Weekend Favorites

I am in total vacation mode.  I cannot think long enough to put together a coherent sentence most of the time (because I’m relaxed, though I have admittedly had a few Margaritas, an amazing Sweet Tea Mojito and some wine…not all today, of course…Sigh.  Never mind.)

My point is – blogging and writing are not on the top of my list.  That’s a good thing.  I needed the break.  But I feel bad – like I’m letting my readers down (all ten of you).  So I’m sorry.  Not so sorry that I will promise to regale you with witty tales of our beach days, of coures, but sorry nonetheless.

Ahem.

The weekend was fabulous, but went by far too quickly.  Lee arrived Wednesday night.  We celebrated our anniversary on Thursday with our kids.  We went to the beach, we swam in the pool, we ate dinner out with my parents where Sloan got to experience his first grouper sandwich (it was bigger than his head and he managed to finish almost all of it).  Later that night we snuck away to our favorite spot on Clearwater beach where we sat next to the firepit and watched the sun set whilst drinking the aforementioned Margaritas.

Bliss.

We took a boat ride this weekend, we swam a lot, we relaxed, we tried paddle boarding for the first time, we attempted to kayak on the paddle board together only to realize there was no way we were going to make it without becoming shark bait, we played games on my mom’s ipad and proceeded to fight over it because we all wanted to play something different, we took naps – we vacationed.

Then Lee went home and we all cried.  But the kids and I have another week and a half here and we have plenty of fun in store – including a trip to Busch Gardens.  For now I will leave you with a few photos because I’m so tired that my eyelids are waving the white flag and my brain is threatening to implode.

I hereby give you – The Weekend.

The kids played ball with my dad who they call "Boss."

The kids played ball with my dad who they call "Boss."

Lee and I played kissy face on our anniversary, thoroughly grossing Sloan out.

Lee and I played kissy face on our anniversary, thoroughly grossing Sloan out.

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We've done a lot of jumping into the pool. They're starting to get crazy.

They are diving, flipping, twisting and turning into the pool. The only thing they haven't tried is a back flip. I'm okay with that.

They are diving, flipping, twisting and turning into the pool. The only thing they haven't tried is a back flip. I'm okay with that.

Lee spent a significant amount of time flinging them into the air.

Lee spent a significant amount of time flinging them into the air.

One of our favorite things to do with the kids is take them to The Sand Pearl at sunset.  Lee and I sit by the fire and the kids run around in the sand with glow sticks.  A massive lightening storm foiled our plans the other night, but after the storm was over we walked down to my parent’s dock to see this spectacular sunset.

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Pardon my beach hair. When I'm down here I refuse to dry my hair or wear makeup.

Pardon my beach hair. When I'm down here I refuse to dry my hair or wear makeup.

Since Landon was so little the last time we came here, it’s been fun to watch him rediscover Florida.  He is a fish, refusing to get out of the water every time we swim.  He loves the sand and has found a particular fondness for chasing seagulls.  All around he’s having a blast.  The only glitch is bedtime.  He still sleeps in a crib at home.  Here, he’s on an air mattress in the same room as Sloan and Tia.  He seems to think that bedtime is party time every night.

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We spent Lee’s last morning with us at the beach where we made new friends, swam and dove for Sand Dollars.  Sloan and Tia each collected five or six.  They are now sitting in a bucket of bleach so that we can paint them and turn them into Christmas ornaments.

Paddle Boarding.  This is good fun.

Paddle Boarding. This is good fun.

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And finally – Lee found this on the ocean floor while diving for Sand Dollars.  It’s not exactly buried treasure, but it gave us all a good laugh.

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Lovely.

One more thing – Clearwater is on the Gulf side of the state.  And there is not a drop of oil here.  But their economy is hurting.  It’s very sad.  So if any of you have a trip planned down here that you’re considering cancelling because of oil, please don’t!  It’s gorgeous down here and the water is perfectly clear.  Just wanted to throw that in.

Happy Monday.

