Hi Baby!

My fabulous doctor (and I mean that with no sarcasm) and I have had a slight disagreement on my due date.  Without being graphic, I know *exactly* how far along I am, but according to the traditional last menstrual period, or as Boyfriend's dad like to refer to it, "Lady Day" I should be further along than I am.  Not too much to make a difference unless for the unholy reason I end up going to 42 weeks, in which case my doctor has agreed to go with my calculations vs hers when it comes to discussing an induction (which I don't want, without medical necessity).   In any case, two days after I became pregnant, and about 10 days before confirmation, Baby leaned over to me quite randomly, kissed my belly and said, "Hi Baby! I love you!"  At this point, because my cycle was obviously quite off, I had no reason whatsoever to think I was pregnant but in that moment-I knew that a couple weeks from then I would be seeing that second line on the pee stick.   Baby is so excited for her future brother or sister.  She tells me that she has a baby in her belly as well and named it Pillow.  She asks me at least once daily when she will be a big sister and when will the baby come out of my belly.     A few days ago, I asked her how her baby was going to come out of her belly.  She pointed to her mouth, grinning.  Boyfriend asked her how my baby was going to come out of my belly.  She excitedly whispered, "Her gina!"  I can't remember having a conversation with her about that, but I find it quite amusing that even she doesn't want to imagine how babies really come out.      

#2

Now that Boyfriend has shared the news that we are expecting #2, I thought I might update on how I have been doing.  Another spoiler alert-not so hot.  

  I have my good days and bad days but just like with Baby, I am feeling nauseated pretty much all day.  This pregnancy I have had the joy of actually waking up through the night because I am feeling so sick which is an extra bonus.   I also think my body remembered what the end of my pregnancy was last time and just decided to jump start all symptoms that I experienced in the last trimester.  I wake up hourly at night because my hips feel like they are being crushed by my soft bed.  I have round ligament pain of death every time I sneeze or cough, convincing me that quick motion caused my entire stomach wall to tear apart.  Boyfriend likes to test out my (lack of) bladder control by scaring the literal pee out of me.   Emotionally I am crabby and crazy-my rational mind can hear myself being a crazy woman and no matter how hard I try and tell myself to shut up (because stories of my temporary insanity will last long after #2 is here) I just can't.   I know that I sound extremely whiny, and I am a lot of the time.  But I am also extremely appreciative and grateful that I even have the opportunity to be here again.  After loss, you realize just how fragile a pregnancy could be.  I know how lucky I am, and despite all my complaining-I don't ever for a second let myself forget that the only reason I am experiencing the bad is because of the amazingly good that will be here come June.          

Forehead Stripes and Freezing Toes

So everyone and their brother (and mother, sister and cousin) on Facebook are doing 30 Days of Thankfulness, posting one thing each day they are appreciative of.  It isn't that I don't have a vast amount of things to be thankful for this year, but I just am not into annoying my Facebook with the random things I am thankful (because it should go without saying I am thankful for my family, friends, health, home, etc).  So instead, I'm going to spam my own corner of the internet of some of my random thanks.   *For the days where I am the only one taking the ride up the elevator to the fourth floor before I start work.  Even though it is only 30 seconds long, those few moments of solitude before I spend my day talking to Customers for ten hours is bliss.   *When 7% on my iPhone battery lasts much longer than it ever should.  I really need to play that last round of Candy Crush.    *My ability to laugh when my daughter starts asking me why I have stripes (wrinkles) on my forehead.  Additionally, I am thankful that I am still young enough that those miracle creams I see on TV have time to work their magic, or at least I hope so!   *The incredibly sweet man at Einsteins Bagels.  When I worked at Dave and Buster's I had an Einsteins daily habit and even though I only go maybe five times a year now, the moment I walk in he starts my regular order so I don't have to stand in the long line fighting teenage girls figuring out which schmear has the least amount of calories.   *That Boyfriend lets me put my freezing cold toes between his legs to warm them up at night.  There is no way I would let him do the same, so to me, that is true love.
*Gas-X now comes in minty dissolving strips.  And that they work fast.  Gas pain is no joke.
*When someone laughs because of me, and not at me.  I like to think that I have gained some humor skills from Boyfriend and it is now one of my favorite things to make a group laugh.
*The fact that my little brother still lets me treat him like a kid and tell him what to do, even though he is a grown man.  I know he is doing whatever I tell him because he doesn't mind, but he gives me the illusion I still have the big sister power.
*Friends who not only let me get TMI with them, they encourage it with their own stories.  See my appreciation for Gas-X.
*While Dora still frequents our TV at times, Disney Princesses have become the staple and give me a solid 90 minutes of cuddles and movie time with the little one.
*Cheese.  Specifically the good stuff-burrata with balsamic.
*A mom who will still help me come over and clean my house when I have no motivation to do so myself.


I hope that everyone has a love filled day tomorrow, I'll be spending my day eating and napping and I hope you get to do much of the same!

I Love You

The phrase, "I love you" is said at least 20 times a day in my household.  On the weekend, you might hear it nearly twice that.  For a lot of people that is probably overkill (and annoying) but for my family, it means just as much as the first utterance in the morning as our closing words before sleep overcomes us.  

  Boyfriend says he grew up in a household where they didn't express their feelings often and while it is blatantly obvious to me when it comes to expressing difficult feelings, I'm quite surprised that he can so freely express his love for me and Baby.  From the first time he told me he loved me (drunkenly, two weeks after we started dating!) he has always made sure to tell me he loves me in the morning, at night and any time we part.    From middle school on, my father was very ill and for over 10 years I knew that he was going to pass away "anytime now".  Ten years knowing that a loved ones passing was sooner than later and that each time I parted ways with him could have been the last, well beyond other things that I pay my psychiatrist top dollar to help unwind, it has reinforced that I always want to communicate that I love my loved ones, and no matter what-those are the last words I say to them before we part-just in case.   Our, "I love you" habit has been passed onto Baby and for that, I am grateful.  She will be playing  alone in her playroom while I'm making dinner and come running just to tell me she loves me.  One day when Boyfriend took her to work, she yelled across the room, while playing on his phone, "Daddy, I love you!" completely unprompted, she just wanted to express her love.   I recognize that verbally expressing the words doesn't change how you feel, or how my family thinks I feel about them.  But it gives me great comfort that even though I can't pinpoint the last conversation I had with my father, there isn't one doubt in my mind that my last words were to him that I loved him and that he loved me too.  

