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Dear B,

January 27, 2012

Oh my big Brock boy.

You’ve grown so much! You’re a completely different child than you were a year ago.

You’ve accomplished so much! You can walk! You’ve been doing it for so long now that it seems like you’ve always been this way, but just a year ago you couldn’t.

And you talk! More words than I can count, strung together in beautiful 4 and 5 and 6 word sentences.

You love your Sister. You walk her to the bus every morning and try to sneak on. As soon as you wake up from your nap you start asking if it’s time to go get her from school. You guys wrestle every night and it stresses me out but I’m thankful you can do it. I love watching you two play together.

And you love your sister. I just knew you’d be jealous when she arrived but you haven’t been. Not one bit. You want to hold her and kiss her and when she starts to cry you quietly whisper “It’s ok ‘Reesies.’ My right here, my right here.”

You love trains and cars and balls and Mickey Mouse and making me lunch. You make the best plastic pancakes I’ve ever had.

You love gymnastics and you’ve gotten so much stronger since you started! Daddy does gymnastics with you and I love that you boys have that time together.

You’re a parrot. You repeat EVERYTHING you hear. Even mundane phrases like “This taco has too many onions on it.”

You love mothers day out.  You’re smaller than the other kids but you don’t let that stop you from bossing them around. And you certainly don’t let them push you around. Your teacher says they’re not quite sure what to think of you when you stand up for yourself. I’m proud of you.

You go to speech and physical therapy at the ‘big school.’ You let me drop you off without crying and you’re happy when I pick you up.

You eat now! Not much, but at least it’s something. Crackers, chips, goldfish, cereal, bananas, milk. It’s a start.

Happy (belated) birthday, sweet boy. I love you. I’m so glad you’re THREE! And I’m so thankful God has given us another year of laughs, of fun, of memories…of hope.

Yo mama


Catching Up

January 27, 2012

So, I had a baby. And that throws everything off. She’ll be 3 months old next week and we’re finally starting to settle in to a routine. Which means I *might* have time to catch up on all of the blogable things that’ve happened in the last few months. Like Brock’s 3rd birthday. And the new baby. And Christmas. And before I know it it’s going to be Jaycie’s birthday.

Time. It flies.

WIWW, pregnancy edition

September 20, 2011

I know it’s been but I’m posting another What I Wore Wednesday….not because maternity fashion is anything to get excited about, but so a few friends of mine *ahem* will stop bugging me to see belly pictures.

For the record, these were all taken between 32 and 33 weeks.

dress, cardi: old navy
necklace: allorahandmade

I thought I was being all cute by combining stripes and floral….now it just kind of looks like I threw it together.

shirt: target
sweater: old navy (not maternity)
capris: old navy
posy pins: the pleated poppy
necklace: the vintage pearl

I wore this to take Jaycie to see Cathy Rigby in Peter Pan.


My crazy daughter can’t wear shoes without socks.  I drives me nuts but it’s not a battle I’m willing to fight.

It was quite a night.  The show didn’t start until 8.  My niece threw up during intermission.  And 5 minutes into the 2nd act Jaycie leaned over and said “Do we have this movie at home?”  When I said yes she said she was tired and ready to go home.

I’m linking up with Lindsey at The Pleated Poppy.  Go check out her creative outfits – they’re much cuter than mine!


September 4, 2011


Wordless Wednesday

August 31, 2011

The C Word, Part 4

August 29, 2011

I know it’s been 6 months and no one is probably interested in this “series” anymore, but I’m going to add another chapter anyway.  Because hey! Both kids are at school and it seems like more fun than cleaning house.

You can read the previous installments here: part 1, part 2, part 3

From Part 3:

While I was waiting and worrying, a pediatric oncologist was taking her kids for a well-check.  Taking them to see our pediatrician.  And sitting in the exact same exam room I had been in with Brock just a few hours earlier.

“Hi Dr. M.  While you’re here, I need to tell you about one of my patients that I saw earlier today…”


I’d been waiting anxiously at Jay’s office for a few hours.  Jay was away from the office shooting a commercial, his parents were there with me (it’s a family business) and both of my kids were taking naps in the back room when the phone finally rang.

I wish I could remember more of the specifics of the phone call.  I know our pediatrician told me the results of the blood work.  The only number I remember was his platelet count: 3,000.  A normal platelet count is 150,000 – 450,000.  He told us that he’d talked to some doctors at the local children’s hospital and that he’d made arrangements for Brock to be directly admitted, right away. 

For some reason, remembering the next few moments are what brings me to tears more often than any other events of that day.  I walked to the back room, woke Jaycie up from her nap and just held her and cried.  It was our last few moments of ‘normal’ – even though it wasn’t really normal anymore.  I cried because our lives would never be the same.  I cried because I was going to have to leave her with Jay’s parents while we took Brock to the hospital.  I cried because the future was so terrifyingly uncertain. 

Brock was still sleeping – he’d been sleeping all day, a result of his hemaglobin being dangerously low.  I can’t remember when Jay returned to the office but it must’ve been quickly because both of us woke Brock up, got in the car and headed to the hospital. 

We still didn’t know for sure that it was cancer.  The pediatrician told us that it could be leukemia or it could be some type of auto-immune disorder.  Of course we were praying for the latter.  On the way to the hospital I told Jay that no matter what happened I KNEW we’d be ok; that I knew, with absolutely no doubt, that God would take care of us – I just didn’t want this to be our road.  I remember repeating that phrase over and over during the first few days.  “I know we’re going to be ok – I just don’t want this to be our road.”

When we got to the hospital, we parked in the parking garage and started the long walk across the skybridge and into the hospital.  As we walked through that skybridge Jay commented on how it smelled like hospital and I remember thinking that it was a smell that I was going to hate – one that I would be all too familiar with. 

We walked into the admissions office, holding a sleeping 11 month old boy, and told them his name.  There’s no way we could’ve know that it would be 133 days before he would see the outside of that hospital again.

{to be continued}


August 28, 2011