I started this blog as a journal of sorts.  I've written in a diary my whole life and began blogging to keep my thoughts and memories throughout the days.  It's my way of giving the kids a sort of 'memory book' of their childhood.
    An important page in that book I'd like them to have is about friendship.
    They're going to meet friends that will come and go, but my hope is for them to find true friendship.  The kind that lasts the test of time.
    I want them to know that they're going to come across different types of friends throughout their lives.  They'll have friends who want the best for them and who find joy in their happiness...but they'll also have the ones who want what's good for them...as long as it's not better than what the friend has.  
    They need to know that there are friends who genuinely make you happy.  When you're with them, your cheeks hurt from laughing.  There's nothing you could say or do that would offend them and when it's time to part, you truly miss them and feel thankful for spending time together. 
    Other friends won't bring the same joy.  Sure, you can do things or go places together, but it's not the same.  That ease isn't there and in some cases, you even feel worse when you take your separate ways. Those friends will hopefully be few and far between, but it won't take long to spot them out.
    To have true friends, unconditional friends and positive friends, is nothing less than a gift from God.  To be able to pick right up where you left off no matter the time or distance between you, should be cherished. 
    I've had the fortune of having some of the best friends on Earth.  My roommate from graduate school, is one of them.  We met when we were 18 years old as freshmen.  Four years later, we went on to grad school and spent countless hours in our little apartment laughing, studying and having so little money that we'd eat corn out of a can for dinner.
    Amy and I went through some of the best and worst times together.  No matter what test we'd have or boyfriend we might cry over, one thing we'd always do, was throw on sweats and a t-shirt and vent.  Back then, there were no cell phones, laptops, or iPads.  I'm dating myself, but back in the 'good ol' days' friends would simply sit and hang out. (gasp)  
    Nine out of ten times, we'd end up throwing a movie in.  Our go to, was always "Dumb and Dumber".  Why?  It's hard to tell.  The more Amy and I watched it though, the more we laughed, to the point where we could pull lines from the movie and fall over for no apparent reason.
    We swore that one day, if they ever made a sequel, no matter where we were in our lives, we'd promise to see it together.
    Guess what?  They did.  
    Sixteen years have passed since graduate school.  We've been in each others weddings, been to baptisms and birthdays of our children - and just like back in the day, we've seen each other through the good and bad.
     It didn't take a second to decide then, when or how we would see the movie.  Amy figured out the best meeting place between Ohio and North Carolina with the movie times and location.
     We both told our husbands (who thought we were crazy) that the plan was in place.  
     Our fantastic parents watched the kids so Amy and her husband Dominic and Adam and I could meet in West Virginia to see 'Dumb and Dumber to'.  
     From the outside looking in, it was insane, but to us, it's what friends do.  We didn't have to go all that way just to see a movie or fulfill a promise...we wanted to.  We wanted to laugh our heads off and wipe tears from our eyes.  We wanted to stay up talking and sharing thoughts and stories.  We wanted to do what true friends do...simply be happy being together.
     If my children read nothing more than this, here's what I want them to know.  No matter what happens in your life, true friends will always be with you either in person or in spirit.  They'll take joy in your success and they'll hurt with you in your failure.  Your friendship will stand the test of time...for as long or as far away as you may be from each other.  And if you're lucky, if you're very, very lucky, you might even have a friend that would be crazy enough to drive states away, just to get together for a movie, a promise and a bag of popcorn.  
    Life doesn't get much better than that.
    Thank you for always being the Best of Friends Amy!  Miss and Love You. (According to the map, we've only gone 4 inches...)

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    Years ago, my mom heard about a walk through nativity scene.  When she went, she was so impressed by it that year after year, she urged us to go.  
    We've always been too busy though.  We've been out of town or had important things to do, so we've never been able to make it.  There's never been enough time.  
    This year we made the time.  
    I guess I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I surely didn't expect this.  The attention to detail and amount of work involved with this annual production was nothing less than phenomenal.  We were taken back in time and awe inspired as we took the same journey that once was taken by a young couple, to a little town called Bethleham.  
    The travels began by getting a gold coin to pay our taxes.

    We were told that we needed to travel for three days from where we lived in Nazareth, to our place of birth in Bethlehem for the census. 