Project Mom Review: Do What Matters

Last weekend I was provided the opportunity to attend Project Mom because of a partnership with Dallas Moms Blog.  The only conferences I have ever attended prior to this was Key Club convention back in high school.  Those conventions were the highlight of my school year, providing a laundry list of memories and knowledge that my girlfriends and I still bring up today.   While Project Mom was only a day conference I left excited for how I was going to, "mom" differently going forth.  The morning started out with a short video about what it is like to be a mom and I literally started out my morning laughing out loud and crying, and I instantly knew the day was going to make an impression.
I attended three different sessions and while I won't go over each one, I learned a lot, felt reassured over some of my individual parenting choices and confirmed that I wanted to make a few changes in our approaches.  The biggest impact for me, however, was during one of the keynote speeches when we were told to, "do what matters".
Total common sense, but the speaker reminded us that as moms we are pulled in so many different directions and have more tasks that need to be done than we have time, or strength (physical or emotional) to complete.  She explained to us that her philosophy is that she decides to simply do what matters.
That speaks to me in several ways and I feel like I have tried to live by that idea but I need to emphasize this on a daily basis and not let any of the mom guilt that comes natural to any mother get in the way.
Some days, letting the house stay a mess so I can play with Baby or cuddle her, or in reality, get my nap in, is what matters.  Other times it really does matter that  I clean the house and not let it go to the wayside any longer.  Going out with my girlfriends on a regular basis does matter to me, a lot, but it doesn't have to be every opportunity I am presented with (not that I actually do this).
I know this seems so basic, and obvious.  But as a mom-it is hard, really hard.  There are days that I become so overwhelmed with everything that has to be done outside of my full time position that I just end up doing nothing, letting precious time go to waste.  
I am really appreciative that I had the opportunity to attend the conference and am already looking forward to next years event.  It has only been a week but I catch myself executing some of the techniques I learned and I can honestly say I feel like I am a better mom.

Dirty 30

  The first of my girlfriends, Allie, turned 30 today.  Her birthday starts the rolling calendar of all the girls becoming a year older.  I'm next in January and the idea of turning 30 is a very foreign one to me.  

    Obviously I have never turned 30 before so it should be, but I can remember growing up always saying that I would be so old when I turned 30.  Now that the number is only a few months away, I realize how wrong I was about my future (just one of the many ways I was totally ignorant about my future).   The thing is, I now realize 30 isn't old at all.  Physically I can feel the differences between my early 20s and now.  I find myself falling asleep at the bar if I stay out too late and it isn't because I have had one too many to drink.  I threw my back out for the first time about six months ago, leaving me unable to walk comfortably for over a week.   Mentally and emotionally though, I still feel young.  Really young.  I don't think of myself as an adult and when I am with a large group of people, I look at people 20+ years older than myself as the grownups.  When I see that someone is 35 online, I have to remind myself that I am only five years away.  If you ask me how old I am, the first number that pops into my head is 27 and I always have to remind myself I passed that number a bit ago.   I own a house, two cars, have been in a relationship with Boyfriend for over ten years now.  If those things don't make me feel like an adult, having a kid should.  But I just don't.  I still feel young.  I still feel like I will get in trouble with my mom if I don't clean my house (ok-that actually does happen when she comes over).   I'm not quite sure when I will decide that I am an adult.  Maybe when I hit 40.  Or maybe when Baby's friends refer to me as "Mrs. So and So".  I'm starting to really understand the cliche of, "age is just a number".     Or maybe, as long as I am friends with my girlfriends, I will never feel like an adult.  Our group became a group nearly 20 years ago.  I imagine just ten years from now, when Allie is turning 40, I will be posting (if there is still blogging going on) something very similar looking back at myself and shaking my head at my naivete.  

I Hate Candy Crush

  This past July, I noticed that half of my friend's list on Facebook, they were playing Candy Crush.  Then I noticed my mom was also playing and she was at what seemed to be a high level-in the 100s when I was seeing all of my friends in the lower 30-40 levels.   I don't know why this is, but if it is a game against her, I want to win.  I think she started it with the old school Gameboy and Tetris.  I can remember playing while we were on airplanes just trying to beat each others scores.   The rule was when you died you would have to pass it back to the other person, but I would always die and quietly start another game.  Eventually we had to add in another rule the person playing had to play with the sound on so we could tell when the other person died.   The day I beat Tetris was a momentous mark in my history.  I have no idea why, but for someone who really isn't into video games, I'm freakishly good at them. In 9th grade, my boyfriend at the time was so excited about the new Zelda game and I wanted to impress him so I had my mom rent the game for me at Blockbuster and I spent the entire weekend working towards the moment I could call him and tell him I had already beat it.  Silly 14 year old me thought he would think it was cool-instead he was pissed that his girlfriend had already surpassed his video game prowess.     I don't remember the exact day I started Candy Crush, but I can tell you it has been probably my biggest regret of the Summer.  At first it was innocent, I would pick up my phone when I had a few moments but very quickly (as in-48 hours after the download completed) every free moment you could find me with my phone battery at 10% begging it to last so I could just get rid of "one more jelly!"   Then came the days I  am really mortified about.  Candy Crush consumed my free time, I couldn't go to bed until I had depleted all my lives.  I would get into bed at 10:00 feeling proud and then look at the clock after a "few" games of CC (my term of affection for the game) and it was 11:30 and I had lost a substantial amount of beauty sleep.     For those of you who play CC-you are probably wondering, "How did you play for an hour and a half straight?!" I took my level of addiction up a notch on the embarrassment scale-I scoured the internet to figure out how to get free lives and found a glitch that if you move your phone's clock ahead three hours, it filled your lives up.     Obviously the picture I posted above implies that Candy Crush hurt my relationship, and boy did it.  My addiction to the game was so severe that I was constantly ignoring Boyfriend to play.  Our evening discussions before we drifted off to sleep were filled with him just turning me over, lighting the bedroom with that bright orange start screen.   I'm not sure where my turning point was.  Some point in the last month or so, I have started to calm down on the CC.  Maybe it was the day I realized I had played for an hour at work, thinking I had only taken a 15 minute break-not an additional lunch hour.  Maybe it was the day I screwed up my phone so badly I couldn't receive or send texts because I had messed with the time so much.  Perhaps it was the day I had to justify why I spent nearly $10 just to pass a level (Level 65).   Either way, about a month ago, I jumped off the speeding train and onto a leisurely carriage ride.  I still play, but not every day, and I never add more lives that I didn't earn-I don't need my phone to die on me now.  The creators of this game are absolutely brilliant and think they deserve every dollar they have earned by sucking our hard earned money, creating levels that are seemingly impossible-but you know they aren't because you have friends ahead of you!   All in all, I probably spent $20 on the game, and that is all I'm going to spend.  I honestly have gotten to the point where if I can't beat a level I would be ok with just uninstalling it.  The only thing that stops me is I still haven't passed my mom, but I am only 10 levels behind.    

