A Letter To My First Born

I wish I could go back and see you through the eyes of the mother I am today. The second time mom. The one who has a better handle on how to raise you. When your brother entered our lives, I was a much better mom. Not by choice. I just had a better grip on things this second time around. I had been through the growing pains of becoming a mother.

He gets the reformed me, while you got the mother in transition.

The guilt knowing you deserved the better version of me, has me wishing I could go back and be the mother you needed. The mother you deserved. There was a lot of learning that took place between you and your brother. A lot of growing on my part. I loved you fervently from day one. All seven pounds-four ounces of you.

My arms were made for you, I just didn’t know how to use them yet.

Not in the way you needed at least. I had no idea how to do this “mom” thing. I was lost, stumbling my way through motherhood and messing up all the time. I was consumed by doubt, blindly feeling my way around the chaos, searching for a glimmer of guidance on how to be the selfless mother you needed. And yet, I still failed. I was selfish and fought against letting go of my prior freedom. It was a constant battle, a tug of war between the old me and this new version of myself as a new mom. I missed my freedom. I missed taking long showers without little hands banging on the bathroom door, insisting I let them in. I missed sleeping in on Saturdays and drinking my coffee hot. I missed not feeling exhausted all the time and looking put together for the day. I struggled with you taking everything from me and leaving nothing for myself.

I was learning how to let go of me and put you first.

It was a battle, yet I loved you with every ounce of my being. I loved the way your little hand fit so perfectly around my fingers. I loved the way your mouth made the sweetest suckling noise even after your pacifier had fallen out. I loved the way you smiled. It was the most beautiful smile and it made time stop. You see, it was never about not loving you. So please my love, know I have always adored you. I was at war with myself, needing to let go of the old me, the person I had been my entire life. My old self was under a transformation. It was being changed and formed into this new, foreign identity.

The transition during this process was tough and I’m sorry you had to go through that phase with me.

You and I grew together. You formed me into the mother that I am today. You built me from the ground up. You shaped me, molded me, created me. You did that my dear. You made me who I am today.

When I brought your brother home, there was so much joy. But, there was sadness too. I was prepared this time. Well, as prepared as any new mom could be. I had shed my old skin and knew what to expect. I knew things with him would be different now that I was a second-time mom. I knew to hold him a little longer because soon enough he wouldn’t fit in my arms anymore and would be waving to me through the car window as he walked off to school. Like you do now. I knew to cherish those late night feedings because they wouldn’t last forever and eventually would sleep all night in his own room. Like you do now. I had more patience for tantrums and potty training and letting him do it by himself. Things I hadn’t quite grasped with you yet.

I knew how to let time slow down and be consumed by him, letting go of myself.

I wish back then you got the mother I am today. Because, looking at you through these eyes, I see you so much differently. You are my world my dear and I am sorry we had to face those learning curves together. You are my first, and as you grow, I am growing and learning life right alongside you. As you learn to be a human in this world, I am learning how to be your mother in this world. I guess in a way, we will always have to face those new roads together. Failing together and triumphing together. Hand in hand. I love you.


Your ever learning Mama


Circ Du Imboden


Tonight, as I wrangled my wild, rowdy children into bed, it was pure chaos. My son was running around screaming (or growling, not sure which one) and my daughter was fake laughing as she pretend fell on the floor, trying desperately to get her brother to laugh. I glanced at the clock. 7:45. I watched as the clock inched closer and closer to their bedtime, closer and closer to my “me time”, and then turned back to my crazies as their bodies seemed to explode with energy even more. I think they knew it was the season premier of “Greys Anatomy” and they were secretly plotting against me. Praise God for DVR. It was in that moment that I threw my hands up in the air and decided right then and there that I was running a circus. Because, let’s be honest, that what raising children feels like sometimes. A circus. Step right up! Come one, come all to the Amazing Cirque Du Imboden.

