Sentences I Never Thought I Would Say

Motherhood changes a lot of things: your daily schedule goes from “All About Me” to “All About Baby;” the amount of sleep needed to function changes from 10 hours per night to two; how much time you spend watching Sesame Street increases exponentially; and the sheer volumes of coffee required for daily activities makes you consider buying stock in Folgers. But the one thing that has changed the most, for me, (other than the lack of free time I now have to stalk Zachary Levi on Twitter) is the stuff I hear myself saying on a daily basis.

Seriously, guys. At least three times a day, I have this moment:

source: GIFSoup

So, for your reading pleasure, here’s a quick list of just a few of the things that have come out of my mouth and made me question my sanity.

Pooping in the tub is rude. And gross. Mostly just gross.”

“If it hurts when you hit yourself in the head, then don’t do it!”

“If you pee on me, you’re grounded.”

“So that’s what a Cheerios-and-green bean burp smells like…”

“Oh, honey! It’s toilet paper, not confetti!”

“Poop is not for playing with!!!”

“The cat is not a chew toy, dear.”

“I know they smell nice, but bananas are NOT shampoo.”

“Don’t eat ___________!” (Insert items at your own will, and don’t be afraid to be creative here. Answers might include, but aren’t limited to: Daddy’s shoes, carpet fuzz, the remote, your foot.)

“Where did you find that _______?” (Insert items at your own will, and don’t be afraid to be creative here. Answers might include, but aren’t limited to: that old BandAid, pair of Mommy’s underwear, three-week old petrified noodle, phone book from 2003.)

“I know the Desitin looks creamy and delicious, but trust me when I say it’s not.”

And finally, the coup de grace…

Your butt is not a set of bongos. Especially when covered in poop.”

Shaping Future Memories, One Day At A Time

​When my son looks back on his childhood, I want him to remember snuggly Sunday mornings filled with homemade cinnamon rolls and movie marathons. I want him to remember autumn afternoons spent with family in the backyard, swinging so high it’s as if his toes might touch the clouds, the smell of hotdogs on the grill. I want him to reminisce fondly about this football game, or that trip to the zoo, or the evening we caught fireflies by moonlight. My hope is for him to look back and know he was loved, beyond measure, and be happy for it all.

Some days it is harder than others, to be the perfect parent he deserves. My nerves may be frazzled from constant demands and lack of sleep. My patience wanes after the two-hundredth time of explaining, guiding, teaching. We may struggle learning the concepts of “please” and “no.” There have been tears shed — his and mine — as we test boundaries and try new things.

I am in awe of his courage, his intelligence, his eagerness to learn. I strive, every single day, to quench that thirst for knowledge. And I worry everyday that I am failing. We sing, we recite the alphabet, we count everything in sight and still — he wants more. I fall into bed every night and replay those teaching moments on repeat. Did I do enough today? Could I have been better? Should I do that differently? How can I be the best Mom I can be?

In the end, my goal as a Mom is that one day, in the not so distant future, he will remember mud pies and long games of tag and splashing in the surf. That he will remember the Board Game Olympics and Mario Kart matches and epic pretend Stormtrooper battles with his Dad. He will remember how much we laughed. And that he won’t dwell too much on the days I lost my temper and shouted, or the minutes spent in timeout for biting the cat, or the restricted screen time he doesn’t know yet is for his own good. I can only hope that these lessons of kindness and respect and manners will, in the end, be appreciated by the man he becomes. And that the silly knock-knock jokes, and the required family dinners, and the ticklefests will enrich the fabric of his childhood.

In the meantime, I will have an extra cup of coffee to stave off the sleepies. I will take a deep breathe and explain, again, that yelling to get what he wants is much less effective than asking. And I will make sure my face lights up every time he sees me, so he knows how glad I am to see him (even though it’s 5 a.m. on a Sunday.) Because he deserves the best mother in the entire world, and even on days when I feel less than, it’s my job to give him everything I have and more.

