"Because that's what we should all do- graduate college just to start popping out some kids."

That's what the girl across the room in my American Literature class said as her and another peer sat gossiping about me as I showed a friend the ultrasound pictures when I found out my firstborn was a boy.

I stared across the room, not sure what to do. She never looked my way, and after a few seconds of an internal battle, I let it go. It wasn't worth it, I told myself, to justify my choices and my growing family. It wasn't her business.

But the words still sting and haunt me. There have been times where I've wanted to go back and say something to her. It wouldn't matter if she really heard me or not- I just wanted the words out there.

When I was 21, my husband and I found out we were expecting our first child. In the second semester of my senior year of college, and my husband planning to finish school somewhere else once I graduated, we weren't planning to start our family. The surprise came in the form of two pink lines, though I swore that I only saw one to begin with.

20 weeks pregnant

It wasn't the plan. We were too young. We weren't ready. We were about to be broke and I was supposed to find a full time job and he was suppose to finish school and...now everything would be different.

The talks we had when planning kids had a very "traditional" ring to them. I would stay home and my husband would work full time. It's what we both wanted. I told him before we eloped at the age of 18 that the thing I wanted to do most was be a mom, and he heard me. He said he wanted that to be a possibility.

This was not the plan, or so I thought.

The idea of telling family and friends, for some reason, made me feel shameful. We were young and not in a place, in public and personal opinion, to have kids. So to have a complete stranger say something I had dreaded hearing, it burned me deep inside.

However, if I could go back to all the negative looks and comments that strangers, and even family and friends had to say, I would tell them one thing:

I want this baby.

Maybe my son wasn't born at an ideal time, but I prayed for him. Maybe my son was born when I wasn't ready to be a mother, but I became a mother for him. Maybe we didn't plan him, but God did. Maybe we were terrified, but we never thought of being selfish and seeking "other options" for a second.


My husband and I knew that once we were married, the result of us coming together as husband and wife could be a child. We knew, and we said that if anything were to happen that might not be "planned"- it would be our new plan. There was no room for negotiation. Sex leads to life, and if we weren't aware and at least mentally prepared for that possibility, we wouldn't have been doing it.

Life begins in the womb. That baby has a heartbeat, a measurement, organs-- that baby is life.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart. Jeremiah 1:5 (NIV)

Today, we have two beautiful boys and another baby on the way. I can't imagine my life any differently than what it is now.

I want this baby.

It didn't matter if I'd been married for ten years or one. It didn't matter if I was scared or overwhelmed or feeling unprepared. Nothing mattered other than the life my husband and I had come together to create.

I wanted that baby.



March for Life

On September 7th, Michael turned the BIG FIVE.

I'm still recovering.

The fact that I am now a mother to a five-year-old (and one-year-old) is a little... shocking, to say the least.

I imagine I'll be over it by the time they're six and two. Then that's a completely different hurdle.

But, turn five Michael did and we made quite a day week out of it. From camping the weekend before with dad, and Marmee flying in the evening before his big day, to donuts for breakfast, a zoo trip, chick-fil-a, and wrapping it up with a Zootopia-themed evening, it was marvelous.


Michael's Fifth Birthday Interview


What's your name? Michael Clark Dunn

How old are you? Five!

What date is your birthday? September 7th, Wednesday.

What's your favorite color? Green!

What's your favorite animal? All of them.

What's your favorite book? Dinosaurs! (oooooh)

What's your favorite movie? Zootopia, and also Jimmy Neutron!

What's your favorite song? The Zootopia song. (Try Everything by Shakira)

What's your favorite food? All of it! OR Birthday Cake!

What's your favorite drink? Purple Flurp! (Grape Soda)

What's your favorite breakfast food? Toast and fruit.

What's your favorite dinner? Chicken.

What's your favorite snack? Goldfish.

What's your favorite thing to wear? Surfing shirt and light brown pants.

What's your favorite game to play? The Disney game (Disney Scene-It).

What's your favorite toy? All my birthday presents!

Who's your best friend? All my best friends are my best friends! (followed by a nudge from Clark and the answer: Dada.)

What's your favorite thing to do? Play!

What's your favorite thing to do outside? Play!

What's your favorite holiday? My BIRTHDAY!

What do you like to sleep with? Wrinkles and Alaska.

What's your favorite place to go? Ice cream! (Baskin Robbins)

Where do you want to go on vacation? Disney WORLD.

What do you want to be when you grow up? A police officer!

And, what's today? MY BIRTHDAY!


For his birthday this year, Michael's big gift was an Amazon Fire from us and his Marmee and Papa.


It has awesome features, including read-aloud books that make putting his brother down for a nap a little more do-able-- plus it works with our homeschooling reading time, too! This is not to say he doesn't use it for shows and games, too, but we're working out a routine.

