Photo Bombing

Our fourth child is due in a few weeks. 

Along with this approaching eviction notice has come some reflection on my part. 

Things I've done well as a mom. Things I have really bombed on. 

Things to repeat and things to never do again. (Take 3 boys to the USS Yorktown in mid July wearing flip flops and a dress and having no other hands to help me while crawling through narrow passageways on a warship and telling the kids several times that if they didn't tighten up, then I would put them on a similar ship one day and send them out to sea.)

One item that made the list of "Things to Work On" was taking more pictures. 

I have a very nice camera. One that we splurged on when we probably shouldn't have. 

And it sits on a shelf in our laundry room. 

I carry a phone with me at. all. times.

Because you never know when the school is going to call, right? 

Or you forget how many weeks pregnant you are, and your phone updates you on Fridays. 

I have 5 camera apps.

And still very little photo taking takes place. 

Why is this???

This question led me to look in our photo albums stored on our computer, and I quickly found the answer to my question.

I don't take a lot photos of my kiddos because, on the whole, they don't know how to smile correctly. 

Exhibit A: Jack's Disney 2012 Smile

Lips parted. 

Top and bottom teeth showing. 

Sometimes a flair of excitement.

A little dreamy.

A lot goofy. 

(Leading middle brother astray here, too.)

Foreal. Almost every picture of Jack from this vacation features that smile. 

If that's what you want to call it. 

At the time we blamed it on the magic of Disney and whatever the high is that you get from the rainbow and lollipop concoction that they pump through the air vents and feed to you one street parade at a time. 

But then we got back to Bluffton and the smells of pluff mud and realized that no, Jack was in a downward spiral of facial unawareness.

Exhibit B: Finn's Creeper Face

Squinty Eyes. 

Slight grin.

Serial killer? 

or Lady Killer?

It really could go either way. 

Exhibit C: Charlie Has No Eyes

This is perhaps the longest streak of goofy kid smile we have had. 

I went back at least a year and found that most of Charlie's pictures look like this.

And to this little bean: Practice some natural smiling while you're in there, because if you're anything like your brothers, you'll be a goober, too.

Not gonna lie. 

Can't wait. 

 On the list of things we have done right: Having professional pictures taken!  

Am I alone in this? Has your child ever gone through a period of time where their brain sends conflicting signals to their face? Pray tell.

Important Things That Happened but Never Made it to the Blog Until Now

I wrote this big girl post last December about how I was going to blog more in 2013.

I haven't read it again, but I remember writing it.  I remember the feeling of inspiration and wanting to cling to the memories of our kids' childhoods being palpable that day.

What happened?  

Well for one, I downloaded the Blogger app, and then my phone broke before I updated iCloud.  

So what I'm saying is that it's Apple/Steve Job's fault that I haven't blogged more.  

No promises for 2014 because that went crapily.  

Here's what was missed.

Jack turned 8. He is as tall as my shoulder when I'm in flats and he's in Nikes. It makes me want to vomit.

Finn turned 6, and he uses the word "capability" appropriately.  That makes me want to sleep with one eye open. 

Jack got up on the wakeboard this summer.  My 8 year old can wakeboard and I cannot. 

Nothing like bobbing in the water, with a rope in your hand and 99% certainty that your rotator cuffs are blown while your child yells at you:

"It's like riding a bike, Mom!  You just have to FEEL IT."

And what's worse….

In April, we got a dog. 

Mr. Bojangles. 

We call him Bo.

He is so precious. And horrible. And a dream of a dog. And sheddy.

But he does not poop in our house which is what got the last dog voted off the island.

He does, however, eat socks.

And poops or barfs them out/up. So far.

If we get a hard rain our lawn has a lot of these in it:

(For all of you worried pet people, yes we know this could kill him.  We are not covering our socks in bacon grease and feeding them to him.  He has a problem.  It has not been linked to any vitamin deficiencies or other health related problems.  He just likes socks. We have purchased laundry baskets with lids and have placed the baskets out of his reach.  But we have 3 boys.  Socks are part of our life. BUT..if you have something helpful you would like to suggest to us, please do.)

