Brownie's Birthday

Our sweet girl turned six a couple weeks ago. We have yet to have a party with friends (due to a new baby, two other birthdays, soccer games, Nutcracker rehearsals), but that is in the works. We did celebrate with our little family on her birthday--actually, we were so busy on her actual birthday that we celebrated the next night. She got her little baggie of goodies, a gift card for a pedi, and a gift card for shopping at Toys R Us. She requested mac n' cheese for dinner--and I threw in some homemade chicken strips for a little protein.

I think she appreciated the gifts--I think the pictures say so at least.

 

She was all smiles on her way to school that day. I found this little ribbon for her to wear to school--she wore it proudly. 

And despite the craziness of the day, I found a second to take a picture of the two of us real quick before school started. 

 On her birthday, Daddy and I got to go to Brownie's school and do her Star of the Week presentation. We reviewed her pictures, read her favorite story about the "Old Woman who swallowed" stuff, went over her favorites (food: pizza, toy: Barbie, What she wants to be: vet and mom). She then got to share her treats. She, like big sister, requested M&M cookies to share with her classmates. They all seemed to enjoy them!

Here she is getting ready to pass out her cookies.

 And look at that sweet smile (and her big sister shirt). She kind of liked that crown, too!

And on a pretty much unrelated note, she got to go to the doctor with baby brother, mom and dad. In a big family, anytime you get to be one of two kids along for an errand--it's a big deal. And the fact that she got to be the big sibling for her new baby--that was pretty awesome for her. 

We sure do love you, Brownie.You have been ours for six wonderful years. I still remember the day I found out you were going to be joining our family--I was so excited. Excited to see if you'd be a boy or a girl. Whose eyes you'd have. What your favorite toy would be. What your favorite subject in school would be. What you'd be when you grew up. And as the years have gone on, your beauty has been revealed to us, and it continues to be all the time. I still love discovering who you are and what your interests are. You are a precious girl with a heart for others. You have gorgeous, big brown eyes. Your favorite toy is Barbie. I'm pretty sure your favorite subject is anything that has to do with drawing. And as for what you'd be when you grow up--we shall see.

You are the most perfect you there could ever be because you are the only you there will ever be. I'm so honored to be your mama--on the easy days and on the hard days. I love being your source for comfort, a hug when you want one, a kiss that eases your mind, and a hand that wipes your tears. I will always be somebody who shares your joys, triumphs, losses, and your everyday life. And no matter what life has in store for us, nothing will ever change the fact that I'm your mama and you're my baby. Hugs and Kisses!

-mama

Keian Matthew's birth

My doctor called for the c-section and I panicked. I started crying and suddenly there were several nurses surrounding me. I hesitated to ask, but I eventually did... "is it the cord?" And I heard nothing. All I could see were nurses unhooking me from everything I was plugged into. My doctor hopped on to my bed. I looked over at Matt and he was on his cell phone. I snapped and said something about how he should be holding my hand or at least near me. I know he was probably trying to let somebody know what was going on, but I wanted some kind of comfort. I wanted comfort because my mind was going places I've never had my mind go when I was about to deliver a baby. The fact that my doctor didn't answer my question about what she was feeling pretty much confirmed for me that it was, in fact, his cord.

Somewhere in the mix of all this action, I did find out that my doctor not only felt the cord coming out, but she also wasn't holding him up by his head. So upon my water breaking, he had somehow flipped back to the breech position, and the cord prolapsed. I knew nothing about a prolapsed cord except what a friend had told me a few years ago when it happened to her--and her story terrified me. So that was my basic knowledge of what was now happening to my little guy and me.

I was crying and praying out loud for God to let me keep my baby. For him to be born fast and come out pink, crying and healthy. I repeated "Please let me keep my baby!" over and over and over. I had never been so terrified for my child's life. Even in all the chaos, somewhere in my mind I was already trying to prepare myself for leaving the hospital without a baby. I really don't know how to explain this, but I was. But at the same time, I was pleading for his life.

Within probably about 2 minutes the team of nurses wheeled me out of my labor/delivery room, while my doctor sat on the bed with me holding my baby off of his cord. I don't think I was even completely covered as I was whisked into the hallway. But I didn't care. I wanted my baby out of me.

