Blessed Treehouse

Caesarean

2012-02-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

This was my third caesarean delivery. It's strange to walk into a hospital and experience such deja vu as I relive the same sights and sounds from my first two deliveries.

I don't know that my first choice would be to have major surgery in conjunction with the birth of a baby, but I am confident that this is God's plan for our family. And I am so so so thankful. Because at the end of the day, I was gifted with a beautiful and healthy baby. I never ever ever want to take that miraculous blessing for granted. My sweet Greta is worth every poke, incision and staple - a million times over.

I have daughters.

2012-02-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

On 1:18pm on Friday, February 10, we brought a second daughter into this world. Though I had no inkling whether it was a boy or a girl, I'm absolutely reveling in the idea that I have daughters. And with the birth of our baby girl on Friday, my daughters are SISTERS. I'm so so very thankful.

Welcome to the world, sweet and beautiful Greta Marie. You were 6 pounds, 14 ounces and 19 inches at birth, and I love every stinkin' speck of you.

Momma and baby are home and doing well. Thank you immensely for all of your love and prayers.

Gearin' up for baby

2012-02-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

Matt shot a few pics of us on Sunday as it is officially baby week! My c-section is scheduled for Friday, and we are eagerly awaiting his/her arrival.

I told Matt that we have to set up the tripod on Friday morning and shoot a few pics with him in them. He played a major role in the creation of this precious babe, after all.

Christmas Evening

2012-01-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

After a whirlwind of a day, we drove two hours south to spend Christmas evening with Matt's family. Following an incredible dinner with his amazing extended family, we cozied up at his parents' house for our final Christmas celebration. It was absolutely the most perfect ending to such a glorious day.

Matt and I continue to ask God, "why?" Why are we so blessed? We have two healthy children. Two incredible families. Not to mention a full pantry, a warm home, unlimited freedoms, delightful friends, a beautiful church, and so so so much more. There is no good answer to our questioning. But we continue to ask God to remind us that all of these gifts are from Him. To Him be the glory. To Him be the honor. To Him be the thanks. Forever and ever and ever.

Amen.

Christmas Day

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

Following our morning together as a family, we ventured a half mile up the road to my parents' house. I'm not quite sure what happens in this half mile, but from our house to my parents' house, Santa becomes extremely more generous. Who needs FAO Schwarz when you have Oma & Opa's house?

I wish I could say that the spoiling stopped there. But within hours of this fairytale we headed south to Matt's parents' house. I should add that my kids are the only grandkids, nieces and nephews on BOTH sides of our families. It shouldn't even be legal.

Christmas Morning

2012-01-23T06:00:00.001-05:00

I don't scrapbook. I think the last scrapbook I made was after my sister and I spent 10 days in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico at 18 and 21 years old. It's the kind of book that you never want to show your children because then you'll be forced to spew lies such as, "Tequila?! What's tequila? No, silly, that's gold water and that nice man is only helping mommy stay hydrated. The Mexicans use very small glasses. Very small." Come to think of it, we should probably bury the book. Or burn it.

Anyway, my point is that this blog is really meant to scrapbook my kids' lives so that one day there will be proof that their childhoods were actually happy, regardless of what they tell their therapists. And won't the media just love me when they discover the thousands of public pages of pictures and anecdotes about Henry when he runs for President? After all, my graduate school advisor once told me that with a name like Henry Hooper, my son would either be the President of the United States or a serial killer. I gave my son the name anyway. I'm a glass is half-full kind of gal.

All that to say, the next few posts might not excite you that much, unless you're the future President and his little sister's grandparent or aunt (speaking of names, if Henry Hooper is destined to be the President, what in the world might become of Harper Hooper? Oh dear heavens, I think I need some gold water.)

Phew. All better.

Oh right, back to the point. The next few posts will cover Christmas Day 2011. It was by far our most wonderful Christmas to date, and we continue to be crazy overwhelmed by our blessings. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Lord.

Christmas Day began at our house. Just a few gifts under the tree. A couple of items in the stockings. An abundance of life in the Gospel of Luke. And a family who couldn't be more full of joy and gratitude.

It was an absolutely blessed morning.

Happy Birthday to Oma!

2012-01-21T06:00:00.002-05:00

We love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck!

Almost Christmas

2012-01-18T06:00:00.002-05:00

A couple of our almost-Christmas traditions include:

Visiting the incredible train display at the main library. And across from the library is a life-size nativity display (not pictured). The nativity is one that my family visited when I was a kid. This is the second year that we took our kids to see the train display and the nativity. Both activities are free! Columbus is awesome like that.

My mom's Christmas Eve party (preceded by Christmas Eve service). This year she had 14 kids, 13 who were five and under. It was absolute mayhem, and I loved it (here's a look at 2010's party).

Thinking back, I believe the Christmas Eve party tradition started at our house three years ago, but the memory is fuzzy. I have a vague memory of my beautiful friend, Marla, and her family sitting around my living room after our church's Christmas Eve service. If you've been to our condo, you know why this tradition has moved to my mom's house. 14 kids in our condo might take down the entire complex. I only wish I had pictures of that party three years ago. Ugh, pregnancy brain, why do you hate me?!

Only slightly less terrifying than last year.

2012-01-16T06:00:00.002-05:00

What is it about us whacko parents and our insistence on taking our kids to sit on Santa's lap? Why is this bizarre tradition a must-do on our list every.stinkin'.year? And what makes it even crazier is that my son hates it! Someone needs to toss me onto a fat ol' dude's lap and let his wiry whiskers brush up against my sweet face. I deserve the torture.

Nonetheless, we are a family with strong traditional values, which means we don't miss this ridiculous tradition no matter the torment.

For the third year in a row, we met friends at a community fire station for a bit o' Christmas fun. And because we are really amazing parents, we let the kids sit with Santa first as to get the worst over with. Aren't we thoughtful?

Oh, and don't fret. This year was actually slightly less horrific than last year's experience. This year Harper actually warmed up to the ol' man (she didn't mind him so much in 2009, but something tells me she was a bit clueless). Henry was still frightened, but I think my minis are actually starting to find this kind of torture bearable. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Notice that Henry is the little guy cutout of most of the pictures because he refused to get on the truck. In one picture, you can even see that he is wiping his tears. I made him stand on that dang truck anyway. It's like he doesn't even care about making memories. Well, he cared, but not until Mr. C handed him some candy. What a scrooge.

After the torture chamber, the kids got to make crafts, eat cookies, watch a movie, and pick out stickers and temporary tattoos. It's good clean fun, and as you can see by these pictures, they have completely forgotten about the nightmarish Santa encounter.

Us gals thought we should get a picture of, well, us. There are six kids between us, and at the time that this picture was taken, there were two more on the way. My beautiful friend, Amy (far left), has since had her baby (Grace Elizabeth), and that means I'm next. Woot!!!

Not to be outdone, our men decided they needed a picture of, well, them. Too bad they got a bit carried away. This was supposed to be a good clean fun family affair. The photo shoot started to head south the minute Billy and Justin stood next to each other (see the two dudes with hair in the middle). Note to self: never let them stand next to each other in a photo shoot ever again.

Oh, oh! And this is Bobby (left) and Matt (my man). See, they really are two different people. They are often mistaken for the other (even by our families), and there are some folks who most definitely think they are the same person (which makes me wonder, do they think Mary Kate & I are polygamous? I've always wanted a sister wife.)

Here are the 6. From left to right: James, Henry, Kaitlyn, Harper, Gregory & Ethan. I know what you're thinking, they are perfect.

This picture makes it look like the three in the middle were bullying Gregory and kicked him out of the group, but that's really not the case. We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying (and drinking and smoking), thankyouverymuch.

But gee whiz, what are they laughing about? I have no earthly idea, but I really want in on it.

My only regret is that there is not a picture of us parents taking pictures of the kids. All 8 of us were paparazzied together snapping pictures and making Cheshire Cat smiley faces in an effort to get these kids to sit and look our direction. At one point I turned around and the entire room was staring at us. We've become those parents. And it's worth every ounce of humiliation.

Chalkboard Silver Platter - Only $1!!!

2012-01-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

I honestly don't remember where I first saw this idea. If I did, I would give credit to where credit is due. Bottom line, I can't take credit for it. I made these last year for Mother's Day, and they make fantastic gifts for just about anyone.

The materials: These silver platters are from the Dollar Tree (not real silver, of course). You will also need chalkboard paint, a paintbrush, and I added ribbon (for hanging) and a clothespin (to hold chalk).

I first wiped down the plates so that they were clean.

If I remember correctly (gosh, I did this forever ago), I applied two coats of chalkboard paint to the inside of the plate.

This is after only one coat of paint.

The second coat of paint is crucial. A third coat might help, but the thicker the paint, the more likely the paint will crack and chip when you write on it. Use your best judgment with this.

Before writing on them, cover the dry paint with chalk and erase. I did this a couple of times to soften up the chalkboard.

It was at this point that my husband drilled two tiny holes in the top of each plate so that I could loop ribbon into the holes.

And that was it! SUCH an easy (and cheap) craft.

It's hard to see in this picture, but I added a clothespin (with hot glue) to the back of each plate. The clothespin holds the chalk. I also added a small note to the back of the plate (that's what you see in red, again, it's hard to see clearly).

It wasn't long after Mother's Day that we found out we were having a baby, so I decorated my mom's plate accordingly. She has yet to erase that message.

Is chalkboard paint one of the greatest inventions or what?!

Best friends for over 30 years

2012-01-11T06:00:00.002-05:00

These certainly aren't the best quality photographs if you're concerned with clarity and exposure, but the quality of these pictures has nothing to do with the camera or the lighting or the photographer (that would be me. And yes, I know, I suck.)

These pictures are so so so special because they capture two boys who have been best buds since preschool and the four children between them.

Matt, and his best friend, Curt, first met in preschool and their friendship has lasted over 30 years. And as only God would have it, I have fallen deeply in love with Curt's family - his amazing wife, Jackie, and their beautiful daughters, Ava & Halle (Halle and Harper were born days apart).

Sadly the Kuntz's live over 2 hours away, and we do not get to see them anywhere near as much as I would like. They recently spent the weekend in Columbus and we met them at the zoo for zoo lights. It was freezing and stupid crowded, but the kids had a ball. And it was wonderful spending time with the four of them. I am so thankful for this family and the lifetime of friendships we all share.

Headdresses & Knit Vests

2012-01-09T06:00:00.001-05:00

Do you remember these politically incorrect Thanksgiving Day pictures?

Well this year we added a twist. My incredibly talented mom knit these adorable vests for the 5 kiddos and gifted them to the crew on Thanksgiving Day.

It's cuteness overload and I can hardly stand it.

Thanksgiving 2011

2012-01-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

As I attempt to get back into my bloggy groove (my goal is to be caught up by the time baby arrives on February 10th), I can't help but look back on years past. There are certain events and holidays where we always get a picture of the kids, ideally a picture of them sitting together and looking at the camera. It's a lofty goal, but we keep trying.

