Neitzsche and I agree only on this point...

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

I've never been an athlete. Yah, I did cheerleading in high school and while it did require flexibility and some athletic skills, sports and showcasing how strong and capable my body is has never been my thing. My parents didn't push sports on me, and I'm okay with that. I had other things going on with life as a kid - music, church, family, friends, schoolwork etc. Because I avoided most sporting events, I didn't have to come to grips with my lack of expertise in this area...most of the time.

I'd make it through P.E. classes cause there was always at least one stoner girl that was somehow weaker or slower than me.  And I can walk around the gym and figure out what machines to use, but where I'm tested is in group environments where some kind of physical activity ALWAYS seems to rise up as the thing for everyone to do together: "Hey, we're all camping at the beach, let's go down and play ultimate frisbee", "It's summer camp and that means we're playing Gastapo / Capture the Flag / Wells Fargo (shudder)", "Now that the bbq is over, you guys wanna play a pick-up game of soccer?". My answer to all these proposals would be "No, I'm tired", "I think I'll referee" and / or "Please, God, please, have them pick someone else".

 There's a very distinct memory of a time that I headed to Fichtner Park in Medford after a church service at Applegate with some of my friends, let me rephrase, some of the cool kids who for some reason asked me to join them. Sitting on a blanket at the beautiful park having awesome conversation was obviously not enough for this crew, as a few minutes after we arrived, they decided to all play volleyball. All including me. "Don't panic, just be cool, there's enough people that you'll be covered" I told myself as I tried to make it seem like I was as confident standing in the ankle deep sand as I would be anywhere else. Of course one of the first 90 mph over-hand serves courtesy of a dude was directed to me and as I saw that white orb plummeting from the dark sky towards my person I got my hands in the correct position (left hand circles right thumb, hands come together to form a double-flat fist, arms out), and raced forward to have my depth perception be off just enough that rather than bounce perfectly off my extended arms, the volleyball hit me directly in the face. As in it bounced off my nose and mouth and onto the ground. There was no hiding it, there was no going around it, I had lost my team that point and with it every ounce of my dignity.

Fast forward 12 years and here's the picture of me earlier this week.  Knees bent, not extending past my ankles, shoulders down, butt back, arms long, hands circled around a barbell with a 15 lb. and 5 lb. plate on each end, deep breath...and pull!!  Bar comes up above my knees, hips kick out, bar floats for a second before my elbows shoot under and the bar gets caught on my shoulders and under my chin and I straighten from a slightly squatted position.

If you had shown my 21 year old self a video of that, I probably would have passed out.

But something incredible has happened over these summer months.  I've been introduced to a workout, a lifestyle, that has challenged me in ways I never thought it would and has made me into a person that I never, NEVER thought I would be (Eve's "Who's that girl?" is totally playing in my head right now).

I know that Crossfit-type workouts have their haters and rightly so.  Looking from the outside in, it seems like a cult of meat-heads.  But oh, ooooooooh, is it special.  It's teamwork and accountability and stretching yourself physically (obviously) and mentally (for a constant multi-tasking mom, this is a struggle).  It seems next to impossible at times and that's why it is so freaking amazing.  When Ryan started going at the beginning of June and encouraged me to check it out I was nervous.  But luckily I talked some of my girls into going with me, and we went on a Tuesday morning.  Now...did I feel like I was going to die at some point in that hour?  Yes.  Did I feel like I couldn't possibly continue doing what they were asking me to do?  Yes.  Did I think I was going to cry?  Maybe.

And now, three months later, do I still feel like those questions roll through my head every time I go?  Yes.

But there is something happening to my mind and body that is more powerful than just working out.  It is truly changing my perception of physical and mental obstacles in life.  Slowly drifting away is the deep fear and anxiety that accompanies trying something new and that is huge for me.  Before when any physical event would have come up, I would have made an excuse or distracted from my lack of ability with humor, but now I want to step up and try.  Will I be great?  Meh.  But that doesn't matter.

And while I enjoy seeing what this is doing for me, I love how it's starting to shape how I help my kids.  Israel is really similar to me pre-summer.  He likes to know what's going on and if he doesn't understand a situation or doesn't feel like he can do well - he will not participate.  It's one thing to parent your kids in an area that you don't struggle in, but it's a completely different beast watching them flail in a language you understand all too well.  But with these last couple months I've come to terms with the fact that most insecurities are fear playing dress up.  Dang that fear.  One of my favorites, 2 Timothy 1:7, "He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, power and a sound mind".  I realize that working out doesn't replace God's incredible Holy Spirit doing a work in my life.  A deep work.  One that's been cementing itself into my person for 33 years.  But He has used these classes as a way to break through.  And for that I am grateful.

