Fear Of Wasted Time

Summer of Joy - Unplugged

Perhaps it was because the twins were on the cusp of turning four, or maybe because we had an extra rainy spring in the NW, or maybe my body was just getting use to my new uterus-free life, (most likely, because of my new no flour life, I can't turn to moist chocolate chip cookies in crisis) but nonetheless I was feeling sad. The best way I could explain it to Matt is, (men like analogies and they like it when you talk about feelings naked) I feel like I saved up tons of money to take a dream vacation to Hawaii and the first day I got there I made a rookie mistake and didn't where sunscreen. So I have been spending my time in paradise with a sunburn. Not being able to enjoy my time but also knowing that soon I'll be boarding a plane and my trip will be over and I'll be left with pictures of a beautiful place and me with a red face looking angry. Panic. Basically, I have lived too many days as a mother surviving. And not just surviving the day but the hour. From the time my early bird Jabe jumps in bed with me to the time my night owl Jabe gets up to tell me his latest excuse why he can't sleep (yes both Jabe) I feel like I am desperate to get to them occupied so I can have peace in the house.

I'm bummed I'm not the fun mom all the time, like I thought I'd be. I'm sad that I make breakfast and lunch as fast as I can so I can have my meal alone in front of the computer. It makes me crazy how I make the kids feel bad about the mess they've made of our house. And I regret all the times I've just had to go to my room and let a few tears fall because I'm overwhelmed with the task of keeping four people alive everyday (myself included). I wasn't totally delusional when I became a parent that it would be all euphoria all the time, but I did try for four years to have a baby and that dream of mine got bigger and better after every failed month. I just knew that all my gifts and talents aligned with being an awesome mother. I pretty much felt like I was going to rock at it. What I didn't know was that six years in and I would sometimes be scanning the classifieds for part-time jobs just so I could not listen to preschoolers fight all. day. long. . . . WANTED: cat bather . . . .hmmm sounds nice. . . . Please know that I of course am being dramatic if I make this sadness seem like a 24/7 occurrence. There are great moments of joy in my life as a mom. But it's been too many days of drudgery for my liking.

So this spring it was one of those days and I was hiding from my children in my room, sitting in the chair that I used to nurse them and writing my ever-loving heart out. More of a prayer really. "Lord, something needs to change." My stream of writing led me to a place where I needed to make a plan on how to stop the wasting of time in my children's childhood and in my motherhood. To be purposeful in each day that I had with them. To find joy in being a mother again. And to create an environment where each stage in life is honored. Easy fix right? Nope, kinda like putting a cap on an oil well in the Ocean. I knew I had the building blocks, I knew I was once there not long ago, but honestly, when the twins came, I went to this place in my parenting that was a "just get by" kind of thinking and I've been a skipping record ever since. That was ok for then. We survived. Now it's time to live. The week before school stopped, I started to plan.

This is the only summer Tobin is going to be six and the only summer Jabe and Phoebe will be four, and quite frankly, the only summer I am going to be 33. I had so much fun creating our summer. The first day of summer I unplugged all our TV's and computers. (let me just take a break and let that soak in for you.) This was not for any educational reason, (although research supports that a non-screen environment is best for brain development. I prefer to parent with risks.) I was doing this to get me out of my rut. When things got out of control at my house I turned on the TV and tuned out of my kids lives. The skill I found out I had to master, living screen free, was not to turn into a cruise director where my kids needs me to provide continues entertainment. And how to deal with my house getting a lot messier from all the creative play.

So I can't wait to share our summer with you. It's almost over and in just a few weeks my oldest will be out of my care five hours for five days a week. First grade is going to change our relationship. I'm hoping it will only change quantity not quality. And just a heads up I'm feeling so much better about my mothering and I found that I am cut out for this, just not the way I was doing it.

"Home is where our story begins"

They Turned Four and I Turned Sad

I promised myself that I would never apoligize for not blogging. I never wanted this hobbie to turn into another thing I felt guilt over . . . that being said, a month of not posting is just too long and I hope someone in the world wide web still remembers ole' Glory.

I have so much to blog about but I thought I'd go with the most important first: Phoebe and Jabe are now rocking four fingers up when you ask how old they are.

I took a huge step in my recovery (incase you didn't know, I'm addicted to having babies) and packed up all the baby gear and clothes to a consignment store. (tear)

This just might be the last birthday party they share before they are wise that they can have an all boy or girl party. We had a stripe and polka dot party, with bright colors and tons and tons of balloons. (Call me a snob but decorating with balloons is reserved for birthday parties only. There I said it and it feels better.)

