Whether we choose to admit it or not, our children are a reflection of us. They not only look like us, but they talk like us. They react like us. They treat people the way we treat people - the way they SEE us treat people.
So parent friends, help me out here.
What are our children seeing from us at 3 and 4? How are we treating those around us? People in our "circles" and our family members? What are we saying to them/about them when little ears are listening?
In my eyes, my children are perfect with no physical flaws. I think Birdie's crazy curls are amazing and the gap in her teeth is just like the one her daddy had as a little boy (although my grandma blames prolonged use of a paci for it). These are two characteristics I love about her. But apparently these are two characteristics that other children her age have noticed and have commented on recently.
She came home one day last week obsessed with "baby teeth" and "big teeth." When are the baby teeth falling out? When are the big ones gonna come? So we had a conversation about how her baby teeth would go away...yada yada...I asked why she was so worried about her big teeth and she said a child in another class told her she looked funny and didn't even have all her baby teeth because her teeth were "open" in the middle. And I'll be honest, she was upset (i.e. I was upset).
On another occasion recently, I walked her into her class only to have a little group of girls look directly at us, turn around, and one literally said, "Don't talk to her. We're not playing with her today."
Seriously? C'mon kids, we're three. THREE! I don't remember girls talking about each other until junior high. How early is this starting? What are we teaching our children? That it's okay to single people out and point out their differences? That it's okay to shun people from our toddler cliques? I know we can't be with them 24/7 and slap our hands over their mouths every single time they start to say something like this, but we can set the example from the very beginning. We need to teach our babies that it's okay to be different. It's okay to look different. And most importantly, it's okay not to be a sheep in this life because the "popular" choices are not always the best choices. As adults, we need to pay more attention to the things we say and the way we treat people who aren't just like us. Because like it or not, it's rubbing off on our babies.
### End of Rant ###
Monday, November 26, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
28 Days...365 Later
One year ago, Day 28 was coming to an end. Justice Perry had received his angel wings and I was broken. Heart broken. Broken in spirit. Broken. But God had a plan...and plenty of glue to put the pieces of me back together!
A couple of weeks after Justice passed away, I had the honor of meeting Troy & Sara, who I now know are two of the most impressive people on earth. And today, I had the honor of celebrating Day 28 with the Perrys at a balloon release for Justice.
Looking back on the past year, I can see God's hand in how far I've come. There are people who couldn't understand how this little baby and his parents - people I didn't know - could have such a profound, eternal impact on my life. But God knows which buttons to push. Honestly, I figured I was too far gone for God to even worry about. I was too self-consumed, too concerned with the shiny emptiness of this world to even consider eternity.
There's a quote that says, "If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back."
And so here I was a year ago, watching a family who had just lost their baby, yet were somehow praising and thanking God. At that point, I knew I HAD to meet them and see just what it was that propelled them. I had to see for myself because I knew whatever it was, I didn't have it for myself - but I wanted it.
Because of Sara and Troy (and an invitation from my sweet friend Heather) I visited Epic Church and the Big Guy revealed himself to me in a way I'd never known. Long story short, I found my place. And I finally learned that God's grace is sufficient, even for me. On May 5th of this year, Troy stood next to me as I was baptized...he'll never know how much it meant to me to have him there by my side.
Because of Sara and Troy's willingness to be bold for God and share Justice's story, I am whole. My family is whole. My husband and children have the wife and mother they deserve and that God intended for me to be.
So we gathered today at Justice's beautiful resting place and the Perrys were surrounded by people who love them. We released balloons to Heaven in memory of one sweet baby and smiled through some tears because we know we are forever changed by 28 Days.
A couple of weeks after Justice passed away, I had the honor of meeting Troy & Sara, who I now know are two of the most impressive people on earth. And today, I had the honor of celebrating Day 28 with the Perrys at a balloon release for Justice.
Looking back on the past year, I can see God's hand in how far I've come. There are people who couldn't understand how this little baby and his parents - people I didn't know - could have such a profound, eternal impact on my life. But God knows which buttons to push. Honestly, I figured I was too far gone for God to even worry about. I was too self-consumed, too concerned with the shiny emptiness of this world to even consider eternity.
There's a quote that says, "If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back."
And so here I was a year ago, watching a family who had just lost their baby, yet were somehow praising and thanking God. At that point, I knew I HAD to meet them and see just what it was that propelled them. I had to see for myself because I knew whatever it was, I didn't have it for myself - but I wanted it.
Because of Sara and Troy (and an invitation from my sweet friend Heather) I visited Epic Church and the Big Guy revealed himself to me in a way I'd never known. Long story short, I found my place. And I finally learned that God's grace is sufficient, even for me. On May 5th of this year, Troy stood next to me as I was baptized...he'll never know how much it meant to me to have him there by my side.
Because of Sara and Troy's willingness to be bold for God and share Justice's story, I am whole. My family is whole. My husband and children have the wife and mother they deserve and that God intended for me to be.
So we gathered today at Justice's beautiful resting place and the Perrys were surrounded by people who love them. We released balloons to Heaven in memory of one sweet baby and smiled through some tears because we know we are forever changed by 28 Days.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Windows & Doors
I'm in super-obsessive house mode right now, but this post isn't about building a house. It really has nothing to do with a house or literal windows and doors. Today has been a busy day, and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and put these thoughts out there.
I was thinking about this as I got ready this morning - often the only time I have to think about whatever I want to think about. I can't stand it when people say, "Well, God doesn't close a door without opening a window." Ugh.
I don't think God closes doors. Stay with me on this for a minute. I think that with God, the proper doors are wide open - the open doors indicate the way He wants us to go to live the very best life He has planned for us. Those doors are His way of shouting, "Hey, over here! This is the way I want you to go!" But do we listen? Nooooo. We say, "Ooooh, look at that window. I think I should go through it instead." Dumb. We are so dumb. I think we confuse windows for doors. Am I making sense here? We see the window and think that option looks so much better, all the while not realizing that we might be stepping out three stories off the ground with no balcony or safety net to catch us. And in choosing the window, we have automatically closed the door, ignoring God's will for our lives.
