Buzz and Woody and Jamba

Another day, another photo op with boys dressed alike (thanks to T-Man's love of matching). Do $1 Jamba Juice's taste better than regular-priced Jamba's to anyone else? Because they definitely do to me. I love Jamba deals, and so do Buzz and Woody.

 

Really, really, really love these boys.

The Mother of all V-Day Posts

ALL Valentinesyish things from Valentine's Day week:

 

Thank you for falling asleep on the couch for the first time ever Evie Knight so that I could thoroughly examine your sleeping cuteness!

Lucie Stern V-Day/Chinese New Year party. Kind of an odd collaboration, and frankly, kind of an odd party, but T was pleased with his face paint and Everett liked his food truck noodles, so I guess it was a success.

 My little Picasso's hard at work.

Courtyard event funded by Stanford = Goodnight Moon at the Children's Theatre. I bet the people who planned this event didn't know that Goodnight Moon is Everett's all-time favorite book and he wants it read to him a million times a day ;) Oh wait, yes they did. Me and Alice are awesome ;)

Daddy and Evie devouring cupcakes at the heart party for LPCH. Everyone got a name tag, but the special heart kiddos got a big heart sticker as well. Everett LOVES stickers. LOVES them. He was one happy boy.

Super-T making punch for Mommy's special Valentine's breakfast (on the 13th, since Daddy was going out of town).

Donuts + heart plates + the knowledge that they would be eating candy all day long = happy, happy boys!

The boys each got a special dog house with a chocolate dog inside. The dogs lasted about 5 minutes before they were completely eaten, the houses are still being played with. They were happy so I was happy.

We delivered "Valentine Bread" to the ducks at the duck pond. The boys are matching, again, because Talmage changes his clothes everyday to match whatever Evie is wearing. I do love seeing them so matchy-matchy all the time!

Pizza and movie night with our BFF's while their mom and day celebrated V-day. They watched Cars and ate popcorn and it was so sweet seeing them all snuggled on the sofa!

 My DIY shirt. Kind of {read: really} love it. I've worn it 3 times this week!

Sometimes I think my children must have been switched at birth--like when we go to a dance and both of them are wallflowers and are slightly embarrased that their Momma is shaking her groove thing. Seriously? My children are not partiers? Weird.

 Dancing? Nope. Drinking juice.

 Dancing? Nope. Eating pizza. That little tyke consumed 4 slices!

Dance prizes were enough to get T moving. Barely moving, but it was a step in the right direction. It was a great dance! Loved it!

 

Happy Valenstine's Day (that's what T calls it!)

There's a story in my heart

There's a story in my heart that wants to be set free.

Every day this week I've heard it wailing.

"Let me out," it said. "Let me live. Craft me into a masterpiece of words. Use me to show them that miracles occur, that lives can be changed, and that there is influence in everyone and power in Him."

"Yes!" I said to my little story. "I will find the words that can fill you with light. I will give you breath."

So each night after my loves were tucked sweetly in slumber, I embarked on a journey to share my heart's story. I was expecting a mid-day freeway, so easy and calm that you forget that rush-hour even exists. But all I found on my internal outings were roadblocks, mostly set-up between my heart and my mind and my fingertips; three places, it turns out, that need to be connected in order for stories to be told.

As I went to sleep each night, I agonized that another day was passing in a week that was to be filled with this story. But no words came. I played construction worker and tried to knock down those barriers. I played psychiatrist and tried to understand the plights of all parties involved. I played parasailer and tried to glide right over the top of those roadblocks. But my musings proved unsuccessful and that story didn't come. I made excuses, I felt ashamed, and mostly, I felt tired. In my final act of defiance and self-pity, I told that little story that it wasn't very important, that it didn't need to be told, and that no one really cared.

And oh, how that story wept within my heart at the thought of defeat.

But instead of giving up on me, that little story whispered, "I am different than I used to be. And that's ok. I am still filled with wonder and awe and praise, but I've added chapters of experience and pain. Success will be seen when you write my words, but so will the journey--heavy, ugly and sometimes devastating as it is. Write me as real as you can. I am not perfect, but I am beautiful, and they will understand."

And so, as unglamorous as it seems, this is the story that my heart wants me to tell:

Nineteen-months ago we were given a marvelous gift through the birth of our son, Everett Knight. His special little heart introduced us to a new family full of loved-ones with similar heroes in their lives. We had two successful surgeries in his first six months and we were all-consumed with keeping our baby safe and healthy. Our first Valentine's day with him was filled with novelty and gratitude and somehow sweet innocence of the heart world we had just entered.

A lot has happened this year. Along with some beautiful CHD successes, we have known heartache and death and have faced many-a-cruel reality about the life of someone with congenital heart disease. It's a scary place to live, this heart world, and I know now that we will permanently reside in it's quarters. We are constantly watching Evie for signs that his heart is tiring, we lost a baby who had a severe heart defect, and a few of our dear heart friends have gained their angel wings. So it doesn't surprise me that roadblocks have been placed between that heart and mind and those fingers of mine--they are there to protect me.  My second Valentine's day with Everett will be filled with quiet respect for this disease and hope for a future where families don't mourn their heart babies.