My doctor was on her knees looking down at me as we were taken to the OR. I looked up at her, very scared to ask the question that was burning a hole in my mind and heart. I could hardly look her in the eyes--like if I did I would be able to read her too well and then I'd know my baby wasn't safe. But I did it. I asked her if my baby was still alive. I could hear the terror in her voice, but I could also tell she was trying to remain calm for my sake. She said very matter of factly, "I can feel his cord pulsating. It's about 100 beats per minute." I knew that wasn't great, but I also knew 100 beats per minute wasn't horrible either. I told her I was scared, and she told me in that same calm/terror voice that she was too.

I got into the OR and another doctor, an OB that was (as I later found out) in the parking lot when they called for the section, was there. It was the same doctor that helped do my version. She's very kind and I liked my previous experience with her, so at least that was a little bit of comfort as well.

I remember looking over at Matt standing against the wall as they were messing with me--I say messing only because I don't remember what they were doing. I turned away from him briefly, and then back again and he suddenly had scrubs on. Next, I remember they said that I had to move from the bed I was on to the operating table. Knowing that I'd just had my epidural strengthened because I was feeling too much of the contractions just an hour before, I was a little worried I wouldn't make it on to that table. But in my head I knew I had to give it my all to get on to that table as fast as I could. So despite all my shaking and the fact that I was mostly numb, I was somehow able to get myself up and on to that bed with little assistance. The doctors and nurses were a bit shocked, but I wasn't. I was doing everything I could to get him out of me as fast as I could. I was even begging them to just cut me open right there on the bed I was already on. I said I didn't care if I could feel the pain of the scalpel because all that mattered was getting him out. I guess adrenaline had definitely taken over at this point.

I got on to the operating table in seconds, and then Matt was by my side sitting on a stool with a mask and hairnet. They draped the blue curtain to separate us from the birth. I wish they didn't. I wish I could've seen my baby boy come into this world. We didn't have our video camera or camera, nor did we have the thought at the time to use one of our iPhones to capture his birth. Matt was staring into my eyes the whole time, and I stared back. I asked him if he thought everything was going to be okay, and he said yes.

Next thing I knew I could feel too much. The same anesthesiologist asked if I could feel that sharp pain as somebody used something on my stomach as a test run of the scalpel. Still crying, I said, "yes." He immediately put something else in my epidural catheter and did the test run again. I couldn't feel anything. In fact, I found out that what I thought was the doctors moving the operating table around, was actually them pushing and pulling on me--that's how "brick-numb" I was.

Next, the procedure started. My doctor at this point was down on the floor, still holding my son up off of his cord. Because if at any time he compressed his own cord, his life-line was in jeopardy. Babies that go without oxygen can have anything from brain damage to death, so I'm very grateful that she was able to keep him off of his cord.

I could feel a burning sensation as they pulled and tugged. I cried out about it hurting, but part of that was just pure terror. I was scared. Scared of so much, but mostly just the outcome for my son. Soon thereafter, at 6:26 pm, he was ripped from my body and taken over to the warmer. I didn't hear any crying, and I just kept asking whoever would listen if he was okay. And at 44 seconds he cried. And he cried some more. And soon enough the pediatrics team that was called in to assist him after he arrived was sent away. So was Life Flight--I didn't even know they'd been called on stand-by until nearly two weeks after he was born.

He received all 9's on his apgar. They also tested his blood gas and it was great. That's when it really hit me that not only could he have not made it, but he could've survived and ended up with severe brain damage. What hit me even harder is how fast life can change. At 6:13 he was still, what we all thought, a thriving baby who was going to be born naturally. At 6:14 my doctor called for a c-section. And at 6:26 he was born. All of those emotions, all of the highs and the lows... they all happened within those short 13 minutes. I was still in shock as they brought him over to me.

