The Big News

My brother is getting MARRIED!!!

His girlfriend, Sara, said yes when Chuck proposed a couple of weeks ago.

Chuck has asked BJ and me, and Megan and her husband Trey, to stand up for him.  And Sara has two brothers and two sisters-in-law who are going to stand up for her.

I love the symmetry of it - a groom with two sisters, a bride with two brothers.  It's going to be awesome.

Sara and Chuck teach at the same school.  They've been dating for... gosh, a while now.  I can't remember how long.  

Best wishes to Sara and Chuck!

...and as long as I'm into the wedding album...

How hot is that guy I married?



Rawr!

That is all.

Another Milestone

Today, for the first time since then, I weigh less than I did on my wedding day.

I am at SW-25.

(Maybe this cold isn't all bad).

I'm 1/3 of the way to my goal.

When I get better I'll post a progress picture...  But it's really hard to feel pretty when you have to blow your nose every eleven seconds, even if you are thinner than you have been in eight and a half years.


I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for your support and encouragement, and for continuing to read in spite of my endless talking about food and diet and exercise.  I love all of you!

Totally Exhausted

Oh internet, I am so beat.

On Friday afternoon the girls and I headed up to Grammaland at about 11 am. We had lunch with my mom, then visited with Gramma Susan, then I took them over to Grandma Diana's (Grandma Three-Peat!) where they'd be staying the night. Since we planned to drive his car into Chicago, and since he needed to work, BJ drove up separately a couple hours later. He got stuck in major traffic, and finally got there around supper time. After visiting for a few minutes with his mom, we headed to Chicago!

When we got to the hotel, they didn't have any non-smoking rooms with king sized beds in them. She offered us an upgrade for $30 a night. Then she checked the computer and found that there weren't any non-smoking king sized bed rooms in that category, either, so we got a double upgrade. The room was cavernous. We had to yell to hear each other across the whole thing. There was a (largely empty and somewhat pointless) sitting room, a big bathroom, and a bedroom which was, thankfully, non-smoking and king sized.


After checking in, we changed clothes and walked to the Hancock Tower to have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. Already my footwear choices were proving foolish, but we went for a walk along the lake after dinner, then headed back to the cavernous hotel room.

Saturday we woke up around our usual time (those pesky internal clocks of ours were unaware that we didn't have to wake up to take care of the kids, who were having a fabulous time with Grandma Diana!). We got dressed and walked across the street from the Wyndham, where we stayed, to the Corner Bakery. We got coffee and breakfast, then we walked to Water Tower Place to get a new pair of shoes for dopey-me - I always take inappropriate footwear when we go out of town, and I always end up crippled and bleeding. Seriously, right now there's more blister than skin on the bottom of my left foot. Anyway, after paying through the nose for some decent shoes, we walked in the other direction. We walked through the American Girl store (SCARY! Do not tell my kids about that place, under penalty of having to take them there yourself!). We checked out the Apple store. Then we headed toward the river.

There was an art fair at one of the universities. We walked through that, and recognized several vendors from our local art fair. We thought about taking an architectural boat tour, but it was pretty cold and we knew we'd be colder on the water. There was also a Gospel Fest that we stopped at for a bit. Instead of the boat tour, we ended up taking a Segway tour, which was so much fun (and a little bit scary, but mostly fun). I've wanted to try a Segway ever since they came out. I had a little trouble keeping up with the group, though. I think because of the blisters that were starting to really hurt on my feet, I kept shifting forward, then it would think I wanted to go faster than I did, and it would slow me down. And the way it slows you down is by making the handlebars come back and hit you in the stomach, which makes the whole thing feel extremely off balance.

Even though a 14 year old kid who was in our group backed into BJ, and it started to rain mid-tour (and it was only about 45 degrees) we managed to get through it unscathed. Well, except for my feet, which are a mess. The US Men's Soccer Team was playing Honduras at Soldier Field, and there were about 25000 people wearing blue and white and carrying the flag of Honduras around the area where we were taking our tour. It was like Chicago was being invaded by Honduras. Very strange. I don't even know who won, but that whole stadium must have been blue and white. We saw thousands of people in blue and white, and only one group in red, white, and blue.

Why don't Americans like soccer?

Anyway, here's a picture I took before the tour:

I'm pretty sure I took that from the bridge that connects the Art Museum with Millenium Park. It annoys BJ that they call it Millenium Park, when it wasn't started or completed in 2000.

After the tour, we were cold and wet and tired, so we got a cup of cocoa at another Corner Bakery and found, through the bakery, a scale model of the entire city with a bunch of interesting facts about the city's development, plans for the Olympics, etc. That was pretty cool. Probably would've stayed longer if I hadn't been limping badly at that point.

I think this might have been at the Architectural Society? Anyway, instead of lingering, we cabbed back to the hotel to rest. BJ saw me safely to the room, then went out to find things to help my blisters. What really helped most, though, was popping them with a safety pin I had in my make up bag. It was probably the least sterile thing in there, but I was willing to risk a foot infection to take the pressure off. Once he got back from Walgreen's (proud sponsors of the aforementioned Gospel Fest) we went to dinner at the TGI Friday's across the street from the hotel (it was nearby and relatively quick, and that's what we wanted), then we took a cab to Second City. We had a blast at the show. We had super seats, and it was hilarious. We laughed and laughed. If you've never heard of it, Second City is the group that most of the people from Saturday Night Live have started out with. The show was called, "America, All Better!" and it was really funny.

