We made it to one of my favorite milestones! Adam has been out of the womb for as long as he was IN the womb! I don't know why I always get so excited about this milestone... I'm usually such a sap about these things. You know, "Wah, saddest, kids growing up, baby practically one, these are the good old days, we're going to miss this, why is time so fast, blah blah blah." Maybe it's because I go through those emotions at least once an hour, every day. For some reason, I see this milestone as a "Heck yes, child! Look at all of the things we've accomplished in 39 weeks! Look at how huge you are, and how well my udders have sustained you! Look at how amazing and wonderful the human body is, to piece you together so perfectly!" And other similar thoughts. I think it's so cool, truly. But in the spirit of nostalgia, here's a picture of Adam in my belly the day that he was born (you can also see it as a "remember that time you thought you might want another baby and this picture reminded you that you're probably fine with two" photo), and then a picture of us on his 39 week birthday. He's about the same size, I would say.

This month really feels like a blur to me. This should teach me to blog ahead of time, because as most of you know by now, my sweet friend Alyssa was killed in a car accident last month, and anything that happened before then feels so long ago. Like, I'm seriously sitting here staring at the wall trying to think of what to type. I guess we could cover some basics.

Adam cut his first tooth on October 26th. It felt like the teething process. I never really knew that process with Ella, since she didn't cut a tooth until she was almost one, and one day a tooth was just there. Adam, however, decided cribs were overrated, the floor wasn't an acceptable play space, and snot became a new normal. He became the clingiest, whiniest, saddest baby in the land. Unfortunately, in the name of sleep, I stopped fighting the crib, and now the crib is dead to him. He sleeps on a pallet in the floor, or with me. Oh well, we made it nine months, I guess. Since then, we had three weeks of similar symptoms, and I thought "Dear Jesus, this is his new personality and I'm not cut out for it," and then he cut 3 teeth in 24 hours. THREE TEETH IN ONE DAY.

Adam also started standing up on his own. He's really great at it, but I think maybe his legs weigh too much to lift, because he's not super close to walking. Or interested in it, really. Although, I don't know that I would be super into it either if I was as efficient at the bear crawl as he is. The kid is a speed demon, and usually growls with his soul while he crawls. It's hilarious and I always look forward to it when he sets his sight on something far away.

While we're on it, I love boys. That was a weird sentence. I'll try again... I love being a mom to a boy baby. That's better, I think. I love that boys are boys from day one. Hmm, I did it again. But I don't know another way to word it. From day one, everything about Adam has just summed up perfectly to a little boy personality. These days, anything with wheels, dirt, and noise attract his attention like a moth to a flame. And they really weren't kidding about the way a boy loves his Mama. I can do no wrong. On my worst days, he shows me so much grace. On the days when I can only give half of me, because these kids don't sleep, and a human can only tolerate so many of days of that crap at once before their body begins shutting down. On the days that I stumble on a show called "The Great British Baking Show" and binge all the episodes in one day, occasionally throwing in a "Go away!" or a "Shhhh stop having fun, Mommy can't hear Mary Berry!" For the days that Cody comes home and is super involved and playful with our kids, and it makes me hate myself because so often I can't "unclench" enough to remember that these crazy children are still babies. And they need a Mom that rolls around in the floor and jumps out from behind walls to scream peek-a-boo. And somebody that treats them like babies instead of little miniature adults. Most days, I get it right... but on the days that I don't, Adam shows grace. From a sweet grin, to a shriek of excitement when I walk into a room, to smiling at me just before he falls asleep while nursing, to pushing his Dad away with all of his strength in order to hold me. I feel adored, loved, and cherished every single day through the love of my nine month old baby. And I just love seeing little glimpses of the love of the Father through my babies. 

We're still working on Ella showing grace. I think that's one of those "Apple/Tree" metaphors. She's a grudge holder, and she'll tell you about it when you cross a line. I don't know where she gets it. Okay, fine. I know where she gets it. I guess I should maybe recant a statement that I made in another blog. I recently said that I felt like Ella was a hermit, and I was wrong. I think Ella was sheltered, but now that she's been pushed into the public eye, she's found her groove... and though it pains me to say so, I feel like I'm raising an extrovert. Do you understand the clash of the titans involved here? I am in love with my husband, and crazy about these babies, but I'm not one of excessive amounts of affection. When it comes to cuddling, it's a "let's cuddle until we're both warm, and then let's roll over and enjoy our own space." When it comes to a couch buddy, "Hey, let's sit together, but sitting on my lap is probably a little much for me." When it comes to being touched every single minute of every single day, I'm really more of a "I'm about to lose every ounce of Kool-aid left in my pitcher" kind of girl. And I'm raising somebody that THRIVES on cuddling, being in my lap, and having some part of her body touching mine, every single second of every day. And it. is. exhausting. In an "ideal" environment, I'm really more of a "Let's turn off all the lights, light a fire, brew some coffee, and read a book by only the most necessary needed lamps." Ella is more of a "Let's see if we can make our house brighter than the sun, play music as LOUDLY as we can, and play with play dough! We can even put it up our nose!" She brings me her shoes three times a day and asks me to leave, because leaving this house makes her feel alive, and recharges her "sunshine" button. It takes great effort and motivation to make me leave my house, because being home recharges my soul. There are a lot of battles that ensue throughout the day as the two personalities go head-to-head. But it's all good. The extroverts need the introverts to teach them to be independent, and the introverts need the extroverts to remind them that vitamin D and human interactions are literally needed to survive. 

I guess technically this is where I would discuss his first Halloween... but there wasn't much to it. We took a picture of him in a Mickey Mouse outfit to correlate with his sister's Minnie outfit. She threw a fit because she's on a new "I hate the camera" kick and then we waved goodbye as Dad took her trick or treating for exactly one block before her second meltdown. Fast forward three weeks, we hit another big holiday. Adam's first Thanksgiving was much more enthusiastically received than Ella's. I know he's much older than she was, but even at 4 months, Adam was more curious about things we were eating than she was. He had basically a bite of everything he could try, and then ate more than double his portion of one of those whipped cream salads that old people make around the holidays. I think this particular salad was pear based.  He was a great ray of sunshine on a day that felt so dark, but sunshine is just kind of his personality.  Turtle ate her weight in macaroni and something my family calls "Pink Stuff." Another one of those salads, but this one is cherry based. You know, nothing nutritious, but loaded with calories. Which is all we really aim for with toddlers anyway. 

There are a lot of other things that I probably need to cover, but I'm just not into it today. Or yesterday... or last week... or the week before. It's interesting, because normally writing is how I cope. For example, the day Alyssa died, I wrote a blog through sobs. But since then, I haven't wanted to write. When I write, I think of her, because she always through such a hissy fit if my blog was even a day late. You would think it would inspire me to "blog on" in her memory, but all it does is remind me of what I've lost. Most of my memories of Alyssa are happy ones, but for some reason, this blog makes me a little sad right now. But I promise that all of my zingy snarky remarks will be back next blog... but I had to do this one before Adam turned 10 months. Here's his monthly picture, we'll see ya in a few weeks!

Turtle and Gus: Month Eight

Adam is eight months old, and to fathom that Ella was 18 pounds and the same height that Adam is now at her one year check up is just so funny to me now. Especially to read old blogs and see how excited and empowered I felt that she was getting "so big" when she was clearly such a tiny little lamb. She grew well and strong for her own path, but to compare her path to her brother's is like comparing mountains and mole hills. But hey, they're two separate humans with two separate bodies. Similar DNA.. Probably the same father... Time will tell.