     As we traveled, we met different people and families along the way who were concerned about the new laws as they voiced their opinions. 

     We watched as (the cutest) shepherds noticed a star. 

   We were warned to continue on our path and pay our taxes.

    Along the way, we passed through towns and markets.

     We listened as three wise men spoke of a new King being born, causing King Herod to order the baby to be found. 

    The three kings followed the star as we continued on our path, meeting more travelers along the way.

    Seeing shepherds once again, we were finally led to the manger.

       When we approached, it was something to behold.   

    The night was one we'll never forget.  
    In the hustle and bustle of life, especially around this time of year, it's easy to forget what the season is really about.   
    It was nice to get a reminder of the true meaning of Christmas, through the most amazing way possible.  Experiencing it first hand through an incredible journey of our Savior's birth on that holiest of nights.

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     Have you ever been with someone long enough that you don't need to use words with each other to communicate anymore?  You know...when all you have to do is give them a certain look or expression...and they know exactly what you mean?
     Adam and I took the kids to get a Christmas tree this week.  Actually, before I go further, I should clarify.  Adam needed to get something at the store and I saw some Christmas trees for sale.  
     You see, he and I are the complete opposite.  In almost every sense of the word, we are night and day.  He's analytical, I'm a dreamer.  He's grounded, I float in the clouds.  I love the idea of a real Christmas tree and he...well...you get the idea. 
     In my mind, a real tree is magical.  The way it colors the house with that woodsy smell, the deep richness of the pine, the feeling of Christmas comes alive from the minute you bring it home. 
     Adam's version of a real tree is how big of a mess it is, that it's annoying to keep up with and water...and more than anything else, how it's a complete nightmare to have to deal with when taking it down and out of the house. 
     I get that.  I really do...but it's Christmas...and every once in a while, he'll agree to give in.
     This year was no exception.  Going back to not having to speak a word to get your point across...  
     When we went to the store, there was a tree area.  Adam shot me a look as I smiled "that" smile at him.  Walking through the aisles, there were rows and rows of trees that stood proudly, just waiting to go home.  
     That's when I saw it.  The tree of all trees.  It stood out in a mass of others as a ray of light shown down and birds began to sing.  Adam took one look at the tree, then one look at me and knew exactly what I was thinking.
      "Oh no.  Don't even think about it.  This tree wouldn't even fit it our yard."
      And with that...I couldn't help but bust out laughing.  He didn't realize when he'd said it, but quickly knew it was the perfect set up for the best line in the movie "Christmas Vacation".
      When he knew what I was thinking, Adam shook his head.  "This is the one...isn't it?"  He muttered as he tried to mentally calculate how to get it on the car and into our house.    
      Nodding, my smile grew form ear to ear.  
      There's something to be said about being with someone for so long that you know each others thoughts and feelings - and even if I don't say it out loud enough, I hope he knows how he's the best thing that ever happened to me...Griswold tree and all.

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    The only thing better than a perfect pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving Day, is a perfect turkey.  This year I was in charge of the meal from start to finish.  It was a challenge I was eager to accept, except that this year, I had to work on Thanksgiving day as well.  
     Our patients on caseload needed to be seen, which meant I had to balance cooking and baking before, during and after work.  
    It was on like Donkey Kong.
    The best thing I learned from Thanksgiving this year, was that if you follow the directions listed on the turkey to every detail, you could quite possibly end up with the best, most delicious tasting turkey known to man.  I'm still waking up at two in the morning to get a turkey snack.
    The worst thing I learned?  If you DON'T follow the instructions on a ham and just 'wing it' (bad pun) along with the turkey, you could end up with the worst, most awful chunk of leathery meat imaginable.  I mean like, hiking boots could be made out of this stuff.  
     With the worry about work, I put both the turkey and the ham in together at the same time, thinking I was the Martha Stewart of all delicious holiday meats.  
     Ummmm...yeah.  Not so much.
     I will say that was one of my favorite things about the day, regardless of the food, was that we had a little helper.     
     What we're used to, is a group of kids running around the house like wild, or a toddler wanting to throw eggs into the proverbial pumpkin mix.  
     This year though...our little girl was old enough to truly help us in the kitchen.  It was hard not to smile as our youngest carefully measured and focused on her cooking and baking.  I had visions of years to come which were both as bitter as they were sweet.

