Life as of Late

PTSD & Characters

2012-01-25T16:31:00.004-06:00

Post-Traumatic...

How did I end up with an incredibly easy baby and a super high-maintenance dog? I mean, really. Come on.

Mack has started doing this really cool thing where he sneaks off to a quiet corner of the house to tremble. I find him under the kitchen table, behind the rocker in the nursery, or on our bed. Just sitting there. Shaking uncontrollably.

Something horrifying probably happened that day to freak him out, like my cooking on the stove, turning the bath water on, or dropping something on the tile floor. These may seem like normal, every day occurrences to you, but to my 70 pound lab they are absolutely terrifying.

He's getting scared more easily in his old age (all of 6 years). He was 1 when he adopted him, so we aren't entirely sure what went on before he lived with us, but I feel sure it involved abuse of sorts.

Judging by Mack's hesitation towards certain things, I'd say the abuse most likely involved one (if not all) of the following: plastic bags, vacuums, brooms, rain, hairbrushes, plastic cups, smoke detectors, children's toys, affection from strangers, exercise balls, fountains, or small lizards. You know, the normal items you find in an abusive situation.

I'm a little bit serious when I ask the following: is dog counseling a viable option nowadays? Mack would be an excellent candidate.

Without an official diagnosis, I maintain that he has post-traumatic stress disorder.

PTSD symptoms include:

Strong, uncomfortable reactions to situations that remind you of the event - he is most uncomfortable when I turn on the bath water, seeing as running water is the scariest of all.
Avoiding places, people, or thoughts that remind you of the event - my purse once fell off my shoulder and hit Mack on the head while we happened to be on the sidewalk in front of our house. I literally drug his body from its rigid, corpse-like position on the front lawn into the house. He didn't walk on the sidewalk for months after that.
Having an exaggerated response to things that startle you - hiding between my legs and trembling for hours on end after I test the smoke detector? I'd say that's exaggerated.

So, all that to say, don't ask me how I'm adjusting to life with an infant. Ask me how many nervous breakdowns my dog has had instead. That's where most of my time is spent these days.

(Also...do you think this has anything to do with the situation at hand?)

Never Break Character

I love, love, love being able to stay at home with my dude, but...let's be honest...10+ hours a day alone with an infant can make you a little crazy. I counteract the isolation by setting things up during the week.

Now, my weeks consist of reading time at the public library on Tuesdays (I feel sure some good posts will come from this, but in the meantime check out Beckett's multicultural girlfriend on my friend Tara's post about our library time), women's Bible study on Wednesdays, stroller striding at the park with other moms on Fridays, and an occasional lunch date or Pinterest party in between.

When we aren't out and about, I find other ways to entertain us. Well, mostly myself. Beckett is at the stage where a piece of string can provide hours of entertainment.

Sometimes we slow dance to The Cheeseburger Song from Love Songs with Mr. Lunt. (see Veggie Tales)

Sometimes we take Mack to the dog park (mostly just to get out of the house, but sometimes as a last-ditch effort to make Mack stop trembling from the day's horrors).

Sometimes we do those things. But almost always we are in character.

Whether Beckett is a foreign dignitary in need of the utmost respect, or the baby of my Russian mob persona, Boris, we like to be in character - complete with sick nasty* accents. Sometimes we're robots, sometimes we're Australian. I'm still working on the French and Italian characters.

I can only hope that Beckett finds it as entertaining as I do one day.

In the middle of my British-accented rundown to Sir Beckett on his schedule (pronounced shed-jewel) for the day, Taylor walked in and said, "I mean...who are you in this situation? You do realize that this is more for you than him, right?" I mumbled something back about being an administrative assistant or chauffeur or something.

It doesn't matter who I am in this scenario. I can tell by the way he's bouncing in his exersaucer that he's more intelligent as a result of our charades.

*when's the last time you heard sick nasty? You're welcome for that.

Speaking of being a child prodigy, here is the dignitary himself playing a little Bach for me.

And, since you asked, here is my favorite of his 5 month photos. This little face makes me instantly melt into a puddle of sap and joy. It's ridiculous how much I love my little 5 month old chunker.

Yep. Time to go squeeze him. Goodbye for now.

Annoying Spouses & {Current} Favs

2012-01-17T15:01:00.002-06:00

Let first me mention a text I sent this week:

(blue = me)

My lack of real exercise is astounding.

Annoying Spouses

A cyberfriend of mine (I claim her, regardless of if she claims me) recently blogged about things she does to annoy her husband. I knew I had to blog about it too, because I love annoying Taylor. It's kind of a twisted hobby.

My top 5 current ways to annoy him:

1. Scare him.

Holy moly this is funny. I'm admittedly unfair in this, because I'm the only one who is allowed to scare the other. He scared me once while I was showering and I silently wept (AD fans - think never-nude scene featuring Tobias Funke). That was the end of that.

2. Explain obvious jokes.

This is even annoying for me to do, let alone for him to endure. I normally start off with, "You see, that's funny because..." followed with something stupid like "elephants don't fly" or "babies can't talk" depending on the joke at hand.

3. Excessive vibrato.

Well, maybe I should broaden that to obnoxious, loud singing in general. I can't stop. My current pick is "Check On It" (as in the 2005 Beyonce classic) while dancing as unattractively as possible.

4. Sneak requests.

No one likes being the recipient of the "Hey - while you're in the kitchen, can you grab me a Coke?" question, unless the delivery of the question makes you laugh. It eases the burden.

My default is staring wide-eyed at Taylor's chair and saying things like, "uh oh...what is that? Get up really fast!" or "There's something on your pants...stand up real quick." followed shortly by, "Hey - since you're up, can you get me a Coke?"

Foolproof.

5. Stitch voice.

Stitch, as in Lilo & Stitch. I love talking like him. Or singing like him. Or reading entire books to Beckett like him. Really anything to make Taylor laugh despite how hard he tries not to.

{Current} Favs

Aside from being intentionally obnoxious (just tryin to have a healthy marriage here, people) might I also recommend a few, or all, of the following current favs in the Brooks household:

Temple Run

It's our new favorite iPhone game. Play at your own risk.

Hidden in my Heart

If you have a wee one, this is such a great album. It's a "lullaby journey through scripture". It's awesome music for Beckett and I both. Buy it. Now.

Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Prophet, Martyr, Spy

This book is awesome...all 600+ pages of it. Incredible man.

Sippy Cups Are Not for Chardonnay

As you can imagine, this is quite a different read than the Bonhoeffer book. It's a hilarious and candid account of a new mom. Funny stuff.

Beckett

You had to have known he'd make the list. Sometime between my last post and now, my tiny baby has turned into a little boy - attitude and all (if you can even imagine my child having an attitude). He'll be 5 months on Sunday. 5 whole months. Almost half a year.

So...here he is giggling. Disregard my voice in the background. (Related: do I really have that deep of a voice?) Also, sorry it awkwardly cuts off. We had technical difficulties.

I'm always looking for other current favs...what suggestions might you have?

That Awkward Moment When's & Throwbacks

2012-01-11T12:44:00.000-06:00

That Awkward Moment When...

I think the "that awkward moment when" craze is about over, so I'd like to wish it out with some recent endings to the sentence.

That awkward moment when you accidentally cut someone off in traffic, then turn into the same parking lot.

An important decision follows: drive another lap to avoid confrontation, follow them to their parking spot to apologize, or walk with your head high pretending nothing happened.

One time in high school when I was trying to be super awesome but really was just being a punk, I flipped a guy off while I was driving. Turns out he was headed to the exact same all-day, indoor, wrestling tournament my friend and I were. He was huge, really angry, and I avoided eye contact with him for about 8 hours straight. It terrified me so much I haven't flipped someone off in traffic again.

That awkward moment when you admit you remember how a song goes when no one else can and are forced to sing aloud in front of tons of people.

The decision here is whether to quietly hum a short portion of the tune or confidently belt all 3 verses - words, crescendos, eighth-notes and all.

A follow up moment to this is that awkward moment when the person who remembers a song when no one else does continues singing the tune long after everyone remembers how it goes. Enough, already.

That awkward moment when allergies make it look like you've been crying at church, so people approach you with, "It was a powerful sermon, wasn't it?" or "Can I pray for something for you?"

This is tricky. If you admit it's allergies, it either looks like you're covering for your sensitive soul or you have no soul. Either: "It's allergies - I swear. Stupid pollen. No, seriously." or "I mean, I guess the sermon was ok...I was paying more attention to the burning sensation in my eyeballs. What was it about again?"

That awkward moment when you make a joke that goes so well you try it again later...to the same person.

Variations include a) jokes that you anticipate to be hysterical that flop and b) so-so jokes that make everyone laugh so hard they venture into the ugly-laugh zone.

That awkward moment when you have to ask yourself how long your fly has been open. It's especially terrible when you realize you haven't gone to the bathroom in a long, long time, and have visited about 15 stores in the meantime.

Throwback

I've had several people over the past year say that I should write a book. First things first: what the heck would I write a book about and who in their right mind would read it? (Or maybe that's the point - maybe it'd be geared more for the clinically insane.)

It has gotten me thinking, though, about the funny stories throughout my 24 years in existence, so I've begun compiling them.

I could write about the time...

a rat gave birth on my person at the pet store
my mom and I ate wedding cake in a stranger's basement (still shocking to me)
a backwoods Arkansas man pulled a shotgun on us for "trespassing"
I dug through barf at Walmart (oh wait, that was 2 months ago and I already blogged about it. Just can't let go.)
my dad saved me from an angry turbaned man whose picture I had just blatantly taken (This was before turbans were the in-thing so it was interesting to me...if that makes it remotely better. Which it doesn't.)
I called the police to report a crime and used the word "wiener"
a Taco Bell employee was fired for harassing me
we pulled a prank at the wrong house resulting in an angry half-naked man and a gun
the nurse - and alleged medical professional - at Baylor saw my injuries and said, "OH $#@%^"
(what am I missing, mom? <-- she's my most faithful reader. And by faithful I mean my only blog reader.)

I double dog dare you to start Throwback Thursday posting with me. It's fun thinking back on family stories that have never been written down. So write it down. On Thursdays. Or really whenever you want...I just want to read it.

Southwest, Baby Socks, & Photoshoots

2012-01-03T12:15:00.002-06:00

Ahh, Christmas. You were good to us this year. It's too bad you didn't stay around for very long.

Some noteworthiness first:
1. It's my anniversary. I can honestly say I didn't know the depth of Taylor's greatness when I married him (that sounds weird), but the past 3 years have made me incredibly grateful for my best friend/husband/dad of B. So a happy big one to us.
2. Beckett is having a BOY COUSIN! We're very excited. (You can follow Taylor's sister and brother-in-law's missions in Chile, as well as read up on the babe when he debuts here.)

Continuing on.

We spent Christmas Eve with Taylor's family and Christmas day until New Years with my family in Kansas. I would say that "baby's first Christmas" was a hit but, let's be honest, Beckett had no idea what was happening. It was very fun for me, though, because I got to open his presents. (On a side note: if I ever find the lady whose voice is behind one of his new toys, I will injure her.)

We flew again, and Beckett was a champ. Luckily, I didn't make mention of undressing with strangers this flight, but, in Sarah fashion, something embarrassing did happen.

It's like people know I need good material for my blog. They set me up.

Southwest

First, let me make mention of how much I love Southwest. As we were waiting at the gate to board our flight on Christmas morning, a few Southwest employees came by and gave all the kids a toy. I mean, that's why they are the best.

The flight attendant on our flight to Kansas was super hilarious. My favorite part of her spiel* was this:

"There's no smoking in the lavatory. There's a $2,000 fine if you're caught and if you wanted to spend that kind of money, you would have flown American."

*I first tried "schpeel". It looks more accurate to me.

Back to my story...

Baby Socks

I went into the bathroom to change the babe's diaper on the way to the gate, and there was a super loud, very energetic airport employee talking to every single lady who went into the bathroom. She was spraying air-freshener that was "Christmas flavored" and making sure everyone was having a fabulous Christmas morning.

Fast forward past the diaper changing and walking to the gate...

After waiting for about 10 minutes, I see my bathroom attendant friend walking up to our gate with something in her hand. In an incredibly loud, ghetto voice she starts saying, "Is someone missin some baby socks? I have some baby socks from the baf-room. Someone's baby isn't wearing socks."

As she holds the socks up, I realize they are Beckett's. So, now that she has everyone's attention at the gate and in the surrounding suburbs of Dallas, I raise my hand in confession as every eye within a 40 mile radius turns and looks at me.

This is the point where the airport employee casually walks over and hands me the socks, right? So one would think.

As she walks over to me, she continues in full-volume voice saying, "What kinda momma are you - yo baby don't have socks on. You left yo baby's socks in the baf-room. That po' baby has cold feet."

At this point, another lady at our gate is obviously as uncomfortable as I am because she starts bailing me out. She points out that my baby does in fact have socks on, and those were probably an extra pair. She was correct.

After an eternity of awkwardness (around 15 seconds or so), the baf-room lady finally stopped playfully chastising me, smiled really big, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

I don't get embarrassed easily, but my cheeks were on fire after that one. It's one thing to embarrass just me; it's another thing to publicly question my ability to sock my child. I'm glad CPS wasn't waiting at the KCI airport.

Photoshoots

If you have some moral stance against incredibly handsome babies, you should probably exit now. There's about to be an overload of pictures.

My dad is an excellent photographer so we took time in Kansas for a mini photoshoot for Sir B.

Dressing a baby is as much fun (if not more) than I ever imagined. Until he can fight back or tell me otherwise, I will continue having "costume changes" as frequently as I'd like.

Without further ado, may I present the Beck in all his glory (does that phrase normally mean naked? If so, that's not what I meant. Carry on.):

It may benefit you to know that his dad is a CPA. That 10-key action makes Taylor proud.

That's all of the photoshoot. This one is a bonus for your enjoyment:

Outtakes

2011-12-22T13:42:00.001-06:00

A few outtakes for your Thursday giggles.

Delivery Room

Just one of those precious moments, waiting to meet my son.

And another. Just a special, special time.

Note the sweet scene happening with my husband and his parents, then note that I am scarfing down a hoagie or something in the background.

Beckett (gone squishy)

Even though we have the world's cutest baby, he has been known to take a few bad pictures.

There are entirely too many chins and lips going on.

This will be shown on his wedding day.

This one, too.

Christmas card fail. First off, Beckett's hat is entirely too small. And then there's the pup: terrified, silly ole Mack. All around fail.

I had one more for this segment but I felt too bad. It's that unfortunate. Plus, I've got to save a few for future blackmail.

Monthly Photoshoots

Today is B's 4 month...birthday? (He turns 4 months today.)

Yesterday we took our monthly photo shoot. He snuck in a few great faces.

It went better than last month. If you remember, the 3 month shoot was a bit scary.

My favorite part of the monthly photos is obviously seeing how much Beckett grows each month, but also his interactions with the lion.

We go from "no one is home" to "nom nom nom" within a span of 4 months:

Hilarious. Almost as hilarious as my favorite of this month's photos. If this doesn't make you happy, there might not be any hope.

And done.

For now.

Don't think I don't have a folder on my desktop called "Ugly Faces" for posts such as this, because I do.

One year later.

2011-12-15T14:35:00.002-06:00

It was one year ago, today.

I stayed home from work, mostly because I didn't want to go in, but also because I had a smidgen of illness on the side. Like, maybe, a sniffle. Or two. ...ok so it was mostly because I didn't want to work.

The morning went quite nicely - what with the 3 movies I watched in bed before my feet even hit the floor. The moment I decided to drive to Target to buy pregnancies tests "because I'd never taken one and that's what married people do periodically" is when things got crazy.

Fast forward: two positive tests later, I was nearly hyperventilating as I called Taylor in Amarillo to tell him.

Well, and then I confirmed, yet again, at a walk-in clinic. (You know, the one where the lady inadvertently called me fat.)

That was one year ago, today. The day I couldn't possibly imagine being a mom.

One year later, this little booger has completely turned our life upside down:

It's painful how cute he is, isn't it?

In the past year, I have:

eaten my body weight in Arby's
barely survived one of the hottest summers on record
lost objects under my belly: a dinner napkin, tv remote, phone
experienced the tragedy of suicide
yelled at a librarian
moved to a neighborhood full of lovable crazies
lost my job
hosted a Sex Party
gotten in a wreck with a "thing"
narrowly escaped a goat attack
birthed an 8 pound baby
eaten 3lbs of Jelly Bellies in one week
spent a couple days in a NICU waiting room
sang "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain" as a duet
stuck mustaches on my child's face until he wept
gotten scammed by a high school girl and her "cookie fundraiser"
hated cancer
found baby poop in unimaginable places around the house
cried a whole lot
laughed even more
made at least 27 new mom friends
joined an incredible women's Bible study
considered giving members of my immediate family away
read in the car in the driveway to keep the babe sleeping
almost peed my pants waiting for the babe to wake up while I read in the car in the driveway
dug through barf at Walmart
harmonized with Baby Einstein at the top of my lungs
appreciated and loved my husband deeply and in more ways than I can count
fallen madly, stupidly in love with a chubby-cheeked, blue-eyed boy named Beckett
begun to really grasp the overwhelming, unconditional love of God for his children

I totally didn't see my year going this route, but I can't tell you how thankful I am that it did. (A small reminder that God is in control, not me.) I could have gone without a few of those experiences - 3lbs of jelly beans, really? - but I can't imagine being any more blessed than I am today with my little family of 4 (yes, I still include my dog).

...

I don't have a good segue, so here's our Christmas card. Enjoy.

...and make your own 2011 list. I want to read about your highs, lows, and lowers (your "Arby's" if you will).

Grace: My Middle Name & Social Cues

2011-12-09T14:48:00.001-06:00

Maybe it's because I didn't go to sleep until 2:30am*. Or maybe it's because the 3rd annual Ugly Sweater Christmas Party is tonight and I'm so excited I'm not thinking clearly.

Either way, I've made a mockery of all things graceful today.

Grace: My Middle Name.

Let's first discuss my trip to Walmart and the blueberry walnut bread I sampled in the bakery. That is worth a trip out of the house, right there. Fast forward to the register: my cashier was pretty grumpy which immediately makes my brain scream, "Oooo girl. You are going to LOVE me by the end of this transaction. Let's turn that frown upside down." (It's an odd personality quirk of mine.) So, naturally, I am just laying on the charm, joking about this and that, and smiling a whole lot. My sneaky plan worked (read: she totally loved me by the end). Or maybe she just loved the fact that I had a hunk of blueberry stuck in my grill the entire time I was attempting to bond with her. Stupid Walmart and your sticky-berry-bread samples.

So then there was Staples. The trip itself was uneventful, but when I got home, I noticed I was rockin this in public:

Don't focus here on the random sorta braid in the front. Focus instead on the protuberance in the back.

