Fall Has Officially Fallen

On Sunday, Mom, Bob, Stephen, and Asher managed to pry my sorry, pregnant butt off the sofa for a few hours of autumn celebration at the local pumpkin patch. Asher had fun playing on all the toys, wandering through the corn maze (which we were delighted to find our way out of...until we discovered we'd exited through the entrance), taking a hay ride to the pumpkin patch and picking out a couple of pumpkins, and sipping on cider. His favorite part, by far, was looking at the farm animals. He liked petting the goats and quacking at the ducks, but the crowing roosters were, by far, tops in his book. I had to stand by him for what seemed like eons as those stupid birds cocka-doodle-dooed. That was apparently the funniest and most fascinating thing he'd ever in his life experienced. Watching him imitate them and belt out repeated belly laughs was the funniest and most fascinating thing I've ever experienced.

We had a very nice time welcoming Fall, especially considering the fact that the temperature was only in the mid-fifties. All of us broke out our heavier jackets, gloves, and hats. All of us except for Stephen, of course. He was perfectly comfortable in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved polo. WEIRDO.

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12 Weeks Gives Us a Happy Anniversary

Some people seem to think I've crawled into a hole and died this past month, and really, they aren't too far off. I've frankly been way too busy to keep up in the electronic world recently. Busy throwing up. Busy feeling like I'm going to throw up. Busy trying to figure out what the hell I can eat because if I don't eat something RIGHT NOW my stomach will growl and will make me throw up but I can't find anything to eat because EVERYTHING makes me want to throw up...So, essentially, my battle is deciding whether I want to vomit from hunger pangs or from the smell or taste of food.

We found out on August 15 that we're expecting another baby in mid-April, and I swear that day I started feeling the symptoms. That's about a month and a half of feeling like pure death warmed over. People have asked if I was this sick with Asher, and honestly I'm not sure. It's funny - I loved being pregnant with Asher, and now that I'm going through it all again, I think I must have been high to have loved this! Of course, what I remember most about my previous pregnancy are the last two trimesters - after the sickness phase was over and I could feel Asher move around inside of me and I watched my belly grow plump. You tend to forget the horrible parts. I'm hoping I'll eventually have another pleasant pregnancy once this stage is over. I think the bad symptoms have been a little different between pregnancies, though. I had horrible nausea with him, but I didn't throw up too much, and when I did, it was usually due to my gag reflex being on overdrive (stupid toothbrush). This time around, the vomiting is FOR REAL. Plus, I've had horrendous heartburn, worse than I had in my ninth month with Asher. I was flat-out exhausted the last time and just wanted to sleep all the time. So far with this pregnancy, I'm physically exhausted, but I don't feel the same type of sleepy-tired that I felt last time. My appetite is the same as last time - food in general sounds disgusting to me and I'm literally having to force myself to eat. It's definitely been more tiresome going through this with a toddler to deal with, but luckily I have the best husband and mom ever who have made it so that I hardly have to lift a finger when it comes to taking care of Asher. Stephen takes care of everything from bathing to feeding to appeasing Asher in the evenings, and on the weekends, since Stephen works, I've been going to Mom's and allowing her to entertain and care for Asher while I moan and groan from the sofa. It's pretty pathetic and I'm not exactly proud of myself, but what's a sick girl to do? One thing that has been good about having Asher around while I'm going through this is that he is living proof that my sick days will end and it will all totally be worth it in the end. All he has to do is flash me one of those goofy, cheeky smiles, and suddenly I don't feel like jumping out of the window anymore.

I think the end of the worst of the first trimester woes is nearing, though, THANK YOU, GOD. Over the past couple of weeks, I've slowly felt my energy levels increase, I've been able to eat a little bit more of a variety of food, I haven't been throwing up as much, and nausea doesn't consume my body every second of the day anymore. I had my doubts, but I think I might make it through this, after all.