Act 1: The Bearded Lady

Ok, well maybe I don’t have a beard growing, but let’s be honest, I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I barely have enough time to splash water on my face, let alone carefully glide a razor up my leg. Plus, little hands banging on the shower, begging to be let in, can get a little distracting. And then once they jump in the shower with you, after pleading for 2 minutes, the other leg doesn’t get shaved. Toddlers and razors don’t mix. Pants it is. Thank goodness it’s fall.

Act 2: The Lion Tamer

You would think I was chasing my son around with a chainsaw, but in all reality, it’s a diaper. You pooped kid! You stink! Let me change your diaper. He runs from me, and tries so hard to get away. Once I finally wrangle him to the floor, arms flailing, legs kicking, I have to keep him from either sticking his hand straight into the diaper, or rolling over and trying to crawl away. It is exactly like lion taming, only without the whip, because, well, that would be a little extreme. But, it really does feel as if I am toying with a powerful, instinctive carnivore sometimes.

Act 3: The Tight Rope Walker

Life is all about balance. It’s finding that balance that’s the hardest, especially in motherhood. There is so much to balance. Work schedules, nap routines, dinner, a clean house, homework, making sure your kids are getting enough attention, and finding time for yourself. I often feel as if I am teetering on the edge of everything. Trying so hard to remain calm and not lean too far to one side and fall to my death. Ok, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but you get the point. It is so tough finding that balance. Finding time for homework in the midst of keeping my toddler entertained. Doing laundry, mopping the floors, vacuuming, and doing dishes, all while making time for stories, tag, and jump rope. Loving on your husband when he gets home from work while trying to cook dinner and keeping the children from doing anything too dangerous and crazy. Balance. Motherhood is about balance. And maybe one day I will get good enough to walk the tight rope without a safety harness. But for now, that harness is fastened very tight.

Act 4: The Acrobat

 My son has not yet learned how to put his toys away. They are everywhere. I used to clean in between naps, but that meant I was picking up constantly. Now, I save the explosion for the end of the day and now I’m not sure that’s any better. Well, as the day goes on, those toys become obstacles. I find myself jumping and dodging toys and piles of laundry. (Ok, so maybe he isn’t the only one making a mess). I leap like a gazelle over thetricycle he left in the middle of the floor, as I carry a load of laundry. I even hop on one foot sometimes when I step on a Lego. It isn’t the most graceful act, but it can be pretty entertaining. Just ask my kids.

Act 5: The Strongman

He is the glue that holds us together. The one that comes sweeping through the front door carrying the world on his back, his knees never buckling, as our children run and jump into his arms. He is our strong man. The man who takes on daunting tasks at work, the one who is under such a big stress load and comes home to the chaos of our circus and embraces it, letting go of his day and falling to the mercies of our two kids. I don’t know how he does it. How he continues on, some days with little sleep, never complaining, and arms that never seem to tire from holding us all up. Seeing the Strongman enter our tent is my favorite act.

Yes, we have a crazy, wild, entertaining life under our Big Top and some days my circus acts spiral out of control, but, it’s my circus and I am dang proud of it.


The World Has Enough Critics

Be an encourager; the world has plenty of critics already. 


Wow, my devotional today was practically screaming my name. So many times, I find myself nit picking and nagging on my husband. Dishes are not loaded in the sink right, the washed pan was left on the counter instead of in the cabinet right below and the lawn wasn’t mowed. Dare I go on. I’m not saying that I am critical about everything all day long, I am just saying that he probably hears the negative far more than he hears the positive. What’s ironic, is that I’m his biggest fan. I’m constantly cheering him on…in my head. I need to be far better about letting those words break free from my head, escape through my lips and go into his ears. He deserves it. He does far more good than he gets credit for.

My husband is Superman, minus the flying capabilities…and the washboard abs. (Sorry, babe). He works hard at saving the world, comes home and saves me from our children, and then in the midst of his exhaustion, he even does the dishes. Yet, in the middle of all this wonderfulness, I focus on the one thing he did wrong, instead of the million he did right.