So thank you to Codi, Scott and Mike.  You guys are incredible with what you do and I can't put into words how grateful I am for what you've helped me accomplish.  And this is just the beginning.  Thank you, Amber and Dana, for coming along with me and being the best partners when it comes to almost-vomiting and sweating.  Thank you, World, for pushing me to try something new and being so happy for me when I do well...and competing with me at the same time - really?  You're totally going to be faster and stronger than me every time.  And thank you, Jesus, for giving me abilities that I didn't know I had and showcasing my strength when the timing was perfect.  Your timing is always perfect.  Yes and amen.

The joy of being completely wrong

It's a rare occasion when this gal is wrong (two thumbs pointing at me). Seriously. I'm logical, I know an fair amount of pop trivia and random historical and scientific facts, I'm not assertive or aggressive in an argument situation, and I don't get overly emotional about decisions (unless it's "Bachelorette" finale night - really, Andi? Josh not Nick? Whyyyyyyy?). A few months ago though, I got the wind knocked out of me because I was wrong. Big time. Not the kind of wrong where you can pull off a quick recovery, like when you accidentally trip but don't drop all the way to the ground and hurriedly look around to see if anyone saw you. Not even the kind of wrong where you can pretend like you just mispronounced something or the person you're talking to misunderstood you: "You thought I said I hate this cilantro-weighted salsa? No, no, I said I CRAVE it, I CRAAAAVE this delicious, flowery, herbal concoction". No, this was the real kind of wrong. The kind of wrong where you weren't even a little bit right. The wrong that leaves you speechless, standing still as your brain spins, your heart speeds up, your voice is shaky and you wonder how in the world your seemingly smart mind could have been so completely off-base. It wasn't a dangerous or harmful situation in any way. It was a life decision. One that Ryan had mentioned to me, and though initially I questioned it, the more I thought about it and prayed, a peace surrounded my mind, even though it meant that we were going to go through some changes. The more we talked about it, the more excited we got, but a few weeks into our idea taking form, we were told "no". We were told a "no" that was so firm, there was no going around it. The scope of the idea came to a screeching halt and there was no kick-starting it back up again. Which brings me to my point - how do I handle it when I'm wrong? When Ryan proves himself to be right in an argument, I always see his point of view and concede victory to him. This is rare, but it happens. But this was different because this felt unjustifiably wrong. I couldn't understand the reasons and have a discussion about them. And so the question is - how do I handle it when I'm wrong? For the next 24 hours I teared up. I got mad. I paced outside. I didn't sleep peacefully. I placed blame on people that didn't deserve it. All in all - did NOT handle it very well. But the next couple days, I got good thought time in. Good talking to Jesus time. Good self-realization time. Good "Honestly, you're not all that and a bag of chips" time. The problem sometimes with being a smart, confident, God-loving mom and wife is that you start to make decisions based on experience, knowledge and your own understanding. Yah. Proverbs 3:5-6 has a little something to say about that. I hadn't technically hear God say "no", so I assumed that it was a go-for-it "yes". Sometimes He says "wait", and in my haste, I skipped right past that option. Now that we're a couple months past it, Ry and I don't even talk about it anymore. We know that God has a "best" for us and that wasn't it. There's a humility that came over me because of it and that is something that's kind of priceless. Not saying that I want it to happen a bunch more, but still... God is so good. He's so faithful to hear our prayers and answer them. I just got a good reminder to REALLY listen for His voice. Because being still and waiting on Him can never go wrong.

It's been awhile.

