The Simple Things...

*Post inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt, "The Simple Things..."

I like the simple things. The simple things are what move my day forward, give me the boost to last through the not-so-simple things. And today my day was full of the simple things. The kind that remind me just how blessed I am and just how happy (and on some days, how happy I should be).

Like the fact that the baby let me sleep eight straight hours without interruption both last night and the night before, which is a miracle. Knock on wood.

Like the fact that I was able to pump some breast milk this morning after feeling down in the dumps all week about losing my milk. (Turns out I'm not. Turns out kids go through growth spurts, or something like that.)

Like the fact that the boys both wanted the same breakfast this morning, which makes my life that much easier.

Like the fact that Dave took over disciplining a very strong-willed four-year-old on his lunch hour, just to give me a break from it. (I think slamming the child's door and saying the naughtiest of naughty words under my breath is a cue that it's his turn.)

Like the swelling emotion all throughout me, emerging in the form of chills and goosebumps, just from watching a moving, heartfelt dance routine. (Thank you, So You Think You Can Dance.)

Like blond curls and blue eyes, that remind me children are beautiful angels and not demons. 

Like the thirty minutes I got to myself to write today.

Like freshly cut grass, done by none other than my husband.

Like phrases from my two-year-old, such as, "Mommy, you get spanking," because they show me just how far he's come in his speech.

Like the precious swatting of a tiny hand on your behind after said phrase.

Like the fact that my four-year-old can still hug me and tell me he loves me after I've just punished him in the worst way I could punish him (taking away his computer privileges).

Like my two-year-old saying, "I you, too," because that's how he says he loves me. 

Like cold cereal for dinner.

Like the visit of a good friend, because it reminds me I'm an adult and can still have adult conversation.

Like my husband retelling the story of how we met, even though I've heard it a million times (after all, I was there), because the part about how he felt when he first looked at me makes my heart skip a beat and makes me feel, in some small way, a part of some romantic movie. 

But mostly, it reminds me that aside from the frumpy sweats, the greasy ponytail, the stretchy tummy skin, the PB&J sandwiches, and the yelling mommy voice, I was once--and maybe even still am--a beautiful, strong woman, who has the love of a caring, amazing man.

The simple things.

Wordless Wednesday

So maybe it's not exactly wordless, but because I don't have a long, gushing story this time, I'm not calling it Wordful Wednesday. There's not really much I have to say about this picture. The caption says it all.

And my heart swells when I look at it.

This is my most favorite picture I have ever taken, of Sam and Dave about two years ago.

Love, love love.

"Lead me, guide me, walk beside me; help me find the way..."

Wordful Wednesday: Davenport Zoo

*Linked to Angie and Amanda's Wordful Wednesday.

This is another VERY wordful Wednesday. I have a lot going on, and a lot of pictures. So sue me. First up is our trip to the Phoenix Zoo we took two weekends ago while Dave's sister, Jenni, was staying with us. Unfortunately, she isn't in any of these pictures. 

More pictures--that include her--will be in next week's Wordful Wednesday post (due to the fact that they are on my other computer)!

It was a fun day, but extremely hot and sweaty. Extremely. Not only were the animals all hiding, but my kids were agitated, too. Even Sam, who started out excited, just wanted to get out of there by the end. That is, until we got to the water park.

I wish I got more pictures of Sam in the water park, but I was too busy sitting in a pool of my sweat nursing the baby.

I don't know who this kid came from, but Josh absolutely HATES water. He was roasting hot, yet still screamed bloody murder when we made him get wet.

The next event I will limit to one picture. Sam had his T-Ball closing ceremonies about two weeks ago, and he was pretty proud of his trophy. And I'm pretty proud of the unknown butt in the background my mad photographer skills.

Random Cuteness...

Watching Team Umizoomie--my best friend when I need to get something done. And don't even ask what Josh was doing, because I don't know.

Lastly, I had to capture this beautiful enigma growing in our crab grass lawn.

Affection

*Post inspired by the TRDC RemembeRED prompt, "Affection." (Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection stands out, and show us.)

Never had physical touch meant more to me. What if I never got the chance to touch my baby again, while life still flowed through his veins and his soul still resided in his new, perfect, cherub-like body?


