Testimony.

SIDENOTE: I accidentally hit the publish button on this blog post a few days ago when I was just trying to update the draft version and before I had a chance to cancel it, it was emailed out to my email subscribers.  Awesome.  Yay me!  So if you got the half-finished version of this in your inbox before I had the chance to cancel this, I'm so sorry.  And I'm so embarrassed.  Here's the final version.

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My testimony.

Here and now.

Let's do this.  It's raw and honest.  Sad and embarrassing.  If I don't tell it, I can't help anyone.  I only ask that you try to look deep into your heart and reserve your judgments and remember that I am only human; I made lots of mistakes.  Thanks to Christ, I am a new person and the person I'll be talking about is someone that, by the grace of God, I no longer am.

I've wanted to sit down and put this to paper for...ever.  I just haven't.  No excuse, really.  I just haven't set down and tried to form it all into a logical story until now.  Plus, sharing it is one of the hardest things I will ever do.  Truly.  I don't do vulnerability well so as you can imagine, putting almost every screw-up out there is TOUGH.  All I can think about is what people who don't know this about me will think of me once they do.  And the truth is, most people who read this won't have known this about me.  But being vulnerable means sharing God's grace.  Look what He did. For me.  Little old rebellious me.  He wants to do this for you, too.  For every last one of you.

I grew up in what I suppose one would call a divided home.  Part Christian, part not.  I didn't think much of God during my childhood.  I knew of Him, my mom talked about Him and we occasionally read from the Bible.  I knew Christmas was all about Jesus.  I was jealous of my friends who went to church, mostly because I felt like I was missing out.  Seeing everyone else doing this thing that I didn't get to do made me feel like an outsider.

We started going to church the summer before my freshman year in high school.  I pretty much jumped right in to Bible study and youth group.  It's where I met my first real boyfriend.  We ended up dating for a few years.  We weren't good influences on each other.  We went to church and we were in youth group, but that was about it.  It was definitely all show.

But I remember attending some sort of youth conference at Springmaid beach during high school.   I remember being incredibly moved.  Moved to tears, even.  I remember feeling like I'd been saved; believing I'd been saved.

The next day, upon returning home from the youth conference, I went back to my old ways, doing the same things I'd been doing that I had no business doing.

As the years passed, I became more rebellious.  I drank more, I smoked more, I partied more and I was more promiscuous.  I was definitely searching for something. I won't get into all the nitty gritty details of my childhood because the blame game isn't even fair.  Ultimately only I am responsible for my actions.  The only thing you need to know is that I, like many people, had a good childhood that was lacking in certain areas and I sought to fill the holes in my soul with other things.

At 19, I moved from South Carolina to Kansas, leaving behind a boyfriend, my Dad and lots of friends.  I turned to shopping.  Some people have drugs, some people have alcohol, I had a credit card.

And I used it.

Over the next few years, I became a compulsive shopper and I partied almost every night.  I somehow maintained decent grades and held down a job, but I was no longer going to church and the brief closeness I'd felt to God was long gone.

I dated guy after guy.  Some relationships were serious; a few lasted several years.  But when they ended, I would begin a new one within the week because I could not be single.  I didn't know how.  Just as I was a compulsive shopper, I was a compulsive dater, too.

A few years of just teetering on the brink of financial disaster later, I started doing really stupid things like taking rent money and using it to buy clothes instead.  I'd make enough money this weekend to cover rent, and what would it really matter if it was a few days late, anyway?  That reasoning would carry on into the weekend, when I'd make a few hundred bucks waiting tables and again wonder why it would really matter if I went ahead and spent this money, too, and paid my rent a week late.  What would they really do to me?

I played that game for six months or so until I got an eviction notice.  Serious stuff.  Then my electricity got turned off.  My boyfriend at the time bailed me out.  I remember him paying my overdue balances and then going to the grocery store and buying me a massive load of groceries because he saw I had nothing in my fridge.  I didn't spend money on food because that seemed dumb.  I could buy clothes instead.  Or alcohol.  Or shoes.  So I mostly just ate when I was at work (I worked at a restaurant).  There was always some screw-up order in the window that we'd all mooch off of.  The salad was free.  And the managers were nice.

