Truck's relatively recent mobility has been such a blessing! He is starting to explore, and he is finally showing some interest in just a little independence.

For months, he would only butt-scoot across the floor. His pediatrician insisted that this fit the definition for crawling, but I was ready to really see him move! He made the transition to crawling backwards on all fours, and then one day, he started crawling forward.

It did not take much time for him to become a very fast crawler. Truck zips around the house with a big smile on his face, singing his "Here I come!" song. It is so sweet to see, and I know I will mourn the passing of this time when it is gone.

Unfortunately, to BooBoo's dismay, Truck's mobility has led to the invasion of her space. Gone are the days when Boo would walk up to Truck and say, "Awww, Truck, you're such a good baby!" Those sweet sentiments have been replaced with, "No, Truck! That's mine!"



Of course, we have conversations about sharing, and BooBoo is generally good about sharing her toys. However, she draws the line when it comes to sharing her breakfast.

BooBoo has very specific expectations for her mornings: She comes downstairs and immediately requires a sippy cup of milk, one of juice, and a strawberry pop-tart. Not the healthiest of breakfasts, I know, but I figure it's kind of like the two cups of coffee I need to consume each morning. Additionally, she usually doesn't eat much of the pop-tart because she gets full eating whatever breakfast the rest of the family is eating. Given all of this, I choose to not make this particular vice into a battle.

Each morning, these are set out on the ottoman for BooBoo, and she leisurely drinks and eats as she watches the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She tends to transfer these cups and her bowl with the pop-tart to the floor, which has never been a problem, until now.

Truck loves food. He especially loves sweet food, which he gets from his father and both his grandmothers, but definitely not from me. One day, he saw BooBoo eating her pop-tart, and it was almost as if I could read his mind: "Hmmm, sister has food. Sister put food down. Truck needs food."

In an instant, Truck was darting across the living room floor, and before BooBoo even knew he was near, he had swiped the pop-tart and taken a bite! BooBoo was in tears at having her morning routine so greatly disturbed, but Truck was not to be deterred. As I tended to BooBoo's wounded heart, Truck swiped it again!



Needless to say, BooBoo and I had to designate a new safe place for her cups and bowl. She has become pretty good at remembering to keep her goodies there, but occassionally, as I pack lunches in the morning, I hear a resounding, "Truck-y, no swiping. Truck-y, no swiping. Truck-y, NO SWIPING!!

Seven adults, one teenager, two preschoolers, and two babies occupied our house for a weekend. As I look back, I'm not sure how we survived without even one argument. I'm sure it involved a whole lot of tongue-biting. However, I am not nearly as impressed by that as I am my husband's good-natured acceptance of my family choosing to come together in his home, his retreat.

I was fair and gave him warning. Several months ago, I let him know that my sister was planning to visit from Las Vegas and would be bringing her husband and baby. "Okay," he responded. A few weeks later, I reminded him of the upcoming visit and added that my mother was also planning to visit that same weekend, along with my teenaged brother. "No problem," Big Strong Man replied. "Sleeping arrangements might be a little tight, but I'm sure we'll manage."

A couple more weeks passed, and I told my dear love that my almost twenty-three year-old brother would be flying in from Florida to join in the festivities. Big Stong Man smiled broadly. "It will be great to see him," he said. "He can sleep on the couch."

Whew! I just couldn't believe his breezy attitude on this get-together! I thought I might have to offer up some bribes, like a pass to go to the movies by himself and indulge in popcorn until he puked, but he was taking this all so well!

With less than two weeks to go until the arrival of our first guests, I tentatively approached my husband. "Sweetheart, I just found out that we'll be having a couple more guests." Big Strong Man merely raised an eyebrow, so I continued, "My aunt and her four-year-old daughter will also be staying with us." I held my breath and waited. Only the slightest flicker of concern crossed his face.

"That's a lot of people," he finally answered. I assured him that it really wasn't, at least not in comparison to my grandmother's house at Christmas, or my Aunt Aida's house in the summer.

Those were his only words on the subject, though. Big Strong Man lovingly and dutifully helped me clean the house, prepare the linens, and plan the menus. He tidied up after people, provided directions to the malls and Chick-fil-A, and even diffused some expectedly tense moments.

All in all, it was a fun visit. We celebrated the almost birthdays of my brother and my nephew.





We even managed to get a picture of everyone except my aunt, who was behind the camera.



Naturally, the little ones were not cooperative, but in my experience, a family picture isn't a real family if everyone is looking at the camera and smiling.

Much love to my family, and much more love to Big Strong Man, who helps me preserve my sanity and face another day. Maybe I'll send him off on that movie and popcorn binge after all... although it can wait until after Easter, right?

I have cautiously entered the world of blogging, and I'm not sure why it has taken me so long. Blogging is something I have been chewing on for well over a couple of years now, but I think I just needed to feel like the time was right.

The time is right now.

My baby, Truck, is 9 months old, and I couldn't tell you where the time went. Not only do I look back over his short life and mourn the little details that I can't remember, but I'm also missing just as many from my daughters' lives: my 3-year-old firecracker, BooBoo; my 8-year-old bubbly cuddler, Polly; and my 11-year-old personality clone, Hermione.

Although Hermione and Polly are technically my step-daughters, we all try to avoid that nasty "step" word as much as possible. We are a family, and God's hand is on us, blessing us abundantly with love and devotion. I may not have given birth to those girls, but my heart knows no discrimination against them. I know that they agree completely.

So, this blog is partly for me, partly for our family, and partly for our extended family and friends. I call it the veritable smorgasbord because our family has wonderful memories of singing and dancing to the scene in which Templeton sings of his utter bliss, but also because that is exactly what it will be. Detailings of day-to-day activities, pictures, recipes, and even entries by my little ones will help us record our family history. Enjoy!