As is to be expected, most people are primarily concerned with the gender of this baby and this turns out to be the focus of most conversations I've had about my pregnancy, whether it be their prediction regarding what it is or their curiosity regarding what we want, or even their opinion as to what THEY want us to have. Since we had a boy the last time, of course nearly every single person is certain that we will/should have a girl this time around. Honestly, I feel the exact same way I did last time I was pregnant regarding this issue - and even more strongly since I just witnessed what my dear friend went through when she lost her babies during pregnancy - I JUST WANT A HEALTHY BABY. I love having a son and would be very happy if Asher gets a little brother to play with. A girl would be great, too - I'm just a little concerned I might spend a bit too much money shopping for her! We won't find out the sex for a couple of months, but rest assured, I'm not going to lose any sleep hoping for one gender over another.

It's funny - I assumed because I'd been through this before that I wouldn't worry much this time around. I feel almost like I worry more now than I did during my first pregnancy...maybe not about things like nutrition or sleeping on one side as opposed to another, but more about all the things that didn't go wrong during my first pregnancy that SURELY in my mind will go wrong this time. From the health of the baby, to the delivery, to having a pretty good-tempered baby, I got lucky once, something's got to give this time! And then I worry about silly stuff like not paying enough attention to Asher, "cheating" him out of love and time, messing up our family's ecosystem with a new addition...all those worries I've heard most people have during their second pregnancies.

Today we had our second prenatal exam. The first one was with the nurse practitioner, so this time we got to meet our new doctor (we weren't impressed by any means with the doctor I saw during my first pregnancy). She is AWESOME. I think I'm going to love her - she is soft-spoken, calm, sweet, has a good sense of humor, listens and encourages us to ask questions and actually talks to us, and just overall makes me feel at ease. Plus, she is around our age and has two boys who are four and two, so she seems to really "get" all the concerns we have. My urine checked out, my blood pressure checked out, my weight was down a little from last time, but that's normal with all the nausea, and my uterus "felt great." We got to listen to Doodlebug's heartbeat for the first time, too - which was very strong at 166 beats per minute - MAN, talk about hammering the nail of reality in my heart. I'M NOT TERMINALLY ILL AFTER ALL! THERE REALLY IS A BABY INSIDE OF ME! It's funny how much those few seconds of listening to a swish-swish sound has changed my outlook and put things into perspective. All of this suffering has a purpose. A person is growing inside of me and it's just as magical as it was when Asher was in there. Now that I've heard the proof of my unborn child's existence, I'm overcome with feelings of excitement and happiness. Those feelings of IS IT EVER GOING TO END and WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE are quickly diminishing. Today is our seventh wedding anniversary, and what a perfect gift this was for the both of us.

It's hard to imagine me being a parent to two children; sometimes I feel like I can barely keep up with one. But even despite my feelings of guilt from bringing another child into Asher's world, I know it's going to be a wonderful thing. Asher will have a playmate, someone he can confide in and complain about his crazy parents to. I really do think he'll love having a sibling, and I know Doodlebug is going to be very blessed to have him as an older brother; it's just a matter of me getting past my motherly guilt that I'm so full of.

One thing is for certain: they were right about showing earlier after your first pregnancy. Here I am, just barely twelve weeks along, with a baby bump clearly making its presence known. Yes, I've already broken into the maternity clothes!

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When Good Drugs Do Bad Things

Poor Asher Bug. A few weeks ago, he came down with a cold that only seemed to get worse, so we took him to the doctor and found out it was developing into an ear infection. The doctor prescribed him a strong dose of Amoxicillin, which he was supposed to take for ten days. The cold cleared right up, and Asher quit tugging on his ears after a few days.

On the evening of day seven of his medication (last night), I noticed a few red bumps on his cheek and legs. I didn't worry much about it and figured they were bug bites. This morning, however, red welts had taken over his sweet creamy complexion. After another trip to the doctor, we were informed that Asher is allergic to Penicillin. Although he'd taken it a few months ago, that dosage was not as strong as this one, so it caused no allergic reaction - or, at least, none that we noticed. The doctor said the symptoms of this type of allergy usually don't appear for 5-7 days, which is just great, considering the fact that, had we known sooner, we could have quit his medicine sooner. Like I didn't feel bad enough forcing him to take that horrible tasting medicine in the first place - now I feel like I've been poisoning him. A mother's guilt is a wonderful thing.

