So You Want Another Dog, Huh?

One day I was just sitting around – you know, with my 3 kids, a dog, house full of laundry and hectic schedule – and thought to myself, we need another puppy. Yeah, that would be a great idea! We have time. Who needs a clean house anyway? And I love chewed up shoes and scooping poop. It will be great for the kids to learn responsibility and help feed and walk the dogs. Yeah, great idea Taylor. One of your best, I have to say.

Well that isn’t EXACTLY how this all started.

It actually started about two years ago when Bryson started begging for a big dog. He met my aunt and uncle’s dog Tilly and wanted one just like him. He wanted a puppy to sleep in his bed and play fetch, and he promised he would help us take care of him. Jamey, of course, was all on board, but it took a while to convince me. I wanted to wait as long as possible. First of all, dog hair makes me cringe and I didn’t want it all over my house. Plus, I wasn’t sure about the baby with a bigger dog around, and I if I’m being completely honest, I just didn’t want another dog. Our sweet, quiet, non-shedding yorkie was enough for me!

But Jamey has this way of asking for things over and over and over (and over) and I finally I just cave and tell him to go buy it. It is how he’s gotten most of his boy toys, like a big tv, a grill, his umpteenth pair of tennis shoes – I mean the list could go on forever. But I feel like two years was a pretty good length of time for me before I gave in, and once I told him I would think about it, he spent hours searching for the perfect puppy for us. He would send me pictures, I would ignore them. It was a great plan and I got about six more months out of the stall!

And then it happened. One of the pictures pulled at my heart a little more than the others. His name was Prince and he was a hound dog mix, and he had the sweetest face ever. So I caved. (I am such a sucker.) Bryson and Jamey went to the shelter, and after deciding he was the perfect fit for us, they came home with the cutest little puppy!

That was the day our “simple” little life got a little more chaotic. Prince came in our home and instantly stole our hearts. He soon got a new name, Buster, so he could fit in with the rest of the “B” kids. He and our little dog, Bentley, became instant friends and he was the most easy-going dog I have ever seen. Even though he wasn’t a big dog, Buster was everything Bryson had ever wanted. He plays fetch, he sleeps in his bed, he follows Bryson wherever he goes, and he waits by the door for him to get home from school. It is a bond I have loved to watch grow.

So now this sweet little guy isn’t so little anymore, and can destroy a backyard in a matter of minutes. He is a lover of digging, chewing, howling, and stuffed animals. He can reach the counter so we learned not to leave any food out. He is currently shedding his winter coat for summer, so I had to buy a new vacuum to get the dog hair under control. He spends most of his time inside on the top cushion of my favorite chair (now covered in a blanket.) and Jamey and Bryson are down about three shoes each. One day they’ll learn not to leave them out. And rainy days? Don’t get me started. The mud, the wet paws, the wet dog smell, oh my gosh!!!! I can’t even.

But as crazy as Buster has made my life, he has truly been one of the best ideas Jamey and Bryson have had. I hate sweeping, mopping and vacuuming, but I can’t remember what it was like around here without his energy, and he gives the best kisses, which makes it all worth it. He lets Brynlee annoy him to no end. He lets her poke his eyes, pull his ears and drag him all around the house. He lets Brystol read stories to him, jumps on the trampoline with Bryson, and he has the cutest howling bark I have ever heard (I’m sure our neighbors would disagree.) 

I think it’s safe to say, Buster has completed our family. There will be no more additions of any kind. I don’t think I can be in charge of feeding or cleaning up after anyone else!! It is only noon and I have already swept twice today. They’re all lucky they’re cute!

Okay so I’m Not Qualified to be a Room Mom

Room Mom. It is a title that is taken very seriously around these parts. It’s a title that I learned very early on in parenthood I could not do justice. In fact, it gives me anxiety to even type that phrase so many times.

