the first, we hope, of many posts

After spending way too much time looking at other people's blogs and thus their lives and their kids and their homes, I feel like it's only fair to begin to chronicle our own for my family. 

I so love that my friends' children will one day get to read as adults the posts that their moms and dads wrote when they were kids. And finally they'll understand why and how the things happened that they have such tainted and broken memories of. They'll get to read the 'grown-up' version of their lives and that excites me. One day Annie will get to read how she came to be born in New Orleans and then spend her first year of life in Branson. And now we're back here in Kansas City and she'll get to know why. 

So, with the best of intentions to keep this blog up and going, we are setting out to make up for lost time and not waste another day letting pictures stack up in iPhoto and memories get lost in our minds, never to be seen or remembered again!

So this is us. The Brewers. That's my husband John shucking oysters. We love oysters. And we especially love to eat them in New Orleans. Did I mention that Annie was born there and that we love that town and the people in it and the music played there and the art made and food eaten there? Ah, yes, we do love that place. 

But there he is - John. He's great. He made me his bride two and a half years ago and has treated me like that - his bride - ever since. He lets me sleep in and he wakes up with the baby so many mornings. And he prays for our family. That's a good father.

With a bit of reluctance perhaps, he even stops what he's doing and helps me rearrange the apartment whenever I get a wild hair - which is rather often unfortunately for him. And he finishes all my painting jobs even though he hates to paint and I love to. I love to start to paint and to see the full effect of the new color but then I lose my zeal about half way through. That's when he comes in with his mouth shut because he knows that nothing positive will come out and just picks up a roller and finishes. 

I love him for that. And many other reasons. Quiet reasons that even I don't recognize or appreciate fully every day. I realize that what I have in him is rare and foreign to a lot marriages. That a lot of dads don't do as many dishes or cook as many meals or change as many diapers as he does. And he tells me I'm beautiful everyday. Usually several times. And I take that for granted, but I shouldn't. Not all husbands say that.

He's sitting on our kitchen floor right now feeding Annie Spaghettios. She's naked - just a diaper because he hates to pick her clothes out. And let's face it, that fat tummy is about as close to heaven this side of the clouds so why put a shirt on it? He just yelled in to say that he thinks we should always live in hot cities when we have babies so they can be naked all the time. Oh, daddy.

So there they are on the floor. She's interested in everything but the spoon of spaghettios. He keeps reinventing his voice to get her attention and pop the food in her mouth. But she's putting my shoe in her mouth instead. Oh, Annie. 

John loves that kid. He goes into her room every night before we go to bed and looks at her sleeping. He's that smitten. We watch videos of her on our phones when she's taking a nap. We're done for.

So here we are. A family of three. We want to add more. Jesus, please give us more. But for now, we're carving out a home and a life and a family with just the three of us, trying to walk through the doors that God opens for us. Crazy doors we would never knock on that he keeps putting in our path. God's funny that way. 


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