4 years ago

4 years ago today, I met the man of my dreams. It was in Rexburg, Idaho, in my apartment at Tuscany Place, October 9th, 2004. Here is a picture of us in front of that very building, taken this past August on our way to Washington.

I looked out my 2nd floor window and saw the cadets walking through the parking lot to our building door. "Clay, which one is he?" I excitedly asked. (Clay and Kara Noyes were responsible for our meeting, and he was the first one up to our apartment.) Clay came over to where I was and looked down with me. "He's the one in the hat." I watched the head of who I thought was Andrew disappear, and then felt the butterflies in my stomach as we waited for them to climb the stairs. I ran back to check myself in the mirror one more time and then casually walked out to the living room when the door opened. I looked at Andrew - or rather, Andy, as we were first introduced. It turned out that Clay had misdirected me and who I thought was Andrew was actually John Alley. There were a few awkward moments as all of us were introduced (it was a big group, blind date) and we saw who we would be paired up with for the weekend. The cadets had taken a bus to Rexburg from the Air Force Academy in Colorado to perform as the LDS Cadet Choir. While there, Clay and Kara had arranged for all of us to be paired off.

My first impression of Andrew was that he was decent-looking but not drop-dead gorgeous. He had kind of sloppy hair - like a bowl cut - and braces. He wore black athletic pants with a stripe down the side, a navy blue sweatshirt, white tennis shoes with black stripes, and an AF blue hat. (To this day when I see him in that hat, it takes me back to our first meeting.) His first impression of me was a disappointment. See, he had been expecting a "beauty queen" - tall, blonde, and ditzy. (Every man's dream??) Unfortunately, I was short, brunette with glasses and braces, and an English major. (He was most disappointed by the latter, because he thought I was a nerd.)

After chatting for a minute and learning that we both came from a family of 8 kids, we both had braces (that was QUITE obvious), and we both played the piano, we all headed out to a pancake breakfast the school was hosting. Oh, but wait. On the way, we were forced to make an embarassing stop at the piano in the apartment building lounge, where Andrew and I were both forced to play the piano for each other. (Clay and Kara were obviously certain that our common musical abilities would make us fall instantly, passionately, in love. Not to be.) There was a rock-climbing wall, and I remember not wanting to climb up because I didn't want Andrew to see how fat my butt looked in the harness. But he climbed up, and I was very impressed by his thighs and...I must admit...his cute butt. He was very shy, and it was like pulling teeth trying to have a conversation. Especially with Clay and Kara pulling us aside to ask what we thought of each other and everything. AWKWARD.

After the pancake thing, we went over to the baseball fields to watch Luke Coats play an intermural game. As we sat on the bench talking as a group, I remember being more impressed with John Alley than I was with Andrew. Andrew was pretty negative about the Academy, but John seemed like a more positive person. I left early to finish a paper that was due on Monday, and I later learned that Andrew was a little annoyed with that. (Needless to say, we did not make tremendous first impressions on each other!)

That night, we had a nice dinner on campus. All the boys wore their uniforms, and Andrew looked REALLY good in it. Once again, I was a little bugged that he acted so put-out about the military rule of wearing a hat outdoors at all times while in uniform. He walked for a little ways without his hat on just to be rebellious. At the time, the military was sort of an exciting new world to me, and I couldn't understand why he wasn't excited to wear his hat. The dinner was great, and, despite the occasional questionings from our friends about how our blossoming relationship was coming along, we had a great time.

Andrew then had the singular responsibility of being my escort to a dance. The Thursday prior, I had participated in the Miss BYU-I pageant and got 1st attendant. That Saturday night was a dance where the winner, the other attendant, and I were to be presented on the stage in front of everyone. We left the dinner and went to the dance alone together - our first time alone since meeting. We danced on the stage to the Top Gun song "Take my Breath Away." (I later found out that Andrew's family was absolutely SHOCKED that he had danced with me on our first date. Dancing is NOT his thing.) We started getting more relaxed around each other. Our walk home was the first time I remember thinking, "I could like this guy." We were very comfortable together, and I felt absolutely no need, for the first time in my life, to put on any pretense and act like something I wasn't. It was very refreshing.