365 Days Ago…

….”we” became “three.” And we’ve loved every single minute of it. In celebration of our son’s first birthday, I’ve created a little video compilation of all our favorite moments. It’s been, without a doubt, the best year of our lives.

I’d walk you by it step by step, but I’ve got a shiny new toddler to spoil today. Happy viewing!

I Blinked

And in that instant, you grew. Every part of you—from fingernails to feet—is changing. That baby face, those tiny feet, your chubby little legs….in a moment, it seems, you have morphed into a perfect little man child. Gone are the baby peach fuzz, the tiny fingers, the little squeaks you used to make to let me know you were happy. Now you enter the room each morning with a hearty YAWP of happiness, and I marvel in you every single day.


I blinked.

And in that fraction of a second, you became a toddler. No more long, lazy days spent napping in the swing. Oh, no! For there are great adventures to be had, new foods to try, new life lessons to experience. You are learning so much and so quickly. And watching your eyes light up with every single skill learned (Bongos! Clapping! Speaking! WALKING!) brings a joy into my life that I’ve never know before.


I blinked.

And in that infinitesimal fraction of time, you have morphed into your Daddy’s best friend. You laugh together, and play together, and nap together; you are two peas in a pod. I see you now, sitting in his lap, watching him play video games and it is incredibly simple to picture you playing along in a few years time. You light up at the sight of him, you laugh at his silly antics, and you already emulate him, even if he doesn’t see it yet. The two of you own every square inch of my heart.


I blinked.

And in that half a second, you have become my entire world. I know what you’re thinking, what you want, what you need, in the seconds before you do. Your smile is as familiar as my own, your laughter is the soundtrack of my day. You are my constant companion, my  pal, my heart. Sometimes, looking at you, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders: to make sure you feel absolutely safe and loved, to send you into the world with kindness and gratitude, to teach you how to navigate this scary world with bravery and smarts.  But I know we will be ok, little one. Because you are miraculous, and I’m convinced you can do anything.


I blinked.

And suddenly, we are three. It all happened so seamlessly, so effortlessly. It’s like you were always with us, even during the “before,” when we wished for you while simultaneously thinking you might only be a dream. Your Daddy and I  speak your name more times in a day than we think our own, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. You truly complete us. Our son.


As I watch you climb, and swim, and talk, and laugh, and walk; as we continue hitting every milestone and surpassing everyone’s expectations; as we approach (all too quickly) your first birthday, I can’t help but marvel at you. You are so smart. You are so much more than you can possibly imagine. And you continue to amaze me, every single day.

Something tells me as time continues to pass, as the days morph into weeks and months, that I’m going to wish for these moments back. If only I had the ability to freeze time, my little one, I would do it almost every day: in the moments you are sleeping most peacefully, when you are laughing so hard your little belly shakes, when you curl your hand onto my face and say “Mama.” But since I can’t, and those moments will continue to pass us by, I’ll keep living in these moments with you. Because even though it feels like I simply blinked and suddenly, you’re eleven months old, there’s not a single moment of those months that I don’t remember, cherish, and adore.

A Letter to My Husband, on Mother’s Day

Dear Brian,

It’s here. That day I’ve dreamed of for much of my adult life–my first Mother’s Day. When you stop to compare this May with last, it seems almost impossible. Look at where we are now! Look how far we’ve come! We are blissful (if somewhat sleep-deprived) parents! We’ve become those people with a trunk full of baby supplies and toys, the ones who wallpaper Facebook with pictures and videos of our son, the ones who plan our lives around the happiness and well being of one, very small, very important person. I love being a Mom, so, SO much. I hope that’s as apparent to you as your happiness at being a Dad is to me.