Thanksgiving is one of those days.

Oh how it aches my heart to look back and see how my minis have changed.

Thanksgiving 2008

Thanksgiving 2009

Thanksgiving 2010

Thanksgiving 2011:

Not only are they obviously growing up, but I find them looking more and more like siblings as they age. And as if it was even possible, they keep getting cuter, at least that's what I think. And it's my blog so my opinion is the only one that really matters.

Christmas card picture outtakes

2012-01-05T06:00:00.001-05:00

I used picnik to create this year's Christmas card. Nothing fancy - simple yet sweet.

Here are a few outtakes from our photo session:

We always try and take our Christmas pictures in October. It's the most picturesque month of the year, and Matt always does a great job of capturing the kids (and dog) with the beautiful fall backdrop.

OPA!

2012-01-03T06:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday, Opa!

We love love love you. And thank you for love-love-loving us!

It's 2012? I'm still blogging about Fall 2011, thankyouverymuch.

2012-01-02T06:00:00.000-05:00

WAY back in October we spent the day at Matt's parents house with some of our amigos. Shortly before the day was over, we managed to gather up the kiddos and snap a few pictures. In fact, our determination to capture this memory was to the detriment of the baby of the group. See sweet James, the adorable little man in the green sweatshirt? Notice how the series of pictures captures a gradual shift to his right? It was only a second after the last picture was shot that sweet James fell head first INTO THE GRAVEL! Poor buddy. And poor Ella. She later told us, in between tears, "he was getting so heavy."

Thankfully James was fine. It was the mommas involved who were most shaken up.

I cherish these pictures because the parents of these beautiful children are some of my dearest friends. I pray that we have many many more years of making memories with these precious families.

Because when you are a three year old boy, even taking a nap should be an adventure.

2011-12-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

And when you are that three year old boy's mother, you snap a couple of photos and then lower your sleeping son to ground level for fear he might wake up dazed and fall on his precious face.

The santa dilemma

2011-12-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

You better watch out. Santa Claus is coming to our house.

And I'm excited about that. The Santa buzz around here is building and I'm eager to find out what that jolly ol' dude has in store for my family.

But here's the dilemma. There's a truth about Santa that some of you might already know, and some folks think that Santa's truth is getting in the way of The Truth. The Truth that is living and breathing and blossoming in my heart. The Truth that means everything to me. And Lord willing, that Truth will mean everything to my precious children.

Recently I read a post here and a post here, and believe it or not, they both resonated beautifully with me. But how can I be moved by one author who doesn't celebrate Christmas with Santa and presents while agreeing with another author who not only celebrates Christmas with Santa Claus, but get this, she flat out believes in the ol' man?! How can I hide elves humorously around my home each night while praying intensely for my dear friend whose non-Santa practicing family is sacrificially spending their Christmas loving on a country and a people who so desperately need Jesus?

I don't know.

But I do.

And for what it's worth, here's where I've landed, at least for now:

1) I love a child's imagination. LOVE. My absolute most magical memories of childhood are my daydreams and make believes. When my childhood was lonely, I dreamed and imagined up a friend of my very own. Her name was Dorothy, and I still love her. My parents never fussed at me about Dorothy. They let her have a seat at our table and they brought her a water cup along with mine. And I thank them for that, for allowing me Dorothy.

I think this is where I find Santa in all this. It's an opportunity for me to engage in my children's imaginations. If only for a few years, it will be delightful to whip up silly stories and fanciful tales about elves and reindeer and chimneys. Some might call me a liar. I call me a dreamer.

2) If I do my job right, there will be no confusion about Jesus & Santa. If I preach THE TRUTH about Jesus all year round, then what's the difference in December? There is no difference. We still celebrate Jesus in December just as we do in February and August. His miraculous and holy birth. His eternal gift of life. His grace and mercy. Definitely His mercy. It was only this morning that I pulled into our driveway and asked my children for forgiveness and we sat there, the van in park, praying and praising because God is merciful when I'm impatient and snippy and wretched. It's the week of Christmas and I'm as broken as ever. Santa might be able to deliver happiness in a wind-up toy, but only Jesus can deliver pure, undeserved joy.

In my world, we can sit on Santa's lap on Wednesday and walk through the life size nativity on Saturday. We can write a letter to the North Pole and paint a picture of the blessed nativity.

It's not an either-or. And yet the two don't get equal playing time. Jesus will always be the King of this home.

For me and my household, we will serve the Lord.

Jesus will always be the reason. The reason we breathe. The reason we love. The reason we celebrate. Santa and his shiny bells are nothing more than a fantasy that we bring to life. Jesus, He is our life. He is our heartbeat and our breath. Fantasy ain't got nothin' on our faith - our daily bread.

In a few short days, my minis will wake from their sugar-plum-filled visions to stockings full of trinkets delivered magically by a sleigh. And we will thank Jesus. Thank Him for blessing us with a loving home, warm beds, a full fridge, and precious dreams.

And don't worry. We paid Santa a visit last week. And one thing's for sure. Jesus has never received this kind of reaction from my kids.

*These pictures are from last year's Santa visit. There was only slight improvement this year. I'll share more soon.

Grandma Hollywood and the minis

2011-12-06T06:00:00.002-05:00

During Grandma Hollywood's recent visit to oh-Alison-it's-too-cold-here Ohio, I spent a morning with her and my two minis. The nearly 90 years between them brought forth a range of encounters, some endearing, some frustrating, and some just plain hysterical.

For starters, my kids don't perceive age. They see Grandma Hollywood's thin coarse white hair and say, "Great Grams' hair is funny." Nor do they perceive the limitations that come with age. They expect her to scoop them up to her level, and bless her still beating heart, she tries. And it breaks mine to watch her disappointment when she realizes that her ability to lift a small child is forever in her past. My spunky and gregarious daughter is unaware that when she barrels into Grandma Hollywood's 90 year old legs, she risks knocking my grandmother to the floor, a fall from which Grandma literally might not recover.

And yet Grandma Hollywood lives as if the life-threatening fall would be worth it. When Miss Harper Lynn looked at her and said, "Chase me, Great Grams," Grandma Hollywood looked at me and said, "What did she say?" I responded, "She wants you to chase her." Grandma only grinned, and sure enough, she started her feeble chase, a snail's pace behind my hare of a daughter. And my 2 year old baby girl only knew one thing, she was being chased. The burst of squeals and giggles that ensued were as dramatic and effervescent as if the chase might actually result in a catch.

As I sat with my grandmother listening to her repeat the stories I had heard dozens of times before, I juggled my annoyance of her faulty memory with the constant needs of my kids, "I need to poop! I need to poop! I keep tooting and I need to poop!" No matter how high her hearing aids were turned up, Grandma Hollywood needed clarification on almost everything the kids said, "What is he talking about, Alison?"

Well, Grandma, do you really want to know?

Though I'd love for you to believe that each exchange between my grandmother and children results in pure joy and laughter, there is much harmony to be desired.

Typical of most three year old boys, my son sees pillows and immediately thinks fort. As he pulled the decorative pillows from the couch, Grandma Hollywood became intensely concerned. "Alison, do you see what he's doing?"

Me: "Yes, he's fine, Grandma."

Grandma Hollywood: "But he's pulled all of the pillows off of the couch."

Me: "I know Grandma; he's just playing."

Grandma Hollywood walked away in obvious disapproval of my son's creativity and my kids-these-days parenting. And typical of most three year old boys, it was a mere five minutes before Henry was distracted, leaving the pillow fort glaring at my grandmother. She wasted no time. I've never seen feeble bones move so fast. In record time, she had each of those pillows fluffed and positioned back on the couch ready for a magazine cover shoot, thankyouverymuch.

There wasn't much to say when my son ran back into the room and blurted, "What happened to my fort?!"

I took one look at my now-playing-dumb grandmother and turned back to my son, saying what every good granddaughter would say, "Go play."

As I sat across from my 90 year old grandmother, a woman whose grace has deteriorated while her opinions have intensified, I wonder if she remembers the days when her four children were small, imaginative bursts of energy. "Alison, Henry didn't finish his lunch." "Alison, what is that noise?" "Alison, where did Harper go?" "Alison, don't your children wear socks?" "Alison, Henry went into the bathroom." "Alison, Harper is climbing on the table." Alison. Alison. Alison. The thoughts swirling in my mind were not of a very good granddaughter.

The sweet and gentle Mrs. Claus of a grandmother who I remember has evolved into a nosey, nagging, negative Nancy. And yet as I gather my minis to say goodbye to the woman who still travels solo 2000+ miles from California to spend time with us, she clasps her thin-skinned hands around my face and directs her macular degenerated eyes directly into mine. With pure sincerity and warmth, she says to me, "Alison, I love you and your family so so much." She doesn't let go. She stays there for what seems like minutes. And I begin to melt, remembering only a fraction of what she has survived in a near century: the loss of a twin and mother during birth, the horrors of a wicked stepmother, the passing of a spouse, and the sudden death of a child.

And it's no surprise that within minutes of her departure, I long for her company once again, kicking myself for the moments squandered because of my irritability and impatience. The distance now between us truly does cause my heart to swell, and I become saddened as I think of her now home alone, her only companion the chiming clock that strikes every 15 minutes, a sobering reminder of the minutes passing, her memory fading, her brain diminishing, and her body failing.

Thank you, Jesus, for Grandma Hollywood. Wrap her in Your comfort and peace as she suffers the countless losses that come with her age. Help me to remember the blessing it is to still have a living grandparent. And give me patience and a controlled tongue in those moments when I want to load her back on a plane destined for California.

My achy breaky heart

2011-12-01T06:00:00.001-05:00

These pictures make me melt.

We were at Matt's parents house and sweet Harper just couldn't stay awake another second. She sat down for lunch and the rest is history. As I look at these pictures, my heart goes all achy breaky, and I want her to stay tiny forever. She's the perfect size for that mini camping chair. Her face is still carrying just enough baby fat to give her a perfectly round disposition, and her little fingers, while tiny, are still chunky just below the knuckles. She's small enough to curl up in my lap, and as petite as she is, I can still tote her around on my hip effortlessly.

With only two months before the arrival of our next addition, I am becoming terribly sentimental about this little girl who is still my baby. I'm feeling this urge to tuck her into the moby wrap and remind her of the days when we were inseparable, when she slept in my bed and I nursed her and she was literally attached to me all day long. Oh, how I miss those days.

And now she sits across the room, feeding her baby dolls plastic corn and spaghetti. And she uses phrases like "in a little bit," and "hush, don't cry, baby." I can't even stand it. I'm so going to be that mother in I Love You Forever who drives across town and crawls into bed with her grown child. It's not creepy, I promise, read the book.

So to that sleeping beauty fast asleep in the mini camping chair, "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Today I give thanks . . .