Trashing Your Bread and Butter

 

Post by Smyth.

I have never heard of this place (mostly because I am lame and never go out) until having several different people link to Smyth's Facebook post about the owners calling out the specific guests, by name, who did not show up for their reservations.   Please don't get me wrong-I absolutely think that the individuals who did not honor their reservation are in the wrong, there just isn't an excuse.  But as the face of customer service for my company, things like this just make me cringe.  You can't turn on your guests that way, your bread and butter, and expect it to be ok.   I get where the company is coming from-all of the reservations that didn't show, that is a considerable amount of potential revenue that could have been lost.  I don't even disagree with them making a public post about people not showing up and how it hurts them, and other guests.     But calling people out by name?  There are over 40 individuals who were referenced (if you are considering group size) who I have a feeling will not be a future patron of Smyth.  I am sure the feeling is mutual, however why didn't the owner of Smyth take into consideration that word of mouth, especially for new businesses, can make or break your establishment.   Who knows, maybe this is just a publicity stunt.  It definitely got my attention-but in a negative light for me, because for a company that so could so easily turn on it's customers is not one that I want to ever spend my hard earned date nights on.    

Baby's Shoes

  Over the last few months, I started to accept that Baby isn't really a Baby anymore.  I look at her and the soft roundness of her face has started to mature, her facial expressions can remind me of a sullen teenager.  She has very much become her own person and will not hesitate to tell you how she feels.   Maybe it is because she is so tiny and the fact that she is just now can unreliably fit in size 24 month clothing, but I had a hard time catching up my growing girl to also be in "big girl" clothing and shoes.  Putting her in a onesie at 3.5 years old (even though it can still fit with room to grow) probably isn't the cool thing to do and she will resent me when she looks back at the pictures.  I can already imagine her saying, "Mom, just let me grow up!"   Baby's latest obsession is Hello Kitty.  I thank the BFF for this one, and I honestly am thankful because it was transitioned from Dora who just slightly gets on my nerves.  Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a Blogger event hosted by Dallas Moms Blog and Famous Footwear.  I was provided with a gift card to use towards a purchase of my selection.   After checking out all of the shoes for myself and even Boyfriend-I have been trying to convince him Converse is the way to go, I came upon the jackpot of shoes for Baby.  I literally had an entire row of Hello Kitty shoes to select from and knew what I had to do.   I had a really difficult time committing to purchasing the shoes for Baby, I wanted to be selfish and get a new pair of boots or maybe finally just buy Boyfriend a pair of Converse (for whatever reason, they are not his favorite but I think they are so cute, and versatile!).   Ultimately I thought about how excited Baby would be when I came home with Hello Kitty sneakers, and knew that if she was shopping for herself-that is what she would pick out.  I wasn't disappointed one bit when I came home, she literally squealed and jumped up and down.   I was actually really impressed with Famous Footwear.  I'm going to be honest, it was never a place that would enter my mind to go shopping for shoes.  That is what I love so much about these blogger events-they do exactly what they are designed to do and introduce products and retailers that you wouldn't normally know about or consider.   Even though I left that night slightly disappointed I didn't go the selfish route, it didn't last long.  I actually went back a week later and took advantage their BOGO (buy one, get one 50% off) sale and purchased two pairs of sandals off their awesome clearance rack for less than $25!   I love Baby's Hello Kitty shoes.  I think it gives me tangible proof she is becoming her own person.  I am happy to oblige in her clothing and shoe preferences and know she feels confident and happy.  At least I say that until she does become an actual sullen teenager and wants to wear a crop top and cutoffs.  I'll have to pull the mom card then. 

Habits Are Hard to Break

Well, Bikram didn't last more than a week.  Last update, I had completed the first two classes, the next four went like this:   Class Three-Best class I had been a part of so far.  I think because the class before was so difficult for me, I was expecting the same but found that I was able to participate more than I had been able before and I wasn't overwhelmed with the heat.   Class Four- I was very, very tired.  I had taken an evening class the day before, getting out at 9:45.  I was in bed by 11:00 but had a horrible time sleeping and was back up at 5:15 for the 6 a.m. class.  I was able to participate most of the time but just drained.  That day at work I barely was able to function, I knew I pushed myself physically too far and was in serious regret mode.  My productivity level was embarrassing, so much that I went to my boss at the end of the day and apologized.   Class Five-I felt GREAT at this class. This was on Friday, my day off so I was able to sleep in a little later than usual and felt refreshed.  After class four, an instructor gave me a couple tips to help with my postures and it really improved my practice this class.  I left feeling really proud.  Strangely enough, as soon as I got home I threw up.  The nausea came out of nowhere, I assume it was because I drank too many liquids too fast immediately following class. After throwing up I felt normal.   Class Six-I struggled quite a bit.  This was the hottest feeling class and I think everyone around me agreed, people around me were dropping to their mats like flies.  This was the first class since class two that I had to bargain with myself just to stay in the room.  After class, I made sure to slowly drink my water so that I didn't get sick again, and it worked.   I would have gladly gone the next day but they were closed for staff appreciation.  I still practiced yoga though, a few of my girlfriends and I took a Standup Paddleboard Yoga class at Float on Yoga which was a ton of fun and challenging in a different way.  I actually noticed that I had improved in some positions and then struggled with a few that I hadn't before, not sure what was up with that.     Unfortunately, without going all TMI, I think I managed to catch some sort of bug or parasite from the lake because I spent Monday-Thursday in the bathroom.  After farting in the first class I was petrified to go back to yoga, I am sure it is obvious what I was concerned would happen.   Friday I finally felt 100% after some prescription meds but I didn't attend go to a class. Boyfriend and I had a day date and I just didn't want to honestly.  I started thinking that while I enjoy the practice of yoga, I think going everyday was just too much for me.  After the way it drained me on the prior Thursday, I realized it needs to be in serious moderation.  Not to mention, if I took an evening class I only saw Baby for the 20 minutes we were up in the morning on our way to daycare.   So now I am trying to figure out what is next to keep me active.  I don't think I'm completely done with yoga itself, but I think I am with Bikram.  It isn't something I can just pick up and drop off like I can with regular yoga because of the adjustment it takes to accept the heat.  My brother just moved back into town and knows his stuff (so he says) around a gym so I am working on convincing him to join my gym so he can be the boss of me for once and tell me what to do around the gym.  All I know is I am ready to break the habit of being lazy. 

