How can I be Better?

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When we’re both standing, he comes up to my chest, but lounging on the couch we don’t notice. No, on the couch, he leans into my shoulder like he used to as a chubby baby, and his 6-year old lanky legs drape over my blanket-wrapped ones, and our oldest still seems, well, little.  A couch and a blanket and snuggling with …

Just another day(s) at the Pogue Cottage

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Not sure if someone spiked the water at school but for the last week Bryan and I have collapsed on the couch staring into nothingness, as we wait for our heart rates to resume because our boys are testing every.last.fiber.of.our.beings. It vacillates from laughing to crying, to jaw-clenching, to eye-rolling (which Ty caught me doing) to quietly rocking in the corner while …

Oh how they Grow

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It was during communion at church that I saw him. Voices sang “Center” in unison, and people formed lines to break bread and remember. Oh Christ be the center of our lives Be the place we fix our eyes Be the center of our lives Tall. How tall he is now. Donned in skinny jeans and a plaid flannel, his hair is …

As you sleep

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Hours after brother chatter fades and dreams come, I turn on the hall light and tip-toe to the bottom bunk where you sleep.

A dim glow falls across your face and I bend knees to peer close.

Instantly, heart-a-swell, I’m overwhelmed. By you. Our son. Our Ty.

“It’s Not Fair”

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We are driving home from a Spring Pre-School Concert, the kind where one son stands in the back row singing quietly, hand motions below the neck line. Keepin’ it cool. Our youngest, typically a ham for entertainment refuses to perform when all eyes are in his direction, and so he didn’t. At all.

Somehow in the fuss of class practices, the idea transpired that when the concert concluded, all parents were treating their children to yogurt. I had not received the memo and had other dessert plans. Numero Uno is not a fan of our alternative decision.

And so it goes down like this:

The Mom Workout- My Messy Beautiful

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I love Glennon at Momastery for a myriad of reasons, but mostly for her she-has-me-in-stitches humor, the bravery in which she shares her stories, and her raw, gut-honest words. We’ll be friends one day, but until then, I was inspired to join her Messy, Beautiful Warriors Project, where writers and bloggers from all over, share the truth of their story as a reminder that WE ARE IN THIS CRAZY MOM ADVENTURE TOGETHER. If you have a story to tell about life, faith, friendship, or parenting, by all means, join us! CLICK HERE!

{This essay will appear on Momastery- check it out!}

Bully for You

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It happened at the park with some friends. The older ones were racing around the structure, pretending to be “Sonic.” Yes, folks, Sonic the Hedgehog is back {insert “I feel old thoughts”} One little munch was playing in the sand, while Ty was circling two boys like a vulture. His face determinedly brazen: “You are my chosen park playmates and I will be joining you both.”

They, on the other hand, were not feeling the same.

How do babies come out?

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Was not prepared for this one, friends.

Maybe in a couple years, but now? Really?

And so we jumped in with both feet to the baby convo with our oldest.

It went like this: {nonchalantly} during a snack, with a full mouth of Cheez Itz, So mom, how do babies come out? Followed by quick pause, eyes boring into mine. And don’t tell me from your bellybutton because I’ve seen yours, and it’s not big enough for a baby to come out of.

Gone Missing

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When Tanner was 2 1/2, I went ahead and gave myself the worst Mother’s Day gift and lost him. You read that right- we lost him for the looooooongest + thirty minutes. You can read that stellar parenting post here.

Since then, I’ve pumped him {and now Ty} with our address, city, phone number, blood type, favorite band, etc. No but really, it made us aware of the importance of talking to our boys should they get lost or contemplate running away at some point. I’m pretty sure Ty would make it to Bermuda before he realized what had happened, while Tanner would consider all angles and decide disappearing to his room would suffice.

Does Size Matter?

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He’s three and not quite independent in the bathroom. He wants me far enough away to “give him space” but close enough to help should he desire my company.

Finishing, he looks down at his penis and back up at me. Tilting his head, his almond shaped eyes scrunch inward and the corners of his lips purse down. Tanner’s penis is bigger than mine. (Insert dramatic pause) I. so. sad.

I fall off the stool and simultaneously bite my lip to muffle explosive laughter.

Oh Ty.