I interrupt this broadcast...

....to say that we're in Louisiana, or at home- as I like to call it, visiting family. I'll be back soon and promise to have lots of pictures and the funniest of funny stories to share. 

However, right now I'm super busy doing things like this:

....you know- the super important stuff in life.

Seeing Pink

So, in case day-to-day life at home battling the heat with two babies isn't enough fun for all, H decided to spice things up a bit....by getting pink eye. It started out in one eye and then jumped on over to say hello to the other.

And in case that wasn't enough, she can always count on her big sis. to make sure there is never a dull moment....because how on earth would we manage even a moment without drama of some sort? Some days I can't even remember what that's like.

Poor little pinkie can't catch a break.

Here's hopin' the pink eye hits the road STAT-- we're hoping to head out of town in a few days, but no one wants a crusty-eyed baby sleeping in their guest room.

Happy weekend to all! Hope you see much less pink at your house than we do at ours.

Who Needs New York?

Since she was a wee one, the Libster has had an undeniable love for one thing: dress up.

Other fads have come and gone, but to date, this is one is here to stay.

What is it with girls and our desire to be someone we're not?

A princess, a fairy, a bumble bee, a rock star, a cowgirl.....

Why is it not enough to just be who we are?

 I mean, don't get me wrong- there's not much that's cuter than Libby sporting pantie hose that are two sizes too small and a backwards cat costume, but still I'd love to think that she'll one day be content to be nothing more than Libby.

My wish for her (there are many, but I try to limit myself to one wish per post) is that she, unlike so other many great girls out there, will ultimately be happy with herself.

One of my biggest fears for her as she prepares to start kindergarten this fall is the idea that little girls are mean, plain and simple. They say hurtful things, pull hair, whine, tease, and yell. They point out anything that can pass as a fault and pick, pick, pick until someone cries.

They're hateful, cruel, and down-right no fun at all.

I don't think it matters if you're the most beautiful, brilliant, fabulous girl out there, the truth is the truth, and being a girl is tough stuff.

I'm dreading the first day she comes home crying about being teased and picked on at school;  I know it will chip away at the ticker in my chest.

But for now, I sit and do the only thing I know to do: I love the heck out of her and try to instill in her that she is wonderful in so many ways, no matter what anyone might say.

I want her to love herself despite her half curly, half straight, all messy hair that she inherited from yours truly.

I hope she can be proud of the fact that she's sillier than most and can outsmart a Rubik's cube...at age four.

I pray she'll be able to laugh at herself when she trips and pick herself up when she falls.

And I hope she'll be able to see that she is one heck of an amazing kid despite what society will tell her she's 'supposed' to be.

I know this won't last forever; her days of dress up are limited, no matter how much I hate to admit it.

Until the day when dress up is no longer 'cool', I'll keep my camera handy and try not to complain about picking up the ump-teenth pair of 'fancy shoes'.

And until that dreaded day comes, you'd better move over New York- here comes Libby- the coolest five-year-old I know.

Beat the Heat

I'm not sure what you're up to this summer: vacationing, sailing, kicking back, working hard-- who knows. I don't know where you live or what you enjoy, dislike, or love dearly. However, I'm willing to bet that no matter where you are or what you're doing, we can agree on thing:

it sure is hot these days.

Here's what we've been doing in our feeble attempt to beat the heat.

* we've been going through water balloons like ravenous beasts.....

..... and secretly hoping we get hit with every single one of them

* we've been staying as wet as possible...

....and slippin' and slidin' 'til our little bellies are bruised....

 

....but we have fun anyway

* we've been eatin' popsicles like they're going out of style...

... and we even let the little one in on the action

...and in case there was any doubt, she loved every slurp

Here's hoping you and yours have as much fun attempting to stay cool as we have.

The Former Me

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named McCall.

She had big blue eyes, big golden curls, and even bigger dreams.

She was often funny and somewhat interesting, and had the world at her fingertips.
And then she grew up, got married, and had kids.

Bye bye free time.

Bye bye 'me' time.

Bye bye social life.

Ok, so really it's not as dramatic as all that.

However, life sure does change when you have kids.

I mean, people ALWAYS told me this, but I never believed them.

I mean, I knew it would change in obvious ways: sleep, house, daily life, etc.

What I was not nearly as aware of was that having kids literally takes your life, inserts it into one of those Christmas snow globes you may or may not love, and shakes the ever living stew out of it.

Sometimes, when I'm not busy changing diapers or force feeding my baby with a spoon (still a work in progress), I take a mental step back and barely recognize the person I've become.

It's not that I don't like this grown-up version of me, it's just that she's so different than the me of days gone by.  I know the 'former me' is in there somewhere, sometimes begging to come out, but right now she's up to her elbows in "no" and "stop that" and can't come to the phone.

Here are a few "former self" loves that I simply can't seem to fit into my schedule these days:

1. TRAVELING

I miss seeing the world. I miss hotel rooms and airplane rides.

 I miss the art of packing for one and traveling free from the ninety pounds of this and that a baby requires for even a one night voyage. I miss not having to schedule my time away from home around naps and nursing.

