Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky

Why, oh WHY am I up blogging at 6:30 a.m? I rarely get a chance to watch an entire 30 minute television show uninterrupted, so (considering that I've been up since 5:40 this morning) I kinda would like to be in the bed with my coffee catching up on Guiliana and Bill or REwatching Duck Dynasty. OR (even better) still sleeping. But, as nature would have it, I wake up every single year on April 27th at 5:40 in the morning with cramping. Strange? I don't know. I think maybe my body remembers that this day is the anniversary of something so very special and it wants to make sure I don't forget. How could I?

It was 5:40 a.m... April 27th, 2005. I was 12 days from my due date, when I woke up to some pretty intense cramps. Looking over at my sleeping husband (who would be getting up to get ready for work in a couple of hours) and seeing him sleeping peacefully, and knowing that our 2 year old daughter would probably still be sleeping at least until her Daddy woke up, I climbed into the bathtub and ran warm water over my belly trying to ease the discomfort. It still wasn't quite pain, but it was extremely uncomfortable. After more than an hour of sitting in the tub, my fingertips were sufficiently prune-like but my "cramps" were stronger, so I carefully climbed out of the tub and quietly sat on the bed trying to gently wake my still sleeping husband. {side note: my L&D with Harley was induced, so I didn't get to enjoy "starting labor" on my own at home, so I was loving every minute of this!} I don't remember the exact way it all happened. I remember telling him that I was about 99% sure that this was "baby day" and telling him he needed to call work. Then I remember getting to the hospital and being brought a wheel chair and everything seeming so surreal- like a movie. Because things really were happening (for the first time ever in life) just like they do in the movies. What I DON'T remember is what we did with Harley. I do know that she ended up with Ruthanne (my mother-out-law), although I don't remember exactly if she came to us or if we dropped her off. I suppose that's irrelevant, but the fact that I can't remember bothers me.

Once we got to the hospital, things moved pretty fast. Ruthanne must have taken Harley to Mema and Papa (HER mother and father, Harley's great-grandparents) because it was kind of important for her to be in the room with me. We had our "L&D crew"... the same group as before, with Harley- me (obviously), Reuben, Ruthanne, and Erin (his sister). We had a system, but this time I didn't want to crack jokes as much as I did when I was laboring with Harley. Could have been the lack of the epidural this go-round. Who knows? ;) I remember being mean to Reub this time, which is something I made a point NOT to do the first time. But, every time I would say something mean, he would laugh which would make more mad. (guess he thought I was cute when I was mad... anger is not in my nature, so I guess it probably was kind of funny...) I remember the nurse checking me & saying that I was at 9 cm and that they would come back in a little while to check again. I told her I felt like I needed to push & she told me not to. The GREAT thing about NOT having an epidural is that your body KNOWS what to do. Your body tells you when it's time to push. I'm convinced maybe that nurse had stupid fingers and just *thought* I was 9 when I was 10. Doesn't matter. She walked out, I got up and squatted on the bed (yes, squatted)... and started pushing. After a couple of pushes, I reached down & could feel his head. Ruthanne looked at Erin and said "Is she pushing?" and Erin said "I think so..." so Ruthanne ran to the door & yelled that someone needed to get in there to catch the baby. It took no time & Carter was out. My beautiful, healthy 2 ounces away from 9 pounds baby boy... :)

I had learned a lot from my first delivery with Harley. I learned to rest. I think another perk of NOT having the epidural is that your body instantly goes into recovery mode. I immediately wanted to go to sleep. So I did. And I think that was the best sleep I have had to date. I remember Reuben coming in to tell me every time a new out-of-town family member arrived, but I was out of it. I was not up for entertaining. PLUS, they were there to see the baby. Not me. And I was glad for that. A few hours after Carter was born (heck, it could have been 12 hours, I have no concept of time from that day), Reub came to tell me that his dad was taking him & his sister to Red Lobster and asked if I wanted anything. All I said was "sleep".

I won't go into the specifics, but a few hours before I was supposed to be released from the hospital, I ended up getting verrrry sick. I had a 103 degree fever and developed 2 types of e.coli (which I freaked about initially because all I could think of was the ebola virus. I thought I was going to bleed from every orifice and die.) which settled into my lungs and gave me pneumonia. I was in the hospital for 9 or 10 days after Carter was born. Thankfully, Carter was able to stay with me. I even had a couple of extra days to decide on a name. We knew it was Carter. (If Harley had been a boy, she would have been Carter, as well.) We both wanted to name our son after our mutual best friend, JG O'Connor. We had played around with middle names and knew we wanted to add Reub's dad's name (Greg) in there. Ruthanne's daddy, Papa, is one of the greatest men I've ever known. His name is Julian. So, when Reuben came in a few days after our son was born and I told him I had just filled out the birth certificate information and that he had a full name... he looked at me expectantly. "It's Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge. Carter JG." :) I thought he was going to cry. It was so perfect. So much name for such a little fella, but still so perfect.

I think being in that hospital for the extra week is what cemented my bond with Carter. Most people have to "share" their baby after just a few days. I got an extra week where it was mostly just the two of us. :)

When Carter was 3 he asked for some mighty strange gifts for Christmas. One was a watermelon dumptruck. I had NO idea where he got that from, but knew that I had to find one. I thought maybe he had seen it on tv or something... Nope. The kid made it up. So, I bought a toy dumptruck, and made watermelons out of modelling clay and painted them up to look like watermelons. This was, of course, his favorite gift that Christmas. I even made a little sign to go on the back of the dumptruck that said "Carter's Watermelon Dumptruck". Harley came to me a few hours later and said "Mama, now I KNOW Santa Claus is real because there was NO SUCH THANG as a watermelon dumptruck!!!"... a few weeks later, Carter "changed" his name to Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky. (I dunno where "sky" came from. He probably, literally, looked up and said "okay, sky, too.")

Not even *I* can find the words to describe how much I love this crazy, funny, beautiful, smart, selfless child. He owns me. 

my surro journey {thus far}

so many of you have asked about surrogacy. i've posted a little about it here & there (on facebook, various blog posts, etc), but so many people have asked why i decided to do this and how i even got started. i've had numerous women approach me saying that they, too, have always considered being a surrogate but have no clue where to begin. so, this is my story. of course, every surrogate's story is different. but, this is mine.

i knew pretty close to ten years ago that i wanted to do this. i'm not even sure that i really knew, at that time, what all would be involved, but i knew that i enjoyed being pregnant (i was currently pregnant with my first child) and found it utterly ridiculous that *I*, an eighteen year old girl working at Hooters, was able to so easily get pregnant (despite even being on birth control that, yes, I took regularly) when so many women who did things "the right way" struggled with the exact same thing. why would God allow *me* to carry a child to term, yet millions of grown women suffer from infertility or the inability to maintain a healthy pregnancy. of course, i still don't know the answer to that question, but i feel it's similar to "why does Christina Aguilera have those killer pipes, yet so many people who want it just as badly (auditioning for American Idol & such) can't carry a tune to save their life??" i just don't know. it's a gift, maybe. and i'm of the mindset that a gift is useless if you can't share it. now, please don't get me wrong & think that i feel that anyone who doesn't choose to "share her uterus" is being selfish. absolutely not. there is a lot that goes into carrying a child for someone else- both physically and emotionally. but for ME, personally, i've just felt compelled for so long that this was kind of my calling- just something i was meant to do.

