how the weekend was fun.

This weekend was pretty awesome. At least the first two days were. We spent our entire "bonus day" packing the house which is a horrible way to spend a holiday if you ask me, but no one did so whatever.

But the rest of the weekend? Awesome.

Friday night I ran in my second 5k. I haven't ran in a 5k in years. Since April of 2009 to be specific. My friend Stacy and I have been training for this for weeks and it was finally here.

The race didn't even start until 10 that night but Mr. P and BG still tagged along for support. She was thrilled about that. Can't you tell?

Stacy and I didn't plan very well so I didn't meet up with her until we were waiting at the starting line. I was so stoked to have a few friends to run this race with even though we didn't end up sticking together for the whole thing. I'm just glad we got to run this together before I moved since we've been looking forward to it for months.

The race started off great. The good thing about running at ten at night is that it is a good bit cooler. There was a slight breeze that was helping to keep the humidity at bay which was also nice. Most people were out there just to have fun so it was a very relaxed feeling and I was loving it.

At the halfway mark I started feeling the effects of already having worked a ten hour day in heels that day. My legs just ached, but I managed to push through to just over the two mile mark before I had to take a quick breather to stretch it out. My legs were on fire.

I was pleased that I was still able to breathe so well but I was just plain frustrated with how sore my legs were. Fortunately my determination kicked in after a quick stretch and I managed to finish strong.

I did start my sprint to the finish a little far out and was dying by the time I actually made it to the gate. Oh well, don't care. I finished! And in 33:46. My goal was to finish in under 34. Check!

Yes, I am a sweaty, sweaty beast after running.

My girl went home with Stacy and her family that night so that Mr. P and I could get up early the next morning for a garage sale. BG got to play all night with her bff and then go out for breakfast and run errands with some of her favorite people. She didn't even want to stay with us the next day when they dropped her off. Nice.

Mr. P and I got up Saturday morning at five after getting in at midnight to host a garage sale. We are crazy people. Fortunately it ended up being worth our effort and I managed to squeeze a three hour nap in that afternoon when BG got home. It worked out.

That night, we headed back over to Stacy's house for the Clemson/Auburn game. Though honestly, could have cared less about that game, but I do love a good reason to get together with friends and let the kids run around like crazy people.

It makes me one sad panda to be leaving these people. These relationships. But I am so, so thankful that we've had times like these before leaving. Memories have been made and we're leaving a piece of our hearts here. That's okay though. That just means we'll be making many, many trips home back here to visit.

home sweet home.

Expect many posts like this over the next few days as I work out what is going through my head and in my heart...

Almost exactly two years ago, we packed up our little home and moved away from Savannah to the Upstate of South Carolina.

A job change sent us scrambling, but we serve a mighty God who blessed us quickly and we were without a job for under two weeks before a new one was handed to us. A new one that was four and a half hours away from all of our friends, most of our family, the church we loved, and the first house that was home to our family of three.

It was the house we brought our very longed for baby home too, the house we gave our lives to Christ in, the house where our marriage grew as our individual faiths grew.

It was home.

I can still remember coming to this town two years ago and thinking "this will never feel like home". I distinctly remember pulling up to a busy intersection and thinking how weird it looked and how this town just didn't look like one I could feel truly comfortable in. It felt so foreign to me.

Now? that intersection is the last intersection before I am home. I know it like the back of my hand. Our neighborhood pharmacy sits on one corner. It's where we've made many late night (and for Mr. P) early morning runs for diapers and milk and chocolate.

On the other corner is my cut through to work when the traffic is out of control. On the other corner is the QT they've been building forever that I was beyond excited for it to open and bring me daily $.49 drinks.

That intersection is now as familiar to me as breathing. I know it's a guarantee that someone will run the light. That someone else will make a funny left and back up traffic. That if I get through that intersection, I'm home. I'm back with my people.

And just like that intersection, this town has become familiar to me. I've fallen in love with the area. The hills, the lake, the weather. I've fallen in love with the small town traditions; the Christmas parade, the Farmer's Market, the tree lighting, and even the Block Party (although I think I just love the idea of the Block Party since we've yet to go to one. This week it's happening).

Moving to this town gave me a shot at my dream of SAHM'dom and then gave me the chance to realize that wasn't for me. It gave me an awesome part time job that still left me plenty of time with my sweet girl but also introduced me to some amazing coworkers who quickly became friends.

This town holds my daughter's school in which inside holds her sweet "friends" (her words not mine). Where a sweet teacher sent me daily text pictures of my girl and taught her her "model face". Where three little girls went from schoolmates to the best of friends. Where my child soared in learning and in her social life.