"Oh, hi! Welcome!" That's actually a phrase my husband likes to say to me whenever he thinks I've said something foolish or reflective of my purchased hair color. It always makes me laugh. In this case it's just honest to whoever is reading this cause seriously, it's been awhile. My last blog post was two YEARS ago. Let's see, some changes that have taken place... 1. New home address. We are homeowners and it's the best possible house we could have gotten. It's on a quiet street, it has a huge backyard and it's full of character. Me love. 2. The kids are bigger. And more crazy. Watching that one scene in "Horrible Bosses" where Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis' characters accidentally snort cocaine has made me realize that my two children are akin to really small drug addicts. They're highly emotional, very hyper, loud, have the attention span of a gnat, destroy everything they come into contact with and when they're left unsupervised chaos will reign. Iz is 4 and riding his cruiser bike, loving all things dinosaurs and jet planes and reeeeeeally likes doing what he wants to do before doing what is asked of him. He also apparently likes to get spanked and put on time out. Charlie is about a month away from turning 3 and she never looks where she's going, likes anything that has sugar as the first or second ingredient, really wants a kitty cat for her upcoming birthday (no), and gives the best hugs of anybody I know. 3. Marriage is still marriage. Moments of "I'm so grateful I married this man", moments of "If he never came home I wonder if life would be easier", moments of "I can't possibly survive another second without him", and moments of "I want a padded room so I can form tackle his ass". It's a deepening relationship and it's real and beautiful and challenging and it makes me rely on Jesus and THAT is something I truly love. A friend of mine said something yesterday that made me think - she referred to her husband as her "bonus" in this life. Something about that is new to me and new is always awesome. I know I put expectations on Ryan that he can't possibly fulfill, and if I can change that, rid myself of assumptions and just focus on him as this incredible extra, a gift that God has given me, then oh my gosh. What an incredible perspective change. 4. I work out (if you haven't heard that cover of LMFAO's "Sexy and I know it" by a kid named Noah Guthrie - youtube it NOW). It started a little over a year ago. I felt like running. I don't understand it, for real. I've never had the lean body of a runner (*ahem* boobies are big *cough*) and let me be perfectly honest, the "baby fat" I'm still trying to lose is reeeeeeeally stuck on now considering my baby is almost 3. I digress...there was something about getting up early, being in peace and quiet and gazing at this incredibly beautiful place we live in that was really inspiring. So I did it. From May to September me and a couple buddies would get up 2-3 times in the week, early before the kids woke up, and run a 1.5-3 miles. What's cool is that this year we started up again and now there are more friends running, and our distance has gotten a little farther. One particular Saturday, my friend Amber and I went 5 miles. I couldn't walk the next day, but whatever. Totally worth it. Also, a few weeks ago I started attending a class at Eternia Athletics that makes me feel like I have the strength of a newborn deer. The next day I'm wobbly, weak, kinda pissy cause I'm just all-over sore - but it's challenging and motivating and I love that. So we'll see if this is the formula that finally causes my pre-baby body to emerge. 5. Fight Night / Bi-weekly Bible study. God has pushed my heart to seek Him in a meaningful, more open way with my friends and it's been incredibly great. Fight Night #2 is coming up in about a week and a half and I'm anticipating that He will be lifted up, praised and that women will come closer to each other and to Him through that monthly gathering. My close friends and I have been meeting every other week at the butt-crack of dawn to talk through Scripture, what's happening in our lives and pray for each other. I thought I was close to these girls before we started doing this and it has been proven to me that the best way to strengthen a friendship is to center it on Jesus Christ. I love them and I love seeing His work in all of our lives. Other than that life is pretty similar day to day: coffee, Bible, breakfast, play, lunch, no more naps so we play some more, dinner, bath, bedtime for babes, relax time with my sweetheart. Church, friends, family and music all dot the weekly as well. It's a good life. And I'm happy to have this moment to write about it. About two minutes ago Ryan (who was working out on the spin bike down in the basement while the kids were there with him watching a cartoon) started up the stairs and hollered to the kids to follow him - "NOOO!! Wait!!! Leave them down there!!! I'm writing!!!" was my super sweet, motherly response. I've been reading a book called "Carry on, Warrior" by Glennon Melton Doyle and she encourages this act of writing. It is freeing. And I'm hoping to free myself more frequently from here on out.

