Why I Love My Husband

While driving home from the mall yesterday, Ben started talking about rockets. He was telling me all kinds of stuff he learned recently about rocket engines, and while I was trying to pay attention to the conversation, I couldn’t help but notice we were only going 50 mph on the freeway. Then, right about the time he was saying stuff like, “they make nine engines, even though they only use three” or “it takes five years to manufacture each one” or maybe something about “if anything goes wrong during the launch sequence…” he started exiting the freeway at the totally wrong exit.

I cut off the conversation to ask him where he was going and he swerved back onto the freeway and back into reality. “Huh,” he said. “I guess I was just following that car in front of us. I wonder why I'm only going 50 mph on the freeway.”

So Religious

Once every month or two, when I’m feeling especially brave, I tell myself it might be fun to check on Liam before I go to bed. So far it’s always been the opposite of fun. He wakes up the second I turn the doorknob, and he doesn’t just fall back asleep if I don’t open the door. Once that doorknob turns, he’s wide awake and ready to redo our pre-bedtime rituals. "Milk!" he yells. "Milk! Milk! Bath! Bath! Bath! Book! Book! Sing!" I have this hope that one day he’ll sleep through the twisting of the doorknob and I’ll see him sleeping like an angel and forgive him for the words he repeatedly yells every day.

I have to wake Liam up for church on Sunday, since ours starts at 9:00 and that’s usually what time he wakes up. It’s the only day he gets a morning wake up call, so he always knows when it’s time for church.

The other night I was feeling pretty brave, so I turned the doorknob in such a way that only a sleeping 2-year-old can hear—like I always do—to see if this would be the night that he would let me watch him sleep. And like always, Liam was awake and standing up in his crib by the time I had the door cracked enough to peek at him. Only this time, instead of asking for milk, he said, “Church.” Even though it was Monday night, pitch black, and 3 hours after he had fallen asleep, he was ready for Sunday morning.

When In-Laws Turn Cool

Last night at band practice, my mandolin pickup wasn’t working. My brother-in-law, Ryan, happened to be at my house and asked if he could take a look. He started taking apart something that I didn’t know could be taken apart, and then said, “Oh, this just came unsoldered. Let me grab my soldering iron from my truck.” Honestly? Who keeps a soldering iron in his truck? Ten seconds later, it was as good as new.


And to think I was about to pay $169 for a new pickup. I guess I probably owe Ryan a Coke or something.

Thoughtful

My family is having a contest to see who can be the first to lose 7% of his/her body weight and keep it off for two months. Everyone puts in $50 to play and the winner gets the pot.

Last night I was working on a website for my brother and he was instant messaging me his suggestions. After changing his mind several times, he made sure to thank me for my work. He said, “I owe you big time. Tomorrow I’ll eat an extra chicken enchilada just for you.”

The Color of Money

As Liam and I were checking out at the craft store last week, the cashier asked Liam if he wanted a balloon. Of course he did. Then she asked him what color balloon he wanted. I wasn’t sure if he would understand this question, since I had never given him a color choice before. But before I had a chance to clarify, he shouted, “Green!”

A day or two later I was getting Liam some cereal and I asked him what color of spoon he wanted. Again, he asked for green.

Since he asked for green two out of two times, I decided that must mean green was his favorite color. I was elated that Ben, Liam, and I all had that in common. I started to wonder if favorite colors could be passed on genetically.

Then I saw this and realized it's probably more likely that I passed it on forcefully than genetically.

Behind the Times

Yesterday I played my bodhran for the first time in three years. I only know it’s been three years because when I pulled it out of its case, a 2004 J.Crew catalog came out with it. As I flipped through the catalog, I found myself really wishing I could go back in time and buy a bunch of the stuff in it. Then I went to the J.Crew website and found that I like the styles from 2004 more than the styles from today. I’m wondering if this means that in a couple years I’ll finally be comfortable in skinny jeans. Let’s hope not.

Totally Losing the Baby Contest

I got together with my 7th grade friends tonight for another junior high reunion. Can you believe four 28-year-old girls can have this many kids?


And how come my kid is always the one with chocolate all over his face?

The Price of Procrastination

My passport expired in May, and since I didn’t have any travel plans, my renewal application has been sitting in a padded envelope on the desk for three months waiting for me to lose five pounds so my face won’t look so fat in the new passport picture.

In case that doesn’t sound ridiculous to you, you should know that I magically lost all of my pregnancy weight plus five pounds in the first week of Liam’s life and I’ve spent the last two years steadily gaining weight. Ten pounds, to be exact. I don’t have the motivation to just lose five pounds for a passport photo whenever I feel like it.

The padded envelope sat there collecting dust until Ben came home from work last night and asked if I wanted to go to Italy on October 12th. The trip is tentative, but even a 1% chance of going to Italy is worth getting a new passport ASAP, right?

This morning I sent in my application with an extra $60 for expedited service and my sweet new photos, complete with not just a fat face, but an awesome sunglasses tan line leftover from Lake Powell last week.

Loving My Calling

Look how fun our Young Women's activity was tonight.

Wonder of Wonders

Liam has never been able to sleep anywhere other than in his own crib with the lights off and the door closed. While other kids were falling asleep in their carseats at the grocery store and in their parents’ arms at church, Liam always stayed wide awake until he got home to his crib. Even on vacation, he has never been able to sleep in the same bed—or even the same bedroom—as Ben and me…until today.

Here he is in his giant crib the day we brought him home from the hospital:


Here he is in his tiny crib last week:


And here he is right now in my bed with the door open, the fan on, and Ben sleeping right next to him.


I don’t have any idea what changed, but suddenly I totally love two-year-olds.

Happy Birthday, Stinker

Liam turned two years old yesterday. Sometimes I pretend I liked him better as a one-year-old, but the truth is I love this kid more and more every day.