But when we realize we've screwed up (like we always do and always will, no matter how hard we try), our God is always there with His arms open wide, willing to forgive us for our shortcomings. Willing to forgive us for climbing through a window and doing things our own way, rather than His way.
Long story short, walk through the doors, folks. Thoughts?
I was thinking about this as I got ready this morning - often the only time I have to think about whatever I want to think about. I can't stand it when people say, "Well, God doesn't close a door without opening a window." Ugh.
I don't think God closes doors. Stay with me on this for a minute. I think that with God, the proper doors are wide open - the open doors indicate the way He wants us to go to live the very best life He has planned for us. Those doors are His way of shouting, "Hey, over here! This is the way I want you to go!" But do we listen? Nooooo. We say, "Ooooh, look at that window. I think I should go through it instead." Dumb. We are so dumb. I think we confuse windows for doors. Am I making sense here? We see the window and think that option looks so much better, all the while not realizing that we might be stepping out three stories off the ground with no balcony or safety net to catch us. And in choosing the window, we have automatically closed the door, ignoring God's will for our lives.
But when we realize we've screwed up (like we always do and always will, no matter how hard we try), our God is always there with His arms open wide, willing to forgive us for our shortcomings. Willing to forgive us for climbing through a window and doing things our own way, rather than His way.
Long story short, walk through the doors, folks. Thoughts?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
This is how it really is, folks.
I guess it's about time I fired this puppy back up, huh? I must warn you, this won't by my typical light-hearted post. No, I'm going to be honest with you all.
We are struggling. Life at Casa de Brightwell isn't quite sunshine and rainbows these days. It's actually more hissy fits and warranted tears. Brantley misses her daddy; I miss him, too. Can somebody please tell me how to properly explain to a 3-year-old that daddy is working...for a really long time?! Can somebody please tell me how to tread water and survive the next few months without letting this empty feeling swallow me whole?!
There are good days where the time passes quickly and I don't have much time to slow down and really think about it. But then there are days like today - days where I literally have to hold my breath just to make it through dinner. And days like today make me feel incredibly selfish. There are people going through things much worse right now, but sometimes it's hard to see beyond our walls. And inside these walls, there is one very precious baby girl curled up in a bed that her daddy won't sleep in for months. A precious baby girl who literally has to be peeled off me when I drop her off at daycare every morning - who knows daddy is "working" but doesn't understand why. I've lost count of the "I want my daddy" meltdowns. I've even lost count of my own "I want my husband" meltdowns.
I don't want pity, please don't mistake this for a pity-party. I only want the old "normal" back. Our new normal sucks, if I may be so frank. New normal is unfair to my children. New normal is already making me cold, numb.
I don't want him to worry. He has a very important job to do and his judgment can't for one second be clouded. Distractions are dangerous. I want him to think I have it all under control. But let's be honest - I don't. If he had a hidden camera view of our house from time to time, he'd certainly think we were coming apart at the seams! If Birdie cries, Grayson cries. If they both cry, guess who else cries...yep. Me. The poor dog must think we are all losing our minds, which is only partially false!
If I can offer one piece of advice to people who have never been through a deployment: if you don't know what to say, please for the love of all that's good, just don't talk. I swear, if I have to see one more "sympathy face" I may get physically ill. I know you mean well - and I don't doubt your sincerity. It's just that you don't really get it. And to be honest, I hope you never do. I don't wish this on anyone.
Just be patient with us as we adjust.
We are struggling. Life at Casa de Brightwell isn't quite sunshine and rainbows these days. It's actually more hissy fits and warranted tears. Brantley misses her daddy; I miss him, too. Can somebody please tell me how to properly explain to a 3-year-old that daddy is working...for a really long time?! Can somebody please tell me how to tread water and survive the next few months without letting this empty feeling swallow me whole?!
There are good days where the time passes quickly and I don't have much time to slow down and really think about it. But then there are days like today - days where I literally have to hold my breath just to make it through dinner. And days like today make me feel incredibly selfish. There are people going through things much worse right now, but sometimes it's hard to see beyond our walls. And inside these walls, there is one very precious baby girl curled up in a bed that her daddy won't sleep in for months. A precious baby girl who literally has to be peeled off me when I drop her off at daycare every morning - who knows daddy is "working" but doesn't understand why. I've lost count of the "I want my daddy" meltdowns. I've even lost count of my own "I want my husband" meltdowns.
I don't want pity, please don't mistake this for a pity-party. I only want the old "normal" back. Our new normal sucks, if I may be so frank. New normal is unfair to my children. New normal is already making me cold, numb.
I don't want him to worry. He has a very important job to do and his judgment can't for one second be clouded. Distractions are dangerous. I want him to think I have it all under control. But let's be honest - I don't. If he had a hidden camera view of our house from time to time, he'd certainly think we were coming apart at the seams! If Birdie cries, Grayson cries. If they both cry, guess who else cries...yep. Me. The poor dog must think we are all losing our minds, which is only partially false!
If I can offer one piece of advice to people who have never been through a deployment: if you don't know what to say, please for the love of all that's good, just don't talk. I swear, if I have to see one more "sympathy face" I may get physically ill. I know you mean well - and I don't doubt your sincerity. It's just that you don't really get it. And to be honest, I hope you never do. I don't wish this on anyone.
Just be patient with us as we adjust.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Brantley Says...
As much as I once enjoyed scrapbooking, I'm horrible at keeping a record of all the things my kids do. When I was pregnant with Brantley, my mother-in-law (you may know her as Visa) handed over a calendar of Jason's entire first year of life complete with every doctor visit (they were plentiful), every milestone, and even a photo of Jason when he had "the worst case of pink eye Dr. Marquis had ever seen."Apparently, I'm not a "details" kind of mother. I know when my babies were born, their birth weights, etc. but beyond that, things sadly start to run together. So I thought it might be fun to share some of the charming things that my little Bird says in her oh-so-grown-up manner. Keep in mind, she's 2 1/2...
