Poppa's Hat

A Sunday afternoon.

Will & Poppa.

And Poppa's hat.

Who knew playing with a hat could be so much fun?

Small Gifts

The velvet-lined drawer in my dresser no longer holds my jewelry.

Instead, it is now full of little trinkets.

Random discoveries

Treasures.

A belt buckle their Daddy once wore.

A tin box decorated with a gold horse.  Given to me "to put my earrings in."

A red, felt valentine.  The only gift in my drawer from my middle sweetie.

A large rock that my oldest truly believes is a diamond. 

And the string he ties around it over and over, hoping that this time it will hold and I will manage to wear it around my neck for more than two minutes before it falls down my shirt or skids across the kitchen floor.

Another collection of rocks.

One large, four small.

And a small, suede pouch to carry the latter with.

A flat stone or piece of glass.  I'm unsure which.  A treasure discovered on a Saturday at the barn.

Three metal keys.  These keys are not for small, wooden boxes or glass jewelry cases.  These keys are much more important.  They unlock the three sets of handcuffs that my little policemen use to "under arrest" the "bad guys."

A blue, metal, flower-shaped trinket.  Again, I am unsure of it's use or origin.  Another barn discovery.

Plastic, pretend bullets.  Placed in the drawer by my oldest to insure that his youngest brother didn't find them and choke on them.

A white golf ball.  And a pink one.  Both found while hiking across the pasture.

My jewelry has been replaced.

By priceless, little gifts.

Little gifts that I treasure.

Little gifts that make me smile.

Little gifts that I find far more valuable than jewelry.

Out

Good to the last drop.

Just Try

Go ahead and try to resist the lip.  I dare you.

Sam and Cannon

In continuing with the idea of naming our livestock after family members, I introduce to you...

Sam and Cannon.

Jody named these two cuties after our real life sweeties for the following reasons:

1.  Their moms are sisters too.

2.  They were born two days apart (Sam and Cannon are only 18 days apart).

3.  They look alike, but very different too.

4.  They are always together.  Always.

5.  They cause a little mischief together.  They "sneak" away from their moms and venture off into the other pasture alone. 

6.  They like to play rough together.  They chase one another and give drop head butts on each other.

7.  They are ridiculously adorable.

8.  They love each other.  I looked out Sunday to find the two of them, alone in one corner of the pasture, nuzzled next to one another, sleeping.

9.  They are large, very healthy calves.

10.  They share their mothers.  These two actually "steal" milk from the other's mother.  Jody says he's never seen anything like it before.*

*I like to think that my children "share" a mom with Cade, Cannon and Landry, and vice versa.  Allyson and I treat each other's children as our own, you know, minus the "sharing" of milk.   

Heart Failure

He refuses to walk.

But he has no problem giving his Mama heart failure...

doing this. 

Another Girl

I am an aunt again.  

  Ila Cate Carter arrived on 2.12.11.

She weighed seven pounds, three ounces and has a head full of sandy brown hair.

She is beautiful and so tiny and dainty.

The cousins were thrilled over the latest addition.

And then there was seven...

Sam and Jack held her sweetly and were amazed by how tiny she is.  Sam remembers Will as a baby, but doesn't quite remember him being so small (maybe because he wasn't ever that small).

Jack doesn't remember much about Will as a newborn, so he was mesmerized by his new, tiny cousin.

As I held her the night she arrived home from the hospital, I was reminded just how perfect a newborn is.

There really is nothing like a new baby and there is nothing better than that tiny head nuzzled under your neck.

My baby is 26 pounds now, nearly four times her weight.

I felt my uterus fluttering as I held her.

I told Jody he was in trouble because she was making my uterus ache.

He responded, "Well, feed her then."

He has either forgotten what a uterus is or he was choosing to ignore me. 

Probably the latter.

A Short Story

This is my baby.

With a wet head.

Dripping Wet.

Wet with water? 

No.

This is my baby's head after his brother coated his hair with furniture polish.

This is my baby.

My traumatized little baby.

This is my baby looking at me.

This is what his face is telling me...

"Seriously Mama, don't you know by now that you shouldn't leave me in the playroom without you?"

"Even just to put clothes in the dryer."

"See what happens when you do that."

This is my baby smelling like lemons with the greasiest hair I've ever seen.

This is the guilty party.

This is just one of the many things he did today that jeopardized my sanity.

This is the boy who thought his younger brother needed "dusting."

Thankfully, this boy has great aim and only sprayed his brother's hair.

His brother's eyes and skin appreciate his marksmanship.

This is how the culprit sat in time out.

This is the boy who giggled when I told him to, "sit the way you're suppose to!"

This is the smile he flashed me after he flipped over.

This is the boy that then asked me, "Mama, are you mad at me?"

And these are the words that keep crossing my mind...

Military School.

Buns in the Oven

I don't foresee ever being able to use the warming drawer of my oven...

My Loves

On a day where we are reminded about love, I am so very grateful for my three little loves.

They are my joy, my happiness, my laughter.

