figure out which alien abducted our child this time. What is Meanie the Martian? Or Absurd the Alien? Or is this really our child, simply exerting his independence and need to grow?

I am thankful for the guidance of friends and family during this time. I am thankful for the Christian books we refer to when trying to exhibit Godly discipline. And I am thankful for scripture as a point of direction. Simply put, I am so thankful for those who share their wisdom and experiences with us. It makes me feel normal. The fears that I am royally screwing up our child are eased...and I find hope in knowing that millions of others have gone before us. (and lived to tell about it).

So today I am thankful for all of you who offer words of encouragement, advice, and wisdom with us. Thanks for speaking truth into our lives.

Lord, thank you for surrounding us with loving friends and family as we raise Pearce. I pray for continued direction and guidance in raising him to be a boy after Your Own Heart.

DAY FOURTEEN

2010-11-12T22:26:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for the ability to work.

Today Emily and I worked our tails off to help my mom organize and decorate their newly remodeled kitchen. We worked for close to 12 hours straight. Having said that, I am tired and need to keep this gratefulness post short.

I am thankful that I have the physical ability to work. I often complain after an exhausting effort or particularly hard day but I am so grateful that I can work. Not everyone is so lucky. I feel blessed that I have both legs, my arms, and my mind to work hard.

Lord, thank you for giving me a strong body and health that allows me to work hard.

DAY THIRTEEN

2010-11-11T18:26:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for the change of seasons.

I love that we live in a place where I get to experience the change of seasons. There is something sort of exciting about a change in temperature, landscape, and time of year. I am often giddy with anticipation as I wait for the change to come.

I am thankful for winter. I love the way cold weather arrives so crisply to our town. One day I am in a light jacket, and the next I need a scarf and coat. I love the smell of winter. Fresh burning fireplaces and cold air from the south are the scents I look to announce winter's arrival. Winter also symbolizes the upcoming holiday season. Christmas's decor is suddenly everywhere and football games feel the way the should. The scent of warm chili fills our home and Nestle hot chocolate makes its way from the back of our pantry.

But after a few months of staying indoors, we are ready for spring. I love the way the trees bloom in our yard. Thunderstorms roll up to our doorstep and nourish the new life around us. Spring means we get to play outside again and hot cocoa is replaced by warm tea. It represents the preview to summer break and kiddos are giddy with "schools out" excitement. Easter is around the corner and the ever important task of finding an Easter outfit begins. I am thankful for the cool, yet sun-warmed days that spring brings.

I am thankful that we get to relish in summer. Family cookouts and trips to the snow cone stand are frequent in summer. A bowl of ice cream after dinner is totally acceptable and a large glass of ice water quenches at its best during summer. Trips to the pool and kiddos smelling of sunscreen are everywhere you look. And let's not forget how thankful I am to wear flip flops in the summer. I love my Rainbow flip flops and in summer, I wear them every single day. And I make no apologies because it is summer.

I am thankful for fall. I will never understand how the trees change so beautifully in the fall. I like to find the unique colors that only trees can produce. I love the cool, fall breeze and evenings in our driveway while Pearce rides his tricycle. I am thankful for football games with the family and taco soup on a cool evening.I am thankful for the joy that Christmas season brings.

Lord, thank you for the change in seasons. Thank you for the unique beauty each new season brings and for the little things we look forward to with each change.

DAY TWELVE

2010-11-10T09:03:00.001-06:00

I am thankful for my sisters.

Someone once said, "There can be no situation in life in which the conversation of my dear sister will not administer some comfort to me. "

And for me, this quote is a perfect way to describe how I feel about Beth and Emily. They bring such comfort. They bring familiarity. And they bring joy to my heart.

Like many sisters, we didn't always get along. I remember times when Beth and I would get into pinching matches as we fought over Barbies. Emily was the sweet curious one who always wanted to be included, and I often shut my bedroom door to keep her out. And I can certainly remember times when they would join forces as the oldest and youngest, with the pure intent of making my middle sister life miserable. But there is a sweet understanding with sisters. Despite all the crazy and mean things we did to each other in our youth, we grew up. We forgot. We forgave. And we forged an unbreakable bond.

I am thankful for Beth. From the time we were young, she is the maternal one. She is so sensitive to our feelings and allows her heart to hurt right along with you. There are many times when Beth took care of me in our young adult years. I remember one night in college when I was stressed and crying about an accounting test I had the next day. Beth insisted I leave the Kappa house and come stay with her. When I arrived, she had a bubble bath ready for me and encouraged me through my studying. That is so Beth. She was in the delivery room the day Pearce was born and cheered me on as I worked through the most important, yet exhausting thing I had ever done. She loved on Pearce in the wee hours of the morning so I could get some much needed sleep. And she is always ready to help in any way she can. She has always taken care of me.

I am thankful for Emily. At some point during our adolescence, Emily went from the sweet and unsure youngest sister to the disciplined, wise one after God's own heart. She is the one who speaks truth in my life, especially when I don't want to hear it. And she is loyal. After our first miscarriage, Emily was on summer break from her teaching in Texas. She came and stayed a week with us to care for Pearce, and to provide love and laughter during a difficult time. That meant more to Jimmy and me than we could ever express. She genuine in her celebrations and compliments and can boost my mood or self esteem with a simple word of encouragement. And Emily is wonderful with Pearce. I often call her for teacher advice on how to redirect Pearce or respond to some new phase we encounter. She has always been an encouragement .

I am thankful for the fun we have together. We could be in the middle of a 12 hour session of watching paint dry, and have the time of our lives. They make everything better. We are often the loud family at restaurants that laughs so obnoxiously loud, we turn heads. And we totally don't care. Because we are having a fabulous time and would be happy to welcome anyone who wanted to join in our odd and often inappropriate humor. Our husbands are still trying to figure out what it means to be a man in the "Watkins" side of the family. Bless their hearts, all three of our husbands grew up with one brother. You can imagine their whiplash and shock in marrying into our crew.

But I love it. I wouldn't change one thing about our relationship. Okay, maybe one: I wish we all lived down the street from each other so our kiddos could grow up and love one another the way we love each other.

Lord, thank you for the love You have shown me through my sisters. Thank you for blessing our relationship with love, laughter, and genuine friendship. We are truly blessed to have each other.

DAY ELEVEN

2010-11-09T14:18:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for grace.

"Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence,

so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

Hebrews 4:16

I use the word grace quite a bit in my day to day activities, yet if someone asked me to define grace, I would probably stumble around it similar to the way I do when I try to convince myself that I can name all the NFL teams. It ain't happening with 100% certainty. So I looked it up and here is what I found:

Definition of GRACE :
a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification
b : a virtue coming from God
c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace

The word that totally caught my eye was the word "unmerited" because that is how I can relate to grace. I am unworthy, yet His cup overflows. I struggle with the concept of grace quite a bit. I am often grappling with the reality that I have been forgiven, yet I am unworthy. In fact, I sometimes wonder, "can my heart get so bad that my salvation is lost?". And the answer is no, because frankly, my heart wasn't worthy to begin with...not to mention the fact that my efforts to constantly be found worthy completely undermine the purpose of grace. So today rather than worry about my worthiness of grace, I choose to be thankful.

I am so thankful for God's grace in my life. I have been hateful, hurtful, judgemental, selfish, angry, ungrateful, doubting, controlling, and the list could go on and on. To put it in one word: I am broken.

But I am forgiven.

And it is grace that makes me whole again. I cannot earn it, I cannot control it, and I cannot eliminate it from my life. (Thank goodness for that because I have a tendency to do a pretty lousy job of deserving the grace that is so freely given.) I would like to say that I never take grace for granted, but honestly? I do sometimes. And for that I am sorry.

I am so thankful that we have the promise of grace. While it doesn't give me a green light to do whatever I want, it certainly gives me hope and peace to know that our God loves us despite our faults and sinful hearts. It gives me courage during difficult times. Life has been tough but God's grace has been enough. What an awesome promise.

Lord, thank you for grace. Whether it is through your forgiveness of our sins or providing grace and mercy during tough times, You are always good. Thank you for loving my unlovable heart.

DAY TEN

2010-11-08T11:18:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for cameras.

The Christmas pic that rocked the world.

This weekend Jimmy and I watched Toy Story 3 with Pearce. We didn’t get to finish the movie with him as he is like most two year olds: distracted. So after Little Britches went to bed, we decided to watch the rest. And you know what? We both cried.

We were so touched by the end scenes when Andy is going off to college and his mom hugs him, and says, “…I wish I could always be with you.” Because that is totally how we feel about Pearce. We are enamored with this little kid and my heart physically aches at the thought of Pearce going off to kindergarten, high school, and then college. I wish I could always be with Pearce. I feel like we simply blinked, and he grew right before our eyes. While I try my best to document and remember the charming things Pearce says, I know these things will not stay with me forever. And that’s okay… because some day we will be able to look back on the precious memories of raising our boy. And while we may not remember every specific detail about every single cute incident, we will remember the feelings those incidents provoked.

My first time holding Pearce.

And for many of those memorable times, we will have pictures to smile at. What a blessing.

Pearce's first snow.

I am so thankful that we live in a time when taking pictures of our families is so easy. I have a tendency to leave my camera on our kitchen counter - just in case. Just in case Pearce does something I cannot afford to forget, in case he smiles his perfect little “I know something you don’t know” smile, and in case I am given the opportunity to capture a moment in this crazy thing we call ‘life’. I often forget how lucky I am to have a great camera at my fingertips.

I will never forget how happy he was here!

So I can remember his outstanding "bed head".

We have thousands of pictures and those images are more than just pictures to us. They are moments of our life together … documented in a crazy and mis-matched sort of manner. I love that. I look at our pictures often and they always bring a smile to my face. I can close my eyes and drift back to the moment those images were taken. Often times, I swear it almost feels as though I am traveling back in time and I never wanna leave.

