What If God Snatched You Up Into Heaven Right Now?

So, I’m reading a little Genesis this afternoon and it’s all, “This dude fathered this guy and this man made this baby who had more babies….”  and  all the sudden this man named Enoch is snatched.  Into Heaven.  Because God and him and like total BFFs.  WHAT?!  Amongst a bunch of boring who-fathered-who hoopla, Enoch disappears.  Here are the verses: Continue reading

Everything’s Up To Date In Kansas City

Today was crazy.  I ran pretty much every errand on my list.  Sent cards.  Went to bank.  Purchased and wrapped wedding gifts.  Got ten dollar Target gift card for buying two boxes of diapers.  (Woot!) Bought Maya Angelou stamps. (Double woot!)  As Jack and I were exiting our car at Target, the sky fell upon us and soaked us completely.  It was almost nice, as the air conditioned building helped us survive the record breaking heat that has kept us from going anywhere outdoors this week.  The best part of my day may have been when my dog puked up hamburger grease on the carpet.  Or maybe it was a few hours later when she did it again, but I didn’t notice-until my baby slipped in it-requiring an immediate tiny human rinse off/carpet cleaning combo.  Actually, it might even be about an hour ago, when my husband woke me up in the middle of the night to find his car keys that I lost.  It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago, we were living it up in Kansas City.  Already, we are back to the real world of annoying my husband and bathing my puke covered toddler. Continue reading

Cutting Sandwiches

Every day, as I prepare a meal for my one year old, I think of my dad.  Especially when I’m cutting his sandwiches into perfect little squares so his squishy fingers can shove bite-sized pieces into his mouth.  It reminds me of the meals my dad used to make me.  Peanut butter and jelly was my fav.  Four perfect squares, hold the crust.  Cheese toast was second best.  These bits were even smaller.  Tiny individual toasts with melted cheddar.  Another frequent request was “pink pink”, my word for scrambled eggs.  Dad isn’t quite sure where that came from, but we think I called it that because the eggs came in a pink carton.  I didn’t call scrambled eggs anything, but “pink pink” until I was embarrassingly old. When I am cutting Jack’s sandwiches up for him, I think of my dad and all the fun we had growing up.  All the weird and unique things I did with just my dad and no one else.  Here are just a few of the things that I flashback to while cutting sandwiches: Continue reading

Pregnant And Afraid: What You Need To Know

After recently listening to a girl who was pregnant with her first child share her anxiety about her upcoming childbirth, I was inspired to quickly jot down important things I learned from my own experience.  While I read the books and took the classes, there were still some things I didn’t think about until after I checked in.  Also, several of the things I was anxious about turned out to be quite trivial in hindsight. Continue reading

Baby Talk: The Art Of Manipulation

Jack and Myles
Jack and Myles

Today, as Jack and Myles were playing in their car, I overheard something that you might not believe.  I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.  Myles likes to hit the car really hard and run away while Jack laughs and stays in.  I was just checking to see if everything was alright and that no fingers were at risk for jamnation.  I guess they didn’t notice.  I walked in mid-sentence.  It all seemed like normal toddler babble to me, until…. Continue reading

My Mom Is The Worst

If your mother is anything like mine, it can freak you out when you find yourself saying or doing something the way she does.  My mother is truly saddened when she sees a young lady (like myself) who chooses not to wear make up or fix her hair.  It drove me nuts growing up.  I was a tshirt and jeans kind of kid.  I don’t think I ever actually fixed my hair until….well….11th grade?  Seriously.  And that was only occasionally.  I refused to wear contacts until then, too.  In hind sight, it is hilarious to me that these things bothered her.  She is the one who taught me to never pay full price for anything.  Abercrombie and Fitch was robbing people if they thought she was going to pay $50 for a tshirt.  SHE WAS RIGHT.  That is insane.  It’s a piece of cotton that has A and F on it.  YOU are PAYING Abercrombie to walk around and advertise for them.  When I was very little, I’m sure she fixed my hair, but once I got old enough to dress myself and whatnot, she never really said, “Okay, Becca.  This is how you fix your hair.”  She didn’t pick out my outfits.  I did.  I had the opportunity to make my own decisions and I chose to do what required the least amount of effort possible.  Which drove her nuts.  Which drove ME nuts.  We were very different people.  I was an early teen who hated school, girls who care about A and F, and most of all, my mother.  She. Was. The. Worst.  She wanted me to study.  She wanted me to do my homework.  She wanted me to SWEEP THE DINING ROOM LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF HOUSE ELF.  What was wrong with her?  She was upset with me when my teacher called her and said that it looked like I may have forged her signature on my report card.  WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, MOM?!  I GOT A C IN HISTORY!  She even made me call and apologize to my evil teacher like it was MY fault that she noticed that my mother’s handwriting looked different.  Then, when I decided I wanted to join a softball team because my best friend was doing it, she wouldn’t let me quit.  IT WAS HOT!  I was an awful softball player and she still made me stick with it until the end of the season.  She came to every game just to make sure I went.  Or to root me on.  I don’t know.  Moms, right?  Ugh!  Now, as an adult, I find myself doing things the way she did and it just totally freaks me out.  Here are some things I have to blame on my mother: Continue reading

Why It’s Totally Cool To Have A Meltdown When Your Child’s Forehead Is Hot (See what I did there?)

Every time Jack has even a low grade temperature, I go into panic mode.  As a nurse, I know that fevers are actually a good thing.  They are your body’s way of getting rid of foreigners that are trying to take over.  By increasing the body’s temperature, organisms that don’t belong are (in a nutshell) heated to death.  The nurse part of me says, “Becca?  What’s your frickin problem?  He’s fine.  Take a chill pill and go to bed.”, but the mother part of me says “No. Way.  We CANNOT rest until the tiny human is back to normal.  It is your JOB.  It is YOUR fault if his temperature increases to 104 in his sleep.”  The mother part always wins.  Any other kid and I would give them some Tylenol and check on them in the morning, but Jack?  Jack is MY kid, and the only way to get any sleep is to sleep in his room and listen to him breathing. Continue reading

The Only Official “Stay-At-Home-Mom” Post I Will Ever Write-I Promise (Or, 12 Things You Need To Know Before Becoming A SAHM)

When I decided to start this blog, I was determined NOT to make it another “Mom Blog”.  The internet is littered with them and I don’t want to be in the middle of the pile.  When I was pregnant, I read every mom blog there was and really enjoyed them, but I think there are already enough. One of my best friends has recently decided to make the transition from working mom to work-from-home mother and while she is excited about it, she is also a bit apprehensive. I give you exhibit A: Continue reading

The Random Times When I Feel Like A Grown Up

Growing up, I remember day-dreaming of the day I would reach adulthood.  I would fantasize about driving a car, going to a restaurant without my parents, learning to say my “R”s, and other such exciting things.  My best friend, Sarah(Sawah), and I had a regular “game” we’d pull from our repertoire we called “college girls”.  We would go on imaginary dates with broomsticks (I can’t make this stuff up) and come back to our super chic apartment and talk about how our nights went.  As I grew older and reached new milestones in life, I’d wonder when I would really feel like an adult. Continue reading