Celeb Baby Names

Did you hear?


Jessica Simpson finally had her baby. She named it Maxwell Drew.

No, she did not have a boy.

She had a girl.

Now, as far as celebrity names go, it isn’t too horrible. Would I name my daughter that? No. But she grew the kid for 500 months, therefore it’s her right to choose. She plans on calling the baby Maxi. I’m sure we’re all thinking of the feminine product now, right?

But again. If that’s what she wants to call her kid, by all means.

As far weird names go, Maxwell is pretty tame compared to what other celebs have named their children.

Pilot Inspektor anyone?

Or….someone named their kid Tabooger. TABOOGER? (Seriously. Dan Cortese and Dee Dee Hemby actually choose that moniker.)

Nicolas Cage must’ve took out his rage on having movie after movie of his bomb so he named his son Kal-el.

And somewhere out there, a child is walking around with the name Moxie CrimeFighter and Fifi TrixieBell.

Now.As I said up there, everyone has a right to name their kid what they want. But why? Is there some secret celeb child society where, if you want your baby to be well liked and accepted, the number one rule is that it MUST be named something bizarre?

I prefer the celebs who refuse to follow this rule and call their children something, well, normal. Think about it. All the actors that are out there now all have basically normal names. Ryan. Brad. Angie. Chris. When the next generation comes through we’re going to get the weirdo names.

The New Spiderman…starring Bahoohoo Jones!

A remake of The Wizard of Oz…starring Apple Orange!

An all new Batman…starring Bee Buzz!

Lucky us, huh?

Nate's 9!

Dear Nate,


Well, my boy, you are now 9.

You are happy, kind, sweet, and confident. You love and adore the parentals in this house and look forward to time spent together as a family. You obey the rules religiously, and bring logical well-planned arguments for our consideration when you think rules should be altered. Quite honestly, we usually agree with your logic, and make changes accordingly.

Though we don't tell you often enough, we are proud as punch for the maturity you show in times like these. You make it nearly impossible to tell you no, kid.

And you leave me wondering what I ever did to deserve you.

Right now, you are obsessed with all things basketball. Almost every item on your birthday wish list was basketball related. What brings a smile to my face is that most days when I and see you with your sisters, teammates, or friends, offering pointers, and cheering them on, rather than shooing them away to focus on yourself. It's not the game that matters. It's the people who play alongside you that count. A lesson, sweet boy, that we are all learning from you.

Nate, your heart is pure gold.

As you grow into a man, which I know is bound to happen whether I like it or not, I hope you will take this knowledge and lock it deep inside your heart: There is not a day goes by that I don't thank god for sending me you. You are truly a noble soul. Your sweetness of spirit is infectious and brings joy to all those around you. You are quick to laugh, especially at yourself, and so easy to love.

You make me smile each and every day.

Thank you for showing me just how fantastically wonderful boys can be.

I love you, Nate. And I always will.

Love, Mama

To the Tired and Weary:

This is a letter to the tired and weary, at the beginning of this New Year. I write this to you with MUCH joy and hope for your future.
You can consider this a letter to the past, to the me of January 2011. When I felt indeed alone and lost and weary. Beyond hope and full of despair. I felt my dreams crushed and beyond my reach. I felt isolated and in the dark. It was a tough, tough spot.
And I know that chances are, with the traffic that comes through these "doors,” that some of you reading this know EXACTLY where I was, because you are there. This letter is to you.


Dear sweetly broken girl,

I know you feel hopeless and "done.” I know you are tired of trying and want to give up. I know that you do not know how you will get through the rest of the day, let alone another whole year that looms ahead of you. I know you feel like your prayers fall on deaf ears...that God feels further than he has ever been. Can I gently suggest that he may be closer than ever? That the shadows that surround you may be the hand of God hiding you in the cleft of the rock protecting you?

Exodus 33:22 says, "When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by."