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I know you’ve watched me in years past, struggling with the emotions of this day. Trying to find a balance between celebrating the moms in my life and the grief of not being one myself–I never quite managed it with the grace such a situation warranted. You stood beside me, reminded me that it was ok to cry, held me when I fell apart. I know you felt helpless, knowing I was so sad and there was nothing you could do to fix it. There are no words adequate enough to thank you for that support, throughout our many years of infertility struggles. So let me just put in black and white—I know how hard it was for you, too. I acknowledge with a full heart that I never felt alone on my path to motherhood. You were always there for me, holding my hand, swimming in that same sorrow, but somehow always managing to buoy me up when I needed it most.

I have so many things to thank you for. Thank you for going on this journey of parenthood with me. Thank you for being brave enough and strong enough for the both of us when it seemed we were destined to fail. Thank you for celebrating with me in our moments of triumph, but more importantly, in HIS moments of triumph. Thank you for telling our son how awesome his Mommy is, especially when you think I can’t hear you. Thank you for all the nights you’ve let me sleep just a little bit longer, specifically those when ten hours of sleep was the exact thing I needed most. Thank you for being wonderful, deliciously nerdy you: I get more joy out of watching you teach our son about everything superhero, and seeing how excited you are for what his nerdy little future holds. Thank you for being patient with me as I navigate this new path, for understanding why sometimes my brain is fried and my temper is short. Thank you for all the things you do that I never have to ask for: the poopy diapers, the long days at work, the longer commutes, the unwavering support, the unconditional love, the perfect way you parent. Thank you for being such an amazing Dad.

This new, seamless little routine we have going right now is so much more wonderful to me than I think anyone can understand. I look forward every single day to you coming through the door, to our dinner around the table as a family, to Jeopardy and bath time and evening giggles and games. We are most complete in those moments between dusk and dawn. We are one. We are family.

mom blog

In short, I wouldn’t be “Mom,” if you weren’t “Dad.” We are in this together, as ever. And I love you more today than in the almost 17 years I’ve known you. Today may be Mother’s Day, but in my heart, I’m celebrating us, and our family. Our gorgeous, perfect, awesome family.

I love you to the moon and back,

Because He Loves Me

It’s early. The rest of the house sleeps soundly as I drag myself into the bathroom to prepare for the day. The lights are harsh when I flick them on, and I close my eyes to the intrusion, giving myself a moment to adjust to the idea of being awake.

Coffee would be nice. So would two (or six) more hours of sleep.

But the day will continue on without me, so I yawn, scrub my hands over my face, and turn on the shower. Ten minutes later, I swipe my hand over the mirror, erasing what’s left of the steam. It’s the first time I’ve noticed my own reflection today, and I immediately begin the silent, inner criticisms that have become so ingrained, they’re involuntary. It’s a daily thing, this taking stock of my own flaws.

Hair, frizzled from constant tiny hands, and greying at the temples. Eyebrows in desperate need of plucking. Dark circles like caverns under my eyes. Skin splotchy, with ruddy cheeks from lack of nutrition and sunlight. The extra twenty pounds I’ve packed on, heavy at my chin, my middle, my backside; a constant reminder that I need to stop living on Poptarts and coffee and start getting back to the gym regularly. Chipped nail polish on my toes. So many things I need to fix about my appearance.

I sigh, knowing there isn’t time to deal with most of these issues right now. I pull my hair up in a haphazard “mom bun,” brush my teeth, and add a little lip gloss and some mascara as a confidence booster.

At that moment, I hear my son begin to stir from his crib. I tug on some jeans and a loose-fitting tee, slide my feet quickly into my trusty ballet flats, and make it into the nursery just as he comes fully awake.

“Well, good morning, my gorgeous boy,” I coo at him, a giant smile plastered on my tired, puffy face.

The baby sees me for the first time, as I lean over the bars of his crib to greet him, and that’s when it happens.

His eyes light up, and a giant smile spreads across his face. With sleep still in his eyes, he begins waving his chubby little arms at me, wiggling in anticipation of the hug that he knows is coming. I scoop him up and he wraps his arms around me, burying his face into my neck.