The Time I Farted in Yoga

Remember last week how I declared that the next day was going to be a fresh start?  Well you know what I did that very next morning?  I stopped at McDonalds and enjoyed a cold, refreshing Diet Dr. Pepper and hashbrowns shaped like an oversized pill capsule.  Feeling slightly guilty that I was not listening to my internal desires, I also ordered a fruit and yogurt parfait trying to pick something on the "lighter" side.  I ate it quickly and immediately just beat myself up over my lack of self control-even when I was placing the order I knew I didn't want to do it but I still did.     The rest of the week I struggled with what goals I really wanted to work towards and how I needed to change my mindset.  I had purchased a Groupon for Bikram Yoga and decided that after my introduction class, I was officially going to work towards living the lifestyle I felt proud of.
For whatever reason, yoga has always symbolized peace and acceptance and it just seemed natural to start my journey of healthy living-not dieting, practicing yoga.  I have practiced on and off for the last year-going to usually one class a week, sometimes more.  I have never done Bikram before and even though I thought I was prepared, I definitely was not.
Monday was my first class, I woke up bright and early at 5:15 to take my first class.  I went and was surprised by the lack of sweat I produced.  I was definitely hot, and maybe even moist-but looking at everyone else's towels on the ground they were so soaked that you could make it rain if you twisted the towel.  The class was difficult and I did hurt my shoulder a tiny bit trying to twist it in a way my body didn't want to but I felt really pleased with my first class.
I walked out feeling so proud of myself!  I had a pep in my step until 3:00 when I started to hit the wall at work, but overall content.  I slept like a baby and told Boyfriend I was going to take the evening class so I didn't have to get up so early the next morning.
Last night, a couple of hours before the class I started to become very concerned.  I realized that maybe I was able to take the class so well because it was the first class of the day-the room hadn't had a chance to heat up as much as the last class where it stayed consistently above 100 degrees.  
When walking into class and setting up my mat, I thought, "Hmmm..it isn't really hotter than before.  I think I will be ok!"  I started out strong, I was all one with myself, checking myself out in the mirror and feeling like a rockstar.  Then during my first move on the floor, in all its glory, a little toot escaped.

Now I am almost positive not one other person heard it, or if they did they were polite and ignored it.  But that was just the start of the slope I started to slide down until class was over.  I started to overheat and felt like I was going to throw up.  I was making my own towel drenched in sweat, dripping out the 100 ounces of water I had consumed during the day to stay hydrated.  Each time I bent down, sweat dripped into my eyes and nose, causing me to tear up and choke on my sweat.
I lost it half way into class. I decided I was giving up on my goal, screw Bikram.  I made attempts to start the postures with the class, but each time I was only able to participate 10 seconds before I knew if I went further it would be a lot more than an innocent toot projecting from my body.   I didn't want to leave the class though so I just laid in corpse pose, feeling like I really was on the brink of death.  I was frustrated with how overwhelmingly hot I was and I just wanted to leave.  Every ounce of my clothing on my body felt like it was strangling me and I then realized why all the other girls were wearing the equivalent of modest bikinis.
At the end of class, the instructor made a comment that we were to enjoy the last few minutes of meditation, that we worked so hard for that moment.  I sat there angry that I had let the heat get to me.  I knew that my new lifestyle was going back to the old and that I was giving up.
This morning, even though I had declared to Boyfriend I was done and not going back, I packed something to wear for class tonight-just in case.  Through the day today, I have been mentally preparing myself and finally I made the commitment to stick with what I really want-to feel like I have accomplished something.
Even if that accomplishment is only staying in the room for the full 90 minutes in corpse position, I am going accept that.  I am going to feel proud about it.  Not because I can stay in a blazing torture room for an hour and a half, but because I am finally trying to put my desire to be healthy first over what is easier.
I am still undecided about if Bikram will be for me.  I want it to be, mentally I like the concept and I appreciate that I will be able to see my growth since the classes are consistent.  Regardless though, I am sticking with it for 30 days and then I will decide if it is or not.  If it isn't, I'll just try something new until I finally figure out what is for me.  Because this time time, I really am going to change.

 

Let's Be Real

After I had baby, combined with the fact that I only gained 26 pounds and the power of breastfeeding, not only did I lose the entire 26 pounds I had gained, I added another 20 onto that right away.  To say I was feeling good about myself is an understatement-I had just had a baby and I was the smallest I had been since high school.

Sigh...my tiny waist.  Nobody was asking me when I was due-which is still a common occurrence now despite the fact that I am definitely not pregnant.  Anyway, life got in the way, Baby weaned and back came the 20 pounds that I had lost so I am sitting back at my prepregnancy weight again.

I actually care nothing about the number I weigh,  just how I feel about myself.  I have a lot of mental dialog going back and forth.  If I were to write down my thoughts over the course of the week, it might look like this:

"I feel so big today, nothing fits"

"Huh, I actually am feeling great today.  I can fit in my skinny jeans."

"Whoops, shouldn't have shoved my stomach into those skinny jeans, now I have had to tell two people that I am not pregnant, just have a lot of stomach overflowing in the waist area."

"I wish my stomach didn't blanket Boyfriend's hand when he cuddles me."

"I am just fine the way I am!"

And I do believe that, I am just fine the way I am.  I know I'm not borderline obese, despite what my BMI states (I don't think it accounts for 20 pounds in boobs).  I know that I don't *need* to lose weight.  And I don't really care if I were to gain another 10 pounds.  I just want to feel good about myself, I want to stop feeling like if I just took action I would be back to where I was four months after having a baby.

And this is where I have to be real with myself.  I get onto Boyfriend that actions speak so much more volume that words, and I need to hold myself to that.  If I really cared as much as I think I do, then I would take action.  I would be more active, I would stop eating pure junk, I would make the changes that aligned with my beliefs.

And when I get real, truly, honestly real, I am just lazy.  And I don't care as much as I think I do.  But I want to, and I don't see any reason why I have to be that way.

I'm not saying I'm going to start working out every day, or stop eating food deemed bad for you (because another thing to be real about, food is damn good and I'm not giving up the best parts of it).  I just want to start being more active, I want to set an example for Baby that being active is just part of life.  I don't want to succumb to eating donuts for breakfast because it is quick and cheap because I was too lazy to grab something at home that is a better choice.

So tomorrow is a fresh start.  And if I don't do anything tomorrow, I don't need to do my regular, "well this week is a bust" and try again the next day.  This mindset I want to change, it is a forever thing and I have the rest of my life to figure it out and keep trying.  Tomorrow is just day one. 