"Hey, baby!" ... "Uhhhh, probry." ... "I need a little bip!" ... "I gonna git YOU booty." ... "Sophie, git in dis house and hush!" ... "I not like fish sticks." ... "Daddy, I gonna tell you mommy!" ... "Where's my lipstick?" ... "I goin' to Target. Be right back."
And my two favorites...
"I love YOU so much!" and "Mommy, you give me sugar right now!"
"I love YOU so much!" and "Mommy, you give me sugar right now!"
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I did. And I'm better for it.
The request was simple: pray for baby Justice Micah Perry.
I don't know the Perry family. Never met them, and without the help of profile pictures I probably wouldn't have been able to pick either of them out of a one-person line-up. But we have some mutual friends and every day I would see status updates on Facebook from a high school classmate about baby Justice.
Justice was born on Sept. 30th and from all visual accounts was a perfectly beautiful baby boy. But little Justice's heart wasn't quite perfect. Day after day, I saw posts from his father, Troy, about this surgery and that procedure...this level and that output. And with each post came a prayer request: pray for Justice, pray for the doctors and nurses and pray for God's will to be done. There's a hard lesson in those last few words. Never for pray for God's will to be done unless you are fully willing to accept that His will is not always our will.
I watched the Facebook group "Pray for Justice Micah Perry" for a few days, seeing posts by more than 3,000 people who chose to "suit up" as prayer warriors for this precious baby and his family. I saw Troy's posts and not once did I see a selfish prayer from him. He didn't ask the group to pray that Justice's heart would be healed so that he could grow up and play baseball and ride a bicycle. He didn't ask the group to pray that this process would all just be over so they could go home and love on their baby boy. No. He asked the group to pray for God's will.
On Friday, Oct. 28th, God's will was done. Justice was called home to be with his Heavenly Daddy. Troy's post announcing Justice's passing read, "To God be all the glory." Those words echoed through my head along with the sound of my own sobs. In that moment, all my troubles seemed so insignificant. This man just lost his baby. He had every right to be angry and bitter, but he wasn't. He was praising his Father for Justice's short life - a life that brought together more than 3,000 people in prayer. A life that brought people closer to God. A life that, in my mommy-opinion, ended all too soon.
Troy posted again on Friday night, and more tears fell.
"Tonight there are no prayer requests for Justice. There are no beeps to listen to. There are no gases to check. There are no monitors to watch. Tonight Justice is dancing around the throne of God with a complete and new heart. Justice will not have to have any more surgeries. Justice will not have to take medicine to help his heart function. Tonight Justice is in the presence of the Almighty One."
I wasn't crying for Justice. I was crying for Troy, his wife Sara and their son Noah. I was crying because I couldn't imagine the pain they were feeling. And I was crying because I knew that if I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be that strong. If tragedy struck my life, I don't think I would have the faith to make it through. For the next couple of days, I took a good long look at my list of so-called priorities. Laughable. Insignificant. Shameful.
Troy's post went on to ask for prayer for the doctors and nurses that had cared for little Justice - prayers that they not feel guilt or shame for not being able to heal Justice's heart. He asked people to pray for the other babies on the 5th floor of Vanderbilt Hospital, for their healing and for their families. Troy understood.
Justice was only here for 28 days because that's all the time it took for God to work through him. And when His work was done, He simply said, "Okay, buddy, good job. Let's go home!" Then it dawned on me that the only reason we are all still here is because God isn't done with us yet! One gentleman posted his condolences and said that "God has only three answers to our prayers: yes; not now; and I have a better idea." God had a better idea for Justice and the Perry family. He had another purpose. And while I don't yet know what His "better idea" might be for me, I do know that because of the life of Justice and the awesome faith, strength and testimony of Troy and Sara Perry, I will hold my babies tighter, love stronger and let go of those trivial things that don't really matter.
I pray that God will use me and my family for His purpose, whatever it may be. I pray that God will wrap His arms around the Perry family as they bury their son today. And I pray that God will use us all for His glory - just as He used Justice. Thank you, Troy and Sara, for sharing your journey and Justice's life with us all. And thank you for showing unwavering faith through this trial. It has truly been a blessing and an inspiration.
"For I am convinced that neither life nor death, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." -Romans 8:38-39
I don't know the Perry family. Never met them, and without the help of profile pictures I probably wouldn't have been able to pick either of them out of a one-person line-up. But we have some mutual friends and every day I would see status updates on Facebook from a high school classmate about baby Justice.
Justice was born on Sept. 30th and from all visual accounts was a perfectly beautiful baby boy. But little Justice's heart wasn't quite perfect. Day after day, I saw posts from his father, Troy, about this surgery and that procedure...this level and that output. And with each post came a prayer request: pray for Justice, pray for the doctors and nurses and pray for God's will to be done. There's a hard lesson in those last few words. Never for pray for God's will to be done unless you are fully willing to accept that His will is not always our will.
I watched the Facebook group "Pray for Justice Micah Perry" for a few days, seeing posts by more than 3,000 people who chose to "suit up" as prayer warriors for this precious baby and his family. I saw Troy's posts and not once did I see a selfish prayer from him. He didn't ask the group to pray that Justice's heart would be healed so that he could grow up and play baseball and ride a bicycle. He didn't ask the group to pray that this process would all just be over so they could go home and love on their baby boy. No. He asked the group to pray for God's will.
On Friday, Oct. 28th, God's will was done. Justice was called home to be with his Heavenly Daddy. Troy's post announcing Justice's passing read, "To God be all the glory." Those words echoed through my head along with the sound of my own sobs. In that moment, all my troubles seemed so insignificant. This man just lost his baby. He had every right to be angry and bitter, but he wasn't. He was praising his Father for Justice's short life - a life that brought together more than 3,000 people in prayer. A life that brought people closer to God. A life that, in my mommy-opinion, ended all too soon.
