This old house.

Remember that show? This Old House...with Bob Vila? The pre Mike Holmes PBS home improvement show. My dad used to watch that when I was a kid.

Anyway...so, we bought a home! I can't believe it. Kevin and I have been talking about and hoping for this exact point in our lives for approximately 7 years (give or take.)

And, not only did we find a home, we found a big, beautiful, unique, special house that we love, and absolutely cannot wait to make our own.

And yet, as the excitement builds (and the relief sets in after a 10+ week bank process is finally over,) I can't help but start to get emotional about leaving our little 'ol rental behind the trees on the edge of Warrior territory.

Deep within the walls of wood paneling, the one (sometimes) working light bulb in the bathroom, the wild cats in the trees and the creepy dark storage basement...our hearts rested here.

Our hearts rested in a place that we celebrated in, grieved in, laughed in, fought in, loved. A perfect location, with the sounds (and smell) of the cows in the spring, and the buzz of harvest all around us in the fall.

I will miss this house, and will cherish the adventures that have taken place here...our first kiss, right outside under the stars, accidentally flushing my wedding ring down the toilet (don't worry, we got it back! Now THAT'S a story for you.), the most beautiful winter wonderland (AND photography location!), and finally walking through the door with our Kroy to his first home.

We had, without a doubt, the most amazing landlords that ever did exist. Now, this is the part that really makes me cry. In an area and market that they could have easily quadrupled the rent we were paying (probably more than that)...they never did. They fixed anything, and everything...almost immediately upon request. The months that we were struggling...struggling financially (and emotionally,) they never asked us for payment. While what felt an astronomical amount of money was flying out the door toward medical debts and collections from babies and the struggles of getting them into this world, there were times we would fall behind, and payment was behind or late. Not once did we get a phone call or pressure, they just patiently waited until we caught up. In what world? They play such a huge part in our new home and the fact that possibility even existed. They will never know how grateful we are to them, how much they mean to us, and what a gift they have been in our lives. God Bless 'em.


And so, we move along down the road. 11 miles down the road to be exact, and we leave a piece of our souls on the edge of the Klose Farm and in the dirt of Warrior country. Our first home will always be a treasured one. And I'll tell you another thing; the moon has never shined so bright as when you're sitting on the top step out the back door of this old house.

A letter to my son on his 2nd birthday (and cheers to all the toddler moms!)

My Kroy,

Well…it’s Shark Week again, and that can only mean one thing. You’re another year older…it’s your birthday week.

What a year this second of your life has been for all of us. It has brought challenges I never dreamed we would face within such a short time span. Major career changes, heartache, unfortunate circumstances, months of ear infections, tubes, an insane schedule that we are still adjusting to 8 months later, and oh-so-much more of life’s crazy and unexpected unknowns.

Your dad gave up a job that he loved and lived for to make a better life for us. And despite being on that path, we are still in progress adjusting to these major changes. Change is so hard. Someday I will tell you about what he sacrificed for us, what it meant, and how it changed our lives. For now, I will just tell you how proud I am of him and that it makes me incredibly grateful that you will grow up with a perfect example of bravery and courage. With this path to a different future, also came the compromise of his time. Every other week, 24/7, it’s just me and you, kid. This has been a big adjustment for both of us.

So many changes have been brought about since one year ago when I sat down, teary-eyed, to write a letter to my son on his first birthday. I have not written a blog post since that until now, (if that is at all telling of the madness that has ensued within this year.)

You are a funny little man. You are very smart and observant...an independent spirit. You are so unbelievably stubborn (and so physically strong.) You love to be outside, to run, to chase, throw balls, tackle, rough-house…you are all boy. You are slow to warm up to people, but usually come around. You love your dad so much…and love to be with the boys. You have a shy side, and an outgoing side…depending on your surroundings. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for you.

I wish I could say that this year has been easy. I wish I could say that I’m confident we’re doing everything “right” and know what to do in most situations and interactions with you. But I can’t say that.

I wish I could say that I do everything in my power to be the very best mom I can be every day. But I can’t always say that either. Sometimes I cheat. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing. Sometimes I put you in the high chair in front of cartoons with a string cheese and some lunch meat and call it a meal. Sometimes I put on a movie and hope that I can work for 20 straight minutes on my computer with no interruption. Sometimes as you are flailing around in full meltdown mode in public screeching and doing the bucking bronco to get out of my arms, (all 37 pounds of you)…I’m really just not sure what to do, so I do nothing…too much…or not enough. Sometimes I lose my cool, and become short and frustrated. Sometimes I’m so exhausted, and the energy I had toward educational fun, consistent discipline, and keeping on schedule goes out the window. Sometimes I feel an overwhelming amount of guilt for all of those things I’ve listed above and so, so many more…and sometimes I don’t.

But, despite it all, I still think (and hope) that you laugh more than you cry, you run more than you sit, you play more than you’re idle, and you eat more fruit than candy. You are exceptionally well behaved when other people are watching you. (I have no proof of that personally, but I’m going to take their word for it.)

Sometimes, I feel like I love you so much it hurts. I want you to experience every joy in this life and avoid every heartache, despite knowing that’s not possible.

I had a very very strong misconception that making you “learn the hard way” and a little “tough love” didn’t start until you were much, much older. Boy was I wrong.

My wish for you is that you’re a fast learner. That you bump your head a little less and give hugs a little more. That you make friends a little faster and learn that patience, drive, and effort alone will get you so far in life. You will learn much of this the hard way…the independent way…so I hope you learn fast. My wish for you is freedom….freedom from stress, worry, sadness, and that laughter, play, and adventure reigns your toddler life. Isn’t it ironic that the only time in life we are truly free in that sense…we don’t remember any of it?

And this year, as selfish as it may sound, I also have a few wishes for myself. I hope that I can remain focused on the big picture, and not be so caught up in the little things, as I navigate this journey of losing myself and finding myself all over time and again. I hope that I can remember a little more often that I am your constant example of all things good and bad…to keep my tone a little sweeter, my voice a little softer, and my exhausted, frustrated sighs to myself.

Everyone always says…”it goes so fast.” And it does, for the most part. (And, my personal favorite…”you will miss this.”) But there is a reason the toddler years fly by, and you trade in each good and bad for another set of good and bad with each stage. It’s because none of us moms would survive with a permanent toddler in our lives forever.

There is much the human spirit can learn from a toddler. Here are some things I’ve learned from you:

Never hold back. Just go for it…whether a nose dive off the couch (a leap of faith) or a sprint through the mud puddle in your family picture outfit (lose your inhibitions.)

Naps are an absolute necessity.

Laugh at things that are funny…no matter where you are or who you are around. There is no inappropriate place for laughter.

You know no judgment. You will high five anyone, take food from anyone, laugh with anyone, and love anyone. Keep that…always. Everyone is just navigating through this world the best they know how.

There is wonder and excitement in the littlest of things…things our adult eyes and souls have lost touch with.

Thank you for the challenges, the lessons, the laughs, and the tears. I love being your mom, Kroy. God is in your gut; always go with your gut. Let’s see what this next year has in store. We're in this together.

Xoxo...