It's Totally Different

I recently acquired a second child. I know. I also questioned the wisdom of letting me raise a second child but it's too late now. Plus she is really cute and smells like strawberries so I want to keep her. And sniff her. All the time.

What were we talking about? Oh, right. Children.

In a true representation of my attitude about parenting, I was not that excited to find out I was having a second child. I wasn't sad or mad. Mostly surprised. And panicked. So, so panicked. The kind of panic you feel when you realize you have to make a sacrifice to the porcelain throne while you're in the middle of the check-out lane at the grocery store with a week's worth of food and a child who is trying to eat the handle of the buggy.

But I had a good reason. Most people who read my posts know that my first child (the afore-mentioned buggy-eater) was born very early at 26 weeks and spent a long time in the hospital fighting for his life. My husband and I had decided to wait for several years to even discuss a second child. Except then God was all "LOL you guys are totes hilarious" and we found out we were going to be parents for the second time in as many years. Cue the panic.

Everyone said the same thing: "It will be totally different." The odds of the same thing happening with this pregnancy that had happened the first time were probably pretty low. The doctors, friends, family members - they all repeated that to me over and over. It will be totally different. And as things progressed and continued to go well, I believed it. This time would be totally different. None of the fear, no NICU stay, no wondering when my baby would be home, no driving back and forth to the hospital every day. This time, I promised myself, would be great.

And then I realized that I didn't like that attitude very much. Not that I wanted this baby to stay in the NICU or have any problems, but I was starting to look at my experience with Josh as a bad thing. Slowly but surely I had separated the birth experiences of my children into Things You Never Ever Want To Happen and The Super Best Thing Ever Yay For My Baby. You can guess which one goes in which category. And I really started to hate that distinction.

I get asked all the time if I would change Josh's circumstances at the time of his birth and during his hospital stay. I always answer no, and that is the honest truth. But over the last few months I began to realize that not only would I not change it; I want to celebrate it. I want to shout from the rooftops that while it didn't go the way I had planned, I still got to meet my beautiful baby boy and fell in love with him from the get-go. I want to be just as thrilled over his birthday as I am with Jenna's. When people ask me his age, I want to give his real one, the one that goes with the birthday we will celebrate for years to come as we remember what a blessing he is. I want him to know that even though it was hard, the day he was born was one of the best of my life, right up there with my wedding day and the day Gilmore Girls premiered.

It doesn't bother me that people remind me how different the experience with each of my children was. It was my own attitude about the situation that bothered me the most. Was it different this time? Yes, so incredibly different. Was it better this time? Not even a little. It was just as exciting, just as amazing, and just as incredible the second time around. Because the thing about having kids is that there are ups and downs and everything in between, and you never really know what lies ahead of you. And at the end of the day none of that matters anyway. All that matters is that on your child's birthday, whether he celebrates it in the NICU or asleep in your arms, you have something so fantastic that the rest just kind of fades away. That's is what I want to remember about both of my children. I never want to forget the rest because it's important, too. But the most important thing I can ever take away from both of my experiences is how amazing it was to see them with my own eyes for the first time and feel a love so deep and immeasurable that I knew I was a goner from the very first seconds of their lives.

So, yes. This time around it has been totally different. I wouldn't have it any other way...except for how it was the first time.

Life Lessons from Disney

I love Disney movies. I really do. I love them so much I have a whole playlist on my iPod that is dedicated to Disney and BFF Jen and I jam out to it on every road trip we take.  

But the last time I listened to my Disney playlist, I started thinking of how all of these Disney characters are, in theory, role models for children. Follow your dreams. Believe in yourself. Talk to animals and see if they talk back. And after some thought I realized that most of these Disney characters are complete morons. 

Just look at Pocahontas, for instance. She wants more in her life instead of the hum-drum marriage to Kocuom. Fair enough. And to show us just how excited she is, she sings to us about going around the river bend. Beautiful. Be free, Pocahontas. 

Then she literally gets to a river bend where she has to make a choice: Go the smooth route (aka, marry the dull guy) or fly like a bird in the wind. Except this is no longer a metaphor - she is literally deciding between taking the smooth route around the river or the terrifying, rock-filled, Native American-killing death route. Go the smooth route, you idiot. Is this really a consideration for you? You're so caught up in your desire for a super-cool life that you want to brave the rapids in your little cardboard canoe? Negative. You make bad choices. 

