Thursday, April 3, 2014

pillow party

On April 11, I will have met my hubbins six years ago in a sweaty, angsty, natty-light smelling all-male a Capella house. I could tell you exactly what I was wearing. Those were the days when what to wear was among the bigger deals of my day.

I wonder sometimes if N. misses that girl. The one he fell in love with, I mean. I'm not that girl anymore. I'm kinda boring now. There's truly nothing I'd rather avoid more than a crowded house or a bar past 10pm. I could once conjure adrenaline at 2am, drive on back roads, blast the new Coldplay song (on a mix cd, mind you).

Now, I go to bed no later than 10pm. N. and I never go to bed without one another. Truly, I don't think we've ever done it. We brush our teeth, N. watches soccer on his phone, I shower, I make a joke about inviting him to the "pillow party" (I have to make a moat of pillows around myself now that I'm 32 weeks pregnant and achy, always, achy) to which he laughs but then usually says, "there it is!" because he knows that joke is coming. We talk for a few minutes, but not more than a few, because N. falls asleep in the middle of a sentence. He has this ability to simply turn off his mind when he's ready to go to bed. Just turn it off! I am more like a tangle of necklaces you haven't worn since high school, but there's this special occasion and you just HAVE to get to this one chain, so you take a needle to it and go about unraveling.

I don't think he'd ever tell me if he missed the girl he met in 2008. She was excitable and fearless. The one now is more careful, more selfless, more quiet--traits I needed to pick up, if you asked me, but you knows? Maybe he liked the wild me?

He's changed, too. I like how he's changed. We've changed together, probably. I hope he likes the woman I am now, the woman I'm becoming and will eventually be. We are probably all always changing.

Anyway, this time of year makes me think of when we met. The first taste of Spring when you wear shorts even though it's not quite warm enough just yet, but you just need to have your legs feel the air again. You need a reason to shave and use sunless tanner. The first days of Spring remind me of getting sushi with N. We can both still tell you exactly what we got, what we drank--a whole bottle of Gewurztraminer, then we walked to get gelato. Our first date. 

Happy Spring, y'all. I am feeling in love. I hope you are, too.

xo, 

B

Sunday, March 23, 2014

selling a house and a lesson in control

There are days when I'm like, "Oh, how beautiful; I get to grow this life in my womb and bring it forth into the world!" and I'm all sunshine-y and butterflies-ey.

Then there are days when I literally pee my pants a little, without warning, because the baby round house kicks my bladder.

The glamour don't stop, y'all.

We are, as I've said in previous posts, selling our house.

It's been an adventure and a lesson in control. We get emails or calls that our house will be showing in however many hours or minutes. N. has been traveling a lot or, of course, at work, so it's usually me, 30 weeks pregnant running around the house like an OCD person, making sure the blinds are up, the lights are on, the counters are wiped down the diaper genie is emptied and that everything is literally perfect. Then, if I've managed to keep them both from destroying my efforts, I heave Simon into the car and carry the dog like a calf (Remember how pregnant I am? This gets comical, you guys) and toss him in the backseat, too. He is 70 pounds. I should mention that Turk is afraid to get in cars. He's also afraid of putting on his harness, so truly: I have to budget in about 6-7 extra minutes to get him outside and into the car, so we can leave for a showing. Then I leave them both in the car and run inside to do one last sweep:

Are there legos on the stairs?
Are the toilets all flushed?
Has Simon started the washing machine...again?

We drive to the park or the store for an hour or so. Then we get back and do it again the next day or the next few days after that. Most of the time these efforts end up with a little email survey telling us that the house was lovely, but they won't be putting in an offer for this reason or that. That's life in the housing market, I've learned. But it's still really hard for me not to take it personally, like,

but didn't they see how cute the breakfast nook is?
but what about this VIEW?
but I VACUUMED AND MOPPED THE WHOLE HOUSE!

and most days I have to push down this animal who gets loose inside me, thrashing about and wanting to gain just an ounce of control over this huge life-altering, time-sensitive, emotional process.

Like I said, a lesson in control. I realize through all this that I have a fairly sizable lack of faith.

If I had been the one asked to step out of the boat and walk on the water towards Jesus, I would've sunk as soon as my toes hit the water. Ye of little faith. 

We sang "Be Thou My Vision" at church this morning:

High King of heaven my victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's Sun
Heart of my own heart whatever befall
Still be my vision O Ruler of all 

Ruler of ALL? Even little ole me with my petty little concerns about selling a house and finding another one, so I have a place for my baby girl to come home to when she's born? Yeah, even the Ruler of that, I reckon. 

Ok, Lord. 

Thou and Thou only.

xo, 

B






 




Thursday, March 13, 2014

Sweet Simon

Sweet Simon,

You are 20 months. Or 21. I've honestly been trying to do the math for 3 minutes now, and I've given up. You are somewhere around one of those months. 

You are kicking your crib as hard as you can and yelling down to me that you need "waaaayyyyyahhhhh Mamaaaaaa" instead of napping. For the record, I know you ain't thirsty, child.

