A Glimpse into Poverty.

At our last Junior League meeting, our (fabulous, wonderful, amazing) president left us with some statistics and a challenge. It was really eye opening, so I wanted to share it with you.
Our mission is to serve the women and children of Angelina County. Our signature project, Back to School Bonanza, does just this.
Each year we provide at least 2,000 backpacks full of the necessary school supplies to begin the school year. Parents can bring their kids for: vision screening, head check, hearing screening, immunizations, hair cut, uniforms, and other things to help them kick their school year off right. 
Based on the data collected from Back to School Bonanza and income eligibility for our programs, the average income is calculated on a one parent household with three children. Assuming they are working 40 hours a week at minimum wage, their net income after withholding would be around $1,004.00 a month. Based on the SNAP (food stamp) program guidelines, they would qualify for about $347 a month, or 80.13 a week, in food stamps. 
So the challenge was to feed our family for a week on $80.
I thought that sounded easy enough. We usually eat dinner at my parents house on Mondays and with Clayton's parents one night a week. 
So I made my grocery list and I headed to the grocery store thinking "I've got this."
We eat pretty healthy (emphasis on pretty) in our house. I make most everything from scratch and we have cut out most processed foods, so the bulk of my groceries are bought in the produce and meat sections. 
I started off pretty well because produce is mostly inexpensive. 
Then I went for meat. That added a pretty hefty dollar amount to my basket. Do you know how much ground beef is?! I knew it was expensive, but I had never really paid attention to just how much it was because we don't eat a whole lot of it.
I got out of those sections mostly unscathed and headed for the dairy. I got my staples and then hit the aisles for the few things I needed. This is where a big realization hit.
Healthy food is expensive. My box of brown rice noodles was three times the price of good ol' enriched noodles.
I started walking the aisles and paying attention to the healthier options of things and noticing how much more expensive they are.
We tend to blame the obesity epidemic in the US on laziness and lack of education. And don't get me wrong, that is a BIG part of it. But how can families living below the poverty line justify spending an extra $3 on a box of healthier noodles?
My trips to the grocery store typically consist of me getting the things on my list and throwing anything else in the buggy that I decide I need while I'm there. We DO have a budget for groceries, but going over it by $5, $10 even $20 isn't the end of the world. For people living in poverty, it could mean not getting the electricity bill paid.
I managed to come in around $75. I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to get food for a week for that and it opened my eyes to my frivolous spending at the grocery store. BUT that did not include ANY household items. That was strictly food. And I did have to sacrifice some of our healthier options to stay under budget.
It was such a great experience and really gave me a glimpse into the lives of the people we serve. We are so willing to do so much for them, but it's hard to relate to them and I feel like this helped tremendously, and for that I am thankful! 
And just for fun, here is my $75 worth of groceries...

All the Judgy Parenting.

Can't we all just get along and live in peace and harmony? Okay, maybe that's a little extreme. But friends, for the love. Can't we at least just embrace our differences and stop all this judgy parenting?

 I feel like every time I turn around someone else has posted a judgmental parenting blog post/article/status on Facebook. Or even better, when someone posts something that they think is sweet or they can relate to, and someone posts a judgy comment on that.

We all parent differently. We are all different.

Does that make your parenting style the right one? No. No more than it makes me dragging my screaming child into the McDonald's bathroom to spank him yesterday the "right" parenting style.

Yes, I spanked him. Gasp. Maybe you don't believe in spanking. That's okay. I do. And that's okay too.

Sometimes I give my kid Oreo's for breakfast. Because you know what? I don't feel like fighting with him.

Sometimes I let him watch ten episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in one day. Because I need to get some things done.

Sometimes I let Gavin watch TV. Because some days it's the only thing that keeps him from crying.

 Sometimes we eat McDonald's and Chick-fil-A in the same day. (Maybe we did that yesterday.) Because I need to get out of the house.

Sometimes I throw random parties for him and a couple of his friends because I know it will absolutely make his day. Because I adore every inch of him and want to do things for him that he loves.

Sometimes I sit and snuggle with him and the baby on the couch instead of cleaning the house. Because I know that far too soon he will be too big to snuggle.

Maybe my house is a total disaster almost all the time. Because sometimes there are just things that are more important. And because I live with Hurricane Knox.

