What. A. Dog.

My Sweet Layla Girl,

Everyone knows dogs can't live forever. But, somehow, I was just kind of hoping you would.

I often think of you as the start of a love story, you know. In 2003 you were living with Cici (you remember; the one who spoiled you like none other) because Dada was living in the barracks. She went on a vacation and needed a dog sitter, so I spent a week taking care of you. That was the spark that reignited an interest in me for Dada, and the rest is history. Maybe you sparked my interest in him, or maybe I actually just used him to get to you. We'll never really know, will we?

You've been with us since the beginning. You've been with us every step of the way. You were the mediator between 2 cats who were learning to live together when we bought our first home. You were gentle and loving when we brought out first baby home, and despite the tail-jerks and face-slaps you never got tired or annoyed by our growing family. You comforted me and protected me when Dada was in Afghanistan; you even woke me up to let me know there were some hooligans at the corner of our backyard at 3am. You crammed your big ol' body in the back of our cars for all of our road trips, and you were the sweetest dog to Mimi when we stopped at her house along the way. I don't even know if Mimi liked dogs, but she loved you, "Leasle".

You made the trek from Texas to Colorado more than your fair share of times, and then made the long haul to the west coast. You watched William grow, and loved every stage of his development (probably the stage immediately following tail-pulling the most). Then you welcomed another Wallis baby with an open heart...and...whoops, one more. Your patience never wore thin and you have loved those kids more than I knew a dog could.

I wish I could say, with honesty, that there's nothing in the world you loved more than a Wallis baby - but too many know that to not be true. Let's get real. You loved yourself some bread. Hot dog buns anyone? You loved yourself some accidentally-left-out snacks(pizza, Corinne?) You could throw back a 10lb brisket and chocolate chip cookie brownies better than I've ever seen. You had a stomach of steel - truthfully, our pride almost outweighed our annoyance. We almost thought you had met your match and we'd lose you to a whole, cooked rotisserie chicken (bones and all!) You even shocked us by surviving that one, though! In fact, over the last 5 years people were very weary of dog sitting for fear you may die on their watch. 

But no, not you, Layla. You stuck it out. Then, when you heard you could make your way back to Killeen you stuck it out even stronger. "One final victory lap before I go," you thought. This is where your journey started, and you were pretty hell-bent that this was where it was going to end. You made it, Layla. You made it home.

My heart is going to break a little bit every time I open that door and don't see your face there to greet us. A piece of me will cry when I put the kids to bed and don't see you standing guard outside their doors. I'll even hurt the first time I realize I don't have to hide my fresh baked goods in the microwave to protect them from you. You have been with us every step of the way, and I can't imagine you not being here as we continue to make this place home. And now you are finally pain free.

You may have been Austin's dog, but you were very much my companion and I hope you know my heart hurts for you. We gave you some extra treats, a little party, and lots of extra love today. We painted your paw prints so we will always have you in our home. And, I hope you know, we sobbed as we let you go. Even though we've gotten busier and you've gotten slower, nothing has changed the fact that we love you more than words can even say. You are a part of this family. Everyone says this, but I know it's true when it's about you: you're one for the record books. You're the best of the best. They say all dogs go to Heaven, Layla, but I don't know for sure if that's true. One thing I do know, though, is they've got a spot up there for you.

Now go run through those pearly gates. Run like your hips don't hurt. Run like you don't have a tumor. And go enjoy a feast of chicken, brisket, and hamburger buns then indulge in some brownies for dessert. Thanks for taking such good care of us, and thanks for being so hard to let go.

You have my heart,

Mommy

A little bit more grace

AI can't be very detailed on this topic, but I'll write what I think I can.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I was a little bit of a teacher's pet growing up. I know! I know, pick your chin up off the floor. I was the kid who liked to clean the chalk boards for teachers, took class work home to grade (seriously...is this really allowed???), jumped up at literally every opportunity to help, lead other kids by example, and embraced teachers at the end of the year with tear filled eyes as we said goodbye. You could say I was a brown noser, but my intent was never to better myself or get a leg up on anyone - I just genuinely liked being helpful to my teachers. 

