my lovely little life.

as you have probably noticed, i haven't been blogging much. at first, i blamed it on evan being sick. once he got better, i couldn't find the cord for the camera. when i still didn't blog, i thought that maybe i just didn't have much to say.

then, the other day, as i watched my boys play together, i realized why i haven't been blogging. i think this blog has grown stale. my life with lane - and evan - is anything but boring. in fact, it is quite the opposite.

it is lovely.

and that's when it occurred to me. it is not that i don't have much to say. quite the opposite. i have even more to say. i just need a new space to do so.

so, i started a new space. lana's lovely little life.

that is where i'll share even more about my life, and what makes it so lovely.

i hope you will hop on over. be sure to give me a follow, bookmark me or make a note to stop by every once in a while.

i'll be writing about all kinds of stuff. and, of course, there will still be plenty of cute photos of those darling little boys of mine.

He's at it again.

I allow very few toys to be kept in the living area while not in use. However, I have a few exceptions to my rules. Located on the fireplace, Evan has a decorative box full of mismatched toys that get dragged out every day and must be put away every night. Located next to that box is a very small red box with black and white flagging around the bottom where Lane keeps his cars.

Not just any cars. His Cars cars.

By now, I don't have to tell you that Lane is very particular about the storage, upkeep and process of play regarding those cars. And, while we have very many different types of cars floating around our house, only his Cars cars can go in that box.

Each night, all of the Cars gang, including Tow Mater, Lightning McQueen, Finn McMissle, Jeff Corvette and many, many others find their way into their box and patiently wait for Lane to return the next morning for many more hours of play.

Except on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.

That's when Lane goes to preschool.

And that's when Evan plays with those cars for as long as his little heart desires.

We've tried the "what's yours is his and what's his is yours" rule in the house. We've even tried gifting a character to Evan every time Lane earns a new car as a reward.

Going in the potty earned Lane his first Lightning McQueen and Evan automatically got Tow Mater.

On Valentine's Day, Lane received Mac and Evan received Acer and Miles Axelrod.

No sass talk for a week resulted in The Professor for Lane and Grem for Evan.

However, it doesn't matter. In Lane's world, all of the characters from Cars belong together in their little box.

And he's in charge of them.



Except on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.

That's when Evan plays with them however he wants.

Usually, all race cars must be placed in a long line together. The naughty cars get placed in another line on the other side of the room. All of Lightning's pit crew, including Tow Mater, Luigi, Guido, Red and Cooper, go in another line, where they can cheer on the race cars.

But not when Evan plays.


He pulls out those little pieces of metal and plays with them however he wishes.




Sometimes, he even wears the work goggles at the same time.




You won't tell on him? Will you?

Muddin'

It started out easy enough. We'd taken the boys outside to water the pear trees Papa planted over the weekend. The boys behaved nicely: Lane holding the hose for James, and Evan following close behind paying attention to his big brother.

We moved to the backyard to water the hydrangea bush Papa relocated, and with both boys contained inside the fence I decided to head inside to check on our dinner.

It didn't take long to make sure the gravy was simmering nicely and the potatoes were at a good rolling boiling so I'm not sure how Papa let them slip out of his sight.

But he did.

And this is what I saw as I opened the back door.


I knew something good was happening by the sound of Lane's laughter and the fact that the two of them were so interested in the same task. So, I grabbed my camera.

I couldn't get a good view of Evan because I was coming from behind him. I saw his feet first.



Mud. I should have known it was going to be something messy.

By this point, the boys were knee, or should I say elbow, deep in the mess and having a blast.

Now some parents might have put an end to it instantly. Not us. James parked himself in the rocker on the back deck and I sat close by with my camera, and we let the boys have it.

As the old saying goes, boys will be boys.

I kept trying to get a good shot of Evan, who I knew must have been covered in mud, but every time he stood up his back was facing my direction or his overly excited brother blocked my view.






Then, there he was. In plain sight. My beautiful little Giggie - the boy who gets complimented on his good looks every single day - covered in mud.

And happier than I have ever seen him.


So, we left them to play as long as they wanted. Splashing mud. Stepping in mud. Slinging mud. Even tasting the mud. Evan, not Lane.








Eventually, little drops of rain started to fall from the sky, and Evan got a little too much mud in his mouth.

He decided he was ready to end this adventure and head inside.

Of course, we caught him before he made it up the back steps. Both boys were stripped naked and shuffled right to the shower.

Just one more reason why I love my boys.

Monkey in the middle.

Evan's got it made. Sure, most of his clothes and toys are hand-me-downs but there's also an upside to being the second born. For starters, his mama is more likely to let him get away with a little more than his older brother got away with at this age. This comes in handy at the park, where Evan's skipped right by the baby playground and plays along side his brother and his brother's friend on the big kid playground.