^In case you have zero sense of humor, that last little tidbit was a joke. Please calm down.

Eight months. My man child is somehow the sweetest baby and borderline toddler every second of every day. He's learning so many new tricks, one being growling, and another is learning that the toilet bowl has water in it. If the bathroom door isn't closed, his super helpful sister is quick to guide him to the restroom and lift the lid. Of course, as soon as Mom comes around the corner, she quickly begins saying "No no no, Adam! That's uh-uh!" And seeks approval from me. These days, I really do just laugh most of these things off. Gross? Definitely. Lathered in hand soap afterward? Totally. Micromanaging my children until we're all tense and miserable? No thanks. Will I always laugh when I find my children scheming and causing mischief? Of course not. But for the love of Pete, they are everywhere, all the time, continually moving, and sometimes Mom just needs to sing along to the Backstreet Boys while she regrets not soaking the lasagna pan over night. Most of the time, this is my new life. Adam is the nosiest baby in the land. I guess I was really, truly blessed with Ella as a baby, because I never went through this with her. She never roamed the house looking for potential choking hazards. The only scary moment of her childhood was the time she accidentally bit off a chunk of the potato she was gnawing on. I have not been so fortunate with Adam. The child is explores the world through seeing what fits in his mouth. It has been EXCELLENT to help with keeping my floors clean. You know, except for piles of laundry waiting to be folded and whatever toy clutter Ella has scattered about. But when he's not on a mission to give me an anxiety attack, he's the sweetest, cuddliest (clingiest) baby in the world. Almost to the point that one night when Cody was working late last week, I yelled "NOBODY TOUCH ME OR TALK TO ME FOR TEN MINUTES!" Because I just needed my space, and I needed a minute. Nobody listened to me. That's fine. Anyway, I can acknowledge that for the first time in his life, I've hidden from Adam. There have been times that he has turned completely purple screaming for me while in his Dad's loving tender arms. He chases me around the house, and now that he bear crawls, he's hard to outrun. He's figured out the stairs, so I'm back to the days of hurdle jumping baby gates, smiling at how ridiculous I must have looked doing the same thing with my pregnant belly last year. And it kind of makes me sad, because he's eight months old and already this grown up. He sincerely drives me crazy, but I'm absolutely mad about him. He interferes with every single task that I try to accomplish. And honestly, 97%  of the time when he naps, I sit on the couch and exhale. And I'm relieved that nobody is crawling or nursing or trying to choke on things or crying. And then he wakes up and we start all over, until Cody comes home and tries to find a way to ask why our house is a disaster and the same dishes have been in the sink for four days. Look bro, these humans require 100% of my energy and I was a C+ housekeeper before they invaded our house. Bear with me.

Ella Morgan is doing so well in Mother's Day Out. We've worked out a nice little system where her Dad drops her off and I pick her up. One day last week, he text me and said "No tears today!" which felt SO good to my soul. So when I picked her up, I was ready to have really deep and meaningful conversation about the details of her day, and instead, she melted to the floor and cried for 30 minutes after we got home. And then the same thing happened the next day. This last time, she only cried until we got to the car... but I still have to wonder what these people think about me. "Um, Ella cries hysterically when her Mom picks her up, but her Mom just stares at her like a fly that landed in her coffee." And it's true. I look at her with a face mixed with confusion, amusement, and annoyance. Because the first time that I kneel down and say "Sweet baby precious cherub! Fruit of my loins! Mommy's little pumpkin! Tell me what's going on here????," she's going to take it as a cue to do it every time I pick her up. I know this child too well to fall for her trickery. She won't take me down at the risk of being judged by other mothers! But in the same token, I am sincerely having so much fun with Ella. She's really figured this talking business out, and even though there's still a lot of "I have no clue what you just said," and "Huh?," and 97% of the time I'm the only one that can understand her, we're really having some beautiful conversations. I love this age... minus the whining and fits. I could do without those, but this attempt to repeat any word I throw at her is too fun. We've really hit a new point in our relationship, like, I even took the child to the grocery store with me. By choice. And we had a great, marvelous time together. She snacked on a cake pop and a lemonade from starbucks and waved at all of our fellow shoppers. I had to bite my tongue a couple of times to refrain from saying "Hey, jerk! Wave at my baby!" So let's just throw it out there... if a precious baby toddler waves at you from her shopping cart, WAVE BACK, BECAUSE IT'S PRECIOUS. I'm looking at you, Mrs. Buys Store-bought pesto.

I think what I'm really trying to say here is that I finally feel like I've hit my stride. It took eight months. But for the first time in probably two years, I feel like myself. 100% myself. Sometimes I'm so tired I go back to bed until noon on days that Cody is home, but I've stopped feeling bad about it. I've sacrificed so much of my energy and efforts on these babies, and I'm not going to give them only half of myself because I was too proud to rest. Sure, I'm wrecking my sleeping routine and I was awake until 2 AM on Saturday night, but there was no words to explain how good it felt to wake up on my own, without any help, and without tripping over my own feet to get the screaming baby out of his crib. I'm cracking jokes, wearing makeup, owning my messy house, and mothering without fear for the first time. You see, despite my best efforts, I bought into a lie that there was one way to mother. And it was exhausting. So when I finally came to the realization that the Lord loves us anyway, and gives us grace anyway, and my kids still think I'm the cheez-its.... man, life felt so much simpler. For so long, I fed into a lie that I needed to okay with being "the most natural beauty" possible, and my kids needed to eat all organic, all the time, and every moment needed to be soaking in grace and mercy and sweet, sweet love. And most of the time, I still strive for those things. But you know what? I like makeup. And I like to watch youtube videos and learn new ways to paint my face. And I like how I feel when I wear make up. My daughter has seen me with and without, and  I don't think that her esteem as a woman will lie in whether or not her Mom was okay with having a "naked" face. And for dinner tonight, Ella ate blue box macaroni, and chicken nuggets probably made from a factory farm chicken, and had a juice box. Technically, it was an "Honest" juice box, but I didn't dilute it with water and I don't feel bad about it. Sometimes, my kids really just tick me off, and sometimes I don't find a gracious way to deal with it. Sometimes when I trip over a toy that they left in the middle of the floor, I yell some hybrid word between a cuss word and a fake cuss word (SON OF A BI--ppidy boppity boo!) and throw it across the room. And when I trip on it again fifteen minutes later, sometimes I throw it in the trash instead of the toy box and I don't feel bad about it. Sometimes I ignore my kids when they're whining. Sometimes I play on facebook while Ella playdoughs in the high chair. Sometimes I even tell Cody that if he doesn't come home right now, I'm going to explode and it will scar the kids for life. But most of the time, I don't do those things. Most of the time, I cuddle Ella whenever she wants to sit with me and read. Most of the time, I ignore the dishes and love on Adam when he chases me around the house crying. Most of the time, I sit in the floor and watch my kids play together, occasionally inviting me into their circle, occasionally being rejected when I don't understand whatever neurotic organization game Ella is playing (seriously, she can't be my kid. She organizes things for fun). The way I parent isn't the way you parent. Things that don't make sense to me may be what makes your world spin on the correct axis. And I think it's wonderful that all of these complexities come together to keep the world a sane place...well, in our section of it anyway.