Reading his Bible with a potty on his head.

I don’t have a perfect album. I don’t have scrapbooks. And I don’t have a detailed journal of all the wonderful things Pearce says and does. But I have pictures. And I am so grateful.

His sweet smile.

Lord, thank you for your creativity and for blessing the minds of those who created cameras and film. Thank you for all the wonderful moments we try desperately to capture. You are so good.

DAY NINE

2010-11-07T18:58:00.000-06:00

I am thankful for caregivers.

This morning I worked the nursery at church and got to be with the cutie 'walkers' class. It was so sweet to watch how happy and joyful the sweeties were during class. They played, we sang, had a snack, we colored, and then we had a Bible story. As I sat there with the little ones, I began to realize how cool it is that we are showing them the love of Christ at such a young age. It made me think about all the Sundays I nonchalantly drop Pearce off at Sunday School so Jimmy and I can go to church. I totally take that opportunity for granted so today I want to be thankful for all the caregivers out there.

I am thankful for Miss Sheron. On weekdays when I work, we take Pearce to her home and he is so happy there. I love that she cares enough to add an extra special touch to each day. Pearce looks forward to visits from the Music Lady, the Firemen, and the Tumblebus. She genuinely loves the kiddo and I love how secure he feels there. She is like a nana to him and I feel blessed to have found her. No matter how much a mom loves her job, leaving your kiddo during the day is difficult. Knowing that Pearce is being loved on and cared for makes my days at work so much easier.

I am thankful that we have family members who love to keep Pearce. Their generosity has afforded Jimmy and I date nights and much needed weekends away. I love that Pearce gets to spend time with his extended family and gets to be with them on a regular basis. I remember when Pearce was a newborn my mom and sisters would insist that they get up with Pearce during the night so I could get some solid sleep and so they could have alone time with him. Those nights were so precious to me and it warmed my hear that they loved Pearce that much. It truly takes a village to raise a child and I am grateful for our village of family members.

I am grateful for all the volunteers and staff members at church. Each Sunday Jimmy and I have the privilege of attending church and Sunday School together. Some weeks, that is our only opportunity for quiet time together. I am thankful that we can leave Pearce in the little toddler class and know that he is being loved on, played with, and cared for. We seriously treasure our Sundays at church and I am so grateful for those that care for Pearce.

Thank you Jesus for blessing us with wonderful caregivers. Whether it's during the week, on Sundays, or time with family you have always provided someone special to love on our boy. Thank you for that.

DAY EIGHT

2010-11-06T18:00:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for the comforts of home.

In the midst of all that life brings, isn't it wonderful to have a place called home? A place where you can be yourself, walk around in your torn up Gap PJ pants, and strut your ever-so-wonderful bed head. I love home and I am so grateful for the comfort I find in our home.

Last night Jimmy and I flipped our mattress and put on clean sheets. It was nice and cold in our room so I was eager to jump into bed. After a few minutes of swooshing my feet around the sheets to warm them, I was settled. The newly flipped mattress was an amazing comfort and I sort of felt like I was laying on a cloud or something. (not exaggerating about that one). Anyhow, as I lay there in my cozy bed I began to think about those who don't have it so good. All too often, I am blissfully unaware of the reality that so many go without...but last night I was acutely aware.

And I was grateful.

I began to think about all material and comfortable things I take for granted and thought they would be a perfect topic for today's post.

I am grateful for clean sheet day. I love the feeling of crisp, clean sheets on my toes.

I am grateful for a hot shower on a cold day. I feel blessed that showering is a commodity I get to enjoy daily.

I am thankful for our soft leather couch and the warm sweatshirt blanket I have to wrap up in. They make movies that much more enjoyable.

I am thankful for our vacuum and the way I can simply make a spill or dirt track disappear. Life is so easy sometimes.

I am thankful for our air conditioner and heater. Because no matter what the weather is doing outside, we are comfortable and that is something to be grateful for.

I am thankful for the space we enjoy in our home. I love that Pearce has his own little room where he knows he belongs. We have places where we spend family time, and of course places to play. It is so nice to have space for each of us.

I am thankful for our fridge that we are able to keep full of food to nourish our family. We are blessed to always have enough.

I am thankful for the laundry that I often dread folding. Because clean laundry means we have clothes on our backs...and the luxury of a machine to wash and dry them for us.

There are a million other things I could list off, but these are the ones that stand out right now. Sometimes when my friends and I get together we all like to sit and gab about all the frustrations of keeping a house, doing laundry, cooking, etc. I don't know that I have a right to complain anymore. Because isn't it enough that we have a house? Or better yet, a home?

Lord, thank you for the blessing of our home. Thank you for simple things like a bed to sleep in, a roof over our head, and food to eat. You are our Provider and I am so thankful for all Your hand has given us.

DAY SEVEN

2010-11-05T12:55:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for the medical profession.

Last night was a rough night at the Brann household. In fact, it reminded me of the sleepless nights here, circa 2008. It all started at 11:30 - ish and just went downhill from there. Jimmy and I rotated shifts with Pearce all stinking night long. And to make the evening more fun? I never went to sleep before that. I am a firm believer in early bedtimes. I love to look at the clock and know that I have 10 hours of shut eye to relish. But last night I was wired and decided to watch Glee...until 11pm.

Fast forward to 4 am and a couple of desperate parents. I did something I have never done and will probably never do again ... I put Pearce in bed with us. Gasp! But at this point, I was convinced my head might fall straight off my body if I didn't get some rest so I figured some 'rules' just need to be broken. An hour later I woke up to a little person kicking me. crying for his stick, and a wet sheet. Hummm. Pearce's beloved drumstick had gracefully fallen under our bed and Pearce's "guaranteed" overnight diaper had leaked...all over my side of the bed. Needless to say, our sheets are in the washer and I am a walking sleep study.

Anyhow, I tell this story because last night as I laid in bed praying that Pearce would go to sleep, I was also so eager for morning to come so I could call the doctor. Pearce likes to sleep just as much as his mama and I knew our boy was not well. After a same-day appointment victory, we learned the sweetie has an ear infection...in both ears. Lovely. So I high-tailed it to Walgreen's for our antibiotic and as i sat there in the car, I was overcome with relief and hope in knowing that the medication would soon be healing our boy, and also our sleepless nights. Again, I take this for granted but we are so blessed!

I am so grateful for God's healing through the miracle of modern-day medicine.

Sweet Harper is home now... still weeks before her actual due date. I believe that the Lord carried her into this world and strategically placed the right doctors and nurses in her life to care for her. That is so cool.

I have been struggling with depression lately and while I don't believe in masking an illness, I am so grateful for the assistance medication has provided us. My doctor insisted I be on Zoloft to get through this season if our lives and I am so glad he did.

I feel blessed that we live in a time and place when we can call the doctor, go to the ER, or visit an after hours clinic when something is just not right. And most of the time, we leave with a solution to our ailment. I am thankful for that.

I am not sure that I put this as eloquently or clearly as I would like, however Pearce is napping and I plan to snooze some as well. Here's to sleeping again...

Lord, thank you for equipping those in the medical profession with the minds and ability to diagnose and treat our earthly illnesses. We recognize that any healing is from you and I thank you for the avenue we have in the medical profession.

DAY SIX

2010-11-04T10:56:00.001-05:00

I am thankful for the Word of God.

It’s funny how something as major as the Word of God can become commonplace in our lives. I would like the think that if God were to speak in a booming voice for all the world to hear, we would listen, right? So why is it that His written, divinely inspired Word is so easily overlooked? I don’t get it and I am just as guilty as the next guy. Often times, I feel like we treat His truth as some sort of collection of inspirational quotes instead of what Scripture really is: A collection of letters, accounts, and stories that were lovingly crafted by our God through divine inspiration. Our home is decorated with a series of signs, picture frames, and hand written Bible verses that I often glance over in my day to day activities. But when I stop and take a moment to mediate on the Truth in front of me, I am so grateful for His Word in my life.

There is a Bible verse that has literally been on our refrigerator since the day we found out we were pregnant with Pearce. As I mentioned in a previous post, I was really worried about the health of our surprise baby. To be honest, I was also a little scared and unnerved at the thought of becoming a mother before we were “ready”. I woke up one morning and Jimmy had posted this sweet verse on our fridge for me to see. I never took it down and when we moved homes and got a new fridge, the verse came with me. Even today, the truth Jimmy took the time to share with me brings me an immense amount of comfort and peace. I am so grateful for that.

I am also thankful for scripture because we live in such a jaded time. Frankly, between reality television, my magazine subscriptions, and the news; it is so easy for me to forget what matters. These are the times when I desperately need the promises God gives us as His children. I believe those moments are the precise moments the Lord knew I would need truth spoken over my life…and those truths are precious. My Savior has something to say … to me. I know you all know what I am talking about when I say there have been numerous times in my life when I read scripture and it speaks so directly to my heart, I would swear that God was standing there saying it to me Himself. How dear is that? We have a God who cares enough to speak to our individual hearts, despite our unique personal circumstances!

I am also grateful for the simple Bible stories we get to share with sweet Pearce. For awhile we were a little concerned, as Pearce thought Noah was Santa and would squeal “Santa!” with delight each time we saw Noah in a book or on a toy. He has since decided all bearded mean are either Jesus or Noah, so we are making some progress. A few weeks we were at Zio’s and there was a painting of an Italian man on the wall. Pearce was so proud of himself as he pointed and yelled, “Look Mama! Jesus!”

But in all seriousness, I love that scripture is easy enough for even little minds to understand. Pearce knows that Noah was obedient and we often try and remind him of that obedience when we are in the middle of a toddler throw down. He knows that David and Goliath fought, and that David trusted God. He knows Jesus loves him and that is so amazing! I mean, the kiddo doesn’t even use the potty yet but he is able to grasp that someone named Jesus loves him…awesome. I am grateful for the wisdom of scripture and I am thankful that these truths will follow Pearce through life.