“I’m so glad to see you, too,” I murmur, and he pulls back to look at me. Still smiling, he pats my cheek with his hand, his crystal blue eyes twinkling with happiness.

And in those moments, I forget about the dark circles, and the extra pounds, and the fact that I haven’t had a haircut since last year. In those moments, it doesn’t matter that my front teeth are a little crooked or that I need to repaint my toenails.

In those moments, I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, because he loves me.


Photo credit to Erin Rose Photography.

Happy Birthday, Abby Gabs!!

Five years ago today, I launched my brand new, shiny blog, filled with all the possibilities that an aspiring writer can hope for. I had a million ideas. And for nearly 3 years, I blogged practically every single day.

Seriously. Between February of 2011 and December of 2013, I’d published almost 450 blogs.

(I was pretty impressed with myself, especially since I had to bust out my calculator to do math.)

I’ve become a little less prolific since the heyday of Abby Gabs, but I’m still determined to keep this little site going. It’s not just given me a place to put down my thoughts, or to stretch my creative muscles, but it’s brought me so much joy. The Gabs isn’t just a blog for me. With it, I’m a creator, a writer, an artist, a comedian. I am clever, and funny, and relevant. Abby Gabs makes me a better me.

And so, in celebration of my fifth birthday as a blogger, I’d like to present to you my favorite blog from each of the years I’ve been writing for Abby Gabs. (This is my version of a clip show—you know, the one where they inundate you with scenes from episodes past? Slightly annoying, super-endearing, but always worth the watch.)

An Announcement of Epic Proportions (Published October 16, 2015)

I don’t think it will surprise anyone that my absolute favorite post from last year is the one where I announce to the world that we are finally, FINALLY parents. While it may not be my best piece of writing ever, the beautiful comments we received will forever remain in my heart. Bringing Kal home was the best day of my life, and I was thrilled to finally get to share it with my readers.


Enthusiastically Eating My Veggies Today (Published December 11, 2014)

A dream blog involving salad, Justin Timberlake, and back-up dancers. There’s really not much else I can say. This post is quintessentially Abby Gabs.


The Infertility List Blog (Published September 24, 2013)

This one may be a bit of a controversial pick. Here’s why it’s my favorite from 2013: it is INCREDIBLY difficult to find humor in life’s hardest moments, and I feel like I really managed to do it with the topic of infertility here. Sure, it may be uncomfortable for some people to read, but I dove into the depths of my comedic soul to find a way to write about something very important and very personal. To me, that equals epic blog fodder. And it’s why this post isn’t just one of my favorites from 2013, but one of my top 5 favorite Abby Gabs, ever.

How a Weekend Sale At the Mall Made Me Feel Like a Granny (Published Dec. 29, 2012)

hollister 5

By this time in my blogging career, I’d become much more comfortable publishing my cartoonish illustrations. Why? Because they make the funny story even funnier. This is one of those moments when my story-telling skills merged happily with my artistic-skills, creating the perfect blog of funny, which is why it made the list.



I Finally Know I’m Not Alone (Published April 4, 2011)

This blog introduced the world to my arachnophobia. It also introduced the world to my ability to pull my face like a Muppet for the sake of comedy. It also introduced to the world the fact that I have no shame, and will do anything for a laugh. In short, it gave me permission to be as silly as I wanted to be on a public forum…and I never looked back.

(The only bad part about this blog is that it gave the world permission to tease me regarding my fear, because I’d teased myself. That resulted in endless spider posts to my Facebook page, in hopes that they would receive an animated and Oscar-worthy response. So…it sort of back-fired. But it was worth it.) (Mostly.)

Do you have a favorite Abby Gabs moment that wasn’t included in this list? I’d love to know which ones you love best, because it was incredibly hard to make these choices.

Except for the J.T. blog. That one makes me laugh every. Single. Time.