Florida 2010

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We’re having just a little bit of fun. 🙂

Girl and Boy become Mom and Dad

With our lovely and eventful honeymoon now over, Lee and I set up house in Frisco, Texas just north of Dallas.  We had a sweet little third floor apartment that I loved not only for its charm but also for the fact that I could vacuum the entire place without once having to unplug the vacuum cleaner.  Big bonus!

When we returned from our honeymoon, the job that we thought was lined up for Lee had fallen through.  But, thankfully, another job opened up immediately as a sales rep for Hewlitt Packard.  He was going to make 36 grand a year and we were certain we were rolling in the dough.

I commenced to freelance writing and editing.  I had a gig as a co-author with Joe White on an upcoming devotional and I also had several contacts who threw ghostwriting opportunities my way.  Because these took a lot of time, I decided to forgo the traditional 9 to 5 job and get something with more flexible hours.

Enter WOGA – the World Olympic Gymnastics Academy.  As a former gymnast, I had the experience needed to work at this high class facility.  As a russian speaker, I had an immediate in with my bosses, Valery Liukin and Evgeny Marchenko.  So every afternoon, I reported to work and while I coached my level four and five girls, I had the unique privilage of watching a then 13 year old Carly Patterson and 10 year old Nastia Liukin train.  They were amazing even as little girls.  Lee and I also forged some wonderful relationships at WOGA and every time I return to Dallas I try to visit and say hello to my dear friends.

In addition to WOGA, Lee and I attended Chuck Swindoll’s Church where, every Sunday, we sat next to Cynthia Swindoll and soaked up the most amazing teaching.  To say those first years of our marriage were blessed is an understatement.  From our friends at church and at work, we have nothing but fond and sweet thoughts of those days.

But, as happens in life, we experienced our first blow in 2002 when Lee was fired from his job.  We were devastated, shocked and scared.  We loved our life in Dallas and didn’t want to leave, but after four months of looking for work, we had to make the difficult decision to pack up and move.  Lee got a job in St. Louis and we moved in with my parents.

Humbling.

In October, 2002, Lee and I had a little marital conversation.  It went something like this:

Kelli: “I’m ready to have a baby.”

Lee: *crickets*

Kelli: “What do you think?”

And thus Lee laid out a long list of reasons why we should, in fact, NOT have a baby.  They included things like – “We aren’t making very much money,” – “We don’t have a place to live,” – “You just started a new job.”

“Let’s talk about this again in six months,” Lee suggested to which I agreed.

One week later I found out I was pregnant.

So I did what any reasonable wife would do with such amazing news.  I called my husband at work and broke the news over the phone.

After the initial shock wore off, we were both very excited…and terrified.  But look how cute we were:

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We did find a house in January of 2003 and spent the next seven months gutting and rehabbing it.  Because there’s nothing less stressful than trying to rehab a house when you have a pregnant hormonal wife breathing down your neck…

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On July 10, 2003, after five hours of intense labor, Sloan Alexander came screaming into the world.  He was beautiful and fat and sweet and perfect and we could not have been more elated.

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We had the house finished enough to bring Sloan home to it a week after he was born.  We’re still in that home today.  It seems to have gotten smaller over the years, but we love it there.

When Sloan was a little over a year old, we decided to give him a sibling.  Little did we know it would take almost a year to get pregnant the second time around.  It was a very discouraging time for me and while I know that many couples struggle for much, much longer than we did, it gave me a small glimpse of the heartache and frustration of infertility.

Finally, though, after much heartache and prayer, we conceived our second child.  When I was pregnant with Sloan, Lee was adamant about finding out the sex before he was born.  I, however, wanted to wait.  So he agreed that we could be surprised the second time around and true to his word, we did not find out the gender.

We just assumed it would be a boy.  There had only been one girl in roughly five generations of Stuarts so we didn’t think we’d change that trend.  I washed up all the baby boy clothes and lovingly placed them in the nursery.  We chose the name Sawyer Brayden and we waited to meet Sloan’s baby brother. (Sloan, incidentally, though only two years old at the time, insisted that he would be getting a sister.)

On my due date, February 2, 2006, my water broke at 4:20 am.  At 6:19 our daughter, Katya Rose, was born.  That was a good day.

