Thursday, December 20, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Meet Mowgli
Friday, November 30, 2012
Christmas Tree
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Lexie Girl
Rest In Peace Pretty Girl
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
A Song for Mothers "Guardian Angel" by Leah West
WOW, this is amazing. Brought tears to my eyes <3 p="p">
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
An article that really hit me......
Last weekend, my family traveled to attend my oldest niece's Sweet
Sixteen party. My brother and sister-in-law planned this party for many
months and intended it to be a big surprise, and it included a photo
booth for the guests.
I showed up to the party a bit late and, as usual, slightly askew from trying to dress myself and all my little people for such a special night out. I'm still carrying a fair amount of baby weight and wearing a nursing bra, and I don't fit into my cute clothes. I felt awkward and tired and rumpled.
I was leaning my aching back against the bar, my now 5-month-old baby sleeping in a carrier on my chest (despite the pounding bass and dulcet tones of LMFAO blasting through the room) when my 5-year-old son ran up to me.
"Come take pictures with me, Mommy," he yelled over the music, "in the photo booth!"
I hesitated. I avoid photographic evidence of my existence these days. To be honest, I avoid even mirrors. When I see myself in pictures, it makes me wince. I know I am far from alone; I know that many of my friends also avoid the camera.
It seems logical. We're sporting mama bodies and we're not as young as we used to be. We don't always have time to blow dry our hair, apply make-up, perhaps even bathe (ducking). The kids are so much cuter than we are; better to just take their pictures, we think.
But we really need to make an effort to get in the picture. Our sons need to see how young and beautiful and human their mamas were. Our daughters need to see us vulnerable and open and just being ourselves -- women, mamas, people living lives. Avoiding the camera because we don't like to see our own pictures? How can that be okay?
Too much of a mama's life goes undocumented and unseen. People, including my children, don't see the way I make sure my kids' favorite stuffed animals are on their beds at night. They don't know how I walk the grocery store aisles looking for treats that will thrill them for a special day. They don't know that I saved their side-snap, paper-thin baby shirts from the hospital where they were born or their little hospital bracelets in keepsake boxes high on the top shelves of their closets. They don't see me tossing and turning in bed wondering if I am doing an okay job as a mother, if they are okay in their schools, where we should take them for a vacation, what we should do for their birthdays. I'm up long past the news on Christmas Eve wrapping presents and eating cookies and milk, and I spend hours hunting the Internet and the local Targets for specially-requested Halloween costumes and birthday presents. They don't see any of that.
Someday, I want them to see me, documented, sitting right there beside them: me, the woman who gave birth to them, whom they can thank for their ample thighs and their pretty hair; me, the woman who nursed them all for the first years of their lives, enduring porn star-sized boobs and leaking through her shirts for months on end; me, who ran around gathering snacks to be the week's parent reader or planning the class Valentine's Day party; me, who cried when I dropped them off at preschool, breathed in the smell of their post-bath hair when I read them bedtime stories, and defied speeding laws when I had to rush them to the pediatric ER in the middle of the night for fill-in-the-blank (ear infections, croup, rotavirus).
I'm everywhere in their young lives, and yet I have very few pictures of me with them. Someday I won't be here -- and I don't know if that someday is tomorrow or thirty or forty or fifty years from now -- but I want them to have pictures of me. I want them to see the way I looked at them, see how much I loved them. I am not perfect to look at and I am not perfect to love, but I am perfectly their mother.
When I look at pictures of my own mother, I don't look at cellulite or hair debacles. I just see her -- her kind eyes, her open-mouthed, joyful smile, her familiar clothes. That's the mother I remember. My mother's body is the vessel that carries all the memories of my childhood. I always loved that her stomach was soft, her skin freckled, her fingers long. I didn't care that she didn't look like a model. She was my mama.
So when all is said and done, if I can't do it for myself, I want to do it for my kids. I want to be in the picture, to give them that visual memory of me. I want them to see how much I am here, how my body looks wrapped around them in a hug, how loved they are.
I will save the little printed page with four squares of pictures on it and the words "Morgan's Sweet Sixteen" scrawled across the top with the date. There I am, hair not quite coiffed, make-up minimal, face fuller than I would like -- one hand holding a sleeping baby's head, and the other wrapped around my sweet littlest guy, who could not care less what I look like.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html
I showed up to the party a bit late and, as usual, slightly askew from trying to dress myself and all my little people for such a special night out. I'm still carrying a fair amount of baby weight and wearing a nursing bra, and I don't fit into my cute clothes. I felt awkward and tired and rumpled.
I was leaning my aching back against the bar, my now 5-month-old baby sleeping in a carrier on my chest (despite the pounding bass and dulcet tones of LMFAO blasting through the room) when my 5-year-old son ran up to me.
"Come take pictures with me, Mommy," he yelled over the music, "in the photo booth!"
I hesitated. I avoid photographic evidence of my existence these days. To be honest, I avoid even mirrors. When I see myself in pictures, it makes me wince. I know I am far from alone; I know that many of my friends also avoid the camera.
It seems logical. We're sporting mama bodies and we're not as young as we used to be. We don't always have time to blow dry our hair, apply make-up, perhaps even bathe (ducking). The kids are so much cuter than we are; better to just take their pictures, we think.