2011-11-24T06:00:00.000-05:00

for chilled Diet Coke.

for the way my daughter's hair curls in the rain.

for Mexico.

for the hiccups and kicks inside my womb.

for the absurd giggles of siblings who were fighting only minutes ago.

for Apple products.

for my husband's smile that greets me promptly at 6:20 each weeknight.

for a sister who I can call a crazy number of times a day and it never gets old.

for a missional church.

for parents and in-laws who make grandparenting look like the best job in the world.

for living in a state that allows me to experience all four seasons (although I'm especially thankful for autumn).

for a 3 1/2 year old boy who still asks me daily, "Mommy, can I cuddle with you?"

for our vet who genuinely wants to find an affordable and effective cure for our sweet pup's seizures.

for dance parties with my kids, and sometimes without.

for friends who keep me humble.

for Jesus.

And don't you love that banner? It is handmade from Banners by Bethany. She donates half of her proceeds to global missions. She also accepts custom orders! Place your Christmas order by December 10. For more information:

Banners by Bethany

Happy Thanksgiving!

Super Heroes

2011-11-21T06:00:00.002-05:00

Halloween stream of consciousness . . .

Why is my 3-year-old obsessed with Spiderman? I don't get it, but I think it's adorable.
How many more years can I get away with manipulating their costume choices so that there is a theme?
With the exception of these three minutes when we took these pictures, my son refused to wear his mask.
These two minis gathered oodles of candy, and it was my brilliant idea to separate the chocolate from the lesser candy so that the chocolate would not be contaminated by lame peppermints and orange taffy. That beloved bucket-o-chocolate sat on our kitchen counter for two whole weeks before our dog got the nerve to jump the counter and bring it down. I came home one Sunday to an empty bucket, and it took three days for that darn dog to pass (from both ends) all the candy wrappers.
One year my sister dressed up as a snow princess and wore my wedding dress as her costume. True story.
If you knew my sister during that time in her life, you know what a gamble that was for me to lend her my wedding dress for a Halloween party. Both my sister and the dress survived. It was a Halloween miracle.

Compassion

2011-11-17T06:00:00.000-05:00

Many of you follow A Holy Experience, the incredibly poetic Ann Voskamp's heart-stirring blog. She's had me absolutely captivated this week as she spent a few days with other bloggers visiting Ecuador for Compassion International.

Her posts have been raw, devastating, gut-wrenching, beautiful, hopeful, and engaging. I highly encourage you to read her entire Compassion journey, although these two particular posts have been crossing through my thoughts and dreams ever since I first read them.

When you are in desperate need of hope

When compassion becomes a gold rush

Both posts made me cry. A lot. And both posts have me asking a lot of tough questions of myself and God. I don't know why, but I wanted to share those stories with you. I don't think I've ever been so moved by two young children whom I've never met.

I need a laugh, how about you?

2011-11-16T06:00:00.001-05:00

You all have BLOWN ME AWAY with your comments over the last couple of days. When I hit publish on Sunday, I had no idea that I would be so challenged by your feedback and insights. It's been exhausting yet refreshing as so many of you offered me food for thought that pushed me to spend time with God and His Word. Thanks a million for stretching me and encouraging me, and a special thanks to Marla for being one of my biggest cheerleaders.

I couldn't tell you the last time I posted three days in a row, but I thought that with all the intensity around here lately, I needed a good laugh (and maybe you do too.) I don't have to look far in this house for comic relief, between my penis-obsessed son (he's recently potty trained) and my wildly dramatic daughter (she's a product of two very expressive auntie's). I had to share this worth-a-thousand-words picture of Miss Harper Lynn when she recently was told, "No more s'mores." Actually, I don't think it was the s'mores as much as it was the chocolate and marshmallows. Then again, I really can't blame her.

Next time you're having one of those days, grab some chocolate and marshmallows and remember, you are not alone!

Everything I learned about giving I learned from the tithe

2011-11-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I have a LONG way to go before I have a good grasp on tithing and giving. I can't stress that enough.

Not quite two years ago, Matt and I made the decision to get serious about tithing and giving as neither was an area producing much fruit in our lives. I will share with you what God has revealed to us through our searching and journeying and failing and praying. Did I mention we are still learning and growing and failing? Lots of failing. Lots of humbling.

Let me start with the definition of tithe. Tithe literally means "a tenth part." You can give 2% or 8% but you cannot tithe it, much like you cannot call 5 eggs a dozen (great analogy, Rebecca.)

Semantics aside, our goal is that all of our tithes and offerings are acts of worship. This is one of the reasons I love writing the check. It helps me to stop and be aware of what I am doing, praying and praising as I write. But don't get too excited, I am guilty of treating this action just as I treat the water bill, without reverence.

We are called to have a steward mentality and eternal perspective. Being a good steward of God's money (and resources) involves many things (saving, investing, giving, tithing, just to name a few). Ultimately we will give an account of our lives, according to the fruit of our deeds (Jeremiah 17:10). I love this quote by Matthew Henry: "It ought to be the business of every day to prepare for our last day." Being a good steward of God's resources while maintaining an eternal perspective is where we try to position ourselves, and try as I might, I fail miserably at this all the time.

I want to share a quote from Randy Alcorn's book Money, Possessions and Eternity. He does a good job of helping me understand how the tithe applies to my life today in the era of grace. "[Tithing] is a meaningful expression of dependence on God and gratitude to him. Tithing requires calculation. When we deal specifically with the amounts God has provided, we assess God's goodness to us . . . Tithing was, and can still be, a built-in reminder at every juncture of life of our unlimited debt to God." Dontcha just love that?

The tithe (10%) will always remain non-negotiable for our family (Please don't read this as legalism. I pray you understand that this is what God has revealed to OUR family. I'm not implying this is what God commands for you. That's between you and Jesus.) In the Old Testament, the tithe was the starting point for giving (I love the passage in Exodus 36 when the Israelites were actually restrained from giving materials to build the tabernacle because they had given more materials than needed!) The model of paying back to God His firstfruits was the tithe, and as I've studied the OT, I found that it was more than paying 10% off the top. There were actually multiple tithes required of the Jews - their tithes and offerings well exceeded 10% (Deuteronomy 14). In the New Testament, every example of giving goes beyond the tithe. The way I see it, there is no evidence for less than 10% of giving anywhere in the Bible. For us, the tithe is a base figure. It is merely a starting point for our giving.

Can tithing be legalistic? Of course. As can any other spiritual discipline. The dangers don't only include legalism, but also complacency. When we view tithing (or church attendance or volunteering) as a box to be checked, we've missed the point completely. But when we approach tithing (and giving, among other things) with prayer and a worship-filled heart, we put ourselves in a space to receive the eternal and internal blessings that God promises to those who honor Him (The story of the rich young man in Matthew 19 is one of my favorites. He's promised eternal reward for giving to the poor, and it is in this passage when Jesus tells His disciples that they will receive a return of hundredfold for their sacrifices.)

I have to wonder what it communicates to God when we don't tithe, when we don't give him the firstfruits of His provisions? I think that is when we begin to say, "God, you can't handle all my needs, not to mention my debts and loans and the demands of this crappy economy. You can't handle it, but I can." What if instead we said to God, "I don't know how this is going to all work out, but I trust that you will provide. Therefore I give you the firsts of this paycheck, before I pay a single bill or make a single purchase." This is also a good space to pray that God shows you what is (and what is not) a need, not to mention showing you ways that you can save money when you didn't think there would be enough - this is an area where God has humbled me big time. I sometimes feel like Veruca Salt, spatting, "I want an Oompa Loompa! I want an Oompa Loompa now!" I so deserve her fate, a bad egg who is dropped down the garbage chute. But God's mercy is so good. In time, I find myself getting used to life without the coveted Oompa Loompa, ultimately experiencing contentment with less.

To the point of being able to give like no one else, my suggestion: start with the tithe. Start with the building blocks that are revealed in God's Word. And then don't stop. Continue to ask God to stretch your dollar, your heart, and your pocketbook. Not for you, but for the blessing of giving.

I so appreciate the comment from my dearest friend Mary Kate. She said, "I cling too tightly to my 10% tithe, because giving it all can seem terrifying." I can SO relate. The tithe isn't my ticket to spend the other 90% on whatever I damn well please. It's not for me to clear my conscience, so to speak. All - all 100% - belongs to God. I don't get to do whatever I choose with any of it. The 10%, the 90%, the 100% - it's all His. And it's His to do with as He pleases.

He who has God and everything has no more than he who has God alone. - C.S. Lewis

The spirit of giving?

2011-11-13T06:00:00.000-05:00

I know I'm about to step on all sorts of total-money-makeover toes, but my heart is unsettled and twisted so here it goes. I'm not a big Dave Ramsey fan. But before you throw your shredded credit cards at the computer, I praise the Lord for the many many people who Ramsey has helped snowball their way out of suffocating debt. And I mean that.

Okay, so here's my beef. For starters, I can't quite wrap my head around the live like no one else so that you can live like no one else philosophy. Does Ramsey mean for us to live like no one else TODAY (by driving a junker and shopping Goodwill) so that during our retirement years (whatever those are) we can live more comfortably? luxuriously? Or does Ramsey encourage folks to live like no one else TODAY so that when they reach eternity, they can live like no one else? The latter might be more Biblical, sort of, but is that what Ramsey is saying? I get the sense that he means the former, and that is where he loses me. It is in that concept where our culture has interfered with Biblical Truth. God doesn't motivate people to live simply or frugally so that one day they can live a grandiose lifestyle. Our culture tells us that's how it should go, but that's not God's way.

Secondly, I don't agree with his seven steps to financial peace (and can someone please define financial peace?) The steps begin with building an emergency fund and are followed by getting out of debt, saving, investing, saving for college, paying off your home, and then building wealth. Building wealth is step 7a. Step 7b? Oh you know, that thing that we're supposed to do . . . um, um, oh right . . . giving. You know, that act of being Jesus to the world that we are commanded to do over and over and over and over and over again. At least that's the way it goes in my Bible.

Look, I'm not discrediting that there is Biblical support for saving and investing, in fact, each of the seven steps on their own are valid. But who is to say that God wants each of us to follow them in that order? And the God I know would never ever ever put giving last (after building WEALTH?!) That's just not the Jesus I know. (I realize that Ramsey puts tithing up at the front. It's not one of his seven steps, but he absolutely prioritizes it. But tithing and giving are two separate issues, and to my disappointment, too many believers aren't doing either one. For what it's worth, tithing means 10%. Tithing is not monthly leftovers or an arbitrary number. It's 10%. That's what a tithe literally means. You can't tithe 3%. That's giving 3% and calling it 10%. That's lying. Okay, I needed to get that off my chest, phew).

All that to say, I don't know why I was surprised recently when I saw on Dave's facebook page that he is promoting a Give Like No One Else challenge. My initial thought: Awesome! Seriously, now that's what I'm talking about. At least that's what I thought. Until I clicked on the link. And realized that in conjunction with the giving challenge are cash and prize giveaways. Dude, are you serious?!