At his doctor's appointment he weighed in at 48 lbs and measured 46 inches tall. That's three pounds heavier and 4.75 inches taller. (See Michael is 4! for last year's birthday.)

This kid, I tell you. And I'm pretty sure he's growing-- again. Why does he have to do that?

Thank you for teaching me that it's OK to fail. For being patient every time I said the wrong thing, or made a big mess, or yelled and stomped my feet when I didn't get my way.

Thank you for teaching me to try new foods. For being silly with me when I hid my green beans in a napkin, or didn't swallow the peas until I had milk in my mouth with them.

Thank you for teaching me how to play. To explore with my imagination. For encouraging me to take up the whole house with my Barbie villages and stuffed animals, and not getting mad if I didn't pick them up before bedtime.


Thank you for showing me how to love. You showed me that love is more than just that spark or funny feeling you get with butterflies-- it's commitment. It's work. It's only successful if everyone is willing to put forth the effort, put aside anger, and push through. Every kind of love is hard, but it's more than worth it.

Thank you for making me stick with things. With those dance lessons I wanted to quit, or the piano lessons I thought I wouldn't see through, or the silly poems and stories I started writing when I was five. I would never have risen to the occasion with all of those amazing gifts and hobbies in my life if you hadn't made me stick to them.

Thank you for always being there. It didn't matter if I disappointed you, or made you proud, or if you had a million things to do-- you were there. You always put me (and my sisters) first. You sacrificed so much to be mom, and to chauffeur us, and teach us, and tutor us, and help us, and encourage us-- and we definitely didn't do the same for you.

Thank you for teaching me to use cold water to get difficult stains out. For showing me how to separate the endless loads of laundry, and how to fold properly, and make the bed, and straighten the kitchen, and make house.

My days are now full of endless housekeeping with messy hands and three changes of clothes and crumbs and messes and two baths and places to go and people to call-- and I would never be able to handle any of it if you hadn't shown me how.

You showed me grace.

You showed me love.

And above all else, you showed me faith.

So all I can ever say, and I don't say it enough, is thank you.

Happy Mother's Day.

I said this at the end of January, and I'll say it again now that it's the end of February:

How is this year going by SO FAST already?

There. I'm done now.

Not really, though. Odds are, I'll say the same thing at the end of every month. Because the faster time goes by, the more and more I realize just how much my boys... and my husband...and I'm growing up.

Can it just stop already?

I want time to stand still. I never understood it. Like everyone, I was in such a hurry to grow up. Now I'm in a hurry for my boys to stay small.

#6

Michael plays flag football with Dada.

Levi conquers the bouncer, with a cold.

#7

Levi explores the water table in the Arizona "winter".

Michael becomes a teenager at age four in Batman pajamas.

#8

Papa, Marmee, Michael, and Levi act silly at the zoo.

I hope my parents don't kill me for that last picture. It's pretty much my favorite all time, since they're making the same face and Michael is looking AT the camera and Levi is just hangin' out enjoying a french fry.

I love my life.

Welcoming March with a good attitude! Bring it on.

Practising Simplicity's 52 project

On September 7th, Michael turned four years old. It's hard to believe that we are now housing a true preschooler rather than a toddler, but he doesn't let us forget it. He likes to tell everyone, "I'm four! First I was three, now I'm four, and next year on September 7th I'm going to be five!"

Way to give Mama a heart attack, kiddo.

But when he turned four, we were much to busy for a doctor checkup because we were on a trip. Where? Well, if you saw my previous post and follow posts to come, you know that we were at DISNEYLAND.


I'm pretty sure I was just as excited as him.

Once we returned, we took him to his checkup and did our usual interview. Michael is currently 45 pounds and 42.25 inches tall. The doc said if he continues on the path he's on, he'll be around 6'1".

That's a good thing, I know. I just hope I'm prepared for that day when it comes and I have to look up at my son.



Michael's Fourth Birthday Interview
What's your whole name? Michael Clark

How old are you? Four!

When is your birthday? September 7th

What is your favorite color? Green

What is your favorite animal? Dinosaur!

What's your favorite book? Disney-Pixar storybook

What's your favorite show/movie? A Bug's Life

What's your favorite song? "Trashin' the Camp" from Tarzan

What's your favorite food? Tuna

What's your favorite drink? Apple Juice

What's your favorite breakfast food? Cheese

What's your favorite dinner? Pizza

What's your favorite snack? Goldfish


What's your favorite thing to wear? Doctor costume

What's your favorite game to play? Candyland

What's your favorite toy? Emperor Zurg

Who's your best friend? Ezekiel

What's your favorite thing to do? Go to the park

What's your favorite thing to do outside? Play with "Mighty Machines" in the dirt

What's your favorite holiday? "I like Christmas."