The top picture is a view of my hair from the side. The bottom picture is a view from the front.

Sometimes I channel my inner Snooki. NBD.

Smooth. Real smooth.

*About the staying-up-late thing: it wasn't because I had a crying infant...or because I was gettin crazy at a club like my other 24 year old peers. Alas, it was actually because I drank coffee too late (9pm) at a Christmas party and read an entire book after I got home. I'm so much cooler now than ever before.

Social Cues

So. A Christmas party last night.

My friend Aimee invited me to a party she was hosting. She claims she reads my blog but that's doubtful. Read the section above. Who knowingly invites that to their party? Maybe I'm her charity case, but the joke's on you sucker - I had fun. A lot of fun.

It dawned on me last night that I might be losing my grip on social cues.

Most people probably left at 10 last night; I left around 11. It's always been in my nature (and my family's nature if you've ever met my kinfolk) to be the last or next-to-last people to leave an event.

These days, though, it's nearly impossible to break myself away to go home at all. Since I now get out by myself an average of once every two months, I treat that one night like a never-ending party.

Each outing, I inch my way closer and closer to this scene:
Host/Hostess: Well...I guess since every one else has left, I'm going to go get ready for bed.
Me: Alright, sweeeeet. I'll just be in the kitchen polishing off that plate of brownies.
Host/Hostess (10 minutes later): Allllriiiighty then. I'm off to get some shut eye....
Me: [fake yawn] Yea, I guess it is about that time. I should probably head out. ... but just to clarify, that was a definite no on continuing this party at Billy Bob's, then?

Save me from myself.

(And, Aimee, if you're reading this...I didn't think it was that awkward that I asked to sleep in the guest room in case the party spontaneously started back up again. Tell your family to loosen up.)

Orphans.

2011-12-06T11:54:00.001-06:00

I hardly slept Sunday night. Part of it had to do with drinking coffee at 9pm (stupid), but the other part had to do with some blogs I was reading.

They reminded me of a few hours I spent at an orphanage in Donetsk, Ukraine, over a decade ago.

By instruction, I was wearing clothes that dried quickly in case any of the kids had an accident (which they did). I got to hold a little girl for a while, and play with many other kids. I remember one girl on our team, Nicole, was holding a little boy, about 2 years old, who was completely unresponsive to her. He didn't smile, laugh, or talk to anyone, yet she held him the entire time we were there. When it came time to leave, Nicole started handing the little boy back to one of the orphanage workers. When the boy realized what was happening, he began to scream hysterically, clinging to Nicole with all of his might. The workers literally had to pry him off of her so we could leave.

Here was a boy who had no mom, no dad, and no one to spend time just holding him. Those orphanages are packed full of kids and, try as they might, the workers can never spend as much time as they'd like with each child. The hour or two Nicole held him might have been the most attention he'd ever received at one time.

In Abilene, I worked with 0-12 month babies at a daycare for a semester. I remember one little girl, Norah, who never cried when she was hungry, dirty, or tired. She just went about doing her own thing. When it came time for her bottle, Norah would gulp it down like she had been waiting weeks for someone to feed her. She also wouldn't fall asleep if you rocked her; instead, she would just find a quiet corner to fall asleep alone. She never cried, because she was accustomed to no one answering her at home. Her mom would show up tipsy to get her, if at all. One day she forgot to pick Norah up entirely, until we called to remind her.

Quite often, when I wake up in the middle of the night to my own little boy's cries, my heart breaks thinking of all the other 3 month old babies around the world who have no one to answer their cries. I think of the little boy in Donetsk, I think of sweet Norah, and I think of the summer I spent in Ghana at the Village of Hope.

I've always had a deep desire to adopt a child (or 5). Maybe it is because of what I've experienced. Maybe it's a calling. Maybe all of the above. After the arrival of Sir Beckett, my desire has deepened.

So, back to Sunday night, I was reading the blog Kisses from Katie (a must read if you haven't heard her story) and I came across a post from a while back that was talking about one of her daughters that was adopted as an older child.

She says:

I want her to be a baby so I can strap her on me and hold her there and she will feel secure and safe and protected. I want to be the person who taught her to write her name and how much fun it is to make mud pies, and I want to be the person who laughed with her when she lost her first tooth. I want to know where the scars came from that she can’t remember the stories about, and I want to be the person who wiped her tears when she fell.

But I know that is not how God intended it.

He did not choose me for those moments, He chose me for these. I entered motherhood through a different door, and I get a different kind of stretch marks.
I believe that this is how He has loved us and I do not pretend to know why. But I know that He who did not spare His own Son will also graciously give us all things we need, and so I cling to believing this is for good.

I believe that He held her all the years that I didn’t. I believe that He stood beside her in the line for porridge that the UN workers passed out, and I believe that He clasped her hand as she made the long journey from Arua to Masaka without her first momma, and I believe that she leaned her head into His shoulder as she fell asleep on hard dirt floor to the sound of her uncle’s drunken fury. I believe that He carried her all the way here to this new family and I believe that His hand is on her still.

And maybe the missing pieces just allow me to trust Him more.

So I kneel beside her bed and I whisper His name over her and when I look at her face, I see His. I am thankful that He did choose me for now, these moments.

He is a good Father. And I can trust in that.

You're speechless, right? (I may or may not have gone and gotten a sleeping Beckett out of his crib to rock him for an hour after reading this.)

I then came across an organization, Serving His Children, and the blog of the director. She recently posted about some of the children they were serving. These photos and stories are shocking. Check it out here: Miracles.

One of the emaciated babies pictured in the link above is Beckett's age, and that makes me keep tearing up...especially as I look over at my son whose cheeks weigh about 3 pounds each.

...kinda makes your Christmas list look stupid, huh?

But, alas, this isn't a post to depress. It's a post to encourage.

Maybe adoption isn't your thing. Or maybe you put tons of effort and resources into a completely different type of ministry (equally awesome).

One of my passions are these kids. The ones without moms and dads. So, if you aren't involved in an organization, the possibilities to help children are endless. Below are just a few of my favs.

Other options:

1. Supporting a child through an organization like Compassion or World Vision. It's $35ish per month, and it provides food, water, and clothing to a child in need. (Some may not be orphans, but children of families in need.)

Meet our kids, Brayan and Ruth. Shameless advertising for both organizations listed above.

They are obviously very happy to have their pictures made.

My favorite part of supporting them is yes, the letters we write back and forth, but also the super adorable drawings we get. Last week we got this from Brayan:

Sorry for the bad quality, but you get the idea.

2. Buy a cool t-shirt from 147 Million Orphans.

This one is awesome:

3. Host an event at your church or small group or ministry, like Orphan Sunday.

(Obviously this has passed, but there's always events like this.)

Don't [ever] use money or laziness as excuses not to make this world a better place in some form or fashion. We are some of the wealthiest of the wealth even if you are "less fortunate" than your coworkers and friends. Plus, with about 5 clicks on your computer mouse, you can donate to any number of organizations. Easy cheesy.

This post is a tad out of the norm (just a measly little tad bit), but it is on my heart and it is something I never want to put on the back burner until "later".

Mmmmmkay?

Plus, this post prepares you for a few years down the road when I shamelessly hit you up for money to help us adopt a little peanut or two. It's coming.

Which organizations did I miss that are your favs?

Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

2011-11-30T10:38:00.001-06:00

A post dedicated to the survival of mom and baby's trek across America.

Planes

Last week, Beckett and I were shipped to Kansas while Taylor was at a work conference in San Diego. Side note: the hotel he stayed at was listed on a website for top 8 "sexiest hotel bathrooms". Did I mention it was an accounting conference? I would expect accountants to pick a Thrifty Inn or something. Guess not.

I'm not gonna lie - I was stressing out about this plane ride the entire week leading up to it. What if Beckett screams the whole flight and everyone on the plane keeps glaring daggers at us? What if I have to nurse him while stuck between two large men? What if I get stuck next to that lady who keeps giving me unwanted parenting advice?

We got to the airport at a lovely 5:30 a.m. and Beckett slept in a sling around me for all of the security, boarding, and take off. It was marvelous.

As soon as we were in the air, I started having a panic attack with Beckett strapped to me in his sling while I sat in the smallest seat known to man, jammed up against the airplane window. Did I mention it was at least 104 degrees on the plane?

I started trying to take my sweater off (which was impossible since I was wearing it under a strapped-on baby) and obviously looked very awkward because the man next to me asked if he could help. We started doing an uncomfortable dance trying to get my stupid sweater off, but finally I was free of it. In the moment right after, I got nervous trying to decide how to a) thank him and b) let him know I wouldn't be that high maintenance the whole flight. Know what I chose to say?

"Thanks so much. I've gotta be honest, no stranger has helped me disrobe on a plane before."

Really? Really. Suffice it to say, it got about 38x more awkward between us.

The only thing more uncomfortable is when I announced to him I had to nurse Beckett by saying, "At the risk of making this awkward, I have to feed him right quick...but you won't even notice a thing!" Then, when Beckett started choking while eating, I chose to say, "Don't you just hate it when you're trying to be discreet and the babe starts choking his head off? So nonchalant...hah.. ha....h."

He didn't make eye contact with me the remainder of the flight.

It's a wonder I have a husband and friends who seem to like me.

Automobiles

After staying in Kansas for a few days, Mom, Dad, Beckett, and I drove to Arkansas to meet Taylor and my brother for Thanksgiving with my grandparents.

What normally takes about 6 hours quickly became a 9 hour trip. The best part: it wasn't Beckett's fault.

Taylor makes fun of our family for loving cheesy things (no pun intended...you'll understand in a minute). While most families vacationed in New York City or on a cruise or at Disney World, mine was visiting the historical sites of Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, and the Oregon Trail. We never lived close to either sets of grandparents, so the vacation hours my dad took every year were spent visiting them, and hitting at the historical sites along the way. My parents did a great job of making the road trips fun.

It's not the historical vacations Taylor makes fun of, it's all the stupid stops we made on said vacations. A perfect example is the whole goats-in-recliners incident this summer. Another example is the Osceola Cheese place found in Osceola, MO that is always a must-stop on our trips. It's such a hidden gem full of hundreds of cheese samples and creepy mouse statues. We spent a solid hour there for "Beckett to get out and play", but really it was so we could sample tons of cheese.

The next stop we made on our trip was to an antique store that my parents have stopped at so many times, they know the owners by name. That's my family. We literally have never met strangers. Or if we have, we quickly converted them to friends.

Beckett was a little peach the whole trip. It probably helped that I turned his car seat into an interactive jungle experience:

Note the tongue. This new discovery has him entertained for hours.

I'm glad our first plane ride and road trip are behind us. Now we're totally ready to do it all again at Christmas.

Your turn. Does your family stop at lame places on road trips? (And by lame I mean awesome and delicious.) We're always looking for new ideas.

Black Friday & Granny Mags

2011-11-26T19:54:00.001-06:00

It's good to be alive.

We've had a very eventful week that had the potential to be the death of me. Beckett had his first flight (post to follow...sometime) and first road trip (6+ hours). My favorite event of the week, however, had to do with the craziness of Black Friday.

Black Friday

As mentioned in the post about buckshot/birdshot (or whatever kind of shot we try to find in our Thanksgiving food), we spent turkey day this year in the thriving metropolis of Pocahontas, Arkansas.

We kept seeing the ads for the deals at Walmart starting Thursday night at 10, so my aunt, uncle, cousins, mom, brother, and myself headed into town to see what we could find. More importantly, we wanted to see some hill folk come out and fight over tupperware.

The entire parking lot was full, as well as surrounding parking lots: banks, Subway, Cato's (as found in every decent small town).

Once we parked and got inside, this is what we saw:

About 6500 people live in Pocahontas and around 8700 people were at Walmart on Thursday night. 2 minutes after walking in, one of the pallets got opened early and the scene that unfolded was a little embarrassing for the human race. People were shoving, some were yelling, and crock pots were literally flying through the air. It was insanity.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't make my mom hold on to the back of my sweater. I sure as heck wasn't going to be that girl who got trampled to death on Black Friday.

My family fought our way through the masses to see all the deals, took a few breathers in the men's underwear aisle (a surprisingly peaceful place that night), and ended up with a few treasures, including a $25 toy for Beckett that retails at $150.

Don't think we left this extravaganza unscathed, though. My family never has normal adventures.

At some point during the night, I saw a bin of sippy cups that were $2. There were different age stages and colors of cups, so I was digging through one of the bins to find the right combination. And when I say digging, I mean both arms up to my elbows checking the very bottom of the display. While I'm mid-dig, this lady leans over to me and says:

"Um, I wouldn't touch anything in that bin. Someone just threw up in there."

Yep.

Even though I left with vomit hands, it was even more hilarious than I had expected, especially because I talked my brother into shaving his facial hair for the occasion. Ain't nobody gonna mess with my cart.

Granny Mags

I'm not sure if my Nanny has always had great stuff laying around or if I just haven't paid attention before, but I found some real gems this week in one of her catalogs.

It's sort of a Sky Mall meets AARP vibe.

First off, we have the Escape Hammer. Who doesn't need to escape from "a dangerous vehicle" every now and again?

Then the Weight Loss Ring. If I knew losing weight was as easy as wearing an ugly ring, I would have signed up a while ago.

Probably my favorite: the Beauty Mask. If you notice, the beauty mask actually zips over your face to protect your make up. The model appears to be going to bed...is that an appropriate time for make up protection? (That's assuming a lot, like there is ever an appropriate time for such a mask.)

The Powerful Personal Megaphone. For those impromptu get-togethers. Or for a wife who's husband refuses to get hearing aids. Or for those with great "inside" voices. Or for those doing any "summoning".

The Great Hair Day, also known as hair powder. No one will ever be able to tell you're balding. It's sort of like the baby-powder-to-cover-oily-hair trick only much, much better. Please note that one color offering is "Salt & Pepper".

The Shredder Scissors. These are much more efficient than cutting a few times with normal scissors. Plus, if you notice the description, they're quiet and great for crafts. Well worth $12.99 + shipping and handling.

I'll spare you from the sexy-time items found on the page with the lacy granny panties. Just use your imagination then multiply the gross factor times 10.

Now I know what you'll be doing at your grandparent's house next visit. In fact, call ahead to make sure they save their catalogs. They're guaranteed to be entertaining.

Ending Credits

We had a fabulous Thanksgiving.

Beckett met his great-grandparents (and cousins, uncles, aunts, fiances, etc):

The whole clan, plus a few bonus visitors.

And then this. A teaser of the greatest photo shoot of all time. More to come.

LYLAS, y'all.

Cry Rooms, Baybeeees, & Mosaics

2011-11-14T11:25:00.001-06:00

I'm done making disclaimers about how random these posts are. Just know ahead of time that you will always get a hodge podge on this blog.

If you're totally over the baby thing, skip to "Mosaics". You do not want to miss a very motivational video.

Carry on...

Cry Rooms

My least favorite part of church these days: the dreaded "cry room".

First off, you do a walk of shame to get there. The walk where you try to muffle (without suffocating) the cries of your beloved child while walking past 89 pews of onlookers.

Once you actually get to the cry room, your eyes have to adjust to the near pitch-black lighting. And by pitch-black I mean a light covered with blue plastic, creating a creepy black-light effect.

Choosing the rocker to sit in is comparable to the urinal-choosing debacle men face. You don't choose the one in the middle between two other nursing moms. That leaves very little elbow/baby leg room for each mom/baby combo.

Rocker chosen, eyes adjusted. Next step: identify the other moms. This can be tricky; again, like the urinal situation, sometimes it's best to keep your eyes forward. Don't want to accidentally catch a peek of lady parts.

You have two types of nursing moms in the cry room:
1. The first-timer. Characteristics include a 20'x20' covering blanket for modesty, 3 clean organic burp clothes - one per spit up, a memory-foam diaper changing pad for baby's comfort, and overall anxiety about fussiness. (Anxious thoughts include: "Are you done eating? Do you need to burp? Maybe you should eat more. Do you have gas?")

2. The multi-mom. This mom uses a haphazardly placed 4" wide burp cloth to cover while feeding (if even that), has one burp cloth with a few days' worth of spit-up on it, lays baby directly on the germy carpet and/or plastic public-bathroom-style changing table, and gets in and out in just a few minutes.

Since the speakers don't work in our church cry room, you either sit in silence with the occasional gulping and/or choking noises, or strike up conversations with your nursing peers.

Don't ever expect to recognize these people in every day life, though. It's way too dark in the cry room to get an accurate facial reading.

Moms: does this sound like your church cry room, or is ours especially exciting? (And by exciting I mean creepy and dungeon-like.)

Baybeeees

Adults do funny things around babies.

When a baby is in sight, even the manliest of all men immediately start talking in a 2-octave-above-normal voice.

The best are the strangers in public.

Most little kids see Beckett and start tugging on their parent's sleeve saying, "Mom. A baby. Mom...Mom. Look. A baby, Mom." In that circumstance, I normally stop and let the kid look at Beckett.

The situation I'm still figuring out is the walk-by admirer. This person is passing you, muttering something like, "Awwwhhwhh lookeeeeee. A bayyyybeeeee." in a very sing-songy voice. I normally just give a quick smile and move along unless they ask follow-up questions.

I don't even think people realize they do it. It's something inherent in human nature to turn to mush and disregard all mature, adult vocabulary when a wee one is nearby.

Mosaics

I started reading a book called "You Lost Me" by David Kinnaman, same guy who wrote "Unchristian".

It's a look at why the 18-29 year old generation, dubbed "Mosaics" in the book, are leaving church during the young adult years. I'm a sucker for books about generational differences (maybe the marketer in me?) and this is a particularly interesting look at how our churches should change/will change by my generation.

It's a great book (so far) and I'd love to discuss in greater detail when I finish.

In the meantime, I saw a video tweeted this week that is hilarious alongside this idea of cultural relevancy in our churches. Maybe you can see why:

Did you watch the whole thing? If not, you need to fast forward to 1:58 to see some sweet dance moves.

Nope, this isn't embarrassing at all.

Well-being & Sleepyface

2011-11-09T14:29:00.005-06:00

A Beckett post. (What else did you expect?)

Well-being

On the well-being of my son...

If I sat down and thought about all the ways Beckett could be injured, scarred for life, or miss an opportunity to learn something, I would go i-n-s-a-n-e. Clinically insane.

So, I don't think about it. I just do the best I can.

I have to trust that the church nursery ladies won't leave him in the corner and fail to notice if he falls unconscious, or that his skin won't melt off when I bathe him more frequently than suggested, or that letting him sleep in his crib before the age of 2 won't result in trust issues.

That doesn't mean I don't check the nursery pager about 58 times during church, lotion the heck out of his skin to keep it attached, and make sure he's breathing in his crib at least every 30 minutes.

It's easy to be uptight as a new parent. But that's way too stressful and not enough fun.

