friday park visit

Roscoe is sooooound asleep right now.  He missed his morning nap and then we spent the whole day out and around, getting home from the park around 4:15.  So thankful for family that lives close.

Nana, Roscoe, Papa, and Eliot

Eliot's favorite person ever is Papa.  Hands down.

Peekaboo with Aunt Bethy

Liam.  A child's life.

Distracted mid-swing.  (joking) (he's not that strong yet)

To think that Roscoe used to be afraid of him...

Grant porch sneak peek and why Roscoe loves his Grampa

As I was organizing pictures into various folders I came across this video that I had forgotten I recorded.  I didn't want any pictures of the porch renovation at Mark's parents' house to be posted til it was finished, but this video is just too cute not to post.

Roscoe goes through phases of which grandparent is his favorite (he doesn't understand yet when we tell him not to pick favorites).  Right now, even at the time of this video, my mom (Nana to Roscoe) is by far his most favorite person in the world.  But I dunno, Mom, you may want to watch out for Grampa.  These are some of the reasons Roscoe goes crazy when he sees this guy.

(And you both know I'm just playing around with the favorites thing, Roscoe loves you both to death, just as he does his Papa and his Grandma.) ;)

a night at the circus

A few months ago, Mom and Dad saw that Ringling Bros were coming to town and decided to buy tickets for those of us children (and our children) who were in the area.  Unfortunately, neither my brother Andy nor my husband Mark could make it.  So Mark's parents (lucky guys) got to take their tickets.

I didn't get nearly the pictures that I wanted to.  But I got a couple of Roscoe that I loved (of course).

Oh, I have to mention that Sherri (Mark's mom) rivaled the 7-year old Liam in level of excitement.  I honestly think that she was the most excited child that attended.  Love ya, ma! ;)

Attempt #1 at getting a picture of me and my little man.  I had just put him in the wrap and he was giggling and trying to squirm out.

Attempt #2.  A little better.  With grampa and cousin Gilly in the background.  (I love his little squinty eyes and smile.) (Roscoe's, that is.  Not grampa's.)

And success!  Love this guy.  And his circus-inspired hair-do.


The circus started at 7:30 and was over around 10.  Roscoe's normal, average day bedtime is 8:00, for no other reason than that's the time that he hits his must-go-to-bed-now wall.  He got a little squirmy around 9, just before intermission, but other than that I was so proud of the way he handled his fatigue.

Here are some post-circus pictures.  He looks a little tired:

Grampa just loves Roscoe to pieces, by the way.  That's the reason he's the only other person in the pictures.  He was right beside me helping with Roscoe all night.  He tends to do that when Mark's out of town.  Thanks, Dad Grant.

So thanks, Mom and Dad, for the night at the circus.  We had a blast.  I do wish I had gotten some pictures of the actual circus, but I was a little preoccupied and pictures probably wouldn't do it justice anyway.

Papa

You know how there are some things you say to prepare yourself for certain events?  I do this all the time.  Like... "If something were to happen to (insert person's name), I would react logically and rationally.  I wouldn't react based on emotions."  Ok, so maybe not everyone is that extreme in their thinking, but for me, that's the typical scenario.

Easier said than done.  Every time.

I'm not exactly sure where to start.  I guess I'll start from my perspective, when the man I call Papa was called "Mr. Dean."  This would be 11 years ago, when I was in 9th grade.  Who knew that this couple moving to town would cause events that would significantly affect the course of my life.  I say that because when Mr. Dean met me, (for some reason) he began praying (fervently) that one of his grandsons would "snatch me up."  HELLO!!!! I was in the 9th grade!  And let me be the first to say that he wasn't quiet about this prayer.  He reminded me often that he just KNEW, without a doubt, that I would end up with one of his grandsons.  Ok, so that could be possible, seeing that he has dozens of them (slight exaggeration).  But I always disagreed and thought he was just a crazy old man.  Because we both knew the only grandsons of his that I knew were the Grants.  And geez....the Grants?  Seriously?!  No thanks.....