 I miss walking all day and taking in more than my mind can comprehend in one twenty-four hour period.

2. MY NEWEST VENTURE

I live on a whim.

I'm the kind of girl who randomly gets an idea and loves to act on it.

It calls to me in the night and beckons to me all day until I finally give in to whatever it may be.

This hasn't stopped with the onset of kiddos, but it HAS gotten way more difficult to shut the whims up and make them go away and even more difficult to actually act on them.

Need an example?

Latest whim: playing the guitar.

After months of begging and pleading with the Mister,

I finally convince him that my life will just not be complete without a guitar.

I get it.

We start to bond.

And then I get pregnant again.

Nice.

Bye bye last five remaining minutes of daily free time.

3. DO NOTHING DAYS

I miss sleeping in and not feeling guilty when I wake up.

I miss having nothing on my planner and staying in my pajamas all day by choice and not because I literally couldn't find a moment to squeeze in a shower.

I miss sipping coffee 'til noon and reading an entire book in one beautiful, uninterrupted sitting.

I miss days when the most important, pressing thing I had to do was watch The Real World on MTV.

4. ROAD TRIPS

I'm not necessarily referring to the kind of road trip that takes you far away;

I'm talking about the kind that randomly takes you to the movies or the store late at night

or across town in search of the perfect whatever.

I miss being able to pick up and go when the mood strikes.

 I miss living in a way that was unplanned and unstructured, or at least a way that allowed for such living.

I miss lazy afternoons turning into grand adventures.

5. GIRL TIME

I miss my girls.

I miss giggling 'til I almost wet my pants or 'til someone shoots Coke out of her nose.

 I miss talking about absolutely whatever instead of who's potty training.

I miss girl trips for spring break and getting all dressed up for a night of who knows what.

I still see them from time to time, but it's not nearly as often as I'd like,

and it's never without the feeling that I need to be home with my new girls....

you know, the ones who call me 'mom' instead of 'Mac'.

However, no matter how much I miss the old me, I am happy with the updated version.

And I mean it when I say I'd happily trade all of  that for some of this:

And a whole heaping spoonful of this:

Being a mom may not always be glamorous, glorious, or filled with glee.

In fact, there will be days that are no fun at all.

 There will be times when I question whether or not I'm really qualified for this and whether God really gave me the patience I'll need to make it out alive.

However, there's a joy that comes with this adventure that none of those old adventures can even dare to compete with in any way, shape, or form.

And to put it simply, trading that life for this life?

Well.....let's just say I got the better deal of the two.

My Beloved is Mine

Tomorrow is a big day in our house: the anniversary.

It's the day we celebrate not only that we are married

but that we still love each other after another year has been added to the stack.

And this year has been a big 'un;

the surprise pregnancy brought

the surprise baby brought

 the surprise major readjusting and new daily juggling.

And with new surprises comes new responsibility.

And we all know responsibilities are not always the most fun of all.

However, responsibilities are better when shared with my one and only.

If you've listened carefully, you've heard me say this before:

I respect this man like no other.

I think that's how I knew he was THE one and not just the NEXT one.

 He's smart like no one I've ever known.

He loves God and reminds me on a regular basis to do the right thing.

He holds me accountable

and knows how to tell me I'm wrong in just the right way

so that instead of getting mad, I get inspired to do better.

But bigger and better than all that, he GETS me.

He doesn't try to change me or mold me or shape me.

 He's ok with

the fact that I'm not always the neatest kid on the block,

the idea that I sometimes get so engulfed with a project of sorts that I forget what time it is,

the notion that every so often I'm just downright grumpy and need a minute (or many),

the concept that I've been known to talk on the phone for hours at a time,

the thought that I need girl time on occasion,

and the theory that I like my music louder than most.

He accepts the idea that we don't and won't always see eye-to-eye.

But, we've gotten pretty good at the whole communicaton thing,

and I like to think we're a nice balance:

I'm more of a talker, and he's more of a listener.

He's also one heck of a good daddy to our little girls.

There is just something magical about the way my girls love their daddy.

It's like their little hearts were designed with a "my daddy is the most special person on this planet" button that he somehow managed to push at birth when I wasn't looking.

To say they adore him is such the understatement.

I guess I can't blame them; I happen to adore him as well.

 

He comforts me in a way I've never knew existed.

He's like the world's best paci, blankie, binky, and lovie all rolled into one-

and he belongs to me.

I think he deserves a trophy some days for putting up with me....well, us.

To be honest and lay it all out there, Libby is me in little person form.

And some days, she's a handful.

Yeah, that would be me.

So, in theory, he's getting a double dose of me....with a scoop of Hollyn to serve as the cherry on top.

For while Libby is me made over, Hollyn is Lee.

Lib and I ride a roller coaster through life-

we know every emotion there is-- sometimes all in one day.

Yet H and Lee know two: fine and furious.

And even though Lee is so different from me and Libby

that it's sometimes hard to fathom the notion that we're of the same species,

he's learning to see life from our perspective...

or at least learning to fake excitement when he knows we need it most.

