"Rain, Rain, Go Away..."

Here I am, the day before Jack Everett's pool party... at 12:38am looking on http://www.weather.com/. It has not stopped raining since... well, I can't even remember. Our yard looks fabulous, but my hair is a complete mess. It is so humid, it almost feels like Houston... almost. I smell like bug spray, and my glasses fog up every time I get out of the car.

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I cannot believe my little man is turning three on Thursday. Is that possible? Five more days until "time out" is extended to three minutes, poor guy.

So, three years ago today, I was already six days late delivering him. I was absolutely huge, but still loved being pregnant. I took so many pictures that last week and am so glad I did. Greg and Sharon had flown in for a week to greet their new nephew, and flew out before getting to meet him. He was born ten days late - Due July 22nd, born August 2nd, 2004.

First photo with "Baby Boy Griffin"

I can already tell that I am going to be that Mom on "City Slickers" who leaves a phone message... "Jack Everett, it's me, your Mother. Happy Birthday. I remember it like it was just yesterday. It was thirty years ago today at 7:38pm. We didn't name you until you were two days old... You know it wouldn't hurt to call me once in a while... I carried you in my womb for an extra ten days... "

A Working Mother's Struggle - Part Two

For me personally, being a Stay-at-Home-Mom is more than just a physical struggle (juggling the tasks themselves... reading, playing, naps, laundry, meals, floors, groceries...) I mean, there is definitely a science to that, and some SAHM's are better at it than others. [Jeff will come home from work to a spotless house and say "Wow! The house looks great!" A few hours later, he'll ask, "So, is play group at our house tomorrow?" He knows. :) ] The struggle for balance as a Stay-at-Home-Mom is more than a physical one. It is a mental and emotional one for me.

I go through definite phases. There are times when I feel like I am really doing an effective job and that Jack Everett is learning a lot and being stimulated throughout the day. During those times, I cook at home, the house stays put together, and it seems that I eat right as well. We have "school time" after his nap where he learns his letters and patterns, etc. On the other hand, there are also times when I feel like I am not making the grade. Jeff will come home to a messy house more often, we will eat sandwiches a lot, Jack will watch a little too much TV during the day, and I can't seem to stick to a schedule. I have a hard time getting going and accomplishing much day to day.

I have, over the past two years tried to examine those "good periods" and "not-so-good periods" and finally figure out what makes them different. Why do I sway from happy and fulfilled to lonely and overwhelmed? If I could just get a handle on the causes, maybe I could cut the bad times off at the pass.

At first I thought it was directly related to Jack's health. The sicker he was, the harder the entire job was. The vomiting meant TONS of laundry and steam cleaning, and the house never felt truly clean. I used to fear that our house would become that house that had a distinct (dis-stinked) smell but that I would just get used to it and stop noticing!

Then, I thought that it was directly related to Jack's age. Maybe I was just better dealing with certain ages. Once Jack was talking in complete sentences and formulating deep thoughts, ["Mommy, I can't go poo-poo. It's not working. My body needs new batteries."] I was not as lonely. Maybe it is because I finally had someone to talk to during the day, and I had company.

I even thought that it might be weight-related. When I was eating right, and feeling good about myself... things seemed to go well and fall into place. When I wasn't, I was tired, feeling down about myself, and unmotivated to keep it all together. No, I knew it was more than that.

So, I started blaming it on Jeff. A SAHM does not get a performance review, or a report card. There is no formal recognition of performance to motivate you. The baby can't say, "Thanks Mom for all you do. I appreciate you." Sometimes she doesn't get a support from other Moms either. So, I figured, it is a husband's job to provide that positive feedback and encouragement. I thought that if he would "make me feel appreciated" I would feel better about this being my full-time job. I felt that I needed recognition and it was his job to give me that.

I finally did what I had been needing to do from the beginning. I started truly praying about it. Not just saying I would pray about it. Not just thinking about it, or daydreaming about it. True prayer. I have to be honest, this is not as natural for me as it should be. It is hard for me to focus. It is hard for me to complete sentences in silent prayer. In mid-sentence, I think about my grocery list or I start to think about other things. I just need to practice. That is all we can do to get better at it.

At first I would pray for Jack to gain weight and to get better, pray for my time management, for Him to reveal to me whether I should work or stay home. I asked for doors to be opened on the job front and for help with the day-to-day things. After a few times of doing this, I finally asked, "God, what is it that is preventing me from being truly happy?"

What I got was a bit of a revelation.

The answer God gave me is that HE is the only one who can make me happy. If I am relying on my husband to "make me feel happy," I never will. That is not Jeff's job, and it is unfair to expect that from him. That was huge. I thought about how many times I have shared this sentiment with girlfriends and fellow Moms.