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After Tia, we agreed to wait a bit before having a third child.  The only snag came when Tia was 13 months old and we deiceded to take our first vacation alone together since our honeymoon.  Four weeks later I held a positive pregnancy test in my trembling hands.

Lee was leaving that afternoon to visit his family in Arkansas for the weekend.  I made the mistake of telling him before he left.  He was shocked and his initial reaction was anger.  In fact, we barely spoke all weekend.  I was sick with worry and felt like somehow I had done something wrong.  It was a bad weekend.

I even called a friend nearly in tears to get a little reassurance that we were going to be okay and we hadn’t detrimentally harmed our older children by forcing another sibling upon them so quickly.

Thankfully, though, Lee came home with a fresh perspective and calmed my anxious heart and, with a little time, we grew excited about this new babe.  Then, at ten weeks, I rushed to the ER, bleeding heavily, sure I was miscarrying.  We discovered the next day that the amniotic sac had torn away from the uterine wall.  The doctor used words like “spontaneous abortion” and “D & C” and I feared like never before.  Because as he said those things I was staring at a tiny, beating heart on the ultrasound machine.  I could see arms and a facial profile and all I could think was that if my body failed, this life would end.

It didn’t end, though.  After a moneth of bedrest, the issue corrected itself and on December 16, 2007, Landon Lee was born after what seemed an unending labor and delivery.  (I was in the hospital a whopping two and a half hours before he was born – my longest stay in the delivery room ever!)

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And here we sit – a week away from our tenth anniversary, three children sleeping soundly one room over.  We look a little older than we did the day we walked down the aisle and our lives are definately filled with more crazy.

But I wouldn’t trade that crazy for all the riches in the world.  Especially because these three faces…

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Are the product of what began on the Saturday afternoon in July of 2000.  From where I sit, it’s been one heck of a decade.

To read our entire love story – click here.

Lemonade for Haiti

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“Mom! Can I clean the bathroom?”

“Uh…sure,” I reply, trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

“Will you pay me a dollar?”

Ah yes.  The catch.

“Why should I pay you a dollar?” I ask.  “The bathroom is dirty because you made it dirty.  Don’t you think you should clean it up for free?”

“But I want to raise money to send to children in Haiti!”

“Oh.  Well, I guess you can have a dollar then.”

“Great!  After that I’m going to go around the neighborhood and knock on people’s doors and see if I can walk their dogs to earn money for Haiti.  I want to get $111.00.”

I start calculating how many miles he’s going to have to walk to come up with that money. It doesn’t seem entirely realistic.  “Hey bud,” I call to my laboring son.  “Come here – I have an idea.”

And thus was birthed the idea for the lemonade stand for Haiti.

I haven’t put on a lemonade stand since I was a kid myself.  And it ended…poorly.  I was eleven-ish and we lived in a brand new St. Louis subdivision.  The neighbors across the street joined me and together we made up lemonade and situated ourselves on the street in front of some new construction.  We figured the builders would like to come buy our lemonade.

But they didn’t.  Despite our shrills screeches for LEMONAAAAAAAADE!!!!

So we put our heads together and came up with a solution to make more money.  My neighbor ran over to her house and raided her parents garage refridgerater.  She came out moments later dragging a cooler filled with…beer.

We commenced to shouting: LEMONAAAAADE…BEEEEEER!

And lo and behold, the builders flocked to us.  We sold several cans of beer and were racking in the dough when her dad came tearing acorss the yard.  The construction workers scattered.

“What are you doing?” he stammered.

“We’re selling lemonade and beer,” we said proudly.  “We’re making a lot of money.”

“Girls!” he cried.  “This is illegal.  You can’t sell beer.”

And that was the last time I worked a lemonade stand.

Despite the popularity of the beer, I refrained from suggesting to Sloan the illegal selling of alcohol.  Instead we kept it innocent – lemonade and chocolate chip cookies.  I also did the smart thing and put out the word on Facebook and Twitter.  Thank you to the sweet friends who came out and supported my tender hearted sons’ dream.  You helped him reach his goal and more. 

