The one about Emma

 My sweet Emma. My saving grace in so many ways. Small confession - I never actually thought I wanted a daughter. I know, right. Sure it would be fine, but I have three brothers; what the heck would I do with a girl?

But 2 years ago there I was holding this sweet little doll of a baby and not even realizing what a total gift she was. Now, truth be told, Emma was not immediately the cutest baby I had ever seen. Sure she was cute, because she was mine, but we weren't winning any newborn beauty contests by any stretch of the imagination. Does that sound harsh? It feels a little harsh. Anyway, she had an incredibly fast delivery that left her face swollen and bruised-looking. I always say she was uncomfortable making me uncomfortable. "I'm sorry Mommy, I'll make this as quick as possible.....Oh, did that hurt? Is this an inconvenience? Well let me just get out of here as fast as I can." That's pretty much Emma in a nutshell.

Not only was her delivery over in about two pushes, but she was like the least fussy baby in the world - which was very strange for me. I remember she would just sit in her little bouncer and watch everything that was going on, or stare at the ceiling, or her hands, or nothing at all. She would just wait around until someone decided to hold her, or feed her, or put her to bed. God bless her. I didn't even know babies did that. I remember people telling me babies did that, but I knew the truth. I had one son and he did ANYTHING but sit still, ever. Never ever. I just assumed that's what I could expect from baby number two. Naturally, I was terrified slightly nervous.

But then there was Emma. My quiet, content observer. I've never been so happy to be wrong.

Nowadays Emma has quite a bit more to say. She is after all in those terrific! twos (bleh). What she says is not always my favorite, but I'll tell you what is.....the way she says it. Her voice might be the cutest thing that has ever existed. I could seriously bottle it up and drink it.

Side note - some people feel really strange about making eating references when discussing children, i.e. "He's so cute I could just eat him" or "I want to chew on those chubby little hands." BUT if you have ever just been beyond words about something (particularly a child), you know what I mean! And it's not weird! 

Anyway, Emma has this tiny little girl voice that I can't even describe. It's almost without fail the one thing people mention when they first meet her. I know she will grow out of it eventually (at least I hope so, for her sake), but right now I just want her to sing me the ABC's, or tell me her Bible verse, or read stock reports, anything. Don't tell her, but sometimes I pretend not to hear her just so she'll have to repeat herself. :) Somehow, "poopy-butt" sounds so sweet coming out of her mouth. Uggh, that reminds me. Can I just take a minute to say this is one of my least favorite annoyances of this age? Anything having to do with the words "poop" or "butt" is HILARIOUS to them. Sometimes they decide to throw out letters of the alphabet and replace them with said choice words...like mid song. You know like, "A B C D E F...poopy-butt!" And then they crack up laughing because they think it is the funniest thing that anyone has ever done. I say it's annoying. Except when Emma does it.......it's the voice! Ugh, I'm such a bad mom!

Which actually brings me to my next point. I think the most surprising thing about Emma right now is how GOOFY she is. Ok, so I know I was like all gaga about how awesomely low key she was as a baby, but it also had it's draw backs. She was so chill, but it made her kind of serious and some might say...uninteresting? Emma, if you're reading this 10-20 years from now, know that I have ALWAYS been interested in you. I'm just saying some people (Uncle Ryan) liked to hang out with more active babies, and were maybe a little worried you wouldn't have a sense of humor. Not to throw anyone under the bus. How wrong they were my little poopy-butt.

She just says interesting and weird things that were probably always in her head, but now she's learning how to express herself. Yesterday she told me my hair smelled good and then said, "Let's eat it!" She finished the conversation off with a maniacal laugh and walked away. What? Although now that I think about it, I bet she totally gets the baby/consumption association.

Or let's talk about the way she says, "Hello world," in a dreamy voice every time I open her blinds in the morning. Straight up princess yo. It makes me laugh EVERY time.

