Category Archives: Motherhood

All the life in between…

The beginning of the school year always feels like a whirlwind. For at least six weeks; beginning in mid-August, there is no way to catch your breath until the first week of October. And then that breath is usually more of a gasp for air than a steady intake of the life-giving stuff. And I LOVE my students and I love what I do and this is not about all the time I don’t have—rather, it is about all the time I don’t want to miss.

As summer comes to an end, I am always filled with a sense that all the fun is coming to an end. And, in a sense, many of the things I love about summer simply can’t continue year-long. Leisurely breakfasts with my boys, spontaneous mid-day trips to the zoo, luxuriously quiet mid-morning trips to the grocery store, and spur of the moment trips to visit a friend need to make way for structures and schedules and school. In our house, two teachers and two little scholars (preschool and first grade) mean school nights are serious and school mornings are no joke! Our summers are luxurious and afford us endless times together as a family—the school year cuts that down to about two hours a day in which we need to eat, do homework, and accomplish  all the other chores and joys of life. I am grateful for our summers and aware of how blessed we are to have them—but I still mourn the loss of my family time each fall.

And every year, I try to remind myself that school starting doesn’t mean our family time needs to end: that following my life’s calling by day doesn’t mean I need to abandon my life’s calling by night.

I am always looking to document the joy in my journey: I am constantly photographing this adventure called life. And last Monday I took a pic of my boys mid a hectic post-school grocery run and thought: “There it is! These are the moments that make our life together ours. We might only have a few hours together as a family today, but these are the hours we’ll remember.” So this past week, I decided to intentionally document proof of my life outside of the school day.  I kept taking a picture a day for perspective—and I found that I had a lot of living and loving to do outside of my work days.


I recognize that I have the luxury of spending my summers and weekends with my family, but I also get to live the exhausted realities of every day life with them as well.

Tuesday’s image, enjoying a popsicle while wrapped in a blanket, made me smile and is not unlike the daily work-life balancing act. It can be a balancing act and a challenge to find enjoyment in the little things (like a popsicle on the porch); especially if the moment comes with logistical challenges (such as wrapping a blanket around you to make the night a bit less autumnal and a bit more reminiscent of summer). But it is worth the work to find that balance. And, often, the challenge isn’t in the work of manipulating logistics but rather it is in the art of perception: in simply acknowledging the joys that are already there and in the moments waiting to be found good.

Small Moments and Big Rocks

Tonight, my boys were wound up and bouncing a bit more than usual. And after I made the, “We need to start getting ready for bed,” announcement, my 4.5 year old wound up even tighter. But then he looked at me with sincere eyes and said, “Mom, I know what will calm me down: The BIG Rock.”

The BIG Rock, as it is formally known at our house; is a sizable rock that sits in the last yard, at the end of our block. It is the agreed upon turn-around-point for boys who are adventuring down the sidewalk on their Big Wheels and scooters, and it has been a favorite stop on family walks since the boys were old enough to ride along in a stroller.

“I think we need to walk to The Big Rock, Mom. That will help me calm down for bed.”

I started to say, “Maybe tomorrow;” but then I caught myself before the words came out. I chose, instead, to embrace this small moment with my little man: to find joy in the not-always-joyous struggle of bedtime.

Me and My Kai Walking

As we began to walk, Kai held my hand and snuggled up to my side. He rambled off a play-by-play of each crack in the sidewalk, each bump he likes to ride over, and nearly infinite knowledge of each spot along the way. As we neared the end of the block, Kai announced proudly: “It’s coming, Mom!”

And when we arrived at The BIG Rock, he jumped up onto the rock with fanfare. He gave me a grin, declaring: “And now I will sit on The BIG Rock. And YOU will take my picture!”

I laughed as I fumbled to pull out my phone and snap a few pics: happy for this moment together. And then, as quickly as he jumped up on the rock, he jumped back down and we walked home hand-in-hand.  And though the moment was brief, it was special.

Kai on Rock Color

The walk home was a little quieter as Kai tried to catch his shadow among the numerous looooooong shadows of the late, summer evening.

And even though he wanted to race me up the sidewalk to our door, he remained amazingly calm once we walked through it. He greeted Patrick with a smile and a snuggle, and he gave us NO arguments as I escorted him up to bed. After a hug and a kiss, he snuggled into his bed, and he was asleep within moments of laying down.

