Saturday, July 16, 2011

Rockin the babies

Thanks again to Shell for this great meme. I mean what mother doesn't love a chance to brag about her cherubs!

Boy is it hard to pick a few pictures of your babes out of zillions!! (but who but you wants to look at zillions of pictures of your babes...except for maybe Grandma :))
Here's a couple that hopefully capture their extreme cuteness!



Emma (my New Year's Eve baby)

Sunday, June 12, 2011

My Baby Bump(s)

Thanks to Shell for this opportunity!

I absolutely loved my baby bumps. If you know me, you know I don't rock anything except babies but I do love taking pictures of my pregnant belly!!!

This was my first, my Ethan. I was so enamored with my belly, I would stare at it and feel it every night (probably freaked my husband out a This was taken at 7 months.

My Second, my Aria. This picture was actually taken the day before I went to the hospital. You know how some days you just remember so well. It was a good day, the last day I ever got to spend with my Grandma :) My step mom and my dad took Ethan shopping so that my Grandma, Danny and I could have a little nap. I got to talk a little "one on one" with my Grandma which was really nice. We went to the park and it was a beautiful day and then ended the day with a yummy bbq and cards. I remember while we were playing cards Danny and I asked if they would stay another day......If only :)

My third baby, My Emma. This picture was also taken at 7 months. Emma was due on Christmas Eve and I absolutely did not want that!!! So when the 23rd came and went I was like please hold on please!!! Like a good girl she did wait a week until New Year's Eve. (Yes I really did not mind waiting a week I so love being pregnant [don't hate me :):)]

My little Author

Ethan's extensive repetoire includes but is not limited too:
  • The new sled
  • The ABC book
  • The new baby
  • The new toy
  • The big dog
  • The rainbow

and my personal favorite:

  • Grandma is Coming!

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Happy Birthday Girlie!

My baby girl is now 5 years old.....where does the time go?

My dearest Aria,

You are such a joy in our lives. How precious are you. You have such excitement for life and you can do anything you want. I love that you have such an independent personality and a mind of your own (even though it can be extremely frustrating sometimes :)) yet you are still your mama's girl and love to cuddle. Your singsongy voice is music to my ears and how fitting with your name. :) I love you with everything in me girlie.


Aria's first little boyfriend from preschool, Jon. They are so cute together. :)

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Sunday Snapshot(s)

What a difference a day makes....

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sunday Snapshot

Happy Easter

Thankyou to the beoutifous Kellie at Hendrick's family for hosting

Monday, April 4, 2011

Happy Birthday my little man!!

five days late cause stupid blogger wouldn't let me post for some reason...

My baby boy is 7! How I love this man.....the time has gone by so fast. I can remember bringing you home from the hospital. We had no idea what we were doing but no worries. You were such a good baby. We were so blessed. Everyone said oh you have no idea how things are gonna change; its so much work blah blah. Ya and I kept wondering when the work was coming. You were so easy and such a joy.
I am amazed at the new things you do all the time as you grow. Your imagination is truly incredible. It is such an honour to watch you grow and develop. I love you with all my heart my mansir!!!

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Sunday Snapshot

Sunday Morning Veggie Tales

Sunday, March 20, 2011

A Good Book-Day 17 of DOT

A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

I'd have to say a book I recently read called Loving What Is by Byron Katie. It's about accepting your reality and loving it and the fact that you can't change anyone else. This is something I really need to apply to specifically myself and that I can't change my husband. I also have some tucked away ugly lies about myself from myself (who doesn't) that I really need to work on and this book can help with that (if you let it)
I could go on but I'll just say Read the Book Yourself. :)
Thanks to Kellie from Hendrick's Family for recommending it! Love you Kellie!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Day 15 & 16 of DOT and a PLEA!!!!

Ok I know I've been gone for so long. I really feel disconnected from things and I don't like it. It's been about 11 months since I worked up the courage to start this blog and I've really enjoyed the support from others and getting to know others. It's so comforting to have so many other women "get it". A man doesn't even know what "get it" means (those women talking in code again)
Anyways I don't wanna have to go away again but I'm really feelin' like I have nothing. If anyone has any ideas for something to write about or what I can do Please Please!! shout it out!!
I've decided to FINALLY finish this Day of Truth. It's good to have something to get you thinking :)

Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

Well I KNOW I couldn't live without food but I really haven't tried and so don't want to. And I seriously wouldn't want to live without my cherubs either. :)

Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Well I could definately live without some of my husband's annoying habits.....and actually mine too cause believe or not I do have them. Oh and periods! HA! (guess that's not possible though)

I'll be back tomorrow but in the meantime....

here's a short humorous story my husband wrote (ofcoarse I think its brilliant :))


