it's all fun and games until someone poops in the tub.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to be a great mom when things are great?

I'm an amazing mom when my kids are well-behaved and our day goes exactly as planned. I smile, I laugh, I have joy, I'm bubbly. I amuse my children with songs and stories and silliness and sometimes even a well-planned craft. We get along famously, a happy, albeit sometimes ragtag because even on the best of days hair isn't always combed or pajamas aren't always lost, bunch. I go from one task to the next with a nice little rhythm all my own, and I can't help but feel how much I love, JUST LOVE, being a mom. It's awesome, people, simply awesome. Super-mom high five!

That's a nice little word picture, isn't it? Are you wondering why I wrote this blog post if I was just going to toot my own horn? Welllll........

Hang on, friends. It's about to take a turn towards the ugly.

Let's get real. How often does our day go exactly as planned? How often are all of my children well-behaved at the very same time and we are living in perfect harmony? How often do I not get interrupted when trying to accomplish something, even if it's just trying to go to the bathroom by myself? How many times do I feel completely on top of it, "it" being house, kids, schoolwork, projects, errands, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. (too many? Just making a point. I may have gotten carried away.)

These are all rhetorical questions, and I'm sure you can guess the answer to each one: Hardly ever, if at all. 

That's normal, I'm pretty sure. (raise your hand if you feel the same way!) That's just life. 

But what really bothers me is how easy it is to go from happy super-mom to frustrated, grumpy, impatient, snappish, stressed-out, frazzled, crazy, no-fun-at-all mom. Don't get me wrong-- I love being a mom, and that really is all the time. I realize that the hard parts are just included with this job, and even on our very worst day I'm so thankful I get to do what I do.
 

The problem is, I just need to show that, that attitude of gratitude, even in the hard moments. It's too easy and common to let the circumstances dictate my mood and the person I choose to be.  

It's good to revel in the great moments and to take our reward, whether it be a sense of accomplishment or an extra bit of pure joy. We all need that.  I think God gives us those shining moments or days of pleasant ease when we need them most, not so we can feel prideful or puffed up, but so we can simply keep going. It's His grace. 

Grace. There it is. The quality I want to have and exhibit not only to the world but also and especially to these small ones under my care. Grace under pressure. It's easy to be happy and loving and speak in a kind tone when everything is going my way. But, oh, how hard it is at other times.

When an entire bowl of cereal and milk gets spilled all over the table, chairs, and floor.

When your four-year old throws her third gigantic fit of the day just because you gave her the pink lunch plate instead of the purple one.

When you're desperately trying to get ready to actually be somewhere on time and there hasn't been a moment to just breathe and the kids won't stop fighting and bickering and the toddler won't stop making mess after mess after mess.

When everyone gets runny noses and colds all in the same week and there is so much whining and snot and lack of proper sleep that all you want to do is curl up on the couch by yourself to nap, but oh look, you can't, because there's another kid who needs something and also, a giant smear of snot on your favorite pillow.

When you've had to tell them to do the same chore four times and you start to feel like Naggy mcNaggerson, which I just hate.

When the third dish of the day gets broken and you know it's because they were goofing when you told them not to. 

When the seven-year-old spends an hour grumping and pouting because she didn't just want quesadillas for lunch, and you, being the horrible mean person you are, made her eat them anyway. 

When naptime for little one isn't naptime at all, but instead cry-and-scream-and-be-miserable-and-grumpy time... which, coincidentally, is what the whole day has been like. And the day before that. And the day before that.

When your nine-year-old argues and talks back and throws down bad attitude like it's her business.

When you've gotten the baby all clean and fresh after a long bath and are just ready to pull the kid out, only to discover he's been sitting in turd-water for the past five minutes.   

When you're woken up repeatedly at 4:30 in the morning to more snot and more whining and crying.

When you feel behind on everything and you can't help but compare yourself to all the other moms our there who must have it more together than you.

When you have a lot on your mind and you're feeling a little lost or worried. 

When you're sad.

When you're stressed.

When you're weary.

When life gets heavy.

We've all been there. Perhaps you haven't had some of these exact same situations (these have all actually been a part of my week, YAY BEST WEEK EVER HAHAHAHAHAHA NOT REALLY), but I bet you've got your own set of "whens" that make it hard to carry on with a calm spirit of love and grace or at the very least a smile.