But I couldn't wait to see him. To see his sweet face. His hair (I was told that he'd have a ton of hair by our sono tech). His belly and toes. All of him. I wanted to hold him and to smell him, and I never wanted to let him go. I didn't want to be separated from him. Fortunately, since he was doing so well, Matt got to hold him for a bit and I got to look at him. He was perfect and nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that I wanted the least invasive birth possible. It didn't matter that I ended up with the most invasive birth possible. All the nights I spent worrying about him being breech. None of it mattered. He was here, safe and sound, and he was ours.

The doctors began to sew me back up, and one of them (who happens to have a very dry sense of humor that most people don't really appreciate) kept commenting on how large my uterus was. I kept wanting to say, "No sh*t, Sherlock! I've had six pregnancies in seven years-- go figure." But I didn't. I was too happy about my son being here.

I heard the nurses and doctors counting tools and the like when they realized they couldn't find a towel clip. I don't even know what a towel clip is, but since they didn't have time to count everything prior to surgery, they didn't know if they were short-changed a towel clip or if they left it inside me. I was told they knew that it wasn't left inside me, but to be safe... guess who then got an x-ray? Yep, they x-rayed my belly to see if they left a towel clip in me. They had to send the x-ray to some doctor at his house, and it took forever to get the results. I swear I was in the OR for an hour waiting on the results. But finally it was confirmed that no towel clip was left inside me.

So, finally I got to go to the recovery room. This was not fun. Because really this shouldn't be called the recovery room, but rather the "beat-you-in-your-swollen-stitched-up-utereus" room. Thank God I was still kind of numb, but it was very unpleasant. I always hate that part of delivery, but it sucks a lot more after a c-section.

At one point shortly after I got to that special room, I glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that it had been two hours since his birth. And just like then, I still can't tell you where all the time in between went--other than waiting in the OR for the towel clip to be found--which it never was. At this point, our son still didn't have a name. But if memory serves, it was here in the recovery room that we both agreed that he looked like Keian Matthew--which was the name we had picked out. We just wanted to make sure that's who he looked like--and he did!

I was able to nurse him right away in the recovery room. I was lying flat on my back with one arm in a pressure cuff, a wound on my belly, numb legs, and a head of messy hair--but somehow nursing him was easy. Not sure how we lucked out on something with him being easy, but it was.

As it neared the two hour mark of me being monitored post-op, I was told I was going to be cleaned up and taken to my new room. It was nearing 10pm at this point and I told Matt that it'd be a good time for him to go eat since he hadn't eaten since breakfast. So once he made sure I was okay, he took off and the baby went to the nursery until Matt could be back with me. They wouldn't let me have Keian in my room without Matt because I wouldn't be able to get to him should there be an emergency. So I agreed.

Sometime around 11, Matt came back and our son followed. I was finally able to get a good look at him, and I noticed the white goo in his ears that had just been there was suddenly gone. I asked the nurse if they bathed him, and she said that they had. I was mad. Nobody asked me if they could bathe him. I always get my baby's first bath on camera and on video, and I always ask for it to be done in the room so I can watch. And here they went and did it behind closed doors. So once again, I have no pictures or video or even a memory of his first bath. I realize that he's here and healthy and that's all that really matters, but I feel so ripped off. So I began making up for it by taking pictures of things I've never really captured on camera before. It's helping a little.

He was born on a Monday night and I was finally able to go home on Friday afternoon. We had to stay an extra day because I developed an infection about  two days after he was born. To make me heal quickly, I received two simultaneous doses of Rocephin injected into my hips until we knew exactly what kind of bug had me down. I'd had this shot of antibiotic before, and it never hurt. But this time was a little different--I had a bruise for two weeks from one of the shots. Eventually, they found the bacteria in the urine culture (noting in the blood culture) and tested antibiotics against it to see what could knock it out. I thought that was kind of cool.

As the days passed once we were home from the hospital, I asked Matt questions about the birth of our Keian. That's how I found out about Life Flight being called. He's helped to fill in some of the gaps, but honestly, it's all still such a blur. He told me that after Keian was born, he was sitting outside the OR with our sweet nurse, Maria. Maria is the one nurse we've had each time we've had a baby. She knows us and remembers us. And she is so kind. Since all of this went down as shift-change was approaching, she ended up staying pretty late. Matt said he overheard her calling home telling her husband to take the kids to her mom's house and that she wouldn't be home for dinner. And then she sat next to my husband and apologized over and over about how sorry she was that we didn't get the birth we wanted. About how we had everything invasive done to me--even the xray. And how she just couldn't believe it. Matt tried telling her it wasn't her fault, but she continued to apologize. She then came by my recovery room later that night--several hours past the time she should've gone home. I told her how appreciative I was of her and the care she gave us. And that I was so glad God had put her with me that day.

