In which I gush

Brace yourself... there are several photos ahead of Essie in a tutu.

(Hopefully I didn't lose too many of you right there. I know moms gushing over their infants always makes for riveting blog posts).

Essie is now a glorious seven months old (and, yes, she's still of that age where we mark the monthly birthday with a backyard photo shoot).

I absolutely love this age, but seven just sounds so old. More than half-way to a year. She'll be walking and talking and keeping up with her crazy siblings before we know it.

Speaking of talking, she started saying "bababa" and "mamama" and "dadada" - in that order - last weekend. Sweet girl was sick with double ear infections and she chose that time to start talking. Why not? she says. She likes a challenge.

And speaking of her crazy siblings, she adores them. ADORES them. I need to make a video of her laughing at them because it's ridiculously adorable. She can be crying and then spot Clara or Luke and immediately light up. She will then laugh her little butt off over whatever silly thing they are doing. You know, like throwing themselves into the wall, or crossing their eyes.

I hate sounding all braggy about my kids, but I feel like adoption affords me a little leeway when it comes to that, since I a) can't take credit for their looks, and b) can't take credit for much of anything the first year. So here goes: Essie is the most amazing baby ever. She is pure sweetness, happiness, cuteness, cuddliness, and she smells good too. She sleeps, she hardly ever fusses and she's just easy. Not that difficult babies are any less loveable (Luke, I'm looking at you). They are their own rewarding challenge. And it's not like Essie never cries (she actually is having a hard time falling asleep tonight, go figure!). There's just this something special about her that makes my heart swell up every time I look at her.

I know us moms always say it, but I really can't imagine life without her. I thank God every day for factoring us into the story of her life. What an incredible blessing. It just blows me away.

Happy seven months, sweet girl. Seriously, how am I supposed to handle that cuteness?

The best moments

It's no secret I like to take pictures. I take hundreds each week, and that number would be much higher if my children actually liked having their photo taken. 

I love photography, but it's more than that. I like capturing moments, whether candid or posed, whether I'm behind the camera or someone else is. If everyone's dressed up, I want to have permanent proof. If we're going to the beach, we need to remember the day with a picture. If it's a random Tuesday and the mood strikes me, I want to never forget how my daughter smiled when she was six months old. I like freezing moments in time, especially (only?) happy moments.

Then the other day Ryan saw a tweet from a Sports Illustrated writer asking if any of his 85,000 followers had a photo of the single best moment of their life. It was something the writer was thinking about after watching tennis player Andy Murray win Wimbledon, and having what was most likely one of the happiest moments of his life photographed by thousands.

Ryan actually does have a photograph of the happiest moment of his life, so he responded to the tweet with this...

It's, understandably, one of my favorite photos ever. And not just because I'm holding my daughter, my very first child, for the very first time. It's because of the look on Ryan's face. Pure love. But I also know it's more than that. I might be wrong (we've never discussed what he was actually thinking here) but I'm guessing it was everything wrapped into one - seeing his daughter, but also seeing his wife holding their daughter after years and years of infertility heartache. I feel like I see him finally exhaling in this photo, thinking about how God was leading us to this moment with Clara all along and we finally made it.

The writer ended up re-tweeting Ryan's tweet, along with many, many others. Then today, our photo was included in a story on The Atlantic's website about the tweets of people's happiest moments.

I loved the article (make sure to read it if you get a chance). It made me realize that, as someone who loves capturing moments with photographs, I had actually never thought much about the moments in my life that had been captured.

We all have those moments, and often a few tie for the top honor. I think back on them from time to time, but I don't have the photos prominently displayed (with the exception of the one Ryan tweeted above; it's been on our fridge since we first arrived home from Louisiana and found that my sister-in-law had already mailed it to us). What a gift they are, though. And with all the time many of us spend feeling down, sad, frustrated, overwhelmed, why not look back on those moments more often?

So it got me thinking about what are some of the other happiest moments of my life. And, it turns out, I have photos of them all.

Like this one...

And this one...

And this...

And while it's not right up there with the birth of my children, this one still captured one of the most joyful nights of my life (it's Ryan and me receiving a standing ovation from family, friends and strangers, after the premier of our documentary about Eucharistic Adoration)...

These aren't all the best pictures. But even that makes sense - they're spontaneous and candid and the movement that comes with happiness often makes for blurry shots anyway.

I'm blessed to have these photos. And, more importantly, to have had the joyful experiences that they captured.

Been a while

I'm actually on the computer. It's a Fourth of July miracle! 

I've been a little busy lately. I haven't mentioned it yet on here, but I have a job. I've been babysitting a little boy since December and I have him three to four days a week. It's easier than it sounds, though, because it's only during nap time.

Seriously, if I ever doubt God's providence, I just need to remind myself of this. He literally placed this opportunity in my lap right before we found out about Essie. It helps pay for our adoption loan and is DURING NAP TIME, people. I can just picture Him up there, working out all the details. "She won't be able to handle it," says my guardian angel. "Well, then, we'll make it only during nap time," says God.

Luke is the only child that actually sleeps, but we cannot underestimate how much harder it would be if he was awake. Lord have mercy.