My friends' parents always liked me. I can think of one instance when a mom didn't care much for me - and it drove me MAD. Same for teachers - junior year English teacher Mrs Gonzales - she just didn't like me. Made me a crazy person! My mom's friends usually loved me, and vice versa. And when I got to the age to start working, bosses have always liked me. Again - I've never sucked up to bosses in an effort to better my status with them or get some sort of special treatment. I just want to be the best I can I suppose, and I like to be helpful. So, it is safe to say that with the exception of one boyfriend's mom and one teacher, I've never faced much adversity in the arena of authority figures.

However, right now with work I am facing some serious adversity. My boss and I are on the same team, we are in the adversity together and trying to support each other. But we are both very worn down from it. This weekend I prayed a lot for more grace to show to the people we are dealing with. I guess praying for grace is like praying for patience: instead of being filled up with grace, I was slapped with the need for even more than I knew I'd need within the first 10 minutes of my day yesterday. It seems to be that way every day.

Some of my stories are comical, they're so absurd. I wish I could write about some! Maybe I'll share the best (or worst?) at the end of all of this. For now, though, I need to be focusing on things like perseverance, grace, patience...and taking a swig of humble juice as I face the reality that...damn it...I may just not be the favorite person here. I may not be the perfect person for what they think they need. Instead, I need to focus on doing what I can do as well as I can do it and let the rest shake out.

I'll need a lot of prayer and support though. And even though I can't write a lot about it now, I'm praying that my boss and I can see this through and create as good of an ending to this story as possible. 10 years from now, I want to look back on this season and see all that I learned and how much I grew. 

Scratch that - 1 year from now. I want to be on the other side and be thankful for the adversity 1 year from now. Most of all, I want to be able to say that I was filled with grace. Just a little more grace.

Dilemma

Whoever decided I should have 2 Summer babies and live on the equator (or what feels like it!) must have had it out for me. I wouldn't have this dilemma if I had 2 December babies, or if I lived in Antarctica. Just putting that out there.

But, here's my dilemma: I don't want to be a mom who misses out on half the fun with my kids because I'm too unhappy in my body to wear a swimsuit. The problem is, I'm too unhappy in my body to wear a swimsuit, and I have a beach birthday party coming up for, not one, but TWO of our babies. That's a lot of fun to be had.

If 'beach birthday bash' meant hanging out on the beaches of Monterey I could get by in a cute flowing skirt with a shirt that covers my upper arms, jewelry and accessories to draw your eyes exactly where I want them, and my hair could be down and styled beautifully. (Or as beautifully as I know how) 

But. Beach birthday bash means Galveston. It means hot. It means humid. It means I won't last 10 minutes before my hair is in a ponytail, and any added accessories just mean added sweat. There are people out there who manage to maintain cuteness in Galveston, and those are the people who seem to have been made for this climate. Me? I sweat like a... What's the end of that analogy? Like a man. Like a gorilla. Like someone who just ran a marathon in Florida. That's me. 

For all reasons other than myself, I am SO excited for the party. I love the beach. I love being outside. I'm excited for my kids to run in the sand, dabble in the water, build castles, get dirty, and I'm so excited to celebrate these 2 little loves. I don't want to miss it! But I don't want to think about swimsuits either.

So, for anyone who fits any of the above descriptions...anyone who knows the cutest bathing suits are made for size A chests...anyone who knows one year post partum is a crappy place to be...anyone who has ever felt better after buying a swimsuit than before...I need your help. Where do I shop? What do I look for? How do I embrace this season without cringing and crying and debating a food ban? 

Anyone at all...