Of course amidst all of her delightful qualities (unbiasedly observed of course) Emma also presents us with her own challenges. Like the fact that she refuses to be potty-trained. I was not expecting that. Everybody told me that potty training girls was soooo much easier than training boys. And since Rowan was potty trained at 2.5 after about the same amount of tries, I figured my easy peasy girl would knock it out at 2 on the first try. Wrong. You win some, you lose some I guess.

You know, I've been meaning to write this post for awhile. Emma's birthday, after all, was in March. I just haven't had the energy/mental capacity to sit down and do it. But by lunch this afternoon, I knew today would be the day.

We had a particularly rough day in the DeLuca home today. A couple boys who shall remain nameless were particularly rowdy, defiant, restless/fussy, clingy, helpless...respectively. I'll let you decide who was who. It all came to a head at lunch. I was trying to talk Rowan down from a world-ending tantrum about no one eating his applesauce while also trying to keep him in time out without destroying his room (the reason for time out also involved said applesauce). We were sitting on his bed when my gentle giant started screaming and trying to crawl into my lap. He doesn't like yelling. Within a matter of moments I was trying to keep Rowan from flailing his body into the wall, myself or Joseph and at the same time trying to keep our screaming baby from crawling into my lap - which was within the flail radius.

It was at this moment I realized that the entire time Emma had been sitting in the kitchen by herself, quietly eating Rowan's applesauce. Don't worry, she was allowed to eat Rowan's applesauce, he had emptied hers on the floor mid-tantrum. Anyway the point is, at that moment I was very thankful for and grateful to my sweet and quiet observer. Maybe you have to have the day that I did to appreciate that simple act of obedience, but she spoke more love to me in that moment than a hundred hugs and kisses would have. And that's when I knew today was her blog day. Because even though every day is not "Emma's the bomb" day, today was. I want to remember it; I want her to remember it; and I especially want her to know that I noticed. You are loved my sweet Emma Rose, and I hope one day you are blessed enough to have a daughter who is just like you. <3

On Being Three (and NOT two!)

You know, March used to make me think of four-leaf clovers, corned beef and cabbage and my Irish grandma. Now when this special month rolls around I have just one thing on my mind - birthdays, birthdays and more birthdays! March is the month that saw all three of our children brought into this world, each 12 months and a week or so apart - March 6, March 15, and March 31. It is an unintentional, very sweet thing that I love about how God has created our family so far. It also means we have two birthdays down and one to go.

Rowan turned three on the sixth and (fingers crossed) may also be turning a crucial corner in his short little life - one that takes him out of the terrible twos (cheers and applause). I know it's more kosher now to call it the "terrific" twos, or so I've heard, but put yourself in a crowded Target with a slap fight distracting you from trying to remember what the heck your pin number is, followed immediately by a lightening-quick grab and dash that lands you stopping traffic in the parking lot, and then you can tell me how terrific it is.














We joke about it, but the twos have been rough. Figuring out the whole discipline thing has been crazy for everyone - yes for us, but also for our strong-willed, independent thinker of a son. Lots of head butting, both figuratively and literally. And we're still trying to nail down the whole consistency thing. Thus far everything seems very situational. Some days (and depending on the offense) time outs are the most effective, some days spankings, and other days a good talking to gets little man right back on track. This has required a lot more effort on our part and being "on top of things" more, but I think we're starting to see the pay off.

So yes, we've had our fair share of tantrums and meltdowns and Target trauma, but what has completely amazed me is watching our first baby turn into a little boy. I look at his curly-haired, mischievous little head on a daily basis and wonder at how big he is. I mean old. The kid talks like he's 3 going on 13. Sometimes it's cute. I walk out of his room after kissing him goodnight and hear "Don't forget to wash the dishes!" Cute. One time he accidentally destroyed an ant hill and leaned down to say, "Don't worry ladies. It'll be ok, girls." He then spent the rest of the day figuring out a plan to get the ants a new home, including buying and donating one. Cute.