He also helped me realize that as women, we often complain that our husbands don't "make us feel" pretty. That comes from within too... from Christ within, that is. I spent way too many years trying to get that feeling from other places. I wanted more approval from Dad, wanted more compliments from Jeff, and sometimes even hoped to turn heads in the office. When we realize that we are beautiful daughters of Christ, that is how our husbands will see us and, more importantly, how we will see ourselves. Since my personal realization and acceptance of this truth, I have physically felt better than ever. The weight is melting away without all the angst and effort required in the past. Now, I can eat right because it makes me feel healthier, not because I desire to be accepted or loved.

I started to realize that the reason I was consistently not making the grade, is that I was measuring the wrong things. I felt that the cleanliness of the house, the preparation of the meals, my physical appearance, and what Jack could do or recite were the standards against which my performance was measured. That was the only way I knew to measure a "good" SAHM. The truth is that if Jeff comes home to a happy wife, with a son who loves his parents and loves Jesus, who cares about a sticky floor? Realizing that, now I can do these things because I like a clean house, and enjoy a clutter-free space, not because my success or failure as a Mom hinges on it.

As he gets older, I want Jack to remember that his Momma took him to Sea World and went to the movies, and sang songs to him in the tub. So what if he doesn't remember our house as the cleanest on the block or never gets nostalgic about his "Momma's home cookin'." We do not have to work against standards of our society, our circle of friends, the Jones', or self-imposed pressure trying to achieve happiness.

I have realized that happiness is there as a gift for us to embrace. We just have to choose it. I don't mean putting on a brave face and pretending to be happy. I mean truly choosing to accept the unconditional love, approval, recognition and appreciation that can only come from Him.

If we look at ourselves through Christ's eyes, we make the grade every time.

Her's on first.

As do most two-year-olds, Jack Everett struggles a bit with pronoun usage. It is so cute that Jeff and I often debate whether or not to correct him. I know that he could use them properly with a bit of guidance, but on the other hand, I think I will miss it when he does. For example, Jack sees his friend Alli get a sticker for a reward and says, "What did her did?" (Okay, maybe sometimes it's more than just pronouns...) A little girl gets in trouble at a restaurant, so Jack pipes up in his loudest voice, "Her is crying cause her does not want to stay in her chair!"

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So, as he is about to turn three, I decided that it was finally time to start helping him learn the correct way to use "her" in his sweet little sentences.

Overheard at my house:

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[I tell him that his best friend Lawtie is coming over.]

Jack: "Her is going to play with my toys?"

Mommy: "Jack, it's 'SHE is going to play with my toys.'"

Jack: "No, Mommy, her likes to play with MY toys."

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J: "Mommy, Why is her crying?"
M: "Jack, listen to Mommy. We say, "Why is SHE crying?"
J: "It's 'cause her wants her Daddy."
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[Sadie scratches at the back door...]
M: Jack, say "SHE."
J: "She."
M: "That's right, say it again."
J: "She!"
M: "Good! Now say, "SHE is scratching at the door."
J: "Oh, it's just 'cause her wants to go outside."

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These little grammar lessons were good for a laugh, especially for Jeff. So, this Mommy has chosen to sit back and enjoy Jack Everett's unique sentences. I know that it won't be long before I can hardly remember him speaking this way. In the meantime, I have decided to record in writing this precious slice of motherhood and cherish his tiny little voice while I can.

"Daddy, Is her taking another picture of me?"

A Working Mother's Struggle - Part One

From the time I was a little girl, I imagined myself staying home with my kids. I wanted to be the Room Mom, the Team Mom, and the Field Trip Mom. I wanted to have the playroom in the house set up like my own mini preschool. After high school and into college, I developed pre-conceived notions about daycare, and had this inner promise that I would NEVER put MY child in a daycare. I can't really pinpoint what made me so adamant about it. While I do remember being envious of the other kids whose Moms volunteered at the school and were home during the summer, I feel like my childhood overall was pretty awesome. I don't ever remember feeling that Mom was at all unavailable or disengaged. She just seemed busier than the other Moms, and we had a whole lotta Hamburger Helper.

I made it clear to Jeff from early on that I intended to stay home full-time when we had children. (I'm sure he was probably thinking, "This is our second date...") Jeff has always wanted his wife to stay home as well, and we made financial decisions accordingly for the five years leading to starting our little family. When I got pregnant, I just talked about how blessed I was that we would had the means to make it happen. I was so excited, and never hesitated to quit my job when Jack was born, and didn't intend to go back for years. I had seen Kim make it look easy with four kids of her own, and a dozen other kids over the years in her own at-home daycare. I was organized too. I loved kids too. I knew I would be a natural.

Then Jack was born.

At first, I was losing weight pretty quickly, I had play dates with Heather, who had just had Lawton two months earlier. Thank goodness for me, Jack was an awesome baby. I was organized, on a strict schedule, and we all slept though the night. Most nights. I was living the dream.

