Where to begin?

As you can imagine, I have an INCREDIBLE amount of things to update on this blog. Running behind seems to be the story of my life. I am behind at work, at home, you name it- I am struggling to keep up. I feel a little on the crazy side- my days are starting to remind me of a Looney Tunes cartoon, in which I am cast as the Tasmanian Devil.

I am determined to get more organized, and I am realizing bit by bit that it means giving up control and giving everything over to God- I am only one person, and I know I will always fall short... but God won't. Somehow those words are so much easier to type than to live out.

With that being said, let's start with a HUGE praise... I really wasn't going to mention it- but this is a scrapbook of my life and I certainly want to document all the little and BIG ways that the Lord has blessed us. In a nutshell... the promotion I had been hoping and praying for came through. It happened sooner than I had anticipated, and right after I realized that I needed to be happy with where I was and with what He had given me. Long story short- it felt good to know that my hard work had been noticed... and it felt even better that after a long journey - I knew exactly where God wanted me.

And, what's new with Wyatt? He is a handful of epic proportions. Today Mark picked up from school, and for the second day in a row, he was in time out. When asked why he had been put in time out- he stated that he had pushed a classmate and threw toys. Normal for a two-year-old? Yes. Disappointing that my son is not as perfect at school as I had once imagined him to be? Absolutely.

He is also becoming quite opinionated- almost overnight. Now, it totally matters what color his sippy cups is or what PJ's he wears. Thank the good Lord he has not started pitching a fit over the monogrammed clothing yet. Oh the horror.

Speaking of clothes- that is the big battle in our house at the moment. Not with Wyatt, but with my husband. I came home from a boutique overstock sale with several precious two-piece, smocked outfits and was promptly told that if so much as Wyatt's big toe touched them- they would find themselves in the bonfire out back. I am heartbroken. It seems the only teenie tiny thing that even still resembled my baby boy is gone- only to be replaced by blasé polos and khakis (YAWN!) Even worse, the dozen holiday long alls that I have been stashing in the closet were discovered and my dreams of gingerbread one-piece Santa pictures have been squashed.

Enjoy your babies while you have them- because one day your husband might just come home and put his foot down. If I ever have a daughter, Mark Olis, get ready for hair bows the size of Texas, and smocked dresses for the next 10 years :)