Josh and the Croc

I was flipping through the pictures on my phone and found one that needs to be documented.

On our anniversary we went to Scottsdale for the evening.  We stopped at Outback Steakhouse for dinner, went to the movie theater to watch The Avengers, and then stayed at a hotel.  Of course, the next day we went to the hospital and had a baby, but that's a different story.

We went to the restaurant and the hostess took us to a booth.  I asked Josh which side of the table he wanted to sit on and he said, "I know I can't sit and look up at that thing on the wall behind you."  I looked up at the wall and saw the crocodile.  Josh was shocked that I hadn't noticed it sooner.  But what do I care if there's a stuffed croc on the wall?

Unfortunately for Josh, he did care.

My husband is incredible.  He's a big, strong stud that makes me laugh and often brings me flowers.  But if he has any weakness it is this.... he's afraid of crocodiles.  

He thought he would be okay sitting with his back to the croc on the wall.  But almost immediately he began squirming.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his imagination convinced him that the stuffed wall ornament was about to crawl down onto his back.

I don't want to make light of Josh's fear.  I know it's real.  He can't even watch crocodiles snapping on TV.  But he's a good daddy.  Once when Abby was about a year old she sat on his lap while they watched television together and a crocodile snapped at the TV camera.  Josh nearly jumped off the couch, but before the croc could attack from the TV, he held Abby up over his head to protect her from it.  See?  Good daddy.

I find this fear cute and completely endearing.

I love Josh.  

And I love that we had to move tables within about two minutes of attempting to sit under the crocodile on the wall.  

Bless My Heart

There's this new phenomenon I've begun to experience.  My heart has been blessed.  A lot.  And not just by my children, but by total strangers.  The conversation usually goes something like this....

Stranger: Oh, your baby is so cute!  Is she your first?
Me: No, my fifth.
Stranger: Your fifth???  Bless your heart.

Sometimes I feel obligated to expound on this.  Yes, I have five kids.  Yes, by today's standards that's a big family.  Yes, we meant to.

A few weeks ago my mom helped me out by taking the four big kids to her house (two and a half hours away) and I spent five days with just Sarah (Josh was working each of those nights so I didn't see him for more than an hour each day).

I love my sweet baby Sarah.  She's so wonderful to be with and snuggle with.  She's just a great baby and I love that she's a part of our family.

But I discovered something.  I missed the chaos of my big family.  The quiet was so peaceful, but a bit creepy.  I have not had many moments of peace and quiet in my home.  And so it's no wonder I like having lots of people around.

I grew up with two sisters and two brothers.  I often had my friends over throughout high school and beyond.  The first apartment I ever moved into I shared with five other girls.  Josh and I lived in college housing... twice.  My major required a lot of people working together, often yelling and trying to out-do each other.

Our apartment window for Homecoming 2007.

And now I have four daughters and a son.  And we're pretty sure we're not done yet.

So thank you, strangers, for blessing my heart.  I am blessed.  And I'm glad for it.