“What’s it like?”

People ask me all the time what it is like to have twins, or try to compare it to having children 12-13m apart in age, or say, “I can’t even imagine what it must be like!” etc.

I’ll try to sum it up as briefly as possible and in a way that is easy to imagine, for our current stage. Please just imagine this at any other age (like the infant stage, for example), because having twins is NOT the same as having children close in age.
I can guarantee you there are some things about having twins that are much easier than having kids close in age, but there are also things that are much more difficult. Every stage your child is in, is doubled. There is no kiddo who can hold his own cup/self feed some solids while you nurse the baby. There is nobody who can sit up in a exersaucer or what have you while you hold the baby. They’re both babies who need every need met at the same time. When they’re older – there is no child who understands “no” or that sprinting away in a parking lot isn’t safe, or who can walk beside you in the store while the baby rides in the cart/you wear him. There are TWO children who don’t understand these things.

Want to know the easiest way to see what it feels like to have twins? Do anything child related twice in a row/twice as many times:
Did you just hold your writhing, screaming toddler down long enough to change his diaper? Repeat.
Did you just pull somebody down off the kitchen table or very tippy top of the back of the couch? Repeat x4 at least, because while you were pulling the second one off, the first one started climbing again.
Did you just manage to restrain your bucking toddler in his carseat? Repeat.
Did you just clean up the food somebody threw on the floor/at your face/put in his hair? Repeat.
Did you just finish wiping down the highchair tray after a meal? Repeat.
Is somebody screaming at you for milk/water/food/to be held/because they want that? Double the screaming.
Did you just get done washing/conditioning/combing through your toddler’s hair while they cry? Repeat.
Did your naked baby just run away and try to pee somewhere? Go find and clean two puddles, because they went opposite directions.
Did you just make a purchase for your child? Perhaps a new pair of shoes? Or an expensive item, like a carseat? Buy another.

More importantly:

Did your smart little one just say a new word? Repeat. Smile with pride and excitement.
Did your sweet little one just give you a hug? Repeat. Allow heart to burst with joy.
Did your child just master a new skill/meet a new milestone (crawling/walking/running/throwing/etc.)? Repeat. Get excited. Then cry a bit at how quickly they’re growing up.
Are you cuddling one sleepy little guy? Move him over and add another. Your lap is full, but not as full as your heart.
Did your kiddo scream “Mommy!” and sprint to you when you walked in the room/into daycare/home etc? Repeat. Feel just as much joy at your reunion as your littles do, and smile.
Is your little one dancing and smiling and clapping? Double it. Join in the fun – smiles for everybody!
Did you just watch the excitement and amazement cross your child’s face when they saw something new? Keep watching, there are two little faces filled with joy right now!

Because, you see, the hardest thing and the best thing about having twins are the same thing: every experience is doubled. 




I keep calling this the boys’ first Christmas. It’s not; this was their first Christmas:


All I really remember, though, is nursing them, wearing this ankle length, fluffy, pink robe, barely being able to walk because my legs were still so swollen from my labor & c-section experience, and trying to stay awake long enough to open some gifts with my family during a brief nap we got the boys to take (they were being held). Oh, and taking a family picture in which I looked so disgusting, but was SO HAPPY to have a little family of my own. 

All of that to tell you that this year has been so much fun! The boys are old enough they enjoyed seeing some Christmas lights, they had fun with their felt Christmas tree (thanks for the inspiration, Pinterest!)



they wore these super cute outfits to Christmas Eve Mass


and Christmas morning was fun, too! They loved their new presents. 


First look at their presentsImage

Opening some presents and, of course, trying to eat the paperImage

Sitting in their new chairs with their new “laptops” 

Now we’re in TX visiting Doug’s family and they’re having fun here, too!

I’m sure next Christmas will be even more exciting, because they’ll “get it” more. 



One Year > One Month [a humorous look back at the first year of life with twins]

Dear new Mothers of Multiples (twins, specifically), 

It gets so much easier, I promise! One year is so much better than one month, or two months, or really almost any month before it!