Troy posted again on Friday night, and more tears fell.
"Tonight there are no prayer requests for Justice. There are no beeps to listen to. There are no gases to check. There are no monitors to watch. Tonight Justice is dancing around the throne of God with a complete and new heart. Justice will not have to have any more surgeries. Justice will not have to take medicine to help his heart function. Tonight Justice is in the presence of the Almighty One."
I wasn't crying for Justice. I was crying for Troy, his wife Sara and their son Noah. I was crying because I couldn't imagine the pain they were feeling. And I was crying because I knew that if I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be that strong. If tragedy struck my life, I don't think I would have the faith to make it through. For the next couple of days, I took a good long look at my list of so-called priorities. Laughable. Insignificant. Shameful.
Troy's post went on to ask for prayer for the doctors and nurses that had cared for little Justice - prayers that they not feel guilt or shame for not being able to heal Justice's heart. He asked people to pray for the other babies on the 5th floor of Vanderbilt Hospital, for their healing and for their families. Troy understood.
Justice was only here for 28 days because that's all the time it took for God to work through him. And when His work was done, He simply said, "Okay, buddy, good job. Let's go home!" Then it dawned on me that the only reason we are all still here is because God isn't done with us yet! One gentleman posted his condolences and said that "God has only three answers to our prayers: yes; not now; and I have a better idea." God had a better idea for Justice and the Perry family. He had another purpose. And while I don't yet know what His "better idea" might be for me, I do know that because of the life of Justice and the awesome faith, strength and testimony of Troy and Sara Perry, I will hold my babies tighter, love stronger and let go of those trivial things that don't really matter.
I pray that God will use me and my family for His purpose, whatever it may be. I pray that God will wrap His arms around the Perry family as they bury their son today. And I pray that God will use us all for His glory - just as He used Justice. Thank you, Troy and Sara, for sharing your journey and Justice's life with us all. And thank you for showing unwavering faith through this trial. It has truly been a blessing and an inspiration.
"For I am convinced that neither life nor death, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." -Romans 8:38-39
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Birdie's Big Girl Bed
- Headboard & mattress set: $250
- Full-size quilt (which I assumed was "twin" because it was in a "twin" package): $29.99
- 3-D flower pillow: $24.99
- Polka dot sheets: $16.99
- Waking up at 12:09am with stinky, hot baby breath in your face saying, "Mommy, I wanna git in you bed!" ...Priceless!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
In the Cards
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11
From the very beginning of my pregnancy with Grayson, I called him my surprise. A friend commented very early on that sometimes God gives us what we need rather than what we want. Now as I sit here at my kitchen table listening to the click-clack of the baby swing in the living room, I know just how true that statement was.
Even though I didn't recognize it as God's plan at the time, I can't imagine our lives without Grayson. He's only been here a week and he has already added something to our family that I didn't know was missing. I've realized he was in the plan for us the entire time...I just hadn't bothered to read that far ahead! Grayson needed us and we needed him. It was already in the cards!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Finding Nebo
In my 28 years of life, I've never lived outside the great state of Alabama, which means I am no longer caught off guard by three things: unbearable humidity, tornado season and Dan Satterfield. I knew storms were coming last night, mainly because my grandmother doubles as a weather radio! Since there's really nothing I can personally do to combat a tornado, I went to bed and told my 3rd shift husband to call me if I needed to scoop up the baby and crawl in a closet. No phone call = no danger.
All was fine and good until about 11:30. Okay, so I'm going to assume that you have all taken your car through a gas station car wash. You know the sound of the air and water pounding against your car? That was the sound against my bedroom window. I picked up my phone to text the hubs. "What's going on with the weather?" I asked. "Raining," was the response I got. Well, thank you Captain Obvious. So I got out of bed and turned on Doppler Dan to get the scoop.
If you aren't from North Alabama, there's no way you can possibly appreciate the utter passion local meteorologist Dan Satterfield has for severe weather. He eats, sleeps and breathes watches and warnings. It didn't take long for me to realize that the carwash sound was really the worst of it for Hartselle and that we weren't in any real danger. But I stayed glued to the tube for a few more minutes because as the storm moved out of Morgan County and into Madison and Marshall, the names of the communities in the line of fire got more and more interesting. I began texting JB just to ask him if he'd ever heard of these places...Nebo, Fishtrap Ford, Blackankle, Cushion, Hebron. But it may have actually been funnier just watching Doppler Dan struggle with some of these no-stop-light communities, or skip pronouncing them altogether for fear of saying them incorrectly.
So while I'm glad last night didn't spawn too much tornadic activity for NA, I'm sure happy I didn't miss an ever important geography lesson for my home state.
All was fine and good until about 11:30. Okay, so I'm going to assume that you have all taken your car through a gas station car wash. You know the sound of the air and water pounding against your car? That was the sound against my bedroom window. I picked up my phone to text the hubs. "What's going on with the weather?" I asked. "Raining," was the response I got. Well, thank you Captain Obvious. So I got out of bed and turned on Doppler Dan to get the scoop.
If you aren't from North Alabama, there's no way you can possibly appreciate the utter passion local meteorologist Dan Satterfield has for severe weather. He eats, sleeps and breathes watches and warnings. It didn't take long for me to realize that the carwash sound was really the worst of it for Hartselle and that we weren't in any real danger. But I stayed glued to the tube for a few more minutes because as the storm moved out of Morgan County and into Madison and Marshall, the names of the communities in the line of fire got more and more interesting. I began texting JB just to ask him if he'd ever heard of these places...Nebo, Fishtrap Ford, Blackankle, Cushion, Hebron. But it may have actually been funnier just watching Doppler Dan struggle with some of these no-stop-light communities, or skip pronouncing them altogether for fear of saying them incorrectly.