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 The neighbor kids joined us in flagging down passing cars.  Unfortunately there was a competing stand down the road, but that didn’t hamper the spirits of the kids.  They waved, they jumped and flapped their arms like chickens, all the while screeching LEEEEEMONADE! 

And people, when they discovered that we were accepting donations for this organization, were extremely generous, paying five, ten and in one case forty, dollars for a glass of lemonade and a freshly baked cookie. 

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 I was humbled as I watched Sloan work so hard to earn money.  Earlier that weekend, I had taken him to Target to use a gift card he got for his birthday.  He had his wallet with him and in his wallet was $20.  His gift card had $15 on it.  He saw several toys that he wanted that were more than $15.  I never said a word to him, I wanted to see how he would respond.

He refused to spend that $20.  “That’s the money for Haiti,” he told me.  And he picked out a smaller toy and a pack of gum instead.  Where did this child of mine come from?  It’s humbling to me.  There is often an ugliness in my heart that crops up when the need to give presents itself.  I get fearful that by giving away my money I may potentially not have what I need (or want) somewhere down the road.  So to see my seven year old give with reckless abandon, not caring about what he might be sacrificing, I was floored.

And honored.  Honored to be his mom.  Ashamed of my own ugliness.  Excited to help him work to earn $111.00. 

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Who wouldn’t want to buy a glass of lemonade from a face like this?

We were out there about an hour and a half before the sky started to fall.  As the rain fell, we grabbed our stuff and rushed home where we counted our money.  $120.  He reached his goal.

“Oh wait!” Sloan cried as we sat on the floor with the money.  He rushed to his wallet and grabbed the money out of it.  “I want to put this in.”

Lee and I looked at each other and back at Sloan, his big blue eyes so sweet and big.  “You know what, buddy,” Lee said.  “Why don’t you keep it.”

We went on to explain how God blesses a cheerful giver and we thought that Sloan deserved to keep the money he had already earned as a blessing for his heart.

“Well, can I put some of it in for the children in Haiti?” Sloan asked.

“You can put all of it in, if you really want to,” Lee said.  “But if you want to keep it, you have our permission.”

He thought about it for a minute and took out five dollars.  “I want to give some of it to Haiti,” he said.

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And then together as a family, we prayed a blessing over this jar of money – and over a certain seven year old who taught me quite a bit in the span of one day.

Blessings.

Seven

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Tomorrow morning, July 10, at 6:21 am will mark seven years since I first became a mother.  It is hard to express in words exactly how proud I am of this child and the young man he is growing into. 

He is tenderhearted and caring. 

He is funny and expressive. 

 He is smart and thoughtful. 

He is spunky and outgoing. 

He is quick to anger (we’re working on this) but also quick to ask for forgiveness. 

He aches when he knows he’s hurt somone’s feelings and will swiftly work to make things right.

He is also quick to offer forgiveness.

He’s loyal and will be a friend for life.

He is a remarkable little boy who grew from a brute of a baby (9 lbs 3oz – no drugs…Oy):

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Into a beast of a toddler:

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Into an adorable preschooler:

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Into the handsome little boy he is today:

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He’s athletic, able to smack a baseball and golfball with the savvy of someone twice his age.

He can speak and read in two languages.  This blows my mind.

He harbors a minor obssession with Star Wars and can rattle off a web of details that I find rather shocking.  It’s terribly adorable to hear him school his brother and sister on the ins and out of the Jedi Order.

Sloan is accutely aware of the suffering of others and desperately wants to help.  Currently he is raising money for Haiti and he is passionate about earning enough to help the kids there who are suffering.

Sloan prays with a boldness that I admire and love.  Listening to him pray is like being in a tent revival.  He brings the fire in his prayers and it’s hard not to jump up and shout “Halleljah!” 

In seven years, Sloan has taught me so many things.  He’s taught me to love people, to smile more, to forgive others swiftly, to trust in the Lord’s protection without question, to take a deep breath before speaking, to pray passionately, to care for others, and so much more…

But mostly, he’s taught me that I have the capability to love far more deeply and powerfully than I ever thought possible.  I didn’t know I could feel such a depth of emotion for one tiny person until Sloan came along.  He is more than I could have ever asked or imagined in a son and I am abundantly grateful to be called his mom.