My water got shut off multiple times.  I had to ask friends to shower at their places.  I made up lies.  There was no way I'd tell them why my water was really shut off.  It was an all-time low.

I was working out of town and after one particularly bad night, a coworker asked if I wanted to go grab a drink after work.  Why not?  We headed to a bar down the road and grabbed our first drink.  Shortly after, we made our way to the bathroom and then back out to finish our first drink.  We danced our way onto the stage, at which point I remember some guy grabbing me, dancing with me and eventually putting his hand up my skirt.  The last thing I remember was trying to make eye contact with my friend so she could help me get off the dance floor and away from creepy dude.

The next memory I have is waking up in a ditch on the interstate in my car.  I opened my door, threw up and panicked.  Where am I?  How am I wherever I am?  What happened to me?  How much time has passed?  I fiddled around for my phone and eventually managed to dial correctly.  I told my boyfriend that I thought I was on the interstate.  But all I knew was that I was in a ditch, there was some interstate right next to me and his guess was as good as mine as to where I actually was.  He said he'd come get me.  I hung up, flung my phone across the seat and breathed a sigh of relief just in time to catch the reflection of some flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

Well.

I was arrested.  My all-time low hit an all-time low.  Something had to give.  In hindsight and after talking to my friend who'd been with me, I was fully convinced that I'd been slipped the date rape drug.  I'll never know and it will always remain speculation, but although I'd been known to do a lot of bad things in my time, drinking and driving was something I avoided and I never in my right mind would have tried to drive out of town intoxicated (I worked about 30 minutes from my house at the time).

I was bailed out of this situation, too, and things just continued to get worse.  I started surrounding myself with people who partied hard.  The older I got, the more I partied, the more I stopped caring about school, the more I spent, the more I drank, the more I participated in other illegal activities, the more I became promiscuous.  And so on and so forth.

The guilt and shame I carried around became suffocating.  But ironically, the more shame I felt, the more I tried to squelch the shame by doing shameful things.  It makes no sense when coming at it logically, but in my screwed up brain at the time, it somehow made perfect sense.

And then I met my hubby.  As a testament to how screwed up I really was at this time in my life, I met him because I was messing around with his roommate.

One night, while laying in his roommate's bed (who was right across the hall from Tim's room - you could literally lay in one bed and stare at the other bed), I remember very distinctly thinking, "Hm, now there is a guy I should be dating.  Handsome, smart, hard-working, good job, great with kids.  What am I doing not pursuing this guy?!"

So I started pursuing him.  Awkwardly, as I had been "seeing" his roommate, our relationship began.  But only because I was pursuing it.  I hadn't ever been the pursuer before.  I didn't love it.  It definitely hurt to invite him over and get a, "Hm, maybe if I have time," in return.  And then he wouldn't show up.

Yeah, that happened.  Thank you, honey.

My husband grew up in a very strong, Christian home.  He strayed from God for awhile.  When we met, neither of us were what I'd call godly.  Neither of us had an active relationship with Christ.  We were young, we had fun...and then we had more fun.  We spent most weekends at the bar.  We spent the majority of our dating relationship either drinking or smoking.  Or drinking and smoking.  We lived together before marriage.

Shortly into our relationship, I began to have "seizures" (in quotes because I don't think they were true, medically-defined seizures), I lost the ability to speak and I ended up in the hospital.  They told me (and my boyfriend of a whopping month) it was all in my head after running test after test after test.  It made sense.  I was facing jail time for blowing the money I had been saving up to pay the fine for my DUI on clothes.  Have I mentioned I was a real winner?

I hated myself.  A deep, awful hate.

I spent a few months contemplating the best way to kill myself.  I wasn't kidding when I said I was sharing it all, huh?  I'm sorry.  :/

Basically, I was in as bad a place as I'd ever been.  My life, and me, had become unrecognizable.

