Hair, hair, hair!

Today I gave all three kids haircuts. Thank you, Jimmy for documenting the process. Here are some before and after shots. This was the first haircut for Libby and Cash.


Here is Cash right before we started, caught in the act of eating frosted mini-wheat dust. The queen would be proud, she hates to throw that stuff away.







Here are some of Jackson's mane. I declared it was time to cut it because I just couldn't stand not seeing his eyes anymore. I tried to get him to push it back but he just couldn't keep it out of his face.


Libby before. I didn't cut much. There's not much to cut!







Here is Cash, excited about his first lollipop. He did figure out how to eat it from the right end, and yes, he ate plenty of hair too. Yuck!




I know the "after" shots aren't great but getting them to sit still and look at the camera at the same time isn't possible, even for a semi-pro photographer like myself!

Devoted

For a long time I've been meaning to write a blog totally devoted to Jackson. I think it all began when we were sitting in the waiting room of my Dr's office last month for a normal pregnancy check-up. Out of the clear blue sky Jackson says to me, "I hope your baby's not black skinned, Mom." Trying to hide my laughter, and hoping the other prego's nearby hadn't heard, I of course explained that our baby cannot have black skin because myself and Dad don't have black skin. Putting two and two together Jackson says, quite happily, "And I don't have black skin!"

And there you have it. I hesitated to record this for all to see because I don't want my son to appear racist. But I think it's pretty cool that Jackson assumed babies come out whatever color they happen to be. I know he made the comment because he just wants his sister to look like him.

I am also devoting this to Jackson because very soon he will be able to read this blog on his own and the days of telling funny stories about your kids that might be embarrassing to them but since they're to little to understand you can get away with it are soon going to be over for us around here.

So here's another one. After a long and exhausting evening I declared "everyone to the tub!" because I'm sure it had been a while and I figured containment was priceless, even if it did mean me leaning over my belly to wash people. I discovered Cash was dirty so I had to haul him back out of the bathroom (which he hates of course because he thinks he's not going to get to bathe) and then back into the bath, holding his (heavy) naked body at arms length so as not to get any dirty booty germs on myself. Whew. Which was exactly how I was feeling. Tired, frustrated and hoping for some peace and quiet bath playing. I then am forced to try and answer another question from Jackson: "Mom, why doesn't the water go into my body through the hole at the end of my penis?" If anyone wants to try and explain this to a five and a half year old who doesn't really listen to the answers anyway, please feel free. I wish now that I had said, "I don't have a penis, let's ask Dad" but instead I tried to give some sort of "that's not how those muscles work" explanation. Looking back, now I really hope he wasn't listening and never remembers the conversation.

We have been painting still and have finally finished. Jackson coined a new phrase in my opinion, when he walked into where I was rolling and said, "Wow, Mom! SO much wow!" It was quite encouraging.

Jackson is good like that. He knows me. He knows me really well, actually. For someone who seems to not pay much attention. Tonight I sat down on the couch and took off my glasses and began to rub my eyes, sighing heavily. Jackson said, "I know what's wrong Mom. You're frustrated because you're tired and Dad's not coming home until late and you have all these kids crawling all over you." Well said, Jackson. Today I drug a protesting Cash out of the bathroom by one arm and loudly told Libby to get out of there so I could close the door. She began to cry as well and Jackson says, "Mom, that's what happens when you don't take care of your kids." I hope to be able to use that one on him some day.

Numbers

Tonight we went to the mall to meet our friends the Lehman's and eat dinner. It was quite an experience. It always is. But tonight I just felt like we could have locked our family in a cage and sold tickets for others to watch our craziness. Here are some numbers I recorded in my mind:

24- number of chicken nuggets our family ate
3- number of people we saw who we knew besides the Lehman's (I only include this because the number of times I looked in the mirror before we left or made any effort to "fix" myself was, of course, ZERO)
12- approximate number of times I made Cash stay seated in his high chair or stroller
12- approximate number of times Cash screamed really loud
5- number of free Chick-fil-A coupons our kids won playing games (it pays to eat badly, unfortunately)
6 trillion- my estimate of the number of dust particles my (still crawling) 15 month old child picked up off the floor of the food court and bookstore
600 trillion- number of germs we probably came in contact with
25- number of feet of toilet paper I used courtesy of Barnes & Nobles
2- number of children who pooped all over themselves
9- number of times I felt it necessary to pump the soap when washing my hands
1- number of pairs of poopy underwear I left in the trash at the mall
2- about the number of times I mentally patted myself on the back for being a mommy problem solving genius (I have to do this "I am my family's super hero" personal encouragement for myself or I can't get through the day)
4 or 5- number of people Libby hit with her helium balloon
4- number of people I washed from head to toe as soon as we got home (everyone but Jimmy, he does shower on his own)
90- number of minutes we spent eating, running, peeing, pooping, crawling, talking, and getting dirty at the mall