We went home and changed into different clothes to embark on an adventure in the Civil Defense caves. We hiked down in there (it is PITCH black) and then proceeded break open glowsticks and spatter them all over our clothes, hair, and the floor and walls of the cave. Then we played hide-and-go-seek. It was a blast. Andrew and I laid quietly on the cold, rocky ground next to each other, and I think our arms were touching. Shivers down my spine for two reasons. :) All was well - and getting better - until Clay (and Kam) put on a lantern and a CD and announced that Andrew and I were being awarded "The Newest Couple Under Heaven." I think they made us dance to the music - I actually can't remember. But at that point, the awkwardness came back and Andrew clammed up again. (He was REALLY not one for public humiliation.)

The next morning, before the boys came to pick us up, I recorded a video with Andrew's video camera, which he had left in my apartment. And for some reason, I can't get the video to upload for your viewing pleasure. Maybe some other time. Anyway. They came to get us and we all squished in the back of a car. Andrew and I were sitting WAY close to each other. And maybe I shouldn't record this for posterity's sake, but...while sitting so close to Andrew, I saw that he had a booger slightly hanging from his nostril closest to me. But, strangely enough, it didn't bother me. I know...we were meant to be. We drove to the Idaho Falls temple, watched the movie playing in the visitor's center (I think it was the Testaments), and then fed the ducks. Oh, and we all stepped in duck poo, so the car stunk on the way home.

We went back to Rexburg for church, and after that we played Kissing Rugby in our apartment with the whole group. It was rough, violent, and way fun. I'm pretty sure Chris Culver accidentally gave his date Megan a bloody nose, if I remember right. We finished off the evening by staying up WAY late (in fact, we fell asleep and broke the honor code by not getting home until like 6am!) watching Dumb and Dumber - my absolute least favorite movie of all time. Oh, and John Alley grabbed my hand and flung it at Andrew, resulting in Andrew also getting a bloody nose.

The cadets pulled away from Rexburg after we all said good-bye, and Andrew left without even getting my number. Rude. The rest, as they say, is history...he eventually got my number, we met up in Utah over Halloween weekend, and fell madly in love at Rocky Point Haunted House in Salt Lake, on October 30th.

So today, exactly four years after that fateful day, a few things have changed. Neither of us have braces anymore, but we still play the piano for each other. I would no longer be afraid to get in a harness in front of him, but I'm afraid my butt would look about a million times worse than it would have back then. We are still so comfortable with each other and have great conversations everyday, despite having kids. :) We are absolute best friends, and there is no awkwardness, obviously. We haven't danced together many more times than we did that weekend. Andrew got me Lasik for my birthday a couple years ago, so I no longer have glasses and look like a nerd. I can't believe it's already been 4 years...in some ways I feel like it was just yesterday that we met. But look at us now! We have a beautiful home and two children together, and although we are no longer the "Newest Couple Under Heaven," I think we are still the "Best Couple Under Heaven." It has been the best four years of my life.

I love you a million, Andrew Lea Webb.

Today

I paused the TV on this scene today:

Eva looked right at that woman (who is the mom off that show about midgets, "Little People, Big World") and said, "GRANDMA!" Hmmm. Don't tell my mom.



Cooked this delicious chicken for dinner. It looks heavenly...probably because when I opened the oven to take the picture, steam fogged up my lens.
I accidentally left one in a LITTLE too long.

Eva, what does a train say? CHOO CHOO!

Eva, what does a sheep say? "BAA!"

A little sneak preview of Halloween:

And this fat boy was so happy when he heard the bath water come on.

THE END

Yesterday

This boy's smile gives me butterflies ever time. I'm absolutely twitterpated.

Want to see what I made?

One word: YUM. Here is the recipe.

I miss Enid.

This post is dedicated to: Krista, Megan, Melissa, Hillarie, Leah, Lily, Camille, and Lisa. And in behalf of Eva: Owen, Kiera, Olivia, Francis, Adam, Merritt, Brian, and Clayton. I miss you guys like crazy.

It's not that I don't love it here. Because I truly, honestly do. But there is just one problem. I REALLY miss my amazing, incredible, too-good-to-be-true friends from Enid. I guess I was expecting to find that here, and I haven't yet. The closest friend I have here is Melanie Willis (I love you more than you know, Mel, if you're reading this!), but she unfortunately lives almost an hour away. So it's not like I can just walk to her house when I need someone to talk to. (I am, however, meeting her on base tomorrow to go to Escape Zone - a kids playplace - which I am inordinately excited for.)