This is what I'm working on, friends. I'm working on being a great and graceful mom not just when it's fun and easy to be a great mom, but even in the nitty-gritty of it all, in the awful and hard and challenging moments and on the really crappy (you can take that both literally and figuratively, how neat is that) days too. I want to nurture and bless my children even when they don't feel like blessings to me (which they are, of course). I want to glorify my God every day, not just on the good ones.

And I can't do it alone. I know if I try that it's only going to get worse. I'm relying on my God to soften and shape and sanctify me, to take my efforts and bless them and give me the strength and will to just keep on trying. To take His grace and cover me, and then to allow me to share that grace all day long with my family. It's going to take prayer, and it's going to take a lot of me looking into my kids' eyes and asking forgiveness in the messy moments, because I know I'm only human and perfection is impossible.  

Parenthood. Good grief. It is so sanctifying and humbling, like nothing else.

And it is such a gift.

> > > Here's one other little thought to tack onto the end of this messy post about motherhood... since we know we've all got our own set of struggles and I think it's safe to say that no one finds parenting an easy task... how about taking the time to encourage another mother today? Write a note and send it snail-mail style. Drop off a Starbucks or a plate of cookies or some flowers from your garden. Call just to say "I love you and you're doing a great job". Ask how you can pray for her specifically. Plan a park date and spend some mommy time together. Share a Bible verse or two that you once found encouraging. It can even be as simple as a text message, just to let her know you're thinking of her, right down there in the trenches where you are too. I know from experience that these sorts of things, no matter how big or small they are, can make the day just a little bit more bearable and joyful. 

(this post is specifically about moms, but this idea of intentional and simple encouragement is something we can practice with anyone and everyone, no matter how different our circumstances. It's such a lovely and wonderful thing! Bonus: if you take the time to encourage someone else, you almost always end up being encouraged yourself. BAM. I know, because I can't even tell you how many times this has happened to me. Isn't God good?) < < <

> > > ps. speaking of lovely and wonderful things, check out my new blog look! It's so purty! courtesy of the one and only sweet Molly June, she's the bomb diggity, y'all. < < &lt 

 

oh, children. {#4}

Emma, to her little brother: "oh Bennett, you're not actually human. You're an alien and you come from the planet of cute."
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Annabelle, upon hearing talk of the Superbowl: "so, this bowl, it could save your life, right? What are its powers exactly?" (she was kidding. I think. She's a comedian, this one.)
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Rosalie found a snail outside one day, and brought it to me, wondering where she should put it. I told her to put it on the grass, since snails need green things to live. She did, and I considered the matter over. Only a few minutes later, however, she came back to me, worried and concerned. "mommy, I think the snail is dying!" I quickly reassured her that he would be fine on the grass, but she insisted I come and see. She led me to it and pointed, "see? It's dying!"
I looked. Oh dear. "Um, Rosalie, did you step on it after you put it on the grass?? "
"Yes..."
She wasn't wrong... it was definitely dying. Poor little snail, all smashed to bits.

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Recently, there was an old power plant here in our town that was blown up so they could take it all down. one day we happened to be driving down the road on which it was located, and I made sure to point it out to the girls, since it was kind of a big deal.
As we drove past it, I heard Annabelle say, in a jeering tone, "hey, power plant, you got blown up real good, didn't  you? Yeah. take that." 

.... did my 7-year old seriously just TAUNT an exploded building?

yes. yes she did. 

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We were at the dinner table one night and Rosalie was eating an orange. She looked up at me with a mildly concerned expression and informed me that she had eaten a seed. I quickly responded with "oh, it's ok. it just means you'll grow an orange tree in your tummy, and the branches will come out your mouth and ears." (oh come on, we mamas have to have a little fun teasing sometimes!)
But then I reassured her, "Don't worry honey, nothing bad will happen... seeds need to grow outside of our bodies, where there's dirt and sunshine and water." 

Emma chimed in, "Yeah... but if all you eat is dirt and water and sunshine, then you're in trouble."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Annabelle, upon overhearing a conversation about digital camera and photographs: "Mommy, what's a mega-pickle?"