Why oh why oh why is it necessary to motivate giving with materialistic reward? It's as if he's saying, "Hey, the Bible teaches that the true spirit of giving produces eternal fruit, but who needs eternal rewards when you can win a Kindle right now?"

And before you get me all wrong, it's not about the money or the stuff. For heaven's sake, I'm one of the wealthy ones! It's about the heart. It's not about the car or the square footage or the label. It's about our grip. And that's where we've screwed it all up as Christians. We're too busy pointing fingers at so-and-so's such-and-such when we ourselves can't get past a toilet-submerged iPhone or the collapsing economy of the richest damn country in the world. Relative to someone else, we all have too much. Yes, you. And me. But it's not the too much. It's the letting go. If God asked his faithful servant Abraham to sacrifice his long-awaited and only son Isaac, you better believe he wants you to let go of your insert-most-treasured-earthly-possession-here. It's not the I-saved-for-5-years-to-own-the-car-of-my-dreams that matters. It's that if God speaks to your heart to sell your precious wheels and do something else with those resources, would you? Could you? Without hesitation? It's all a matter of the heart. It's holding loosely to our money and stuff knowing that at any moment, God might have other plans.

Because let me tell you, following Jesus doesn't come with health and wealth. That's a crock, and a sickening one, if you ask me. Remember Paul? He followed Jesus nearly to his death by stoning. He traveled BY FOOT hundreds and hundreds of miles to share the Gospel, without earthly possessions. All he had was faith, and that is all he ever needed. And that's all you and I need no matter how badly we want to convince ourselves that we need or deserve or own x,y, and z.

So why do we have such a gosh-darn hard time giving selflessly and sacrificially? Why do we need earthly incentives when that is not the Gospel? Why are we consumed with establishing financial peace when our dependency should never ever ever ever be on ourselves?

And that is my biggest beef with the Dave Ramsey culture. How can we put ourselves in a position to trust God with every single penny He has bestowed to us if our goals are retirement funds and college savings? There is only one goal that matters, and it's going to manifest differently for each of us. That goal is glorifying God with the resources He has given us (and He gives to each of us separately and differently). It is finding contentment no matter if we are climbing our way out of debt or sitting on a hefty cushion of savings. It's trusting God when He tells us to save or buy or let go or liquidate or sell or give or give or give or GIVE. It's praying over every check we write and through every payday. It's turning to Scriptures before we turn to a so-called financial guru.

And let me tell you, I'm just as big a failure as the next guy. I make greedy, selfish choices every. single. day. Without fail. My flesh craves Target and Pottery Barn clearance and a black Range Rover with tinted windows. I am human, watch me spend. But God is BIGGER. He continues to stir in me a love for giving because it glorifies HIM. And for every day that my lifestyle doesn't match the one I deem more comfortable, He blesses me with something internal (and eternal) such as His peace. His comfort. His contentment.

I hesitate to even post this because I'm just as big a hypocrite as anybody else. I suck at letting go of a certain appendage better known as my MacBook Pro (among other things), and I'm really good at pointing fingers at that family with the heated driveway (or worse yet, coveting that heated driveway everyday during the month of February).

But God has brought me a long way. And I have faith that if I continue to lean into Him, He will continue to do a good work in me. I want to take this amazingly blessed life that He has given me and turn it all over to Him. And as I stumble in big fat ugly ways throughout this journey, I can only pray that I develop a greater sense of what it means to depend on Him. And I don't ever want to fall out of love with giving from my heart for His sake and not my own selfish motives.

So hear me out. This isn't about Ramsey. I clicked on what I thought was going to be an encouraging link about giving and was terribly disappointed. And I was reminded that much like my two-year-olds favorite exclamation is "Mine!" we are all in desperate need of a reality check. I pray that more people turn to God for financial direction and are filled with a desire to give for one reason and one reason only, because He first gave to us. And for that we can never give too much.

Happy Birthday, Matt.

2011-11-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

You complete us.

with Harper, August 2010

We love you, uh-huh.

First day of the rest of their lives

2011-11-08T06:00:00.001-05:00

My kids officially go to preschool. Their first day wasn't terribly sentimental for me. They only go one day a week, and I'm happy for them to spend a few hours in a school setting while I spend a few hours in my makeshift office actually working without interruption.

But what does pull at my momma heart strings is that their first day of preschool was a step toward the years and years and years that my babies will spend with their teachers and classmates and not with me. Sending my babies to school requires me to let go, a healthy and natural transition that began when my husband clipped the cord, a transition that will ultimately culminate when my flock flee the nest.

I suppose this is one of those transitions that will prepare me for the next one. And I am grateful that God gently eases me into the next phases of parenthood even though I am never prepared.

So here they are, two tiny people lugging around an absurd amount of backpack, heading out for the first day of the rest of their lives.

And here I am. One grateful momma, lugging around an absurd amount of love for two tiny people who are learning about life independent of me. Letting go ain't easy, but it sure makes me proud to see them learn to fly.

Go give your family a hug. And don't let go.

2011-10-31T06:00:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged in weeks because of, you know, life and stuff. And I've slowly but surely been uploading and downloading and editing and captioning in the hopes of getting back on the bloggy wagon.

But over the weekend my sweet friend Marla's life was flipped upside down, and ever since, I just can't think of anything worth blogging about.

On Saturday, Marla nearly lost her husband, Gabe, as he suffered a heart attack. Marla and her three precious girls watched helplessly as their husband and dad nearly lost all ability to breathe and was swept away in a medic.

I simply can't imagine. I simply can't imagine releasing the love of my life into the hands of paramedics so that they could rush him to a hospital, not knowing if I'd ever see him alive again.

Did I mention that my husband and Gabe will both turn 35 this month? It gives me chills.

Praise be to God that Marla did see her living and breathing husband again. By the grace of God, Gabe's doctors saved his life by unblocking the artery and putting in a stent. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.

And thank you, Jesus, for my family - my husband, whose health I all too often take for granted. Thank you for our precious children, two of which are barreling across the living room as I type, and one who is kicking the piss out of me - literally.

I'm sad that it takes another family's nightmare to make me hold mine a little tighter.

And as I think of celebrating sweet Marla today (it's her birthday!) all I know to do is to savor every stinkin' moment that God has given me with those who mean the most to me.

We love you, Gabe, and we are praying ceaselessly for you and your family.

Imagination

2011-10-11T06:00:00.001-04:00

Imagination is more important than knowledge.

- Albert Einstein

The making of an imperfect family photo

2011-10-03T06:00:00.001-04:00

Once again a family celebration came and went and I forgot to get a family picture. So Matt set-up the tripod and here are the perfectly imperfect results.

Henry, just because you can't see the camera doesn't mean the camera can't see you. And Ali, the googly eyes are freaking me out. Put. Them. Away. What? It's freaking you out that I'm talking to myself on my own blog? Oh, forget you, no one can take you seriously with those freaky eyes.

Am I the only one in this family who can stay focused? Matt, are you singing? Cut that out, you don't sing. And Henry, now you're freaking me out.

Matt, are you snacking on Henry's hair? And children, why do you look so serious? I know, I just called you children. Weird. Wait, why are we posing in front of our wedding pictures? This photo session just keeps getting freakier.

And now Harper's singing?! We are not a family who sings! And why is wedding day Matt smelling a ghost in the background? FREAKY!

Oh forget it, I give up.

Picnic at the Park

2011-09-14T06:00:00.002-04:00

Even though I didn't blog her a happy birthday, I sure did throw her a fun party.

I mean, I don't know about her, but I had fun. I was going for a picnic-at-the-park theme, and let me tell you, the park is the way to go. Minimal set-up and clean-up. Less is more when it comes to decorations. And no planned entertainment necessary! Though being 9 months pregnant in the middle of August was HELL, I sure am grateful now because an August birthday means that we have a lot of outdoor party options.

Harper, I love ya, gummy bear.

You are my girl always and forever.

My daughter turned two and I didn't even blog her a happy birthday.

2011-09-07T06:00:00.000-04:00

I have a daughter. And she's officially two. And she has wispy curls and baby cellulite and the most adorable dimple on her right cheek. And I am her momma. And I love mothering a daughter more than I could have ever imagined.

Oh my sweet sweet Harper. You are the daughter I wasn't even sure I could handle. Being the mother of one very easy-going boy, I remember thinking, 'why rock the boat - I can handle this boy thing.' And then I delivered a daughter and forever fell in love with a tiny baby girl who stole a piece of my heart that I didn't even know existed.

Oh my sweet sweet Harper. I have three words for you: second child syndrome. If you aren't suffering from it yet, the inevitable is fast approaching. I pray you have no idea what I have failed to document and record and celebrate merely because of your birth order and in no way an indication of the amount of love or lack thereof that I have for you. With Henry, I filled my days tracking his every breath. All of his firsts and many of his seconds. Even some thirds! Oh for heaven's sake, it's a good thing you came shortly after. Because now my time is filled swaddling your baby dolls, detangling your morning bird nest, and spinning around in your overstuffed closet full of the most delightful dresses, skirts and bloomers.

Oh my sweet sweet Harper. You keep me alive. Your blood-curdling screams keep me racing through the house only to be reminded that you offer the same over-the-top reaction when you are frustrated by a puzzle as when you are physically injured. Your highs are the delight of my life. And your lows. Oh will I ever figure out what to do with your lows? The body thrown across the floor, scream piercing the walls, and tears as big as Texas. But oh how I love to scoop you up and insist you calm down only to watch your lip turn and evolve into a pout that could break even the hardest of hearts.

Oh my sweet sweet Harper. I am so thankful that God knew better. He knew that I needed you. Never have I been so humbled as you have humbled me. Never have I been so thankful for God's good and perfect gift as I am with you. Never have I been so blessed. Never ever. Ever ever.

Happy Birthday, even weeks later. I celebrate you daily. And I pray that I never lose sight of what a special treasure you are to me.

Pelotonia 11

2011-09-06T06:00:00.001-04:00

Last year my Dad cycled 102 miles from Columbus, OH to Athens, OH to raise money for cancer research in the Pelotonia. Matt, the kids, and I traveled down to Athens to see my Dad cross the finish - an incredible accomplishment. It was downright awesome, and that day, Matt said that next year he wanted to participate in Pelotonia 11.

By golly, my husband not only participated, he finished the 102 mile journey, as did my Dad and thousands of other riders.

It was sooooo cool. I have never been so proud of Matt - he dedicated crazy early mornings, long evenings, and many of his Saturdays to training for the ride. It was grueling and beyond exhausting, and he did it.

Seeing him cross the finish line gave me chills - I was overcome with excitement and emotion. I can only imagine how he felt.

And for those of you who supported him through prayer and financial giving - thank you. We cannot tell you enough how much we appreciate your encouragement. Every time a donation would come through, I saw the excitement building on Matt's face - giving him motivation and the assurance that people believed in him.