But the truth is, you need your people. You need your tribe... and I meandered about for awhile trying to decide if I even needed a tribe. And honestly, my husband and I could probably be just fine with each other and our kids, but how liberating it is to have people that get you. I text one of my friends last week and said "I'm eating a snickers in the bathtub." and three days later, she sent me a picture of her "stash" at work. One of my favorite people in my village doesn't even have kids. But we try to get together on Thursdays and watch "Scandal" and after it's over, we sit and we hash out life. And we laugh until it hurts, and we cry together, as we go through struggles that the other couldn't possibly understand, but we feel those hurts for each other, because SISTERHOOD. One of my people doesn't go to church, and there are subjects we don't discuss together, but there's a really beautiful friendship that has blossomed through it all. We're raising our boys together and we love each other so deeply, regardless of where our hearts lie in terms of what we believe to be true. Another friend is a friend that I really only see every other month or so, but she's sincerely the most kind hearted, life giving, over accommodating person I know. I love being around her because she's just the kind of person I want to be. And she laughs at every single thing I say, so she boosts my ego. I feel like I should stop naming people in my tribe, because it's beginning to feel more like a yearbook than a blog, but I've finally accepted that sometimes your tribe forms accidentally, when something begins as a "If I don't reach out to somebody that's been here before, I will lose my crap." And then a few weeks later you're sending each other pictures of your kids doing hilariously embarrassing things that you don't discuss on the internet. And then a real friendship forms, and then one day you're like "I haven't spoken to her today and I don't love it." And also, one of the best people in my tribe is a male, and he lives in Nashville, and he's hilarious. Blake always knows when it's a bad day, and sends me a perfectly timed dubsmash to combat my day. Someday he's going to be really famous and take me to an awards show, but until then, you can watch him chase his dreams HERE.

I think that's mostly everything. Adam and Ella are the best kids I could've asked for. I could have handled a daughter with a little more "chill" and a little less "need for order." And I wouldn't have minded a son with a little more "independent" and a little less "lose my crap if Mom leaves the room to do something necessary, like urinate." But this is who they are. And they're wonderful. Here's an eight month picture from Adam. There's no picture of the two of them, because Ella said "no." So there's that.

Turtle and Gus: Month Seven

I'm kind of appalled and saddened at how quickly this month went by. I really kind of stopped when we were at the doctor's office last week and said "My word. Adam will be seven months old in six days!" Fortunately, not every month goes this quickly, but I always resent them when they come around. This time is so fleeting, and I just hate it when it becomes so blatantly obvious.

Otherwise, we had a great month. My son and my daughter are four pounds and five inches apart. His doctor told me that he's easily in the top three healthiest babies in her practice. Which is good, because Ella is really giving us a run for our money lately. I don't know what switched, but this child has had chronic ear infections since April. At least two a month, so we tend to be at the doctor's office every other week. We've become real familiar with Dr. Tammy lately. Almost to the point that I can call and say "Ella has an ear infection" and she's almost willing to just call the meds in... but unfortunately, she has standards, and has us come in to make sure anyway. We've stopped giving Ella cow's milk to see if it's going to help us, but otherwise, I'm afraid a trip to the ENT is in our future, which just makes me so sick and so sad. This has been a really trying time for me as a Mother, because Ella was completely healthy for the first 15 months of her life. Head colds were the sickest she ever got, and these days, she's still perfectly healthy, but every other week (2 weeks if we get really lucky,) she comes up to my lap and says "Uh oh Ears." And is running a fever the next day. Fortunately, our doctor is great to see us on the docket and call us straight back. Ella gets weighed, measured, and evaluated in about 5 minutes. We are hopeful and prayerful that she is nearly done with this season, because Mama has had about enough of it all. It makes me wish that I had been more consistent with pumping and giving her that daily cup of antibodies. But there's no time in life for shoulda, woulda, coulda, as my grandmother says.

Adam Jace continues to be the sweetest little cherub in the land. On his worst day, my biggest complaint is how often he nurses. Though he's kind of a monster, so I guess he's not totally to blame there. Growing babies need lots of nourishment. We tried our first bit of solids and it was violently rejected. Since then, we've tried again every three days, and the child refuses. Ella was pretty great about trying new things until I had to wean her, and that's when she went on a 10 month eating strike. Adam won't try things at all. He must get it from his father. I've tried the multi-assortments, just fruit, just vegetables, homemade, homemade with mostly breastmilk and teeny bit of baby food mixed in... I've tried it all. He will not have it. ONE day, I gave him a small bite of my mashed potatoes, and he loved it, and ate most of my bowl. But never did it again, and has refused them since. So, that's our current hurdle with Adam right now. At seven months old, he's still exclusively breastfed, and Dr. Tammy says that's okay for now. He's still growing and he's still gaining weight, so he's getting what he needs. I figure if we can survive the giant hunger strike of 2014 from Ella, we can handle this. He is the master crawler, the champion of pulling up on just about anything, and last night, stood on his own for about seven seconds. And I took that really, really hard. In a super depressing confession, becoming a mother has made me aware of the fact that this life is so short. And as I'm exiting the "baby phase" of my life, sometimes it makes me feel like these are the "best days of our lives" and they're running out faster than I want them to. We are exhausted and worn down, but our lives are so full of joy, and so full of laughter. I would trade sleep every night for the rest of my life if I could stay in this moment. Truth be told, raising children (potty trained, sleeping through the night, eats the food on their plate children) scares me. I kind of look forward to the teenage years, not because I'm crazy about raging hormones, but because I believe that's when I'll really hit my stride with my kids. God has given me great peace about raising them from thirteen on, but from five to twelve, I hyperventilate. Especially if the state keeps up with common core, because stoopid. It's so far over my head that I can't even discuss it without a meltdown. Anyway, all this to say that Adam is a giant man-baby, and I'm practically pushing him down when he tries to advance into toddlerhood. 

Ella remains the firecracker I describe every other month. Between months six and seven, she really started mimicking and repeating things back to us. We're finally beginning to communicate with each other using our words, and I'm exuberant about it. Like, the wars are becoming less and less frequent because she finally understands what I'm saying to her. And since she associates saying "Sorry" with something she's done wrong, instead of spanking herself, she yells "SORRY SORRY SORRY!" and runs upstairs. It's one of those things that will probably infuriate me someday, but it makes me laugh hysterically right now. The big news with Ella this month is that we got her enrolled in Mother's Day Out at Stonegate. This was a really hard decision for me as a Mom, because I genuinely love being at home with my kids. I love watching their little minds work and being there for the victories and disasters that mold our days. Unfortunately, since I leave home maybe twice a week, Ella is rapidly turning into a hermit, and that's not a character trait that I love in a two year old. Okay wait, I need to revise my statement again. Ella loves to leave the house. She usually brings me her shoes at least once a day and says "Ready, set, Go!" By hermit, I mean Ella doesn't like to interact with people, and that's the part of me that I didn't want to pass on. At playdates with other kids, she usually just sits next to me or plays by herself. She doesn't respond well to strangers, which isn't really a bad thing,  but when it's family members and we're two years into it and she still cries when they talk to her, it's time for an intervention. The sole purpose of Ella being in Mother's Day Out is to allow her to develop social skills. It isn't to pawn her off on someone else twice a week. And I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing that Adam gets some one-on-one time with Mom that doesn't involve nursing. 