Happy Birthday, Sloan.

A Girly Girl, She is Not

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She is sugar and spice and everything nice, but she also has a bit of frogs, snails and puppy dog tails in her.

Or, you know, night crawlers.

Ugh…

The Great Camping Trip of 2010

We did it!  We conquered the great outdoors.  We survived the big woods back woods of Missouri.  We lived off the land.  We were pioneers – FTW!

Actually, if we want to get technical, we lived off of Walmart brand boxed foods and our minivan served as our trusty wagon, faithfully toting our belongings into the very accomodating land of shaded camp grounds.  We are quite the mountaineers.

Aside from the obvious fact that we weren’t totally roughing, we did indeed sleep in the great outdoors, enduring the elements, cooking over a fire and exploring the natural wonders of the land around us.  And we had a blast!

First things first – we pitched the tent.  This was Landon’s first time to sleep in a tent.  Sloan and Tia slept outside several times last year in the back yard.  Landon was so excited to be included in this family excursion that he was literally bouncing off the walls before we left.  He wouldn’t even nap.

Fun…

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Sloan was a huge help.  He’s quite the outdoorsmen.

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After the tent was up, we let the kids roll around for a bit before setting up the beds.  Sloan and Tia slept on the hard ground because they’re bones were made for that sort of adventure.  Lee and I slept on an air mattress as did Landon.  Because I know better than to think I would survive sleeping on the hard earth.

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We were joined by four other families on our weekend trip.  Since we were the first to arrive we decided to explore a bit.  We hiked up a nearby trail.  The hike didn’t last long because my daughter was apparently created with the smallest bladder known to womankind and she’s yet to learn the art of squatting the the trees.  So we quickly found ourselves heading back down the path to the shower house where we would make frequent runs throughout the weekend.  Thank God it was fairly clean.

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Before leaving on our trip, I worried most about the sleeping arangements.  Landon still sleeps in a crib so I was concerned about how he would do in the tent.  I didn’t need to worry.  He was so exhausted that he passed out the second his head hit the pillow both nights, as did the other two.

Lee and I on the other hand…we struggled.  We didn’t plan on it being quite so cold in July.  The weather could not have been more perfect for our weekend trip, but with a low Friday night of 60 degrees, Lee and I nearly froze under our tiny little blanket.  Couple that with a rowdy group of college kids next door and the first night was rough.  In fact, I made a hasty retreat to the minivan in the hopes of finding a little warmth.

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Thank God for coffee and caffinated tea.

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And a husband who is chipper despite a long, cold night of little sleep.

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And a minivan that provided a safe haven for naps the next day when the kids couldn’t fall asleep in the tent.  Not only are minivans hot, but they are extremely functional.  Like a modern day covered wagon, they are.

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We explored a local cave where our tour guide taught us all about dolomite and calcite and a bunch of other “mites.”  The quote of the weekend came when the guide was explaining the drastic decline in grey bats due to a rather unfortunate virus.  “We have only 35 bats who call this cave home,” she said to our group.  And bursting through the silence was Sloan who piped up, “Hey!  My dad’s 35!”  Isn’t it nice to know that kids will always be there to keep you humble?

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Saturday night, the grown ups snuck away for a little zip line excursion.  Zooming off a platform 90 feet in the air at sunset and zipping over 1200 feet is a good time.  Just sayin’… 

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And Sunday we all gathered together for a feast fit for kings.

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We ate bacon (and lots of it), hash browns, eggs, donuts and so much more…

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Because we forgot towels and because it was a little too involved for our taste, we did not bathe or shower all weekend.  Which means we brought home dirty, dirty children.  My bath tub has the largest, nastiest ring of dirt around it now.  The shower upon returning home was perhaps the most glorious moment of all my life.  I’ve never felt more clean.

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In all, the weekend was a smashing success.  The kids did amazing – better than I could have imagined.  We were surrounded by sweet friends.  We laughed a lot, slept a little and made memories that will last for a lifetime.