To my husband and my dad: I am so darn proud of you two. I love you both, and I thank God for your diligence and perseverance. You two inspire me.

Proud to be a Buckeye MOM!

2011-08-24T06:00:00.000-04:00

We are 13+ years away from the day Henry will declare his commitment to The Ohio State University, accepting a full athletic scholarship, thankyouverymuch. And I imagine that will be one of my proudest days as a Buckeye mom.

But even at 3 years old, my little Buckeye is already making his mother's scarlet and gray heart swell.

For those of you who don't know, my incredible husband recently cycled 100 miles in the Pelotonia - an event that raised money for cancer research. Matt was a member of Team Buckeye, and two weeks before the ride, Team Buckeye hosted a Biking with Brutus event at the Horseshoe.

It. Was. Awesome.

AWESOME.

One end of the stadium was converted into a carnival with tons of activities for kids. The highlight of the evening was a bike ride for children, allowing the kids to ride the perimeter of the football field. Present that evening were plenty of Buckeye All-Stars: Brutus, the cheerleaders, the pep band, Dr. Gordon Gee, and ARCHIE!!! The event was only open to families of Team Buckeye, making for an intimate atmosphere.

I tell you what, the riders had to raise a LOT of money for Pelotonia, but each rider committed $100 of their own to cover the cost of the ride (that allowed for all financial support raised to go directly to cancer research). The Team Buckeye event alone was worth the $100 - it was such a blast.

Brutus & Henry - my heart skips a beat.

Though Harper loves Brutus, she was a bit skeptical of the live-and-in-person version.

My son in the end zone. Surely this is a glimpse into his future :)

Oma & Opa joined us. Opa was also a member of Team Buckeye.

Henry plays OSUMB daily. Lately he's been obsessed with the sousaphones. I tear up just thinking of him dotting the i.

Brutus, Archie and a few other characters rode on giant tricycles. Brutus was such a good sport - slowing down so that each kid passed him. Henry still talks about how he beat Brutus in the race.

Every good sporting event needs a cute cheerleader.

Notice my Dad pointing? He's telling Dr. Gee, "That's my grandson!"

And they're off!

Typical Henry, distracted by an airplane.

The final stretch.

You see a medal. I see a Heisman Trophy.

By far the best picture of the evening. Even you ~~freaks~~ non-Buckeye fans can appreciate the awesomeness of this moment.

Thank you, Team Buckeye! And thank you to all the Pelotonia riders. I adore you all for making such a commitment to eliminate this horrific disease.

Backyard Camping

2011-08-22T06:00:00.001-04:00

Recently Matt took the kids camping, the first camping experience for H&H. They set up camp in Grandma & Grandpa's backyard. It's hardly a typical backyard camping experience - their backyard opens up to 400 acres of beautiful scenery - woods, a pond, a creek, and plenty of wildlife.

Only Henry slept all night in the tent; Harper stayed cozy and confined indoors. Nonetheless, everyone had a wonderful time and the kids are begging to do it again.

And I could really go for one of those s'mores - marshmallows slightly burnt & extra chocolate, thankyouverymuch.

Family Picture FAIL

2011-08-18T06:00:00.001-04:00

At our Fourth of July celebration, we tried to get a family picture.

It was painful - literally.

And an epic fail.

Until the next time . . .

July 4th

2011-08-15T06:00:00.001-04:00

This was our fifth year attending the July 4th event at my alma mater, Dublin Coffman High School. It's quite the shindig - a day-long event that includes a table decorating contest, a frisbee competition for dogs, fair-style food vendors, kids' games and activities, live music (this year - Smokey Robinson), and of course, fireworks (the city also puts on a parade that takes place in town earlier in the day).

The city does an incredible job with this event. It's one of the many things I love about our community.

This tradition has become one of my favorite things that we do together as a family.

How do you celebrate the Fourth of July?

T-Ball or Bust.

2011-08-12T06:00:00.001-04:00

This summer we enrolled Henry in an 8-week t-ball class through our local rec center. It was his first team sport experience, and it was a serious learning curve for Henry AND his parents.

The team consisted of three and four-year-old boys. This was team picture day and because I was too cheap to buy the team picture, I snuck a shot with my iPhone. Quite the handsome bunch, dontcha think?

The kids didn't necessarily learn to play a game. It was primarily skills development. They did "play" another team at each practice, but there were no outs, no points, and no fouls.

About two weeks into the season, we realized that Henry was losing interest. Henry is the kid who becomes easily overwhelmed when there is too much attention on him (the apple doesn't fall far . . .) And forget t-ball if an airplane flew overhead or the nearby train came chugging by. He'd much rather watch anything driven by an engine than wait to alligator chomp a stupid ball (he's number 7, the boy who clung to his dad most of the season).

In Henry's defense, he was one of the smallest and youngest kids on the team (he's the one with the black shoes with red laces). I wonder if things might be different if we enroll him next year. And that's a very big if.

Henry had some good days. On a good day, he participated in the drills for roughly 40 of the 60 minutes that they were on the field. The last 20 minutes were spent with me as I bribed him to participate in order to receive the post-game treat and snack.

That's Henry at the end of the line, running the bases with his team.

Someone's got to be the caboose, right?

If Henry wasn't engaged in t-ball, he was clinging to Matt or playing in the dirt.

That's Henry to the far left, standing aside as the rest of the team chases after the ball. Can you tell that Matt was losing interest as well?

And did I mention that most of our games were played in 90+ degree humidity?

But what is it about this adorable line-up of teeny boys that makes my heart melt?

Did I mention that Henry likes playing in the dirt?

And watching for the train?

No matter how disengaged Henry was each Saturday, he LOVED the last 60 seconds of each game when the teams would line-up and give the opposing players a high five while saying "good game."

Just like his ~~daddy~~ mommy, always a good sport.

The last game ended with a trophy ceremony. That ceremony was weeks ago and Henry still talks about that darn thing.

Though it didn't take long for him to realize that 20 adults were focused on him and his teammates. I pray that his shy and often overwhelmed nature translates into humility one day.

Regardless of whether Henry ever steps foot on a baseball field again, this final Kodak moment made the entire season all worth it. He was so darn proud of that cheap plastic trophy, and I was so darn proud of him for enduring a challenging yet growth-filled eight weeks.

Henry, I love ya, buddy.

Auntie Kelley & Uncle Joe's

2011-08-11T06:00:00.001-04:00

Matt, my minis and I live in a condo that I bought with my sister back when I was single. We now have the condo on the market in the hopes of selling it and buying a house of our own. We love this condo - LOVE IT - but we have many reasons for wanting a house . . . all in God's time.

When I fantasize about our future house, I would love to find something that we'll live in 'forever.' Or at least pretty darn close to it. My family lived in the same community for much of my childhood, but we moved around within that community every few years. I've always dreamed of living in the same house all of my life - one home full of endless stories and memories. My husband grew up in the same house all of his life. In fact, his dad has lived on the same property for his entire life (aside from his college years). He grew up in the farmhouse, later moved up the hill to the house where he would raise my husband, and then he moved back into the original and now restored farmhouse. His daughter (my sister-in-law) now lives in the house (up the hill) that my husband grew up in. Does anyone else think that is the coolest thing ever?

Recently (okay, over a month ago - did I mention that I suck at blogging lately?) Kelley (my sister-in-law) and her husband (Joe) had us down for a family gathering. We are only 4 years into my marriage and I already feel like my best memories are being made when the Hooper or Kelley families get together - there is something magical about this great big happy family, many who have lived and breathed southeastern Ohio all of their lives.

Our time in McConnelsville is also important to who we are as a family - giving my kids opportunities that we can't give them here in suburbia. Tractors mowing hay across the street, endless grass fields giving home to crops and livestock, wide open spaces for unlimited hours of play, backyard swimming until darkness sends us home, fireworks blazing without concern for waking the neighbor. The country gives the kids freedoms that logistically we don't have in Dublin.

I'm so thankful to be making memories with precious family and friends no matter if we're in the city, country, or the 'burbs.

The Husband's Guide to Getting Lucky

2011-07-18T06:00:00.001-04:00

Do y'all know my friend, Marla? If you don't, that needs to change. She's all sorts of awesomeness - mamma to three darlings and wifey to Gabe . . . a family of five that has made it their mission - literally - to love on people around the globe all in the name of Jesus. I just can't get enough of the Tavianos. Stop on over at Marla's blog and I think you might soon feel the same way.

Anyway, what makes Marla even more awesome is that she is an author! And that also means I want to be her when I grow up. I think I have 4 years to make that happen because last I checked she's only 4 years older than I am. But she published her first book when she was barely out of her adolescence so I might just scratch the catching up all together and live vicariously through her. Creepy stalkerish? Maybe, but don't tell her that.

Anyway (gosh, I like to use that transition), Marla recently self-published an e-book, and oh my goodness, y'all must check it out. It's a book for any DUDE who wants to crank things up in the bedroom with his wife. And we're not talking trickery and manipulation - no sir. Marla offers practical yet powerful tips on making every man's fantasy become a reality. Marla has a gift for telling it like it is. No subject is off limits with her - if it's going to honor God by strengthening a marriage - she'll talk about it (or in this case, write about it) - no matter how taboo or squeamish the topic. And this e-book is PERFECT because it's short, to-the-point, and simple: The Husband's Guide to Getting Lucky, Six Simple Steps to Great Sex with Your Wife.

Here's a brief summary of the book from the website: Every red-blooded husband on the planet dreams of a satisfying sex life with his wife, but many are convinced it’s a fantasy that’s out of reach. Marla Taviano, author of Is That All He Thinks About?, begs to differ. For many married men, a fulfilling sex life seems like little more than a pipe dream, but a few insights and some “simple” steps can turn wishful thinking into reality.

Quite simply, Marla is passionate about marriages that last. And she knows that one of the most important ways for a marriage to last is to keep the passion alive. She is committed to encouraging men and women that this is attainable and doable. And with the help of oodles of her male readers (or her female readers who twisted their dudes arms so that they'd respond to Marla's surveys), Marla has written a book that will change lives and marriages for the hot-and-heavier.

And here is the kicker. Marla's ebook is only $2.99!!! What - what??? I know, right. SUPER CHEAP. Because the bottom line is that Marla doesn't care about making some whack profit and moving to a bigger house and buying a fancier car. Nope, that's not Marla. She simply wants to get her gorgeous family to Cambodia so that they can love on some orphans there. That's Marla. A heart of gold, working her booty off so that she can continue to spread love globally in the name of Jesus.

Please consider buying this book for yourself or your man (click here!) Having read and re-read the book myself, I can promise you that you will not regret it.

Grrowl!

Grandma Hollywood turns NINETY!

2011-07-14T06:00:00.002-04:00

Remember Grandma Hollywood? The matriarch and queen bee of my family? Did I mention that twice a year she travels over 2000 miles from beautifully pleasant California to Grandma-really-likes-to-complain-about-the-weather Ohio - and she travels ALONE?! I know, I know, she's amazing.