Hung up the happy birthday sign

Had Grandma Pam make the cutest cake ever!

Sprinkled pom poms everywhere.

Stayed up till midnight the night before stuffing and making give-a-way bags

Some flowers by my favorite florist and my sister-in-law Dorinda

I made these adorable banners

Had a very simple menu. I've always thought Phoebe and Jabe's names sounded like PB and J so we had a peanut butter and jelly bar.

Had to take a picture of Tobin making his first sandwich

Eating:

Making Wishes:

Some guests:

My Grandpa and Dad

My beautiful Gandma

Happy four year old, Jabe.

My niece Mariko, just a few days shy of four herself.

Cole

And a few pictures of the day after:

And this picture of my big girl is just pure sunshine:

Shameful Parenting Revealed

Because Dr. Dobson won't be using these clips in his next parenting DVD series, I thought I'd give Glory Laine readers a glimps at just how sucky Matt and I can be as parents.













To me, this is like a bad accident. I keep reliving it step by step in slow motion wondering why on Earth we felt we had to "keep our word". I mean I could sorta justify it if it were a bucket of broccoli but, pizza? Really?
He spent every dime last night. Not to come off like a total tool he set aside some to give to church (less then a buck), let Jabe and Phoebe pick one item each from the dollar section, took them out for ice cream and brought me home some candy. The rest can be found in the register at Brats R Us. And I am going to hock my wedding ring so we can pay the water bill. Looks like Tobin parented us this weekend.

Spending My Time

It's been a month since I logged on to this account and I've missed you all. I thought I'd catch you up on just a few things that have been eating my time.

Easter. Nothing says, "My savior lives", like bunny ears and plastic egg hunts. Can I get a witness?

Celebrated 13 years married to this guy. I look like I am three feet tall in this picture. And really, did I really curl my bangs under?

T-ball mania.

Most of t-ball is watching little boys adjust their cups and playing in the dirt.

We threw a little BBQ for Matt's best friend Steve, who left for Iraq this morning.

I helped out on a huge fundraising dinner for our local Pregnancy Center.

I am obsessed with these little gluten free wonders.

I make anyone near me try them and with the exception of my i-only-eat-five-different-kinds-of-food eldest child, everyone is amazed at how good they are. Who would have thought these little clusters of sweet nuts could rule my life? (Dear Jesus, protect this blog from anyone that googles "sweet nuts" and finds this post. Amen)

I have also been bitten by the genealogy bug. I've gotten really far on both sides of my family and have been introduced to some really interesting character in my family tree. Some nights I'm up till the wee hours of the morning because I'm on a roll uncovering names and dates and piecing them all together. It's a trip. I was so excited one night to see that my 27th great grandmother is Joan of Arc!

I was so stoked I woke up Matt to tell him, called my mother early the next morning and told my Bible study girls that night. When I got home Matt rented "The Messenger" So we could learn a little more about her. Two minuets into the story things were not adding up to me. Re-looked at my notes and I miss read the name

Acre for Arc. AND I was about 200 years off from my relative AND my relative is English not French. So. That popped my bubble and I decided I don't make a great genealogist after 9 pm. Honestly at 2 am I could have read my ancestor was Kermit the Frog and I would have believed it with all my heart, and I would have woke Matt up to tell him that I was a son of a muppet.

I've also been getting my craft on. We've lived in our house for 1.5 years and I am going crazy with my bare walls. But remember I got this sink and because of it I now can barely feed my family, let alone buy art for my walls. So I made these?

What do you think?

Becoming More Respectable

Surely some of my readers think I am going to burn for my last post. I know for fact my grandmother had heart palpitations from just reading the word "cervix". So today I am giving you a little thank you for sticking with me. My dinning room table full of laundry is the backdrop as my little ones give you a front row seat to their musical debut.

Mildly Inappropriate Humor

Dear American Disability Association,

I wanted to bring to your attention a "disability" that you might not be aware of. Just last week I had a total hysterectomy and although I am so happy to have had my diseased womb removed, I am mourning the loss of my cervix. I liked my cervix and even though all the research says I won't miss it, the research is wrong. I now can kinda imagine what someone who looses a limb might feel like. I am writing to you to see if you can help me feel a little less disabled and a little more able.