It Can Wait

I feel like almost every parent has a picture of their kid pretend driving their car.  Baby is obsessed with having her moments in the front seat.  Maybe because she is still rear facing in her carseat, but the moment she gets a chance to hop in the front seat you can see her growing imagination going wild.  

It is the little moments like this that I realize she observes much more in her backseat mirror than I realize.  She will adjust the rear view mirror, buckle up and start to shift.  She turns her delicate body backwards pretending to back up and then whips around and moves the gear once more, swinging her head backwards making a low, "Vroooooom" noise. 

Cars petrify me now.  I am already feeling anxious about the days when her feet will finally touch the pedals, when she will not just be pretending but actually backing out of our driveway.  I feel like the roads have become more dangerous in even just the last nearly 15 years that I have been driving.   

Talking and texting have become the norm while driving.  I make a conscious effort to not text (but am not immune, of which I am ashamed).  Something has to give between now and her driver's test and I just pray it isn't the lives of others.  

This morning when driving to work, a car nearly crossed the median into my lane.  We weren't going fast, I could see the person looking down, not paying attention.  Nothing physical happened, they adjusted their car and I moved over a lane safely but emotionally it jolted me.  

I am not the best driver, I didn't even take real driver's education.  Boyfriend hates the way I drive (which should be his clue to never ask me to drive!) because he feels I am too absent minded.  And maybe I am, but I hope that I take with me the way I felt this morning and carry it with me going forward.  I want to continue my healthy habits and finally make sure that my phones locked screen remains on until I have arrived to my destination.

If I can't do it for myself, I need to do it for her.  Her behaviors are learned from mine, and I never want to risk her life (now or in the future) just because it couldn't wait. 

It Can Wait

Intentions and Selfies

Somehow it doesn't surprise me that the last time I updated was nearly six weeks ago.  My role at work has evolved quite a bit the last couple of months and now I spend ten hours writing so the last thing I want to do when I'm not working is sitting back down at a computer to write even more.

That doesn't mean I don't write the blog posts in my head.  I find myself drafting my best posts on my drive home.  I really should just pull out my phone and record my thoughts so that I don't lose my moments of pure genius.

Emotionally though, I'm starting to realize I need to write.  I have this intense desire to share with my sliver of the internet my thoughts and observations.  I want to declare my intentions with life, as some sort of way to be held accountable.

Of course this is an empty promise (to myself and my few faithful readers, hi Boyfriend!) until I follow through, but over the next few months I have plans to start updating more and trying to figure out what purpose this blog is going to fulfill. 

Until then, here is a few photos I pulled from my phone.  Baby is obsessed with taking selfies.  I am worried for when she becomes a teenager.

Happy Father's Day Boyfriend!

I started to write a long post about how awesome Boyfriend was, but instead decided that I would let Baby tell you in her own words. I have provided a transcription at the bottom for those who don't speak toddler-ese.


How old is Daddy?  Four
What color hair does he have?  Black
What color are his eyes? Black
What does he like to wear?  Underwear!
What does he like to eat? Noodles
Why is he smart? Because he always likes to use his phone for you and me
Daddy works hard at what?  Money, making money
When does Daddy make you happy?  I know, money!  Money buy ...
If you could go on a trip with Daddy, where would you go?  Target
If you could buy Daddy any present, what would you buy him? Bicycle
What do you really love that Daddy does? A present for me!

Happy Father's Day!!

He Did It!

In just a few days from now, as you are reading this, my little brother will be walking across the stage graduating from college. I anticipate being quite busy with family and friends celebrating him to properly mark the occasion on my little corner of the internet so I am scheduling this post for the future.  In the meantime though, lets go back in history first to see what led us to this moment....

I remember when my mother was pregnant with Matthew.  I was 6 years old, in Kindergarten and loved being an only child.  I remember not really understanding why everyone was so excited for whatever was responsible for my mother looking like she swallowed a beach ball.  I can remember looking up at the calendar in our kitchen with the date April 17th circled with one simple word, "Baby".  I had just no idea how much that word would change my life.

When Matthew finally made his appearance, I vividly remember walking into the hospital room seeing a tiny creature screaming.  I suddenly became quite frightened and was convinced the doctors had just pulled some other life force out of my mother.  This being, very Benjamin Buttonesque, a tiny old man in an infant body.  I couldn't bring myself to call him a baby, I just referred to him as "that thing".  It didn't take long to grow some affection for my little brother Matthew, never Matt.

I'm going to be honest, growing up, I didn't quite like Matthew much.  I was insanely jealous-he was my mom's favorite (who remained as such until Boyfriend entered the picture, and most recently, Baby).  My brother was also was incredibly annoying.  So much so that my friends didn't want to come over to my house because my mom didn't protect us from him, she forced me to allow him to play with us (see what I mean about her favorite?).  

It wasn't all bad though.  We spent our summers playing outside, swimming in Duck Creek, digging through our dad's bathroom for change so we could walk to the McDonalds to get french fries and visiting Boston with our family.  When we did start fighting though, my mom would put us in a chair together and force us to hold hands until we could come to amicable terms.  Most often we just decided that our mother was crazy so that we could complete our cruel and unusual punishment, but now I see the wisdom in my mother-teaching us on how to become a team and work together.

When Matthew turned five, my mother had another moment of enlightenment and enrolled both of us in judo.  While I absolutely hated every single moment that I was participating and tried every excuse to stop, Matthew flourished in the sport.  Not only was he doing well, he was winning left and right.  He quickly became the kid that people would talk about the tournaments, "Oh did you hear Matthew is here?!  Well there goes my gold!"

I loved going to his tournaments.  Not only did I get to check out cute boys without their shirts on, I loved getting down on the mat screaming for him to kick whatever kid's butt. I would scream the loudest and on the occasion of a loss, feel the heartbreak the most.  I was always as proud of him as any mother could be, and that is how I often viewed myself-a second mother to him. 

When I graduated high school, I visited one of my aunts that summer before departing to college and I can remember a conversation that I had for her out of fear for my brother.  My father was very ill and I was just so worried for what was going to happen when I was gone.  I probably gave myself too much credit, but I always saw myself as the one that kept the peace in the family (when I wasn't the one causing the mayhem) and I was petrified what life would be like for him without me there.

Just a short time after I left for home, our father's sickness brought him to the hospital for one last visit where ultimately he would pass.  Matthew and my mother were out of the country supporting Matthew in a competition for judo so I was there to assist with my dad.  When he was lucid, all my father would talk about was his son and how proud of him he was.  He would brag to anyone who would listen, the doctors, nurses, the janitors about how his son was representing the USA in the Pan American Junior Olympics.  