And here's the kicker:
3- total number of baby wipes I had left to make it through this entire experience

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! I promise we are not doing drugs or drinking. We are high on life and hormones. Well, I'm probably the only one with raging hormones. Thank goodness. It's where I draw my super powers from. I am crazy hormone raged baby wipe-less mommy. Let's see.. one more number.

25,000- approximate number of baby wipes I'll need before this train comes to a stop at the next station in life.

Lucky pink

We're not superstitious about anything, really. Except clothing, I guess. Last week I went for my routine ultrasound for this pregnancy. You know, they measure everything and check out all organs. And, of course, they look between the baby's legs to see what's there. Or what's not. The morning of my ultrasound I had to wear this particular pink maternity shirt. I wore it when I found out Libby was a girl. (I also wore it when I found out Cash was a boy, but that was really just a last ditch effort. I was pretty confident I was carrying a boy.) I call it my lucky pink shirt and I accompanied it with some girly looking socks with flowers on them.

Well, it seemed to work because my baby is a girl. Libby was present and said, "She will belong in my room!" I told the technician doing my ultrasound that I wore my lucky pink shirt but she didn't really seem to care. Whatever. I think it works!

Jimmy has a shirt (a sports jersey) he wears when we're in the delivery room. He put it on when we were leaving to go to the hospital to have Jackson. He said, "I'm the coach, I need a jersey!" and I thought he was crazy. But he's worn it for every birth so far. Since I've had pretty easy deliveries, I'm sure I'll ask him to wear it just one more time. We should auction off our superstitious pregnancy and delivery clothing when we're finished with it. Pink shirts and sports jersey's. All you need for a baby girl and a painful (but relatively short) delivery.

Alley RoadTrip 2007

Here is the link to our trip blog. We are leaving for 2 to 3 weeks to visit friends. I will try to keep it updated.

Trip Blog
Alley Road Trip

AWANA Graduation- Celebration Baptist

Last night we had the last of Jackson's Awana meetings for the year and they closed it with an awards ceremony. The Lehman's were there to share in the fun. Here are some of the pictures
taken.

Early Morning Visitors

Ok I was going to post something else, which I will in a sec, but I have to say what just happened. First Julie took the two oldest to the doctor for a check up and Cash is asleep. I am sitting here fixing to blog some pics and I hear this crackling sound from the kitchen. The clothes are in the washer so I attributed it to that at first. But it became more distinct as I sat here and it definitely was not coming from the laundry room. So I proceed to walk out to the kitchen and what is in my kitchen, two birds eating the breakfast cereal off the ground. I have the doors and windows open because its such a nice day. Anyways I thought I would share. Please do not tell Cash because if he finds out someone or something has been doing his job he might be unhappy.

One big poop diaster after another

Sometimes Jimmy and I feel like our life is just one big poop disaster after another. Now I can't decide where to go from here. Do you want details? You might never come over again when you discover most surfaces in our house have probably had poop on them. Yet there must be some elaboration on my poop declaration. Sometimes it is hard for me not to see my diapered children (yes, Libby still can't figure it out) as ticking time bombs who may or may not hit their target. Jimmy and I keep telling each other that it's just the season we're in. That in three to four years, we could be totally done with diapers. Sometimes I'm not so sure. Will my kids be through with diapers before it's time for me to start buying them for Jimmy or myself?

And really, when I think about it, poop isn't really a disaster, right? I mean I should be thankful my children have healthy bowels and all that, right? But still...

When you sneak into your baby's room, so as not to wake your son, plant him on your hip, and feel the poop ooze through your pajamas, it feels like a disaster.
When your daughter calls out from her bed at night "I have poo-poo" and you discover it's all over her and her bed, it feels like a disaster.
When you say to your loving spouse, "I smell a dirty diaper" only to turn around and see a pile of poop on the floor, it feels like a disaster.
When your daughter takes off her diaper and attempts to dump her dump in the toilet, then proceeds to walk around with poop all over her bottom and her hands way to close to her rear end, it feels like a disaster.
When I realize that all of these events happened in a week, it really feels like my life is just one big poop disaster after another.