Jack got baptized! 

It was awesome.  He came out of the water and ran to his dad and said, "I feel CLEAN!"

This was 100% his decision which made it real for him.  

Best day.

Turns out I'm a baby factory. 

#4 due in May.  

To clear some things up:

Yes, we know how this happens and how to prevent it.

Sometimes that knowledge isn't enough.

This was not in our plan, but we are EXCITED and BLESSED that God chose this for us.

EVEN IF WE HAVE A BOY!!!

(In search of: good boy names)

We do not plan on finding out what we are having until the delivery room.

We may very well get a minivan at this point. 

I will not have mall bangs or wear long denim skirts.

This happened. 

Janet Powell of Silly Goose Photography took this pic to help us announce our pregnancy. 

It's my fave.

Charlie turned 2. 

He calls me "Hun". 

"Can I have some water, hun?"

He hasn't realized that his requests could be much larger than water if he calls me Hun.

We wanted them to dress as Chipmunks, but we got this instead:

It snowed over Thanksgiving!!!!

In Waynesville:)

Best Thanksgiving ever.  John was able to get some days off and we trekked through the snow, relaxed, rode the Polar Express train, and enjoyed each other's company.  

Target released the best Christmas ornaments of all time just for me!

John, Jordan, Trevor and I launched our new business, WHIMSY!

For those of you confused:

I have painted custom artwork for about 6-7 years or so. Pinterest and babies caused things to get too busy, and I couldn't stay up so late anymore without looking like a hobo, so something had to give.

John suggested that I take some of my most popular non custom signs and have them reproduced.

So…long story short, that's what we have done.

I hand paint the original and then it is reproduced as a canvas print.  It looks and feels like the original and I am amazed at the quality.  

Jordan and Trevor have overseen the majority of the business side of things which makes me free to paint!  MAJOR FUN!

Check it out: 

whimsyandco.com

You can find us on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest, too!

So here's the part where I'm in the Christmas spirit and have had some coffee and want to make big promises for 2014.

But I will refrain from promises. 

And opt for HOPE.

Merry Christmas, all!  

May 2014 be the best yet.

Random Musings on 10 years

We had an epic long first date.

Fall festival. Dinner.  A movie. Sitting in the swing in front of Cobb dorm for hours.

Your IM screen name was JohnU79.  

But you were a gentleman and didn't ask me out over IM.  

You opted for email. 

I still said yes.

You remember the first time we met differently than how I remember it.  

And that's okay.  I like your version better anyway, so we'll go with that one. 

We were friends first. 

You "tested" me by having me watch Dumb and Dumber to see if I thought it was funny.  

I didn't know it was a test at the time, but now that I do...

Well played, my friend.

I wouldn't have wanted to date me either if I had failed.

We are so similar. 

We love sports, summer, being outdoors.

We agree that McDonald's has the best Coke, that you are the world's best popcorn popper, and that Finn will likely be our most argumentative child.

Remember that time we took those personality tests, and we both resulted heavy in the "lion" category?

There was an asterisk that noted how rare it is to find a married couple that consists of two lion personalities. 

We showed them.

Bazinga. 

We are so different.

I can go shopping for hours and return empty handed, yet perfectly satisfied. 

You see this as a waste of time.

You can go fishing for hours and return empty handed, yet perfectly satisfied.

I see this as ridiculous.

But we both appreciate the need in each other to get out of the house and office to do our own thing once in a while. 

And I love that.  

I think singing loudly and off tune in public is hilarious.

You think it's embarrassing.

You're tall. 

I'm not.

When we went to get our first dog, there were several left in the litter to choose from. 

You wanted the biggest, most rambunctious male of the bunch.

I was partial to the runt who continued to follow us and cry.