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Silly kids of mine. I'm so grateful for how they make me laugh and smile! Sure, they most definitely drive me crazy sometimes....but I wouldn't trade them and their funny little selves for the world.

bathtime with Bennett

As I was going through some of the pictures I had uploaded, intending to use them for blogs, I realized two things: one, I am woefully behind and shall never properly catch up. two, Bennett already looks so much older and less like a baby from these pictures (sobsob, sniffsniff), which were taken maybe three months ago. So, yes, these are old pictures, in baby-time (they grow and change much too quickly)... but I want to use them anyway, because bathtime with him as a baby is one of those things that I want to remember and be able to look back upon here on this blog o' mine.

 

(please pardon the fact that these are all different colors and styles, and all a bit blurry. I just happened to have my phone in there with me, and wasn't about to leave the room for a minute in order to get my better camera, even though our bathroom lighting is less than perfect for phone pictures. Safety first!)

 

This boy loves his bath. Something about being in the water makes him so happy. Silly. Gleeful.

 There are nights when I really can't help but feel like giving him a bath is the last thing I want to do... I'm tired, I'm done, I'm just ready for all the kids to be in bed, it's been a long day. And I'll be honest, he doesn't have a bath every night. But some nights, he desperately needs one (boys, even little boys, can be so dirty and stinky!), and so I'm left with no choice. Into the tub he goes.

 

The really wonderful thing is that as soon as his little bum hits that water and he begins to splash and play and chew on toys and washcloths, I find myself loving bathtime just as much as him. 

 

 

No worries, no cares, no exhaustion, just lots of smiles and giggles and noisy yells of delight (his, not mine). He slaps and splashes the water, he stands up by the edge and we play peekaboo. He gasps and then grins as I pour water over his head, I grin at the sight of his chubby roly-poly thighs and adorable baby bum. (he's really going to love this blog someday, isn't he? Sorry, son.)

 

My very favorite part of bathtime is when I take him out and wrap him in his big blue polka-dot towel, and he snuggles up to my shoulder as I carry him out of the bathroom, his face peeking out from the hood like some little parka-wearing eskimo, his eyelashes still wet and dark, his skin smelling of baby wash. Is there anything more wonderful-smelling than a freshly-bathed baby? I maintain that there is not.

 

 Someday, probably all too soon, he won't be a baby anymore and baths like this will cease to exist. So, until that day, I will enjoy every splash and smile in the tub, even at the end of a long day.

Bathtime with Bennett. It's another one of those funny little things that's good for the soul. :)

three girls and a boy.

Have you ever noticed that the mere fact of having children invites people to talk to you when you are out and about?

 

It's true. When it's just little ol' me out running errands, no one even notices me. I stand in a checkout line and the chances of someone striking up a conversation with me are slim to none. I can peruse the home decor aisle at Target with nary a backward glance from a stranger. I can sit at Starbucks and practically be invisible, just another person drinking their favorite coffee drink.

But add my four children into the mix, and suddenly, I am glaringly obvious. I get comment after comment, from sweet nostalgic old people to young twenty-somethings who usually look slightly relieved that it's not them shopping with four kids in tow. Other moms with their hands full give me a nod and a smile and speak a word as we maneuver our carts and kids past each other. Solidarity, sista!

 

I don't mind this sort of thing at all. Really, I am the type of  gal who will happily chat with any random person. Usually, I'm the one who tries to strike up a friendly convo with the person behind me in line. I love talking to people, and I like to say things like "oh, I love your boots!" or, "your hair is gorgeous, how do you get it so shiny?" (yes, I'm a wee bit awkward, I'm sure.)

Quite often, I am thankful for the comments I get when out with my children:

"My, you have your hands full!" (The most frequent. I don't mind this one, because, well, I do.)

"Oh, this brings me back... cherish these days, they go by too fast."

"Cute kids. Looks like fun, mama!"

Most people are bright and positive, encouraging and friendly. I like that.

 

But every so often, you get a comment that really makes you stop and think, one that makes you wish afterwards that you had the chance to respond, the right words to say on the spot:

"Three girls and just one boy?! Oh, poor little guy. All those sisters to grow up with."

I've gotten variations of this one several times. And while I may not think to say something to whatever person is making it, this is what I wish I could say.



I have three daughters and a son. Just one son. A single solitary boy, the youngest of them all, and so he will grow up with THREE big sisters.