Sometimes he wears a bandana and a fireman hat to school. Because he just wants to.

Sometimes he shows the most amazing childlike faith and trust in God you've ever seen. Because really, we are good parents and do our best to raise our kids to be Godly people.

I don't go into the play place with him, because he has to learn to do things on his own.

I don't help him climb up the really high areas of the playground. And it's not because I'm lazy, so I don't need you to look judgingly my way while you help him either.

Maybe I'm sitting on the park bench playing on my phone while he plays and the baby sleeps. Because 85% of my conversation during the day is with a toddler. Sometimes I want to feel like an adult.

I don't make him give a toy to another child just because he/she wants it, because that is not real life. I do make him give it back if he takes it from them instead of blaming it on him being a child and not understanding.

Here is the most controversial one:

Sometimes, I let him play with my phone. But wait, I'll do you one even better. He has his own iPod (which is really just my old phone). Yep. You read that right. My two year old has his own iPod. 

He is incredibly smart. And I'm not saying that in a "my child is a genius" sort of way. It's just a fact. He is very, very smart. He has tons of education apps that he absolutely adores.

You know what he has learned from them? The alphabet. And the sound each letter makes. And within the next six months I have a sneaking suspicion he will start reading.

And numbers. And shapes. And animals.

And your mind would just be blown at how much he knows and how well spoken he is.

Don't get me wrong, he learns a LOT at Mother's Day Out. A whole lot.

But the fact of the matter is, I do not sit down and teach him these things. I am not a teacher. It is not my gift. We talk about things, but I do not teach him other than by our conversations and his observations of my life.

Maybe you sit down every day and do an alphabet lesson with your toddler. Maybe you homeschool your kids. I applaud you. Your parenting style is different than mine and I have so much respect for you.

But it doesn't make me a bad mom because I don't do those things.

Maybe you don't give your kid Oreo's for breakfast. Or at fast food. Or let them watch TV. Or let them have a phone at age two.

Maybe you do sit in the play area and climb around the playground equipment with your kids instead of playing mindlessly on your phone.

Maybe you make sure your house is clean before sitting down on the couch with your kids.

But you know what? It's okay. We are all okay.

We are all doing the very best we can to raise tiny humans to be good big humans. And we all do it differently.

My parenting style doesn't have to look like yours. You don't even have to like mine. And who's to say I like yours? But that doesn't matter. You do what works best for you and your children. And vice versa.

 Why can't we all just start respecting those differences and that we are all a mess?

And we just pray that by God's saving grace our kids will all turn out okay. And that's really the best we can do for them.

House Plans

If I said I haven't had time to blog lately, I'd be lying. The truth of the matter is, I am totally and completely exhausted. An almost three year old and a five month old is no joke, folks. And have I mentioned that the five month old hates me sleep? So there's that.

A lot of you have asked where Clayton and I are moving. So I thought I'd answer that for you. You might be wondering why that takes an entire blog post. Well here you go...

We have gone back and forth on what we want to do a million times. I grew up moving from house to house every couple of years. My parents mom enjoyed flipping houses, so that's what we did. I didn't know any different. Clayton on the other hand, only lived in a few houses throughout his life. The one he spent most of his childhood in, his parents still live in. He loves that place. It sits on 35 beautiful acres outside of town, and to him that is home. 

We have talked in the past about building a house somewhere else on that land, but it was always just an idea. It really boiled down to us just not being able to make a decision.

Fast forward a couple of years.

A few months ago, I started having really strong convictions about materialistic things. I have never been the person who had to have the best of the best or was always wanting something better. I consider myself to be a pretty simple person. Even still, I was feeling very convicted. We kept talking about how we needed a bigger house and we needed more land, and I just didn't have much peace about it.

I finally realized that we don't need a bigger house. We have two small children who are constantly under my feet, regardless of where I am. We eat dinner together as a family at the table. We spend our time together in the living room. We don't have TVs in any of our bedrooms. We don't even go into our bedrooms until it's time for bed. Really, we have plenty of space.

I spent a lot of time praying for God to guide us in the direction he wanted us to go. We knew it was getting to be time to move, we just didn't know where. We knew we would eventually end up in Diboll, and I want Knox to start school there if that is where he will end up.