Sometimes, though, it's not so cute. My three-year-old already does the eye-rolling version of "Fine!" when he finally concedes an argument. Like I said, 3 going on 13.Yesterday I told him he was going to time out and he yelled, "Never!" like he was channeling Braveheart. He's sassy and he's sweet. He's complicated; he has layers. And I love it.

He's already my little helper, wanting to be part of everything that John and I do. He's obsessed with "smoke stacks" because Daddy works at a refinery. In fact, if you ask him, he goes to his own "smoke stacks" every day as well. He will also inform you that there are exactly five smoke stacks at his particular place of business. This is really important.

But my favorite thing about Rowan has actually been somewhat of a surprise.

He's sweet. I mean tender-hearted, care how you feel, pets little babies sweet. The reason this is surprising is 50% the fact that he was a fussy, unhappy baby that didn't like being cuddled (aka mommy didn't know his body hated milk) and 50% the fact that he is prone to smacking friends (or anyone near him) with the closest sword-like object. All in the name of fighting bad guys of course. And he's loud....and a wrestler...a loud, wrestling, fire cracker of a kid. Essentially he's a boy. :) So to see a sweet and tender spirit developing in this little macho man is probably one of my favorite things in the whole world.

Now that we have one finally coming out of those terrific! twos, we have one waiting in the wings, raring to take his place, yay.  More on that later. But I think we're ready for this one. We've got one under our belt and, lucky for us, it's all still fresh in our memory. Bring it on twos!

Ya feel me?

I am going to apologize ahead of time for the downtrodden and longish nature of this post. If you are looking for a spiritual pick me up or a really good laugh, maybe stop reading....like now. I do not have this for you. But on the off chance that somebody reading this might enjoy a little commiseration or someone else to say, "yeah I'm not ok today....but I think it's ok," I'm gonna go ahead and post my bad attitude all over the interwebs. Totally for your benefit. God help us, and you're welcome. :)

I realized today, again, that I have no idea what I'm doing. Or how to do it. I have these three amazingly crazy little people running around my house, almost literally non-stop, and more often than not all I can think about is how I should be doing this differently. Like, I should be doing more of this. Or at least less of that. I'm so scared that 20 years from now I'm going to wake up with all of these thoughts and ideas about how I could have been such a better mom. But then it will be too late.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think we're doing any kind of irreparable damage to the tiny ones in our hands (please God don't let me be doing any irreparable damage to the tiny ones in my hands). But are we being the best parents we can be? Am I being the best mom I can be?

What's scary is I think I am.....and in no way, shape, or form does it feel like enough.

I should spend more time with Jesus. My house should be cleaner. Our kids should watch less tv. I should yell less. We should discipline more effectively. Maybe we're spanking too much.....or not enough. I should be more hands on. I should let them learn how to entertain themselves more. I should be more diligent and structured and intentional about my time with them. I should let them have more free time and self-guided play.

This feels like a life full of paradoxes. How do all of these things happen at once? How do we know what's worthwhile and what's not? We've never done this before. And those who have done it before will swear by 500 different "right" ways to do it. Blah, it makes my head hurt.

Shameful confession: Thinking about all of this makes me want to curl up into a ball under the covers and sleep until winter is over. Or at least until someone can give me all the answers. Also, this might be because I just want to sleep, in general. I think I have about two years to catch up on. But that is neither here nor there.

The point is, it's getting hard.

I didn't always feel like this, you know. We've had our ups and downs figuring out how to be parents, but overall I'd say we've had a pretty optimistic approach to the whole thing. I've been nervous about the unknown here and there, but we've always figured it out and moved on to the next thing.

 Like when Rowan came home from the hospital wanting to nurse for an hour and a half about every 20 minutes. Did we know that was strange? No, he was the first baby and what the heck did I know about nursing? But a week later it was under control. We discovered that pacifiers are a gift from God and babies sometimes need to wait for their dinner. Cool. Bring on the next challenge.