Now, off to tackle the last three loads of approximately 452 loads of laundry that we brought home…

Kids Say the Darndest Things

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Sloan: “Hey Mom!  What if I had a fire bootie?”

Me: “Um…what?”

S: “What if I had a fire bootie?  Then, if a dinosaur started chasing me, I could just toot and it would be like a rocket and I could get away.”

Me: *silence*  There’s really no way to respond to that.

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Sloan: “Tia!  Stop copying me.”

Tia: “Stop copying me.”

S: “Tia, stooooop.

T: “Tia, stooooop.”

S: “Mom, Tia is copying me.”

T: “Mom, Tia is copying me.”

Me: “Tia please stop copying Sloan.  That bothers him.”

Tia: “Well I can’t help it.  My bwain tells me to copy and I can’t say no to my bwain.”

Me: “Well, you’re gonna have to learn to say no to your brain, honey, or you’re gonna have a lot of trouble in life.”

Sloan: “Yeah.  And some of that trouble will be with me.”

Someone tell me again…how long until school starts back up?

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Me to Landon: “What’s your name?”

Landon: “Bubba.”

Me: “No, what’s your real name.”

Landon: “Uuuhhh…Hey you Bubba?”

I swear we don’t go around calling that child ‘Hey You.’  Just want to make that clear.

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Tia: “Mom!  Sloan called me a wowyer.”

Me: “A what?”

Tia: “A wowyer.”

Me: “What’s a wowyer?”

Sloan: “A lawyer, mom.  I called her a lawyer.”

Me: “Oh.  That’s not a bad name, Tia.”

Tia: “Yuh-huh.  He said it mean and he said I’m a big, fat wowyer.”

Me: *sigh* “Sloan, don’t call your sister a lawyer, please.”

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Tia: “Mom, I weawy, weawy, weawy wish I was a boy.”

Me: “Why?”

T: “So I can stand up to go potty and so I can carry guns.”

Me: “Well I can’t help you with the potty thing – that’s just how you were made.  But girls can carry guns just like boys.”

Tia: “They can?”

Me: “Sure.”

Tia: “Can I have a gun for my birfday?  A weal one?”

Me: “No.”

Tia: “But I fought you said girls tan carry guns?”

Me: “Pretend guns, honey.  Sloan doesn’t even have a real gun.”

Tia: “Yuh-huh.  He said he could shoot me dead wif it.”

Me: “Sloan!  Come here please.”

It only took me 20 years

I have lived in St. Louis since I was 12 years old, minus the six years during and after college when I lived in Texas.  And in all that time, I never once visited the Missouri Botanical Gardens.  I’ve seen pictures and heard people rave about what a great place it was, but for some reason, I had just never gone.

Until yesterday.  When I found out how beautiful the weather would be, I quickly packed up the kiddos and headed out the door.  I have since found out that it would have been wiser to wait until today as admittance is free on Wednesday mornings, but other than that little misstep, it was the perfect day to go.  With a high of 84, it was very pleasant.  The kids had a blast looking at all the different flowers and exploring the rocky paths that crossed babbling brooks and quaint bridges.

“It feels like Narnia!” Sloan yelled at one point.  And it kind of did.  You know, minus the giant talking Lion…

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We saw the dinosaur exhibit. Landon wasn't sure about the T-Rex...

So he roared at it.

So he roared at it.

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I'm fairly certain those fish were large enough to swallow Landon whole - maybe even Tia.

I'm not sure if this was allowed, but my kids can hardly resist climbing a tree.

I'm not sure if this was allowed, but my kids can hardly resist climbing a tree.

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Landon with his Justin Bieber hair.

Toy Story 3: Better Titled “Let’s Tear Mom’s Heart From Her Chest and Stomp On It”

Thank you, Pixar and Disney, for making me a blubbery, sobby mess.  Thank you for gently forcefully ripping my heart from my chest and using it to play ball for 109 minutes.  Thank you for making me so emotional that my husband, when asking what I thought about the movie, had to make a hasty retreat as tears shot out of the corners of my eyes like daggers. 

Thank you, Pixar and Disney, for Toy Story 3.