so, after a failed journey (that i will talk about in another post at another time) several years ago, i decided to try again. honestly, i had almost given up, but i knew that if i didn't do it, i would always regret it. so, i hopped on surromomsonline.com (will be referred to as SMO from this point on) which is an online community for egg donors, sperm donors, both traditional and gestational surrogates, and IPs (Intended Parents) in search of the same. there are a LOT of surrogacy agencies. i, personally, chose to not work with any for the main reason that i really wanted to develop a personal, intimate relationship with the IPs beforehand and i feel that, through the agencies, it's all so much more "clinical" and business-like. many surrogates choose to work with a clinic, as do many IPs, primarily because it does make it a bit easier. you have a middle man who basically does most of the leg-work and paper pushing for you. there is no cost to the surrogate either way, but with a clinic- they will pre-screen you (questionnaires), then you submit medical testing that is necessary (recent paps & other gynecological testing), then you complete a psychological evaluation and they proceed to "match" you with IPs. it is not necessary to have your own health insurance prior to becoming a surrogate, although it does make it much easier to be matched quickly, as that is a requirement for some IPs. another benefit to the agencies is that they already have a fee schedule in place. a first-time surrogate can expect anywhere from 18-25,000 (on average) as compensation for the pregnancy when going through an agency. there are also what are called "compassionate surrogacies" where a surrogate may choose to not ask a fee at all, and simply require that the medical costs be covered. there are also instances where an IP may want a surrogate to eat a certain way throughout the pregnancy, and in those cases usually the IP will provide enough compensation monthly to cover those eating habits. but, the agency covers all of that for both the surro and the IP. again, i chose to not go through a clinic, so i went to the "classifieds" at SMO and began replying to ads from couples and individuals that i felt i could help. i "talked" via email to many, many, many couples until i "met" adriana. somehow, i just knew she was "the one". we clicked instantly & when we spoke on the phone for the first time it was like talking to a girlfriend i had known for years.

at this point, as most of you know, i spent the entire day in jacksonville, fl yesterday for doctor visits. adriana and i both had our psychological evaluations (we both passed! wooohooo!!) and then we had to go to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist) for our physicals. during my exam they did what is called a "mock transfer" where they "transfer" a saline solution through the cervix and into the uterus just as they will later transfer the embryos. that is to make sure that my cervix is favorable for the procedure and that my uterus is in prime condition as well. unfortunately (and fortunately) the doctor did find some issues with me, health-wise. neither of these conditions will interfere with me being able to carry adriana's baby(ies), but they are issues that have to be dealt with. first, he pointed out to me that my ovaries are covered in cysts- a condition called polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). thankfully, this is something that can be treated after delivery. it also explains many "issues" that i've had over the past few years, so i'm extremely thankful to finally KNOW what the problem is. the other issue he found is a polyp in my uterus. this can be a more serious problem, but we are confident that it is nothing and (again, thankfully) this is something that can be treated easily. within the next few weeks i will have surgery to remove the polyp in jacksonville and recovery will be a snap. there is no "downtime" that is necessary after the procedure before we can do the transfer so that is wonderful news!!! :)

i am MORE than happy to share any more information with anyone, so if you have any questions- please feel free to ask. you guys know i'm an open book. :) and, as always, i will update you all as things progress! :D

Carter's House Rules

This is my Carter. Well, Carter Julian Gregory Eldridge Watermelon Dumptruck Sky. What a name, huh? Well, his name really IS a mouthful, but to be completely honest, the "Watermelon Dumptruck Sky" he added himself when he was about 3. He is a giant handful in a tiny little package. He has a huge heart and is incredibly sensitive, but is *such* a boy at the same time. The kid loves bugs, frogs, anything creepy & crawly. He's loud. He's super hyperactive. And, to be completely honest, if you spend more than a couple of hours with him, the majority of that time will be spent saying "Carter, stop." "Carter, calm down." "Carter, NO!" "Carter- STOP RUNNING/YELLING/ANNOYING YOUR SISTER!!!" But, I love him. I love him so much. He, actually, is the only one of my three children that was planned. We knew we wanted a son & I'm pretty sure that about 20 minutes after deciding we would start trying for a second child- I was pregnant.

Carter will be 7 in 20 days (side note: today Braydon is 19 months!!). That will merit a whole other post. But, for now, I just want to share with you something Carter said the other day. As I was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to get him moving for the day, I asked him what kind of Daddy he thought he would be when he grew up. "A really fun, cool Daddy." "Really?" I asked him. "What kinds of rules will you have? Or will you not have any rules?" "Mama!!! You HAVE to have rules. But, I'll only have important ones." So, I grabbed a pen & a sheet of paper & asked him to start making a list of his rules.

Here is what he came up with:

Carter's House Rules

1. No breaking t.v.s
2. No riding bikes in the house.

3. No playing ball in the house unless we have a basketball goal in the house and a basketball.

4. No playing with hooks. (really sharp hooks)

5. No drinking drugs. (because that is a bad thang)


And, there you have it. :) The rules you will have to follow should you ever want to go stay with grown up Carter. :)

mind ya beeswax, right??

so, with social networking and all it is soooo easy to jump on a bandwagon or follow certain trends. some times it's out of curiosity {like that stupid standing broom trick--- which will work any day of the year & has nothing to do with an equinox or planets aligning or anything like that}. some times it's political {rallying behind a specific presidential candidate and trying to persuade others to do the same}. some times it's about something going on in our world. Just one example {and I'm only using this because it's recent} the Kony 2012 videos, news reports, articles, etc. I love that social media puts things out there that many of us may not hear about otherwise. {my news comes from the E! network & I consider it completely legitimate, but I don't hear much about "real world" stuff} the frustrating part is that {as with most ways of obtaining information} you only get one side at a time. So, about the time you rally behind something & profess your unwaivering support {and I am HUGELY guilty of this, because I don't do my research on most things} you find {usually on Facebook} information from the other side. See, I don't have a problem with any of this: supporting something until you hear the other side, then saying "wait a minute, maybe I don't support this after all". in my opinion, it shows that you are willing to look at all sides & are able to admit that you may have been wrong. or that you still believe you were right. either way. but, so many times i read people commenting saying that we {America} basically need to mind our own beeswax and leave them {any place NOT America} to their own problems. now, i'm all for fixing our own problems. Lord knows we have our fair share. however, does that make it okay to not raise awareness or try to help those from other countries just because they aren't America? just because it doesn't directly affect us? i don't think so. i'm looking at it like this: i have problems in my own house. i do. i really do. but, if my neighbor {as in my next-door neighbor} was hungry and couldn't afford to eat, would i deny them food? would i turn the other cheek and say that i didn't need to be concerned with helping them because i had my own problems? would these same people be okay with that? would they tell me to mind my own beeswax and not try to fix anyone else's problems until i had all of my own taken care of? because, in that case, i may never have the opportunity to help anyone. i'm certain i will always have problems. on a slightly larger scale, take for instance the recent storms that passed through nearby communities, ripping through & leveling them to the ground. should those of us in surrounding areas ignore it because it doesn't directly affect us? should we say that they need to rely on people from their own area for support because we couldn't be bothered with it until people in our own community were completely without problems? because, again, no one would be helped. if that's okay, then where does it stop being okay? when we're talking on a state level? should Georgians not be willing to help Floridians? because that just sounds absurd. Regionally? Should the South and North be completely separate and refusing to help each other on anything? because, i remember {as a NATION} us pulling together after the attacks in New York City. After Hurricane Katrina. I remember other nations doing the same. even if it's just prayer- even if it's just awareness... every little bit counts. i'm a firm believer that "where two or more are gathered".... i just don't know where i'm supposed to stop caring. so, because we're talking about Uganda... or Australia... or Zimbabwe... or Afghanistan... or Taiwan.... I shouldn't care??? Because we {America} have problems of our own, right? that's the point that's being made? because it seems mighty pointless to me. we're supposed to be teaching our children to love & to be compassionate human beings and be accepting of people... but then by example we're teaching them that the only people we really have to help are those who are like us. those who we deem are "worthy" of our help because they were fortunate enough to be born into our country. i don't feel it's my place to say who should be helped or who shouldn't. if i knew that something was happening to my next-door neighbor and didn't say anything, that's no better or worse than knowing that something is happening across the world and not saying anything. i may not be able to do anything more than open my mouth, but if enough people open their mouths, eventually someone WILL be able to help.

