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In not quite 4 years I have met and married and my husband, giving birth to two ridiculously wonderful daughters, gained and lost 50 pounds twice, moved 3 three times, said good bye to two dogs, gotten one new puppy and caved to a severe cafinne addiction.

My Georgia Peach and my Hazenut are approaching 23 months and 9 months respectively. They are delightful, laughing, lovable little ladies whom I have no idea how I every lived without.

The home we are in now is just that, our home. Not a house. Not a place to live in for a few years until x, y, or z happens. But our roots planted, pictures hung, home.

Our new dog Roscoe is a wonder dog. He is such a good puppy we know that he will be a great dog. He is only 4 months old and he has already started babysitting for me. He stopped Georgia from jumping from the table to the couch then went over and watched the baby for me while I cooked. He's amazing.

I've officially lost all of my baby weight from both babies and thats pretty awesome. Weight Watchers online and a good jogging stroller is my prescription for that. It was a long stretch to feel so out of my own body like you do when you are pregnant....for two years straight.

My family is as adorable as every and my computer's hard drive is filled with their pictures. So until I get all of those safely moved onto CD's and my portable hard drive you're just going to have to take my word for it

I am beginning to rise above the ashes of sleep deprivation.

I miss writing like I miss playing the piano. My fingers ache for it and my mind writes all day long. Much like Cher or NKOTB I'm making a comeback, again.

Hello words. Its nice to see you again.

I Pledge Allegiance

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, And to the Ducks who play on Saturday, one season under God, Indisputable with LaMichael and Barner for all.

A Mother's Prayer for her Daughter by Tina Fey

The Mother's Prayer for Its Daughter by Tina Fey'

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered,
May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half
And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the nearby subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock N’ Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.
Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes
And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.
Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long,
For Childhood is short -- a Tiger Flower blooming
Magenta for one day --
And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever,
That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers
And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister,
Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,
For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,
That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck.
“My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental note to call me. And she will forget.
But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.

Parent', don't dress your girls like tramps- CNN

Another article worth sharing in my parenting opinion. This one is written a father, LZ Granderson writes a weekly column for CNN.com. A senior writer and columnist for ESPN The Magazine and ESPN.com, he has contributed to ESPN's "Sports Center," "Outside the Lines" and "First Take. Here are his words about they way some people dress our little girls.


I saw someone at the airport the other day who really caught my eye.
Her beautiful, long blond hair was braided back a la Bo Derek in the movie "10" (or for the younger set, Christina Aguilera during her "Xtina" phase). Her lips were pink and shiny from the gloss, and her earrings dangled playfully from her lobes.
You can tell she had been vacationing somewhere warm, because you could see her deep tan around her midriff thanks to the halter top and the tight sweatpants that rested just a little low on her waist. The icing on the cake? The word "Juicy" was written on her backside.

Yeah, that 8-year-old girl was something to see alright. ... I hope her parents are proud. Their daughter was the sexiest girl in the terminal, and she's not even in middle school yet.

Abercrombie & Fitch came under fire this spring for introducing the "Ashley," a push-up bra for girls who normally are too young to have anything to push up. Originally it was marketed for girls as young as 7, but after public outcry, it raised its intended audience to the wise old age of 12. I wonder how do people initiate a conversation in the office about the undeveloped chest of elementary school girls without someone nearby thinking they're pedophiles?

What kind of PowerPoint presentation was shown to the Abercrombie executives that persuaded them to green light such a product?
That there was a demand to make little girls hot?

I mean, that is the purpose of a push-up bra, right? To enhance sex appeal by lifting up, pushing together and basically showcasing the wearer's breasts. Now, thanks to AF Kids, girls don't have to wait until high school to feel self-conscious about their, uhm, girls. They can start almost as soon as they're potty trained. Maybe this fall the retailer should consider keeping a plastic surgeon on site for free consultations.

We've been here with Abercrombie before -- if you recall, about 10 years ago they sold thongs for 10-year-olds -- but they're hardly alone in pitching inappropriate clothing to young girls. Four years ago the popular "Bratz" franchise introduced padded bras called "bralettes" for girls as young as six. That was also around the time the good folks at Wal-Mart rolled out a pair of pink panties in its junior department with the phrase "Who Needs Credit Cards" printed on the front.