The last hour had been Hell. The worst Hell I'd ever experienced as a mom, and I could only pray I'd never experience worse. We do all in our power to protect our children from the millions of threats in this scary, uncertain world, and all it took was five minutes without my attention. Five minutes for that little intruder to make its way into our kitchen and attack my baby as though he was the one trespassing.


They call them "bark" scorpions, and they are everywhere in Bagdad, Arizona. We usually spray on a monthly basis, but sometimes we go longer. Sometimes we miss a month because, really, what could go wrong?


Well, everything went wrong. And I will never miss a month again.


It stung my child on his finger, and when he first started screaming, I knew what it was, even though I couldn't see it. And there it was, hiding under his toys. I was worried, but because I'd heard scorpion stings weren't much worse than a wasp sting, I let him cry. And cry.


But he wouldn't stop, and I grew extremely worried.


Especially when he started trembling. He'd started seizing as soon as we got him to the Bagdad clinic--the last place equipped for this. His tiny, eighteen-month-old body jolted around in my arms, and I didn't understand how it could be so bad. But I later learned that the poison attacks the nervous system in bodies so small, and would attack it for over twenty-four hours if we let it.


I'd held him tight, my tears wetting his white-blond hair, while he moaned and his limbs moved about uncontrollably. They'd told me to hold his arms down, keep him tight, and I was in shock. In shock that I had to do such a preposterous thing.


Please, God, I'd prayed. Please heal my baby. I'd passed my love--strong enough to move a mountain--into him, telling the universe to make him better.


But it didn't.


An hour later the helicopter finally came to fly him to Phoenix Children's, because they were the best equipped for the situation. His seizing was worse, his eyes in the back of his head, and they'd taken him from my arms. They'd burned, and so did my chest, and my round, pregnant belly felt more sick than it ever had. They told me his daddy should ride in the helicopter with him because it wasn't safe for a pregnant mother.


So I'd sobbed again, my soul in anguish and my heart throbbing. 


And the 2.5 hour drive to Phoenix was the most painful 2.5 hours in all my life.


Please, I cried out loud, I will never complain about having to hold him again, I swear. I will never complain that he needs me too much. My arms were empty and I craved--more than I'd ever craved anything--his affection. His arms snug around my neck, his laugh in my ear. 




Please, give me at least one more opportunity to see him again. Please, please, please. Please don't take him from me.


His song--the song I sing to all my children--came on the radio, track eleven's turn, and my trembling hands turned it off. Prematurely mourning, yet fighting with all of me to will him to live. But in the silence I heard the helicopter overhead, reminding me my baby was way too far away, in the sky with his father...too close to living with his other Father.


And, many tears later, his Father heard my prayers, knew I simply could not survive without my Joshua. The Children's hospital was the only hospital in the state that had any vials of scorpion anti-venom--four, to be precise. 


And four just happened to be the exact amount he needed.


Coincidence?


I think not. A miracle, in its fullest.


And within two hours, his muscles relaxed, and I held that lethargic, perfect baby as long as I could. And even all night wasn't enough.

Passion or Hobby?

*Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt, "What are you passionate about?"

I have a lot of things I am passionate about. My children, my family, my God, the gospel, creativity, individuality, writing, nursing my children (I know that sounds strange being squished in with the rest of that stuff, but it's true--with all I've learned and experienced, I'm passionate about nursing my babies...and the subject of nursing in general).

But I picked this prompt because of the way it got me thinking. I mean, you can tell just from the "About Me" section on my blog that writing is my greatest passion...but is it really?

Put everyone and everything out of the picture and focus on only me, then, yes. Writing is my passion. I know I love it deeper than any hobby. It makes me feel alive and like...well, like me. It's the one way I can express myself. Joy, love, satisfaction--all those come to mind when writing. And, as I've admitted before, it sometimes haunts my thoughts and I find myself yearning to escape life and do only that.

Only sometimes though.

Take my "self-indulgent" side out of the picture and writing leaves the equation. Yes, I want to share my writing with the world, want to show the world what I labor over. But when everything is stripped away and it's down to the wire--the wire that asks the dreaded question, "If everything was taken from you, except for one thing, what would you want it to be?"--my family easily tops the list of my passions.

Easily.

Nothing else matters, really. If I didn't have my family, I would have nothing. Be nothing.