I pushed Tim away because he'd seen me at this lowest of low.  We eventually broke up.  A week or so later, I'd of course found someone else to bide my time with because I couldn't bare being alone.

He date raped me.

My life was on a fast track to utter disaster.

I was along for the ride.

I dropped out of college, a few semesters shy of graduation.

(I'm bawling as I write this.  I'm not saying this for sympathy.  I just want to communicate how insanely powerful my journey to Christ has been.)

Tim and I were apart for about six months before I felt a powerful nudge to get him back at whatever cost.  I had really screwed him over and he really didn't want anything to do with me.  Really.  He wouldn't return my calls, texts, emails or even hand-written letters I mailed to him.

But finally, one balmy fourth of July evening, he returned my text.  And obviously the rest is history (though "the rest" includes things like living together before marriage, premarital sex, lots of alcohol, me running up more debt, etc.).

A few years later, I mostly proposed to him (pretty much a joke that became a reality) and we were married March 8, 2008.

When we got married, I remember telling our minister that we wanted God involved in the ceremony "a little."  We didn't get married in church.

A few weeks later, the Jayhawks won the National Championship in college basketball and we partied harder than ever before.  We lived in Lawrence so we jumped at the opportunity to get down to Mass St. the second we won and we spent the entire week in an alcohol-induced bliss.

And then, a week or two later, we got big news.

BIG, BIG news.  I was pregnant.

I smoked a cigarette right before taking the test.

And then I never smoked another one.

I got the positive test, and that was it.  Life, as I knew it, was forever changed.  We welcomed Benjamin Allan into this world eight short months later.

One day, I mentioned to Tim that we really should find a church.  So we tried one.  And we really liked it. After all, a few of Kansas' players (former and present) went and were active there.  And it was literally just down the road.

But then we moved to Kansas City.

We put it off for awhile, but eventually we church-shopped.  I hate that term, but it's what we did.  We tried a mega church first, but it wasn't our scene.  Then we found this little local church via a playgroup I was in that met in said church coffee shop.

And, as I love to say, the rest is history.

We very quickly jumped in: small group, then volunteers, then members.  I joined a Bible study.  I made friends.  Godly, wonderful friends.  I soaked up the gospel.  And so, in April of 2011, I asked to be baptized.

On May 1, 2011, I accepted Christ as my savior and started my life over again.  I was (and still am and will forever be) a work in progress.  I learn every day.  I change and grow every day.  Where I once was judgmental, I now am open-armed and open-minded.  Where I once was seeking satisfaction in things like money and alcohol, I now cling to my Father and praise Him for loving little old me so much that He sent His son to die...for ME!  ME!  Where I once was prideful and self-serving, I now ask God to help me see those in need so that I may stop serving myself and start serving people who actually need it.

But what has changed more than anything else is that without Christ, I was a ball of shame, constantly retreating into my shell with guilt and shame and disgust.  With Christ, I am free.  He has made me new.  He has forgiven me...and will forgive you of anything.  His grace is enough, and it is so, so good.  I don't have to be ashamed.  Because God sent His son to die for me so that I could have life, and have it in abundance.  God sent His son to die for me so that I could be forgiven of my sins.  At our very core, in this fallen world, we are sinful, prideful and self-centered.  God has given us another way.  And when you are really, truly saved, you will begin to see life in a whole new way.

You will begin to see sunshine where once there were only clouds.

You will begin to see love where once there was judgment.

You will begin to see hope and promise for a future that once seemed bleak.

You will begin to see beauty all around!

You will begin to choose joy because it's what life is about!  Be grateful for this gift God has given us, even if you face trials and tribulations.  Life IS a gift.  God gives it freely.

On a different but still related note, my husband and I begun the year of 2012 in a pretty rotten place.  I was pregnant, depressed and our relationship was on the rocks.  Things only got worse as the year went on, and by the time our son was born, we were clinging to the last shreds of our relationship.  Sharing that is, oh, pretty much the hardest thing on earth (much harder than sharing my testimony alone).  But it was a few people opening up their hearts and worlds to me that helped me see that it is both okay and normal to struggle in your marriage, and I want to return the favor.