He never ceases to surprise me.

And I am so in love with the fact that even after all this time,

 I'm still learning new things about him.

We are NOT old hat-- In fact, I believe we're just getting warmed up, folks.

From the outside looking in, many will say and some have already said

that we seem like we don't add up all that well, 

 but I disagree.

For you see, whoever it was that said opposites attract.....well, he was talking about us.

This fella is so my kind of funny.

And his little kid grin makes my heart go pitter patter.

So 'baby cakes', here's to you and me.

We're another year older,

another year stronger,

another year closer,

and another year US.

And I meant it when I told you that YOU are truly one of my greatest gifts.

Thanks for being my better half and for loving me so much it hurts.

You are my beloved, and my beloved is mine.

Dear McCall, age 18

Dear 'About to Go to College' McCall,

This is it. You're about to set foot on one of the greatest adventures you'll ever know: college. Your world as you know it is about to be rocked in more ways than you can possibly imagine.

During the next five years (Yes, five. Deal with it. You're gonna change your major one semester shy of graduation. This will be scary and you will feel a slight sense of failure here, but don't worry- it all works out in the end.), you're going to meet the greatest friends you'll ever know. They'll come in all shapes and sizes, be all ages, and be from all walks of life. Some of them will prove to be truer than others, some will thoroughly disappoint, and some you will still talk to daily twelve years from now.These few will become a part of you and will in many ways mold you into the girl you'll be when you're all grown up and doin' your thing.  But, you'll learn something about yourself from each of them. You'll find that you're very, very lucky in the friend department.

Don't take French. Or at least if you DO take French, don't skip class. This will not end well. Take my word for it. The same goes for ballet- don't register for this class; it'll be the only class you drop in college. Save yourself the frustration and just say no. You'll only get your feelings hurt when your teacher tells you that you're too short to ever be taken seriously as a ballerina. Yes, I realize you're not trying to be taken seriously and are only trying to get a fine arts credit, but it will hurt your feelings nonetheless.

As for boys, there will be several. Some will be good; one in particular will be very bad. I wish I could tell you you'd one day look back on this relationship and say you're glad you went there, but don't hold your breath.....it's not gonna happen. You will get your heart broken; you'll also realize there's someone out there who is so much better for you and will be so much better to you. This too will pass.  On the good side, there will be a few who will teach you to be better. Your hubby will appreciate them one day, whether he admits it or not. They'll teach you to love with your whole heart, back down when necessary, and choose your battles very carefully. They'll love you just for being you and help you to see that you are going to be ok, no matter what life has in store: past, present, and future. Be good to them even though they're not your Mr. Right. For one day, you WILL find him. He is out there, although right now he's thinking you don't exist.

Spend as much time with your girlfriends as you possibly can; one day not too far from now you'll be willing to give just about anything to have so many people you love living just down the hall from you. Take advantage of this as often as possible. Stay up late giggling, skip class to share secrets, and ditch the boys for the girls. Those boys don't matter; these girls do.

Don't waste time hating your hair. Twelve years from now, you're still gonna hate it. So any time you spend on this will simply be wasted. Spend that time instead doing something fun, like taking random trips to Starkville, putting on puppet shows for Summers, asking Rebecca to teach you how to  play the guitar, creating something with Ashley, playing pool with Jennifer, or realizing you and Kara have so much in common that it's scary.

Write, write, and then write some more. Don't spend the next five years just writing for class. I know being an English major means writing a few papers a week, but stop whining and write some more anyway. It's what you've always wanted, remember? Ok, so take off the blinders, stop making excuses, and write just a little everyday, even if it's for no one but Y-O-U.

Call home more. I know that you and your mom may not always see eye-to-eye right now, but one day you will. And one day you'll regret only calling home when you needed something and not just to hear her voice.

Stop wasting time questioning your desire to be a teacher and just do it already. You won't regret it. I'd be lying if I said you'd enjoy it every single day, but it will lead you to some wonderful people whom you will truly love. Those kids will make you happy, will make you better, and will bring out the best in you.  And you'll get to talk about books and writing all day, and you know you like the sound of that.

Hold true to who you are. I know there will be people and things that tempt you to be someone else and not hold true to your core values, but get a tight grip on what's important to you and refuse, above all else, to let go of who you are at the heart of you. Ignore these people and turn away from these things. Run if you have to....

Wear your skinny jeans every single day and eat all of the chocolate chip cookies you can stand. Trust me. That twenty-two year old body of yours won't hang around for forever, and even though it'll be hard to admit and you may even deny it at times, you'll miss it one day.

Above all else, have fun.....and try to learn a few things.   Get ready, little one, you are about to have some of your greatest adventures.  You're about to become YOU.

Keep your chin up and enjoy every stinkin' minute,

'No longer a Kid' McCall

In  case you're wondering, I was inspired to take this journey down memory lane by this blog. Check it out and get inspired too...and let me know if you write your own letter after reading mine. I'd love to hear what you have to say to you.