It all started when Bryson was 3. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was close to Thanksgiving Day and his first party at his new daycare. There was a signup sheet on the door for things like cookies, plates, chips, etc. Plates and napkins are always my go to, but those were already taken, so I hesitantly wrote my name next to sugar cookies. I went to Target on the way to school that morning (I’m not one to plan ahead on those things.) and grab the cutest brown and orange cookies I could find. (Who am I kidding? I bought the first ones I saw on the end cap at the aisle. I had two toddlers and I was in a hurry.)

As I walk my sweet 3 year old to class, I proudly display the cookies in the store-bought container. We walk in to see another mom unloading her stuff. Then she pulls it out, a huge box from the local bakery. What is inside you ask? BIG HUGE BEAUTIFUL TURKEY COOKIES. They were 3D and they looked like an actual turkey. She proudly exclaimed, “I didn’t sign up for cookies but couldn’t pass up having these made! Aren’t they great?” Well of course they were great - duh. I quietly set my puny store-bought cookies on the counter and made a quick exit.

It was that moment as I quietly walked myself down the hall hoping no one would notice me that I came to the harsh realization – I would never be that mom.

So as a mom of kids who are now in PreK and Kindergarten, the opportunity to be room mom has presented itself more than once. I am always that mom who says, “I will help with anything but I don’t think I should be in charge.” In this world of Pinterest, there’s a lot of pressure to be “adorable.” The crafts. The decorations. The perfectly themed food. It is too much. I can’t even take it. So I always kindly decline the role and just show up to help the perfectly crafty and well-put-together room mom on party day with whatever mindless job she can give me. My method has worked great so far. I made it through Bryson being in PreK and most of kindergarten and have gotten Brystol through more than halfway through PreK.

Until now.

Brystol’s teacher informed me that the room mom would be on vacation during her “I Love Jesus” party and asked if I would be in charge. I kindly accepted with a smile that I hope was totally covering up my fear – fear of letting down these precious 4-year-olds. The room mom was in charge of decorations and crafts. I’m sure most of you are thinking, okay no big deal. Well it was. I am a disaster when it comes to things like this. Seriously.

So I procrastinate, trying to pretend it isn’t actually going to happen. But it was. The day before the party I load up the girls and we head to Hobby Lobby. We get the only premade centerpieces I could find. They were awful, but I of course had waited so long it was my only option. I did buy some confetti. Confetti makes everything better, right? Then we head to Target, I have this great idea to make “robots” made out of juice boxes and such. I mean I saw it on Pinterest under Easy Kids Valentine Ideas. So we buy everything and head home.

After about six major glue gun burns I have finally made these robots. They were adorable. Pudding heads, juice box bodies, arms made from Smarties, and chocolate feet. Brystol was so excited that she and I created such amazing things! (Clearly she isn’t used to her mom busting out the crafts!) I carefully load up these six robots into a box, along with the Valentine craft that one of my girlfriends gave me, and my pitiful decorations.

We pull up at school and I notice the robots were falling apart. Literally everything was coming apart. No feet, and only half of them had heads. It was a disaster. Brystol burst into tears as I told her what happened. So here I am now with three red table clothes, three red table decorations, and some confetti. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I should’ve told her Brystol was going to be sick. But I sucked it up and we went into class.

I set everything up. We played a game, ate, and did the craft, and within the first few minutes of the party my anxiety was gone. There was nothing I could do now; it was as good as it was going to be. And the kids didn’t even notice the other classrooms were decorated way cooler than theirs. They had a blast with their friends, giving each other their Valentines and playing sweetheart bingo. Brystol and I took lots of pictures and she loved every minute of it.

I learned a lot this week. I learned that I am way too OCD to let kids do crafts. I learned I am a serious over thinker when it comes to things like Valentine’s parties. I learned I despise glue guns. And I learned that I am not room mom material, and I am okay with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my children and all the sweet parties and the cute crafts they bring home. I will cherish all of these moments from their childhood. I will take lots of pictures and have lots of laughs with them. But don’t expect to see Taylor Williams on the signup sheet for room mom any time soon. 