I guess I've been out-of-the-loop and didn't realize there's been an ongoing stampede of 10-year-old girls driving to the mall with their tiny fists full of cash demanding sexier apparel.

What's that you say? Ten-year-olds can't drive? They don't have money, either? Well, how else are they getting ahold of these push-up bras and whore-friendly panties?

Their parents?

Noooo, couldn't be.

What adult who wants a daughter to grow up with high self-esteem would even consider purchasing such items? What parent is looking at their sweet, little girl thinking, "She would be perfect if she just had a little bit more up top."

And then I remember the little girl at the airport. And the girls we've all seen at the mall. And the kiddie beauty pageants.
And then I realize as creepy as it is to think a store like Abercrombie is offering something like the "Ashley", the fact remains that sex only sells because people are buying it. No successful retailer would consider introducing an item like a padded bikini top for kindergarteners if they didn't think people would buy it.

If they didn't think parents would buy it, which begs the question: What in the hell is wrong with us?

It's easy to blast companies for introducing the sexy wear, but our ire really should be directed at the parents who think low rise jeans for a second grader is cute. They are the ones who are spending the money to fuel this budding trend. They are the ones who are suppose to decide what's appropriate for their young children to wear, not executives looking to brew up controversy or turn a profit.

I get it, Rihanna's really popular. But that's a pretty weak reason for someone to dress their little girl like her.

I don't care how popular Lil' Wayne is, my son knows I would break both of his legs long before I would allow him to walk out of the house with his pants falling off his butt. Such a stance doesn't always makes me popular -- and the house does get tense from time to time -- but I'm his father, not his friend.

Friends bow to peer pressure. Parents say, "No, and that's the end of it."

The way I see it, my son can go to therapy later if my strict rules have scarred him. But I have peace knowing he'll be able to afford therapy as an adult because I didn't allow him to wear or do whatever he wanted as a kid.

Maybe I'm a Tiger Dad.

Maybe I should mind my own business.

Or maybe I'm just a concerned parent worried about little girls like the one I saw at the airport.

In 2007, the American Psychological Association's Task Force on the Sexualization of Girls issued a report linking early sexualization with three of the most common mental-health problems of girls and women: eating disorders, low self-esteem and depression. There's nothing inherently wrong with parents wanting to appease their daughters by buying them the latest fashions. But is getting cool points today worth the harm dressing little girls like prostitutes could cause tomorrow?

A line needs to be drawn, but not by Abercrombie. Not by Britney Spears. And not by these little girls who don't know better and desperately need their parents to be parents and not 40-year-old BFFs.

Did you do anything today?

I write an aweful lot of blog posts and journal entries in my head these days, but I cannot seem to find the time to actually put them down on post or paper. So in lieu of my own thoughts and insights I am posting someone else's, with whom I agree and whose work I was actually able to read. Albiet in four sittings, plus another three to simply cut and paste and write one paragraph. Motherhood is busy, and I cherish every moment.


From the blog Kellymom.com
My husband came home today and saw me sitting on the couch, toddler on one knee, and baby nursing on the opposite breast. I was trying to turn the pages of a book with the hand not attached to the infant,while listening for the sound of the stove buzzer, which would indicate that tonight's pork chops were at the stage between "well-done" and "the dog gets tonight's entree."

My Darling husband looked at me innocently, and asked "So, did you do anything today?" It's a good thing that most of my appendages were otherwise engaged, as I was unable to jump up and throttle him to death. This was probably for the best, as I assume that asking a stupid question is not grounds for murder in this country.

Let me back up a bit, and explain what led me to this point in my life.

I was not always bordering on the brink of insanity. On the contrary, a mere four years ago, I had a good job, steady income, and a vehicle that could NOT seat a professional sports team, and me, comfortably. I watched television shows that were not hosted by singing puppets. I went to bed later than nine o'clock at night. I preferred sex to sleeping in. I laughed at those people who drove halfway across the country hauling a tent trailer, three screaming kids, a drooling dog, and called it a holiday.

Now I have become one of them! What happened? The stick turned blue.

