there's a party going on

Tomorrow a friend of the Chica turns one year old. We went to her birthday bash over the weekend to celebrate. I know it's terribly cliche, but it feels like yesterday we went to her house to meet her for the first time. She was a few weeks old and a such a teeny little thing. At the time, side by side Reesie seemed like the marshmallow man from Ghost Busters towering over the sweet newborn.

But now look at them. In less than a year the Birthday Girl caught up.


The party was in the Birthday Girl's backyard. Inflatable swimming pools were scattered all over the grass and thoroughly enjoyed by every guest. This little water table was on the patio. The girls took turns reeling in the big one.


Last year when three of us were pregnant with these three girls (confused?) we went to a motherhood convention together. All of us were well into our third trimester. As we waddled around the convention center together, people couldn't help but stare. I don't blame them. We were a sight to behold. Three pregnant women about to pop. After the convention we went to lunch and they gave me advice on motherhood. (At the time they were both pregnant with their second child.) Back then these girls were three fetuses, tucked away in their mothers, developing their respiratory systems. It's incredible what a year does.


Big Sis wanted in on all the posing.


Singing. Do you see those matching outfits? Handmade and monogrammed by their mother. And that huge chocolate cake? She whipped that baby up herself too. She's Supermom I tell you!


Here's Birthday Girl in cake zone. I think she's either reflecting on her past year of life or just under the spell of some really good chocolate frosting.

Any woman who's at least one can identify with both.

move that bus!!!

Quick, get me a bullhorn. Can we get Ty Pennington on the phone? Because somebody had an extreme makeover blog edition and I think it's the hinton home!

I hope the face lift didn't confuse you. One time I went to a youth girl's house for a pool party. I walked through the open garage and right up to the interior door only to be met by a scared elderly lady I've never seen. I was two steps from breaking and entering the neighbor's house. It was humiliating.

The last thing I want to do is humiliate you bloggers. I hope you didn't type in our address, arrive at our new destination and fear the cops were minutes from arresting you for being at the wrong place.

We still live here. We've just had a face lift. For Mother's Day Reesie and her padre went in together to get me a personalized blog design. Kelly at Fabulous K Creative went to work for me. I shopped around and I couldn't find anyone with her quality of work that could beat her prices. There's a reason she's fabulous. If you want to see why, scroll down and click on her button on the right side of the screen.

I've had a couple of questions come up about our pictures. Almost every picture on our blog is something Danny or I have taken. One exception to this is my profile picture. That little picture to your left was taken on our honeymoon at Yellowstone National Park. We were sitting in front of Old Faithful. I credit that picture to the stranger behind us. :)

What smidgen of photography knowledge I have was acquired from the Internet. These photography sites are my favorite so far.

Speaking of photography,this sky picture is from our backyard. I'm so glad I grabbed my camera when I did because ten minutes later, the sun was gone.

Before you go, could you do me a favor? There's been a discrepancy concerning the location of Reesie's picture in the purple outfit. Some people are seeing her at the top right, just under the blog header and above the Bible verse. Others see her when they scroll down to the very bottom of the page. So how about it? Do you spy her? If so, could you give me her location?

Thanks bloggers!

eternal power, divine nature

"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities- his eternal power and divine nature-have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."

Romans 1:20

swing away

Today we took some youth girls to the park.


We played team tennis. Water balloons and bed sheets replaced tennis balls and rackets.


At the end of the game, while the winning team celebrated with a victory huddle, one of our interns beaned them with a water balloon. We were all rolling.


Meanwhile, the Chica was kicking it with her padre over on the playground.


It was her first experience in a bucket swing.


Is it just me, or does she seem a little nervous?


Such a stoic soul.


The jury's still out on whether or not she liked it.

can't wait

Is it June 2 yet? Because I can't wait for this CD to hit stores. It's hard to believe heaven's going to sound even better than this.

the art of sharing

The beautiful baby in this picture with the Chica is one of Reesie's friends. Their nursery teacher says they sit side by side on Sunday mornings and talk to each other. Just two girlfriends kicking it over a snack. Nothing like bonding over some quality Cheerios.


Notice Big Girl didn't actually bring a snack of her own. So she thrust her mooching hand in another woman's snack cup.


Thank goodness Chica's friend has an older sibling and is well versed in the art of sharing. Because our girl could teach a course on the art of stealing.

summer storm

"There is no one like the God of Jeshurun, who rides on the heavens to help you and on the clouds with his majesty. The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. He will drive out your enemy before you."

Deuteronomy 33:26-27

tiny bubbles

One summer while I was in high school I attended student council camp for a week. Every night we'd gather in the auditorium and Marty, an advisor from another school would lead us in songs while strumming his guitar. We'd sing all sorts of songs. If he wasn't pleased with how we were singing, Marty would interrupt mid-song, "If you're going to sing, remember to sing with gusto!"

My favorite song in Marty's line up was "Tiny Bubbles."

Tiny bubbles, in the wine

makes me feel happy, makes me feel fine.

Tiny bubbles, make me warm all over

With the feeling that I'm gonna love you till the end of time.

Even though the lyrics were questionable, the light, happy tune embodied camp. Looking back, I'm surprised Marty wasn't reprimanded for leading hundreds of under age teenagers in a song about alcohol. But what Marty may have lacked in judgement, he made up for with his gusto.

she'll have that un-toasted

You're looking at my daughter's favorite snack. It's wheat toast, un-toasted hold the butter and the jam.


Which is basically a glorified way of saying I feed my daughter torn up pieces of sandwich bread.