Totally worth the thrill. 

So let's move on to one of my favorite characters: Mulan. Oh, Mulan, you ignorant fool.  You are clearly intelligent. You are clearly clever. So why, WHY did you think that cross-dressing was your best option? Let's reason this out for a moment: You become a man. This is the first warning sign. It was way too easy for you to make that transition. To each his or her own. But seriously, girl, go talk to your school counselor. 

ANYway, you become a man, and then you join the army. I'm sorry; how is this supposed to work out? Do you think that cutting your hair and not showering also gives you the ability to fight a battle? Pumpkin, you're going to get killed. And then your dad is going to have to fight anyway. So maybe next time work on a new plan that involves accepting that life can be hard and talking dragons rarely have pure motives. 

And, yes, I know she did succeed. But only barely. And she had a lot of help. A lot. 

I rest my case. 

And last, but not least, Belle. Girl, you have got to stop going into strangers' houses. Who taught you that that was a good a idea? I know your mama didn't. It must be that fool of a father you have because he did the exact. same. thing. Seriously, don't go into strangers' houses. Definitely don't go into strangers' castles. And, for the love of Nancy, don't go into strangers' castles when it's dark and stormy outside.

And don't go into the West Wing, either! You clearly have some boundary issues. Yes, you're a prisoner due to a selfless sacrifice you made for your father. Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it. IN YOUR OWN SPACE. Just because you get rewarded for your shenanigans by getting to marry a sexy prince does not make it okay. 

Seriously, why would you want to go here anyway? You also have some thrill issues that concern me. 


Crazy broads, all of them. 

The Wife of Noble Character

One of my best skills is debating - I can win an argument and make you cry in ten minutes flat. Useful for debating in college. Not so useful in arguments with people that I would prefer not to make cry if at all possible.

Today I was arguing with Daniel about something silly: French fries. Yes, French fries. It started out silly and escalated. I don't do well in "losing" arguments. Anyway, to skip to the good stuff, I was angry and saying angry things. I am really not proud of myself for how I acted.

However, during our argument, it was Daniel who said the most shocking thing of all (prepare yourself): He said that when he finds something annoying, he makes a choice to let it go. He said that if I hurt his feelings, whether I know it or not, he stops and thinks of all the reasons he loves me instead of hurting me back. He said that if he feels unappreciated or disrespected, he runs through all of the times he and I have laughed over something that no one else in the world would find funny.

Some people, huh?

So, as you can see, he is a husband of noble character. And when he said that to me, it stopped me in my tracks. I had no response. No argument. Nothing. And I as reflected on myself and the things I had said, these verses from Proverbs 31 popped into my head - they describe "The Wife of Noble Character." It's long but worth the read.

An excellent wife who can find?
    She is far more precious than jewels.
¹¹ The heart of her husband trusts in her,
    and he will have no lack of gain.
¹² She does him good, and not harm,    
all the days of her life.
¹³ She seeks wool and flax,
    and works with willing hands.
¹⁴ She is like the ships of the merchant;
    she brings her food from afar.
¹⁵ She rises while it is yet night
    and provides food for her household
    and portions for her maidens.
¹⁶ She considers a field and buys it;
    with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
¹⁷ She dresses herself with strength
    and makes her arms strong.
¹⁸ She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
    Her lamp does not go out at night.
¹⁹ She puts her hands to the distaff,
    and her hands hold the spindle.
²⁰ She opens her hand to the poor
    and reaches out her hands to the needy.
²¹ She is not afraid of snow for her household,
    for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
²² She makes bed coverings for herself;
    her clothing is fine linen and purple.
²³ Her husband is known in the gates
    when he sits among the elders of the land.
²⁴ She makes linen garments and sells them;
    she delivers sashes to the merchant.
²⁵ Strength and dignity are her clothing,
    and she laughs at the time to come.
²⁶ She opens her mouth with wisdom,
    and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
²⁷ She looks well to the ways of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
²⁸ Her children rise up and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many women have done excellently,
    but you surpass them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
³¹ Give her of the fruit of her hands,
    and let her works praise her in the gates.

Wow. If I could be half of what this woman is, I would feel pretty successful. I mean, what a standard. This woman is taking care of business, giving wise advice to the neighbors - even her kids think she's awesome. I want to be this kind of wife so badly. 