My children are my life, the very thing that keeps the blood pumping through my veins and the inspiration in my heart. Without them, I couldn't write like I do. I didn't even find the passion and courage inside me to write until I had Sam. Because it was then that I knew I was a strong woman who could do anything I set my mind to. Suddenly, I had something to write for. They say to write what you know, and what I knew was the greatest love humanly possible--a love that everything else can be built upon.

And inspiration was born.

My children fueled my passion, thus making them the greatest passion.

And in the next life, my family is what I want with me. Even more than my most beloved manuscript.

Cheerios and Bed Fires

*Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt, "Write about a time you got in BIG trouble as a kid."

This one is kind of difficult for me, since I practically never got in trouble as a kid. No, really. Ask my mom and dad. I was the bee's knees.

The bee's knees who was co-conspirator to my thirteen-months-younger-than-me brother. Or maybe it was the other way around. I don't really remember.

Either way, we were perfect. I mean, just look at us. Little angels.


I also don't remember sneaking downstairs to make sure our beloved grandma was preoccupied with Days of Our Lives (she watched us in our pre-kindergarten years while Mom worked), and then trying to find as many ways we could to wreak havoc in such a short window of opportunity.

Okay, so maybe this is difficult for me because there are too many acts to choose from. Like...

Dumping a whole box of Cheerios down all the heater vents in the upstairs bedrooms.

Ripping open and dumping out all of our older sister's Equal packets under the kitchen table and making an Equal dune for our little men (our index and middle finger), who were starving in the desert.

Popping out the second story window screen so we could throw out as many toys as possible in that little time we had before Grandma would run outside and pick them up, yelling and raising her fist at us from below (and probably cursing, too)...while we laughed at her and continued to throw more toys down on top of her.

And last, but certainly NOT least: Setting my parents' bed on fire. We were just "camping," okay? Our intentions were innocent and precious when putting our favorite Siamese Cat lamp on the bed, topping it with a blanket, and then sitting beneath it while we pretended to be warmed from the glow of a lantern, somewhere deep in the forest.

Cute, right?

Well, for some reason I still don't get, neither Grandma OR Mom saw the cuteness when the bed caught fire and the lamp burnt a large hole straight through to the other side of the mattress.

And funny thing (aside from the fact that we still used that mattress until many years later--and when I say we I mean our sister), I honestly can't remember the specific punishments for any of these things. Rather, between the ages of three and five, all I can remember is feeling my parents' (and any caretaker my mom would give us) constant oppression.

Okay, so I admit. I got in trouble ALL the time as a child. But who didn't at that tender, young age?

It was AFTER that point when I became the perfect angel.

**Sheesh, after this I feel like I owe a HUGE apology to my parents...and mostly to my grandma, God rest her magnetic-lovable-stubborn soul. I'm so sorry for making you sob on almost a daily basis, and for probably being one of the main causes of your graying hair.

I'm sorry for throwing things at you when, really, I thought you were the greatest person around.

I'm sorry for lying when you asked if we were conniving. Really, we were "kniving."

And thinking back on this has helped me remember just what it feels like to be a child. It brings me back to the evil, skewed inner-workings of a child's mind, who cannot comprehend the consequences when doing something outright bad and mischievous. And making adults look like the fool in the process.

I get it now, kiddos, I get it.

Ten Reasons I Love You

*Post inspired by Mama Kat's writers workshop prompt "List ten favorite things about one of your favorite people"...and by my husband of course. :)


I thought long and hard about this, not because it was difficult to come up with ten things I love about you, Dave, but because I didn't know how to condense it all into only ten things. You're the best husband in the world, and that says it all, but here are some reasons why:

1. Honest. And sometimes, to a fault, some women might say. But I don't. Maybe I don't really want to know the honest answer to "Does this make me look fat?" but that's why I just don't ask anymore. Not unless I want the honest-to-goodness truth. And I love that about you because I know I will always get a straight answer about anything and everything. Besides, it's not hard to tell when you're lying.
2. Reasonable, easy to communicate with, and realistic. So, I know that's three separate things, but they're closely related. You're the farthest from fake I know and you posses these certain qualities better than anyone I've ever met. And the way you can look at things from a logical point of view helps keep me grounded.
3. Ever-enduring. You have been through hell and back in your life, and I admire you more than anyone for the man you've become through everything. I look to you as an example.
4. Humble enough to admit when you're wrong. ...when you're wrong. And it doesn't happen very often. No, always being right doesn't deserve it's own number because that sometimes drives me crazy. But it makes me realize how insanely lost I'd be without you. And when you are wrong, you're the first to admit it. It's a trait not many people have, in my experience, and you have it down to a T.
5. Loyal and trustworthy, with a heart of Gold. Like, in an old-fashioned way that is hard to come by nowadays. I don't have to worry that you're living a double life or anything scandalous like that, because I know you love your family more than anything else in this life. And you would bend over backwards and do anything for those people you love.
6. Father of the Year. The way you love our children makes me love you even more. And the way they love you melts my heart like nothing else can. Our boys are your life, and it shows. I love that even when you feel at your worst, you can put it aside and play with them as though life was perfect. The song they sing every day when you get home says it all: I'm so glad when Daddy gets home, glad as I can be...
   