My early morning alarm clock, my midnight cuddle, my bear hugs and sloppy kisses.

They are my purpose, my exhausting employers, my greatest gifts.

My life.

My loves.

My very heart.

And to their Dad,

thank you for them and for all you do for us.

You make our life wonderful 

and all four of us love you so much.

Name Sake

Jody takes great pride in his cows.  He cares for them with respect and a genuine love for each animal.  He knows each and every cow, their tendencies and their personalities.  And to be honest, he has a few favorites.  But as our herds continue to grow in size, it isn't possible to assign a name to every cow.  Instead, he uses a system in which he tags the cow's ears with a number and a letter.  The mother and baby have matching numbers, followed by an (A) for the mom and a (B) for the baby. But there are some exceptions where the cow has a number and a name.  

Remember Barack Obama?  

His mom is Oprah and he had a brother named Stedman, of course.  Oprah had been part of our herd for years.  She's the matriarch of the farm and one of my favorites. This is Oprah.  And standing behind her is her new baby.  A girl this time. We named her instantly. We couldn't resist.

 Welcome to the farm, Gayle.

Friday was Cade's seventh birthday.  And this sweet baby arrived that morning.  And he has also been given a name.

Introducing...Cade.

How adorable is he?

His mom takes such good care of him that she deserved a name too.

Introducing...Allyson.

I hope Cade and Allyson won't be offended that we named a couple of our livestock after her and her oldest baby.

It's really quite an honor around these parts.

This Boy of Mine

The one who never forgets to tell me good night, as he throws his arms around my neck and tells me he loves me.

My deep thinker.

The one who cannot carry on a conversation with you unless he has your undivided attention and constant eye contact.

The one who refuses foods in his lunchbox that he thinks it will make his teeth dirty.

My night owl.

The one who fills a cup with crushed ice and walks it over to his Mema's house because she "might need it for her drink."

My nearly five year old.

The one who says he wants to work with his Daddy for our cattle company when he grows up so he can build a house right beside us.

The one who worries way to much about clothes.

The one who loves telling his own knock-knock jokes that make absolutely no sense.

The one who talks a lot about heaven and insists that he's ready to go now.

The one who remembers everything.

My sunshine.

I love him so.

And It Continues

I continue to try to take a group shot of my boys.  I hope with each attempt that today will be the day.  The day a small miracle occurs and all three boys sit still, face the same direction and charm me with their good looks.  And my boys continue to make a mockery of my hopes. 

My oldest, the consummate people-pleaser, smiles relentlessly, as if to say, "Mama!  Look at me!  I'm listening and smiling and sitting still.  I really am your best kid, you know.  Just look at me."  He smiles without ceasing, ignoring the crying and whining from his brothers.  So there he sits, smiling until his face hurts, doing his best to make me happy, even if it results in a forced, tired smile.   I'm grateful for his effort.

My baby.  The one who refuses to sit still and also refuses to walk.  I place him on his bottom, tucked between his older brothers, and before I can take two shots he is on all fours, making a mad dash across the yard.  I chase him down, me on all fours as well, and calmly put him back in his spot.  We continue this game until he becomes a little ticked at me.  Hello, temper!  He screams.  And cries.  And lets his bottom lip drag the ground.  I plead with him to stop.  I kiss him, make him giggle and place him back in his spot.  Hello again, temper!  He screams so loud, his older brother soon finds it hard to maintain his smile and begins talking to him.  Like a ventriloquist. Never cracking that smile.  "Will, it's okay,  It's okay."  He holds his hand and attempts to comfort him.  Smiling the entire time.  It doesn't work.  The crying continues.

I refuse to give up.  I will persevere.  They will not win.  I will be patient.  And kind.  And sweet.  And they will remember just how much they love me and they will snap out of it.  They will become little child models, sitting still, smiling naturally and amazing me with their charm.

And then I hear it.  Gagging.  Like from your toes, gagging.  And there he is.  My middle child. Dry heaving.  On purpose.  Because he can't smile without blinking like his big brother.  And he can't crawl away and cry like his baby brother.  So what's one to do to completely drive Mama over the edge and bring a quick end to the photo shoot?  Make yourself throw up, of course.  Gag yourself until your eyes are running water and your face is blood red.  Continue to gag yourself.  Make loud noises.  Noises that sound like you are about to throw up everything you've eaten in your entire life.  Ignore your Mother when she sternly tells you to "Knock it off!" Actually make her question if you are, indeed, suddenly stricken with a terrible stomach bug by continuing to gag uncontrollably. Scare the *&%# out of your baby brother by making sounds he's never heard before.  And throw your germ-fearing older brother into a full blown panic attack by turning to him and heaving in his direction.  And when you see your Mom is defeated and you know she's given up, wipe the spit off your chin with your shirt sleeve, jump to your feet and run away as fast as you can, before she realizes that she has given birth to a child that will actually force himself to regurgitate in order to avoid having his picture made. 

And it continues.