It is hard, of course, in different ways. Twin Toddler Tornados can destroy just about anything, including your patience, some days.
Chasing them away from things they can’t have is a never-ending battle.
The screaming, the fighting over toys, the hair-pulling, the pushing down, the sitting/standing/walking on each other – these things happen, it is true. They’re the same age and don’t understand when you tell them to “be nice” or “give your brother a turn.”
Feeding times are frequently fiascos. They eat much more now, but they throw just as much on the floor. You think they’re through eating or that they don’t like that food, but the second you get one out of his high chair and turn to get his brother, the one now on the floor starts eating all the food he just threw there. It is now magically delicious.
Baths are always a fun time; you could about shampoo your own hair as wet as you get! Then there is the after bath diapering rush. You MUST get both babies’ butts oiled up and diapered before one or both of them pees somewhere – just hope it’s not somewhere with carpet (or on their books…hypothetically, of course, as this has never happened to me…). As you’re diapering one, his brother will either be A) destroying something, B) pulling on his penis, C) pulling on the penis of the baby you’re trying to diaper, D) ripping the hair out of the back of your head, E) (if you choose to put him up on the changing table) slamming the drawers open and closed into your shins, or F) at least two of the above. 
All diaper changes are actually just like the previously described scenario with the single exception of no pee on the books, er, floor. 
They come running right when you try to open the oven; they open every cupboard and unload every.single.thing that isn’t locked up; they climb on every possible surface, including their brother; they throw remarkably well, but don’t understand that they shouldn’t throw hard plastic things; they unroll toilet paper; they’re obsessed with the trash; they don’t want to take naps so they just play together instead; the list goes on. 

In fact, sometimes they even get me to reminisce fondly about the days when they couldn’t roll over, let alone run – the days when all it took was a swaddle and full belly to get them to take a nap. 
That lasts about fifteen seconds, because then I remember:

For the first (almost) month, I nursed them both literally around the clock. They took 15 to 20 minute breaks, and not always at the same time. I can’t even count the number of times my mom or my husband fed me because both of my hands were occupied. The only time I left the recliner in their room was to use the bathroom, and they screamed the whole time. I probably only showered three times that whole month, but I’m not really sure. It’s all very hazy and I think I may have been drowning. Or dying. A few times I really thought I might die. I rocked and nursed and bled (oh, nobody told you that you bleed enough that you could save a few hundred dying people if you donated an amount equal to that you throw away? nobody told me there’d be that much either – heads up, there is). 
Then, low and behold, I found out that because of the way my breasts are constructed (eek, TMI) and the way the boys’ mouths were constructed, all they could manage to do was get a “slow leak,” to quote the lactation consultant. That’s why they nursed all the time. I pumped, gave them a bottle, and they slept for two hours. TWO HOURS. My life was changed!

For the next month and half-ish, I was a pumping, bottle-feeding, bottle-washing fool, but life was easier. My children slept for two to three hours at a time – this was just enough time to put them down, use the bathroom, pump, eat, and clean something/rest for 20-30 minutes before they woke again. At night we practiced “one up-both up” which allowed me to only get up a few times a night. The only reason they woke at night back then was to eat. Alas, caring for twinfants and trying to fit in the minimum eight pumping sessions a day didn’t always work out. Plus, as they grew, they required more than my meager supply. Even though my pee reeked of maple syrup (thanks, Fenugreek), I couldn’t produce enough for my boys, so we supplemented with formula. 
Then I had to go back to work – my plan times were not at all conducive to a pumping schedule, so I weaned myself off the pump and we switched to all formula. I felt guilty, I agonized, I worried about the cost of the formula, but, in the end, it was so much better for our family. I’m thankful that we live in a modern society where formula is an option. (Check out this blog post if you’re totally against formula feeding, or if you’re for it, or if you just want to laugh). Formula feeding allowed me to sleep slightly more often. 

Months 3-5ish got easier almost daily. Both babies could hold their heads up well, could roll over, were happy to play on the floor sometimes, etc. 
Months 6 & 7 were so easy. They couldn’t yet crawl, but they could sit up. That meant that when I needed to go add to their bottles, for example, I could sit them both down on the floor quickly and come right back. That might not sound like a big deal, but it was monumental to me. No longer did I have to find a soft surface (our living room floor is laminate) to put both babies down on to go refill one bottle, come back and put one baby back in the rock’n’play and prop his bottle, and get re-situated with the other baby. Nope – just pop them both on the floor, go fill the bottle, and come back! There was even a brief period of time in there where I could leave the one in the rock’n’play without fear he’d somehow fall out on his head! 