But we really need to make an effort to get in the picture. Our sons need to see how young and beautiful and human their mamas were. Our daughters need to see us vulnerable and open and just being ourselves -- women, mamas, people living lives. Avoiding the camera because we don't like to see our own pictures? How can that be okay?
Too much of a mama's life goes undocumented and unseen. People, including my children, don't see the way I make sure my kids' favorite stuffed animals are on their beds at night. They don't know how I walk the grocery store aisles looking for treats that will thrill them for a special day. They don't know that I saved their side-snap, paper-thin baby shirts from the hospital where they were born or their little hospital bracelets in keepsake boxes high on the top shelves of their closets. They don't see me tossing and turning in bed wondering if I am doing an okay job as a mother, if they are okay in their schools, where we should take them for a vacation, what we should do for their birthdays. I'm up long past the news on Christmas Eve wrapping presents and eating cookies and milk, and I spend hours hunting the Internet and the local Targets for specially-requested Halloween costumes and birthday presents. They don't see any of that.
Someday, I want them to see me, documented, sitting right there beside them: me, the woman who gave birth to them, whom they can thank for their ample thighs and their pretty hair; me, the woman who nursed them all for the first years of their lives, enduring porn star-sized boobs and leaking through her shirts for months on end; me, who ran around gathering snacks to be the week's parent reader or planning the class Valentine's Day party; me, who cried when I dropped them off at preschool, breathed in the smell of their post-bath hair when I read them bedtime stories, and defied speeding laws when I had to rush them to the pediatric ER in the middle of the night for fill-in-the-blank (ear infections, croup, rotavirus).
I'm everywhere in their young lives, and yet I have very few pictures of me with them. Someday I won't be here -- and I don't know if that someday is tomorrow or thirty or forty or fifty years from now -- but I want them to have pictures of me. I want them to see the way I looked at them, see how much I loved them. I am not perfect to look at and I am not perfect to love, but I am perfectly their mother.
When I look at pictures of my own mother, I don't look at cellulite or hair debacles. I just see her -- her kind eyes, her open-mouthed, joyful smile, her familiar clothes. That's the mother I remember. My mother's body is the vessel that carries all the memories of my childhood. I always loved that her stomach was soft, her skin freckled, her fingers long. I didn't care that she didn't look like a model. She was my mama.
So when all is said and done, if I can't do it for myself, I want to do it for my kids. I want to be in the picture, to give them that visual memory of me. I want them to see how much I am here, how my body looks wrapped around them in a hug, how loved they are.
I will save the little printed page with four squares of pictures on it and the words "Morgan's Sweet Sixteen" scrawled across the top with the date. There I am, hair not quite coiffed, make-up minimal, face fuller than I would like -- one hand holding a sleeping baby's head, and the other wrapped around my sweet littlest guy, who could not care less what I look like.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Meet Miss Mahlea Grace
We welcomed Mahlea Grace on September 21st. She is perfect and such a little blessing. Her brothers absolutely adore her. Enjoying all the snuggles, multiple diaper changes, sleepless nights and PINK!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Happy Birthday!
Happy 4th Birthday to my little man, Owen Neale. Can hardly believe he is 4 already, time sure does fly. He is truly a blessing.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Busy, Busy
We have been busy lately.... every weekend is busy doing something from weddings to Timber Rattler games to Birthdays! This weekend we took the boys to the Zoo for Evans Birthday. It was a last minute decision and we didn't tell the boys where we were going. They were excited when we got there. I am spending the rest of the night cleaning the yard and the house getting ready for the party tomorrow. Tomorrow I have to do a few more things, get the cake, pack the coolers and try and enjoy the day with the family. I don't think I will be able to move tomorrow from all the walking, running around and cleaning but its worth it :).
Monday, July 2, 2012
Evan
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Babies Room
Here is a sneak peak at the babies nursery :)
A girl I went to school with made Mahlea this owl hat and Owl for her room. I love how they turned out.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
Snow, Snow, Go Away!
Where is all this snow coming from!!! Were expecting 4" of snow through tonight. Next weeks forecast 50 degrees :) Now that's more like it. A few pictures I snapped. Its still coming down in large flakes. So no end in sight.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Boys Room...
We ordered bunk beds for the boys room yesterday, I found mattresses in the clearance section plus 10% off and they will deliver those with the beds in about 6-8 weeks. I found bedding for them to match at Big Lots (of all places) for super cheap!! I am so excited to put their new room together. Owen cant wait. He keeps saying are my bunk beds coming today, I say not today, he says yah the mail man has to bring them. I just agree and smile :). Owen and Evan will switch rooms as Evans room is a bit bigger and laid out differently. Evan will move to Owens room for now until we want to move him out of his crib (not for a while yet). The beds are full/full so were hoping the boys will sleep together for a while and not even use the top (remove the ladder). A sneak peak at the beds :) http://www.ne-kids.com/img/p/154-646-large.jpg we opted for extra storage on the bottom vs. the trundle bed. After pictures to come..........
Friday, January 13, 2012
Updates..
I know, I know its been forever since i have blogged. Nothing new and exciting to report on the Olson front.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year! Hope this year brings nothing but good things to you and your family.
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