Growing Up Carter, Life right now

Coach Pitch.

Carter Patrick started playing baseball on a real team and OH MY HELL is it cute.

He is STOKED about the apparel involved. Cleats? Hat? Jersey? Socks that reach his scrawny mid-thigh? Check, check, check. Throw in pants with a little belt, a brand new glove, his own bat, and a helmet, and you’ve got two broke parents and one serious fashionista …isto? Fashion-ister?

(He is a Muckdog. No, I’m not sure exactly what that is, but I Googled it once and it has something to do with feral dogs who hang around onion swamps. Rad.)

Him cheering for teammates and scrunching his eyes under his brim and the surprise on his face when he hits the ball — BASEBALL IS SO CUTE.

And also, baseball is a crucible on my very sanity and patience.

Carter has cried no less than three times about baseball. He asked me if he could quit multiple times a day for a week straight.

He doesn’t cry because he gets hurt or because he strikes out. No, Carter cries because he isn’t instantly perfect at the game and that is earth-shatteringly frustrating. This is how life goes with Carter. Baseball, gymnastics, double-digit subtraction — he would rather just not try something than be bad at it.

So I make him keep doing it, whatever the current ‘it’ is. I am ruthless that way. I rule with an iron fist when it comes to not giving up. I’ve read too much Malcolm Gladwell and Carol Dweck, and also I’m just plain mean. I like to set my kids up to fail, just for spite, obviously. #justmomthings

There’s a sweet spot with every new skill where all of a sudden Carter gets all about it and everything is right with the world again. We reached that point this week with baseball. He’s familiar with the practice set up, the kids, the allocation of drink breaks. He’s hit a few solid line drives, he’s got the hang of this whole catch thing, he’s making less mistakes — which of course is not because HE’S PRACTICING or because Mom and Dad wouldn’t let him throw in the towel. It’s because he is SO GOOD and he loves it and are we watching?


Yup. Still watching. Choke up on that bat, son.

Here's Why, Life right now

No bigs.

On Tuesday mornings, I meet with a big ol’ group of women, all ages, and we listen to our teacher and drink lots of coffee and oogle babies and escape our toddlers for an hour or so. Bible Study Tuesday has become a staple in my life.

Today, our fearless leader asked us, “What are you doing in your life that counts for eternity?”

Quite the question.

My mind went right to my lap, which was bouncing a fussy Charlie Girl.

My lap is tired.

I’m tired — Mother of Newborn Twins tired. Mother of a Two-year Old tired. Mother of a Six-Going-on-Sixteen-Year Old tired. My eyes are tired of opening at 3am. My ears are tired of screeches. My arms are tired of catching, lifting, hoisting, holding. My skin is tired of being touched and touched and touched. And my nostrils? Well, yeah, they’re tired too.

This is what I’m doing that I hope, hope, hope is counting for eternity, at least in a positive way. And here’s what I think.

I’m doing really, really well. I am KILLING IT.

I know this for a fact because my kids bathe daily, usually. I know because nine times out of ten, Carter’s homework is finished before the morning it’s due. It’s a fact because Jack ate split pea soup for lunch and only spilt half down his shirt and because 50% of my twins are sleeping through the night.

I know because Carter says if he could pick anyone in the world, he’d want to have dinner with me and a sleepover with Grammie and Miley. I know because Jack hasn’t broken a bone yet. I know because I regularly load up four seat-belted kids into my sky-blue minivan and successfully pull out of our driveway without major bodily injuries. I know because our kids can’t tell the difference between real and fake meat, because one boy loves asparagus and the other loves salad.

I know because church on Sundays, gymnastics on Wednesdays, baseball on Saturdays. Because I remembered to cut out all of those Boxtops for Education. Because more whole foods! Fuel points! Notes in his lunchbox! Two dishwasher cycles, three loads of laundry — daily!

I’m totally bragging here, but I even exercised this week. I even curled my hair once.

But I couldn’t do it all by myself. I’d like to take a moment to praise the other power players raising these little humans: their dad, their grandparents, their aunts and uncles, and Amazon Prime.

This #momlife is the bee’s knees, and I am rocking it. You go, Heather Lynne. Keep on keepin’ on.

(But mostly, what I’m trying to say is this #momlife is so, so hard, and I’m going to keep on keepin’ on. Eternity is on the line.)




Elizabeth Megan. 3:48 am. 5 lbs 1 oz. 17″.

Charlotte Avery. 4:46am. 6 lbs 7 oz. 18″.

I’m still holding the L&D details pretty close to my chest. The girls came Sunday the 22nd. We spent 5 days in NICU, mostly for monitoring on room air. I lost a lot of blood during a long delivery. Charlotte got to hang out for a day under the phototherapy lights. Elizabeth dipped down to 4 1/2 lbs. We all got sent home together on Friday, but Elizabeth bounced back into the peds ward Saturday after she showed some trouble breathing. It was a very long, scary week.


Charlotte of Hollywood

We’ve been home now for three weeks, and it’s been love-bright and sleep-hazy. Having Jesse home on paternity leave has made every drop of difference when it comes to figuring out this new landscape, and I think it’s finally sinking in: we are a family of six.

Carter Patrick is the twins’ (The Twins!) biggest fan. He is the sweetest big brother, reading to them and always asking to hold them and singing them improvised Carter-tunes.


Jack is curious and thinks the girls (The Girls!) are hilarious noise-makers. He points out their ears and hairs and noses and laughs whenever Char-lit and Bibbit squeak. He’s too fast for most pictures, what with being a bit of an (adorable) bulldozer, but we haven’t given up trying.

2+2. We’re still working on our form.

I am overwhelmed with the support and love that has been showered on our no-longer-so-little family. Truly, we have the best people.

I am taken aback by just how very different the girls are, both in appearance and personality.

Guys, guys. Twins. Twin girls. I have them. They are here and they are gorgeous and they are perfect and is this real life?! Cheers to don’t-blink moments where your life reaches a mountain top and the sky splits wide-open in a smile and your heart explodes into dancing confetti. This is the stuff.