Let it be

Capturing moments seems to be all the rage nowadays and while I'm all for snapping photos of my kids and blogging (um, hello!), I'm starting to exercise restraint with my social posts. In this day and age of Twitter, Instagram, Faceboook, Spotify and countless other forms of publishing EXACTLY who we are and what we're doing - I think we're missing out on just being. A massive spring hailstorm hit in the late morning a month or so ago. I was in Israel's room watching the kiddos go nuts with their toys and then screech to a halt as huge hailstones began to pummel the rooftop. Upon opening the window and breathing in this huge gust of cool, green air I went to reach for my phone to take a picture and post it. Since it was on my son's dresser I couldn't quite reach it and as I leaned to try, Izzy looking at the torrent of ice said, "Mommy, WOW!!" I froze and realized in that split second that I could choose to either look at what would probably be a priceless expression on my son's face or continue to reach up for my phone - I could document this moment or live it. I left my phone where it was and sat in front of the window for the next 5 minutes holding my baby girl on the right and little boy on my left and let them "oooh" and "aaah" at the amazing sights and sounds happening a few feet from our perch. Had I spent even 30 seconds opening my Instagram app, taking that picture, titling it, posting it and checking to make sure it uploaded - that would have been 30 seconds too long. I'm always going to be able to post pictures, log the song that I'm listening to, blog (babes are napping right now) and update my status, I just want to be oh so careful that I'm not overdoing it and missing out on a moment that's truly spectacular. In this last week alone there have been two different occasions that I remember drinking in and thinking how blessed my life is. One was dancing with Charlie in the shallow end of our swimming pool on a hot afternoon this last weekend. Phil Collins was singing "All of my life" (his Pandora station, by the way, completely rules), I could smell my little girl's sunscreen off the top of her head, the perfectly cool water slapping against my waist as I slowly circled, nothing in my eye line but pearly baby skin and blue water - it was so subtle and sweet. Later on, we were driving back to GP from dinner in Jacksonville and I actually had a moment where I wanted to grab my phone and tweet because what I was looking at was so beautiful...but I wanted to relish the moment so I had Ry tweet for me instead. :) The outline of the mountains pushed against this incredible pale peach color and gazing above that it swept into a huge pale blue, almost white expanse of open sky. We had the windows down so the warm evening air was swirling my hair all around my face and the smell of hay and green grass floated through our car like a symphony. It was magic. In those moments, okay, maybe just the first one really, the wise part of me held back my knee-jerk reaction (sorry you missed the skyline, babe) to barf out those details into cyberspace. They were perfectly wonderful just as they were - shared with those experiencing them first-hand. This life is flying by. Kids that I used to babysit are graduating high school, my own children seem to be learning new words and motions on a daily basis, trips and celebrations that sprinkle my calendar are coming and going at an incredible rate. So here's my challenge to myself: be here. Live a life that is actually lived, rather then chasing after moments that are gone by the time they're captured in a clever quote or fuzzy picture. Enjoy this. Cheers to breathing deep and embracing today.

Hiya!! (the karate chop, not the cheerful greeting)

After having kids, there's no such thing as a perfectly smooth, easy day*. All days are challenging and every once in awhile a doozy comes along. Today is my doozy and here's the crappiest thing: it's only 10:15 am.

One of my resolutions in January was to get up earlier so I could enjoy some quiet time alone and start off the day with a workout, devotions and a shower. When that doesn't happen Ryan ends up coming home to someone that resembles his wife but has an eye twitch and a mouth like a trucker. So this morning when I got back from the gym I really wanted to take a shower and get ready. In that order. All at once. Without interruption. Israel was awake when I got home and was happily hanging on our bed watching "Bolt", and I got done with the shower before Charlie woke up but then would get about two strands through my hair straightener before she was screaming for attention (she's sick - more on that in a minute). I decided to put off finishing my hair and makeup until she went down for a nap and thought I was okay with waiting...until I went downstairs to make breakfast, found that ants had invaded our pantry and went Bruce Lee on their asses with a microwave popcorn bag. Seriously, I smashed them so hard I'm pretty sure their little skeletons are imprinted on the cabinet walls. Maybe I'm not as ok giving up "my time" as I thought.

I don't get to this point very often (although the dent that my husband patched in the kitchen wall where I threw a water bottle two months ago would say otherwise), so when I do freak out I know I need to take a step back and get really...real. Figure out what issues were building up as kindling, what catalyst sparked the fire tantrum and how I'm gonna douse this mo fo. For this one the kindling issues are pretty easy - Charlie is still recovering from a nasty cold and is neeee-dy, Daylight Savings Time was real helpful as far as changing both kids' bed and wake times (middle finger salute to the troll who implemented that and the geniuses that still find it necessary) and I'm coming off a month of being somewhat out of commission cause I jacked up my neck and kept re-injuring it tending to my babes. Because of said neck injury I haven't been able to sleep well or work out - today was my first gym class in about 5 weeks, so I really wanted to go, get done and get going on my day. So there's the kindling, listed and accounted for.