What do you like to take with you to bed? Wrinkles

Where's your favorite place to go? Disneyland

Where do you want to go on a vacation? Everywhere!

What do you want to be when you grow up? Astronaut and a Baseball Player


For his birthday, Michael's grandparents got him a bike. The following is the face I got when I asked him to smile for the camera:


Someone tell him to stop growing up, already.

The other day I was doing my weekly (yes, weekly) shopping trip to Target. I was getting groceries, craft stuff... the works. Since we go to Target so frequently, we basically know some of the all the cashiers. So when I got a new guy that I'd only met once before, I was kind of looking forward to the chit-chat. Mainly because men don't typically ask the same old baby questions that the women do unless they're older. And maybe that's not true for everyone, but it tends to be for me.

But not this time.

This time I was checking out and he asked if we enjoyed the Minion movie (which I was surprised he remembered), and then went on to ask about Levi (who was nestled in the sling). How old was he now, is he bigger than Michael used to be, do I like having two boys, does he ever stay in his carseat, am I always going to wear him....


Then we got to the questions that kind of get under my skin. And when I say kind of, I mean really get under my skin. More than asking about my baby-wearing preference.

"Is he a good baby?"

I waited to see if he would elaborate, so when he didn't, I asked what he meant.

"Does he sleep at night?" he smiled.

Realizing this is a stereotypical question, I took a deep breath, swallowed my rant, and answered him, "He'll sleep for a good six hours, which is pretty amazing for a two-month-old."

I started staring at my wallet, even though I had my Red Card at the ready in my hand.

"Well, I guess that's nice. Does he sleep in the crib?" He stopped scanning groceries as though he was just waiting for my answer before he could commence work.

I guess I had finally had it. Complete strangers asking me what our sleeping arrangements were, or if I breastfeed, or if we are planning to do this, that, or the other. I was so over people thinking it was their business as to how I'm raising my children.

And while all this is going on, Michael's sitting in the cart chatting away to anyone who passed, showing them his space Goldfish. I smiled at him, like somehow I was defending our family, and turned back to the cashier.

"No, we cosleep. It's so much easier. I can just roll over and give him the boob whenever he's hungry."

You know that emoji with the WIDE EYES and pinched mouth? That's the face he made. If you don't. It's something like this: o_O.

Thinking that was the end of it, I started putting bags in the cart. Part of me was ashamed, talking to a stranger like that... and the other part of me was proud. Proud that I had finally told someone just how I felt about the ridiculous questions into my personal parenting life.

But it wasn't the end of it.

"So, are you all in the bed?"

I couldn't even look at him. I was sure fire would burst from my eyes in an inexplicable manner that had never happened before. Instead, I looked at Michael.

"Hey, Goose? Who sleeps in our bed?"

He grinned, like he was over-the-moon that he knew the answer. "Mama, Michael, Levi, and Dada."

The cashier looked horrified. This time I looked at him and smiled. "It's a king sized bed. The more the merrier, right?"

He didn't say anything after that.

I checked out as quickly as I could and left with a smile, but I had mixed feelings about what I'd done.


Don't get me wrong. There are most many nights that I wish Michael was in his own bed by now. And just as many that I wish we could put Levi in his crib. But that's not who I am as a mother, and not how we work as a family.

If you ask me if I have a good baby, or if my baby is a good sleeper, than usually my answer is simple: yes. Because my baby cries when he needs me, eats when he's hungry, and sleeps as long as he can. If a complete stranger expects to be given the inside scoop, have me complain that my almost four-year-old smacked me in the face the previous night or my co-sleeping baby leaked on our sheets and I just put a towel down because I didn't want to wake the whole family to strip the bed-- then that stranger is out of his/her mind.

Why?


Because, yes, those things happen. But I still love our decision-- and that's what it is. It's our decision, my husband's and mine, as parents. And calling our baby a "good baby" is ridiculous. Because he isn't "good" to me-- he's perfect, whether he sleeps through the night or not.

I'm not sure how we got here so quickly!

Levi was two months old on August 8th. He is now 10lbs 13oz (he gained two pounds in a month!) and 22.5 inches long (he grew an inch in a month!). He is completely obsessed with his hands, his play mat, and his big brother. A sound sleeper, he'll be completely zonked but if Michael says anything above a normal volume level, Levi's eyes will flutter and he'll look for his big brother. It's absolutely adorable. He loves to "talk", smile, and drool as much as he can.

When we had to go anywhere in the car it used to be stressful, but these days Levi has been sleeping nicely when we drive (Praise the Lord!). His crying has a slow progression from frustrated to angry, and it's not always slow. Overall he's a patient fellow... unless he wants to be held or is hungry (aren't all babies like this?).