This town lead us to a church where we've seen God do some amazing things. Not only in the lives of people in our community, but in our own life. We've been through a lot these last couple of years and through it all, we've seen our faith grow by leaps and bounds. Having a church we both love and look forward to attending each week has helped that growth so, so much.

I found amazing friends here. One of my closest friends in the world lives here and it breaks my heart to leave her. In such a short time, we became like sisters with that kind of comfortable friendship that takes no effort and is able to just be. I've made a good friend that I'm able to laugh with and cry with and just spend time with in yoga pants and flip flops because neither of us care to put on airs (Tiff you know I'm talking about you!). I've made a friend that I can sit and talk with for hours upon hours without a single lull in the conversation because we both have that much to say and truly enjoy what the other is saying.

This town went from being a spot on the map that I didn't even know existed to home. Our home. I've grown in ways I couldn't have even imagined here as has my family. And while it absolutely breaks my heart to leave here, I know we'll be back and there will be numerous visits. I've got people here now. People I'm invested in. People I love.

I know we're following God's will in this move and that's why I know it will work out. I'll lick my wounds for a little while and I'll cry a lot, but at the end of the day, I know where we head next will eventually become home. We'll eventually form new relationships and put down new roots. Plus? I'm heading off with my people. And if there's one thing I've learned in my (almost, sob) thirty years, it's that home isn't a building. It's where your heart is. And my heart is with my people; Mr. P and BG (and even the pets). So let's do this.

good friends.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've been surrounded by friends.

This is not a "look at me I'm so popular!" post, but just stating a fact. I'm a people person. I thrive on being surrounded by people. They make me smile and laugh and make me feel whole. I adore my friends.
Thankfully, I've managed to pick some pretty awesome ones. I'm still friends with people I met in elementary school. My best friend in the world has been that since we were eleven. My college roommate is still basically my sister. And my party partner from college? Now my fellow toddler Mom and the mom to one of my daughter's closest friends.

Everywhere we go, I find people and they make their way into my heart. It's inevitable. So if it comes time to leave, it sucks, but then I get to add another city on the map where people I love live. Which is kind of nice.

In this way, my daughter is exactly like me. She thrives on her relationships. She's good on her own, but when she's with her buddies, she just lights up. She adores them. To watch her now, is just like watching me some twenty five plus years ago. She lets people in and quickly, forming deep relationships in a short amount of time.
It's probably one of our better (and sometimes worst) qualities.

BG has made two amazing friends at her school here. It's the kind of relationship that we as adults strive to have with our friends. They laugh together, argue at times, play hard together, whisper together, giggle together and are basically inseparable.

When they aren't together, they talk about each other. Even their teachers remark on the depth of their friendship and how much they truly enjoy each others company. They've gone so far at school as to try and split them up at times to encourage other friendships, but they always end up back with each other. They just plain love each other.
And this relationship is the one I am the most upset about leaving if we do end up moving. Yes, I've made amazing relationships here, but in this day and age, it's really easy for me to keep up with my friendships. BG doesn't have a Facebook, or a blog, or a Twitter account. She can't pick up her phone and send a quick text or make a quick call.

A few weekends ago, we packed up and headed to spend the afternoon with the family of one of these little girls. As I watched BG and her buddy interact, my heart ached at possibly taking her away from this group. Simply put? I am more upset about leaving these two little girls behind than anything else.

I get that BG is just two years old, but this is going to hurt her. And for the first time, Mr. P and I are going to have to explain a loss to her that she's not going to completely understand. This is going to be hard.
In my head, I imagined these girls being those sort of lifelong friends that I have. Those friends you can say "oh we've been friends since we were babies!" and it be true. The kind of friends you grow up with and change with and never stop caring for. And in my head, that ends if we move. Which sucks.

But in reality, it might play out just like her friend back in Savannah. We moved from there and I was devastated that K and BG wouldn't grow up together and wouldn't remain friends, but the opposite is actually happening. Every time we go home, they pick up like they never were apart. When we're home, BG asks to see pictures of K and wants to talk about her. She doesn't just forget her.
And that's what I hope happens again. I truly hope we can maintain these friendships for her while helping her to grow new ones elsewhere. And perhaps someday, she'll be as lucky as I am; to have friends all over this country that she loves dearly and feels so lucky to count as friends.

wordless wednesday: daddy daughter time

good days.

When BG was a newborn, I seriously thought I may not survive that stage.