The catalyst could be the second heytell my mother sent me. The first was at 8:00 saying that she wanted to come by and see the babies before she had to go into work at 10:30. The second came at 9:45 saying she had gotten "lost" in her devotions and journal that morning and wouldn't be over until after 10. My jealousy started causing my neck veins to spasm - you were able to get so into your reading time without distraction that you lost track of time completely. (Quick note: need to point out that the luxury of time seems to be ignored by a lot of teens and 20 somethings. When I see or hear a girl complain about how they want to be married or have kids I just want to say "shut uuuuuuuuup!" I want to say it like that too, where the "uuuuuuuup"is long and held out and I want to be holding their shoulders and shaking them or smacking them in the face because they're not enjoying and taking full advantage of the freedom that comes with being single and kid-free. If you really want to experience life with kids, try this exercise: take two stopwatches and set stopwatch A for 38 minutes and stopwatch B for 22 seconds. Start stopwatch A and sit on your hands in a corner facing the wall. When stopwatch A stops, start stopwatch B and get up and do what you need to do. Gotta be fast cause 22 seconds goes by real quick. As soon as that stops, go back to the corner and re-start Stopwatch A. Repeat this for the entirity of your day.) Back to the catalyst - maybe it was my hubby and his 25 minute session spent in the bathroom "reading". What is that. It happens every day and I know that he can't be going poo for that duration because he would be completely dehydrated and probably very ill. More than likely though, the true catalyst was Charlie's crying. That girl is determined. And when she's not feeling good she wants you to be holding her and she will let you know that.

Now onto how to curb this one. Not-so-shocking truth, I'm already over it. At this point it's now close to 5:00 in the afternoon and my husband is home entertaining the kids while I'm sitting on a comfy chair editing this. Parenting can be suffocatingly difficult, but it's the trials that make it rich. Just like anything worthy of great love, it can't come easy and I don't want it any other way because just as I'm blessed to shape those little lives, they're shaping mine in return.

Suffering is working in you perseverance, which produces character and through character comes hope. Romans 5:3-4

*It should be noted that I wrote this yesterday and today has been the most incredible, smooth and perfect day I've ever experienced as a mom. Real funny, God, reeeeeeeal funny.

31

In my 30s. It’s strange to think that in a little over a week that will be me. Turning 30 was a breeze, but 31 feels like instead of lifting my foot onto the next step stone of life, I’m being picked up and tossed onto a level infinitely higher than the previous one. It’s not scary or daunting, just…different. But with every year that comes I accept it which helps me to own it which allows me to love it. So in that light I have spent a bit of time happily realizing the changes that have occurred in my personality, judgment and all around attitude about life in the last decade. I can fondly remember back ten years ago to my 21st birthday. Now THAT was a fun night. Little too much fun as it ended with my good friend’s brand new Jetta getting coated inside and out with my vomit and me getting dropped off at my apartment before midnight for my roommate to come home to 3 hours later and find me half-naked in the hallway sleeping the various cocktails off. Good times.

I’ve changed quite a bit since then and as I look at how my tastes have changed, here are the standouts:

1. I love Sunset magazine.
It’s the only periodical that I subscribe too. Occasionally I’ll pick up an issue of In Style or People, but every time I do I realize that it’s the same ideas, same fashion tips, same makeup on the same hairstyle on the same girl who’s doing the same role in the same movie – it’s all surface. But Sunset caters to me; it has smart home decorating ideas, instructions for planting vegetable and flower gardens, great restaurant tips and perfect spots to go for a weekend getaway here in the northwest. It’s a glossy look at my life: eating, exploring the beautiful area we live in and making my house a home.
2. I like watching the news and drinking a cup of coffee in the morning.
Not having TV growing up wasn’t a bad thing because when we vacationed at my moms parents’ home in Manteca, California every summer it was cartoons all day for my siblings and I. I remember racing to get up earlier than Jenny and Kelley because that way I’d be in charge of the remote. That is until my parents and grandparents got up because then they took over the living room TV to watch the news. Blech. I could not understand how they could stomach something so incredibly boring. Fast forward 20 years and I love it. As far as the coffee goes, if you’re a parent it goes without saying. It’s not a trend or an accessory, it’s vital.
3. I’m not as picky about my music.
This is kind of true. About 7 years ago when tons of independent bands and labels started coming on the scene and hipsters started dictating what music was cool or not I remember feeling uncomfortable. I’ve always had a spot in my heart for unpretentious lyrics, funky grooves and singers that sing with the most overused word in music nowadays – soul. As more and more bands came on the scene it became too hard to keep up. How was I supposed to listen to every new artist and if I couldn’t, whose opinion could I trust? Scratch all that now. Pop radio still has a song that’ll catch my attention now and then, but in my heart I’m still a fan of the older stuff. Aretha, James Taylor or Stevie Wonder are my choices of Pandora stations. That type of music just hooks me. Same with country (which 10 years ago would have made me vomit in my platform pumps). I love country music with its twangy, heart-felt, repetitious ideas of down home, back woods, small town type of living & loving.
4. Speaking of tastes changing…
I now prefer mustard instead of mayo. Almonds and walnuts in desserts don’t bother me like they used to. Veggies that have squishy textures (couldn’t look at them 10 years ago) like squash, zucchini and avocado are now a staple in my diet. I guess you could say my palette has become a bit more mature, although if you ask me if a wine varietal has a smoky vs. fruity aftertaste my answer might as well come from my butt. No clue.
5. But the biggest change is…
My life isn’t mine anymore. It belongs to my husband and kids. I’m not stating that in an upset, woe-is-me, I’m nothing but a stay-at-home mom kind of way and I’m also not saying it in a defensive manner to validate my choice to be at home with my kids to my friends that have killer careers and the desire to work outside of their house. It’s just the plain, simple truth. I don’t spend afternoons in coffee shops browsing the internet, reading a book or listening to music. I don’t put on adorable heels and sparkly mini-dresses for a weekly girls night out. I say “no” to a lot of music opportunities, get togethers with friends, trips with family and even activities with other kids involved because all of those things just don’t work with my life as it is now. I get to watch and hold two living, breathing pieces of my heart on a daily basis and I get to maintain a house that when my husband comes home, makes him feel a sense of ease and relaxation as soon as he sets foot into the door. It’s not all about me anymore, but it brings me joy.