I took my kids yesterday to see the final installment of the Toy Story saga.  It’s been 15 years since I saw the first Toy Story.  I was a senior in high school.  Now I’m a mom of three.  And the message of this movie was not at all lost on me.  Especially given the fact that Tia sat on one side of me clutching her beloved Lovey Bear and Landon sat on the other, his Sock Monkey nestled snug beneath his arm.  I couldn’t help but look at those two little toys, both so loved and content at this moment.  What will it be like in fifteen years when they are cast off – no longer needed for comfort and companionship?

Excuse me for a moment while I go sob in the bathroom…

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It didn’t even dawn on me when we left the house that they were carrying those toys with them to the theater to see a movie about the fate of beloved toys.  But looking at my babies as Andy drove away on the big screen with his faithful companions left to watch his tail lights fade in the distance, I got so terribly emotional.  It doesn’t help that I’m slightly hormonal, or that it’s been a tough week parenting.

As we drove home after the movie, I glanced in the rearview mirror at these children of mine – children who I love desperately.  Time goes by so quickly.  Yesterday (or so it seems) I married Lee.  And then I blinked and it’s suddenly ten years later.  If I weren’t such a prim and proper lady I’d let out an expletive.  Instead I’ll settle for a simple, WTHHow does it move so quickly?

I read this on Nicole’s blog yesterday:

“When you’re holding your baby and he’s falling asleep in your arms slowly and the evening is slipping away and your mind is racing through the thousand things at the top of your list, and you begin to feel – as all fathers and mothers inevitably feel from time to time – that you’re wasting your time taking care of this little kid, try to remember that next year you won’t be able to hold him in the same way, he won’t go to sleep in your arms, and after a few more years, you’ll be happy to get a hug on the run. Our children are here to stay, but our babies and toddlers and preschoolers are gone as fast as they can grow up – and we have only a short moment with each. When you see a grandfather take a baby in his arms, you see that the moment hasn’t always been long enough.” S. Adams Sullivan, The Father’s Almanac

This parenting thing is hard.  “Enjoy it,” everyone tells you, “Because it goes by so fast.”  Even a bunch of animated toys told me the very same thing yesterday.  What no one tells you, though, is that sometimes you have to work really, really hard to enjoy it.  And that is, perhaps, what had me most emotional.  I know it goes by fast, I know I need to enjoy it, I know I need to cherish the moments because they’re over in the blink of an eye – but to be quite honest, I don’t always enjoy being a mom.  I love my kids, of course.  They are so much a piece of me that I hardly remember life without them.  But raising them…it’s hard.

Of course, it’s supposed to be hard now.  “Put in the hard work when they’re young so that when they grow into teenagers you can reap the rewards of that hard work.”  This is another piece of sage advice I cling to.  On the days when it feels like all I do is battle, I remember that it’s better to battle them now when the environment is controlled than to battle them as teenagers when the battlefield is full of hidden mines and has a much larger scope.

But I would be lying if I said that I enjoy every moment of every day.  Because I don’t. 

I do, however, enjoy more than I don’t enjoy.  Stay with me…Yesterday, and the few days leading up to it, was a hard day.  There were many battles, many fights, many tears.  And I was battle weary.  Today, this morning, has been filled with sweetness.  The kids have played together this morning without argument (and when I say argument, I mean screaming bloody murder at one another – sorry to any neighbors who were awakened by Sloan and Tia’s death match on the front porch Sunday morning).  They’ve been pleasant and sweet, obedient even.  And it hasn’t been a stretch to enjoy them.  Yesterday, I had to search a couple of times for ways to like them.

So I was partly grateful to Toy Story for reminding me, yet again, that the time I have with my children when they’re young is fleeting.  Yesterday was one day.  There will be more days like it – days when loving my children is easy but liking them is hard.  But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I dread this time in our lives coming to an end.  There are sweet days to come, moments to celebrate, birthdays to rejoice in, milestones to accomplish – but the days of them sitting in my lap, a stuffed animal tucked beneath their arms…those days won’t last forever.  And it’s those moments that I cherish the most.  I tuck each one away in the crevices of my heart.

And I will now commence to crying once more.  Dumb cartoon movie…