It's a WONDERFUL life.

Oh my gosh, can you tell that LIFE has happened to me?! I have been pretty much non-existent on all the blogs I manage. So much has happened in the past few months it's hard to catch up. Obviously we have decided to adopt from Ethiopia, and you can read more about that over at our adoption blog. We have had to put our journey on hold somewhat due to some circumstances that are both our doing and not our doing.

We were notified through our adoption agency that the wait times for children in Ethiopia have been extended greatly, (like 3 years) and that made it difficult for us... I took it really hard and went in to a funk where I didn't want to really talk much about it... because I didn't want to cry anymore. But, we then decided to go forward, but not until after the new year.

We completely controlled the next big change. We bought a house! It's our very first home, and it is quirky, and poky, and older, and we couldn't be happier! We love it. But it was a pain in the tooshy to get packed up out of the apartment (in such a short amount of time) where we lived for almost 4 years, AND sell our lease. We were a little freaked out about it. It came down to the wire, but we sold it, and we are now in our house and loving it. Unfortunately we moved during Z's birthday time, and we haven't been able to have a break in the holidays and hustle and bustle to throw him a proper 4 year birthday party, so we are planning for it after the first of the year.

Husband passed all of his tests for his job and is very happy and relieved. We feel more settled and more secure.

I've made some new friends too.

But this post wasn't going to be all about that stuff... I just wanted to catch up. This post is about this week.

We have the tree up, (our first artificial one in our decade together) and have decorated the front window with lights and snowflakes and garland. It feels like Christmas... or it's starting to anyway. My mom is on her way right now to come out and spend the holidays with us. I feel happy.

I will admit though, that part of my heart feels empty, and feels a sort of longing. This is the first Christmas that we will have another son in our hearts. He is across the world, hopefully with his loving family right now, and I ache for him to be here with us. Though I am happy to have my family here with me to celebrate such a special time of year, part of my family is elsewhere, and I feel somehow incomplete this year. But, I can't be sad. I am trying to be grateful and think positively that he is spending this precious time with family who loves him abundantly. I really hope that there is abundant love in his biological family. I hope I hope.

As for us, we have been talking a lot about charity and doing good things to others, and trying to be Christlike. It has helped so much. This year, I couldn't think of a single thing that I REALLY wanted, which, I'll be honest, is USUALLY not a difficult thing for me to do. This year, it just didn't feel right for ME to make a list of things I wanted... because honestly, all I want is to bring our son home... But, I know that isn't possible. I just didn't want this Christmas to surround me with stuff, like all the years passed. I mean, while I appreciate gifts that I receive, I just didn't want to fill my world with more clutter. So, I asked for donations to be made to my two favorite charities. Charity:Water and A Glimmer Of Hope Foundation. Both have concentrated efforts in Ethiopia... and it felt right... and a few days ago I found out that is exactly what I got... and you know what? I couldn't be happier. I have a real sense of finally figuring out what Christmas is all about. Even though I KNOW what it is about. Even though I SAY it's about giving and not getting... this year, I really REALLY understand it, and I feel so much more gratitude this year.

I am really not trying to toot my own horn by saying, "ooh, I gave up my Christmas to charity." I hope so much that I am not coming off in a holier-than-thou way. It is honestly and truly all that I wanted this year.

So, this week, for Family Home Evening Husband decided to talk about having charity and trying to be more Christlike. Honestly, our FHE RARELY is a spiritual one because Z is always ready to go play, so we have a wiggle worm constantly asking if we can be done... so I wasn't sure how it was going to go down this week. But we were surprised times a billion. He was attentive, and listened the whole time, and we actually had a really spiritual FHE that turned out to be pretty remarkable.

Husband started out reading a story by James E. Faust called a PATTERN FOR LOVE. Here is the story:

Years ago, Jack Smith told of a poignant story of two young boys at Christmastime.

“I didn’t question Timmy, age nine, or his seven-year-old brother, Billy, about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.

“Every year at Christmastime, our Service Club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted [U.S.] $4.00 each, we began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally, I asked, ‘Where would you suggest we look?’

“‘Could we go to a shoe store, Sir?’ answered Timmy. ‘We’d like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work.’