It is so easy to focus on the negative. To be critical. To not give credit where credit is due. Why is that? Why is pointing out his flaws so much easier than being his cheerleader? Why do I struggle with building him up and encouraging him more? Please tell me I am not alone here!!

I have an overflowing abundance of grace for my kids…most of the time. I give them grace and chances and speak to them with kindness even in the midst of my frustration. I pick up toys left behind, wipe away homework tears for the millionth time, pick up the dirty clothes that lay on the floor 2 inches from the laundry basket every day, all without saying a word. I encourage, build up and cheer them on through every milestone. Big or small. For me, encouragement feels as natural as breathing, when it’s pointed toward my children. Not so much towards my husband. Maybe it’s because they have used it up all day long and there isn’t much grace left over for him. Maybe it’s because they are children and he should know how to put his clothes in the hamper. As I write this, I realize that’s not fair to him. There’s no excuses for that nagging nit-picky voice he hears all too often. Regardless of the reason, he has earned just as much grace as they do, if not more. After all, he married me! I need to commit to saving some for him. He deserves my actions and words to be an encouragement and a blessing.

Proverbs 12:25 “Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad.”

I’ve officially kicked Negative Nancy out my house. Girl, bye! He deserves to know how wonderful he is.



Her Normal

Co-parenting. One of the hardest things I have ever had to learn how to do. The “Co” in co-parenting should stand for co-mplicated. Complicated parenting. Where no situation is the same. Where there is no “one size fits all.” It is messy and full of glitches. It can become a game of tug of war. Two parents pulling, while the child is stuck in the middle, feeling more like an object than a blessing. It takes trial after trial and error after error to get it right. It takes work to become a well oiled machine. And even then, fights happen, tempers roar and the two “co-parents” become “co-vert” about the lives they share with their child. Blame, resentment, and fingers are often pointed. And through all of this, your child is left ripped apart. It isn’t right. But, as humans, it’s hard NOT to do. I’ve been there. I’ve been that mom who tried to keep my baby all to myself. I’ve been that mom who looked for ways to deem him an “unfit” parent. Was that better? Heck no! Having a good relationship isn’t easy. But, it can be done. A good relationship can be formed, over time. It is possible. Just look at how far I have come.
I was 19 when I got pregnant. I was young, naive, and that girl that thought teen pregnancy couldn’t happen to her. I was so naive that I didn’t even feel I needed to practice “safety” in this department. We all know what happened next. Yes, I got pregnant. Shocking! Needless to say, neither of us were at a stage in life where we were ready to start a family. We were selfish, unfocused, and stumbling through life ourselves. A baby threw a wrench in things and magnified the areas of our relationship we tried to ignore. Eventually, we broke up. I became a single, pregnant, now 20 year old, who had no idea how the heck I was going to do this on my own. Even with family help, going to college full time, raising a baby full time, dealing with an ex full time. It was a lot. Usually when you break up with your boyfriend, they go away. They poof out of existence and you are left with their faint memory. Well, not when a child is involved and the father wants to be involved in its life. They. Never. Go. Away. Ever. Sorry to disappoint.

Throughout my pregnancy, we hardly talked, unless it was to fight or bicker about something. He went to one doctors appointment because that was all I could handle. He was still the same person. He hadn’t changed (yet). When a woman gets pregnant, she immediately has to change. She stops doing things that are harmful (drinking, smoking, eating unhealthy, etc). Her boobs hurt constantly. You stop loving your favorite foods and crave the most disgusting things. You are constantly reminded you are carrying a child as you hover over the toilet, revisiting the lunch you just ate ten minutes ago. Your body changes in the most uncomfortable ways. But, when the baby moves, you are reminded of the joy that will soon follow all of your discomfort. That kick in the gut gives you strength to keep waddling on.

Women become insta-moms. Some dads however, take longer to come around. When I became pregnant, I was like an oven. I took 9 months to prepare for the baby. I nested, got her room ready, felt her growing inside of me. Her dad, my ex, he was a microwave. He did his thing while she was in the womb, then quickly became a father when she was born. It wasn’t until he held her for the first time that he finally truly felt like a dad.