I have traded in my Victoria's Secrets lingerie for cotton briefs and a firm support nursing bra. Good-bye, Garth Brooks. Hello, Raffi, Lois and Bram. My idea of privacy is getting the use the bathroom without a two-year old banging on the door, and the baby spinning the toilet paper roll from my lap. And I finally understand that the term "Stay-At-Home Mom" does not refer to a parent who no longer works outside the house, but rather to one who never seems to get out the front door. So here I sit, children in hand, wondering how to answer my beloved husband.

DID I DO ANYTHING TODAY?

Well, I think I did, although not much seems to have gotten accomplished. I shared breakfast in bed with a handsome young man. Of course, the breakfast consisted of a bowl of porridge and leftover cookie crumbs found between the sheets. Then a handsome young man is about thirty-four inches tall and only gets really excited at the sight of bugs, a little blue dog, trucks, cars and Pancakes.

I got to take a relaxing stroll in the woods. Of course, I was on the lookout for frogs and lizards, and had to stop and smell the dandelions along the way. I successfully washed one load of laundry, moved the load the was in the washer into the dryer, and the dryer load into the basket. The load that was in the basket is now spread out on the bed, awaiting my bedtime decision to actually put the clothes away or merely move them to the top of the dresser. I read two or three classics. Of course, Dickens and Shakespeare cannot take credit for these works, as we have moved on to the works of Seuss and Sandek. I don't think I will be making any trips to the Adult Section of my local library anytime soon. In between, I dusted, wiped, organized and rearranged. I kissed away the owies and washed away the tears. I scolded, praised, hugged, and tested my patience, all before noon.

DID I DO ANYTHING TODAY? You betcha!

I will now understand what people mean when they say that parenthood is the hardest job they will ever have. In my LBD (life before diapers) I was able to teach young minds how to divide fractions and write complex sentences, but I am unable to teach a strong willed three-year-old how to use the toilet. I was once able to navigate urban streets while talking on the car phone and looking for a decent radio station, but now I can't get the wheels on my stroller to all go in the same direction.

I've graduated from a university, written newspaper articles, and won awards, but I can't figure out how to get carrot stains out of the carpet. I used to debate with my friends about politics, but now we discuss the merits of cloth versus disposables. And when did I stop talking in sentences that had more than five words?

So, in response to my husband's inquiry, yes, I did do something today. In fact, I am one step closer to one of life's greatest accomplishments. No, I did not cure AIDS or forge World Peace, but I did hold a miracle in my arms. Two, in fact. My children are my great accomplishment, and the opportunity to raise them is my greatest challenge. I don't know if my children will grow up to be great leaders or world-class brain surgeons. Frankly, I don't care, as long as they grow up to be happy and fulfilled. They are my greatest joys, even though I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night in frustration. The point is, that today I got to watch my children take another step on the great journey of Life, and I even got to point out some of the sites along the way.

As challenging as parenthood is, it is also equally rewarding, because we are using all our wisdom, our talent and skills to help forge a new person. It is this person, these people, who, in turn, will use their gifts to create our future. So every nursery rhyme I recite, every swing I push, every little hand I hold is SOMETHING!

----- by Cyndi Devlin

Hazel Rae

Sweet Hazel Rae and I one day shy of 11 weeks old. She is a remarkable baby. Calm, smiley, eats well and sleeps like a dream. Hazel sleeps better than Georgia does on most nights. Two nights ago, at only 10 weeks old, she slept from 9pm to 6:40 am! Incredible.

I do feel that Hazel is more fiesty that Georgia by nature. Which will stand her in good stead against her fabulous sister who is pretty certain she is fabulous too. Hazel Rae is happy unless she isn't. She doesn't seem to have any in between. But then as soon as the issue has been handled she is smiling and trying to laugh again. This could prove to get exciting when she's a teenager, or toddler for that matter.

While I was pregnant I never bought into the notion that once you have one good baby the next one is destined to be a nightmare. I wasn't about to put that expectation on my precious unborn child. And in our case I was right. I have been so blessed as to have two easy babies in a row and I am immensely grateful.

My beauties

Mom what if I have ugly babies?!" A question I once asked my mom. She likes to laugh and remind me of that these days.

I know I am biased, but I'm pretty sure I bipassed that fear and have been blessed with a couple of true beauties.