Teammates.

hat- burlington coat factory
jacket- thrifted
shirt- charliehall.com
pants- Ross
Shoes- dolce vida

It's so windy here today that your skin would blow away if you weren't hugging it onto your body. Ezra and Myer had school today, so I tried to go to a clothing store by my house and spend some store credit that I have had there for months, but of course Truman was fussing the WHOLE time I was inside the store until he promptly calmed down and fell asleep the second I gave up and left. haha. I swear, even at this age, they know. They may not know their own hand from a wall, but they know when mama wants a moment to shop, ohyestheydo.

Chris and I had not been communicating very well the past few weeks, and it was seriously like watching a car roll slowly towards a cliff. It was OBVIOUS where it was going to end up, but we just kept right on watching. Thankfully we finally snapped out of it and pulled the emergency brake. We said all that needed to be said, and now it feels like we are on the same team again.

*Insert deep cleansing breath here*

Isn't it amazing how often it feels like we are on the opposing team of our husbands? The ONE person in the world whose team we voluntarily stood up and swore to fight for till death do us part? Maybe it's just me and my stubborn, prideful heart, but I find myself in a different colored jersey WAY too often.

Yet, I know God is changing me. (It has been a S L O W change, but that's only because of my own stiff neck.) When I look back on the wife I was seven years ago, I feel a little bit proud of the work God has done in me so far. I know that I have about a bajillion years worth of things left to learn, but I trust that God can get me to where I need to be if I would just stop trying to protect myself all the time... if I would just let Him get closer than an arm's length to my heart.



Aaaaaanywho... I learned how to play my favorite Ray Lamontagne song on the guitar this afternoon ("Empty") and now that's all that I want to do... for ever and ever... but there are all these children that need to be bathed and lotioned and jammied and brushed and read to and tucked in and sang to and it's just me here tonight because Chris is out DJ-ing a fashion show this evening. (how glam!)

Once the little ones are in bed I am going to have a glass of wine, take a bath, play guitar a bit, and then watch some more Cosby Show on Netflix. I am so addicted to that show right now, it's kind of insane. I think I am going to weep when I click on the final episode... it will feel like a part of my family has been canceled. hahaha.

peace out, yo.
:)

'The Rabbits of Our Lives'

So, if you're my friend over yonder on 'The Book of Faces' (which, honestly has been morphing into more of an instagram dumping ground for me lately haha), you will already have heard parts of the rabbit drama that we've been engrossed in over here for the last couple of weeks.

It's a regular 'As The World Turns' back there, I swear.

A week before Easter, a large brown rabbit was spotted in our backyard by the neighbors to the East of me. I thought they had just seen a typical, wild rabbit out there when they told me about it, so I didn't think anything of it. Wild rabbits are common around these parts.

The next day, however, when I went out into my backyard, I almost had a heart attack when I saw this thing lop out from behind our composting bin:

"RAWR!!!"

Now, I know that it is really hard to tell the actual size of this beast from this photo because there is nothing given for reference, but just try to imagine this rabbit towering over a chiuaua and giving it the 'Imma gobble you up' eye.

It was HUGE.

I gave the thing a carrot and came back inside because I kept having visions of the Killer Rabbits in Monty Python and I wanted to protect my jugular vein. I was CONVINCED that this rabbit was someone's escaped pet, because of how large it was and because it was so very unafraid of me. But when I posted his picture on Facebook, I got a lot of "oh yeah, we had some of those this morning too!" or, "that's typical of where you live" type responses and so I found myself becoming VERY confused.

And then, the next day after that, I went out to look for the rabbit again with some carrots in hand, and you cannot even imagine my surprise when I turned around as I heard some rustling behind me and saw this:

"we done did MULTIPLIED last night, yuk yuk!"

I grabbed my jugular and ran inside again.

Now I was REALLY confused. Were they wild rabbits who were multiplying? Or were they partners in crime on the run from their cage? I envisioned myself putting up flyers around the vicinity, stating "FOUND: two rabbits! Call Emery and I will return your precious pets to you!" only to become the laughing stock of the ENTIRE neighborhood because they really were wild and could be found in every single yard everywhere.

I didn't make flyers. I just fed them more lettuce and carrots and got used to the idea of having cute bunnies in our yard for our boys to swoon over for awhile.