I think my father's passing was when I personally started to grow.  As I mentioned, Matthew was my mom's favorite and I was my dad's.  I think my mom had to compensate for Matthew so I always felt that I had to fight for the attention, but with my dad gone, I no longer had to do so.  I also no longer had the guilt that my dad treated me better.  Matthew never seemed to show resentment towards me that I was the favorite of our father, but I couldn't bear the weight.  

Matthew left for college five years ago to pursue his dreams in going to the Olympics by training at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs.  The day he and my mother left to make the 12 hour drive, I remember hugging him goodbye and choking back tears.  Like any good second mother, I wasn't ready for my baby brother to leave the nest.  

We spoke often, he would tell me of his crazy antics and I would have panic attacks thinking of his wild parties (I'm going to have to have a Xanex drip when my actual child goes to college).  He told me stories of his intense training at the OTC and how much he was learning in school.  I literally heard him mature as we spoke on the phone and in turn, our relationship started to grow from siblings to friends.

When I was pregnant with Baby I knew he would have a special bond with her, but didn't realize how much she would mean to him.  And not just because he uses her to pick up girls at the mall-he wants to spend as much time as possible with her.  Baby adores her uncle and talks about him on a nightly basis.

Recently, Matthew had to call me and tell me due to one too many concussions, it was finally time to hang up his judo gi.  I shed tears of heartbreak over the phone with him, knowing that the loss of his dream was the hardest thing he will have to work through.  It wasn't an easy choice for him, but the actual risk he is putting his life at made the choice for him.

And that brings us back to today, the day that his family are all sitting proudly beaming watching him walk across that stage.  Knowing him, he won't just walk-I am sure he will pull some stunt and try to make people laugh because that is who he is-an entertainer.  Matthew always wants people to be happy around him, even if it is putting on a brave face when he isn't feeling confident.

I know he is scared for what is to come.  Just as every one of his fellow classmates.  I have tried to instill some big sisterly wisdom, he is about to enter one of the best times of his life.  He has just accomplished something that only a small percentage achieve.  He has literally his entire life in front of him, a fresh and exciting clean slate.

He is going to be successful in life.  Sure he might have to live with his mom for a bit (God help him), but he has the opportunity to reinvent himself starting now.  He is no longer defined by judo, and while I know he finds this terrifying, I hope he is soon able to see exactly how liberating it is.  

I am so excited to see what he decides to do with his life and selfishly, I am happy he is coming home.  I miss him when he isn't physically close.  I miss having my little brother to hang out with, one of my best friends.  He is still annoying, but now my mom doesn't even have to force me to let him hang out, I invite him myself.  And above all, having another (free) babysitter in town never hurts!

Congratulations Matthew Cray.  We are so, so proud of you and I know that Dad is somewhere creeping on you saying, "You finally did that thing over whatcmacallit across the thingambobby!"

Sick

Boyfriend and I very blessed to have a healthy child who rarely gets sick.  Her first fever was two days after starting Mother's Day Out and ended up with pneumonia, but other than one virus this past year she has been healthy.

I think our pediatrician jinxed us at her three year check up because as she was leaving, she said, "I bet I won't even see you again until her four year check up!"  I blame her for us sitting in her office just a couple weeks later.

Baby just has a standard stomach virus, she woke up Monday night with a fever, but woke up acting her happy self in the morning.  I was nervous it was a UTI due to some other symptoms so I made an appointment for her that afternoon.  I am not the mom who brings her kid to the doctor for every fever they get, but if it was an UTI I wanted it caught immediately.

On the way to the doctor's office, apparently Baby lost her lunch in Boyfriend's car.  He didn't have a change of clothing and since my work is pretty close to her doctor I met them up there.  We were given the official diagnosis of a paranoid mom, no UTIs, just your every day stomach virus.

I went back to work and Boyfriend nurtured Baby the rest of the evening.  When I came home, she was in a great mood but you could tell she wasn't feeling well because she was just hanging around.  She fell asleep really early on the couch with us last night.

Today is my day off and I woke up to her hours before her normal wake up time screaming for Daddy.  Apparently he took such good care of her last night that Mommy was not going to do today.  I calmed her down and we went into the living room where she continued to throw up many times into a towel. 

As my Facebook post suggests above, I am not immune to my child getting sick.  We were gagging right along together, luckily I was able to hold it together enough I didn't actually get sick.  She fell back asleep for another couple of hours and woke up as though nothing was wrong.  She even was adamant that we call Daddy to tell him she pooped three times in the potty.

She fell back asleep and woke up the complete opposite once more, this time for the worse.  We spent a literal two hours walking around our house trying to find anything to calm her down.  Nothing worked, she just couldn't communicate what was wrong.  On my third try of a Dora distraction it suddenly just worked and she was totally calm, as though nothing happened.

Currently she is dancing to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  I don't trust it though, I am on edge wondering when the next change in personality is going to come.  The only thing am sure of is that Boyfriend is on his way home, and even if we have another crying jag, I am not on solo baby duty anymore :)

Mother's Day. Fantasy vs Reality.

When I was pregnant with Baby, I remember looking forward to celebrating Mother's Day as a mother.  I imagined that I would be sleeping in that Sunday morning, woken up by my giggling baby and husband carrying in breakfast for me to enjoy in bed.  On the tray would be single stem flower picked by Baby out of our flourishing garden and a handmade card with scribbles only a mother could appreciate.

After breakfast, I would finally depart my comfortable bed and as I walked through the rest of the house, I felt a sense of calm realizing that my entire home was clean from top to bottom.  There wouldn't be clothes everywhere, remnants of Baby's last snack on the fireplace, or little sharp toys waiting to attack the soles of my feet.

I would then take a leisurely shower alone, not having to worry about Baby underfoot playing slip and slide as she soaped up her feet and slid across the tub.  Also in this vision, my child was being so heavily entertained by Boyfriend that she didn't even have the opportunity to bang on the door screaming she wanted to join me.  A guilt free, solo shower.

Once my shower was complete and I finished drying my hair (maybe even makeup-I wouldn't have to worry that my walls would be colored with my lipstick!) we would depart the house to enjoy the day outside at a park, or any place that we could enjoy the gorgeous spring day.  A picnic lunch would appear complete with my favorite foods and a wide selection of desserts.

Upon our arrival back home, we would take a family nap.  I would be the first to fall asleep and stay asleep-Boyfriend would make sure that Baby fell asleep as well and if she didn't, he would quietly keep her entertained so that I wouldn't wake until I felt refreshed.

We would end the day eating the dinner Boyfriend cooked me, and after as I played with Baby in our clean house, he would do the dishes. I would get ready for bed and be completely refreshed, ready for the next week ahead. A day so perfectly relaxing, a day just for me.