For the love of H2O

Last week I purchased a new 34 ounce insulated mug. This seven dollar and ninety seven cents purchase has enhanced my life in so many ways, I wanted to share with you the evolution of the mug in my life.

I can remember my first mug. I took it on a trip to Arkansas with my sister and her husband my senior year of high school. It was a 32 ounce, Aladdin brand. Mouth hole, straw hole, nice handle, stellar insulation. Purple all over with a ring of white at the top. On the way home from Arkansas my sister fell victim to some pork roast we had eaten before we left and she, in a pinch, used my precious water vessel to throw up in. Needless to say I never drank from it again. My mom, however, had no problem washing it and using it, so, she traded mugs with me. (We were a family of insulated mugs at the time.) Her mug was identical to mine, just pink with a turquoise rim. I used this mug for a long time. Into my first years of college. And the beginning of marriage.

In the summer after college, I worked summer camp, where they provided, much to my enjoyment, a new mug for us that, I believe, held an amazing SIXTY FOUR ounces. (I'm getting thirsty just writing about such things. I may not make it to the end of the blog. I might have to get a drink.) These mugs had a feature to close off the mouth hole, so as not to spill your water. Their insulation was not so great though, because my ice would melt before I had a chance to finish drinking. Somewhere along the way I decided it was time for a new one and I purchased the new version of Aladdin mug which was blue with a black lid. This mug lasted me for a while. I'm sorry for not being more attentive to the exact dates of my mugs.

Okay, this is getting a little old. Let's cut to the chase. The point is, I have not had a mug I could rely on for like the past 8 to 10 months (my latest broke in two different ways) and NOW I DO. Having cold water at my fingertips has made my life so much better I wish everyone would carry around a mug of cold water. Some of you have one. You know what it's like. There's no going back. Water bottles are for light weights. Give me the mug or let me be parched! (I have included some photographs of me and my mugs through the years. Click on the collage to see it full screen and you will be able to read the text better.)

No, I'm not kidding

Well, I'm pregnant again. (If you're not aware and you need a moment, please, be my guest.)

Last week we decided to break the news to Jackson. He didn't believe us. He kept saying over and over, "You're kidding me, Mom." I finally convinced him I was NOT playing a joke and his excitement and smiles seemed to move up his neck and face and come oozing out his dimples. I wish my reaction had been such pure happiness.

I have had a month for the shock and disbelief to wear off but had I written a blog much earlier I may have been tempted to insert symbolic curse words like $#*! and ... well, probably just that one. In the last month through the nausea and exhaustion I have decided what's done is done and of course we will be excited to add another J to the train.

Two weeks ago my sister Susan and her family came to visit and since I was not telling Jackson yet I didn't tell her kids either. We didn't want the information to leak so our code lingo was something along the lines of, "You know, when the Italian comes" or "The Italian is coming in November". I am so embarrassed at our inability to master any form of birth control, I was tempted to keep it up for as long as possible. Instead of telling people I am pregnant, I decided, we could say we were getting an exchange student from Italy. I guess the breakdown would occur when I get a big belly. But maybe I'm just getting fat from practicing my Italian cooking? Because you know, the Italian is coming, ready or not.

I started a journal:
Million Dollar Pregnancy

Swingin Jackson

Here is Jackson swinging on the disc swing. He's pumped!!!! I love this guy.

Random Pics

Here are some more pictures I thought were fun.




Jackson. He's growing his hair out.












Its a computer double team.

















My lovely in her new thrift store
outfit.

"Life at the Lake"

Yard Sale and a Waldo

This is Jimmy. Julie prefers I state that when I am contributing to the blog so as not to confuse people. Anyways I thought I would say what we've been up to since Julie is busy. Well we are currently visiting Julie's parents down in Waldo. This was a sort of unexpected trip since we did not know we were coming as of last week. But I made the executive decision since I knew after our garage sale last weekend we would have a free week. So we are here having a great time with Julie's parents. Its a tough life, we have watched basketball, pressure washed many surfaces (which I must say I have enjoyed), Jackson has been using the disc swing like crazy, feeding the goats (which are a blog to themselves), taking naps, thrift store shopping, and we got here Sunday night. Whew! Much more planned but I am too ADD to type it out.