What I am asking for is that you find a way to make me my very own prosthetic cervix. Now I am a reasonable person, I understand my new cervix will not even be close to the remarkable one I lost. Surly a prosthetic cervix will never dilate. I've grieved that and moved on. But in exchange I was hoping my new prosthetic cervix could, umm . . . I donno . . . how about squeak? You know like a dog toy or a horn on a bicycle. It would certainly give me motivation to do those Kegels every women should do and I could use it to alert others when they are in my way. I can think of lots of useful ideas for my new prosthetic squeaking cervix. Such as, if I ever loose my voice my squeaker could be my signature greeting or goodbye, similar to shalom.

Please help my dream come true so I can enhance my cervixless life.

Sincerely,

Yearning to Squeak

Rip My Guts Out: 100% Uterus Free

I'm home in my own clean sheets. I still walk like a 90 year old woman with a piano on my back but Matt says my shuffling is sexy so . . . that's weird. I got home on Saturday after four long uncomfortable nights at the hospital. My house is filled with so much love from all my friends and families. My kitchen table, had so many beautiful flowers on it, it looked like I walked into my uterus' funeral. They are gorgeous and I have scattered them around my house and oh how they bring a bit of spring into every corner. My friends have given me books, and slippers, and sweets, and meals, babysitting, Love and prayers. If I were a cheerleader I would come to each of your houses and do a routine exuding my love for all of you. I would to, except, If I use my severed stomach muscles at all it makes me break out into tears faster than a Hallmark commercial during Christmas time. I hope you all know you have a gift I don't have. I am not good at meeting others needs. I have lots of nice thoughts and great ideas and the most wonderful intentions that never see the other side of my brain. I so admire people who don't just think nice things, they do them. This will be my New Year’s resolutions one of these years. As soon as I lose those last ten pounds.

My brother came to visit me the first two evenings at the hospital. He didn't mind one bit that I could open my eyes because I was so nauseous and tired. We joked, and having him be there made me feel protected in a way only a big brother can. Getting prepped for surgery I wore a soft paper gown and when I laid down the nurse plugged a hose into the gown that blew in warm air! It felt like Hawaii (plus the dread of impending surgery). I told my bother while in recovery that I thought we should market this to the Snuggie Company and have them add the hot air hose feature. I loved the feeling when I was a little girl to stand over a forced air heater and have it blow my nightgown up like a hot air balloon. So I pitched the idea to my brother and he came up with the name for our product . . . the Blowie. You heard it here first.

Surgery . . . thankfully I was fully in the wild blue yonder while it was all happening because my doctors says it was rough. His exact words were "I'd be perfectly happy to never do a surgery that complicated again." He knew after 30 seconds of the laparoscopic surgery that he'd have to open me up. Once in, he said that it looked like someone poured super glue throughout my abdomen. The procedure lasted double the time he expected and I lost a lot of blood that caused me to have a double blood transfusion. And the good doctor in all his wisdom took every last trace of my uterus, ovaries, and cervix. Pretty much all my inner woman was removed but in exchange I got this fancy estrogen sticker on my belly and no more evil periods EVER! It was a good deal. I've lived with that pain since I was ten years old. Ten.

I have a great story of how I cried to my mom the first year that I had started my period. I was in the fifth grade I hated having to take my backpack into the restroom to change. Kids my age were just learning how to use a period at the end a sentence, other than that the word had no second meaning. So my mother, (who was not a seamstress) decided to make me something a little more discrete to take with me to the powder room. She took me to Joann's Fabric Store and let me pick my favorite print. This was 1987 so I choose this neon paint splattered fabric that was like. totally. radical. We bought a yard and my mom laid a giant pad onto the flat fabric (remember this is before they came folded in thirds with the cute pink package.) and traced out a pattern that sorta looked like a big envelope. When it was finished I had myself one big bright neon pad cozy. I am sure it could have been seen from space but somehow it did make me feel a bit more confident.

So now my bed is my only dwelling and my husband has become superman. He lifts me out of bed, dries my legs out of the shower, brings me my every whim, sole caregiver of my children, he's my arm in the middle of the night when I just need a new position, my medicine controller, my slipper put-er on-er. He even supplied my nightstand with all my favorite treats because he was worried I wasn't eating enough. And he is so CUTE I can hardly stand it.

Well I thought I'd give you a tour of my life right now. This is my nightstand.


My reading material.

My candy stash.

Me in the perpetual state of rest.