We're to give him a teaspoon of Benadryll every 4-6 hours for the next three days and he should be just dandy. Of course, he hates the Benadryll - maybe even more than he hated the Amoxicillin - so at least we weren't freed of the joy of tormenting our child. We aren't completely horrible people, though; we're going to give him oatmeal baths every night until his rash goes away, which he really seems to enjoy.

My poor boy looks like a burn victim. I hope it clears up soon.

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He's Got Rhythm

We were upstairs playing this evening when "Everything" by Michael Bublé came on the radio. Asher stopped what he was doing to perform this lovely little dance:

Now we know he has good taste in music and sweet dancing skills.

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Triking

The Easter Bunny (aka, NeeNee) gave Asher this (pre-)tricycle for Easter. For whatever reason, probably mainly because we're ungrateful bastards, it's mainly just been collecting dust in the garage. Tonight I decided Asher needs to learn to ride it. Why? Because the messes he causes with his crayons, balls, and push toys have become so predictable. He's ready for a new weapon of destruction. And I'm just plain crazy.

He still hasn't fully caught on to pedaling - I think he's perfectly content to have Daddy push him around - and the steering system frustrates him to the point of madness. That's right - about five minutes after this snippet was taken, this angelic, smiling little boy picked up his trike and threw it to the floor because he couldn't figure out how the steering worked. What a lack of patience. This boy is not my son. No, not at all.

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Nineteen Months Old

He's made it past the hump and is now closer to age two than age one!

I'm finally finding myself starting to replace the word "baby" with "boy" or "son" or "child" when referring to him. And I haven't even had to force myself. Wow, it's like the realization that he's growing up is sinking in and isn't being completely rejected by my mind. Maybe there is hope for me after all? Maybe Asher won't have to battle his mother to allow him to take someone other than her as his prom date! Well, now I'm getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I? I really don't want to make any promises I can't keep.

This has been a really super fast month; I don't know where the summer has gone. One day it was July 4th, the next day, it's August 5th. I don't know what we've done over the month - it's really stupid, I honestly can't recall! I feel like I'm in a daze lately, just going through the motions like a robot. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm so tired lately; I'm not sure if it's a slight case of insomnia, or stress, or just the fact that I've been staying up way too late. All I know is, I'M TIRED. Of course, it could have absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that I live with a little guy who makes monkeys look lazy and sluggish.

Asher's eating is the same - particular and finicky - but I've just about given up on caring. You only want to eat three kernels of corn and a lick of your chicken for dinner? Fine by me! I've realized that if I think of him as having five small feedings instead of three meals and a couple of snacks, I feel better and more relaxed about his eating habits.

He is talking more and more. The vast majority of it you cannot understand, but he is a nonstop chatterbox. He points at just about everything and always has something to say about it. I'm enjoying this because this is the brief stage when everyone thinks he's so cute when he's "talking" and that overweight man sitting next to us cannot understand that Asher is calling him fat. He's imitating what we say so much now that I'm trying my hardest to break my fond addiction of swearing. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make after hearing Mom's story about me, as a toddler, calling a woman a bitch at the grocery store.

What I'm really loving, though, is watching Asher's interests blossom. Of course he's into everything right now - a shredded piece of tissue on the floor is pretty fascinating to him. But there are definitely certain things that peak his interests more than others. He LOVES to color and draw. He LOVES to play ball. He LOVES to play with his Megabloks. He LOVES reading - and lately he seems to enjoy reading to himself more than us reading to him. His biggest obsession of all, though, is MATCHBOX CARS. He carries these cars around with him everywhere. Every night I find them all (or most of them) and put them in their bin. Every night I have to do this, because he spends every day meticulously scattering them through the house. One on my bed. One on the nightstand. Six lined up in a row in the bathroom. Two on the windowsill on the landing. Four down the staircase. One on the sofa. Three on the kitchen floor. And when he sees the full bin of cars that I've gathered, he shrieks and runs over to it on his tippy toes with the biggest, most excited grin I've ever seen and starts taking them out, one by one, and showing them to me, one by one, all the while giving me a lengthy description of each of them. Geesh, this kid has it B-A-D for cars and trucks. I think he'd be in seventh heaven if he could sit at a construction site all day and watch the equipment move things around and the dump trucks haul stuff away.