Backtracking, Our Yard Sale went off without a hitch. We made 195 bucks which was coool. The night before Jackson and I decided he should sell some juice or something so we scrambled around and got it together. We made two batches of brownies as well as a gallon of lemonade for the adoring public. The Ice cold lemonade was left ice cold as the temp never got above like 45 that morning but we did sell out of the brownies. We've got big plans for the next garage sale. (cakes, pies, brats, you name it)

I am still on the job hunt if anyone hears of anything. Life is good.





Jackson and his concession stand.














How would you like us for your neighbors?

Chick Fil-A

The evening after Jimmy and I got married, we drove to St. Augustine for the night. Before even checking into the hotel we two unplucked innocents decided we needed some Chick Fil-A first. Priorities, man. Anyway, since then this fast food joint has been part of our life on a regular basis. We love going there. Jackson used to call it "Chick aways." Now Libby has her own version: "Chick a-lay."

This past Tuesday we went with Jimmy's mom and grandmother. (We try to go on a Tuesday because kids eat free.) As I was sitting there with Libby waiting for Dad and Jackson to bring the food over, Libby turns to me and says, "Mom, what's a Chick?" So I of course told her it was a baby chicken. Then she said, "What's a-lay?" And, with a bit of a pause to interpret her toddler-ese, I said, "A fillet is a cut of meat." She just looked at me and said, "Oh." And there you have it. That's my girl. Digging deeper than just fries and sauces.

i hate us

For the record and posterity, Jimmy's jobless. We are having a great time. It is just a season. I have always teased Jimmy about the time he said "i hate us" instead of hiatus. Whatever you call it, it's here and I think it's needed. I am excited about what will come next for us. We are going to be pinching pennies to give him the time he needs and wants. Last night he looked at me and said, "We're never going to have a lot of money." And I assured him we have SO much. Tonight as I nursed my baby before bed I was just overwhelmed with how full of life our home is. Every single day there is joy, pain, laughter, tears, revelation, and love. In case anyone out there didn't know, you can't buy that stuff with all the money in the world. Hey, would you like some crackers with this cheese?

And now I'd like to share three pieces of wisdom spoken to me by my mother, the queen, over and over again in my life. They've been running through my brain today...
"A lot of life is how you look at it"
"Life is just one adjustment after the other"
"If something's worth doing, it's worth doing right."

(That last one doesn't really apply to the whole hiatus thing, but it sure does inspire me to do a good job when I make the bed.)

3 valentines, 2 adults

Even though I have been a mother for over five years now, I have realized that isn't really all that long. I am just starting to realize that Jimmy and I are losing. We are out numbered 3 to 2 by these wonderful creatures. What tipped me off, you might ask?

Was it the discovery that I no longer listen to any music except Bible Songs, Veggie Tales, Baby Mozart or Raffi while driving in the car? Or maybe it's the fact that every time I go to a store I seem to end up walking up and down every toy aisle only to end up forgetting something "essential" like MAC and CHEESE or PB&J. No, it must be that I have become somewhat like Inspector Gadget...Someone gets snotty, sticky, or germy and it's "Go Go gadget WIPES" and out they come in a flash.

No, none of these things (though good evidence) made me realize how much things have changed. It all hit me tonight in the grocery store. Do you remember (or maybe, if you have not yet had kids, you still do this) when you used to shop for groceries and everything you needed would fit in the front part, the part where a kid sits? Then you get married, and, while you still use the kid seat, you now can fill up that and part of the largest part of the cart. Then you have your first child and are excited about the baby taking up the part intended for a child. All is well. You still have room for your food. But tonight, we didn't even get to the first aisle and I am already utilizing the BOTTOM of the cart. Yes, it's true, there is a use for the bottom of the cart for people besides those with a desire to buy 50 pound bags of dog food. It's there for me, the mom with enough children to fill up the cart in the parking lot before even getting in the door. It was at this moment tonight that I realized how outnumbered we are.

And now, I am having a horrible feeling of horror and anxiety because I think I may have written about this before. Is it de ja vu? Or did I just think about writing it? Or did I really write about it.