A lot of people have preconceived notions of what it means to be a stay at home mom. The reality is, Clayton and I make a LOT of sacrifices for me to be able to stay home. We are a blue-collar, one income family. Our budget doesn't always work out on paper, but the Lord has provided for us for the almost two years that I've been staying home full-time. I wouldn't trade the time with my boys for anything, but sometimes the financial unknown is a scary thing.

 

We have so much to be thankful for, and we remind ourselves of that daily. We have a roof over our heads and we never go hungry. That's more than a lot of people can say. In 2012, 46.5 million people were living in poverty in the US. That is the largest number in all 54 years that the census has measured poverty. That is mind boggling. 46.5 million people.

 

Even still, it is so easy to get caught up in wanting more.

 

So there came another conviction. We could be doing so much more to help others. I finally realized that what I was really wanting, more than anything, was to not be tied to a mortgage anymore. I wanted the freedom to do more. Take our boys to see more things without worrying where the money was going to come from. But most importantly, I wanted to do more to help others. Those 46.5 million people living in poverty right in our own country. Every cent of our income goes to some bill or expense, and we decided it was time to change that. Our largest expense is our mortgage. So why not start there? I realize that sounds crazy. Stick with me.

Clayton got such a great deal on the house we are currently living in and we have put a whole lot of love and sweat equity into it. We stand to make a pretty good profit off of it when we do sell it. I looked at him one day a couple of months ago and said "I think we could build a house with the profits we make off of this one." He looked at me like I was crazy.

The more we talked, the more he understood my vision. He is incredibly handy. I am very resourceful (and handy). We can do a lot of the work ourselves. We can build a house that is big enough to suit our needs. In a few years, as we can afford it, we can add on the "extras" that we want.

We are so fortunate in that Clayton has incredibly generous, giving parents. When we presented our idea to them (which involved building said house on their land) they didn't even blink an eye before saying "absolutely."

We will be in the place that Clayton considers home. Knox will start school where we want him to. We will have a house that will meet our needs at this point in our lives. God provides.

So this is our little piece of paradise. It doesn't look like much now, but I can't wait to share the progress once we get the land cleared and get started!

And so the title of my blog holds true, everything I love is at the end of a dirt road.

 

What I Think About Your Boobs.

I keep seeing all of these blog posts about boobs. Boobs everywhere. I feel like my head has been spinning about all of this and I have so many thoughts about it all. So I'm going to share them with you. Not because my opinion matters, but because this is my blog and I can write about whatever I want. Including boobs.
The first post that was posted in my newsfeed was from a woman pleading with other women to stop posting their bikini pictures on Facebook. Do you want to know what stands out to me the very most from her post? The part where she says she is fighting for her marriage. 
I don't know anything about fighting for my marriage because Clayton and I haven't been through that. My guess is that most people read right past that part because they were too busy chastising this woman for writing a blog post telling women that her husband didn't need to see their boobs. 
She says she's not insecure, but if you were fighting for your marriage don't you think you would feel just a bit insecure? Don't you think you would subconsciously pick yourself apart and wonder what your husband no longer loved about you...even if the reason you were fighting for your marriage had nothing to do with your physical appearance?
Don't you think you'd be constantly wondering if he was looking at other women thinking about how you don't measure up?
I understand the point the woman was trying to make, but I also understand why it got people so upset.
All of that being said, I don't expect women to stop posting pictures of themselves in their swimsuits on social media. I trust my husband. But let's face it, we're human. If there's a picture of a woman with a great body in a swimsuit, do I naively think he just averts his eyes? No. Is it sinful? Yes. But not anymore sinful than the mega-overeating-binge eating myself into a coma-fest that I may have gone on the night before.
Now, the next post I read. This is the one that really gets me. I just read this one yesterday. I probably couldn't even find it again if I tried, nor do I want to. This one was in response to the original post. 
This girl picked apart the blog post sentence by sentence and repeatedly chastised this woman. It instantly made me sick to my stomach and broke my heart. I had to stop after something along the lines of "you are a terrible, miserable woman who will be cheated on in no time." Wow.
Instead of berating people, why not lift them up? Why not pray for them?
Everyone has an opinion, and here is mine. 
Do I care what kind of swimsuit you wear? No. Do I care if you post pictures of yourself on Facebook in said swimsuit? No. Am I going to judge you based on your swimsuit? No. Unless it's ugly. Then I might. (kidding.) Am I going to wear a bikini and post pictures of myself in it on Facebook? No.
As a married, God fearing woman (who also happens to have a not so rockin post baby body) I personally feel like it's disrespectful to my husband, to myself and to Jesus to do so. But like I said, that's my personal feeling. And it's okay if yours is different. This isn't about you. It's about me. And my world doesn't revolve around your beliefs and feelings.
But even more near and dear to me (and the point I'm trying to make), I feel I would be doing my children a disservice. 
Yes, I'm raising boys. With that, comes teaching them about relationships and about women. More importantly, SHOWING them about relationships. 
I want my boys to respect modesty in a woman. I want them to fully grasp the concept of the body being a temple. I want them to love women who respect themselves.
That looks different to everyone, and that's okay.
To me, that looks like wearing a more modest swimsuit in public. But it doesn't even stop there. It looks like wearing age appropriate clothes that aren't super revealing. Even when I workout. 
Does that I mean I go out covered head to toe? Heck no. It's too hot for all that.
As much as I feel like this is for my children, it is also out of respect for my husband. Why would I want to run around town in clothes that show off parts of my body that are meant for no one but him? What is the point in that?
Do you want to know the craziest part to me? It wasn't until I read those two blog posts that I realized it, but this has all just come naturally. If you know me well, you know I am not a modest person. I guess it's been a gradual change. I didn't wake up one day and think "I'm going to stop wearing two piece swimsuits and low cut shirts today."
God has changed me and molded me into a woman who respects modesty and wants her children to do the same, and for that I am thankful.  