He gets to grow up with three sisters.
Three sisters who love him more than I can even properly put into words.
Three sisters who take delight in him and think he's the best thing ever... even when he's a little stinker.
Three sisters who show him affection and tell him how great he is every single day.

These girls will be the first women in his life, the ones who will love him first and most fiercely for a long time.
He will grow up with a front-row seat to the ins and outs and ups and downs of being a girl. (I'm hoping and praying that he will learn from this how to treat a lady and be a gentleman, and that someday he will make an even better husband because of it.)
Sure, there will probably be times in his life when he'll wish he had a brother, or at least maybe not all these sisters. (after all, siblings will be siblings.)

But I think God knew what He was doing when He planned our family just the way it is.
And I think it's pretty cool that our boy gets to grow up with three of his very own personal cheerleaders. Three little ladies to root for him and watch out for him and let him know just how special he is.

these pictures were taken a couple months ago when Bennett was first figuring out how to pull himself up to standing. Emma and Annabelle and Rosalie were amazed and thrilled by his latest accomplishment and literally cheered him on as he climbed up and fell down, only to climb up again. Such a sweet moment for this mama to watch.

Eight months.

Bennett-boy is 8 months old today!

(first things first, can we just acknowledge the fact that I'm writing this post on the ACTUAL DAY and not three weeks later? Thank you. I feel like one of those over-achievers right now.)

So, my boy, in honor of 8 months, here are 8 things about you at this age.

1. You are into everything. And I do mean ev.er.y.thing. There's nothing you love more than exploring and getting into something-- it thrills you to no end. I often hear you coming with that lightning-fast army crawl of yours (no hands and knees for you, you do it military-style) and see your little face peeking around a corner, ready for your next escapade into mischievousness.
peek-a-boo, mom, I found you!

 2. You love cheerios. Like, REALLY love cheerios. You love eating in general, actually, but cheerios are top notch in your book.

 3. You still don't sleep through the night on any regular basis, and sometimes I get up with you two, three, four times at night before I finally bring you a bottle to quiet your whining and crying at 4 or 5 in the morning. I'm at my wit's end and can't figure out what else to do in order to get you to sleep more soundly. I'd let you just cry it out, but then you keep EVERYONE awake. One of these nights, something has got to change. I love you, but, dude... PLEASE SLEEP.

4. Mommy is tired.

oops, that one is about me.
I do blame you for it, though, so.....

Good thing you're ridiculously cute.

5. Your eyes are blue, blue, blue. This contributes to the ridiculous cuteness that you possess. How I love those blue eyes, so like your daddy's and your big sister Emma's.

 6. Recently, you discovered how much fun it is to pull yourself up on things, and now your favorite thing to do is try to climb on and over anything and everything. Bookshelves, boxes, bins of toys, chair and table legs, your big wooden blocks... anything. As a result of this, you are constantly bumping your head, falling over, and generally banging yourself up. Last night you got your first fat lip, complete with blood. You daring little lad, you... it's nerve-wracking, sometimes. But I don't mind letting you try and watching you go, because when you successfully complete a maneuver, the look on your face and your shouts of joy at having conquered are totally worth it.

7. You are perfectly chubby and round in all the right places and not one of us can resist you. I could just gobble you up.

 8. You give us and anyone who will talk to you the best smiles.... such a happy boy you are during the day! Always, there you are, ready to laugh with that adorable grin on your face. (unless you're frustrated and being ignored, because then you get very mad really quickly and scream and cry to beat the band. But that would be #9, and I'm stopping at 8, so I won't mention that.)

Each day with this little man is an adventure and a blessing. Sometimes I still can't believe we have our very own boy! It still thrills me, especially as he gets older and I begin to see more and more of the boy in him.

Happy 8 months, Mister Bennett, we love you to bits and pieces!

six months.

Bennett turned six months old on January 11.

say what???

January 11 was also my 29th birthday. Yes, it's true, I'm getting older too!

To celebrate the momentous occasion, we took pictures together in the bathroom mirror.

I am wearing a shirt that I returned to Forever21 the very next day, as it did not properly hide the squishy tummy roll that I still have from when I had a fourth baby... six months ago. One would think after six months it would be gone. But no, my tummy roll turned six months old too.

However, I did not come here to talk to you about my squishy tummy or the fact that I don't exercise like I should. I came here to talk about my boy, this sweet six-month-old of mine.