The other big milestone that I've noticed this month is that the kids are really starting to interact well and play together. Now that Adam can chase her, wherever I find Ella, I usually also find Adam. Sometimes this is nice, like when they quietly play with puzzles for forty minutes. Sometimes this is not nice, like when I find Adam with a grape in his mouth during snack time for Ella. Sometimes this is precious, like when Ella makes Adam laugh for fifteen minutes straight by playing the kazoo. Sometimes this is infuriating, like when Ella tries to pick Adam up on the tile floor and fails. Sometimes I hear the screams and don't even care what happens, I just round the corner and yell "ALL I WANT TO DO TODAY IS SCRUB DRIED CHEESE OFF OF THESE DISHES!!!" And when I hear giggles, I always turn the recorder on before I find them. Sometimes I dread what I'm walking in on, but it's usually something that I'm thrilled to have video forever. They truly love each other, and they truly are building a relationship that I think is going to be so tight and so unwavering. And that's what I prayed for the entire pregnancy. I initially prayed for a girl, because I wanted Ella to have a sister, but I knew deep down that he was a boy from the very beginning. So once I confirmed my suspicions, I prayed that they would be the very best of friends. That they would be there for each other, and look out for each other. That someday when I'm not around, they would have the other. And I still pray those things every day. I'm seeing little peeks at the Lord answering those prayers already, and I love it. Today was Ella's first day at Mother's Day Out, and sweet Adam crawled all over the house looking for her. It was so heartwarming, and so sad. It's so humbling to see new definitions of love through my kids. Adam has three great loves in his life, and two of them provide nourishment for him. The other is his sister. His eyes sparkle and shimmer when she walks into the room, and her expression always lights up. If this keeps up, Adam and I both might need an intervention when she starts Kindergarten. 

I think that's most of the big stuff. My Dad whisked me away to San Antonio last weekend (hence the late blog) and it did wonderful things for my soul. At least once a year, we try to see a broadway show. We've seen Wicked several times by now, so we both agreed to try something different. It was between "The Phantom of the Opera," "Beauty and the Beast," and "The Little Mermaid." Since I've seen Beauty and he's seen the Phantom, we mutually agreed to give "The Little Mermaid" a chance, and I'm SO GLAD we did. This is the first production that I've been truly awed by in terms of lights and effects and magic tricks. The colors and costumes are phenomenal, and I would see it again in a heart beat. If any of you are wondering if it's worth taking your girl, DO IT. Don't hesitate... but only if you can teach them proper theater etiquette, because while wonderful, it was also extremely loud from the little girl's incessant talking. I'm already so excited for whatever we choose to see next year, mostly because it means going back to San Antonio. Have you ever been to a city that just makes you feel alive? San Antonio has always been that city for me. There's something about it that I'll always love. Walking through the streets of downtown gave me glimmers of the dreams I used to be bold enough to dream (Like that I would live in a loft in a busy city, or that I would write a novel looking out into the streets of downtown San Antonio, or that I would someday raise my family in Texas Hill Country.) Those dreams may seem like little dreams, but sometimes the little ones are the hardest ones to chase down. I believe that at some point in my life, I'll live in San Antonio or it's surrounding cities, but my hair may be gray and the novel might be a journal entry. I'll take it anyway. 

That's it! See ya next month! 

Turtle and Gus: Month Six

I have a crawling six month old and a ballerina mimicking two year old.

It's always so interesting to see how quickly things can change in the course of a month. Just last month there were still so many things about Adam that seemed so baby, but here, thirty days later, he's sitting up without problems and crawling and learning separation anxiety and recognizing faces. He's knows what strangers are, and he's not super crazy about them. He has distinctly learned that I am his source of nourishment and will not be soothed by any one but me when hunger strikes. It's wonderful and highly inconvenient... but hey, motherhood in a nutshell.

Ella is blossoming into a little girl faster than I'm comfortable with it happening. I think this is the part that people look back on and say "When did I blink?" She's got her letters, numbers, colors, shapes, and animals all figured out. I'm not sure what else to teach her at this point. She loves to read, and rambles to herself with her nose in a book all day long. She's not big on talking, but she's an excellent communicator. Well, I should rephrase that sentence. The child rambles on about something constantly, but it's gibberish and cannot be deciphered, despite my best efforts. However, she signs almost constantly. Swing, slide, eat, juice, more, milk, please, park, bath, snack... The list goes on and on. Why would she need to use words? Between signing and pointing, she's got it pretty easy. There are times, of course, that she grows super frustrated because she signs or tries to say something that I don't understand, so as I stare blankly, she does it over and over until she finally cries. After 2 years and thirty different options, she's settled on calling my Daddy "Paw" and my Mom "Money." I think she'll eventually transition to Nani, but Money is the best and hysterical, so it can stay. She's mischief in its grandest form. Sometimes I honestly feel bad for the child because I feel like she's always in trouble. I get so tired of hearing myself say no that sometimes I feel like I'm a prime candidate for internal combustion.  It's a hard line to walk when you're trying to encourage creativity and boundaries without breaking a spirit when they misstep. So often, I have to stop myself and say, "Will I still be mad about this tomorrow?" Sometimes those answers are obvious. Dumping a cherry lime on my couch? Still mad. Throwing toys down the stairs? Probably not something to blow a gasket over. Staying awake until after Midnight and singing various nursery rhymes, then waking up at 6:45 and refusing to go back to sleep? Still mad. Fit because I won't allow her to eat anymore tomatoes? Probably not mad. There's a balance. But if I put her in time out every time the child frustrated me, she would actually live in timeout. This child. This sweet, wonderful, curious, frustrating, serendipitous baby... She is going to be the reason I invest in some sort of wine company. I'll need some of my money back. The funniest part is that she's probably so similar to me that we just clash. We're too alike. Too many of the same ticks and quirks. Maybe throw in 2 or 3 of the qualities about my husband that occasionally make me say "I AM MOVING TO THE CARRIBEAN AND NO ONE ELSE CAN COME!" And you have Ella. It feels wrong to say that she got a few of my worst qualities (little to zero regard for clutter, frustration when we can't convey our thoughts, screaming one word repeatedly until we're acknowledged, staying up entirely too late because we can't shut our minds down) and a few of Cody's worst qualities (a weird obsession with everything having a "house," the ability to tune all humans completely out, and waking with the sunlight.) Do you see a few things that clash? How could she make so much clutter, but obsess over all of the little toys she has that fit inside an ice cube tray slot? How can she stay up so late and wake with the dawn? How can she demand attention, yet ignore my exasperated pleas for her attention? Ella. Beautiful Ella. Beautiful mess. I'm so crazy about her. Her favorite "attention grabber" is saying "Hi!" Over and over. Gradually getting louder, then when i finally explode and say "ELLA STOP SCREAMING AT ME!" I have to stop and laugh. How can I yell at her for yelling? This is just life as we know it lately. She makes me cry a lot. I mean, I sit on the stairs and cry. And then I pick her up, and kiss her head, sit with her as long as she'll let me. Because frustrate me though she may, I see a fire in that girl that I love. It's a very cliche and over used word today, but the girl is fierce. And I want her to stay that way. So I'll fight for balance and order the best I can, but I'm already so proud of the fireball we're raising. I wouldn't be surprised at all to find her laying in protest in front of some historic landmark that the City is trying to tear down some day. Passion. The world is so lacking in passionate people these days. I'll do my best to raise one... even if she kills me in the process. She can dedicate her Nobel Peace Award to me.