So while I'm glad last night didn't spawn too much tornadic activity for NA, I'm sure happy I didn't miss an ever important geography lesson for my home state.
Monday, February 14, 2011
And He Shall Be...
As of today, I'm 33 weeks pregnant. That's 8 months and 1 week in case you're terrible at math. And in my nearly 28 years of life, I don't think I've ever taken as much time making a decision as I have in naming this baby. In my defense, naming a boy is tough. Let's face it, boys are stuck with their name forever. Girls at least have a "drop the middle or maiden name" option should they get married. But not boys. Without legal name changes, the name on their birth certificate will be the name on their head stone.
Jason and I started out with good intentions, each making lists of names we liked to see if any matched. Nope. It ended up in a battle of wills to see who could hold out the longest without giving in. I can only imagine now how my mother must have felt when she wanted to name my brother Zeke and my dad wouldn't have it. But after all, it was 1990 and Zeke was the lead man in a TV show "Tour of Duty."
So after literally months of deliberation and striking names off one another's lists one-by-one (no seriously, we marked names off with a pen), we have a name for our soon-to-be-here baby boy.
We can't wait for Grayson Rhys Brightwell to make his appearance so that you all can love him as much as we already do!
Jason and I started out with good intentions, each making lists of names we liked to see if any matched. Nope. It ended up in a battle of wills to see who could hold out the longest without giving in. I can only imagine now how my mother must have felt when she wanted to name my brother Zeke and my dad wouldn't have it. But after all, it was 1990 and Zeke was the lead man in a TV show "Tour of Duty."
So after literally months of deliberation and striking names off one another's lists one-by-one (no seriously, we marked names off with a pen), we have a name for our soon-to-be-here baby boy.
We can't wait for Grayson Rhys Brightwell to make his appearance so that you all can love him as much as we already do!
Friday, January 28, 2011
And You Are???
There are many things, as you can imagine, that really get "stuck in my crawl" as some would say. One of those such things is maiden names, or rather the lack thereof, on FB.
Now I'll be the first to tell you that I'm just about as traditional as traditional can be when it comes to getting married. For all legal purposes, I dropped my maiden name like a hot tamale to become Mrs. Brightwell (although I think of my MIL when Mrs. Brightwell is tossed around). But when my darling friend Amanda Smith came to me shortly after my nuptials saying, "You've got to check out this Facebook thing!" I quickly enrolled as Tiffany Brasher Brightwell.
Here's my theory:
If we were high school classmates who haven't seen each other in a month of Sundays, I don't know you by your husband's name - especially if you married some boy - Heaven forbid - from outside Morgan County. I understand that we may have originally entered into a FB friend commitment before your wedded bliss. But if you a) got married and totally removed your maiden name from your profile, b) lost 50 pounds and don't look a thing like you did in high school, or c) use only a picture of your children - I'm not judging because I've done it too - for your profile picture, chances are I don't know you from Adam's house cat!
So ladies, please do the entire world a favor and leave your maiden name on FB when you get married. I know it would make my life easier. And let's be honest, isn't that what it's really all about? Y'all have a good weekend and call your mama & 'em to check in!
Now I'll be the first to tell you that I'm just about as traditional as traditional can be when it comes to getting married. For all legal purposes, I dropped my maiden name like a hot tamale to become Mrs. Brightwell (although I think of my MIL when Mrs. Brightwell is tossed around). But when my darling friend Amanda Smith came to me shortly after my nuptials saying, "You've got to check out this Facebook thing!" I quickly enrolled as Tiffany Brasher Brightwell.
Here's my theory:
If we were high school classmates who haven't seen each other in a month of Sundays, I don't know you by your husband's name - especially if you married some boy - Heaven forbid - from outside Morgan County. I understand that we may have originally entered into a FB friend commitment before your wedded bliss. But if you a) got married and totally removed your maiden name from your profile, b) lost 50 pounds and don't look a thing like you did in high school, or c) use only a picture of your children - I'm not judging because I've done it too - for your profile picture, chances are I don't know you from Adam's house cat!
So ladies, please do the entire world a favor and leave your maiden name on FB when you get married. I know it would make my life easier. And let's be honest, isn't that what it's really all about? Y'all have a good weekend and call your mama & 'em to check in!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Milk Cows are for Milk
Today is my darling husband's 26th birthday. We celebrated last night with dinner at Connor's Steakhouse. Thank goodness for reservations, because we were at our table in no time flat. The waiter came to take our order and I didn't even need the menu. I had been thinking about the meal all day. House salad with ranch dressing. A 6 0z. Oscar filet cooked medium. Cheese grits. Now, I'm sure I'll catch some flack from all you who believe pregnant women have to eat steak well-done. Well in my humble opinion, a well-done steak isn't fit for human consumption.
The meal arrived quickly and our dinner conversation went from the crying little girl who had to be escorted out by her several-months-pregnant mother (sounds familiar, huh) to the quality of the food. For those of you who think we must have the most interesting dinner conversations ever, I hate to burst your bubble. Let me just break it down for you:
Me: Oh dear lord this steak is fantastic (as I push the asparagus aside).
J: Mine too.
Me: I wonder where they get their steak?
J: Not Wal-Mart. Hey, do you think we should buy a cow and have it slaughtered for steaks like this?
Me: What kind of cow?
J: I dunno (with a shoulder shrug). A brown one I guess. Or maybe a milk cow.
Me: That's just dumb. Milk cows are for milk, not steak.
And that's pretty much how are date night went! By the way, the baby loved that I fed him steak for dinner and kicked happily all the way home. Maybe I can use him as my tool to get Connor's more often!
The meal arrived quickly and our dinner conversation went from the crying little girl who had to be escorted out by her several-months-pregnant mother (sounds familiar, huh) to the quality of the food. For those of you who think we must have the most interesting dinner conversations ever, I hate to burst your bubble. Let me just break it down for you:
Me: Oh dear lord this steak is fantastic (as I push the asparagus aside).