That means His hand is on you. Protecting you from danger. I know it does not feel that way. Believe me, I know. You have never felt further from His touch. You feel punished. You feel deserted. But HE IS THERE. Use this time to push towards Him. When you are sad, read the Bible. When you hurt, read a devotional. When you feel alone, read the Bible. When you are desperate pray...out loud...in a scream if you must. Give it your all, He can take it. DIG your heels in and refuse to let go. Pull from every ounce of stubbornness you can muster up. Stick to your guns. Go through the same motions that you would if things were "normal.” In some areas, I dare say, "Fake it till you make it.”

God has not left you. He is not punishing you. He still loves you. He has a plan FOR YOU. It is better than yours is. I can testify to the facts that if we had gotten all we prayed for in January of 2011, that we would be in worlds of hurt come January 2012.

I can trace most of the steps of both answered and unanswered prayers from the last year and time has brought much confusion into focus, in a way, that only time can. I can tell you, that if God doesn't answer a prayer the way you would like, that He is either protecting you or has something better in mind. Or both.

I just do not want you to give up.

There is good around the corner. This time next year or in the future, you will be wiser. And better. More patient and more kind. If you are seeking Him, you will be closer than ever. You will fight for the presence that you have with him now because...

He is close to the brokenhearted.

Do not waste this chance to grow.
Do not give up.

I have noticed that people, who do these things, do so at the least appropriate time in their lives, ever. By doing these things, you are only doing the bidding of the enemy. He wants you alone and isolated.

You are punishing yourself, not God.

To HEAR God, you have to put yourself in His proximity. You have to know Him and seek Him to HEAR Him. It just does not work with wishing.

I am just here to beg you to not give up. It does get better.

As I sit here, at the start of a new year, I feel like I am carrying around less "junk" than EVER in my life. And I know it is by the grace of God and my stubbornness to BE JOYFUL. I know that I am "better" than ever because instead of isolating myself, I rolled up my sleeves and said, "Let's do this.”

My dreams have been restored. And they gleam more than ever before. Instead of pining that we are not home YET, I am making sure that every decision and action we take takes us closer to that goal. I am restoring and reaching out and pushing forward. I am enjoying THIS day and whatever it brings. I am choosing to be thankful and focus on our blessings.

It is a process to get through a year. But YOU CAN DO IT!

I want you to know that you are not alone. I believe that you can push through.

I will leave you with this fresh thought, for a fresh new year. One that YOU can choose to make awesome:
“Behold, I am making all things new.” Rev 21:5

That is present tense, my friend.

Much love and hope to you in this New Year of the new you,
Lindsey

I am...

I am the kind of mom that says yes to yet another package of stickers or football cards.

But says no when they want to play in the muddy rain puddles.

I am the kind of mom that always says yes when they beg for a treat at the store.
But says no when they want their treat later for a snack and makes them make a healthier choice instead.

I am the kind of mom that likes to read a story out loud to them.
And to their dismay, if their is a film version they are not allowed to watch it until the book is finished.

I am the mom who hugs, squeezes, and kisses their dad in front of them.
Even when they giggle and pretend to be thoroughly grossed out.

I am the kind of mom that gets frustrated and cleans their rooms when they're at school.
But I never tell them what I throw out in the process. (And they almost always never miss it anyway).

I am the kind of mom that takes time for my own hobbies, dreams, and needs.
And I think that's extremely good for them.

I am not the mom who sits on the floor and plays legos or does puzzles with them every day.
But I am the mom that sits and listens, then dries their tears with encouragement and support.

I am the mom that has fresh-baked cookies and milk waiting when they come home from school.
I am not the mom who buys the Oreos.

I am the mom who loves these four with a fierce intensity that goes down to my core and sometimes nearly consumes me.

I am their mom.
And they are my heart.