Then there's Adam. The apple of my eye. The joy of my heart. If my children were a traveling dance troupe, they would be Fire and Ice. He's so chill. Every minute of every day. In the heat of the world wars going on around him (Mom VS. Ella), the child grins and coos and plays in the floor. He's not quite as independent as she was, but I'm 110% okay with it. So often, I find myself pondering if I could have another baby, because this child is the one I've been waiting for. He's like the hand of midas when it comes to children. Everything he does is precious, or heart melting, or so heartwarming to me. I don't know if it's because he's the second baby and I'm more chill... or maybe it's because he's a boy, and mothers share that bond with their boys... or if it's just his personality. Either way, he's wonderful. Never in all of my two years of parenting Ella have I ever thought "I could totally grocery shop with this kid!" Because she. is. crazy. and I would stress eat a package of cookies, or casually sip a bottle of moscato while we shopped to cope with the pain. Not this dude. I can easily throw him in the carseat and take on the world. He smiles at strangers and wins us all kinds of free things. Since he's so huge, waitresses almost always offer him free dessert, which I happily take off of his hands, because in a way, he'll still get to enjoy it... just a little bit later. And while we're on it, I'm thrilled, practically exuberant, to announce that Adam Jace was exclusively breastfed for the first six months of his life. Ella was mostly exclusively breastfed, but we offered her cereal at 4 months and baby food at five months. She wasn't consistent with either... maybe a package of food every three days and cereal once a week. It really shouldn't even matter, but I wanted to clarify the little things. Regardless, at six months of age, Adam has no idea that anything else in this world exists besides his favorite Mother's milk. I know it's probably super weird and uncomfortable for some of you to read, but it's really precious and wonderful to me. My body has been so good to me. It's tattered and scarred and stretched, but it's provided me with two years of sacrifice. And with Ella, breastfeeding felt like sacrifice. Not my Adam. It's the bond and beauty that I always read about. It makes my heart break a little bit to know that we've come to the end of the road that involves me being his only source of nourishment. I don't love that part, but I'm SO proud of the fact that we made it all six months. And let me tell you something. I've been obnoxious about breastfeeding. Maybe even judgmental. So I just want to say that lately it has become so super apparent to me that sometimes life just throws us some really disturbing curveballs. I've seen friends fight to the bitter end, and finally, for the sake of sanity and not ending up in the crazy house, they switch to formula. And now, more than ever, I give them a high five. So much of motherhood is out of our control. I have been blessed with two great breastfeeding experiences. My body was faithful to me and took care of my kids, and I never want to take that for granted. I have two exceptionally healthy kids (minus this ear infection kick that Ella's been on lately.) I am so grateful for that, and I'm so grateful that I was able to breastfeed these babies. But I no longer look down from my high horse on people that formula feed. UNLESS you just do it automatically without even considering breastfeeding... Then I'll raise my eyebrow before I change the subject. Back to Adam... He is the breath of fresh air I needed. Sometime I'll come downstairs after the nightly bedtime fight with Ella, and he'll see me and cry to be held. I pick him up, say something along the lines of "WHAT, WHINEY CHILD?!" And he grins. And lays his head on my shoulder, sighs, and stays there for while. Almost to say "Here, let's do something about that blood pressure!" And I almost instantly calm down and spend the rest of my night there loving on him. I've been going through some things lately, mostly being sad that this is likely my last baby experience and it's all moving so quickly that I feel like I'm not soaking it in enough. So you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll love on that baby until the morning dawn, if he asks. In other (sadder) news, Adam is crawling now. And it's the nightmare I was expecting. The great thing about Ella being a little Mama is that she's quick to tell me if Adam is "disobeying." If he crawls off of his blanket or leaves the living room, she quickly sounds the alarm. If he finds something to chew on that she disapproves of, I know instantly. And God forbid that he find one of HER toys. Be near, Lord. But the bad side of that is that Ella likes to help me out with mothering, and that includes offering goldfish, trying to hold him, and sitting on him to make him stay put. We're seeing our first peek of sibling fights, and they're hysterical to me, but you can see visible frustrations on both kid's faces. I've heard myself say "Ella! Who is the Mama?" countless times, to hear "You Mama" in return countless times... but obviously I'm not conveying this message clear enough.

I think that wraps us up! We are thriving in an environment with a two year old that has discovered that she LOVES to sing, and she never stops. We have a six month old that loves to laugh, and I mean really loves to laugh. All we have to do is look at him with our eyebrows raised and he chuckles. I'm reprimanded each month for the excessive shopping I do for boy clothes. It is a sickness. Cody even said that he's so glad we didn't have two boys. I love the challenge of finding boy clothes that don't say "Daddy's Big Guy!" or "Mommy's Sweet Baby Angel." Corniest. I can't stand it. So I spend a lot of time in Baby Gap and H&M (online.) To my detriment. But hey, at least I don't have that sickness with Ella! I leave that to my Mom, or my friend Holly, whom loves to bestow us with adorable girl outfits that I'm too cheap to invest in. Amen.

One more boring month before the Holiday season embarks, and I AM PUMPED. Adam already has two Halloween outfits and two Thanksgiving onesies. I truly am doomed. Here's his 6 month picture and one with his Mother... I mean, sister! Can we just discuss that they are the same child? He is so huge!

Turtle and Gus: Month Five

Five months old is such a hard month for me. I know I had a hard time with Ella's fifth month too, because I went back and checked just to make sure I didn't take any crazy pills. There's such a sense of finality about leaving the infant squishy cuddly phase. Sure, life gets super fun when they get active and more curious about their environments... but it's also so much easier when they stay where you put them. So I'm a little sad as we begin this fifth month, but mostly okay with it. He's so much fun, so inching toward new milestones makes me excited to see his personality really emerge. 

We took a "family vacation" this month, and it was truly a nightmare. For Cody and I, vacations have always consisted of big cities and fun restaurants, and we're growing increasingly aware that we're kind of out of that phase in our lives for awhile. Last year we went to San Antonio when Ella was a fresh new one year old, and it was actually fairly pleasant. This year we went to DFW for a week and we both wanted to bury our face into a pillow and scream at least once an hour the entire trip. We found out two days before leaving that Ella had a double ear infection (she was showing no symptoms, so we apparently caught it before things got ugly) and so perhaps the antibiotic played a role in her behavior, but it was traumatic. Like, I'm not talking about a cranky child here... I'm talking monster. I'm saying she had a goose egg on her forehead from throwing herself in the parking lot in a fit of rage. I'm saying her knees were scraped from cratering her body into a limp noodle while we were trying to make her leave the swimming pool. Half the time, Cody and I blankly stared at her, trying to figure out who this psycho was in front of us. In malls, restaurants, zoos, swimming pools... Ella showed no prejudice to her surroundings. It was horrible. I was embarrassed. Like, let's just lay it  all out there and say that I had to choose to ignore her 9 times out of 10, because I experienced that blind rage that you always hear people try to claim as a defense in court. So many times I had to stop and say "If you respond to this child in public, you're going to end up on the internet." The antibiotic made Ella go on an eating strike, so I kind of thought we were going to be kicked out of a few restaurants when I forced food into my daughter's mouth and held my hand over it so that she couldn't spit it out. We were the family that you pray you don't sit next to on date nights. But what could I do? The hotel felt like prison. And her screams felt louder somehow. Plus, she didn't sleep the entire week. Basically, our trip was supposed to be from Monday to Friday, and on Wednesday I looked at Cody and said "I really just want to go home." And we called the hotel and they said "Yeah, sorry. You had to cancel your trip 24 hours in advance..." So we were trapped... unwilling to lose our money, but seriously considering it. We stayed close to the hotel the last days and vowed to find a lakehouse or something equally mellow for next year's trip. Or if Adam is done nursing, leaving the kids with my parents and going to a lakehouse and sleeping off the last three years. But that's the thing with family vacations... expectations are almost certainly guaranteed to be destroyed. I don't have a single family picture from that trip, and that makes me sad... but I have plenty of pictures of Ella throwing fits in the middle of various stores and restaurants. That I'll show her someday when she complains about her own kids. ***I do feel slightly bad about having an Ella bashfest, but I truly can't complain about Adam. Aside from an occasional cry to be cuddled, he was a dream. He was wonderful. Which made it so much harder to show grace to his two year old sister. But in her defense, she cut both bottom canine teeth within two days of being home. So between that and the ear infection, I can imagine eating and existing in general was pretty painful. But I was still mad, and I'm not sorry for being mad.