Nursing was another story. (Let's just say it was NOTHING like the beautiful, soft-lighted photos where the Mom rocking her baby, in full makeup and a white flowing nursing gown, gazes into the eyes of her soft, clean, quiet baby while feeding him precious milk of life.) No one told me I'd find myself attached by the chest to a $300 torture device, pumping breast milk at 1:00am plugged into the only power outlet at a Fort Worth truck stop.

Anyway, Jack began to get sick at about nine months old, and began over a year of vomiting many times per day. Thus began the tedious food charts, experimenting with different medications, different foods, etc. and the never-ending cleaning of carpets, crib sheets, car seats, etc. every single day. I felt like I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I should have nursed longer. My life suddenly consisted of sleepless nights, countless feedings he could not keep down, and doctor appointments that would bring more medical bills. My playgroups fizzled, since I was so unreliable and Jack was so unpredictable. I stopped going to Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) because I couldn't leave the house without him getting sick before we left, in the car, or while we were there... or all three. Leaving the house was no longer worth it. The specialists finally settled on the diagnosis of 'severe reflux' and assured us he would likely grow out of it in a few years. The testing stopped for the time being.

So, that was it. Reflux. I sat at home with Jack, and began to get sad. All of a sudden this was not fun any more. Guilt was setting in. I felt guilty that for all these years, staying home had been too much about ME, and not as much about the baby. Now I could not leave the house. I had no one to talk to during the day. Even Heather had gone back to work. I began to grow jealous of my friends who were at work. I couldn't call them during the day and bug them at their desks. They had meetings. They had business suits and briefcases. They had laptops and work phones. I felt lonely. The guilt grew. I felt guilty for wanting more. It felt like a part of me was dying.

Because I had set such high expectations and had been vocally one-sided on the issue for so long, I couldn't imagine considering changing my "position" on the daycare issue. I began to feel guilty for wanting to work. I even felt guilty for judging working Moms in years past, for assuming they must not be willing to make sacrifices needed to stay home. I started to miss my business suits. I missed the meetings and the adult conversation. I missed the performance reviews and the kudos and the "You're doing a great job!" I missed the quiet.

I was even jealous that Jeff got to go to work. I resented the late nights and the Saturdays when I was home with this sick baby while he was "watching TV between sales." While I was at home eating another sandwich, he was at Chili's and Mama's Cafe with the guys. I felt guilty that I was making him feel guilty for being away at work.

As if I did not have enough guilt, I felt guilty that I was feeling sorry for myself. I knew there were Moms in our same hospital whose children were blind, had cancer, or couldn't eat at all. Those Moms would give anything if all they had to deal with was a little vomiting. Here I was feeling sorry for myself when I had so much for which to be thankful. However, at the time, this was my reality. I knew I needed a new outlook on my situation, but I was having a hard time 'snapping out of it.'

... to be continued...

Happy Birthday, Jarrell.

Today is Jarrell Griffin's first birthday in heaven.

It is hard to write something to honor a man like Jeff's Dad, Jarrell. Even the most eloquent of compliments seem inadequate understatements. Besides, accolades never interested him.

He loved Christ, he loved his family, and boy did we love him.

While we know he will be serenaded by angels in heaven today, here on Earth, our Dad and Papa will be missed.

Books on Tape for Baby

Some of you may have heard me tell this story...

Jack was tiny... just 9 or 1o months old, and was riding in the little basket at "Half Priced Books." I was buying and trading in yet another book on CD. The cashier, a woman in her early 50's (I'd guess) said, "I see you in here pretty often. Are you buying these Books on Tape for yourself?" I told her they were for me, and she smiled, "That's refreshing. It's usually older people who come in to buy Books on Tape." I explained that I had become hooked on them as a means to continue reading after the baby was born. I said, "And I hear it's really good for the baby to hear the spoken language. They say hearing the English language for long periods of time really helps develop their vocabulary."

She looks at Jack and says, "Awww... You are so lucky! Your Momma is already helping you build you a big vocabulary!"

Without hesitation, Jack looks right at her and says, "Caca!"

She looked at me and I just had to laugh and said, "Imagine if we didn't have the tapes."

A few new firsts for Jack Everett...

Our pride and joy accomplished a few new firsts over the weekend. Thought I would share.

1) He got dressed all by himself for the first time. I laid out his clothes, including underwear and flip-flops, and he came in completely dressed! He said, "Wook! I got dwessed all by myself and Diego is on my hiny!"... which is how we know his "Go, Diego, Go!" underwear are facing the right way.



2) Jack put his underwear on all his stuffed animals. He then lined them up against the wall (along with some carpet samples) and was so proud of himself.

Jack gets tiny puppy fitted snugly into his Elmo undies.

Caught in the act. This kept him busy for a very very long time.

Underwear on a dolphin is enough to make anyone smile.

After he got them all lined up against the wall, he got up and said, "Momma, they are all in time out because they hit me."

3) Last but not least, he pooped in a public pool.