As Jimmy and I navigate marriage, parenthood, family, and friendships, scripture is often the place we find direction and peace. I love that God covered everything we could possibly need clarity on during our time on this earth. I am grateful for the promises of God’s Word. I am grateful for the peace and hope it brings me in times of hurt and sadness. I am grateful for the truth we can turn to when questions arise.

And on the note of Noah and his ark, I have to share this story:

A few nights ago Pearce was doing a Noah’s Ark sticker collage. Jimmy and I looked over and saw that he had strategically placed Noah and his wife holding hands in front of the ark. Yesterday I asked him what they were doing and he said, “Holding hands. Like this…” and he reached over and took my hand. So stinking sweet.

Thank you God for giving us encouragement, direction, and hope through the Bible. Thank you for speaking to me through your Word

DAY FIVE

2010-11-03T08:30:00.002-05:00

I am thankful for board games.

Last night Jimmy and I played three rounds of Uno and for the record, I won. I find that we spend quite a bit of time playing board games and I am so thankful we have them to enjoy. I know the mere mention of board games as something I am thankful for may raise some eyebrows, however let me explain myself.

Board games represent so much more than the object of the game and the game pieces they contain. They represent togetherness. They represent intentionality in spending time with someone you love. They represent simpler times when TV and the Internet weren’t so distracting. They afford the opportunity to laugh…the kind of laugh that hurts your abs but you totally don’t want to stop. And for me, they always represent wonderful memories with family and friends.

When I really think about it, I suppose board games have been an integral part of my adult life. For starters, Jimmy and I feel in love over Yahtzee and Uno when we were dating. I remember he would come over to the Kappa house and we would play games together in the dining room while we sipped our Classic 50’s beverages. We would laugh for hours on end as one of us always seemed to dominate the other’s performance. I suppose we could have been out doing much cooler things together, however this quality time together gave us the opportunity to know one another on a deeper level. I am also so grateful for the innocence that board games helped Jimmy and I establish while dating.

We also told my parents we were pregnant with Pearce over a game of CLUE. Beth and Blake already knew we were expecting so they helped us devise a perfect scheme to announce our news. We staged the game so that my mom or dad would win the game, and in the “confidential” envelope, we placed three cards reading: 1. Brooke and Jimmy 2. Are 3. Pregnant. I will never forget the look on my mother’s face as she read the cards out loud. Those pictures are some of my favorites to this day.

And I am so grateful for the laughter and memories made while playing board games with my sisters and brothers in law. Seriously, when we are all home together one of the first items of business is to establish set game nights. We all get into our PJ’s, pop some popcorn and get started playing. My parents usually sit in the adjacent living room and relish in the joy and laughter they hear coming from the dining room table. I suppose that is what every parent hopes for: a day when their children truly enjoy being together. As the night continues, we chow down on cookies and candy, while sipping beer until the wee hours of the morning. For months we will recall the hysteria and laughter that those game nights produced. And win or lose, we all walk away with a funny story to think back on one day. I am so thankful for board games, because without them, we might have missed out on a number of memories and opportunities for laughter.

Lord thank you for blessing our home with laughter and for the joy we find in playing these simple games together.

DAY FOUR

2010-11-02T09:30:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for the right to vote.

Let me just start by saying that I am not heavily involved in politics. Politically, I follow what is important to me, however I am easily turned away by extremists and too much "He said, she said." But I do care and I want my voice to be heard. Period.

I remember when I was a little girl, my dad took me with him to vote one day before school. I believe it was the 1992 election when Bush and Clinton went head to head. It was very early in the morning and my dad's polling location at the time was at a bank. I vividly remember seeing all the cups of hot coffee people enjoyed while they were in line. The line was extremely long and I was in a panic at the thought that I was going to be late for school. The adults in line however, were calmly sipping their coffee and making small talk. I remember thinking, "Geez, aren't these people worried about getting to work?" I imagine many of the people I saw in line that day were not worried too much about work, or getting to their desk at exactly 8 am on election day because we live in a country where voting is not only valued, but encouraged. They probably knew that their office understood the concept of civic responsibility and not only encouraged it, but also fostered involvement through office flexibility on election day. What a blessing!

It amazes me that less than 100 years ago, women couldn't vote. I often forget what a blessing it is that we live in a time when not only can we vote, but we are ruled by a democracy. Not everyone is so fortunate. I am so grateful that we live in a country where we have the right to be heard. When I think of the oppression and suffering many others endure simply to practice their faith and exercise God-given rights, I am overcome with gratefulness. I am so thankful to be a U.S. Citizen. I am thankful for our country's leaders. And I am thankful that we still have a say in who those leaders are. Things may not always go my way on election day, but I am thankful that my one, measly little vote in Tulsa, Oklahoma is counted.

Pearce was only a few months old during the 2008 elections. Knowing that the 2008 election would probably be ground-breaking, I decided to take Pearce with me to the polls. It's never too soon to teach civic responsibility, is it?! The little monkey rode in my baby sling as we cast our ever-important vote. The cutie even got a sticker!

Lord, thank you for the favor you have shown our Country. Thank you for creating us equal and for the people who came before us to fight so we can be heard today. Thank you for the freedom we have today.

DAY THREE

2010-11-01T08:51:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for the weekend.

If I were to write an acrostic on all the things I love about the WEEKEND, it would look something like this:

W- Wonderful opportunity to sleep in (eh, sort of...we have a toddler here people)
E - Early morning coffee with my hubby, as we watch cartoons with Pearce
E - Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner together as a family
K - Kid friendly activities such as the pumpkin patch, the park, and running around our front yard
E - Erasing any distractions from the week before
N - Noontime naps with Pearce and Jimmy
D - Dinner with friends and their kiddos

I remember being in high school and the main topic of conversation each Friday was what everyone was going to be doing for the weekend. Who had a date? Who was going out of town with family? Who was throwing the coolest party? It was almost as if we had this mindset of, "He with the most plans, wins." Now that I am grown, I treasure our quiet weekends. I am so thankful for the opportunity to rest. Simply typing this out rejuvenates my spirit as I think about our upcoming weekend and the rest that is waiting for us.

I am thankful for the days that we get to be together as a family. Saturday morning rolls around and Jimmy and I are awakened from a deep, much needed sleep to the dearest little voice on the monitor. We greet Pearce in our PJ's and head downstairs for coffee and a leisurely breakfast. Sometimes we shower and get ready for the day...sometimes we all stay in our grungy clothes as we clean house or work outside. Either way, we are together. And being together is terrific. I often take the fact that Jimmy and I have the weekends off from work for granted, but I know no every family is so lucky. I am so grateful that we have two whole days to be together before Monday rolls around again.

I am thankful that the weekend affords an understanding that "anything goes" and the rules can be bent. Impromptu dinner gatherings, playtime with friends, and pedicures are totally acceptable on weekends. Our strict 8pm bedtime for Pearce is often stretched as we sit and chat with our friends and watch the kiddos run amok. The chance to grill out hot dogs, bring your own lawn chairs, and laugh with friends while you sip a cold beer is so precious. Some of my favorite memories are made with our dear friends on weekends.

I am also thankful that the weekend allows me to start Monday with a clean slate of completed chores. Things like grocery shopping, house cleaning, and laundry are much more enjoyable on these lazy days. Am I the only one who feels like this? I love to grab my cup of coffee, put on some Taylor Swift or Shane and Shane and get to cleaning our humble home. Before I know it, our place smells wonderful, looks lovely, and is perfectly poised for us to mess it up again. I love it. Not to mention the fact that our fridge is fully stocked with the upcoming week's essentials. Double whammy!

This weekend was particularly wonderful as it was Halloween, and we got to take sweet Pearce to Trunk or Treat at our church. And this year's costume of choice? Harry Potter. He totally rocked it. I am so proud.

But in all seriousness, I am so grateful for the weekends. We live in such a fast-paced world and often times I forget to slow down enough to enjoy it. The weekends afford the perfect opportunity to do just that: enjoy.

Thank you Lord for the weekend. You set a perfect example for us when you rested on Day 7 of Creation. Thank you for caring enough about Your children to offer us rest.

DAY TWO

2010-10-31T13:28:00.001-05:00

I am thankful for Pearce.

I will never forget the wonderful way Pearce entered our lives. Pearce was a complete and total surprise baby. Jimmy and I were planning to wait a few more years before growing our family but God had better plans for us. Jimmy and I thought we were preventing pregnancy, however it is impossible to prevent God’s perfect plan. Early in my pregnancy, I underwent knee surgery. I remember the nurses asking me on my surgery day if I could possibly be pregnant. I laughed and replied, “No, absolutely not.”

Little did I know …

Four days later, (New Year’s Eve to be exact), Jimmy and I learned we were expecting. Like any normal person would have, I panicked. I was convinced that the trauma of the surgery, pain meds, and anesthesia would certainly have some negative affects on our unborn child. But they didn’t. And I am so grateful for Pearce’s healthy arrival into this world. I am grateful that we have a healthy, happy child. I have a tendency to take his health and wellness for granted, but I know it is by the grace of God that he has been protected.

I am so thankful that the Lord chose to bless us with Pearce, even though we thought we weren't ready for a child yet. Pearce has brought more joy to our entire family than I ever could have imagined and I often think how good our God is for knowing better than us. He gave us the dream we didn't know we were missing and for that, I am grateful.

I am thankful for Pearce’s bright mind. Seriously, this kid doesn’t miss a beat. Jimmy and I often look at each other, with dropped jaws, as we laugh at some clever, witty comment Pearce has made. Earlier this week I was pulling into the neighborhood and Pearce exclaimed, “Home Sweet Home!” I love watching him pack his “man purse” with tools and musical instruments as he explains his plans to drive to Oklahoma City. His imagination is so vivid and I crack up at the things that come out of his mouth. I love that his little mind is like a sponge, absorbing the environment around him.