I found myself still grinning about our trip to The BIG Rock for sometime after Kai went to bed, and it made me ponder our small moment with that BIG Rock…

Maybe The BIG Rock has calming powers after all! Or maybe we’d all sleep better if we could stop and find joy in those tiny moments of connection that are often so easy to pass up because we are busy, or because they don’t follow our set schedule for the day.

And so, once again, I find myself challenged to find joy in my journey. I find myself thanking God for these sweet boys who challenge me and inspire me. And as the sweet, quiet moments of tonight give way to the frustrations and challenges that will inevitably find their way back into my day, I challenge myself to find joy in a BIG Rock or a short walk tomorrow. And, just as Kai leaned into me, may I lean into my Heavenly Father’s embrace as I try to find my way there.

Kai on Rock B&W

May we all find joy in a BIG Rock or a short walk; in a chosen moment of joy today!

 

Pancakes and Snuggles

Last night Patrick and I made a list of things we needed to do today. It was a list full of talking to insurance, maintaining bank accounts, making appointments, and running other duty-filled errands. While we started writing out our list, Kai got his own piece of paper and carefully began “listing” all of the things he wanted to do this summer: his “summer plan.”

Kai’s Summer Plan 😍

He carefully listed items out loud before meticulously adding each “idea” to his “plan.” Unlike our list of “have-to’s,” his list was thoughtfully simple and spoke of a three-year-old’s desire for the sweetness of life. He started with seeing dinosaurs at the MN Zoo (an activity he enjoyed a few weeks ago and is anxious to repeat again). Then after some quiet consideration, he excitedly added, “Pancakes at the pancake restaurant!”He carefully set to work adding pancakes to his list while chattering away; describing just how good they would be. I smiled while I listened; smiled at his wildest dreams being fulfilled with a trip to Perkins. If only we could all find so much joy in such simple things!

His list continued for a while, and then he stood up; as though hit with his best inspiration yet, and declared the single word: “Snuggling!”  He even ran over for a quick snuggle before adding it to his list. It was a quality list. And when he got ready for bed, both of our lists were set aside for the adventuring of the following day.

Today we were very productive. Patrick and I managed to cross many items off of our necessary/house-keeping list. And then this evening, Kai reminded us of his list. So we decided to leave the house mid-chores, grabbed a couple of friends, and went out to “the pancake restaurant for pancakes.” The delight was visible on Kai’s face when they brought him his plate, and he ate two or three times what he normally eats at mealtime. We all enjoyed our meals; seasoned with the joy on the small one’s face. 💕

Excited for pancakes! 😋


Today we were productive. Today we took time to enjoy the simple things; like pancakes with sprinkles.

Tomorrow we’ll continue through life’s lists: through the “have-to’s” and the fun stuff too. And I encourage you to do the same. Be productive. Cross things off your list. And remember to enjoy the pancakes and snuggles along the way 💕

April Showers

This morning, I was thoroughly dismayed to see snowflakes floating down from a winter-grey sky. Spring in Minnesota can be trying at best: warm and hopeful one day, cold and unrelenting the next. This week has felt like winter.

This week was my Gramie’s funeral.

This week has been long.

This week has been hard.

This week has felt bleak.

Today, as they do so many times, my boys helped me see past my dismay: to remember the joy that is in the journey. The joy that is in transition; even this looooong transition from winter to summer.

As I scrambled to get our things ready for school/daycare/work, my boys ran out into the yard. My impatience with their disregard for coats or reminders to “wait for me,” vanished as I heard them giggle and squeal in delight.

“Momma! I did it! I did it!” Kai screamed as I caught up to them; “We caught snow on our tongues!!!” 

His grin was both gleeful and lopsided, as his tongue was still sticking out; and he waved frantically at his brother who was also spinning around the front yard with his face to the sky. Their delight made me stop.

And laugh.

And pull out my camera.

Because these are the moments I want to embrace and to remember. 

This morning I thought it was the snow that was to blame for my feelings of dismay, but that isn’t true. The dismay was my own. The snow was easily asking for laughter and delight; it didn’t taunt me, it was not willing me towards angst. On Christmas morning I would have found it beautiful, even magical; so why not today?