Gavin's Birth Story

Now that I've shared Knox's birth story with you, it's time to document Gavin's! Since his is more recent, it may end up being a lot more detailed long. Bear with me. I wasn't as good at keeping up with his pregnancy as I was Knox's, so I guess this makes up for that? (you know, just trying to justify it for myself.)
At the end of my pregnancy, I was D O N E. I loved every single second of being pregnant with Knox. I didn't necessarily hate being pregnant this time around, but it was certainly not as easy. Chasing a two year old around while pregnant is, honestly, quite miserable less than enjoyable. When I started my weekly appointments at 36 weeks I was dilated to maaaaybe one centimeter (I think she was just trying to make me feel better) and about 50% effaced. Same at 37 weeks, same at 38 weeks. At my 38 week appointment we had this conversation:
Dr. M: What day will you be 39 weeks? Me: Next Wednesday. Dr. M (looking at computer): Hmmm...I could do next Wednesday. Want to schedule it?
Hallelujah, praise Jesus....I'm pretty sure the heavens opened up and the angels sang. YES I want to schedule it. And so, we did.
At that point, I really wanted Gavin to just hangout for one more week. I swore I didn't want to be induced this time around, but that all went out the window about 32 weeks. Especially with Jessica's wedding ten days after my due date. Being induced a week early gave me 17 days until her wedding, which was doable (if you know me well, you know I went back to work when Knox was two weeks old. I'm not much of a homebody.). This time around we also had Knox to think about, and going into labor in the middle of the night was less than ideal. I get really tired of hearing people say "babies aren't meant to be born at your convenience. You should really let them come on their own." Yes, well in a perfect world that would be great. But in MY world, a scheduled induction was perfect because we didn't have to freak our toddler out in the middle of the night. 
And so, he did. My children are happy to stay in my belly as long as they possibly can. It's warm in there. According to my mom Gavin was "happy in his cozy cabin." You're so clever, Mom.
We were scheduled to be at the hospital at some ridiculously early hour before the sun was even up 6am. I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep a wink the night before and I'm pretty sure Clayton didn't either. Knox's Auntie Jess stayed the night with us so that we wouldn't have to wake him up early and he wouldn't even know anything was amiss when he woke up. I went in to kiss him before we left and of course, I cried (I cried pretty much every night when I put him to bed after we scheduled my induction. Hormones are no joke.) He had such a fun day with Jessica and she was able to kind of prepare him for his brothers arrival!