Our Son

Most that read my blog know me. They know my family. They know that my family started as Me and Nathan and Tommy joined us when Nathan was only 2 months old. They know that in the 8 almost 9 years that I have been married that Tommy and I have produced 3 gorgeous blue-eyed girlies. What most don’t know is the story of Nathan. And most don’t ask. I’m sure they make their own assumptions because they don’t want to be rude. However, I will EAGERLY (for many reasons) tell you mine and his story.

We live in East TN and as much as I love this beautiful place, there is still a lot of ignorance within it. Our son is biracial. When we are all together in public people openly assume that he is a foster child, we are babysitting, or his father neglected him and Tommy is just a really good step-father. NONE of these things are true. To sum up all the horrible details…I was raped. 17 going on 18 and my grandmother came to my rescue. I lived in VA at the time. She drove to pick up her badly beaten granddaughter and brought her home to TN. I just knew I was pregnant. I felt it. And 7 tests confirmed it. I hated it. I did not want to accept it. So my mother was making arrangements for a woman she worked with to adopt my baby. This woman and her husband desperately wanted children but were not having any success. I agreed because I didn’t want to give any thought whatsoever to what was going on with me. I remember relaying to my mom that this child would be biracial. I figured that the couple would want to know that information. And while at first there was hesitation, they decided it didn’t matter. Until they too discovered they were pregnant and due shortly before me. This left me with no options in my head. I asked my mom to bring me all the information she could on abortions. She did. I read. And I prayed. I never prayed. But that night I prayed and fell asleep while talking/crying it out with God. I dreamed.

My dream involved a very graphic abortion. And pain. Lots of pain. Pain in my body for what I had put it through and pain in my heart for what I let go. I woke in tears. I knew that no matter the circumstance, this child was mine and I loved it. I needed it. It needed me. And at that moment we were one and I was going to do everything I needed to ensure that it was born healthy, happy, and loved. And he was on February 27, 2003. Throughout my pregnancy I began to pray for a Christian man. One that would love me unconditionally and protect me. And most importantly one that would love my son as his own. One that would take him and be his role model. I was blessed with Tommy in late April and married at the beginning of July. Tommy adopted Nathan and our family doesn’t see color.

Now to the point of this.

Nathan’s beginnings should not have to be explained. My family should not be given second glances when we are all together in public. While I will openly tell anyone who asks our little story (because I am loved and have been blessed TREMENDOUSLY) it hurts my heart to see Nathan’s expression when strangers so openly exclude him when they view our family. He is the most awesome boy I have ever known. He is sensitive and relates to others on a ridiculously mature level. He is a genius. I swear. He excels at everything he tries. He is ours. He loves his dad and his papaw, they are his refuge in the middle of all us girls. And he comes to me when he needs lovin’ or when dad makes him mad because I explain things to him a little more rationally (and I’m a bit of a sucker for those dark brown eyes and shy smile.)

I am bothered when family/friends/strangers point out how much the girls look like their dad or myself but make no notice of Nathan’s similarities. Nathan, Kyla, and Ava share my smile. Nathan and Kira share my freckles. Nathan has my eyes. Nathan (unfortunately) got my habit of biting my nails when he is nervous or stressed. Nathan, Ava, and Kyla have the same shaped face. They all have my feet and toes. And he and Tommy share the same skin tone most of the year. (When Nathan was a baby, complete strangers told us he looked just like his Tommy or Tommy’s mom…it’s the Cherokee) We are all different and alike.

Another issue is this. DO NOT refer to him as mixed or any other cutsie/insulting label you can think of. While he is perfectly mixed like his sisters….this hurts him. Don’t make stereotypical references when we talk about his enormous appetite. I was seriously asked if his favorite food was fried chicken and watermelon. What?! They thought it was funny. Don’t tell him that he should grow a ‘fro just because he is apparently “suppose to”. (A kid said this to him at school) And parents STOP spreading your ignorance to your children. This is one of the main reasons I consider homeschool.

I have so much I could add to this topic…and I will…but I feel that each part should be given appropriate thought and consideration.