We walked a bit through the neighborhood called Old Town, where the show was, after that, but I was pretty sleepy so we headed back to the hotel again. We thought about a movie, but it seemed silly to watch a movie on the tiny hotel TV when we can watch Big Movies at home. Plus, the fees are just stupid for the movies in hotels. $14? Seriously!?!?

This morning we slept in (!!!) got up and dressed, checked out, had breakfast, got our car, and returned to Grammaland to pick the kids up from Mimi (who got them from Grandma Diana after work on Saturday). We visited with them a bit before we headed back home. The kids must have had fun, because they've been really grumpy since we've been home. Diana and Mimi both said that they were really good. I guess they saved all of their grumpiness for us (as usual).

Why do kids do that? Can't they be nice for us, too?

So, that was BJ's big birthday trip to Chicago (his birthday's Tuesday). I'm going to go outside to find him, and the girls, and get the kids (and myself!) to bed.

Someone To Take Care of Me Time

This one's for the guys. Girls, print it out and tuck it in your husband's lunch.

Hi guys,

Things haven't been easy for you, either, since your kids were born, have they? You look at your wife, and she's like a completely different person now, right? Her body has changed, her personality has changed, she's not fun anymore, and she often doesn't even seem to be listening to you when you speak, and she can't talk about anything but the kids. Am I right? And while she has the "mommyblogosphere" and La Leche League and her MOPS group and eleven friends who are going through the same thing, who can bitch and kvetch with her about how life has changed (and all the things you're doing wrong!) - you're pretty much doing it all on your own. Maybe you have one friend who understands, who can buy you a beer and say, "It'll get better, man." Of course, there will be hell to pay for stopping on the way home to have that beer, won't there?

Being a Dad is every bit as hard as being a Mom, and I think it's lonelier (because men and women socialize differently). A lot of you guys leaned on your wives for all of your emotional support before you had kids. And now that you have small kids, and she has lost her mind, you're all alone.

It's hard. And it's scary to think that the wife you loved before might be gone for good, isn't it?

Don't worry. I am here to help.

Now, keep in mind that my love language is "acts of service." According to Gary Chapman, there are five different love languages: acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, gifts, and physical touch. If you know that your wife is more of a "words of affirmation" girl than an "acts of service" girl, modify accordingly... But I know it's true for me, and a lot of my mom friends, that the thing that our husbands do that makes us feel most loved is when they HELP. I am being 100% honest when I say that I would rather have BJ do laundry than buy me diamonds.

The nice thing about love languages is that even if you're a "gifts" person, "acts of service" can make you feel loved, too. You don't just get one... And the language you "speak" can change over the course of your life, depending on your circumstances. Your main love language is the one that makes you feel most loved, but the other four can be received and interpreted correctly too. The good news is that we're all multilingual when it comes to love. But knowing which one really speaks to your wife will do you a world of good in your relationship.

Have I lost you? Are you thinking, "So what?" at this point. Hang in there.

Yesterday I wrote about "Me Time" and my theory that what we're really asking for when we ask for "me time" is "someone to take care of me time." As mothers, we spend our whole day taking care of our kids and our husbands. Often we're also taking care of our aging parents, too.

When you spend your whole day taking care of everyone else, you start to crave the safe and secure feelings that come from being taken care of, yourself. I think when your wife talks about getting more "me time," she is really asking you to take care of her for a little while.

So, what can you do? Here are some action items...

• Clean up the dishes
• Give her a backrub
• Vacuum
• Clean up after yourself
• Stop at the store on the way home
• Pick up carry out for supper on the way home
  
• Do laundry
• Clean the bathroom

...you get the idea. Now, I'm not saying that you hae to do all of these things every day. I know you work hard all day, and that the last thing you want to do is clean all night. I understand that she's home all day and you're having a hard time figuring out what she's doing with all that time. I get it. Honestly, we don't know where the day goes, either. Especially in those early days with a newborn.

If your wife's love language is "Physical Touch," give the girl a backrub or a foot rub. If it's "Words of Affirmation," tell her what a great job she's doing every day. If it's "Quality Time" it's going to be hard for a while, because babies tend to suck up all of your time. Same with "Gifts" - they suck up all the money, too. But maybe you could bring home a treat - say a decaf latte from Starbucks every once in a while - for no reason. Remember that it doesn't have to be a grand gesture - you don't have to bring her a tennis bracelet every week. I want you to understand that the small gestures you make will speak very loudly and clearly to your wives.

And I promise that when you do one or two of these things for your wife, she will feel much more loving toward you. If you vacuum, she can use the time and energy that she was going to use on vacuuming to reconnect with you... if you know what I mean. And she will feel more motiviated to reconnect with you if she's not thinking about the other 7000 things she needs to do.

Yeah, guys, I know your love language is "physical touch." Big surprise.

So, let's make a deal - all of us parents of young children. The guys will try a little harder to help out, to speak our "love language" and to go out of their way, just a bit, to make us feel cared for. And we girls, we'll try a little bit harder to take care of you every once in a while.

Putting in that small effort sure beats ending up in divorce court, anyway. Give it a try this week, and let me know if anything changes in your relationship.

The Narrative

There were so many beautiful moments during Megan and Trey's wedding weekend, I don't really even know where to begin. The girls and I drove up to Grammaland on Thursday afternoon, BJ and Max followed later that night.

When we arrived at Megan's house, everyone was so relaxed. There was an air of eager anticipation and excitement, but none of the stress that you might expect, considering the scale of things to come. Megan would occasionally say, randomly, "I can't believe that I'll be married in X hours," or "Two more days!!" but she was not stressed out. She had the calm grace of someone who knows she's making the best decision of her life. She and Trey are so much in love, and it rolls off of them in waves. They are radiant together. It warms everyone around them, to be in the presence of such a beautiful relationship.

