before there were digital cameras...

There was ungodly chaos, confusion, drama, and disaster.

Welcome to College.

Did I mention I had a really good time in college? (er, don't look too closely)

You have no idea how many pictures are piled up here. Piles and piles and piles.. I literally have thousands of pictures from college in shoebox upon shoebox upon shoebox. And get this - I didn't even own a camera in college. But luckily (or unluckily depending on the picture and who you're talking to) everyone else did. And I always got copies.

These are my treasures people.

And in my attempt to get somewhat organized, my goal is to put them in albums over them next month or so. I cannot imagine how many albums this is going to take, but I don't care.  And I would not dare attempt scanning them - besides being completely tedious, that would totally take away from all that these pictures are. And not to mention all of Brian's pictures that are flailing around aimless in the basement as well that need homes, but I can only tackle one thing at a time.

the big 3-0

And by 3-0 I mean I’m at 30 weeks (well, almost)! 10 and counting…

Excited, excited, excited. For lack of a better word, that’s where Brian and I are at this point. We’re not nervous or scared or anything like that (well I'm not at least) – we’re just stoked and ready. The only time I’ve ever been more excited in my life is the day Brian and I got married, and a close second to all of this might be that one time in college…oh never mind. I digress.

I’ve made the decision not to go to any childbirth classes. My body knows the instruction manual verbatim (er, I'm assuming) and that’s enough for me. It's that whole planning thing I'm just not wired for. *shudder* So in my opinion, good or bad, ignorance is bliss and that baby will be coming out one way or another, someway somehow. It’s kind of like ROTC field training – prep classes? Laughable. So hello Epidural, meet my back, not my eyes - I don’t want to see you or know how you work. Just do what you do. (I love surprises!)

Adeline is growing! (yay!) Although I would not say I look ridiculously pregnant yet. (yay?) However, it is getting a bit insulting when someone still tells me they didn’t know I was pregnant at all – seriously? Yikes people. At least be a good friend and tell me to lay off the beer; I mean, I don’t exactly have a bikini weather tummy at this point. Sheesh. Anyway, I’m feeling really good still. I do have some trouble sleeping at night at times; perhaps this is my body’s way of getting me ready for sleepless nights when the baby comes. I don’t really know. But I do know one thing – it affects Brian more than me, poor dude, as he usually wakes up tired, but I feel fine. I’ve also had to take a few days off from running due to a sore hip. With the uneven distribution of weight and things shifting around in there, combined with third trimester loosening ligaments to get you ready for childbirth, it’s not surprising that my body is yelling at me during high impact exercise that this is just not right. But that doesn’t mean I am happy about it – I was running, or waddling, so well. So I’ve reluctantly switched over to swimming for awhile, hoping the inflammation will go down sooner rather than later (as not being able to take ibuprofen for it doesn’t help either, grrr) so that I can get back to running.

Otherwise, it’s just waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I wonder what she will be like. Although my sister and I are identical twins, we couldn’t be more different, and even our emergence from the womb was probably the first indication of this. Caitlin, being much more bossy of the leader and tomboy, came out first somewhat cool and collected, whereas I followed 8 minutes later and couldn't stop screaming my head off. I’d like to argue this was the first indication of my feisty, spirited personality.

Yes, that's totally it.

But anyway, it’s going to be fun. It’s going to be fun to watch Adeline grow and learn and change, and for me to do everything different with her than what my parents did with me, so that Adeline can swear to do everything different as a parent than what I did with her. Kidding for the most part, but oh the joy of parent-child relationships...

For as long as I can remember, my mom has had a short newspaper clipping on the fridge in which a woman sums up her experience on having children. My mom photocopied the clipping for my sister and myself, now that we both have families of our own, and the clipping now rests on our respective refrigerators as well. It says:

"If I hadn't had children, I probably would have had more money and material things. I probably would have gone more places, gotten more sleep, pampered myself more. My life would have been much more boring and predictable. As a result of being a parent, I have laughed harder, cried more often. I have worried more and hurried more. I've had less sleep, but somehow I've had more fun.  I've learned more, grown more. My heart has ached harder, and I've loved to a capacity beyond my imagination. I've given more of myself, but I've derived more meaning from life." - Marianne Neifert, M.D.

I absolutely love this quote.

This is exactly why I've always wanted kids, and because I've read it so often on my family's refrigerator when I was a child, it reminds me of growing up as well.

Now, because of this unique joy and fulfillment that only raising children brings, Mom also always kept a certain card on the counter that she’s had since the beginning of time. She also gave my sister and I a copy of this card to have as well. It has a creepy little preacher character on it and some mischevious children in the background up to no good. It says:

“Lord, grant me the strength to endure my blessings.”

AMEN!

Valentine's Day

Oh Valentine's Day. How I hateth ye.

Okay, so I don't really hate Valentine's Day. In fact, now that I'm married I'm quite indifferent. I mean, every day is like Valentine's Day anyway! (Yeah, I know, *insert gagging noises*) However, pre-marriage, Valentine's Day just made me...anxious. And by anxious I mean I dreaded it.

Here's the thing about Valentine's Day. As I see it, if you're not out celebrating Single's Awareness Day with the girls (as I usually wished I was) or happily watching Sleepless in Seattle with your comforting companions Ben and Jerry, then chances are either one of two things happened - either that guy you've been secretly pining over forever actually reciprocates the feelings and grows a pair in time to meekly ask you out for the day; or, that guy who's been obsessing over you for the last decade (or so it seems) has been waiting for this day all year in excited anticipation of trapping you of possibly, just maybe, finally getting a date with you. Unfortunately, I always hoped for the former, but usually got the latter.