The next day after I discovered the second rabbit, Myer and I had been out in the yard most of the morning talking to the rabbits and having a grand ol' time watching them and feeding them. Myer was getting a little overheated, though, so I decided to take him inside and get him cooled off a bit before lunch. Not even 5 minutes after we came inside, my neighbor to the East of me texted my phone and said "Our dog just ate the brown rabbit."

Ummm... good thing little Myer wasn't out there to see that chapter of the drama, eh?

I have NO idea how the brown rabbit got over or under the fence and into the neighbor's yard, but sure enough, he was a goner.

I posted a tribute to him over on Facebook to memorialize his little hopping imprint on our lives:



hahaha. (PS. I maybe have no heart.)

Days went by and we never told the boys where 'The Brown One' had disappeared to. I suggested that maybe he up and R-U-N-N-O-F-T to find sweeter carrots somewhere (a hidden heaven metaphor, see that?), and we contented ourselves with seeing the white rabbit out nibbling on our grass every now and then, and feeding him goodies once every couple of days.

And then... YESTERDAY.

Almost TWO WEEKS after the rabbits first appeared, my neighbor to the WEST of me knocked on our door as we were heading out on a date and told us his rabbit was in our yard and could he go back there and try to catch it?

uh...

We stammered that he was welcome to go back there and "good luck!" and we left for our coffee date. As we were leaving he mentioned that he "also had a brown one somewhere", which caused my husband and I to exchange looks of utter mortification and horror as we climbed into the car.

So.

Now.

The moral dilemma: Do we TELL him and his children about the morbid and violent fate of 'The Brown One' (may he rest in peace)? Or do we smile and nod and pretend that we are none-the-wiser, leaving them hope that their brown rabbit has found a field of clovers somewhere and is fancy free and having the time of his little floppy-eared life??

Please, discuss.

I'm all ears.

(har har.)

Worth The Fight.

This morning I grabbed my new favorite coffee mug, the one that is as big as my face, and filled it up to the brim. It's the biggest cup we have, and my sweet husband must know how desperately I need the extra ounces these days, because he hand washes it every night before bed and leaves it out on the counter for me so that I can just stumble into the kitchen and POUR.

What a man.

The thing that seems to be pulling the life from my bones these days is not the wee babe. It is not the extremely in-your-face six year old. It is the little dude in the middle.



The other day, he had a two hour screaming fit simply because I told him he could have his cupcake AFTER lunch, and not before.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, and then suddenly, on my 150th time of going back to his room to explain that he was welcome to come out and eat his lunch as soon as he stopped throwing a fit, he looked at me and said "Okay, mama!" and hopped off the chair. He came out to the table, ate his WHOLE lunch, and the got his cupcake with a heaping side of affirmation.

And he seems to really get it about the treats now. But he's still fighting me on every thing else. This morning for example, we are smack dab in the middle of an epic battle of the wills again.

He was whipping the furniture with a metal chain... you know how they do... and I told him firmly to "stop" three or four times. He didn't stop, so I scooped him up and stuck him in timeout. I went back a couple of minutes later and told him that he needs to stop when I say stop, and I asked him to respond with "Yes mama" like he's supposed to, but instead I got a furrowed brow and a glare.

For over an hour we did this. Me asking him to say "Yes mama" when I told him to listen and obey, and he just glaring at me like an angry caveman.

Finally I told him that if he didn't respond properly, he was going to have to go straight to bed for his nap.

Guess where he is right now?

Yep. Bed.

He is the MOST stubborn child I have ever seen!!!



I am encouraged today, however, because I seem to be able to feel the weight of what I am doing with Myer. I am training and correcting him in the way he should go, and there is no greater gift that I can give the boy in life than that. During all the crying and stubbornness this morning, I seem to be able to hear God whispering to my heart that "This is good, this is good, this is good!"

Correcting my child in love and with firmness will be health to his bones all the days of his life. And all of these little struggles and battles that no one sees have the power to shape the man that Myer will become, which in turn could shape the lives of countless other people as he grows and the decades march on.

When I am able to remember that fact, I feel so VERY important! So USEFUL in the Kingdom of God! So HONORED to have been chosen for such a high calling! (Three times over, none the less!)

Why is it so dang hard to remember this? When I forget it, which is almost always the case, I begin to feel so useless, so unseen, so... trapped. My kids suffer, I suffer, my husband suffers. Negativity and bitterness reign in my house. May I never forget the truth of the worth of my job again!!

The interesting thing about all of this is that last week, at the women's study that I go to, we were talking about learning to submit our stubborn wills to the will of God so that we can have abundant life.