It was a bitter sweet moment in that hospital. On one hand, I held my beautiful, curious, sweet baby in my arms. On the other hand, so did her dad. The man I was no longer with. The man I would have to share her with. The man, who a percent of the time, would take her away from me. That is how I saw it back then.

Six months after she was born, we went to court. It was a long, expensive, painful custody battle, that we needed. Yes, we actually needed court. It was time for a reality check. For me, I needed to come to terms with his girlfriend (now wife), being involved in my daughters life. But, thats a whole other topic. Spoiler alert! We are actually friends now! I also needed to see it from his point of view too. He loved our little girl and not only did I miss her when she was gone, but he missed not seeing her too. We both loved her. Equally. Differently. Deeply. He needed court to take a walk in my shoes as a new mother. This was a hard step. A painful step. Like I said, it hasn’t been easy. I still remember the feeling of my heart being ripped apart as I dropped my 6 month old off at her dads for her very first over night visit. I still feel the pain of my first Thanksgiving staring at her empty high chair. That’s what happens when you have a child with someone you don’t spend forever with. You share. And sharing means you don’t get your child all to yourself. What parent wants that? No parent. But, it has to happen.

Over time, we started talking more as two people, on the same team, with the same goal. It took a co-parenting class to actually get us on the same page. It felt awkward and uncomfortable at first. It started with small talk, short trips to the park together and even lunch with him, his wife and our daughter. Things would be going great. We would be communicating effectively and then bam…something would be said, or done and those few steps we took forward were erased by ten steps backwards. We knew when to take a breather. To stop talking until we cooled off. We had to remember how the other person works. He knows (and sometimes forgets) that I need time to process. So, when he is asking for more time, giving me a day to think about it usually ends up better than making me decide on the spot. For him, shutting him down right away creates an explosion. Even though we are not together, we still need to understand how the other person ticks. Without that, no good communication will ever happen.

It was through lots and lots of communicating, crying, arguing, and disagreeing, that we finally began to see the bigger picture. Her. Our child. We saw the joy spread across her face when we both took her trick or treating. The excitement she expressed when we both cheered her on for soccer, ballet, and cheer. The love she showed when she got to hug us both on Thanksgiving. Being a co-parent sucks sometimes. But, having a child feel loved, cared for, cherished and happy. Well, for that, I’ll smile and include him and even become his friend. Because my daughter is worth it. Because, as crazy as this lifestyle may seem, it is her “normal”.

These steps worked for me.

1. Talk. To start, find something you two can agree on and start there.

2. Start participating in something involving your child together and actually support them together.

3. Get to know who they are in a relationship with. Remember, this person is involved in your child life too. Find out who they are and give them a chance. Unless there are reasons of safety involved, in that case, seek help. Chances are, she is feeling ten times more uncomfortable and on edge than you.

4. Talk positively about the other parent to their child. If you talk negatively, you’re the one your child won’t want to share things with. Encourage their relationship with the other parent. I know it’s hard.

5. Explain your feelings to your co-parent. Chances are, they are feeling them too. And yes, this means siting down and having a very awkward conversation. But, it can help.

6. Stay focused on your child and what is best for them. Most of the time doing what is right is the hardest thing. But keeping them in the forefront helps.

Like I said, no co-parent situation is the same. If anyone has any questions or comments about the struggles of co-parenting, please comment below. I have been through hell and back with my ex and would love to talk or even listen. I’m here.

Let It Go

I have been putting off writing this post. My goal was to write about marriage every wednesday to keep up with the #wifewednesday fun of Instagram. But, that didn’t happen. There’s no particular reason it didn’t happen either. I don’t have an awful marriage that is hard to write about. (Been in one of those, done that). But, I assure you it is far from perfect. You see, being raw and real about motherhood is easy. It comes naturally. I find it much harder to be raw and organic about my marriage. It is private. Intimate. Challenging. Beautiful. Yet putting words on paper about it seems difficult. What bothers me even more is that I don’t know why. So, bear with me as I find my footing.