One Year Later

I don’t know about you but these Facebook memories that pop up every day are such a sweet reminder of how fast life goes. How quickly the kids grow, how cute they used to be (well I mean they’re still just as cute, of course), and how much things have changed.

But today was different. The first Facebook memory that popped up was my very first blog entry one year ago. And in one year I have only written three times. I realize I can’t actually call myself a blogger if I only write once every few months. So from this day on, I am challenging myself to write more – a lot more. I am not sure how well that will work since I feel like our days are just chaos, but I am going to give it a shot!

A lot has changed in a year for our family. Bryson started kindergarten, Brystol started PreK, we moved, we got a puppy, and sweet baby Bryn isn’t a baby anymore.

First of all, no one can prepare you for sending your little child to Kindergarten. I didn’t think something so normal would make me so emotional. The school looked huge and my sweet little five-year-old was so tiny compared to those big hallways.

The first few weeks he was an angel. It makes you feel like such a good parent when your child is so good at school. Like pat myself on the back, I have this mom thing down! Then the first couple weeks of school pass and he gets comfortable, he makes friends, and he starts pushing the limits! Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t always bad, but we have had our share of walking laps at recess, red points, and even a LONELY lunch!! And scissors??? Little crazy boys should NOT be allowed to use scissors. In the past two weeks we are down four shirts and three pairs of pants from “accidentally cutting himself.” I mean come on!!!! But hey, he’s surviving, and we have met so many wonderful new friends through him starting school, plus I couldn’t have asked for him to have a better teacher!

And my sweet Brystol was made for school. She gets irritated that I have to walk her in to class. Mind you, she’s four, and in PreK. We HAVE to walk her in – it’s the rule! She has yet to have a bad day, has yet to complain about waking up to get ready, and hasn’t once complained about the dreaded “learning” Bryson warned her about. She spends 15 minutes every day before school trying to pick out the perfect outfit. Her new favorites are blacks and whites, because that is what “teenagers” are wearing these days. She has no idea what she is actually talking about, but this momma is just so proud of her love of fashion!!

Brynlee is a year and a half now. And poor Bryn, when you are the youngest you just get dragged around from soccer to dance to the car line. She never knows what her day is going to be like but for the most part she always goes with the flow.

But make no mistake, as easy going as she is, that girl is crazy. I’m talking standing on the table, throwing food, yelling, pulling the dogs ears kind of crazy. We are constantly chasing after her to try and save ourselves from the next disaster she’s about to cause. The other day I walked into Brystol’s room to find Bryn covered in permanent marker from head to toe. We have often found her throwing the oranges she claims are balls and getting into her sisters nail polish. She is at that dreaded age where she won’t sit in a stroller or a high chair. And let’s be honest, Jamey and I are too exhausted to fight her.

So she often gets her way. And we often find ourselves telling the big kids, “just give it to her so she’ll hush.” I know what you are thinking; you guys are going to regret that. Trust me, we do already. But she is so darn cute, we can’t help it. When the other two were her age I worked, so they stayed with my grandparents most days and went to daycare part time. And if I am being honest, I am pretty sure my grandparents had these toddler years way more in control that I do now. And if there was chaos like I experience on a daily basis, they didn’t tell me about it!

I always feel like when I walk in public people are just staring at the five of us. Like whoa, what a disaster. The kids are always so loud (I swear they don’t have an inside voice), my hair is always in a ponytail, my six-year-old dressed himself, and the baby is just in a world of her own wreaking havoc, and I am just hoping no one notices – that maybe they are too far into their own state of insanity to even see us.

And I am praying my kids don’t notice that I am almost always on the brink of my own giant fit. If one more child cries over the color of juice box they get, I may lose it. Yes, I give my kids juice boxes. So sue me. I am praying that they won’t remember the time mom yelled at them over something crazy, I am praying they don’t remember the day I let them watch the iPad for three hours straight so I could get some things done. I am praying that they always remember how much we love them, how much we did just for them. How every night we sit down to dinner, pray and have great silly conversations. I pray that those are things they remember.