The highlight of the trip was definitely the zoo. It was precious to watch her face light up when she recognized the animals that she's learned in her books and favorite Baby Einstein episodes. Of course, we weren't anticipating Ella losing her mind to pet various animals, so we had to make our time at each stop brief, so I was afraid some animal was going to bust out of it's enclosure to put Ella out of her misery. It was worth going though. The zoo is immaculate, interactive, and truly a beautiful environment. We'll absolutely go back when our kids are old enough to walk, wipe themselves, and understand me when I say "DO NOT CLIMB ON THAT!" Such is life. 

Adam Jace is the best baby in the land. Don't get me wrong, Ella was a sweetie baby, but always high maintenance. She was happy, but would accept nothing short of a broadway show to get a laugh out of her. Not this dude. He giggles until he gasps for breath at the simplest things. He is absolutely in love with me. He looks at me and his entire face lights up. Sometimes he giggles, and other times he instantly starts crying because it's like he realizes that I've been away from him. He's content to hang out for days in his baby carrier, and my back hates me for it. At his four month appointment, he was two ounces away from twenty pounds, and 27 1/2 inches long. I just want to throw it out there that at Ella's two year appointment, she was 33 1/2 inches and twenty-four pounds. He's so enormous, and I love it! He's starting to sit up, and can stay in the tri-pod position for pretty much as long as he wants.  I tried pushing him down, but Cody told me to step off, because he's tired of lugging him around because he gets bored with laying on his back. Again, one of those things that hurts your uterus, but makes you happy at the same time. If I was guaranteed another baby like him, I would have 30 more kids. He is the epitome of a joyful spirit. Everything about that baby exudes happiness. Cody would probably cut in here and say that he's also co-dependent and kind of whiny sometimes, but he's just jealous of how well Adam rocks cellulite. Okay fine, I'll acknowledge that he's a little bit clingy to me sometimes, but he also sleeps all night in his own crib and is usually pretty content to go with the flow, so I'm fine with it. 

And because it's the world we live in, I want to let you know that I'm absolutely crazy about my Ella too. We're just in a hard phase right now. I treat her like a four year old, and she's only two. I'm tired and running on fumes, so my fuse is a little short. But at the same time, she's growing old enough to know what "No" means, and she's also growing old enough to know how to ignore me intentionally. She's old enough to spit food across the room, though in the same breath, I'm going to stop and brag on her for a second. She has eaten some form of chicken every night for the last month. One night, I made hamburger steaks, and she ate an entire steak by herself. She's been willing to at least try anything I've put in front of her (excluding the week of the world's worst vacation) and it has done wonderful, extraordinary things for my morale. She's gaining weight, throws less fits, and has moved up a size in clothes in three short weeks. If we could get this girl to sleep through the night, we might start making giant leaps forward in life. Please Lord Jesus. Intervene. Make the child sleep. We've done our time. Cut us a break. The church said Amen.

Other than that, it was an easy month. Cody and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. I know, right? Big deal. What did we do? Well, we went to dinner and we took our kids. My parents are Harlem Globetrotters this summer, so it was take the kids or risk just putting the date off until it wasn't worth going anymore. In my parent's defense, there are probably twelve people we could have called and they would have happily taken our kids, but I knew Ella would cry, and I didn't want to spend my night worrying about Ella. So we took them. And we stole glances at each other in-between being interrupted by our chatty two year old. And while certainly not what I envisioned, it was perfect. This man... this wonderful, God-fearing man sat in front of me. My boyfriend for seven years, my husband for five, my baby daddy for 2 years. Everything wonderful in my life eventually circles back around to him. I can appreciate my parent's marriage because of how hard we work at ours. I strive so hard to raise our babies in a house that shows love because of how well he loves me. He's my greatest pride. He's my best choice. He's the best thing that happened to my life. I'm so thankful that he sticks around through hormones and hot flashes and chick-fil-a cravings. This life is the best life, because he's committed to sticking through everything. I really never knew what the whole "The church is His bride" references in the bible, but the longer I'm married, the more sense it makes. Basically, I could go on and on about the way this man loves me, but I'll stop. Because my son is getting hungry and I'm running out of time.

I think that's all there is to say. If you haven't checked out our "30 Day Challenge," Do it! We're one week in and showing no signs of stopping! Don't get me wrong... I almost caved on Saturday. I had my first ever newborn shoot (eek!) and I didn't get home until 1 P.M. It would have been so easy to just casually stop and pick up lunch in the name of convenience, but we held strong! And now I'm more determined than ever to see it through. Anyway, here's the monthly picture (missing the deer, because he's my second kid and I'm allowed a slip up) and the Ella picture. She wasn't feeling it this month. 

Ella Morgan: Happy Second Birthday!

Two years old.

Lately, it feels like we've been raising Ella for ten years. Some days I fall into bed and can't remember what day of the week it is because they're all bleeding together. Some days I just get so tired of fighting the same fights, dealing with the same tantrums, and playing the same games. Other days, when a new little piece of personality pops through to encourage me, I want to freeze time and keep her this age forever. Isn't that kind of parenting in a nutshell?