Read carefully - nowhere does it say that this woman is perfect, that she never makes mistakes, that she doesn't occasionally freak out when her husband puts a red sock in with her load of whites. But she makes a concentrated, sincere effort to be patient, loving, and joyful. She fears the Lord and that directs all that she does. 

So I am taking a vow. And I hope you consider taking it, too, whether you're a wife, mother, or will one day be both. 

I vow to give my husband more grace and to remember that a vacuumed floor is not as important as telling my husband hello when I get home from work. 

I vow to listen when my husband speaks to me, regardless of whether it's my favorite topic. 

I vow to remember that for every long work day I have, my husband has one, too. 

I vow to let the little things go. A light left on, garbage not taken out, laundry not finished - these are not the things that make a marriage. 

I vow to respect my husband as the leader of our house and for the hard work he does. 

I vow to remember my husband's insecurities; not for me to use against him, but to build him up instead. 

I vow to remember that my husband does everything for me and nothing for himself, and I vow to be more grateful for this. 

I vow to remember my love for my husband, day in and day out, and to show him how very much I care about him. 

I vow to treat my husband like my best friend, because he really is the best friend I've ever had. 

I encourage you, wives, to reflect on these verses. Not to compare yourself, but to see how a godly woman lives. And I encourage you to find your husband and tell him you love him. I am blessed, so blessed, to have found a husband of noble character, and I love him with all of my heart. 

March 19, 2011

Hello

Last year I decided to post while on Lortab - I am nothing if not a good decision-maker.

I'm sorry to say I fell off the wagon again. On Saturday night my back muscles began to spasm, leaving me in tears and everlasting sorrow. Also a lot of whining. I went to the doctor and he gave me a happy muscle relaxer. You'd think I'd be familiar with every narcotic out there considering my family's recent history. Alas, no.

Hey, I just used the word alas while on a muscle relaxer. Look at me go.

ANYway, I thought I would bring you another drug-induced post so you can show it to your children to warn them away from doing drugs and/or spasming their muscles. No idea if spasming is a word. If it is, you have to bring me a cookie. If it isn't, you have to bring me a cookie. I don't care about the word as long as I get a cookie out of it.

Recently I was going through old pictures on my phone and found some fun things, including documentation of my dad's burgeoning stripper career.  I have continued my quest of clearing out my phone and stumbled across a few other great items. For instance...

'allo.

That is my cat, Batman. In the words of Ferris Bueller, he is a righteous dude. Except for every picture I have of him makes him look like he is possessed by Satan and/or Michael Jackson. This is one of many attempts to take a nice picture so I can complete my status as crazy cat lady and put a picture of my pets on my wall. Maybe if I put it next to a picture of Nick Nolte this photo won't look so shocking. 

Don't worry - this one wasn't in my phone.

Another great picture I found in my phone was this one:

A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from the future. It was sent to me on August 31st at 12:03 pm, but said September 1st instead. It was weird. And for a few minutes my mind ran through all of the possibilities that some time-traveling terrorist was sending me scary messages that contained things like, "At this time tomorrow someone will jump out and scare you. Also they will spill syrup on you and you will not be able to get it off for days. Muahahaaaaa." I was ready to send this picture to the police and request protection.

But this message was blank and Daniel pointed out it was either from a different time zone or their computer was just messed up. He is such a killjoy. But he so cute I don't even care. 

And the very favorite picture I found so far was one that not only sums up mine and Daniel's personalities, but our friendships and marriage as well. Enjoy. 

"Join us."

We Remember

Did you know that when God forgives our sins, He not only forgives them, but erases them forever? Isaiah 43:25 says, "I, I am he, who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins." So not only are we forgiven, but God's grace stretches far enough to completely eradicate our sin, as though it never happened.

I want to be able to forgive this way. I want to truly forgive and forget and move on.

But I can't.

I can forgive, and even move on for the most part. But I can't always forget. I am only human. That doesn't mean I sit at home dwelling on the wrong things people have done to me, or that every time I do think of it that it even affects me. But because I can remember, because this occurrence in my life made such a lasting impression, I can never truly erase that wrong. Not like God can.