You let me choose the runt.

Thank you.

Remember that time, a little after our first year anniversary, when I was taking birth control pills, and they didn't work, and I got pregnant?  

You handled that like a champ. 

Our "Five Year Plan" dwindled before our eyes as quickly as that little pink plus sign appeared.

But you sat me down, and said, "Babe! This is FANTASTIC!"

I'm pretty sure neither of us felt that way at the time.

But there's this thing about you, that when you say things, I believe it hook, line and sinker.

And you were right. 

It was fantastic. It was Jack!  Your mini me.

Sometimes we argue.  

And you are the worst to argue with. 

You're logical. You choose your words wisely. You don't raise your voice. You apologize.

Ugh...

Seriously...10 years and no dramatic door slamming or "I have to take a drive" comments?  

I can count on two fingers the times that I have gone ape on you.  

And I was pregnant both times.

So that kind of means it was half your fault, right?

I enjoy doing life with you. 

You're funny. And fun.  And considerate. 

You didn't mind when I left on a girl's trip a few weeks ago and didn't stock the fridge beforehand.  

Thank you for being easy.

And for grocery shopping while I was gone.

Sometimes people will comment about you being "serious". 

But they haven't seen you lead the nightly Jedi training sessions in our living room. 

Or last night's full on sprint that ended in a forward roll as Finn was giving you Ninja lessons.

Or the fake cockroach you keep leaving in my path.

We have been immeasurably blessed these ten years. 

Blessed in ways that we don't deserve.

We even voiced this to one another the other night as we watched our boys in a rare moment of unity.

God's grace is so evident in our lives.

His grace has been evident in our blessings and hardships.

Pa and Tim's sicknesses and deaths. 

You have held me many times as I've cried wishing I could be close to family.  You knew words were not enough, but you were there.

The night Charlie was born was probably the worst of your life.  

I remember leaving the hospital nursery just after our baby had stopped breathing. 

I could tell in your eyes that you were afraid he would die.  

We held hands and begged that God would protect Charlie.

Watching you hold our babies has been so sweet, but the first time you held Charlie boy might take the cake.

Leaving your parents' house the night before your Dad's official diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. 

I saw through your tears that you were heartbroken but still willing to accept the challenges that could be ahead.

Running the business on your own.  Taking care of your mom.  

You were broken, but still so strong. 

Because the man I love, trusts a faithful God. 

Thank you for continuing to compliment me on my appearance. 

Three pregnancies, three post pregnancies, three fad diets.

All of these can do a number on a girl.

But you still plug along with your "You look great, babe!" comments.

Don't stop. 

I respect you for so many reasons. 

You work so hard for our family, and you are good at what you do. 

You hear both sides of the story before making a judgement call.

Unless I'm involved, then you always choose me.

You totally called that old yankee lady out at the post office for beeping her horn at you for blocking the space that she wanted, even though there were five open spaces closer to the building.  

 You got the point across in a nice, Southern gentlemanly way.  

Sometimes when you get a wild hair and do something spectacularly zany, I take credit and give myself an imaginary pat on the back for bringing out that side of you.

The other day I was heading back over the bridge from the island and caught myself looking into the marsh for tailing redfish.  

What?!?

You've rubbed off on me, too, I guess.

Whenever we go to a couple's shower (which I know you LOVE) and we're asked to fill out one of those little cards with words of marital wisdom, we always write down what Gammy said to us at our rehearsal dinner: 

Marriage is not 50/50.

It's 100/100.

We don't always get it right, but we sure do try.

Thank you in advance for the nice dinner you're taking me to tonight. 

And when the server comes and asks if we saved room for dessert, please lie and say yes.

Because TEN is something to celebrate!

John boy, I love you. I admire you. I respect you. 

And I think you're hot.

How To Survive a Swim Meet

When the doctor held up our firstborn after delivery and announced, "It's a BOY!", I have to say there was a small part of me (the part that wasn't busy fainting, vomiting or cry/laugh/joy-festing) that thought...YES.  Little League, here we come.