So with all that said there are still things that remain a part of me from my 20s. I still get my club dance on and look ridiculous, but now I have an audience of two very wide-eyed, smiling kids watching me wondering why mom is acting crazy. My righteous temper that used to get me speeding tickets and middle finger salutes from other drivers still rears it’s ugly head, but the only person who can really bring it out of me is my man. And he knows to do that sparingly. I still like to think of myself as unique from my peers, even though Facebook & Pinterest have shown me that I’m actually very similar to them. We all like to drink wine, bake decadent desserts and only eat one piece, work out that post baby body to a skinnier version of our 20-something self, wear scarves regardless of the season, decorate our kids’ rooms, shabby chic the shiz out of our homes and fantasize about trips with our hubbies to Greece, Italy & Fiji.

I love the carefree joy that came with my 20s, but I am thoroughly enjoying the thoughtful ease that has taken over in these recent years. That girl recovering from her first hangover on January 20, 2002 is still here, she just knows now not to mix her alcohols.

Math is a liar

It's been awhile. That would be because when you have one child and you add another child to the mix it actually adds up to more than two total children. It's more like seven. You're feeding one and then dressing the other and then changing the one's diaper and then soothing the next and then getting the one a treat while burping the other and then picking out clothes for the first while balancing the other on your hip as you pick up the toys of the one as your pull the dangerous object (fork, laundry detergent, toilet plunger) out of the crusty grip of the other - all the while keeping the laundry from resembling an actual mountain (that elder baby would like to either a. climb or b. pick apart and scatter throughout the house), the dishes from acquiring permanent levels of crust from sitting in the sink, the floor from becoming a minefield for breaking your back with wheeled toys and actual banana peels and accomplishing the basics of brushing your teeth (before 3 p.m.), getting dressed in something other than sweats and keeping your frig and pantry stocked with something other than canned beans and ketchup (which, actually, you can combine and it's a slightly less sweet version of baked beans).

Oh, and by the by, you're to do all of this on an average of 3 hours of sleep.

But guess how amazingly wonderful it is? I can't even put into words how much love I have for my beautiful babies, my hard working husband or this crazy exhausting life that we have going on right now. When you realize how blessed you are, it makes 2 a.m. feedings followed by the occasional 4 a.m. feeding, spit up stains on your favorite shirt, jeans that pinch your stomach so hard and still don't look quite right but you wear them anyway because you threw out all your maternity clothes, baby poop on the changing table cover you just washed, picking toilet paper off of the unspooled roll on the ground, under eye circles that defy even the thickest makeup, hours and sometimes days of saying sentences that rhyme, stomach "muscles" that look like an inverted backbone and toys with sing-song voices that make the munchkins from "Wizard of Oz" sound like a black gospel choir completely tolerable, even nice. Even precious...except for those d&*# toys that I literally want to throw into a freaking canyon. Although that wouldn't work cause then the sounds would just echo off the walls making the world come to an end. :)