....and just one last thing before i get off my soapbox.... most of the people that i've heard make comments like "lets fix the problems in our own country before we try helping others" aren't doing anything {to my knowledge} to "fix the problems in our own country". not volunteering, not taking in foster children, not doing much of anything except complain about people getting something for nothing and the poor being taken off the street (yes, the same people complaining about how we need to fix the problems in our own country are the same people complaining about Medicaid and birth control and other things that actually serve to help those in need in our country). okay, there. i'm done. for now. if this tells you anything about where i stand politically, or spiritually, fine. it wasn't my goal, but this was something that has been on my chest for several weeks (if not forever) now & since this is my blog, well, i can pretty much say what i wanna. you don't wanna read it? well, that's a-ok. you don't have to click the link. :)

love,

the one never incapable of minding her own beeswax,

kayla

where have i BEEN???

geez... i disappeared from the blogosphere for a minute.... {don't worry, i was still facebookin' it up} but for good reason. i've been one busy little mama recently. and sick. one busy little sicky mama. today is day #5 of this crud in my face and my chest, but i *am* feeling a teensy bit better... i feel about like i did on day #2... which was "like crap, but still functioning..." i just feel like i could use a good 15 hours of sleep & then i'd be back to normal {well, my version of normal, anyhow}... but, i have an 18 month old (as of tomorrow!!) and that means no sleepy time for the mommy.

other than wanting to shoot my face off, i've been keeping super busy with work. "work"... it seems odd to even call it that. don't get me wrong, there's a lot of actual work that goes into it, and when i calculate the actual amount of hours that i put into my sessions now (the research, prep work, the session itself, editing, and all of the other post-production stuff like creating slideshows & previewing with clients, ordering, etc) I probably actually make less per hour than i did at my very first job at a day care center (and those of you who have worked in day care facilities know just how little they pay).... but, that's not why i do it. i mean, yes, i want to be successful and self-sufficient and make money to help support my family... but i really love this. i am so proud of my last session because i can see just how much my work has improved. i look at things i was doing just a month or two ago & am so pleased with the amount of growth i've experienced as an artist already. i know i have a lot to learn & hopefully will *never* stop learning, but what i've had to accept is that i am me. my art is not unlike the rest of my life. i have to discover who kayla is as an artist (just as i had to discover who kayla was as a person... and that changes constantly) and just run with it. so what if my husband thinks it's too much light? i do what i like. and when potential clients see my work, if they love it- they will use me. if they don't love it- i will be more than happy (no sarcasm) to recommend someone who i think will better fit what they're looking for. because everyone deserves to have quality portraits that they can be proud of. and i don't want to stress myself out over worrying that i'm not going to please everyone. because i'm not going to be able to please everyone. and that's okay. i'm getting better (at life, as well... i think), and i'll keep on getting better.... and hopefully i will continue to love my "work" as much as i do now. i know i will.

the other thing that has kept me away from my blog is surrogacy. {heard that from me before?? yup, i'm at it again} actually, i've been looking into this again for several months. really, only jj knew that i was thinking about it so many months ago, but i pushed it off for a little while... then i found them. "the couple"... the ones that i just know i'm supposed to carry a baby for. i'm excited, and a little nervous, but this is going to be a wonderful journey. i'm not going to talk about that a lot on this blog, primarily because i have another blog devoted solely to that journey here. feel free to check that one out, as well. i really started that blog for the unborn baby and his/her parents. this way the mother can kind of experience this pregnancy vicariously through the blog, but also that the child can someday read exactly what thoughts & emotions went into bringing him/her into the world. no, i'm not pregnant yet. we just got the insurance stuff handled, and i will be travelling to florida in a couple of weeks for preliminary ultrasounds & we will possibly begin the procedure next month or the following month.

*deep sigh* whew. that's a lot. on top of being sick. and taking care of the wee one. hopefully i'll be well before girl's night on thursday. i desperately need a night out with my friends & this group of girls are definitely some of the best!!!

...just thought i'd let ya know i haven't given up on blogging altogether. did ya notice i was gone? ;)

hate

i hate it. i absolutely hate it. and i NEVER use that word. i usually stick with "despise" or something similar, but in this case- hate may not even be a strong enough word to describe how i feel about it.... 

"it" being that feeling that you get when you think about someone you used to be close to... someone that chose to no longer be a part of your life. for some people it's an old lover, ex-spouse, a family member- perhaps even their own parent or child or sibling. i said the other day {on Facebook} that i love the feeling you get when you see someone like that and you look better and you realize that you're over it, so to speak. and i do. i really do *love* that feeling. what i don't love {ahem, what i hate} is the feeling of overwhelming sadness when you randomly think about that person. remembering that they weren't looking their best that day suddenly doesn't make you feel much better because you know that they are so much more than what they look like. your memories aren't based on what shirt they wore or how their hair was... it's things like late night conversations... staying up with them til 3 a.m. on the phone when they called you crying... riding out to the middle of nowhere and parking and just talking for hours, telling each other things that NO ONE else knew. it's dancing like idiots and not really caring what anyone else thought. it's "inside jokes" and certain phrases that were exclusive to your relationship. i hate it. and i hate when you call that person over something that they told you before that NO MATTER WHAT they always wanted to know about this particular part of your life... and they just don't care. like, they care so little that you can't even get out what you were calling about. they want to know "what it pertains to". seriously? you have to have a reason to call someone who used to be one of your best friends. i hate it. 

"it" being the knowledge that, despite what once was, this person is no longer your best friend. they're no longer your friend. hell, you're barely acquaintances anymore. if so, that's all you are. you know each other's name, phone number memorized no matter how you try to forget it, deepest, darkest secrets... but you just don't know that person anymore because they don't want you to. i hate it.

"it" being the feeling of being insignificant. the feeling that you put yourself out there completely, gave everything you had- and it wasn't good enough. it didn't matter. it was worth walking away from. i hate it.

"it" being the phone that doesn't ring. the unreturned messages. the picture hidden in a folder on the computer that shows us laughing and just being "us". the shirt that i eventually just threw away. 

"it" being the sound of your voice, but only because i don't get to hear it anymore. "it" being every restaurant we ever ate at. i can't even drive by top corral without getting angry now. angry at you for lying. for telling me that we would be friends no matter what, but really not even taking into consideration what that word "friend" means. obviously. angry that you don't care about any thing that you cared about not so many months ago.

i hate it. "it" being my heart that still refuses to stop caring. it keeps holding out hope that some day you'll come around & we'll go back to being friends again... like we were. but, i hope and pray that by that time i won't care. that maybe my heart will know better. hearts don't think, though, do they? i hate that.

"what's on your mind?"

I've posted blogs before trying to be candid about *who* this "plain ole Shealey girl" really is... {for those of you who do not know, "Shealey" is my maiden name & despite the former "Eldridge" or the current "Brooks" at the end of my name, I will *always* be a "Shealey" girl... in fact, many of my friends still call me Kayla Shealey & will never refer to me as anything else}. In fact, you can find a couple of those posts here and here. I pride myself in being an open book, but in reality- there are some things I don't talk about at all. Maybe because I don't like the way they make me look. "Since when has Kayla cared about what others think??" you're probably asking yourself. Oh, only since forever. I think that people who say that they don't care are lying. Or selfish, inconsiderate ass holes. (if you're offended by the language, I apologize. It is not my intention to offend anyone, but I do tend to use some "inappropriate" language from time to time because sometimes "butt head" just doesn't cut it) I try to just be who I am and not let what others think change that, but I do care what people think of me. I don't want anyone talking about me when I'm not around, saying ugly things behind my back (or to my face, for that matter) because I'm a sensitive person. I get my feelings hurt easily. I'm a wuss. Fine. And, ya know, maybe *every* thought I have isn't meant to be expressed, but if I'm saying that this blog was created as a journal for me... an outlet for myself... shouldn't I write about whatever is on my heart... mind... whatever?? Heck, maybe I'll find that I'm not the only person who feels the way I do. There is some sort of validation in hearing "girl, I know exactly what you mean". I suppose, when you have a blog, you're opening yourself up to criticism and you're letting people judge you. Putting yourself out on a proverbial platter... waiting for someone to accept or reject your thoughts, emotions, etc. Anyway. That's enough talking about talking about my feelings (did you get that?)... time to actual talk about them... errr, type. Whatever. Same difference.