Well, I am too tired to peruse my own blog to find out. Just ignore it if I've said it before. Here is a picture of my cuties on Valentines Day and another picture that proves happiness is a four letter word. C-A-S-H. And not the spendable kind. The kissable kind.

MagNEAT-o

So, the last two weeks have been all about Superheroes. It all began with a set of magnets Jackson got from his Aunt Susan and family for Christmas. He loves to look at their descriptions and stick them on anything magnetic. We had to go through the entire booklet, talking about each one, etc. I got tired of the questions, so I had him go through and write a "G" next to the good guys and a "B" next to the bad guys. Yesterday he couldn't get the light on in his room (the switch up high next to the fan needed to be pulled) and he called for my help. I came in to find him standing on his bed, reaching for the switch, saying, "Aaahhhh...If I was Mr. Fantastic, I could reach this!"

Then questions began with asking everyone in our family which super power they desired. Jackson had already decided and announced that his power was that he could take on any other superhero power around. He wanted to know what mine was, what I thought Cash's was, and proceeded to ask Libby what hers was. She definitively answered, "Thirty Minutes." And while this didn't make much sense to Jackson, I decided she had a pretty good idea. I decided I'd like to have that power. I couldn't help but begin to compile a mental list of things I wish I could do in "Thirty Minutes": •• Conceive, carry, labor, and deliver a baby. (Did I say conceive? Okay, maybe not that part.) • Cook, eat, and clean up dinner •• Wash, dry, fold, and PUT AWAY all laundry in my house. •• Update all photo albums and scrap books...

Well, anyway, you get the idea. (And of course, I'd never really want that. That would be wishing my life away.....actually, today I discovered my own super power. Here it comes. ABLE TO GIVE A SATISFYING ANSWER TO MEANINGLESS COMMENTS/QUESTIONS FROM A PRESCHOOLER!!!!! I don't know who you are, but if you have made it this far into my blog, you deserve this highly sought after list of responses to things your toddler says when you have NO IDEA what she has said, or questions from your son that have no real answer, etc. Just go down this list. I guarantee you will pacify them before you get to the bottom.

1. Yes!
2. I'm not sure, sweetie.
3. Maybe later.
4. Wow, _____ (insert child's name here) that's cool!
5. REALLY?
6. That sounds good.
7. You are so smart.
8. I know!
9. Okay, we'll do that later.
10. You're right!

Lastly, I have also discovered Cash's super power. He is MAGNEAT-O. He has a magnetic force inside his body that attracts him to dirt. When he is crawling on the ground, he picks up all dirt that is within a three foot radius of him. It just scoots across the ground, like a magnetic attraction...sticking to his hands, his face, his clothes, his socks, and his round belly. (I have decided he's just a neat freak. One day he will use his powers to dust my home in "thirty minutes.") It is especially amazing to watch while I am sweeping. It is as if, when the dirt comes together in a pile, he is drawn to it like a wolf to a dead animal. He stops whatever he is doing and, with impressive speed, crawls toward the dirt pile, as if he is dying to touch it, throws any toy in his way to the side, and quickly begins to spread it around, and of course, give it a taste. Maybe the dust and dirt fuels his super powers. I will not treat him as an outcast. We will try to figure out how he can use his power to bring the world to a new level of cleanliness.

I hate to leave Jimmy out of our super powered family. So his power is, and always will be, the ability to get my attention, make me roll my eyes, and provide a good laugh for me in a single bound.

Murphy's Laws of Home Economics

A Disclaimer: Some of these things have happened to me, some have happened to you. I love my life. I have wanted nothing else but to be a home economics expert. This list is not a complaint or meant to be negative about my situation. It is just life. If you have any to add, by all means...

The Murphy's Laws of Home Economics

About the house:
•If you have mopped your floor within the last 24 hours, you will spill something on it.
•If you go to the effort to save coupons, you won't need them. They will crowd your countertops and clutter your home. But when you need one, you won't be able to find one anywhere.
•If you don't have time to water your plants, it won't rain. When you finally get around to watering them, it will, of course, rain. Hard.
•If you have just begun your last load of laundry after searching high and low for everything dirty, you will find a pair of dirty socks. You will run to the washer only to discover it's already begun spinning.
•If you have decided to finally clean the bathroom sink after putting it off for days, your husband will decide it's time to trim his goatee and shave, leaving numerous tiny hairs in and around the sink.
•If you have cleaned your stove top to a shining gleam, look out! Soon something will boil over.