(Yes those were really my thoughts) (then)

Well, long story short and a bunch of not-to-relevant details later, you can clearly see I ate my words and Mr. Dean's prayers were answered with a big, fat yes.  I now call him Papa.

Fast forward a few years... Enter Roscoe.  To understand what comes next, you have to understand the name choice.  Roscoe is Mark's great-grandfather.  It goes Roscoe-Gerald-Tim-Gerald (that's Mark's first name)-Roscoe.  Cool, I know..... Our little Roscoe's middle name is Porter.  Papa's middle name is Porter.  So put Roscoe Porter Grant together and you have an ultra-cool family name.

That's what hit me today when I went back to visit Papa in ICU.  I walked over to his bed and he started crying.  That's all he physically could do.  I don't know what he was thinking.  I probably never will, but I hugged him, still dry-eyed.  Then I reached down to grab his hand and I saw it.  That wristband with his name: Jack Porter Dean.  The Porter in that name just jumped out at me and I realized that no matter what happens to him through this whole ordeal, his namesake was out in the lobby, being held and loved on by family.  On one hand you've got an old life, ready and eager to step into eternity, and on the other you have a new life, barely beginning his journey.  So much for dry eyes.  The tears started falling as I realized that our precious boy will most likely not remember the sweet, loving, practical-joking, whistling, smiling, laughing so hard his shoulders bounce up and down Papa that I've grown to love over the years.  And that's just my perspective of 11 years.  He's got a family of over 30 blood relatives (children and grandchildren alone) that I know could drop another plethora of adjectives to describe him.

He had a stroke on Sunday.  My brain is hurting trying to remember all the details.  It's been a long couple of days, emotionally if nothing else.  He can't swallow or talk.  He has a living will and is refusing a feeding tube or any other sort of tube to nourish him.  He's even refusing an IV.  Before you get all judgmental, realize that this is something he and Granny decided long ago.  The decision wasn't made this week, it was made years back when Papa was healthy and cognitive of the implications of such decisions.  Even today, the doctors made sure he understood what this refusal meant and every time he nodded.  From his perspective, he doesn't want to be a vegetable, trapped inside a body, and he doesn't want to be a burden to family.  Even though there is physical therapy for this and he has a chance of getting better, that's not what he wants.  So as his family, we're respecting his decision.  Does it make it any easier?  Of course not.

I really need to read the book One Thousand Gifts.  My sister-in-law Beth has been building her list of gifts for months now, and is still counting somewhere around 1100.  I realized today that God had given Roscoe to the family as a huge gift of love and grace in the midst of seemingly dark circumstances.  We got to the hospital sometime just past noon.  I didn't have any plans of staying or leaving, really.  You know how it is with a baby... We were just going to play it by ear.  As soon as I got there, God turned Roscoe into our little angel gift.  There was something about a little baby that was like a calming salve on the wounds of hurting family.  Any time a family member was overwhelmed and needed some "baby therapy," as we were calling it, they would come out into the main area and hold Roscoe.  And each and every time, he snuggled right into that person's chest, almost as if by cuddling close enough to the heart, he could temporarily heal it.  I'm talking transitioning from smiling and being in a playful, wide-awake mood to *bam* instant snuggle machine.  All day long...from noon until just past 9 when the poor little guy was too tuckered out and fell asleep.  Thank you God for that good gift...

Other family is on the way in, including Mark, and Daniel, his brother.  So this is bittersweet.  I get Mark back for a few days, but don't like the circumstances bringing him here.

Updates will come as I have them.  Until then, a picture of us from the day he went from being just Mr. Dean to being Papa.

taking a pay cut

One of the most popular questions people ask me since I've had Roscoe is "Are you going back to work?"  I'm just going to jump right in and answer, rather than try to keep you in suspense.

No.