Yes, pooped. (Judging by the look on his face, I may have taken this picture while he was in the act.) After a wonderful evening of swimming, I decided to change him really quickly out of his 'Little Swimmer' into dry clothes. When I pulled it down, I was embarrassed and disgusted to find more than I bargained for... I just rinsed him in the bathroom sink, and got the heck outta there. I still feel bad about not saying anything to the lifeguards. (This is the same pool he vomited in one holiday and the entire pool had to close down.)

On the bright side: He swam barefoot for the first time too. "Look, Auntie Emily! No swim shoes!"

"I don't wanna be a Box Clown!"

In a previous blog, I alluded to Jeff's uncanny ability to convince Jack Everett to do things that Momma cannot easily persuade him to do. Those of you closest to us know this about Jeff, but for those who don't... and for Jack to read in many years... I thought I would share one such example: Halloween 2006.

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Last Halloween, I spent loads time constructing what I hoped would be the perfect Jack-in-the-Box costume for my little just-turned-two trick-or-treater. Hey, you can't name your son Jack and not dress him up like a Jack-in-the box at least once, and I knew that would most likely be the last year he would let me do it.

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I went to the Container Store without the baby to buy the appropriate-sized white box to hang over his little shoulders. It was so hard without him there, and with my awful depth perception, the box I came home with was huge! I went back, and the box I needed was a tiny 9" by 9" square. After a few trips to Hobby Lobby, some hot glue, staples, blue paint, markers, lamination, and a spare clown hat from Sarah, the costume was perfect!

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On Halloween afternoon, I decided to take the baby to show off his costume at Nana's (Jeff's Mom's) office and then planned to head to Daddy's work. We arrive at the building, and I start to put the box on, and he hits it out of my hand and the ribbon comes out of it's slot (held by some staples, and a wad of packing tape.) I calmly reattach it, tell myself not to get flustered, but Jack starts to scream, "I wanna see Nana!", and screams "No!" any time the costume gets anywhere close to him. I try putting it over his head. "No!" I try having him step down into it. "No!" His screams are getting louder. People walking by are staring, and I am just hoping that the 500 glass windows are not one-way glass as I am now talking to my 2-yr-old through gritted teeth, begging him to at least put on his "adorable" hat. Finally, at a parenting low, I say, "If you put this costume on, I will give you some candy!" Hey, I'm not proud.

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Jack looks at me and says, "I don't wanna be a box clown!" and starts crying.

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Okay, now I felt really bad. I couldn't help but laugh. So, sweating profusely, I do what I should have done in the first place. I put him in one arm, the empty costume in the other, and we go inside to visit Nana. To get him to stop crying, I ended up having to give him the candy anyway. When anyone asked what he was, we just replied, "He's Jack-Out-of-the-Box." We took pictures and Jack had a blast. It was no big deal, and I just chalked it up to be the best handmade costume he never wore.

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Nana and "Jack-Out-of-the-Box" in the infamous parking lot.

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So, we later arrive at Bjorn's to see Daddy and Jeff says, "Hi buddy! Let me see your awesome costume! Jack starts up again, "No!" Jeff calmly gets down on one knee, looks all sad and softly says, "Jack... Daddy reeeeeeallly wants to see your costume. Can you please let me see you in it?" Jack walks right up to him, immediately puts his feet into it, lifts the ribbons over his shoulders and doesn't take it off again for the rest of the night. I stood for a moment in disbelief, then quickly grabbed the camera.

"Jack-finally-IN-the-Box!!!

Jack Everett realized being a "box clown" wasn't so bad after all.

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Quick stroll down Halloween memory lane...

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"Jack"-o-lantern - 2nd Halloween, 2005

Sweet Turtle - 1st Halloween, 2004

Friends from the VERY beginning...

When I graduated with my degree in Human Resources in 2003, I was so conflicted about what the next steps should be for my family and my career. Jeff and I had been married for four years, and were feeling ready to have a baby. However, I was also ready to leave USAA and start using my new credentials! I decided to take a chance and took a job as a Recruiting Associate at the Capital Group (CG). Just 21 days later, I learned that I was expecting a baby. I couldn't believe it. I needed advice on when and how to tell the not-so-family-friendly management.

So, I decided to confide in Monica, the only Mom in the department. We had lunch together one day and when I told her I was pregnant, she paused and said, "I'm pregnant too!" We were due 10 days apart. Again, I could not believe it. We both knew the bosses would be shocked when we told them. Two out the 14 in the entire department, pregnant at the same time!? About three months later, I have lunch with my coworker Tracey, who tells me... "Don't tell anyone in the department, but I am pregnant too!" I was sorry for her that she had to be the third to speak to the Director since I knew how she had reacted to me. Not two weeks later, Candace invites me to lunch to say, "Don't tell anyone, but I'm pregnant too!" Poor Candace. Monica, Tracey, and I did not envy her, and secretly wished we could be a flies on the wall for that announcement! So, in a span of six months, four of us on the same team became pregnant. (Emily KNEW not to drink the water in that office!)