And, what hasn't changed? His favorite thing is to be held and cuddled in the sling. If he could spend all day in someone's my arms, he would.

The last time I blogged I vowed to go ten days without technology. With that being said, I meant "screen time"-- Michael playing games on the phone, or watching TV, or watching anything for that matter. And although I ended up turning on the TV, I would call this cleanse/experiment a success.

Here are five things I learned:


1. I payed attention more. Let's be real. It's super easy to get sucked in to doing things and letting our littles watch TV or play a game on the phone. While getting into the groove of having two little guys, I found myself letting Michael watch more and more, or play more and more, just to get a moment of peace-- or get five minutes to talk with the hubs without being interrupted. This isn't always a bad thing (wait for the next thing I learned!), but doing it every day, multiple times (a number I'm too ashamed to share) IS.

So, when cutting out the middle-man-babysitter that is the TV or game, I realized that I listened more to Michael. I payed attention more. I didn't think the silly things he was doing were annoying or too loud. In fact, most of them were REALLY silly... and I had been missing them. It takes a lot for to admit on here that I had started missing out on Michael once Levi was born. Now I'm finding a much better balance.

2. It's OK to need a moment. By Day Four, I needed a moment. I had to reset. Admittedly, I was texting a lot of people and trying to get in some grown-up communication (does texting count?) with some friends when Michael asked for a show and I gave in. But I saw it. I knew what it was. It was that I was staring at a screen, which can't seem like communication to an almost-four-year-old, so he wanted to zone out, too.

But then on Day Seven when Michael watched a movie, I didn't feel guilty for not sticking it out. In fact, I realized it was OK for me to let him watch a show in order for us to both have some down time/ quiet time. We did A LOT (which is coming next), so I didn't feel guilty when I needed a moment. Unlike beforehand, when I felt guilty because I KNEW he was watching too much TV.


3. We got out more. No TV meant having more of a plan, and it worked so well in our favor. We were up early every morning, and I couldn't turn on the TV to get a moment to wake up... so we would walk to the park instead. Or play in the sprinkler. Or go to the library. Or go to the store and walk around (which can be dangerous, I know). But it made me feel so much better to get out and be active and DO MORE. Getting out didn't always mean getting in the car, but it did mean finding more ways to exercise our brains/bodies. And I loved it.

4. We snacked less and slept more. As soon as our ten-day-challenge ended, I am sad to admit I gave in almost immediately and turned the tube back on a bit too much. But after that ONE DAY of giving in, we went back to cutting out the screens. Because neither of us liked it.

I realized that when the TV was on, we were both more inclined to think we were hungry and snack. And snack. And snack. But when it was off, we were so busy we weren't thinking that we WANTED to eat (because that's what most of it was).

And if the TV was on a lot, we didn't sleep as well. When he wasn't dependent on shows and movies as babysitters, we were doing more and that meant we were sleeping more (and better!). Granted, we went to bed earlier and got up earlier... but I really didn't mind it that much. It just meant adjusting our schedules.

5. I had to have a plan. I will openly admit that I'm a planner, and yet I'm awful at planning. When it comes to Michael's routine, I used to just go with the flow and nothing seemed to work out. Knowing there wasn't going to be TV to fill in the gaps meant finding more things to do. We did experiments, learned to play more games, cleaned more, talked more... there was so much MORE when there was less technology.

But the point was: I had to have a plan.

I had "extras" for the week in case one of our days lagged, or gave in to baking even though I'm trying to eat better. It meant making choices and following through with what I said we were going to do. There was no, "Well, we can't go outside so we'll watch a show." It was "It's too hot outside, so how about we make something special." That "something special" was anything from a craft to cookies. But it was worth the mess, and ultimately part of the plan.


The conclusion of all this is: WE SURVIVED! And we are better for it. Reviewing this post I realize how dumb some of this sounds. I mean, DUH. But I had given in. It's so easy to lose track when you watch more TV, or hand over your phone or the video games. We live in a technological time, after all.

I'm not saying technology for kids is a bad thing by any means. I'm SO not one of those people.

But I am saying that portion control (why can't I think of any other phrase for it?) is everything. Because if I gave in and let Michael watch as much TV as he used to ask for, then his brain would "turn to mush" and I wouldn't be parenting. At least, that's my opinion. I'm so thankful for my boys and every minute I get to spend with them. Somewhere along the way, I started forgetting that and just started focusing on what I "needed" rather than the big picture of parenthood/family.

I can say that if we lose track of what we learned (which I sincerely hope we don't), I'll be more ready and willing to do this again.