“In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. ‘We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot,’ they said. Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy’s foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

“The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, then walked away. Soon, he came with an open box. ‘Will these do?’ he asked. Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness. ‘How much do they cost?’ asked Billy. Then Timmy saw the price on the box. ‘They’re $16.95,’ he said in dismay. ‘We only have $8.00.’

“I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat. ‘That’s the regular price,’ he said, ‘but they’re on sale; $3.98, today only.’ Then, with shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves.

“The day after Christmas the boys’ father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. ‘I just thank Jesus for people who care,’ he said. ‘And I thank Jesus for your two sons,’ I replied. ‘They really taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime.’” ¹

^{After that story, Z was able to retell the story perfectly. We were shocked and excited. OF ALL THE LESSONS WE EVER DO FOR FHE, THIS ONE IS THE ONE I WANT TO SINK IN.} 

^{We then went upstairs and watched two videos on the computer. Here they are:}

 

^{We then sang the song, "Because I have been given much." Here is a video with the song being played and sung. This is one of my very favorite hymns.} 

^{With that, we asked if Z could tell us what we talked about, and he told us everything we would have hoped he would get from the story and the videos we watched... Husband and I both wept with gratitude that of all the lessons we have given that he listened and understood this one. We are overcome with happiness at such a giving and sweet child.} 

^{I just wanted to share that experience. It was a truly spiritual and lovely one.} 

^{Much Love,} 

^Suz

Something you might not know

I have struggled with an eating disorder for a long time now. Some people know about it, but a lot of people do not. It's not something I really talk about. But, maybe I should. I find it embarrassing and humiliating, but maybe others do too, and they are afraid to talk to someone about it and get the help that they need. The truth is, I didn't go to a therapist or doctor to get well. In fact, I don't think I am completely over it. It's still there, like a dark secret locked away in the corners of my mind, but every once in a while it rears its ugly head and makes me feel like a worthless human being. It tells me that I am not good enough. That I am weak. That I am disgusting and that I don't deserve to be happy. It tells me to eat mass quantities, and then tells me to purge or starve myself to make up for my weakness.

It started in 5th grade. I was very unhappy. Our school started year round, and my friends and I were split up between the different tracks, and I started eating. A lot. I ate and ate and ate.

Then in junior high school, my friends from sixth grade were no longer my friends anymore in what happens a lot at that age... people start to think about being "cool" or popular. I wasn't either. I wasn't a rich kid. I wasn't a thin girl, and suddenly became very aware of my looks and when I would look in the mirror I would see a very ugly girl. An ugly girl who would never be loved. An ugly girl who thought about dying a lot. It got worse in 8th grade. I felt worthless. I felt so insecure in every way. I ate. I ate so much that I gained 100 pounds in a year. This, as you might guess did nothing to help my social status or my feelings of inadequacy. I maintained my fat stature until I decided I wasn't going to eat anymore.

My senior year was a time of big change for me. I decided to take control of my life. I had lost some weight from my 8th grade days, and I had made a lot of friends, but I decided to make a lot of changes. I decided to be more positive and to try to make every day the best day. I wanted to be kind to everyone. Perhaps I was finally seeing that I could be a kind, sunny interaction to someone who had been as miserable as I had been for so long. And you know something? It did make me happier. I felt better about being a good person, but I still was overweight and hated that aspect of myself. I took control of that too. Half way through my senior year I stopped eating one day. I had lost my appetite. I didn't want to eat. Then it became a challenge, and I faced it head on. I no longer wanted to eat because I wanted to take control of my weight once and for all. I decided to starve the monster that I had created all those years before, in the hopes that it would go away, and I could emerge different, and somehow better. There were days that I would break down and eat. I would eat an apple or drink a soda... I know. I know. Then there were moments of weakness when the monster would win, and I would binge. And then the guilt would come and I would starve myself again. This time swearing to be stronger... And it got easier. I didn't feel faint anymore. I began to love that empty feeling at the end of the day when I would lie down to sleep. It got to the point where I was unhappy unless I felt that emptiness. It was a hunger of sorts. A hunger to be strong and control something that at times was so out of control... my appetite. The weird thing is, that I felt better and better about myself the longer I would go without eating. That sense of control gave me empowerment. I had a secret that no one knew, and I loved it. No one questioned me about it because I was still overweight. I was losing weight fairly quickly, but instead of the looks of concern, I got praise. I got so much praise, and that only fueled my motivation to continue. I was finally getting attention from boys. I was finally feeling like I was pretty. My confidence soared, but all the while the monster lay in wait. Waiting to pounce. I would go through long bouts (they got longer every time) of starvation, and then binge for an entire weekend, and then the guilt would take over and the feelings of self worth diminished and I would be left a shell again, and my resolve would get stronger to stop eating and deprive myself. And when I would, I felt like I could conquer the world.