Helloooo prime example! When I was looking into Myer's caveman face earlier, I couldn't help but giggle a little. It was like I could suddenly see myself in his place. I have been setting my face towards God in the same way! I have been refusing to respond to His loving correction with equal amounts of stubbornness! I have been choosing to remain in the chair when I could be off truly living!

Thankfully, all I have to do is repent of my stubbornness and hardness towards God (since the ability to repent is the greatest GIFT God has given us on this Earth) and I am RIGHT back in the game. Over and done. It's as simple as that!

Now, if only my two year old would get the "repentance" memo...there are games to be played and books to be read and pages to be colored! We'll see how the flip side of this nap goes. I'm sensing a glorious VICTORY! Because he is so very worth the fight!



:)

Catherine Gikas Photography FTW!

My amazingly talented friend Catherine Gikas came over to my house during Truman's 'Sip & See' a few weeks ago and she brought her camera with her!

SQUEEEEEEE!!!

She disappeared with Truman for a little while, and captured some precious shots of my little week and a half old baby.

What a gift!! He's already ginormous compared to these photos, and I am so blessed to have these itty-bitty days of his on film so I can treasure them always.

Thank you SO MUCH, Catherine... you are a stud-cadette. (Times infinity billion.)

Click here to see the pics... I looooove them!!

:)

What Are You Worth?

I recently read THE most powerful and convicting (punch-in-the-gut!) series on being the mamas we were created to be and our battle against INSIGNIFICANCE over on my friend Suzanna's blog.

There are three posts total, and you really must read them if you have ever felt the cold chill of "I am not enough" creep over your heart and your home.

I never realized how much I've allowed myself to live in that ominous shadow until I read these posts.

First, read this.

Then this.

And then this one.

***********

I want to know my worth, and communicate the worth of my children to their hungry hearts. I don't want to feel like I am "under the tablecloth" anymore. I want my home to be happy and peaceful. I need my children to know that I really ENJOY who they are.

I find myself desperate for God to replace my heart of stone with a heart of flesh.

Thank you, Suzanna, for boldly writing exactly what this mama needed to hear.

A Walking Billboard.

Things are going pretty well over here, wherein "well" = mostly chaotic with little pockets of calm sweetness.

Yesterday, I picked up Ezra from school and attempted to take all three boys to Barnes & Noble by myself so that they could play and get a treat and I could get out of the house and drink a yummy jumbo chai latte.

Everything went really really great!

Except for the leaving part.

Myer did the full-on crazy child fit where he was screaming (in a bookstore!) and rolling and kicking and punching while somehow simultaneously going completely limp.

How DO they do that? The kicking and punching AND going limp? Scientists are still baffled.

While all of this was going on, Truman was chillin' in the sling and Ezra kept conveniently wandering off so he could find more science kits to drool over. (<--- nerdalert. haha.)

I stayed calm though, and somehow summoned my Super Mom Strength and PICKED THAT SCREAMING CHILD UP, hoisted him onto my hip, made sure Tru wasn't getting smooshed in his sling, and sauntered out to my car.

I felt every eye in that place on me as we stumbled out the doors. I was a walking billboard for birth control in that moment, ohyesiwas. haha.

I told Myer that he would no longer get to play outside with Ezra when we got home (his most favorite thing to do in the afternoons), due to all the screamy flailing and whatnot. He seemed to understand, and now when he asks to go to the bookstore it goes like this:

"Go Bookstory, mama? Myer no whinin'? Myer no cryin'?"

Cuuuute.



***********************



Truman is still sleeping like a champ and as peaceful as can be. Sometimes he'll wake up from a long nap in his little rocking sleeper (attention all expecting parents: this thing is AMAZING!!) in the living room and I won't even know he's awake because he is just staring at his hand or the fan and not making a sound.

Besides sleeping and eating, he's been busy wrapping the world around his finger, one human at a time.



Here we see him conquering my sweet friend Crystal, who is expecting her own little girl very soon.

He's a charmer, my little Trudude. No one stands a chance against his squirmy powers. ;)

Thrifted.

I got to drop off the two older boys at school this morning, so it has just been me and little Tru hanging out today.

One baby is SO easy. haha. I did not think so when I only HAD one, but I definitely think so now. Just goes to show you how you adjust to life as "mommy" over time, eh?

I drove directly to a thrift store after I dropped off Myer because it has been a very long 9 months since I last shopped for clothes for myself. Oh, how I have missed thrift store clothes shopping!! I practically ran into the store. haha.