Nancy Reagan

In 2004 I became a cat mom for the first time on my own. Through way of Alexis, I took in a wild little orange kitten who had more personality than a lot of humans. He became mine on the day of Ronald Reagan's funeral, so he was Reagan. Reagan eventually decided life in the wild was more his thing, and he left our family for the great outdoors of California back in 2012.

But, when we were in Colorado, Reagan gained a feline friend when we bought our first house. During our house visits, this cat would not leave us alone. She followed us, room to room, and jumped on our laps anytime we sat down. She was malnourished, had gotten sick all over the house, and was not well taken care of all around. But, she was the sweetest cat I'd ever seen, and she stole our hearts. We didn't care for her name, so we decided to give her the only name that was suitable to go with Reagan. Nancy became the fifth member of our family, weighed in around 6 pounds soaking wet, and she ruled the roost. Reagan and Layla knew immediately that their new home was actually Nancy's home. Layla, who has 70 pounds on nancy on a good day, bowed out of the running for the water bowl anytime nancy entered the room, and somehow fat boy Reagan was trained to walk away from the water bowl if Nancy needed a nibble.

We were told by the former owners of the house that it was good we didn't have kids, because Nancy hated kids. We were also told to watch out for Layla because she didn't care for dogs either. While the latter wasn't too far off (Layla grew on her after a few swipes at her face) I have never seen a cat love babies and kids like Nancy. 

She has had her tail pulled, her fur man-handled, her ears yanked, and has otherwise been squished and pushed and pulled for 6 years straight. Our kids adore their Nancy, and the best way they know how to show that is through physical abuse. 

But, Nancy has kept her claws in and patiently allowed the kids to treat her however they would like. She didn't just endure it, she loved it.

They fed her Cheerios when she was hungry.

She kept them company while they napped.

She offered a soft pillow to rest their heads. 

And overall, she just wanted to be wherever they were.

Nancy quietly and peacefully left us today. She spent her last day resting in our laundry room and left in the middle of the night, drama free in her usual fashion. She was 16 years old, and we got to be with her for the last 9 of those. She was an incredibly loved cat, but we were the fortunate ones. Nancy will be dearly missed, I'm just pretty sure by me the most.

9 months going on 2 years

I guess even at infancy babies can hear their parents and choose to defy them. I've been talking for months about how teeny tiny Loretta is and how she's still my itty bitty thing. She heard and responded with, 'I may be little but I am fierce'.

This week Loretta has decided to grow up. Just a few weeks ago we could barely get her to sit on her own. She knew how, she just had no interest in doing things alone. Now she crawls, climbs stairs, wants to walk, doesn't want to drink bottles, eats meals like grilled chicken with avocado, pasta and pears for lunch, and sits in the playroom playing with her big brothers. She's a big girl, and she's SO proud of herself.

She had her 9 month check up today. She weighed a whopping 16.5 pounds, bringing her in between the 5-10%. But, she shot up the last 3 months and is now in the 90% for height and head size!

She loves her brothers more than life and she's soaking up her new opportunities to follow them around and join in on all of their fun. This week she started taking bath with them and she couldn't love it more. I look at her and wonder, 'is that how much I adored Brandon and brian??' Must be. It's incredible!

She's our sweet little love bug and I can't say enough how blessed we are to have had her come into our family exactly when she did. Love explosions daily with that sweet face around.

And look at this tiny heiny?!?!?!

Happy Fake Birthday, Layla!

Between the military, 3 kids, and other boring things I find amusing I don't write about our furry friends much. Or ever. But, we do have 2 4-legged furry creatures who call this place home too, and sometime around now one of them is celebrating her 14th birthday in human years.

She's a dog. So that's what, 105 in dog years? I never did key into that calculation or logic. Anyway.

I literally have a draft of a blog I started back in September titled "What. A. Dog" in preparation of our having to take Layla out to pasture. But, like the cat with 9 lives, Layla is still alive and kickin'. I'd say thriving, but I think that's a slight overstatement. Anyway, I decided rather than only write a tribute to our incredible dog with tears in my eyes and stained on my desk, why not give her a big shout out in honor of the 4th anniversary of the year she should have died?

