*Sappy Post Alert*

In case you haven't heard, we are moving to Chicago. As I pack my life away, I wonder what I will miss the most about this house or rather what is the ONLY thing I will miss about this house (aside from the memories)? Easy. Ben's nursery. How can one room have such a lasting effect on someone? Afterall, it's a room in a house. But this isn't just any old room. This is a room that was created out of L-O-V-E. Cheesy, yes, but oh so true. Before even the thought of Ben, his room was the worst in the house. A haven for every piece of crap I couldn't find a real home for (or that I couldn't throw away). When I became pregnant with Ben, I had vivid visions for that space. Before we knew he was a boy, I sketched the entire room down to the details of the pictures in a notebook (full color and all!). I spent many pregnant hours in that room sitting, painting, thinking, looking at baby clothes, dreaming in the glider... wondering what my life was going to be like once there was a real live baby to put in the crib. I wasn't the only one though. So many people came out to help us with this room- because as I mentioned, it was the worst in the house and needed a lot of help! The stripes on the wall were painted by my talented niece, the chair rail installed by my brother(s)-in law, the carpet ripped up and hard wood floor sanded and stained by my husband, brother-in law, and friend. Fan and light fixture installed by a friend, window treatment sewn by grandma, pictures of friends and family in the hospital with their babies carefully chosen, framed, and hung by me. Every clothing item and diaper that filled the drawers were bought for us by someone who cared. It was truly a room filled with love! There's no non-cheesy way to say it. And now, we leave it behind. It will only exist in the pictures that I show Ben one day. I hope it gives someone else as much happiness as it gave us.

A Blog via Blog

My Son is Gay

Do yourself a favor and read this blog post if you haven't already. Bad Ass is the only way I would describe that mom.

Although I don't at all relate to her as my son is *almost* 16 months old, I sadly have already heard comments regarding my BABY when I take out his pink sippy cup (it was the only one they had!), when I let him wear mardi gras beads, and was recently ridiculed because he doesn't own any trucks. Ok ridiculed is a slight exaggeration. BUT to those who think that girls should play with Barbies and boys with guns- keep eating your own boogers.