2,190 Days

In 2012, life was going well.  We were living in Ohio, with our two boys and two girls, the youngest had just started preschool and everything was going according to plan.  And then, as it often happens, we were thrown a curve ball.  The kids had been begging for that seventh seat in the van to be filled, and in July of that year, we told them their wish was going to come true.  A baby was on the way, and they would have a little brother.  We fondly referred to my growing bump as "Junior" and we busied ourselves with preparing the nursery and clothes and all the things this new little one would need.

Thanksgiving came and went, and then it was time.

There was a middle-of-the-night rush to the hospital, some anxious moments wondering if I'd make it to a delivery room, no time for pain management of any kind, lots of commotion getting everything set up, a few swear words from me, and then he was here.  Our unexpected but so very wanted gift: Nash.

It became clear, quite early on, that something wasn't agreeing with Nash.  He could be fine one moment and then have a huge flaming rash appear on his face in the next moment.  The doctor suggested that it was eczema or chapped winter cheeks, but I knew this wasn't normal.

We found out about his dairy allergy in a quite unfortunate way.  When Nash was nine months old, we took a family bicycle trip up to the Dairy Queen.  I figured he'd love some vanilla soft serve, but after just a bite of it, he started screaming and his lips began to swell.  That was the fastest bike ride home I've ever made and we quickly cleaned him off and gave him Benadryl and got him under control.  By the time he was 11 months old, I also had a suspicion that he was also allergic to peanuts, after a similar reaction had occurred after a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Finally he was old enough for allergy testing and I took him in.  Much to our surprise (and dismay), Nash was not only allergic to dairy and peanuts, but also every other kind of nut out there, along with eggs and dogs.

We came home with EpiPens and a nebulizer, because when he eats a food he's allergic to it almost always triggers an asthma-like reaction which then turns into a full blown respiratory issue that lasts for about four days.

I am happy to report that in the past year, we have slowly been reintroducing dairy into Nash's diet.  While he's not up for a glass of cow's milk, or a giant ice cream cone, he is able to enjoy cake at birthday parties and even ate his first slice of pizza last week!  As he has grown out of the dairy allergy and the egg, too, he has acquired other allergies.  His original testing showed no allergies to outdoor or every day allergens, but it now shows strong allergies to grass, trees, pollen, and straw.  It was recommended that we keep our air conditioning on and the windows closed and keep Nash indoors as much as possible.  Have I mentioned that we live on a FARM and that we don't even HAVE air conditioning?!  So, we are doing what we can do.  He takes daily medication, which helps tremendously, and when something gets under his skin, he knows to ask for his breathing treatments.  My heart hurts for him that he has to grow up with these issues, but he seems to just take it all in stride.  Here's a little video of the last year and all of his "breathing treatment adventures."



 Nash is in Kindergarten this year, and he is GOOD at it.  He knew every other student in his class by name within the first two months of school, and I swear he teaches himself extra things, just to show off.

He knows how to read and write many words, and filled the silence the other day on a car ride by counting to 700.  He was hoping to get to "ten hundred" but sadly, we ran out of time.  In his short six year old life, Nash has made some great friends. He's just a kid you'd want to be around!

Even with all of his friends, Nash still makes time to give TONS of love to not only his pets, but to creatures of every shape and size.  He's very good at letting a random turtle or frog go when he's done playing with them, which keeps me from having to add to our ever-growing collection of animals.  I was going to just post a couple of photos here, but there are just too many to choose from, so here's another video.



When friends and animals aren't keeping him busy, Nash just makes his own fun.  He fishes...

He shoots guns...

He blows bubbles...

And he blows spit bubbles...

He loves being outside, from the forest to the beach.

He has given up trying to figure out which shoe goes on which foot, or even which shoes are a matching pair...

And he's decided that sticking his hand in the top of his pants is much easier than using his actual pockets.

This summer, he talked endlessly about smashing a pie in my face, so one night, I made it happen.  All that whipped cream on my face sure was worth the endless giggles from Nash!

He sounds like a pretty busy kid, right?  He plays hard, but he sleeps HARDER.  Think I'm joking?  Watch this...



For the past couple of years, Nash has been set on being a police officer when he grows up.  He even made me get him a complete uniform and is happy to arrest you, if needed.

He sounds like a pretty fun kid, right?  Well, he's not just fun, he's funny.  Almost daily he comes out with some of the most hysterical things I've ever heard!  Who is this kid?!

This year for his birthday, Nash wanted a dinosaur themed party, with all of his friends, and a pinata filled with all of his favorite candies.  He picked out cupcakes for me to make on Pinterest, and spent a lot of time filling that big number SIX with candy, one piece at a time.

I cannot imagine this family and this life without Nash.  He keeps all of us on our toes, every day.  He is always looking for something new to do, always ready for a new adventure.  My living room is constantly filled with box forts and cup towers and smashed up graham crackers.  I am constantly cleaning mud off of school shoes and grass stains out of the knees of pants.  Nash is ALL boy.



He is wild and crazy and yet he is so tender and sweet and loves to cuddle.  Sometimes I find him just sitting, deep in thought...

Or staring out at the deer in the field, he'll say, "Mommy, I want to ride one."