I am thankful for Pearce’s compassionate spirit. I am constantly amazed at his ability to offer real, gentle support when I need it. The kiddo may only be two years old, but he has got the sensitive thing down. Today I commented that my finger hurt and the sweet boy came over to kiss it. There have been a few instances when Pearce has seen me cry and he comes right up to my face, tilts his head, and says, “Mama, what happened?”

I am so grateful for Pearce’s joyful laughter. From a very young age, Pearce has blessed our home with the greatest belly laughs. Whether it’s wrestling with his daddy or his response to the funny faces we make, he simply cracks up and enjoys life the way it was meant to be enjoyed.

I am also thankful for his smell. I know that may be a strange thing to love enough to mention, but his smell takes me back to the day he was born. We still use Johnson’s Baby Wash on him so his sweet head emits the same sweet smell I remember. I love to snuggle up into his soft hair as I hold him at night when we pray before bed. Seriously, I don’t think there is anything better than that.

Thank you Jesus for the blessing we have in Pearce. His life is a testament to your mercy, love, and unfailing sovereignty.

DAY ONE

2010-10-30T14:00:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for my husband.

I love how Jimmy loves the Lord. He has this spiritual integrity that is second to none and I love how he always desires to do what is good. He leads by example and seeks what is right. I cherish the encouragement, support, and graciousness he has provided me in these past seven years together.

I am thankful for Jimmy’s pursuit of me. From the time of our first date, he was very intentional with me and made those intentions clear. I never had to wonder how he felt, if he was going to call, or where he saw our relationship going. He always told me himself and has always kept his word. I am so thankful for the security I felt early on, and for the security I feel today.

I am thankful for his servant’s heart. For the entire nine months of my pregnancy, this sweet guy brought me apple juice and cereal in bed so I could get my heavy morning sickness out of the way. He never left my side while I heaved up everything within me. (And believe me, it wasn’t a pretty sight.) Jimmy still makes my breakfast and pours my morning coffee. I sometimes take these small acts of love for granted but they say so much about his heart.

I am thankful for his friendship. I love that he and I can laugh together for hours. He makes road trips, grocery shopping, and even house cleaning fun. He truly is the coolest partner around. Jimmy has quite the “freak flag” hidden behind his serious nature. I love it when he waives that flag proudly. And I also love that he laughs at my jokes. Because let’s face it, I think I am pretty funny myself.

I am thankful for the kind of father he chooses to be. He loves our boy with all his heart and his tenderness towards Pearce is so precious to watch. I have yet to see such patience, wisdom, and intent anywhere else. I love how he strives to be better with Pearce. His otherwise tidy nightstand is stacked with books about fathering, Godly discipline, and raising our boy to be a gentleman. He takes his role as daddy so seriously, and like many things he does: he sets a very high standard.

Thank you Lord for such a kind and loving husband.

A Change of Heart

2010-10-29T15:09:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when I am in a quiet place in life I am able to rest my mind and focus on the things that really matter. But lately, life has been loud. Somehow, I have lost focus. Maybe it is the result of our two pregnancy losses. Maybe it’s because we are dealing with the ‘terrible two’s’ full throttle. Maybe life is just too hectic. Maybe I simply need to slow down.

And maybe … just maybe … it’s me.

In the midst of my daily diaper changing, lotion-lathering, dish-doing, toy-tripping, and Facebook - creeping I have become unsatisfied. I have become impatient. And I have become unsettled. To put it in one word…I am: ungrateful.

I don’t know where the roots of discontentment begin but I know those roots grow fast. And they are strong … strong enough to wrap our hearts and minds in a muddy mess of entitlement. I find myself asking questions and challenging the Lord’s sovereignty over our lives. I miss the wonder right in front of me because I am too busy looking forward. And often times, I pout over all the blessings I eagerly anticipate but rarely appreciate.

It’s a little awkward to be confessing this on-line, however some things just need to be said and since I am rarely someone who holds my tongue, I figure I might as well just put it all out there. I would like to believe that I am not the only person who struggles in this area so hopefully this “commitment” of mine will be of some encouragement to those who stumble across my blog.

It is Thanksgiving season and this time of year is so dear to me. I love the smell of pumpkin candles in my kitchen. I look forward to fun fall ideas from my Real Simple magazine. I love the anticipation of making the perfect Thanksgiving meal. I cherish family pictures of us in brown sweaters and fall accessories. I look forward to Cyber Monday. And most of all, I treasure this time of year with family. And while all those things are wonderful, they are nothing compared to the true intention of Thanksgiving. I did some research and found that Thanksgiving in America originally began as a religious observance to give thanks to God.

To give thanks to God.

I barely remember a time when it was kosher and acceptable to openly praise God for his mercy and blessing. And on a national level? Unheard of. You see, we have lost focus. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am ready to bring my focus back in clear view.

I once read that it takes 21 days to break a bad habit. While I am not clear on the scientific evidence behind such claims, it sounds convincing enough to me. My ungratefulness has become somewhat of a bad habit. It is sort of like biting my nails: I know it is not good for me, but I simply cannot help myself. My attitude of ungratefulness is exactly the same. I know better. But I choose the easier path of discontentment.

So here is what I am going to do: between now and Thanksgiving, I commit to 21 days of gratefulness. I will post something each day that I am thankful for. I will not be putting these things in any particular order...just as they come to me. This is a little scary for me as I am freaked out at the commitment of blogging daily. However, my sweet husband is on board so I am guessing some late night blogs are in my future. Either way, I need to do this and get my heart in check.

Day one starts tomorrow. To be continued…

Fall's Fantastic-ness

2010-10-20T14:33:00.000-05:00

Well, it's fall and it just so happens that I have very strong opinions about this time of year...

I absolutely, positively, love it!

A boy and his pumpkins...

Seriously, nothing gets me in a better mood than a crisp, cool morning and a scarf around my neck. I find myself at the Starbucks drive thru much more than in the summer, because let's face it: a cold coffee just doesn't satisfy like a warm one does. A nice Chai Latte or White Mocha always warm my body and heart. And oddly enough, my house is cleaner in the fall...I wish I had an explanation for this but it simply is what it is.

Every year, Jimmy indulges my love for fall. September 1st is D-Day at our house: Decorate Day. I pull out all my fall decor and strategically place dried leaves, garland, and pumpkins around the house. (It's the only time of year that the color orange is welcome in our home). I then dig up the half-priced, end of season, Pumpkin Patch and Leaves candles I purchase every year at Bath and Body Works. I light them. And I wait as our home magically comes alive with the scent of fall. It is wonderful and is an immediate lift to my spirits.

There is a tree in our neighborhood that simply screams fall. It is a fabulous shade a green, accompanied by and even more fabulous splash of red leaves. It looks as though God simply whipped out his paintbrush and dotted the "i" for His truth of, "I love you, world." The red leaves rock and I find joy each time I drive by this terrific tree.

In my never-ending attempts to be the best wife and mother JB and Pearce could want (sigh), I have been working on some creative cooking and treats for this time of year. First, I have been cooking with lots of pumpkin lately. Our recent dishes include: Pumpkin Sausage Lasagna, Coconut Pumpkin Soup, Pumpkin Cream Cheese with Bagels, Pumpkin Casserole, and Jimmy's favorite: Pumpkin Cheesecake Bars. (they really are delicious). Who knew there were so many pumpkin recipes out there? And the best part? They are super easy!

I also love the fact that fall means we get to begin the ever-important task of selecting Pearce's Halloween costume. Because, here's the deal: I realize I only have a few blissful years of costume input and I cherish each year that my opinion counts. This year may be my last, and I fully intend to make the most of it. I love the idea of selecting adorable, yet orginal costumes sweet Pearce would never select on his own merit. In fact, I try to select something I would secretly love to wear.

On his first Halloween, when most babies are dressing up as little pumpkins and buntings; Pearce was a ferocious shark. The kiddo had no teeth, cheeks as sweet as molasses, and could barely sit up. But oh yes, he was a serious shark and totally convincing.

A Shark Tale

Last year's costume selection was a little more challenging. Pearce was walking, ahem, running every where he went and simply wouldn't tolerate any old costume. It needed to have heart and it needed to be fabulous. Enter ... Yoda. Yes, Pearce was the best Yoda in the history of Yodas.

May The Force be with you.

Fall also means we are blessed with a series of carnivals and trips to the pumpkin patch. It is such a delight to watch Pearce in these atmospheres. He is totally in a different element and looks around like a kid in a ... well, pumpkin patch. He squeals with delight as he climbs over perfectly round pumpkins and rushes to line up again for his tenth turn on the moon bounce. We sit back and watch our boy play as I find something to do with my new found time: I savor every last bite of Lehman's kettlecorn and sip fresh squeezed lemonade. Delicious.

One of the most exciting things about fall is that Christmas is right around the corner. And yes, my Christmas decor comes out early too. This year I promised Jimmy I would hold off until the end of November...I am not sure I can wait that long. Wink, Wink.

Baby Early Bird is Here...

2010-10-01T13:44:00.000-05:00

Last night the sweetest addition to the world made her debut.

Harper has arrived. And she is heavenly.

There are very few words to describe this delightful darling. Seriously, I always have plenty to say and when I saw her, I was speechless. At 3 pounds and 13 ounces, she took my breath away. I don't know what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect to be so awestruck with her dearness.

Of all the sugar and spice in the world, Harper hit the motherload. She must be packed to the brim with sweetness as everything about her is like sugar. Her little body is about the size of a fall squash, and is the softest skin I have ever felt. Her delicate little hands are moving constantly and her tiny feet are the size of most baby doll's. She is wide-eyed and aware as she turns toward her daddy when he talks to her.