Or how about the time when we couldn't figure out why he wasn't sleeping through the night anymore. Every night for weeks we would wake up and rock him for what seemed like hours thinking THE WHOLE TIME, "I thought we were done doing this, why won't you just sleep? I'm not gonna be able to do this when baby #2 gets here!" And then his teeth came in and he started sleeping better and we looked back and realized we should have just been patient. Boom, challenge over. Give me something else!

But two more babies in two years later, I feel like I'm running out of steam. My body is tired, my brain is tired, and my spirit is tired. Oh, and did I mention my house is a disaster? Challenges seem more...well, challenging.

I know that what we are doing is worthwhile. I know that our children are a blessing. I know this so much that we will be ECSTATIC if and when we find out that baby #4 is on the way (I said IF and WHEN mom, calm down).

But this doesn't change the fact that it is still hard. I am still struggling on a daily basis. Struggling with my attitude, struggling to find grace - for others and myself - and struggling to be ok with struggling. So much is at stake - I don't want to screw it up!

I have no answers. So aside from 100% using this post to vent my concerns and frustrations so I can move on with my day on a more pleasant note, I just want to tell somebody, it's ok if you're not ok. It's ok that you don't have it figured out. It's ok that you are making mistakes and sometimes don't apologize for them or even tell anyone. It's ok because life is more than today.

I know that I am being made new every day. I know that God is faithful. I know that He is in control and all things work together for good for those who love Him. I know that this world is temporary and what matters most is the eternal. I know that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. I know that as I fallibly and inconsistently follow Him, my heart's desire is for Him. And I know that He is creating me to be exactly who He designed me to be, and EXACTLY the kind of mom that He wanted my children to have.

So I will continue to ask Him for help, to ask for forgiveness, and to ask for the discernment to KNOW when I need to ask for forgiveness. But mostly I will continue to trust that the person He is creating in me is so much better than the person who I actually am. Thank God.....literally.

If you made it this far, maybe you can relate. But mostly, thanks for letting me get that out. I really needed to hear it. :)

Why does everything smell like poop?

This is going to be short, and a little gross, but also very true. For some reason having little kids around makes literally everything smell like poop....like all the time. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, I'd rather have a home that smells like poop than a poop-free life with no Rowan and Emma. But seriously, all the time!

I just listened to both the kids fall asleep and thought I'd take a break from packing to sit and enjoy the serenity that is nap time. I changed two dirty diapers (one of which was cloth...bleh), brushed some teeth, did a little snuggling and then some tucking in. All is well. But for the life of me I cannot shake the lingering sense that there is baby poop on me somewhere. I can't see it, oh no no. But it is there, I assure you. Someone's dirty diaper has followed me into my nap-time oasis.

Now, if I were really clever, I would share with you how the smell of baby poop during this precious quiet time is really some sort of metaphor. I would reveal to you the hidden symbolism that somehow makes it representative of all mothers everywhere. But let's be real, poop is poop. It smells bad; I like when it's not around.

But until my tiny little humans learn how to plant their bottoms on the "poppy," as Rowan says, this is my reality. And the reality of every single person who has ever had the pleasure of raising children. So, I'm embracing the poop and getting back to packing.

No I am not showering, all of you problem solvers out there...that would be the opposite of a poop embrace. Also, regular showers are not a real thing in our house anymore. I am embracing....and packing. But mostly embracing.

Embrace the poop. Check it off my list for today.

Two Kids and Counting

Yes, we will have three kids under the age of three.

Yes, they will all be 12 mo. apart.

Yes, they will all potentially have birthdays in March.

Yes, March will be an expensive month.

Oh, and yes, we do know what's causing this.

Ok, I think that pretty much covers the most frequently asked questions.

God has blessed us with another soon-to-be DeLuca baby. A sweet little boy who is set to make his open-air debut on March 31 (although secretly I'm hoping for April...you know, change of pace and all that).