I don't know how I got to be the mother of this little boy, but he is a gift.  He wants nothing more in life than to always be with me.  Is it annoying?  Sometimes.  But most of the time, I love it.  These kids don't fit comfortably on laps forever, you know?  And there will come a time when he won't tell me every thought in his head.  But not yet.  Right now, he shares everything with me, whether I want to hear it or not.  He's not a baby anymore-he's not even a whiny toddler anymore.  He's a little boy with thoughts and dreams and he wants to share them with me.  I am the lucky one.

On the day of his birthday party, he was awake at 5:45am because he was so excited that his big event was finally here.  And then, when it was all over, he sat with me on the couch, talking about his favorite gifts and all of his friends who had come to celebrate with him.  He paused for a moment, and when I turned to look at him, he was asleep.

Nash waited a long time to be six-a whole  YEAR!  Every day for the past three months he asked me how many days he had left until his birthday.  And then, today he said, "Now that I'm six, how many days until my next birthday?"  Easy there, kiddo.

And that about sums up Nash.  Some of you only know him through the pictures and stories I share of him.  Some of you are lucky enough to be with him from time to time.  Me?  I'm the luckiest.  I get to be the first person he wants to talk to in the morning, and the last person he wants to talk to before he falls asleep.  Happy birthday, Nashypoo.  Mama loves you.

The Big 1-1

Eleven years ago, Greyson came into our lives.  He was our third baby.  He was goofy and unique and continues to be just like that.  We do have our moments, though.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, I should've known by how crazy his birth was, that Greyson was going to give us a run for our money.

In the Spring of 2008, when Greyson was just six months old, I had one of the worst days of my life.  I had dropped Owen off at preschool, and was excited because this day was a Thursday and I had my MOPS group.  I dropped off my things in our mom room, and then headed to take Emerson and Greyson to their classrooms downstairs.  As I approached the stairs, I held my son in my left arm and was holding Emerson's hand with my right.  She was just three years old, and still needed help going down the stairs.  As I went to take the first step, I teetered.  I remember letting go of Emerson's hand and curling around Greyson, my baby, as I fell down the entire flight of stairs.  It felt like slow-motion.  I tried to turn my body so that I would take the brunt of the hits, but I ended up completely on top of him and could feel his head thump every time it caught a stair.  When I hit the bottom, I let out the worst gutteral scream you have ever heard.  And I kept screaming.  My baby.  I couldn't believe that this was how my baby was going to die.  

We were crumpled together on the cold, hard floor.  He was crying, but I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  Did he have broken bones?  Was he paralyzed?  Did he have internal bleeding?  Before I knew it, the ambulance had arrived, he was buckled into his car carrier seat and they had braced his head so he couldn't move.  After a thorough checkup at the hospital, he was given the all-clear.  Aside from a couple small bumps on his forehead, Greyson was uninjured.  As for me?  Well, to this day, I still remember that accident every single time I go down a flight of stairs. 

Now, I'm not sure if his birth or his fall down the stairs were contributors, but Greyson has a gigantic adventurous spirit.  He has fun doing all sorts of crazy things.  There is one small hitch...  Greyson has to have a schedule.  And the details of that schedule?  Well, he needs them all, right down to the very smallest parts.  He is definitely not a spur-of-the-moment kid.  And if I'm being completely honest, sometimes I don't know what I'm making for dinner 30 minutes before we need to eat, let alone what we're doing next Saturday at 2pm.  This puts Greyson in a bit of a pickle.  He loves adventure, but not last-minute adventure.  Actually, he just doesn't love the THOUGHT of last-minute adventure.  If I say, "Hey kids, grab your coats and hats and let's go hiking," Greyson panics and strongly refuses.  But when I make him do it anyway, he's the one who's having the most fun out there.  Do you see what I'm dealing with here?!  I have to make him have fun for him to have fun.

Speaking of pickles, this boy LOVES pickles.  At the end of fourth grade last year, his teacher found out how much Greyson loves pickles, and brought him something new and pickle-flavored every time she saw him. Some of the things were totally gross, but Greyson tried them all and loved his teacher for it. 

Sometimes, though, Greyson seeks out his own adventures and puts his own spin on things...

Jumping at the bike park,

Collecting items for camping trips,

Snowmobiling in the dark,

Sledding down any hill he can find,

Testing out the thickness of the ice (much to my dismay),

Being the first one in the pool,

Always choosing soft serve twist, even when there are many other options,

Climbing out on down limbs on the river,

Agreeing to wear a bow tie, but refusing to tuck in his shirt,

Getting on his way-too-small dirt bike for  few laps,

Heading to the back of our property to find his favorite rock,

Agreeing to the Mexican restaurant on his birthday as long as he didn't have to wear the hat or be sung to,

And hayrides for his birthday party.

Greyson moved up from elementary school to our intermediate school this year, and with that came the switch from flag football to tackle football.

I'd like to tell you that he loved the season, but in reality, I have to tell you that he tolerated (barely) practices, enjoyed the games a tiny bit more, but absolutely loved wearing his jersey to school on Fridays because it definitely "made the girls look at me, MOM!"

He is definitely looking forward to another basketball season, though, which you know I love.

I am certain that Greyson's adventures are just beginning.  I can't even imagine the things I will go through with him in the next few years.  This boy keeps me on my toes, every single day.  He is currently interested in getting into skateboarding, and I can envision the injuries from that as I sit here and write this.  At least I'll never have to say that Greyson is boring.  He is always up to something and into something, he always has an answer for everything, and he never takes "no" for an answer.

He is my third child. He is my middle child. He is my son.  He is 11.

Happy birthday, Grey.  Mom loves you.