I had the chance in high school and college to experience life in other cultures, which has probably helped me be a bit calmer, like my visit to Ukraine where I held orphan babies who rarely had skin-to-skin contact, or the time I spent in Ghana with twin boys who were put in boiling water by their mom to remove demons.

Yea...I'm pretty sure everything will turn out fine for my son. Even if I don't wash his clothes in Dreft. (Ohhh the nerve.)

SleepyFace

Not to make a ridiculous and absolute statement, but my baby really is the cutest baby ever.* (Ever!)

...until he sleeps. Then I'll pass the baton.

Exhibit A:

I have no words.

Is that even my baby on the upper-left??

Recently, we've made some progress to overcome the state of being witnessed above.

Exhibit B:

Aside from the fact that he still looks a little stressed out while he's sleeping, it's a much more normal (and cute) sleepy face. Props to you, little one.

*honorable mention to my friend Christie and her baby, Knox

Booonuussssss (heading to be sung, not read)

As we depart, let us all enjoy this:

That's right. Baby cowboy boots. My little Texan.

Punkins, Separate Events, & Bills for Dummies

2011-11-01T12:38:00.001-05:00

This blog never really follows a pattern, but this post is especially random. You've been warned.

Punkin Patchin'

One thing I love about having a kid is that I can use him as an excuse to do childish things. You better believe I will be at every new Disney/Pixar movie that comes out, whether he is old enough to watch movies or not. (2 month olds enjoy a good flick every now and then, right?) Also, don't think I didn't consider taking him trick-or-treating so I could eat all the loot.

That said...I wanted to go to a pumpkin patch really bad this year. Taylor hated the idea, and rightly so. We weren't carving pumpkins. Beckett wouldn't enjoy it. It was mostly for me. And I loved it.

We went with our friends, the Morris family. For the record, Taylor ended up having a great time.

Beckett didn't.

Yet I forced our immobile child to stay long enough for me to see and eat all I wanted to.

There was even a petting zoo. That term might be used loosely. There was a ghetto, handwritten cardboard sign that said "FARM ANIMALS" with an arrow pointing to a few caged goats and pigs. I have no idea if they were supposed to be pet (petted? pat?) or not.

In typical boy fashion, Enrique and Taylor just kept checking on the gender situation of the animals...

And in typical girl fashion, Lizeth and I kept demanding they photograph us. It was a win-win.

Separate Events

I've only been a parent for 71 days (hopefully it lasts longer than Kim Kardashian's marriage, a whopping 72 days) so I'm constantly learning what all this new gig entails.

On Sunday night, Team Brooks attended a tailgating/cookout/competition/fundraiser deal at our church. We got roped into entering the "competition" with our friends, the Ice family. So we went to the store to buy goodies, loaded up the grill, and set up shop in the parking lot at church....

That's the extent of my knowledge about the tailgating festivities.

Why? Because I attended a separate event than everyone else.

I was stuck in some sub-world where there is no time for trying all the food because of the endless changing of diapers, avoiding direct sunlight, and keeping Beckett from bratwurst-greased stranger hands.

When we got back to the house, I told Whitney I felt like I had attended a whole separate event than everyone else.

I then realized this event is called parenthood.

It's a very hungry, stressful event, but I'll take it in a heartbeat.

Superheroes

Now that I'm a mom to a boy, I'm always keeping my eye out for boy-ish things, which is why I'm already saving all the bugs I find in mason jars. Just kidding. Or am I?

When I stumbled upon this Spiderman getup at Old Navy for $.47, I knew Beckett would be ecstatic.

I was correct.

I'm not a crazy coupon lady, but I do love a good deal. I would classify $.47 as a good deal.

So good a deal, in fact, you may start to wonder why it's so inexpensive.

Maybe because someone at Old Navy lost the pants that went with the shirt.

Even Beckett realizes a problem at this point. Oh well. Superheroes don't have to have pants. I'd imagine they enjoy being pantless as much as the next guy.

Bills for Dummies

Going through the filing cabinet this week, I found this:

It's an explanation from Cook Children's about what our hospital bill would look like.

Does anything seem out of place to you? Like, maybe, the artwork?

It may help if I told you the accompanying NICU bill was around $20,000. The artwork is hilariously offensive in that perspective.

"You probably can't understand the number 2 with four zeros behind it, so I'll draw you a sad face to make it simple."

The only reasoning I came up with for this is an attempt to distract us from the total amount we're about to be charged by drawing the neonatalogist as stick figure with a pocket protector. It makes him seem a lot less expensive that way.

Funny stuff.

And fail, marketing department. Fail.

Trick-or-Treating 101, Intervention, & Shopping Horrors

2011-10-27T16:22:00.000-05:00

Trick-or-Treating 101

Helpful hints for being "the good house" on Halloween.

If you don't know what constitutes a "good house" on Halloween, chances are your house is not good.

Good houses give out dollar bills, 1-pound Hershey bars, 3 handfuls of candy (instead of 3 pieces), or name brand candy like Reese's, Snickers, M&M, and Kit Kat.

Bad houses give out dimes, off-brand flavored tootsie rolls, 1 Werther's, or religious tracts.

Don't be the bad house.

Intervention

Someone help me. I am begging for an intervention.

Put me in front of materials that can be shaped into facial hair and I'll spend the next hour making myself laugh and my son cry.

It's becoming a problem.

Shopping Horrors

Leaving the house is no longer an easy task. I value sleep enough that, pre-Beckett, I had my getting ready time down to an art. Give me 35 minutes and I would give you a showered, dressed, and make-upped Sarah. Now, give me 35 minutes and I will give you one changed diaper and one brushed tooth.

To make things more complicated, Beckett really hates his car seat now. He's a very curious child who constantly wants to see what's going on around him. (I have no one to blame but myself on that one.)

A few weeks ago, our trip to Walmart went something like this:

Beckett screams to and through the store while I get all the groceries, stopping every few feet to answer 15 questions about him. ("Oh - he's a little one. How old? How big when he was born? Is he breastfed? He sure is upset. How is he sleeping at night? Does he have colic? Is he hungry?" "Yes ma'am, I left the house without feeding him. I figured if he were hungry he'd grab something as we headed out the door.") I get to the self-checkout where a man is writing a check. A check. At the self-checkout. I realize I left my wallet in the car so I load everything back up to get my wallet and re-checkout. I get home only to find that I forgot one of the main ingredients for dinner. Repeat experience at Albertson's.

So, lesson learned. Car seat = trauma for Beckett.

A few days later I was running in to Michael's to get one item and I knew exactly where to find it. No need for a car seat, or a diaper bag. I grabbed only Beckett and my wallet.

What I didn't anticipate was the 13-person deep checkout line. Beckett was at least happy not being constrained to his seat...until he spit up - projectile style. It would have been fine had:
a) he not managed to get it all over his face and body, inside my shoe, on my shoulder, and all over the floor beside us
b) I not forgotten the diaper bag with the burp cloth
c) I chosen a more absorbent shirt for myself that didn't leave the chunks sitting on my shoulder for all to look at
d) the people in front and behind me in line not been simultaneously gagging on their disgust and calling CPS.

Ahhh, life.

Life can be very funny if we choose to laugh about it. So I propose that we chuckle away, my friends.

Speaking of chuckling...the picture below has had me giggling for several days now. Let us conclude with a laugh.

"Relax! I was just kidding!"

Insta...week & Baby Blues

2011-10-24T18:26:00.000-05:00

I would label this section InstaFriday, but a) it's not Friday and b) some of these pictures aren't from Instagram. (If you blog and want to play along with InstaFriday, you can read about it at a lovely site found here: Life Rearranged.)

Insta...week

In logical dog world, if you chew an antler off of your favorite toy, the antler becomes your new favorite toy. It just makes sense.

We celebrated 2 months of post-womb life with Beckett this week. Seriously - look how much more alert he is now compared to month 1. It's amazing. No more comatose stare; we have an active baby on our hands.

And, as usual, I took it one picture too far. I should have learned my lesson from last month.

We tried our hand at some Taste of Home's Tomato Tortellini soup this week. I give it a B+. It's a lot better after sitting in the fridge for a few days, as most soups are.

Taylor and I have an acrobat for a baby. Somehow, every night, our little dude manages to do a complete 180 in his crib. He can't even roll over, yet he manages this. (Pictured above is a 90 degree turn. He'd gone the other 90 by the time I went in to get him in the morning.)

Poor buddy had to get his 2 month shots today. This is how he felt about it. Instead of being a good mom and calming him immediately, I had to take his picture first. He just looks so cute when he cries sometimes.

I found it only fair that I also get a shot today. Sweet band-aid, huh? Little known fact: flu shots at Target also come with life stories of the pharmacist's bully-victim-turned-bully son - no extra charge!

At our pediatric visit today, we found out that Beckett weighs 13lb 3 oz (83rd percentile in weight) and is 24" long (85th percentile height). Read: big boy.

The nurse who took his measurements first apparently mismeasured his head, putting him in the 12th percentile, which was concerning to our doctor. The nurse also reported that he had a fever. Last time he had a fever he spent 2 days in the NICU. After remeasuring and retemping, everything was fine. Heart-attack averted.

Other news from the week: Taylor started a new job today. Yay for no more out of town and/or ridiculous "busy season" hours! I'll take it. My only regret: I forgot to take a first-day-of-work picture of him. Curses.

Baby Blues

I've debated blogging about this topic for a while now, which convinced me that I definitely should talk about it.

Disclaimer: if you were a new mom who loved every second of motherhood, talked about how newborn life is full of sparkles and unicorn rides, or managed to never have poop on your person in public, you can get out your judgement hat now. Fair warning.

I was very unprepared when it came to postpartum emotions. The two extremes I heard were, "I would have jumped in front of a train for him the second I laid eyes on him" or crazy stories of women drowning their kids because the depression got so bad. There's some middle ground that I completely missed hearing about.

I figured, like most people I talked to, the second Beckett came out I'd fall immediately into some sort of blissful, forever love with him.

The truth is....gulp....that didn't happen to me. It happened to Taylor, but not to me.

The delivery was incredibly emotional, and I was really excited to see what was on the other side of pregnancy, but I didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love for the slimy, chipmunky baby placed on my chest.

In the weeks following his birth, I thought he was really cute and I wanted to take good care of him, but I also kept looking over my shoulder to see if a hospital employee was chasing me down mumbling something about, "We found his real parents...Thanks for babysitting..."

Much like meeting Taylor for the first time, it's been more like a steady decline into love, not an all-out fall.

There are a lot of emotions post-birth that wouldn't necessarily be fairy tale material, which is maybe why people don't talk about them. Or maybe it's because it's embarrassing to say, "Yea...I didn't really know how I felt about him for a while." Surely there's something wrong with you, right?

Nah, girl.

After having your precious little bundle,

if you feel...

...sad

...a little regretful

...lumpy and stretch-marky

...like you just want things to go back to normal

...frustrated you can't watch one tv episode without interruption

...completely unattractive to your spouse

...overwhelmed

...not like yourself
...like a feedsack

...selfish

...jealous of simplicity

...completely inadequate

...clueless

it's ok. All of it is ok. In fact, it's very normal.

I was embarrassed to even tell Taylor how I was feeling, having no idea so many women struggle for a while right after giving birth. (I also realized I was way more attached than I thought, otherwise his trip to the NIC U wouldn't have been as difficult as it was.)

Pregnancy and childbirth are miraculous, without a doubt, but so is becoming a new parent.

Slowly, day by day, you'll learn more about your baby and find yourself becoming more emotionally attached.

Before you and I know it, love sneaks up on us.

Just remember - you're not alone. And it's ok to want to punch the new moms who shower regularly and fit into their pre-pregnancy pants by week 2. Boogers in your hair and spit-up on your clothes builds character - those poor suckers just don't realize it.

Having a kid changes everything. The realization of that last sentence is what causes 99% of new-parent emotions. Buuuuut every day brings a little more adjusting, a little more joy, a little more sanity. Or so I've learned in my whopping 9 weeks of being a mom.

And since you asked...here is my new little love, the one that has successfully stolen my heart. You may want to sit down - can't have anyone swooning.

Giant Feet & The "C" Word

2011-10-19T18:40:00.001-05:00

This might be an overly serious post. If you remember the lists of things I'm good and bad at, you'll remember that I handle hard times/stress/problems with humor. It's a blessing because laughter makes {most} everything better, and a curse on that rare occasion you bust out laughing at a funeral.

About the funeral - it's only happened once. In Memphis. At a very lively, southern funeral. I would feel terrible for laughing, but it was due to the lady behind me answering her phone in the middle of the service saying (in her best Bon Qui Qui voice), "Helllo? Helllo? Giiiirrrrlll I can't herrr you. I'm at a furrrnrel. Let me call you beck."

I digress.

Before I get overly pensive:

Giant Feet

My friend Tara (found over yonder) and her baby Grayson (who is now 1 day past his due date...stubborn little dude) came over for craft day yesterday.

She wanted to make a yarn-wrapped letter and wreath for the hospital door when Grayson is born, and I...had no craft. I'm embarrassed to report that over the past few months I've made most of the crafts I had pinned on my "On the agenda..." board. It's getting a little out of hand.

I started thinking of what supplies I had, one thing led to another, and I came up with a painting with Beckett's hands & feet prints combined with Micah 6:8. I wanted his hands to represent "act justly", his feet to represent "walk humbly", and his heart to represent "love mercy". Unfortunately for consistency's sake, his heart was unavailable for tracing so I had to forge it. I also fabricated about 7 out of 10 fingers. Have you ever tried to unclench an 8 week old's hands? It is very close to being physically impossible. Plus, any time I tried to put paint on his palms, he found it entertaining to grab the brush with a death-grip.

Aside from the toilet malfunction causing water to overflow EVERYWHERE, the crazy ladies at Michael's chiming in on the conversations between ourselves, and the yarn-wrapped wreath taking approximately 83x longer than expected, craft day went swimmingly. More than swimmingly, actually. It was a blast. (Especially the part where I tried to convince Taylor that the water and towels everywhere was from Tara's water breaking, not a toilet overflow.)

The finished product:

I promise those are not adult footprints. Just Beckett's. We're starting a fund to buy toddler-sized socks for him, since he can barely get 3 toes in the newborn sizes. Let me know if you'd like to donate.

The "C" Word

There's a lot of "C" words, but one that everyone hates more than the others. Cancer. Icky. Unless you're referring to your zodiac sign, the word "cancer" is pretty much a conversation killer.

Unfortunately for the Sparks family, it became part of our vocabulary this week.

Dad got his test results back this week, diagnosing him with prostate cancer. The super good news is that it was caught early and they are fairly confident it is contained, so treatment should be quick and successful.

No one wants cancer, but if you had to have some form of it, prostate is a "good" kind to have. (Oxymoron, much?)

I think everyone is pretty at peace with it, because it was caught early and does look contained. In Dad's case, the prognosis is very positive.

Still - even though a lot of men have prostate cancer and most of the time are completely cured, uncertainty and diseases are scary, which of course spirals me into deep thoughts.

It's scary that we live in a broken world where there isn't a universal cure for cancer. And where babies die of SIDS. And where families are torn apart by addiction. And where people lose their jobs after 30 years. And where Denny's uses macaroni and cheese as a condiment on their burgers. And where people actually buy such burgers.

There's a lot to be anxious about in our current state.

I truly believe I would go insane if I didn't have hope. How do people live without it? Serious question.

I constantly think about how innocent Beckett is and how, before I know it, he'll begin to learn about all the tragedies of this world. How does a hopeless person explain death and disease to their child? How do you survive day to day if this is the only world you know - if you've never been told that this is not how it was intended...that cancer and SIDS and car crashes and unemployment and violence and murder is not all there is to it...that all of it has been overcome?

But, hey. I have been told that. And I want others to know. Because I've heard it, I can have peace in cancer scares and in suicides and in being laid off and in ... well, everything.

The Sunday before Beckett was born, the person doing communion at our church asked us to turn to our neighbor and answer the question, "What does the cross mean to you?" (What is it about these type activities that make us want to hide in the bathroom like 8 year olds? Insecurity in our answer? Apathy? Who knows.) My answer was simple: it means that I don't have to be scared to bring my baby boy into this world, because there is hope.

As I type my overly dramatic thoughts, this song by Hillsong is in the background:

All our troubles.
And all our tears.
God our hope.
He has overcome.

All our failures.
And all our fear.
God our love.
He has overcome.

God our justice.
God our grace.
God our freedom.
He has overcome.

God our refuge.
God our strength.
God is with us.
He has overcome.

</End dramatic scene>

Spooky Hymns & Spooky Costumes

2011-10-17T12:14:00.000-05:00

In regards to my recent post about odd holiday traditions, I apparently meant "birdshot", not "buckshot". I still maintain that neither is normal to find in Thanksgiving food.

Now that we've cleared that up...on to a spooky post.

Spooky Hymns

Have you heard the hymn "They'll Know We Are Christians/We Are One in the Spirit"?

I heard it for the first time recently.

It's very creepy. Creepy enough that I publicly claim it as my theme song if I am ever put in charge of organizing a religious human sacrifice. (I don't foresee this being a possibility, obviously due to my lack of credentials in the area, but stranger things have happened.)

Just listen to it and tell me you don't envision naked people dancing around a fire during their Christian cult gathering. If you still don't think it's creepy, try this version. An organ can make anything sound scary.

Did you sing hymns as a child that seemed perfectly normal that now creep you out as an adult?

Spooky Costumes

I've never really been a Halloweener. (Did I just call myself a weiner? Oops.) Most of the time it's a holiday for normally dressed girls to get super skanked up. It's sort of like prom. Girls who never wore short skirts or low-cut shirts all the sudden show up in dresses they had to be melted down and poured into.

I do love the candy aspect. A whole holiday centered around getting tooth-decaying amounts of candy? I'll take it.

I'll also take the infant costumes that come with the territory. Since I have my own real-life baby doll to dress up this year, I can't help but be enamored with tiny costumes.

They're so funny, but so creepy at the same time. See for yourself...

A...taco? Wrap? Burrito? This makes me laugh way too hard.

Lobster. That baby is lovin life.

Nacho Libre. Awesome expression to go along with it.

Sushi roll. Always a classic.

This might be my favorite ever.

And then of course there's the matching dog and baby costume I've been waiting for an eternity to put on Mack and Beckett:

Funny side note: unbeknownst to me, Beckett's costume glows in the dark. I found this out when I turned out the lights and witnessed a tiny skeleton take over what used to be a full-fleshed Beckett's crib.

Then there's the monster outfit I got from Target. As it turns out, this monster is very hard to photograph.

This time of the year reminds me of last Halloween when Taylor and I had the most embarrassing moment of our married life. A costume failure of epic proportions. You should read about it here.

Baby Blame, Hugs, & MK

2011-10-13T12:12:00.001-05:00

Baby Blame

One benefit to having a child that I didn't foresee is the ability to blame everything on them. I must confess that Beckett has already been my scapegoat several times in his short 7 1/2 weeks of life.