This weekend my husband and I came to the dreadful horrifying conclusion that we are on/around technology too much when we were at the Giants vs Diamonbacks game and Michael asked to play a game on my phone.

Since we both have to use the computer and our phones for work, and then we enjoy games/social media/TV shows as well...well...we look at screens a lot. So when Michael started watching a few too many shows, or asking more than he used to to play games on our phones, we decided it was time for a change.

For the next ten days, we are trying to go without any tv or computer/phone games. I'll still be checking in, but only at the end of the day once the kiddos are asleep (and maybe with my morning coffee). It's going to be a hard habit to break, but I figured if we quit cold turkey for a little while it would help us refocus. For the next ten days I'm going to get myself in check, and REALLY focus on what's most important. Because, let's face it-- it's easy to get sucked in. And I would much rather have more moments with fewer pictures and likes and screen time, then I would to have the pictures but not the TRUE feelings of the memories.


Say a prayer for me. Wish me luck. All those good things. This is going to be a loooong week.

Little Levi was born on June 8th, and since then has been nothing but joy. While it feels like it's just been a few days, we had to take him in for his one-month check up. Little man has grown two inches (now 21.5), put on a pound (plus more if you can't weight lost in the hospital: now 8lbs, 13oz), and is on track developmentally. He smiled for the first time on July 4th which was way too exciting, and is now starting to really take in the world around him. He absolutely loves his big brother Michael, who returns the affection. Michael cannot walk by his baby brother without giving him a kiss, and is worried if he's in the swing or sling for too long. He will also try to sing to Levi if he's screaming crying in the car, which melts my heart like you would not believe. And though Levi still prefers being held over being put down, we don't mind one bit taking turns cuddling him.

When I shared my labor story the other day (or rather my false alarms story), what I didn't mention was receiving an email is what convinced me to go to the hospital.

No, I'm not crazy. Yes, I'm completely totally almost serious.

Let me explain.

My CP and BFF Nikki said she was certain that once I went into labor, I would get an offer from a literary agent. And when my contractions were still going, I got an email from Jessica S. of Golden Wheat Literary asking me a lot of questions about my manuscript (BROKEN BEYOND THE MEADOW) and asked if I had any other projects.

Jessica had favorited a pitch of mine during #PitMad in March, and by the end of the month had requested my full. Although she had technically found me, I had been planning on querying her if she didn't find my tweets/pitches during #PitMad. While I was in pain, I had a momentary, "THIS IS IT!" moment.

Once Levi was born, Jessica tweeted me and told me not to worry about the email. But, I mean, I was way too excited to listen to her.

Never mind that I just gave birth, I had an agent asking some very intriguing questions! So, after coming home from the hospital, I emailed her almost immediately.

Ok, ok... it was something like 72 hours after or something like that.

Annnnnyyyyyyway. It wasn't that long at all before she emailed me back and told me she was interested in representing me.

I. Flipped. Out.


As did my husband, my mom (who was in town), Nikki (over the phone), and just about everyone else that I told. I was over the moon. But, of course, I had to go through a phone call first.

I have to admit, talking to Jessica was the best part. We really seemed to click. Even though she kept telling me she was rambling, it made me even more excited because I could tell she was just as enthusiastic about my book as I was. We talked for over an hour, and when it was done I wanted to accept her on the spot.

But I had other agents to notify. So I asked for a week to decide, and then I got to work. The time seemed to drag as I waited to hear from other agents and talked to other clients of Jessica's. All her clients sang praises, but still I waited. After praying about it, talking about it with my husband/CP/family/close friends, and going through one other call, a few rejections, and an email offer...I was even more sure in my initial decision.


It's very surreal to realize that all this actually happened. As an author, I have definitely dreamed of the day I would get to accept representation. And now that day has come! All I can say is I am truly humbled and feel so blessed by this opportunity.

So here's the official announcement:

I am now represented by Jessica Shmeidler of Golden Wheat Literary.

Whenever I think of women going into labor, I think of FATHER OF FHE BRIDE II.

Have you seen that movie? If not, it's classic.

The younger pregnant woman is always saying it's time to go to the hospital, and of course her false alarms are in the middle of the night and have everyone jumping up like, "THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" only to show her returning in the morning because it was just gas, or not real contractions.

This is what I think of. I don't think of my first labor, which was like the typical fairy-tale pregnancy story of, "oh, my water broke."

With my second pregnancy I was seriously praying and hoping it would be like my first when it came time for labor... but I had a feeling it wouldn't be. Because, like everyone says, every labor is different.

But I was petrified of false alarms.

Why?

Maybe because I don't like to be embarrassed or wrong (did I just put that in writing?).

Or maybe because I thought that since I wasn't a first time mom, there was no excuse.

So when I started having what I thought were real contractions (did I mention I got drugged almost right away after my water broke the first time?) and my husband was away for work, I started to panic.

"If this is the real thing, I need to tell him to start driving because he's two hours away. But if I'm wrong, what then?"

I told him to come home. And when he was about fifteen minutes from our house, the contractions ceased.

But then the following morning, the contractions were there again. I mean, I wasn't doubled over in pain, but I had this idea in my head that I have a high pain tolerance.

I timed them, called the doc, and was told to head to the hospital. So, we did. But when I was checked, I was only 2cm...and according to them, I wasn't really having any contractions. After an hour of walking around the birthing floor, and the "contractions" stopping again, we were sent home.

False alarm #1.
Then the next night, the contractions were stronger and came in full force quickly. My mom said she could tell something was different, and she thought we should go to the hospital straight away. Well, I wanted to wait. We walked around the block a few times, I laid down on the couch... and still the contractions didn't go away. However, they weren't timing consistently. They'd range from 2 to 7 minutes apart... and I was so confused. But, under my mom's advice, we went in.

We went through the same routine as we did the first time at the hospital, and I was still only 2cm.


False alarm #2.
Now I was afraid. And embarrassed.

I was afraid of being wrong again, and embarrassed that this was my second pregnancy and yet I had gone to the hospital not once... but twice and been sent home.

I was determined that I wouldn't go in again unless my water broke, as it had with Michael. I was not going to risk being sent home again and alerting the masses of my inability to recognize true labor.

So, I waited.

I had my 39 week appointment and my doctor talked about what would happen if I was still pregnant in a week. She checked me and told me I was further along than I had been (between 2-3 cm), but to expect some cramping and contractions because she checked me.

I went home, and that night when the pain started I assumed that it was just false labor again.

So, I waited.

But the pain wasn't going away, and it started getting worse. It was to the point I was getting angry at everyone. I just wanted to lie down, go to bed...make it stop.

But it wouldn't. I started timing them.

This time my husband thought it was the real deal because of how I was acting, as did everyone else. My poor three-year-old was so worried because of the way I was acting, but we assured him that this time when he went to sleep, he'd wake up a big brother.

After an hour of contractions at home, we went to the hospital. I was 7-8cm, and they admitted me right away. It wasn't long before my water broke, and instead of getting the drugs I thought I had wanted, I demanded it was time to push.

My contractions started around 9pm. We left for the hospital around 10:15pm. Levi was born at 11:41pm. He didn't even make it to midnight. By that point, he was ready.

Levi James: 7 lbs, 13 oz; 19.5 inches
And oh, so were we.

I'm (once again) trying to catch up on things and figured I should do this one first. I've been tagged by the lovely Mrs. Healthy Ever After, aka Nikki Roberti Miller, for this blog hop.


WHAT AM I WORKING ON?

Right now I have two work-in-progresses. I’ve been editing my YA Contemporary MISSING with Katelyn Stark of Stark Contrast Editing for the past six months or so, chapter by chapter, line by line. It's been an incredible process because somehow I never realized just how much WORK it is to edit and revise, or "re-envision". Katelyn is so wonderful and patient to work with. I definitely start out with the dry bones when I'm writing. I get all on paper that I want to get there, I've just never really combed back through it before. This time around, adding so much more to it with guidance has been a real treat almost. I mean, it's really hard, but it's a lot of fun, too. I can see such a difference with my writing. Annnnyway, this piece is about 16-year-old Annie who finds out her best friend has gone missing. Then, years later, her friend's remains are found. We grow with Annie through the process of trying to move on from this defining moment in her life, and go with her as she tries to uncover the truth of what happened.

My other work-in-progress is a NA piece. I haven't quite figured out if I should call it a collection of short stories or if it's just broken up chapters. It's called Married in College-- a fictionalized account of when my husband and I were first married. We eloped when we were 18, so you can imagine there's a lot to share in there!

HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN ITS GENRE?

MISSING is different to me because I don't think I've really found something quite like it. I've read a few YA that deal with missing friends or losing friends to drunk driving, but never one that goes down deep to the bones of the issue. My best friend went missing when I was 16, so I drew from that to write this book. It wasn't an easy process at all, but I think my experience of going through having a missing friend myself really brings this story to life in a new way. In the end, it's not necessarily figuring out what happened to the friend, but how to live with it.

WHY DO I WRITE WHAT I DO?

I started writing YA and NA because when I was younger I actually disliked reading contemporary writing. You'd find me reading Jane Austen and Shakespeare over books like Where the Red Fern Grows. I think the first contemporary story I started getting into was Harry Potter (go figure). One of the only reasons it was actually exciting was because my parents weren't too keen on me reading it, and then my best friend in fifth grade bought me the first two for my birthday.