She is doing remarkably well. The big girl is breathing on her own, sucking a pacifier, and cooing and crying like a full term baby! The NICU staff is impressed, doctors are hopeful, and we are delighted. As any doll would be, she is already accessorizing. Her little tootsies are being kept warm by tiny pink booties and her precious head is adorned with the sweetest knit cap, complete with a pink bow on top. She looks like a little gift. And a gift she is.

Beth got to meet her briefly last night and the video was so sweet. Baby girl snuggled up to her mama's chest and looked like a little kangaroo in a pouch. Poor Bethie is not doing as well as her baby. Her blood pressure is still spiking and now doctors fear she is ill from the lack of sleep and a difficult labor. We are so grateful for The Lord's protection over baby Harper and now we ask for healing and protection over Beth. Please continue to lift these two girls up daily in prayer.

We will keep you posted on the progress of both Bethie and Harper .

The Waiting Game...

2010-09-29T20:45:00.000-05:00

We spend a lot of our lives waiting. Waiting in line at the supermarket, waiting in traffic, waiting for retirement, etc. While waiting is often a negative notion in my mind, tonight's wait is wonderful.

Tonight we wait for Harper Grace.

Her arrival into the world has come as quite a surprise to us all. In fact, we all assumed this "waiting game" would start eight weeks from now. But no, as any princess would...she has her own timing. After a sudden bout with preeclampsia, Beth and Blake learned this morning that sweet Harper needed to come soon. She needed to come today. So here we are....praying that the past 32 weeks of growth are enough. Enough time for Harper to breathe on her own, enough for her to regulate her body temperature, and enough to prepare her sweet life for early entrance into the world.

There are a number of things left incomplete. And for those of you who know my sister, this is a major concern. Harper's room isn't perfect yet. Her walls do not display the artwork Beth and Blake envisioned. Her rose-printed nightgowns are not yet clean. And her little diaper bag is not yet packed.

But our hearts are ready. And that is enough.

Beth and Blake are already wonderful parents. Sweet Beth has spent the past week laying flat...obeying her doctor's orders to keep their baby girl in the womb as long as possible. Blake hasn't left Beth's side and I am pretty certain he hasn't slept in a week either. They are worried. They are tired. And already, they are in love with their girl. And as any mother would, Beth is preparing Harper's world as best as she can for when Harper arrives.

Early ultrasounds have shown hair on Harper's sweet head. So Harper's tiny hats and bows are here at the hospital: waiting for the little darling these hats were created for. Beth called me a few days ago and wanted to make sure Harper's NICU bed would be ready for her princess. She asked me to make some signs for baby girl's bed. The signs are waiting to warm the temporary home of baby Harper. Like a mama bird, Beth is preparing her Early Bird's nest.

It's eight hours into labor and the doctor assures us we have a long haul ahead of us. So we wait patiently. Because good things come to those who are patient.

And a new baby girl? Well, that's about as good as it gets.

What do I know?

2010-09-22T15:15:00.000-05:00

The past few months have been some of the toughest months of our lives, and while I have been hesitant to acknowledge any of it through avenues such as blogging and Facebook, I feel pulled to share. So sharing is what I am going to do. I usually try to keep my posts light-hearted and my hope is that those reading my posts will be blessed in some way; usually through some laughter or an otherwise overlooked chance to appreciate where you are in life. I am also amazed at how my blogging has sort of evolved into a family journal I can share with our children someday. My hope is that this post will share some truth with the blogging world…or simply those who stumble across my blog. :)

Deep Breath. My heart has been broken…twice. Jimmy and I have been so eager to grow our sweet family and as things often go, it has not been in our timing.

In May Jimmy and I learned we were expecting. We were elated. We promptly ordered Pearce the dearest, coolest, “Big Brother” shirts and paraded him around friends and family to announce our news. I started planning Pearce’s ‘big boy’ room and how we would welcome this new life into our family. I fixed my eyes on the due date of January 25th. I celebrated the fact that morning sickness was not nearly as bad as it was with Pearce, and counted down the weeks until we got to see the wonderful heartbeat of our baby.

At nine weeks things did not go as planned. Following some mild spotting, my doctor ordered an ultrasound to ease my mind. I will never forget the way my stomach dropped when the tech turned the ultrasound screen away from Jimmy and I. Right there, I knew… But I hoped. Hours later we learned that our celebrated addition was not what we thought. Our pregnancy had actually ended weeks before, with an empty sac and a genetically faulty pregnancy. I felt foolish. Did I share with others too soon? Was it something I did? Was my praise for the milder morning sickness just a farce? And the hardest question of all: How do I mourn the loss of something I never actually had?

The weeks that followed were raw. I remember crying on my closet floor because I simply wanted to be alone, and I needed the world around me to stand still. I was desperate to close my eyes, plug my ears and stomp my feet as the world around me kept moving. I was still standing in the ultrasound room, but everyone else had moved on. But with darkness, comes morning. And with the morning, comes mercy. Scripture tells us that “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” Lamentations 3:22-23. I have no idea how we got through the emotional rollercoaster that followed the loss of our baby, coupled by an insane plummet in hormones. I seriously thought I had lost my mind.

About 6 weeks later we learned that we were expecting another little one…due April 28th. We were thrilled, but cautious. We told a small group of friends and asked for prayer. Prayer for peace, a healthy pregnancy, and for continued healing. My heart was guarded but my mind was so hopeful. I actually remember verbalizing the relief I felt to Jimmy, as surely a miscarriage wouldn’t happen twice. I had already proved my ability to carry one healthy pregnancy…sweet Pearce. But after a series of frustrating doctor’s calls, frequent blood work, and about 5 ultrasounds my doctor told us what we were dreading: this too, was not viable. My pregnancy was diagnosed as ectopic, and treatment was needed. I was given two injections of a chemotherapy drug called methotrexate: the purpose was to burn out the pregnancy and treat rapidly developing cells. I cried. I was distraught with the concept that I was ending a pregnancy … because dangerous or not, this was a child we wanted. My doctor assured me that this was not an option but necessary, as ectopic pregnancies are life threatening and cannot be carried to term. I still cried.

In the aftermath of this season I find myself asking lots of questions. I have been angry because, dang it, life just hasn’t been fair to us. I want to know why God would allow this to happen…why He didn’t miraculously heal these two little lives….why I even got pregnant in the first place….and most of all, why us?

It amazes me how quickly our grateful hearts can turn bitter. The same God who so graciously orchestrated the blessing of our precious Pearce hasn’t changed…but my perspective has. I am no longer patient, I am planning. I am not waiting, I am worrying. I am no longer trusting, I am throwing tantrums. My hands are no longer open and ready to accept God’s sovereignty, they are accusing as I point my finger at our God and place blame on the blameless. I hurt deeply and want so badly to taste the bitterness that suffering brings.

I began to question my faith. Is Jesus who He says He is? What sort of Father would let his children suffer? If God really is in control…why hasn’t He healed me? What kind of God demands such glory that He allows us to suffer so that He can be glorified? I even spent forty five minutes one day researching how dinosaurs fit in the Bible, thinking that would provide some proof I needed to see. (FYI…there is lots on the subject) But the truth is…who am I to ask such questions? Who am I to challenge the Creator of the universe? I have grappled with this for weeks. But you know what? I believe the Lord welcomes doubt as it is just another way He can be glorified.

And there is a silver lining: I am growing. In all honestly, I am doing all I can to prevent spiritual growth during this time. I want to stay angry. I want to feel sorry for myself. And I want to blame someone for the unjustness we have felt. But dang it; no matter how hard I push, I am still being held. And as He often does, The Lord really convicted my heart this morning.

I have always loved this song, but today the lyrics spoke to me on a different level. I cannot help but feel this song was written just so I could hear it on this day as I drove to work in my cozy town of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

What Do I Know of Holy?

I made You promises a thousand times

I tried to hear from Heaven

But I talked the whole time

I think I made You too small

I never feared You at all

If You touched my face would I know You?

Looked into my eyes could I behold You?

What do I know of You

Who spoke me into motion?

Where have I even stood

But the shore along Your ocean?

Are You fire? Are You fury?

Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?

What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out

I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about

How You were mighty to save

Those were only empty words on a page

Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be

The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees

What do I know of You

Who spoke me into motion?

Where have I even stood

But the shore along Your ocean?

Are You fire? Are You fury?

Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?

What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

The truth is: I know nothing. Just like the author of this song, I ask so many questions. And rather than listen to the Lord, in my arrogance, I feel the need to explain my point of view.

As if I know better.

I know nothing of the God who created life and I know nothing of the One who has numbered our days.

But I try.

And in my weak, half- hearted attempts to find the answers I am seeking: I truly believe the Lord meets me here. He holds us in the midst of our disbelief and doubt. He loves us in spite of our unlovable hearts. And in time, His graciousness is revealed as we get to live His perfect plan for our lives… A plan that began with creation, was tainted by sin, but was restored to wholeness by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So I am waiting here as I slowly transform my accusing, pointed finger into open palms, ready to accept the Lord’s sovereignty.

To be TWO...

2010-08-31T13:49:00.000-05:00

As of last week, I am the mother of a two year old.

Is it possible for two years to flash forward in the span of just months? Where did the time go? Last week I watched Back to the Future and couldn't help but feel a bit like Marty … life as I know it has changed, yet I cannot figure out how.

With every big change in our lives, we have a solid start and end point. Our new marriage was marked by the joy of living under the same roof and in the same town. My new job afforded a new office, and a great car. Our new home resulted in a new neighborhood, a fresh location, and some new furniture. But our baby boy dropping the ‘baby’ and becoming a boy? No matter how I try… I cannot pinpoint the start and end points of this transition. Slowly, gradually, it simply happened.