The months we worked together carrying these precious babies were some of the most tiring but were truly bonding times. We bonded with our babies and bonded with each other. I would not trade them for the world. We talked about our babies, compared swollen ankles, shopped for baby stuff, decorated nurseries. We even shared baby names, sonogram pictures, and awkward office baby showers.

Although we were due just 10 days apart, Monica had Shelby Lee in June, two months early.
Jack Everett came in August, Candace had Auburn 'Grace' in November, and Tracey had James Robert in mid-December. (We did not know he was a boy until that awesome 2:00am phone call from the hospital!)

The gang all together for the first time on 1-05-05:

James (3 wks), Jack (4 mos), Shelby (5 mos), Grace (7 wks)

We all hoped to keep in touch but knew it would take effort, since three of us chose not to return to work after the babies were born. We wanted to remain girlfriends, and we all really wanted the kiddos to be good friends too. They already were. Thus began the CG kiddos playgroup tradition.

Together this summer at the park... the terrific twos!

James, Shelby, Grace, and Jack...friends from the VERY beginning!

It's been really amazing to watch our kids grow and play together. I cannot believe they are each turning three! I hope you can all make it to Jack Everett's birthday party for our next group pic!

Puzzling...

We bought Jack a 24-piece Sesame Street puzzle, his first with more than 9 pieces, and no outer border as a guide. I wasn't sure whether he was ready, but wanted to see him try! He almost immediately peeled the entire picture off the top one of the pieces (got curious) and he was so incredibly disappointed when he got to that last piece for the first time. "Mommy, I can't find Gwover's eye!" When the natural consequence of his action finally sunk in, he was no longer a huge fan of that puzzle.

So, two days later, I got him this "Cars" puzzle, or his "Lighting Akeen" puzzle, as he calls it. Of course we had the camera out for his first attempt on this one.

He gets mad when we try to help.

(It's hard to resist saying, "That's a straight edge..." or "Try this one.")

Nemo undies. The official puzzletime uniform.

Last piece!

We can't even get him to pose for a "finished puzzle" picture, because he tears it up so quickly... "I wanna do it again!" (Especially when he knows it's right before bedtime.)

So, what does Mommy take to Daddy's company picnic to do while Bjorn speaks?

He is growing up way too fast. So, in case you were wondering, 24-piece puzzles are a great gift idea for his 3rd birthday in a few weeks. ;)

New life. New dreams.

Ah... before we had a baby...

One thing we always enjoyed was the peace and pace of our own home. Our furniture was spotless, our cars nice, and our house quiet. Really quiet. We couldn't help it, but the truth is our friends who had toddlers had become a lot of work to invite out. They seemed kinda broke, so they always wanted to stay in. Of course, we would have preferred the comforts of our own toy-free house, but they usually wanted to do it at theirs, so we would oblige. We had a nice time, but the kids were sometimes kinda loud, their fingers sticky, and we usually had to start early or end early. If we did go out, they wanted to do dinner OR a movie... but usually not both. Most of the time, they arrived late. We would just try to be understanding. We simply weren't as close to our friends once they had little ones. We loved their kids, but preferred the visits be shorter than longer. We just couldn't relate to their lives, even though we tried.

So, fast forward a few years to today...

Over the past four or five years, we have developed a special relationship with our friends Darin and Marilyn, who have now been married two years. We like to spend time with them for a variety of reasons. Not only do we like to do so many of the same things, but Jeff and I also enjoy observing the way they live, and watching them go through life's stages just a few years behind us. They are so spontaneous and carefree. That used to be us... loads of discretionary time and money, and willing to pay extra for a good time or an added convenience. They have the bright red MiniCooper, while we had the Acura.

Now, when we are with Darin and Marilyn, WE are definitely "the couple with a kid." They invite us to eat out, and we are looking for coupons. We let the waiter put the appetizer on their tab and they understand. We might go to dinner, but skip the movie. They have learned not to invite us unless there is at least 90-minute's notice. We are onto them; They usually say, "Let's meet at our house, and then go from here." We realize that they'd rather wait for us on their couch than in the front of a restaurant. They have been at dinners where Jack has gotten sick, gone potty, made a mess with his food, or cried his head off... Sometimes all of these at the same meal. Although I know Darin must be thinking, "Check please!" he tries not to let it show. They invite us to their EXTREMELY quiet and clean house for dinner, and I spend the majority of the time hoping Jack doesn't throw up on their microsuede sofa or fabric dining chairs. 'Wouldn't it be easier to do this at OUR house?', I think to myself.

