Kauai circa March of this year. See you again in three weeks baby.

If the age old question can you really have it all ever applied, I would say never more so than when it comes to marriage and babies. The inspiration behind this post comes from Jenni's blog, where she wrote about exactly this topic. And it got me thinking. Marriage and babies, babies and marriage. Yes, I have both, but the good Lord up in heaven knows I have no idea when it comes to managing both well.

So I'm not here to tell you how to "have it all." Because I fail at that every single day. I'm here to tell you my experience, my journey, and my struggles. I'm also pretty sure this post will go off on many different tangents, so stay with me if you can.

I've been married for eight point five years. I always said I would wait two years before having babies. Two years seemed perfect to me: enough time to have sexy alone time with the hubs, get to know each other more, live in newlywed bliss before adding the granted stress of tiny human beings to care for. Two years somehow turned into four years, and on March 1st, 2008 (only three hours short of being a leap year baby) Gunner James Smith came into our lives. Trust me, no matter what they say, adding a baby to the mix changes things. Drastically. 

Exactly two years and two weeks later, Colt Daniel Le Smith arrived. Two boys. Our family of four was complete. We can dance into oblivion. Unicorns! Rainbows! Except not exactly. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to my kids? I am in love. I am over the moon to be a full-time mom to them. I think it's one of the most important jobs in the world (post on this to come later this week) but when it comes to juggling a husband and kids? Successfully? I still have yet to figure that one out. 

But let me start with something I think is supremely important when it comes to this subject. And that is priority. Not only is it biblical, but every good therapist around will tell you that your spouse comes before your kids. Our counselor in particular said it was absolutely crucial for Rob and I to put each other first, and our kids second. And this? I have had a very hard time with. In my little mind, I tend to think that the kids come first, always. But with this thinking? Puts my husband on the back burner. When it was him to begin with that made our family happen. Because the truth is, by putting my husband first, I am setting an example for our kids, and showing them what a loving relationship looks like. Kids need to see their parents loving each other. Kids need to feel the security of their parents being there for them, and therefore, being a solid unit. I asked our marriage counselor one time if it damaged our children to see us fighting in front of them. Her answer surprised me, when she said "no. They need to see you guys have conflict and then see you resolve that conflict in a loving way, so they can learn how real relationships work." 

And here's this: Rob comes home from working all day and immediately turns his attention on me. He will walk in the door and walk straight past the kids, go to me and hug, kiss, touch, etc. I would (and sometimes still do) get so mad him, and be all, "really? You walk past your own kids and don't even say anything to them? Don't even acknowledge them? What is wrong with you?" when what he is doing is exactly what it takes to have a successful marriage with kids. He is putting me first. Rob has always said to me that I come first, his kids come second. And my jerk reaction is to get angry, and go right into asking him stupid idiotic questions like "if Gunner and I were both dangling over a cliff and you could only save one of us, who would it be? Huh? Huh? Would you save him or me? You better say him!" (For the record, he would save our son.)

But here's the thing. Rob may come in the house after work and bypass the kids to head straight to me, but after that? His immediate second move is to pick up his boys, hug and kiss them and tell them both how much he missed them. And then to play with them for the next few hours before bedtime. I have never, not once, witnessed a time where his kids needed and or wanted him and he wasn't there. Rob is a sucker for his boys. Rob lives and breathes for his boys. He would die in a heartbeat for his boys. 

But he would also die in a heartbeat for me. And this is where I can admit I can be a total bitch at times. With complete honesty, I can say I have neglected Rob. He puts me first yet I put the kids first. Rob constantly wants to be touching me (earmuffs mom and dad!), he constantly wants to be around me, messing with me, grabbing my butt and other parts (ahem!) and I get SO ANNOYED and tell him to just back off but gosh damn, I should be thankful that after almost eleven years and twenty pounds gained, my husband still wants me fierce! I've talked to enough people to realize that what I have in a husband is pretty rare. Because if he can love his kids half as much as he loves me? Well then. His kids are pretty damn lucky.

Don't get me wrong. My husband isn't perfect. He can piss me off with the best of them. Like when he criticizes the way I cut up onions, or when he says I'm being lazy for not getting up and working out (ok that one may be true) or when he uses my expensive hair conditioner as body soap (insert super angry face here!) but when you look at it as a whole, and consider the "war versus battle" thing, I'm pretty sure I'm coming out ahead. 

Because my husband puts me first. And in turn, my kids benefit tremendously. And it has taken me a while (and a few hundred dollars worth of counseling sessions) to figure this one out. 

Now if we want to talk about what babies do to a sex life?

That is a completely different post for another day.

A couple weeks ago, I did one of those wildy popular "if you really knew me" posts. So one night, as I was sipping on a vodka soda watching Big Brother, I thought to myself, "self, you should do one of those posts, but about Rob."

Genius, I thought to myself.