By the time I had graduated, it had been about 2 months since I had started this starvation, and I had lost 35 pounds. Over the next 6 months I would lose 35 more. But that feeling of conquering the world didn't last. Instead, depression crept in and my immune system tanked and I got very sick. But all the while people kept praising me for how good I looked. Guys flirted with my constantly, and I loved it, but I always felt like I was covered in a shadow. I had this continual cloud over me, no matter how happy I tried to be on the outside, I was crying on the inside. Worried constantly that I would be found out, and feeling like a failure all the way around the board. I was becoming weak again. I wanted out. I had a room mate who knew my secret, without my telling her, and I was terrified that it would get out to others. I was ashamed.

Over the course of the following two years, I started eating more regularly, but counted calories like crazy, and would only eat once a day. I started gaining weight little by little, and it freaked me out. I had set backs, and would go on starvation binges now and then, but my resolve was thinning. I was tired of fighting the monster.

My battles with weight continue, and even now, sitting here, very overweight, the monster whispers in my ear to eat away my feelings, or just starve myself... just for a little while. I feel my stomach growl and I find myself smiling, but loathing myself at the same time. I realize that I have a food addiction. It all started back in 5th grade when I ate to feel better, and the more I ate the better I felt temporarily. So as long as I stuffed my face full of fattening foods I was happy... until I was made fun of at school... and then it would perpetuate and it became a vicious cycle, culminating in a 130+ weight gain in the span of 3 years.

But my addiction goes deeper. When I starved myself, I was still addicted. There was not a moment where food wasn't on my mind. What I should eat, what I shouldn't, when I would eat, when I wouldn't, bet you I won't eat that even though I want to... Guilt, elation, satisfaction, guilt, elation, satisfaction... over and over and over... until one day, I couldn't do it any more. But food never left my thoughts. It is still very much there even now. I don't think it will ever go away.

I do not starve myself. I don't suffer with anorexia anymore. I don't binge like I did before, though there are times when I do give in even now-to an extent. But I feel like I am winning this battle, even though it doesn't appear to be so from an outsider looking in. I know to others I am just another obese person. Someone who has no self control. Someone who is somehow less. Someone to look at and say, "I'm glad I'm not that big." But, that's okay. Because I have to love myself right? I have to work on me, right? I can't be concerned about what others think about me. Because, I struggle with a very internal, very secret (until now) disorder/addiction. One that has caused me no end of pain and suffering. One that might have caused my infertility issues and my hormone problems. One that still haunts me. I may never be what others think I should be, but that's okay. I need to worry about being healthy, and I am trying, heaven knows I am trying. There are days I win and days I lose, but I have to wake up every morning and keep trying. To hell with the people who look down on me. To hell with those who say I am not good enough. To hell with my own low self esteem. I have to be better. I have to get through this. And I know that if I keep trying as hard as I can, that I CAN beat this. I pray that I beat this.

What's the point in writing this now after all these years? Why now on this blog? I wanted to get it off my chest. I wanted to maybe help someone else out there. You are not alone. So many people battle with this, and it is very hard, and very isolating. Some people, (like me) may not look like they are sick on the outside, because her collarbone doesn't show, and her clothes aren't falling off her body, but she is aching inside. She might not want to be found out, but secretly, maybe she does. Life can be so hard. Why make it harder on someone? I was bullied a lot. A LOT. To the point where I thought about ending my life many times. And I still think about those times and cry. If only someone had known. If only I could have told someone and not felt like a horrible human being. People didn't know how hurt I was on the inside. They didn't know how hard it was to wake up every morning and try to love myself enough not to take 100 ibuprofen just to stop the pain I felt inside. They didn't know. I would like to think that if we could see inside someone else, that we would treat others with more dignity and respect and kindness.