I was putting off writing this post because I kept meaning to get around to taking actual six-month pictures of him. You know, like with a real camera instead of my phone.
But that just wasn't happening.
And then I realized that perhaps it's perfect that his six-month post be populated only with phone pictures, because it speaks so well to how our life is right now: messy and imperfect with no time for a lot of things, but so incredibly full of amazing everyday moments and memories that sometimes those other things just don't even matter.
I want to blog about my son at six months and share those everyday moments, the way I get to see him each day... because he is growing and changing so quickly, as most babies do, and this age delights me for so many different reasons.

 

He sits up like a little pro now, and only falls over when he gets just a little too excited about something.

 

He is a wild-child, always into something, always playing and busy, bursting at the seams with energy and excitement and enthusiasm. In fact, when he's on the floor, it's very tricky to get a picture of him that isn't blurry. He's simply always moving, whether sitting up and banging wildly on whatever toy is near him, or on the floor using his army crawl that he has perfected. Soon I am sure he'll be a full-fledged crawler, since I see him up on his hands and knees rocking back and forth, but until then he manages to be quite the speedy little dude anyway. And he's already discovered the delights of the dog's water dish. oh boy.

 

Not too long ago I bought an orange rug to keep in front of our sliding glass door leading outside... and for some reason it has become his favorite place to play and hang out. I always see him headed for it once he's free on the floor, and he looks out the glass and rubs his dimpled little hands over the fuzzy patterns beneath him.

 

 

We've introduced solid foods on a grander scale now, and he loves them. When he eats, he is so eager and anxious for the next bite that he always reminds me of a little bird with his mouth open, just waiting for the food to come. And then he says "mmm" and happily bangs on his bumbo. Mealtimes are a happy, albeit messy, time of the day.

He continues to be the delight and source of entertainment for his loving big sisters, and wants to be right in the thick of things, always talked to and played with. We went to the park together a week or so ago, and Emma and Annabelle and Rosalie took turns pushing him in a swing for the first time. Smiles and giggles all around!

Of course, all this activity and play does actually make him tired, and I am incredibly thankful for the fact that he's started taking longer naps... usually at least one long-ish one, and sometimes two if it's a good napping day. And he's also finally just now started sleeping through the night again (the good Lord above be praised) after some very long months of him waking up consistently at 2, 3, or 4 in the morning. I cannot stress enough how happy this makes me. Honestly, I don't think I even realized just how tired I was until I got my first full night of sleep! Sleep is wonderful. I'm so very glad this boy is starting to realize that (even though he often fights it for all he is worth.)

 

He really is unbearably sweet and adorable when he sleeps. From the moment when he gets tired and starts to pull his blankie over his head and burrow into it, to when he is fast asleep and his cheeks are round and soft and velvet and his lips are squishydelicious and his chubby hands are rested and still, there is just something about him that I can't resist. Perhaps it's because when he is asleep I see more of the tiny baby in him, rather than the ever-growing little boy.

Whether he is awake or asleep, I can always recognize the treasure he is. He's a handful, he's a challenge, he takes up my days and sometimes my nights and leaves me with hardly a moment to spare.

And he brings more joy than words can say.

I am so grateful for my wee lad, so glad that God gave Jeremy and me this amazing son.

 

Happy six months, mister Bennett, you are one very beloved boy!

 



let's sail away.

It was a very big box. Big enough to be whatever they wanted it to be.
And so, it sat in our living room for days and days on end, always in the way, but never getting thrown out, simply because I hadn't the heart to take it away.
It was a canvas for art, becoming covered in doodles and drawings on all sides.
Sometimes, it was a ride at a county fair. They climbed inside with a pillow and pushed each other around, rolling it from end to end, shaking it all around, screams and giggles emanating from within.
Another time, it was a hot tub, and they sat luxuriously inside it, imaginary water bubbling all around them.
One day, the box became a boat.
They packed their backpacks full of supplies they would need on the long journey ahead-- teddy bears and books and a daisy duck all included, of course-- wrapped themselves in their favorite blankets to keep the cold ocean air away, and set off into the waves.

When it began to rain and storm, they were prepared with their paisley pink umbrella to keep them dry. They could continue on, all smiles and excitement for whatever lay ahead in the great big ocean.

