and now for the part where I ramble...

Random (but sweet) photo for a random (but sweet) blog post.

• First things first -- my dear friend, miss Lindsay of Newly Nalevanko, is in the hospital having her baby girl right now. Like right this very minute. And this, my friends, makes my heart skip a beat. I can't wait to meet baby Isabelle, but really I'm just so excited for Lindsay (and Chris). I know, I know -- I tend to go on and on about how straight-up crazy parenting is (read on for more proof of this), but it really is such an amazing thing. The best thing, actually.

• And speaking of "best" things .... have you guys seen the new Taylor Swift video? Um, hello Matt Saracen from Friday Night Lights. Have I told you lately that I love you? I mean, I don't love you as much as I love Tim Riggins (duh), but still. Anyway, I enjoy you. Well done, T. Swift. Well done.

• And it's because of Audrey's current no-rhyme-or-reason sleep schedule that I'm watching things like Taylor Swift music videos at ungodly hours of the morning. Yep, you'd think at almost three months in, we'd be turning a corner. Seeing the light after being on the dark side of the moon, so to speak. Transitioning out of "survival" mode into "I can sort of pretend that I've got a handle on things" mode. But, yeah, not so much. The only good thing about this stand still in Audrey's sleep progress? I have an excuse to wear my Minnetonka slippers all the livelong day. Yep, nothing says "hot mess" like furry house shoes, flannel pajama pants and over-the-top exhaustion.

• (Today, on GChat, I told my brother Mike that I was currently sitting on the couch in pajamas and house shoes. He thought this was awesome. I told him it was awesome. Awesome and undeniably gross.)

• Which leads me to Glennon Melton's Huffington Post article, "Don't Carpe Diem," which has been making the rounds in the blogosphere this week. Have you read it? I first came across it on Dear Baby, and although I agree with Melissa's point about staying present as a parent, I kind of love, well, everything Melton has to say. I mean, is this really a surprise? This coming from the girl who strapped the Baby Bjorn to her chest, belted Sam into the shopping cart, and bravely marched into Harris Teeter a couple of weeks ago, only to abandon my cart and literally HAUL ASS to the car after Audrey barfed all over my neck and Sam morphed into exorcist baby when he discovered they were fresh out of free sugar cookies. (Really, Harris Teeter?!? Really?!? Help a girl out.) Yeah, it wasn't pretty. Anyway, read the article. It's good. And true. So true.

• I know I sound like a broken record, but I wish Sam would start to talk. Just a few words. Or one word. You know, even a few hand signals or blinking patterns would work. Really, I'll take anything I can get at this point.

• Today marks the grand opening of Haven's Kitchen, the cooking school-slash-food shop-slash-event space-slash-complete and total amazingness, that my best friend Katie has been working on for so long. Now, while I don't want to get my gush on all over this already-much-too-long post, I just have to say that I am beyond proud of her. Like, kind of in awe. Actually, not kind of in awe. Totally in awe.

• Anson came home from working an overnight shift this morning. Upon walking in the door, he suggested (nay demanded) that I go sleep for a few hours. So I did. And it was glorious. (I love you, Brown.)

• Isabelle -- it's 11:31. Are you here yet?

"For most of life, nothing wonderful happens. If you don't enjoy getting up and working and finishing your work and sitting down to a meal with family or friends, then the chances are that you're not going to be very happy. If someone bases his happiness or unhappiness on major events like a great new job, huge amounts of money, a flawlessly happy marriage or a trip to Paris, that person isn't going to be happy much of the time. If, on the other hand, happiness depends on a good breakfast, flowers in the yard, a drink or a nap, then we are more likely to live with quite a bit of happiness."

-- Andy Rooney

Amen.

a belated "happy birthday" to you.

I know I've kind of unofficially discontinued my birthday blog posts, but I had to make an exception for my mom. You see, when I think about how much I love, admire and appreciate her, I could go on ... and on ... and on ... and on. I mean, come on, friends. You guys know my name might as well be Wordy McWordenstein when it comes to gushing. What can I say? When it comes to my favorite people in the world, I just can't contain myself.

With that said, when I try to describe how much Sam and Audrey love my mom, I find myself at a complete loss for words. Really, Sam morphs into a human cling-on each and every time he's in her presence. Honestly, everyone else in the room might as well be invisible when those two are together. Mom & Dad -- step aside. Sam only has eyes for Nanny.

And Audie ... well, she's smack in the middle of that oh-so attractive "excuse me while I gnaw on my fists and smack myself in the face" phase. So yeah, she's kind of oblivious to everything that's going on around her. But something tells me she'll be following in her brother's footsteps. I see a position as the VP of the Janet Scott Fan Club in her very near future.

So, as the official representative for my verbally challenged kids, I'm sending a belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my mom, from her biggest fans -- Sam, Audrey and yours truly.

We love you, J.

