Silver Alert & Toddler God
Tuesday night: Stand at a red light waiting for the crosswalk. Pick a wedgie with one hand, wave to a family from church with the other. That’s the story of my existence, in 2 sentences. (Yea, I shouldn’t have picked a wedgie at a busy intersection, but I had been running and my shorts needed adjusting. And I had the cover of darkness. And I probably just shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house, ever.) Silver Alert We lunched at Chick-fil-a today (see list below for the humor there) and Beckett, my creative genius, turned the table topper into a hat. It was funny or whatever I guess, but I…
In the spirit of authenticity…
I had a post written about being authentic/cutting the crap that is spiritual pleasantries and a whole host of other stuff I may get to at a later date. (Because, really, it’s a struggle…especially for Christians. Christian women are the worst. See Vine below for my thoughts on that matter.) Women’s Bible study voice requirement. I love women’s ministry but this makes me die a little inside. https://t.co/0P681yoCBL— Sarah Brooks (@sarahbrooks13) June 10, 2013 [Note: It’s not that Christian women aren’t authentic, because many, many are. It’s just when the voice comes out... I’m skeptical.] But let’s skip the dramatic reading and go to a fun exercise in authenticity everyone should do: Make…
A Fiery 2nd Birthday
Apparently grandparents run on a different type of fuel than normal people. They never run out of energy. Ever. In the case of a certain little boy I know, endless energy made for a perfect week with his out-of-town admirers. I should devote a whole post to our fun, non-birthday-related adventures, but until then… It’s firefighting time. Because Beckett loves his f*&$@s. And, seeing as he turned 2 this week, we included as many of them into his week-o-celebration as possible. First up, the coolest fire station visit ofalltime, offered so kindly by my friend Katie on behalf of her husband Ethan, a fireman at the airport here. (When I say “airport”, I…
two. dos. два. 둘. zwei. deux.
Beckett will be two next week. It blows my mind. But before we get all sappy about how much I love the face off my two year old little boy…I want to take a second to talk about what age 2 looks like, because a lot of people forget. Or block it out. Or drink their way through it. It can be a real struggle. Like when toddler speak is virtually indecipherable. Only by sheer luck (and lots of time alone with Beckett) do I know that “fok” never means exactly what it usually sounds like (the f word), but rather means any or all of the following: frog, fork,…
NOLA! (Alt Title: Beignets are made by angels.)
This past week, Taylor started a new job and had a birthday. I also had a birthday and made a quick trip to Louisiana that included a stop by Café Du Monde. So, basically, it was the best week ever. Several months ago, a lady named Jenny read my post to parents about Instagram and contacted me about speaking at her teen girl event just outside of New Orleans. This is important for a few reasons: a) I could have been the single most awkward person she’d ever met in her life. She’d only read my post, never met me; therefore b) God used her to get my attention in a “HELLO.…
Toddler Beds: the worst things on earth.
Day 1: Well, Beckett finally made the big transition. He started climbing out of his crib, so we moved him into a big boy bed. (!!!!!!) Our little punkin is just growing right on up. On Saturday, we talked about big boy beds, looked at options, and finally bought one from Target. The guardrails seem a little short, but it’ll be fine. I’m just excited to move him. We made taking down the crib and putting up the bed a family affair. Taylor told Beck this box (that contained his new bed) was his new bed. He was abnormally excited. We put together the real bed and he was even…
On the past 3 months of crazy.
“Hey I saw you were speaking different places now…what is that about? Apparently I don’t even know what you do for a living.” Funny you should ask. I don’t either. For the past year or so, I’ve really been struggling with finding purpose. Being a mom (and a stay-at-home one, at that) is harder than I imagined in ways I didn’t anticipate. You go from people doting on your big ole baby belly, then on your newborn, then on your infant…aaaand then at some point that kinda wears off. Pretty soon you’re alone at Chick-fil-a with a screamy toddler who just spiked his water cup on the floor in protest,…
A Pregnancy Story, Take 2
2 1/2 years ago, I went to a walk-in, drug-testing clinic to have a blood pregnancy test. Why? Because I had just taken two home pregnancy tests that were positive. I needed the clinic to tell me the tests were wrong, since a) I was 23, having been married for less than 2 years, and b) I was on birth control. Well, ladies and gents, the tests were indeed accurate. The blood test came back positive, but even before that, it was confirmed by the clinic phlebotomist: Lady: Girrrl I knew you was pregnant when you came in.Me: Really? How did you know? Lady: Because I saw your little “pudge”.…
IHOP, Potty Tunes, & HowYOOs
This week was so fabulous. I weaseled my way into being a driver for one of my all-time favorite teenager’s midnight surprise birthday party at IHOP, took Beckett to his first toddler water park wonderland, and found a real treasure of a potty training song book that I’ll share with you in a moment. IHOP, at midnight, with this girl is time well spent. HowYOO? So, 99% of what toddlers say and do is simply a reflection of what you say and do, right? Right. Which is why some of Beckett’s behavior, while very cute, is a little hurtful. He’s currently in a stage where he likes to carry on…
ER Trip #245: "Ask Me" Edition
Once upon a time, Tuesday night, we were volunteering at our church’s Vacation Bible School, rebranded as “Summer Spectacular”, when I got that dreaded text from the children’s ministry saying that we needed to come get Beckett from class. I immediately started to panic because a) Beckett loves Bible class where he learns about “Jethuth” and b) he never ever ever ever cries there. Like, ever. As in, they’ve never paged me in the entirety of his childcare experience. As in, sometimes when class is over and we pick him up to go home he screams like he’s being kidnapped. So I knew something bad had happened. He ran away?…