Babies get parents out of:

social gatherings: "I really wish we could stay for your Gilligan's Island themed barbeque, but the baby can't really be around that many people yet. Germs. Scary stuff."

daily hygiene: "Why yes, these are the same leggings. They're on day 15 and still going strong!"

accidental or intentional flatulence: "Poor baby just has so much gas..."

favors: "Helping you address all 3,000 of your wedding invitations is a totally dream come true, but that is baby's nap time and we can't have him missing that!"

awkward conversations: "I'd love to hear more about your ongoing struggle with planter's warts, but seriously - how cute is this guy? Have you heard his little sneeze? Look at his little tie onesie. Presh."

...and much, much MORE! Don't miss out - grab a baby scapegoat now while supplies last!
{read in overly happy commerical guy voice}

Do you ever say something super nerdy then want to take it back immediately? Disregard above lines. Disregard also the "wowza" and "crunk" I threw into conversations this past week. Please and thank you.

Hugs

Last spring I went to a Beth Moore simulcast with my new friend, Lizeth. I'd never hung out with her outside of work so it was essentially our first date. When I was dropping her off at her car after the event, she went in for a side hug (which is super awkward to do in a car...but she insisted). I tried to get my arm free of the seat belt to return the hug, but she misinterpreted my slight lean away from her (again, to free my arm first) as a dismissive gesture. She made it super uncomfortable by continuing to say, "If you didn't want to hug me, you should have said something." To this day, we still argue about what really happened that afternoon. She still claims I'm not a hugger. I claim she makes it uncomfortable by trying to hug me in a car on our first date.

My dad has perfected the "preacher hug". He comes at people, hand extended, genuinely excited to see them. They take his hand to shake it. Little do they know, he only wanted their hand as leverage to pull them into a hug. It's sneaky, but if you watch closely, most preachers do this.

Hugs can be delightful or awkward.

I bring this up, because I had 2 of the worst hugs ever recently.

1. Taylor and I ran into a guy at church that he knew. Taylor asked, "Have you met my wife?" I answered "no" and the man answered "yes" at the exact same time. Ahem. Because I was under the impression I didn't know him, I held out my hand while he (seemingly familiar with me) drew me into a hug. The result was a one-armed full body hug with my previously extended hand trapped between our two bodies.

2. Leaving a social engagement where Taylor and I had met someone for the first time, it was that terrible say-goodbye-to-someone-you-just-met time. Hug? Handshake? Just walk away? We went for all of the above. I went in for a hug while Taylor went in for a handshake, simultaneously. The result was a 3-person hugshake.

So horrible.

Am I the only one who has terrible hug encounters? Please tell me you've experienced something similar. Tell me all about it.

My BFFAAF (welcome back, 1999 and AIM) came to visit this past week and to meet the little nugget that is Beckett. I'm not sure if Beckett was having loads of gas, he hated her Tennessee accent, or was tired of shopping, but he was grumpy the whole time she was here. I told him he wasn't making a very good first impression but, like most kids, he just doesn't mind his momma.

We ate at Joe T's, had Pinterest craft day (and it wasn't lame, D Groupers), spent hours at Grapevine Mills, made meals for families with new babies, and watched Nelly Cruz demolish Detroit in the Ranger's postseason.

Mari-Kate and I grew up 11 houses down from each other in Memphis and spent a ridiculous amount of time together through junior high and high school. Any time a mess of sorts appeared or all the Hot Pockets mysteriously got eaten at the Blair household, her mom would immediately blame me. Rightly so. I was a quite a treasure.

We went to different colleges, got married to men the other didn't know, and are now reproducing. Still, we can pick right back up where our super cool 12th grade selves left off. It's a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friendship.

Our week:

at Joe T's. I sure she's still thanking me for this mind-blowing dining experience.

At women's Bible study where MK encouraged me to leave Beckett in the nursery for the first time. Contrary to my original beliefs, he did not miss me nor was he scarred for life. (It was more the opposite - I missed him and was just a tiny bit scarred for life.) Luckily, our church has awesome nursery ladies and I lived through the experience. Barely.

Craft time. I'm not gonna lie to you - the "B" I made is really cute. I would take credit, but I stole the idea from Etsy & Pinterest. I'd show you the white, snow-covered wine bottles for Christmastime, but I left them in the rain (rain storm in droughty Texas, seriously?) and the faux-snow (aka epsom salt) melted off. Fail.

This has nothing to do with our reunion week, I'm just blessed to have a handsome little peanut that needs to be shared with you. Look at those cheeks. Those dudes have GOT to be heavy.

Pay attention to the babe, not the knife block behind him. I promise I'm a fit mother.

JoJo, DIY, & Buckshot

2011-10-09T16:29:00.003-05:00

It's spooky scarf weather!!

I know what you're thinking. "I really thought she'd get less enjoyment out of dressing her dog once she had a child." False. Still very entertaining to me. A dog in a scarf? That's comedy in Sarah-land.

JoJo

JoJo (momma Sparks) came to visit this week.

You know how a parent's love is "unconditional"? That means their love for you will never run out - at least not until you have their grandchild, then you're dead to them.

That's not fair to say. You're not entirely dead to them, you just morph into strictly the car seat carrier and occasional baby-feeder.

I kid, I kid.

We had a great time taking pictures of baby B, shopping, taking more pictures, going to a new Bible study*, forgetting about bobby pins hanging down our foreheads while meeting tons of people for the first time (no names, JoJo), and dining at Tres Casas with Jared.

My favorite activity while she was here was probably handing the baby to her so I could shower and get ready alone. It was glorious.

DIY

Sometime between the paper rose wreath and the chalkboard frame I made from pins I saw, I truly believe I can make everything I see.

I have an overinflated sense of craftiness.

Because of this newfound interest, I have also started following every do-it-yourself blog I can find. Do you realize there are people who make money sitting at home blogging about crafts they did?

It's like Macguyver gone Martha Stewart.

You give these people a toilet paper tube, a piece of scrapbook paper, some Mod Podge, and before you know it they've redecorated their whole kitchen.

I'd love to sit at home and blog or craft all day, but first I need some sort of profitable talent. Currently all I have going for me is a humorous outlook on life with a poop machine. Well, and life with Beckett and Mack. You can't sell that on Etsy.

Anyway.

I'm up for a craft party if you'd like to join. The only minor setback is that this aforementioned party has to occur between the hours of 1-3 pm, aka naptime for Beckett.

Buckshot

You know those family traditions you grow up with that seem completely normal until you explain them aloud as an adult? Yea, that.

Last week Taylor and I went to dinner with his parents where we were telling our Thanksgiving plans.

We're headed to Pocahontas (pronounced Pocahuntas), Arkansas, this year to have Thanksgiving with my mom's side of the family. I love Pocahontas because it's a small town with great people and a very popular Walmart.

I started telling about our Thanksgiving traditions there, one of which includes eating a pheasant-and-dressing casserole instead of the traditional T-day turkey. My grandpa is an avid bird hunter, so they have a plethora of pheasant and quail in the freezer.

I then busted out with, "And we always play a game of 'find the buckshot' in our casserole at dinner. Whoever finds the shot in their bite of food wins."

Pause.

Rewind.

What just came out of my mouth?

We eat pheasant? And we play a game of finding bird bullets in our food? And we're excited to win this game?

This seemed so very normal to me until I said it aloud.

Most American households have nice, fancy holiday meals comprised of dress clothes, fine china, candles, and cloth napkins.

My family tries not to choke on buckshot, and I love every second of it.

Above: All of this year's Thanksgiving game contestants, except my brother. Who's gonna win?! My money's on my dad. He fights dirty, plus he has a good track record.

Before you go on with your evening...

Beckett's first football game. He's Cade's #1 fan.**

*New Bible study is fantastic, as most rebound relationships are. More to come on that later.

**Cade is the other half in Taylor's bromance. Cade is a senior and a stud football player. We're going to be sad when he leaves us for college, but I will continue making Beckett attend his games while sporting his number in the meantime.

Noteworthies & Cat Fights

2011-10-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

We've had some excitement this week.

Stay a while and read about it. I dare you.

Noteworthies

Hank and Beckett's forced friendship and accompanying photo shoot with matching outfits. I'm already an embarrassing parent but luckily Beckett can't tell yet.

(Hank is 3 1/2 months older than Beckett. Apparently our "nugget" is more like a tender. )

First church service with Baby. Much more emotional than expected. Post to follow. Maybe. Don't hold me to it.

News of Beckett's first cousin. Our favorite Chilean missionaries/Taylor's sister and brother-in-law, Wes and Ellen, are expecting their own nugget to be debuted May 2012. SO excited!

JoJo's visit (coming soon. Tomorrow to be exact.)

Cute Target dish for $2.50. Irrelevant.

We've been using this for the peanut/candy corn combo. We've also been arguing about the appropriate ratio. I say 2:1 peanut to candy corn. Taylor says the opposite. He's obviously wrong.

Arrested Development is coming back on. Also irrelevant, but fantastic.

Cat Fights...in the name of the Lord

A few days ago I posted about my traumatic venture to a Bible study with Beckett. I went again last Wednesday and it was just as traumatic for a few reasons that don't really matter.

What is comical about the situation is my trying to get out of my new commitment to this group.

It felt a lot like a bad breakup.

The children's program lady called me on Thursday to check in on us and to ask where Beckett was the past week. I told her he wasn't old enough to go to the nursery, so he stayed with me.

I then ventured into my well-rehearsed goodbye speech. It was full of several different ways of saying, "I met someone else." and "It's not you, it's me." I told her I was going to try a different study at my own church and I thought it might be a better match.

She didn't let me get away that easy. After listening for a while, she busts in with, "Well.... {awkward pause} ...I hate to hear that. I think if you just give it a try you might feel differently." She also listed all the reasons I should stay there and attempted to convince me of how much Beckett's spiritual life would benefit from the program.

We went back and forth for a while and I tried to reassure her that I knew they did a great job, I wasn't concerned about whether the nursery ladies were up-to-date on the 5 S's of calming babies, and I had no doubt in my mind the children's program would have my son reciting the books of the Bible by 4 months. Still, I stood my ground and insisted on us "taking a break" (that phrase is easier to swallow than an official breakup).

Our final few words to each other? Glad you asked.

She told me (with great disappointment in her voice) that she would "be praying for wisdom" for me in my decision, as if my decision to try another Bible study lies outside of God's will for my life.

"Praying for wisdom" was her last-ditch attempt to salvage her dignity as she watched me walk away. Metaphorically, of course. This conversation happened over the phone, which is pretty lucky so I could avoid the shame of her witnessing me shake in my boots (also metaphorical...it's still way too hot to wear boots in Texas).

I love spiritual cat fights. Bring it, lady.

I kid. Sort of. I'm sure she's a fabulous lady at a fabulous study.

Either way, I think I made a good decision, even if it isn't wise...

Bonus Picture!

It's not really bonus when I do it every post. I just can't have you going on with your day without seeing this guy:

Firsts, Schedules, & Steve Chan

2011-09-27T18:05:00.001-05:00

Firsts

We've had a week of firsts.

I had my first pumpkin spice latte of the season. It is a proven fact that the fall season will not commence until Starbucks begins offering this heavenly beverage again. Welcome, fall.

We had our first Cowboys game watching party of the year which also entails Mack's first time wearing his dog football jersey. (By "party" I mean 3 of our friends came over.)

He's gained a little neck weight since last season...

Other than the first celebrations of fall this past week, we've had other firsts:

First month of life completed. Congrats to Beckett.

He's still a little unsure how he feels about this.

First night to sleep 6 hours straight. (!)

First craft time since baby was born.

"Craft" might be used loosely there.

First time to catch ourselves doing something embarrassing as parents, i.e. singing a duet of "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain" at full volume. I was in charge of the "yeehaw". A little piece of me dies as I type this.

First really big smile session.

First time to ever use these words:

It's still too soon for me to open up about this. It's just too difficult.

Schedules

Some people lose pregnancy weight pretty quickly. I'd imagine it's because they can't find time to eat. Mine's holding on pretty well, probably due to our current schedule:

2:00 pm: Put Beckett in swing and proceed to kitchen for lunch. Get out healthy and quick frozen dinner.

2:01 pm: Leave kitchen to console fussing baby. Doesn't like swing. Move to pack n' play.

2:05 pm: Back to kitchen. Heat frozen dinner in microwave.

2:06 pm: Leave kitchen to console fussing baby. Doesn't like pack n' play. Move to vibrating bouncer.

2:13 pm: Back to kitchen. Get frozen dinner from microwave. Begin to eat.

2:16 pm: Leave kitchen to console fussing baby. Diaper blowout all over vibrating bouncer, baby, and mom. Change baby, throw bouncer cover in wash, change own clothes. Put baby in pack n' play.

2:30 pm: Back to kitchen. Reheat frozen dinner that is now cold. Begin to eat.

2:33 pm: Hear baby cry. Grab bag of cookies for sustenance on way to console fussing baby.

2:40 pm: Bag of cookies eaten in entirety.

Moral? Buy healthy cookies.

Steve Chan Oh

Speaking of firsts, I got to talk to our friend Steve Oh for the first time in a while. He is our Korean friend (and one of Taylor's roommates) from college.

He went back to Korea for his army duty, but is now coming back to the States in December.

Something you should know about Steve is that he gave us the best present ever for our wedding...

He showed up to our rehearsal dinner with a stereo, a CD, and a microphone, telling us he had a "surprise" for us. At this point we're freaking out just a bit. You would too if your surprise included a Korean holding a microphone intended for large audiences.

When it came time, Steve made a speech about how he wanted to give us a gift that also shared some of his culture's wedding practices so, naturally, he busted out with this:

At first it was very funny (Lion King song? Hilariously unexpected.) but by the end everyone in the room was ready to give him a standing ovation. It was the best present we got.

I wish the video was clearer so you could see his super shiny suit. He is always one to show up in style.

Steve Chan - we can't wait to have you back!

A letter for Beckett

2011-09-22T12:52:00.002-05:00

Hi, baby. Mom here.

Guess what? You're one month old today! I made you a onesie to commemorate this occasion.

This month has been an incredibly exciting, emotional whirlwind. One month ago today, we got to look into your sweet eyes for the first time (when they were open...you sleep a whole lot).

I still have no idea what I'm doing or how to be a parent to you, but I can't imagine life without you. We are so proud of you, Beckett, and we still don't fully know you.

I dream about your first words, your first steps, your first day of school...all the way until you graduate with your first doctorate. No pressure.

We're new at being a mommy and a daddy, so I hope you can cut us some slack. You'll always be the guinea pig as our oldest child. We'll expect a lot from you, but I believe in you 100%. You should expect a lot from us, too. We've been entrusted with a very special little boy.

I can tell you right now that I will not always get everything right the first time. Or second or third or fourth... Lucky for both of us, we serve a faithful God who will be with you and I every step of the way.

I pray that you will be a mighty man of God. I pray that you follow Him every day, allowing him to shape you into the man he designed you to be. I pray that you know Jesus and love him with your whole being. I pray that you are full of integrity, grace, love, and compassion. I pray that you are loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, and full of laughter.

I wish so many things for you. I hope you are able to experience life to the fullest. I hope you travel the world, eat incredible food, meet amazing people, enjoy deep friendships, fall in love, and discover your passions. I know the world seems really big and scary to you right now, but it's full of so many amazing experiences. I wish them all for you.

I promise you, baby, that we are going to do the very best we can for you. We are going to love you, support you, teach you, laugh with you, and cry with you. Sometimes the road will be bumpy, but we will always be there for you.

Do you know how lucky you are to have your daddy? He loves you so incredibly much. I can hardly wait until you learn how to be a man of character from him. He'll teach you how to throw a baseball, how to ride a bike, how to build with LEGOs, and how to treat girls. He will model so much for you, Beckett. He is a loyal, loving, compassionate, selfless man and he gets to be your daddy!

I'm so excited to watch you discover new things every day. You're learning how to smile, coo, and hold your head up now. You're so precious and curious, always looking around to see what's going on. I'm so proud of you. You're going to be such a big boy soon!

We are going to have so much fun together, just you wait and see.

Happy one monthiversary, baby boy.

From my favorite book:

I'll love you forever

I'll like you for always

As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be

I love you.

Momma

Fall Lineup & Bible Study Woes

2011-09-21T17:02:00.002-05:00

Fall Lineup

There are some seriously great shows coming on this fall.

Did you watch New Girl? Very funny.

How about Up All Night? Has potential to be very funny.

Parenthood? Best show on television since Friday Night Lights is kaput.

Of course there's the oldies but goodies: House, Modern Family, and Parks and Recreation (does not get near enough publicity).

Am I missing any? And don't say The Office. It is dead to me.

Oh, of course. Let's don't forget Most Eligible Dallas. Just kidding. It's more than embarrassing to Dallas/Fort Worth residents. And humans everywhere.

Bible Study Woes

Last week I decided to get serious about finding things to do during the week besides wasting my life away with Bones marathons on Netflix, lemon cake from Sam's, and dirty diapers so I emailed a lady about a women's Bible study class.

She told me about an orientation class I needed to attend to learn more and to register. She also told me ahead of time there was no childcare available during the orientation.

No big deal...I'll just bring Beckett in with me. Easy enough.

I'm super intimidated to be at this place with several hundred other women. When I say women, I mean real women of the adult variety. Since I'm commonly mistaken for a high school student, I always feel like an adult imposter, like maybe I need a few more years of young adulthood before I become a full-fledged woman.

I'm also super nervous bringing in a baby, especially since everyone else's kids are in childcare. Beckett could freak out at any moment and I'm not entirely sure I know how to calm him down yet. I'll be forced to try parenting my new baby with potentially 400 professional moms watching.

If I still feel like an "adult imposter", I sure as heck am wondering how long it is until I'm considered a real mom. I feel sure a lot of people have similar thoughts when becoming a momma for the first time, right? It seems weird that I, the one with spit-up on my leggings and poop under my fingernails, can join the ranks of the 80 year old mothers who have raised 19 kids, 46 grandkids, 99 great-grandkids, etc. Am I allowed to use the same title as them?

Oh well. Into the class I go feeling overly confident. False.

I managed to at least shower this morning so I'm feeling on top of the world. Little did I know, the hosts of this class are wearing their Sunday best, making southern women everywhere proud. Really put together, never without a smile, the perfect shade of lipstick within reach, etc. Think Beth Moore.

{nervously clears her throat}

Remember that little fact about my inadequate car seat carrying skills? It's really embarrassing in a jam-packed auditorium full of women wanting to ooh and aah over a baby while simultaneously trying to get past me, my car seat, my diaper bag that doubles as a suitcase, and my Starbucks drink (precious cargo). I only slam the car seat into about 12 pews and 37 womens' legs.