Somehow in my exhausted haze, it felt like I was the only Mom that had ever gone through that and my child was the only one that never wanted to sleep and I was the only person who had ever been this tired.

I wasn't, but it felt like that.

Then she started sleeping and crying a little less and I could tell other new Mom's that it would get better and that we all have to fight that bear for a little while.

Then she hit ten months old and oh my gosh everything was a tantrum. She wanted to feed herself but couldn't and would lose her mind. She wanted to walk but couldn't and would lose her mind. Daily I thought "I'm never going to survive this", but then I did. And it got better.

Around eighteen months we hit another spell where she wanted to communicate so much more than she could and she would end up so frustrated at my lack of understanding that most of the time, we both ended up in tears. She fell down a lot and fell off of couches and stairs and was constantly in a bruised up crying state and I thought "we're never going to survive this". But we did. And it got better.

Now my days are usually filled with the "questions". The "what's that Mommy?", "what's this?" and my personal fave, "what's this song?" to every song that comes on the radio and at least ten times during said song. As I answer her question for the fifth time, I can usually feel my frustration rising and can feel a shout of exasperation on my lips. It's for sure trying and sometimes I feel myself wishing we could just fast forward through this stage.

But then I stop and think; all those other stages? they are blurs already. Those times flew by so fast that I actually have to stop and really think to bring them back. Sure I remember the newborn days, but now I remember a little less crying and a little more baby snuggles and that sweet, sweet smell.

I remember the frustrations of that ten month old, but more so I remember her figuring out how to crawl and her giggles at the discovery. I remember how at nine months I felt like "this is the best stage ever" because she was so loving and sweet and loved to give kisses.

At eighteen months, she really started becoming my little sidekick. So while there were tons of tantrums, we always understood each other when it came to a good dance party, or a fun trip to the library, or a walk around the park. There was no trouble communicating that those were fun.

Someday, I'm sure in the not too distant future, my first memory of this stage isn't going to be the trying questions. It's going to be how she loves to jump, off of anything and everything. How she likes to watch tv curled into my side. How she squeals when "Call Me Maybe" comes on. How she dances so hard in the backseat when she likes a song.

These are good days. No matter how trying, they are really, really good. And all too soon, they'll be gone and we'll be navigating a new stage with new difficulties. But I'm ready. Because you get the the good days with difficulties. And I'm a big fan of the good days.

super high and then down low.

So we all know that parenthood has it's ups and downs. It's highs and lows. It's a fact. They are both totally going to happen.

What is insane is that in a 48 hour period, you can have both. The extreme of both. It's exhausting. And slightly painful.

On Saturday, the day pretty much rocked. Tiff and I met up semi-early and got the kids packed up to head down to Columbia for Hayes' birthday. Both kids were excellent on the ride down and were perfectly content to watch Diego with no sound so that Tiff and I could gab our heads off with non baby talk for a while.

The party was so fun. I always enjoy spending time with Erin and her family and this time I lucked out and got to meet Rachel, a long time blog pal, and Katie, a newer blogger that I'm lucky to have gotten to know. It was a great afternoon watching the kiddos play and spending time with ladies that I truly enjoy being around.

The margarita didn't hurt either. Cinco de Mayo for the win.

The car ride home was blissful as both children were out before we even made it out of town. It was quiet. Other than BG hacking up her lungs from a nice cough she's rocking again, but you know. Quiet.

Tiff and I made dinner plans for that evening as we watched our crazy toddlers run around my house. It was a heart so full day (even though dinner didn't happen and I had to eat Cince de Mayo dinner with just le toddler).

As she settled down to bed that night, my heart was so full with how much fun we'd had that day. She'd been so good, she'd loved on the other kids, she was nice to the adults and was pleasant at dinner. Days like Saturday make me think that maybe I am doing okay with this parenting thing.

Not even 12 hours later, I woke up with a pounding in my head and an elephant on my chest. Nothing like starting the day with an allergy attack to get you going on the right foot. Mr. P gave me a Zyrtec which quickly set me up with that "cotton balls in my head" feeling that absolutely sucks.

BG and I didn't make it to church and we spent the next eight hours at home, without Mr. P, just trying to survive. She moved from activity to activity as I followed along in a half drugged, half just plain sick state. She was whiny and discontent to let her Mama rest and not entertain her. I was strugglin' ya'll. We were not seeing eye to eye with anything much.

Eventually we moved outside to the pool with some ice cream in hopes of just five minutes of quiet to rest my eyes.