Maybe I have been in denial. Maybe I have been plugging my ears and ignoring my mother’s warning that time flies. Maybe I slept through the past two years. And maybe, just maybe this is just the way life goes…

On August 27th, 2008, the greatest thing to ever happen to me, happened. I was 38 weeks pregnant, still sick as a dog with morning sickness (don’t get me started), and miserable. I woke up to my usual routine of eat and throw up, to be followed by a long – awaited occurrence… my water broke. This was it. Jimmy and I were elated … we finally knew the date of our boy’s birthday. We knew that in a matter of hours, the sweet face we had dreamt about for months would be looking into ours. And oh, that face is still the most precious sight to see. In many ways, dear Pearce looks so different. But in others, he is exactly the way I remember him when Jimmy handed him to me at 6:07 pm on his birthday.

His button lips still form a perfect pout. They have this rosy shade to them at all times and I can see his daddy in his mouth. We knew it the moment he was born … Pearce was blessed with Jimmy’s plump lips.
His hair is still wonderfully wild. I remember one of the first things I noticed about Pearce was his dark, soft hair. Even today, his little head looks and smells as sweet as it did the day he came into this world.
His pudgy little fingers are still the softest, most wonderful sight. I love the way his hand dimples when he places it on mine or rests it in my lap. These small acts of affection warm my heart more than I could have ever imagined.
And his cheeks. Pearce’s plump cheeks were there the moment he entered the world, and I have a feeling they are here to stay. I love the way they jiggle as he walks and plays.
Pearce’s profile might be the sweetest view of him…those long lashes, perfect lips, and pudgy cheeks could take your breath away.

And now we celebrate our boy.

He is independent. Pearce sometimes puts on his own shoes…when did he learn this? He has preferences. Last week he asked me to cut the tag out of his shirt…what? He doesn’t need my help eating anymore and when he does need help, he has the ability to tell me straight out. No more guessing what he needs…my baby is a boy now and can tell me himself. He is a compassionate person…his clumsy, yet gentle pats on my back brought me comfort in a recent hurt. He is a singer. A few weeks ago I turned my ear to the back seat to hear a little voice singing “Jesus Loves Me.” And he is proud. His conquered puzzles and picked up toys are celebrated with an enthusiastic, “I did it!”

Two years have passed since Pearce entered our lives and while I don’t recall a clear start and end point of this milestone called boyhood…I have a series of tender moments to cling to. I will never forget the way he looked when Jimmy first handed him to me. I will never forget the sound of his little whimper…we called him a pterodactyl. I love the way I felt when he first started reaching for us and how precious he always looked snuggled up in our chests. The words “I wuv you mama” are music to my ears. And to hear our boy singing the words “Jesus Loves Me” is one of the more precious moments I recall. I love the little person Pearce is becoming and I am awestruck at his ability to warm my heart more and more each day. Happy 3rd Year, Pearce. We love you loads.

Beautiful Mess

2010-05-17T21:18:00.000-05:00

I have a confession to make…My house looks lived in. This is a tough realization for me, as I have always prided myself on a fabulous looking home. Our home is no longer fabulous…it is frazzled. My kitchen is no longer tidy…it is turbulent. My bathroom counter is no longer spotless…it is splotchy.

Many of you know that I have an unhealthy addiction to perfumes and I truly love changing my signature scent to the point that I no longer have one signature scent. I have about five, and what I wear depends on what mood I am in. I used to have our bathroom counters arranged just right so that I could admire my perfumes, while finding a classy and clean way to store my q-tips and cotton balls. Today when I left the house, I looked at my counter to see the following: a random spare drawer knob, a toy screwdriver, a sippy cup, two bottles of nail polish and a wrapped up (wet) diaper. I took one look at the clutter…hesitated… and walked out the door. Again, my house looks lived in.

While there are some days it makes me batty, there are others that it brings me great joy. I am really trying to let the Lord work on the condition of me heart, specifically, to be more joyful in everything. This is hard for me, particularly when I am walking through a booby trap of toy cars, stale milk, and hippos (as Pearce says, Pippos). That kid loves his Pippos. I find myself sighing heavily and tensing up as I picture our once clean home. But sometimes, when my heart is right, I am able to see the mess for what it really is... Beauty.
Here are a few of the recent things I have learned to find joy in when looking at our less than perfect house:

CHEESE CRUSTIES
I had to smile as I vacuumed up the crusty shredded cheese in our kitchen. It brought me back to a few days ago when I was making dinner and Pearce was ‘helping’ me on the counter. I looked over to see him up to his elbow in shredded cheese and shoving large helpings into his mouth. I giggle because that is totally something I do when no one is looking. Pearce simply smiled and said, “Yummy.”

GRUBBY FOOTPRINTS
As I mopped chalky foot prints off our wood floors this weekend, I smiled at the thought of him diligently doodling on our driveway with his new pieces of chalk…he was very focused. I am thankful that sweet Pearce is able to run barefoot outside, even if it means tracking his grubby little feet through our house. 

BOARD BOOK BEDLAM
Last week as Jimmy and I put dozens of board books back on the shelf in the playroom, I tried to celebrate the fact that we have a boy who loves his books. Often times, he will unpack the entire book basket just to find his favorite two or three. Then he simply walks in reverse until he finds our laps and plops down. I know these moments won’t last forever. And if that isn’t sweet enough, one of his favorite books will steal your heart: The Bible. He loves his little Bible story book. (For the record, we are still trying to correct his misunderstanding of Jesus as Santa.) Baby steps, people.

I am also trying to accept the fact that boys get dirty. And not just any dirty…but a mud-wrestle, roll in dirt, covered in stickiness kind of dirty. I mean, boys are just magnetically charged to be dirty. And if they aren’t dirty on their own merit, they will find a way to get dirty.

Pearce also likes to get down and dirty and work hard on his little Cozy Coupe. He is very intentional in his efforts to “repair” the coupe. He often marches outside with his screwdriver (scewdriber) and hammer (bang bang) in tow and gets a-crackin’. He will say, “Mommy! Daddy! Outside? Tools? I drive. I drive.” Then he squats his short little legs and works his magic until the coupe is in pristine condition.

Pearce had his first popsicle of the season and oh my, was he in heaven! He thought he was pretty swift with that stick of sugary ice. Don’t mind that he spent much of his time admiring it as juice dripped off his hands onto the pavement. I literally sat in a minor-panic mode as I pictured the ant colonies making their way up our driveway. You will be pleased to know that I got a grip and simmered down.

Either way, I am seriously loving life with Pearce and Jimmy. While I am still getting used to our lived in appeal, at least I am past the stage of following the boys around with a lint roller and broom. (wink, wink.)

It's My Potty...

2010-04-27T13:51:00.000-05:00

...and I'll try if I want to.

Did you know that the average potty training age for boys is anywhere from 31 to 38 months? Seriously! For the record, I am beginning to think there is some merit to these “experts” and statistics. Apparently even "child genius’s" have an opinion about being diaper free…it’s frowned upon.

For the past few months Pearce has been showing some interest (even minor) in potty training. He often tells us when he is wet or dirty and sometimes he even tells us before he dirties his diaper. Being the “our-child-is-a-genius” parents that we are, of course we think Pearce can beat all statistics and potty train before the age of two!

I find myself daydreaming about sitting on the couch with Oprah as I tell her just how we conquered the potty for Pearce, followed by Barnes & Noble book signings of our best-seller, “How to Push Your Child to Overachieve in the Bathroom”…all the while enjoying a diaper free darling. So these are the thoughts that fill my mind as I nudge Pearce to excellence.

When we first bought Pearce’s potty I watched everyday for the UPS shipment to arrive. Seriously, I was gung ho about this new addition to our lives. When it arrived I was just certain that Pearce would be so overcome with joy and gratitude that he would drop his drawers, grab his favorite board book, and potty where civilized society expected him to! That’s not exactly how it played out.

Pearce was actually very eager to sit on his potty and he even knows to call it “potty” but I think he is under the impression that it is some modern looking chair for his enjoyment. Maybe he has been sneaking issues of Architectural Digest to bed? I have actually learned quite a bit about potties and their many uses….here are just a few:

Potties make fabulous hats. Pearce discovered this a few nights ago. I gotta tell ya, when he placed it on his head it sort of resembled some modern day cowboy hat. Not bad, Pearce.

Potties make excellent "carts". Pearce has spent plenty of time packing his potty full of trinkets and toys and pushing it from room to room as he moves about the house. Clever use…you can never have too much storage, can you?

Potties…ahem…clean potties make practical dishes. Pearce’s potty has already housed some of his favorite snacks: string cheese, crackers, and gold fish. I can appreciate the need for somewhere to store your food. After all, his little cheeks can only hold so much.

Potties also make convenient toothbrush holders. Pearce loves to snatch Jimmy’s toothbrush and gnaw on it a bit (that’s a whole other sanitary issue), and the other day he found the proper place to store daddy’s toothbrush: in his potty. It fit perfectly and the colors coordinated nicely. Aren’t human mouths the grimiest places on the human body? Surely the potty can’t be too bad. It was actually cute until the next day when I looked over to see Pearce marching towards our toilet with Jimmy’s toothbrush in hand. No joke, thank goodness he has trouble getting the lid up.

Last, potties are the perfect lounge chair/stepstool a kid could ask for. Pearce has been known to tip over his potty to attempt greater height…to reach something he shouldn’t have, no doubt. And he finds great joy in sitting on his potty on his terms. Need a place to rest your feet? Find the potty. Prefer to sit while you brush your teeth? Find the potty.

Oh Pearce, you bring my heart joy.

Introducing….Jake. And Brenda.

2010-04-23T20:57:00.000-05:00

Alright folks, we have done what I swore we were not ready to do…we have pets...ducks. Well, they are more like quasi - pets. Technically, they are not our ducks but they come close. They are a boy and a girl who wander our street and have come to love our house. You may wonder where they got their names. Apparently the ducks started visiting our street a few months ago and the neighborhood kids decided they needed names. Like any normal kids would have, they chose the names Jake and Brenda. Pretty cute, huh?

I looked up the definition of pet and here is what I found:

Pet: noun.
1.An animal kept for amusement or companionship.