As previously discussed, it's been a rough couple of weeks. My face has aged at least 40 years. And I begrudgingly agreed to take Ella to Stonegate's "Night at the Ballpark." We skipped last year because it was her first birthday, but I had no viable excuses this year. I'm just being real with ya. I love my husband and I love being a family, but it's hard to get everybody out at once for extended amounts of time. We don't do much of it... But I guess I was feeling adventurous and I'm so glad we ventured out. My little girl grabbed ahold of my heart strings and wrapped me right around her sticky little fingers all over again. Anybody that knows Ella knows that she's got a little bit of social anxiety. She's not into strangers and she doesn't do well with new environments. I don't know what happened tonight, but Ella sprung out of her shell. She had a sparkle in her eyes that took my breath away. She was fearless. I offered to let her play in the bounce house and she went crazy. She laughed and giggled and shrieked; it was so great for my soul. We have a swingset in our backyard that she loves, but homegirl refuses to go down the slide. So when she caught sight of the playground (on the other side of the park,) I thought "This is going to be disastrous." The slide was pretty tall. Like, I'm not being a proud mom. I was anxious when I saw her climbing the "rock wall" to get to it. She got up to the top of the slide and as my heart rate accelerated awaiting the pending scream, Ella looked down at me, grinned, and said "Goooo!" And down she went. A few giggles at my celebrations, then back up she went. Over and over and over. It wasn't all peaches and cream, of course. She had to learn about waiting her turn. There was a massive tantrum when it was time to leave the playground. But I didn't mind. It was a brief glitch in a wonderful evening. My sweet sheltered baby had never seen a snow cone before, and the gasp of astonishment and awe was really all I needed to hear to be convinced to let her try one. She ruined her romper and she looked like she murdered a smurf, but there was something endearing about it. Maybe it was one of those faces I'll look back and miss on a day that she's being too grown up for my liking. Who knows. We saw a look of panic melt quickly into a look of intrigue and glee when the fireworks started, though we only stayed ten minutes or so before she finally succumbed to the exhaustion that was creeping in. She sang random syllables as we drove home, and had an overly dramatic reaction to the "woah noon!" Though I have to agree, the moon was pretty hard to miss tonight.

All that to say, there's nothing baby left about her besides her diaper. I've always laughed at the reference, but that girl really is a wild stallion. She's so free, and her hair bounces in rhythm with each step she takes at over a hundred miles an hour. She's unpredictable, and you can easily push the wrong button and send her into a manic rage. Her soul is so colorful. She's a hundred different colors in one. And I love that about her. I love so many little things that I forget to stop and soak them in during the day to day routines. I was so proud of her fearlessness tonight. I want to dive in and pull that out of her as often as I can. Will it get her into trouble sometimes? I hope so. But I also hope that someday when she's raising her own baby, she's fearless with her as well. I try so hard to let Ella learn her own lessons and fight her own battles, though I quietly observe and encourage from the background. It makes me feel like we are succeeding in raising her to be strong when I see the anxiousness melt away to confidence in situations like tonight. It's what keeps me committed to raising a daughter that is not only gentle and gracious, but bold and courageous.

Anyway. My Ella is two. My baby bright light is continuing to blaze through the path of parenting, and we're just holding on to the ride. I have to be honest and say that I'm so relieved to see her thriving. When I found out I was pregnant with Adam, besides mourning my lack of sleep, I was also fearful that I was robbing her of a childhood she deserved. I knew the time and effort he was going to require, and I knew how exhausting 9 months of pregnancy was going to be. I was afraid she would be shushed and pushed aside too often in the light of a shiny new baby, and I was sad for her hurt feelings. I'm so happy that Adam was born when she was little. Already, in the short four months that he's been with us, I see the tiny little Mama that we're raising. If I ever tried to convince her that Adam was my baby and not hers, I would be shunned for life. She's so kind, gentle, and affectionate with him. When he's mad and crying, she comes and gets me, as if she's the only one that noticed he was crying. She kisses his baby face to the point that it's frustrating for all parties involved. I look at her with him and realize that she's just doing what she knows. She sees how we treat her, and she treats Adam that way. And that's just more affirmation for us that we're on the right track. And I never have to worry about her feeling neglected, because she makes sure to let us know when we're not paying enough attention. She's the funniest little person I know.

I didn't actually plan to write a birthday blog today, but I was so proud of my baby that I had to stop and brag on her for a second. As always, I'm so thankful that God deemed me fit to raise this little girl. With all of my frustrations and short fuses and cries that I'm in over my head, He comes down to meet me and says "You're enough." And we get through the day. I look at how beautiful she is, and I'm amazed that she came out of me. That she's a combination of the love that her Daddy and I share. And I feel so much pressure to make her see how completely lovely she is, while combatting my own insecurities. The Lord has been so good to make me aware of her watching me while I look at myself in the mirror. And we both take turns telling each other how pretty we are. Hopefully this doesn't come back and bite me in the rear end when I have a two year old asking everyone to tell her how beautiful she is... but I would prefer to fight that battle than the other.

Basically, it's been a wonderful two years. I am so tired. And clinging so desperately to Jesus, but I'm so thankful that Ella keeps me on my knees. She keeps me close to Jesus because I want so desperately for her to see Him in her Mama. May she find him young and hold him close to her for all of her days. But today, may she have the happiest birthday that she probably won't remember.

Here's to you, sweet turtle.

Turtle and Gus: Month Four

June is officially going in the books as "Defcon 1." Hard month. Exhausting month. Apparently #twoundertwo needed to go out with a bang. I hate that I feel obligated to also say that I still love staying at home with my kids, and still love being a mom to my kids, and still  enjoy life in general. But the problem with blogging is that by acknowledging a hard month that I wouldn't want to do again, I somehow get placed into a "unhappy Mom" category that I don't want to be included in. So, hear me: I might do a little grumbling and groaning this month, but it was just a bad month, not a bad life. 

We kicked off this month with a visit from my Enid family, and it was truly the highlight of the month. I rather enjoy being on the "grown up" side of the spectrum, getting included in the grown up conversations and not being banished to the "kid table." It's fun to hash out parenthood with people who did it with five kids as opposed to my two. We soaked up the encouragement and promises that we would make it, gleefully accepted the extra cuddles for our kids, and were sad to say goodbye when they had to go back home. You can't ask for much more in a family visit, I would say. 

So now I have a four month old and an almost two year old. Does this mean that I'm officially done with newborns? Does this mean that my soul can shatter? Despite my vents and shortcomings, I love newborns. I love cuddling them after they nurse. I love the peace that their "sleep grins" bring to a household. I love the overwhelming sleepiness I feel while they nurse. I love couch naps. I love how perfectly they mold into the curves of my body while we co-sleep. I love to watch their baby bird mouths search vigorously for dinner any time they smell me. I love it. Through the lack of sleep, you're oblivious to the exhaustion as your baby nurses for the umpteenth time that day, because you're so captivated by that "newborn smell." You know what else I love about newborns? They stay where you put them. And they love to sleep. And they eat what you offer them. And when they cry, there's a reason. There's no foot stomping and shrieks of anger filled tantrums. There's no spankings. There's no time outs. There's no overall sense of "Where have I gone wrong?!!?"Just a sweet, cooing baby that is so clearly captivated by the very sight of you.