Why not every day? There are times in life that aren’t easy. There are weeks like this one when there is time to mourn. Ecclesiastes chapter three tells that there is a time for mourning and a time for laughing. Both have a place. But today the laughter of my boys challenged me to resist getting stuck. To remember that even though I might be anxious to move past winter, I shouldn’t miss the joy that it could still hold for me while it remains here.

To embrace the heart of a child.

And to find the ability, when April brings snow showers, to catch them gleefully on my tongue.

  

But the greatest of these…

Kai is my snuggle bug. He is quick with a hug, a squeeze, a kiss on the cheek. So when I put him to bed tonight, I offered to snuggle next to him for a few minutes. He has a number of blankets and “fluffy toys” that he gets “cozy” with each night. But tonight, after a few minutes with his cozy friends, he emerged from him nest and climbed up on top of me: enveloping me in a 2-year-old sized bear hug, a snuggle, and a mumbled, “Love you so much.”

My heart. ❤️

He laid there for a few minutes with his head on my chest; his arms and legs wrapped around me. And just as I was about to transfer him back to his nest, he picked up his head and whispered, “Momma, you’re the best girl ever,” before nuzzling back in and kissing my neck.

As he burrowed back into his cozy little nest of blankets and “fluffy” friends, I thought my heart might burst. And I found myself trying to mentally “capture” the moment. I thought about all the ways my boys bring joy to my journey: to our everyday adventures. And then I was reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:13 “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” And, please don’t fault me for over simplifying the significance of this passage, but in that moment I felt the greatness of love.

Love

One of my little man’s go-to phrases these days has been, “But, Momma, I just need…YOU!”

And love brings joy to the journey. I know this because a few months ago, my littlest man WOULDN’T GO TO SLEEP. I was nearly ready to cry from exhaustion and frustration, and so I determined I would put on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and stick him in bed next to me. However, Kai, had no intentions of letting me out of his sight. As he followed me into the bathroom, I felt my frustration rise. But then my frustration melted away as I heard his plea: “Momma, I watch you brush your teeth?” and saw those sweet little eyes looking up at me. How can frustration win in the face of such adoration: such love? So instead of going to bed cranky, I went to bed feeling love; finding joy in my journey again.

Being a parent is exhausting. Most of the time, I’m pretty sure being a human is exhausting. 😉 But I believe that holding on to love, and leaning on the One who gives us the gift of perfect love, helps us to find joy in our journey again: even if we are searching through blurry, sleep-deprived eyes.

Laundry Mountains and Joy in the Journey

Photo Apr 12, 12 02 36 PM

Mount Laundry

Somedays I feel like I am engaged in a never-ending battle with laundry. As I looked at my kitchen table this morning, covered with piles upon piles of clothing; I may or may not have silently compared it to an insurmountable mountain.

Don’t misunderstand: I was grateful that my family has ample clothing to wear and that I was looking at clean laundry instead of piles of dirty. And folding laundry always makes my heart swell with gratitude, pride, and love for the little people and loving husband that fill the very clothes I am engaged in battle with. However, most days I have a hard time appreciating those seemingly-infinite piles.

My guys have been sick this week and sleep has been rare, but this morning I found myself up early enjoying the quiet; stacking mound upon mound of laundry.  Once the boys were up, I abandoned the piles and got busy with cuddles, juice cups, and breakfast.  I shooed them away from the table once or twice in fear that my piles might come tumbling down, but toddlers are persistent to a fault and they found their way back there when I was was not looking.  And then, just as they so often do, they challenged my perspective. They might not appreciate the fact that I do laundry so that they have clean clothes to wear, but today they appreciated my insurmountable mountain.  Except where I saw a battle, they saw adventure: an opportunity to explore.

“Look, Kai!  Look at the city…” I heard Keilan whisper in an awe-filled voice.

“Wow.” Kai murmured in response.

Photo Apr 12, 9 02 11 AM

Looked like a pile of pajamas to me, but my guys saw it as a breathtaking skyscraper. ❤

And then they stood for a number of mesmerized moments admiring those beautiful towers and the “roads” between them.

“Kai! Whoa! Look at THAT tower!”

“Keilan! Look!  Look at that path!”

I still shooed them away before any of those towers came tumbling down, but I did it with a smile and with a newfound joy in today’s journey.

Love those boys.