   
7. Loves God. I love that when I'm feeling spiritual anxiety, your spiritual strength can lift me and make me feel the warmth of my own testimony all over again.
8. Supportive. You respect me as a woman who has lost a bit of herself in motherhood and supports the dreams I still have. Your encouragement means more to me than anyone else's. Even the agents and editors I dream about talking to one day. The way you remind me that a negative attitude can hinder my success as a writer keeps me optimistic and plugging along.
9. Dedicated and Hardworking. And more so than anyone I know. When your mind is set on something, you don't stop until you've accomplished it. I stood by you through getting your degree, admiring the way you pushed forward and conquered every class, despite what you feel are academic weaknesses. And even though you wonder sometimes if your career is really what you want/should be doing, you do it, and do it hard.
   
   
   
10. You love me. Even when I don't look and act my best. Even in my weaknesses. And that means the world to me. There are no two people better suited for each other than you and me, and I'm grateful every day that you see that, too.

I love you, babe. Thank you for being persistent in winning me over when we first met. Even though I was "too tall" for you.

Davenports Lately

Other than participating in Mama Kat’s "Pretty Much World Famous Writer’s Workshop" this week, my blogging has been nonexistent for the past three months. And it’s not that I haven’t had anything blog-worthy happening. It’s been a very eventful, crazy-busy past three months, and since I’m way past due, I’m just going to condense it all into one blog post, pictures included. So...*takes a breath* here we go...going in (kind of) order.

I already blogged about my sister, Heather, and her family (the Lees) coming in the beginning of February, but shortly after that, we had an asbestos problem in our house. I won’t get into all the dull details, but basically, we had to move out and were living in temporary housing for about two weeks while they took care of the problem. And it was the most luxurious mobile home I’ve ever seen. Just ask my mom and dad, or Dave’s dad and his sister, Mary, since they all just so happened to be visiting during that time. Yeah. Huge bummer. Anyway, it all worked out.

Like I said, my mom and dad came to visit during that time and though I hated that we were in that state of limbo when they were here and it kind of put a damper on everything, I absolutely loved having them here. The boys loved having Grandma and Grandpa “Colfart” here and I was so glad they got to meet little Luke, who was about six weeks old at the time. Thanks for all your help, mom and dad, while you were here. And thanks for introducing Sam to computer games, Grandpa. Really. A day hasn’t gone by since then that he doesn’t beg to play them.

Unfortunately this was the best picture we could get of Grandma and Grandpa "Colfart" with the kids...


The week after my mom and dad left, Mary and Grandpa Meyers came (Grandpa for just that weekend and Mary for the entire week). Again, the timing was poopy because it was our last week living in luxery in the mobile home and it was quite possibly one of the most boring weeks of Mary’s life (I’m guessing). But she was a HUGE help and a lifesaver, because on the day we moved back into our home, she was there helping me with the kids the whole time. So even though you probably never want to come back, we loved having you, Mary, and we so appreciate all you did!


The same day that Mary left, Jessica, Dave’s other sister, came to stay with us, and she was here for a week as well. Lucky for her, we were back in our home by then and all moved in. As always when she comes, it was a ton of fun and we loved having her, too. And in about two weeks, Dave’s other sister, Jenni, will be coming for a week! It’s been so awesome having everyone come. It makes us realize even more how much we miss having family close.