 In fact, as I sat in the hospital those next few days, I realized just how incredibly everything worked out. The fact that I chose to be induced and have my water break at the hospital. I couldn't help but think what could've happened had my water broke at home--later my doctor confirmed that had I had my water break at home, there's no way he would've survived our 45 minute ride to the hospital. My delivery happened during shift-change, so there were several people available to assist in his delivery. And the fact that Dr. B (the OB that did my ECV and c-section) was in the parking lot when she was called up to L&D for his birth. Otherwise I would've been waiting for several more minutes for my doctor's partner, another Dr. B (the one with the dry sense of humor) to arrive and do the surgery. In a situation where every second counts, I am blessed to see those miracles that came together to help my son come into this world safely. And not a day goes by where I don't think of how he was born. Of how he was so close to something traumatic happening. Of how he is a complete and total miracle of life. And of course, how completely blessed we are to have him.

Love you, my little Hunk!

Keian Matthew

Born 9/17/2012 @ 6:26pm

8lbs 6oz, 21 inches

Labor for Love

Oh this is going to take me a while to write--this story of my first, and only, son's birth. It is still very emotional for me to discuss, so I'm hoping to make it through writing this post without a pool of tears--but there's no guarantee. Just the other day I was quite proud of myself for getting through what I called a Cliffs Notes version of his birth story. I'm really not trying to sound overly dramatic, but this is just the truth.

The above picture is the evening of my due date, September 14, 2012. I had to take one picture to capture my belly on this important day--of course I didn't remember until I was hitting the hay!


I realize I didn't update my pregnancy much on the blog, but it was just as special, if not more special, than any of the others. And I only say "more special" because he is our last baby. So I was truly trying to savor every painful step, every late and sleepless night, and every single kick. And he was quite active--more than any of his siblings ever were.

Doctors and nurses even started to take notice of how active he was. I went in to the hospital for an External Cephalic Version at 36/6.  The nurse and both doctors could not believe how active he was that day. He'd started out with his head lodged into my left hip. Then they monitored him for a little bit and drew my blood. When they docs came back an hour later to find his position, his head was up under my right ribs. ACTIVE? YES! He did, however, turn within a minute of their attempt to turn him head down.They wrapped me in a binder which I wore for another four hours. But by that evening I had a sneaking suspicion that he had turned head up again.

I went to my 37 week check up the next day and the doctor guessed him to not be head down. I was a little worried that I'd have to have a c-section, or even another ECV, but I tried to not be overly concerned and instead focus on trying to move him into the correct position on my own. So I did all the crazy techniques that have been mentioned to mothers with breech babies for decades. I became besties with my exercise ball. And I prayed--and prayed some more that I could just have him turn on his own, my water would break, I'd have a few real contractions on the way to the hospital, and within the next 5 hours I'd be holding my first son.

But I went to my 38 week appointment hopeful and came home disapointed. We ended up setting up another ECV for the day I turend 39 weeks, which was Sept. 7. As the day neared, I realized I had too much going on that weekend to give birth, plus I wanted to ride out the pregnancy a bit more and hope for a head down baby. So we rescheduled for Sept. 10. Well, I went to my 39 wk check up and he was head down. A miracle, so I thought, had happened. I cancelled my ECV with immediate induction and went home mostly happy about waiting it out. The only part I didn't like about waiting was the anticipation and the fact that it's hard to prepare when you don't know when little one will make his appearance. But I dealt with that fine.