About the Starbucks drink - is this one of those churches where bringing food into the sanctuary is the worst sin imaginable? I feel like an idiot.

After the huge class breaks into groups, it leaves only 25 or so orientation-ers. I sit in the back for a quick escape in the event of a newborn meltdown.

Beckett doesn't have a meltdown, but he does have the hiccups. The loud kind. The kind that occur about every 3 seconds. In other words, we are doing great at being incognito.

It's ok though, because all the women in front of me (all of whom are at least 3 decades older than me) turn around periodically and smile that weird whimsical/reminiscent smile that happens when older moms see little babies. They think his hiccups are precious.

Have you heard a newborn poop? It's comparable to a nuclear explosion - bomb sound and all.

In between hiccups, Beckett finds a dead silent moment of the class to be an appropriate time for one of his explosions.

As I attempt to blend into the pew, I'm wishing with all my might that these women remember what baby explosions sound like instead of assuming the 17 year old mom on the back row is having flutter-valve trouble.

We still have time to recover. Oh - except now he's starting to wail because he's hungry. Is this an appropriate place to whip out my feeding equipment? These women look pretty proper and I'm still unsure where Texans stand on the whole breastfeeding-in-public debacle. They aren't always known for being the most down-to-earth women. Plus, I spotted another nursing mom hidden in a corner of the bathroom. I don't want to be the scandalous one who busts out my stylish yet modest udder cover in public. (Udder cover is a real product brand. Highly recommended - if not for the modesty while nursing, certainly for the clever name.)

This is turning out to be a very stressful trip out of the house.

Long story long, I did bust out my cover and I nursed the heck out of my baby. Know why? Because it's very natural and very beautiful. And because someone finally told me about the pew in the very back for nursing moms. Well, and that other lady stole the secret breastfeeding nook of the bathroom.

We ended up leaving early because the meltdown finally came. Him, not me. I at least waited until we got home.

It's a vicious yet endearing cycle of emotions. The meltdown is bound to come:

Here's to next Wednesday, and to chilling out a little and actually listen to the lecture...it'll be good.

{clink of non-alcoholic beverage}

Owls, Blowouts, & Momisms

2011-09-18T09:57:00.000-05:00

My baby will be 4 weeks old tomorrow. How does this happen?

This week has been a big one for us. We had our first night out as a family, and I had my first major outing with the babe by myself.

This is us at Niki's Italian Bistro, a classy establishment by our house. By classy I mean it's in a strip mall, but it has shockingly good food.

Beckett slept the whole time, waking only for a few minutes to eat from a BOTTLE! Revolutionary.

Momma was reacquainted with her old friend, Mr. Chianti.

Perfect first dinner out.

Owls

We've only been out a handful of times, but there is a recurring theme...

While I was pregnant, public bystanders stared at me or commented on how miserable I must be in the heat or told me about their own labor. I figured once I had Beckett they'd do the same - only about the baby. I hear stories all the time (and have witnessed some - I'm looking at you, crazy lady from The Home Place) about strangers coming up and touching their babies or giving parental advice, so I was fully prepared for this to happen with us.

So far, every time we've been out and about, ladies of all ages will pass the car seat, do double takes while huge grins spread across their faces, and then turn around to come talk to me. Every time this happens I'm prepared with my standard, "Beckett. 4 weeks on Monday. And thank you - he sure is cute as a button..." response.

As those words are coming out of my mouth, I hear them say, "That is SUCH a cute owl. Where'd you get it?!" instead. After I answer them, they say "Great, thanks!" and walk away. WALK AWAY.

Seriously? Cute owl?! How about the model-perfect child sitting underneath the owl? Don't care to comment on him? He has feelings, you know.

It's really hilarious. People are really obsessed with the stroller toys I have on his car seat. Don't get me wrong - I love them too, especially since they match his bedding set. Still...the owl is not as cute as my baby. Rude.

For all of you who didn't even finish reading because you were still mesmerized by the owl toy, it's from buybuy Baby. Are you happy now?

Let me just show you how cute he is in case you're still undecided...

Blowouts

Another outing we had was to Tara's baby shower. She's having a baby boy in a few weeks. We're super excited that Grayson and Beckett can be BFF at church. Well, I guess they could elsewhere too.

Beckett was an angel baby at the shower, not even fussing once (I'm still not really sure what happened). He did have a massive poo though, so when I went to change his diaper I noticed he went ahead and pooed on his cute little tie onesie, too.

No worries - every good mom has at least 7 extra outfits for both herself and her baby in the diaper bag, right?

Gulp.

He left the shower naked.

Nothing says "new mom" like sitting through half a baby shower with a baby wrapped only in a blanket, and leaving with his bare body strapped in his car seat. (At least he has a super cute owl attached to it.) Lesson learned.

Momisms

I'm a mom now. A parent. I have a son.

...a mom...

...as in the person who carries a small assortment of bandaids, Tylenol, extra clothes, Tide pens, juice boxes, Tums, fingernail clippers, Purell, Cheerios, flashlights, tweezers, coupons, roadside flares, spare change, and socks (in case an impromptu bowling game breaks out) with her at all times.

As a new mom (that makes me choke a little), I wonder how my life should change.

Do I have to shop at Coldwater Creek?

Do I have to refer to Beckett's manhood as a winky-woo or cheetoh?

Do I have to say "tinkle"?

Do I have to buy a mini-van immediately, or is there a grace period?

Do I have to become a crazy coupon lady?

Do I only get brooms and Pyrex as birthday presents now?

Do I have to stop watching everything that doesn't involve grown men who call themselves "The Wiggles"?

This is serious stuff. Bear with me as I make the transformation - it could take a while.

Podophobia, Newborn Difficulties, & Sleep Talk

2011-09-14T12:54:00.002-05:00

Podophobia

Definition: a typical phobic condition in which you feel disturbed and irritated when you look at feet, touch feet (may be yours or someone else’s) or even talk about feet. You even dislike people coming and touching your own foot. The feeling is unexplainable.

(Thanks to Phobia Fear Release for that excellent definition.)

My name is Sarah, and I'm a podophobic.

It's true. I have an irrational dislike of feat. I might even consider it a fear of sorts.

How do I know I have a problem?

I pick up Taylor's socks with a t-shirt when transporting them to the laundry room. Oh, and I get really sweaty and my heart starts racing if someone's bare foot touches me. Well, and then there's the anxiety I feel when someone plays with their own feet.

I can tell you at any given moment where people's feet are in relation to me and whether or not they are doing something offensive with them (men in flip flops, close proximity to mine, extraordinarily long nails, etc.).

My fear is certainly irrational. I get that. A lot of people don't understand my anxiety, so they either a) make fun of me, which is probably deserved or b) try to "test" me. If you fall in the latter category, I will beat you to a pulp. In sisterly love, of course. I don't laugh; I get seriously angry.

For educational purposes, I made a diagram of my level anxiety in relation to the presentation of a foot near me.

The top face is death...in case that wasn't portrayed clearly.

Mmmkay? Good.

What's funny about all of this? Nothing. I have a phobia that I deal with every day of my life.

Just kidding. Sort of.

What's funny is that Taylor and I created a child with the biggest feet in the world.

So the picture is a little disproportionate, but he does have very large feet. When he was born, the nurses all commented to each other on how large they were. He also outgrew his newborn socks...the day he was born. I suspect he'll be walking on those bad boys by month 3.

I was really nervous about how my little foot issue would be with my baby. Good news: I like his feet. I touch them, in fact.

I don't know how long I'll touch them. I'm guessing they'll fall into the normal (read: gross) foot category around year 3. Until then, I shall touch them gingerly. On occasion.

Newborn Difficulties

Having a newborn is exhausting and exciting at the same time. I was semi-prepared for the amount of nonsensical fussing and numerous diaper blowouts, but I was not prepared for a few things. I'm sure this list will continue to grow, but here's where we're at right now:

Clipping fingernails. Are you kidding me? The things are paper thin and completely blend in with the baby's skin. This is one of the hardest tasks yet. Plus, who knew they grew so fast? I feel like I'm constantly clipping his nails. (And maybe his skin a little. Listen - it's hard to do! I'm doing the best I can.)

Putting clothes on. Newborns are constantly flailing their little arms and legs and flexing at inappropriate times such as diaper or outfit changes. We have a few of those gown things with elastic at the bottom for easy diaper access and let me tell you - we nearly choke the kid every time we try to put it on. It's a very difficult process.

Laundering socks. Transporting teensie tiny baby socks all the way to the laundry room without dropping any takes incredible concentration and skill. I'd imagine you could teach whole classes on how to do this.

Carrying car seats. Maybe this is just a user error and no one else has trouble, but Taylor and I are terrible at carrying his car seat. We slam it into every door, wall, table, person, and checkout counter in sight.

There's more, like cleaning the dirt out of all the little crevices of babies, or trying to put a baby to sleep without falling asleep yourself...I'll save them for another time.

Sleep Talk

We're still going strong talking in our sleep due to sleep deprivation. By "we" I mean Taylor. I may say things too, but there's no way Taylor would wake up and hear it. He sleeps like a rock.

Some of my favorites this past week are below. Keep in mind that Taylor is completely asleep during these "conversations". They also happen when I'm getting back into bed from feeding Beckett...

Taylor: You're going after everything. Just chill out.

Me: What?

Taylor: You were in bed, then you got up.

Me: Ok.

Taylor: Put him in bed.

(Baby was in bed the whole time.)

Taylor: {Sitting straight up} What? I feel like you're staring at me.

Me: I am now that you shot up and said, "What?"

Taylor: You're looking at me.

(Said with intense paranoia.)

Taylor: Good luck with that.

Me: With what?

Taylor: Your little "game". It was just on my mind.

(No game is being played here. Just me, getting in bed.)

...and then the one-liners. My favorites:

We should turn it into a 2 1/2 inch frame instead of a 9 inch frame.
(said while laughing...a lot)

You pulled a muscle all today?

Are y'all leaving the old man behind?

The weird stuff Taylor says provides great comic relief during extreme exhaustion. It's especially funny how angry he gets when I don't understand what he's saying. He huffs at me a lot when I ask follow-up questions to his ridiculous sleep talk.

I hope Beckett is a sleep talker. In the meantime, I hope he's a sleeper. Just a sleeper.

Bonus! A cute picture after his first real bath. (Dang cord stump finally fell off.)

More Searching, Chunker, {Current} Favorite Things

2011-09-07T12:54:00.000-05:00

More Searching

I love this game...more Google search history. (And I'm mad at you for not sharing yours. I'm vulnerable here.) This one is entertaining to me. Note: many of these searches are done in the wee hours of the morning while I'm up with the babe.

I realize this is my own search history, but what does "pink baby" mean? Anyone?

Chunker

Went to the doctor today. Beckett has gained 1.5 pounds over his birth weight in 15 days. The pediatrician explained to me that I "produced cream instead of skim milk". I would tell you my secret to quality milk, but then I'd have to kill you.

In case you're wondering, he peed all over his outfit at the doctor. The first visit was shooting poo; I guess he's downgrading, but still. He had 2 diaper changes in the course of 5 minutes. Go big or go home, Beckett boy.

We also recently received a few bills from his delivery and NICU visit. I'm sure we'll get more from the NICU and ER, but as of right now he has about $30,000 racked up. Is that not unbelievable? He is one expensive lad. Good thing we like him a whole bunch!

A Few of My {Current} Favorite Things:

Sometimes, like when the dog bites, when the bee stings, or when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my (current) favorite things and then I don't feel so bad.

Amos Lee - Mission Bell

If you are unfamiliar with Amos Lee, shame on you. If you do not like Amos Lee, well...we can't even carry on a friendship. Just kidding, kind of. This is a fabulous album that I highly recommend to all.

BOB Revolution SE Jogging Stroller

Ahh. My jogging stroller. The one I loved the moment our eyes (or wheels or whatever) met. My fabulous in-laws gave this delight to me before Beckett came along. We've only taken it out a few times, but it's awesome and I can't wait to train for a halfsie in it. Beckett and me - on the open road.

The King of Queens

Yea, so we're a little behind, but this show is funny. We've recently started DVRing all the reruns that come on. The wife sort of drives me crazy, but Kevin James is so stinkin' funny.

Instagram

For those who are unfamiliar with Instagram, this is a fabulous social networking site/phone app where you can fancy up your pictures, then share them with the world at large. I love seeing people's lives captured in photos.

Pinterest

Oh heavens. I spend way too much time on here. If you haven't heard of Pinterest, click on the image below to get yourself signed up. And you're welcome.

Skip Hop Studio Diaper Tote

My diaper bag. It's beautiful and roomy with an antimicrobial-lined pocket and insulated side pouches. What more could a momma want?

Nothing Bundt Cakes

I have a friend (Candace) that used to bring up this stupid bakery called "Nothing Bundt Cakes" about every day. Wellll....now that I've eaten my fair share of their "bundlets" (small cakes approximately 14x better than an average cupcake), I'm a serious fan. These things are phenomenal.

What are your current favs? Anything exciting to share with us?

Hospital Deliveries 101, Pediatric Poo, Chronicles of the Sleep Deprived

2011-09-04T13:00:00.001-05:00

We're closing in on week 2 with baby B. JoJo/Momma Ned/Sparkita/Grandma-name-TBD left Friday morning, and we have survived on our own for the past 49 hours. Should be a breeze from here...

Much like the Pregnancy 101 post, there is a lot of stuff people don't tell you when it comes to birthing a child. I'm apparently a big fan of lists, since they appear in all of my posts. Here's another, regarding surprises surrounding delivery and our hospital stay.

Hospital Deliveries 101

Calm Staff. When you go to check in at the hospital, it's the calmest environment in the world. Everything portrayed in the movies is frantic, so that's what we both expected. Au contraire. Everyone was very calm and collected, even demanding we fill out paperwork during death contractions. Very surprising to us both.
Immediate Parenting. Were you aware that mere hours after having your baby, the hospital staff leave you in a 68 degree "recovery" room with this little person? No crash course, no helpful hints, no CPR lessons...just you, your significant other, and a 2-hour old baby. I don't really know how else I thought it would play out, but I do know that I was legitimately concerned that the hospital thought I was responsible for this child. The first time he really started wailing and Taylor was soundly sleeping, I thought I was going to have a panic attack.
After-baby Baby. They don't play around when they say you still look about 6 months pregnant after you give birth. That's all.
Feeding Newborns is not near as intuitive as everyone makes it out to be. There are "lactivists" who claim breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world, and, if the latch is correct, it won't ever hurt. Um, false. It's a wonder my feeding equipment doesn't pop off and hide when it sees Beckett coming. It was also a complete surprise to me that the nurses would come in and say, "Has he been eating?" as if Beckett and I were both pros in how this all went down. It wasn't until the second day in the hospital that someone finally took time to show us both how the heck this was supposed to work.
Inability to remember...well, anything. Seriously. It's kind of like your wedding day. You know it was special, the pictures are great, tons of people came to support you, but you hardly remember a thing. The hospital waits until you spend 18 hours in labor, drugs you up, then makes you fill out really important paperwork, like your child's birth certificate information. It doesn't matter if you're the least bit coherent, they need signatures. If you were one of the precious friends who came to the hospital, I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now, if you don't mind, could you refresh my memory on any conversations we may have had?

Pediatric Poo
We had our first visit to the pediatrician on Monday. Beckett was already 4oz over his birth weight which is miraculous, considering how traumatic his first week on earth was. I fear he is going to be a chunker.

While we were waiting for the doctor to come in, Mom noticed he had a dirty diaper. In the midst of his diaper change, Beckett decided he wasn't done pooing. Every time Mom took the wipe off of his butt, mustardy poo came flying out at full speed. Every time Mom slapped the wipe back on, mustardy poo went flying everywhere. This happened 3 times.

By the time the pediatrician came in, B had successfully sprayed poo on the table, a blanket, his fresh diaper...and probably the wall. We were doubled over laughing like schoolgirls when she came in. She handed us a towel and said, "Well, at least we know everything works!" Of course this happens to us.

Chronicles of the Sleep Deprived
This could be a whole book. Surprisingly, we have gotten more sleep since Beckett has been home than when he was in the NICU and we were going to visit him in our hazmat uniforms. Still, we are pretty tired. Well, I am. Taylor has a sleep disorder, and by "disorder" I mean he can sleep through a screaming baby and my yelling his name 10 times...all up until I finally shove him awake.

Taylor's always been a hard sleeper which inevitably leads to sleep talking. These days, he is on a whole new level of conversation (and actions). Here are some of my favorites the past week:

"What is his income?" (in regards to our week-old son)
Ripping the sheets off of me, demanding I give up Beckett's hiding place. He apparently thought I had smuggled Beckett into bed and was hiding him under the covers. After a thorough search, he realized Beckett was asleep in his crib.
When mom woke me up for a convenient 2am feeding, Taylor immediately sat up and began grabbing me in inappropriate places. I say inappropriate because friskiness is generally frowned upon a) 2 weeks after childbirth and b) while a mother-in-law is in the room.
Since Taylor is such a good dad, he sweetly reached over me in bed and began to stroke Beckett's cute blonde hair. The only minor problem: Beckett was, yet again, soundly asleep in his crib.

I hate for this blog to be one-dimensional, but when you have a baby as cute as mine who does funny things like poop everywhere during his first venture to the doctor, or a husband who inquires about a baby's income, possibly in an attempt to make the baby earn his keep, you're forced to blog about it.

If it gets to the point where I'm blogging solely about where to buy the best oranges to make orange slices for the upcoming soccer game, please intervene. In the meantime, enjoy our classy fellow.

This is sure to make the ladies swoon:

Or they may be into more of the bad-boy, mohawky fellow. Note: his hand is not as huge as it appears in this picture.

Everyone loves a momma's boy...even though he's probably looking at daddy in this picture. I've got time to sway him.

And then there are pictures that really make us giggle:

At the NICU where he absolutely could not stay awake, not matter what position he was in.

And this - as it turns out, this is the face he makes when he poops:

We're still working on a cute car seat face...the current grumpy-frog style will probably not have all the ladies lining up, but it makes me smile.

That's all for now. Until next time...

Not "Real Labor", NICU, & Dad Quotes

2011-08-29T20:38:00.000-05:00

This is going to be the best blog post ever. Why? Because BECKETT IS FINALLY HERE!!! This means a few things: 1) I'm not pregnant anymore. 2) The earth is now graced with the most precious little person in the world. 3) I will force all the world to look at endless pictures of him.

If you aren't interested in the story of his coming into the world (and no I'm not going to give disgusting details...no one wants to hear that) then skip to the bottom and view precious pictures before moving on with your day. Otherwise, here we go:

Not "Real Labor"

A week ago Friday night, I started to have contractions that were lasting at least 1 minute and were 5-7 minutes apart. They weren't painful, but they lasted until Sunday night (72 hours to be exact). Sunday night around 5:30pm I started having actual labor contractions...