*deep sigh* What's on my mind?? Facebook asks me that a lot. Every time I get on. I could be honest and say "Oreos." but that would just be my status. It would just say:
Kayla Brooks Oreos.
That would be it. And I'm sure no one cares that Oreos are on my mind (and they usually are. I love Golden Oreos.)... so I don't bore you guys with that sort of stuff. Usually. Sometimes I can't resist. But, those of you who know me really well know what a sickeningly hopeless romantic I am. I absolutely am addicted to the feeling of being in love. I fall fast and hard and without hesitation. It seems, to me, to be beyond my control. When I tell you I'm addicted to it, I really think I am. I think it's an illness of sorts. Of course, this makes me a wonderful partner in that I'm very affectionate and attentive and loving, but makes me a terrible partner in that I crush a lot. Usually just on "out of reach" people like {my love} Josh Wolf. But, sometimes on real-life people that I get to actually have conversations with. I've heard married people say before that once they fell for that "special person" that they just couldn't see anyone else "in that way" at all. That they weren't even attracted to any member of the opposite sex. I call bull shit. I mean, I could be wrong. (Again, this is just *my* personal rant... feelings as experienced by yours truly... please do not crucify me for calling bull shit on something that may or may not actually be bull shit.) I have a hard time believing that there is ONE person out there for everyone. That would mean that either I didn't really love my first husband or that I don't really love my current husband. Or that I won't love the next one. (ha! the next one... that was my attempt at a joke) I'm a lover. It's what I do. I believe I mentioned that.
Exhibit A: I fell in love for the first time when I was ten. Yes, ten years old. This month was the eighteenth anniversary of the first time I saw his face. I know I was a kid, but boy did he make my stomach do this crazy mexican jumping bean thing... His name was Josh (but most of you already knew that, didn't you?) and I was gonna marry that boy. At ten. We went trick-or-treating together... shared a dum-dum sucker before we had ever had our first kiss and that was *such* a big deal to me. My world revolved around Josh. He used to ride his bike to my house after school and we would walk around the yard holding hands. I heard the term "puppy love" used so many times and I seriously despised the term. We were not dogs. We were kids. But, we were kids that were in love. And that lasted far longer than anyone (other than myself) had imagined. At seventeen, we were still holding hands. I still loved that boy. But, as I have said a hundred and twelve times. Life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore.
Exhibit B: I moved on. I loved Reuben. Oh, how I loved that boy. And then that man. We had something that people dreamed of having. No one could tell us anything. We were young and so in love... and it was going to last forever. We had a baby. Things were more difficult than we had ever dreamed, but life was still so, so good. We had another baby. Life was better. We were still young. We were still in love. We loved each other, it seemed, more and more with each passing day. Some times, at night, I would hold him while he was sleeping (cheesy, I know) and think about what I would do without him lying next to me and my heart would literally ache to the point to where I thought I would throw up. I needed him like I needed oxygen. But, life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore. It's not like I woke up one morning and said "I'm going to cheat on my husband. I'm going to start a relationship with someone else." That's not how it happened at all. I could try my best to justify it, but the truth is- there is no excuse good enough to explain what I did. How I hurt him. How I hurt my children as a result of my actions. I think I didn't really expect the consequences as they played out. It didn't seem real. I wasn't getting attention at home. So what? I felt like he loved his stupid video game more than me. And?? I just wanted to feel loved, and wanted, and needed, and pretty, and special, and all those things that he made me feel not so many years before... Doesn't matter. Still not an excuse. But, at that time, I thought it was. I defended myself and my decisions and I had friends to back me up. I had people telling me "Girl, I don't blame you!! He deserved that. Doesn't he know that a woman has needs?? He didn't appreciate you so you found someone who would." It doesn't matter. I know now that it was just a season that we were going through in our life. It would have passed. That mantra "this too shall pass" kept me from losing my mind in the early days of new motherhood with a colicky newborn... why didn't I think of it when my marriage was falling apart? I was selfish. I believe that I thought that we would take some space- each do what we wanted for a while- and that we would both realize what we truly wanted... and that would be each other. Only, by the time I realized it, it was too late. He had filed for divorce. We were no longer separated. We were divorced. I was divorced at 23. I cried as I signed the papers. It sucked. It makes me want to throw up, even to this day, thinking about everything that I could have, should have done... but I suppose all the coulda, shoulda, wouldas in the world don't make a bit of difference now. So, I don't dwell on it. As always, I moved on....
Exhibit C: Brandon. My husband. The reason for the "Brooks" at the end of my name. Yes, he was "the other man", and as most of my friends know, it has been rocky from the start. Things are bound to be rocky when you start a relationship the way that we did- with lies and deception. Each of us hurting the people that we swore before God that we would never forsake. I can say from a place of  "been there, done that"... a person never really recovers from beginning a relationship the way we did. There will always be trust issues. Always. If he works late, some times I wonder if he's really out working... after all, that's what he said when he was sneaking off to see me. When he's working out of town and I call and he doesn't answer immediately, I wonder if some other girl is out of town with him... because I can remember driving to Columbus to spend several days with him while he was working. If he's more affectionate than usual- I wonder. If he's more standoff-ish, I wonder. Rarely do I feel so secure in my marriage that I'm not concerned about it. And, it's no one's fault but my own.
Now, in between those examples, there are exhibits A.2 (Ryan), A.3 (William), A.4 (another Ryan), B.2 (Brad), B.3 (Matt), and B.4 (John)... all guys that, for a brief moment in time, I thought coulda been "it"... and when it was over (as it obviously was), I thought that my world might end. It never did. The world keeps a'turnin'.... the sun rises the next day... despite my tear-stained pillow. And, now I'm still on friendly terms with all but one of them. I wish them all nothing but wonderful things and I can honestly say that I feel more than just a little bit silly thinking about all of the time and energy that I invested in crying over them... and, more than once, actually begging them to stick around (not my finest hours, undoubtedly)... I don't know what any of this has to do with anything. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's all just random, empty thoughts running around in my head... but I figured this was all a little much for a status update, so when Facebook asked what was on my mind today, I decided to blog it up. :)

judge away.

"The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands."

I know, I'm crazy. I always have something going on, so despite it looking like I do nothing (a stay-at-home mom without a super-tidy home?? what does she do all day? right?), I'm always doing something. Even if it's just planning a bazillion things at one time. Seriously. Like, right now, I'm already thinking of what I want to do for my birthday (mid-August... and I'm thinking a Roast... like on Comedy Central... where people spend an hour making fun of you. Could be fun for all.) and now Brandon has put in that he wants a big party this year, as well... Not to mention all of the planning that's been going into getting a photography business started up... as well as staying on top of the latest MRSA news... and being Mama. But, I've had this latest concept in my head for some time now and I think I'm actually going to put it to fruition.

An Annual Charity Baby Shower. We would throw a big baby shower... silly games, yummy food, maybe even mimosas for the 21 & ups who want a little drinky-drink... But, the whole point is this- to bring gifts for those who are less fortunate. As mothers, we ALL know what it takes to raise a child. Heck, even the necessities (diapers, wipes, clothes, carseats, bottles, and formula for those who can't or choose not to breastfeed) cost a LOT of money.

{before I go any further, I'm going to share a little story with you}
As some of you may know, my sweet Harley-girl was born six weeks after my nineteenth birthday. I didn't have a job. My husband did. He worked at WalMart at the Tire & Lube Express. Overtime. All the time. His mother was sent from heaven and allowed us to stay with her & just pay what we could, when we could (which, usually, wasn't anything at all... maybe an electric bill here or there). She purchased the crib & changing table, my dad & step mom painted the nursery, my grandmother purchased a comfy glider rocker, ALL of our friends and family bought our sweet little girl clothes and diapers. We had two car seats, a wipe warmer, a breast pump, a baby tub... and the gifts kept coming. My friends Danielle Davis and Emily Macheski-Preston even bought Harley her very first Halloween costume. She was a cow. (The cutest cow ever!!) Every thing that new parents could possibly need- and even things that I had no idea would come in so handy (breast milk storage bags?? but, wouldn't she eat everything that came out?? thanks to hyperlactation- no where close : Emily, I feel your pain). My point is this- it was ONLY by the grace of God and the unbelievable support of those around us that we were able to provide for our little angel. I now have a daughter who will be ten in September who has never known, from the time she was conceived, what it means to have to "go without". We were blessed, indeed. But, so many aren't. I've seen, firsthand, people who can't afford a crib, so their baby has no choice but to sleep in the bed with them. People who can't afford warm clothes for their baby, so instead they have no choice but to keep them inside or wrapped in nothing but blankets. I've seen people on Craigslist BEGGING to borrow formula from someone until their next pay day. And while I know that there are some people who may be putting themselves first and taking care of their own wants ahead of the baby's needs- it's not my place to determine that. I want to take care of the babies. To give them what they will need... but I can't do it alone.

