The Amazing Jamie

She did it again...



See more on her blog here.

Feeling Funky

OK. It was a matter of time before the "limbo" got to me. It has now officially "got to me". In fact, it's eating at my brain. I feel like I'm on the edge of something, tipping on the precipice, waiting to be pitched over or be pulled back. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Teetering on that edge, my emotions keep going back and forth between comfort, frustration, indifference, encouragement, dismay, stress, hopefulness, trying to figure out the right one to fit my current state of mind. It's exhausting not knowing what to feel. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Yep that's what's getting me. My nerves are raw and my tongue is sharp (to the detriment of my spouse and spawn). This little thing is constantly at the back of my mind picking away at my brain.

So, as all this is going on in my cranium, I've started eating...and eating...and eating. Constructive no? In the past month and a bit I've put on 10 more pounds or so, adding to my already "cushy" appearance. I don't feel at the top of my game, emotionally or physically.

I think my friend sensed this. She's a photog and a dang good one. She offered to get me all pertyied up and do a photo shoot. I was thinking how stupid I would feel and how embarrassed I would be. So I told her sure, thinking I would find a way out of it later. Then, I told Trevor. He liked the idea. Then, I thought about it some more. Maybe I needed this. Needed to feel good about myself. Needed to feel pretty and lovely. Give myself (or in this case, let Jamie) a little boost of self-esteem. Here are a couple of the results.

Not too shabby right? She's a rock star, Jamie. She took me shopping and picked out my new shirt and all the fancy accessories to go with it. I never do that. She did my hair and my make-up. I'll say it again, she's a rock star. You should totally check out her work...here

Afterward, I felt so good that I took my cherished children out for ice cream. They loved me, I loved them, I loved myself. Then William gave me a reality check and sprayed red vomit (not spit up...vomit) all over me, from my pretty new shirt to my shoes. Reality check noted. But it did feel so good to feel good about myself, and whenever I glimpse these pictures now, I remember that I'm not a scary hag of a mom who has let herself go (at least not completely). And I smile a little. Thanks Jamie.

My Baby Will!

There's more to come...

Mother Of The Year

I think I've been disqualified. I took the kids to a park today, I needed some updated pictures for Grandma Louise (or for my blog, whatever). There was this picture perfect tree that I could perch each of the kids in for an individual shot.

Carson's went well. He's so handsome it makes me cry.

It is always so easy to take pictures of Preston. I love 7 year olds.

Then I tried to perch my not-quite-2-year-old in the afore mentioned tree. You had to have some semblance of balance to be able to stand between the two trunks. I totally thought Abby could handle it. I kept trying and trying to get her footing stable, all the while Preston was warning me, "Mom. I don't like this. She's going to fall and hurt herself. I really, REALLY, don't like this, Mom. It's not a good idea." I got irritated and told him to quit telling me what to do. I am HIS mother, after all. Not the other way around.

I hate it when he's right. No, actually, I don't mind him being right. I hate being proved wrong. Congratulations to Preston. He's been awarded the "Mother of the Year" award.

She got over it eventually.

And I think it makes her look tough.