We were told when she was 10 that she likely didn't have much longer, so we have been awaiting her impending death for 4 years now. Do you know how awkward that is? There have been so many times we've looked at each other, hearts in our throats, and gave each other the "it's almost that time" nod. You know the nod. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I think Layla knows the nod too. I think she's seen us do it every time, and I think it gives her the surge she needs just to get back up and fight some more.

Layla is the best dog. I know everyone says that. Owen Wilson even joked about it in the movie Marley and Me. So maybe, it's possible, someone else out there has a better dog. But truth be told, I've yet to see it. What makes Layla the best dog? I think it's her heart and her patience. She's patient when William climbs on her back. She's patient when Charles pulls on her tail. She's patient when Loretta uses her as an aid to stand up. Most of all, she's patient when the 3 previously mentioned minions make me forget I haven't fed her in 2 days and her water bowl has been licked dry.

She's not perfect. She's got a sweet tooth, and a carb tooth, and an anything-human-within-my-reach tooth. And if you think there's anything OUT of her reach, you're in for something. I once tucked Austin's birthday cake in the corner of the kitchen counter, back in the verrrry back part of the corner, and had it barricaded by various items to deter her. What did I come home to? A PERFECTLY cleaned cake pan sitting on the kitchen floor. You would never have known I had baked a cake in it that morning. There was also the time she hid half of a brisket in Austin's recliner, saving some for later I can only assume. And there are  countless stories of friends who dog-sat her who feared she'd die on their watch, only to find she has enough kick in her step to reach bread, pizza, brownies, or anything else left on the counter.

Why, just this morning I came home to my pampered chef baking stone shattered on the floor because I absent mindedly left the biscuits sitting out when we ran William to school.

She's got a stomach of steel and can handle anything. Chocolate chip cookie brownie fudge layered dessert? 5 pounds of smoked brisket? A WHOLE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN, cooked, bones included? Yep, she can handle it like a champ.

Despite her eating habits, she is the most loving, patient, forgiving and likeable dog I've ever known. She protected me from thugs on the street corner when Austin was deployed, she nudged me for hugs when I cried in lonliness, she has welcomed home all of our babies (with only slight twinges of jealousy) and she is loyal to Austin no matter how many times he leaves her.

Layla is the best dog, and I am not sure if I'm not astonished or thankful that she's made it this long. I would say I think this is her last birthday, but I've thought that for the last 5 years. So, I bet she's got a few more in her. In any case, happy fake birthday Layla - in honor of whenever the real one is. We love you!

Journaling Prompt

My goal was to write more, right? And sometimes I have trouble coming up with ideas. So, I'm just following a few online prompts and when one pops up that I like I think I'll jump on it. They may be cheesy or boring to read, but I'm hoping that re-ignites the writer in my brain so I can come up with more fun stuff (like how William isn't afraid of jail!)

If you could describe yourself in one paragraph what would it say?

How long is a paragraph?

The two best things I could say about myself are that I am loyal and hard working. When I commit to something, even if its a brand of hair products, I am dedicated and loyal. I work hard to be the best I can at everything I do, and that is a cliché understatement. Rarely do I think I completed a job, project or task fast enough or well enough which means the next time I try I work even harder to improve. While this is overall a good trait, sometimes this results in me being so task oriented that I forget people are involved. I have been accused of lacking emotion or feeling (by more than one person!) and I can say for sure that is not the case. I have a lot of emotion and a lot of feeling, however it is not what  drives me and it often takes a back seat to what logically makes sense. My loyalty is strongest to those I love, but I don't forgive easily and I have no problem cutting people out without looking back. Thankfully, marriage teaches a lot about forgiveness, as the giver and receiver, which has helped me to grow in other relationships, too. I'm not perfect, but I try to be. Therein lies my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness.

How'd I do?