J: Mine too.
Me: I wonder where they get their steak?
J: Not Wal-Mart. Hey, do you think we should buy a cow and have it slaughtered for steaks like this?
Me: What kind of cow?
J: I dunno (with a shoulder shrug). A brown one I guess. Or maybe a milk cow.
Me: That's just dumb. Milk cows are for milk, not steak.
And that's pretty much how are date night went! By the way, the baby loved that I fed him steak for dinner and kicked happily all the way home. Maybe I can use him as my tool to get Connor's more often!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Adventures in Potty Training
Personally, I think 19 months is too young to try this whole potty training thing, but sometimes kids just get things stuck in their heads and you can't fight it. But OH how I'd love to decrease our diaper-spending...especially since diaper consumer #2 is soon on his way!
Birdie has fallen in love with sitting on the potty like a big girl. So I broke down and bought a cute little pink potty seat that fits on the big toilet seat, thus keeping little booties from having a splash landing. I must say that I am appalled by the thought of one of those seats you have to empty and clean out after each go 'round. Yuck. I'd much rather flush the thing and be done with it.
So when she gets home from "skoo" every afternoon, she runs to us and screams "I Potty I Potty I Potty" until someone takes to her sit on the throne. This is typically repeated every 15-20 minutes. I'm telling you the child is determined. Keep in mind that we're just beginning to grasp the concept of what it actually means to "I Potty" so she's usually running on empty (if you're picking up what I'm putting down). But last night was different. Last night we celebrated a small victory. On one of our many "I Potty" runs, an actual potty occurred. I was parked in my usual spot on the couch watching The Sing Off (don't you judge me, lest ye shall be judged also) and heard "TIFFANY COME HEEEERE!" from the bathroom. And pretty as you please, Birdie is perched on her pink seat grinning ear to ear saying "I Potty!" Don't worry folks. She was handsomely rewarded with leftover Halloween Smarties.
I can't believe how fast my little bird is growing up. It seems as though I just brought her home from the hospital last week...sniff sniff. But such is life! And I wouldn't trade these days for anything. In fact, I think it will only get better (at least until she turns 13)!
Birdie has fallen in love with sitting on the potty like a big girl. So I broke down and bought a cute little pink potty seat that fits on the big toilet seat, thus keeping little booties from having a splash landing. I must say that I am appalled by the thought of one of those seats you have to empty and clean out after each go 'round. Yuck. I'd much rather flush the thing and be done with it.
So when she gets home from "skoo" every afternoon, she runs to us and screams "I Potty I Potty I Potty" until someone takes to her sit on the throne. This is typically repeated every 15-20 minutes. I'm telling you the child is determined. Keep in mind that we're just beginning to grasp the concept of what it actually means to "I Potty" so she's usually running on empty (if you're picking up what I'm putting down). But last night was different. Last night we celebrated a small victory. On one of our many "I Potty" runs, an actual potty occurred. I was parked in my usual spot on the couch watching The Sing Off (don't you judge me, lest ye shall be judged also) and heard "TIFFANY COME HEEEERE!" from the bathroom. And pretty as you please, Birdie is perched on her pink seat grinning ear to ear saying "I Potty!" Don't worry folks. She was handsomely rewarded with leftover Halloween Smarties.
I can't believe how fast my little bird is growing up. It seems as though I just brought her home from the hospital last week...sniff sniff. But such is life! And I wouldn't trade these days for anything. In fact, I think it will only get better (at least until she turns 13)!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Oh Boy!
I thought I'd take a minute and introduce the world to our baby boy! He doesn't have a name yet since no compromise has been reached. I figure we'll have to come up with something soon since they won't let us leave the hospital with a nameless baby. I can already tell he has big feet like his daddy...that probably won't hurt when it comes to kicking a soccer ball around!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
A Mommy's Resume
I was going through some files on my computer the other day and came across my professional resume. Since having a child, I've decided that I should update the section that lists my job skills. Here's what I think I should add:
- Can change a diaper at 2:04 a.m. in total darkness
- Can identify all matters of stains and suggest proper stain removal solutions (and if those don't work, throw the dern thing in the trash and go on with your life)
- Bilingual (fluent in both English and Toddler)
- Excellent multi-tasker (can feed self with right hand, child with left hand and still manage to slip food to bulldog under the table)
- Works well and remains calm under pressure (because you haven't lived until you've tried to Christmas shop with a toddler who's pitching a royal hissy fit so bad that you think she might actually throw up if she doesn't stop screaming...that pretty much sums up my last voyage to TJ Maxx)
I'd also like to add in there somewhere that I manage to clean the house enough to make sure stuff isn't growing on any surface, provide some form of dinner (and frozen fish sticks count), kiss the husband, kiss the baby, kiss the bulldog (in whatever order is necessary) all while keeping up with a career! I'm just not sure which section of a resume that goes in.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Things I Learned in the South
This one comes via an email courtesy of the Boss Man's wife. True Southerners will most likely nod their heads in agreement to each statement.
- A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.
- If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite ya.
- "Onced" and "twiced" are words.
- It's not a shopping cart. It's a buggy.
- People actually grow and eat okra.
- "Fixinto" is one word that means preparing to do something.
- There is no such thing as lunch. There is dinner, and then there's supper.
- Sweet tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two.
- "Backwards n forwards" means knowing everything about someone.
- You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or until it's too dark to see.
- You don't push buttons, you mash them.
- Distance is measured in minutes.
- You switch from heat to A/C in the same day...quite often in fact.
- All festivals are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain or animal.
- You know what a dawg is.
- You carry jumper cables in your car - for your own car.
- You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Tony's, Tabasco and ketchup.
- The local papers cover national and international news on one page but require six pages for high school sports, NASCAR and gossip (known locally as the Riverfront and Chatterbox sections).
- You think the first day of deer season is a national holiday. Wait, it isn't?