Trey's dad and step-mom took Trey and Megan's dogs to their house. Tev came over to help me get my dress just right (strapless dresses can be dangerous!). We had a little food, talked a lot, laughed a lot, drank a lot of wine... It was a fun evening. My mom arrived later, and we hung out with her, my step-dad, and their friends John and Barbara.

Eventually the girls were asleep on their feet, so I took them to my mother-in-laws, where we were staying, to meet BJ and get some rest. Claire got a weird second wind and was up late, but she was cute and funny so we just went with it. If she had been cranky, I might have worried, but she was just so excited. I think she could feel all of the energy around her, even though she probably didn't have a clue why everyone was so jazzed.

Friday came, and I went to Kohl's for a strapless bra. The universe smiled upon me, and I was able to find a reasonably comfortable one in my size (miracle!!). Then I met the girls in the bridal party and Megan to get manis and pedis, while the boys and some of the parents went golfing. My wonderful mother-in-law took the kids, so that BJ and I could enjoy the activities. It was wonderful to not have to worry about them being bored.




After manis and pedis, we ran a few errands (dropping off the hospitality baskets at the hotels, mainly), while Megan and my dad visited the golfers. Then we went to lunch at Applebee's (where they gave us free dessert shooters when they found out Megan was getting married! Yay Applebee's!)

I returned to Diana's house to get the kids dressed for the rehearsal dinner. BJ was still at the golf outing, so he met us at the chapel. The girlies were not at all thrilled at being awakened from their naps, but by the time we got to the chapel, they'd chilled out. Of course, it helped that many of their favorite people were there. Claire beelined straight for Grandpa Bob.

We rehearsed a couple of times, and then proceeded to the chapel's basement for the dinner. The nice thing about it being a chapel that is strictly for weddings, rather than Consecrated Religious Ground, is that we could have beer and wine! Mom's chefs made a ton of tapas (Spanish appetizers, which, if you haven't had before, you need to run right out and try right now, particularly at Don Quixote if you're in Grammaland, and tell Carlos we said "hi"!). Megan and Trey gave out the prizes for the golf outing (longest drive, best putt, winning team overall, etc.) and gave out the gifts for the wedding party. The guys got Cubs shirts and engraved pocket knives, we girls got our jewelry for the wedding, a really cool bag with a W (of course) and the date of the wedding and lots of pockets, and a note saying that we were getting our makeup done professionally for the big day. Ironic, because I've spent the last year trying different products and perfecting my make up skills for this wedding. Oh well. It came in handy at Amanda's wedding last December!

It was nice to have a chance to visit with friends and family before the Big Day. Mary Grace was so cute - the servers were plating dessert, and MG played waitress. Of course, that meant that you got dessert whether you wanted it or not, occasionally with tiny fingerprints, but she did the best she could.













After the dinner we returned to Diana's for a good night's sleep. Before we knew it, it was Saturday! I got up early and headed to Mom's for one last dress adjustment - wonder of wonders, it fit! Of course, that didn't mean that Connie didn't have to sneak up behind me and hike me up every 45 minutes or so, but I didn't expose myself to anyone, and that's really the goal when you go strapless. We had a nice lunch while Maria did our make up, then we headed to the salon to get our hair done.

And then my camera died.

But that's ok, because there were plenty of other cameras, and it really would've been beyond tacky for me to stand up at the front of the church shooting pictures. With our hair completely sprayed and pinned and immobile, we headed to the chapel to get dressed and do some pictures.

Here's my favorite:

That's me, my beautiful sister, Megan, and my awesome brother Chuck. We clean up well, don't we? Far cry from my usual jeans and a t-shirt look.

We had the opportunity to walk around and look at the beautiful decorations that were literally everywhere. I have never seen Mom's ballroom look so elegant. I mean, it's normally beautiful, but this was beyond amazing. There were flowers and candles everywhere. Over 4000 red roses. It was stunning; jaw-droppingly beautiful.

But it paled in comparison to the bride. I know I'm biased. I know she's my baby sister, but seriously... Never in the history of weddings has there been a more beautiful bride. Just look at her:

I can hardly look at her without tears coming to my eyes. She was radiant. Absolutely stunning. I was managing the girls when she walked in, so I didn't get to do my favorite thing, which is watch the groom's face when she entered the chapel. I can't wait for the pictures and the video. I hope someone got a good shot of Trey.

For those of you who haven't met my sister, I have to tell you that her insides are every bit as beautiful as her outside. She is the kindest, gentlest, most fun, most lovely person... Trey is a lucky, lucky guy. We're all lucky to know her.

Anyway, back to the narrative... So before we knew it, it was time for the main event. BJ showed up with the girls, freshly napped and bathed, around 4:15 and I got them dressed as quickly as I could. The wedding started at 5 pm.

We managed to get through the ceremony without any ugly crying, without messing up the stepping-up-for-the-photo-op part, and without messing up the candle thing (you'll just have to wait for the video to see what I mean). The girls did exactly what they were supposed to do, without any crying, running, nose picking, or sticking of hands down my dress. Uncle Doug performed the ceremony, and he did a great job. Trey was a bit nervous, and he dropped the ring, but I hear that's good luck.

They used some words that I helped write during the ceremony, which meant a ton to me. My aunt Julie read a poem. Trey's aunt read 1 Corinthians 13. "The greatest of these, is love..."

