apples

I feel the need to let you know that I still kinda enjoy watching Veggie Tales. That is all.

cloud nine

My son attained his perfect day today.  I'll show you how:

The super nice and cool firefighters of Fire station 10 let Noah and his best bud Wyatt explore their firetruck. I really don't think Noah could have been any happier.

He got to drive

 Man the hose

And work the coat.
Witten was going to try on one of their helmets, but then I realized that one of those fance hats weighs about as much as he does, so instead, we posed next to it.

He still seemed to enjoy himself, though.
  The moral of this story, friends, is that if you have a child who screams "FIRETRUCK!!" every time he sees a fire truck (or a large red truck, or a semi truck, or a fire station...), take him for a trip to your nearest fire station. Those guys are super nice and were very patient with two toddlers who wanted only to sit in the drivers' seat and make siren/honking noises.

Thank you, kind firemen, for doing your firejob and being gracious firehosts to us and our kids. And for jumping Meredith's car. And for the junior firefighter badge stickers. Noah's sleeping with his on his shirt right now. 

Health, you are a fickle, difficult, unfair, companion.

That is how I feel about healthy living.
I'm not the hardest of core health nut out there, but I live a relatively healthy lifestyle. I avoid straight up junk food, I take vitamins, I do daily exercises at least 5 days out of the week. And then I might allow myself a dessert or candy bar or some other delicious treat to satisfy my stupidly loud sweet tooth, and suddenly, there's an extra inch of squish around my waist. Now before you kind, well intended readers start your placating "oh honey, you just had a baby", or, "sweetheart, you're a mother of two kids",  let me stop you. Thank you for your sympathy, but my baby is almost 9 months old, not a newborn, and I realize that childbearing does permanently alter a woman's physicality, but those are excuses for me and I refuse to use that crutch to hobble passively into obesity.
    Now friends, I'm not aiming to get skinny. I want to be healthy. Skinny-ness and sexiness are side affects to a healthy body. I will not be sad if I never fit comfortably and  muffin-top-lessly into size 2 skinny jeans, because I have never been there. But there was a time when I was so healthy I felt like I could, like, hike over mountains or box a kangaroo or something epic like that. I want to be healthy for my family. I want to be active with my family. I want my boys to look up to me along with their father as prime examples of fitness and health. I want my boys to remember watching their momma working out in the living room, just like I remember watching my mom working out in the living room. (Hehe, Jane Fonda work out videos. Good times.)
    SO, despite my frustrations with my stubborn waistline, I will persevere. I praise God for friends that are just as health-conscious, if not way more so, than me. I thank Him also for providing me with the perfect work-out buddy.

Downward-facing dog.

   I'm kidding. Here's looking at you, Courtney!

"I can do all this through him who gives me strength."

 Philippians 4:13

Me and Moses are like this

You can't see it, but when I typed that post title, I had my fingers crossed super tight.
And I say that Moses and I are of the same mind because he was totally thinking what I am thinking right this very hour. It's scary when I find my thoughts, questions, concerns, etc... written out in the Bible. Scary and amazing!
  There I was, heart heavy burdened and mind in a chaotic state of unrest, attempting to let God speak to me through His Word and my daily lesson from BSF. (Yep, I'm doing that again. Praise God, hallelujah!)  There were/are several matters of weighty importance tumbling around in my head, but the crux of the issue, I have deduced, is that I want my life to not be wasted. I want to live a life that is truly pleasing and glorifying to God. Not a life I think I could maybe be proud of, but a life that will get me a hearty "well done, my good and faithful servant" from God when I meet Him face to face. I want God to be proud of me.
   In the midst of this, though I am doing a study on Genesis, I am sent by my notes to read Psalm 90. All of that specific psalm is a terrific read, per usual, but I was shaken and awestruck by the passage I read in verses 12, 15-16, and 17. Don't worry, I'll quote them for you:

*ahem*

 12 "Teach us to number our days aright,

   That we may gain a heart of wisdom.

 15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,

     for as many years as we have seen trouble.