I guess that is all for today. It took me 30 minutes to write this. In those few minutes, the puppy ate a colored pencil, Brystol ate at least five snacks (which she knows she is not supposed to do), and I can only hear Bryn but can’t actually see her! Wish me luck J

Do I Have to Be a Grownup?

I am almost 30. Yikes, the thought of that still kind of gets me sad. But that’s okay; I’m working through it, trying to convince myself “the best is yet to come!”

But technically in all aspects of life I am considered an adult. I am married. I have kids. I own a home. I pay my own bills. I am an adult. And sometimes I really feel like I’ve got it all figured out. I feel like I can do this thing called life. I sometimes get a little big headed about it too, like yah world, you should be jealous, I have got this in the bag!

That is until reality knocks you back down. Quick.

Today I woke up with a sore throat. Immediately I call Jamey and cry (I always cry, so this isn’t abnormal for him to answer the phone to a crying wife.) I tell him I think I might be dying. When in reality, it is just a sinus headache and probably some drainage causing my throat to hurt a little – just not how I wanted to start my day.

But somehow I managed to peel myself out of my own misery and continue on with the insane life I lead. At some point this afternoon, as Brystol and I sat down at her dance class, my dear friend pointed out the smear of baby food I had on my jeans. I knew it was there; was just hoping no one would notice. But she definitely did.

When we got home from dance, we pulled up to a street full of our neighborhood friends out playing, so we immediately joined the fun. Well the kids had fun. I am constantly reminding them to not run into the street, to remember to share, and to not throw things over the fence. But they have fun, and as a bonus they burn some much needed energy before dinner. Eventually we as moms decide to all tell the kids together we have to go in for dinner. It makes it easier when it’s a group decision!

 

 

As for dinner, I am no chef, but I can follow a recipe. So as I am trying to quickly throw dinner together the doorbell rings. I rush to the door to find our sweet neighbors with a plate full of brownies! I love chocolate – it’s the way to my heart. So as I am trying to be as gracious as I can be, Bryn is screaming in her high chair because she ran out of puffs, and Bryson is screaming “help” from the backyard. I try to continue on like I can’t hear the chaos behind me. Then the dogs get out. Not just my dog, but our friend’s dog that we are watching, also. I will not be responsible for losing someone else’s dog. No way.

My neighbor saw the panic on my face and asked if I needed to go. I scooped up the baby, grabbed Bryson off of the top of the playhouse where he was stuck (you would think he would learn by now that he can’t get down from there,) and told the kids I needed help to get the dogs. We all start running down the street – me in my house shoes with a baby on my hip, Bryson shirtless, and Brystol barefoot. We were quite a show. It was a neighborhood effort but we eventually got the dogs back safe and sound. The neighbor quickly excused himself and we went on with making dinner.

I feel like once we sit down for dinner my marathon of a day is almost over. Dinnertime is my favorite. The kids can set the table, get their own milk, and say the prayers by themselves. We talk about our favorite part of our day, and our least favorite part. We share lots of laughter around our little kitchen table. I hope the stories we share at the dinner table are the memories the kids have of their childhood; not all the chaos of the day that leads up to dinner.


I am still working on this adult thing. Maybe one day I will get it, but for now, I spend most of my day feeling like a child trying to raise children. Maybe one day I will get to wear clean clothes and make gourmet dinners, but that time is definitely not right now.
  

Twenty-Nine Never Felt So Good!

29. I remember what I thought my life would be like when I was “this old!” I was young but I thought I had it figured out! I was in my first year of college, ready to take on the world. I wanted to be a fashion designer. Or a writer. I wasn’t sure which one. Maybe even a combination of the two. I thought once I graduated college I would move myself to New York and pursue my dreams. I remember wanting to live in a fancy little apartment with a cute dog and tons of fabulous clothes. It seemed so simple. That was until I realized that was my plan, but God had a completely different one ready for me.