My husband and I met online. Christianmingle.com (gotta represent)! I had a checkered past and believe me, it wasn’t pretty at all. Teen pregnancy, terrible previous marriage and a ton of baggage. More baggage than Elle Woods from Legally Blonde unpacked when going to Harvard. The first few months of marriage were tough. I came in with boxing gloves ready to fight and stand up for myself like I had to in my previous marriage. Only this time, my husband wasn’t fighting me. I came into every disagreement, conflict or discussion like Ali in the boxing ring, ready to knock my opponent, my husband, flat on his back. Not a good way to start a marriage.

It took a lot, I mean A LOT of communicating, patience and more prayer than you can imagine to get me to see that we were on the same team, fighting together and not each other. That is the problem with baggage. Often times we don’t know when to let go, not even realizing we are sinking to the bottom as we cling to it for dear life, allowing it do drag us down.

I remember the moment it happened. My husband in tears (and this never happens), standing on one side of the kitchen and me on the other. Fighting about nothing. I was fighting just to fight. My white knuckles clenched onto my baggage, my past. Heavy. My palms blistered from dragging it around so long. I was tired. I couldn’t bear the load anymore. Realizing it was destroying my marriage. And for the first time in forever, I dropped my baggage and let go.

Baggage can get exhausting to carry around all the time. Especially in a marriage. I have to remind myself daily not to project onto him. To see him for who he is and not for who I expect him to be. And I pray, a lot, and God hasn’t let me down yet. A perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. And I am so glad my husband chose to not give up on me. Two years later, he is still the love of my life.

Are you carrying around unneeded baggage? If you are don’t. I know it isn’t easy, but know you’re not alone. Just remember “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance” 1 Corinthians 13:7.

Be more like Elsa and LET IT GO.


Being a Boy mom

According to my friends who have sons, I have officially been initiated into the #boymom club. Yep, it finally happened. A trip to the E.R. Not the way I expected to spend my Saturday. But, boys will be boys I suppose.

Now, I know accidents will happen, but my son dances with danger, putting me on the brink of insanity. His fiery spirit torments me with a lack of fear as he climbs to the top of the slide, stands up straight and yells “Ta-Da”, as it wobbles, leaving him to catch his balance at the very last second. Can you say heart attack? He is in constant motion. I mean, he never stops moving, whipping around each corner at a full sprint, unaware of the table edge that hasn’t moved since we moved in. His sense of rebellion as he refuses to climb down the stairs like a baby on his tummy, insists on being like his sister standing upright and refusing to hold my hand, is relentless. His mischievous way, he grabs onto the stair rail and hangs from it, taking pleasure in the panic set upon my face. Yes, he thinks it is funny. This is what it means to be a boy mom. Always on my toes, ready to catch, ready to save from danger, ready to kiss the boo boos.

Becoming a boy mom has changed me to my core. It has re calibrated my heart, encouraging me to let him explore his world and in all essence, be a boy.

I love my daughter and being a mom to a little girl, you already know how precious she is to me, but having a son is different. Being a mom to a boy is amazing! Here are a few things I’ve learned so far about being a boy mom.

1. Don’t expect them to sit still, like ever.

2. Embrace the love of dirt. It will be all over your floors, all the time.

3. Encourage their exploring, even if it means picking up a gross worm. Act excited about that dang worm!

4. Always point the penis down, unless you want pee soaked clothes. I learned this the hard way.

5. Soak in those moments of tenderness. Those rare moments when they stop exploring long enough to cuddle, even if only for a brief second.

6. Enjoy their loud voices! One day, your house will be quiet.

7. Accept the fact they like to be rough and tough. In fact, join in on the rough housing. They will love it.

8. Buy a lot of food. I mean a lot. Because when they eat…they really eat.

9. Nurture his relationship with you as his mother. He loves Dad too, but the bond between mother and son is unbreakable. So, take care of it.

10. Find joy in raising a little boy. Foster that tenderness, kind heart, and unrelenting love. He is our future and we need more good men.

“Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭22:6‬ ‭

The Playroom

When we finally got our own house and I finally got to go interior design crazy, I knew I wanted to create a space for my kids. I wanted them to have their own area where they were free to create, destroy and run wild, without wreaking havoc on the rest of my house. I knew I wanted a space that could grow with them from toddlerhood into childhood. A place they could take ownership of and not just during clean up. I guess you could say that it was the inner teacher in me that was channeled when designing this space. Because lets be honest, it has total classroom vibes. And in the future, if I do decide to homeschool, this space will be perfect.

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The chalkboard, tassels, and signs around the chalk board are from Hobby Lobby.

Ruler was made by my mother in law but similar ones can be found here.

The shelves, unicorn head (here) and lion head (here).

PLAY letters have been discontinued but similar ones can be found here and here.

The window bench and shelves were an IKEA hack. I took shelves similar to this and placed them on each side to frame the window. I then turned the other one on its side for the window seat. The boxes make clean up very convenient and easy for the kids since everything has a place and the cubbies are perfect for displaying their cute toys.

The magnet board is an oil drip pan from Walmart that I simply secured to the wall. My kids love this space and my son finds it fascinating that the letters stick to the board. He thinks it’s magic and I am going to let him think that for a while longer.

I had found these vintage alphabet cards at a garage sale and decided to frame them with the kids initials to make the space theirs. Below it I hang their artwork. We are constantly changing these pictures out. I love how excited they get when a new piece of their work goes up on display. They really love this space and I hope you did too!!






Where The Wild Thing Sleeps…

IMG_5482When I was pregnant with a boy, I felt lost when it came to decorating his nursery. I was beyond excited to make a place for his sweet little body to rest. Yet, when I stared at the blank canvas of his empty room, I felt lost. So, I took to Pinterest. Bad Idea. I went from no ideas to way too many. Adventure. Forest animals. Eric Carle. Cactus. Jungle. Trust me, I could go on and on. It was  overwhelming. I knew I wanted a place for a baby without making it too baby-ish. I wanted that balance between innocence and sophisticated. Thats not asking too much right? It wasn’t until my sons nightly womb aerobics that I stumbled upon his nursery theme. My husband and I were laying in bed watching my belly distort into strange shapes and movements. The movie Alien comes to mind. Well, minus the alien ripping open her stomach at the end. (Because that would have been traumatizing.) My husband leaned over and put his hand on my stomach, in awe of his sons every move, and said “Woah, he’s a wild thing!” And then it hit me. I loved that book and it would make an awesome nursery theme. This time, Pinterest did not fall short.

I didn’t want to overdo the Wild Things theme though. I didn’t want a jungle painted on his wall because I get bored easily and I know after a few months I would paint over it. I wanted little touches of wild things, but not too much.


So, I bought frames and an extra book and used the pages from the book as the pictures. The frames were found at Target and Marshalls and they gave the perfect rustic vibe that fit in with his room so perfectly.

After his baby shower, I walked away with so many swaddles. A crazy amount! I didn’t know what to do with them all. So, I decided to put some on display. I bought this cute arrow here that felt wild and adventurous. I loved how the colors accented the frames and brought this space together.

Continuing with the Wild Things/adventure theme, I had to have a teepee. I thought it would make the perfect little reading corner. A place where he could go and imagine himself in worlds far far away as he got lost in a book. A place where his imagination could run wild and play could be endless. What child wouldn’t want a teepee to hide and play in.


The space was tricky at first. His room is not huge by any means and with a crib taking up most of the space, fitting a teepee in there was going to be a tough job. But, I was bound and determined to make it work. And I did. Go me! I found a fur rug to put inside, a tin bucket and filled it with stuffed animals. He needed friends to read and go on adventures with! I love this space and he does too. It’s his favorite spot to hang out in his room.

Here are the links:

Teepee (They do not have the chevron on, but a cute white and gold one)      Rug


A mistake I made with my first child was not buying a rocking chair that was comfortable. I found an old rickety rocking glider at at garage sale and decided to make it work. Worst idea ever. I hated that chair.