Love how they challenge my perspective.

Love how they help me appreciate the journey even when I get caught up in the challenges and doldrums.  And I love how they help me find joy in this journey of life and love that we’re on.

 

"LOOK! Kai, look at the city!"

Confession: these laundry piles lasted on the table for more than just an hour or two. But we didn’t let our laundry mountain get in the way of our lunch. These boys LOVED their picnic amidst the laundry city 😉

A Change in Perspective: a Discovery of Joy

When I first began this blog, I wrote about how speed bumps make me smile: and they still do. Finding joy in the everyday adventures of life often requires trying on a new perspective. Just as my brother taught me to see the joy that can be found in life’s speed bumps, my little boys challenge my perceptions of the world each day.

A few days ago, we were just blocks from home when we were forced to stop at a railroad crossing as a train slowly approached the crossing. Patrick muttered a groan of disapproval, I silently bemoaned the inconvenience, and then we heard stirring in the backseat of the van. The boys were just waking up, and I smiled at the sound as I anticipated what their reactions might be. Although my nearly-four-year-old is often slow to wake up, he became alert quickly as he realized why we had stopped.

“Dad, why did we stop?”

“Because there is a train coming, Kei.”

“Oh. Dad, there is a train?”

“Yes, Keilan.”

“Oh, thanks, Dad!”

I saw the irritation melt from Patrick’s face and felt mine lift as well; as we fell deep into a family discussion regarding the color of the engines, what each freight car might possibly be transporting, and even the parade of graffiti that consequently marched before our eyes. One of the freight cars had a picture of a Smurf spray-painted across its side, and Keilan cried out, “Dad! Look a SNURF!!!” knowing that the Smurfs had been a childhood favorite of Patrick’s. His sweet mispronunciation added to the joy of the moment as his brother eagerly pointed out, “A bird!” on the following car.

I treasured the joy of that moment as a reminder that even though sitting at a railroad crossing generally feels inconvenient at best and infuriating at worst, a simple shift in perspective can change all of that. In that moment, our perspective changed. We were no longer just counting the minutes until the train would be past; we were enjoying every minute of the show.

As the final freight car disappeared out of sight, and the crossing arms began to rise, I committed that moment to memory. That moment was a challenge to face life’s delays with a new perspective. That moment was joy.

These two bring such great perspective: and so much joy <3

These two bring such great perspective…and so much joy ❤

Joy in Exhaustion

I have two toddlers. I teach kindergarten. Being a mother and a teacher represent things about myself that I am immensely proud to call mine.  They represent challenges and accomplishments. They represent stress, sleep loss, and joy.

Just this morning, I was thinking about how I had not posted anything here in a long time. I had also briefly reflected on why: was I unable to find joy in my journey or just unable to find the time or energy to document it?  I think the honest answer is that both might be true.  My life is not without joy; however, there is also worry, dirty laundry, frustration, potty training, and exhaustion that sometimes derail me from finding (and documenting) joy in my everyday adventures.

So, that was what I was thinking about this morning. And along with those reflections, I may have said a quick prayer, silently vowing to “find” some joy today.  Then the day got rolling: the living room needed vacuuming, arguing brothers needed mediating, lunch needed making, and pretty soon the boys needed to wind down for nap-time.  Though Keilan is out-growing naps, his almost-four-year-old self still benefits from a little quiet rest-time each day.  I brought the boys upstairs, but they were not in the mood for rest–and I was not in the mood for convincing them to be. So I went downstairs, hoping that they would magically fall asleep.  Instead, Patrick volunteered to go upstairs and rest with them while I ate my lunch.  I enjoyed a few peaceful moments by myself, and then I decided that I should go check on the boys.

Caught!

Caught!