Look, Y’all! I Wrote A Blog! (One-Handed)

The last six (almost seven?!) months have passed by in an absolute whirlwind, with a million tiny spectacular moments suspended in time, like so many dragonflies in amber, waiting to be reexamined and  treasured in the months to come.

And the fact that it took me thirty minutes to think out and type that sentence with my left thumb, on an app from my phone, with a squirmy baby taking up four-fifths of my attention, is just one of those shiny moments I’ll remember in my old age. “Remember when I used to type one-handed?” I’ll say to no one in particular from the confines of my rocking chair, which probably won’t rock as much as levitate, and will come equipped with its own hologram television, WiFi internet connection (password protected), and locator beacon for my more widespread adventures.

I’m getting distracted. Let me start again.

I’m a mom. A fully-entrenched, pureed sweet potatoes in my hair, dark circles under my eyes, laughing till my sides hurt, worrying till my brain aches, honest to goodness, bonefide mom. I spend my days adoring this child, and my life couldn’t be more perfect.


I have become well-versed in all things teething, submersed myself into the world of baby sign language and environment enrichment, and know way more about poop than any medical professional on the planet. (Pretty sure a doctor has to take a course called “Baby Poop: It’s Many Forms and Functions” in order to get their license. And yours truly could teach it.) But the one skill that has become the most valuable, and the one I use most frequently on a day to day basis, is the ability that moms across the globe have been perfecting for generations: that of being able to thrive with the limited use of only one hand.

In true Abby Gabs fashion, I leave you with a list of things I’ve managed to accomplish (nay — master) in my short time as a mother. Enjoy.

Things I’ve Done With One Hand (and Occasionally, My Toes)

* Picked up a dropped pacy/toy/blanket (most impressive when performed with my toes)
* Updated my Facebook status
* Perfected the “Mommy and Me” selfie


* Made (multiple) daily cups of coffee
* In that same vein, made hundreds of perfectly toasted PopTarts (that covers the two main Mommyhood food groups)
* Cooked dinner (because warming up leftovers totally constitutes cooking)
* Pet a purring, sleeping kitty
* Loaded and unloaded the dishwasher
* Answered my phone (or, more likely, frantically smashed buttons or swiped the screen in order to silence my phone before it woke a sleeping baby.
* Rocked a restless kiddo in his car seat while blow drying my hair (this is another toes thing)
* Cheered maniacally (and relatively quietly) as my Carolina Panthers smashed their way into the upcoming Super Bowl!!
* Sorted, washed, dried, folded, and put away laundry.
* Caught an epic baby vomit with a burp cloth, singlehandedly avoiding a giant mess and therefore, more loads of laundry.
* Vacuumed. My whole apartment. Like a boss.
* Carefully maintained precious friendships with those I used to see far more regularly than I do now. (I’m a text messaging, Facebooking, digital-corresponding expert.)
* Blown my nose. (Not kidding. That’s Yoda-level parenting, people.)
* Surfed for a better television program. Not so impressive one handed. Circus-level impressive when done with toes.
* Written a blog.

While I’ve mastered the art of surviving with one hand (and sometimes toes,) the most important part of it all is finishing those tasks so I can finally, happily get back to the important stuff: playing tickle monster, steadying a wobbly baby who’s learning to crawl, snuggling him close when he wants to nap. Those things require both hands…and five-fifths of my attention. So til next time readers, stay tuned for the next installment of Abby Gabs: “Funny Things I Did With Only Four Hours of Sleep.”

Days to Remember

On the day I found out about you…
Daddy was at work, and so was I. The day was slow, and uneventful, with only the long Memorial Day weekend ahead to look forward to. We’d tried so hard to remain positive, and to hold each other up, as we made our way along this emotional, bumpy path toward you. But it seemed, on that day, that you would never come.

Until the phone rang.