You are on your third cold of the past month. It's really no wonder, because I take you to every single indoor play activity possible, the activities teeming with germs, it seems, so that both of us survive the next few long weeks of winter without going insane. You love going to the Discovery Museum, where you pick up nearly every piece of pretend pastry and take a good lick of it before I can stop you, reminding you that it's "just pretend" to which you usually say, "teeeeend?"

I never noticed how many trucks and airplanes go by or over the house each day. That is, until I had a toddler son. The garbage truck can still be on the next street over, and you hear it, racing to the window to see. Sometimes, the garbage truck sees you and beeps the horn, which leaves you utterly delighted and droopy jawed.

You enjoy being one and a half, most of the time. You are as unpredictable as Virginia weather. I never know whether or not the following will cause you to throw yourself on the floor in a tantrum:

1) Me closing the pantry
2) Me closing the refrigerator
3) Brushing your teeth
4) Flushing the toilet before you can
5) Giving you the snack that you asked for

I am mostly making up being a parent as I go along, but my newest tactic with you is to let you have your fit, but you must go to another place and do it. I say, "I see that fill-in-the-blank has made you very upset. Let's go to the other room, while you work it out." Then, I take you to another room and it's usually over before a few seconds.

I'm very pregnant at this point, which makes things comical at times. I often have to carry you like a "sack-a-taters" just in case you decide to throw a tantrum, so you won't kick your baby sister right in the face. I spend a lot of time squatting, so I can get on your level, play, read you books, give you "hungs" etc. If I sit on the floor, I'll ne'er return, or if I do, I have Braxton-Hicks until the next morning.

I really love being your mom. You have gone from baby to little boy, and somehow I totally missed when exactly it happened. You are going to be a great big brother.

xoxo,

Mom




Thursday, February 27, 2014

It's me again!

Why, hello blog world. It's been a few weeks, hasn't it?

Does anybody else kinda shut down 'round about mid-February and not want to open back up until April? I feel like a computer screen--frozen on a youtube video. My hard drive has crashed and I can't reboot 'til it's warm and sunny again. That's not really about computers work, I know, but it's like I said- I've shut down.

I took a shower the other night, then doused by skin in Arbonne's sunless tanning spray just so I could remember what it's like to be blindingly pale. Desperate times, y'all.

On a brighter note, I've got a big ole belly full of baby girl. I am definitely looking bigger than 27 weeks pregnant, as has been evident by strangers saying the exact same thing to me:

"Oh when are you due?"
"May 30th."
"Ohhhhh not 'till Maaaayyy..."

The biggest news at Bakertown as of late is that we're moving.

Nowhere crazy. We'll still be in the 'Ville or close by, at least. And it's not that we don't love, love, love our house. We do. But our family needs a little more...yard. We've got a big ole dog and a toddler with two speeds: running and sleeping. They both need to, as my grandmother would say, "blow some stink off" and we can't offer them that where we're living now. Our home would be perfect for families of a different age or with a different pet. (Any of you who know our dear Turkles know that he has...quirks.) We're hoping and praying that the right family will come in and love our house as much as we did!

Anywho. Yes. I'm the crazy woman who's putting her house on the market and looking to buy a new one with 13 weeks left until she gives birth. We'll laugh about it a year from now...? (right?)

Love y'all. Happy Thursday!

xo,

B


Wednesday, February 5, 2014

What Happens at Sappy-town: A Belated Anniversary Post

I wasn't a fairytale kinda gal growing up. For some reason, I didn't grow up planning Barbies' weddings or playing princess. I wore Umbros, ate Slim Jims (and pretended I was a baseball player with chewing tobacco...anyone else?!) and caused my parents to have to replace the carpet in the family room because I ran and did flips on it until it became so loose that it bunched up at one end of the room.

I never really identified with the girls who played dress up and prince charming until I met N. my sophomore year of college. Sure: I had been wooed by charm before, good looks, you name it. I dated and flirted and wore cropped tanks to impress the boys back when my waist was teensy. But the night I met my hubbins, I remember feeling like I was meeting a freaking prince. He was tall and kind and handsome and a little bit shy but still confident. He was so darn authentic and respectful that I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I probably stared at him a lot that night, like, "Are you real?" To this day, I've never met a more genuine soul. It's one of the many reasons I married him.


 He's a quiet soul who would never draw attention to himself. But as his wife, I think he could justify putting his handsome face on a bill board. And we celebrated four years together this past month, so why not give him a super public ooey gooey love letter for the whole internet to read?

If ever I want to fall in love with him all over again, I just smash my face into his armpit. My favorite smell in the world, that armpit. It always, no matter how sweaty he is, smells like deodorant and soap and beach in there. It's my happy place. Is that weird?

I just love him. He purposefully does stuff just to make me happy every day, even when I'm being a brat. He'll say, "You're terrible to be around right now, but come here." And he'll hug me even though I'm being a tool. Who does that? My man. And Jesus.

Happy Four Years, Mooch. Thanks for letting me put my cold feet on you sometimes, if you're in the right mood, or if you're already halfway asleep.

xo,

B

the world's tallest man sitting in a child's rocking chair at CHO airport