Similar chair link here 

It hurt my back. It hurt my butt. And the way it creaked became increasingly obnoxious the more I used it. This time, I was going to find a chair that I could rock miles in. Because lets face it, your in that thing A LOT! I must have sat in 100 chairs to find the right one. And a year later, this chair is still so dang comfortable. I liked this one because of the button detail and the grey fit in perfectly with the color scheme of the nursery. The ottoman was optional and my husband demanded that we get it. I’m not going to lie, those late nights during teething, the ones where he wouldn’t let me put him down, it was nice to be able to kick my feet up. Its padding is comfortable and its wide enough to accommodate a growing baby. No need for squished arms here. I added a cute aztec style pillow to tie in the Wild thing/Adventure theme. It makes the perfect spot for bedtime stories, lots of kisses, and extra cuddles. I don’t know what I would do without this chair.


IMG_5506    I added a cute shelf with some decor just to make the large wall seem less gigantic. I am still deciding whether or not I want to stain the shelf or leave it its natural wood. Hmmm, any thoughts? I found the perfect sign that said exactly what every mama feels about their baby. (Because, I am seriously going to love him forever and ever.) I added a cute little plant for a pop of color and the hanging sign to fill up some of that wall space. Plus, lets be honest, all he does is eat, sleep, play and repeat. Well, and cry. He does a lot of that too lately, lets be honest. I really do love how it all came together. It’s my favorite space. [Well, other than the teepee because that spot is the best!]

To finish off his room, I got this cute dresser from Rustic Romantic Furniture and created his changing station. I knew he wouldn’t fit on a changing IMG_5473table too long so I wanted something that we wouldn’t have to get rid of once he was too big for it. So, I just added the changing pad to the top (securing it of course) and used the top drawer for all of his diapering needs. Super convenient! I found the sign here. Baskets at a little boutique and the arrow was gifted at my shower. My Mother in law made all of the signs on the baskets and the plants are from target’s clearance section. His jar was once filled with pacifiers but now is filled with socks since this little guy refused a pacifier. And my favorite thing on this dresser…the Munchkin Sound Machine. This thing has saved our sleep!!! From the first night we used it, this kid slept All. Night. Long! It was glorious. Now, when neighbors are loud, or dogs are barking, or even fourth of July fireworks are going off, this kid sleeps through it. Thank you Jesus! I love it. It has several different settings (lullaby, heart beat, ocean waves, etc.) but white noise is our favorite.

Even Zeke thinks so…that is him signing help asking me to turn the sound machine on.


We seriously love this space you guys. It’s his mini man cave and one of our favorite rooms in the house! Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading!



Oh The Joys of Teething…

We are knee deep in teething right now. And as we wait for those four molars (yes, I said four) to pop through, we hunker down and pray God will be gracious as we try and survive the day. I swear, before you have kids, moms should have to go through combat training. We should be ready to clothe ourselves in riot gear, stand firm on the line, armed with the tools needed to take on a teething baby.  As most parents who have been through the molars stage of teething know it can feel like you’re in the middle of a war zone. 

Yesterday, he refused to eat. Everything that went into his mouth, got spit right out or tossed onto the floor. He. Would. Not. Eat. But, he was hungry so he cried for food, yet refused everything I tried to feed him. What’s a mom to do? I tried everything. Fruit, apple sauce, yogurt, cheese, turkey. Nothing worked until I became so beyond desperate and threw some

Chicken nuggets in the microwave. You know the over processed kind? The kind that you’re not even sure if real chicken is in it? Ya, that kind. I was desperate. And you know what? He ate it. Every last bite. Was I proud? No. But, my kid didn’t starve and I’m ok with that. Just don’t get used to it kid.

Sleeping on the other hand? That’s a whole other blog post in itself. 

Motherhood is a juggling act. I wonder what challenges tomorrow will bring. Until then, I will try and get through the day as he refuses to sleep. This should be interesting.

Pray for me.

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