When I heard the words, “She picked you and Brian,” you could have knocked me over with a feather. We had applied for you over two months previous to that phone call, and had given up hope that we would be chosen. We’d tried to forget about you, to move on with our lives. And then…this. I never even saw you coming, Baby Boy. Until that moment, you were a lovely dream; one that seemed far away and hazy around the edges.

And then I heard those words, and you came into sharp, gorgeous focus. And our hearts soared.

On the day I met you…
It was hot and sticky and unbearably humid outside. Once again, your Daddy was at work, and we’d planned to just get through the weekend so we could finally, FINALLY start packing our bags and getting organized for your big arrival. Your nursery was mostly done, your crib had been assembled. We’d stocked up the shelves with diapers and wipes and even a few onesies. We’d done almost everything we needed to, except get ourselves ready for the big day. We had three whole weeks, and were convinced we had the time.

Until the phone rang.

When I heard the words, “He’s coming! The baby is coming!” my heart nearly fell at my feet. You were coming 3 weeks early, and we were 3 hours away, and I was desperate to get to you before you made your debut into the world. I scrambled to pack while I called your Daddy, and your Grammy, and our lawyer, and our social worker, and everyone else I could think of. When your Daddy got home from work, we hugged, we cried, and we marveled at the miracle of you. And then we made the three hour trek to finally, finally meet you.

You were born while we were stuck in rush hour traffic. But two long, frustrating, heart-fluttering hours later, I saw your face for the first time.

first time

And my whole world changed.

On the day that we brought you home…
We’d spent ten days hovering over you, worrying about every feeding, every med, and every hiccup. Yearning to touch you when we couldn’t, wanting to cuddle you when you needed rest more than snuggles, made those days a mixture of grief and gratitude. We gazed in wonder at your tiny perfect fingers, the shape of your chin, the sound of your cries. We loved you before we ever even knew about you, but in those ten days, you made a permanent home for yourselves in the hearts of two people who wanted you more than you can ever know.

And when we finally heard the words, “He’s cleared for discharge,” we hugged, and we laughed, and we whispered in your ear.

“It’s time to go home.”

first time 2

As we pulled away from the hospital that had been starting to feel like home, your Daddy looked up into the rear view mirror and caught my eyes. There were tears shining there, and even though I couldn’t see his face, I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “They actually let us leave with a BABY! Can you believe it??!”

And we laughed.

On the day you became official…
My heels clicked on the marble floor as we entered the court house. The reverence of the day settled over me like a warm sweater, and I felt the emotions well up in my chest as we passed by the giant statue of Lady Justice in the foyer. Your Gram pushed you in the stroller through the corridors, bustling with activity, and your Daddy and I followed in her wake. When the elevator doors opened, we met up with our lawyer–the woman who is solely responsible for bringing you into our lives. She quietly walked us through what to expect during the court proceedings, reminding us to be calm, telling us it was okay to be emotional. She went over the questions she would ask each of us on the stand, and your Daddy and I exchanged a glance of worry when we were told we would be asked to explain to the court why we wanted to adopt you.

“I’m going to cry,” I said.

“And that’s okay,” our lawyer said.

And so, in we went. I held you snuggled to my chest, and you slept as Daddy was sworn in, and gave his testimony. When asked “The Question,” he paused, gathered his thoughts, and said, “It’s just what we’ve always wanted–to be a family. We have so much love to give. And I know we’ll be awesome parents.”

I heard your grandparents sniffling behind me, and knew if I turned around, I would join them. So instead, I kissed your head, passed you to Daddy, and made my way up to the stand.

I had a whole speech planned, Kal. You would have been so proud of me–flowery words that would weave the tale of our journey to you in such a way that everyone would understand exactly what you mean to us. But when she asked me to explain why I wanted you, all of that went out the window. I simply shrugged, a single tear trickling down my cheek. I leaned forward to the microphone, took a deep breath, and answered the only way I knew how.

“Because he is everything.”

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And you are.

