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Weeman is 5!!!

My sweet baby. 5 years old! Your Birthday was April 14, and Mama has some making up to do. A month has almost passed with no mention of you entering big boy-hood. You, my little love bug, are my joy, my happiness. You warm my heart to no end and I am just so blessed God chose me to be your mama! As I parent you, or rather love on you, I still catch myself gasping at what a kind compassionate boy you are. You are the one who gives hugs and kisses to hurt people. (me). You love your Angel bear. You are sensitive. Caring. I can’t wait to see the big boy and then man God has made you to be. You love baseball. You run FAST. You don’t react fast, as you are always thoughtful in your response. Rather that be to hit your brother or run to first base. You want to make you are doing the right thing. Or better, equally measured. For this, I adore you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for bringing so much light into my life and for being such a cuddlebug. You make my heart melt daily, and I am so overcome that God chose me, to mother you. I love you forever and always.

Thankful, Weeman


In the sports arena, this would mean testicle shrinkage, and premature balding. Oh and bigger muscles. But in the White house, this means more energy, a whole lotta dinero being dropped at hippie vegetable selling markets and a lot of labor for one cup of liquid vegetables. This miracle juice makes all kinds of promises…so I had to try it out since everyone is doing it, and I am a follower like that.

It will use up every square ince of fridge space
It will take you 15 minutes to prep/ put together a recipe
 It will take you 2 minutes to actually shove the stuff through the shoot, the fun part.
15 minutes to choke down this madness

 Oh and surprise! You have another 15 minutes of dishwashing ahead of you. Don’t worry, you get to start this runaround 1 hour later because you are STARVING. People who say it fills them up, you LIE. This disruption in normal lifestyle does give you an energy boost equivalent to a pot of coffee, tried and true. I don’t know about the weightloss because everything is still a little flabby. My skin is no clearer, and truthfully I am starting to doubt all this hooplah is worth it. Knuckles to all you diehards out there.


My little Weeman

turns 4 tomorrow. <<<Stomach punch>>> I am the freak mom who cries at every milestone. I cry because I mourn the loss of the fleeting moments. They go by SO fast. I do not need an 85 year old to tell me that. I KNOW. Someone find the pause button!!!!!!!

Dear Sweet Boy,
You absolutely own my heart. {And your daddy’s.} God has given you such a sweet soul. You are tender, loving, and precious to me and all who know and love you. From the time you were a newborn to who you are today, nothing has changed in terms of your steady gentle spirit. God has knit your character together far better than anything me or dad could ever take credit for. You have a sensitive, caring nature that is organic and I just want to pinch myself each time I catch myself watching you be you.  You have always, (I bolded that on purpose), been a joy for me and dad, each stage has been fun and each year goes by way too fast. You love trucks. Cars. Pushing toys. You actually play with your sister. Even though she slaps you from time to time, you still kiss her and love on her and get down on the floor with her. You are her buddy and that melts my heart to no end. You start each sentence with the word, “actually, “, and you always say “excuse me” before you start to talking to me or daddy. You have a righteous side that loves to see justice served. Rather that be to your brother or another perp. You end each night with “hey mommy, what about goodnight hugs and kisses?” -even if I just spent 20 minutes loving on  you. You are not afraid to cry, and do not get a hard heart when you are wrong. You cried to me yesterday because you told me you did not want to turn 4. You did not see, but I cried too. I don’t want you to turn 4 either, I want to freeze this cherished time where I get to just be your mommy. I might not be the best, or brightest, but I love you the best and more than any mommy could ever love you. It scares me that I have to share the time I do have with you with another child. You still need me, and that blesses me to no end! I promise to always make special time with just you and me.
You are the apple of my eye, and I am in love with the little boy you are. I praise God for the gift of motherhood, and for the gift of your life specifically. I am not worthy, but I am grateful. Happy Birthday to you, I love you through and through.


Weeman’s 3rd Birthday parties (late-oops)

Well, I was waiting to post about this until I got the thank you notes out for the party, and you guessed it, I have not done that YET. I am a loser. So here they are. The farthest thing from a pinterest’d out B-day bash, this is a good old 80’s style party-like you and I used to have back in the day. Complete with a costco cake and the best friends a family could ask for. SERIOUSLY, the BEST!  
          oops, didn’t get the angels uniform memo.

Manly bonding.

One of our favorite families: the Schoenings!

Cool dad award goes to…Eugene!
buds fo’ life.
Sweet Nanny!
Some of my favorite girls!

The aftermath
Round 2!

For the record, we are letting B dress himself 10% of the time and this is why.

Mamabird made this card. Crazy, right? 
Forget the ice cream, give me sprinkles.
Happy Birthday to the sweetest little boy. Your mommy and daddy love you!


This week

can disappear. I mean NOT disappear, because my middle child…{WHEN did that happen?!}…turns 3 Saturday. Sweet Weeman. Poor little guy, always getting the shaft, or maybe I am just apologizing for reality. The newest reality he gets to absorb is that his precious binkie is getting yanked never to return.  That’s rigggghhht…We aren’t even making it magical with a fairy and money and stuff. 😉 We be hardcore like that.
Back to my fantastic week; Hoping at this Saturday’s Birthday party, {we are not doing to offset hard feelings from the binkie trauma} I can play fun mommy in my outbreak gear circa 1995, Rene Russo style.
Seriously though-can I wave my pity party flag? Why, thank you for obliging.
Monday: Flu
Tuesday: REALLY bad flu. Big Stink stayed home to help with our village.
Wednesday: pretty little red sores all over my hands, mouth and feet. JOY!
Thursday: Diagnosis-You guessed it. Oh and the pain. Ohhhh, the pain. I am especially excited the sores in my mouth are not as painful, (so I can still stuff my face), but the sores on my feet rival child birth, (so I can’t work out.) Thus, Operation.Get.Porky commences.

After rereading this post, I sound like a whiner. I am thankful I don’t have mersa, gangreen, or something equally as crazy. I know there is a reason for all this or a reason He is allowing this to go down-I trust our good God who is faithful and just. And if this is payback for my teenage and college shenanigans, I have a looooooong year ahead of me;)