My due date came on Sept. 14, and I was hardly even phased by it. Both Matt and my doctor wished me "Happy Due Date" day, and I was proud to make it that far. At that appointment though, I found out that I would be giving birth for sure in the next two weeks because my doctor would not let me go past 42 weeks. So I had the option of being induced that weekend with my doctor being on call, or risk going into labor and not having my doctor be there. Or even worse, having to be induced at the last possible moment when my doctor could've been out of town. So, due to some complications I've had the last two times post-delivery, I wanted my doctor to monitor my labor and the fluids I received, deliver me, and do my follow-up care while I was in the hospital. So the induction was set for the next night, Sept. 15.

However, shortly after this was all set, my nurse texted me and said that we'd have to choose Saturday morning or Sunday night. So we chose Sunday night, Sept. 16, in order to get things done around the house and attend all the soccer games that weekend. I know, priorities right?

Fast-forward to Sunday night, a night in which I fully intended to sit all perked up in my bed and blog about the experience (but that didn't happen), and I'm in the hospital at 7:30 with a sweet nurse, slippers on my feet, and a cytotec pill in my system. I started getting mild-moderate contractions shortly thereafter. They were too distracting for me to type on a computer, so I rode out the very. long. night.

By the next morning I'd had more cytotec and I'd continued to regularly contract. I was then started on pitocin. I labored for a while and handled contractions well. Then all of a sudden I had the contraction from hell! It felt like nothing I'd ever felt and I caved--I burst into tears from the pain and yelled for my epidural to get there quick. There was no way in Dante's Inferno that my body would need to feel what an exploding uterus felt like EVER AGAIN!

About 30 mins later I could sense relief was in the air--my anesthesiologist walked into the room. I'd had him before and knew he was nice--he describes each step as he does it. I find that comforting. So all was said and done, and next thing I know they're asking me how I'm feeling as I begin to lie down. I remember being embarrassed for fear that people would see me as some kind of druggie, but I said "high" because I figured that's what would best describe the incredible dizziness that took over. I don't really remember much of the next hour after this. My husband said my bp dropped to 70/30. What scared me the most was feeling like I couldn't breathe or swallow. I felt scared for my life because I felt the effects of the epidural from the waist up--as opposed to the waist down. My chest, neck, lips... everything was numb. I had to swallow at one point and I popped up in bed to try to let gravity help me, and all I remember was gagging, spitting, and the docs and nurses commenting about my being able to sit up. Well, that's because the epi wasn't working, people!!! Well, it wasn't working in the right spots!

I know there were extra people in the room while this was going on, and I know they were trying to talk to me--but I can't remember what they were saying. Matt told me that he got scared when my response time to questions was several seconds after the fact. About an hour after all this crazy stuff started, I think I finally "came to," for lack of a better phrase. I remember looking up at the speckled ceiling and asking if a spot that was moving very erratically was what it looked like (a bug), or what I thought it probably was (a spot on the ceiling that looked like it was a bug because I was still so dizzy/"high"). But I know this is the first time I felt somewhat normal and like I wasn't going to die, so I was happy. Once the medication wore off, I was left with a terribly itchy face that I scrubbed over and over with a wet washcloth--only to later discover I'd made myself bleed--super awesome!

So eventually everything normalized. I was taken off of the pit and epi meds, but slowly they were turned back on. I made slow, but steady progress throughout the afternoon. My poor nurse had to chase my baby all afternoon. He was so active, the monitoring strips had to constantly be moved to keep track of him. By this point I remember thinking that I wasn't going to get an early afternoon (at the latest) birth like I'd wanted, but instead would be delivering into the late hours of the night. We also decided that our little man owed our sweet nurse Maria (more on this dear woman to come) a beer! She hardly left my bedside all day due to the epidural craziness and his bouts of ADD!

The afternoon passed by, and my doctor showed up around 6 to see how things were progressing and possibly break my waters. Well, baby boy had finally dropped low enough for waters to break so she broke them. We continued talking for a few minutes when I realized his heart was dipping. I mentioned it, and the doctor went to put an internal monitor on his head. A second or two later, she said "C-section, NOW! This isn't a head!"

...To be continued...

Happy Birthday, Peach!

Peach's birthday was a month ago. So Peachy, when you're much older and you finally come across this post--let me just tell you I'm so sorry it took me a month to compose this post. It has nothing to do with how important you are--but it has everything to do with how busy life has been since your birthday.