Since then things have just gotten easier and easier. They could crawl, then walk, now almost run toward you when you want them to. Taking them both somewhere? No problem! Stand one up in the van while you buckle the other, then take him around to his side. They can both sit up in restaurant high chairs and eat most of what you eat (thanks, baby led weaning!). They both sit up in the bath in their little chairs (those help contain them, though they don’t always work…). They can hold their own sippy cups. They entertain themselves for 20-30 minutes sometimes, playing with their toys and books. They are SO MUCH FUN! They laugh and give hugs and kisses, clap their hands, wave, and screech in excitement. Again, this list could go on for days, but, to sum it up, LIFE IS SO MUCH EASIER!

I wouldn’t trade a minute of my time with my boys, but I am truly thankful they’re now one year olds, not one month olds. Image


Full Hands, Full Heart, Full Life

It’s been ages since I blogged! Every day is busy – full of love and laughter and just LIFE.

The boys can walk now – Cason walks everywhere and Brendan takes 6 or 7 steps before falling down. They’ve got their two bottom and two top teeth (well, Brendan almost has both top ones). Unloading cupboards, playing with their toys, reading books, closing doors – these two are always busy! They laugh all the time, and are good at different things already. Cason can throw a ball remarkably well for an almost-one-year-old boy, and Brendan mimics sounds really well. Sometimes he’ll repeat “Hi!” or “Moo” or “Neigh” or “Quack quack” (we talk a lot about what animals say). Brendan gives great kisses and Cason makes a hilarious “I’m being silly” face where he sticks his neck forward and grins. They love to read books, listen to music and watch Baby Signing Time and Bubble Guppies.

I spend any time not with the boys teaching or coaching – my days are very full and I love it:

I wipe noses and bottoms; take toy pigs out of baking pans; read books to my biological children and my school-children; spray out and wash diapers; teach back-tuck pyramids; fold clothes; cook and bake; try to impress upon my students the importance of being kind, respectful, and hardworking; mix bottles; choreograph competition routines; trip over toys; play catch; drag two little people away from toilets; re-fill drawers and cabinets that have been unloaded; do my best to encourage 64 students, 16 cheerleaders, and 2 precious little boys to be the best people they can be; compose blog posts in my head that I never have time to sit down and type; kiss boo-boos; convince parents I’m not out to get their child, just trying to make him work to his potential; I smile at my darling husband as he washes the dishes; I laugh; I pray; I eat way too much; I give hugs and kisses; I enjoy every.single.day.

I am so blessed and so thankful for this life!

Here are some pictures we took over Thanksgiving break at Mom and Dad’s. What fun it was to spend time all together! ImageImage


Exhausted and Eternally Thankful

Recently, I’ve been trying to get my students to use more specific words in their writing. 
For example, rather than:
“He was mad.”
I’ve been trying to get them say things like:
“He was furious/outraged/grumpy/crabby/upset/enraged.” etc. 

Yesterday, I was thinking about how tired I was, and realized that wasn’t the appropriate word. “Exhausted” is a better fit. 

Once upon a time in my life before children, I used to sometimes think I was exhausted. To be fair to my old self, I really was a busy person who often ended up feeling tired. In college, for example, I worked on campus, took 15-20 credit hours per semester, was a cheerleader, and was active in my church/church group. I would get really worn down sometimes, but I always had the option of sleep sooner or later. 

In my life now, that is not the case. 

Exhausted, my friends, is that bone-crushing tiredness you feel when your eyes shut without permission. Exhaustion has hit me hard these past couple of weeks; it has been similar to how I felt when the boys were just a week or two old. They have been teething and now have colds, so they have been up A LOT at night. In addition, I have now caught the cold they have, so my body is even more wiped out. 

My best friend since we were ten and her boyfriend came to visit us this weekend. We loved seeing them, but last night I literally could not keep my eyes open. We were all sitting around visiting and they just kept closing. I’ve been going on 3, 4, sometimes 5, hours of broken sleep a night (1 here, 1 there), teaching, and coaching, and I’m to the point of “exhausted.” I’m so thankful that I don’t do physically difficult labor; how much worse it would be! I’m on my feet all day, but it doesn’t compare to hard labor.

Last night was another three hours of sleep, and not all at once, night, so I’m thankful Doug was able to watch the boys for a couple hours before he had to go to work today. I got almost two more hours of sleep!