Because the reality is that CHD is the most common and deadly birth defect (40,000 infants a year are diagnosed, 15 percent will not make it to 18-years-old), and hundreds more die before being diagnosed. Even if you know no one who has ever been affected by heart disease, how can you not gasp at numbers like those?

This is my world, those numbers are my family, and this is my voice: If the stories of my past (like this one and this one) teach us anything, it's that we can be an advocate for our baby. We can know the signs of CHD, and we can demand that our babies are screened (quick and painlessly) with a pulse ox.  CHD might not be going anywhere anytime soon, but to help even one more mother save one more baby because she know's what to look for--now that would make living in the heart world worthwhile. I don't want you to have to join our world, but if it surprises you like it did me, I want you to be ready!

I pray that during next year's CHD Awareness week hope and happiness will be bursting from my posts; but if not, I will still tell the story within my heart. Because even as I sit here and the last few words glide out of my fingertips, my heart feels relieved. And I don't know for sure, but I think I just heard the words, "Thank you."

Speaking of Grammie's ;)

Celebrating Grammy Sunday with a quote that my Grammie sent me.

 

Love you Grams, and LOVE these words. 

“Faith is believing that although we do not understand all things, He does.

Faith is knowing that although our power is limited, His is not.

Faith in Jesus Christ consists of complete reliance on Him.”

{full article}

 

You know what I also love? Cupcakes. And I also love friends who bring me cupcakes because they know I love them and probably need them. Which I did when this friend showed up at my door. Almost ate this whole box and had not one ounce of guilt about it ;) 

Wicked

So...one time I invited my sister to go on a date with me. And I didn't tell her where we were going. And I was super excited, because I knew she'd be super excited, and thinking about her excited little face made me want to explode with joy. {See picture below for proof of joy-loding! And yes, that is a halo over my head, thank you for asking.}

 

Her husband was in on it from the start. He agreed to kidnap and drive her to Palo Alto. And so were our children, I might add. You know, the children who were screaming and whining and grumping so much that we both thought we might go crazy if we didn't go on a vacation. A vacation I could not do, but a girls night in San Fran. Yes, please, and thank you children.

 

A 45-minute commute took us 2 hours. Then we saw a drug deal, a prostitute get picked up and a homeless man snorting some white substance out of a pill bottle. We circled the theatre district looking for a parking spot and I could see that I was losing Ashleigh with each loop. I'm the city-girl in the family and since I was feeling a little nervous, I knew she was about ready to take a cab home. But we parked and we held arms and when we saw the Orpheum, Ash let out a huge sigh of relief (and so did I, but internally, so she didn't know that I also thought this was cray-cray!)

 

A few stare-downs by a homeless man, failed attempt at fast-food dinner, and some major people-watching later we were inside the theatre, giddier than our kids when we feed them chocolate for breakfast, and oh-so-ready for the show to start. It was incredible, and I am currently trying to figure out how I can get one of my kids to sing like the guy who played Fiyero. A-ma-zing! We ordered bottled water and skittles at the bar during intermission and drove home singing our own rendition of Popular.

 

The whole night I felt so gosh-darn lucky to have a sister, especially an Ashleigh. I'm a little sappy when it comes to this relationship because it's kind of magical. She's the greatest and I'm lucky.

 

PS--We walked out of the theatre only to see the homeless man that was staring Ash down before the show. We ran our skirts off across a busy street and then joined with a senior group who had also seen the production until we safely reached our car. Needless to say, next time we'll see a matinee!  

 

 

 

 

 Excited!

 

 Upon studying these pics I realized that Ash and I are making the exact same face and hand motion in both of them. Sisters.

 She is.

 

 Ash was embarassed when I asked to take her picture on the staircase.

 

 She thought she'd get me back by asking me to lay on the stairs--which I did in a blink. I think she was the embarassed one in both pictures ;)

Love her!

We wear RED for our hero!

On February 1st our family wore RED to show support and love for this sweet little guy and all of his heart friends. Congenital heart defects are the most common and deadly birth defects, and February is my month to stand on a CHD soap box and tell the world how we are members of that "1 in 100" club. You've been warned! 

February 1st was the official "wear red" day, but I've been trying to sneak a little bit of red (or at least a heart or two) into every outfit I wear. I have never been the girliest of girls, but after Evie came to our family I've been addicted to hearts. Love them. They are a reminder of my special little guy and his continuous heart battle.

Talmage is smart beyond his years. He understands things. He internalizes things. He gathers facts and comes to conclusions. He knows more about heart defects, surgery, and the reality of mortality than most adults. I love him, and hope that all of this exposure to the heart world shapes into a compassionate, understanding and accepting man.

We snapped a quick-pic of Dad-man before he ran off to school. Random cuteness: Everett is talking up a storm lately and when James puts his backpack on in the morning Evie catches the hint and says, "Bye Daddy. See ya sooo!" Oh my adorable...I wish you could hear it in person!

You have introduced us to a beautiful world, Everett Knight. A world full of people who were born with special hearts, and also the people who have been changed because of them. We're lucky you're ours!

February Weather

Doesn't everyone wear shorts and a t-shirt in February?

 

tire-horse thing?

 

 playing soccer.

 The less arctic half of the family (Evie and me) wear pants and long sleeves...and sometimes sketchy smiles! We're not complaining about Cali's 60 degree weather, we just don't find it as balmy as T and Daddy do ;)