And they were married, and everyone cheered. We walked out of the chapel and the bridal party handed out balloons to all the guests, while Mr. and Mrs. Trey W. released their guests inside. Then, when the last guest had walked outside, the doors to the chapel were closed, Megan and Trey rang the bell, and they emerged to thunderous applause and released their balloons, and we released ours.













Then the newlyweds took a little ride on my uncle Stu's antique firetruck (which even matched the wedding colors, how coordinated are we?) to have their photos taken by the fountain, while the guests had hors d'oeuvres in the garden.

I need to get some pictures of the garden. It was lovely. The music and food were terrific. When Megan and Trey returned, we took a few formal posed pictures in the chapel, and then it was time to party!

We were introduced, then the bride and groom were introduced, and they cut the cake. After that, they were seated and the DJ gave the microphone to Paul, the best man, for his toast. Then it was my turn. I was so nervous, my knees were knocking, but I managed to spit it out without any ugly crying...

"A couple of years ago," I said, "Trey and Paul came to our house to help us work on our roof. After they left, my husband BJ said, 'Trey is such a great guy. If Megan doesn't marry him, someone in this family really needs to!' Trey, the good news is that you get to spend the rest of your life with Megan. The bad news is that you're stuck with the rest of us, and our leaky roofs.

"And that is pretty much all I've got! It's so hard to write a toast for (and here I started to choke up, and I felt the ugly cry coming on, and I had to deeply breathe through my nose to proceed) my baby sister. How can I express how much you mean to me, how much I love you both, and how happy I am for the two of you, in a short enough time that no one's drink gets warm? How can I choose just one embarrassing story to tell in front of everyone you know?

"No, I haven't had enough to drink to tell embarrassing stories... Yet. So I'll stick to my other specialty. Advice.

"When I was writing this, the thing I kept coming back to was the way you dance. If you've never seen Megan and Trey dance together, you are in for a treat. It occurred to me that if you can do in your marriage what you already do when you dance - if you can move together, smile, laugh, look into each others' eyes, and hold onto each other - then we'll all be back here in 50 years celebrating your love again.

"Congratulations. I love you both so much. And Trey, welcome to the family!" and as I finished speaking, I handed Trey a hammer that I'd had monogrammed with a "W". The W was kind of a running joke. His last name begins with W, and Megan and Mom kind of went crazy monogramming everything... Including the cake and the lawn! Think I'm kidding? Here:




















So, the W thing was kind of a running joke.

It took me a good 15 minutes to stop shaking, and by then, the prayer had been said by my "bonus mom" Susan, and we were digging into the dinner (an amazing salad, filet, shrimp and scallops on a kabob, garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus...) Then Megan and Trey danced, and just as I had predicted, it was spectacular. Those kids really know how to cut a rug. Normally I don't like all the first dances (let's just party, already!) but it was really fun to watch people who not only know how to dance, but enjoy doing it.

After that, Carol started serving me cosmos, and things get a little blurry. I know there was a lot of dancing, laughing, dancing, drinking, and dancing. Mary Grace had an excellent time standing in front of the colored lights and watching the patterns they made on her dress. She didn't stop until midnight, believe it or not, when she finally passed out on the couch in the lobby. I got to see people I don't see often at all. I got to dance with my gorgeous husband. And before we knew it, my baby sister was riding off to her honeymoon with her new husband, and the night was over.

BJ took the kids back to his mom's, and I went to close a bar with the bridal party (too fun, but what happens at the bar stays at the bar!!). I didn't get back to his mom's house until 3:30, and even then, I was too jazzed to sleep. Megan and Trey will be back Sunday, and I'm going up with the girls on Monday to help open presents, look at pictures, and re-live it all over again with them. (And MG is going to spend a couple days with Grandma! YAY!)

I guess I should explain why I'm writing about all this in so much detail, because I know that my average reader scrolled through the pictures and then clicked "next." This is for the family members who couldn't be with us, and for me and my terrible memory so that I can re-read this in a year or ten when I've lost the details, and for Megan and Trey, so they can see what their special day looked like through someone else's eyes.

It was the most wonderful day, and I want to go back and live it over and over again. What are we going to do next? Mom? Megan?? We need a project!! I feel like I have post-wedding depression. I just can't believe it's all over.

Congratulations Megan and Trey!

Mimi and Trey Got Married

Girls in white dresses with chocolate brown sashes,

Maria Blanco painted our eyelashes,

Gorgeous balloons with sunshine on their strings,

These were a few of my favorite things.

Burgundy nails from the manis and pedis,

Luncheons prepared by the Pattis and Bettis,

Ws everywhere, dropped silver rings,

These were a few of my favorite things.

Friday's rehearsal and seeing our family,

Friends and great cocktails and golf that was scrambly,

Beautiful couple fulfilling their dreams,

These were a few of my favorite things.

Four thousand roses, but really, who's counting?

Beautiful bridesmaids and groomsmen were clowning,

Eating and laughing and dancing the swing,

These were a few of my favorite things.

Ed taking photos with all of us laughing,

Pics on the fire truck, the fountain was splashing,

It all will be featured in this magazine,

These were a few of my favorite things.

Now it's over,

What will we do?

It makes me so sad.

But we'll always remember our favorite things,

And that will make us so glad.

As more pictures get uploaded today and throughout the week, I will post more photos...  You do not want to miss them, because I am not exaggerating in the slightest about the roses.  Really, everything was spectacular from my sister in her amazing gown right down to the slightest detail - like the hors d'oeuvres.  My girls did an amazing job as flower girls, too.  I'll write more of a "narrative" of the weekend after gymnastics today (during nap!).  I have a new laptop waiting for me at the office (hooray!!), so I'll need to set that up and get all the pictures transferred.  