We struggled.  Shoot, we still struggle and we probably always will.  But changing to a Christian counselor and being committed to each other and these appointments, we faced our problems and we are so, so, so much better for it.  A few months ago, I wasn't sure how we were going to survive.  Now?  I love my husband so much my heart sometimes feels like it's going to burst open.  I prayed.  And I read the Bible.  And I prayed some more.  And with God's help, our marriage was healed.

Life. Is. Good.

I. am. happy.

God. is. amazing.

And He gets all the glory.

Fat: it does a body good.

I took a little hiatus from Project Real Food for awhile. Kids were really sick, vacations were gone on, houses were cleaned...you get the picture. Sometimes life gets in the way of our best intentions. But I'm back with a vengeance! Now that we've spilled the beans on the lipid hypothesis, I suppose we should talk about what good fats actually do for our bodies. Traditional fats are coconut oil, cod-liver oil, butter and ghee (clarified butter), egg yolks, olive oil, palm oil, meat fats and even tallow and lard. It's important that fats from animal sources come only from animals raised in a traditional way (catching a theme here?). This means grassfed cows and free range chickens. The best way to go about this is through local farms, though I'll talk about other sources I've used at one point or another a little later. Traditional fats mentioned above serve important functions in our bodies. Contrary to common belief, we need saturated fats and they are not, in fact, the enemy we should be avoiding. Saturated fats and the brain. They provide key nutrients that you need to maintain optimal health and an optimal weight. Sixty percent of our brains are made up of fat. When you eat saturated fats, you nourish your brain cells. When you don't eat enough saturated fats, the chemistry of your brain can be compromised. This is a big reason that so many pediatricians today stress the importance of whole milk and yogurt for young infants and toddlers. I say, why stop there? Our kids have always gotten whole milk, yogurt and cheese and always will. My husband and I only drink whole milk, yogurt and cheese, too. I may be carrying some baby weight, but all you have to do is look at my skinny hubby and my slender kiddos to know that eating and drinking lots of full fat, natural foods isn't going to make you fat. Making babies might, though. :) My husband has actually lost weight (or as he'll tell you, his little chunk of belly fat so that he now has a six pack that I secretly envy). And ironically, when I was pregnant with my first son, I drank skim milk and used almost entirely fat-free or light products. I gained forty pounds in that pregnancy. Right before getting pregnant with my second, I switched to full-fat products and swore off all the light and fat-free products and quit worrying about fat in my diet. I only gained 25 pounds in that pregnancy. This is obviously not a scientific experiment, but I do find it somewhat telling. If conventional wisdom held true, one would think that I should have gained quite a bit more when I switched my diet to full-fat food than when I was eating almost entirely fat-free food. Cellular integrity. Every cell membrane in your body is ideally made up of 50 percent saturated fat, so consuming saturated fats maintains cellular integrity in your body. If one eats too much polyunsaturated oil and not enough saturated fat, the cells won't function correctly. Less saturated fats, higher rates of osteoporosis. A study published in the 1996 American Oil Chemists Society Proceedings found that 50 percent of dietary fats should be saturated in order for calcium to be absorbed and used correctly in our bones. The authors of Eat Fat, Lose Fat say that one reason osteoporosis has become such a problem these days is the lack of fats like coconut oil and butter in our diets. Saturated fats and the liver. Saturated fats protect the liver from toxins like alcohol and medicine like Tylenol. As we have villified saturated fats and increased our consumption of polyunsaturated oil, liver problems have become more common. Saturated fats and the heart. Saturated fats provide energy to the heart in times of stress. There is a concentration of saturated fat in the tissues surrounding the heart and studies have shown that saturated fats are the heart's preferred food. Saturated fats and the lungs. Our lungs cannot properly function without saturated fat in our diets. The fatty acids in the lung surfactant are normally 100 percent saturated. When people consume large amounts of partially hydrogenated fats and vegetable oils, trans fatty acids and polyunsaturated fatty acids are put into the phospholipids where the body needs saturated fatty acids, meaning our lungs can't work as effectively. Recent research suggests that consumption of trans fats and polyunsaturated oils contributes to the rising rates of asthma in children. Children