We're super excited.... and a little nervous. Well, I'm a little nervous. Hello people, three kids under three. That means three kids potentially in diapers, three little people running around my house with limited verbal and physical abilities (aka lots of screaming and falling into things). In the last two days alone, Rowan has run directly into a folding table, eye first, fallen off the dining room table, gotten stuck in the bottom half of an exersaucer, and Emma has fallen on her head at least seven times - usually because Rowan pushes her over as he's running past. I can't help but think of cow tipping. Don't judge. Anyway, the result of all of this being multiple mommy heart attacks. Now add one more. Eek!

All of this to say we are excited and nervous and very thankful. More than ever we have the opportunity to completely rely on God for strength, endurance, and patience (oh do we need patience), among other things. I'm thankful to be directly in the center of His will and 100% counting on for my sanity anticipating His full provision. With God's grace baby #3 will be coming home to a pair of blissfully exhausted parents, an adoring sister and a brother who has lost interest in drive-by baby tipping.

Just another summer day, heart attack included.

Summertime in New Orleans -- like walking face first into a hot, wet towel. Sounds appealing right? Right. In an effort to avoid said towel, we moseyed on over to the aquarium this past weekend (it's too hot to do anything more strenuous than moseying). The aquarium here is pretty sweet. Not as good as the one in Atlanta, but I think that one is like the biggest in the world or something. Stiff competition. 

I don't think it mattered to Rowan though, he was on Cloud 9 the ENTIRE time we were there. 

I realized when we got home that pretty much all of my pictures were of the back of his head, but I seriously couldn't get him to turn around long enough to look at me. He LOVED the fish. I think we found a new favorite thing.

Speaking of new things, allow me to share with you the newest trick my son has learned. Before we begin this story, you should know that he is safely in his crib taking a nap right now. I always have to start my stories like that when I talk to my mom, otherwise she assumes he's in the hospital, or sick or stuck up a tree or something. Go figure. 

Anywho, we busted out the kiddie pool today. Super fun, Rowan loves it. Eventually though, pool time was over, time for us to go in. Time for me to take my kids inside. Two kids. One me. Neither of them are very good at walking....especially Emma. Here is where my dilemma began.

Time out. In the middle of the aquarium, Rowan literally stopped dead in his tracks and gazed longingly at this Haagen Dazs poster for a full 30 seconds, no prompting. Thirty seconds is a long time to do anything for my son. Unless, apparently, it involves ice cream. He is his father's child.

Also, we had some difficulty keeping him out of the fish tanks.

Back to my dilemma by the pool. Two kids. One me. "Well," I think, "Rowan seems to be entertaining himself pretty well. I can probably get Emma in, set her down and come back out to get him." Now for all of you moms who are getting all judgey and concerned that I left my son unattended by the pool, cool your jets, I had my eye on him. However, my next move was not one of my prouder moments. 

Isn't this picture so cute?? 

I just love them. :) 

Anyway, I put Emma down inside the door, looked back over my shoulder, saw that Rowan was still occupied and decided it would be the perfect time to jet down the hall and start his bath. It's a long(er) story but he was covered in charcoal mud that was not welcome in my bedroom. The faster I could get him to the tub, the better.

So I literally ran down the hall, turned the water on, poured a little bubble bath and was on my way to the door. Now is a good time to get judgey and concerned, because it was at this point that I realized my 15-month-old was coming in the back door. In the time it had taken me to walk 10 feet to the bathroom and start a bath, Rowan had left the backyard, climbed up the wooden steps to our back porch and was now teetering dangerously on the threshold of the back door.

You know that moment in movies, right before someone gets attacked by a wild animal? It's the stare down moment when the soon-to-be attackee is trying to remember if they're supposed to play dead, or charge, or run away, or what. That's what this was like. Both of us staring at each other. Me realizing that if I made any sudden movements, Rowan would probably take off running toward the stairs. And he did. I ran, screaming his name all the way to the door and caught him just as he was taking his first step off the porch. I'm not sure it needs to be said, but in case it does, this particular 15-month-old does not do stairs by himself. Period.