Parenthood:
•If you go to the trouble of packing a diaper bag full of things you might need in an emergency, you won't need any of it.
•If you forget your diaper bag, your child will spit up, poop, and pee on himself, his clothes, your clothes, and anyone else around.
•If the sanity of your busy day is contingent on your baby taking a good nap in the morning, he will not. To make matters worse, he will fall asleep five minutes before you have to leave.
•On the days you have to get your child ready for an appointment, she will sleep late and you will have to wake her up. On the weekend when you can sleep in, she will be up at the crack of dawn.
•If your daughter loses her dolly, you will search high and low, and, when you can't find it, you won't replace it because you're sure it will turn up. Six months later her Nana will buy her a new one. Within a week, her old dolly will be found.
•If you are potty training, go ahead and try this one. Sit your child on the toilet for hours on end. They will not go. Not even a drop. As soon as you give up and allow them to run around, they will pee all over the floor within minutes.

being lowered in a basket

Today I began, attempted, started, tried, embarked on potty training my 2.5 year old. Today was not a success. There weren't even really any small successes. And I found myself getting really down about the whole thing. I kept telling myself that she would not pee her pants forever. That one day she'll be just like me. Able to hold it like a pro and make it in the toilet and all. I tried to picture her as a teenager. And of course, I don't picture myself hoisting her up on the baby changing table. She will do it. But still I couldn't shake my frustrated state.

This afternoon, a friend called to tell me news about her family's future in missions. There is apprehension about their safety and health, etc. So in other words, someone with REAL problems. Problems that don't involve wet pants. So this made me feel even more down about feeling down about potty training. How can I be so wrapped up in something so trivial? Blah blah blech.

All of this does have a point. I was thinking about the story in the Bible when Paul gets lowered over the city wall in a basket. He couldn't have known, as he got in, whether the attempt to escape would be successful or not. He just got in, and went for it. Trusted that the outcome was being controlled by someone bigger than himself. And that whatever happened to him, good or bad, it would be a "happy" ending because it was God's will.

So here I am, potty training, knowing that the ending will be happy. Here are my friends, preparing to go overseas, knowing they have to go to be happy. But today we are in the middle of the wall. We're not inside the city, and we haven't made it out yet. We are in the process of being lowered over the wall. With all the emotions that involves. But we will get to the bottom someday. And escape.

my favorite things

I am making myself write. I keep thinking I have nothing to say, when in fact, I believe it is just the opposite. There are plenty of things to say, and, after a day like today (it's rainy and we all had cabin fever) it is good to reflect on the energy, cuteness, and hilariousness of my children. I had a hard day today. I lost my cool a couple times. Tomorrow is a new day.

One of my favorite things about Jackson right now is his energy. Even though it wears me out. Tonight we went to the mall and he just started running. Jimmy went on the elevator with the stroller and I took Jackson on the escalator. He ran to it, ran up it and ran to meet Jimmy and his siblings. Everything he does is like he's been injected with caffeine. It seems he only has one volume. YELLING. Tonight at dinner he was quiet (while eating) and when he finished scarfing it down he yells out, "MOM YOU FORGOT TO GET ME A NAPKIN!" along the same volume you might use to inform someone they are getting ready to be hit by a car.

My favorite thing about Libby is (besides the cuteness) that she is totally and completely in the talk about herself in the 3rd person stage. It's constant. "Where are Libby's shoes?" "Get Libby's blanket" "Where's Libby's baby?" Sometimes she says "I". Like yesterday. After she woke from her nap she stood in her crib calling "Mom! I'm awake! Mom! I'm awake!" until I went to get her. And she can sing the "Do, Re, Mi" song from the Sound of Music. On pitch. Love it.

And then there's my babe. Ah, the sweetness of a child who can't talk yet. It's like a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who cannot interrupt you. He is such a good listener. He smiles and seems to respond at the appropriate times. My favorite thing about Cash is that you can never have enough of him. He is a big smooshy marshmallow.

And now, a thank you to the Mitchell's for the amazing swingset. I will include a picture of Jackson's energy pouring out into swinging. And Jimmy really wants me to put in the naked picture of Cash I took today, even though I don't think it's that good. But it proves my marshmallow point. Do I have too many pictures on my blog? Is it too big? I don't care.