who consume plenty of butterfat have much lower rates of asthma. Fat-soluble vitamins. Saturated fats are a great source of fat-soluble vitamins like A, D and K, which are deficient in the standard American diet (SAD). These vitamins play important roles, like hormone regulation, reproduction, immunity, bone health and more. The wrong kinds of fat actually inhibit the production of stress and sex hormones, creating problems with glucose balance, mineral metabolism and reproduction. I remember when I was pregnant with my first son and had joined a message board with other mothers expecting in the same month, the topic of switching to full-fat milk for reproductive purposes came up. I never really understood why studies were showing that women who drank full-fat milk were more likely to get and stay pregnant than women who drank 2 percent or whole until I began to study traditional fats. Now I completely understand it. Omega 3s and Omega 6s. Interestingly, we have hormones that act within our cells called prostaglandins. There are three major types: two are made from omega-6 fatty acids and one is made from omega-3 fatty acids. For the optimal production and balance of these prostaglandins, you need a good balance of omega-3s to omega-6s. Ideally, you shouldn't ever have more than two to three times more omega-6s than omega-3s. In the SAD, the ratio is close to 20 to 1. Most of this is due to the high consumption of vegetable oils. This is probably the single biggest reason I initially switched to grassfed beef, as well. Our doctor explained to us the important of consuming more omega-3s a few years ago, and urged me to get my children on an omega-3 supplement. As a result, I began to research this whole omega-3/omega-6 ratio and found the studies which showed that grassfed beef has higher levels of omega-3s than feedlot beef. The SAD is full of feedlot beef and vegetable oils, so it's no wonder that our ratios have become so incorrectly skewed. Just another reason that messing with the diet God gave us doesn't make sense. Trans fats interfere with the production of prostaglandins which can result in all sorts of imbalances that lead to inflammation, weight gain, allergies, asthma and even alcoholism and cancer. The authors of Eat Fat, Lose Fat say that in order to correct the imbalance of Omega 3s to Omega 6s, we should avoid all commercial vegetable oils and add coconut oil and traditional food sources of omega-3 fatty acids (these also include wild salmon, egg yolks from pastured chickens and flax oil in small amounts). What fats to eat, what ones to avoid: Eat: Coconut oil. Coconut is sort of the holy grail of fats. It's grown on about 12 million hectares spread over 86 countries. It's the most important nut crop in the world. No doubt you've heard plenty of "crunchy" people talking about coconuts or coconut oil. Lucky for me, I happen to think coconut is one of the greatest foods on earth, so when I first heard about the "miracle" of coconuts, I couldn't really have been happier. I put coconut in everything! I don't make chocolate chip cookies, I make coconut chocolate chip cookies. I don't make brownies, I make coconut brownies. I don't even use lotion, I just use coconut oil. It's even the base of our toothpaste and I make most of our smoothies with coconut milk and a little dollop of coconut oil. So...to say that I had a hard time adapting to this real food change would be a hilarious fib. It was the easiest real food change I ever made. Coconut contains medium-chain fatty acids. What this means, basically, is that while longer-chain fatty acids found in many foods need to be digested by bile salts (which are secreted by the gallbladder), coconut doesn't get digested this way. If you have trouble digesting fats (my mom, for example, who had her gallbladder removed, complains if she eats food that is too fatty), this is the best fat to introduce back into your diet. Coconut contains lauric acid, something also found in breastmilk. Moms who are breastfeeding are strongly encouraged to consume even more coconut oil than average. Lauric acid is a proven antiviral, antibacterial and antifungal agent. It protects your body against viruses and bacteria and it strengthens your immune system. Past the age of nursing, you can only get lauric acid in small amounts from butterfat and large amounts from coconut oil and palm kernel oil. It's a saturated fat, and the more healthy saturated fats you eat, the less essential fatty acids (omega-3s and omega-6s) you need, since saturated fats help your body use EFAs properly. Eggs and (gulp) liver. I'll be the first to admit that I stopped eating liver as soon as I knew what liver was. My mom fried liver when I was a kid, and I remember very distinctly that I loved it. And then I learned what it was and haven't eaten it since. Despite hearing all the claims about how good it can be for you, I still, to this day, avoid it like the plague. If you aren't so averse, give it a shot!

