Happy Halloween!

Ear Phones

The boys insist on watching a movie every moment that they are in the van. Even if we are only going on a five minute trip, the movie must play. And I usually just flip it on and listen to the flick of the day. But there are times that I simply cannot bear to hear the seven dwarfs sing "Hi, Ho" one more time. And in those moments I toss the boys their headsets and I enjoy the radio or my IPod. But I am usually distracted by the cuteness of my boys wearing those over sized earphones. Especially Jack. He can barely keep the head set on his sweet little head and he talks very loudly to the screen. Jody and I call him DJ Jazzy Jack which he thinks is hilarious. Thank God for modern technology.

Happiness

Happiness is...

simply

knowing

him.

Redneck Transportation

If in order to help your wife by taking the baby off her hands, you devise a way that lets you: a. keep up with the kid without touching him and b. still manage to check your cattle and fences, you might be a redneck.  Especially if the end result involves a baby being strapped in a car seat to the back of utility vehicle.

And if you strap the car seat to the utility vehicle using bungee straps, you are, indeed, a redneck.

And using another bungee cord to "tie down" the dumping mechanism might make you responsible, but you are still a redneck.  A safe, conscientious redneck, but still a redneck.

If you strap your baby in beside a large bag of trash, that may or may not have been torn apart by the cat and may or may not contain food scraps and dirty diapers, you are definitely a redneck.

Burning your headlights for visibility and checking over your shoulder to see if your baby is still in the back, makes your wife feel a little better, but not nearly as good as she would feel to see the baby she birthed sitting in your lap instead of in the bed of the gator.

And the saddest thing...if that sweet baby kicks his legs excitedly and squeals so loud you can hear him over the running engine, he, too, may be a redneck.  

Riding Shotgun

Who knew that allowing your four and a half year old to drive his little brother around would make him so happy?  The older brother, that is.  When I told Sam he could take Will for a spin, he was giddy.  Laughing, cackling and talking his silent passenger's ears off.

More than once I had to remind him to watch where he was going, because he was constantly checking to see if Will was having as much fun as he was.  Thankfully, the stinger has seat belts.

Another first for my youngest.  And another chance for Sam to show me what a wonderful big brother he is.  They make me happier than they'll ever know.

My Guys

My biggest guy and my littlest guy sharing a special moment.  He's getting his sweet sugar.  And receiving loud squeals and giggles in return.  And I'm watching and feeling my heart melt into a puddle.

Sugar Rush

Tossing a sealed bag of mini oreos to my nearly eight month old in an attempt to buy myself a moment on the computer didn't quite work out like I'd hoped.  Will, on the other hand, thought it was a great idea.

I Try

I try. To take pictures. To record video. To preserve memories. I preach it to my husband and drive him absolutely crazy as I explain the importance of remembering everything. Everything. He thinks I'm nuts and my children also refuse to jump on my memory-making band wagon. Taking a decent group shot these days is impossible. Absolutely impossible. I get Will to look at the camera and Sam backs out of the shot and is out of focus. Will cries. Sam whines. And Jack. Well, Jack does this...

This is what I get for constantly sticking a camera in my children's faces. I should order this in a huge print and hang it in our family room because this is my life. This is reality. Courtesy of my children. Thanks boys.

Lulu

Landry.  The one with pigtails and pink fingernails.  Vintage dresses and spider man underwear.  With sparkling eyes and a pointed finger.  Lover of pigs.  Dramatic and silly.  Spunky and happy.  The best kind of little girl.  Beautiful but tough.   Tender but determined. Running with the boys, refusing to be left out.  Our Lulu.  Three years old today.  Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

Small Talk

What on earth could these five be so deep in conversation about?

Politics?  The economy?  The burning question haunting all Nick Jr. devotees...where exactly is Max and Ruby's parents? The stress of balancing preschool and first grade with their very busy social life?  

Or maybe they are just reveling in the fact that they have all snuck more than their fair share of Coke and Mountain Dew by us.  And that the sugar rush they are currently experiencing is beyond awesome. And that there is no way they will be able to sleep anytime soon. And how sorry they are for what their caffeine overload will do to their poor, tired mothers.  I'm sure that's it.

Admiration

My littlest one is especially in love with his oldest brother.  His face lights up when he sees him and he enjoys nothing better than to hang out beside him and watch him play.  He observes his every move, taking in everything his big brother does.  And in return, Sam treats him with such kindness and tenderness. Even when he messes up a great cow stampede.  And I am so thankful to catch glimpses of this all day.

Waking Up

Mr. Soggy and Beard

Today while I was working in the office, Sam and Jack hung out on the porch.  They laughed and giggled and rocked themselves silly in the rocking chairs.  I paid little attention to what they were talking about until I heard this...