So this year she flew out in June, one month before her 90th birthday. And let me tell you, my grandma looks damn good for 90. When I realized that my maternal grandmother was turning 90, I first thought, "Crap. I don't want those genes. I don't want to live until 90." But then I looked at the gal and thought, "Shoot! Screw 90. I'll live until 100 if it means looking like that." She's pretty hot, a fact that has been confirmed by her neighbor who has offered to "keep her company" if she's ever interested. The man can't keep his paws off of her. But don't you worry. Grandma Hollywoood's lived in Southeast LA for over 50 years making her the Mamacita de Samoline Avenue Locos and she ain't messin' wit no hombre.

So where was I? Yes, my hottie-bo-bottie almost 90-year-old Grandma flew out for a visit, and my always hospitable mamma decided to throw Grandma a surprise birthday bash. It was touching to see how many people gave up their Friday night to celebrate my Grandma - most of these people only knowing her from Grandma's occasional visits.

Her actual birthday isn't until July 24th, so she was obviously surprised to know that all these people showing up were there to honor her.

It was one of those amazing nights where I sat back and breathed in all the love that my family shares.

And I thank God that Grandma Hollywood is still around to share in that love.

While everyone was gathering outside, my parents' dog, Heidi, sampled the birthday cake.

And naturally, these two had to sample the key lime pie. It's a good thing that the dog and kids are cute.

We spent most of the night in my parents' backyard. It was beautiful.

The only thing missing was the rest of the family. My Grandma has three daughters and one son (her son has passed). Aside from my mom, her family, and my cousin Jared's family, everyone else lives in Southern California. The California family would celebrate Grandma's birthday at a later date.

9 candles - one for each decade.

Grandma with her youngest great-grandbaby. 88 years between them - amazing.

It's not easy shopping for a woman who has already started giving away many of her valuables. Nonetheless she had some wonderful gifts to open.

Bless my mom's heart. She read each and every card to my Grandma. Grandma can only read when wearing her magnifying eyeglasses and she can't hear unless her hearing aids are cranked to the max.

Grandma laughed a lot. It was such a blessing to watch her so joyful.

That's Pauline playing with Jenson. Pauline is one of my mom's dearest friends, and Pauline just happened to be my middle school guidance counselor. Pauline is really really good with middle schoolers and toddlers. It's peculiar, really.

My sister and dad. Love.

If you want your face to look thin in a photograph, stick your neck out. See?

I gave my grandmother a framed picture of all 7 of her great-grandbabies. Needless to say she couldn't tell who was who in the picture. She said, "I'll have to get out my magnifying glass and look at this later."

This is what happens when you give a 90-year-old a pair of white capri pants, elastic waist, size 8. She was ELATED. No seriously, she was so thrilled to be given those darn pants. Apparently my mom and Grandma had been to several stores only days before and could not find a pair to save their lives. All it took my fashionably savvy sister was a visit to ONE store to find the perfect pair. Thank you Penny's!

Here Morgan explains how she is awesome and found the magical pants. My Grandma's face says, "I'm in disbelief that you found white capri pants, elastic waist, size 8."

What kids don't love a party? Our friend, Aaron, came over with his niece, Audrey. The four minis were instant friends.

Getting four minis to sit still on a hammock proved impossible as you can see by how blurry the kids are in this picture.

I'm fairly certain this was their second helping of cake.

Harper had some very important "older women" questions to ask Audrey.

Crazy cuteness.

That's Susie. Another dear friend of my mom's. I just adore these women for loving on my Grandma so stinkin' well.

Did I mention that Pauline is also really funny? At least my 90 year old Grandma thinks so.

Audrey really wanted to be in our family picture. We kindly kicked her out.

Grandma with the Nameth clan.

Grandma with her Ohio family. Jared was in Cambodia and Ella & Jake were in California so only Lisa and Jenson made it to the party. Pauline is standing behind the camera trying to get the kids to smile. She was playing peek-a-boo, and instead of smiling, Harper was imitating.

Happy Birthday, Grandma Hollywood. I would not be surprised if in 10 years we are celebrating your 100th. You're a lifer.

The Outer Banks, Part Three

2011-07-11T06:00:00.000-04:00

This is the final installment of pictures from our amazing OBX vacation. I am a beach bum at heart, and it was such a privilege to see my kids enjoy the sand and sea. Though Matt and I are beyond happy to be raising our family in Ohio (I wouldn't give up October & November in Ohio for anything in the world), a piece of my heart will forever be floating somewhere out in the middle of the ocean.

I cannot wait for the next opportunity we have to visit the beach. And thank you to the wonderful Hoopers and Kelleys for allowing us to join you all for the week. It was an absolute blast.

The Outer Banks, Part Two

2011-07-08T06:00:00.003-04:00

Prior to our trip to the Outer Banks, I didn't even know where the Outer Banks was. I knew it was somewhere down in the Carolinas, but there are so many darn destination beaches between North and South Carolina, that I never know which is where.

The Outer Banks is one of the barrier islands of North Carolina. We stayed in Corolla, which is as far north as you can stay in the Outer Banks. What I loved most about Corolla is that it is the essence of family friendly. There isn't a Hooters or Senor Frogs or similar college-kid-spring-break type bar. Corolla is vacation utopia - clean, secluded, safe, and beautiful. But what I loved about Corolla is also what I disliked about it - it lacked diversity and culture. I'm a sucker for places such as Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA - a nice blend of history, culture, and tourism. But those are both walking cities and not at all easy to do with two toddlers. The Outer Banks was the perfect vacation for us during this season of life. And the kids LOVED every second of it.

And now I could really go for some chocolate dipped marshmallows and strawberries, what about you?

The Outer Banks, Part One

2011-07-07T06:00:00.000-04:00

Matt's mom is one of six sisters, and every summer 3 of the sisters (and their families) travel to the Outer Banks (North Carolina) for vacation. They rent a house big enough for all of them (this year there were 19 people - can you imagine if all 6 sisters and families attended!) Matt, the kids, and I joined them this year (our first family vacation with Matt's family). It was a wonderful trip, and three weeks later I am FINALLY sorting through all the pictures. Here are a few shots from the first couple of days.

It's a bit depressing to go back through all the pictures - we made such wonderful memories, and I miss the ease and pace of a beach vacation.

More pictures coming soon!

The Hooper Family

2011-06-23T06:00:00.001-04:00

What can I say? The Hooper Family - they are so so so dear to me.

They are my husband's family. Technically they are my husband's family on his dad's side. My father-in-law, Roger, has one brother and a half sister. Between them there are 7 kids and 10 grandbabies.

What I love most about them is that they have loved this sheltered city girl from the minute they met me. These folks are country bred, still living and breathing the sweet country breeze, and yet they don't treat me like the foreigner I am. Not only have they embraced me, but they've opened my eyes to a different way of life, where slowin' down means savoring each moment and simplicity brings a greater appreciation of each opportunity.

Memorial Day weekend we traveled south for the annual Shrimp Boil at Matt's cousin's Scott's house. The first time I went to Scott's house we came home with one of Scott's dead birds - alive only minutes before we loaded up for home. Scott gave it to Matt so that Matt could train our new pup to fetch birds. It was a learning curve for me like no other. Not only was I learning that my sweet labrador puppy needed a freshly-whacked bird to fetch if he was gonna be a huntin' dog, but I was also learning that it wasn't uncommon to keep birds for the purpose of training dogs. Like raising a rat to feed a snake or keeping live crickets to feed a pet lizard, some folks keep birds as eventual bait for training dogs. And now our cooler full of Stella Artois had been overtaken by a very dead and bloody bird.

I remember driving home that night in disbelief. I was raised in the 'burbs, for goodness sakes. We lived on a cul-de-sac ruled by pages of zoning laws and building codes - uniform mailboxes, three-inch grass lawns, city-approved fencing, and absolutely no hunting.

Now I'm married to a man who moved a refrigerator-size gun safe into my home. There was a time when I celebrated seasons by shopping Banana Republic's new fall line. Now the seasons in my life are defined by doves and ducks and deer.

But here's a secret. And please don't tell my husband (because there's a gorgeous leather purse at BR that I've been drooling over), but I actually like my city girl meets country boy life. I like it a lot a lot a lot. I love that my husband taught me to shoot a gun in his parents backyard. I love that my kids are growing up surrounded by four-wheelers and above-ground pools. Even though I'm still learning to stomach some of the country life, I'm so thankful that my kids will have exposure to both the city and the country - making memories that I never had the opportunity to make.

Honestly, I didn't think I'd feel this way when I married Matt. I assumed our urban surroundings would gradually take their toll, pulling him farther away from his firm country roots. But God has shown me that He has no such plans. In fact, God has slowly tugged on my heart, revealing Himself to me in the most precious ways on my in-laws 400-acre property in a small town that the Hoopers have called home for well over a century.

Through my marriage, I have been given the blessing of experiencing a different culture. And it is an honor to watch as that culture seeps its way into my own, a merger were the dividing lines are blurring, creating a family that has a love for things both here and there.

For that I am so thankful.

I love this family.

Firefighter Party

2011-06-02T06:00:00.000-04:00

Sweet Jake Ryan holds a special place in my heart. He is exactly 7 weeks younger than my firstborn, and there is no doubt that the two boys will forever be best buds. At only three years of age, they ask for the other constantly, and though they are still learning the simple rules of life - use manners, always share, don't hit - they learn together (often at the expense of the other), and it's a blessing to watch them explore the world side-by-side.

This year, the night before Jake's 3rd birthday and 3 days before his 3rd birthday party, my cousin, Jared (Jake's dad), ended up in the hospital undergoing an emergency surgery to fix (MAJOR) bleeding caused by a tonsillectomy. Jared & Lisa cancelled the party (understandably so!) but invited family and a couple close friends to celebrate Jake. Amidst all of the chaos, Lisa still managed to organize a few AWESOME activities for the kids: a fireman obstacle course (each child earned their own fire badge, minus Harper who refused to participate - learning to put on her shoes has taken over her life), an extinguish-the-fire game where the kids threw water balloons at a fire-stricken house drawn with chalk (genius!), and a visit from an actual firetruck and real live firemen (thank you, Washington Township!)

The kids were in HEAVEN. And though his birthday bash was cancelled, I think Jake knew no different. It was a beautiful evening and wonderful party, and we were thrilled to celebrate Henry's best bud.

We love you, Jake Ryan. Thank you for including us in your special day.

Hollywood Babies

2011-05-31T06:00:00.001-04:00

Some of you know that my mother's maiden name is Hollywood. No, really, it is. My grandfather's family is from Hollywood, Ireland, a small village just southwest of Dublin. My grandparents raised their family in Downey, California, a mere 20 miles from the infamous Hollywood district and mountainous sign. So it's no surprise that many of my Ohio friends assume that we call my grandmother "Grandma Hollywood" not because that's really her name but because she resides there.