There have been so many days to remember in the three months you’ve been in our lives. Moments that left me breathless, that have solidified our bond. Quiet moments in the middle of the night when you wrap your fingers around mine and fall asleep. Laughter and giggles and moments of sheer joy that fill my heart with so much gladness. Those days will only continue, my love, my heart. My son. Welcome to the family.

An Announcement of Epic Proportions

If you’ve had a hankering for some Abby Gabs in recent months, you’ve been sadly disappointed. In fact, if you’ve visited my little website any time since mid-July, you’ve found yourself faced with the dreaded message “Site Not Found.”


I’ve had many excuses for not writing before: vacation, writer’s block, lack of creativity. But never before have I left my precious site in “construction” mode. There’s never been a reason to do that before…until very recently. And believe me when I say that this time, I’ve had a really, really good reason for being MIA from the blogosphere.

Readers, meet ‘Kal.’


This precious baby boy came into our lives over the summer, and I can honestly say that we have NEVER been happier. *Cue angelic harmonies of a full choir, along with 100 white doves.*

Kal is sweet-natured, happy as a clam, and is obviously the most gorgeous child on the face of the planet in all of time and history.


When you are finally given everything you’ve ever wanted, after years of hoping and dreaming…well, readers, I can only describe it as that joyful feeling you got in the center of your chest as a child on Christmas morning. It’s that fluttery, happy, excited, slightly dizzying feeling, when the possibility of the day lies ahead of you, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s going to be good. Like, really, really good. The only difference? It’s a perpetual state of being. Even in my most exhausted state–when I’ve had less than 3 hours of sleep, and my nerves are frazzled, and I haven’t eaten since Tuesday, and my hair looks like a furry animal has nested there–when I finally place this sweet, sleeping angel into his bed, and I look down on his cherubic face, I feel like I could fly.

I have learned a few important things about myself since finally joining the sorority known as “Motherhood.”

  1. I can function on about 4 hours of sleep, and 6 hours straight feels like I’ve been on vacation in Jamaica for a week.
  2. If I thought I was capable of pulling funny faces for the sake of getting a laugh on this blog, it’s nothing compared to the faces, sounds, and silly things I will do to make my son laugh.
  3. There are fewer things in this world that will make me swoon like a gummy baby grin. Seriously. Kittens are cute, but NOTHING is cuter than a toothless grin. Especially because they’re ALWAYS 100% genuine.
  4. Coffee and Pop-Tarts aren’t just a way of life, they are necessary for the survival of mankind.
  5. I’ve finally found my true calling in life. No, not just motherhood. But Baby Stylist. I’m a onesie guru.

The one thing that hasn’t been entirely surprising to me is the brand new love and respect I feel for Brian. Y’all know how much I adore this man—I make no bones about it here on this space, or anywhere else in the universe, for that matter. But seeing him with Kal, watching him shower this kid with absolute adoration, overhearing the conversations about all the fun they’re going to have in the coming years…well. I love Brian more now than I ever have before. Seeing him finally become the father he was meant to be is more than a simple, happy thing.  It is my greatest pleasure. The song in my soul. It’s…everything.

announcement 2

That little popping sound you just heard? It was my heart exploding into a million little pieces. Holy crap, y’all. I adore them so.

To all of you who prayed for us, who donated money and stuff to sell, who gave us your precious time to help us raise the funds we’d need, to those who sent out positive vibes and energy into the universe in the hopes that we would finally, FINALLY find our baby—-from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you. The universe heard your pleas, and as of today, October 16, at 11 AM, our little family has OFFICIALLY grown by one set of adorable feet.

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Cutest toes on earth.

Stay tuned for the changes coming to Abby Gabs in the coming weeks and months. Actually, it won’t be that much different than what you’re used to. You can still expect funny, heartfelt posts from me about the goings-on in our lives, maybe the occasional tear-jerker post about all the many emotions that being a new mother can bring. Some of my posts will make sense; most of them probably won’t, at least until we’re sleeping through the night again. The only difference? We’re now a party of 3.