     So the day was a success.  One filled with perfect turkeys, horrible ham jerky and future pumpkin pie bakers, made with love.  
     We hope that you and yours had a wonderful Thanksgiving this year and we pray for those who couldn't be with ones they care about for whatever reason that might be.  May your year that follows, be blessed beyond compare.
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   I've worked in restaurants, watched cooking shows and tried my hand at making meal after meal.  I recently learned something that I've never seen before though.
     I love to cook with onions.  Sautéing them, grilling them, you name it...they give recipes that certain...umph.  What I hate though?  Is chopping them.
     The burning sting that brings tears to your eyes is enough to drive you mad.
     Here's a trick you can try that might surprise you.  When I heard about it, to be honest, I didn't believe it.  I decided to give it a go just to see if it worked though, and it knocked my socks off.
     What you do, is take a single piece of bread.  (I used a regular old slice of sandwich bread.)  Bend the piece of bread in half, then bite down on the bent side so that most of the bread is sticking out, making you look like you have a duck bill.
     Chop, dice or slice your onions and waaaait for it...  
     For whatever reason, as long as you keep the bread in your mouth, the burning and stinging won't reach your eyes.  You can chop away and nothing hurts.
     It's wild.  
     Sure, you might look like a crazy person, but at least you won't have tears streaming down your face when you're done.
     I hope if you try it, it works for you too!    
     Until then, happy cooking and have a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING! 
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    It's hard to be the youngest brother.  When your older brothers are bigger, stronger and faster than you, it can start to get you down.
    Our youngest son, Preston, feels like this often.  His two big brothers are giants in his eyes.  Preston always asks why he can't do what he wants or watch what he wants...play what he wants.  He always has to follow their lead because they do it all first.
    Not this weekend though.  On Saturday, Preston pulled something that his two big brothers never have...both of his two front teeth...at the same time.  
    His teeth have been ready to come out for awhile now, but over the weekend, Preston decided that not one...but both of them had to go.  
     With the cheering of whoops and hollers that only boys can do (with squeals from his baby sister), little Preston bravely pulled both teeth out one at a time.  Christian and Ethan were impressed to say the least, causing Preston to stick his small chest out just a tad further that afternoon, as though he'd joined a special club. 

     Later that night, Preston carefully put his teeth under his pillow.  Lying down with hopes of a visit from the Tooth Fairy, his toothless smile was from ear to ear.   

     Kissing his cheek, I couldn't help but grin.
     Preston hugged my neck and whispered, "Mom?"
     "Yes, Baby."
     "I did it."
     "Yes you did, little man.  Yes you did."

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    When I met my husband, it was love at first sight.  He was the epitome of what you would call the tall, dark and handsome man.  He was a fighter pilot and just about as cute as you could imagine.    

     I would sit and daydream about having cute babies with him...and I just knew that one day they would grow up to be something wonderful.  
     Maybe Olympic athletes, genius inventors, the President of the United States?  
     Then something happened.  We actually had babies. 
     At first, the dream stayed alive.  With each milestone, I was convinced that they were destined for glory.  Each step was that of an NBA player.  Every nursery song was the next Grammy winner.
    I couldn't wait for the day when our son or daughter would one day turn to the camera and say those two simple words that melt every mother's heart.  "Hi Mom." 
    As the years go by though, something's changed.  I've realized that I don't want them to be phenomenal.  Not even exceptional.  I actually hope they'll simply be average instead.
    You see, I don't hope for our daughter to be an Olympic gymnast.  I don't want her to live at the gym so much, that the rest of her life will dissolve.  
    What I do want...is for her to go to gymnastics and have the time of her life.  I want her to meet friends and giggle, loving the excitement of it all.
     I don't want our boys to play in the NFL.  My goal isn't to pull them into the car after their games and bombard them with what they did right and wrong...preparing them for the future.  
    Instead, I hope their future will involve the love and respect that comes from teamwork.  That they'll know how to win...and lose with grace.
    Call me an underachiever if you will, but my goal has indeed shifted.  What's taken its place however, is something altogether different.
    Going back to my cute husband.  He's no longer a fighter pilot.  He's out of the Air Force now, without the impressive lifestyle or thrill of it all.  He has a very normal job, he lives his very average life and pays the average bills.  
    Where he is exceptional however, is in his heart.  He's the best husband and father that God could have put on this Earth.  That's where the real importance in life makes its mark.  When the dust settles and the lights go down, what you're left standing with - is what matters.  
    That's where my hope lies for our children.  In their spirit...their character and their hearts.  In these things, I know now that I want them to be the furthest thing from average.  I truly hope they'll be phenomenal.
    I used to  dream about having amazing babies, more fantastic than the Earth could imagine...then we actually had them.  The most average, common, beautiful and wonderfully amazing children. 
     My hope for them is that they strive to accomplish any dream they may have, with a love that fills their hearts...and that they know...they were far beyond any dream I ever could've known.
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     It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!  With the week of Thanksgiving upon us, it's the best time to cozy up to a beautiful movie to get you into the spirit. 
     The Hallmark Channel Original Movie Premiere of "Christmas Under Wraps" will do just that.  
      The stunning Candace Cameron Bure stars as a headstrong doctor who has her whole life planned out.  Little does she know that an unexpected turn of events and a detour to Alaska will change everything.

