Love, The Moore Family

Every Christmas becomes more special.  And it seems that each year I say “this is the most special Christmas yet”, only to discover that the next one is even better.  Blessed doesn’t earthly explain the blessings that are our family and friends and the life that God is guiding us through.  My great-grandmother has celebrated her 101st Christmas, my grandparents are healthy and so are my mom and step-dad, this is our first Christmas with my nephew, my brother-in-law home from deployment, and we are celebrating that we will add another member to our family next year.  That’s right, another Baby Moore will be making his/her way this July.  My husband’s parents are healthy and visiting with the Moore side of the family always consists of food, plenty of drinks (none for me this year [insert inconsolable crying emoji]), and lots of laughter from Karter and our nieces running around the house.

It is amazing to stick to family traditions and make our own in the process.  Each year is cherished only knowing that the next one will be even better.

So from our family to yours, Merry Christmas.

Badass Mom

IMG_6009

This is my daughter, Karter.  She is my reason for everything that I do.  And just about every mom agrees she feels the same about her children.  Now.  the “reason for everything I do” includes appropriately dancing to rap music and making up dances every time she pees in the potty and gets an MnM. It’s also crazy that I don’t think twice about catching vomit, pee, or poop in my hands because I’d rather clean my hands than my carpet.  We play outside.  She rarely watches television and you won’t catch her with a phone or tablet (yes, we are THOSE parents).  We read books and we learn and grow together.

Karter understands me.  I mean she should, right. I partly created her and well, she literally came out of me.  We love sports. We love clothes and shoes. We’re both politely bossy (but we all know that I rule – I am the mom after all). We love Daddy. And we love Jesus.

A few years ago, my husband and I had been trying for nearly a year to get pregnant.  After realizing we needed help and sought that help out, we were told we had a 0% chance of having a child together.  I can’t tell you the devastation that came with that.  But I also can’t describe the love of Jesus and plan that He has because we were immediately led to the Nashville Fertility Center.  Our amazing doctor told us that we would be pregnant in 3 months.  Guess how long it took? 3 months.  November 28th, 2014, we found out we were pregnant. And then in August, our beautiful miracle was born.  It doesn’t matter that I went in on a Thursday night and didn’t leave the hospital until Monday afternoon because she decided not to join us until Saturday morning.  It didn’t matter that the epidural wore off and I never fully dilated and had to deliver naturally.  It doesn’t matter that I was in and out of consciousness and was so delusional that I thought I was actually in hell (really, I thought they rolled me out of the room and took me to hell – I saw red flames and everything).  None of that matters, and I’d do it all again.

I breastfed for an entire year and still worked full time as a teacher, cross country coach, and girls assistant basketball.  I traveled all over the United States during the summer coaching an AAU girls basketball team.  I did it all with my baby girl with me through every step.  Did I also mention that I decided to go back to school to get my Masters in Educational Leadership? So yeah, I was doing that too. In year two, I still work full time and coach the same sports, but I spent the summer working on my degree, which I’ll be finished with in December.  And then in January, I start my Ed.S.

Crazy? Maybe. Cocky? Try confident.  Badass? Hell yes.

Potty Training Fail(ing)

I’m new to this whole blog thing.  But my life is way to interesting to not write it down because often times I ask myself, “Is this real life?”. And it is.  Like today.  We started potty training.  Again. We have “gone” in the floor 9 times and successfully used the potty once.  It doesn’t phase my beautiful baby girl that she has urine running down her leg or that she’s sitting on her pillow and dancing while she’s pooping.  And she doesn’t do the usual “squat wherever I’m at and make it completely obvious to everyone around me that I’m about to start pooping.” Nope.  Rather, she reminded me of a cow the way she was lazily walking and just decided to drop a pile without ever breaking stride and then acted like it never happened.  Oh, and the first time she went “number 1”, she sat down and started rolling around in it.

But don’t let her fool you. She knows that she has to use the bathroom.  We took her for her first ever dentist appointment shortly after she turned two.  She was a beautiful angel the entire time the hygienist was cleaning her teeth.  As the dentist came in and stuck out her hand to introduce herself, rather than our beautiful angel shaking her hand in return to tell the dentist her name, she grabs her crotch, full on Michael Jackson style, and tells her she has to pee.  Twice.  She did that twice.

So this potty training thing is yet the worst part of parent hood.  Not the 36 hours of labor and natural child birth. Nope. It’s potty training.