It feels so good to be UNpregnant, and the weather is warming up, and all I wanted to do was find a cute dress that I could still nurse in and a bright colored cardigan...



Success!

I also found an amazing vintage dress, but it is not compatible with breastfeeding, so it will have to go in the closet for a while. Or, I suppose I could wear it for three hours at a time? haha.

I am thinking of setting a new hair goal for myself... possibly trying to grow it out again so that I can achieve the adorable top knot, like so:



According to my calculations, it should only take me about TWELVE YEARS to get my hair that long.

*SIGH*

Lastly, here are my current Modcloth crushes:




i loooooove!! :)

Reality Check.

Yesterday was such an overwhelming day (the first day of me completely by myself with the kids) that at one point, around 3:30 in the afternoon, I found myself driving around in circles with all three kids in the car listening to a CHRISTMAS ALBUM because it was the closest thing to worship music that I had in my car.

hahahhahahaha.

And then, today.

Oh, today.

Myer woke up at 4:30AM as usual, climbed into my bed and started hitting me with his jingle block until I finally told him to "go find daddy." Chris gets up around 4:30 or 5:00 in the mornings so he can have some quiet time before he goes to work, but I was unaware that this morning he actually left the house at 4:50 to go read and study up at the church for a bit.

When I told Myer to "go find daddy", I had no idea daddy wasn't in the house.

Normally, Myer would just come right back to my bed and proceed to pull me out from under the covers until I got up. But he never came back into the room, and I fell back into a deep sleep. Truman had been fussing all night and I had only gotten a couple hours of sleep.

At 7:00, Ezra came into my room and told me that Myer was on the couch and he was all wet.

I figured his diaper had leaked, and came out into the living room after I got Truman all situated in his bassinet.

Myer was on the couch, and he was covered in vomit. Chris was gone. And I smelled... peanut butter.

My head started spinning. Chris had made Ezra's lunch before he left, with a peanut butter sandwich inside. Myer had come out into the living room BY HIMSELF at 5:00 in the morning and found the lunch on the counter, opened it up, and eaten some of it while I was fast asleep in my room.

Myer is allergic to peanuts.

He had a rash on one side of his face and his eye was all red. He was crying because he had just thrown up. I ran and got him some Benadryl and tried to calm him back down as I cleaned him up and the mess up.

I kept a close eye on Myer for any wheezing/breathing issues, and within an hour, he was acting like he felt better and the rash disappeared.

He is fine now. But it could have been so so so much worse. What if he'd had serious breathing issues and no one was around to react? I'm trying not to play the 'what-if' tape too obsessively in my head and just be thankful that God was watching over my baby when no one else was, but I can't shake this feeling that we just narrowly escaped some out-of-control freight train. I feel... lingering dread. A mixture of fear and relief.

Now we know that we, as a family, need to keep better tabs on each other in the wee hours of the morning. And I am re-impressed with the heavy reality of this job of mine. I am responsible for watching over the physical, emotional, spiritual, and social well-being of these children. All three of them! At once! ALL THE TIME! Even when I am sleeping, apparently! And I'm reminded that this weighty task would be completely impossible for me if I didn't have a God who is bigger than me to lean on. A God who never sleeps nor slumbers.

I am also reminded that no matter how much I plan and strategize and convince myself that I am in control of things, I really am absolutely... NOT.

But mostly, I am reminded of the wise words of St. Therese of Lisieux that my friend Susanna ends all of her letters and emails with:

"EVERYTHING is grace."

I can only take my next breath because of grace. I can only change yet another poopy diaper because of grace. And I can only survive the madness of this season of life because of grace.

When I remember that powerful truth, suddenly every breath, every diaper, and every DAY (no matter how hard!) becomes a gift for which I am eternally grateful, and an opportunity to express my gratitude in humility and with gut-wrenching thanks upon my lips.

Reality check, indeed.

Thank you, God, even for todays like today.

Truman's Birth Story.

Wednesday AM, I woke up and felt pretty normal. Except for the fact that I seemed to be... um... PEEING MYSELF every few minutes. haha. How interesting! It wasn't a whole lot, but every once in a while there would be "a small outpouring", if you will.

I went back and forth in my head about whether to mention this oddity to my husband. I envisioned the conversation going something like this:

Me: "Hi honey! Um, not much to report today, except that I maybe might be peeing my pants!"