I still have more research to do, and I'm sure that some of you ladies will know a little more about different charity organizations that we can donate to, but I really want this to be a successful event. I was thinking we could all bring new, unwrapped items (as few or as many as you can afford), as well as any left-over, no-longer-needed baby/maternity items that you have laying around. I would also like for each of us to get a new baby bottle (4 or 8 oz) and have that thing filled up with money (i don't care if it's filled with pennies that you grabbed from under your couch cushions, or if your neighbor gave you fifty ones to put in there) that will go to one of the charities. If a few people want to go in together to purchase some of the "big ticket items" like a car seat or a crib or a mattress... that would be AMAZING. Invite your friends, tell them to invite their friends. Invite every woman you know. Invite every pregnant woman that you know. Every new mother. Every grandmother. If you know of an expectant mother who is need, let her know about this event. I'm shooting for April. To me, that month just symbolizes birth. Largely, in part, to that being the month that Easter usually falls in &, as a Christian, that is the ultimate symbol of birth (the re-birth, rising of Christ)... Also, I was thinking about getting some people (maybe some teens from a local youth group or something?) to volunteer to monitor a child care area so that we could all bring our children... they could have activities set up for the different age groups, and even a movie going for the kids that just wanna watch a movie. Again, this is still a work in progress, but I would really like to know how many of you ladies are up for it? How many of you would be interested in helping me to even organize this thing & talk to businesses about sponsoring this event and get the word out? We could set up "planning meetings"... lets just really make this happen. There are so many women and BABIES that really need us. Feel free to "share" this so that we can get the word out & get as many people involved as possible!!!

"At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.

We will be judged by 'I was hungry and you gave me to eat, I was naked and you clothed me, I was homeless and you took me in.'

Hungry not only for bread -- but hungry for love. Naked not only for clothing -- but naked for human dignity and respect. Homeless not only for want of a room of bricks -- but homeless because of rejection." - Mother Teresa

my little superman

Due to his having MRSA (an antibiotic resistant staph infection that just KEEPS coming back), Braydon doesn't get to have a lot of sweets. It's not such a big deal to me because I don't have much of a sweet tooth anyway (however, if you catch me on the right day, I can devour a row of Golden Oreos in a matter of minutes!). But, Braydon, like most little people, loves cookies. It's not even just cookies that he loves so much- Cheetos, Ritz crackers, suckers, Reese's cups.... any kind of "junk food". Unfortunately, all of these are on the list of foods he needs to stay away from. Being the proactive-lets-keep-the-kid-out-of-the-hospital-and-do-everything-we-can-as-naturally-as-possible-before-turning-to-antibiotics kind of mom that I am, I did a lot of research. And by "a lot", I mean countless hours on forums reading from people who have had children who have suffered or have actually themselves suffered from this horrendous, painful super-bug. One thing that I've found is that MRSA has a very difficult time living in an alkaline environment. It thrives on acid... so one method of eradicating this thing, is to limit acid foods and increase the alkalinizing foods (most all green veggies are high on the alkaline scale, where carbs, sugars, and "junk" are all high on the acidic scale). Soy products are also very alkalinizing, so for his snacks lately, it's been soy yogurt (which he loves and is super healthy anyway)... I try to encourage healthy eating habits with all of my children, but sometimes a kid just wants a french fry... or a cookie.

So, the other day, I pulled the Golden Oreos out from their hiding place (I hide them from myself... out of sight, out of mind, right?) and gave my little monkey one. The last time he ate one, he discovered "dunking"... this time, he discovered that they twist apart!!!! and there's all kinds of yummy chocolate-y stuff in the middle!!!

here he is discovering that Oreos come apart :)

BUT he also knows that he usually is not allowed to have these cookies... so, not sure if he's really allowed to eat it, he sneaks off to his tent (this was captured from around the corner with some serious zoom). notice there is already chocolate creme filling on the back of his diaper.. and, somehow, his foot.

hehe. he thought he was getting away with something...

the moment he realized he was "busted"

I just love that little guy so much. Knowing that this infection is something that has been deadly for so many, we are so thankful to have our baby boy & praise God for every single day that he is healthy. Each time that a new outbreak comes, we quarantine him in the house, bleach everything, go about our routine to kill it, and just pray non-stop that it keeps getting better with our "home treatments"... as soon as a fever spikes, we're back to the hospital. Thankfully, we have not been there since September, and we pray that we don't have to go back. (I don't talk about it much because it's still so scary to me and I don't do well with scary... I hide from confrontation.. even when it's just reality that's confronting me)

But, on a happier note- here is Bray with his bestest buddy (Daddy) just being silly little boys. :)

Brandon seriously smothers him with kissies. He's worse than a mommy half the time. <3

 And I just love this one because it shows Booga playing... this what 25% of our day is spent doing... hiding. 

Chalk Talk!!

My littlest buddy has discovered art!! (I'm not-so-secretly hoping he has the same love for it that Carter has, although I have a hard time imagining that *any* child could be quite as talented as my biggest buddy.) We've moved away from crayons, as they have a tendency to not want to come off of everything. Even the washable kind. Even the bathtub kind. And, I know, encouraging my child to draw on the walls in the bathtub will only lead him to want to draw on the walls in his bedroom & elsewhere. I don't keep art supplies out where he can get to them (however, he *did* grab a dry erase marker off of the refrigerator the other day & left us a nice scribbly picture on the front of the fridge. luckily, it comes off quite easily.) I've tried to combine "art time" with "outside time" and let him use the sidewalk chalk from YaYa (my mother) to color. But that has led to him wanting to color EVERYTHING outside. Including our dogs. And the fence. And himself. It's just so darned cute, though!! It's just chalk. It will wash off. And even if it were permanent marker, the one thing that is NOT permanent is his childhood- this stage in his life. It's gonna be gone in the blink of an eye. The chalk will wash away when the next rain comes. The memories we make are gonna stick around loooooong after.

Brandon loves that he and Braydon have the same initials. I thought this 

picture was absolutely precious!! I drew their initials on the driveway &
Bray immediately plopped down to color on it!! 

 

Coloring on the front porch. I love those little scribbles.

hmmmm... is this food? Nope.

is it like a q-tip?? Nope.

well, whatever it is---- it's all mine. :)

just chillin' at the front door... colorin' away. 

I don't know why this one won't rotate. :( It keeps uploading sideways, but 

regardless, I love this picture. Like Crissy, he loves the way chalk looks on 

black. So, he colored on the black front door, as well as the top of my night stand, 

which I painted black recently. :)  I think when we buy a house (next year-ish) that 

I will put him & Carter in the same room and give them an art wall ... chalkboard

paint & a place to hang their art work.... and a basketball goal, of course. ;)

and the winner is....

I stuck with blessed. You know, for the name of my photography "business". (I use the term loosely because, let's face it- I'm not yet getting paid for this "business"... yet.) One of the biggest decisions I will face in making my own business will be coming up with a name (I may most certainly will laugh at that statement later.) and this was not an easy one. I kept going back to sitting duck. Then going back to blessed. Then remembered the suggestions from my facebook page and toyed with beyond blessed. But, when it came down to "branding" and coming up with something that just seemed to fit every aspect of what I was looking for- blessed was the only one that cut it. Simple. That's what I want. Because, as I've stated before- it's the simple, every day moments that I'm hoping to capture. I want people to be able to look back years later on the photos I have taken & say "wow! that's exactly how I remember so-and-so"... Real life moments. (huh, that woulda been a good name.) But, blessed sums it up. ((I currently have Martina McBride's song stuck in my head... and it fits.))

The logo design I came up with, I did for the 3 biggest blessings in my life- my children. The largest circle represents my daughter, Harley. My Stinkerbell. My rough-neck princess. The middle one, my first baby boy- Carter. My man. The very first time I TRULY fell in love with a boy. The tiniest one, my last baby. My Monkey Man. My BrayFish. The reason for bags under my eyes- Braydon.