OH...THAT explains why I've been referring to him as a BOY lately instead of as a BABY!

Here are the pictures from July.

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The Battle (One of Them, At Least)

I sometimes feel like we have no routine or schedule in place, but I've just realized we actually have a very strict routine, one to which we adhere almost too well: Parents clean, Baby messes; Parents clean, Baby messes; Parents clean, Baby messes. Get the point? Every evening either during Asher's nighttime snack or after he goes to bed, I pick up all the toys, arrange all the books in nice piles, stand up the knocked-over picture frames, put away all the food from the pantry he's moved to the coffee table...basically, I try to make it look like the Tazmanian Devil hasn't been kicking the house's ass all day long.

And then I come home from a long day at work and I do a double take and - WOW - I must really have been high the night before because I SWEAR I picked all this stuff up! I mean, same messes, same locations - it's eerie. Stephen took these pictures yesterday of the perpetrator in action.

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Let Me Completely Contradict Myself

Didn't I just make a post recently about my child being a brat? I have no idea what child I was thinking about, because mine is clearly the opposite of brat.

All of the tantrums and whining and fussing that Asher dished out over the past couple of weeks seems to have been replaced over the weekend with chattering, laughing, grins, funny faces, kisses, hugs, and hand-holding. I don't know what has happened, but I like it. I like it A LOT.

Today was a rough day - nothing major, just a long, tiresome Monday - but it's amazing how being greeted at the door when I came home from work by my child, with an ear-to-ear grin, who threw his arms around my legs and squealed in delight because I was home, just made it all better. All stress = GONE. It's so corny, but when Asher flashes me one of his smiles, my heart absolutely melts. Really - the kid makes my heart skip a beat when I just look at him.

I know the tantrums will be back all too soon. But I'm going to enjoy the sweetness while it lasts.

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Feed the Puppy

If you've spent any time around Asher lately during his meals or snacks, chances are good that you've experienced his fondness for feeding others (i.e., you've had food crammed in your mouth by his grubby, slobbery paws). It appears his generosity regarding his food is now expanding to include sharing it with inanimate objects:

And no, this is in no way an indication of the need for Asher to have a dog. MOTHER, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING.

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Dark Clouds Looming Ahead

I'm afraid Asher may be entering a new phase in his life. The one in which he tries to murder his mother with no hands, no weapons, only his button-pressing skills that, if he masters it perfectly, could cause a horrible stroke or heart attack in an instant.

Yes, the terrible two's are upon us. And I am nowhere near prepared.

The tantrums are increasing on what seems to be almost a daily basis. It's not uncommon for me to turn a sippy cup right-side up or tear a bagel into two pieces and end up with a screaming toddler lying face down on the floor screaming. Brushing his teeth is a nightmare half the time. Heaven forbid I read a magazine while sitting on the floor next to the tub during his bathtime. Heaven forbid I fold laundry or run the vacuum or dust or BREATHE without first consulting Master Asher Barr. The most common trigger for his tantrums, however, seem to stem from his own frustrations - not being able to get the right shape into the sorter, not being able to get a door opened, not being able to get a bottle of bleach opened with his teeth...

This is an incredibly fun stage, don't get me wrong - the increase of vocabulary and comprehension and sense of humor and affection are all so wonderful and I can't even begin to imagine why when he was a little baby I was so sad about him getting older because I LOVE this kid he's turned into so much! But wow...I'm sure things are only going to get worse before they get better. It's bad when the grandparents - the doting, wrapped-around-his-finger-so-tightly grandparents - are noticing his change of behavior. My mother actually almost scolded him at dinner the other night, and Grandfather doesn't want to watch him this week because he has been such a fussy boy the past few times he's been down there.

I am praying this is just a phase. I hope to God my mother isn't getting her wish that I've born a child with my temperament.