Before I went off to school, when I was just 18, I met Jamey. When I left for Lubbock he and I were still dating but I had no idea it would turn into something so serious. It didn’t take long for both of us to realize this was something real. Something really real. I only spent a year in Lubbock before I headed back home to continue my college classes. I spent most of my time between work and studying and trying to convince Jamey how amazing I was. It wasn’t long after that we were engaged (can you blame him, ha!) and at just 20 we were married.

Here we were - two 20-year- old kids who thought we had the world figured out. I continued school and work and he worked two jobs to make ends meet. Times were hard, but we never gave up on each other. About a year later we found out we were expecting our first baby. I was so scared, and Jamey, he was just down right terrified! Brody was born when I was barely 22 years old and it was truly love at first sight. I couldn’t believe how perfect he was. My life was complete. And I knew at that very moment God had such a better plan for me. I was supposed to be Brody’s mom. He will always be the true light of my life. Seeing Jamey as a dad brought out a whole new side of him and I fell in love with him even more.

Ten months later when Brody died my life was torn upside down. I was supposed to be a mom; I was supposed to be his mom. The pain I felt at that time of my life was like something I can’t explain. I remember spending days upon days just curled up in a ball. I wasn’t sure I would ever be a functioning human again. But again, Jamey and I never gave up on each other. He was my rock. And I feel like we grew closer than ever during that time. Our family and friends showed us such an outpouring of support and love, and slowly the days got a little easier. They’ll never be easy, but they get a little better each day.

A year later we were pregnant again with Bryson, and just a year after that with Brystol. Jamey still worked two jobs and I was a young working mom of two babies. Life was far from glamourous. In fact, life was insane. I don’t think I slept for 3 years! Who am I kidding? I still don’t sleep. (One day – maybe!) Days were long and nights were longer. But we were so happy. Always. And we always had each other. And we always had our family. The saying “it takes a village” couldn’t be more fitting!

And now we are an even bigger family with Brynlee as the final puzzle piece to our crazy life. We just moved into our little dream home and Jamey no longer has to work two jobs to make ends meet. It feels good. It feels just right. We are a busy family of lots of little ones. Days are filled with cleaning up after kids, sports, dance, and lots of love. Of course I still love fashion. I love clothes, and I love to write. And while I may not get to live in New York, I think Texas is just about perfect for a girl like me. I will count this little blog of mine as my writing. And I will count doing an obscene amount of laundry in my really cute clothes as close to the fashion world as I will get. And that’s okay with me.

 

29 is going to be great. I can feel it!

Snowfall!

So today as I sit here watching the snowfall, I can’t help but remember how fun snow days were when I was little. I remember hoping for snow, or ice rather, so that I could miss school. As a child, and even as a teen, I wasn’t worried about roads or safety; I just wanted to have a day off school! I have always been more of an indoor girl, so I never have had a desire to play in the snow. I just wanted school to get dismissed so I could be with my friends. I would much rather watch out the window. It is so warm and cozy. Maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate and your favorite TV show!

But then you have kids and snow days are so different. I actually dread them. I don’t think it’s pretty, I don’t think it’s fun, I just want it GONE! I know it sounds horrible, and even as I type I feel a little bad letting my true feelings out. But if I am being honest, I am not a great driver when the roads are normal. So then you add ice and snow and I’m a disaster. I am sure Jamey, although he would never say it, cringes at the thought of me driving our kids around on slick roads. I am that girl who does all the wrong things when I hit patches of ice. You would think as a daughter of a car guy I would be a little better than that, but I am most definitely not. (I bet my parents just learned something they didn’t want to know about me with that confession. Lol.)

And remember how I mentioned I am more of an indoor girl? Being the daughter of a self-proclaimed “beach bum,” you would think that would also not be the case. I could spend every day, all day, without even setting foot outdoors. But I have kids so that is never an option. We are outside in the hot sun, we are outside in the rain, we are outside in the cold, and they don’t seem to care. They just want to be outside. 