I truly hope that someday I  *will* be doing this as my full-time career. I have to have faith. I do have faith. I have passion. I have love. And I have the support of so many wonderful friends. I am soooooo truly blessed. Now, what you *really* came here to see... pictures of the wee one... :)

yes, I took a picture of him in the grocery store. told ya I was gonna... ;)

how much do I love that little tongue sticking out?? :P :)

this one's going on the wall, for sure. 

"I have been blessed with so much more than I deserve,

To be here with the ones who love me, to love them so much it hurts...

I have been blessed."

whatcha got there, little girl??

Perusing my former blog (which is still up and running, I just became a slacker at updating it... I'll see what I can do about that), I found this post on my favorite things. I wrote it this time last year & it's so neat to go back and see what has changed and what has, essentially, stayed the same. When the original post was written, my baby boy was 4 months old, and Harley and Carter (then 8 and 5, respectively) had just left for their daddy's. They've since been back & left again. And, no, it does not ever get easier watching them go. Quite the opposite, really. It's much more difficult because you KNOW what to expect. You are fully aware with every fiber of your being just how bad it's going to hurt every single day that they're gone. I digress. This is to be a light-hearted post, full of the things that make me happy, so let's begin.

Like I said, some of the things I listed last year have actually stayed the same, but so as not to have a repeat post, I'm going to just list those things now...lots of last names (however, I'm now leaning more toward Kayla Shealey Eldridge Brooks Balboa Cougar Mellancamp), Rocky Balboa, Folger's Coffee, Sugar in the Raw, my yellow Nikes (even purchased a pair of yellow Adidas hoping they could be a worthy substitute from time to time... I've worn them twice. the Nikes win. I even wore them at a friend's wedding reception with my purple bridesmaids dress.), soul miner's daughter, deep bath tubs, chickfila, lysol, facebook, the dvr, and chelsea lately. Whew. Not that I don't still like the other things listed, but they just probably aren't an integral part of my life anymore. So, I move on. 2012... My favorite things...

1. My Chelsea Lately coffee cup. Seriously. J bought this for me for my birthday & I drink my coffee out of this thing almost every single day. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever received and it just reminds me that I have someone who loves me to bits and who really knows me... coffee & Chelsea will ALWAYS be two of my favorite things... it's the perfect way to get my day started.

2. Pinterest. Oh, how I love Pinterest. If I'm bored with my stand-by recipes and want a quick something to throw in the crockpot- forget Google! I'm going to Pinterest. If I need a creative gift for a friend, but am completely lost as to where to start- forget calling a friend asking "what should I make??"! I'm going to Pinterest. If I want to know what complete outfits I should wear to Disney world (as if any of those are practical choices) I still go to Pinterest. I can make homemade cleaning supplies that I don't have to be concerned will make my family sick because I KNOW what's in them. And, also thanks to Pinterest, I now have #3 on my list of favorite things....

3. Home made French Vanilla Coffee Creamer. I'm not big on fancy creamers. I don't need some Italian French Vanilla Bean Creme da la Creme whatever. I just want plain 'ole creamer. But, one fateful day several weeks ago, I happened to have used the last of the coffeemate and was just about flat broke. Which meant no more creamer for several days. Sure, I could have used milk. And I would have. But, with a Pin for Home made French Vanilla Creamer staring me in the face (and all of the ingredients in my kitchen), I couldn't resist. It's lightly sweet, which is amazing, so now I have to use even LESS of my Sugar in the Raw, which means it lasts twice as long!! (which is great, because it's one of my few splurges and is kind of pricey) Wanna try it yourself? Go for it! It's really easy & you can find the recipe here.

4. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Yes, it is one of my favorite things. Why? Because it keeps my baby happy. Yes, I am that mom who will put my child in front of the t.v. so I can get things done around the house. Would I rather him just play in his room with his toys? Sure. But, that's not always gonna happen. And when it doesn't, I have no problems turning on "Key-Key" (what he calls Mickey) for a while. Meeeeska Moooooska Mickeeeeyyyyyy MOUSE!!!!

5. Skype. Because right now it's the only way I get to see my oldest babies face-to-face. Would I rather not have to use it? Abso-friggin-lutely. But, I am so thankful that we do have it because not seeing them would make this far more difficult. Thanks to Skype, I don't have to worry that Braydon won't recognize them when they get home. They still get to watch him grow and change, as well. And neither of my children are great on the telephone... they both get side-tracked. So, it makes it much easier when they can actually SEE who they're talking to. (And it's super funny watching Harley make faces at herself. I swear, half the time is spent with her stretching her face and staring at herself. Her Aunt Erin comin' out in her...) ;)

6. Photo editing software. Oooohhhh... I love!!! I'm learning so much about different functions and actions and it's all so cool to me!! It amazes me that I can take a good photo and turn it into something GREAT with just a little time in front of the computer!!

7. Wen by Chaz Dean conditioning shampoo. You've seen it on t.v., right? This stuff is life changing!! Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it IS hair changing. I have naturally curly, very dry, over processed hair. I straighten my hair almost every time I wash it (which, to be honest, is as rarely as possible), I have an amazing hairdresser who does a great job with my highlights that I have to get fairly often (considering how light I *like* my hair to be and how dark it is naturally) but, as we all know.... chemicals have a tendency to leave our hair really dull and brittle... that's where Wen comes in. It really does work the way they show in the commercials. If I decide to leave my hair curly, my curls are so much curlier and hydrated!! If I straighten it, my hair is softer, shinier and easier to manage... all without an additional conditioner. I LOVE it!!! Of course, like I said though, I try not to wash my hair until I absolutely have to... which usually means that I'm going out in public or something. I BATHE, I just hate drying my hair!!!

8. Carmex. Best. Non-Chapstik. EVER. It soothes, it cools, it works. That's all.

9. Gillette Fusion ProGlide Razors. I know, they're men's razors. But, I don't care. They work better than any women's razor on the market. And, judging by the number of men I've heard complain about their wives stealing their razors, I'd have to say I'm not the only woman who feels this way. I just wish I could make them prettier... I don't want a blue & grey razor... I want mine glittery... ((I'll bet Pinterest has a great idea for that!!))

10. Purex Laundry Detergent. I haven't yet made the Homemade Laundry Detergent I've had pinned for some time now. I'll get around to it. But, for now, I LOVE Purex. I love the way it smells, I love that I can find it on sale for 3.99 & I usually have a dollar off coupon, making it 2.99... it works amazingly- even in cold water, which is what I usually use. The scent lasts FOREVER. And, my husband claims that he has sensitive skin and can't use Gain (although he has never noticed when I've switched it up), so I tried Purex just because it was cheap & haven't looked back since.

11. Cascade dish washer packet thingies. Nothing else will do. I have tried a hundred and three different things in my dishwasher and nothing works nearly as well at getting my dishes clean and sparkly. Hmm... maybe I should check Pinterest, though, before I go out and buy some more. ((SEE?? Pinterest is good for EVERYTHING!!))

Okay, I'm gonna leave off with eleven... a good, odd number. What are some of your favorite things?? I really wanna know!! :)

Week #3 of 52

As soon as I posted the pics from Weeks 1 & 2, I was unbelievably excited to find out the subject for Week #3. And, once it was up- I was stumped. The topic for Week 3's photograph was "Inspiration", which was a super toughie for me. What inspires me? From what (or whom) do I get my inspiration? This is the easiest question in the world for me... there's so much. I could give you ten things, at least. The problem was with narrowing it down to one.

At first, I thought of the obvious- my children. Yes, they inspire me to do great things so that I can provide inspiration for them some day. But, more than that- they inspire me to be silly. To stay young. To not stress about the little, mundane things. To just be free- like a child. My youngest inspires me to get on my knees and crawl on the floor acting like a puppy. My oldest inspires me to just be goofy. She's such a nut and pretty much DEMANDS that you relax and stop taking everything so seriously. My middle child, my first-born son, my heart and soul... inspires me to look at everything a little bit differently. To really "see" art in everything, as he does. He is my little artist and sees everything as an opportunity to create. These people truly inspire me.