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Dirty Hands

This little video was taken on Wednesday evening during one of my step-dad's park band concerts. Although we love going, trying to keep Asher corralled in the audience is a little daunting. Not to mention, last week we ran into an issue involving copious amounts of goose poop and Asher's clothing. We recently had the brilliant idea to go to the baby park during the performances and let Asher play while we listen. My favorite part about this video is how it illustrates Asher's conflicting personality - he's curious about the dirt and wants to get his hands on it, but he hates getting his hands dirty. He does this a lot during mealtime, too - he'll squish food in his hands, but as soon as he's made a mess all over himself, he'll become very upset. Asher is clearly a very complex individual, just like his mommy.

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Loverboy

Asher has been becoming quite affectionate lately. We noticed the other day that he's finally learned what hug means. He's known how to give kisses for a long time, but when we'd ask for a hug, he'd just give us a blank stare. Then one day out of the blue I asked for a hug, and he came over, climbed on my lap facing me, and laid his head on my shoulder. We keep asking him for hugs now and that's what we get - a little baby head on our shoulders. There may be no embrace, but it's sweet enough all on his own.

And the kisses - that's a thing he's been doing on demand - ask for a kiss, and he'll usually (but not always) lean in with his mouth gaping open and tongue hanging out. Tonight, though, during bathtime, he suddenly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me toward him, and kissed ME! Talk about melting my heart! Then he proceeded to kiss me and kiss me and kiss me and kiss me...I think I got a million wet, open-mouthed, sloppy baby kisses and it was WONDERFUL...until the eager kissing turned violent, that is. Soon, he started grabbing my head and forcing his kisses and I don't even think they were kisses, anymore...I'm pretty sure the kissing turned into badgering. The head grabbing was a little too pushy, in my opinion, but I tolerated it. The screaming in my face was kind of funny, so I let it slide. But when he chomped down and bit my puckered lips? I had to draw the line somewhere. Asher, trust me - tongue should be used only in moderation, and teeth are generally a total no-no. If you ever want to keep a girlfriend past the first kiss, you'll listen to your mama on this!

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Eighteen Months Old

Wow, it's been a busy month, and we're pooped! Asher spent nearly a week with Grandfather and Marmie at the beginning of the month when Stephen was working at Ball State for the week for HP, spending a couple of nights and the majority of his days wearing them out. Then, Jamie and Ella spent two weeks visiting, so we made two trips to The Children's Museum, one trip to the zoo, one trip to Chuck E. Cheese, and spent both weekends with them at Mom's. Asher had the BEST TIME EVER playing with his gorgeous older cousin, Ella. When she was around, I don't think he took his eyes off of her for two seconds. Park band started up this month, too, so we've had a couple of evenings spent listening to PaPa toot his horn. Last week was especially fun when Asher managed to get goose poop all over his shoes and pants and, of course, we didn't have a change of clothes for him with us. I change Asher's clothes if he gets food or grease on them, but goose poop? Nah, no biggie!

Asher is still Mr. Picky when it comes to food, but I think I'm finally starting to relax a little bit about it. I think. A little bit. This month he added pizza to his list of favorite foods, which made Daddy very happy. You know, because it's always good to share interests with your children. Asher has also developed a taste for coffee milk and grapes. Yes, grapes! I don't know how many times I would offer him grapes in the past and he'd turn his nose up at them. One day NeeNee sliced some up for him, and he couldn't gobble them down fast enough. I can't tell you how excited I get when he'll try something on his own, without me forcing it in or tricking him into it. It doesn't even matter if he doesn't like it - all I care about is the fact that he TRIED it. He's sprouted two more teeth this month, so he's up to eleven chompers now, and I know there are more coming soon at the rate he's been chewing on his hands. Maybe more teeth will equal more food variety, but I'm not getting my hopes up too high.

I am really excited about Asher's progress in communication. He's slowly beginning to talk; the words are few and far between, but they're there. I swear I heard him say truck over the weekend and I've heard him say kitty a few times. Tonight we were sitting on the deck coloring with markers and blowing bubbles and he kept pointing and saying bubbles. Of course, truck sounded more like gwuck, kitty was didday, and bubbles was buhballs, but close enough, I say! Grandfather has also taught Asher the signs for more and all done so he's able to tell us at dinner time when he's still hungry and when he wants to get the hell out of his highchair. Although, he often has more colorful ways of telling us when he's finished, ways that involve screeching like a banshee and trying to push all the food off of his tray...