Sam said Jack must refer to him as "Samuel John Standley, the bear hunter."  And not to be left out, Jack insisted that he be referred to as "Mr. Soggy."  

Soon the bear hunter and Mr. Soggy were laughing and saying a lot of "Hey, Man!"  

And then I heard Sam tell Jack that he sure doesn't like beer now, but he'll probably like it when he's a Daddy. Jack responded, "I don't like beard either, Sam.  I just like drinkin' mountain dew."

Sam then yelled to me, "Hey, Mama.  How old do we have to be before we can smoke some cigarettes?"  To which I politely told him that he would never be old enough.  

I was being treated to my own episode of King of the Hill.  Courtesy of my preschoolers. Lord help me.

Six Years

Six years ago, on a day very much like today, I became his wife. And we continue to be blessed and are so grateful for our life together. Amazing blessings. Countless blessings. And these three are our greatest...

My Best Friend

While he laid beside me in bed the other night, my oldest and I had a long, sweet talk. About school and growing up and monsters and God. I told him for the millionth time how proud I am of him and how happy he makes me. And I told him that I wished he'd stay young forever and that he'd always want to sneak into my room for late night talks. And he replied...

"Mama, I love you, too. And I may not always want to sleep with you, but I'll always want to hang out with you. I promise."

Oh, how I hope so...

Delinquent

That face. It makes me smile. His eyes, his grin, his soft, shiny hair. Everything about him melts my heart.

Sweet. Yes.

Spunky. Yes.

Mischievous. Yes.

Loving. Yes.

Preschool delinquent. Again, yes.

Today this boy, my boy with the angelic face, snuck a pocket knife into preschool. My little cherub hid a knife in his pocket and walked in school holding the hand of me, his unsuspecting, naive mother. I'm sure I hadn't made it out of the parking lot when he surprised his teacher with it. On the bright side, if there is one, the knife was a birthday gift from Sam (thank you, Jody) and the blades had been rounded off and were unable to cut anything. I was horrified when the knife was returned to me in the carpool line. I called Jody and in a rant told him that he would have been suspended for a full year if he had been in kindergarten. And it probably would have been on the news..."Local five year old wields pocket knife at school and becomes the youngest child ever to be expelled on a weapons charge." And how would it look for his grandmothers, who are both school employees, to have to admit, "Yes, he is my grandson. Yes, I know he's the youngest kid ever to bring a weapon to school." His response was to assure me that he'd have the "we don't take our knife to school" talk when he got home.

Safe school here we come.

Cowboy Party

Cowboy Jack's Third Birthday Party

10.10.10

1:00

grandparents, cousins, great grandparents, aunts, parents, uncles, great aunts and uncles, great great aunts

saddles, hay bails, wanted signs, ropes

hamburgers, chips, trail mix, haystacks, cow tails, cupcakes

mechanical bull, horseback riding, bb gun competition

opening gifts, running wild, playing until dark, sneaking mountain dews

happiness, memories, family, first times, laughter, fun

the perfect day for our favorite three year old

Three

Today you turned three.  You ran into my room after Daddy left for work, cuddled beside me, fell back to sleep and snored softly.  I woke you up by singing Happy Birthday in your ear and watched a smile wash over your peaceful face as you realized today was your day. You ate warm blueberry muffins for breakfast and dressed in jeans and an orange shirt for preschool. Ally called and sang Happy Birthday to you like an opera singer and you laughed and laughed. I dropped you off at school and whispered in your ear that I would be back soon with lunch and cupcakes.  Daddy, Will and I walked in to find you sitting quietly at the lunch table.  We brought Chick-fil-a for your class and bright orange cupcakes for all the children at your school.  We were surprised to see that you had gifts to open at school and watched with pride as you basked in the spotlight of being the birthday boy.  I took you home from school early. Nana and Bec came to see you and later you played in the tub with Sam and Will.  We got ready to head out for dinner and I made you stop for a second and allow me to take your picture.  You gave me a look I have seen often, with your nose scrunched up and a slight, forced smile.

It looked very much like the smile you gave me on your first birthday.  I adored it then and I adore it still.

We ate a fancy dinner at the Angus Barn and you were amazed at the huge gun collection on display.  Our waitress took us back to the kitchen after dinner.  You stood on a drink crate and decorated your own birthday cake and ice cream.  The staffed fawned over you and your brothers and I was so proud.  We headed back to our table and watched the waitress add three candles to your cake and light them.  We sang to you and watched you try your hardest to blow them out.  You talked your Daddy in to buying you a toy stuffed donkey from the gift shop and giggled when I read his tag and told you his name was Durham.  We arrived home to a gift from the Lees, cowboy figurines that you were amazed by.  Daddy and I gave you a new tomahawk and three new guns.  You insisted on changing into costume, which you did, and practiced loading the "bullets" into your shotgun.  I announced that I really, really wanted a hug and kiss goodnight from a three year old boy and you threw both your arms in the air and said, "Me! Me!"  I held you tight and kissed your check and whispered to you something that I hope you'll remember for the next 364 days, "You are the best little boy and my favorite three year old in the whole world.  And I love you, love you, love you."  Happy Birthday, sweet Jack.