Of course, my camera battery pooped out before we even got to the ceremony.  Oh well.  Ed should get his uploaded today, and he said I could put them on Ye Ol' Blog.  If I'm in your feed reader, please don't get annoyed with the frequent posts over the next few days.  I want to do only a few pictures per post so that they don't take a thousand years to load.  Thanks, Barbara Darling, for the pictures above!

I Am Sick Of The News

Ok, debates are over, everyone take a deep breath and let's talk about something interesting...

MEGAN AND TREY ARE GETTING MARRIED!

T-minus 3 days! You have to come visit on Monday (maybe Tuesday, depends on how much fun I have and how long it takes to recover) so you can see all my pictures. There are going to be many, many pictures. I even have a cute little handbag that matches my dress so I can carry my camera. You're not going to want to miss it, so don't forget to stop by.

My girls are going to look AMAZING. They're both flower girls. I got them cute little dresses for the rehearsal, too.

I'm going to get airbrushed for real tomorrow, so stay tuned for that hilarity, too. Note to self: Wear the GOOD granny panties.

We went to a potluck for MG's preschool tonight. I always get about 85% done with my meal, at a potluck, and then I start thinking about food safety, and about how I don't have the faintest idea what the kitchens of all of these random potluckers look like, and I have no idea whether or not they would be shut down by the health department if they were a restaurant, and I start to suspect that they would, and then I realize that I already ate almost everything on my plate, and I've probably already eaten whatever creepiness might have been lurking, so I might as well finish what I took, but it totally makes it impossible to enjoy potlucks.

What's funny is that I never remember to think this in advance, and I'll load up my plate with all kinds of yummy looking things, and then sure enough, when I'm 85% done, I start thinking, "Uh oh..." and getting a little green around the gills.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

So, if I'm quiet for the next few days, it's because I'm at the Wedding of the Century. None of you will notice, though, because most of you will probably be there with me. Oh, it's going to be such fun, you are in for a real treat. You thought my wedding was awesome - this is going to make my wedding look like a pot luck! (See how I brought it all back there, that's quality writing, people. Now if only I could figure out a way to do that with my toast!!!)

Mawwage

Well, every marriage has its issues, and now you know what one of ours is.

The management would like to request that if Homer is going to leave epic comments, that he should get his own blog!

I'll leave it as an exercise for the reader whether I mean Homer, as in the Odyssey, or Homer as in the Simpson. D'oh!

It's rather remarkable, actually, that in 7 years of marriage, plus 4 years of dating, plus 10 years of knowing each other before that, we've only found two or three issues on which we really vehemently disagree. We're fortunate that in our situation, they're more philosophical than practical, so I'll just leave that there...

Erin, I'm really sorry that you aren't pregnant (and I'm exciting that you're working on a little brother or sister!!). But the feelings that you're experiencing aren't the same feelings that a woman experiencing an unexpected pregnancy (or an unexpected pregnancy scare) would have. Of course. I didn't mean to lump all pro-lifers into the clinic bombing group. But it bothers me that the pro-life group, in general, is trying to impose its moral/religious perspective onto every woman, regardless of her beliefs. Even if the Bible said, "Life begins at conception. Period. Love, God," that wouldn't end the argument, because not everyone believes in the Bible.

Since there is no clear medical answer (after all, a blastocyst can't live outside of the womb - it's a parasitic relationship), we must leave it up to each individual woman to make her choices, because it's her body, and if she doesn't want, and therefore doesn't take care of that little parasite, the consequences can be disastrous. I used to work with kids who had been born with fetal alcohol syndrome, drug addiction, etc. It wasn't pretty. Would those kids have preferred to not exist? I can't answer that. I can tell you that in the situation they were in - institutionalized and living in the most restrictive environment possible, their lives didn't have much happiness. They didn't have much liberty. They will never be able to live on their own, or take care of themselves. It was very sad.

Personally, I could never choose an abortion, but that doesn't mean that I feel qualified to make that decision for all 160 million or so American women. BJ thinks that since we've agreed, as a society, that murder is unacceptable, that it's no big deal to extend the same right to life to a fetus. I disagree. I think that the difference is that a fetus affects my right to liberty in a way that another fully-grown person can't, because it is inside my body for 9 months. Someone's rights have to take precedence over someone else's in that situation, and I believe that my rights, as a fully independent human adult take precedence over the rights of a not-yet-independent human. I don't think that late-term abortions should be done lightly, nor do I think that they are done, generally, unless the mother's life is seriously at risk. I think once the fetus has a heartbeat, you have a different set of circumstances entirely.

Oh we could go around and around about this... But I would never hate you (Erin, or BJ) for disagreeing with me. I have some pretty wild world views, and if I hated everyone who disagreed with me, I'd be a really lonely girl. The ability - the responsibility, even - to disagree is a part of living in a free, democratic society. And as an alumna of the Grammaland High School Debate Team (see the big "L" in the middle of my forehead?) I can promise you that I love a good debate!

In other news....... We are going up to Grammaland today to ride horses with Jenny! We may also hit the candy factory, or the County Fair, depending on the weather and how hot and stinky we are.

It's Justine's last day with us. She and Tim and Fran are headed to France tomorrow for Tim's sister's wedding. I'm trying to think of a place where I can hide Justine until after Tim and Fran leave, so I can keep her. If there are any tall skinny blond teenagers out there who would like to impersonate Justine and take an indefinitely long trip to France, so that she can stay here, e-mail me!! We're really going to miss her. I'm glad that we're able to have a fun outing on her last day. Pictures to come.