I had playgroup today. Again, at my house. Which is fine. It gives me motivation to get my house spotlessly clean...only to have a million unsupervised children run around in every room. (I guess I forget that other kids can open doors even though Eva can't.) A couple boys went in Leighton's room and prematurely woke him up from his nap. There were some in my bedroom (grrr) and ALL over. Which I guess I should expect...I don't know.

But all my work and stress over getting the house perfect and serving delicious food just did NOT seem to be worth it. In Enid, playgroup was ALWAYS the highlight of my week. It was great conversation with my favorite women in the world, and I always left there feeling better about myself and my life. Not the case here. When everyone finally left today, I felt drained, annoyed, and exhausted.

I miss having close friends who had so many things in common with me. I miss walking to a neighbor's house just to say hi, and likewise having people to drop by my house. I miss craft group. I miss laughing hysterically with friends. I miss girls' night. I miss looking forward to Sundays knowing that I would see people I love at church.

Maybe I'm just being negative, and maybe I will form some great friendships here. There just hasn't been anyone (except Melanie - I mean anyone in my immediate area) who I "click" with. I wanted to cry today just thinking about how different it is here from Enid and how much I miss my dear friends. I love my house, and I am so happy to be here. I just wish I could have brought all my friends with me.

Handbag Planet

Just found a link to this awesomeness on my friend Samye's blog. Thought I would pass it along and share the love. You have GOT to click on that link. You could win an amazingly cute new purse, completely FREE. Please click here.

Theft: the unpardonable sin, in my book.

I shouldn't blog about this...I really shouldn't. I have been praying for my anger to go away ALL day, and writing about it will just conjure up all my wrath all over again. But I feel like I want to record it anyway...all for the sake of the record.

We were robbed. On Conference Sunday. We didn't find out until today, because the only thing they took was the GPS, right off my dashboard. Charger, sticky pad, and all. Ooo...as I type it, my blood is starting to boil again. We accidentally left the car unlocked last Saturday night as we stumbled in from a fun night with our friends the Willises. The kids were tired, I had a headache, and we just walked right in the house without thinking. A mistake that would cost us dearly. I couldn't find the GPS yesterday when I went to the library, but I thought that Andrew had just taken it to his car, for some weird reason. Then today when we were together, we figured out that the WHOLE THING was missing, not just the GPS itself. The only conclusion that could be drawn was that some *expletive expletive* white trash person stole it.

Now I'm not going to put on some saintly attitude and say, "Maybe they needed it more than I do." Because I would be lying. NOBODY needs a GPS more than I do. I am so directionally challenged, it's not even funny. It took me over a month to learn how to get to my high school. In Orem, UT. Where all the streets are perfectly, logically numbered. That should give you an idea of how I struggle in a brand new town, a BIG town compared to any I've lived in lately, finding my way around.

I don't know what I'm going to do. It was a Christmas gift last year. Ironically, both sets of parents gave us a GPS knowing how lost I get and that we were soon moving to a new place, so we kept one and returned one. Silly me. If I had been able to look into my crystal ball and see the future - my future of being a victim of crime - I would have kept both. Now I'm going to have to BUY one (because I know I won't be able to live without it...okay, I would live, but I would spend a TON of time wandering around), and there are SO many other things I need to be saving for. Like a new computer, for one. And we all know that my penny-pinching husband doesn't just go throwing money to the wind...to say the least.

I guess what overwhelms me is the complete, unfair, injustice of it all. What gives people the right to walk onto someone's property and help themselves to whatever they want? Regardless of whether or not the door is locked. I am just incredibly disappointed in the entire human race. I feel like I can't trust anyone. And this only deepens my fears of being robbed in the house while Andrew is gone on one of his many 10-day trips, or - heaven forbid - his deployment next summer. It only makes me more anxious to live in this world - especially this town.

I am going to have to have an extra amount of faith and trust that my family will be protected in Andrew's absence. It just makes me wish that some people didn't have the gift of free agency. I wish it was something that was earned instead of handed out freely to the bad guys and good guys alike. I hate that I am a victim of someone else's stupidity, and there is NOTHING I can do about it. But most of all, I hate that I will spend the next several months completely lost without a friendly voice telling me to "exit right ahead" and "you have reached your destination." I'll sure miss my GPS.