Even when I am so very exhausted, and even somewhat frustrated with the boys for being awake AGAIN (although it is really not their fault), I am so very, very thankful for them. I wouldn’t trade my exhaustion for a life without my boys, not even for one second.
I am so often brought to tears of joy as I look at my sweet boys. I play Pandora lullaby stations while I get the boys ready for bed or a nap, and the songs they play frequently aid in bringing me to tears. “I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more” and the lyrics to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” are two that get me every time.

My children are such special, wonderful, beautiful, strong, smart little boys; I am forever grateful to be their mom.

I had two early losses before I had my boys; two very early miscarriages. Pieces of my heart were missing, and some days sadness overwhelmed me. In addition to grieving for the children I would never know on earth, the babies who I only carried a few short weeks, I began to worry if I would ever be able to have children at all. I was bitter and heartbroken and I was so frustrated with mothers who complained of exhaustion. I thought, I would gladly be exhausted every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could have a child. I watched other mothers do things like push their child on a swing, or reprimand their child in a store, and I dreamed that some day that would be me, all the while I worried that it wouldn’t. 

After those two losses, my pregnancy with the boys was full of worry.
If you’ve miscarried, there is no more naive happiness your whole pregnancy. You are constantly checking for pregnancy symptoms, searching frantically for any blood you may have spotted – relieved when you see none but panicky that you missed it. Add to that worry the fact that I was pregnant with twins, and twin pregnancies are considered more high-risk in the first place, and I was secretly a nervous wreck for most of my pregnancy. By the grace of God, though, my boys made it full term and came home healthy and happy.

I am eternally thankful for them. 

There are, of course, still small holes in my heart where my angel babies should be. Brendan and Cason, my rainbow babies, did not replace them, cannot replace them, though they have made life so very bright and happy. On some level, I will always grieve for my angel babies. I cannot wait to meet them in heaven some day, but it is still difficult to have to wonder who they would be were they here on earth with us. Had my first angel baby stayed in my womb, he or she would be over a year old now. My second would be a year old very soon. God had a plan, obviously, because had either of those first two babies been born, we wouldn’t have Brendan and Cason. 

I am incredibly exhausted, most parents are, but I gladly accept this exhaustion because it means I have two perfect little blessings. It means I am a mom, and I am eternally thankful.

Dear Other Mom, I’m Sorry

Dear Other Mom in the grocery store today,

I was upset when I saw that there were no double carts left. I was even more irritated when I saw you pushing one, with your one child who looked far too old/large to be sitting in the little car that is the double seat. Glaring in your direction, I muttered under my breath about people being inconsiderate. What about people like me with twins? Or others with two young children? I grumbled, and I let it bother me most of the time I spent shopping.

In retrospect, though, I wonder if I was the one being inconsiderate.

I don’t know you. I don’t know your child. I don’t know your story.

Perhaps, as I originally assumed, your child can be a brat and you indulge his every wish.

Or maybe not.

For all I know, that boy that appeared to be much too big to sit in that cart needed that cart today for some reason or another.
Maybe he has special needs and you were simply trying to avoid a meltdown by letting him use the cart he wanted.
Maybe he is physically different in some way and cannot walk well, or even at all, and therefore he must ride in a cart, so why not that one?
Maybe you’ve had an exhausting day, week, or month and telling him he couldn’t ride in that cart was just not a battle worth fighting this morning.

No matter the case, the point is I don’t know. I don’t know your story, your situation, your life.

I’m truly sorry for judging you. I’m sorry that it took me all day to think the things I should have the instant I saw you and your son. I hope you didn’t see me glare your way; I’m ashamed of my lack of kindness.

Next time, I’ll do better.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.
– attributed to Plato, Socrates, or Ian Maclaren, depending on the source

Life as HoneyMrsMommyCoach + Family Photos!

My blog title is quite an apt description of my life. Hence the reason I haven’t blogged in quite some time. 

With school in full swing + Doug’s work schedule getting busier by the day, life around here is crazy!

The boys are teething TERRIBLY and it is taking FOREVER (or so it seems!) for them to come in! They’ve been drooling and gnawing on things for months now, but in the last two weeks it has gotten really bad. They’re up frequently and for long periods of time throughout the night, obviously exhausted but in pain. They’ve had frequent, horrid diapers so runny that we’ve had lots of leaks and I feel as though the hours I spent with them are spent mostly cleaning their little butts and wherever they’ve managed to spread the mess. I JUST WANT THE TOOTH/TEETH TO BREAK THROUGH! 