32 Years Ago

32 years ago, today, my other half was born. The eight weeks that I had to live on this planet without him were some of the hardest of my life. I hear I cried the whole time.

Since today is BJ's birthday, and since I haven't told this story yet, I thought it was a good time to tell you the story of how we met and fell in love.

We met in sixth grade, when we were 11 years old. Actually, we both briefly went to the same sitter, and there is a chance that we met there even earlier (incidentally, neither of us liked that sitter, but that's another story). But the first time we remember knowing each other was in sixth grade. Fortunately, for the sake of a cute story, we didn't start dating right away. I mean, how creepy would that be, to be married to someone I'd been dating since before puberty?

But we knew each other. He was a nice boy, if quiet and shy (introverted is probably a more accurate term). I had a perm. I also sang an embarrassing song called "Howling at the Moon" in the school play. He still remembers the words. Whenever I start getting too big for my britches, he can hum it and remind me that underneath it all I'm still a total dork.

In high school, I dated a good friend of his, John Paul, and the three of us were all on the debate team (you can just see the shining, neon "L" in the middle of my forehead, right?). Since BJ's a gentleman, and I had dated his friend, I was off-limits (even though I found out later that he had a crush on me! And when I found that out I slugged him in the shoulder and said, "Do you have any idea how much CRAP you could have saved me from, with all the idiots I dated before you, if you had said something?!" but that, too, is another story that I probably won't share on ye ol' blog for all posterity).

Time passed. We graduated from high school. He went to the black and gold school, I went to the cream and crimson one. In 1997 my little brother graduated from high school and had an open house. Since John Paul was a good friend, still, he was invited. He stayed a while, and we chatted. "What are you doing later?" I said. Our hometown isn't known for its surfeit of activities for young people. "BJ Lastname and I are going somewhere, probably a movie."

"I've got plans with Barb. Why don't we all go out together and make it look like we have dates?" So, we made plans to meet after Barb got off work.

John Paul left, and I went inside. "Where's JP?" my mom asked. John Paul had always been a particular favorite of hers. "He had to go, but we're going to meet up later with Barb and BJ Lastname."

Mom started cracking up. She was laughing so hard, I thought she was having a stroke. When she finally caught her breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, she told me that BJ's mom was getting remarried.

"Ohhh kaaayyy..." I said, not seeing the punchline.

It turned out that Mom was BJ's mom's wedding coordinator, and that BJ, the smart ass, had come into Mom's office and said, "So, I'm thinking about getting married."

"Great!" Mom said. "When?"

"Well, first I have to find a girl..." (rim shot)

Mom, however, did not catch the fact that he was joking, and started waxing poetic about the virtues of her single oldest daughter (me). Virtues including, "She's a cheap date." No, I only wish I was making that up.

BJ finally convinced her that he was kidding, and went on about the business of being measured for his tux, and left, shaking his head and muttering to himself about not joking around with crazy women in the future.

So, Mom thinks it's fate that he and I are going out that evening. "Mom?! BJ? I've known him since like forever. I'm not going to let you set me up with BJ!! What were you thinking, pimping me like that, and why is this the first I've heard about it? What if I'd run into him? His dad was my physics teacher for God's sake, how weird would that be???" I was a wee bit hysterical when I was 21. Mom assured me that she had done me a favor by trying to set me up with him. "He is so cute!" she gushed (yes, I said gushed!), and he's a rocket scientist!

"Whatever, Mom, he's still in school."

"Well, he's going to be!"

I was thoroughly annoyed, but I wasn't going to let that stand in the way of a fun night out.

I picked Barb up from work and we drove to the cafe where we'd arranged to meet the guys. I am not exaggerating in the least when I tell you that the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that we were going to get married. The whole universe contracted and expanded, and all I could see was him. He was standing toward the back, laughing. He has the best laugh. I could see what my mom had seen, as though I was looking at him for the first time and not through the lens of having known him for 10 years.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and just like good ol' Mom, I'm quick on my feet. I walked straight up to him, smiled, gave him a hug and said, "So, I hear we're engaged..."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

It amazes me every day that he loves me, even though he knew me when I had The Perm. Even though he saw me sing "Howling at the Moon." Even though he was a witness to all the awkwardness of middle school and high school (and believe me, I didn't pass through those awkward years lightly, by any stretch of the imagination). Even though I'm a cheap date. Even though my mom takes all the credit. He loves me.

I love you, honey. Happy Birthday!

Men and Childbirth

Michael Odent is apparently a famous obstetrician, and apparently he has opinions about having fathers in the delivery room when their children are born. I just read the whole article, and I have opinions.

I suppose it's possible that there are couples for whom the experience of going through childbirth together could interfere with their future sexual relationship. I mean, there are lots of different kinds of people in the world, and if someone's husband is going to get all weirded out when he sees his wife's body doing what nature designed it to do, and have post-traumatic sex disorder, well, ok. I don't understand it, but I can see how it's possible.

I can also imagine that there are women who would feel inhibited by the presence of their husband in the delivery room. I am not one of these women. I have never had an inhibited moment in my life. There are a lot of women who have a bowel movement when they're pushing. This is so normal and so routine, and even if you're like me, so embarrassing, and I can imagine that there are women out there who wouldn't be able to let go and do what they need to do (because pushing out a baby feels an awful lot like pushing for other purposes). So, yeah, for these ladies, I can imagine that the presence of the husband could, possibly, slow things down.