While we don’t keep these two in our house, they do serve as companions and we even feed them everyday. So in my mind, they are pets. Let me tell you how we got to know Jake and Brenda. One evening Pearce, Jimmy and I were in the backyard and I decided to go grab the mail. When I rounded the corner from my back gate I saw two little tail-feathers wiggling along our driveway. And they were precious! I ran inside, grabbed some bread and called for Jimmy and Pearce to come look. We probably spent 30 minutes that first night just oohing and ahhhing over these two.

Everyday in early evening we look out our front door to see two little ducks waddling up our driveway. There is something sort of enchanting about having ducks in your driveway. I love the way we can count on them to come over each night, sort of like an old neighbor coming over for dessert and conversation. In fact, last night I left the front door open to run inside and grab the bread. When I came back out I saw Jake on our front porch, with Brenda, headed toward the inside of our house. I think they might just move in if we let them! So this is how we have been spending our evenings lately. We sit outside and wait for Jake and Brenda to come for dinner. Pearce gets so excited as they cross the street and make their way toward our lawn. He squeals with delight and says, “Hi Ducks! Hi Ducks!” He is so precious.

And when I say we feed them “bread”, I mean the good stuff. They don’t eat Wonder Bread...they get multigrain flatbread and they LOVE us for it. I am actually glad these are our first “pets” because Pearce still isn’t quite sure about the whole feeding them process. For example, Pearce will take an entire piece of bread to feed them and either throw it whole or tear it up and toss the pieces, only to walk around and eat the torn up pieces off the pavement himself. I am not kidding. Last night Jimmy and I tried (unsuccessfully) to explain the process to Pearce. He simply looked at us, then down at his bread, and said, “No, No.” as he munched away at the pavement pieces. Oh dear. Can you imagine if this were Kibbles and Bits dog food? Pearce would think it was the greatest new cereal in town!

On another note, sweet Pearce got his first skinned up knee this past week. He was running (as usual) to the car and slid on the pavement. He handled it like such a champ that I didn't even know it was bleeding until we got home. Of course I had to take pictures and he was so brave while I doctored him up! I think the presence of Elmo must have helped...

Oh dear...

2010-04-19T09:59:00.000-05:00

Do you every have those days where you feel that you are screwing your child up royally? A day when, no matter what you do, you seem to see your quirky lacking in the motherhood department? Last week I had one of those days. If life were truly a game of baseball, I would have struck out an entire Major League team. Seriously.

It started with Pearce’s doctor’s appointment. I went to pick him up at Miss Sheron’s only to find him in a Christmas t-shirt. That’s right, a Christmas t-shirt. Why?, you ask. Well, because I am an irresponsible mother who forgot a back up change of clothes for my son and his shirt that day was covered in lunch. So, the Christmas t-shirt was necessary to save him from stains galore. Strike One.

When we got to the doctor’s office, I realized that Pearce’s hair was a mess. We only see Dr. B and her staff every once in awhile and Pearce needed to look cute. He was already wearing an oversized Christmas t-shirt…the odds were stacked against me. How on earth was I supposed to fix his signature hairdo? As I walked into the hospital I noticed Purell hand sanitizer on the wall. So, like any mother would have, I doused his ‘do in Purell. I am not kidding. Strike Two.

As we discussed Pearce’s possible ear infection, I assured Dr. B that the infection was in his left ear (if any infection at all). So, Dr. B pulls out her little tool and informs me that Pearce has a major wax build up in his left ear. Strike Three.

After cleaning the waxy residue from both ears she informed me that Pearce does in fact have an ear infection, however it is not in his left ear as I asserted. No, his infection was in his right ear. Yes, I am the observant mother of the year. Strike Four.

Upon completion of Pearce’s appointment, I got into my purse to get the car keys. The usual, friendly jingle of my car keys was absent and my heart began to race. I frantically dug through my bag and literally dumped it on the hospital bed only to find that my keys were no where in sight. I had locked my keys in the car. Thank the Lord for AAA. Strike Five.

Since AAA said they would be approximately an hour, I decided to pacify Pearce with whatever I could. Since he is my son and I am certain we share some sort of characteristic…I took him to do what I would do in a moment of boredom: we went to eat. I promptly walked into the hospital deli and grabbed Pearce a bag of Baked Cheetos, opened it, and plopped him down to start munching. I took my time choosing my snack, and when I went to pay I learned the deli does not take checks or credit cards. Ironically, I never carry cash. Fabulous. Like any responsible mother would have, I left Pearce sitting up to his elbows in Cheetos, in the deli full of strangers while I ran to the ATM down the hall. Strike Six.

So that was my brush with craziness. To be perfectly honest: I was frustrated, overwhelmed and cranky. But thank goodness that even at our worst, the Lord can take these rough days and reveal Himself in the midst of chaos….

When I got home, the Terminix representative was waiting for us to do our annual termite inspection. The result? Termites. Swear. Could somebody please take over my life right now? Please?

While the rep and I were in the kitchen discussing the financial woes that were to come in treating our new ‘wood-eating friends’, the Lord spoke to me through the Terminix guy. I was busy feeling sorry for myself and lamenting the day I had just survived, when he noticed our kitchen chalkboard with scripture on it. He then said, “You know, that verse is really cool. Another verse I like is ‘Be still and know that I am God’.”

Wow. Okay God, I am listening. Be still and know that I am God. Such a powerful verse. And here’s the deal: I don’t read this as a request. It is written as an order. I think the words are so intentional here. He does not tell us to feel that He is God or hope that He is God. He instructs us to know that He is God. This says so much about my God’s determination to reach me... he spoke to my heart through a Terminix rep. I needed to hear that. How dear that we serve a God who cares enough to seek us!

And for those of you that read this and are rightfully concerned about Pearce’s well being, rest assured that he has at least one fabulous parent. (See post below.)

Workin' Men

2010-04-12T20:59:00.000-05:00

Sunday afternoon Jimmy and I (emphasis on Jimmy) started putting together Pearce's new swing set. To us, this thing was a beast. The instructions were about as clear as my skin in 10th grade, however we were determined to get this done for Pearce. To be honest, I was not looking forward to it. I was secretly hoping I would wake up at 10 am one Saturday morning, pour myself a cup of coffee, and look outside to see...gasp!..Pearce playing on his new swing set while Jimmy looked on. I would then learn that Jimmy had gotten up at 5 am so that he could surprise me with blessed sleep and a new swing set for our son. Pretty sweet, huh? Well friends, this dream did not come to fruition. What did happen was so much better than that.

I love that Pearce loves Jimmy. Seriously, this kiddo adores his daddy and I can't say I blame him. Jimmy has the kindest spirit of anyone I know. He is the type of person who genuinely cares about people and tries to do what is right, no matter the cost. I remember when we first got married and money was tight. We decided to go to a movie and I had the brilliant idea to use our old student id's from OU to get cheaper tickets...sounds good, right? When I presented this idea to Jimmy his response to my marvelous, yet mischievous plan was silence...followed by, "Brooke, our integrity is worth more than the money we would save." Enter: shame, guilt, and a little bit of "are you kidding me?!"...

Either way, you can see why I love that Pearce looks up to his daddy. I love the way Jimmy comes home from work and literally beams from ear to ear as he says, "Hello sweetheart! I missed you today!" And you know what? No matter how many layers of stale cheese, black beans, and dirt Pearce has on his grubby little hands; Jimmy picks him up and lets Pearce paw all over his perfectly pressed, wrinkle free, dry clean only shirts as they wrestle around on the floor. I love the way I can see Jimmy's pain when Pearce is hurting. His heart is so tender toward this little guy and while he encourages Pearce to run, fall, and explore...he always keeps a protectful watch over his boy. And the prayers he prays over our son...oh how they must move the heavens...

Whatever Jimmy does, Pearce does too. It is so sweet to watch Pearce shadow Jimmy's movement. While Jimmy's motions are clean, swift, and effortless; Pearce's are choppy, slow, and full of heart. He tries so hard to get it right and it is so endearing to watch. On Sunday when we started building Pearce's swing set, he was so eager to help. He marched inside, found his screwdriver (pronounced "scewdriber") and high tailed it back outdoors. He literally mimicked almost every move Jimmy made. He then decided to sort the box of nuts and bolts and I am telling you people: we must have a genius on our hands. That little stinker sorted all the bolts out of the hardware. Look at this picture below:

Pearce also went around kissing Jimmy and I and cheering us on with his little, "Hi. Hi Daddy. Hi Mommy." And Jimmy was so patient with him. Poor thing, it never failed that Pearce would pop up in Jimmy's face at the exact moment all of Jimmy's effort was focused on the one tough bolt. Instead of shooing him away, Jimmy would thank him for his help and encouragement. So dear.

I took some pics of my boys working hard and they make me smile....

Spring Fling

2010-04-07T12:01:00.000-05:00

I have two favorite seasons: fall and spring. I have to admit that I am a bit of a disloyal person in that to me, neither spring nor fall have one advantage over the other. I will not choose sides...no... spring and fall will have to love eachother and accept my partial, but equal love for them. But, now it's springtime and that is what I want to write about today.

I have a few loves in springtime and wanted to share them:

~ Thunderstorms. There is something so powerful, yet soothing about a spring storm. I love how the storm bellows up to my doorstep to ruin my "to do list"... it is almost as if God is giving us permission to stay indoors, off the roads, and away from my chores to simply marvel at His power. Then He smiles and says, "Oh and by the way, here is a wonderful scent called "fresh rain" to enjoy while you rest." Awesome.

~ Snowcones. At some point during the spring, snowcones reappear. I don't know that there is any rhyme or reason to the "springtime snowcone debut" but I sort of like the excitement of not knowing. I love driving by the same, empty snowcone stand day after day and the joy of ...surprise!... The snowcone stand is open. I whip my car around for my very first Silverfox of the season and savor every last bite. So fun.