First, we celebrated a few days before your birthday with your friends at school. I came to your school to do your Star of the Week with you. Part of my duties consisted of telling a funny story about you. You approved the one about you changing Brownie's diaper when she was barely one and you were hardly two. The kids in your class all laughed--and so did you! I also brought you M&M cookies to share with your class. And we took a special picture to remember the day!

Your birthday fell on a Sunday this year, so we got to take our time with all the fun that morning. The birthday girl gets a few goodies on her birthday--so we got you some.

In addition to a rockin' party at Bonkers, mom and dad gave you a gift card for a pedicure and one to Target to do some dress (I'm just guessing here) shopping. We plan to take you for lunch and then on to spend these gift cards. We enjoy giving gifts of time to our children as opposed to toys and things that are outgrown or forgotten in days. Time is something we treasure!

The Bonkers part was a smashing success. You invited five friends to join in the fun. Your sisters, mom and dad, and Grammy joined you at Bonkers for all that fun, too!

And you picked out everything for these cupcakes--including the decorative ribbon on the cake plate.

Here's the gang enjoying the birthday treats. You have some very sweet friends!

Once we were done at Bonkers, we headed back to our house for more presents, pizza, ice cream sundaes, movies and a sleep over.

Ummmmm... I think you were jumping ahead on the ice cream action!

We had an assortment of toppings that you girls piled on top of your ice cream. Two girls ended up staying all night--and you were up quite late! But you rose early in the morning for a big breakfast of pancakes (courtesy of Daddy) and Sweet Nests (courtesy of Mama), and fruit and juice.

I love you, Peach. And I seriously can't believe how big you are getting. You are finally at an age I have some distinct and clear memories of being myself. And it's certainly a little odd--to think that you are that old. Because, like every mother out there will say, it just doesn't seem possible that you aren't my tiny, sweet, helpless little baby. You are turning into a young girl who is too smart for words, so kind and giving, witty,  gentle with the most helpless of creatures, and genuine. You do things everyday that amaze me, and I thank God for your soul meeting mine while we are on this earth together. There's not a day that goes by, no matter how hard or easy it may have been, that I don't count myself as so very blessed to call you my daughter. And in this world of constant change, I'm so very happy to rest in the fact that that will never change!

Lots of catch up

September is always the start of crazy for us, like it is for most people--but now it's even more crazy because we added yet another baby to the mix of fall birthdays. But before I introduce our new little prince (that'll be a whole different post), here is some catch up I've been needing to play. Peach went to a cheer camp and absolutely loved it. She is now enrolled in a "cheernastics" class starting next month. She is so excited, which of course means I'm super stoked. I love seeing her so happy about starting a new activity.

And my middle girls started preschool right at the end of August. Aren't they adorable in their "first-day-of-school" outfits. The start of a new school year has so many promises--we can't help but be all smiles!

Here is sweet Boushka getting her book bag put up. And her teacher, Ms. D.

Boushka had so much fun on her first day. She loves her teachers, and I sure hope she's making new friends. She's just as friendly as can be, but I'm not sure how shy she is at school. I'll be checking on that at PTC next month.

This little cutie also started school the same day. Of course we snacked in between--that was the most important part, after all (SMILE). Bug didn't let me get many pictures of her in her classroom, but the snack one suits her.

 

My tower-building girl.

 

Also at the end of August, Matt's work threw a baby shower for us. How sweet is that? I thought it was very kind--but not surprising since he works with some very sweet ladies.

Not only did our little man make out with some great treasures, our girls did too. These sweet ladies really did think of it all.

This is all the presents packed away. You can't tell here just how much we received, but boy oh boy did we receive some super cute toys and clothes. And of course, the ever awesome and helpful diapers. I love receiving diapers.

The younger three girls and I grabbed Chipotle on the way to Daddy's work that day. It was a brown-bag, lunch-hour shower since the employees all had a ton of meetings that day. And the cake was huge!

There may have been cake coming out of our ears.

And the next week was Peach's seventh birthday. Her teacher had her as the Star of the Week during this time. So she got to bring some special pictures, I told a story about her changing Brownie's diaper when she was 2 and Brownie was 1, and I got to eat lunch and see her play a little at recess. I also dropped off some special treats for her class.