It's funny how kids have their own little quirks that leave you in both amazement - because WOW he's this real little person! - and bewilderment - where the hell did he pick that up?! For instance, Asher has this obsession with knuckles and elbows. He gets some sort of comfort from jabbing the tip of his finger into my knuckle and then wiggling it around over the bone. He does the same thing with elbows, but knuckles, especially my knuckles, seem to be his favorite. When he's really tired or cranky, giving him his buggy and my knuckles to mutilate is often the only way to calm him down. And when does he demand knuckles the most? In the car, of course! I guess he's a perfect little driving companion when I'm not present, but when I'm in the car, he wants KNUCKLES and he wants them NOW. So, here I sit in the passenger seat, contorted far beyond my comfort level, so Asher can hold my hand and crush my knuckles. I don't get it. What's wrong with your teddy bear from Sloan, Asher? Or that nice little fluffy blankie that Uncle Adam gave you? Or even your little green Brobee from Santa? Nope. The kid has a million stuffed animals of all shapes, sizes, and textures, and quite a few nice blankets that I've often caught myself running my hands over, and he wants nothing to do with them. He wants KNUCKLES.

We've noticed that he's been a bit grumpier lately. We figure it could be because we've been doing so much more running around than normal that he's just tired and off his schedule, or it could be because he's been busy teething and his little gums hurt. We refuse to look at the possibility of him entering the terrible two's, because that isn't even possible. I mean, there is NO WAY my sweet little boy is going to turn into a monster, right? RIGHT?!

Here are his pictures from June. There are a lot!

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Splishy Splash

Just a snippet of some of the high jinks that goes on during bathtime.

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Funny Elmo

At the end of last summer, Mom bought this Elmo sprinkler mat that was on clearance for Asher to enjoy this summer. I finally took it out of the box this evening and Asher was completely fascinated with this huge, plastic cut-out of Elmo. He spent a good ten minutes running over it, laughing hysterically. I caught this little snippet just before he pooped himself out.

I'm sure once we hook it up to the hose and water is sprinkling out of it, once we're using it as intended, he'll want nothing to do with Elmo anymore.

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NeeNee The Corruptor Strikes Again

When my sister and I were little, we loved it when Mom would make us a special treat of coffee milk - basically, half milk, half coffee, with sugar, of course! I still to this day LOVE coffee milk.

During brunch on Sunday, Ella got her mug of coffee milk, while Asher got his sippy cup of juice. Apparently, NeeNee found this to be highly unfair. This was not surprising, considering the fact that I was chastised for being an unfun mom at Bob Evan's the morning before because I ordered Asher white milk instead of chocolate and informed her he never gets chocolate milk, unless it's just a drink from my glass. It's not that I'm anti-sugar, or anti-junk food - I'm a believer that if you're too strict about things like that, it could easily backfire. But, I figure while I'm still making his food choices for him, before he can tell me what he wants, I'll try to be as healthy as I can. You know, as healthy as you can be with a steady diet of chicken nuggets, french fries, and no vegetables. Anyway, NeeNee decided it was time to break out the ultra-dorky-but-funny cowboy coffee mug we found for Cowboy Asher at Goodwill last year and give Asher his first mug of delicious coffee milk. At least I can say it was decaf.

Asher thought it was the BEST STUFF EVER. He couldn't suck it fast enough. And guess what happened not more than twenty minutes later? Yep - poopies.

First ice cream, then soda, now coffee. What's next? Beer? Cigarettes? Porn?

It's no wonder why kids love their grandparents so darn much.

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A Goodbye Letter

My Dearest Twenties,

Well, here we are. The end of our journey together. I hoped one day we'd reach this point - after all, I knew if we didn't, that would only be because I was dead. But I never imagined how quickly the ending would come. Like a good book, you want to reach the end, but at the same time, you want to hold on and savor every page of that story. At least with a good book, though, you don't gain gray hairs or wrinkles, or find that your boobs hang just a little lower at the end.

