i heart faces {a touch of sun}

End of summer sunset,

dripping curls from the sprinkler,

big brown eyes...

she is my touch of sun each and everyday.

I realize I just posted this picture a few days ago,

but I was checking I Heart Faces this morning,

and with a challenge theme like "A Touch of Sun," I thought,

why not?

For more sun-inspired photos, click here.

mush brain

I am currently suffering from mush brain. Mush brain (not a scientific term) is what happens to your thought process after extended periods of sleep deprivation and frequent interruptions of what little sleep you are allowed to get. As a result, I have very little motivation to do much of anything beyond life's necessities and have even found it difficult to form coherent sentences.

Fortunately, it has not affected the part of my brain that tells me to point the camera at my babies' faces and click relentlessly.

At toes, too.

And at flowers from my sweet hubby for our unofficial 7th anniversary. Unofficial because it's the anniversary I made up to keep track of our relationship before we got married and had a real anniversary to celebrate each June. Which is kind of downplaying the fact that September 6th, the date of said unofficial anniversary, not only marks 7 years since our first kiss (a true life "are ya gonna kiss me or not" situation), it also marks 4 years since he proposed (a completely "his idea with very little persuasion from me" situation).

And last, but not least, at sunflowers. Sunflowers that are short and amazing and unlike any other sunflower I've seen. I'm definitely putting some of these in my yard next year.

It looks like once I get started, the sentences start flowing a little more freely. So maybe mush brain isn't completely accurate, as it appears my thinking can regain shape with a little effort. I think bread dough brain might be a little more appropriate, or maybe ground beef brain (in keeping with the food theme). And now, after continuing on with this train of thought for a minute, I think I'll just stick to my original point, which is: Not sleeping is very bad for your ability to think clearly and speak coherently, and it's probably better if I just stop there.

picture perfect

Sometimes, well most of the time, things just don't pan out how I envision them in my head.

This is not how I thought our first family picture would look. But it is how our first family picture should look, because this is real.

Real for us...we are happy, just not really "put together" in that picture perfect way. Laci is under a kitty, can you even see her? Mia is oblivious, but what young baby isn't? We are surrounded by ugly towels and a nursing cover, the back of a dog's head is in the foreground, and everyone has that end of the day, worn out look. Probably because it was the end of the day and we were worn out. I handed my mom the camera and said, "Take a picture, now, because we don't have one of all four of us yet, and we need one, and I don't care how it turns out." Or something like that. Try as we might to capture an image where we are all looking at the camera, this is the best of them all. But we are together and happy and that's really all that matters.

I'm sure I've said it before, but I need more pictures like this, with me in front of the camera instead of behind it. Even if I'm not wearing makeup and my hair is frizzy and I have a dirty shirt on. Because that's the real me. I want to be able to leave pictures of my younger self for my children, and I'm guessing that that is the way they'll remember me anyway. If I left a picture of me all glammed up properly, they certainly wouldn't recognize me.

Someday, I'm certain we will all have clean clothes and combed hair at the same time. I can only hope I have it together enough to also take a picture on that day. Until that picture perfect day, this will do.

two...not so terrible (today)

Two. Years. Old.

I call her my big girl, but she really is just a baby still. Little chubby cheeks, soft curls, dimples for knuckles. And she hasn't asked for her Grammy in two nights, opting for mommy snuggle time instead, which confirms how much she still needs me.

Daily life with a two year old is, in one word, BUSY. There is never a dull moment with Laci on the loose. She changes so much everyday, adding words to her vocabulary by the hour. As her communication improves, she is spending a lot less time rolling on the floor throwing fits. I know she won't stay a baby much longer, which makes me even more thankful that I am home again and can watch her grow everyday.

She is a terribly picky eater. I got the bright idea the other morning to put sprinkles on her yogurt, thinking it would entice her little appetite. I figured even if she only ate the sprinkles that at least a little bit of the yogurt would make it in her mouth.

I didn't figure the sprinkles would melt, creating a tie-dye effect. I didn't figure that I would have to add sprinkles a half dozen more times before she decided she was done. I didn't figure she would turn her breakfast into a yogurt facial.  Silly me.

Her love of animals is one of the few things that isn't changing. Horses and kitties are her favorites, and since horses are a little large, we try to stick to the stuffed variety.  The kitties aren't so lucky, but I think they have accepted their plight in life, calmly allowing Laci to torment them until they can sneak away.

A month ago, I would have considered her in the terrible two's, but they don't seem so terrible today. Sure she is strong willed...very, very strong willed...very, very, very strong willed. But she is crazy smart and super cute, and with a few Tic Tacs, I can get her to do almost anything.

little scars

Mia's scars are healing well. She weighed 8 lbs 4 oz at her appointment yesterday, her chest x-ray on Thursday showed no signs for concern, and she appears to be the picture of health to all those that meet her. All babies certainly are miracles, but this little one just takes the cake. And while her little body is the one that bears the physical scars, I believe she is the least affected of us all. Her scars will fade and she will not have any recollection of her rough start to life. As for the rest of us, we will forever bear our scars hidden deep in our hearts and emotions.

I can no longer listen to the sound of the medical helicopter without some twinge of emotion...sadness, anxiety, concern for those involved. Other helicopters can pass without my notice, but the life flight helicopter has its own unique sound, one I've become all too familiar with, one that I'll never forget. Stories of other sick babies hit me harder than before, and stories of healthy births make me sigh relief for the parents, just knowing what a miracle each birth truly is.

The saying, "We don't prefer a boy or girl, as long as it's healthy" has taken on a whole new meaning for me. Not for one minute would I trade Mia for a different, healthier baby. Of course I would have much preferred to have a healthy Mia, but I wouldn't want any baby other than the one I'm holding now. We have learned so much from this little girl already, I can only imagine the lessons she has yet to teach us. If I could go back a few months in time, knowing what I know now about Mia's defect, even knowing the pain, fear, and uncertainty I would experience, I would say, "We'll take her, healthy or not."

I know I am certainly not the only one to still feel the effects of Mia's stay in the hospital. For four nights in a row, Laci has awoken at 2:00 am crying for my mom. Not so long ago, I was the only person who could console her in the night...she usually just needed a drink of milk, a little rocking, and the occasional song or two. And while I'm forever grateful to my mom for stepping in to take care of Laci, it stings just a little when she cries, "Ranny!" in the night and I have to literally wrestle her back to bed.

Ryan is working extra hard to get some things done on the house before he has to return to his "real" job. I know he feels the pressure to provide for our little family more than ever and he wants to get our girls under a comfortable roof as much as I do. It is difficult to feel settled in life without my own little nest for my chicks. I know how lucky we are to be able to build our own home, and how lucky we are to have a nice trailer to live in, and how lucky we are to have family that will temporarily house us, but I'm ready for my own space. I'm needing a stable environment where I can hang our memories on the wall and make pancakes for my girls...and then hopefully, this restlessness I feel almost daily will subside. After a month of nothing ordinary, I'm anxious to return to the ordinary, boring life I'm used to living, where a trip to the grocery store and a new meal are the highlights of the week.

Like Mia's scars, I know these feelings, that are still so fresh in me, will subside and fade into the background. Laci will once again ask for me in the night, and Ryan won't have to work quite so hard. Time truly does heal all wounds, visible or not. And the faint scars I will bear are purposeful...to remind me of where we've been as a family and what we can overcome.