Just like many other things I had envisioned prior to actually having Baby around, reality didn't quite align with my fantasy.  I had romanticized the day so much in my head that I allowed myself to be disappointed when it was nothing like I had played out in my head.  

I watch my Facebook feed of posts scrolling by with all these mother's posting how their Mother's Day was going.  The gifts, the efforts made for them, the brags, it would get to me.  Mother's Day isn't really celebrated in our household.  We don't really buy tangible gifts for each other on any occasion, and honestly I am ok with that.  In fact, I prefer it.

What made me sad though, was seeing how what seemed like every other mother was being celebrated.  I wanted the same, I wanted to feel like I was being celebrated.  And then today, as we were lying in bed trying during nap time, as Boyfriend snored away and I couldn't sleep because Baby didn't want to nap and someone had to make sure she didn't burn the house down, I realized I was being just silly.

Today is just one day out of the year.  I have the same exact viewpoint on Valentine's Day, and don't care one ounce to even recognized that day beyond maybe the excuse to eat more candy.  I feel that strongly because Boyfriend spends the entire year showing me the attention, love and dedication that sadly some partners only reserve for that special day.

Same with Mother's Day.  Beyond anything-Boyfriend is the ideal co-parent.  I can sleep in any morning I want.  If I ever wanted to take a solo nap, all I have to do is ask.  If I wanted that shower by myself, he would play with Baby long enough to keep her entertained.  Getting the opportunity to do my hair and make up might be pushing it, but he would try.

I've taken for granted the fact that he considers himself completely as responsible for Baby as I am.  I'm not saying that he is a rare breed, but many of those same women bragging on Facebook that I was envious of today also will make references about how they have to convince their husbands to babysit the kids so they can go out on a girls night.  Not only do I do girls nights multiple times a month, Boyfriend never even blinks an eye when I tell him I am going to be going out of town for an entire weekend.

Boyfriend celebrates me on the daily by being an equal parent.  He acknowledges my hard work, just as I recognize his.  He buys me flowers just because, not because a note on the calendar tells him it would be wise to.  He cooks me dinner most nights, and a good portion of those nights, he does the dishes too because I'm lazy like that. 

I still look forward to the years when my child is old enough to recognize Mother's Day and pick me flowers and make me cards.  Until then though, I am going to stop comparing and remember just how much I truly am celebrated as a mother by my family.

Three

Three.  My baby is three.  Actually, she is three years old and one month, 37 months.  Finally past the point where it is appropriate to refer to your children's ages in months.

Three is still full of new experiences.  Three is filled with new things that come out of her mouth that I can't believe she thought of it on her own.  Three is when she has discovered that saying, "I don't like you Mommy" will elicit a sad response.  It is also filled with cuddles on the couch with her looking up at me, "Mommy, I love you so much.  You are my best friend."

My three year old is spunky.  Sassy.  Sensitive.  My girl wants so badly to please her parents and if we show any signs of disapproval she will cry tears of guilt.  My baby seeks for approval and beams at our praise.

My baby is 37 months going on 148 months.  She loves to sleep in later than her parents, doesn't like to be told what to do.  My prepreprepreteen will sass you back, "Baby, please go throw this in the trash"  "No, YOU go throw it in in the trash."   She has her first crush on a boy (Calliou, and no her parents do not approve).

Three is still when she needs me.  Soon, so soon, I will need her more than she needs me.   My kisses still fix all boo boos, my funny faces still bring joy.  I know all the answers to her whys, I calm her fears when she is scared.

Three is perfect.  Three is fun.  An adventure, a journey.  I'm soaking in every moment grasping each of her thousand plus days around the sun.  I can't imagine anything better.  That is, in what will feel like just a few short months away, until we hit four.

Updates, in Bullet Points

Oh goodness.  Life got busy y'all.  I was semi doing better with updating and then the regular (life) happened.  So instead of trying to cover everything-here is the last month highlights, in bullet points.

*I think I might have conquered running a tiny bit.  It is literally one step at a time, but the next time I ran after my last post, I just decided that I wasn't going to stop.  I took a combination of advice of stretching, antihistamines and compression pants (well if you count kids yoga pants as compression) and I made it.  Not only did I make it-I ran an entire mile straight through.  I know that isn't much, but it is a start and I was damn proud.  Somehow Baby knew when I was struggling as I was pushing her stroller and just at the moment I was starting to fade, she cheered, "Run,  Mommy run!"  Somehow she knew I needed the encouragement exactly when I did.

*In regards to running, Boyfriend and I were doing great-going out three to four times a week.  The last two weeks though, not so much.  My life was obsessed with Mom's Night Out (update on a later bullet point) for Dallas Moms Blog as the event coordinator so my evenings from work went straight onto the computer to answer emails that I couldn't sneak respond to during work between calls.  Today starts new and I am heading to the gym directly after work.

*Mom's Night Out was a cold success.  I enjoyed working with the contributors to plan what I think is such a crucial event for moms.  We had almost 200 women surrounding each other with friendship, food and drinks.  I loved running around during the event, standing over the group watching all the details that were worked on by our extraordinary group fall together.  The day of  technology got the best of me on a number of things, but in the end everything worked together perfectly with the exception of our lovely Texas weather.  Every day last week was gorgeous, last Thursday I woke up to pouring rain and while the sun greeted us-it was downright chilly.

*Baby is starting to be creative in her truths (like how I just put that spin on lying?).  I know a three year old won't lie intentionally, but she is starting to come up with crazy things.  The biggest one is if you ask her how she got X cut on her she will tell you mommy or daddy did it.

"Baby, how did you get that cut on your lip?"
"Daddy pushed me into a tree!"

"Baby, what is that mark on your eye?"
"Mommy hit me!"  (ok, that one might be true, my nail and her eye collided in the dark).

Seriously though, we don't beat our child-even though one time in Target I yelled, "Baby, I'm going to beat you!" meaning that I was going to race her to the front door.  Hopefully she learns it isn't the best idea to tell people her parents push her into the table corners or bang her legs with a stick.

*I ordered my first Erin Condren planner with my gift card from my MNO swag bag.  To say I am excited is a little bit of an understatement.  I am a sucker for paper planners and these are so cute!

*Work is better than it has been in the last year.  I have a new lead who is very intentional with my career and I can already see the difference in my path.  It is so unreal how having  different people above you can make or break you, regardless of how awesome you are. It isn't that I have had someone in the past leading me that wasn't invested in me, but my new lead sees the same thing in me that I see in myself and it is inspiring to work my hardest so I can grow.