- You find 100 degrees a bit warm.
- The four seasons are almost summer, summer, still summer and Christmas.
- You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good stew weather.
- Fried catfish is the other white meat.
I hope you've enjoyed these Southernisms. I'm off now to pack for a trip to Gatlinburg for Thanksgiving...the redneck riviera of the Smokey Mountains! I hope you enjoy your turkey and sweet potato casserole this week. Kiss your babies and count your blessings!
Monday, November 22, 2010
You Know You Live in Bama When...
Okay, so I know I should be working but I just had to share this with all of y'all (yes that is proper Alabama grammar). This little feller was apparently killed today by a Decatur Parks and Rec worker while mowing the grass around the Point Mallard Golf Course. I don't know what kind of snake it is, but in my book the only good snake is a dead snake. I do, however, know the following... You know you live in Alabama when:
a) even the guys who cut grass for a living are this good-looking
b) you wear shorts and snake boots together and nobody gives you a second glance
c) the grass isn't brown and still needs to be mowed in November
d) you hold up a hacked-apart snake on a stick for your buddies to take pictures.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Halfway to Hatching
It's official. I'm halfway there (I could easily slip into a Bon Jovi song here but I'll spare you all of that). I'm now 20 weeks and 4 days and counting. As I sit here scratching my growing belly (it's at the starting-to-itch point) I'm completely stressing out about naming this child.
I guess I should mention that we don't know yet whether it will be an "innie" or an "outie", as so lovingly coined by SOP with her first pregnancy. My docs have apparently taken two weeks vacation, so we won't know the gender until after Thanksgiving. I sincerely hope none of their patients go into labor over the holiday...I'm afraid nobody would be there to catch the baby!
So for now, JB and I will just argue about what name to give the child. I can't believe the names some people stick on their precious little babies. It's a stressful decision - this is something the child will carry throughout life unless they seek the help of a lawyer to change it when they get old enough. Family names are coming up pretty much a bust for us. Sorry Visa (grandma Diane) but there's no way I'll name a child Jason Earl Jr. I'm convinced Poppa (grandpa Earl) must have filled out that birth certificate paperwork while she was recovering from the c-section meds.
Naming Birdie was easy. She has my first name, a tradition I wasn't about to break since every first daughter has the same name pre-dating the American Revolution. I fell in love with the name Brantley the minute I met one of JB's basic training buddies, so that one was a given. And her third name comes from my Nanny. We never for one second could agree on a boy's name, so I guess it's a good thing she was an "innie."
I'm not sure what we'll do if baby #2 is an "outie." And I'm really afraid that may be the case this time around. Everything about this pregnancy is different from my first, which isn't altogether bad. I was miserable from day 1 with Birdie. I was enormous and my nose got so wide you could've parked a Greyhound bus inside it. I lost my ankles and my ability to wear real shoes 3 1/2 months before she arrived. For crying out loud, I gained 59 pounds!
This one has been relatively easy so far. My trips to the head for morning sickness (which really should just be called all day sickness) only lasted four months instead of five. I've only gained about 5 pounds and I still have skinny ankles. However, my skin has decided to revolt in a way that it never did the first time around. And my hormones have made me a raving lunatic, which I'm sure my husband enjoys. But I guess we'll know whether to buy pink or blue in 9 days...unless of course the baby decides to hide. In which case I may show up at the OB's office daily until we know for sure!
I guess I should mention that we don't know yet whether it will be an "innie" or an "outie", as so lovingly coined by SOP with her first pregnancy. My docs have apparently taken two weeks vacation, so we won't know the gender until after Thanksgiving. I sincerely hope none of their patients go into labor over the holiday...I'm afraid nobody would be there to catch the baby!
So for now, JB and I will just argue about what name to give the child. I can't believe the names some people stick on their precious little babies. It's a stressful decision - this is something the child will carry throughout life unless they seek the help of a lawyer to change it when they get old enough. Family names are coming up pretty much a bust for us. Sorry Visa (grandma Diane) but there's no way I'll name a child Jason Earl Jr. I'm convinced Poppa (grandpa Earl) must have filled out that birth certificate paperwork while she was recovering from the c-section meds.
Naming Birdie was easy. She has my first name, a tradition I wasn't about to break since every first daughter has the same name pre-dating the American Revolution. I fell in love with the name Brantley the minute I met one of JB's basic training buddies, so that one was a given. And her third name comes from my Nanny. We never for one second could agree on a boy's name, so I guess it's a good thing she was an "innie."
I'm not sure what we'll do if baby #2 is an "outie." And I'm really afraid that may be the case this time around. Everything about this pregnancy is different from my first, which isn't altogether bad. I was miserable from day 1 with Birdie. I was enormous and my nose got so wide you could've parked a Greyhound bus inside it. I lost my ankles and my ability to wear real shoes 3 1/2 months before she arrived. For crying out loud, I gained 59 pounds!
This one has been relatively easy so far. My trips to the head for morning sickness (which really should just be called all day sickness) only lasted four months instead of five. I've only gained about 5 pounds and I still have skinny ankles. However, my skin has decided to revolt in a way that it never did the first time around. And my hormones have made me a raving lunatic, which I'm sure my husband enjoys. But I guess we'll know whether to buy pink or blue in 9 days...unless of course the baby decides to hide. In which case I may show up at the OB's office daily until we know for sure!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Quick! Hide the Ruby Slippers!
When the tornado sirens went off at approximately 3am this morning, I honestly thought I'd made a poor decision in dressing Brantley as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz for Halloween. I half expected us to wake up this morning surrounded by a lion, tin man and scarecrow, being chased by a green witch.
Apparently many of my friends weren't privy to said siren and slept through the whole ordeal, which lasted all of about 3 minutes before the weatherman said the warning for Morgan County had been cancelled. I'm not pointing fingers, but the person responsible for sounding the alarm may have been just a little trigger-happy. And although the bulldog and I got out of bed to see what Jeff Castle had to say about the situation, my little Dorothy slept straight through the whole ordeal.
