Saturday, January 30, 2010

5 Years

Yesterday Ben and I celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary. I love that man. More than anyone will ever know. Here's to 100 more with my other half.

Oh and just in case you were wondering the traditional year 5 gift is wood...hence my awesome new cutting board!

Monday, January 25, 2010


We got the pleasure of seeing Ben's Granny this past Saturday. We don't make it over as much as we would like since it's a few hours away but we always enjoy getting to see her sweet, smiling face. I think she might enjoy seeing the boys too...just maybe ;)

Jackson really enjoyed seeing her. He kept saying, "Gaannee, I just yuv you" It was really sweet.

Here's hoping we get back over there really soon.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


Somebody else around here loves daddy

He has found comfort in his sweet, strong hands

He is already looking up to him

And finding amazement in all the he is

Us too Luke.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Saturday, January 9, 2010

I hope they grow up to be the best of friends...

Friday, January 8, 2010

well it's about time

I know, I know...I'm a bad blogger. Things have been just a little crazy around here though. Forgive me? Good.

Just thought I'd give a quick update and share some pictures of our ever growing little man and our ever growing big boy too! The boys are doing really well and had a very Merry Christmas. We had a bunch of company come through during the month of December and have even more scheduled to come through this month! It means SO MUCH that so many of our loved ones would take time out of their busy schedules to share in the blessing that is our new little boy. We know how busy each of you are so it really does mean a lot. I know Luke and Jackson enjoyed seeing all of your faces - I know Ben and I did!

Luke is growing, growing, growing. At his two week appointment he was 10 lbs and 22 inches long - the upper 95% for both height and weight. He's such a good baby too. Everyone that has come by has said, "Man, he's just a really good baby, isn't he?" You have no idea what a blessing that is. He's just really long as he's fed that is. He is a boy after all ;)

Jackson is doing really well too and is getting smarter every day. He can now count to 10 and thanks to Word World, Super Why and some foam letters in the bathtub he can pretty much tell you every letter in the alphabet. I'm not really sure where it all came from but one day Ben and I noticed he was naming letters on the fridge and getting them right! His vocabulary has really blossomed as well. He honestly talks non stop...wonder who he got THAT from? He's been a great big brother too. He loves to love on Luke.

Well, that's probably enough bragging on my boys for now...we just love them, you know? a whole lot.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Mastery of Losing

Some days when I walk into work in the morning, I think about my old job in Conway. Back at the company that shall remain nameless. Back before they eliminated me and my job. Everything was so new and nice – the first few months I was there, I felt like I was dreaming. Now, sitting in my worn, thirty year old government-office-esqe chair at my equally depressing faux wood metal desk, I remember the privileges left behind.  My own laptop, a sleek, ergonomic desk, work from home privileges - of course I took them for granted. I had no idea how losing those things would feel.

Occasionally, I’m out in the driveway beneath the street lights setting out the trash and I remember our little house on Conway Boulevard. Nostalgia's warm embrace sneaks up behind me, and I recall little bits of a life lived in a better town. Quiet streets, like tunnels, with trees arching over the top, a small house with creaky floorboards - the perfect size for two newlyweds, everything we needed within a few minutes drive. I never looked over my shoulder, never double-locked the doors, never woke up in the middle of the night because it sounded like an Airbus was landing in our driveway. Those quiet tree-tunnel streets are lost to me now.

I miss the feeling of putting down roots; truthfully, I’m afraid this Memphis soil is poisoned, so forgive me if I’m hesitant to plant my family in it. When we make the occasional pass through Conway, I have to fight the urge to take the family on a driving tour of our history. There’s the McAlister’s where Bethany and I first met. There’s the spot where I proposed- right there in her parents' driveway on her birthday on a night when I just couldn’t wait any longer. There's the hospital where Jackson was born, the dock at Beaverfork Lake where I used to go write, and Blackwood’s where so many delicious meals were had. A good part of our favorite years is scattered all over that town. And I seem to have lost it.

Sure, we talk about coming back. Back to our friends, back to our comfortable town, back to the only place we’ve both called home. Is it true that you can never go back? We have history there; our history here is yet to be made. I have my doubts, though, and as time passes, those doubts speak more loudly. There are not a lot of jobs in Arkansas, especially for writers like me, and nothing indicates that changing anytime soon. It would be hard to justify a move when I already have a job here. Perhaps it is just the absence that has caused my heart to grow so fond? And if we did go back, would we recognize it as the place we left or has it changed too much? Maybe it too is lost for good.

When I was in college, I took a poetry course sophomore year. Most of the poems were strange and hard to understand, however, one in particular stood out. I've always carried it with me thinking that someday I would find a use for it. It’s called, “One Art” and it was written by Elizabeth Bishop. It’s beautiful, it’s stark, it’s a reminder of how much slips through our fingers in the course of a lifetime. I don’t know why, but today, with this post, I felt I should share it.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.