We got to the hospital, filled out all of the paperwork (because I forgot to pre-register this time. Oops.) and got into our room. We had this massively huge room with a bathtub, which Clayton immediately started making rude, crude and socially unacceptable jokes about. I'll leave those to your imagination. I, once again, got into my lovely hospital gown and crawled into bed.
The nurse that came in to do my IV...well, I'm pretty sure she was trying to kill me. I hate having an IV in the top of my hand anyway, and this one was terrible. She apparently got it right next to a valve. Which means nothing to me, except that I thought I was dying. Okay maybe not dying, but I was sure I was going to pass out while she was drawing blood, which by the way, took like fifteen hours. Or at least it felt like it. Once she got that in, the very best labor and delivery nurse there ever was (whose schedule I may or may not have planned my induction around) came in. We talked game plan, started pitocin and waited for the doctor to get there. 
Dr. M came by first thing and went ahead and broke my water to get things going. My nurse was shooting for one centimeter an hour and the plan was to have a baby before 5pm. Remember that time when I told you my babies are happy to stay in my belly?
The morning was pretty uneventful. My parents came that morning and the plan was for my mom to stay the day and to be in the room with us again. Clayton's philosophy was that everything went great with Knox, so why would we do it any differently this time?
This time around my doctor told me I could get my epidural just as soon as I wanted it. I am no hero, so I got that bad boy around 10am just as soon as I started to feel my contractions. 
A couple of hours later the nurse came in to check me and laid my bed flat. I don't really remember what happened, but all of a sudden I was super light headed and felt like I could fall asleep in an instant. I vaguely remember hearing monitors beeping and Clayton and my mom freaking out a little bit. I remember another nurse coming in and asking my nurse, "is that her heart rate or the babies?" It was Gavin's and it had dropped drastically. I have these stubborn kids. Once I was sitting back up and on oxygen everything started evening out and I was fine. I think it was scarier for everyone else than it was for me because I really had no clue what was going on! After that I just wanted to nap, so I did for a bit.
A little later I could tell my epidural was wearing off on one side because I could freely move and lift one of my legs. The nurse called to have it re-dosed and the guy that came to do it wasn't messing around. I felt like each of my legs was the size of an elephant and as heavy as two! My progression was slooooow, but that was fine because I was comfortable and just hanging out. Every time someone came to check me I'd think surely I had made at least a centimeter or two of progress, but no such luck. A little before 5 my epidural was wearing off again, so we had it re-dosed before all of the anesthesiologists left for the day.
Best nurse ever left at 7pm at the end of her shift and I was still just hanging out around a 5-6.
A couple hours after she left, I once again felt my epidural wearing off and my contractions were BAD. My nurse wasn't taking me very seriously, and come to find out, they didn't think they were getting a very good read on my contraction monitor. I had been comfortable all day and at this point I was absolutely miserable. I asked her to please call someone to come re-dose it and instead she decided to try to move me into different positions to see if we could get it working again. I finally made my mom go tell her that if someone didn't come fix it, it was not going to be a good night (I'm certain those were the EXACT words I used. I would have never ever threatened to punch someone in the face)! 
My contractions continued to get worse and I was starting to feel a little bit of pressure and all I could think was "sweet baby Jesus if the anesthesiologist gets here too late and I have to feel this baby coming out, I may never recover." Thankfully, that's about the time he showed up. We got it re-dosed, and right about the time it kicked in, I told my mom and Clayton that I felt like it was time to push. My mom grabbed the nurse and sure enough, it was pretty close to time. She had my push a few times just laying in the bed to kind of check and see how we were doing. She told me that he was crowning, and so it shouldn't take very long to get him out.
She got all of the carts in and everything ready to go and then called the doctor. She had me start pushing, and I felt like he was going to come any second. I told her that if she didn't want a baby born before the doctor got there that we needed to wait, so she told me to start breathing through my contractions instead of pushing. Oh man, talk about torture. All I wanted to do was push!  Dr. M got there pretty quickly and started getting her gown and glasses on. She could see the misery on my face and said "I'm here! Push if you feel like you need to!" And so I did. One time. And out popped my sweet baby boy at 10:33pm! She was caught so off guard and wasn't even totally dressed yet! We all started laughing and couldn't get over the fact that he just kind of shot right now (sorry for that visual image).
I was so thankful to have not been on Stadol this time around. While I remember Knox's birth, I was so much more aware of what was going on with Gavin's birth. I was able to see Gavin as soon as he was born and I remember EVERYTHING. His lungs were clear enough that he started crying immediately, so they brought him over for Clayton and I to see. 
I never worried too much about how I was going to love two children equally, but in that very instant I completely understood how it is possible. My heart was bursting with love for this tiny boy that I was meeting for the first time. And once again, our family was complete.
He was 8 pounds even and 20 inches long. Almost the exact same size as his big brother, and equally as perfect.