My mom and me

While writing the last post, my mom called to see what the news was with Eva. During the course of our conversation, I told her that I had checked out some cookbooks to get recipes for the holiday season - especially for Thanksgiving with Linds. What she said to me has caused me momentary reflection on how incredibly different my mom and I are - but also, how remarkably similar. She said, "Why do you need new recipes? Isn't Thanksgiving pretty traditional?" With that said, I will start with how we are different.

-Cooking. My mom has about a couple dozen recipes that are her standards. With 8 children, she was not an "adventurous chef" always trying new recipes. We had our typical shepherd's pie, roast, tacos, spaghetti, Au Gratin potatoes and ham for Christmas, chicken gravy on noodles or rice...easy, simple menus that fit her frenzied lifestyle. (And of course, her legendary homemade bread and jam.) Enter me. Apparently all the monotony (not in a bad way) of my childhood kitchen experiences got to me, because I went COMPLETELY the other way. There are VERY few recipes - maybe 5 or less that I can think of - that I have made more than once since I started truly cooking in the last year or so. During the first year of our marriage, I was all about frozen meals and last-minute planning. After we moved to Enid, we did the South Beach diet, and that was the end of that. I became obsessed with reading cookbooks and trying new things - to a fault, actually. Adventurous is my middle name in the kitchen (to an extent), and there are very few things that I won't attempt.

-Housekeeping. My mom is what one might call (rather, I might call) a clean freak. I was the blemish on her otherwise perfect household as a teenager, as I NEVER cleaned my room or did my chores like I was supposed to. Again, perhaps this was my act of rebellion - going totally the opposite way. The first year of our marriage, again (sounds like sort of a dark time in some respects!) I hardly ever cleaned. The bathroom was disgusting, the kitchen was even worse...I was a terrible housewife. I got a little better in Oklahoma, and I have to say that since we have moved to Washington, I have improved monumentally. Actually, I might even be considered average - nay, even above-average in the house-cleaning department. At least, compared to my old self. But I don't think I will ever quite get up to my mother's standards. When we asked her last year what her dream night would consist of, did she say she would love to go to a spa, or a fancy restaurant with my dad? No. She said she would love it if everyone would leave the house, upon which she would fill the sink with hot water and Pine-Sol and clean the kitchen, maybe light a nice candle, and just enjoy the smell of a clean house. Once again I say, I don't think I'll ever get there. Unfortunately for my kitchen.

-Technology. This is probably a generational gap. But it still cracks me up sometimes. I feel like computers and the like have come very naturally to me. Perhaps because I was expected to know many office duties in my career as an administrative assistant, perhaps because I was born with a gift. (Okay, I'm kidding.) But my mom can't figure out alot of computer things to save her life. Blogging (which we recently embarked on together at an Andersen family blog) is a complete mystery to her. Uploading pictures to be printed off from Walmart is something she's never attempted. Photoshop is an unexplored world that she has no desire to enter without my help. She calls frequently asking for help on different things, and it never fails to amaze me.

Now for a small discourse on our similiarities.

-Temper. We both get mad pretty easily and are often stressed out. We are sometimes (okay, alot) impatient (she with slow cashiers, drive-thru employees, and bad drivers, me with Andrew and bad drivers).

-Social attitude. I learned most of my social abilities from her, and I'm proud of that. My mom is excellent with people. She makes people feel comfortable and good about themselves. In fact, my boyfriends in high school would come over or call just to talk to her. Even if she didn'd like them - they never knew. Although I don't think I'm quite as good as she is, I'd like to think that one of my strengths is making people feel good. At least, a good friend once told me that, so I pretend that it's true.

-Laughing. We both laugh until we cry and tears stream unstoppably down our cheeks. It's awesome.

-A love for crafts. Although we differ in the type of craft (I dabble in scrapbooking, and she is a master quilter), we both LOVE with escape into the world of either fabric or paper and tell stories with our art. I just got our new quilt in the mail on Saturday, which my mom made, and it is BEAUTIFUL.