She loves bread. My grandmother used to say, "the whiter the bread, the quicker you're dead."


Thank goodness Reesie eats wheat.


When she spies me taking it out of the pantry, she flips out. The mere sight of a loaf of bread sends her into a tizzy. I can't tear the slices fast enough. So I just give it to her whole.


If that doesn't crown me Laziest Mom of the Year, I don't know what will.


Bread is her happy place.


Poor baby.


She'd never survive on Atkins.


Unless all the carbs are in the crust.

little fountains

Many people have commented recently about the Chica looking less like a baby and more like a little girl. Danny was out of town for several days last week and when he returned, he said there was a noticeable difference.

It could be that her legs are getting longer. Or that her face is less round. But I like to think the reason she's looking so mature is that her hair is getting longer. It's long enough to have bad hair days. I noticed this Sunday when she woke up with a major case of bed head and a mother clueless to a solution. As we drove to church, I broke the bad news. "Welcome to life as a woman, honey."


There is an upside to longer hair. While length subjects you to frequent "off coif" days, it looks much better pulled back. I nearly squealed when I uploaded some pictures to our computer and realized her ponytails were looking less like little caterpillar antennae and more like splendid little fountains.



See? Fountains at their finest.

our little graduate

Last Thursday was the Chica's last day of her "school year". She has attended a day care program at a local church all year and, as far as I can tell has loved it. We're switching her to a different program closer to work. So I was a little emotional (surprise, surprise!) about her last day. I took a couple of pictures of her before we left.

At the end of her last day, the entire school put on a program. They wheeled her class up in a huge, red, six seater buggy. She looked like she was watching a tennis match. Her head would swivel from the singing children, to the blinding flashes of the paparazzi audience. Back and forth. At one point she tried to shove the little boy next to her over the edge of the buggy. I said a quick prayer of gratitude for the inventor of buggy seatbelts.

Then they showed a slideshow of pictures from the year, with all those sad songs about babies growing up and leaving their parents playing in the background. That's just kicking an emotional mama of a horse when she's down. Quite spiteful if you ask me. I sat in the audience trying not to ugly cry.

I kind of ugly cried anyway.

I'm not sure my heart can take 17 more "graduations."

ode to dad-o

He's the best mode of transportation.


He makes the unknown less intimidating.


He never asks you to do something he's not willing to do himself.


And his shoulder is always there for crying, resting, or just plain being.


Happy birthday Daddy/Dan'l. You just get better and better because you learn from the best Father of all.

Love,
Your Girls

the sad reality of it all

Can we talk reality TV for a second? I am SO bummed my boy Danny Gokey got kicked off American Idol. :( I knew I should have voted. Think my vote could have changed the outcome?

Adam Lambert is very talented. Incredible stage presence. But if I had to listen to an entire cd of his screaming, I'd throw it out the car window. The guyliner bugs me too.

I'm not crazy about Kris. But I hope he will pull off an upset. Or as Simon called it "a ding dong."
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I've watched the past few weeks of Dancing with the Stars. And I'm glad I didn't see it before now. Because I have a problem with a former professional cheerleader being a contestant. If ABC asks for my opinion (I'm expecting a call any day now) I'd tell the producers it's unfair to the other contestants. A person with a background in dance shouldn't be allowed to enter a contest where you learn how to dance. The end.
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SO thankful Annie didn't win Celebrity Apprentice. This is another show I jumped in towards the end. Just long enough to develop a deep and abiding fear of Annie. Holy cow I thought either she or Joan weren't going to survive the finale. Someone was fixing to lay the smack down.
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There you have it. I feel better now. I would give you a recap of Real Housewives NYC, but that would mean I'd have to fess up to actually watching that show. And if I ever were to admit to watching that show, I'd never confess such a thing on the world wide web.:)

Goodnight bloggers!

order in the court!

I've had a little more free time these past couple of weeks, and hallelujah, have had time to do some reading. While I'm thrilled at the opportunity, (it doesn't take much to get me excited) it presents a bit of a conundrum. Here's the problem.

I should probably read this.


And this.


And definitely this.


But all I really want to read is this.


I'll still be a frazzled female, but at least I'll be a frazzled female who knows how to object, sustain and overrule. :)

grass man

My hunk of a husband has spent the past two weeks working our land. Toiling over our terrain. If you have any hope your little grassy patch of property surviving the summer, it's going to take some manhandling. In the immortal words of Kermit the Frog, "It's not easy being green." Amen Kermit. Amen.

That's especially true with Mississippi grass. It's the grossest, most awful stuff ever. When we go back to Missouri, one of the things I covet most is the grass. Isn't that sad? I drive around town staring at people's yards, marveling at how beautiful it all is. That is how grass is supposed to look.

*Side note* Did you know in the midwest you mow the lawn, but in the south you cut the grass?

Last summer, in the throes of baby survival, our poor grass got neglected. Just like our sleep. This year, we're back in business, thanks to several days of rain, a bottle of Round Up, some fertilizer and of course, my husband's hunkiness. I'm expecting the PGA to show up at our door any moment to tee off.


Isn't she just beautiful? She takes my breath away. I could stare at her all day long.

And the baby's pretty cute too.

cry baby

People remark all the time, "Your baby is so happy. Does she ever cry?" And the truth is, yes she is a happy baby. At least I think she is. Then again, I only have one baby so I don't really have anyone to provide a comparison.


And you know what? To this day I have yet to see her cry.


I don't think in all her days my baby has ever cried.


She's yet to shed a single tear.


But that's perfectly normal, right?