Then, to add to it, my sister, Cindi, and her family (the Lindsays) were here for about a week a couple weeks ago. Sam and Josh loved it, because they got to see their cousins Aaron and Abbey. It was the first time everyone was really old enough to play together and I just loved seeing the boys play with their cousin. I wish they had them closer. They had so much fun, and Sam asks to see Aaron all the time now. They also slept in the same room together. Let’s just say we adults didn’t get much sleep. Enough said. But we would have them again any day and the lack of sleep was worth it!

Cindi and I being silly with lots of makeup on.

Sam, Josh, and Aaron eating their hot dogs at the river.

Abbey and Luke.


We also had Luke’s baby blessing on March 6, when he was exactly two months old, and we were lucky enough that Grandpa Meyers and Aunt Mary were here for it. It was beautiful, and he wore Josh’s blessing tux from Aunt Nadine. Mostly what I remember from it was feeling overwhelmed with the realization that my boys will all be adult men someday, getting married and having kids of their own, and that thought just kind of blew me away. I can’t imagine it. The joy, yet the sadness of separation. It makes me want to treasure these years with them even more. My beautiful blond boys.



Your baby blues, so full of wonder,
Your curly-cues, your contagious smile.
As I watch, you start to grow up,
All I can do is hold you tight,
Knowing clouds will rage and
Storms will race in,
But you will be safe in my arms.
Rains will pour down,
Waves will crash around,
But you will be safe in my arms...
-In My Arms, Plum

Sam started T-Ball in March and that has been going as wonderful as can be expected! He is learning, as is the whole team, and I just love watching him out there. There might not be much structure or many rules, and they might not keep score, but I’m a proud mama sitting in the stands nonetheless. There’s just something about it. I love watching my little blond string-bean batting left-handed and standing in the outfield with his glove on and his huge hat falling over his eyes as he kicks the dirt and wonders what he’s really doing out there.

The cutest T-Ball player ever.

Waiting on second base.

Josh watching through the fence and wishing he could play, too.


He is getting funnier and smarter everyday (and more trying, I must say), and I have had people tell me I need to start keeping a book of “Samisms” because of all the funny things he says. One thing I’m not enjoying, however, is that he’s entered a lying stage, just this last week actually. His most famous phrase this week has been, “I don’t know.”

Me (seeing a kitten slide across the floor and crash into the cupboard): What did you just throw?
Sam: I don’t know.
Me: Don’t lie, Sam. That makes it worse and you will get an even bigger punishment for not telling the truth. We don’t lie. Tell me again, what did you throw?
Sam: I don’t know.
Me (face reddening, patience diminishing, just wanting him to admit to it already): Sam...
Sam: It was nothing, mom. I threw nothing.
Me: You’re lying. I saw the kitten you threw. Did you throw a kitten?
Sam: It was Josh.
Me (huffing with rage, but keeping it inside): That’s not true. I saw Josh, and he didn’t throw it. I want you to tell me what you threw.
Sam: I threw...a magnet.
Me: You’re lying again!
Sam: It was that hat right there.
Me: You really think I’m dumb, don’t you?!
Sam (dramatically shaking his head): No.
Me: Then tell me the truth! If you lie ONE MORE TIME, I will send you to bed! This is your last chance. WHAT. DID. YOU. THROW?
Sam (sighing): A kitten.

And so it goes. And this type of thing has been happening every day, about five times a day for the past four days. I hope it’s not a long stage.

Onto Josh. Well, since we moved Luke into the crib and into the guest-room-slash-office (Hallelujah that we have our room back!), we have moved Josh into the toddler bed and Sam into their new bunk bed. I was worried about this at first because Sam did very well with the toddler bed at Josh’s age, and since Josh does everything opposite than Sam... Anyway, it hasn’t been that bad. He generally stays in bed when he is supposed to, so I have been very proud of him. That--along with his first haircut that made him look like such a big boy--has pulled him further out of his baby stage and more into his toddler/little boy stage.

Before the haircut (Gosh, I miss those curls!)...

...After.

Both boys after their haircuts.


He’s even been doing better with his speech. His speech therapist, Ann, comes once a week and it’s been a great success. Sam and Josh both look forward to her coming every week and literally jump up and down with excitement at the window when she pulls up. They love her toys she brings them and the attention she gives them. She’s just wonderful.