I dragged him into our room, crying all the way because he wasn't ready to come in (he was crying, not me, just in case you were confused). I then realized I left Emma's baby seat outside. (ps..isn't that shark coming at me and Emma super scary looking??) Rowan seemed to be entertaining himself, curled up in a ball, pouting on the floor, so I decided it would be the best time to go get the seat. Looking back on it now, it really seems like I made the same mistake twice within 5 minutes -- assuming that Rowan would stay where I left him. At the time, it did not seem that clear. 

Out to get the seat, back into my bedroom. No Rowan. Great. I remembered then that I left the bath running. Figuring he probably heard it and decided to check it out, I hustled down the hallway. I walked into the bathroom, and there was my son, sitting in the bathtub, attempting to wash his hair. I still have no idea how he got in there as he's never climbed into the tub by himself before, but he was there none the less, and washing himself to boot.

Aside from me having a new respect for Rowan's abilities, I realize that there were at least 5 ways he could have killed himself in this story alone. Thank you Jesus for the hedge of angels that you put around our children daily. Also, thank you for protecting our children from our sometimes ridiculous parenting skills. I love you!

Shhhh....

I'm beginning this post in a very precarious position. I have a (barely) slumbering Emma on my lap, who's slowly stretching her way to being awake, and any minute I'm anticipating coughs and cries from Rowan's room that let me know he's done with nap time.....a simultaneously exciting and dreaded moment. It's really my own fault. I've had peace and quiet now for about an hour, but honestly, I spent the majority of it mindlessly organizing my boards on Pinterest...LAME! I don't even feel bad. A girl can take a break.

And there are the cries...cool.

Crying babies make it really hard to think. Just so we're on the same page here, I wrote like half this post and deleted it because it didn't make any sense.

You're welcome.

 For those of you who are here anticipating baby pictures, I will not disappoint.

I'm currently working on a video montage of our last two months as a family of four. 

HAHA! It's funny even when I type it. Seriously though, I'm working on it.

Just don't hold your breath.

This sweet little lady is two months today! It goes so fast! She's an angel. She pretty much has to be since Rowan is a demon tornado most of the time. It balances things out. 

In all seriousness, they've both been a blast the last couple months and they love each other soo much. "Emma" is one of the only words Rowan says clearly and his voice gets all soft like he's talking to a...well a baby I guess. He's so smart :)

Ok, gotta go get Destructor from his crib. Look out for the movie (chuckle). And I'm not sure who knows what about Emma...for example if you live within a 50 mile radius of my mom, or are friends with her on facebook, or have ever given her your telephone number, or maybe you just stood within shouting distance of her, you probably know most everything about Emma already, so I don't want to bore you all with old news. But if you have questions about her just leave a comment and ask! It's literally one of my favorite topics to talk about....literally.

The waiting game

We now officially have 3 days until Emma Rose DeLuca's due date.

It would be an understatement to say that I'm getting a little antsy.

It's a wee bit easier to keep my mind off of the looming day this time around, mainly because I have a teething one-year-old who recently decided to start asserting his own will via high-pitched screams....super fun. :)

But it really hasn't been bad. Rowan's been keeping me busy, we have family in town keeping us company, and I recently picked up sewing. That's right, another step toward unlocking my inner suzy. I'm currently in the middle of making seat cushions for our dining room chairs. We'll see. I'm totally enjoying it and I'm in love with the fabric that we picked out - yes, WE....apparently John has quite an eye for fabric. I've been trying to take pictures as we go so I can share the process - the good, the bad and the ugly (hopefully not too ugly...I'd actually like to use them). So that's coming soon....along with my baby girl. Eee!