Unfortunately my precious Grandpa died before ever seeing any of his babies' babies produce babies, and as my lovely Grandma so often says, "he loved you kids and he'd have gotten a kick out of seeing all of his great-grandchildren." Love and kicks, that was Grandpa Hollywood.

Recently the west coast babies made a trip east, and for the first time EVER, all seven Hollywood babies were together. Sadly my Grandma could not be here to see them as a bunch, but it's probably a good thing. It was a lively and LOUD afternoon.

These pictures are dedicated to Grandpa Hollywood, the sweetest kid of them all.

And if these seven GORGEOUS munchkins are any indication of how handsome (and feisty) Jimmy Hollywood was, you will know he was quite the catch. Way to go, Phyllis!

Let's talk about penises.

2011-05-27T06:00:00.002-04:00

And poop and anything else that fascinates little boys. And big boys. And grown men. {rolls eyes}

I thought I'd share a few of my three-year-old son's recent penis/poop incidents (READER BEWARE):

While changing his diaper, Henry sang this to the tune of Wheels on the Bus, "My penis goes up and down, up and down. My penis goes up and down." And when I asked him the name of the song, he said, "Penis Bus." Well, naturally, of course.

Another favorite around this house is Henry's famous saying, "Always don't touch your poop." Occasionally he expands on that, adding "or your hands will get dirty." The kid's got a point.

And the one that I still struggle to handle appropriately, because I'm much too immature for this parenting thing, and because HE'S MY LITTLE BOY, Henry's famous announcement, "Mommy, my penis tickles and I want to touch it." Oh dear heavens! And to think puberty is still a decade away.

And the latest . . . and probably not appropriate for the Internets, but since when did that stop me from clicking Publish? Naked Henry noticed that his penis was, well, you know, up, and he said, "Mommy, look! My penis is like a mountain." Oh for heavens sake!

You could say we have a very open relationship.

Please pray for me.

To school or not to school?

2011-05-24T06:00:00.000-04:00

My wonderful friend Marla has been busy blogging about her family's decision to homeschool or not to homeschool, and coincidentally the topic of education has been weighing on my heart lately as well.

But unlike Marla, my decision (homeschool? private school? public?) isn't a tough one. For one thing, my oldest child is three years old. I have two whole prayer-filled years before we must decide. I know God could easily change our hearts and minds. We stand firm in our decision today, but I am well aware that our decision could change not just when our children are school-age, but every year after that.

Before I type one more word, please know that I firmly believe God has different paths for different families - homeschool, private school, public school - for different yet equally important reasons.

I think it's also important to note that we live in a stellar school district. Our choice is made that much easier knowing that if we choose public education, our children will go to quality schools. I know my beliefs would be challenged if our public school options were not as hopeful.

I also can't deny that culturally speaking, I have been immersed in public schools. I grew up in public schools, I worked in public schools, and some of my best friends are superb educators in public schools. Public school education is a part of my DNA in the same way that my veins flow with uber thick German blood.

But when I try to separate myself from all of that (and no, it's not easy), I am still drawn toward public education.

Primarily, the reason we are choosing public schools is because of community.

At the core of my being, I am drawn to my community. I have a great big heart for the people around me. I love running into a neighbor on the bike path, a familiar face who walks the same concrete steps I walk everyday. Many of these folks aren't people I dine with or call up on the phone. Most of them are nameless - our conversations have never required titles. But they are my community. And I love them. And I cannot imagine how much more I will feel connected to these folks when our paths stretch beyond our backyards and into our childrens' schools. And it makes me just giddy to think of all the ways God is going to open doors through our involvement in this community via public schools.

Recently I read an outstanding article that challenges Christians to consider public schools for their families. The author's target audience is primarily Christian parents who lean toward private schools, but her arguments spoke directly to the reasons why I feel so strongly about public education.

There are two quotes from the article that I will share:

First, "One of the best places to build a relationship with families is in our public schools. They’re the hubs of our communities."

And this next quote brought tears to my eyes: "We can preach the gospel in the public schools, and the way we’re going to do that is through our lives, by allowing teachers, students, families, and administrators to experience the love of Christ through our actions . . . the church is not here with an ulterior motive—our ultimate motive is to love, to serve, to bless."

And that's just it. I don't have an agenda. Are you kidding me? Just thinking about evangelism makes me rashy. But I love to love. I love to serve. And I love to bless. And in turn, my life is transformed. I can't think of one time that I loved someone and it didn't in turn bless me.

I think that one of the best gifts that I can give my children is to demonstrate what it looks like to humbly follow Jesus in our community. I want them to see what it looks like to embrace a community, flaws and all, because God calls us to love the lost. And how can we love them if we don't go to them? Surely my humanity will fall short. But God never will. And that is where we will place our faith. Not in a curriculum or a method or a school district. But in the power of a God who is bigger than worldly influences and peer pressure and political agendas.

The list of reasons I believe God is preparing us for public schools doesn't stop at community. And I may or may not share more. For now, I pray that I will have eyes to see and ears to hear God's plan for my family. And I praise God that we live in a country where we have the freedom of choice and the opportunity of education.

Happy Easter?

2011-05-23T06:00:00.002-04:00

When I was about 12 years old, Champ, our golden retriever, went for a joy ride in the nearby woods on Easter Sunday. Champ's built-in GPS could put TomTom to shame, and soon after he left, Champ came traipsing up the steps onto the back porch. When my dad opened the door to let in the happy dog, we noticed that Champ was not alone. Hanging from his mouth was a baby rabbit, and as if a dead baby bunny on Easter Sunday wasn't bad enough, the poor thing wasn't even dead. The lil' nugget was still breathing but not well, and thank you Lord for a dad who grew up with hillbillies and knows how to take care of those things. One snap of the neck later, and the Easter bunny was out of its misery.

I was recently reminded of this tragic event when my husband spent this past Easter season on his own quest for a kill. This time the prize was a turkey. And because my macho husband thinks it's fun to live like the natives, he opted to hunt turkeys with a bow and arrow. And because my Robin Hood actually happens to be a darn good archer, he succeeded. And though I find the entire thing absolutely barbaric, I thought I'd share a few pics of my proud hubby, his weapon, and his trophy.

Because you really didn't want to see a picture of a dead bunny, did you?

Surviving the minivan.

2011-05-16T06:00:00.001-04:00

We did it. We bought a minivan.

But don't freak, yo. We DID NOT adorn it with stick people figurine stickers and fake baseball window shattered decals.

It's silver. It's crisp. It rocks.

And I don't mind it one bit. Especially considering my imagination is superb (thanks to a couple of choice years in my early 20s.)

And here's how I roll.

I slide in, crank up 107.5, and turn on my imagination. Chrysler who? I'm cruising down the 270 in a slick black Range Rover, tinted windows, spinners, and . . . and those kids in the back? They my posse.

In all seriousness, I had to laugh when we bought it because I was often asked by my peers, "How are you feeling now that you drive a minivan? Are you okay?" You would have thought I received a fatal diagnosis. But the diagnosis is perfect. With this new set of wheels I foresee hours of reaching back and tickling tiny toes, years of carpooling to baseball games, and miles of roadtrippin' with the fam. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful future, and believe it or not, I'm thrilled to create memories in what this generation of parents is affectionately naming the swagger wagon.

How about you? Do you fear the minivan or have you embraced it and all its sliding door glory?

Easter 2011 Highlights

2011-05-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

Beautiful weather and beautiful day.

Miss Bunny Ears 2011

2011-05-07T06:00:00.001-04:00

My hometown is home to Wendy's headquarters and back in the day they held an annual Miss Wendy pageant. Girls would put on a bright red pigtailed wig and blue & white striped dress and compete to be that year's spokesgirl for the restaurant. Most of the girls ended up looking like a trashy Raggedy Ann doll with dime-sized fake freckles all over their faces. It was quite bizarre. Very bizarre. But my hometown is also home to a field of giant cement corn so I'm not really surprised we hosted an event such as the Wendy's pageant.

Anyway, recently we plopped some fake bunny ears on Harper's sweet little mop and I thought, if there was a Miss Bunny Ears pageant in which girls put on a set of bunny ears and competed to represent commercialized Easter, I can tell you that there would be no contest. And I think you'll agree.

But then something terrible happened and my daughter started to take the Miss Bunny Ears pageant to an entirely different level and I was reminded of a pageant-of-sorts that also involves bunny ears and partially-clothed girls and that was the end of that photo shoot and I've spent everyday since in deep prayer that my daughter's future would never ever ever have anything to do with bunny ears or pageants or partially-clothed photography. Lord have mercy, we're moving to Antartica.

My fridge stank for two whole weeks, and it still stinks.

2011-05-02T06:00:00.001-04:00

But creating this Easter memory with my minis was so worth it.

And in case you were wondering (you probably weren't), coloring Easter eggs was the catalyst for this brilliant invention.

And I could have sworn that we colored eggs last year, but I don't have pictures to prove it. However I do have pictures from coloring eggs two years ago, and it's safe to say that I cried myself to sleep after I found these pictures.

He's not my baby anymore and it isn't fair {leaves room kicking and screaming}.

Earth Day: B. toys Review & GIVEAWAY!

2011-04-21T06:00:00.001-04:00

Congrats Jess Heath & The Knapps!

Here are your random numbers:

16 6

Timestamp: 2011-04-29 17:05:39 UTC

Wowzers. I haven't done a review in forever. But tomorrow is Earth Day, and the sweet folks at B. toys sent me the most wonderful toy to review, with two more to give away!!!

B. toys. Have you heard of them (or maybe you've seen them at Target? I heart Target)? Oh my gosh, I LOVE them. I first learned of B. toys when Harper received their One Two Squeeze blocks as a birthday gift. They are the best blocks for a one-year-old in the most amazing packaging. Love at first sight!

Then B. toys sent us the Alphaberry and we just can't get enough.

It's the perfect handheld toy for teaching kids their ABCs. It's simple yet genius, and my kids are constantly fighting over the darn thing.

They absolutely love it. Oh, and one of my favorite things about the Alphaberry? Batteries included! Need I say more? Thank you B. toys.

Here are a few other things I love about the line of toys:

The colors! Bold & vibrant but NOT obnoxious. Seriously, I love the colors. And you do to, don't ya?
B. toys are GREEN! Soy-based inks, water-based varnishes, recyclable clear plastic, and recycled packaging that's too cute not to reuse! They make my green heart happy.
Every toy comes with a gift tag and many of the toys come in boxes that wrap themselves! You will find all sorts of excuses to give these toys as gifts.
For every toy purchased, B. toys gives $0.10 to Free the Children, freeing children from poverty and exploitation. Now THAT is how you celebrate the earth!

So, aren't you just dying to get your hands on one of these toys? I have two toys to give away. Snug Bugs and a Hellophone.

Hellophone: The play cell phone that calls you back.

Record messages for kids to discover
3 pre-recorded messages
Lots of sounds & songs
Looks even cooler than a 6th grader’s!

Snug Bugs: these snap-together bugs make a thing string!