A few weeks ago, we offered Papa the opportunity to have a night at home alone and met our besties at the meet in the middle park on a nice warm Friday night. Evan entertained himself for a little while but it didn't take long for him to realize the big kids were having a lot more fun - and getting the camera's attention.

Never one to miss out on fun - or a photo opp - Evan decided he would join Lane and Andrea.



While he couldn't figure out how to get his little feet to climb as high as the three year olds, he did manage to find a way to have some fun and get his mama and Paola laughing.



As soon as Andrea and Lane realized what was going on, they encouraged the little guy to play as well.


Then, when that game was all over, they followed Evan to the swings and pushed him back and forth.

The little guy couldn't have been happier.

boy mom.

I'm going to tell ya'all a little secret: I love my boys. Oh, you already knew that? Well then, let me tell you something that I didn't know until I became a mama to two boys.

Apparently, there's this secret kind of bond between moms who have two or more boys.

Now I'm not writing this post to discriminate against moms who have girls or girls and boys or a girl and a boy. I think all mamas are lucky.

Believe me - because there was a time when I all could think about was becoming a mama. I didn't care about boy or girl. I just wanted a child of my own to love.

But, as my dad always says when referring to pregnancy and gender, you get what you get.

I got boys.

And I couldn't be happier.


So back to us boy moms. Whenever I am out and about and meet other women who have at least two boys, there's always an instant connection. This might be someone I have very little in common with, but as soon as I find out we both have more than one boy - boom, instant camaraderie.

If the other mama happens to have boys who are 24 months or less apart, the connection is even stronger.

It is as if we know each others' ins and outs and understand all the pieces that make up being a mama to just boys.

Don't even get me started on the moms to three boys. Those ladies wear invisible badges of honor. I know a few of them, and quite honestly, I'm jealous.






A few months ago, I noticed a bumper sticker on the back of a big SUV: boymom. I needed to know if my suspicions on this secret club were true.

So I did what any mama does in a time of crisis. I googled.

Sure enough, there's a club, or rather a store, just for us.

I'm in love.

All kinds of products boasting our status as boy moms.


The two shirts above are my favorite. I'll take one of each and wear them with pride.










Sure, they are rough and dirty. They make messes constantly. My house is never quiet - even at night these kids find ways to make noise.

I am surrounded by a melody of toots and burps - and laughter following those toots and burps.

I now am a baseball fan, know every single Monster Jam ever made, and play with football guys and army men constantly.

I'm learning about Nascar and the different styles of camo. I talk about dinosaurs and the intricate plot line of Cars 2 daily.

And I love all of it.

Don't ever let anyone tell you having a boy isn't wonderful. Because it is. I love to find unique ways to dress my boys. Boy shoes - so stinking cute. My boys can rock some Converse All Stars. Mixing camo with stripes. Love to do it. I've always got my eyes open for cowboy shirts and football jerseys for Lane.

Since this post seems to be going nowhere quickly, I'm going to end it now.

However, don't read too much into the picture below. PJs are a hand-me-down item in this house. Although ...... I sure would love to rock that invisible badge of honor one day.

Labor of love.

I've endured a lot for these boys of mine. One - the maximum amount of pitocin a woman is allowed to have followed by a full hour of pushing. The other - a totally natural delivery void of any drugs with practically no assistance.

And that was just the beginning. I've stayed up all night. I've watched my hair fall out in chunks as I washed it. I've cleaned up every bodily function known to man. I gave up a career I enjoyed, and a red convertible that I loved. Going to the bathroom alone? Who needs it. I can't remember the last time I was able to have a complete conversation on the telephone.

These, like many other mamas will tell you, are just small sacrifices so worth the rewards we receive each and every day.

But come on boys. My brand new, just out of the box running shoes and my iced green tea from Starbucks, one of the very few treats I allow myself?

Can't a mama have anything for herself?

Leftovers.

That's not his dinner plate. Evan's plate - complete with his own leftover beefstew and quinoa, is to the left of that plate. That plate, however, belonged to his older brother.

I allowed Lane to leave his plate on the table and go play with Papa so I could brush all the leftovers into the dogs' bowls that night. Each boy enjoyed plenty to eat, so I sent the three of them on their way - off to Lane's room for some tackling or pretending to be at Dixie Speedway, I'm sure.

Never one to stay focused on a task for too long, Evan found his way back in to the kitchen, up that chair and in to Lane's leftovers.

Sharing what he didn't eat of his dinner, well, I'm sure that wouldn't make Lane too mad.

Stealing the attention of his favorite dog. Well, that's just not cool, Evan.