 16 May Your deeds be shown to your servants,

      Your splendor to their children.

 17 May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us;

      establish the work of out hands for us-

      yes, establish the works of our hands."

I turned that Psalm into a prayer as I wrapped up my Bible study. 

  Lord, Teach me to number my days. Help me to realize the brevity of this earthly life and to live out every day in accordance to Your will for my life. May the actions I take and the things I do be Your Holy Spirit acting and doing through me. Yes, Lord, let Your favor rest upon me, and establish the works of my hands for me. Show me what You would have me do with this life You have given me and help me to do it as best as I can. Thank You, Lord, for giving me Your Word. It is very helpful. 

    Amen.

I would like to dedicate this post to my Grandma. Thank you for inspiring me to live a Godly life. I really am going to miss you, but not for ever. Thank you for being a great grandma. I love you a whole stinking bunch.

When Life gets serious

I don't know how to respond to truly serious moments. When something cataclysmic and life-affecting and horribly real happens, my immediate response, more often than not, involves a lot of awkwardly looking to the left or right (or floor or ceiling, anywhere but the source of my discomfort), and shifting and fiddling with my hands or hair or anything that I can use to divert attention from the situation at hand. That's me: the uncomfortable clod that can't handle serious business. But, to my immense relief, that's only what happens when I am confronted suddenly, unprepared, or out of the blue with these hard life issues. When given a considerable heads-up about a forthcoming difficult time, I have a different approach: ignore it.
  This tactic is a lame one, as it inevitably leads to the kind of painfully uncomfortable confrontation with life's unstoppable change that I described in my introductory paragraph. I've tried my best to change my hard-issue approach, but since past efforts have not helped much, all I can do is pray for God to put the words in my mouth and make me move the way He wants me to when the time comes. As for now, I initiate plan B: change of topic.
 
  Noah has become a very skilled runner. Down our hallway, at least. He's honing his ninja-skills impressively fast. Now, before I can intercept him halfway down the hallway, he can be out of his room and into ours before I have the chance to kick off the covers. When I handle this situation, the end result is always Noah getting put back in bed. When I, in heavy exhaustion, beseech Stephan to intercede for me, this is the usual result:

   At least Noah favors Stephan's side of the bed. Mommy and Noah get to stretch out while Daddy's sleeping on the end table. It's pretty nice, but will not become habit, this I promise you.
  Also, today I sifted through Noah's old hand-me-downs again in search of one specific shirt and I ended up finding quite a few more outfits that will suit Witten handily in the oncoming months. And, just for kicks and giggles (and in hopeful anticipation of colder weather), I tried on Noah's old/Witten's new 12 month winter coats.

SNUGGLLLLEEEESSSSS!!!!

What 'chu looking at, ese?

 Dear Lord, You have been faithful and true to us. We are overcome with blessings and joys, though we do not deserve any. It is with this in mind, a humble heart, and great hope that I selfishly ask for cold weather to hurry up. Thank You for Your time. Amen.

Be blessed readers!

Perfect timing.

The other day, out of boredom, I dressed the boys in matching outfits and ran them outside for an impromptu photo shoot, just me and the boys in our front yard with my little, old camera. I did this partly because I have been wanting to do a family photo shoot for a long time now (as in since I was pregnant with Witten), but mostly because most people that actually take the time to view the framed pictures I have on display in my house like to point out the fact that you wouldn't be able to tell that Stephan and I have two kids by looking at our pictures. (Not true! I had three pictures with Witten in them framed and placed in plain sight prior to this photography session. I can't help it that newborn Witten and newborn Noah look ridiculously alike.)
   Anyways, after maybe 20 minutes of trying my best to get Noah and Witten to look at me and smile at the same time, I managed to capture a few precious moments on camera. Observe:

 I quickly had these pictures printed and framed. Take that, people who look at pictures in my house!