When I cracked open the bedroom door, I saw Kai asleep in his crib and Patrick sound asleep in Keilan’s bed; while Keilan played with his toys beside him.  Though I might have been just a little bit irritated at Patrick’s “help,” I had to stifle a smile.  After all, he is just as exhausted as I am, and Keilan’s “I just got caught face” was too adorable.  So I decided that rather than fight about nap-time or tell Patrick to wake up, I whispered for Keilan to join me downstairs.  I told him that he didn’t need to worry about nap-time but that he still needed to rest. I told him that I wanted to rest too so I was going to put on a movie and we were going to rest together.  Much to my surprise, my little man who is growing bigger and more independent each day, curled up next to me on the couch, and pretty soon he was sound asleep laying on my chest.  And there it was: joy.  Joy in precious snuggly moments: joy in being his mom. Joy that I would have missed if I had been cranky about nap-time not going the way I had planned.  And the best part? I was totally and completely trapped under my sleeping toddler. I couldn’t move without waking him up: I was unable to change loads of laundry, work on lesson plans for school, pick up the toy room, or do the lunch dishes.  There was my answer to prayer: I had “found” the joy I was looking for and the exhaustion that so easily derails it had been addressed too. I was “forced” to take a nap; under the weight of a sweet, sleepy toddler.

I can’t promise that my posts will be more frequent because of this incident; but there was reason to celebrate joy in my journey today.  And today joy was found in a moment that might not have happened if everything had gone according to my schedule; so it was also a reminder to enjoy the journey: to find joy, even in the unplanned adventures of each day.

Joyful Snuggles

Perfect

I did not get much sleep last night…or the night before.  Keilan’s sleep patterns have been true to his three-year-old-self lately.  Often he is up for HOURS wanting nothing more than to bounce and play and read and sing and…. And in the few short moments where he rests quietly, inevitably, something like his brother’s cold symptoms will keep us awake. A few months ago, one particular night, Keilan was up NUMEROUS (a term used to describe a number that is at once large and also ambiguous due to exhaustion and frustration) times screaming and crying: “It hurts! It hurts! Mom, help me!!!”  After NUMEROUS attempts to console him, I came to the conclusion that there was really nothing I could do to “help,” and Keilan was entirely unable or unwilling to tell me what the “it” was that was hurting him.  But the most absurd thing happened the following morning as I was reflecting on the sleep I had (or had not had) the previous night: the most ridiculous word came to mind.  In my mind I qualified the sleep as short, disjointed, insufficient…and perfect.

If a sleepless night with unhappy boys does not sound perfect to you, I understand. I blame my three-year-old for causing the word “perfect” to come to my mind.  He has an incredible ability to see the perfection in the imperfect around us each day.

We recently stayed with a friend of ours who had moved into a rental property while looking for a more permanent place.  While staying at his home, he listed off all of the reasons he was hesitant to stick with this property; all of the things that he would choose differently in his next home.  Also, being new to this home, his furniture was sparse, and so I had my messy, little boys sit on the floor in the kitchen when it was time for them to eat.  Uncle Adam, as my boys call him, is kind and compassionate; but I still didn’t want to risk a mess on his carpeted dining room floor.  A large cardboard box served nicely as a table, and the boys were thoroughly impressed with their mealtime set-up.  Keilan found this to be the best thing that had ever happened, and one morning, around bites of blueberry muffin, he informed me: “Uncle Adam has a perfect house.”  And so it was.  It was filled with friends and family and fun…and it was perfect.  Maybe the split-level set-up was a little unusual, maybe the space was larger than necessary, maybe the empty walls were looming, but it was the location of our little-boy-approved breakfast picnic and it was “perfect.”

Often Keilan reminds us of all the perfection around us. After a recent trip out of town, Keilan sat out on our deck admiring the way the wood in the deck was a little “squishy” and the particular way the paint on the side of the house was peeling.  “Mom. Our house is perfect.  It is builded. And it is perfect.”  Keilan, in his insightful way, declared our imperfect home “perfect” in all its imperfections simply because it existed, it was “builded,” and it was ours. And though it is easy for me to see all the things our house is lacking; when I glimpse through his three-year-old lens, focused in on the family that fills our home, I can see its perfection as well.

If you are feeling overcome with feelings of discontent, I dare you to spend a day with my little man.  When traveling in the car with him, he will declare each hill you come to as, “The biggest hill EVER!” And he will accept the blueberry donut you hand him with the most winsome grin and declare: “That’s the special one ever.” (In those exact, grammatically incorrect words that speak of his youth and sweet sincerity.)  And I know, from experience, that you will grin from ear to ear and your heart will be full when he announces from the backseat of the van: “Mommy, you know what favorite letter I love? The letter ‘G’!!! That’s the perfect one for me!”