Then, I thought of my mother-out-law... Ruthanne. She raised two children on her own, for the most part. Working all the time. Doing the absolute very best with what she had. Was she perfect? Ha. Are ANY of us perfect? But, was she amazing? Absolutely. She has taught me to stand up for what I want, what I know is right, what I believe in... and to not take "no" for an answer. I've still got a long way to go on that, but I'm working on it. The woman has balls of steel, for lack of a better phrase. She lets nothing & no one intimidate her or stand in the way of what she wants. This woman truly inspires me.

There's also my own mother. She has been through so much... so incredibly much. Things that I couldn't possibly understand until I was grown and a mother myself (isn't that the way it usually works)... and some things I still don't quite "get", but am thankful that I will never have to "get" them. She moves forward, presses on, and smiles another day. She has taught me to smile through the tears. She taught me to "sing like ya don't need the money, love like you'll never get hurt, and dance like nobody's watchin"... She truly inspires me.

My grandmother inspires me. For reasons too numerous to count. Every one who truly knows me knows what my Nana means to me. I could not ask for a better role model, or a more ridiculous best friend. She makes me laugh, but that woman is one tough cookie. If you want to see someone who can go through something that would rip the heart straight out of someone's chest, but still maintain the composure to be there for others- look no further than my Nana. That woman truly inspires me.

Erin McCoy, my sister-out-law... owner of Sixpence Photography... mother of Evy Sue... wife of Matt... daughter of Ruthanne... super-aunt to my babies... SHE has inspired me, especially over the past year. She's always been somewhat of an inspiration to me. Her smile is ridiculously contagious. Her personality and warmth will overcome you and just make you feel like you're her best friend. For several years, I was married to her brother... she was my Maid of Honor in our wedding- because she is truly one of the NICEST people you will ever meet. She was born to be a mother. I've known that for a long time. But, when she sent me a text to tell me she was pregnant, I cried. I seriously cried. I was so happy because I knew that her life was going to be changed in ways that she had no idea. And, of course, it was. Her daughter, Evy, inspired her to do something that she had wanted to do for so long. Erin started Sixpence Photography in 2011 and has grown so much in the past year, doing what she loves doing. Watching her go after her dreams has inspired me to do the same. She's not a random name that I've heard, or just a beautiful photo I've seen floating out there... She's my family. Still. And she truly inspires me.

So, understandably, with such incredible women to look to for inspiration, as well as three perfectly imperfect children, I was having extreme difficulty deciding on what the focus of my "inspiration" would be. Then he came home. Last night, after working all day, he walked in the door anxious to play with our 16 month old son- his pride and joy. He had barely stepped out of his jeans when his phone rang. Typical. It was someone calling about a job. It was 7:30 at night. Most people hang up their work hat at 5 p.m., then go home to be with their family. His phone usually does not stop ringing until around 10 p.m. He's up at 6 to do it all over again. Sometimes  7 days a week. It doesn't stop. I would be lying if I said that he never complains. Heaven knows the man complains. ((Don't they all??)) But, he doesn't turn a job down if he can help it, because he knows what it takes to support his family. He works his butt off... day in, day out... and still makes time to be the most incredible father (honestly) that I have ever known.

This man, in his hole-ly long johns, on his phone working at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday, 

is my inspiration.

"best. stalker. EVER."

If you pay attention to my Facebook in the least, you are well aware by now that I am in love with Josh Wolf. (If you do not know who Josh Wolf is, PLEASE do yourself a favor and crawl out from under whatever sad, lonely rock you have been hiding under and watch Chelsea Lately. If you do not know what Chelsea Lately is, never speak to me again. Yes, it's that serious.) Now, I know... "in love" sounds like a mighty intense way to describe one's feelings for a pseudo-celebrity. (I only say "pseudo" because when most think of a celebrity, they think of Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt. I, however, think of Josh Wolf.) But, my adoration for this man goes beyond an innocent crush.... oh, there is very little that is "innocent" about the things I think when my thoughts turn to this ball cap-wearing, testicle-obsessed, scruffy-faced man. ((for clarification, the testicles I am referring to are his own... you'd have to watch Chelsea Lately to understand.) The man is #s 1, 2 & 3 on my list of celebrities that I have permission to cheat on my husband with (doesn't every couple have that list?? no?? hmmm....). He has taken over the spots that were previously reserved for Hugh Laurie and Paul Walker. Yes, he has taken Paul Walker's place. Because I TRULY find Josh to be the Sexiest Man Alive (who is doing the research for People magazine?? They are OBVIOUSLY looking in the wrong place). What, you may ask, do I find soooo irresistible about this man?? Well, besides EVERYTHING... let's see... He is genuinely nice. I know. "ugh." Nice is boring. But, seriously, this man truly cares about his fans. He makes time for them. I've been a fan for YEARS, and a few years ago had the IMMENSE pleasure of meeting him in person. I hugged him. Talked to him. Held a conversation. Ate a sandwich. Had a beer. With Josh Wolf. Honestly--- probably the best night of my life. I was amazed at how NICE he was. But, not only nice--- he's funny. I know, you would expect him to be funny--- he's a comedian. That's what he does for a living. That's what pays his bills. But, he's "real people" funny. Like, how you are when you're hanging out with your best friend & you look at eachother thinking "someone should really follow us around with cameras because we're friggin hilarious".. that's how he is. He's just a funny man. And, to the obvious... the man is sexy. Just straight up, no way to hide it, SEXY.

I've been called a stalker. For a while, I just considered myself his #1 fan. But, I suppose I'll take stalker. It's kind of like "super fan", only a little more intense, right? He told me, back when I first began messaging him (in the days of myspace), that as long as I wasn't sending cat heads to his doorstep it would be fine. So, I haven't (not that I would). But, today, I made a statement that I was a "good stalker, not crazy stalker, right?" ... and that dear, sweet, drenched-from-head-to-toe-in-raw-unadulterated-sex-appeal-hunk-of-man replied that I was the "best stalker"... yes, he did. Some might consider that to be a negative statement. Not I. Oh no, DEFINITELY not I. Josh Wolf said *I* am the best stalker. Now, where did I put that tour schedule??....

Josh & I 

I, personally, think we just look good together.

(although someone should have stopped me from those bangs!! What was I thinking??)

for my pretty friends...

