Our Family

I am not very good at blogging I guess. Like most things I'm not good, I think I'll pass the blame from myself to something else. In this case, my boys. We started Ammon on solid foods and I've been carefully journalling (?? is that a word) and keeping track of his reactions to everything. I won't bore you with those details because this blog is supposed to be more fun than his love/hate relationship with baby oatmeal.

I've been having nightmares - which isn't uncommon for me - and fortunately Travis is sympathetic enough that he doesn't complain when he gets woken up in the middle of the night from my screaming/thrashing/crying. I do not have any self inflicted black eyes yet, but after watching this season of The Bachelor, I'm starting to think that for a very psychotic group of women this is possible and I'm hoping I don't fall into that category.

But I've been reading a lot about how to control your dreams and prevent yourself from having nightmares and one of the recurrent themes I've noticed in my reading is to find a happy place for yourself.

Here's my happy place. I wish I could somehow have a picture of this but I would need Travis to help me out with that and he's not here right now...he's probably trying to find his own happy place actually. He told me the other day that he has to find his own happy place every now and then when coping with a crazy patient. Anyway, here's what I'm hoping for y'all to visualize:

Picking up an incredibly chunky baby. Having his arms spread straight out to the side with his shoulders somewhere between his chin and his ears. Smiling a big, squishy, lips-pushed-together-from-so-much-chin smile. And his eyes are looking off to the side as if to say, "I've got a secret and even though you can smell it, I'm not telling what it is."

He's so cute it makes me grit my teeth the way my mom does when she's talking to a baby. I haven't taken on my mom's vigorous head pats-of-affection so there's still hope that Ammon might keep his hair, but this little kid has pretty much taken me over.

Carsen has grown out of that little toddler look and become a little boy which is happy and sad at the same time. I was sick a couple of weeks ago - also something I'm pretty sure I can blame my kids for - and he came downstairs to me and said: "I will take care of you today Mommy." Now I'm going to brag in un-exaggerated form (also like my mother, I get to make up my own words) to tell you that I asked him if he would read during story time instead of having Mommy read. His response was to go and get 7 Sesame Street Books and sit down between me and Ammon and read for over an hour and a half straight. After he finished all 7 of his books he asked me for an afternoon snack and then brought his green blankie down with a pillow and had quiet time also between Mommy and Ammon. He's not perfect, but he's so close and maybe I'm just super emotional right now but I just feel so happy that I have my two little sons. Right at this very minute Carsen is playing the piano and singing an arrangement of "Let the Holy Spirit Guide".

Now I'm going to have to save this for Travis to proof read and he'll probably tell me I'm bragging too much. But I know mostly family and close friends are the only ones to really sit down and read what's on this and I know you'll just be happy for me and not think I'm bragging.

Is it just me, or does it sound like Ammon needs his pants changed in Vickie's happy place? In my experience so far, that particular look only means one thing.

It does not! It's a cute look and you know it.