Funny how that worked out. But all Bryson and Brystol can seem to think about is when their next few hours playing outside will be. So this week has been averaging about 30 degrees and we have been out. A lot. I have tried my best to bundle them up as best as I can, but I feel like there aren’t ever enough clothes to keep them warm enough out there.

We are in the process of moving, yes moving, again. (That will be another blog post someday.) But we have been in between houses for a couple of weeks and are staying with my mom and stepdad. Poor them, I know. But it was 75 degrees when we packed to stay with them for two weeks. So, as you can imagine, I didn’t think about gloves, hats, warm jackets. Those are in storage. And I don’t mean where I can get to them. Oh no, they are in a random unlabeled box thrown about in one of the two storage units we have. There is no finding them. On Sunday I decided to try Walmart and Target to find an inexpensive jacket for each of them. But we live in Texas. There are swimsuits out, not a jacket in sight!

So for about a week I have been sending them outside with three sweat jackets on each. Brystol has been wearing my mom’s gloves and hat. And somehow Bryson found his gloves and hat in my car. Yes, my car. I know, how do you not know something like that is in there? Well I have the messiest child on the planet who feels like the 3^rd row of our car is his own personal campsite. I don’t even go back there. I don’t even want to know what is back there. I’m just waiting for one of neighbors to come out and explain to me how my small children shouldn’t be outside without proper clothing. But let’s face it, the kids don’t even feel it. I asked them Monday if they were cold and they both said no. Bryson gets annoyed when I just mention putting on a jacket. Yesterday he refused his gloves and within minutes his hands were so red, but he still insisted he didn’t need gloves. Later when it was time to come in, he was very irritated that as his mom I didn’t “make him” put them on. That child – darned if I do, darned if I don’t. One day I will learn how to properly parent him, but at this point, it’s a crap shoot!

This “beautiful” snow is also hindering our move this weekend. We have been at that super stressful part of buying a house where the lender and mortgage company have asked for every document we could ever have. Every statement, every letter, and every dollar we can come up with. It has been very exhausting, especially being a mom of three little ones who don’t exactly leave me much time to sit at a computer. But today, Friday, is finally the day we are set to close. The U-Haul is ready, our wonderful friends are ready, cable and internet are being turned on, and electricity has already been turned on. Then it snows. Not “kind of” snows. Like really snows. Like schools being let out early, appointments cancelling, jobs closing early kind of snow. ON THE WEEKEND WE ARE MOVING.

I don’t know about your husbands, but mine is one of the most stubborn men I know. (In a good way, babe, I promise.) And he was insistent that it would be fine. That was until the cable people called to cancel and U-Haul isn’t renting trucks in this weather. Not much a stubborn guy can argue with there. So on what was supposed to be such an exciting day for us, as we are all so anxious to get into our new beautiful home, instead we are watching the snowfall from Nana and Pappaw’s house. Thankfully, they have opened their home to us and have been so wonderfully accommodating to our not so little, or quiet, family. So as we put off moving for another day or two, I can’t help but dislike this weather even more. And I am sure, though they would never say it, they are ready to have their quiet home back to themselves! 

But all our kids see is beautiful white fluffy snow. They see God’s wonderful creation with such a childlike innocence. So for today, and maybe again tomorrow, I am going to suck it up. I am going to bundle up my littles as best I can and watch them enjoy the snow. They will never know how much mommy hates it outside. They will never know I was envisioning this wonderful first weekend in our new home. Because that is what we as parents are supposed to do, protect their innocence. And can’t we all learn a little something from our children? 

Mother of 4

I am new to this blogging thing and I actually have no idea what I am doing, so bear with me. But I do love to write. It is my passion, it brings me joy and serves as such a release for me. But as a mom, a mom of young kids there is no time to write. And when I say I have no time, I mean it. There is no exaggerating the amount of chaos that occurs in my day. Yesterday I was on my 6^th load of laundry and I just started to cry. For no reason. Or maybe there was a reason, but I didn't have time to actually figure it out because my main role at home is a referee.

