pumpkin patch

After reading my last post my mom said, 'I don't care what you think (thanks, mom). I just want to see pictures of those babies!' So, to make up for that, this post has a ridiculous amount of pictures. Just ridiculous. 

This weekend we went to the pumpkin patch. Why in the world would we go to the pumpkin patch after October 31st?! Maybe because we had first birthdays and Halloween and family in town and we ran out of weekends. And because I do everything late. Plus we were practically the only ones there and the weather was gorgeous. So, had we already been to the pumpkin patch,  we might have just gone again because it was that beautiful out. {We also might just celebrate every holiday a few days late.} 

We saw animals...

I promise my children had fun. They LOVED all the animals but were very serious about all these new things. They pointed at each animal as they named it...'dog.' {Anything that has fur and four legs is considered a dog around here.}

 We watched the chickens while our cousins got their faces painted...

...had rubber ducky races...

...shot 'maters out of giant sling shots...

...went on slides...

...they weren't that impressed...

...rode tricycles...

...and a horse tire swing...

{Again, not that impressed.}

...went on a hay ride...

{Definitely the favorite thing of the day.}

Finally, pumpkins!! 

And, boy, is that scarecrow scary!!

A great day full of sweet memories. 

{And I promise my kids are normally wearing shoes. The boots came off early because it got so warm!}

Paul's sister and her family. Minus Kaite...because, whatdya know, but almost-thirteen-year-olds are too cool for the pumpkin patch. I, on the other hand, will never be too cool for the pumpkin patch. Never, ever. Ever. {Also, not too cool to love Taylor Swift. }

hope

  I used to fancy myself a little politician. Way back in highschool, I would debate and research and protest and debate and lose my mind over things I was passionate about. My red-headed temperament (not necessarily temper...well, maybe sometimes), came out in full force if I felt I needed to (and could) defend my position or persuade someone to think twice about their view of things. I can remember my civics class with a very young teacher who also fancied himself a little politician {He told us he was planning to run for president in the year 2020 with the slogan 'A Vision for America.' Genius.} and finding all things politics extremely fascinating. 

In college, when I felt I just could not bear another el ed class, I even toyed with the idea of changing my major to poli sci. But, somewhere along the way, life happened and my priorities shifted. It's not that I don't have opinions. It's not that I don't care. Because I do. But I just don't lose my mind over it anymore. I do my reasearch. And I make my choice while avoiding any and all heated discussions on Facebook. Which is why I'm suprised that I'm even writing this now.

But my heart has been heavy since the DNC came to Charlotte and everyone and his brother, mother, and cockatoo started throwing insults and jabs--saying things that, sometimes, I'm positive the person didn't really mean but in the heat of the moment said carelessly. I think that sometimes people forget that these are human beings we are talking about and not merely a platform or an opposing view point.  

My heart was heavier this morning as some people predicted the utter destruction of our nation as we know it while others touted the outcome as the saving grace of a floundering state. Some slept soundly last night resting on the laurels of a mere man while others, in their discouragement, called the future hopeless. Hopeless. And that's what really got me. Christians calling this situation hopeless. Calling anything hopeless. 

 As Paul and I were discussing the candidates this morning, watching the girls wreak havoc on anything in their destructive paths, he said, 'It's just a good thing our hope isn't really in either one of them.' Yes, the president's job is important. Yes, we should vote. And, yes, we should make sure we  vote for the person whose beliefs align with our morals and convictions. But, really, we don't need Obama or Romney. We don't need someone who's black or white or purple or blue. We don't need a woman or a young person or a more experienced person. We need Jesus. We need a collective heart as a nation to help the poor and needy, to hold ourselves to high standards, to love others. 

 

Hopeless? I don't think so. That's putting limits on a God who has no limitations. That's putting our trust in mere flesh. That's cheapening our faith and letting Satan win. Those two men are not our Savior. And, regardless of  who you voted for, if you have faith--you have hope. 

 

So don't be discouraged. Be passionate. Debate. Research. Pray. But don't lose your mind over it. And don't lose your testimony. I heard a man on the news today say that just because we have the right to do something, doesn't mean we should do it. And just because we have the right to say something, doesn't mean we should say it. Weigh your words. Measure your speech. Whichever camp you hail from, show grace. But most importantly, be hopeful. We serve an amazing God who is not bound by our fears or failures or carefully laid plans. And I am more thankful for that than ever. 

 

In other news, Election Day was a landmark day for many reasons. A record number of women holding seats in the Senate, the president's record breaking tweet { Sorry, Beiber.}, and my children learning how to drink from a straw. Groundbreaking, y'all.  

{Also...as far as I've heard, that particular teacher will not be seeking the presidency after all, just so you know.}

one year {not even two weeks late which means i must be almost on top of this twin thing}

Dear babies,

 

It's been one year since we first met you. One year since that first glimpse of tiny, shriveled newborn babies turned our world upside down. And we can honestly say we have loved every minute of it. You have been pure joy and light this past year. You've reminded us to slow down. You've showed us what matters. You've multiplied our joy and taught us a tremendous amount. You've pointed us to our Heavenly Father in completely new ways.  And you've ushered in a new appreciation of a solid night's sleep.

 I remember looking at you in that operating room...tiny little strangers...and feeling such an intense love for you that it took my breath away. I couldn't imagine loving anything any more than I loved you two at that moment. Yet, here I am a year later. You aren't strangers to me anymore. I know your smile, your laugh, your scent, your hungry cry, your frustrated grunt, the feel of your tiny body curled up next to me, your favorite toy, your determination. And I love you a million times more than I did in that chilly room surrounded by nurses and doctors and beeping machines. I am so thankful for you. I am so blessed by you.

 

Your daddy and I have soaked up every second we could of this first year. We truly enjoyed every stage you've been through. There have been many times where other people may have gotten some work done around the house or caught up on emails but, instead,  we've sat and watched you play and laugh for hours. You are just that entertaining to us. We think you're hilarious. We think you are geniuses. We think you're the most wonderful idea God ever came up with.

 

It's amazing how much you've changed in a year. And sometimes I feel like I need to stop time. Just so my heart can take this all in a little more. But I can't. And, honestly, I'm so excited to see the tiny people you are becoming. You two won't be stopped. You're already taking year two by storm. And I can't wait.

 

So happy birthday, sweet girls. We love you to the moon and back 50 times. Or more.