You gave me a lot of special memories that I'll cherish my whole lifetime: college graduation, marriage, getting the first pet of my very own, gaining nieces and nephews, buying my first house, having my first child. We had our share of heartache along the way, too: losing a beloved grandmother, losing a beloved first pet, losing a couple of childhood pets, financial struggles, losing our first home. We've made dear friends along the way, people who have helped us reach this point, people who have pulled me off the roof of the building just as I was about to jump. We successfully grew out of those teenage years and attitude and realized how important family truly is. You've taught me responsibility, patience, and forgiveness.

I'm sad to see you go, it's true - it's kind of scary leaving the comfort zone of that young adult stage - but I'm hopeful that my thirties will hold good things for me. I'm hopeful that I'll have the chance to write a goodbye letter to my thirties one day, too, but I'm going to savor each day, one at a time, and try to make the decade last as long as possible.

P.S. I am willing to let you keep the gray hairs that have started to sprout, if you will let me keep my twenty-something boobs.

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Big Sister Cousins Are Awesome

My sister and niece have FINALLY come home from Virginia for a visit! We hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving - which is way too long to go without seeing your sister and niece, if you ask me. This had been the longest amount of time I've ever gone without seeing either Jamie or Ella, and I didn't like it one bit. When you've been apart from most people for that long, I always think it's kind of awkward at first when you see each other. But nope, not with them. Ella came barging into my bedroom and started yapping away to me like she just saw me yesterday, and Jamie and I acted as bored as usual to see each other. That's the great thing about family - you don't have to pretend.

Asher was SO excited to be around Ella. They arrived by train SUPER early on Saturday morning (around 5 a.m.), so Asher and I were still in bed when they got to our house. They came in and woke us up just before eight, and usually Asher is a total grumpersaurus if you wake him up. But the second he flopped over and saw Ella's face, he sat straight up, got a huge cheeky grin, and started kicking his crazy legs like mad. And that's pretty much how he was the whole time around her.

We have lots of fun things planned for their visit home. This Friday, we're going to The Children's Museum, next Thursday we're going to the zoo, and next Friday we're going to make some pottery and go to Chuck E. Cheese. I love it when Jamie and Ella visit. Not only is it awesome to see them, but we all actually go out and do activities as a family. Who knew I'd miss doing things together as a family so much? Ten years ago, going to Chuck E. Cheese with my parents and sister would have sounded like cruel and unusual punishment.

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40 Years Strong

I love my husband to pieces. I really, really do. We began dating our senior year of high school, dated all through college, married after six years of dating, and now have been married for seven years. As much as I'm still in love with him as I ever was, I can't imagine being married to him for forty years. Of course, I can't even imagine myself living for forty years! I guess the next ten years will prove if I can even handle that, let alone maintain my marriage vows.

Stephen's wonderful parents have successfully survived forty years of marriage, and who knows? I think they could survive forty more. If nothing else, I think they'd do it just to drive each other insane. Really, though, this is an amazing feat in this day when the divorce rate is taking over the lead from the rate of successful marriages - I'm really proud of them.

Our gift to them was to "loan" them our baby for a couple of nights this week. Asher will be spending tonight and Wednesday night with them. Nothing puts you in the mood quite like chasing around a toddler all day. Which is exactly the point, Maryann: maybe Joe will leave you alone tonight and you can get some rest!

Happy slightly belated anniversary to my favorite in-laws!

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Screaming Match

Stephen has informed me that he and Asher have a new game they play, primarily when they're out shopping. It's basically nothing more than Asher pulling Stephen in so they're nose-to-nose, and then proceeding to scream their heads off at each other. I got to witness a snippet of this tonight. Stephen said that this was a very weakened version of the game because Asher was distracted by other things going on; normally, they yell a lot louder at each other.

The next time you're at Target and get annoyed by the sounds of a screaming toddler off in the distance, it's probably just Stephen and Asher, duking it out.

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