And to turn a guy down on Valentine's Day? That's kind of like flaunting a short tube top and jeans three sizes too small revealing horrifying love handles - *shudder* - it's just wrong.

Okay, so I know it's really not that bad to have a date with "a nice guy" on Valentine's Day who you are not all that attracted to (read: mildly repulsed by). And, truthfully, I've never had a bad Valentine's date. But the problem is, I know this guy thinks, and by thinks I mean is convinced, that over this one magical dinner with bad mood lighting you're finally going to realize everything you've been missing out on. But unless that's limited to seeing food stuck in his teeth and dodging his garlic breath, it usually just doesn't happen.

But despite my rantings (that are meant to be humorous more than anything), I really think Valentine's Day can be a wonderful gesture, and if anything, can creates great memories. Case in point - one of my most memorable Valentine's Days. It's a good story, in a good way.

I was in college, junior year maybe, and I had a Valentine's date with one of these aforementioned nice guys. And he truly was a nice guy...but just a nice guy. So we went to a nice dinner somewhere and talked about nice things I'm sure, but I honestly don't remember any of the details from the dinner itself. I'm sure it was pleasant, but none of that is relevant to my story. So after dinner we got in the truck and John, we'll call him, started to drive me home. So as we got closer to my house, I started the typical "I had a really good time tonight," wrap-up conversation. But mid-sentence I realized he drove right by my apartment. "Uh, John, I think you just missed my apartment!" And without flinching he simply said, "Oh yeah, I know, we're going to go somewhere else first. Just wait and see."

Uggg. Great.

So the next thing I know, he literally pulled into this dark, deserted parking lot in the middle of the ghetto a few miles from my apartment. I really wasn't...worried...but was more than quite confused. And then he parked and told me to get out and wait about 10 feet from the truck for a second. So at this point, I certainly was wondering what the f*ck was going on, as you can probably imagine. But just as I was thinking how much I really did not want to get shot and mugged by some crazy person in the ghetto tonight, the truck headlights were shining on me and the song, "You Look Wonderful Tonight" came blaring over the speakers. As I was picking my jaw off the road, John got out of the truck and walked over to me and with a big smile on his face and said, "I'm just getting that last dance that you promised me."

The back story here is that maybe 6 months prior, I was at a party and John was there. Good music and dancing was had by all, and at one point John asked me to dance. But I told him to "wait there just a second" because I had to use the bathroom and that I'd be right back. Well, as typical of a crazy college party, I got side tracked and started talking to other people and milling around, never making it back to the dance floor and forgetting all about John.

Well obviously, John hadn't forgotten.

So yes, holy cheese, there we were staring in a bad 80s movie, dancing to a sappy Eric Clapton song in an empty parking lot, in the dark, in the ghetto. And maybe it was the Lamest End to a Valentine's Day Date of All Time, but it was also one of the top five sweetest and most thoughtful things any guy has ever done for me. And I can't even name what the other four are.

So that was that.  The song ended and he gave me a big hug, and then drove me home for real this time. And although I went to bed that night tickled to death that there really are great, albeit cheesy, guys out there, I knew, unfortunately, I'd just never have feelings for John. And I think he knew it too. And I do know John got married shortly after college, and he's probably very happy, although I lost touch with him a long time ago.

So with that, happy Valentine's Day everyone. I meant to gush and glow about the love of my life after this story, but this post is turning into a small novel and it's really late now, so I need to go find my husband now instead of blogging about him. ;)

the latest happ'nins

Sometimes you're just too busy living life to blog about it. What can I say. I wish I was better at taking pictures of everyday events and happenings, or just taking pictures in general rather, but that's something I have to work on. So, no pictures for this post on memories we've been creating lately:

Two weekends ago we went to a wedding - or each went to a wedding, I should say.  Brian went to a childhood friend's wedding in LA, and I to a college friend's wedding in Alabama. Two very different places, two very different weddings. The small, quaint wedding vs. the big, southern fancy to-do. From what I gather, we both had an equally good time. I was back with my college buddies, actin' a fool on the dance floor and pretending like I was part of the single ladies vying for the bouquet. At least all my friends thought it was quite amusing...seriously I'm pregnant, not dead. Don't judge.

This past weekend we went to a house warming party with all of Brian's work buddies and drank our weight in beer with game after game after game of beer pong. And just because I was barefoot and pregnant (literally, we were in the garage), doesn't mean I can't play some damn beer pong. Again, with the judging people. Lucky for Brian, I played as his partner and he just had to drink my beer for me. I knew I married him for a reason. And not to brag or anything, but I tore it up in some pong, people. Let me tell you.  My college days have served me well, and they have yet to fail me.

And then on Sunday we went to a Super Bowl party. It was rather interesting, however, as the host passed out about 30 minutes into the game, and then at half time a few couples trickled out to go to another party, and then it was suddenly the last quarter and Brian and I found ourselves with just one other couple sitting on the couch watching the game. Host? Err, host? Well I guess I'll have some more gumbo and BBQ, don't mind if I do. Spilled beer here, messy kitchen there? Oh, no bother. So when the game was over we conveniently let ourselves out and locked the door behind us. Hey, it happens.

And this weekend we're going up to the condo and going skiing with whoever else wants to join us. I'll probably snowshoe and hang out in town while Brian skis. We got a bunch of much needed snow yesterday and today, so it should be a good weekend on the slopes.

And, the baby? Yes, the baby. The baby kicks the crap out of me all day. Kick, kick, kick, kick, KICK! But if my house was approximately, oh, the same size as I was, I'd be kicking the crap out of it too.

Well, that's the latest!