When I was a junior in college, I was taking anti-depressants and seeing a therapist. It was a really difficult year. One of my roommates went through my make-up bag to borrow something one day. My medicine was in there, and when she found it she stole it from me, looked it up on her computer to see what it was, and proceeded to tell every single person on our hallway that I was crazy and I would probably try to kill myself one day, so they better watch out for me. After that, no one would look at me. No one would be friends with me. This girl had ruined my entire year at college in a matter of hours.

It took me a long time to forgive her. Eventually I did. But what she did affected me for years. I lived in fear that someone else would find out and react the same way. When I met Daniel, it took me months to even tell him about that experience, and even then I told him while preparing myself for him to break up with me, because I knew he would think I was crazy, too. And writing this now worries me just as much that the parents of a child I teach at church will see this and want their child pulled from my class as a result. Ridiculous. And yet I have managed to forgive this girl (through God's grace alone) and live my life normally for the most part. It's only when I hear certain words, see people that remind me of her, pass through the GSU campus when I'm downtown that those memories come back to me.

I think tragedy works the same way. On this day, September 11th, many people wish they could forget. Not even to forgive, but just to move on. To get on with their lives as they know they could if they could only stop remembering. If a song on the radio commemorating those who died in the towers didn't bring them to tears. If every time they see a picture of the New York skyline it didn't evoke an emotion that is inexplicable, even to themselves. If they could just erase all of these memories from their heads, they could go on with their lives and not look back.

But they can't.

So what does that mean for these people? Are they stuck forever in this never-ending cycle of trying so hard to move on and almost succeeding, only to be stopped at the last second by something seemingly trivial, like a picture or a Facebook status?

No.

I think the key here is not the ability to move on from a tragedy, but to accept it as something that will always affect you. That sounds ominous but it doesn't have to be. If the effect is that you now look at time spent with your family with a greater appreciation because you know life is short, that's a good thing. If you strive to perform your very best at work because you have seen that the ability to complete a job in a time of crisis is critical, that's a good thing. If you wake up extra-early to do your quiet time because you realized that these times of crisis would pale in comparison to a world without Jesus, that's a good thing.

The bad things are there, too. They will always be there. You can't forget them because it's impossible. But maybe you can learn to accept them, to understand that while you will eventually get to the point where you don't even know that September 11th has come and gone, you will always remember those moments on that day because they have changed you.

Remembering the events of one of the most terrible days in history and struggling with those memories doesn't mean you haven't moved on or that you never will. It means that though it may be hard, you're a different person now. Someone who has seen the worst kind of history in the making. Someone who will never forget and who maybe doesn't want to because of the lessons you learned.

In my case, though my experience was nowhere near the scale of September 11th, it can still be a struggle when I think of that roommate. But every day I am freer from the binds of my fears and memories as I learn to accept them and give them to God. Only He can give me the ability to stop giving that experience power over me. That was a little thing and it has taken me several years. For a bigger thing, it could take even longer. But that doesn't mean you are weak or don't trust God. It means that you are human, that adjustments take time, and that every year it will get a little easier to accept what happened as you approach this day and these memories.

So on this day, September 11th, we do not forget. We can't. But along with remembering the horror, we can remember the lessons we learned, the life changes we have made, and the blessings that have come in spite of the sorrow. We can remember that grieving isn't a science and that it can take time, and that it isn't a failure when we struggle. We can remember that we serve a holy God who does not judge us for our struggles, but asks to take them on Himself to help us through the difficult times. We remember 9/11, and we move on, carrying our memories with us.

Curiouser and curiouser

"Honey?" my loving husband called to me from the kitchen the other day. "Did you put a box of Band-Aids in the fridge?"

I thought about it for a minute. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Because I found a box of Band-Aids in the fridge," he answered as he shut the fridge door.

"Oh."

And that was that. A few hours later I opened the fridge for some water Diet Coke and saw the box of Band-Aids still sitting on the shelf. I thought about moving them, but my Diet Coke was waiting. So I shut the door and told myself I would get them later.

They're still in there. That conversation happened about 5 days ago. Why mess with a good thing?

"We're getting cold in here."

A Modest Proposal

Daniel and I went to Kroger last Friday night. We had decided to buy groceries and to stop eating out so much. No, seriously. So we were making our way down the cereal aisle when a lady walked up and asked if she could give me her card. Since I am the world's biggest chicken a person of culture and acceptance, I said yes. She then handed me this:

Yes. That happened. 

I said thank you, and she moved on. Little did she know that I could never EVER move on from this. 