We finally got into our postpartum room around midnight, and I immediately sent Clayton for food. I hadn't had a single thing to eat since the night before, and I was starving. Pickings are slim at midnight, so we settled for Jack in the Box. A hamburger and curly fries has never tasted so good!

They brought Gavin to us for just a little bit so I could feed him and love on him and then we took him back to the nursery so we could try to get some sleep.

The next morning, all I could think about was getting Knox up there to meet him. We decided to let him go on to school so that we didn't totally disrupt his day and Clayton would pick him up and bring him to the hospital. We had visitors throughout the day, so that helped to pass the time.

It was finally time for Clayton to get Knox and bring him to meet his brother and my heart literally felt like it was going to burst. I could not wait for Knox to get there! And instead of telling you how it went, I'll just let you see for yourself. These are unedited (because who has time for all that with two kids), so you get the whole three minutes of video!

This semi-sweetness also took place.

And then there were four. And our hearts were full.

 

puj Splash Review

When I was pregnant with Knox, a friend recommended the puj tub to me as an alternative to the traditional bulky infant bathtubs. Before I even got my hands on one, I fell in love with the sleek, compact and portable design of the puj tub. Once I did get my hands on one, it was all over. I was obsessed. When Knox outgrew it, we stored it for our next child and two years later when I got it back out for Gavin, it was still in perfect shape! That’s what we’ve been using for Gavin since he was born.

One day I was perusing Instagram and saw that puj was looking for product testers for a new product, the puj splash. Being the puj addict that I am, I of course applied. A week or so later I received an email that I had been chosen! Eeek! I was so excited and watched every single day for that FedEx package full of goodness. So that being said, here is my product review of the puj splash.

Out of the FedEx box came this super sleek box showcasing what the puj Splash has to offer, which is: a how-to guide, one puj Flyte tub, three Fresh washcloths, one Hug hooded towel and three Nubs hooks. I was immediately drawn to how the box is laid out. I think it’s very appealing and well designed. The box itself has a handle, which makes it easy to transport.

We have very small bathroom sinks in our house, so our original puj tub has always been used in the kitchen sink. When I saw that the Flyte was a little more compact, I got excited about the prospect of it fitting in our bathroom sinks. When we are trying to bathe both kids at once, we usually just put Gavin in the bath seat in the tub with Knox. I bet you can imagine how well that goes. As soon as I opened the box, I immediately had to see if it fit in our bathroom sinks. And voila! It fit! It was a tight fit, but it fit nonetheless. I couldn’t wait to get Gavin in to try it out.

To get started, I hooked the Hug towel around my neck with the easy to use silicone tabs. The whole purpose of it is that you can hook it around your neck to keep yourself dry hands-free while bathing your baby. You can then wrap your baby up in the towel easily at the end of bath time. It is so easy and very convenient, but probably not something I will remember to use all the time!

Like I said, the Flyte was kind of a tight fit in our bathroom sink. A tight fit mixed with a massive baby isn’t a great combo. BUT I did like having the option of bathing him in the bathroom while Knox is bathing. It’s super easy to setup. It folds in half, so all you have to do is unfold it and put it in the sink. The drain at the bottom works perfectly to get excess water out of the tub.  I LOVE how soft the Fresh washcloths are and they are a great size for a big baby in comparison to a lot of the washcloths I’ve had in the past. Bath time was quick and easy in the Flyte and I found myself really wishing I had one when both of my babies were newborns! It’s more compact and a little more stiff and supportive than the original puj tub.

After his bath, I wrapped Gavin up in the Hug hooded towel. With it already being around my neck, it was super easy to just pick him up and wrap it around him rather than having to lay him down somewhere else. Talk about super soft. I wanted to wrap myself up in it! He usually fusses when it’s time to dry off, but he just laid there wrapped up in this towel for a few minutes, no problem. It’s made of thick, ultra-soft cotton, so I think it made him feel more secure than any of our other towels. Or maybe he just likes how soft it is. Who knows! All I know is, he looks adorable.