They’ve been getting up so much at night that I’ve had to go back to making Doug help me out. Last night, for example, we each had to get up twice. When I do those nights on my own, I get literally almost zero sleep. At least the past couple of nights I’ve gotten 4 – 5 hours, although broken into small chunks.

So, life right now:

Up at 6 after little sleep, get ready while Doug plays with the boys.
Take them to daycare and head to work. 
Teach my sometimes-awesome-sometimes-ridiculously frustrating-8th graders all day. 
MWF-coach practice until almost 6. Sometimes I take the boys with me. Usually, though, Doug picks them up those evenings.
T-TR- pick up the boys and come home. 
Bedtime for them is between 6:30-7:30, usually, so I barely get to see them sometimes. (Good thing they’re getting up so much at night! lol)
When they’re in bed I eat, try to clean up a bit around here, take care of Origami Owl stuff, grade papers, create lessons, and crash!

I love each and every thing I do, but life can truly be exhausting. 


On another note, we had family photos taken by my aunt when she came to visit. I just LOVE them! Here are a few of my favorites.


The Aftermath

Carrying twins does something to your body. Carrying any baby changes your body, and carrying two at once can really do a number on it. (I can’t imagine carrying more than two!)

I was never Miss America material, but I was always pretty fit. 8 months after having the boys, I am still working on accepting my “new” body.

Some of what I struggle with is extra fat that I’ve put on (some probably post-babies!) because I haven’t been working out very consistently and I’m not a very healthy eater. I eat well sometimes, but then I turn right around and eat five cookies in as many minutes. (This never used to be an issue for me. I could eat what I liked and not worry about it. Those days are gone.)

The rest, though, is my belly. My belly of saggy baggy elephant skin. There is SO MUCH skin left that it looks like fat if you see it under clothes, and if you see it without clothes you might just throw up a little bit. That’s not to mention the stretch marks that look like a tiger took to my belly with its claws. I don’t mind them so much, though, because I never planned to wear a bikini again anyway. It would be nice, though, to not feel frustrated with how I look even when I put clothes on.

I’m in an online group of twin mommies. From them, I’ve learned a bit about this skin I have left.
1) It’s often referred to as “twin skin”
2) The only twin mommies in that group that don’t have it had preemies
3) It will never go completely away without surgery

Let me make one thing abundantly clear: I am SO INCREDIBLY THANKFUL for the fact that I was blessed to carry my boys to 37 weeks. They were born with zero medical issues and spent no time in the NICU, unlike many twins. I WOULD NOT trade my skin for preemie babies, and I know every one of those moms would gladly have a belly like mine to have children born full term. 

Now, having cleared that up, it is still very difficult to adjust to this belly of gross saggy skin. It even makes me less motivated to exercise/eat healthy and lose the other fat on my body (I say fat, not weight, because I weigh less than I used to but my body fat % is obviously different because everything jiggles and I just look bigger) because I know that no matter what I do, my stomach will always look this way. 

I think this is such a difficult adjustment for me for two reasons. 1) I used to be very fit and active and I’m just still not used to the person I see in the mirror. 2) So many women around me and society in general make it seem like I should have a perfect little tiny body again by now. (It’s been 8 months since they were born – what is wrong with her?!) My friend Sarah put it into words quite well the other day, I thought. She said, “We’re told we’re beautiful when we’re little, and that puberty is good, even though our bodies change, and then when they change again (for a great purpose) all of a sudden they’re ugly and embarrassing!” 

ImageWhen your belly stretches this far, some of it just won’t “snap back”

I‘d post a picture of the aftermath, but I don’t want anybody to lose their lunch 😉 (You probably think I’m kidding, but I’m really not. For instance, I was shopping for some new shirts one afternoon with my younger sister Hope. She is incredibly blunt and honest in her childlike way, and as she saw me change my shirt she asked me what was wrong with my stomach. I explained to her that having Brendan and Cason had made my belly look that way, and she giggled while she said, “It’s gross! Put your shirt on!” She did not say this to hurt my feelings, she is just honest.)