That wasn't the plan originally.  In fact, I was excited to go back.  We had decided that even if we didn't need the income, I'd still go back to work and we'd save the money for emergencies, home repairs, a college fund for Roscoe, etc...  But that changed.

A few weeks ago we were chatting with friends around a firepit.  I won't go into all the details, but the conversation turned towards women working vs. not working.  Let me say now that neither Mark nor I hold the belief that a woman's "place is in the home" exclusively.  But as the conversation progressed, I was inferring from Mark's comments that he was sad to see my maternity leave coming to an end.  So far in our marriage, I've been working 40 hours a week ranging anywhere from 5 am to 11 pm.  That's 7 days a week.  But for the past 11 weeks, I've been home.  And it's been wonderful.  I can actually focus on making home an exciting place for Mark to come home to.  I can cook dinner every night.  If Mark isn't working, we're together as a family.  Even something as simple as doing laundry is so much easier now that I'm not having to do it around a full-time job.

I guess it all boils down to priorities.  As much as I loved my job (I was at Starbucks for 4.5 years) and the people it put me in contact with, slinging coffee isn't as important as family.

I look at this as a new chapter in my life, relinquishing my grip (just a little bit more) on independence and embracing my role as a wife and mother.  After all, just look at them......  Why wouldn't I be excited about the opportunity to spend so much time with my favorite men?!

(by the way, Mark's not mad, the sun was just in his eyes) (but even if it weren't, he wouldn't be smiling for the camera anyway...........so I don't care)

time with mark's family

The little dude will be waking up any moment to eat, and I'm determined to get these pictures up (since I've been trying for 2 days now).  If it's going to happen, it has to be now, or else I'll forget.

Thursday evening we had dinner with Mark's family.  His parents were happy because their other 2 grandsons were in town, so they got to get their hands on all 3 at once for the first time.  I was shocked at how good the picture turned out.  How often can you get a 2 year old, an 11 month old, and a 5 1/2 week old together for a successful picture?!  Not often according to what I've seen...

Ok, well the kids aren't exactly looking at the camera, but my expectations aren't that high.  At least none of them are crying!

That's one happy grandma!  (We still need to work on Roscoe's smile for the camera, but I'm not putting too much pressure on him...yet)

Granny getting some Roscoe lovin'

This is more like what I expect a shot with 3 little ones age 2 and under to look like.  I'm sure someone else got a better one with Granny and Papa and the boys, right?

I took so many picture of this little cutie patootie.  But rather than put them all up, I'll just post my favorite.  I could eat this little guy to pieces!

weekend trip

My parents and I took off Friday afternoon for a quick trip to Greeneville, TN to see Mark, Candy, Lily, and the new little star Micaiah.  Of course we took Roscoe.  I doubted the dogs ability to properly babysit.  It was beautiful weather so they held fort outside.

As a new mother I'd love to think that my baby would cooperate the entire time.  I mean who wouldn't want a baby that would just sleep for the entire 3 hour car ride, peacefully wake up, patiently wait to eat, etc.....  Not so, Roscoe.  His screams can wake the dead when he's mad and hungry.  So, as we anticipated, we had to stop about 45 minutes away from Mark and Candy's so I could feed Roscoe.  Oh, for the day when we can say "No, son, we'll be there soon.  We'll eat when we get there."  (By the way, funny how 45 minutes to me now means "be there soon."  I can remember as a child when being 5 minutes away from the nearest Burger King felt like ETERNITY.)

So while I sat in the front seat and nursed Roscoe, Dad took the opportunity to take a nap on the tailgate in the sun.  (Insert here that my Dad is the most patient and easy-going man I know.  It is my goal get my temper-prone son to try to mimic his Papa.)

We arrived and there was no shortage of cuteness to pass around.  Here you have 2 newborns separated by 12 days, and a 23 month old little girl who is so cute you can hardly stand it.  Seriously, who needs TV?!  (I say that, but we all had laptops, ipods, and other forms of technology out almost the whole time.  Well, all of us but Candy.  She's the best at actually socializing and not focusing on technology when you're in a group of people.)