 I think my very favorite part of the whole Splash set are the Nubs. They are just small, grippy hooks that you can hang anywhere, but they are a genius addition to the set! I chose to hang mine in the boys bathtub. The silicone tab on the Hug towel fits perfectly onto one of them, which is so convenient. The other two are now home to my TWO puj tubs. The original tub is magnetic, but I’ve never had anywhere to hang it, so it just ends up in the boys bathtub to dry. Now I can hang it on one of the Nubs to dry, and you have no idea how excited this makes me!

All in all, this puj enthusiast is a fan. I think this is a great combo of items that would make a great gift for new parents! It is convenient and easy to use, and let’s face it, who needs anything more complicated when running on a couple hours of sleep?

If you want your own puj Splash set, you can get one here AND you can get it for 20% off using coupon code SPLASHTESTER20 through July 31,2014. Enjoy!

Knox's Birth Story

I was going to write Gavin's birth story first since it is the most fresh on my mind, but I find myself comparing the two so much that I feel like I need to write Knox's first. He is, after all, our first child. So here we go.
If you kept up with my pregnancy at all, you know that it was an incredibly easy, textbook pregnancy. I started going in for my weekly appointments at 35 weeks and at that point I was dilated to a 2 and 50% effaced. That didn't change between 35 weeks and the time I went to the hospital. At my 39 weeks appointment, my doctor told me that she would let me go to 40 weeks, but no further. She told me that she is a firm believer that nothing good happens after 40 weeks. That was fine with me. I was beyond ready for that baby to be OUT! (If you know how this story ends, you know I don't have small children, so I was highly uncomfortable and miserable by this point!)
My doctor was going to be out of town on the day that I was technically 40 weeks, so we went ahead and scheduled my induction for a few days later (December 20th) in hopes that I would go into labor on my own before that. No such luck, of course. 
The 20th rolled around and I decided I would work that day since I didn't have to be at the hospital until that evening. I worked until lunch time and went home, took a shower and got everything ready to go. Clayton came home from work a little early, and we packed our bags and headed to the hospital  at 6pm. When we got there, Labor and Delivery was CRAZY busy. We ended up having to sit in the waiting room for a little bit while they got a room ready. We got all of my paperwork filled out and finally got into a room.  I got into my lovely hospital gown and crawled into bed to wait for my doctor to get there and tell me our plan of action.
She got there and told me that we would start Cervidil that night and hope that it would help get my cervix a little further along by morning. After a few excruciating tries by the nurse getting the Cervidil in (sandpaper anyone?), they gave me an Ambien and told me to try to get some sleep. I slept like.a.rock. 
They woke me up about 7am on the 21st to take the Cervidil out and see if it had done any good. Before taking it out, the nurse said "everything is going to be a little more tender, just wanted you to know." Thanks for the warning. "A little" was probably the understatement of the century. I'm willing to admit that I'm a total wimp when it comes to pain and I have a very low pain tolerance...but holy moly, she wasn't joking. 
My doctor came by that morning to just check everything out and they started my Pitocin around 8am. I remember telling my mom not too long after they started it that I was feeling a little crampy. By mid-morning I was having full on contractions and they were less than enjoyable. I had always heard that contractions we worse when you were induced. I had nothing to compare them to, but they were awful in my book. The hospital "recommends" not getting an epidural until you are dilated to a 5. I wasn't even close. 
I finally asked for some IV pain meds, so I got those sometime that morning. She told me it would take a few minutes for them to kick in. I just remember feeling super tired all of a sudden, and I'm pretty sure I just passed out after that.
I only remember bits and pieces from the rest of the day. I know the nurse came in to check me at one point and my water broke while she was checking me. I remember them coming in and turning me in all sorts of crazy positions trying to get things going. I remember eating ice chips galore because I was STARVING and my mouth was so incredibly dry. Clayton said that I would basically wake up, have a contraction and immediately fall back asleep. All I remember is being in immense amounts of pain. And those people who say you forget the pain? They lied. I still remember it. Two and a half years later. My friend, Shealee, was due with a little girl about a month after Knox. She had planned to have a natural birth with no drugs. She and her mom stopped by to visit sometime in the midst of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad part of the day. They had repositioned my bed (kind of like an altar- they must have known the only cure for my pain that was coming anytime soon was going to have to come from Jesus) and made me sit on my knees and rest my arms on the top part of the bed (you getting the altar image?). I remember thinking "screw this" and curled up in a ball on the bottom part of the bed. Well, that's apparently the time they decided to come visit. I don't even remember them being there, but Shealee still to this day cracks up because apparently I woke up when they came in, looked right at her and said "Don't do it without the drugs." and passed back out. I stand by that statement to this day.