Guts are out

Hi everyone, this is Matt, Becca's husband. Becca has gurgled to me to update her blog for her. So, I will be typing as she dictates to you all. I have to be honest, she looks a little different now sans uterus..........I'm not sure I know what "sans" means but Becca in her narcotic stupor assures me it's a word.......so, here's becca

"hi.......my uterus is sans........I feel like.......otterpops..............what did the doctor say? What time is it? you my blog ok? thirsty.................call the school and tell them tobin forgot his skiing is fun."

ok, that's enough, go back to sleep my princess!

Folks, if you've learned nothing else from this post, DON'T DO DRUGS!

Seriously, becca is great, surgery went well, a little loner and more invasive that the doctor had hoped for, as result, here recovery will be a bit longer. She'll be at the hospital until about Saturday. Thank you for all your thoughts, prayers and offers for help. Peace out for now

matt

Rip My Guts Out: Other Than That, I'm Fine

Don't you hate it when you read someone's blog and they leave you hanging breathlessly waiting for the next post to give you a bit of closure. Like, "Hey Guys, my test results showed that my baby is sprouting wings and has antennas. I'll post tomorrow with the results and a picture." Fast forward and a month has gone by she hasn't bothered to take the time to update and you don't even care about that woman and her dumb magic double horned/pegasus baby anymore. All that being said, sorry I left you all hanging. My excuse is this, I feel like an old lady with all my new aliments and I'm just a tad depressed.

I had those awful tests done last week. Remember it's the one were they have your bowels run a marathon, all while drinking a gallon of this salty/lemon devil drink. When I picked it up from the pharmacist she handed me two samples of petroleum jelly and then winked. I took them pretending like I totally knew this inside joke. It all made sense later. Those tests confirmed lots of damage that years of undiagnosed celiac disease has done on my intestines. How long has my body not been able to absorb nutrients? Most likely I've had celiac sprue since childhood. They found a pre-cancerous polyp (that everyone assures me is not a big deal), and they found that I am b-12 deficient. (I had a bone scan yesterday to see if I have osteoporosis. Results pending.) And anemia. See, . . . old woman.

I have been on my gluten free diet for three weeks now. For the most part I haven't had many problems with it. (Before I only ate bread so I could eat butter with less mess and judgement.) We even have a great local grocery store in town that has yellow price tags for all g-free products. Makes it so easy. What I am having the hardest part with is having to become a fussy person. I, of course, have been doing a lot of research about my new diet and it is very clear that when you are not in charge of preparing your own food you are in danger of eating gluten because of cross contamination. All the experts out there talk about how just a dusting of flour or a crumb of bread is the same as eating a loaf. Weird, I know. So it's important to not just have wheat, barley, or rye listed in the ingredients but not even in the factory they process your food in.

I used to love the treat of eating out, but now I dread it. When the waiter asks me what I would like to eat, I still fumble and mumble my way through this weird, almost apologetic request of whiny needs. It sounds something like this, "Hi Kind Sir, I've just been diagnosed with celiac disease, (looks at me like I just told him I dye my armpit hair purple), and because of that I am intolerant to gluten. Gluten is wheat, barley, rye and all derivatives. If it's not too much trouble, would you please let the chef know that I'll need him to throughly clean the grill before cooking my plain chicken. He may use some olive oil and salt and pepper to season but no sauces or mixed seasons please. Also if you could, please, make me a fresh salad using clean utensils making sure that nothing touches anything I might have a reaction to, I would be indebted to you. If you could be so kind, good sir, to not add any dressing. See, I've brought my own in my purse. It's gluten free and tastes like horse urine. So I'm good. I really appreciate this and for my thankfulness I'd like to give you my firstborn. " See what I mean? Fussy. I'd rather stay home. That is unless we can go to PF Chang's. Mr. Chang really knows how to make this celiac girl feel special. I've eaten there three times in three weeks and each time I am thrown a flippin' party when I tell them my diagnoses. I am truly surprised when they don't gather the troops to sing me a "happy celiac" song just for me. They have a g-free menu and even bring my meal on a special plate so you know my message got to the chef. And at the end of my meal they bring out the traditional fortune cookies and say to me, "now these do have gluten in them but I thought you might like to read your fortune" And then I kiss them because of their kindness and then I play the read-your-fortune-and-insert-the-phrase, "in bed" after-reading. Good times for all.