John and I both played sports most of our childhood and were hopeful that our children would like to do the same. 

 Soccer. Volleyball. Cheering. Basketball. Baseball. Football. Tennis. Golf.  

Not once "back then" did I think...

SWIM TEAM.

Not because I didn't like it or my husband wasn't a rock star swimmer in the days of yore (because he WAS), but because I had never experienced swim team as a kid.

And I'm one of those fun types that thinks if I didn't experience it, then it probably isn't worth anyone's time.

Thoughts of swim teams only surfaced during Summer Olympic years when the sinewy V shaped swimmers took their marks after doing that strange jiggly muscle thing where their arms swing down and slap their backs and their thigh muscles detach from their legs all freaky like.  

I never saw this coming:

My son.  Covered in Sharpie.  Singing the National Anthem.  Half naked.

Last summer was Jack's first swim season.  It was fun.  It was outside.  It was reward driven with many opportunities to win ribbons and medals.  The season ended with a picnic for goodness sake!

So, clearly, we signed up for year round swimming, completed that, finished our second Summer season a few weeks ago and are heading into the year round season again.

I sense that there's a swimming vacuum that we are very close to being sucked into.  I hear rumors of crazy early swim practices, and I pray that the vacuum spits us out before I find myself chugging Starbucks at 5am while I escort a minivan load of carpooling youths to the nearest (45 min away) meter pool.  Please no.

So before that happens...here is how we manage swim season.  The meets, in particular.

1.  Bring a Sharpie.

They tell you it's for writing your kid's event, heat and lane info on their arm.  This is true.  

But I have found that the Sharpie is most helpful in identifying your child.

Scanning the pool deck for your skinny half naked second grader among forty other skinny half naked second graders is no fun.  Write their name on their back, draw a bullseye, sketch the team logo.  Anything helps.

("Eat my bubbles" is a popular phrase among most swim teams I have found.)

This season I witnessed one poor dad Sharpie a fu manchu on his daughter in a moment of desperation.

2. If you're a cool parent, bring electronics.

If you're us, bring Legos.

Yes, electronics fry your brain and increase your risk of obesity and ADHD, but on the flip side, they are responsible for decreasing the chance of finding your son searching for a misplaced FunDip under the bleachers.

Legos are a fun and wholesome alternative.

Until you step on one.

3.  Give pre event pep talks. 

Not surprisingly, John is the best at this.  He reminds Jack of the things he has been working on with the particular stroke he's about to swim.  He tells him to focus and that we are proud of his best efforts no matter what the time reflects. He comes up with a short mantra (this season was "Long and Strong"). 

John had to work later one evening and missed a meet so I filled this gap for him.  It wasn't until the last event that Jack looked at me and said, "Mom. You have been saying Long and Lean the whole meet.  I don't even know what that means." 

I'll stick to being the Snack Bearer.

Which leads me to....

4.  Bring snacks.  

Lots of snacks. Good for you snacks like Smart Water, apples, oranges, bananas, edamame if you're fancy, peanut butter, Cheezits, Slim Jims and Skittles.

And that is the digression.

  One day you're explaining to your child that you're Day 192 into a real food/no processed food switch over and you're not about to cave now.  

Next thing you know, you look over and they are consuming half a bag of sour skittles and enough Red 40 to rival that of Honey Boo Boo's Go Go Juice.

5.  Get the generations involved.

Gigi and Poppy Johnny saved the day on several occasions this season.  

Helping with Charlie. Getting Jack to his lane when we were helping with Charlie.  Helping Charlie not jump in the pool.  Buying hotdogs for Finn.

6.  Remind your child that this is fun, and ask them if they're having fun.

Here it appears that we failed to do this.

7.  Volunteer.  Your swim team depends on it.

Be a timer. A concession stand server.  A ribbon labeler.  An official if you're evil enough to disqualify a 6 year old girl for rolling over on her backstroke.