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We spent a week up north at my parents' house a couple weeks ago. I look forward for months to every visit, and now so do my kids. We count down the days.

We had a great time, of course, and I have to share a few pics. Including this awesomeness...

We try to take one every year and the one from two years ago just may have been printed onto a fleece blanket for my mother, courtesy of yours truly. 

For those of you who read this post, here are two of my kids in front of my grandparents' old house.

We celebrated Father's Day there, and I just happened to take one of my favorite shots ever of the best daddy around...

There was lots of cousin time, which makes it VERY hard to leave.

 And this girl turned SIX MONTHS OLD while we were there. It's just not possible.

Then, less than a week after we left, tragedy struck my hometown.

A flood ravaged the downtown, destroying homes, business and even killing one resident.

This was taken from a road that leads to my parents' house. For those familiar with it, this is SHOCKING.

My parents live on a hill so thank God their home was okay, but my dad's law office was flooded. And cleaning out a flooded, mud-filled basement was a HUGE undertaking. Not to mention he lost all of the old files he stores down there.

Of course it happened during one of four months a year that TV anchors cannot take a single day off (sweeps), and it killed us that we couldn't be there to help. Soooo many people came to his rescue though.

Just some of the volunteers who helped my dad (he is kneeling, all the way to the left)

Please pray for the people of Fort Plain, New York, if you get a chance. They are still cleaning up and many people have lost EVERYTHING. And this is a town where a lot of the people don't have much to begin with. It's heartbreaking.

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Switching gears to a much less important topic, but who knows when I'll get back on here so include it I must.

I started a diet six weeks ago.

It was agonizing at first, but I am convinced you can train yourself to make just about any change if you give it two weeks. It actually, surprisingly, took much less than that before I was on the calorie-counting band-wagon.

And if you know me, that is HUGE. I have always shielded my eyes when reading menus at those restaurants who annoyingly post their calories on the menu, peering between my fingers, hoping not to read any numbers. 

But...ugh...I am now one of those people who actually want to see those darn calories up there.

I have lost 14 pounds so far. It works for me because I am crazy obsessed with not going over my allotted calorie amount. I have major accountability with myself for some weird reason. Always have, once I decide to. Not to mention, I keep track on an app on my phone and I love being on my phone, so this is just something additional to check. And it's guilt-free phone use when it's for your health, right?

So why am I dieting? Well, it all started back in May at the gym - where we'd been going two to three times a week since August, believe it or not - when I admitted to myself that I had been faking it. I was walking on the treadmill but not getting anywhere - literally. I wasn't even sweating. I had to know I was wasting my time, but...I was going to the gym! That was major in and of itself! Right??

But, it turns out, stepping foot in the gym, even stepping on the machines and working out for an hour each time, doesn't cause weight loss. You have to actually try hard and push yourself and, yes, sweat.

So, after my "work-out," I stepped on the dreaded gym scale that I had successfully avoided for eight months. You know that number that you prepare yourself for? The one that's so high that you think you can't possibly weigh that much, but you prepare yourself for nonetheless? I weighed more than that. By almost ten pounds.

In fact, I weighed exactly what I weighed when I checked into the hospital to give birth to Luke. And, no, this wasn't baby weight. I had already lost that a long time ago. There was no excuse for this, other than birthdays, holidays, cross-country road trips, and one medication that does cause hunger.

That was that. I downloaded the stupid app on our drive home and never looked back. Come to find out, I was eating a ridiculous amount of calories. The app, after taking into account my weight, work out routine, and activity level, told me it was giving me 1200 calories to consume per day. I feel like I'm on The Biggest Loser. Salads, vegetables, fruit, chicken. Ugh. But I'm lucky because I really conform quickly to a diet if I am on board. And I was, right from the start. I needed my clothes to fit again.

I wear a lot of sweats. I don't often leave the house. But up until recently, when I did have to go somewhere, I would be miserable due to too-tight clothing. MISERABLE. So a diet was a necessity because there was no way I was buying bigger sizes. I already did that in January. And I really, really wanted to stop having to unbutton my pants every time I sat down. Ya, it was that bad.

So combined with eating barely anything, I also committed to working out at least five days a week. And really working out. I discovered recently that actually putting forth an effort will lead you to sweat. Go figure! Makes me wonder what else I could have done with all those hours spent in the gym this past year.

Not surprisingly, the exercise and the eating less became easier every day. The intense hunger was gone after the first week. And I began craving the gym because it meant more food I could eat. And now, because I likes ta eat, I wind up working out six or seven days a week.

Now my clothes are much more comfortable and I shudder to think how tight they used to be if a 14 pound loss makes them finally fit.

Right now all I want to do is have a big piece of pizza. And a turkey sub with lots of mayo. And a big bowl of ice cream with a piece of chocolate fudge cake (and don't let them lie to you - I definitely know of many foods that taste better than skinny feels). But I have actually eaten those things on occasion (okay, maybe not the chocolate cake) because I've learned I just need to burn more calories that day. I will do anything for food.

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My little night owl beckons, so off I go (same old story - Luke still doesn't sleep). But I will leave you with a shot of my three from today. They make my heart swell.