I'm just ready. Ready to get the show on the road; ready to see what she looks like; ready to introduce Rowan to his little sister. I hope he likes her. I hope he doesn't try to tackle her, or eat her, or lay on her like one of his stuffed animals. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He really likes stuffed animals.

Anywho, here we are, playing the waiting game. I'm pretty determined to win.

John's first blog post

Ashley has encouraged me to write a blog post, probably before she even started the blog, so alas I will comply. 

Reasons why I am complying:

1. In an effort to be a good husband, I should put forth the effort to help make my wife smile.
2. Ashley is 2 weeks away from our second child’s due date. 
3. I have never written a blog post, so when in Rome... I don’t know if that applies here.
4. She has been extremely helpful with P90X stuff and I probably owe her a few posts at this point.
5. I love Ashley!

On with the post... so what to talk about. I feel like as a guy I should talk about the latest sports news, or maybe some work out routine; however, I believe the majority of people who will actually read this post have little interest in these subjects. If I have offended anyone, I apologize. Let’s talk about Rowan. I feel like he is the most interesting part of my life right now, and Ashley posts a lot about him. So let’s put a man’s perspective to this thing we call parenting. 

I work a lot and am often left missing my wife and son. I spend a good amount of time at work some days thinking about how I would like to be home playing with Rowan or taking him on a walk. I feel like these ‘daydreaming’ sessions are always a little unrealistic. 

DayDream: Rowan is always right on the same page with what I want to do. We roll the ball back and forth multiple times; he sits patiently while I read him a book; we go for a walk and Rowan points and yells at different things; he laughs and I never seem to have to change a diaper. 

Reality: I get home from work most days rather tired and try to play with Rowan; but many days I fail and Rowan for some reason never wants to play the game I want to play. Last night Rowan woke up around 11:30 pm - a few hours after bedtime. I made the attempt to go in his room, calm him down and put him back to bed. As Rowan has become extremely attached to his mother (which, to be honest, I can’t blame him), he relies on her comfort to calm down. I went in to put Rowan to sleep and the crying/screaming only got worse. I don’t think I calmed him down one bit, but instead I worked him up a little more (close to a frenzy). Long story short, I failed big time. I went back to the bedroom defeated and sent in the heavy artillery. I could hear the calming effect as Ashley walked in his bedroom. Three seconds later, silence. Rowan is falling to sleep in Ashley’s arms and everything is at peace again. She lays him back down he makes a little fuss and then we are all sound asleep for the night (well Ashley is super pregnant, so she may not be sleeping soundly, but from my perspective it was quite sound sleep). 

Now to my favorite part: Tonight! Sooo tonight we had a monthly group meeting for Cru/Impact. The house was full of people and we were enjoying some fellowship, Jesus, and fun. Ashley put Rowan to sleep about half way through the shindig. However, about an hour later Rowan was crying and screaming (we might not have been very quiet). So  I figured why not try another attempt at calming my son. Ashley was busy talking about prayer and its importance, so I had no back-up. I walked in thinking this may be a feeble attempt and feeling a little defeated already, but hey what’s a guy to do but try.

I slipped in the room and reached for my son who was already standing in his crib. I calmly placed him on my shoulder and the crying continued. But this time instead of increasing it seemed to be tapering off. After a brief minute, Rowan was not crying but instead laying his head on my shoulder, first on the right, then the left, then the right, then the left (it made me think of myself trying to fall asleep). And then the moment came when everything in his body seemed to relax and he was asleep ("SUCCESS!!!" is what screamed in my head, but silence on the outside). I layed my son back in his bed after reveling in the moment for a good 10 minutes and with a smooth rub on his back he barely made a peep. I tiptoed out of the room to join back in the festivities. 

I think God blesses us with these little moments when we need them most. With Rowan depending on mom so much and a new baby on the way that will literally depend on Ashley for sustenance, at times it seems like the “dad role” is not as important. I know that providing for my family is a huge blessing from God, not just for the opportunity, but also just having a good job. I can’t thank and praise God enough for those things. He truly is the great provider. I will say though that when God gives me the chance to help put Rowan to sleep and calm him down, when God helps my work daydreams come true, those are the little moments when I feel most blessed to be a father and get a little picture of how our Father holds us in His hands and calms us.