I look over at Rob, give him my best come hither eyes, and say, "hey Rob, what is something people would know if they really knew you?"

His immediate response?

"Raven, I'm not playing your stupid blogging game."

me: "it's not a stupid game. Please, just answer the question."

No.

Seriously? Why not?

No.

Fine then. If you're gonna be like that, I'll do it myself. And so I did. I sent out a mass text message to those who really know him well, i.e. my sisters, mom, and his closest nephew, asking them "what would people know if they really knew Rob?"

Below are their answers (which are pretty accurate) along with a few peppered in from yours truly. 

If you really knew my husband...

* you would know that he's a hard worker. If he lost his business today, he would be out tomorrow making money somehow. Laziness is definitely not an option for him.

* if he's your friend, he will do anything for you. Anything.

* he is a very good son-in-law. (thanks mom)

* he is passionate about his boys. 

* he likes his home to look like a model home. (thanks again mom, for bringing up a very sensitive subject between us. Talk about a bone of contention. Btw, it never looks like a model home.)

* he has a very dry sense of humor (hence why I slept with him married him)

* he drinks Coors Light and Crown Royal religiously. I have never seen him order anything else while out at a bar. Ever. 

* he draws epic pictionary drawings. And by epic, I mean one time his word to draw was "chin." And his game partner couldn't guess it. That's how "epic" his drawing was. Chin!!

* he doesn't care much for pro sports but lives and breathes for college sports. In his own words, "pro athletes are spoiled rotten babies. You guys make over 10 million a year so quit whining."

* he hates when girls wear tons of makeup. When I asked what he thought about that he said, "Raven, don't ask stupid questions when you already know the answer."

* his dream girl is (in his exact words) "any gal with a tight ass, sweet t*ts, good body and over the age of 24." I would comment on this but I don't think I need to. Side eye.

* when I asked him what he thought about my blogging, he said he "didn't like it." He said I spend too much time on the computer and that "work comes first, play comes later." When I told him that I partly think of blogging as work because I make a little bit of money, he replied "oh yay, you made enough this month that maybe we can all go out and eat at McDonalds."

* did I mention he has a very dry sense of humor?

And finally, just like last time, I turned to my sister Boobie, who knows me very well and knows my husband almost just as well. 

Sorry about the blur-out above. I am pretty much an open book here but that is definitely not something any of ya'll need, or want, to see. 

The naked coyote story deserves it's own post.

And you can read how he almost made out with my sister HERE.

What's wrong with this picture.

I know. Absolutely horrible, right?

I mean, look at all that gray in my husband's beard! So not ok. Better get to dying that shit babe. Momma no likie.

Oh wait. You weren't thinking that the fact that my one year old is reaching for the beer that my three year old is pretending to drink was what was wrong with the picture, were you?

Phew. I mean, that's a regular occurrence in our house.

I'm not sure what it was, but on this particular day, the babe was all obsessed with daddy's beer.

Like, had to have it.

For example:

I saw him down on this lil' rock here for an impromptu photo shoot. I had the beer in my hand thinking it would make the babe smile when I "peek-a-booed" it from behind the camera.

Uh. He just got pissed.



And more pissed.



And even more pissed.



'Til I handed it over.


(I can just imagine what he's thinking; "that's right bish. Don't mess with the Boss.")

Then he just chilled.



And showed a hint of a smile.



All is good. Weez happy now.

At least all was good until tragedy struck and the beer can got pierced by a sharp rock. And sprayed all over babe's face.

And then hubs picked it up and shotgunned the rest.

We are fabulous parents.

Oh, say "hey" to my oldest, never wanting to be left out. Pretty sure he knocked the baby off that rock and said baby is just to the right of this picture crying tears of horror.



And yes, that is pink polish on his toenails.

Oh, say "hey" to the hubs again, with his nice frosted facial hair.



Hey hubs.

Oh look, a baby in a tree.



I sat him up there and told him to hang on and not to let go.



For the sake of my mother not getting extremely mad at me, let's just say that he did not in fact fall out of the tree. And not only did he not fall from that tree, but he did not fall flat on his face and cry for a good thirty minutes.

He did not fall from the tree. Are we clear on that?

Good.

You know what I love? This one.



And myself when I'm having a good hair day.



Ok fine. So the baby is having a better hair day than me.

He represents well.

Before I go on, you must know a few things. Number one and most importantly, I edited the living breathing life out of this vlog. I'm talking hard-core editing took place. I had to chop out about half the content. Yes, it was that bad. The vlog in its entirety? I'm sure you all would stop reading and I'm positive that my mother would disown me. 

With that said, a lot of you will still probably stop reading and my mom may still very well disown me. 

Please don't think you have to watch. If you already like me enough, you should probably just come back tomorrow. And mom? Just shut your computer off right now. Trust me on this.

Don't say I didn't warn you. It's eleven minutes you'll never get back.