~ New Life. In spring, everything around us is blossoming. We just moved into this house and I love exploring all the new blooms each time we walk outside. Each plant, tree, and bush are like a present from nature just waiting to reveal itself. Here are some pics of our trees..

We also get to celebrate the new life we have in Jesus Christ with Easter. What a wonderful way for God to remind us of His faithfulness each Easter season! The trees and bushes that once showed no sign of life are once again blooming in beauty! So cool.

And I have a new reason to celebrate new life in the spring...springtime is when my older sister, Beth told us she is pregnant! This fall, we will have another precious family member to love!!!

~ Claritin. Because let's face it, allergies are a booger.

One of the things I love about being a mom is that I get to see things through a whole new light and that is wonderful. I find myself watching Pearce and how he responds to the world around him and I am reminded how awesome everyday would be if I would just sit still long enough to enjoy it. We played outside today and a ladybug landed on Pearce's cheek! It was as if this little ladybug popped on over to say, "Hello Pearce! Welcome to my garden!" I watched for about five minutes as Pearce played, totally unaware of his new companion and when we finally acknowledged the bug, it flew away. I suppose they had a private conversation that ended with Pearce promising not to flood Ladybug's home with his new pirate water table. Either way, watching Pearce play was delightful.

I grabbed my camera and snapped a few pics....

Sweet boy longing for the outdoors...

Pearce the Person

2010-04-05T11:31:00.000-05:00

Okay, many of you parents out there know what I am talking about when I say this:

How in the world did Pearce become a real person already?

I am not talking about the fact that he obviously exists...don't worry, I have known that for awhile. But I mean, I feel like we have blinked our eyes and we no longer have a baby on our hands...we have a real live person. I couldn't sleep last night so I started thinking about this weekend and how memorable his second Easter was. Rapid thoughts were running through my head as I started thinking about all he does and continues to do and I get teary-eyed just thinking about his precious nature.

First, he loves his "Pops". We all got so tickled this weekend when Pops got to our house and Pearce ran to him and simply patted my dad over and over saying, "Pops, Pops, Pops." Except it sounds more like "Popcsh" with a little 'sh' at the end of the word. It's like he couldn't believe his eyes and wanted to make sure that everyone knew, (including himself) that this was, in fact, Pops.

Three Generations...

Pearce also adores his Papaw, my grandpa. We had the privilege of having Papaw stay the night with us Friday night and Pearce was in hog heaven. He happily walked between Pops and Papaw and gave them kisses galore! When he woke up Sunday morning, the first person he asked for was Papaw, then he went downstairs to the couch where Papaw had been sitting and patted the seat asking for him...so cute.

I was so proud when Pearce saw his Easter goodies yesterday. He smiled and stared at his basket and said, "whoaaaa, thank you" over and over. Each item he pulled out was greeted with a genuine, awestruck "whoaaaaaa". Seriously, where does he learn this stuff?

Our yummy Easter donuts...

I also love how he responds to others. I really think he is keeping some sort of secret from us and is planning to run for office soon. In public, Pearce greets each person we see with a sweet wave and a little, "hi". If someone dares ingnore him, Pearce continues to repeat "hi" until they politely reply. And when the mood strikes him, Pearce often blows kisses to people as we leave the store, gas station, whatever. This kid is awesome.

He loves to do whatever "grown up thing" Jimmy and I are doing. I cannot remember when loading dishes in the dishwasher, driving to and fro, and cleaning up spills were such fun. But these are the things he often imitates and I am finding joy seeing them through his eyes. Recently, he wanted to do pushups with Jimmy...

Pearce also has a fascination with wiping his nose. I am always running around trying to catch his post nasal drip and he has caught on! Check out this pic of him wiping his nose during dinner one night...so proud!

And let me just show off a bit here: Pearce is an expert animal sound maker. For months, he has been impersonating his favorite animals. My favorites? LION, ELEPHANT, PUPPY, CAT, MONKEY, DUCK, and BIRDIE.

We are also getting oddly close to potty training. Pearce is not shy about telling us when he is wet or dirty. He even sometimes tells us right before he dirties his diaper. Last week he woke up from a nap and simply stated "Poopy". Then, he went and got a diaper, handed it to me, and laid down so I could change him. Again, he is a social genuis.

Okay, so here are some Easter pics....he rocked the JCrew style suit quite well and he knew it for sure.

Can you blame him?

Moving: A to Z

2010-03-01T13:40:00.000-06:00

Many of you have seen the 'congrats' comments on facebook and the celebratory postings which have caused some speculation. Let me just clarify a few things. No, I am not pregnant. No, we are not leaving Tulsa.

But we do have an exciting announcement! That's right friends, we are doing the unthinkable: moving. Not only moving, but moving with a toddler. We are actually very excited about this move and feel that God's hand has truly guided the entire process. For those that have asked, here is how it all happened:

January - After months of prayer and discussion, Jimmy and I decide to find a new home in 2010...more space that we can grow into while also welcoming family members from out of town
January 25 - We list our home

February 6 - We sell our house! Set to close March 5th (27 days later to be exact)

February 7 - Offer on Ridge Pointe home

February 10 - Come to agreement on offer

February 12 - Inspections on Ridge Pointe home reveal some problems with roof and structure

February 13 - Brooke and Jimmy a little concerned as to where we will be living in a few weeks

February 15 - We decide to start looking at other homes as a back up...something tells us to go see this home that is totally out of our price range in Camelot Park...WE FALL IN LOVE WITH THIS HOUSE!

February 16 - Make our best offer on the home in Camelot Park, and pray that if this is the home for us that God would move in the sellers' hearts to accept our lower offer

Evening of February 16 - THEY ACCEPT OUR OFFER!

Week of February 21 - We are excited but a little nervous about higher mortgage...still trusting God's plan for us

February 23 - Inspections come back fabulous...did I mention we are excited!?

February 24 - Jimmy gets a new job offer! Could God have provided for us more quickly!?

We still close March 5th...yippeee!!!

We are so excited about what God has been doing in our family...His blessings overflow. Truly, we have found that when we are prayerful about things; God always makes His way known. Things are not always this perfect but I have found that the difficult times make these sweet moments that much sweeter. We serve an awesome God who is able to go well beyond what we would expect and for that, I am grateful.

We're Baaaaaaaaack!!!

2010-03-01T10:38:00.000-06:00

Hello Friends! I know it has been awhile and here's the deal: I had great hopes and aspirations when I started our family blog over a year ago. I also had a bit of denial, in that I had no idea how much energy raising our precious son, Pearce, would take! So, I have fallen off the bandwagon. I stopped blogging, and for that, I am sorry.
The Good News? We are back and ready for business. I commit to keeping you updated, informed, and scratching your heads when reading about our wonderful lives. So, here's to 2010 and my New Year's Resolution...

Sweet Pearce and his many faces...

2009-02-13T21:05:00.001-06:00

Some cute pics of Pearce...

2009-01-23T20:14:00.001-06:00

Cubs Rule? Or do they Drool?

2009-01-23T19:59:00.001-06:00

For those of you that don't know, Jimmy is a Cardinals fan. Beth and Blake are Cubs fans. Well, Uncle Blake and Aunt Bethany could not help but give Pearce a Cubs onesie and Jimmy graciously agreed to 'allow' Pearce to have his picture taken in the onesie. He looks like a true natural. Jimmy was so proud...even if he was wearing the wrong uniform.

This, that and Pearce

2009-01-23T19:46:00.000-06:00

Pearce got a Laugh and Learn puppy for Christmas, who we affectionately refer to as Lionel. Pearce and Lionel have become great friends and play, play, play. We love to sit and watch Pearce as he stares at Lionel like he has something wonderful to say. Here are a few pics of Pearce and Lionel bonding...

Pearce also has his lovie, Monty the Monkey. One of the cutest things Pearce does is pull Monty up to his face and cover his eyes. Here are a few pics of Pearce and Monty napping together.

Tonight on Delicious Dish...RICE...Mmmmm... RICE

2009-01-10T12:16:00.000-06:00

Pearce ate his first solid food! Jimmy and I fed Pearce solids for the first time last Thursday and Pearce did really well. He made a few sour faces at first and then started leaning in to get the spoon like an old pro. He got more on his bib than he did himself but I think this will be the start of a beautiful friendship. Pearce and Rice Cereal...I can hear the bells....

Growing up...

2009-01-06T10:25:00.001-06:00

Pearce has been changing so much over the past few days and weeks alone! In just the past days he has held his bottle all by himself, starting moving more frequently around the room (on his back), and appears to be ready for solids. He has started responding with delight when we try to tickle him too!

Every morning when I get ready, I put Pearce in his bouncer with me in the bathroom. Yesterday, I noticed he was arching his back and scooting down the bouncer. For fear that he would hit his head on the tile, I put him on the floor. Well, this morning I put Pearce in his swing while I picked up around the house. After a few minutes, I looked over and Pearce had scooted completely out of the swing and was sitting on the floor! After a few more swings, he lost his balance and toppled over. He seemed totally fine with it and even chuckled. Like any mean mommy would have, I took pictures of the incident. Guess I will have to start using those straps after all....

Disclaimer: No child was hurt during this blog.

Four Months...

2008-12-29T20:39:00.001-06:00

Pearce just turned 4 months old and to commemorate the occasion, Jimmy and I had some pictures taken at Picture People in Tulsa. We are obviously very proud of the pics and wanted to share them...

Merry Christmas

2008-12-29T20:20:00.000-06:00

We just celebrated Pearce's first Christmas and had a great time! The poor kid did not get a thing (yeah right) and now our livingroom and office look like the Babies R Us stock room. I will say that Pearce was not completely interested in his presents, however, his hands fascinated him quite a bit. He has started playing with his toes and sucks his fists all the time. We are watching and watching for those first teeth to come through. We obviously took loads of pictures but these are some of our favorites...