Aside from the initial question of whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat, I did have a few more key questions:

1) Why Kroger? Is her business nearby? Do statistics show that grocery shoppers are more willing to accept business cards from strangers? Maybe it has to do with the cereal aisle specifically. Or was it a random hand-out, like she knew she would feel ridiculous if she didn't hand out ANY cards at Kroger when she had set herself a goal to hand out at least five. Which leads me to my next question...

2) Why me? Did I give off some kind of air that I was interested in her services? Was it my Dr. Pepper t-shirt or Target jeans that sealed the deal? Is the cereal aisle the new sexy aisle? Or was it my hair - did she think I could  use a weave? So many questions. So few answers.

3) What. the. heck. Is this a viable business? Is business so good that she can hand out her cards in Kroger and walk away like a boss? Or did she just start the business last week and is trying to drum up some sales? Is she writing her own blog somewhere about the moron in Kroger who actually took a card like this from a total stranger? WILL ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS EVER BE ANSWERED?

All in all, I guess I will have to live with the mysteries. If any of you are interested in her services, I still have the card. And you can probably find her at the Russell-Ridge Kroger - I hear she works the cereal aisle on Friday nights.

Now, have another picture so I don't have to use the sexy card as the picture for Facebook when I post this:

My brother-in-law, Reverandy. Sorry, Andy. 

Wedding Etiquette - or as I like to call it, Weddinquette

We all know I am the resident expert on etiquette.  But what you might not know is that my expertise is not limited to just general etiquette; indeed, I am a multi-faceted diamond of etiquette wisdom. My particular skill set involves weddings. I'm not talking about whom to invite, which colors go with what season or how the invitation should face in the envelope (I do know that last one, thanks to my mom. I told you I was multi-faceted). No, these rules are much more sophisticated. Ahem.

1) You cannot "steal" a color from another bride. It's a color. Possibly one of the only things on the planet that no one owns and therefore cannot be stolen. I liked pink for my wedding. And then, a few weeks later, I went to another wedding where the bride also used pink. For. Shame. She knew I liked that color. She knew I used that color. She knew I had submitted the copyright to use that shade of pink 6 whole months before. And she didn't. even. care. But that worked out, because neither did I.

2) Getting married is not a race. It's not a competition. It might just be two people getting married - crazy, I know. So when you tell me that you're getting married in June even though I am getting married in July, the appropriate response from me is not OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU SERIOUS I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'LL BE MARRIED FOR ONE WHOLE MONTH LONGER THAN ME I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIIIIIIIIENDS. It doesn't matter. Everyone just gets married as soon as they can. So if that means you're engaged for 3 months or 3 years, it is not a race. Repeat: It is not a race. Plus just because someone gets married before me doesn't mean they'll always be married longer than me. They could very well get hit by a bus or mauled by a bear. You just never know.

3) Do not talk about the bridal hairstyles you hate, the bridesmaids dresses you find tacky, or the bridesmaids shoes you cannot stand to wear to the bride - odds are very very very good that she has chosen all of these things for her bridesmaids and she is just about to show you a picture of all of it. Oops. This is the one area where I feel like the bride can get what she wants with no objections**. If I agree to be in your wedding, then I accept the fact that I might be wearing a neon purple miniskirt in the middle of winter. That's just how it works. For example, at my wedding, I used pink AND YOU BETTER NOT STEAL IT. Pink is not my sister's favorite color. (I know this because I know my sister, not because she complained.) However, she wore the dress and got the shoes and looked fabulous, might I add. So, in the words of Nike, when it comes to that stuff, Just Do It. **This does not include cost - not everyone can afford a $300 bridesmaid dress and that doesn't go with the bride getting whatever she wants rule. 

Ain't she perdy?

4) Go ahead and get over your aversion to the YMCA. It will happen. It's the only song that a bunch of white Southerners can dance to with a reasonable degree of skill. 

5) Finally, if you are going to "take notes" at someone else's wedding for your own wedding, that's fine. But please don't bring an actual notebook with you and really take notes. This is a true story. No names have been given to protect the innocent. But you know who you are. Not. Cool.

This has been K-Veld's special wedding report. 