I feel that was a great segway into the entire greek tragedy that summarizes Ella Morgan right now. We are in a hard phase. We are in a seemingly endless tunnel of "can't win" with that girl. And before anybody starts in with "terrible twos" or "Wait until she's three! It gets so much worse!," let me just say stop it. Stop it right now. What if we encouraged each other instead? What if it would be enough to say, "Hey. I've been there. Solidarity, sister." What if we said "It won't always be this way. You'll find new challenges and new victories every day. Just grab your coffee and get through it." I personally would LOVE that kind of encouragement. Instead of "Oh, you just THINK it's hard now. It gets so much more difficult. You don't even know misery. You don't know pain! No coffee will be enough! Good luck making it out alive!" Okay, maybe people don't say those words exactly, but it's what my brain hears. But I feel like as mothers, we should stand beside each other and say "Hey, bring your kid over here and go sing an N*Sync song alone in your car." Now, back to Ella. This is not a happy phase around here. This is a "How many hours until nap/bedtime?" phase. This is a "Is it time for Cody to come home and take a shift or do I actually need to take a shot of something at 2 in the afternoon?" Phase. Ella is wonderful. She is smart, and adventurous, and fearless, and intrigued, and independent, and stubborn. All at the same time. Every second of every day. She is old enough to know that she is entitled to her own opinion, and she's exercising her right to assert it. She refuses food even more violently than usual. She throws herself in the floor and cries when she gets frustrated. She screams when she doesn't get her way. She fights her sleep, and when she finally goes to sleep, she never sleeps longer than two hours at a time. Do you know what it's like to have a 4 month old that sleeps 8 hours at a time and an almost two year old that still doesn't have a consistent sleep schedule? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INFURIATING THAT IS?! Especially after a day at war to be "the boss." Is she a brat? I don't think so. I really don't. I think she is expressing herself the only way she knows how. She is so brilliant. She amazes me. She can say and recognize all of her letters, numbers up to 18, and all of the animals and their sounds. She can successfully communicate through most of the day to day with "baby sign language," and that's usually enough. But when she can't convey what she's trying to say, she instantly loses her cool. And then it's just kind of a downward spiral until I can get her together. She gets embarrassed easily, especially if she messes up in pronouncing a letter, or if she trips and falls. Basically, she's two years old. She's learning that she's her own separate entity, and she's learning who she is. She's putting together all of the little pieces that make her "Ella," and it just requires a little more grace from me while she figures it out. She's super frustrating. So frustrating. But I love watching her learn. And I know that very soon, she'll be her own little functioning miniature adult. And that will be a whole new rodeo for us. C'iest La vie.

Meanwhile, Mr. Adam is just the easiest and breeziest guy around. He's the chunkiest little guy I've ever seen, and I. Love. It. His thighs. His thighs make me go all kinds of cliche "white girl," because I CAN'T EVEN. He's starting to stretch out a bit, so we're starting to see those signature enormous "Gaines Eyes," but there's still plenty of Chins to go around. He's started rolling over, but there's no sign of sitting up in sight. He's a belly sleeper, and wakes up almost immediately if he ends up on his back... which has been troublesome lately, as he started rolling in his sleep. His most irritating quirk is that he likes continual movement if he's awake, and unfortunately has gained just enough weight that his swing says "Nope." So he cries to be held pretty frequently lately. It melted my uterus to bits when Cody threw him in the backpack baby carrier and helped me clean the house while Adam's big eyes looked to and fro. He coos and grins at just about anything, and unlike his sister around this age, he's an easy laugh. Minimal comedic effort required. He's wonderful. They don't lie when they say little boys grab ahold of their mamas and don't let go. He's beginning the "crying with strangers" phase, and it always toots my horn when he stops crying when I hold him. We love to watch his eyes light up when I sing to him, and he absolutely loves for me to sing him to sleep. It's a really precious, special time for us, because I really don't get a lot of "only Adam" time. When we get those moments alone, I soak up every second of them. I'll miss him so much when he's grown and rambunctious, because he's so precious right now. His sweet spirit and "chill" demeanor is so wonderful for making me stop and take a breath. The coos and sighs that accompany a few minutes with Adam are wonderful reminders for me to stop and take in the details of both of my kids. Most of the time, Cody and I don't really remember what life was like before we had babies. We're so tired, somebody always needs something, and it's usually midnight when we fall into bed before we say "Hey, so how was your day?" But in the same breath... Ella will be two years old this week. We're both blown away by it. And Adam is already on the flip side of his first six months of life. I don't want to miss too much in waiting out the "hard days." Maybe things will always be hard, with a little bit of sweetness to carry us through. Or maybe there really is an end in sight to all of these little details that summarize our exhaustion, and there's a day coming that is mostly easy, with a few kinks in the chain.

While we're on a rant about things being hard... Cody left us for a over week this month. NINE DAYS, do you hear me? Those were dark days, y'all. And I would never, ever, in one million years begin to compare my nine days to the life of a single mother, because at the end of every exhausting day, my husband called to check on me. And I knew when we woke up at the beginning of each day after a night of no sleep and cries for Daddy that my husband was coming home. Each day that we soldiered through meant one step closer to him. And it was so hard when Cody called to check in not to "word vomit" my entire day of challenges at him, because I knew how badly he wanted to be home. He was sick while he was away, so he was miserable in his own ways. You know when you're at your sickliest and you can't lay in the bed and sleep it off (AKA Motherhood)? That was Cody's week. But he pushed through and probably still worked hard with a smile on his face, where I would have worked in sunglasses and blessed everyone with a super bad attitude. So, while we were battling equally hard days, It was a weird thing, because as the one at home with the kids, I was like "Oh hey, will you please come home right now because we have two really needy babies and I'm probably going to die before you get back" and he was all "Hey, I'm surrounded by junior high and high school kids and I'm so relieved that our babies have 10 years before we get to this phase." He missed his family so badly, and while I felt so loved, I also felt so annoyed that he was gone. And that he was sleeping all night, while Ella slept until 2 A.M. before she woke up crying and stayed awake until 6:30 or 7:00 A.M. before she crashed again. Did I mention Adam was waking up at 7:30 to eat after sleeping ALL NIGHT LONG? So I would drag Adam into bed and attempt to sleep, finally falling asleep around 8 or so, only to have Ella wake back up at 9. Then when the night rolled back around, I would get her to sleep, and then be afraid to go to sleep... because I knew how hard it would be to wake back up. So I was falling asleep at 1 A.M., only to get my wake up call an hour later. It was the longest nine days of my motherhood so far. But we made it. And Cody came back home and Ella didn't let him out of her sight for three days. And when we went back to work a couple of days later, she cried the entire day. And I called Cody like "Oh hey, can you come home?" and he was like "No." So we had to work through that. So for the first couple of weeks of June, we were in survival mode... maybe even more so than when we brought Adam home. But we're on the other side of it, and I've never been more thankful for a husband that committed to co-parenting with me. So now the conundrum we'll face next year is whether it's worth interrupting my kid's routine to spend nine days seeing Daddy at meals and bedtime, or whether we solider through it and sleep in our own beds. I would say the answer is simple, but anybody that's ever traveled with children will understand. We'll see. We have about ten months to decide. 

That just about sums up our month. This month also marked the end of the #twoundertwo phase in our lives. Of course I'm sad that Ella is embarking on an official "Toddler" phase, and there's nothing baby left about her. She has stinky breath in the mornings and her bowel movements aren't pleasant. She's communicating in her own ways and finding her own sense of humor. She knows what she likes and what she doesn't, and has the power to voice her opinion, whether it's asked for or not. I've already talked a lot about this, but I'm just crazy about her. On our worst day, I'm so amazed that I made her, and (with a lot of help from Youtube) taught her the things that she knows. She's a little clone of Cody and I walking around, and she thrills me to my core. Cody and I are entering in a phase of our lives where we feel a great need for "experiences" over "things," so for her birthday, she's getting a trip to DFW, with a week dedicated to all of the things she loves, with the Zoo being the highlight of the trip for her. She doesn't "need" anything that money could buy, and I'm so excited to capture the look on her face when she sees a lion in real life for the first time. That being said, her birthday blog will be up after our trip, which will be toward the end of July... but do not distress. I would never miss a birthday blog. So, until then, here is sweet Adam's 4 month picture, and first "you two don't fit in the chair but let's make it work" picture.