I am so glad that I got a mother that I am similar to, but also different enough to make life interesting. :)

An eventful evening full of guilt

It started out a great, normal day. I felt motivated to do things - get the kids dressed, clean up breakfast dishes, empty the dishwasher, make the beds...I felt good. We went to the library to get some new books, and I checked out a couple Christmas/holiday cookbooks. (I'm having Thanksgiving here and my sister and her family are coming, and I'm so excited to do a real, huge meal by myself for the first time!) We spent the uneventful afternoon reading, eating lunch, the kids taking naps while I read my cookbooks...nothing big. Andrew came home at about 3pm, and a little bit later (after I had procrastinated going grocery shopping all day because I didn't want to go alone with the kids), he went shopping for me. I gave him my list, and off he went. Dinner was in the oven, so I started cleaning up and vacuuming the downstairs. Leighton was sleeping, but Eva was down with me. She loves to chase the vacuum.

After I finished, I decided to play with Eva. We started playing around on the ground, and she was laughing pretty hard. I picked her up by her wrists and swung her around in circles. We were having a great time. A few minutes later she started crying. I read her some books and she calmed down. But everytime I went to put her down to get something done, she started crying again. I noticed she was holding her left arm up against her body and was cradling it with her other arm. I watched her for a few minutes while reading to her and saw that she was in pain. After thinking back, I realized that I had probably hurt her arm while swinging her around. After Andrew got home, I told him I thought I had pulled it out of the socket. It obviously wasn't broken, but there was something wrong with it.

He took Eva to the hospital and, during the process of trying to give her an X-ray to see what was wrong, she somehow struggled and fought it hard enough that she popped it back into place by herself. They are still there right now, as they had to wait for the doctor to look at the X-rays to confirm that she's back to normal. Andrew said she's moving it around just fine now - holding Henry and pinching Andrew's arm because she's mad and tired and wants to go home.

I feel so horrible that I hurt my baby girl! I cried after they left for the hospital. It was obviously an accident, but I still can't believe I was so stupid. (Please, no comments about how foolish I was to play with her like that. I feel bad enough as it is.) I know accidents happen and parents accidentally hurt their kids (like the time my dad ran over my sister's foot with the car!), but I still feel so bad. I just want them to get home so I can cuddle her and tell her how sorry I am. Poor girl. Good thing she's such a fighter - she didn't even have to have the doctor snap it back into place. She handled it on her own. :)

Don't read this if you're in a hurry. It's really REALLY long because Andrew is gone and I'm bored, but not tired enough to go to bed.

I have always thought that giving birth was the most physically demanding part of motherhood. But today, I reevaluated that line of thought. As I sit here with my aching legs and the remnants of a day's worth of sweat on my face, I think I would rather give birth (with an epidural, of course) than repeat today. Let me explain.

It started off as a wonderful, easy day. Andrew did a night flight (he is gone right now and won't be home until 2am...hence my late-night computer time!), so he was able to be home all day. I defeinitely took advantage of that. See, I have been needing new jeans. Not wanting, needing. My overweight, postpartum self was getting royally sick of having only one pair of ugly pants (they were cute when I bought them but with overuse they became hideous to me) to wear; sick of waiting until I lost the last 8 pounds to spend money on clothes; sick of putting off looking decent until I got my butt back in shape. Not only my butt, but my stomach, thighs, arms, BACK (yes, my back got fat when I was pregnant! UGH!)..you get the picture. Anyway. So I left Andrew home with the darlings while I went shopping. Alone.

It was glorious. Guess where I went first? I bet you guessed Target. And you would almost be right - that is where I intended to go first. Not to find jeans, but just to BE there. You know? But I realized as I drove through the beautiful gray, drizzly morning, that the scrapbook store was right on the way. So I went there. And I tried not to buy anything. Really, I did. I wanted to just look. But the paper wouldn't let me look. The paper made me buy. I spent $27, and I feel pretty good about that. (To compensate for my guilt of buying things, I proceeded to make an entire album in 2 hours to prove to myself that I would use the things I bought. But I'll get to that in a minute.) After an hour there (my, how the time flew!), I went to Target. I wandered and looked around and purchased really interesting things like hair clips for Eva, bobby pins, and diaper genie refills. Then I went into the mall.