But then I realized that, like with all things related to pregnancy and birth and childrearing and family and nearly everything else in life... There isn't a one-size-fits-all answer.

Personally, I can't imagine going through labor without BJ. He is the World's Greatest Labor Coach. If I had sat down and designed a perfect script for him to follow during labor and delivery, I couldn't have done any better than he did all on his own. When Claire was born, he and I were so "in the zone" together that we didn't even see the lights or hear the sirens that went off (because she came really fast, and no one was ready - my dad, step-mom, and sister, who were also in the room - told us about it later) (yes, I gave birth in front of my dad, step-mom, and sister. I told you "inhibited" wasn't in my vocabulary). He was, quite literally, everything I wanted him and needed him to be and more. In my opinion, that's what partners do for each other. That kind of support is the cornerstone of our marriage. But that's us.

I recognize that not everyone is married to BJ. My friend Julie calls him a "pod person" and is convinced that he is an alien. Not everyone has the same sort of relationship that he and I have, and so I guess it's possible that the new (relatively... dads weren't just beginning to be "allowed" in the delivery room when I was born (and I'm sorry, but if I'm the one doing the pushing, I am the one who gets to decide who is and is not present, thank you very much, it's a good thing I didn't have to try to navigate the 50s and 60s, and I wasn't paying much attention in the 70s. It wouldn't have gone well for anyone.)) expectation that dads should be there could be uncomfortable for some couples, and could, in fact, cause a stall in labor.

With c-section rates where they are (right around 35%, depending on where you live, last time I checked), I think it's worth examining all possible causes of the increase. Maybe, maybe, dads are causing labor to stall in some situations.

(I would like to pause here and point out that this is a very different point of view than the first reaction I had to this article which was, basically, "Baloney..." See? I'm getting so mature in my old age. I posted a comment at Strollerderby that said, "Baloney," then thought about it for a while and toned down my own opinion. This is progress.)

I guess, if other doctors and medical professionals think this may be true, the answer would be to counsel couples on what to expect during labor, and how their own personalities might cause them to react to the experience. Questions like, "Do you feel comfortable going to the bathroom in front of your husband?" and "Does blood make you faint?" would be worth asking. Maybe we shouldn't assume that a father should be in the delivery room, any more than people should have assumed that fathers shouldn't be in the delivery room a generation ago.

My grandfather actually got special permission to be in the delivery room when my mom was born (in 1951) by saying that he was writing an article or a paper or some crazy thing, and it was "research." He was not allowed in the room when my uncle was born in 1954, and I remember hearing it told (is any of this true?) that there was a nurse at the door with a hypodermic needle, waiting to knock him out if he tried to come in (my uncle was 12 pounds, 2 ounces, and the hospital told my grandfather that my grandmother was going to die, and she very nearly did, I guess, and that's why there were threats and stuff, because Papa didn't like that prognosis, but anyway they all lived happily ever after for a long time after that, and someone who remembers the rest of the details can fill them in). My dad wasn't present for my birth, but he was there for my brother and sister's homebirths. I was there for my brother's too, actually, but they didn't let me in for my sister's because the cord was around her neck. (She's fine, too). BJ's dad wasn't there for BJ's birth, or for BJ's brother's birth. He doesn't do well with medical stuff. I had to convince him that it was ok to watch my ultrasound video - and that it looked more like a black and white weather map than the inside of my body.

I guess my point is that there are a lot of different kinds of people, a lot of different kinds of relationships, and a lot of different kinds of marriages. All of these different folks have different comfort levels, expectations, feelings, preferences, and so on, and all of the above should really be respected by the people who decide these things. If a mother doesn't feel like she can get comfortable enough to have a baby if her husband is present, then she should have the right to decide that he doesn't get to be there. If a husband doesn't feel that he'd ever be able to look at his wife the same way again after watching her give birth, or if he doesn't think he could handle the blood and guts and stuff, he shouldn't be expected to be there. (However, he and the mom should definitely work together to make sure that the mom has enough support, whether that's her mother or her sister or a doula or the neighbor or whoever. I'll even loan BJ to you if you find yourself in that situation).

I'm really grateful that I live in a time when the cultural norm (dads are present) was consistent with what I wanted and needed when I was in labor, and that I chose a dad for my kids who rose to the occasion so beautifully. I hope that as we evolve as a culture, we can move away from rigid expectations ("Dad WILL be there!" or "Dad WON'T be there!") and toward a more flexible model - not just in birth, but in lots of areas.

What were your birth experiences? Who was there? Would you do it the same way, or differently?

Romance

When you've been with someone for 11 years, as BJ and I have, it's kind of interesting to look back over your relationship and look at how your definition of "romance" has changed over time. When we first started seeing each other, I thought romance was dinner and a movie, maybe some flowers... Then we got married, and romance meant doing laundry so I wouldn't have to, or rubbing my head when I had a headache. When we had children, romance evolved again. It meant holding my hand and helping me endure labor, and later, letting me sleep in.

As you grown in your relationship, romance changes again and again. As your needs and values change, so do the things that your partner can do to show you that you are loved.

Today, however, we reached a new low. I was out in the yard with Mary Grace, while Claire was napping. BJ had mentioned picking up the yard at lunch time, and that he'd have to start doing it more regularly now that the kids were going to be playing out there again. I thought, "Poor BJ. I know how much he hates doing that!"

After he went back to work, I got a box and a garbage bag, a shovel and a piece of scrap wood, and I picked up every last pile of dog crap in that yard - an entire winter's worth. Now, that, my friends, is true love. That's romance, 11 years in. I can hardly imagine what will pass for romance when we reach our 25th wedding anniversary!!