And readers, it's a darn good thing I took those picture when I did. The next day, Noah dove head-first into the edge of our bathroom door and gave himself a fat lip or two. Then today, he ran into Witten's room, tripped over Beer the Bear's big fat feet, and crashed into Witten's crib. Poor kid looks like this:

heartbreaking

 Notice the bruised goose egg that sprang up immediately after the collision occurred; the shiny eyes, still damp from crying; the courageous smile, despite the pain... awe, now I wanna go hug him again!

  In other news, Witten can army crawl like a champ. This mode of transportation gets him from point A to point B, albeit very slowly. And as I am having tremendous difficulty typing today, I'm going to sign off before I punch this keybopard. KEYBOARD! GAAAAAAAAAH!

see a penny, pick it up

This is what happens when most of your best friends are girls.

We have our Stephan back! I have my studly many back. The boys have their awesome daddy back. Wins all around! And what does a man who just cut back his work week from 80 hours to a far more reasonable number of hours do?

He sleeps on my laundry.

 Stephan has been making up for a lot of lost hours of sleep. Since this whole adventure in restaurant owning first began, way back when Stephan came home and told me about the run down old doughnut shop that he found that could quite possibly be the future home of his dream, Stephan has been working his tail off. First, the planning (if constantly thinking doesn't keep you up, then you aren't doing it right), then the renovating, then the preparing, then the opening, then the maintaining, all the while promoting and stressing. I'm surprised Stephan hasn't wasted away to a shaky husk of his former manly self. 

 While their father naps nestled in a nest of newly cleaned clothes, the boys were doing this:

It was a good day.

  

work, work, all day long

Today, I tasked myself with a special assignment.
You see, Witten is very slowly out-growing his current 6 month wardrobe. He's easily fitting into 9 month clothes and, no doubt, will soon be in 9-12 month outfits. It's no big thing because Witten has an older brother whose Bebe drowned in adorable clothes, therefore leaving a plethora of hand-me-downs for Little Bit. The pickle of the matter is the seasonal difference. When Noah was in 9-12 month clothes, it was colder outside. According to the calender, it should be getting colder outside, as fall is approaching.

*HA*

  Texas is all like, "what? Cold? Never heard of it!" And the forecast calls for temperatures in the upper 90's for the next few weeks.  Therefore, Noah's adorable little sweaters and jeans and long sleeved onsies are no good for now. But it's okay. Witten can hang out in his 9-month clothes for a bit longer. 

 And because I've been horrible at journaling Witten's new developments, I need to take a moment to list a few things that that little cutie has been doing lately that is new.

  As of almost 8 months, Witten

 -Has 8 teeth. (I fear mealtime. At any moment, that little imp might chomp down...*shudder*)

 -Is still attempting to learn to crawl, but taking his time with it. He doesn't seem to be one to hurry into anything. Except eating.

      which reminds me,

 -Eats like a champ! He'll down 1 or 2 large jars of food per meal and then gorge himself on snacks. I have to feed him his puffs one at a time or he'd stuff handful after handful into his mouth until he gags. In fact, I like to play this humorous, if not a bit cruel, game with Witten where I hold one puff up for him to see, wait for him to get so excited he starts bouncing in his seat, then I drop it onto his tray and watch him snatch it up and shove it into his mouth like a starving dog would eat a tiny bit of table scraps. I laugh just thinking about it.

      And laslty:

 -Melts my heart with his exuberant smiles. He makes a silly "stink face", as we call it, in which he wrinkles his nose and squints his eyes while exposing all of his teeth in a big smile. It. Is. adorable! Noah did something similar, but didn't open his mouth near as wide. He just kinda snorted.

Speaking of Noah, I think (*knock on wood*) that he may possibly, maybe have this whole potty training thing down. Well, he's catching on pretty well. The only stumbling stone that plagues us is the stinkies. He is having a hard time putting stinkies in the potty. He'll tell me immediately after he soils himself that he wants to go poo-poo on the potty, so we're making progress. I hope.         

   Stephan has shortened his hours at The Stand, meaning that I get my husband back from his "2nd marriage". WOOOHOOOO! To celebrate, we ate cheeseburger sausages. It was good. 

  

Be blessed, dear readers!