(But you already knew that.)

a little "love you no matter what" note.

Dear Sam,

I feel like we're going through a bit of rough patch right now. See, before your baby sister came on to the scene, we used to spend every moment of the day together, just you and me. Reading books. Going for walks. Driving around town. Having impromptu Taylor Swift dance parties in the living room.

Yeah, life was pretty sweet.

But now things are a bit different. It's harder for me to drop everything to read books to you all day long. It's January, so our outdoor excursions are fewer and farther between. Your sister apparently equates her car seat to being strapped into a straight jacket, so we avoid car rides like the plague. And I mostly watch you rock out to Taylor Swift by yourself, while I stay seated on the couch, holding Audrey. Because that's what I do.

All. Day. Long.

Anyway Bugs, I know there's a lot to be frustrated about right now, but this phase won't last forever. In fact, I can tell you from past experience that this little tough spot will most likely lead us to a really good spot very very soon. You see, I can predict these things because I'm old and wise like that. Mostly just old. But a little bit wise, too.

In the mean time, just remember that I love you more than anything.

More than sweat pants.

More than Gilmore Girls marathons.

More than cardigans and tights.

More than Anita's breakfast burritos.

More than a shopping spree ... in New York City ... at Christmas time ... in the snow ... with Reese Witherspoon and Rachel McAdams.

And trust me, that's a lot.

Bottom line: I love you the most,

Mom

the big chill.

Baby, it's cold outside.

No, seriously, it's freakin' freezing outside. Which means that the Hot Mess Express has been parked outside our house for the last few days because we're not going anywhere, friends. (No way! No how!) I mean, schlepping two kids around is hard enough as it is without the added layers of coats, mittens, hats, blankets -- you get the idea. Plus, no one wants to see a greasy-headed mother huffing and puffing while trying to wrangle her babies into the car, all the while mumbling seasonally-specific expletives under her frosty breath. (Holy BLEEP! It feels like BLEEPING Antarctica out here! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! Seriously, I think my BLEEPING nose hairs are frozen together! BLEEP BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP!)

Get it together, crazy lady. Get it together.

So yeah, long story short, we've been staying indoors. Eating mass amounts of peanut butter crackers and Nutella. Watching old-school 90210 episodes and Tori & Dean marathons. Not bathing. You know, the usual.

But this morning I did have to battle the elements to take the little bean in for her 2-month doctor's appointment. And, despite the traumatizing round of shots and all-around poking and prodding, I was able to snap this cute little pic in the waiting room.

Are you feeling warmer? Melting inside just a little bit? Yeah, me too.

happy new year.

I know this video has been floating all over Facebook all day, but I just couldn't help myself. I'm kind of in love with Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt is always adorable -- can you say 10 Things I Hate About You?!?

Anyway, enjoy this little ditty. And enjoy your New Year's Eve. I'll be sitting on the couch with my husband, sipping champagne and undoubtedly falling asleep long before midnight. Yep, after an amazing year, filled with long-awaited moves, unforgettable weddings and big arrivals, we Browns are officially wiped.

So please, do a little celebrating in our honor. Have a few drinks. Get a little crazy. Maybe make some bad decisions. And most importantly, hold on tight to the ones that you love most. Give them a big smooch at midnight. And get excited for 2012.

Happy new year, friends.

it's the little things.

I live a simple life. As I've said many times before on this blog, I spend my days in leggings and hoodies, reading pop-up books, making bottles, singing along to Elmo's World -- you know, very exciting and stimulating stuff.

But somehow, no matter how quiet and unscheduled my day-to-day life seems to be, we always seem to have a lot going on. Which is a really good thing. Unbelievably, no matter how chaotic our little family unit gets, people seem to still want to spend time with us. All the time. We're incredibly lucky that way.

But here's the thing: preparing to visit others or host visitors ourselves these days can seem like quite the hurdle for this self-proclaimed conductor of the Hot Mess Express. Even when Sam is in the most accommodating mood (read: not pulling out every block, book, shoe and piece of Tupperware that we own) and Audrey is peacefully strapped to my chest in her Baby Bjorn, it's hard for me to get anything done around the house. In fact, I'm usually just trying to stay above water when it comes to anything household related.

(I'm actually sitting here right now, blogging, instead of picking up the baby wipes, burp cloths and pretzel chips that are currently littering my living room floor. All hail the domestic goddess!)

Anyway ... it's because of this 24/7 struggle that I'm particularly lucky to be married to the master of getting shit done. Really, it's kind of incredible. And last night, (after driving home from Charlottesville ... in the dark and fog ... with two screaming babies in the back seat) he actually walked in the door, carried everything in from the car, put Sam to bed and went down and cleaned up our storage-slash-guest room for two hours in preparation for the Browns arriving on Friday afternoon. And all while I sat on the couch, completely oblivious, eating mass amounts of peppermint bark and watching Teen Mom 2.

It's the little things.