It was 1991. I, the oldest child in my family of 6 or 7 – depending on how you count – had just reached my eighteenth year of age. It was a good year. I was too old for childish things like high school, which had intruded upon my often solitary and deeply introspective life, and too young for adult things like a job, which, I was certain, would have had the same negative consequences as high school. My parents’ divorce had occurred a year before, as had our mad dash from Denton, Texas to Kearns, Utah. It was but one of many desperate relocations during my childhood involving state lines, unpaid creditors and, above all, a chance to “start over,” as my father would say. It was also the year my mother had relinquished custody of my two younger brothers and two younger sisters to my father. To boot, Terminator 2 had just come to the dollar theater at Valley Fair Mall, which meant that I just might be able to afford to see it in a week or two.
On this particular Sunday, early in the Fall, everyone was restless; the boredom hung low and thick in the air. Minds went in circles. My father spoke in a deep rumble, “Let’s take a drive to see nature and go in the canyons.” The house exploded in happy cries with an occasional holler. The mood rapidly shifted, as it so often does in the minds of those not well.
We all shuffled out of the house, intent on having fun, or if not having it ourselves, at the very least seeing something that could be fun. We were a group of full-hearted adventurers, would-be professionals and wasted potentials. And still so unaware in our youth that we were being led by a madman, a lunatic in civilian clothes painting traumas and neurosis onto the canvas of the minds of those he legally guarded.
After a not-so-short trip through the center of a city of fast food joints, ice cream parlors and shopping malls, of which, owing to our perpetually indigent circumstances, we would not be partakers on that day nor any day soon. When there was nothing left to question or complain about, my brother, Ben, of 10 years of age, announced firmly, “I wish I was with Mama,” adding unwanted tension to the already terse atmosphere in the car. Indeed, lots of our trips came to play out this way.
The station wagon, by its very name, suggests shame. This wagon was particularly crummy. Two hundred and fifty thousand miles and still churning and turning away; a paragon of mechanical endurance. Tan and chrome with the imitation wood side panel peeling away like dead, dried skin. The Oldsmobile forced itself across the bridge and up into the mouth of the canyon, passing a sign at the entrance which read: “ENTRANCE $5.”
“Holy crap!” Sarah, my 16-year-old sister, exclaimed. “Did y’all see that we have to pay to drive up here?”
The air was moist, not quite sultry; it was cooler than that. It smelled sweetly of leaves rotting on the ground. Towering cliffs dwarfed the old station wagon, as it clunked up the steep grade. Nature’s stoic beauty sat all around us yet we couldn’t seem to quit groveling amid the mire of our lives.
“WE ARE NOT PAYING TO DRIVE UP A MOUNTAIN CANYON!” Boomed my father, his voice serious, yet the car roared with laughter. Moments later, “A DEER!!” Henry, my other younger brother, cooed. He was always the most observant.
“No,” my father said. “That’s a baby moose!”
For a moment everyone smiled. It was too much for the old man. “I bet they [the thieves in the park ranger service] hide behind the bushes and release that same moose over and again so people will feel like they got something for their money,” he commented.
Upon reaching the small shack where one was to pay for the privilege of meandering up a mountain, my father sped up the car. His mouth was a line and his eyes intent and everyone got quiet. We knew he was going to run right through that striped horizontal abomination that tried to separate us from freely enjoying things unscathed and natural. Finally, though, the impulse subsided, and the madman conceded to stop and pay the five dollars. Nothing could save them from the inevitable embarrassment to come.
“You people should be ashamed of yourselves; charging for this!” he sneered out the window at a blank expression and slight shoulder shrug. It was over.
We went up into the thin air, away from our house and thus got to be bored somewhere else. We looked around, tried to see things, made bad jokes and laughed too hard at them. After awhile, we decided that we could probably be just as entertained at home, and at least home had a toilet that flushed and everything – at least for the moment.
Sliding down through the foothills, with the sun already melted in the salt and dissolving quickly, we were all strange and quiet. We stared out our respective windows, but weren’t really looking at anything. I’m not sure what anyone was thinking about, but it felt as if we were all thinking about the day and its humdrum events, and how those events, as small and dull as they seemed, were important and not small because we lived them. It felt like we were thinking about things we didn’t understand and things we thought we did. It felt like the old dying stallion of a station wagon, as full as it was, had enough room for just one more.
Every trip one takes, however small, leaves the trip-taker with a fresh thread of an impression of himself. “By small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” It was a scriptural declaration each one of us was familiar with, and one that gave us hope, however vaguely. Sometimes we’d take whole days and file them under “forget” or entire experiences and assign them as “nothing” – and pretend to be rid of them, to be unaffected by their triviality. But sometimes, on a rainy day, while staring out the window and letting our thoughts float through our minds like feathers on a lake, I remember the feelings: the boredom, the anxiety, the embarrassment, the resolution, the hundreds of shades of emotions that toppled through all of us in the family every day. I remember the feelings thoroughly. And if I listen, I can hear it sometimes. I can hear the echoes of sound and time, in its bitter amusement, laughing, laughing, laughing, like a madman laughs – right before he expires.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


I've been debating whether I should post about this or not but it just weighs so heavy on me sometimes I feel it might help to get it out there.

I'm 33 yrs. old and I still feel an enormous amount of low self esteem that all stems from something that happened 24 yrs. ago. Well that and my more bitter than sweet school days. Why do I hang on to these things? Why can I not get past this inferiority complex?
I've gotta be honest with myself. I do have feelings sometimes when I am around others that I am truly not good enough to be there or that it would really not make a difference to anyone if I am or not.

I've talked here before about my childhood illness and how it shook me, so why can't I shake these feelings now 24 yrs. later. Well how do you know it stems from that? Oh because I was the absolute complete opposite. Seriously I could not have been a more confident, self assured, outgoing child. So why the big change? (and I'm aware it's not all bad but what I'm talking about is) So many people have had greater challenges, unspeakable things happen to them, to overcome and I am constantly amazed and inspired at how they do it. So why do I have such a problem with this? And it just makes me feel ungrateful and worse. It's a vicious cycle I tell ya!

I'm really not this down most of the time but I gotta be honest with myself. This does hang over me and I'm not sure what to do about it. How can feelings be so contradictory because don't get me wrong I'm not all about low self esteem. I do have a side that's confident that I have a lot to offer and I'm just as much worth knowing than the next person. But as for the darkside, I hate it and I need to find a way to get rid of it.

I'm still not sure if I should publish this but then again I've been saying that with my whole blog and it's always been a positive experience.