I waited 2 hours until they were 2-3 minutes apart (and hurting) before I went to the hospital.

They get me set up in a room and start monitoring me. After about an hour, they inform me that they aren't sure I'm in "real labor" because I'm not progressing like normal so they let me walk around the halls for a little bit, where I stopped every 2 minutes to hold my stomach during the death-grip contractions.

Side thought - how is it that waiting for something to cook in a microwave for 3 minutes seems like an eternity, while 3 minutes between contractions seems like 10 seconds?

I get back to the room and they check again. It's like 11pm at this point, and they are still saying, "Well...for first time moms, it's hard to tell when 'real labor' is happening. You'd probably be more comfortable.......{they say a bunch of crap here but I don't really hear because I'm having another death pain}...........going home and coming back when you're feeling strong contractions."

It's truly a miracle I didn't kill anyone. Long story short, I insisted on staying at the hospital despite their patronizing "first time mom" comments, so they put me on some serious pain meds to let me sleep. About 2 hours later, I call a nurse in and tell her she needs to check the progression again. Sure enough, I had progressed a substantial amount (since I was definitely in labor) and she goes, "Oh! Well, it looks like you are in labor so we'll go ahead and admit you..."

After being officially admitted, I spent the remainder of the night in a severe morphine-induced coma. I kept waking up long enough to ask Taylor, "Am I going to be awake when Beckett gets here? Will you tell them to wake me up if I deliver him?" I was so terrified I'd miss everything because of how groggy and high I was. It was certainly not the labor I'd heard about.

Even when Mr. Epidural came into the room, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I kept thinking, "Come on, Sarah, keep it together. He will only be in the room for 10 seconds. Keep your eyes open. Don't let anyone know how doped up you are. That'd be so embarrassing."

At one point, I called the nurse in to tell her that my tongue was "pulsating" and every time I dozed off, I woke myself up by making sucking noises. If that's not high, I'm not quite sure what is. She just laughed and walked out of the room.

After 18 hours of labor (and other exciting details I will only speak of if prompted), little Beckett came at 11:55am on Monday, August 22, 2011.

I was pretty positive I wouldn't think Beckett was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen right when he first came out. Frankly, most babies just aren't very cute for a while. I knew I'd love him, but I was also prepared for him to be a little funny-looking.

Indeed, at first, it looked like I had given birth to a chipmunk:

After a few days and a lot less swelling, I think he might be the cutest thing in the world. He is so precious and I'm just a wee bit obsessed with him.

NICU

About 3 hours after we got him home from the hospital, Beckett had a fever of 100.9 and we were told to go straight back to the Baylor ER. I started sobbing from the first time I saw the temp on the thermometer.

He was evaluated at the ER then transferred to Cook Children's Hospital NICU. They brought the scariest transportation vehicle imaginable:

While at the ER, they tried to stick an IV in his tiny veins. On attempt #8, they finally had one stay. I was handling myself semi-decently until the IV incident. Hearing my 2 day old baby screaming for upwards of an hour frazzled me to no end.

At the NICU, they hooked him up to endless machines and monitors. He was monitored for a possible infection for 48 hours (the longest 48 hours of my life).

I know I looked like a blubbering freak with my streaked make-up and inability to keep from audibly sobbing, but I sure didn't care.

I asked the neonatalogist how long I could stay at the hospital and if I could essentially live in the waiting room between visits. He took one look at me and said, "Well, one of the main things he needs is a healthy mom...and you look prettttty raggedy." Ha!

We had to leave him up at the NICU for 2 nights - the hardest thing I've ever done. During visits, I had to scrub down and put on a gown and glove just to hold my baby. I have an unbelievable amount of compassion for families whose children spend extended amounts of time in the hospital. It was an incredibly emotional place.

They think Beckett's mix of jaundice and dehydration may have been enough to cause a fever; otherwise, he had some virus that is gone now. Either way, he was discharged with a clean bill of health.

Taking our healthy baby home from the NICU was really humbling. We walked past all these parents in gowns and gloves at their baby's bedside just counting down the days, weeks, or months until their little one could go home, too. Some families had been there for several months with babies born 3+ months early. Man, it was a hard experience, and we only endured it for 48 hours.

I kept telling Beckett that if he really didn't like his nursery that much, he could have gone a less dramatic route than developing a fever to get out of there.

Dad Quotes

Taylor is the proudest, most smitten dad you'll ever find. He went from never changing a diaper to a full-fledged baby whisperer within minutes of Beckett's birth.

He also says some really hilarious things to the babe, some of which I've documented for my enjoyment. These are all private conversations between Taylor and Beckett:

You've got a Super Trooper 'stache going on. Don't go crying, meow.
Once we get those peanuts out of your cheeks, dude, we'll be good to go!
We need to see some stool, Buddy. Get that butt workin!
You just want to be left alone - you've got a little daddy in you, afterall.

We're completely, helplessly in love. I hope you enjoy the endless photos and stories to come of our newest Brooks addition.

Here is another just to whet your appetite:

Wreath, Labor, & Blessings...I think

2011-08-16T17:19:00.003-05:00

If you didn't read the last post on this blog, you need to. My husband is so fantastic and so is his surprise guest post for my birthday. Seriously...read it here now. You'll fall in love with him (in a strictly platonic way - otherwise I'll kill you...in sisterly love).

Beautiful, Paperful Wreath

What have I been doing with my time? Still going strong with the nesting thing. I'm pretty sure the employees at Michael's are beginning to recognize me.

Last week I made a paper rosette wreath (seen first on Pinterest, my new love). It turned out really cute, but it literally took me 2 days to fold up all the paper roses.

I feel like a relatively intelligent person until you put a hot glue gun in my hand. It is physically impossible for me to hot glue something without having at least 7 glue "spiderwebs" all over me and 2-3 burns on my fingers, where I couldn't resist touching the hot glue to see if it was dry.

The tutorial I found here was super helpful. I ended up using 2 old crime/thriller novels to make the roses - about 500 book pages total. (Sorry David Baldacci and whoever the other author was. I'm sure they were riveting, suspenseful tales.) I used the crime fiction genre in the event that someone anyone gets stuck in our hall for a long time, they can piece together the crime scenes.

Friendly advice: be careful what words end up in the center of the rose. Once I'd glued one of the roses onto the wreath, I realized it had the f word dead center. Oops. Hopefully I'll be over the look by the time Beckett can read.

Labor

...is happening very soon. So, a few thoughts on having this babe. It's 9 days until the due date, but I'm wishing him out tomorrow. The following are not related or even logical thoughts...just ramblings from a hormonal, crazy person.

I can tell you how long each cashier within a 2 mile radius of my house was in labor with each of her children. I don't want to be able to tell you that, but I sure enough can. I guess it's some rite of passage - you give birth, you tell everyone every detail of your experience. I bet you're all excited now for my first post after he gets here.

Girls: you know that feeling when you are riding your brother's bike with the added metal bar and fall off onto the bar, injuring your bones? (No? Just me?) Either way, this is what doctors dub the "third trimester". I can't prove this without medical machinery, but I'm 99.9% sure there is a 14-pound bowling ball sitting on top of my pelvic bone. Well...a bowling ball with limbs. And hiccups. Either way - highly uncomfortable.

Is it weird to you that you fill out endless amounts of paperwork to get a gym membership (and work even harder to attempt canceling said membership) but you don't have any sort of mental or physical tests before you're allowed to have a baby? Hospitals just hand over brand new babies. To anyone. "Are you breathing? Do you have a car seat? Great. Here's your baby. Best of luck."

I was unaware of the exact procedures of checking progression before labor. What they do to you in that tiny, cramped room is illegal on several levels. Wow.

As mentioned last post, I've started thinking of things I'll miss about being pregnant. It's shocking to me that I am sentimental all of a sudden, because I'm pretty dang miserable at this point. Either way, here are just a few:

Shaving cankles. How many times have you cut your ankle bone shaving? There's a solution - cankles. It makes the surface much smoother with less risk of injury.
Built-in shelf. I set my cereal bowl, coffee, ice cream, candy bars, tv remotes, and more on my own little shelf.
Being the first to the bathroom. People see a pregnant person and gauge their need to use the restroom at URGENT. Even if it's not very urgent, I kindly accept their kindness to let me skip the entire line to go first.
Stranger compliments. I actually have a love/hate relationship with this concept because sometimes the compliments are packaged in an insult such as, "Aw, you don't look that big!" Other times they're just nice because they know it's miserable at this stage.

As for when I'm not pregnant, I will do these 3 things first: wear my wedding ring, drink some delicious Chianti, and lay on my stomach. Perhaps simultaneously.

Finally, a quote from the pediatrician who taught Taylor's "Dad's Only" class last week:

"When things get crazy in the delivery room, just remember you're not the one trying to push a watermelon through a water hose."

Blessings...I think

So a few weeks ago we had to pay to get our car fixed from an accident that was very obviously not my fault to everyone but the other guy's insurance. This is very frustrating when you don't really have money to spend on fixing damage that wasn't exactly your fault. We were really stressed about the whole situation, but when we went to get our car at the service center, the employee informed us that she didn't know what the deal was or why this was happening, but somehow we didn't have to pay anything. She kept saying how rare this was and how most of the time you pay and hope to get your money back later.
The whole way back to our house, we were grinning like idiots at what a blessing it was that this had happened. I kept saying, "Of course it's like God to go this route. We stress and stress but in the end he takes care of us." We were excited and very grateful to catch a break.

A few days later, we get a call saying, "Yea...not really sure what happened...must have been a glitch in the system, but we need that money we thought you didn't owe us."

Humph.

Well, that sucks.

I can't help writing what's in my head these days without constantly coming back to the fact that God is up to something in our lives. There have been so many strange, stressful, crazy things over the past year, it's irrefutable we're in a season of growth amidst quite a bit of uncertainty.

It's living in the "unknown" when your faith and trust is tested. I think we've grown (and continue to grow) through our experiences, but it is not easy. It's especially not easy when you attribute something as a blessing (i.e. the whole "not owing money for unexplained reasons") that doesn't exactly turn out like you thought it would. Kinda hard to swallow. Kinda makes you look stupid when you have already told people the story of how God was faithful and how you caught a break you really needed.

Still, looking at how our life has played out recently, I can always see God working through different situations and circumstances. It then begins to frustrate me to think how easy it is to forget he's on our side the second something goes awry. I mean, seriously. We have a whole book about a faithful God then seem to develop dementia within seconds of hearing bad news...or being laid off...or paying for a car wreck that wasn't your fault...or you name it.

Now, I've been intentionally on the lookout for blessings during our "crazy" period. Sure enough - they're all around us: a healthy baby boy, baby showers from people who love us, having air conditioning in 106 degree weather...you name it.

Will you do me a solid and remind me occasionally that God is faithful? Apparently, like Dory, I suffer from short term memory loss.

That's all. I ran out of thoughts. As usual, they're very sporadic and don't necessarily flow. All I know is this: we're all going to be ok. The world, our lives, our country...none of it is the worst it's ever been. There's been worse...and will be worse still. No matter what the stock market is doing, or how many heat records we try to break this summer, or how long the Double Down sandwich from KFC is actually offered as an option for food, or how many wrecks we get in...I promise we'll be ok. Ok?

Now...let's have a baby!

Guest Speaker

2011-08-09T08:54:00.003-05:00

Taylor here. Now I'm not much of a writer, and I'm almost certain that I was born without the right side of my brain because I don't have one ounce of creativity. Works great being an accountant. Not so much for blogging. However, on this day in 1987, the most magnificent thing happened; my beautiful wife was born. So, impossible as it may be, it is my endeavor to put in words how blessed I am to be sharing life with this most wonderful woman.

As you have probably figured out by now if you frequent this blog, Sarah and I are basically complete opposites. She's creative, I am not. She's extroverted, I'm introverted. She's very funny, I'm mildy funny (and even then only sometimes). The list goes on. Our relationship puts meaning to the saying that "opposites attract". Even still, she's had my heart since the very first time we met. I still don't really understand how it happened and I've quit trying to figure it out, but for some reason, this incredible woman has decided to spend the rest of her life with me. For that, I am ever blessed.

It is rare that a man has the opportunity to share life with a woman that is an unending inspiration. Because of her, I wake up every single day wanting to be a better man. That alone is a testament to the woman she is and how lucky I am. With her, my world is truly complete and nothing else matters. Sure, life can be hard. Money in fact does not grow on trees! But none of that matters, because with her, I have everything. Because of that, I will never want or need. I'm eternally sated. That's a blessing that can't be described any other way.

I heard this song for the first time a few months ago and made Sarah listen to it. She of course, didn't react! However, she just recently discovered the same song and now loves it (I keep trying to tell her I found it first!). Anyway, I love the words in the song because they do a great job of describing how wonderful life is knowing you have found that one person to spend it with. Below is an excerpt that is particularly consistent with my feelings about my one love!

"Well, everything about you, inside and out is perfect

Over the edge I always fall

Every time I see you, the way I feel reminds me

The world I knew just seems so small

'Cause now with you I have it all."

If you have time today, take a second and tell Sarah how lucky you are to know someone so special.

To Sarah -

Your birthday is most certainly more meaningful to me than it is to you. It was on this day 24 years ago that God sent you to this world. Even though I was only 1 year and 2 days old at the time and wouldn't even meet you for another 18 years, I will never be given a better gift than I was given on that day. I love you dearly and thank God every day for you. I hope you birthday is fantabulous!

Mack & Nesting

2011-08-05T15:41:00.004-05:00

This is a big week for team Brooks. We have three birthdays in the course of 5 days. That's a whole lot of partying happening around these parts.

Let's start with the first man of the hour:

Mack/Maximus/Mack Daddy

(I also may or may not call him "Maxi Pad" on occasion. I can't help it.)

4 years ago, Taylor and I made a horribly rash decision that has altered our lives for the hairier. We adopted this little guy:

I've always been a huge animal lover, so when my birthday rolled around in the summer of 2007, I thought getting a dog would be the best present - and best addition to our new college house. (My dog + my two roommate's dogs = a perfect college house)

We were in Kansas when this decision somehow came to fruition, so Taylor, my mom, and I went to Wayside Waifs to find a sweet lab puppy to adopt.

Let me first say that before going to Wayside Waifs, my dad and I visited an animal shelter in Missouri where there were several lab puppies with severe cases of the mange. They were so tiny and so scabby and bald that I knew I needed one. What a perfect project going into my junior year at ACU - nursing a manged puppy back to health! Dad talked me out of it; ergo, Wayside Waifs trip. (Dad: your talking me out of a terribly diseased puppy only slightly makes up for the time you killed my favorite fish, Harry. Just so we're clear.)

I'm off topic. So. We go to this animal shelter, but they have no puppies at all, only adult dogs. As we're walking back out the doors, Mom looks over at this 1 year old black lab named "Marvelous" (yes, you're reading that correctly) and says, "Aw, he's cute! What about him?" Taylor and I both just look at her and shake our heads. We wanted a puppy, not a full-grown, 65lb dog...yet.

He was kinda cute though...so we stop and read his bio, especially since he was standing patiently looking at us while his cohorts were barking and jumping around like rabid freaks. His information sheet said that he was shy around people at first, loved other dogs, was housebroken, and knew standard commands.

Long story short, the dude already knew how to sit, lay down, and poop outside. The horribly rash decision to get a dog ended up being the best decision we've made in our relationship (aside from getting married, having a baby...blah, blah, blah).

Mack is THE best dog in the world. He's a surprisingly graceful beast who's very gentle, incredibly smart, and forever loving. Fun fact: we can literally set a hamburger on the ground, say "no, Mack", walk out of the room, and it will still be sitting there when we come back.

Sure, he has his quirks, like foaming at the mouth at the dog park, missing his target by a tremendous amount when peeing on things (I'm talking a foot or more), or drinking milk and laying on the backs of furniture like a cat. Yea, he might even be a little scared of water, plastic bags, vacuum cleaners, exercise balls, elevators, lizards, and brooms, just to name a few. Those things aside, we love him dearly and would like to wish him a very happy 5th birthday.

He didn't want to make a big deal of it today, so we went the subtle route:

Closing thought: photographing a black dog is very difficult. That's all. Carry on.

Nesting

I was quite the critic when it came to the concept of "nesting" while pregnant. I mean, do you honestly believe I'll be one of those I-washed-every-floorboard-by-hand-three-times-a-day kind of people? Absolutely not.

I recant my original sentiments.

I have not only taken off vent covers to vacuum inside the walls of our house, I have also recently undertaken every baking and decorating project possible. I gained 3 pounds last week due to the brownies, cinnamon bread, and pineapple cake I just couldn't resist making. And eating.

I've spent entirely too much time on Pinterest this week deciding what DIY projects I could complete with the random stuff sitting around our house.

First, I needed a new table setting for our tiny table:

I can't even tell you how excited I am to add to my wine cork collection once Beckett boy gets here. I keep the corks of bottles that have significance. Examples: the Chocolate Box wine mom gave me after running the half last summer and Arrington Vineyard corks from our fabulous trip to Nashville with Taylor's sisters and brother-in-law.

Next, I needed some wall decor for our hall. (Yep - we only have one hall in our house.)

I wish you could see all the nail holes surrounding this shelf. I'm not a measure-5-times-cut-once kind of a person. I'm more of a "eh...that looks about right"person. It works about 75% of the time.

I also went ahead and put out some stuff for fall because I figured I'd be too busy in September to do it then. Plus, I'm pregnant so I do weird things.

Thanks to my fabulous parents, Taylor and I got a Keurig coffee maker for our birthdays. (!!!) Naturally, I was forced to take apart an old spice rack to create a K-Cup holder.

It also made for the perfect place to hide Buford*. Look closely:

I also painted and "distressed" an end table and tried to re-size and paint an empty picture frame (think hand saw). Those will not be featured because they didn't turn out as well as one would hope.

I don't know how much more I can find to occupy my time, but believe you me - I will find more. Ideas welcome.

*Buford: I'll explain. Buford is an ugly little wind-up toy/Elvis impersonator that I bought for Taylor as a joke. Needless to say, he stole our hearts...or something like that. He turned into a mascot that we take turns hiding for each other just as a fun "I love you" reminder. If he had a highlight reel, it would certainly include being hand-delivered by a flight attendant and a Yellowstone National Park employee, as well as having a specially-made Texas Rangers jersey while the Rangers were in the World Series. He is forever a part of our family, mostly because he's the most photogenic one in the bunch.

I'm compiling a list of things I will miss about being pregnant to post soon, (I can't believe I said that sentence, let alone have legitimate items on my list) but I'll give you a teaser in the form of a picture:

New Dad, Google Search, Preferred Customer

2011-08-01T17:15:00.000-05:00

I hope you find it as funny as I do that someone found our blog by Googling, "Can pregnant women eat Pringles?" In case you missed that entry, you should read all about my Pringles addiction. It's shameful.