We still dream, but as parents, those dreams have changed. Everything has changed. The budget has changed. The priorities have changed. We take fewer risks and make smaller moves. We check the safety ratings. We get several estimates. We do the painting ourselves. Our furniture has sticky hand prints on it. There are toys all over the place. We wait until it comes out on rental. We even buy generic soda (that one's for you, Tracy!)

We admire Darin and Marilyn. They buy and flip land on a whim. They try new recipes. They test drive Jaguars just for the fun of it on a Sunday afternoon. They put a croquet field in their back yard. Darin took up painting one day and actually sold one! They drive out to the lake just to catch a sunset together. If the radar shows a possibility of rain, they will still pack the cooler and take the boat out. After all, if there's a chance of rain, then Darin knows there's a chance of sun! It is not that they are frivolous or materialistic... they just live life to the fullest and we love that about them.

Sometimes when they share one of their crazy ideas with us... ("We are going to sell everything we have, move into a duplex, rent out the other side and retire to live on a houseboat by the time we are 45!") After we get past our immediate thoughts of the risks and possible down sides, we marvel at their ability to dream. We know that these dreams can come true for them - and they remind us we could dream like that too.

They are rubbing off on us, and us on them. They convinced us to fight the crowds to go downtown to see "Chicago." We convinced them to carpool to the company picnic. They got Jeff and I to pay half for a street-side balcony room at the Palacio Del Rio to watch the fireworks on New Year's Eve over the Riverwalk! We got them to go visit our financial advisor and dragged them to "Dave Ramsey LIVE."

We try to silence our conservatism, because it can so easily come across as pessimism or doubt. We have to stop ourselves from saying, "Now, where would you put a carseat in a convertible?" or, "Are you sure you'd want to live that far from your future child's grandparents?" We are intentional about being the kind of friends who encourage Darin and Marilyn's dreams and support their zest for life.




We are thankful for them, and enjoy the fun and spontaneity they have helped to bring back into our lives. We don't know if they will have children of their own, but if so, we look forward to seeing them through that journey. When the time comes, I cannot wait to hear them describe life before they had kids.

I imagine they will sound just like us. Nostalgic, but never regretful.

You can lead a Jack to water, but you can't make him jump.

By the end of last summer, Jack (just under 2 yrs old) was happily jumping into the water from the edge of the pool into my arms. He learned it by watching his fearless friend Lawton do it over and over at Aunt Tracy's pool. However, by the beginning of this summer, he had developed a new fear of the water. "That water is too big!," he would say when we tried to get him to jump. He made it very clear that he intended to stick with the baby pool this season. This was the same every time I took him, and frankly, I was getting a bit frustrated. I wasn't that thrilled about sitting in the curiously warm baby pool all summer.

I finally realized what I needed to do: Have Daddy come to the pool with us. (I will have to blog sometime about how Jeff was able to get Jack Everett into his Jack-in-the-box costume.) Sure enough, Jeff acted like he was floating away and called, "Jack! HELP me! I am floating away!" Amazingly, with no hesitation, Jack leaps into my arms yelling, "Mommy, we have to save Daddy!"

Our summer of swimming fun had officially begun.

Jack at Darin and Marilyn's pool with Daddy

Swimming at friend Ben's 7th Birthday party

Emily makes fun of me because Jack wears his water shoes in the pool. She asked me if I make him wear them in the bathtub! She will understand when her little boy (due in 11 weeks) gets to be this age and INSISTS on wearing something nerdy. Some of these wardrobe battles are worth fighting (socks with sandals), and some aren't. You cannot talk a boy into swimming barefoot when his mind is made up, so you just go with it.

On his way to swim in the Blanco River with Uncle Trey. I love this picture.

I said, "Jack, show me the big rock, but don't hide your face!"

achieving this funny awkward pose.

Action shot of Jack jumping to Mommy!

He is at SUCH a fun age!

He loves this sunhat that his Meemaw gave him. She picked it up at the dollar store to keep sun out of his eyes when they go on their walks. If we had any idea he would love it this much, I would have had her buy several. This one has flowers on the underside, but he doesn't seem to mind...

And, he's in one of his favorite shirts... because, of course, it says "Lumberjacks."

Rewind: A child's first movie

Every Tuesday and Wednesday mornings this summer, our local cineplex has Free Family Film Festival... or rated G and PG movies free at 10:00 am. These showings are the perfect way to take kiddos like Jack Everett to experience the movies for the first time. We can go without fear of other moviegoers glaring or telling him "Shhh..." I knew there would be tons of other Moms in the same boat as me: unsure about how he would behave, whether we would sit there the entire time, and quite frankly, how dry the seat would be when we left. *sigh

Kim, mother of four, and my amazing "mentor mom," recommended that I bring a lollipop to introduce if... well, when he started getting restless. A lollipop would also keep his mouth occupied, keeping him quiet. About an hour into the movie, Jack was thrilled to see this (at the time) ultra-rare treat.