Here's a sweet picture of Lily playing with some hand-me-down dishes from cousins Liam and Gilly.  Lily loved her dishes.  She played with them the entire weekend.  The best was watching her with Nana and Papa.  They cooked all sorts of things together.

Something I discovered that made my day:  Roscoe loved Micaiah's bouncy seat!

Look at that goofy guy...  He would just kick and smile and look in the mirror and focus on the rattle.  The best part?  Candy said this is the cheapest WalMart bouncy seat.  Ha!  My child doesn't have expensive taste!  Yes!!!!!!!!!!!  By the way, Mom Grant, he's almost too big for the monkey outfit you bought him.  I think this is one of the last times he'll wear those little monkey feet pants. :(

He just cracks me up with his expressions.  And he looks like he's losing his hair!  He already looked like an old man, now he has a receding hairline.

A few more pictures from the trip:

Mom wanted a picture with both of the babies.  But it seemed one of them was always crying.  But babies don't always cooperate, so we decided to do it anyway, even though Roscoe wasn't pleasant at the time.

Love it.  Screaming Roscoe.  Chillin Micaiah.

A close up of the anger.  Work it, kid!

And sweet sleeping Micaiah.

Here's dad with Roscoe (L) and Micaiah (R).  It's hard to tell from this picture but Micaiah wasn't happy at all.

This picture was taken after Roscoe had been already been screaming for at least 20 minutes.  I decided to put him in the wrap and go walking around outside.  It took a few minutes, but it did work. 

I like this one of dad trying to comfort him :)

What a rough life babies have.  If only we understood.  Here I am trying to empathize.

It was definitely different taking a trip with a 5 week old.  I did make it out of the house with only 1 overnight bag, in addition to the diaper bag and my purse (of course).  For the first overnight trip I was quite proud of myself.  I guess it's easy though with a newborn since I didn't have to take any toys to entertain him.

I do regret not having gotten a picture of Candy and me with our babies.  Somehow that one got overlooked.  Guess that means they're going to have to come to SC to visit soon.  (Right, guys?)

phase 2, get to work

We're halfway through Mark's training.  He graduated from Phase 1 yesterday and will begin Phase 2 Monday.  So with that comes crunch time for me.  I've GOT to get Roscoe's room under control.  I know we'll live if it's not completely ready by the time he's born, but there's still something inside me telling me to get off the computer and get things straightened up.  Here's where it's at as of right now.

I have to begin with this.  These guys seem to have worn out their good behavior on the first 3 weeks, in my opinion.  It's actually probably not them.  It's more my loss of patience.  I'm sorry, dogs, but I just don't get excited about nothing like you do.  When I get up to move from the computer to the bed to take a nap, I don't want or need you to jump all around me like I've just told you we're going for a ride.  At any rate, when I got up this morning and started to clean some stuff up, the settled down like this, as if things were normal again and they could FINALLY take a good nap.

My mom and dad and father-in-law came over last week to help get the crib into the house and assembled.  Yes, I asked for that help.  Pat on the back, please?

A little apprehensive about this new piece of containment.  It's almost like he thinks it'll be a punishment pen for him.  Well, at least he hasn't done anything worth punishment since we assembled the crib.

And now for the current state of the baby's room.  A few more pictures.....

Not too bad.... Yes, the crib is the current home for the exercise ball.  Keeps it from rolling around!

Oops, sorry...... Sometimes Sherman wants to make his presence known.  Yes, Sherman, we know you're in here...

Ahhhhh, beautiful mess.  Keep it pilin' up....  Yes, those are Christmas ornaments.  They never got put up in the attic and for some reason people don't want me climbing up a ladder and into the ceiling to put boxes away....

My dresser, also with all sorts of baby stuff thrown on top.

Well there's the pictures.  So for anyone who asks "you have the baby room ready yet?"

No.