Let me say that by this point, I was already sweating. I don't know why. Well, maybe I do. The muggy air (not hot, just muggy), the lack of air conditioning in WA, the exertion of walking around and trying on clothes and carrying things...I don't know. I sound like a pig, but I was a little hot. Luckily, I didn't try on any shirts and leave my sweat as a gift for other women of the area. (Gross, Stephanie! Grow up! I know.) I went a couple places, but the place where I finally found success in finding a new pair of jeans (did I ever make that point before? I can't remember if I ever said that outright and I'm too lazy to scroll back up and look) was Express. Have you ever bought anything there? I have. Once. It was about a month ago, and I bought a cute teal blouse - actually, my current favorite shirt - that was on sale for $30. And that was quite a chunk of money to spend on a shirt. For me. But it's my favorite shirt. So I tried again there for pants. And so what if I spent $60 on jeans? I HAVE JEANS THAT FIT. I can dream all I want that they won't fit for much longer (we all know I'll be in these babies for a while), but for now, they fit. And I feel cute in them.

I went a couple more stores after that to make sure I couldn't find anything better priced and cuter, but then I realized I had been gone for over 4 hours. Whoa. So I went home. Then I worked like a mad woman to get that entire album done. See, tonight was the ward talent show, and I signed up to do a "talent" display of my scrapbooks. Probably a bit of a mistake. Both trying to finish an entire album of 20 pages in one day (or 2 hours), and signing up to do it at all. I also signed up to bake 2 frozen pies and bring them. I was also in a skit with a couple other women in the ward to do The Mormon Rap, and I had to get to the church early - with 2 children, 2 pies, a million scrapbooks, sans Andrew. I made a yummy dinner - probably a little ambitious for a day like today, but still really yummy - and then Andrew left.

I rushed to get myself ready, (of course I wore my brand new jeans!) and I was pretty sweaty by then. My hair, even as short as it is, was pretty much beyond repair. Sweat and rain don't make for a great look on me. (Sorry that my sweaty self is the topic of this post, but...that's what it is.) I got Eva ready, changed Leighton's diaper, hauled my 8 scrapbooks and a basket of mini-albums (mistake, mistake, mistake) through the rain to the car. Took the overly-browned pies out of the oven, threw them (gently) in the back. Raced to the church, strictly following the speed limit like the law-abiding citizen that I am. (Are you still reading this? I feel like I'm being VERY long-winded...) Hauled the kids into the church and asked a random stranger (one of the young women, actually) to keep an eye on my kids. Took two more trips to the van to bring in my massive pile of scrapbooks and the pies.

Fast forward through the talent show (I'm sure we didn't look half as funny as we felt). I am now sweating profusely. I have not had a normal body temperature in HOURS, and I hate sweating more than most people hate getting shots. (Truthfully, I would rather get 120 shots than sweat like that again. And you wonder why I don't work out...) Thankfully, two kind souls helped watch my kids while I made a fool of myself on stage. (Who IS that new girl?? they all thought.) Eva kept screaming "NO!" for no reason other than to make noise. Leighton spit up all over the place and I forgot to bring a burp cloth OR wipes. (I'm pretty sure I've made that mistake before...) I used Andrew's shirt to clean it up. (His shirt that I brought to wear to dress up like a gangster, but ended up using it as a mop.) Eva kept trying to eat the ice cream by herself and got stickiness everywhere. Eva dropped an entire cup of water on the floor and splashed all over someone's leather purse. (Again, Andrew's shirt came in handy. That is so weird I used a shirt. Typing it makes me realize how weird I must have looked.) Eva opened the formula container and shook formula all over the diaper bag - in my keys, wallet, cell phone, sunglasses...you name it, there's formula on it. At that point, I decided I was WAY overdue in walking out the door. I frantically gathered up my sticky, crying, tired children and headed for the exit. On the way, I passed all my scrapbooks. Oops...I had almost left them there.

I strapped the kids in the car and ran back in to try to get everything in one trip. My 2 oven mitts, a large cookie sheet, a basket full of mini-albums, and literally about 75 pounds of scrapbooks. I piled it all up to my chin and, trying not to fall over from the weight and holding my car keys in my teeth, I staggered out the door. (It is moments like this where someone volunteering to help me out, or even just to hold the door, would be REALLY nice.) I got in the car, wiped the sweta off my forehead for the hundredth time in the past hour, and turned the air conditioning on full blast.

I got home, got everything in the house, and promptly tore off all my clothes in an attempt to cool off. I eventually got the kids in bed, and now here I am. Sitting in my sweatsuit (from Nauvoo!) because I got chilled walking around in my underwear. At least I finally cooled off. But my legs are aching from dancing and jumping and walking and shopping and trying on a million pairs of pants and carrying children and scrapbooks and whatever else I did today.