I was pleased to see that "Charlotte's Web" was showing... (the new live-action version with Julia Roberts as the voice of Charlotte.) It was one of my favorite children's book, and we had not yet seen the movie. I was so excited as we got his big booster seat to raise him up. (and covered it with the waterproof pad...)

He gasped with a smile when the lights first went dark. As the movie started, I instantly teared up. It was clear that I would spend most of the 1 1/2 hours that followed watching my boy, not the movie. The way the screen lit up his sweet face was almost enough to convince me to bust out my digital camera right then and there. (Although the theater was jam-packed with other Moms who probably would have understood, even I figured that would be a little much.) I instantly felt this pang of regret that Jeff was not there with us. I knew there would never be another first time Jack Everett saw the huge bright movie screen and felt the music. If God blesses us with another child, this is an experience that I hope to make solely his.

Jack never took his big almost-black eyes off the huge screen. He laughed out loud a few times, furled his brow when he was a bit scared, and whispered to me every now and then... "Momma, that's Whilbuh." or "Momma, why is her crying?" I knew I would enjoy this experience, but never expected to be moved like I was.

I know he probably will not remember the day his Mother took him to the movies for the first time. (If he does, I am sure he'll just remember the cow passing gas.) All I know, is that I hope I do not forget it. It already feels like it is happening. We have since been to three more, and "going to the movies" has already lost some of its luster - for us both. I have to remind myself that there are many many more "firsts" in store for us as his parents. I can't let it make me sad. I just hope I recognize them, take them all in, and treasure them, as I can already see that this adventure is going to pass by entirely too quickly.

I am just incredibly thankful that I am a part of it at all.

MBG review: "Surf's Up", rated PG

Like my good friend John Herrick says, "Opinions are like noses. Everybody's got one."

The movie is "filmed" like a documentary, characterized by the cast looking directly into the camera (like on "The Office") so there is a whole LOT of dialogue, which we all know is a two-year-old's favorite movie element...

I will leave it to you to analyze whether filmmakers have lost touch with what is truly appropriate for small children or if I am just overly protective and cautious with what Jack Everett hears and sees. Regardless, it is only a few minutes into the film before I begin to fear that Jack will cry out in Sunday School the words he has now learned from a few of his new favorite penguins.

Unfortunately, he has many new ones from which to choose: , a penguin says "it tastes like sh...," and the scene cuts away... a chicken says, "I can feel it in my nuggets," several say "shut up", and then there's the name-calling (loser, cocky, jerk, pecker face, bum, blubber-ball, fish sticks, "dirty trash can full of poop"). While scooping fish, Cody looks at the camera and says, "This job sucks!" When a baby penguin starts to drown, the lifeguard says, "Crap!" A few little ones standing by giggle and repeat, "She said crap!"

Aside from the questionable language, some of the themes seem a bit unnecessary as well. While I am confident that Jack and James don't "get it," and acknowledge that older children will most likely be able to put these types of cartoon deaths in perspective, both of the main characters show pictures of their dead fathers. Cody's Dad is surfing into the mouth of a killer whale (Jack's sweet hero Shamu...) and Chicken Joe's Dad is shown on a bucket of Fried Chicken. The hero, Big Z, died in a surf contest and we see a flashback to the accident (the penguin goes under a huge wave and does not surface). A little more benign, (and I know... kids love potty humor) but Cody gets an urchin needle stuck in his foot and the big male penguin pees on it to counteract the poison. Pretty gross.

So, there were enough times that Jeff and I had to look at each other with looks of "Yikes!" to give me cause to recommend this as a rental to audience members over six years of age.

The big question is, "Did Jack Everett like it?" Well, for this answer we rely on the time-honored potty test. Jack got up to go potty four times in this short 80 minutes. This means he was bored. When the automatic flush and hand dryers have a stronger draw on him than the plot line, we know the movie makers have missed their mark with him. (Ratatouille [G] was two hours long, and he only potty'd twice.)

One of my favorite sites, http://www.kids-in-mind.com/, rates movies for appropriateness for children and outlines the questionable content to help parents review movies without having to actually go watch them. I probably should have read this site before paying the $12.00 to see this one. Oh well.

Any opinions? Your take? I'd love to hear - Feel free to add a comment!

Lights... Camera... "I need to go potty!"

After our 4th of July Barbecue was cancelled due to more rain, we decided to take Jack Everett to see the movie "Surf's Up."

A little background:

First of all, I finally succumbed to social pressures (okay, maybe self-imposed pressure) and allowed Jack to get his first Happy Meal toy. Until a couple of weeks ago, Jack thought that place with the Big M on top was just an indoor playground that serves Sweet Tea for Moms. We would meet fellow stay-at-home Moms there at about 10:00 am every-so-often when the park was too wet. (Now that school is out, we avoid it like the plague.) We would play, but never eat. And we NEVER called it McDonald's... just the "payground" as Jack pronounces it. Nonetheless, on this particular day, we decided to eat there, and I felt bad that the other children at the table would be getting toys and fun meal boxes, so I asked if I could just buy the box and the toy. They were glad to oblige for a cool $1.07.