Throwing in the towel.

If you're not completely tired of hearing my whining on the subject matter of mysterious childhood illnesses, read ahead.

1. Ben is skinny. We get it. Once in the 50th percentile, he's now below the first. We tried plumping him up by keeping extremely detailed lists of every food that entered his little body and then played around with percentages. 50% fat and 1200 calories a day resulted in no weight gain and loads of diarrhea. So then we lowered the fat and raised the protein and that helped the diapers but not the weight. We were elated to discover he'd gained 4/10ths of a pound only to watch the scale plummet right back down a few days later. We're still keeping the detailed list of foods along with pictures of his face and butt (nice, huh?) to give the naturopath or allergist or nutritionist or whatever specialist we eventually decide on. But as for weight gain? I give up.

2. Ben is rashy. We get that, too. His rashes wax and wane, and they are most definitely much improved from the horrific-ness of weeks past. But they're still there and I just don't know why.

3. I kept him off all foods except the least allergenic for 15 or 16 days. Things got better. Then I gave him a banana. Whoa, dog. Insta-rash. Then days later, sweet potatoes. Whoa, diggity dog. Insta-rash/diarrhea. Then days later, milk. WHOA hot diggity dog. The worst of all reactions by far. He can't truly be allergic to everything, right?

4. I think Ben has Acrodermatitis Enteropathica (a fancy word for a zinc deficiency), brought on by undiagnosed food allergies. I think his is the acquired version rather than the inherited. I'm not doctor, but the puzzle pieces fit. The problem? We already know his zinc levels are scary-low and he's already on a supplement. If he STILL has low zinc levels, it's because we're still exposing him to allergens we don't even know about. This is never-ending.

I just want to change his diaper without watching him scream in pain because his butt is so raw that he can't even sit down. I just want him to be pain-free. I love my little snuggle butt more than words.

The rash, part 429.

I think I've solved it, folks! All of Ben's test results came back negative, which is a HUGE relief. After being on an elimination diet for about 10 days now, I feel safe in saying that his rashes are caused, in most part, by food intolerances. Ben's doctor thinks I'm crazy, but I'll let the pictures speak for themselves and continue to follow my mommy intuition. That's what it's there for, right?

At the beginning of the elimination diet, you might remember that his face looked like this:



That was at its worst, so to be fair, here's a picture of its "normal" state:



Though we haven't been able to get rid of it completely, it is SO MUCH improved and hardly red at all anymore. I've been taking some progression pictures through out the past ten days to prove to his doctor that I'm not as crazy as she thinks I am.











So, what worked?

1. Moving to a diet of ONLY the least allergenic foods in organic form (absolutely no processed food whatsoever). We also moved to gluten-free and replaced cow's milk with goat's milk.

2. Replacing all the chemicals in our home with natural products - vinegar & water and hydrogen peroxide & water to clean with, natural laundry detergent, Dr. Bronner's baby mild soap and organic toothpaste. We stopped using disposable wipes and instead we're just using cloth wipes with water only. This, in combination with banning disposables completely, has really helped clear up the diaper rash. I learned so much this past week about the way chemicals are absorbed into skin and how the skin "revolts." Some great articles to read can be found here, here and here.

3. Trashing the aquaphor. I had a hunch that the aquaphor was actually making Ben's face rash worse. Almost as soon as we stopped using it, the redness in his face rash completely disappeared. Now I only use coconut oil when it gets super dry.