There have been a lot of stories about bullying in the news in the last few months, and I guess this is my own anti-bully plea. Please be careful. Please don't hurt others. Please be kind, even if you hurt inside. Life isn't fair. Life is hard... for everyone. Not everyone is abused in the same way, but everyone needs compassion and love. Everyone needs to feel that they are worth more than what they feel they are worth. You never know what your words will mean to another person, how they can haunt that person for the rest of their life.

Get help if you need it. You don't want to end up a thirty-something adult who still struggles with the demons of her past, and has a hard time some days getting through the muck. Please, if you have an eating disorder, no matter what size you are, get help.

Get help.

With Love,
Suz

Love will find a way

We are adopting. You can read about our journey (which is just in the beginning stages) all along the way at our adoption blog.

ETHIOPIA 2 UTAH 

Much Love,
Suz 

Grateful...

I'm grateful. There is so much in my life to be grateful for.

Today I have been feeling a culmination of so many things. There is so much on my mind, if only I could unload it completely on you who are reading. If only I could be so entirely open and vulnerable without worry that I am too exposed.

So, to combat my blues, I am going to compile a list of what I am grateful for, starting with number 1, pictured at the top of this post.

Z, you are so amazing. Every day I get to spend with you, you become more loving, funnier, more adorable, more more more. You grow and I cry because I know eventually I will not be your best friend anymore. And that's okay, but I love being your girl. You bring me so much happiness. So much. For years I wanted you, and in my dreams I couldn't have made you as wonderful as you truly are. You are kind, and thoughtful. You are loving and nurturing. You care so much about others, and you always try to share and play nicely with your friends. You are creative and imaginative, and you love to read and be read to. You are so smart. So funny. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy. Thank you for making a dream come true that I started to believe would never be possible. Thank you for hugging me and kissing me and for the immense joy you bring to our family. You are beautiful inside and out. Your soul is precious. XOXO Mommy

B, thank you for being such a support to me. I couldn't do half the hairbrained things I do if it weren't for your immense support of me. You uplift me and help me to be a better person. Thank you for loving me, and respecting me. Thank you for making me feel as though I am your partner in this journey. I know things will only get better for us. I hope for all the changes we are both hoping for. I know that no matter what this life brings us, we are stronger together. I love you more than you know. XOXO, Suz

I am grateful for a supportive family.
I am grateful for my health.
For knowing true love.
For not making a life with that other guy (oh who the hell knows what would have happened there)
For the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
For knowing that Families are Forever.
For a healthy child.
For kicking Gluten to the curb.
For dumping dairy.
For understanding finally that I can exceed my dreams.
For the knowledge that I don't need everyone's approval all the time.
For finally realizing that some friends aren't friends and never were.
For recognizing true friends and being loved by them.
For being able to get up every morning and walk on my own two feet.
For the love of my Savior, and my ability to recognize it during my trials.
For my photography, my art, my creative outlet.
For a roof over my head, clean water and plenty of food to eat.
For knowing what it feels to be loved and accepted for just being me, warts and all.
For babies and how close to heaven I feel when I am near them.
For empathy.
For opportunities to serve others.
For chiropractors who want to fix me.
For music, and ears to hear it.
For colors, and eyes to see them.
For the canvas that God has painted purely to please us.
For moments of peace.
For generosity that is sincere and because nothing is expected in return.
For strangers who want to help others.
For witnessing random acts of kindness.
For boycotting Walmart.
For finding my father, and having a mother who supports that decision.
For selfless moments, and being privileged enough to witness them and recognize when they happen.
For knee braces.
For beautiful art to look at. 
For the blogging world.

What is on your list of things to be grateful for? It really helps when you're in a funk to write a list like this. I feel better already.

With Love,
Suz

6 years ago...

My mother was a single mother. I was an only child. I was the only girl in a family full of boy cousins. I was the youngest for a while too, until 3 more boys were born later. I didn't have a father in my house. But I had someone who filled those shoes quite nicely. My grandfather, Leo.