So my plan for this blog is to write as often as I can. Which may be daily, may have to be weekly, and it may never happen after this one blog. But I am going to try. Because I am already feeling my stress level decrease.

Let me start with the basics. I have 3 kids at home, but I am a mom of 4. That’s a hard topic for me to explain. My sweet Brody was 10 months old when he tragically died in a choking accident. He was my first born. He was the sweetest soul, he truly brought joy to everyone he met. Especially to his mom and dad. We were a family, a very happy family. The day Brody died was the absolute worst day of my life. A day that 6 years later I can remember every single detail of. But it is not the day I try to remember in my head, it is the 10 months of pure joy he brought to me. He made me a mom, he showed me how true love really was. And he showed me how much I truly loved his dad. And I will always be a mom of 4. Not 3.

Bryson just turned 5. What a monumental birthday for him. He was so excited to show us how fast he is now that he is 5. How tall he is now that he is 5. How good his ninja skills are now that he is 5. He is the most rambunctious child I have ever met. He requires my constant attention. It is like a mad house when he is around. There is never a moment where he is still. He eats like a grown man. Insists on wrestling constantly. He has mad fit throwing skills, I have never seen anything like it. He loves his dad more than life, they are two peas in a pod. But amidst all that chaos, he has such a tender heart. He is so sensitive, and so loving. And did I mention that he is really funny?  He is the definition of a boy and gives me a run for my money every day.

Brystol is 3, but will turn 4 next month. And whew, these little toddlers should come with a warning label. She thinks she is 16. She told me the other day, “all I hear coming out of your mouth is blah blah blah!” Brystol is beautiful. Brystol is dramatic, she is sassy, and she is the girliest girl I have ever met. She can fit into any crowd, always so easy going (in public). She loves dance. And when I say loves dance, I mean she wakes up every day asking if it is “dance day!” Brystol is the best big sister, always helping with the baby. And she literally lets Bryson antagonize her all day, every day. And she just goes with it! She has no idea how easy she makes my life, and for that and so many more reasons, we adore her.

Brynlee is 6 months old. Aww my baby. It is so different when you know that it’s your last baby. Every stage she goes through makes me so much more emotional than the last. When she first smiled, cooed, laughed. And now she is sitting up all by herself, and eating baby food! It is all happening so fast!! Bryn is what I call her. The kids call her “Brynny!” She has a smile that will light up a room. She is constantly entertained by her crazy brother and sister. And man, does she love her momma! Everything Bryn does reminds me of Brody. She has all of his mannerisms and his sweet soul. It is funny how God works that out. Right when we needed it most.

So those are the reasons in a nutshell I spend most of my days so exhausted to even think straight. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love staying at home with the kids. It isn’t something that I have always had the opportunity to do. I have always worked up until I had Bryn. So this stay at home thing is new to me. I am still learning all the tricks to keeping my sanity. And still learning all the inexpensive play dates around town!

I feel like sometimes when Jamey gets home I am literally throwing kids at him. But I haven’t ever heard him complain about it. Ever. He is truly the hardest working man I know. He sometimes comes home to all 4 of us in our pajamas. And I don’t mean new clean pajamas because we are ready for bed, I mean the night before’s pajamas. And he sometimes has to bring take out home with him. Because although I have been home all day, dinner hadn’t even crossed my mind. But again, he never complains. I am not sure how I ended up with someone who adores us like he does, but even at our worst, he still does.

I feel like I could write forever, I forgot how much I love it! But I guess I should wrap it up, in 3 hours Bryn is going to wake up ready to eat and in 7 hours I am going to have to get our family of 5 dressed and ready to go to church - where we can’t wear pajamas or skip the make-up, and I actually have to brush Brystol’s hair. So for now I shall sleep, or at least try!