Him: *UTTER SILENCE AND MORTIFICATION*

So, I decided to wait it out and see if the situation would remedy itself on its own.

I went to Barnes & Noble with Myer and chatted with some moms who were there with their kids and had a great time. I continued to debate whether I should mention my possible peeing plight to Chris, and finally called him on my way home and filled him in.

He told me to call my midwife, like a smart human being would.

Around noon, I called the office (and ended up talking to my friend Christi, who is a nurse there!) and she told me to come in due to the fact that I tested positive for Group B Strep. They wanted to check if it was amniotic fluid.

Chris left work to come be with Myer at the house so I could drive myself down to the midwive's office and get checked out. I kept telling him it was assuredly NOTHING and that I would be right back.

At 2:00 in the afternoon, I saw a midwife. I told her I was pretty sure my bladder had just kicked the bucket after all this baby-growing business. She checked me and swabbed me and immediately told me that it was amniotic fluid and I needed to go ahead and check in to the hospital next door and get ready to have my baby.

I was in COMPLETE shock. I think I said something eloquent like, "Wait, you said whaaaaa?!?"

Then things got hectic.

I had to go check-in at the hospital, but I had accidentally brought the keys to the car with me to the office (I had driven Chris' truck) so now Chris had no way to drive down to meet me. I would have to drive back home, even in my shaky, leaky state.

I envisioned what I would say if I got pulled over. Something along the lines of "Hi, officer! You may not believe me when I tell you this, but I'm apparently in labor!" Maybe he'd escort me, like in the movies, with his sirens blaring, and we could show up to the hospital in style.

No such luck.

Chris called his mom and asked her to pick up Ezra from school and then he ran Myer over to our neighbor's house until his mom could get back to our house and pick Myer up too. I got back home and Chris and I threw some last minute things in the car and drove back down to the hospital.

No contractions yet. Just waves of disbelief. With both of my previous labors, I had showed up to the hospital in pain and it was all a blur. This time, I was laughing and chatting with nurses and filling out paperwork and feeling silly for sitting in a hospital bed while I wasn't even in LABOR. It was such a different experience!!

By the time I got all checked in, it was probably 3:30 in the afternoon. I needed to get my antibiotic drip started (for the Group B Strep) and that took a good 5 hours when all was said and done, because they give you two rounds of it 4 hours apart.

This was a bit stressful because if my body didn't kick into gear before 9:00pm, they would have to start a pitocin drip. Once your water breaks (or starts leaking, apparently), they don't like to go more than 12 hours before they step in to get things going because of the risk of Group B Strep infection for your baby. I was trying not to be too anxious about all of this, and just kept praying that God would keep my mind focused on Him and His perfect timing.

During that time, my dear friend and neighbor and previous Bradley Instructor, Nikki, came to the hospital to be with us to help out during the delivery. Contractions were slight and irregular at this point. I was only 2cm dilated. I was trying everything I could to get my contractions going.

My water finally "broke" while I was getting my first round of antibiotics, but the contractions were still weak and far apart. I continued to pray that I could avoid the pitocin. I only had until 9:00pm before they were going to intervene.

The last antibiotic drip was done just before 9:00pm.

My midwife, Leanna, showed up then too to check me and see if my body had been progressing on its own at all.

She checked me and told me I was 4cm dilated.

I was disappointed in the lack of progress, but she said it was enough and that she was going to just let my body keep doing what it was doing- no pitocin necessary.

Hallelujah!

Right after that, my contractions started coming much stronger and much more regularly. They were still all very manageable though, and I was able to keep talking to Chris and Nikki and we were laughing and eating Snickers bars and snapping lots of iPhone pictures in true nerd fashion.

I walked around and sat on a birthing ball and squatted through the pain of the contractions.

Around 11:00pm, I had 3 or 4 suddenly INTENSE contractions, to where I was moaning and having trouble breathing calmly, and the contractions were lasting for 2 minutes at a time. Yikes. Leanna decided she needed to check me again.

She took one look and asked if I was ready to have my baby. It was all happening so rapidly, so quickly... I could barely move or breathe or grasp what was going on.

After another incredibly intense contraction, I felt a burning sensation, and suddenly the nurses and Leanna and Chris were all telling me that THE BABY'S HEAD WAS OUT.

I hadn't even pushed, and my baby's head was out?!?! My body had done all the work for me... had ejected this baby without so much as a conscious effort on my part.