I've had all the kids tested. Took them all (by myself) to have their blood drawn. It didn't even dawn on me that this could possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done. We practiced at home and I am happy to say that all of them did amazing. Jabe volunteered to go first and they had to dig in that boy to get the blood to flow. With Phoebe and Tobin watching on I was so grateful he didn't let on how painful it was. Phoebe raised her hand to go next and had the tiniest jerk to her arm with the poke but nothing after that. Tobin told me he didn't need to sit on my lap like the twins and he was so "manly" about the whole thing I was filled with pride. All tests came back negative. I'm still skeptical about Jabe. I've also campaigned for my family to get tested. I've even enticed them that if they get diagnosed we could start our own club and have t-shirts made that says, "Sprue You" funny eh?

What was the other thing I was going to say. . . ? Oh yeah. Hysterectomy surgery on Tuesday (the 23rd). I trust my doctor so much. He is going to be making lots of decisions once he's inside, so I can't give you any details yet about what kind of surgery I am going to have or how long my recovery will be. One thing is for sure, I'll have lots of time to blog and I'll be on pain meds, so should be fun reads.

Rip My Guts Out

This post is long over due. It has needed to be written and even though I've had lots of little funny gems that I could have stalled with . . . I knew in my ever-lovin' blog writing heart that my next subject needed to be about my upcoming hysterectomy. I think I've hesitated because I don't want to become one of those elderly men that you smile to on the street and ask rhetorically "how are you today sir?" and then they start telling you about their flare up of gout or latest patch of hemorrhoids.

So if you are one of those people who gets a case of the wabbles by listening to feminine issues you might want to skip this post and watch this link of the fire works over the Disney castle and all will be marshmallows and sunshine again. If you are unsure if you should continue reading, here is a test. Do any of these words make you uncomfortable?

Menstral Cycle (I bet I lost a few with that one already)

Kotex Pad

Uvula (I challenge you to look this up if you don't know what this is. We all have 'em)

Pap Smear

Speculum

Fallopian Tube

Mucus Plug (Ok I think someone out there just fainted)

Truly I won't be using any of these words but they were fun to write. Here at Glory Laine we always try to be educational without being textbook boring so this will again be another riveting series to further uncover just how completely and utterly screwed up my body is. So if you like self deprecating humor as much as I do . . . please follow along with my "Rip My Guts Out" updates.

My story begins like most all women's. . . I have a lot of pain but then I self diagnosis and say things like, "I'm sure it's nothing", "It will go away", "I'll just double my dose of ibuprofen and my world is flowers and hearts again.", "Going to the doctor is too hard. With finding childcare and having to bear ones soul and getting naked in a public place and describing pains that come and go makes me feel like a hypochondriac." Anyway, all that to say I've been letting warning signs go way too long and finally at the end of my rope I called my doctor and arranged childcare and answered all the invasive questions and much to my surprised found out that my body wasn't lying after all. It is in distress and was pissed at me for not listening to it.

An ultra sound gave just a peak to the disaster that is taking place inside me. Normally a woman uterus and ovaries are floating freely and carelessly inside her abdomen. In mine it showed that my endometriosis is having some kind of frat party on my reproductive system and has essentially fastened all of my organs together in to one big sphere of havoc. A total hysterectomy is indeed the only answer to ending the endometriosis that is now invading my other vital organs. Timing is amazing because as ya'll read this summer I don't need "the oven" anymore. The endo has even started to take over my intestines and that's were I found out the most devastating news of all: I have to have a colonoscopy. "Devastating" might be a tad dramatic but still it's very far off my "thing I want to do before I die" list.

So I've had my consultation with the gastroenterologist (surely all those smart people could have come up with a better self-descriptive title.) And I can't even tell you the sarcastic joy it brought me to sit in his office and have a detailed chat about all the in's and OUTS about me. And of course Dr. "Gas" is about my age, and slightly attractive and now knows more about me than . . . well . . . anyone. He asked me about family history with Celiac Disease. Just so happens my maternal grandfather had it. Doctor looks curious and says, "looks like you've also suffered from infertility. You should have already been checked for this." So he sent me on my way with orders to have yet another test done. And wouldn't you know it . . . I came back positive for Celiac just on Friday. And this my friends changes everything. I now am on a strict gluten free diet. No wheat, rye, barley and all of the derivatives that I have yet to learn or pronounce. I'm learning just how serious this disease is as it can lead to cancer and an increased risk in miscarriages. Dr. "Gas" let me know again just how miraculous it was that I was able to carry Tobin; and twins to term. . . was just a phenomenon. Thankfulness all over again.