Next up, Peach's birthday post. And eventually I'll get to the newest little guy's birthday!!

Blessed Birthday

I have  been blessed with some very sweet friends. Friend who listen and friends who care. I really can't imagine going through life isolated from other women--women I call friends.

Here is the cake ( I didn't get the picture quite in time) my friend, Lynette made me. She's really very talented. I wish I had her patience and creativity!

I turned 30 at the end of July. For years, I'd been dreaming up great get-aways to go on upon turning 30 (you know, to make it seem like less of a catastrophic event). I planned to definitely NOT be pregnant. I wanted to just have fun so that I wouldn't dwell on how old I was turning. Well, as you all know--I am pregnant--as I was on my 30th birthday.

But leave it to my sweet friends with a little help from my husband to plan an awesome night to celebrate me completing my 30th year.

A couple of my friends and I participate in a babysitting co-op. Every third month I watch their kids. The other months they watch mine. Well, July happened to be Caroline's month to watch the kids. So there was a plan set up--unbeknownst to me at the time--to get me out on a "date" with Matt. But I had to stop off at this new "paint your own artwork" place to pick something up. It was a last minute favor I was going to do for Caroline--who happens to be quite crafty. Plus, the great woman who owns it is Caroline's former boss--so nothing really seemed weird to me.

Well, Matt and I were headed out of the house to go on our "date," but when I walked in to the studio to pick up that thing for Caroline, I was surprised-- and my husband and kids were gone!

I had some very sweet friends surprise me for my birthday. We had some yummy snacks and drinks, fellowship, and instruction on painting. When you go to Uncorked (the name of the place where my party was), you can  see a variety of pretty pictures--all painted by Margie--the owner. You are to pick one out that you would like to create on your own, and she will instruct you how to do it. Well, I had a tough time deciding, but I finally picked one. So each of my friends and I sat down with our blank canvas and created our own version of Margie's picture.

I had so much fun trying something new with my friends. And I felt so blessed that they took the time to celebrate with me. And they all did a good job of keeping a secret!

 Listening intently!

 I'm thinking I can do this!

 My trees without their leaves.

 And the finished product!

 Lynette's creation.

Me saying "Cheeeeese!"

 Tiffiny did a wintery scene. So peaceful!

 Sweet Amy. She's a talented friend of mine who also happens to be quite sweet and giving!

 My SIL, Nancy, who I also call friend. Just wish she didn't live so far away :(

 The lady who is so creative it makes me jealous (but in a good way), Caroline!

 Miss Mandy! She's spunky like me--we have some very serious similarities--our distaste for Toby Keith tops the list!

Oh Winter! She's always smiling--even when she thinks she's not--she just shines!

 And I didn't get a "single" picture of Erin, but she's in this group shot in the back. I got to know her last year, and she's honest, kind and creative.

 Once the party was over, a few of the girls and I hit up a bar. I really did get water, but I wanted to be silly and post my status on FB as "a whole new meaning to 'belly up to the bar.'" So I stole the girls' drinks and took a belly shot with them. I just didn't want to go home yet-- I was out celebrating my new decade, after all. After a one drink, we were all succumbing to our tiredness.

 A few days later, my actual birthday came. And as many of you know, it's also Matt's birthday. But he let me have most of the glory since it was a big one for me. He said he's done having birthdays--but I never want to be done. Life is certainly worth celebrating.

These balloons are from my sister. She lives out of state, so my sweet mama brought them over. She also made a fantastic dinner for us and brought over Matt's favorite pie--lemon meringue--and my favorite--turtle cheesecake. Oh my! Now I'm totally craving those noodles, broccoli with Hollandaise sauce, and potatoes. It's a stick to your ribs kind of meal--perfect for a preggo on her birthday (and her husband)!

The girls also made the day very special just by being them. They are always trying to sneak around and buy us gifts, or make us gifts--none of which goes unappreciated. Just seeing how kind their hearts are is enough of a gift to Matt and me.


I have such a great life thanks to all those who love me--and I hope they know how much I love them all.