A Little More

A little more showing off.  Courtesy of my baby.  The one who can...

  clap

  and 

 blow kisses

all while laughing at his Mama, who he finds absolutely hilarious.

11 Months

Today, my youngest boy, turned eleven months old.  And I simply cannot believe it.  To say time passes so fast when you have children is an understatement.  And to say that time goes by even faster with the birth of each of your children is the understatement of all times.  As I see my first year with Will coming to an end, my heart aches at how fast these days have gone by.  I remember as if it were hours ago how I felt that first night I shared with him.  Every single detail.  I ache over the time that is gone but brim with excitement over the promise of watching  him grow up.  Because while I know there is nothing like a baby, I also know, from experience, that it just keeps getting better.  And better and better.


My sweet Will, this is who you are today, in all your wonder and perfectness...


You still only have five teeth, three on top and two on the bottom.  And if I'd allow myself, I could really obsess over this with worry.  To be honest, I've considered sneaking you into a dentist to make sure you aren't destined to have just three top teeth.  Your hair is lighter now and looks messy most of the time.  It is perfect and wavy and beautiful after your bath and I do my best to recreate the "after bath beauty" every morning.  It doesn't last long and after rolling around on the floor with your brothers, you look a little like Barney Fife. You could really use a little haircut, but I'm holding out as long as I can.

You are still standing alone and cruising but still refuse to take any steps.  I try many times during the day to have you take a step or two to me and you always do the same thing.  You grin, give me a loud grunt as if to say, "Okay, Mama, I'm going to do it this time" and then you drop to your knees and tumble into my lap. Every single time.

You love to clap and just learned to blow kisses, although you still get a little hung up when it's time to throw it, and will often just leave your hand pressed against your mouth until I help you throw it away.  You throw your arm out to wave occasionally and still do your famous "hand backwards against the mouth wave" all the time.  You are starting to make a lot of "b" sounds and have suddenly become very, very loud.  Deafening loud.  Just when I thought our house couldn't get any louder, it did.

The sweetest thing you are doing now is your "shy" face.  When I'm holding you and someone comes up to talk to you, you lower your sweet, little head and look down.  It is so precious and people melt every time you do it. And as soon as they "ohh" and "ahh" over how sweet and shy you are, you pop your head up and flash that wonderful smile of yours.  You already know how to win people over and I am your biggest fan.  When all else fails you can still make the world's saddest face complete with a quivering chin and your bottom lip poked out as far as humanly possible.  You've got me right where you want me, sweet boy.


You are into everything and your busyness led us to install new cabinet locks and to keep the bathroom doors shut at all times.  You can raise the toilet seat in seconds and are up to your elbows in toilet water before I can pull you away.  You stalk out the phone and remote control and your temper shows when we take them away from you.  You love having your brothers chase behind you and you crawl as fast as your little legs will go, squealing and laughing the entire time.  You never sit still, and as a result getting a decent picture of you these days is basically impossible.  I chase you around like the paparazzi in hopes that one day you just may sit still and appease me and my need to document everything that is you.

Will, you are the happiest, smiliest, friendliest little boy.  You are joy and sunshine and I love you so much. There is nothing like having you wrap your warm, chubby arms around my neck as you squeeze with all your might.  Your sloppy kisses are priceless and I love them so much that I overlook the times you become a little overzealous and bite me.  You are my constant companion and I love sharing all my days with you.  I hope one day you'll understand what having you in my life means to me and just how happy you make me.  You are everything I needed and I am so grateful for the blessing of being your mom.  I love you. More than you will ever know.

Showing Off

Showing off what they've learned at school...

Sam, reciting the pledge to the Christian flag...

And Jack, saying the pledge of allegiance.  And showing off his muscles...

Be Prepared

A mother to a baby on a potent dose of antibiotics should certainly make sure she brings an extra change of clothes for said baby in the event of a diarrhea explosion.  Any mother who has had a child on an antibiotic knows that the blow out will happen, usually several times during the day.  And a good mother would be prepared with extra clothing and certainly she would make sure there were diapers in the diaper bag.  You know, in case she and her kids were at a store and the cashier walked up to her holding paper towels and saying, "Um, mam, I'm not sure what that is, but here" as she stuffs the paper towels between your arm and the baby you are carrying.  And you look at your arm to discover bright yellow, you know what, from your wrist to your elbow and from your child's bottom to his neck.  As a good mom, you'd be prepared for this mishap and would not be forced to put your baby in his oldest brother's vintage Davy Crockett pants without a diaper because A. you have no diapers and B. the pants were the only clothing item in your car.

On a side note, a mom this unprepared should not venture out to a costume store in Raleigh to fulfill a promise to her oldest about finding him a policeman costume.  Because when your middle child turns down a wrong aisle and is suddenly face to face with an assortment of scary masks, he will climb you like a squirrel running up an oak tree.  And commence to hanging on to you like a tree frog. A tree frog with an excellent choke hold.  This may make maneuvering out of the store, covered in diarrhea and carrying your dirty baby, a little more difficult.