The Night Before

Dearest Jack,

Tonight as I pulled your covers over you and kissed you good night, I realized that it would be the last time I tucked you in as a two year old. Tomorrow you'll celebrate your third birthday. And the idea of you growing older scares me and makes my heart ache. I adore who you are today. And while I know you'll be just as wonderful as a three year old, if I could, I would keep you a two year old forever.

I could spend hours detailing all the things I adore about you. Like your laugh. Or your big chocolate eyes. Or the way you run. Or how wonderful you feel in my arms. Instead, I'll simply tell you that I love everything about you. Absolutely everything.

Knowing you as my son has changed my life so much. Your spunky, spirited personality brightens my days. You make me see what is truly important in life. Like messy playrooms and dirty hands. Popsicle kisses and playing outside in the rain. Clothes on backwards and muddy cowboy boots.

You have shown me how to enjoy our chaotic, busy life. Your giggle is my reminder to relish in these special days. Days that we spend together. Days full of joy. Days with no schedule. Days of "It's okay, Mama." Days showered with hugs and kisses.

Jack, you are my precious, beautiful boy. My endless sunshine. The one who made me a better mother. You are sweet and loving. Wild and carefree. I am so proud of you. I am so proud to be your Mama. You make me so happy and just when I think I couldn't possible love you more, I do. Thank you for being you. I love you. More than you will ever know.

My Oldest Preschooler

Sam is doing so well in preschool.  He is well behaved, quiet and eager to please his teacher.  He worries over his handwriting and because he can't count to one hundred yet.  The thought of getting his name on the board sends him into a state of panic.  Every morning, he walks into his room shyly and finds his seat without looking up.  And every afternoon he bounds to the car with the biggest grin and newfound confidence.  His schoolwork covers our kitchen cabinets and I marvel over everything he brings home.  I miss him every minute that he's gone, but find such peace in knowing he is happy and well taken care of.  I love hearing all about his day and find myself hanging on his every word, hoping he will tell me everything he did.

Just the other day, he hopped in the car and as we drove away from school he said, "Mama, listen.  God is great..."

I froze, anticipating a sweet prayer or poem that he had learned that day.  I knew I was about to hear something wonderful.

"Yes, Sam.  Go ahead."

And he continued...

"God is great.  Beer is good.  And people are crazy."

Wow.  Thank you country music.  And thank you long rides in the truck on Saturdays with Daddy and Poppa and no dvd player.  Thank you very much.

A Full Load

Seven months

Today you are seven months old. And to mark this special occasion, you did something new today. For seven months, you have been mine. All mine. You are a wonderful baby. Always happy. Always smiling. And occasionally you are content and happy with other people taking care of you. That is, until you see me. When you lay eyes on me, you need me, and no one else will do. And I love it. I love being so needed by you. I love being the person you need the most. I love how much you love me.

Over the last few weeks, you have fallen in love with your Daddy. You are happy in his lap and you squeal and laugh when he tosses you up in the air. I leave you in his care and have no worries about you needing me. It offers me great peace to know you are more than just okay with him, but that you are happy and content. You already love riding the gator with your Daddy and giggle in excitement when he takes you to see the cows.

Today I held you in my lap as he, Sam and Jack prepared to go outside. When you realized they were leaving, you became restless. You began to whine and squirm until I sat you on the floor. The boys went outside and as you watched your Daddy turn to follow them, you whined and began to whimper. Your Daddy said you needed to stay home with me and again turned to leave. You crawled across the room faster than you ever had, until you were at his feet. You looked up to him in desperation as if to say, "Take me, take me. I want to go too." He bent down and scooped you into his arms and the biggest grin washed over you face. And off you went, thrilled to be with your Daddy, thrilled to be included.

My heart swelled with happiness as I watched you ride away with him, because I knew how happy you were. It was sweet and wonderful and a moment I won't soon forget. Thank you for today. Thank you for seven joy filled months. I love you, sweet boy. More than you'll ever know.

His Mean Face

I snapped a few photos of the boys in their cowboy hats to use at Jack's upcoming birthday party. The point was for them to look tough and mean. I instructed them, "Look at me. Don't smile. Look mean. Like a really, really mean cowboy."

Sam, got it.

Jack, not so much.

I explained, "Just look at me and look mad. Or sad. Or something. Just don't smile and don't look silly. Give me your best mean look." And he gave me this...

Repeatedly. He gave me the "eyes rolled back in my head, this is seriously my tough face" look. Man, I love him. And his mean face.