Pop them together
Pop them apart
Chewable
Squishable
Loveable (Not everything crawly is creepy.)
9 string-along friends. It’s got a lot of legs!
Contest Rules:

I will draw two names for the giveaway. The first draw picks which toy he/she wants and I will send the other toy to the second draw.

There are three ways to enter. You may not enter more than three times. Please leave a separate comment for each entry. Please include your email address if your profile does not include that information.
The first way to enter is to simply leave a comment. That's it!
A second way to enter is to tweet about it. After sending your tweet, leave a comment letting me know that you used twitter to spread the word.
A third way to enter is to post about the contest on facebook. After posting on facebook, leave a comment letting me know that you used facebook to spread the word.
Contest ends on Friday, April 29 at 11:59pm (EST).
And thank you, B. toys!

Sticker Pedicure

2011-04-20T06:00:00.001-04:00

Guess who got her nails did?

Well, technically, she did them herself. With stickers. It was her idea. I just supplied the stickers. But I think she's onto something. Because let's face it, this shellac manicure craze is for the birds. UV lights and acetone removal? Sounds awfully suspicious.

The sticker pedicure is where it's at.

I love to study.

2011-04-15T06:00:00.001-04:00

I began studying the Bible a few months ago. Like really studying. Intensely. Reading each verse accompanied by commentaries and translations and original text - learning the context and the history and the language.

It has been one of the most life changing efforts in my entire life. I imagine you think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. Up until very recently, I thought the Old Testament was way too complicated and had little relevance in my awesomely hip 21st century life. And the New Testament? Well it's all about love and Jesus and disciples and a crazy whack book called Revelations and that's all you need to know about that, right? But wow, I was so so so so so wrong.

I'm only three books into my study (Genesis, Exodus, and Leviticus) and I have never been so in love with three books in my entire life. Can you even imagine my love when I get to the New Testament? I can hardly stand the wait.

I mention this only because since I started studying the Bible I find myself yearning for the next chance to read and study. But it's not as simple as opening the Bible. I require physical space to study - for writing (I write all over my Bible) and note taking and journaling and space for a computer open to online commentaries (Biblos and Precept Austin are two of my best friends). So finding time to actually study the Bible isn't as simple as it might seem. But the longing I feel as I wait for the next chance to study is such a precious gift. It's indescribable. I'm constantly hungry for more God. More of His Word. More of His teaching. And that in itself has changed who I am.

I'm most at peace when I'm in His Word. Actually hearing it. Allowing it to speak to me. And when something doesn't make sense or doesn't sit well, I become a scavenger, hunting for the context or history or language to make the pieces of the puzzle come alive. And I am so blessed to live in this era with hundreds of websites and resources at my disposal. Sure, I find myself reading commentaries from folks of different theological backgrounds, but it is beautiful to read diverse teachings from folks who have one thing in common: a desire to better know God. It is in those moments that I find myself deep in prayer, that God would speak Truth to me through His Word - not theories or educated guesses. Truth and nothing less.

If you have never actually studied God's Word, I highly encourage it. Start with Genesis. It is by far the most exciting book I have ever read. Seriously, I have a love affair with Genesis like you wouldn't believe (I spent an entire day on the first two verses. It was heavenly). And just study it. Word for Word. Verse for Verse. It will bless you in ways you cannot imagine.

And let me know about it, please? I'm not only hungry for more God, but I'm hungry to connect with others who share this passion.

And for those of you who have done a formal Bible study, such as BSF (Bible Study Fellowship), what do you think? I registered for BSF and will begin in the fall, but I'm not sold. One of its greatest selling points for me is the childcare. Supposedly it's stellar. And that's the biggest obstacle for me as I study God's Word. It's hard to study when I have two adorable toddlers climbing on me. I love the idea behind BSF, but I also like the freedom that comes with studying at my own pace. I like setting my own rules, and when rules are presented, I often enjoy breaking them, and I wonder how I'll fit into a program that carries its own set of expectations. My attitude going into it is that I'm simply learning God's Word - it's a learning journey. I'm not looking to make friends or engage in therapeutic conversations. I simply want to better understand the Bible. I think I'll enjoy BSF if that remains my attitude. What do you think?

So what about you? Do you study the Bible? And if so, what are your favorite Bible study resources? Please share!

PAR-TAY!

2011-04-12T06:00:00.003-04:00

To celebrate my boy's third birthday, we had a rockin' race car par-tay!

I received a lot of sweet compliments on this invitation. But I can't take much credit - they were seriously so easy to make. I created the invitation in Publisher and printed four to a page. I had them laminated for pennies at Office Max. I added the clips so that they felt like real pit passes.

No Hooper party is complete without one of my mother-in -law's homemade one-of-a-kind cake creations.

She created these race cars out of fondant. Aren't they perfect?

Pit Stop: the food!

I found these baskets at GFS. A bit of a splurge at $9.99 for 12, but I thought they complimented the party wonderfully. And now I have them for future parties.

The food was basic. Hot dogs, chips, fruit, veggies, and . . .

Popcorn!

Refuel: drinks!

My husband built this four-lane race track. It was an absolute hit. And the project was simple. He bought the board and painted it. Then he painted the wooden 1x1s. He nailed those into the board and that was about it.

My parents suggested we lean it against their bed (my parents are the most hospitable people I know - when I said to my mom, "but the kids might climb on your bed with their shoes on," she said, "Alison, do you think I care? The kids will have fun!") It worked out perfectly because there was plenty of room for the kids to gather and race their cars down the tracks.

We set out a box of Matchbox cars, but the lanes are wide enough that the kids can race even larger cars.

We set out tires and bean bags for the kids to play with. Sweet Sammy had other plans for the tires.

Mister Henry is easily overwhelmed. He very much enjoyed his party, but having everyone sing to him made him quite uncomfortable.

This is as close as he would get to his cake. He never did blow out the candles.

But who really cares about candles anyway? The cake and ice cream was delicious, and that was all that mattered.

One activity not pictured is the egg hunt. Because Henry's birthday always falls close to Easter, we traditionally have an egg hunt at his birthday party. This year I splurged on car-shaped eggs that I found at the dollar store ($1 for 6 eggs as opposed to $1 for 18). I filled the eggs with stickers and candy. It was a cold rainy day, so we did the egg hunt indoors this year.

What I love about these pictures is that there is not one picture of Henry looking at the camera. He is such a shy boy.

His sister is very much the opposite.

In every way.

I found Hot Wheels cars and Hot Wheels silly bands for party favors.

Even though I insisted NO GIFTS, some of our friends and family spoiled Henry anyway.

He was very grateful.

Go figure - it wasn't until we got home that evening that I realized we never took a family picture at the party. I made Matt set up the camera and timer so that we could get a family picture. And of course, with no one behind the camera, Henry was happy to look at it :)

It was such a great party, and I am so blessed to celebrate another beautiful year with my amazing son. Thank you to everyone who made his day so sweet. We love you all.

BirthDAY!

2011-04-06T06:00:00.002-04:00

While most people were super glued to their toilet seats and drinking soapy lattes, we done April Fool's right - with a CELEBRATION.

Because April Fool's Day is only the best holiday ever. It's Henry's birthday!

This year we celebrated by hosting one of Henry's dearest gal pals, Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn spoiled Henry with doughnuts and gifts, and though a lovely gesture, it means that Miss Erin is in big big trouble (no presents means NO PRESENTS).

Finger lickin' good.

Doughnuts. Best way to start the day. Ever.

Get in my belly (that one's for you, Morgan & Aaron).

Doughnut demolition Harper style: remove the sprinkles and suck off the icing. I'm a shove-as-much-in-my-mouth-as-possible kind of doughnut eater (not pictured, your welcome), but to each her own, I guess.

The Aquadoodle is one of those inventions that makes you mad that you didn't invent it first. It's so simple and yet so brilliant.

I've never seen three toddlers play so beautifully together in all my life.

Aquadoodle = Genius.

I'm kind of obsessed with these three amigos.

And now they attempt to assist me in the kitchen. And spray the entire back wall with water. Why did I think putting the Aquadoodle away was a good idea?

Sprinkling cheese on pizza is a fine art.

And a tasty one.

As if that wasn't already the best birthday ever, MoMo stopped by with cake and balloons, and the rest is history.

MoMo might be even more awesome than the Aquadoodle.

Yep, I'm pretty sure she is.

And to think the day was only half over. If you're friends with me on fb, you know the latter part of the day was spent eating chickennuggetsfrenchfries and ~~drooling over Mover Rich~~ rocking out at the Imagination Movers concert.

Not a bad day for my 36 month old boy (and that one is for you, Erin Bradshaw).

Doughnuts, Aquadoodle, and Mover Rich - I mean seriously, I want to turn three!

Baby Boy

2011-04-03T06:00:00.003-04:00

You might expect that three days after his third birthday that I brag all about how big my son is getting. After all, his baby years are much more distant than his school-age years are near.

But I'd rather savor the remaining moments that show me he is still my baby boy.

Snuggling on the couch in his favorite t-shirt.

Cuddling Boy Baby because Girl Baby is for girls, thankyouverymuch.

Holding tightly to Hoot and Doggie, his beloved loveys that he's had since birth.

Soothing himself sweetly with a pacifier, an addiction we are struggling to break.

Keeping Moosey close, his dearest friend and companion.

Nestled in warmth under his blue butter-soft baby blanket.

Though three, he still melts my heart just as he did the first time I nestled him on my chest.

Henry Duran Hooper, you are a perfect gift from above. I love you with all of my heart. And no matter if you are three days, three years, or three decades old, you will always be my baby boy.

I heart crafts.

2011-03-31T06:00:00.001-04:00

And friends. And crafts with friends.

And in the spirit of the season (yeah, that's Christmas I'm talking about. I'm a bit behind, thankyouverymuch), I invited a handful of friends to get their craft on with me.

We made photo wreaths, a simple craft requiring basic supplies: photographs, cardstock, scissors, glue, ribbon, and embellishments.

It was an awesome and productive evening, and I think we started a tradition!

Princess.

2011-03-29T06:00:00.000-04:00

I stepped over the pile of worn-three-days-in-a-row sweatpants and t-shirt and opened the closet to find something requiring more effort. I slipped on a long dress and cardigan sweater before managing to curl my eyelashes and blow dry my recently trimmed hair. The cleaned up version of me felt awkward yet fresh. And it became even more obvious that I was out of my element when my son saw me and said, "Daddy, daddy! Mommy is a princess!"

I hate the title Princess. But in that moment, I've never felt so adored. Leave it up to a 3-year-old boy to make me feel like a million bucks. And I'll take it. Give him a few minutes and he'll be smearing snot across my sleeve, whining that he doesn't want to take a bath, reminding me that my life is far from royal. And let's face it, my days are consumed with ketchup stains and playing make-believe dinosaurs. Dresses, make-up, and blown out hair is better left for movie stars and drag queens.

And princesses.