And Then There Were Six

Dusting off the MacBook and drafting a blog for the first time since the cold days of January. I even let my never-skipped quarterly Sweetest Things post slip by without nary a word. I don't have a great reason except that between my body growing increasingly foreign to me as I got closer to the birth of our son, and life just being a fluster of kids' activities and such, and my mood being less than cheerful, the blog just took a back seat. Like, in the far back.

Had I taken the time to blog over these last few months, posts such as: 

Mommy Has a Coke[acola} Problem

No, My Husband Was Not Trying for a Boy

My Birth Control Practices are Not Your Concern

My Son is Only Three Weeks Old, and I Already Hate His Wife 

Deez Nuts: A Lesson in an Enlightened Second Grade Girl's Vocabulary

would have been written for your reading pleasure. Alas, those ships have sailed as my Coke habit has drastically decreased (and somewhat been substituted with Dr. Pepper), and the other topics have become less emotion fueled. {Though, I may still opine on expanded vocabulary of our eight year old thanks to some all-too-wise little boys.} Yet, here I am: clickity clacking on the keys and getting back into the groove.

I'm not quite sure where this typing will lead. I know that my heart is heavy, so heavy, with all the senseless tragedy that is going on in our country. My mind is flooded with grief for lives lost and violence on every side. Yet, on a personal level, I am happier than I could have imagined I'd be since the addition of a sweet boy to our bunch. It doesn't hurt that said son is the sweetest, dimple-faced little man that ever there was who just happened to sleep a solid eleven hours last night. 

Half way through 2016, and life has been so full.

 

Bae and I at the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans over New Years.

A great getaway for us two, but a harsh loss for the Pokes.

A cold night cheering our hometown team to NFC victory.

Superbowl bound.

Go, Cam, go.

Roar. 

The Superbowl loss was heart wrenching.

Throughout the ups and downs of this season, we could always count on our littlest lady to bring a smile back to our faces.

Her costume changes are frequent

and unexpected

and rarely seasonally appropriate.

She's imaginative and creative

and sometimes even canine.

She likes to be 'the baby'

yet looks older by the day.

She took up fishing

and scootering

and soccer.

She is a social butterfly with a best friend list a mile long.

She truly makes us happy when skies are gray.

Fortunately, though, we experienced many more sunny than dark days.

We celebrated Daddy turning 37.

and Carter turning 8.

I got bigger and bigger and bigger

as my Baby Daddy got focused and determined and shrank before our eyes.

{Couldn't be more proud of my stud.}

A warm Saturday morning in February brought a gathering of the most important women in my life.

Surrounded by love as this amazing group showered baby boy and me.

Hostesses and Life Groupers.

Roommates for years. Love these girls so much. See them far too little.

Girls from grad school.

Love our sustained connection.

Denise Penino. 

There aren't enough words to describe what she means to me.

Dawn. My second spouse.

This girl keeps me going on the daily.

And, my Mama. Besties since birth. 

{My birth, not hers.}

Then there's my other best girl. The one who describes our relationship as that we have the same heart.

Miss Murphy is looking way too old these days.

She began joining Carter for afternoons spent in the creek

and got muddier than I ever imagined she would.

She mastered the two wheeler

and her reading skills took off.

She often gathered her 'friends' for story time.

But her first love continues to be a Saturday evening spent with Mom at Nordstrom.

She's a perfect mix of sassy 

and silly.

She's selective of her friends,

and her happy is THE happiest.

She kissed preschool goodbye

as she graduated from TK.

We get each other. Really get each other. And life without her would be no life at all.

Then, on April 11, our family dynamic was forever changed.

I met my son.

Hatch Hughes Lewellen.

6 pounds 11 ounces of pure joy.

The baby meeting the baby.

I never thought she'd be a big sister and have loved watching her rock her new role.

Doting: day one.

Meeting Aunt Lala. She loves my babies as I love hers.

[We had no idea that she was 24 hours from a second cancer diagnosis.]

Tiny toes headed home.

The months since Hatch's arrival have been a mix of craziness and exhaustion and indescribable bliss. Watching all of our girls fall in love with this little man has brought his daddy and me more joy than I can describe. 

Fresh and new on Carter's birthday.

She loves him SO. BIG.

A movie mate for Murphy

and a future bestie for the silly one.

Our little gowned man

quickly grew

and expanded his wardrobe selections.

His cheeks filled out

and baby pudge began to appear.

Daddy is his consistent resting place

and smiles most often grace his face.

He looks great in bright orange.

{As if it was an option. Go Pokes.}

And he has completed our family.

Really. We are complete. Done. Four is plenty. 

For a blog that I thought would lead nowhere, I sure covered a lot of life; highs and lows, happy and sad. In a world so fraught with trouble, sorrow, heartache, where there seems to be more questions than answers, these five are my safe place. They are my harbor. And, even when they are at their craziest and having me question my own sanity, they are my peace.