He’s still not at the level he should be, but we see a definite progression and she is not worried about him at all. He will come around soon, and he is showing a lot of strength in every other area. She has confirmed my thoughts that he is a very smart boy, but that it just wasn’t showing because he wasn’t verbalizing anything. She thinks he will be an engineer or a mechanic, with the way he loves to use his hands, and very precisely. But he is learning to use more sounds and say more words every single week, along with the fact that he sings ALL the time now. It’s also been harder on him because of his always, ongoing congestion that he never gets a break from, which turns him into a mouth breather. Which makes him want to talk even less.

Luke is still very healthy and this past week has had his first cold ever. He’s been stuffy and I’ve had to use the annoying booger syringe on him a few times a day, but other than that he’s been doing great. He’s started sleeping much better now, too. I get two good, long naps out of him a day, put him to bed around seven, and he gets up about twice to nurse in the night. He still has difficulty with nursing, but he is doing it better now. And for longer.

He seemed really small to me, and to everyone else who sees him, but at the doctor last week we discovered that he is in the fiftieth percentile for height and the thirtieth for weight. So at least he’s well on the charts. Also, his "lost" testicle came down during the last month and now he probably won't need surgery at six months old! YAY! It's not all the way down, so they still need to monitor it, but it's making progress.

About six weeks old...

About 8 weeks old...

My baby and I at almost 4 months old (about 2 weeks ago).


He is laughing and smiling ALL the time, even though he is a high-maintenance baby. He NEVER wants me to leave his side and makes his frustration known when I do. Just ask Dave. And anyone who’s stayed at our house for over a day. He has this high-pitched cry that just makes Dave want to bang his head against a wall, too. Definitely a mama’s baby. But when he’s not mad (and even sometimes when he is), he is always ready to smile and laugh. And mostly at Sam. To him, Sam is the funniest person in the world, and I love watching them laugh together.


All my angels are so precious to me. I just love love love being the mom to three beautiful, and sometimes yucky, boys.

We’ve also had some other babies in our house. In the beginning of April, Bauer (our cat) had a litter of five kittens: three black, one gray, and one grayish striped one. They are absolutely, teeth-grittingly, squeezably cute! So precious and small and fuzzy. I think I had forgotten just how cute kittens were and I’ve loved having them here.


But. They will turn into big, annoying cats someday, and we are going to be getting rid of them in the next month or two. So if anyone knows anyone who wants a kitten...let me know. (Pretty please)

I decided that once my novel(s) are out of editing stage (a friend of mine is being my critical eye), I will start the querying process again. The quick, always easy, simple querying process (sense the satire). I think by then, I won’t want to pull my hair out as much because Luke will be a little older, and I’ll be able to devote a tad more time to it. My friend, Steve (whose opinion is valuable to me in this area), is currently going over Prayers to Russell, and then will be going over The Exception later on. It’s always so hard to know what works and what doesn’t, and there’s only so far you can get editing on your own. Eventually, you come to a point where you need that outside opinion, that outside pair of eyes. And not just someone reading it and giving a generalized statement about the work, but really breaking it down and saying why or why not certain things work/don't work. And it’s really difficult for people in their busy everyday lives to devote that kind of time to helping me out, so again, Steve...thanks SO much! I owe you.

And, as always, if there is anyone else interested in reading my work, I am always willing and open to that. Even if it’s just for a casual read. Even the most generic opinions help.

In the meantime, to keep up my game, I decided to start participating in—another plug—Mama Kat’s Pretty Much World Famous Writer’s Workshop (see last two posts). Not that it will give me any writing credentials, but it’s fun. Every week she offers five different prompts, I pick at least one, and write on it. Just to keep me writing. And to keep me blogging. :)

Aside from that, I recently entered a short story of mine (my only) in the Writer’s Digest Annual Writing Competition. I had written a short story a year or so ago, and when I looked back at it about a month ago, I was absolutely HORRIFIED. So, I based it off of that, but completely rewrote it. I submitted it a couple weeks ago, but won’t know if I even placed until about October.

Anyway, here are some other pictures to illustrate what we’ve been up to. And next time I will do better at blogging as life happens, so that the posts aren't so long. :)

Dave, Sam, and Josh before a bike ride.

Sam showing off his new Star Wars Bed set on he and Josh's new bunk bed (he picked out the Star Wars theme all his own)! Josh doesn't get to sleep in it for another couple of years, but he wanted to be in the picture anyway.

Sam and Josh on Easter after their egg hunt in the backyard.

Cuties at the park.