“big gulps ehh.... welp see you later”

Goodnight doubloons and Mardis Gras things

Mardis Gras has come and gone and we're moving on to bigger and better things...like adding curtains and babies to our house. But Mardis Gras was a big deal for at least one member of our household. This year was obviously Rowan's first carnival season, and we wanted him to experience it in style. While we didn't have time to put together one of these babies for him

(although it is my dream to have a double ladder seat for our two babies next year), we did however find a special seat for him.

Well, technically my parents found it for John for Christmas. It was originally intended as a hiking accessory for our trip to the Smoky Mountains this summer, but we figured Mardis Gras was an equally worthy occasion to bust it out. Rowan LOVED it! However, the people standing behind us at the Muses parade were not as big of fans. So we lost it for the Thoth parade and decided to go au natural

and just tote him around on our hips. John did his best to teach him the proper bead acquiring techniques.

And he was successful at it for the most part. Rowan caught his first ever bead all by himself! 

Well, actually it hit him in the face and then fell into his hand, but I'm counting it! Please don't mind my slightly scary and disheveled look going on in this picture. I'm blaming it on being 8 mo. preggers. 

He really loved the beads

But definitely preferred the stuffed animals. Which we got a TON of. Well, compared to last year when we were babyless. Apparently John and I don't scream "throw me a stuffed toy" as much as our one year old. I'm ok with that.

All in all, I think it was a successful carnival season; which means we got some good beads, ate some good king cake, and hung out with some good friends. 

Next year on the Mardis Gras to do list......parade ladder, DIY tshirt, vest, and bowtie for Rowan, DIY tutu....not for Rowan. Favorite thing about Mardis Gras this year....post carnival sales at Sam's. 

Hello $3 platters

And hello my beautiful $5 wreath

Too bad they are all going straight into storage for the rest of this year. But NEXT year...oh the places they will go! :)

T-Minus 5 weeks!

We are getting so close to baby #2 making her big debut that I can almost smell the baby powder and Boudreaux's Butt Paste. Or I forgot to wash my hands after changing Rowan. Let's be real, that's probably likely. Whose idea was it to have back to back babies??

I drift in and out of the nesting phase (yes that is a real thing), which pretty much means I go back and forth between preemptively cleaning our house, and just trying to keep up with the mess of the four people currently living here. Tiring? Some days yes, some days not so much. Today is a not so much day. You know, one of those very rare days in which I'm motivated by the thought of organizing the baking shelf in our cabinet. That's right, baking shelf. Bet you never thought I'd have one of those, huh? Anyway, it's one of those days where it feels good to get stuff done.

So I've been thinking a lot about our babies' rooms. We'll be able to start setting up and decorating this weekend which I'm super excited about! I feel like we have some fun ideas, it will just be a matter of making them happen....and finding a cost effective way of doing that. Thrift store anyone? Here are some thoughts we've had so far:

1. We love yellow.

Which means it will probably end up on a wall or two.

2. We love this tree.

Bought the shelves awhile back, now we just need to figure out how to get it from this picture to our wall.

3. I have some of these laying (lying?) around...why not put them to good use?

But yellow (obviously). :)

When we had Rowan we were living in a tiny one bedroom apartment. Needless to say, he didn't get any kind of fanfare when it came to getting his room ready. Mainly because "his room" consisted of a pack 'n play set up next to our bed. Ahhh the good ole days. :) Anywho, my point is, it seems incredibly unfair for baby girl to have her own decorating scheme and Rowan to have no such thing. Therefore we are currently on the look out for baby boy inspiration. I can feel my little interior designer bones tingling (all two them). Best laid plans, people, best laid plans.