Livi’s Life



My Olivia Rae (Livi) is my baby, and she knows it. She’s more of my mini-me when it comes to looks and stature, but a healthy mix of both Matt and I’s personalities. It’s hard to say really since she’s not talking just yet, but she keeps us laughing and on our toes nonetheless. When Livi was a newborn, we used to joke that she was our “grumpy gramps” because she was a grunter. You were hard pressed to hear her cry because her little voice had a slightly muted rasp to it, and she communicated with frequent grunts instead. It reminded us of a crotchety old man, even though she was only hours and days new.

As she’s grown up, she’s become our little lover. She requires regular love and hug breaks – even if it means stopping in the middle of our flight of stairs to do so. She wants to be just like big sis, though Charlotte tends to dominate in typical big sister fashion. Even in their sweetest moments, it’s more of an aggressive love coming from big sissy–choke holds instead of gentle hugs, insisting on hooking Livi up to a leash “because she’s my dog,” and other sibling shenanigans.

Livi loves to eat (especially cheese and carbs), loves to wear shoes, loves to read books, insists on traveling by foot with no less than 17 items in hand, loves to take baths and has an ever-evolving nick name that started as “Baby Livi,” which has somehow ventured into Baba Lava / Boppalava territory.

Since I’ll be posting regular chapters of Charlotte’s Corner, I wanted to be sure Olivia found a place in my blog  as well. Thus, “Livi’s Life” was coined. This is the first of a recurring blog post that will reflect the life of Livi, just for laughs, and permanently documented worldwide web memories.

Livi’s Life Ch. 1


Half naked, belly hanging out, “brushing her teeth,” rain boots.

Enough said.


This is Livi’s Life.

The End.


Charlotte’s Corner

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Charlotte is my first born, fiery, larger-than-life three year old. She loves large, throws even larger temper tantrums, is never wrong, has an unusually keen sense of observation and detail, is extremely particular and keeps us both laughing and on our toes on a daily basis. She’s our “three-nager” as they call it, a word I’m jealous I didn’t coin first. Sometimes I look at her in awe that she’s only three years old because of her maturity. Other times, I’m grounded by her youthful, still-discovering-all-things-new naivety. I love her from the deepest depths of my being, and I thank God every day for choosing me to be her momma on this side of heaven. My life was forever changed the day she was born – she came out quiet with eyes wide open and lips pursed ready for milk. My literal first words were gentle and humble, and very refined and Christian:

“Holy Sh*t?! That’s it?!”

Referring to my labor of course, not my baby, because I had some insanely lucky one-push five-minute delivery. Don’t hate me, my boobs are most undoubtedly more destroyed after birthing and mothering than your tinies will ever be. Just let me have the rock star birthing story and pour yourself a glass of wine remembering your marathon session or still-not-as-short as mine C-Section.

But back to Charlotte …

This is “Charlotte’s Corner,” the first of a recurring blog post that will recount a particular event or dialogue of my Charlotte Grace. Just for laughs, and permanently documented worldwide web memories.

Charlotte’s Corner Ch. 1


Charlotte: *early one morning*

“Mom, I wish I could wear boobs like you.” (it’s unclear whether boobs to her are actually boobs, or a bra which may also be “boobs.”)

Me: “Oh.” (lost for words.)

Charlotte: “Yeah, I just have teeeeeeeeeensy tiny boobs.”

Me: “Yeah …” (still waiting to see where this goes as I quickly get dressed and tell her that I’m “private.”)

Charlotte: *later that night, with several events and conversations in between, now dressed in glittery dress-up from her costume trunk*

“Mom, I wish I could have large nipples so that I can be a pretty, pretty princess.”

Me: “Oh Charlotte, you know, you’re a very beautiful princess JUST the way you are. Don’t worry, you don’t have to wish for anything that you don’t have.”

Charlotte: “Whale, (spelled to portray “well” in her pseudo southern draw), maybe I can pray to Jesus and ask him for larger nipples, because that would be so so bootiful and very nice of him.”

The End.