What would these three sailors, these sojourners of the sea, encounter? Winds and rain and waves so high, perhaps a friendly sea monster or two? Schools of fish, a sea turtle, maybe an encounter with their very own Nemo? Far-off islands shrouded in mists and mystery, beaches of sand and palm trees in tropical breezes, dolphins frollicking in the waves?
One can never say for sure, when one starts off an adventure such as this. One must be prepared for anything. Because, you see, when one's imagination is taking you places and showing you the world, and a box is not a box but a boat, anything-- and I do mean anything-- is possible.

One month.

This is late, since Bennett was one month old all the way back on August 11th... but I'm pretty pleased with the fact that I'm getting this done before he's TWO months old, so please don't rain on my parade, ok? :)

Bennett will actually be six weeks old in two days, which I find almost unbelievable. It seems like we just came home from the hospital with him yesterday. And yet, it also seems like he has always been a part of our family, always been with us. We can't imagine our Bennett-boy not being here.

Life with a newborn passes in a sort of a haze, I think. The sleeplessness and exhaustion, the countless diaper changes, the constant rounds of feedings, trying to cram everything else that must be done somewhere in there-- it all comes together to turn one's brain to mush and put a mama in "survival mode", just trying to get through each day without losing it or forgetting to brush one's teeth or falling asleep during dinner. It's a time like no other, so difficult and challenging in so many ways, but also so sweet. Every time that little baby snuggles up to your chest with a tiny sigh and squeak, and that soft head rests itself under your chin where you can just brush your lips across it, and those squishy lips smile in their sleep, it is completely and totally worth it.

And then, before you know it, the haze begins to lift, the baby begins to sleep for longer stretches at night, the feedings begin to settle into a noticeable pattern, and you find yourself with time to actually fold the laundry, put on makeup, and cook a decent meal. One starts to feel like a human being again! Being a part of the outside world actually feels possible!

That is where we're at right now-- settling into life again with our new normal and feeling like we're really doing it, this whole four kids thing. Life is still crazy-busy and there are not nearly enough moments in the day for me to accomplish every thing that should be done, and I'm still tired. There are days when I flounder and feel like I'm drowning a little bit, but those are the days where I am also most aware of God's grace and goodness towards me and my little brood. And I am thankful.

Enough about all of that, though! Let's talk about the baby, this sweet nugget of a child who has turned our lives upside down and stolen our hearts completely.

First of all, he is cute. Adorably, heart-meltingly cute.

Obviously.

He makes the most wonderful and funny faces and noises, and we can't help but just stare at him, enthralled. I love that he's starting to respond to us more, cooing and sometimes even smiling as we talk to him.

His first real bath happened just a little after he was two weeks old, and he liked it. Until I washed his face, and then he was highly offended and screamed at me. Poor child.


Weeks 2 and 3 were really rough when it came to nursing, but after lots of prayers and tears, I'm happy to report that the kid's a champ eater now, and I'm SO glad. There's nothing more frustrating than not being able to feed your child and spending hours upon hours just trying to get them to eat.

Another thing at which he is getting to be a champ: riding in the car. We've already made the two-hour drive to LA and back twice with him, and he did great, for the most part!


Baby hands are the best, so tiny and dimpled, always up by their faces.

(also, it looks like he's throwin' down some gang signs here. I promise he's not, we haven't taught him how to be gangsta.)

"How's my hair, mom?"


For the past week he hasn't been sleeping much at all throughout the day, preferring to be held instead. But he took a nice long nap in his bassinet yesterday, so I'm hopeful that maybe it was just a growth spurt or something, and I do have a child who likes to nap after all! At night, he sleeps a four or five-hour stretch (usually), for which I am very thankful. (Sometimes that's all the sleep I get, but it's amazing what one can accomplish on only five hours of sleep!)


Now, almost six weeks in, I'm figuring out his moods and what he wants when he acts or cries a certain way. I'm learning how he best likes to be rocked to sleep, what soothes him the most. It's so amazing getting to know this tiny person, watching him grow and become more and more aware and alert everyday. My heart nearly bursts when I watch him with his daddy (I think he looks like him) and with his sisters, who absolutely adore him. To see him with sweet cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents, with our best friends, all the many dear people who love our son, makes me smile every time.


All in all, Bennett is usually a very sweet and happy babe. How we love this little guy!