So next on the list is to add an endoscopy with the colonoscopy. I'm going to be strung like a roasted chicken . . . don't picture that . . . I mean it! Stop! Right Now!

Dr. "Gas" is doing a biopsy to see how much damage my years of gluten consumption has done. Then gives his report to Dr. "Gyno" where he decides how invasive surgery will have to be. No dates have been set although both Doctors agree that this all is going to happen fast.

In the mean time all the kids need to be tested too. I have a feeling this has been the cause of all of Jabes issues. I would really love to hear from any of you who have been diagnosed with Celiac Disease or a total hysterectomy at an early age. Please leave a comment and let me know how I can get ahold of you.

Both doctors say that I have learned to live with pain and discomfort all my life and that in a few month I might just learn what normal feels like. Yeah normal. If you just need to know more about Celiac Disease, Elisabeth Hasselback does a great segment on The View about it.

Had Me In Stitches

We didn't get the kids home from Grandma's and to bed until after nine last night. WAY past bedtime but worth it when Matt and I can have a little date night. I was trying to keep up with my new Flylady schedule and get my sink shiny and the morning breakfast laid out when I heard the heart dropping thud and scream come from the twin's room. Ran in to see blood pouring from Jabe's mouth as he sobbed that he got hurt. Phoebe stared in a stunned shock-like state and I scoped up the bloody child to the kitchen to have a better look. Teeth were fine (YES!!!), but blood was still coming from somewhere. A wet wash cloth revealed a hole in bottom lip that punched clear through to the inside of his mouth. "He'll need stitches", I say in my best Dr. Mom voice. Tobin was very interested in the whole mess and started to freak out Jabe when he started to explain what stitches were and described in detail how big the needle was going to be. I cut him off and gave him a job to gather up some toys for Jabe to take to the ER to play with while we wait. Matt got ice packed up and off we went. Jabe chatted with me the entire ride in the car, he chatted with the night guard who questioned why we needed to come into the ER, ( I refrained from calling him a total moron for not seeing the little boy with blood pouring out of his mouth and being able to but two and two together without a cheat-sheet.) Jabe was charming to the intake nurse and loved his new hospital bracelet, and him and nurse Jim are total bff's now. Tobin did a great job packing toys for Jabe. Mater the truck, a book, Jabe's blanket, a small magna doodle and Jabe and nurse Jim's favorite, Mr. Potato Head as Darth Tater. Perfect little toys to play with while we waited for the novocaine to kick in, and waited for the doctor to give Jabe two little stitches. Nurse Jim held his head still, I was in charge of his arms and Jabe had to keep his lips together. Jabe ignored their silly suggestion to close his eyes and watched the whole time, completely content like he was getting a massage not having a fishhook weaved in and out of his face. No tears and we were out in two hours.

He's on a "smooth" diet for the next 24 hours so that food doesn't get into the wound but other that that we are done.

And as to what we think happened . . . I'm no Sherlock but I think he was climbing on his dresser when he fell off it. Sometimes I wish I had a security camera running in their room so I could see the shenanigans they pull. Praying for a boring day today.

Christmas Paparazzi

Truly an amazing Christmas! The kids are at glorious ages for bringing shear joy to all with their Christmas excitement that oozes out from every cell. Every twinkle light gets noticed, every song gets sung, ever christmas cookie is devoured with a smile. We had a great season and I have spent the morning pouring though pictures and have narrowed it down to a mere thirty or so to keep on my blog.

I've been waiting to order personalized stockings for my family until I knew my family was complete. So this was the year I got to get them and I adore how they turned out.



A few pictures celebrating at my brother's cute house is SE Portland. His house used to be my great grandparents so it has a sentimental feel to it every time I walk in the doors. My sister-in-law, Dorinda is seriously talented when it comes to decorating and I had fun taking a few pictures of my favorite little spots in their home.
My mom and some of her grandkids.

Prof I was at Christmas since I am the one who takes the pictures.




This is my little family on Christmas morning.

My apologies to our neighbors.


And this is Christmas Eve at my in-laws. Grandma Pam made these for each of the girls.

Tobin got a bigger bike.

Jabe said a prayer before the gifts were open.


My sweet nieces, Daphne and Maisie.


Proud of my wrapping this year!

My in-laws used a tree off their property this year.

And lastly, don't you just love how Grandma Pam displayed the kid's Christmas Eve pajamas?
Now that it's over . . . I'm ready for spring.