Also, you may have noticed that I spent an extraordinary amount of time playing on our blog today. Gotta pass the time somehow.

I'm huge. See progression below.

We are 3 weeks and 2 days from the deadline for baby B. This is great news, except it seems like an eternity still. Do you realize that people are actually excited in Texas about possibly breaking the "hottest summer on record" record this year? Call me crazy, but that's not really something I want to aim for.

I read a really funny tweet a while back that said,

"And thus begins the 4 month stretch wherein Texas attempts to burn its inhabitants alive."

Truer words have never been uttered.

New Dad

So since this dude is coming soon, we have been finishing the nursery, packing diaper and hospital bags, installing the car seat, frantically reading books to figure out how to care for a miniature person, trying to clean frequently so Mack's hair isn't the first thing Beckett eats, and watching as many Academy Award winning movies as we can (not remotely related, just something we decided is on our immediate bucket list).

As we were packing diaper bags the other day, I was showing Taylor these really cute burp cloths I got recently (from the Mundies, for instance). This is what happened next:

Me: ...and here is a burp cloth.
Taylor: For what? Isn't a burp just air? Why do I need that?

The good news is that although he may not be well-versed in burping, he did hold his first two babies a week ago so we're on the right track. He also has informed me that he is going to be awesome at swaddling. I don't doubt it. He's very meticulous about those things.

It's fun to watch Taylor get more and more excited as the deadline gets closer. He has stopped asking, "What age is LEGO age?" as much and started talking more about the excitement (and craziness) of a newborn. For the record: when I told him that "LEGO age" was like 8, depending on the complexity of the kit, he looked terribly defeated. He cannot WAIT to play with LEGOs. I mean, to play with LEGOs with Beckett.

Google Search

I firmly believe that if we were to have access to our friends and family's Google search history, it could be detrimental to relationships. Maybe that's not true. Maybe most of you Google legitimate things. I, however, do not. Here are a few of my recent inquiries:

dog sense labor
help baby drop
podophobia
podo hobos (iPhone autocorrect mishap)
my little pony 5 year old
the big lebowski f word (260 times, by the way. What a terrible movie.)
longest breastfed baby
homemade yellow cake
what do newborns sleep in

This is actually kind of funny listed out like that. Now I want to know your recent search list. Hand it over in an email...or a note...or in the comments.

Anyway, all that to say: I firmly believe that Mack knows something is up. He has become the neediest, whiniest dog recently. Sometimes we catch him sitting on the tile staring longingly (or maybe enviously or confusingly?) into the nursery. I think his constant licking and laying all over us now is a reminder that he was our first child. The first to be dressed in costumes, first to eat things he found on the ground, first to vomit and poop unexpectedly in the house, first to break a bone (well...a tail. Does that count?)...

Preferred Customer

We are in a time of life where if something can go wrong, it will. I really believe God is up to something with us because it seems like every time we turn around something new and ridiculous is happening. It's a definite season of trust.

This past week, Taylor got an email from the bank that someone in California tried to buy $580 worth of stuff in California using his debit card number. Our bank has a pretty good fraud-detection/prevention plan going, so they alerted us before anything really happened. Crisis-averted.

Taylor went by the bank on the way home from work to get a temporary debit card to still use our account. The temp cards they give out have the name "Preferred Customer" on the bottom so they can be used immediately while a personalized card is mailed.

When Taylor got the card from the teller, he asked her, "If I'm filling out an online form to use this, do I put the name 'Preferred Customer' as my name?"

...

He doesn't find humor in this story, but it still makes me laugh so hard I cry. I asked what his middle initial would be if his first name were Preferred and his last name Customer. I also asked if the teller laughed at him. He said no...and believes there is no reason to laugh because it is a perfectly valid question.

In his defense, he was specifically thinking about the forms that say, "List your name exactly as it appears on the card."

...still hilarious to me.

Next time I blog, I hope to have a baby. If not, then remind me to tell you about the whole strangers-giving-advice-to-new-moms thing. I'm going to flip out when that happens to me. Be warned, all you crazies at Albertsons.

Sometimes I'm awesome, sometimes I'm definitely not.

2011-07-25T10:49:00.008-05:00

There are times in life when you think you can't do anything right. Then there are times when you can't help but think how awesome you are, how much you can accomplish, or how exceptional you are compared to others. (To determine if you ever have the latter thought, watch multiple people use self-checkout machines at the grocery store. Guaranteed - you'll feel pretty good about yourself.)

It's part of the downfall of being a humanoid. Our confidence level is either inflated to a sickening level, or deflated to a ridiculous low.

Ergo: the lists. I met a girl who had a written out list of things she was good at, and things she was bad at. I loved the idea so much that I've been compiling my own lists for several months.

I highly recommend it for several reasons, but mostly because it can be very comical and very encouraging or discouraging, depending if you are in a confidence high or slump.

We'll start with the bad, because they entertain me much more.

What I'm bad at:

Exercising. I hate it. A whole lot.
Saving documents. I can't tell you how many times I've thought "I won't need this later" only to need the deleted file in 20 seconds.
Filtering. Yikes. Don't ask me what I think if you don't want to know.
Volleyball. Once upon a time in jr. high fitness class, I was so terrible at the game that I had to play against the wall by myself for the entire volleyball rotation (several weeks). It truly scarred me for life.
Noticing haircuts. Even if I do notice a haircut, I immediately forget what the hair used to look like, so I can't really comment on the changes.
Observing the speed limit. Ask Officer Stickler about this. He seemed to think 43 in a 30 warranted a $100 speeding ticket a few months ago.
Judging how much time it takes to get somewhere. True.
Sketching things (dimensions especially). I would starve to death if I chose home-building as a career.
Putting shoes on babies. Hopefully this will get better soon.
Fake sleeping. I crack up...every time. (Not sure why I do this often enough for it to make the list.)
Flipping pancakes. Is anyone really good at this?
Finding the exact paint chip on a wall of choices. Hardest thing EVER and I'm not even color-blinded, bless Taylor's heart.
Giving a urine sample. Without too much detail, I do this a lot these days at the doctor...and I am just very, very bad. Again, is anyone really good at this?
Throwing gum out the car window. It never makes it out the window, regardless of how far down I've rolled it. It ends up stuck to the window, on the dash, in the backseat (out the window then brought back in by wind), or in the floorboard, but rarely out of the car.
Judging the amount of spaghetti vs. sauce to cook. I always end up with very juicy or very dry spaghetti. Never an appropriate sauce to noodle ratio.
Adding numbers quickly. Once we were playing Yahtzee with some friends and I took so long to add up the dice that our friend said, "You're kidding, right?" I said yes.
Reading books without skipping parts. I will always skip to the last line in a chapter if it's within my line of sight. I am too impatient to read stupid details when something big needs resolving.
Taking birth control pills. And now we're having a Beckett as a result!

What I'm good at:

Efficiency. This is truly my spiritual gift that isn't actually a spiritual gift. If I am given a monotonous task, I will find the very fastest way to complete it. I can't help it.
Making people laugh when they're sad. This can be both a blessing and a curse. I am certainly not the person you come to if you need me to be quiet and cry with you, but I am the one to come to if you're sad and need some cheering up.
Witty remarks. Can anyone say "Wittiest" for 2 years running in high school? I can. So can my awards.
Seeing lonely people. I love this one, because not everyone was equipped with eyes to see the awkward kid in the corner, but I was and have a deep passion for lonely/outcast people. End of serious thought.
Following up. Dude...if you tell me to check back with you in 24 hours, I will check back with you when the exact 24 hours is up. This can be very annoying if your comment was meant to distract me so you can procrastinate.
Speaking my mind. I bet this one is a shocker.
Memorizing locations and finding things in the dark. Taylor claims that everyone can do this, but I don't agree. I've always prided myself on my ability to memorize where a few things are on the floor or dresser, turn off the lights, grab the items, and get into bed without injury. Even if you think you can do this, I'm keeping it on my list. I feel that I'm exceptional in this area.
Making boring things fun (i.e. meetings). Life was just not meant to be boring or unfunny.
Texting and typing at lightning speed. It's almost embarrassing how fast I can type and text.
Copying other people's crafty ideas. Not artsy on my own, but decent at copying someone else's idea.
Deciding where to eat. I am constantly forced to make this decision. While I hate it, I also came up with a technique that decides for us. Where should we eat? 8th restaurant on the left as we drive. Done.
Making up games. I make all kinds of games up to entertain myself, but I like the see-what-you-can-put-in-her-shopping-cart-without-her-noticing game (man thongs in a 70-year old lady's cart was my favorite), the insert-a-given-word-into-a-social-situation game (ask my dad re: ostrich or tinkle), and the build-a-venture game on a full tank of gas (too detailed to explain, but it's fun).
Editing. My old boss called me "eagle eyes". And then I got laid off. Guess he didn't like my finding his typos all the time. (Kidding...but maybe we're on to something.)
Making conversation, especially with strangers. All the time. If you know my parents you know there was no hope for me.

These lists are so entertaining to me. Hopefully I can share Taylor's with you one day...we're still working on them.

In the meantime, I want to see your lists. And....go!

Missing: One Nursery Inhabitant

2011-07-20T15:48:00.008-05:00

With approximately 2-5 weeks to go, we finally have our nursery all put together and ready for action. All we're missing is one Beckett Brooks to occupy this new space.

My mom spent a few days here helping me run around town to make all the final purchases for the nursery, and it finally all came together.

It still hasn't seemed real that I'm about to have a baby...even during the showers, setting up the nursery, etc. It wasn't until I started packing my diaper bag and Taylor's manly backpack (that happens to have diapers in it) that it hit me. I mean...this is coming up really soon. Yikes.

The verdict is still out on how our dog will handle the new arrival. Since he's somewhat of a scaredy-dog (and by somewhat I mean he's the biggest pansy in the animal kingdom), he's already terrified of the giant stuffed animal, rocker/glider, baby swing, and diaper packages. Only we would adopt a special needs dog, but we love him dearly.

Anyway, enough dialogue. Here is Sir Beckett's nursery:

We were on a serious budget while we decorated the nursery, so I researched some crafty things we could do ourselves. The mobile, painted trees, and framed verse cost $10 or less each to make. Craftiness is a highly recommended to save money. Even if you aren't crafty, look at blogs and copy their ideas. That's crafty in its own way.

I found the verse above his crib and loved it. Funny story...most people choose verses of the "for this child I have prayed" variety, but we honestly had no idea little B would be making an appearance so I felt weird using those.

Instead, I wanted a verse from the get-go that reminded him of his identity and of whose he is. I'm not really sure how this whole "parenting" thing will work out for us, but I do know that God has shaped, loved, and planned for our baby boy. Hopefully we won't mess him up too bad. Even if we do, he is only on loan to us so it'll all work out.

Below is the blanket for the crib bedding. I mean, how cute is it?! I never actually saw it in person, so I was pleasantly surprised at how cute it actually is.

This is where many a poop will be cleaned up and many a book will be read. Those little green book shelves are from Ikea - $7 a pop. Great place to look for cheap, cute stuff!

...and then the closet. It's just too bad the kid won't have a thing to wear.

We have been ridiculously blessed by all of our friends and families over the past 8 months, but especially at the showers we had recently. The love we felt was incredibly overwhelming (and very humbling). We couldn't be more grateful.

In case anyone is wondering, we have a little over 35 days until the deadline. Deadline = Due Date. I've given Beckett the option of an early arrival, but a deadline of no later than August 25th. We'll see how obedient he is.

Family photos, Craftsmanship, & Special Delivery

2011-07-11T17:15:00.018-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen,

We are in month 8.

My ribs and Beckett had a head-on collision last week. When it comes to the baby and body parts, the baby always wins. I can't prove this, but I think he might have cracked 11 of my 12 ribs.

No one tells you that a 4.5 pound baby can wreak such havoc on an adult body.

Family Photos

I've spent the past 10 days in Kansas, with 3 more to go. We had a baby shower here on Saturday (that was faaaantastic), and I've taken time before and after to hang out up here. It's way better than sitting in the 105 degree heat with nothing to do except think about my cankles.

While here, I've come across some serious treasures from my past.

First - the awkward Sarah. Unfortunately, I don't think this is as painful as it gets. There are some better photos somewhere.

This is followed closely by the awkward Sparks family:

Which then prompts several great comparisons made on Facebook, such as Jared as Buzz from Home Alone:

(Too bad Buzz isn't wearing a cool turtle neck.)

And Father Curt as both Ron Burgundy from Anchorman and Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. I thought both were spitting images of him - so I took the liberty of making (and distributing) a flyer for him to hang around the office at his church:
Hilarious. Such great family photos. It's a wonder Jared and I were relatively well-liked as children with his turtle neck and my glasses.

Craftsmanship

Mom and I have been hard at work on a few projects I've been wanting to get done.

Project 1: The Fancified Onesies

Even though this is probably overused, I see plain white onesies everywhere with little shapes, animals, etc. sewn on the front. The stores and boutiques that sell them think it's reasonable to spend at least $20 on each outfit....so we made our own. Hobby Lobby sells some pretty cute fabric and each onesie ended up costing around $2 to make.

Note: if you make some as well, do NOT buy Gerber onesies. They shrink a ridiculous amount.

Project 2: The Mobile

This doesn't really look cute unless you've seen the bedding, but we made a mobile for the nursery out of cardstock and stretchy, stringy stuff (official name) from Michael's. The colors are going to look awesome when everything gets put together. I may end up spending more time looking at it than Beckett.

Project 3: The Quilt and Blankets

What started as an offer from my grandma to make some blankets as a gift turned into my mom actually sewing them together when Nanny got too tired. Either way, we bought some awesome fabric from Jo-Ann Fabrics and made a few blankets.

If baby B doesn't really like them, I will certainly use them. I mean, how cute are those dinosaurs and robots?!

Special Delivery

I'm to the point where I'm not really loving being pregnant anymore. In the times I'm most frustrated/in pain/perturbed, I try to focus on the miracles and blessings of pregnancy.

A new mom recently told Momma Ned that her pregnancy was really a spiritual time for her. Right after her baby was born, she felt closer to God than she ever had before. The Bible talks about us being "knit together" in our mother's womb and this new mom could just picture the baby leaving the hands of God and coming into her arms as he was born.

What a cool image, right?

I started thinking about that during church yesterday and I had this image of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit oooing and ahhing over Beckett. I can imagine God (who I still picture as a big, black woman thanks to The Shack) turning to the other two and saying, "Isn't he perfect? This is some of my best work." Then, they all take turns holding him and kissing him on the forehead before they tearfully, yet excitedly deliver him to our arms. (It wouldn't hurt my feelings if they also slipped a little owner's manual down when they passed him off.)

They must be so proud of their creation - each and every baby. Each and every adult.

Can you imagine? I can. It makes me all misty-eyed just thinking about it.

We can't wait to meet you, little man. Until then, you just soak up all the oooing and ahhing of your Father.

Idiot...isms, Strangers, & Project Nursery

2011-06-30T12:09:00.014-05:00

I've been stricken with the stupid bug.

Throughout the course of being pregnant, I've gotten progressively more stupid. Just when you think it gets as bad as humanly possible, it takes a turn for the dumber.

I can't remember if this is on my list of symptoms no one warns you about (found here), but good grief...it's ridiculous. For those of you clever folks thinking about commenting something like, "Just wait until after the baby is born..." or "Wait until the second time around" or something like that, don't even think about it. Let me have my moment.

Recently, I have:

attempted to open my home's front door with my car remote
Swiffered (yes, it's a verb) the entire floor only to realize I velcro...ed the pad on backwards, therefore smearing wet dog hair and dirt everywhere
had a whole conversation with someone about moving to Dallas/Fort Worth from Atlanta only to ask the follow up question, "So where are you from?"
worn my underwear backwards and/or inside out more times than I can count
forgotten Mack outside for hours at a time (This might not be a big deal except for the fact that Mack thinks he's been abandoned forever in a pit of despair when there isn't a couch easily accessible.)
...etc.

I'm sure there is way more I can add to this list, but I can't remember the other incidents. That's another symptom we'll dive into at a later date.

Strangers

I'm actually sad to say that strangers are coming out of the woodwork to talk to me about being pregnant.

Let me explain why I'm sad:
Since we found out I was pregnant, I was SO excited for someone to ask, "Are you pregnant?" so I could reply with "No...why?" just to watch their reaction. Call it demented...you can't tell me that's not funny. Of course I would fess up, but my entertainment would be in their initial reaction.

Regardless, it never happened. I had a few people say things when I was still in a questionable state of pregnancy, but they always phrased things in a way that I couldn't deny it. Or they were too nice or didn't seem like they would appreciate the humor. I went from no-show to huge overnight and missed my opportunity.

That being said, strangers now have no problem with personal space. A man put his hand on my shoulder twice the other day to tell me just how pretty I was in my "condition". That's sweet, sir, but please take your hand off me. Seriously. Right now. Luckily no stranger has attempted to touch my stomach yet. I'm afraid I would yell.

I blogged a while ago about categories of people who say weird things (same link as above...found here) and I have two new categories.

The Position Expert
Hmm...that title is misleading but I don't have another one so let me just explain. This is the person who makes very confident predictions about whether I'm having a boy or a girl based on how I'm carrying the baby. This is weird for 2 reasons: 1) I went to a licensed sonographer for that and 2) half the time they're very, very wrong. What do you do when they say - with all the confidence in the world - that I'm having a girl? Sometimes I just smile and nod so I can leave.

The Over-Sharer
Something about my new belly makes people think I want the gory, graphic details of their own birth experiences. (This is similar to newlyweds when people feel the sudden urge to talk about their own sex life, or to ask about yours. Really?) Somehow I find myself in conversations going from "So when are you due?" to "...and my first baby's head was SO big that it ripp..." STOP. Just stop. No one wants to know about that region. Especially not me, the one about to give birth. While we're at it, can you just ring up my 7 cantaloupes (new obsession) and let me leave in peace?

Speaking of over-sharing, check out Beckett's most recent escape attempt. Two things first: 1) If you're creeped out by pregnant bellies, I am too so I apologize. This video is just too crazy not to share. 2) Disregard the birthmark. It's non-pregnancy related.

What's odd about both categories above is that they are most often cashiers at stores. I guess that's good to know if you can't afford a doctor's expertise or a sonogram to tell you the gender - just shop at Ross. Same difference.

Project Nursery

My latest projects with the nursery include a homemade lamp/mobile/chandelier thing, which will make more sense once it's complete, and clothes dividers for Beckett's closet.

I'm having trouble grasping the responsibility of bringing a child into this world and raising him ... I still somewhat consider him a doll that will have multiple costume changes each day. That being said, I went a little crazy buying clothes for him that were on clearance from the winter. Smart move, if you ask me, because I ended up buying some super cute winter wear for $1.47-$2.50.