4. Taking a daily probiotic.

5. Taking baths every other day, sometimes every third day.

We'll start the process of re-introduction once we get to South Carolina and have had some time to get back into a routine. It will definitely be interesting to find out what he's allergic to. I'm hoping for dairy only, but I do have a hunch that it might be more than that.

One of the most exciting parts of this elimination is watching his tummy problems straighten out! You might remember that I shared a little too much last week when I mentioned that Ben has had daily diarrhea for, oh, months and months. Guess what? Gone!

If I've learned nothing else lately, I've learned that I should always trust my gut. The doctor would have us on all foods except peanuts and she'd want us to "ride it out." Moms really do know best.

I want to end on this note: check out the Skin Deep database! Since our beauty products aren't really regulated, companies aren't required to list the ingredients that go into making them. The Environmental Working Group took it into their own hands by researching thousands of products and dishing on the safety of each. I was surprised to learn that Ben's organic body wash was a 3 on a scale of 1-10 (3 being a moderate hazard) and that my hair mousse was a TEN! Highly hazardous!

Two years ago today...

...I married my best friend. March 8, 2008, will love on in my heart as one of the best days of my life. Sure, we had three hours to find a new wedding location because of a freak sandstorm and maybe we left our sand ceremony back at the beach house and had to delay the start of the wedding to go get it, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I could live that day over and over and over again.

I love you, baby. Always and forever.

Of parks and portable DVD players.

I feel like it's been a lifetime since I've last posted! I have so much to share that I should probably make four different blog posts, but...nah.

The weather here has been beautiful! Doesn't it always seem that the first Spring-ish day of the year it feels like it's 75 when it's really only 50? I love that. Friday, Ben and I set out on a long walk and a trip to the park down the street.



Jealous, Tim rushed home from work in time to also take Ben to the park. This park-right-down-the-street business is pretty nice. On Saturday we threw on some layers and took a 2.5 mile hike to an even cooler park.





With no sun, it was a lil chilly and poor Ben's hands were turning purple. On the way home, convinced that my child's fingers were going to fall off (in 50 degree weather?), I gave in and did a little stroller run with Tim. It was fun. Um, until I wussed out, screamed that we had to stop and felt like collapsing. All the while Tim was barely even breathing hard.

Oh, oh! Also, I'm applying for Wife of the Year award. Since I'm leaving for two weeks, I made out this awesome little schedule for Tim to go along with the 14 meals in the freezer. The schedule lays out when he needs to take each meal out of the freezer, how long it needs to thaw, how to cook it and what to pair it with. Vote for Chelsea!







Here's my beautiful little freezer stockpile for March. I don't know why I always insist on capturing every last moment of my life on camera, but I do. And I share. You're welcome.



We rounded off the weekend with TWO more trips to the park today and an unbelievably brilliant and slightly expensive purchase (don't tell Dave Ramsey). Enter my new best friend:



She is going to save my sanity on this little trek across the country. I know, I know! TV is bad! And TV for 16 hours straight is even bad-er! I get it. But it's the only way we're going to make it out of this trip alive; I feel it in mah blood.

My coffee is running out and my eyelids are doing that droopy thing, so I'll end this on one last happy note. Tomorrow is mine and Tim's wedding anniversary and I got a new phone! I would tell you how much I love it but there aren't words. It's so awesome to have a Palm again! I know you Blackberry folks think I'm nuts, but I didn't get it. I tried the Blackberry thing for the last seven months or so and I just...hate it. My Pixi rox. :)

It's too cute! It's too cute!

I mean, really. It's TOO CUTE. I gave Ben his first fork and he acted like he was going to cut up some meat or something.





I love this picture because if you look really closely, you can see the little piece of chicken falling (to the right and under the spork thingy):





And this one? Possibly the cutest of all. Snapped totally in-the-action, unposed and I LOVE it. Of course then I proceeded to snap a bunch of posed-ish pictures which are almost equally as cute:









I love my little schweepy man: