This Day in 2010

Three years ago, today...

...Davis was so proud to call himself a 'big brother' and vowed to take his role very seriously,

...I was beyond ready to get Reese out of my belly and into my arms,

...Justin stayed as close to me as physically possible and I learned how freakin' weird an epidural makes you feel,

...our family was finally whole and complete,

...we got to experience, for the first time, a healthy, stress-free birth, full of unexplainable emotions (I desperately hope that I never forget what I felt at this moment),

...it officially sank in that Justin had a tiny girl that he was going to be responsible for,

...we relished in these postpartum moments, with a sadness in our hearts knowing we were deprived this privilege with Davis,

...they met,

...and the love for her extended throughout the family.

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET GIRL!  

Another Accomplishment



...about 2 years in the making...

 

A Jimi Thing

He's a pug/something else mix who's maxed out at about 15 pounds...just enough weight on him so that Reese can't carry his ass around (often times by the neck, pretending he's fake) anymore.  He joined our family in February and Davis demanded that we call him 'Jim'.  It was a battle we knew we'd lose and, therefore, chose not to start. 

Justin and I, as it turns out, aren't the biggest 'dog people' in the world, so a little Jim has turned out to be a perfect fit for us both.  All four of us, really.  The kids are obsessed with him. 

He's very hyper and smart and protective. His 'favorites list' would include tennis balls, stuffed animals, my shadow, playing on the floor with Davis, Justin's attention, and Reese's bed.  We lubbers him.

He just looks like a 'Jim', right?

 

Always all up in my biz...

When we first brought him home.



Competitive Gene

Davis HATES losing.  We all hate it, but he really, really does.   If you've ever been around my brother while he either played a sport or merely watched one on TV, you'd know exactly where the trait was passed down from.  I've also been known to toss my tennis racket a time or two on the court.  And cuss words fall out of my mouth on the reg. 

Anyway, back to Davis...

The kid literally cries when UGA loses a football game.  He gets angry with Justin when he and Matt don't get first place during Monday night fishing tournaments.  If he answers a question wrong, he'll tell you to re-ask it just so he can blurt out the correct response and then immediately celebrate.  He doesn't even care that you just gave him the answer.  Other physical outburst triggers include...Mario Slugger's Wii game, racing to the car, getting his York Peppermint Patty wrapper off first, being the first one to what him and Reese have deemed 'the best seat in the living room'...I could go on, but you get it.

The poor kid doesn't win foot races.  He just can't.  He's also not the strongest, most coordinated kid around.  And I, alone, can say this because he came out of my belly.  He's constantly challenging people to race, wrestle, etc.  Sadist?  Or just super, duper determined?  Who knows for sure.  Because of this, though, we're presented with numerous opportunities to vomit the whole 'winning isn't everything/be a good sport/stop crying, they only lost by 1' spiel.  I think we need more practice, though.  It's rooted deep in his being. 

When we're alone, he and I, we like to talk about how much we love each other.  I always say, "You're my first baby, ya know.  You'll always be my first."  To which he proudly and enthusiastically replies, "That means I win." 

Yes.  Yes it does.

And Fish Go 'Blub'

Now, I'm curious.  What does a fox say? 

This video, posted a mere 11 days ago, has over 24 million views, folks.  My children have contributed about 20.

Permember Me?!?

A ridiculous amount of time has passed since my last blog post. I feel like I've been keeping people informed through an easier, faster outlet like Instagram over the past year.  Recently, though, I've thought about jump starting this bad boy. I'm shocked I even remembered my password to log on, honestly.

Let me start off by sharing a story. Setting: Boogs' bedroom. Time period: Last night. Characters: Her, me, and a snoring dad.

Reese is the queen of getting out of bed and has become so creative with her reasons why. "I want to tell Jim 'good night'." "I want to sleep with Ralphie (her stuffed walrus)." "I miss you."

Last night, it was, "My teddy bear is scaring me." It went more like this, though, "MY TEDDY BEAR...*gasp, huff, puff*...IS SC-SC-SCARING MEEEEEEEE!!!" Oh, brother. I calmly explain that he's just a stuffed animal, not scary at all, and he won't hurt her. She seemed to buy it.

Five minutes pass...

Same thing. She's scared of her teddy bear, who's innocently sitting at her desk, across the room. He is, however, staring at her. So, I ask her if she wants me to remove teddy bear from her room. Great idea. Now she's bear-free and said bear is in the living room.

Five more minutes pass... "WHERE'S MY TEDDY BEAR!?!?!" You've GOT to be kidding me. By the way, this is all taking place while I'm trying to watch the only television show that I keep up with, religiously. Of course, right? She knows. I know she knows and she's doing this on purpose. "Your teddy bear is in the living room. Remember a couple minutes ago? He was a scary monster and I saved the day? I'm gonna need to you settle down, stay in your bed, and go to sleep." I don't even wait for a response because that's always when she sucks me back into her world where she wraps me around her tiny finger and dominates me.

Five minutes...

Now she's screaming from her bed that she NEEDS some water. The good listener didn't get out of her bed. But I don't either. She doesn't stop, though. Finally, I scream from my room, "JUST GET IN HERE!" She comes. "Get a drink and get up here, now." She does. "Go to sleep." Now, she's cradled in my arms, taking up half of my body, and passes out within 17 seconds. Now, I'm in awe of her all over again.  After about an hour, I scoop her up, and put her back in her bed.  Ahhhh....

This morning, I headed to the kitchen, but was stopped by the sound of her sound machine.  Her bedroom door was opened, meaning she got up yet again last night.  I peek in, look over at her desk, and that damn bear was back in his spot!  She's crazy.  100% nuts.  And I love every bit of it.