Confidential to Mimi: YOU HAVE TO DO THIS!!!

Original story at CNN.com. Thanks to List of the Day for the link!

Opposites attract...

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me: We need to move!

The farm where Woodstock was held in

1969 is for sale for 8 mil

!!!

HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE?

BJ: eh

me: "Where do you live?"

"Woodstock!"

"No, really."

"No, REALLY!"

Hahahaha

BJ: eh

me: You're such a nerd.

If it was the Starship Enterprise you'd be all over it.

or Kirk's childhood home...

me: http://www.therealestatebloggers.com/2007/08/09/im-going-on-down-to-buy-yasgurs-farm-woodstock-landmark-for-sale/

BJ: So would you - beam anywhere you need to be, threaten to vaporize anyone that pissed you off, food/clothes/toys right out of the replicator. yeah, Baby

me: 103 bucolic acres!

BJ: is that hippie acres?

me: Yes. Think of all the money we'll save on soap.

BJ: Kirk really doesn't hold much appeal for me

me: I'm so going to blog this...

Sent at 9:15 AM on Thursday

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B.J. Austin

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me: We need to move!

The farm where Woodstock was held in

1969 is for sale for 8 mil

!!!

HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE?

Austin: eh

me: "Where do you live?"

"Woodstock!"

"No, really."

"No, REALLY!"

Hahahaha

Austin: eh

me: You're such a nerd.

If it was the Starship Enterprise you'd be all over it.

or Kirk's childhood home...

Sent at 9:13 AM on Thursday

me: http://www.therealestatebloggers.com/2007/08/09/im-going-on-down-to-buy-yasgurs-farm-woodstock-landmark-for-sale/

Austin: you'd you - beam anywhere you need to be, threaten to vaporize anyone that pissed you off, food/clothes/toys right out of the replicator. yeah, Baby

me: 103 bucolic acres!

Austin: is that hippie acres?

me: Yes. Think of all the money we'll save on soap.

Austin: Kirk really doesn't hold much appeal for me

me: I'm so going to blog this...

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Melanie

B.J. Austin

Single Mom

BJ is still at the conference (he'll be home tonight, so all of you serial killers, baby stealers, and burglars have totally missed your opportunity, neener neener neener!). As far as I'm concerned, he can't get here soon enough.

Last week was a really busy week for him at work. More than once he didn't come home until well past midnight. That was the primary reason for our extended trip to Grammaland - I figured, if I was going to be home alone, anyway, I might as well not be home.

I feel like I haven't seen him in months, and I'm worried that the kids won't recognize him when he does get home. And, I have to admit, I'm jealous that he can leave for a few days, while I can't be away from Claire for more than an hour, and MG would freak right out if I tried to leave for much more than that. It has made me think a lot about single parents.

How on earth do you do it? This has been one of the hardest weeks of my parenting life. It's psychologically so different to know that there's no one coming home soon. Yesterday was interminable. I felt like it lasted for at least 47 hours. It wasn't because we just sat in the house whining at each other all day, either, although it felt like we did that for a large percentage of the day... We actually managed to get to the hospital to see Karen's new baby, Nameless, who is the smallest baby I have ever seen in real life - 5 pounds, 15 ounces. He made Claire look huge.

I can't imagine what it would be like to do this alone - to not have another adult to empty the Diaper Genie once in a while, or to open the sippy cup full of milk that accidentally got left in the toy room for a week, or to fool into changing the really horrible diapers. After one week of it, I am ready to lose my tiny mind. I find myself lacking patience, snapping at MG, letting Claire cry longer than I normally would... The house is a mess. I have no motivation to change that fact. And we've been eating complete crap. What's the point of cooking something when the only other person here to eat thinks that buttered noodles with Parmesan cheese are the height of culinary perfection?

I've always respected single parents, but I never had any idea just how hard it was. My hat is off to all of you who have done this alone. I honestly have no idea how you manage(d) it.

Protect the Bunnies

Have you met Max?

She is a very large, very intimidating beast of a dog, with the heart of a marshmallow. We got her at the pound. She's 7 years old. Half German Shepherd, half Chow (purple tongue), and half Greyhound (maybe, we have no idea). She's a great dog. But, she's big. And scary looking. And she has a BIG bark.

Which is why we were stunned on Thursday afternoon when it appeared that some small rabbit who really needs to work on her real estate savvy (location, location, location!) appeared to be building a nest in Max's yard.



Sure enough, last night we looked, and there is a nest of newborn baby bunnies smack in the middle of the yard.















So, my husband and I took MG out to show her the nest of brand new babies (Peter, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-Tail, of course). It didn't take us long to realize that those babies didn't stand a chance in our yard, even with a marshmallow of a dog, sometimes instinct is stronger than training.

BJ went to the hardware store with MG, and this is the result:















As I stood there, watching my husband teach our daughter to say "protect the bunnies," I realized that this is exactly why I love him - because he is the kind of man who will take an hour out of his evening, after working hard all day, to build a white picket fence for a bunch of wild rabbits. I love him because he's a man who will teach our children to protect things that need protection; that we are responsible for taking care of the planet and all its inhabitants, including each other. It still surprises me that someone so strong and tough can also be so gentle.

I have had the privilege of being married to this man for six years today. I am blessed to be raising a family with him. I learn from him daily. I laugh with him all the time. I am grateful for him every minute of every hour of every day.

Happy Anniversary BJ, I love you. Maybe that bunny wasn't so dumb, after all.