To make a long story short (TOO LATE!): I HATE sweating.

P.S. Hardly anyone even looked at my dumb scrapbooks, and nobody even CRACKED open a single mini-album from my cute little basket.. I have no idea why I tried to finish a whole one in a few hours...I am SO dumb.

My BIG boy, and a tale of poop.

Today was ANOTHER dr. appt. I feel like we have been there a million times in the last 2 weeks. Maybe I'll just move in. We had a diaper changing fiasco that was so horrendous and embarassing that all I could do was laugh at myself. After the dr. left the room (after telling me that Leighton weighs 14 pounds 7 oz.), I decided to stay in the room and feed Leighton before going home. After he spit up practically everything I fed him, I decided he was done. As I was putting him in his carseat, I saw Eva pooping her pants. So of course, I wanted to change her diaper before leaving. I laid her on the scale thing that they weigh babies on and started the familiar process of cleaning up her bum.

All was well until I went to pull the dirty diaper out from under her and put the clean one in its place. As I carefully pulled it out, THE POOP FELL OUT. My first reaction was one of horror. I didn't know quite what to do. I tried to keep Eva's feet out of it and decided to finish changing her so I could clean up the poop without her getting in the way. I tried to scoop up the poop with the diaper, but that only succeeded in smearing it all over the table. I was getting a little panicky that someone would walk in wondering why I was taking so long and see me wrestling with a piece of poo. Not literally, but that's what I felt like. Eventually I got the chunk of poo (this is lovely, isn't it?) back in the diaper and got the poop smears off the table. I threw away the little pad they had on there and tore off the paper covering. I just kept laughing, saying, "I cannot BELIEVE this is happening." Eva didn't know what was going on. I can't wait until the day that her poop only goes in the toilet and I don't have to see it or know about it. Good grief. You'd think I change enough diapers that this wouldn't have happened...how embarassing.

P.S. Eva has this new phase of going in the pantry and bringing me random things, asking me to "hep" her eat them. Today it was dried pasta, sunflower seeds, pretzels, a cake mix, tomato paste, and just now as I type this...a carton of chicken broth and a can of sweetened condensed milk. Future chef!

I love fall, and a rampage about the Christmas spirit.

I love the changing of the season. I, for one, HATE the heat of summer. There are many people who love the summer. But there isn't a soul I know who isn't finding great joy in this transition into fall.
Here is what fall means to me:
Soup
Sweaters
Eva and Leighton in their ADORABLE new coats
Slippers
Yummy candles
Christmas getting closer

Wait...I have something to say on the topic of Christmas. I have been thinking about this the last few days, and I would like to get it out in the open. And I'm open for comments on this - whether or not I offend you. I am aware that many people, probably even some that read my blog, are the type of people who get annoyed with people like me. People who start counting down the days till Christmas in September, get their Christmas shopping done early, start listening to Christmas music in October...you know the type. The type like me. But I have a word or two to say to you Scrooges who get all up in arms that Hobby Lobby starts putting up their Christmas merchandise in August. Yes, I'm talking to you.

You know how at Christmas time there is all this talk about "keeping the spirit of Christmas with you all throughout the year"? Well, I take this literally. I feel like there are many who preach that and then turn around and get mad that people are actually doing it. I am not advocating greedy commercialism or capitalizing on a holy holiday. But that's not what Christmas means to me. When I get excited for Christmas, it's not just about the gifts or the decorations or the cards or the food - although I do LOVE all those things. It's about the way I FEEL when this magical time of year approaches. I love people more. I feel happier. I think more about Christ. I feel more inclined to serve and give and help. And if anyone wants to tell me that I should wait until after Thanksgiving to get in that spirit, then...maybe you need to rethink what Christmas means to you. That's all I'm saying. There...I've aired my feelings on that topic. Thank you for indulging me. Oh, and by the way, there are 84 days left till Christmas.

Anyway, on with my list about fall.

Bright yellow leaves
Cool weather
Remembering when I met Andrew on October 9, 2004
Watching The Office with Andrew
And many, many more things

Now I'm going to go watch TV with Andrew. And possibly eat a bowl of ice cream. Okay, I am definitely going to eat a bowl of ice cream.