Okay, I get it. It's January. You people are on this whole "New Year, New Me" kick, and I get it. And it's reflected in the seemingly endless "pins" on Pinterest that give you a list of 50 things to do before you get out of bed to get your dream body, a miracle diet for perfect abs, pictures of 115 pound 6 foot tall models in bikinis above a fat kid eating cake imploring you to choose which you will be (for the record, I'm the fat kid eating cake)... don't get me wrong- I'm all for "bettering yourself" and personal growth both mentally and physically, but is hopping out of bed to do 50 sit ups, 40 jumping jacks, 30 crunches, 20 minutes of planking, 10 eye rolls, and 5 slaps to the face really gonna make you happy?? If so, by all means, have at it sister! But, if you're like me and you know that you will do this for a day or two then lose hope and just quit- leaving you to feel like a failure, then why do it? Why make yourself miserable? And furthermore, why can't we look in the mirror and be happy with what we see? Please, do not misunderstand what I'm saying and think that I want everyone to eat HoHos (for the record, I don't even know what a HoHo is... never had one in my life. But, apparently, they are what dimply thighs are made of) and be Fatty McFattersons... I'm not saying to quit going to the gym or running or whatever your passion is. I'm not saying that fit and healthy or even just plain skinny is "bad" or "ugly". I'm not saying ANY of that. For those of you who can get up and spend 2 hours in the gym and eat an egg white and spinach omelette for breakfast with a protein shake and LOVE it- I admire you. Honestly. Because that used to be me. I was at the gym twice a day, every day, for a couple of years and adored it. I've worked as a personal trainer, I've been on health food kicks... but even then, I wasn't happy with my body. I think, as women, we are hardwired to seek out our flaws and magnify them by 1,000. I see pictures (more than likely photoshopped pictures, but regardless) of these teeny tiny women with six pack abs and perky little bottoms, and perfectly rounded breasts (which are abnormally large for someone who probably couldn't break triple digits soaking wet) and I'm envious. I think, for a moment, "that's what I wanna look like. I can do that. With enough discipline and motivation- I CAN DO THAT." And, I suppose I could. I still wouldn't look like that, though. And I still wouldn't be happy. Because I can remember a time when I was 18, before my body knew what it meant to "carry a child", when my max weight was 94 pounds. I was a size 0. Size 2 about one week out of the month. And I ate. Boy, did I eat. I was blessed with the Shealey metabolism which meant that I could eat a Super Sonic Cheeseburger, a foot long Chili Cheese Coney with extra cheese, a Coconut Creme Pie milkshake, and have a Coke with it and not gain a single pound. I was a skinny girl. People told me all the time "I would kill to be able to eat like you do and stay so tiny!!" I didn't realize what a blessing my metabolism was because it was all I knew. I had been like this from the day I was born. I, honestly, thought that everyone had the same ability to eat what they wanted and not gain weight so if they were overweight, it was their fault. I didn't know why, I just knew that it was. That was ignorant. But, even then, I didn't like the way I looked. I had NO BUTT (I know, hard to believe, but believe me... it's true), no curves whatsoever and I was jealous of those who looked like what I thought a "real woman" should look like. Now, this is where I suppose I'm supposed to say that I then had my first child and it all went downhill. I gained a massive amount of weight and have never gotten rid of the bulk of it. But, that's not the case. Actually, even though I gained a whopping SIXTY pounds while pregnant with Harley, I lost the majority of it fairly easily. I was breastfeeding, so the weight kind of just melted away. But, this is where the problem came in... I was terrified of being "skinny" again. I didn't want to be that tiny. I liked my new-found curves. I had a butt, for the first time in my life. To me, my ideal weight was around 120 and I didn't want to get below that. I remember stepping on the scale on day and seeing 121 and ran to the kitchen to eat everything I could find. I just knew that if I didn't, I would keep losing weight and that thought was really scary to me. I was tired of being told that I needed to "eat a cheeseburger", even though I had just eaten two. My issue was different from most girls in that I still saw "skinny" when I looked in the mirror, when in reality I was just fine. I didn't like "skinny". With each child, my metabolism has slowed a little more, to the point where I started to see myself as overweight. And, in reality, I never really saw myself as overweight until a very close friend of mine made a comment in front of me to someone else saying "Kayla is the only person that I know who can stay skinny an entire pregnancy, then blow up after the baby is born".... and that stung. Probably because it was true. I had only gained 6 pounds during my pregnancy with Braydon... but, after he was born I wasn't able to breastfeed for more than a few weeks for reasons related to sterilization surgery & pain medication, but the weight was slowly adding up. I was grazing all day, but not on healthy stuff. I'm from the south and we like butter and gravy and all kinds of stuff that will pile it on. When I cook, I go big. And, then I eat big. And I love my cooking so much, that I'll eat it all day. If that means that I have a big bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy for breakfast- so be it. (then again at lunch... and dinner... with oreos in between). So, by the time by baby was 6 months old, I weighed ten pounds more than I had the day he was born. (and on a 5'4" frame, ten pounds is fairly substantial... especially when there's no baby bump to hide it.) Truthfully, at the time, I thought she was just being a bitch. I knew what the scale said, but I was in denial that I was really gaining a significant amount of weight. Ten pounds... that could be water weight, right? (wrong.) Despite the fact that my pants were getting tighter, I still saw "skinny" in the mirror (I'm telling you, people, it sounds great, but that is not a good problem to have. Quite embarrassing, actually). The big moment of truth, for me, was at the end of April... after two weddings & I'm going through the photos to be edited, looking at the ones of myself thinking "I am NOT that big... why do I look that big in these pictures?" Now, don't get me wrong, I have never been what most consider to be "big", but what I was seeing in these pictures was not what I had been seeing in the mirror. And I knew that I had actually put on a few MORE pounds since these photos had been taken. So..... I knew I had to do something. I didn't go on some big crash diet. I drank a lot more water, had a lean cuisine or smart ones for lunch, and pretty much ate whatever I wanted for breakfast and dinner. I tried to be more active. Mainly going for walks in the afternoon, pushing the baby in the stroller. That was it. No more oreos... well, at least not a whole row of oreos. ;) I didn't give up the foods that I loved, because I knew that I could still have them at dinner (when I was most likely to over indulge, or eat with friends, or want a 1,000 calorie drink). I didn't work out to the point where I wanted to drop. Therefor, I didn't feel like a failure if I skipped a day or two. Because it wasn't a big adjustment to get right back in. What I did to "slim down" a little fit my personal lifestyle. I like food & I know I'm not going to give up eating what I love. I no longer care to spend time in the gym- I would rather be writing, or taking pictures, or playing with my baby, or (admittedly) watching the Kardashians on my dvr... Some call it lazy, I call it Me. So, maybe I'm lazy. (Okay, I am.) My point is this- even though I lost an amazing 20 pounds doing very little, I've gained some of it back.... and I'm not happy about it and will probably go back to what I was doing before and lose it again. Because that was a lifestyle change that worked for me. But, I'm not going to obsess over it. I get jealous when I see the skinny models. I am envious of my friends who can wear skin tight dresses and look super hot, when I can't... but, even when I was a "skinny girl"- I wasn't happy with the way I looked. When I was 120 pounds- I obsessed over my weight to the point where it became unhealthy, therefor I was unable to be happy with the way I looked. When I was a Hooters Girl and wore those super tiny orange shorts, I compared myself to all of the 18 & 19 year old kids I was working with and (even though I was at the gym every day!!) I still didn't like the way I looked. I was never as "in shape" as the girl next to me. And, now... I look back at pictures from each of those stages in my life and I see such insecurity. I've always been very extroverted and seemingly confident, but I suppose it was really just an act because I've never really considered myself a pretty girl. I still am not very good at taking compliments (although I do love them), but I am able to see something now that I didn't before. At the risk of sounding like Christina Aguilera- I am beautiful. I am. I'm not physically perfect, but I am beautiful. I have a big heart, but even on the outside--- I know that if I don't appreciate where I'm at right now, ten years from now I'm going to look back & want to kick myself thinking that I should have realized how beautiful I really was. (I know that, because that's the way I look at pictures of myself from 6 years ago, in those orange shorts... I was in a lot better shape than I realized). I just want you all to go look in the mirror. Seriously, do it. At some point today just go look in the mirror (a full-length on, preferably) and pick yourself apart. But, differently than you usually do. Instead of picking apart all of the bad things, think about all of the many little things that make you so beautiful. It doesn't make you cocky. These things are  YOU. And in order to be the confident woman that you can be, you need to recognize just how beautiful you really are. Think about something that maybe a man has complimented you on before. Even if you dismissed it. Think about that body part and dwell on that for a minute. That is beautiful. For me, it's my back. Most guys compliment my butt. It happens. Heck, I like my big ole backside. It's part of me, and part of what gives me my confidence. (I prayed for this butt... seriously. Such a silly thing to pray for, but I did.) But, once, I had a man that I was seeing tell me that I had a beautiful back... I thought it was ridiculous. Who compliments someone's back?? But, when I was searching, TRYING to find something (other than my rear) that I thought was beautiful, I recalled those words... and now I've come to love it. My back is beautiful. So, my stomach is imperfect. I'm not going to have a six pack. I know that. I'm not going to put forth the work that it takes to get it. That's fine. But, I also have pretty nice legs. The thighs, maybe not so much... but all in all, my legs look great in a dress and heels. Maybe you have AMAZING eyes, or even eyebrows. Maybe you have gorgeous full lips, or cheeks full of freckles, or perfectly shaped shoulders. Or maybe it's your back, or your hair, or your crooked smile. Heck, I even love my belly button. FIND things about yourself that you LOVE. And make a list. Write these things down, and tell yourself that you're beautiful. Because you are. I tell myself all the time that I have some of the prettiest friends out there. And I do. But, it doesn't do much good for me to know it. YOU have to know it. Yes, it's cheesy and cliche... but YOU. ARE. BEAUTIFUL.   I would LOVE to hear some of the things that you know make you beautiful!!!