     I Loved this movie and I know you will too!  It's the perfect way to get the season started...and the ending will give your heart a smile.
     Catch "Christmas Under Wraps" on Saturday, November 29 at 8 EST and 7 CST. 
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    It's the best time of the year.  The leaves are falling, the air is cool and crisp...and the holidays are right around the corner.
    Nothing says Thanksgiving like a group of cute first graders.  Preston's class had their program today and it was the sweetest thing.  The boys and girls dressed up and gave a beautiful performance about the first Thanksgiving, led by their fabulous teacher.
    Not only was it adorable...but now I'm ready for some turkey and pumpkin pie.  :)

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    With the weather getting cooler, we broke out our winter clothes and realized that our five year old daughter's sweaters from last year were too small.
    There's something that happens inside of me when I get to look for new clothes for her.  I think it's because after having three boys in a row, I never thought I'd ever get to buy dresses or cute pink sweaters.  
    Maybe it's that Pavlovian response I developed when walking by any children's store window with little girl outfits beautifully put together.  My heart used to ache with the doubt that we'd ever get to buy those gorgeous plaid Christmas dresses or little fancy Easter shoes.  
    As luck would have it, I had a 40% off coupon for the Gap store just in time for winter.  Score. 
    Heading to the mall, I excitedly took our baby girl and walked into the children's section that was festively decorated for the holidays.
    Going straight for the pretty dresses (I know, I know...we're looking for sweaters) I combed through the displays for her fit.  She's outgrowing a size 5 now, so I began to look for a 6 to get her through the winter.  
    Hmmmm...nothing.  Everything seemed to be small.  A sales rep must have seen my expression and came over.
    "Can I help you?  Are you finding everything you need?"
    "Oh, hi!  Thanks.  We're just looking for something in her size."
    "What size is that?"
    "A six I guess."
    Nodding to the next 'Gap' store over (the big kid store) she smiled and said, "Oh, you'll find what you need over there."
    It was like a punch in the stomach.  
    (Over there?  Our baby can't fit clothes over there.)  
    That's where we get things for the boys, but they're bigger and older...and...smelly.  
     We shop for her at the little girl's section.  The cute, little dresses and bows, adorable little kid section.    
    It was hard enough to pull myself away from the baby/toddler area three years ago...but this?  THIS?  This can't be happening.
    I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "Oh, okay.  Thank you."
    The kind woman must have heard my internal dialogue and smiled saying, "It's okay mom.  You're going to be fine."
     Holding hands, Lauren Elizabeth and I crossed over to the "other side".  We found some really cute outfits which were pretty and nice.  There was definitely an older flare to them which hurt my heart, but the bigger she gets, I know she'll, (ahem) I'll be ready.
     For now though, just one last time, I went back to the children's section and grabbed a little size five outfit for her to wear over the next colder month or two.  I knew it would be the last time I'd be able to do it and the tiny sizes suddenly never seemed so small.  It was a bitter/sweet feeling to say the least.  
     Our little girl's growing up and there's nothing we can do to stop it.  
     I guess at least for now though, I'll smile knowing that she'll still able to wear her tiny cute boots to help her along the way.

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