There's nothing like a good 'ole tornado warning to make you feel like a true Southerner! I remember being pulled out of bed on numerous occasions as a child to go and sit in a neighbor's storm shelter while we waited for a tornado that never came. I use that "shelter" term loosely, seeing as how it was basically a giant ant mound in their yard. You know the kind I'm talking about - they aren't actually even underground except for maybe a foot of dirt. Ah, a false sense of security will go so far in the South! As far as last night is concerned, I'm thankful there was no real threat and that everyone was safe. However, let's not sound those sirens unless I really need to drag my booty out of bed and take shelter in a closet. Otherwise, ignorance is truly bliss and I'd much prefer to just sleep through it all.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Virginia is for Lovers...Utah is for Lunatics
I often recall many words of wisdom given to our senior class by Mr. Hinkle as we sat in our economics class. Most of that wisdom had nothing to do with economics. He once said he'd like to designate a geographical location where we could round up all the "crazy folks" and send them there to live so that nobody else would have to deal with them. Well, I think his dream has come true and it's called Utah.
I would like to shamefully admit that I was sucked in by TLC's "Sister Wives" over the past few weeks. I don't know how, but it just happened. In case you missed this series on the Browns, a polygamist family from (you guessed it) Utah, I'll give you the rundown on the cast of characters.
Kody (The Patriarch): not raised in a polygamist family, chose the lifestyle as a teen, ego the size of Alaska, trying entirely too hard to hold onto his youth with his choice of hairstyle and facial hair...what do you call a goatee that doesn't have a mustache?
Meri (Wife #1): married to Kody 20 years, raised in a 5-wife family, married Kody when he was still a shiny-faced kid, wears the pants in the family, is responsible for "recruiting" other wives, obviously insane.
Janelle (Wife #2): married to Kody 17 years, mother of 5 of the Brown's brood, drank the Kool-Aid, sacrificed friends and family to join the polygamist lifestyle, obviously content to work all day and let Wife #3 do the cooking and child-rearing.
Christine (Wife #3): married to Kody 16 years, mother of 6, always wanted to be the 3rd wife in a family, the only stay-at-home wife, must be a hippie burn-out because she gives her kids names like Aspyn and Truly.
Robyn (and here's where it got interesting): being courted by Kody, becomes wife #4 in final episode, mother of 3 from previous marriage, the boat rocker.
The whole series focuses on this family and the changes they go through adding a fourth wife and her kids to the already enormous family. Kody divides his time evenly among the wives, staying with a different one every night (I mean, he must really think he's a stud), all the while driving four hours to a different city to take Robyn out on dates. This man must have a time machine! There's no way I could keep up with a schedule like that!
Along the way, we learn that Meri (#1) actually met Robyn at a gathering and suggested to her husband that he explore a relationship with her. What kind of wife purposefully hooks her husband up with younger, more attractive women? Anyway, the final episode was last night and it ended with the wedding of Kody to Harem Member #4 and chronicled the jealousy of the other wives along the way. Here's my point in the whole thing: if you as a woman are going to willingly enter a polygamist relationship, don't get angry at the man when he starts shacking up with another woman. You brought this on yourself, girlfriend.
So Mr. Hinkle, you were too late. By the time you made the suggestion to gather up the crazies in 2000, Utah had already been a state for 104 years. And I probably shouldn't make such broad generalizations about the citizens of Utah, but since the Browns are my only reference point, I'm going to jump out on a limb and say that Utah is officially for the insane!
I would like to shamefully admit that I was sucked in by TLC's "Sister Wives" over the past few weeks. I don't know how, but it just happened. In case you missed this series on the Browns, a polygamist family from (you guessed it) Utah, I'll give you the rundown on the cast of characters.
Kody (The Patriarch): not raised in a polygamist family, chose the lifestyle as a teen, ego the size of Alaska, trying entirely too hard to hold onto his youth with his choice of hairstyle and facial hair...what do you call a goatee that doesn't have a mustache?
Meri (Wife #1): married to Kody 20 years, raised in a 5-wife family, married Kody when he was still a shiny-faced kid, wears the pants in the family, is responsible for "recruiting" other wives, obviously insane.
Janelle (Wife #2): married to Kody 17 years, mother of 5 of the Brown's brood, drank the Kool-Aid, sacrificed friends and family to join the polygamist lifestyle, obviously content to work all day and let Wife #3 do the cooking and child-rearing.
Christine (Wife #3): married to Kody 16 years, mother of 6, always wanted to be the 3rd wife in a family, the only stay-at-home wife, must be a hippie burn-out because she gives her kids names like Aspyn and Truly.
Robyn (and here's where it got interesting): being courted by Kody, becomes wife #4 in final episode, mother of 3 from previous marriage, the boat rocker.
The whole series focuses on this family and the changes they go through adding a fourth wife and her kids to the already enormous family. Kody divides his time evenly among the wives, staying with a different one every night (I mean, he must really think he's a stud), all the while driving four hours to a different city to take Robyn out on dates. This man must have a time machine! There's no way I could keep up with a schedule like that!
Along the way, we learn that Meri (#1) actually met Robyn at a gathering and suggested to her husband that he explore a relationship with her. What kind of wife purposefully hooks her husband up with younger, more attractive women? Anyway, the final episode was last night and it ended with the wedding of Kody to Harem Member #4 and chronicled the jealousy of the other wives along the way. Here's my point in the whole thing: if you as a woman are going to willingly enter a polygamist relationship, don't get angry at the man when he starts shacking up with another woman. You brought this on yourself, girlfriend.
So Mr. Hinkle, you were too late. By the time you made the suggestion to gather up the crazies in 2000, Utah had already been a state for 104 years. And I probably shouldn't make such broad generalizations about the citizens of Utah, but since the Browns are my only reference point, I'm going to jump out on a limb and say that Utah is officially for the insane!
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