Thankfully, the skin on my belly has gone down a great deal. That doesn’t mean it bothers me any less. This blog post is something I read on days I’m really upset. She puts into words EXACTLY how I feel about it! 
“When I blow dry my hair after a shower, I look at my body in the mirror, and the familiar internal conversation begins. First there is the still present feeling of surprise. That’s me? Then comes the uncontrollable feeling of disgust constricting my throat. But on its heels the thought: wait a minute, these scars are sacred, they represent one of the most significant stories within my story, something I don’t want to forget, and there, right there is evidence of my own rebirth into something more. But I hardly take a breath before my hands are moving to my stomach to stretch it out flat and make it look like a long-gone me. If I could just change this one part…”
—-read the whole post though, please. It is so beautifully written!

Shopping and getting dressed have changed immensely. I cannot wear shirts that fit my belly and feel comfortable with myself, so I buy more loose fitting clothing or shirts that are banded at the bottom but loose over the belly. I’ve had to buy bigger pants because the skin just couldn’t comfortably fit inside my old ones. If I want to look nice for some reason, if I’m really trying to look pretty, I end up in tears. Then I remind myself that vanity is a sin, I get up and put on my “fat sucker inner” as I call my spanx that I have to wear to even somewhat resemble my old self, and get dressed. 

Like I said just above, I KNOW that vanity is a sin. I know that, but I struggle with it. I struggle with wanting to look like my old self, but not wanting to go back to the days before I had my babies. I struggle with feeling ugly, even in front of my very reassuring, sweet, accepting husband. It is a daily struggle to accept myself for who I am and to remember that what I look like doesn’t really matter. 

It is also a struggle not to be jealous of and bitter toward mothers whose bodies can return to, or very closely to, what they looked like before baby/ies. Add this to the list of things about which I compare myself to other moms. 

My photographer aunt is visiting this weekend, and we are planning to finally take family photos. I don’t know what I’ll wear, and I’m sure I won’t love how I look. I keep remembering this blog post I read awhile ago, though, and I know I’ll be thankful we took pictures as a family.

In summary, I don’t have anything as beautiful to say as the author of “These are the lines of a story” did in the first post I linked tonight. She kind of took the words right from my mouth with a lot of what she said. 
I’m thankful for my boys, and I would rather have a gross belly than no babies.
I’m aware that this whole post is a first world problem that wouldn’t even be an issue if I didn’t have such an easy, cushy lifestyle. If I had to hunt my food and carry my own water every day, extra belly skin would probably never cross my mind. 

If you’re reading this post and you have twin skin, I want to tell you that it’s ok to not love it. I don’t think anybody does. Someday, though, we’ll come to a better acceptance of our bodies as they are now. (Alternatively, you can get a tummy tuck. Lots of women do that nowadays.) I’m more ok with it now than I was a month ago, and I’m sure in the next few years that acceptance will continue to grow. 

I also know that I’m smaller than many people I know, and they’ll probably be irritated by this post. Please realize, though, this post isn’t about losing weight; it’s about trying to accept a part of me that I can never hope to change without a very expensive, painful, elective surgery – a surgery I don’t want. And to those of you who say, “it’ll go back” or, “do more planks”: you don’t know what I’m talking about. Ask a twin mom. Or a triplet or quad mom. Or a singleton mom whose belly grew more than is typical.

It’s skin. I can’t “fix” it. And I will accept it. 

On the Move


My babies are crawling. Both of them, now, since Brendan started today. Poor Cason tried and tried for over a month, going backwards, then rocking on his hands and knees, trying to bear-crawl, etc. He finally mastered it just a couple days ago, and his speed is ever increasing. He doesn’t do the typical crawl, though. He kind of slides/scoots along sometimes, and others he bear-crawls. 
Brendan, who had zero interest in trying to crawl until about a week ago, started moving forward this afternoon. Because it is so new, it is still slow, but it is very methodical. Hand, knee, hand, knee, etc. 

I am SO PROUD of my big 8 month old boys. My heart just about burst with joy (as it does every single time they do anything, lol) to see them crawl. I am beyond thankful every day for my happy, healthy children. 

At the same time, I am a little bit sad. Every day they grow and change and it is so amazing to watch. They are such little miracles! But, every change brings with it the realization that my babies are growing up. Pretty soon, they’ll be able to walk, and run, and climb. 

I am so incredibly excited for this life with my boys, but I will miss their tiny baby stage. Image

Playing in their room