I didn't believe them at first, but after one more contraction, my new baby was laying on my belly, hardly making a sound and looking right up into my eyes. He was so... peaceful! He didn't even cry. He was the perfect pink color and he was gazing up at me like he'd known me all his life. :)

We all exploded with joy and I was filled with such relief that the hard part was OVER. It took me a few seconds to realize that I didn't know if this baby was a girl or a boy, and after a moment I remembered to ask Chris what it was.

"It's another boy!", he beamed.

And just like I thought it would be, in that moment of elation and new life and release, that bit of information was like music to my ears. It felt right and good and awesome, and my heart was completely filled with love for my new SON. He was finally in my arms, and he was the most beautiful little newborn I had ever seen.

Truman Arthur.

If he had been a girl, he would have been Dagny Jane.

It was 11:15pm. Two hours after my contractions had really kicked into gear. Truman & I stared at each other in wonder for a few minutes until I brought him up higher into my arms and he latched on and started nursing right away like a champ.


******************************


Truman is a dream- sleeping so well and hardly making a sound. He NEVER cries. He's one of those babies that you forget is even there, and I have to keep reminding myself not to forget him when I leave the house. haha.

Once again, this birth has made me feel stronger and more confident and more empowered than I could have ever imagined. I went into this labor with a lot of trepidation. I didn't feel as prepared or excited about natural childbirth as I had been before I had Myer. Part of me felt like I had done the "natural thing" twice already, and maybe this time around I should just get numbed up and drugged up and get it over with as painlessly as possible. I had NO motivation. I had tried to watch labor videos and read natural birthing stories to psych myself up again, but I mostly just felt... tired. Weary. Unexcited about the coming birth. And I felt horrible about that.

And yet, I did it!!

I had amazing support set up around me at the hospital, I had educated myself about the truth and benefits of natural birth, about my choices and my voice in the matter, and then I let my body do just what it was created to do. Looking back now, of course, I am SO glad that I allowed myself to feel the pain and intensity of the process of labor again. There is no other experience in life that has made me feel more alive, more certain of who I am and what I can do and accomplish in this life that I've been given. There has been no other experience that has propelled me as strongly to acknowledge God's holiness and sovereignty in this world and in my very own body. It is simply awe-inspiring, and I am grateful that I was able to have that adventure with Him again- grateful to be brought to a place of such pain and weakness only be carried safely through it, and be strengthened down to my core by it all over again.

What a fearfully wonderful thing!!



Thank you God for little Truman! He's as sweet as a lolipop. :)

Growing Pains.

It didn't take long for Myer to figure out that when mommy is feeding the baby, she can't stop him from doing naughty things. My patience has been tried and tested, and has, in a few million instances, FAILED MISERABLY.

I spent the first couple of days home from the hospital feeling weighed down because I was having so many negative thoughts towards my two year old. My head sounded like this:

"Myer is such a brat! I can't even LOOK at him right now!!"

Followed closely by:

"What kind of a mother would feel these things towards her child?! You're already dropping the ball, maybe you really can't do this."

These thoughts played on repeat in my brain until I was a fragile, crumbly mess.

But then, I remembered some advice I had heard a long time ago about bringing a new baby home and having an older child (or children) act out.

YOU PUT THE BABY DOWN.

Yes.

You put the baby down as soon as your older kid's behavior has reached a point where you need to act, and you take care of the situation. You discipline. With the same firmness and resolve you would have if you didn't have a newborn in your arms.

Your baby will probably cry.

Oh well!

It's really not the end of the world.

You show your older children that they can not walk all over you, and then you go pick the baby back up again and continue nursing/soothing/smooching the wee one.

After I remembered that advice, I felt like my world turned right side up again. I felt like I had a PLAN, and that was all that I needed to feel like I could manage and survive all these boys at once.

Of course, my mommy is here for now and is helping a TON with Myer & Ezra, but I still feel okay, because I know that when she leaves and it's just me and these boys, I'll know how to react! Phew!

Truman is still sleeping all day and night and hardly making a peep. I keep forgetting he's here! I have to wake him up to feed him every three or four hours, otherwise he would be sleeping right through his feeding times. Crazy babe. He weighed seven pounds at his doctor's visit on Thursday, so he's only down three ounces from his birth weight, so I'm not too worried.

The boys are sweetness together, and Myer is getting better and better with Truman every day:







And these boys are pretty sweet too:



Yep. It's sweetness central up in here. I'm a VERY blessed (and extremely outnumbered) woman. :)