*I am going out of town with my best girlfriends in just 12 days to Chicago.  I am so, so excited and can't wait for my first trip to the windy city!

*Life isn't really going to get less busy.  I've just was just accepted to be a contributor for another national blog, it is wedding season, summer is around the corner.  I half love being that busy and maybe a quarter hate it.  There is something about knowing your days are filled with friends and family, knowing that you are so blessed to have so much to do because you have such great relationships.  I have said this every time, but I really do want to be better at updating so that I have the ability to look back at my blog and remember all the things that happened when life was whizzing by. 

Allergic to Running

I am allergic to running.

No, for real, I legit am allergic.  If I do anything more than a leisurely stroll, I will start to break out in hives on my legs, waist and back.  I have always been this way, but I very specifically remembering it becoming a problem when I was in sixth grade during gym class.  I spent many afternoons in the nurses office trying to tell them how bad it was but they just thought I was trying to get out of class.

Over the years I have made half hearted attempts to start running on the regular.  Every single time though the same thing happens.  I get to a point, usually five-six minutes in where I start to get a tiny itch in my legs.  Then I start to feel my waist twitching.  Then my legs start to swell, I will look down and they are huge and red.  I get to a point I have to make a choice, try and ignore the itching that is bone deep or scratch.

I always try to ignore it but then I will, no joke, start to have a panic attack from the itching.  I know that sounds CRAZY, and y'all I might just be, but this type of itch is a special mental and physical torture.  I wish it seemed reasonable, but it isn't in the least bit.

Yesterday, I tried to do C25K.  I made it my first mile before I was on the curb with Baby in front of me in the jogging stroller watching me claw at my legs, trying to literally not pass out from itching.  While doing so, I destroyed my legs.  (Please ignore the fact that my legs look like they have been amputated.  Also-I can make that joke since my dad really did have that happen.)

Each one of those lines today are where I scratched so deep, I have a blood line going up and down my leg.  Sexy.

Mentally, I want so badly to be a runner.  I want to be able to just put shoes on and go.  I want to be alone with my thoughts.  I just don't think it is in my cards.  I have had semi success with taking antihistamines prior to running so I am going to experiment with that the next couple of weeks.  In the meantime though, I'll just continue to tell people I am allergic to running and be told, "Sure....just like I am allergic to work" (or paying bills/homework/yard work or whatever other activity they deem not enjoyable).

Not Baby's Jeans

Last night my friend Steff and I went to NYDJ (formally Not Your Daughter's Jeans) Spring preview event at The Joule hotel in Dallas.  I love these events, not only are filled with wine and sweets but I have the opportunity to view products under most normal circumstances I wouldn't really pay a second glance to them.

NYDJ is exactly one of those brands.  Prior to this preview, I knew them as Not Your Daughter's Jeans.  I think my mom has a pair and I know they sell them in some of the higher up department stores (I know that I have seen them before in Nordstrom).  I never considered them a brand for me, because bluntly-I still thought of them as "mom" jeans.  A la SNL commercial for Mom Jeans.

But here is the thing.  I am a mom.  So technically, any jeans I wear I guess you could consider them mom jeans.  After having a baby, your body changes.  Regardless of if you lose all the baby weight things are just different.  I actually have hips though admittedly not much, which I consider a blessing but most woman gets just a bit...wider.  There are some moms out there that you could never physically tell they grew another human being inside them, but they tend to have a much higher discipline than I will ever have.

Back to the preview-Steff and I had the chance to try out several styles and some of their upcoming tops collection.  I immediately picked out a pair that one of the hosts was wearing because she looked so darn cute but they were not for me.  I might have been admiring her skinny waist but they just went way too high on mine and overall the fit just didn't work.  I don't blame the jeans though, I blame the woman.

I tried on a pair of black jeans though and immediately loved them.  Two bonuses about these-they came in petite so my barely over five feet (lazy) self doesn't have to have them altered and they have something called Lift and Tuck technology.  Ok, at first I thought this was a gimmick or sales pitch but these jeans honestly were are the first ones where my lower belly (or the ever so sexy muffin top) was flat and I have a slightly round butt.  Consider me sold.

I also tried out one of their tops, a simple drape top that I felt really great in.  It is versatile enough that I am going to be able to wear it to work or something those childless people call date nights.  I also feel like this is going to be one of those shirts that I throw on when running errands so I can look somewhat put together without the effort.

NYDJ did send me home with my favorite picks of the evening, but my opinions are my own.  They didn't ask me to write about them, but after yesterday-I just want women, and even the non moms, out there to not automatically pass the brand by because you might be pleasantly surprised. 

Sunday was Boyfriend's birthday.   Up until Sunday, I spent six weeks being the older woman which he was always very proud of, but no longer!  10 birthdays ago for him, I remember reading on his Livejournal about his 19th birthday and how he had waited so long to get to that age so he could related to the Old 97s song. 

"We came back and finished off a bottle of vodka, green apple flavored. I had like 8 shots in 45 minutes. Jared had to walk Katie to class because I was too drunk to go anywhere. Hutch told me to go to dinner with him and when I walked outside I lost him. Hot Jenna came by with a birthday cake, which was really sweet. If you have seen the Bachelorette, Jenna looks a lot like Trista, except Jenna is hotter and doesn't do that stupid baby voice like Trista does."

A small excerpt from that LJ entry, I remember being insanely jealous of this Hot Jenna he spoke of (who he still to this day refers to her as such, but she really is so I can't blame him).  I remember wishing that I hadn't screwed up our friendship for another boy, but that is another story for a different time.   Luckily just a few months later, that other boy decided I wasn't worth the effort and I have had the extreme fortune to spend Boyfriend's next nine and counting birthdays making him birthday cakes instead of Hot Jenna.

For me, birthdays are so important.  I feel bad, I don't think that I did enough for Boyfriend this year.  We had a great brunch with some of our closest friends, dinner with my mom, cake with Baby (apparently birthdays=lots of eating delicious foods) but I didn't really *do* anything.  We don't exchange presents in our relationship but normally I still like to find ways to make the day special. Last year, we went to Vegas and in years past we have made a really fun day out of it.  The only year that less effort was made was the year that I was pregnant but you can pretty much get a pass out of anything when you are pregnant (especially be 36 weeks and in prodromal labor already).

 Boyfriend is the most important person in my life, my main squeeze, my other half.  And even though he hasn't complained, I feel guilty I didn't take the time to show him how much his special day means to me-even if it doesn't mean that much to him.  Baby however, took extreme pleasure in wishing her daddy a happy birthday at least 25 times during the day and singing to him.  She was so cute, Boyfriend even let her help blow out his birthday candles on his cake.