The Cat Diaries

Based on my cat's behavior the last few months with us, this is how I picture his diary (and don't even tell me he doesn't have one; I SAW it underneath the litter box):

Day 1: 


There are a lot of strangers here. I'm now all alone because my mom got scared after hearing just one tiny gunshot. Honestly. I knew right then that this was the neighborhood for me. Plus I like scary apartments. I look more menacing here next to these tiny stairs. 


I'VE BEEN SPOTTED. One of the humans has began to... cuddle me. Ugh. Maybe she'll think I'm diseased and won't want me.


Day 30: 


I've been a prisoner for quite some time now. The human had a friend, and together they made me take a bath. A BATH. I have never been so humiliated. I shall attack their toilet paper as soon as they go to sleep. Yesss, yesss, you can run, toilet paper, but you can't hide. Muahahahaaaaa.


Day 120:


This isn't working. The humans insist on taking pictures of me and putting them on the Facebook. I tried throwing up on their carpet. That angered them for a minute but then we were back to cuddling as if nothing had ever happened. I have now destroyed twelve rolls of toilet paper to no avail. I must think of another plan soon.


I'VE GOT IT. I will swallow something and make them take me to that insufferable vet - and when they open the door, I will ESCAPE! Muahaha - wait, what's this? They are tying some kind of string to me! They are putting me in a box! How will I ever escape now?? My plans have been foiled again.


Day 121: 


This is was a bad idea. My tummy hurts.


Day 150: 


Well, I survived the string ordeal. But now the humans have taken away all my favorite playthings - twisty ties, paper clips, and worst of all, the ponytail holders. Oh, how I miss you, ponytail holders. They even found my secret stash. But I am strong. I will prevail.


Day 151:


An Ode to Ponytail Holders


Oh, holders of the ponytail
How I love you so.
You are so stretchy
And yet
Soft.
I long for you like a cat longs for catnip.
And hope that someday
We may be together
Again.


Day 180:


The humans have relocated me. At first I thought this was my chance to escape once again, but, alas, no. They are trying to trick me into complacency by giving me my own room to play in and a really cool snake to chase... must... not... be... distracted... by... the... sn


Day 195


THEY GOT A DOG.


Day 196:


IT WANTS TO EAT ME.


Day 215:


VICTORY!!!!! I have finally escaped this terrible place. Now I will go on to make great discoveries and take exciting journeys. I am free, as free as the wind on a cool summer's day. Goodbye, humans. Goodbye, dog.


Day 215:


They caught me. I give up.


Day 220:


They may be able to keep me here. But  I will not be denied. They want a cat? Fine - they've got one. Now I must go sharpen my claws to ensure maximum scratching potential. Let's see how they sleep with me jumping on them all night. MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

D-D-D-Daniel!

As most of you know, I am married to the one and only Daniel. He's a swell guy. In marrying him I went against the rules: I married an outsider. Yes, it's true. He's from Michigan. What can I say, he's really handsome.

Plus, being from Michigan gives me such gems as "laig" and "flegg." What, you might wonder, are those words? Guess. Go on. Yep - it's "leg" and "flag"!! He says them all crazy! I love it. My favorite is when he is playing a video game and says, "Oh, crap," except it comes out as "Ooh, cray-ap" with the accent. I. Love. It. One of the first times we were talking he mentioned the cuch. Due to my complete lack of tact I asked what in the world he was talking about. He said, "You know - the cuch. It sits in your living room... often next to a chair." Ohhhhhhhhhhh - COUCH. See? It's fabulous. The next time you see him ask him to say flag. You will be glad you did.

Speaking of the first time we met, I was thinking earlier about how it was only by the grace of God that we ever progressed past our first meeting. Immediately upon meeting Daniel, my mother determined he was The One for me (she's psychic!), and told me I just had to meet him. I came up with a plan: Look awesome, act awesome, basically just be awesome. Of course, anyone who knows of me and my imminent awkwardness is already seeing trouble on the horizon.

Anyone who knows me also knows I am always, always, aaaalways running late for church. It's my superpower. So I spent that Sunday morning getting dressed up in my finest, trying to tame the beast that is my hair and wearing my fancy deodorant, and pulled into church right on time. A miracle, right? Except I was supposed to teach Sunday School that morning, meaning that I needed to be there early... so I was STILL late. Dang it. My plans were being foiled. But I still had time to casually stop by the Sunday School classroom and act totally surprised to find Daniel there, introduce myself, and be on my merry way.