But. 

Whatever you do, never volunteer to be a bullpen parent. 

This poor soul has to wrangle a certain age group of swimmers into their lanes for each event.

Everyone starts looking the same.  You're yelling names of kids you don't even know.  You're high on chlorine fumes, and two of the boys can't find their goggles.  

Avoid the bullpen.  Lie. Cheat. Steal. Faint. Puke.  Doesn't matter. Just say no.

8.  Take pictures. 

And label them.

With a Sharpie.

Because pictures of your half naked son from last year and this year look pretty similar.

9.  Misc.

-Invest in a good pair of jammers (the newer biking short looking swim shorts that saved young men swimmers all over the world from having everyone see them in their skivvies.) Don't put them in the dryer or the elastic will wear out and one day your son will pass you at the pool and you'll realize that you are looking straight through to his little hiney.

-A Silicone swim-cap won't save you any dollars, but it will save your ears from whining and crying that a latex swim-cap deserves.

-Stock up on goggles.  They are easily misplaced.

Year round season, here we come!

This or That

Our home phone just rang.

Which means one of two things.

A candidate needs my vote or there is an important message from Beaufort county schools.

Today it was the latter.

And the important message was that tomorrow will not be the last day of school like we thought it was going to be.  Tropical storm Andrea is pushing her way through the area  tomorrow so our last day will now be on Monday.

I was instantly P.O.ed. 

But then I thought about it and realized that it really doesn't matter.

  It matters to the poor teachers who were so eagerly awaiting their summer break.  

It matters to the families who have vacations or camp planned (and who will take them anyway. Even I, Rule Follower McGee, would blow off that last day like it was my job.)

It matters to the families who have to take a day off of work or find help with their kids.

It matters to the kids (and their parents) who dread every minute of every day that they have to spend at school.

But (thankfully) none of these apply to us.

So I guess the long and short of it is that I just got out of sorts because I could.  

And I can't say that it was the first time this week. 

Or today.

So in an effort to survive this summer and mark off a few of the things our summer list that doesn't even exist yet....this mama needs to get her attitude in check.

Instead of...

AHHH!!!  Why does my car look like hobos live in it?

Why can't it be...

It'll take two minutes for the boys to undo this mess. At least it's not the Honey Mustard Spill of 2012. 

A birthday invite with the RSVP instructions inconveniently eaten by the dog?

Or

I'm so happy that people tie balloons to their mailboxes and... Finn gets to make it to his buddy's party this year.  He missed it last year and pouted for weeks. And conveniently reminded me that we missed the party on a regular basis.

Barely eaten food left for mom to clean up that also serves as an open ended invitation to the fruit flies that have recently taken up residence in our home?

Or

At least he ate the fruit and not the leftover Easter candy?

Instead of shuddering when just looking at the word "giblet" in a recipe why not celebrate the fact that I conquered not only reading the word, but actually removing the "giblets" without barfing.

Oh yeah...and the fact that my children had a healthy dinner to eat.

Spaghetti night clean up:

Unbelievably annoying or...

An opportunity to take a photo to tape to his baby book in the space that says something to the effect of "look at me! I was such a messy eater" 

I don't like those moments where my faults rear their ugly heads to the point where they cannot be ignored. Requiring some self reflection and horror of horrors...maybe even a little change.

Quite honestly I'd rather just not know about them.

Erring on the side of annoyed could make this summer really long and miserable. 

But since "summer" won't start until Monday, I guess I have a few days to figure it out. 

(I fell asleep while typing last night and watching What to Expect When You're Expecting- hilarious movie.)

Looks like God has a sense of humor...

It is cloudy. No rain. Might even be sunny. 

Here are my choices:

Idiot meteorologists and school board officials got it all wrong. We could be done with school today!

Or

Beach day?

Happy (almost) end of the school year everyone!  We can do this!