My thought was that Jack could partake of his veggie chips, turkey and carrots, but still have the "McDonald's experience." So, with that one single decision, a needless and costly tradition was born. Short story long, this is where Jack was first introduced to Cody Maverick, the main surfing penguin character in the new movie "Surf's Up." Now, Jeff and I have about four plastic Codys ($4.28) somewhere in the house, whose awesome decorate-it-yourself detachable surfboards are nowhere to be found.

This gets us to today.

Jeff and I called up Jack's buddy James (also 2) and we went to the movies. About 0.1 mile from the house, still on Woller Road, Jack says, "I need to go potty!" After assuring us that he "cannot hold it in his body" Jeff had to turn the car around.

So, movies take two.

James and Jack

We get there, position the boosters, get out the juice, the lollipops, snacks, and blankies, use the amazing "movie potty" before it starts, and we're all set.

Jack (complete with cheesy grin) and Daddy

Emily's Baby Shower in Baton Rouge

On June 9th, I was fortunate enough to enjoy a Girls' Weekend in Baton Rouge, LA to surprise Emily at her baby shower. Tracey and I drove down (OK, she drove the entire 8.5 hours while I served as iPod DJ fighting to stay awake.) Kristin flew in to meet us from Dallas. Emily was really surprised!

Me, Kristin, Emily (& Baby boy), and Tracey

Okay, anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a huge fan of seafood... shellfish to be more specific. Just the eyeballs and antennae on the painted ceramic lobster at Red Lobster were cause enough for me to cut short one of my first dates with Jeff! So, when I found out that we would be surprising Emily at a Louisiana Crawfish Boil... I was, um, thrilled.

So, for those of you who might (like me) be novices to a crawfish boil... this is how it works: Newspaper is laid out over the table, and the fresh crawfish, corn, potatoes, onions, and shrimp are poured down the table. Then, everyone digs in, literally tearing the heads off of the crawfish, dipping it in butter with bare hands and sucking out the meat. Unfortunately I was on the wrong side of the camera at this event, hence no proof, but I did belly up to the table for some of the best corn and potatoes I have ever had! All joking aside, it really was a lot of fun!

Tracey, our Jersey Girl, dug right in!

Tracey and Scott (the Dad to be!)

Em and me... Gosh, I miss her!

It was such a fun weekend and her family took us right in. I would love to go back. I have not laughed that hard in a very long time. And maybe next time I will try some of the cuisine. Perhaps I was being a bit shellfish.

My own blog: Managing expectations

"Managing expectations" is a popular buzz-word in Human Resources these days. For me, it is a fancy phrase for making sure not to get any one's hopes up, including my own.

This came into play when I decided to start this-here blog site. Before creating my own personal blog, I had a few mental obstacles to overcome:

First of all, I couldn't help but wonder, "Who will really care about my thoughts, my kid's pictures, and my stories?" I mean, everyone has kiddos almost as cute as Jack Everett, and everyone has funny anecdotes about parenthood. Why would they spend time reading mine? Seemed a bit narcissistic to tell you the truth.

I also have this fear of overcommitment. I started to name my blog "MBG's Motherhood Weekly" but let's get real, there's no way I will blog every single week. I don't even cook every single week. I didn't want "blogging" to join the list of things I started but let fade away (piano lessons.)

Then, I also have blog envy. I mean, Duane and Elisa's blog looks like they pay professional graphic designers. They've got photos, video clips, book recommendations, movie reviews... you name it... and all that on a Mac nonetheless! I can't even open a file on a Mac!

Anyway, I have always seen the "great" Moms on Oprah who wrote gobs of sweet, touching letters to their children in the womb, or the scrapbooking Moms who have intricate pages chronicling milestones for each child. Whenever I start to feel inadequate in that area, I remind myself again, "I should really be keeping a journal." I quickly write "Journal" on my Wal-mart list. Then inevitably, "Where is that dad-gum Wal-mart list?"

So, what finally made me decide to start blogging? I realized that it is the only way I will ever actually record my thoughts to share with Jack Everett and any future siblings God may have in store for Jeff and me. Oh, what I would give to be able to read my Mom's journal entry when Dad took me to get my hair cut like a boy (per my request.)? What would she have written after receiving the call that I was involved in my fifth car accident? Now that I am potty-training a little one, I would give anything to read what she was feeling when I informed her of my refusal to use the toilet until my fourth birthday party.

People often say to me, after hearing one of my stranger-than-fiction motherhood tales, "You should write a book!"

Well, here it is: "The Momologue."

Hope you enjoy, but if not, that's okay because this is really for me. And maybe for my children years down the road when they want an answer to the age-old question "What in the world was Mom thinking!?!..."