Finally, sometime after lunch, after lots of begging and pleading and probably crying, it was time for my epidural. I have never been happier to see a man with a giant needle to stick in my back. The nurse gave me a pillow to hold onto and told me to "be totally still." I don't know if you've ever tried to be still through really intense contractions, but I was fearful for my everyone else's life. I remember that I finally just bear hugged the nurse and buried my head in her shoulder in a effort to be still. Looking back, I'm sure she really loved that. They got my epidural in quickly and it started working within minutes. Oh, sweet relief. 
Because the Stadol just knocked me out and the epidural relieved the pain, I pretty much just slept the rest of the afternoon. They did have to put me on oxygen because Knox's heart rate kept dropping, but other than that it was a pretty uneventful afternoon.
Sometime after 3, I woke up and told Clayton and my mom (through my sweet oxygen mask) that I felt like I had to poop (sorry for the graphic details). My mom and I had this conversation:   Mom: umm that probably means it's time for you to push!  Me: no, I just need to go to the bathroom. Tell the nurse to come in here. I have to figure out how to get to the restroom. Mom:Just use your call button.  Me: Really? With this oxygen mask on?
So, she so helpfully pushes the call button and announces to the entire Labor and Delivery floor, "Ummm she feels like she needs to poop!" Thanks mom.
The nurse came in and my mom was right. It was time to push! They called the doctor and got everything ready to go. I was still so out of it and really didn't know what was going on, but I remember having that moment of panic about pushing a watermelon out of a lemon. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have much time to worry about it. The doctor got there and it was time to push a little before 4. I started pushing and one of the nurses said "Oh good, you can tell when you need to push and you're doing a good job. We won't have to turn your epidural off." I'm sorry, turn my epidural off? No. Just no. I'll just say, it's a good thing they didn't try. Knox's heart rate kept dropping, so my doctor was really pushing me to get him out quickly.
My mom and Clayton were amazing through the whole thing. I pushed for right at 30 minutes, and then I'm pretty sure I started to just pass out again. At 4:20pm our precious boy made his debut covered in hair. I remember Clayton saying "Do you hear that? Do you hear him crying?" I'm pretty sure I tried to smile and say yes, but I honestly don't remember hearing him.
Clayton told me later that he got really nervous right after he was born because he didn't cry immediately. They had to take him over to clean out his lungs before he made any noise. I honestly don't remember any of that!
They got him cleaned up and brought him to me and I can still to this day remember the feeling when they laid him on my chest. It was the most amazing feeling in the world and I finally understood how you could love someone that you just met with your whole heart. He was perfect. And in that moment with Clayton and our precious new baby, my life was complete. 
They told me to spend about 30 minutes trying to breastfeed before we started letting people come in to meet him. He took to nursing without a problem, so everyone got to come in pretty quickly. My memories are still somewhat foggy even at this point. That Stadol is no joke.
After about another hour they came to take him to the nursery to weigh and measure him and give him a bath. One of the very coolest things is that a family friend who has worked in the nursery for as long as I can remember was the nurse who took care of him. That is so special to me. They came back and told me that he was 8 pounds, 1 ounce and 20 inches long. Like I said, I don't have small children.
Because Labor and Delivery had been so busy, postpartum was also very busy. We ended up having to stay in the L&D room for quite awhile, so I went ahead and showered and got dressed in there. I had a friend ask me before she had her baby to be totally honest with her about the whole experience. She wanted to know the things that no one tells you. The one thing I told her and that I would tell ANYONE is that the bathroom will look like a murder scene when you get done in there. No joke. No one told me. So you're welcome.
We stayed our one night in the hospital and got to go home around 5:30pm on the 22nd. Our world was turned upside down. After a few days I didn't remember life before Knox. It seemed as if he had been with us forever. My pregnancy with him was far from planned, but looking back I wouldn't have it any other way. He is my pride and my joy and he is the boy who gave me my most treasured title of mom.