HOW DOES MY WRITING PROCESS WORK?

I work differently with every project. No lie. I started working on MISSING in college, and then had to take quite a break from it because I was writing it too close to home. When I got the motivation to start working on it again, I actually wrote a chapter that's in the middle of the book now. I just needed to get something on paper. THEN I made an outline of chapters, which was very vague. It basically just had a thing or two written down that I knew what I wanted to happen. Even now I've gone back and changed it so much from what it was originally thought out to be like, but that makes me so happy because I think it's better than I first imagined. I really think I have Nikki and Katelyn to thank for that. I work best bouncing ideas off of people and I'm really open to feedback/suggestions (after a few nudges, that is).

With Married in College, it started as a column for REALITY Check Girl Magazine, an online magazine I worked for in college. Now, with Nikki insisting it must be a book, I just sat down one day with the motivation and wrote out the first chapter. Now I'm combing over the chapter again and again until it's where I want it to be, which is so different than MISSING.

When it comes to plotter vs. pantser, I'm definitely a combination. I like to get something down on paper, writing until I know I've really got something in the making. Then I go back and start listing everything I want to happen-- stories I know I want to share, characters I want to introduce, drama I want to unfold, etc; however, that doesn't mean it will all happen. MISSING was initially going to be written from two characters' point-of-views, and then I changed my mind because I loved my MC too much.

Basically I'm all over the place and, really, I don't have a concise writing process.



And that’s me! Thank you for tagging me, Nikki. If anyone else would like to join, please comment below and then tag me when you share your writing process!

I had been avoiding the idea of potty training. In fact, whenever anyone asked me when we were going to start, I'd just say I wasn't sure. Honestly, part of me was afraid that I'd be the failure. That I'd be the mom who had the kid in diapers until kindergarten. This isn't to say it'd be Michael's fault, but mine. I'd be the one too afraid to start potty training him that he'd just be in diapers forever.

Why? Because I grew up in a home with all girls. Besides my dad, of course. I had two sisters. That's it. No boys. No ideas on how to work potty-training with his, well, parts. I just wasn't sure I could handle it.

Well, a little over a week ago Michael had a killer diaper rash we were trying to get rid of, so he was running around naked. Granted, he likes to do this anyway, but there was a purpose to his nudity this time around. After a couple of accidents (which were expected), he ran over to me and said, "Mama, I don't want to pee on the floor, I want to go on the big-boy potty."

Can you imagine my face?

We rushed to the potty, and for a moment I hesitated. What do I do? Do I grab a stool and have him stand, or do I just let him sit on the thing? Would he be traumatized if he stood and missed and got it all over the floor instead?

He sat.


Now, Michael has a potty. I bought it one day when I was fed up with diapers... two months ago. Then, as you may guess, I whimped out and we didn't start potty training.

Well, after our one potty success (which involved a lot of cheering from me, high-fives, and a couple M&M's), Michael kept asking to go.

The phrase "potty treat" became a thing.

Before I knew it, we were potty training.

The next day we went shopping for Super Hero underwear. Michael decided that only Super Heroes wear underwear.


We even ran errands with him in his underwear with no incidents. He asked to use the potty at the bookstore. Inside I was giving myself high-fives.

All I had to do was wait for him to be ready. Maybe if he hadn't had that awful diaper rash (which is gone, by the way), it wouldn't have happened this way, but you never can tell. He's had one awful day where he was missing Clark and just kept having accident after accident where I was distraught, but the next day he was back on track.

Pooping is still a thing.

Yeah, you read that right.

He's gone once on the potty after a few hours of telling me he didn't want to go. That first time I offered him a diaper and he said no, and then offered him the chance to go to The Disney Store if he went. Wouldn't you know, it worked, and Buzz became a part of our family. He even has to sleep in our bed, or very close to it so Michael can tell him good-morning.


After that one success, he's now asking for diapers when it's time for #2, but since we have so much success with going #1... I'm not pushing it. I don't want him to feel pressured to rush this. I want him to go on his own time and be confident.

Oh, and the standing thing? Yeah... we're not there yet. Say what you like, but that's something else we will face as time goes by.

What were your potty training tricks? I know everyone doesn't resort to bribery out there!

Hello world. It's me. Yes, I'm actually giving you a post. Expect some more, too!

Shocking, I know. Well, maybe not really.

The past few weeks, maybe months, it's been touch-and-go in our house. One minute we have visitors, the next our house is empty, save Michael and myself, of course. It's made it a bit difficult to get used to our surroundings.

Ok, so, that's my fault.

I've been moping.

There. I said it.