The word “perfect” can mean many things. One of Webster’s definitions of the word reads: “As good as it is possible to be.” And while I am pretty sure that there are things I would change about my current, sleepless nights; I have also come to appreciate another definition: “Highly suitable for someone or something; exactly right.”  I have come to accept this definition of perfection because that same little boy who has kept me awake so many nights, has also taught me about looking past annoyance and declaring perfection.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am exhausted.  I would REALLY, REALLY, REALLY appreciate a good night’s sleep; and maybe a few hours “away” from my little guys to rest and recoup my energy.  But as I reflect on the annoyances of being kept awake night after night, I am overcome by the love I have for my little boys, by the great privilege it is to be the one that they call for in the middle of the night, and by the possibility that even my sleep-deprived, caffeine-induced existence just might be “perfect.”

I will choose to find joy in this sleepless part of my journey as I embrace the belief that these boys, this time of life, and the challenges that they bring are “exactly right” for me. After all, as much as I may think I know what is “perfect” for me, I have found time and again that God’s plans are greater than mine. And when I trust in Him to lead me, I am reassured by the words of Jeremiah 29:11, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Image

No, they don’t share a bed. But this photo still somehow captures how my three-year-old feels about sleep…

A Collection of Joy

My husband has always mocked me for being a collector.  It’s true. I collect things.  And, I’ll admit, some of my collections do nothing for my “cool” factor.  For instance, not many people respect a clown collection.  And even though most people had a rock collection at some point in their lives, I’ll admit that mine may have been one of the few where each rock was labeled with his/her own name….

Since childhood, my collections have changed.  I have less things laying around, but I am obsessed with collecting  less tangible things; such as memories.  While the memories themselves are intangible, I am also a big fan of collecting ways to make them more concrete; more tangible.  The number of pictures that I have taken of my children, for instance, is just a tad bit embarrassing.  But when I look back at the things I have done over the years, I have never regretted taking too many pictures.  And there have been a few times, where I have regretted not taking enough.

I started this blog as a place to collect moments of joy…so that I could return to them when I needed a reminder of  all the joy I have found in my journey; and to challenge myself to keep collecting moments of joy rather than passing them by in the self-centered oblivion that we all fall victim to from time to time.

One of my greatest sources of joy is my children.  My boys are a constant source of sleep-deprivation, challenge, exhaustion, worry, and PURE JOY.  But even before my boys were born, I had hundreds of children go through my classroom over the years who also brought me joy.  And then there is my little brother; who has been a great source of joy to me and my family from the moment he was born.  Children are wonderful.

Children are challenging and exhausting; and wonderful.  They are FULL of honesty and insight, and as an elementary school teacher, I can assure you that little goes unnoticed by a child.  Children know MUCH about what goes on at their homes, and they aren’t afraid to share what they know.  Just this year, I had a first grader tell me that I could call his mom on her cell phone because: “She never goes to work.  She just shops all day and spends my dad’s money.”

I’m serious.  You can’t make this stuff up.

Earlier this week, I pulled a student aside to have a conversation about a situation that had happened earlier in the day.  While I will spare you the details, I will share that when asked what had happened, his opening statement was: “Well, I was over by Daisy because she didn’t think I was a werewolf.  See? I was showing Daisy my werewolf moves.  You know, because I’m a real werewolf…”

Again.  I’m serious.  You can’t make this stuff up.

As I suppressed my giggles, and summoned all my teacher-strength to maintain a straight face; I thought about the joy his ridiculous proclamation brought me. And I realized that it was time for me to be a better steward of these amazing moments of joy that have been given to me.  This blog is perfect for reflection about my quest for finding joy in my journey, but I need a place to capture those daily one-liners that the children in my life so freely give.

So the next time I find joy in something my three-year-old says or in a ridiculous statement that a first grader of mine declares, I am going to collect them carefully in a new place: in my kid-speak treasury.  You are welcome to read, to laugh, to enjoy, to share…and you can let me know if there is a great kid-speak moment that needs to be remembered there that hasn’t been already.  Kid’s say funny things.  But they also say insightful things that will challenge your perspectives and will challenge you to be a better you.  So this is a place where I can collect those kid-speak moments and allow myself  to be challenged by the honesty and insight that they bring.

My brother and Keilan...just two of the "kids" that make my life sweet!

My brother and Keilan… two of the amazing “kids” that make my life sweet!