The Teenager is Now The Adult.

Well, it happened.  My first born baby boy is 18.  It seems like yesterday that I held his tiny newborn body out over the edge of Pride Rock and…oh wait.  Eighteen years, gone in a flash.

One of the earliest memories that stands out the most for me is of him in the bed with me.  He was a big baby (9lbs 6oz), but so very little to this new mom.  I couldn’t help but be amazed.  He was so perfect and beautiful and he was mine.  That was mind blowing for my 19 year old self.

The circumstances of his birth were tough, but oh the reward was so very sweet.  To have the honor and privilege of watching him grow into the man he is today. This day. There were many bumps in the road, but those mostly came from outside sources.  Today, I remain so very proud of Jacob’s character.  He has always been the kid who would carry the spider outside, never would hurt a fly.  He expresses such sorrow over suffering of people in the world.  He is pretty empathetic like his momma, though the world has worked hard to beat it out of him.

So, to my beautiful son I say take the bull by the horns.  Live.  Love.  Leave a positive mark.  Have some fun.  Cry a little, die a little, and grow a lot.  It will be tough, it will be difficult,and it will be amazing.  Just like you.

Happy Birthday  Jacob Christopher Taylor



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Co-Sleeping Beauty

I am totally prepared to burn over this one.  Totally torch and pitchfork ready.

Co-sleeping blows.

I know you are going to get all, “Hey, your baby needs your comfort!  It won’t last forever!”  Neither will my youth, my sanity, or my sex life.  First I would say that my babies are no longer babies.  One is two and the other four.  Oh, and the 17 year old started out or finished up the night with us until he was 11.  Needless to say the husbo and I have never really had a long stretch without kids in the bed.

What’s the big deal?  Nothing, I guess, for the Sprockets who sleep blissfully in between us.  But it’s a BIG deal for the grown ups with the pinched nerves, broken backs, who are totally sick of having someone’s fingers in their eyes, or toes in their belly button.  The little cherubs who sleep all up in your face with their mouths hanging open and the dragon breath rolling out.   Honestly, I am quite ready for Gitmo.  I haven’t slept in years, and I can find total comfort in a bed that is 7 inches wide with a 3 foot long blanket.  Gitmo or Hell week in BUD/S, you can’t break this momma.

When two tired parents try to break the co sleeping habit it is an EPICFAIL.  The night goes something like this:  read kids to sleep, move them to their beds, sleep for two hours in what seems like a vast sea, then one by one the  kids come to the bed side.  At that moment we should be marching them back to their beds, but who has the energy to do that?  So they snuggle up all cute like and drift off into dreamy serenity.  Sometimes dad and I just stare at eachother.  Or we cuss and hit the pillows.  Or growl.

Point is, sometimes the best thing we can do for our kids is the best thing we SHOULD do for ourselves.  If that means getting a bigger bed, yay bigger bed.  If that means forcing the kids into their beds until they “get it”, oh yes please.


River Bound

On Sunday, the fam headed up to Little River Canyon National Preserve.  We packed a lunch and hoped to put our feet in the water for awhile.  The photo below is from the trail headed to the falls.  It also serves as a great illustration.  See, you can snap what you think is just a lovely photo…and get, well…a surprise!

Check out what Jon discovered while trying to zoom in on a certain area of the photo.


Yup, this classy dude was in that picture.  Talk about your Where’s Waldo!  Luckily when fully zoomed out, you can’t see him.  Nice undies.

We pointlessly told the children several times that we were NOT going to be swimming. It was a stickyourfeetinthecoolwater day.  Definitely NO swimming.

I GUESS we can go ahead and take off their shirts.  (You know, so they don’t get all wet from dipping our feet in.)

See?  Do what mom does.

And Dad.

What the???  Hey now!


Well, at least I stuck to the rules.