While I'm really trying to get used to our new place, location, and weather (105, anyone?), I really find myself missing 'home'. Though I moved most of my childhood, we settled in to North Carolina when I was in eighth grade, and I was blessed to stay there through high school, college, and Michael's first couple years. Now that we've moved again, which I was once accustomed to, I realize just how hard it is.


When you're in school, you make friends during moves because you're forced into an environment which molds that. Once you're out into the real world though, it's a lot harder. Especially if you don't work, and your husband's work takes him from home regularly so he doesn't really have a work-network for you.

That leaves church for us, but we haven't found a church that feels right. I remind myself that when we moved for Clark's schooling in NC, it took me a year to really make friends and find a church home. Here we are six months in, in Arizona and I'm feeling desperate. At least in the beginning in Brevard, Clark was home. Now I'm on my own. I mean, I'm not, but I am.


I know that God brought us here for a reason. During the end of 2013 we knew we were due for changes. Living where we were in NC, we were kind of stuck. Clark couldn't advance in work, and without advancing we couldn't see ourselves ever being able to expand our family. When it came time between finding out where we would be come 2014, it took a lot of prayer and a lot of patience. I didn't want to move, but I was certain God had something in store for our family.

Well, my certainty faded and faded the longer we were here and the more I felt abandoned. While visitors came to stay, they always had to leave. I just didn't know what I was supposed to be doing other than caring for Michael and going about our day-to-day routine.

Honestly, I still don't. I'm still searching, still praying, still trusting.

I have to constantly remind myself that God has a plan.

God has a plan. God has a plan. God has a plan.

I don't mean to sound whiny. I know my life isn't awful. I know I am so incredibly blessed. Not just because of the family, friends, and things I do have-- but, mainly, because I have Christ in my life. Through Him all things are possible.

So why does life seem so hopeless at times?

I'm not sure I have the answer to the question, but I wanted you to know that I'm striving to do more, focus on my blessings, and give back in any way I know how to.

This blog, it helps me give back, even if I'm only reaching a tiny corner of people in the world.

Keep me in your prayers, friends, and thank you for sticking with me.

Things are always crazy when Clark comes home. It's easy to fall behind. Michael was way too excited to take Dada to "the trains" as he calls the railroad park. We had a blast, even if it was pretty hot.



Clark and Michael got sick, starting around my birthday. It's taken us all week to get Michael up and running again, but yesterday he finally seemed to be his "whole self". Now if we could just get his sleep back on track, I'll be one happy mama.

Part of Practising Simplicity's 52 Project.

My dad got to visit us at the end of March. My parents took turns, since they both work for a church in Iowa they couldn't be away at the same time. Of course, now that they've been, they're determined to come together next year for a winter vacation for, like, two weeks.

Michael had a lot of fun with his Papa, but I'm still hearing about how he and Papa went to the baseball game and the park. Before Clark came home, my dad, Michael, and I went to a Cubs vs. White Sox spring training game. Michael had SO much fun. Playtime with Papa was pretty much the center of his world.




As for the park, my dad watched Michael while Clark and I got a movie-date in and they went to the park for a very long time.

Other than that, we all had a lot of fun. We got to go hiking, just hang out, and try some of the local foods that we hadn't just yet... and some that we had. I mean, who can come out West and not go to In-N-Out?

If you hadn't noticed on Instagram or with previous posts, we've been enjoying some baseball. The great thing about where we now live is we are in the midst of spring training and just 30 minutes or so from Chase Field.

Clark and I both grew up loving baseball. He played when he was younger, and my dad took me to Rigley Field (and I played softball as a child). But I wasn't one to watch the games on TV (a little boring if you ask me), and I just didn't see following sports as a priority otherwise (I still don't, if I'm being honest). But now that we're here, there's really no excuse not to enjoy the game up close. Tickets are so reasonably priced and we're so close. Why not make it family fun?

The last day Clark left Michael had been asking to go to a baseball game after looking at pictures of him and Papa at the Cubs game we went to. Sadly, spring training was over, and we're not Diamondbacks fans, but then I remembered that the SF Giants were still playing in Phoenix. The Giants, thanks to my sister and her husband, is our new "family team". It was Clark and Michael's first pro-baseball game, even if it was spring training. While I know the Giants have a WAY better chance at going all this way than the Cubs (since the Cubs haven't won a world series in, like, over 100 years), I'm still a Cubs fan at heart. It was a my first game, and something special I always got to share with my dad.

I digress.

I bought last minute tickets to the SF Giants at Diamondbacks game. Even last minute the tickets were reasonably priced and we were on the First Base line and everything! It was so exciting, and Michael made it to the seventh inning stretch, which was the goal since it was a PM game.

Now, what you've been waiting for, the pictures. By the way... the Giants won... go figure.