It didn't happen.

By the time Mr. P came home, I was about as close to tears as one can get without actually sobbing. I was spent.

I climbed into bed Sunday night feeling defeated. Where was my high from Saturday? Where was the Mom who was rocking it and had such a happy kid on Saturday? How could we have such a great day followed by such a bad day??

Monday dawned bright and early and she and I managed to pick right up where we left off on Sunday; totally on the wrong foot with each other. I dropped her off and ran to work with a skip in my step at knowing that for at least the next seven hours, there was no toddler to yell and scream at me. It was going to be awesome.

Well that seven hours did the trick for us. Because when I picked her up, she was overjoyed to see me and threw herself in my arms. We made a quick visit to Daddy and then she and I ate burgers and fries in front of the tv for dinner.

There was still a good five meltdowns before bedtime, but as we sat, her in my lap for the first time in so long, and watched some tv before bed and let her wind down, I felt it again; that heart so full feeling from Saturday. I pushed a sweaty little curl off her face and sighed. Those moments aren't free. The highs are paid for with the lows. And the highs? I'll take the lows just to get those little joys.

what she says.

I have to admit; I was teensy bit terrified that Baby Girl's speech may be delayed because of her chronic ear infections. She started talking early, but at the time she should've been stringing together phrases and such, girlfriend was having hearing issues and they just weren't happening.

Her doc told me that there may be a delay but she would probably start picking things up pretty quickly after her tubes. Oh how quickly that did happen.

BG talks a lot now. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. I can't even actually list all of her phrases because there are so many. But, there are some oh so adorable things that she says these days that I can't get enough of. Here are some of those:

"No touchy bumbeebees": We have bumblebees hanging out in the flowers right by our front door at the moment. She loves them and thinks they are so cool so I had to give her the "don't touch" talk. Now when we walk out the front door, she says this and shakes her head and finger. It's so dang cute.


She adds "right 'der" to everything. As in, "see Mommy? See that doggie right 'der?". This usually gets repeated multiple times.

"Help Ella" is a new one. It's usually the predecessor to her doing something she isn't supposed to, as in "Help Ella Daddy!" as she tries to climb out of the high chair. Or let the dogs out of the house. No biggie.

"I get treat!" We're sorta kinda not really potty training at the minute. BG knows that if she goes to the potty on the potty she gets a treat. So she's taken to telling us she has to go, pretending, and then popping up saying "I get treat!". Only she doesn't. So that goes over well. The other day, she told Mr. P she had to go, so he set her on the potty and she promptly hopped up and said "I pee pee Daddy! I get treat!". Only she hadn't so he told her that she didn't get one til she went. So she sat back down, "tried" again and popped up saying the same thing. To which he replied the same. She promptly shut the lid on her potty, climbed on top, grabbed his face with her chubby little hands and said "Daddy. I get treat now". Not a spitfire at all huh?

"I don't like it" or "I don't want it" with an emphatic head shake. This was actually "I like it" or "I want it" with the head shake until this past week. She just picked up the don't.

She thinks adding "please" to the end of a request gets automatic approval. If she asks you something and you say no, she'll ask again with the sweetest little "peas" on the end. Somehow we are still able to say no...

She gets so excited over the littlest things and I love it. If she sees a Disney princess, it's all "PRINCESS!!" at the top of her lungs. Or "doggie!" or whatever she sees at that moment. This is sometimes combined with jumping up and down and squealing.

When we pull into work at Daddy's store, she starts squealing "Daddy!!!" quickly followed by "I get sucker!". Ha. The treat. Although Daddy can be a sucker and gives her an actual sucker way too often. Ahem...

I made the mistake of bringing her a sucker a few times from work and giving it to her for the ride how. She called it her "prize" (surprise). Now, she asks for a "prize" the minute she gets in the car. Fun huh? Way to start a great habit Mom.

When we leave school, she says bye to all her friends (by name, it takes forever to get out of there) and then when we get to the door, she turns and yells back "I see you tomorrow!". Melt my heart.

Every day in the car I hear "I tinkle stars" (I want Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star). Once you start singing, she switches "I ABC's!". Start that one "I spider song!". By this point she's laughing because she knows it makes me crazy to not finish one single song. She better be glad she's so dang cute.

We still get tons of "I love you's". I will never get tired of that.

Gosh. There's just so much. And as she gets closer and closer to turning two, I realize how much she has changed just in a very short amount of time. I can't even imagine how much more we'll get to hear over the years!

almost wordless wednesday: more st. patrick's day