I was walking very quickly - okay, I was running. Sorry, church folk - through the atrium to get to the Sunday School classroom when who did appear in my path but... Daniel. Ooh, cray-ap. I was still running when we locked eyes. And then whatever shred of coolness I had left me. I could feel my hair getting frizzy from the heat. I was panting from the sprint into the church. I was running out of time: I just had to go for it. I proceeded to take a deep breath and say/yell, "Hi-my-name-is-Kristen-my-parents-teach-our-Sunday-School-class-I-wanted-to-say-hi-but-I'm-running-late-I-have-to-go-bye," as fast as humanly possible, and then turned around and ran up the stairs. Smooth.

But miraculously (and I do mean miraculously, because if I'm awkward alone, you should see our powers combined), we managed to actually talk for real, this time at a normal pace and with no hair-splosions, and you know the rest of that story. (We got married and are living happily ever after, in case you don't know.) I'm super-duper glad I met Daniel, and that he didn't call the crazy police after I shouted at him in a hallway. He is the love of my life and I'd marry him again any time, anywhere!

As long as he keeps saying "flegg," that is.

Our first picture!!!

Why my grandparents are better than yours

Grandparents are great, aren't they? They are nice and fun and awesome. And here's a secret about grandparents:

Mine are better than yours.

That's right. I went there. Mine. Are. Better. What's that? You want me to prove it? And you want me to use pictures as a visual aid? Fine, but this is the last time today. I present to you the following evidence that my grandparents are better than yours.

These are my grandparents:

Hello

Cute, right?? I call them Mamaw and Papaw. Which leads me to the first reason my grandparents put all other grandparents to shame: You can totally call them Mamaw and Papaw, too. My grandparents will instantly adopt any of my friends (a trait my mother inherited) and extend their grandparent-ness to you. They will pretend you are theirs and ask you all sorts of questions, and then you get cookies. I know they have real names, but I think they would consider a legal change to Mamaw and Papaw - that is how dedicated they are to being your fake grandparents. Try them out - you'll like them. Oh, sorry, what's that? You hate awesome jokes and the Game Show Network? Then you have NO SOUL and my grandparents are not for you. The rest of you, look for a message from me with their address - GROUP VISIT!!!

Reason #2 my grandparents kick grandparenting booty is Mamaw's crocheting. She is the quickest crocheter this side of the Mississippi. She can crochet anything. I'm pretty sure she crocheted the Mona Lisa once. Okay, fine - but she could. She makes doilies and blankets and sometimes she makes a super-complicated thing that has no name, shows it to you, and then unravels the entire thing. That is how awesome of a crocheter she is: she doesn't even care about the awesomeness - she is beyond it. She takes your compliments and crochets them into a blanket, gives that blanket to a cute puppy and then after he snuggles up in it she makes another one and unravels it in front of that puppy, but it's okay because he has the first one. You've just been Mamawed.

"COME AT ME, KNITTERS."

The next reason my grandparents are this best can be summed up like this:

That, my friends, is a digital picture frame. They have a digital camera. However, my grandparents don't like to take the little card out of the camera and put it in the frame, but they want to use the frame. So all day long, the frame flips between the time, the West, flowers, and the weather. All day long. Tell me that isn't fabulous. And if you ask them about it, they will very patiently explain to you that the pictures that come with the frame are better than the ones they took anyway. That's what we call a win-win.

The next reason is Christmas. Every year, Mamaw decorates their house like they are in an indoor Christmas competition. And if there were such a thing they would totally win every year because Mamaw is not kidding around about Christmas. Every year, Papaw says he wont put up any more decorations for her. Every year, he puts up more decorations for her. He secretly loves it. They have plates, tablecloths, magnets, statues, villages, singing toys, clocks - they even have a toilet seat cover with Santa's face. A toilet. Seat. Cover.

Don't mind me. I'm just here to make you comfortable.

The next reason they are awesome:

My grandparents tell each other they love each other all the time.  And they mean it. They have been married for 51 years, and my Papaw still writes cute love notes to my Mamaw :) How can it get better than that?

So there you have it. Irrefutable evidence that my grandparents put all other grandparents to shame. They are not just grandparents, but super-duper, are you even for real or is this a dream, have some free gum grandparents. I love them and I am so glad I get to be their granddaughter! Don't forget - YOU CAN BE THEIR GRANDKID, TOO!!!