He was one of those grandfathers who always played with me. We always had a new scheme we would cook up together, and man could we laugh. He loved me so much, and oh my gosh, did I love him. He was my EVERYTHING. I wanted to be nowhere but sitting on my PaPa's lap, telling jokes and just spending time with him. I was fortunate to never live very far from my grandparents.

I spent most days after school at their house, and most of the time I was there I was with my grandpa in the garage or in the yard. He was my hero, and my best friend. My BEST FRIEND.

I feel so fortunate that I had a best friend from birth. There are very few memories of my childhood in which my best friend was not a part. He came to my plays, Oohed and aahed at my art work, always helped me with my science projects and my woodshop assignments, taught me how to play cribbage and beat me constantly at Gin. He read me stories, or let me read them to him, and always held my hand-even when I was an adult. He took me on driving lessons, which is something he NEVER did for anyone else, and drove 750 miles to be there on the day that I got married. I didn't tell him then, but if I could have had a best man on my side, it would have been him.

When I was a little girl, and I was so sick and in the hospital, he came to see me every day. He would take me on "walks" even though I was too weak to walk, and he would push me in my wheel chair and take me all over the hospital to all different floors and then pretend he couldn't remember which floor I was on. He always knew exactly what I needed to cheer me up and take care of me.

He and my grandmother bought a brand new couch after I had a bout with the chicken pox and got a weird rash from their old one.

He hated his picture to be taken, and one Christmas, I was given a gold locket with a formal portrait of my grandparents inside it. My grandmother told me later that it was his idea to do the pictures so that I could have a picture in my locket. He even lovingly engraved my initials in the hearts on the front.

He made me a mirror with his own hands when I was six, and gave it to me for Christmas. I still have it. It's in my son's room. Whenever I look at it I think of the love that went in to it... The love he had for me.

When it was time for me to have a bike, He went to the junkyard and got all these different bike parts and made me a bike. When I told him I needed a kick stand, he asked me to draw him some blue prints, and I did, and when I presented them to him, he made me a kick stand... to my exact specifications.

I remember once, when I was living in San Diego, far from home, I called him to tell him all about my new adventure by the beach, and he told me he loved me... "I love you, Susie." It was a big deal because he never said it first.

I remember too, saying goodbye to him for the last time, and told him I would see him in a week or two when I got back home from Utah. I was called the next week on my trip with the news that he had collapsed and was in a coma.

I remember feeling so much all at once. We rushed home, as fast as we could, and immediately went to the hospital, where he was lying in ICU, on life support. I felt so much agony when I saw him there, because all I could think about was the last time I saw his face, and how excited he was to go to this dance at the Seniors center, (he collapsed while getting ready to go out to this dance). He died April 6, 2005. I felt shame and sorrow for not making him more of a priority in my "busy" life. I was instantly reminded of one day when he told me that he missed seeing my face...

So here is an open letter to my best friend, my father figure, and my grandfather:

Papa,

I miss your face. I miss your voice. I miss your stories. I miss your laugh. I even miss your teasing. I miss your hugs, and I miss holding your hand. I miss our talks, and our inside jokes. I would give anything to see you right now. I need your advice. I need your acceptance. I need to remember how much you love me.

I know you are with Grandma and Aunt Lola, and with others who are gone now too. I know we will be together again. I know our family is forever. But knowing that doesn't change how much I miss you. I really really miss you.

It was so hard to let you go, knowing that in this life I would never see you again.

I guess that's it. I just... miss seeing your face.

Thank you for loving me.

With Love,
Susie

To Kill a Mockingbird

Since the day I finished it the first time back in 1992, it has remained my favorite. I am now reading for probably the 4th time since then, (I assure you there is not another book that I have ever read that many times) and the other day, something jumped out at me. It got me thinking... a lot. Mostly about my grandfather and the relationship we had. It was magic. Have you ever met someone, and just immediately had a special bond with that person? You don't really understand why you are closer to that person than someone else, but you almost feel like you have always been friends. As if you met somewhere before, or in another life.

I used to love it when I was a little girl, (and I have to admit I still like to hear it) when people would tell me that my grandfather was different before I was born. You see, I was the only girl among the grandchildren, which came with it a lot of expectations from some of the women in my family. I was the youngest for a while too. I have 8 cousins and they are all boys. I didn't ever know the papa who only shook hands and remained stoic and somewhat uninvolved. The papa who didn't show a lot of affection was not someone I ever met.

The man I knew gave the best hugs, and loved to play with me. He didn't shake my hand, he laughed at my silly jokes, he read me stories, he climbed on the monkey bars with me, he took me swimming, and let me push him in to the water. He would sit and talk to me, and often confide in me what he didn't in anyone else. He held my hand anytime I wanted to, and he would take me with him to run errands and always bought me an ice cream cone. He came to see me when I was in chorus, and came to every play I did, even if he hated the play, and he always brought me flowers and gave them to me after a show. He was proud of me, and loved me so much. And trust me, the feeling was mutual. He was my best friend all growing up. No one even came close to my papa. He made me things with his own two hands, and they were always beautiful. He drove from California to Utah when I got married, (which is saying a lot, because he hated sitting in a car for long periods of time... not to mention that Utah has weak beer) and what was in the trunk of his car? Fresh California strawberries... because I couldn't have just any old Utah crap strawberries at my wedding, and the best of all was that it was his idea. He did it because he loved me and wanted my day to be special.

10 years ago, I was moving to Utah from California, and he made me a large batch of my favorite cookies for the trip. He even wrote my name in bubble letters on a post-it that he put on the bag... I still have it, and it still brings tears to my eyes when I look at it.

In 1 month exactly, it will be 6 years since the day that I said goodbye to him for the last time. I was there when he left this earth. He left at 5:30 in the morning, and I spent the entire night before with him all by myself. He was in a coma, but it didn't stop us from bonding. He knew I was there, and I knew he could hear what I was saying. I had a few very precious and very spiritual experiences with him that night... Experiences that when I tried to explain them were lost on my family. I just held his hand and talked to him, and when I would stop talking, I would look at him, and his eyes told me he was growing weary of the battle he was fighting, and when it looked as if it were getting to be too much, it was my duty to call my family and inform them they needed to come to the hospital. He left surrounded by us all, each of us sat there and watched as his spirit leaped out of his body and was free.

I miss him every day. There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish I still had him with me.

Everybody tells me that something changed in him when I was born. I know that we were best friends in our other life, and I don't think that the bond will be easily broken. In fact I know that in the next life, it will be stronger still.

I wish so much that I could have seen my son and my grandfather together. I know that they would have been such good buddies.

Do you know what I remember most about him? That he just loved me. He accepted me for who I was and never once tried to change me. I was always good enough for him no questions asked.

I'm going to end this with the paragraph in my favorite book that reminded me of my relationship with him... It goes a little something like this:

"Aunt Alexandra was fanatical on the subject of my attire. I could not possibly hope to be a lady if I wore breeches; when I said I could do nothing in a dress, she said I wasn't supposed to be doing things that required pants. Aunt Alexandra's vision of my deportment involved playing with small stoves, tea sets, and wearing the Add-A-Pearl necklace she gave me when I was born; furthermore, I should be a ray of sunshine in my father's lonely life. I suggested that one could be a ray of sunshine in pants just as well, but Aunty said that one had to behave like a sunbeam, that I was born good but had grown progressively worse every year. She hurt my feelings and set my teeth permanently on edge, but when I asked Atticus about it, he said there were already enough sunbeams in the family and to go on about my business, he didn't mind me much the way I was."

Those few words that Atticus says to Scout in a moment when her feelings were upset because her Aunty had made her feel so badly about herself are words that I feel as if I've heard many times throughout my life from my papa. He has always been that voice for me. The voice that says, "Don't mind them. You go on about your business, I like you just the way you are."

I miss him. Gosh do I miss him.

With Love,
Suz

CELEBRATE THE BOY IS BACK!

If you don't follow MADE or MADE BY RAE, shame on you! :) Just kidding. But if you are the mother to a boy, and rack your brain trying to find cool creative things to make for him, you need to check these girls out! They are doing a CELEBRATE THE BOY over on their blogs! This is the second annual CELEBRATE THE BOY extravaganza! And it is DEFINITELY WORTH CHECKING OUT! :)

MADE
MADE BY RAE

I definitely want to make this. I think my little one will LOVE the messenger bag/car mat.

Seriously, these two ladies are rad. I LOVE their blogs!

With Love,
Suz