The problem with baby clothes is that babies grow out of them so fast that you need to know what size is what...hence the clothes dividers. I've seen several versions of these, but I improvised and made my own from trinkets I bought at Hobby Lobby. Materials used: foam door hangers, scrapbook paper, glue, paint/marker.

[See other examples of dividers at my friend Kristen's recent post here, from another blog, from yet another blog, or from a plethora of retailers - my favorite being "Sugarboogers"]

This is how they turned out:

I'm not the craftiest person on the planet, but I thought they turned out cute and they cost a total of about $4. Win-win.

One day I'll show you all the treasures in the nursery so far. Until then, I have a trip to Kansas and some baby showers that all of you are invited to. I also got one of two calls I've been waiting on (first being "Sarah, your Edge was fixed sooner than the July 21st date we gave you) and I get to pick up my rocker today. I accidentally told the Babies R Us employee that I loved him when he told me.

Well, goodbye for now.

Goats, Yellowstone, & Cowbabies

2011-06-21T10:51:00.021-05:00

The past few weeks have been action-packed with countless calls and emails to insurance adjusters, a shower for Beckett, and a trip to Yellowstone National Park.

As mentioned before, the Sparks family has a knack for getting in ridiculous situations. I think it's really a mixture of our friendliness to strangers and our ability to find humor in almost all situations. People think I make up the stories I tell, but I guarantee funny stuff happens to you too - you just have to think about it. If you live with a humorous outlook on life and don't take yourself too seriously, you too can have experiences like the Sparks family.

Alas, even funny things happen in the far off lands of Montana, where we vacationed last week:

Goats

During our 1400 miles driving around Yellowstone and beyond, Mom and I kept seeing a quaint little store/gift shop called "Bob's Trading Post" or something and decided to stop in one day. As we pulled in the parking lot, I could see that Bob had set up a little outdoor seating area with a fireplace in the front of his store. I could also see that Bob had about 10 goats and a dog milling around his property (honorable mention: pet snakes in hanging mason jars). Furthermore, I saw what appeared to be one of Bob's goats hanging out in the outdoor recliner.

When we got out of the car, the smell of poop hit our nostrils as several of the goats and his dog came to meet us. This is what we saw next:

His beloved goats were everywhere. Fireplace, recliner...everywhere. We dodge the infinite number of jelly bean goat turds to get in the door, only to realize that the inside of Bob's little trading post smells approximately 50x worse than his many animals outside. We spend less than 30 seconds shopping.

When we go back out to get in the car, two goats are starting to fight by the driver's side of my rental car. The instigator looks at me out of the corner of his beady little eyes and I decide to walk around the back of the car to get to the driver's side. I refuse to make it all the way through Yellowstone without being gored by a wild animal, only to be attacked by a pet goat at a gift shop.

There's another family who made the mistake of stopping at this "treasure" of a store, so while I'm squeezing between my rental and their pickup, I look and see yet another goat jump from the ground into the back of their truck. The goat also managed to find a map in the truck that he starts eating in record time.

The last sight we have as we pull away is the family shooing the goat out of their truck while attempting to salvage half of the map (the only remnant that hasn't been eaten) out of the goat's mouth.

You can't make this stuff up. You also have to be wary of gift shops in Montana. You've been warned.

Yellowstone

We went to Yellowstone this year for our annual Smith family reunion. It was great to see our family from all over the country and to spend time with my cousins that I rarely get to see...but I think I'm all Yellowstoned-out. This was allegedly our 4th trip to the park. I say allegedly because I have no recollection of one of those trips, although my parents claim I had a blast.

Yellowstone is the land of geysers that smell like rotten farts, bison that love to use the paved road as their own, and fanny-packing tourists who think standing 100 feet from a wild grizzly bear is a perfectly good idea.

Some bison using our road as their path.

It is a great experience if you've never been before, but the overwhelming fart smell combined with the lack of any bathrooms besides outhouses really gets to you after a few days.

I hate outhouses so much, in fact, that I would rather use nature's toilet. The only two times I tried this method, I failed miserably. The first time we were on what seemed to be an 18 mile trek to see more fart-geysers and I had to go really bad. (Beckett's new hobby is playing hop-scotch on my bladder.) I veer off the path and find the perfect spot only to realize I am about to pee on a 1.5' long snake. I think to myself, "No big deal, I'm not scared of snakes..." until I look down again and realize that I have found not one but a whole family of 1.5' long snakes.

The second time I attempt to be rugged, I go off into the woods to a great spot when a chipmunk in the tree next to me starts cussing me out. Maybe you're more well-versed in chipmunk than I am, but I didn't know that they actually yell at you. Literal yelling. I don't know what he was saying, but I feel sure it was something like, "This is my @*(#&$ area, *#$%&. Get outa here before I &@#$* your $*(#*@." Although cute, those dudes are mean.

Even though I don't really care to return to the land of Yellowstone, Taylor and I did have a blast with our family. It was a great vacation at a perfect time for us. Below are some great memories:

The mountains, of course. They don't stink and they're beautiful.
Two things currently not going well for the geysers.

Spending time with my family. I have the best family in the world.
Pictured above: Von Warren Smith, a.k.a. Papa.

Measuring Papa's ears. They're massive. He also refuses to wear hearing aids, so I told him the size of his ears was false advertising - he should be able to hear things on the other side of the world.

Getting to vacation with Taylor before Baby B is here. Taylor LOVED Yellowstone. I think he asked me at least 32 times, "What is the altitude right here? What about here? How about now?" He's a very good Yellowstoner.

Yellowstone's subtle warnings and beautiful artwork.

Buford - he got to go with us. This is him pictured above at Dragon's Mouth.
If you don't know who Buford is, well...you should know who he is.

Goomifier app on the iPhone. I spent a ridiculous amount of time playing with this app.
Pictured above: Father Curt, Taylor, Papa.

Cowbabies

And no blog is complete without the mention of Beckett boy. Completely unrelated, Beckett has begun attempting to escape. Either that or he is testing the elasticity of my skin. Whatever the reasoning, it's his new favorite game.

My favorite souvenir we bought on our trip were these Cowbabies cowboy boots from a farm and ranch store in Bozeman, Montana. Beckett will be a Texan, so we must outfit him accordingly.

I included a picture of one of my favorite onesies (from his Grammypants, Sandy Brooks). It's a v-neck!!

I've always been a shoe person and I'm proud to say my son is too, at least while he's small and doesn't have a choice.

And since Father's Day was Sunday, I had a card made online for Taylor from tinyprints.com (highly recommended). It turned out really cute and Taylor was proud of his little dude. Again, if you find sonograms weird and confusing instead of endearing, don't feel bad. I do too, but it's all we have to work with at this point. I can promise you sincerely I'll never show you one and say, "He has his dad's hands, doesn't he!?" Unless you or your spouse have white blobs for appendages, you can't tell who the kid looks like.

Beckett has had an exciting month of flying, vacationing, and showering. He had his first shower a few weeks ago - a Library Shower. Very cute idea by some spectacular friends. Everyone brought a book to help start a library for B. His literacy will have my friends to thank.

Newsflash: 6 weeks from Thursday, baby B will be considered full term. It seems like time will fly by when I type it out like that, but in reality, this Texas summer combined with unemployment has made time actually stand still. I'm ready for him to get here so I can go back to having one chin, adequate air, and no one kicking my liver. I've decided I'm not one of those people who just love being pregnant. I am very blessed, however, to be carrying a healthy baby boy. A lot of people (men included...for the most part) don't have that honor. For that, I am grateful.

Now - who wants to get ice cream?!

Cold Stone, "Massage" Chairs, & Prepared Childbirth

2011-05-24T13:06:00.010-05:00

Cold Stone

With my current job at Unemployment Inc., I have ample time to hang out anytime anyone wants (seriously...anytime). I also have time to help out friends when they need me. Last week I got to watch 66.6% of my friend Megan's kids while her husband took the other 33.3% to the doctor. She just had twins, so I got to play with one of the 11-week old twins and her 18ish month old son. Her husband brought back some tulips and a Cold Stone Creamery gift card to say "thanks". Very thoughtful, right?!

If you ever wonder how long it takes Taylor and I to spend a gift card, I can answer: less than 24 hours. So, the next day, we head to get ice cream with our card. We're not too worried about what we order because surely $15 covers two ice creams. He orders some frou-frou concoction while I order the uge (short for usual) - Rocky Road mix. We also order one brownie, a whopping $1.99.

Mr. Ice Cream rings up our order and tells us that the total is $20. Twenty American dollars for 2 people's ice cream and one brownie. We're shocked that we'll have to pay more than the gift card, but we hand it to him anyway. He runs the card then looks at us and says, "Um...this is for Cold Stone." We look back and him like, "Uh huh...and...?" He then informs us that we have just ordered $20 worth of ice cream at Marble Slab, not Cold Stone.

We ended up forking over the money to pay for our waffle cones that must have been made of angel wings and flown in from Italy. That's the only solution as to why our treats were so expensive.

We're idiots.

"Massage" Chairs

A few months ago, my mom, dad, and two fabulous friends came to visit from Kansas. Sharon, Sandy, my mom, and I went to get pedicures at a nail salon in the mall here. It was a fun, girly experience that I hope becomes a tradition any time we are together.

I need to share my experience with you, however, to act as a) a warning for your personal modesty and b) a hearty laugh if you've ever had the pleasure of sitting in one of these "massage" chairs.

Sharon and I were sitting next to each other on one side of the salon. As soon as we sat down and put our feet in the water, the little ladies turned on our massage chairs to the normal setting. After shopping at Canton (among other Fort Worth stores) for hours on end, it felt awesome to relax and enjoy the massage that feels nothing like a real massage...

...that is until the chair harassed us.

These particular chairs come equipped with a butt-massage function that catches the user completely off-guard. Here we are, enjoying peaceful vibrations and mild massaging, when this fist-like apparatus comes up from the seat of the chair and begins to prod our butts. Literally, it feels as though a baseball bat is violently and rhythmically harassing our bums. Almost simultaneously, Sharon and I experience this and look at each other in pure shock. Of course we laugh our heads off like little girls before turning off the unpleasantness. It's not remotely comfortable, and I have no idea what exactly it's supposed to be massaging.

I wish I could be in the meeting with the designers of this chair. I want to know two things: who thought, "You know what would be awesome? A chair with a fist that punches people right in the butt. I think this chair will fit perfectly in our new line of sexual-harassment products." I also want to know who agreed with our aforementioned designer.

Maybe we were on Punk'd and didn't realize it.

My mom and Sandy were apparently oblivious to this function, but luckily mom and I went back to the same place a few weeks ago and she had the pleasure of experiencing the "massage" firsthand. She just said a lot of, "OH! There is something... What in the.... Now I know what y'all were...Oh!...talking about." Hilarious.

Have you ever been in such a massage chair?! You should have to sign some sort of release form before being subjected to it.

Prepared Childbirth

Even though I haven't given birth before, Taylor and I are pros. We took a 14 hour "Prepared Childbirth" class over a couple Saturdays, so we know everything there is to know. We've got this under control.

I wish we would have waited until a little later to take the class, because it made us excited for Beckett boy to get here. Either way, it was fabulous.

One of our favorite things learned was about the "fundus". Supposedly it's just the top of the uterus and they massage this thing after you give birth.

You know those times in life when you can't help but laugh uncontrollably at inopportune times? These are the times when you shouldn't really be laughing at all, but something has turned your giggle box on and you absolutely positively cannot get it under control?

I felt this way every time the nurse said "and then we'll massage your fundus".

I mean, really? Do I want my "fundus" massaged? It sounds a lot like the above pedicure chair.

She managed to say "massage the fundus" at least a dozen times during the course of our classes, and I could not help but giggle like an 8 year old every time. We are in a room full of people trying to pay attention to the medical details surrounding their firstborn's birth and we cannot stop cracking up about a stupid fundus massage. Grow up, Brooks.

My other favorite part of the class was when the coaches (read: husband and/or boyfriend) had to guess what the women's answers were to certain questions. One question was, "What feature or trait do you want your husband to pass on to your baby?" A lot of people answered "his smile" or "his intelligence" or something. This poor Asian man was dead-set on the fact that he knew his wife's answer so, in front of the whole group, he confidently said, "She most likely said 'my personality'." She just looked at him and goes, "No. Your eyes." Haha! I'm sure he's a sweetie. (A sweetie who thinks he has a super stellar personality.)

Hopefully we won't have to put our new learnings to the test in the next few weeks, but we are getting closer! I will be 28 weeks on Thursday.

Here is a progression overview. Try to focus on the belly, not the arms or the other body parts also rapidly growing:

I would show you my actual belly and maybe even do a progression of my belly button, but it creeps people out. Taylor told me a few months ago that he "didn't want to touch my belly button anymore so stop asking him." I guess I'm the only one intrigued by its abnormal shapes.

And for funzies, a picture of the bridesmaid dress Beckett and I nearly did not fit into. We ended up fitting, but my lungs and subsequent oxygen did not. Also pictured is Christie and "Blob", Beckett's soon-to-be best friend.

The End, Nursery Project, & The Wreck

2011-05-19T16:04:00.015-05:00

The end as we know it

In case you haven't heard, the world is ending on Saturday. In honor of this momentous occasion, I thought I'd post one last time. I'd suggest listening to the Fleet Foxes Pandora station while you read this, only because that's what I'm listening to as I write it. Let's make our last few days as sentimental as possible.

By the way, as I researched why May 21, 2011 is the end of the world, I found this: On May 21^st, 1988, God finished using the churches and congregations of the world. The Spirit of God left all churches and Satan, the man of sin, entered into the churches to rule at that point in time.

Did you know this? I know The Hills doesn't know it. Someone should tell our preacher.

Nursery Project

Something about being home alone all day brings out the wanna-be crafter in me. Especially when I see crafty stuff that Christie does (see blog here) for her little dude's nursery, it makes me want to do something fancy for Beckett.

Hence: the cabinet project.

One of my favorite children's books has always been I'll love you forever by Robert Munsch.

I knew I wanted to use the song from this book in his nursery somewhere, but I didn't know how until I saw this cabinet at a store in Grapevine that had 1 Corinthians 13 painted on the dresser. I start thinking and drawing up how I want this sucker to look, so I go to Lowe's to buy paint.*

The bedding we've picked has really bright colors and matching pastel colors. It's a whole specific palette. I've researched this stuff. By the time I go into Lowe's, I know exactly what I'm looking for. As I'm looking at colors with a little owl stroller toy that matches the bedding in my hand, this teased-hair, leopard-and-rose-print shirted customer comes up and hands me a few more color samples saying, "These are more soothing for a nursery..." followed by "...you aren't planning on putting those colors together are you?" She nearly got her braces knocked into the back of her head. I only comment on her attire because I refuse to take advice from someone who is out of style in general.

I'm off topic. Long story short, I transformed a dresser we have that will double as a changing table:

Bef...{yawn}...ore

After

I'm pretty excited about how it turned out. I'll get a better picture once it's in his room. Now I need more creative genius...keep it coming.

*honorary mention to Nedra "JoJo" Sparks for the design consultation.

The Wreck with the Thing

Let me recap our last 6 months for you: We find out we're pregnant, my older brother lives with us for a few months, we move houses, Taylor travels for 5 weeks (and works 70-90 hour weeks), I get laid off, a friend in small group dies suddenly...and on and on. It's been crazy to say the least. Feel free to insert "neighbor's monkey bites child on our street" in there too...that was a notable mention from this past week.

So yesterday, to add to my excitement thus far, I got in a decently-bad wreck. I was on my way to eat dinner with a one Kellie Farrell and got hit (I'll do anything to get out of dinner) by a ...I don't even know what to call this thing... that thought it would be fun to turn right from the middle lane of the road.

The mean, scary, water-excavation "thing":

My sweet, little baby Edge:

Luckily no one was hurt except my car and a measly front guard of the "thing". I never want to be in accidents, but I do love it when the people that hit me are nice. This gentlemen was very nice. Imagine how you'd feel if you, driving that "thing", hit me, a pregnant lady. I'd imagine I'd be just as shaken up as he was. Maybe that's why he was so very nice.

Every time I tried to tell insurance, the police, Taylor, etc. what kind of car hit me, I did a lot of stammering only to say, "A huge thing. I don't know what the heck kind of vehicle it is." I've always been a descriptive one.

I called my doctor and told them just to be on the safe side, so they called me in to meet with 3 (three!) people. I had a fetal monitor on for 1 hour, a sonogram, and a visit with the nurse practitioner. All the thanks I get from Beckett for getting him checked out was being punched and kicked ferociously during the 2 hour visit. He'll thank me one day.

Seriously, he's fine. Cars can be fixed - I'm just glad baby B is happy and healthy (and feisty as ever). I am also not proposing to get in a wreck just so you can have a sonogram, but I was happy that I got to see him. They gave me a memento for my troubles.

Sir Beckett Brooks, everyone.

We still haven't heard from the other guy's insurance, so we will be rockin out the GMC Sierra sans AC and the infamous Brooks family Volvo for a while until we can get the Edge fixed. I feel sure our neighbors think that we are running some sort of illegal operation out of our house. We have 4 cars consistently changing places in our driveway.

C'mon, insurance!

Bonus Symptoms, Categories, & the Name!

2011-05-15T20:57:00.009-05:00

Pregnancy 101: Symptoms

There are so many things people don't tell you about being pregnant. Sure, you hear about cravings and back aches, but I guarantee you haven't heard of the million little ways carrying a baby blows up your body. Brenna the Schartz came to visit one day and we attempted to compile a list of random stuff that I want to document for future reference, if for no other reason than to laugh. If this were a "women's only" channel, it would be much more exciting, but you can just ask me for the juicy details in person.

General lack of oxygen
Overall discomfort while sitting, standing, or laying down
Unforeseen hiccups and/or burps in the middle of conversation
Belly button taking on ghastly shapes
Side cramps
Nasal passage blockage
Motor skills vanishing completely
"Dropsies" - fingers and hands failing to hold anything for more than 2 seconds without dropping it
Itchiness in odd places
Freakishly weird, very detailed dreams
Failure to sleep normally
Hysterical outbursts at inopportune or ridiculous times (i.e. eating inside Joe T's instead of on the patio)
Burning balls of fire in the throat and chest area (also referred to as heartburn)
Inability to form or finish a basic senten

People say the darndest things

Remember that show with Bill Cosby? I don't know why we stop at kids. Adults say some darndesque things, too. Any time there is a major event (marriage, pregnancy, death, sickness...life in general), people feel the need to bestow wisdom, offer suggestions, etc.

I had a conversation with someone recently whose child had medical issues a while back. In order to deal with the weird comments people made to their family, they came up with categories of comments for comic relief. It was brilliant. We've started coming up with categories for our pregnancy so far. I'm sure we'll have plenty to add once baby B is actually here. Until then, here are a few:

The Long-lost Relative
This is my favorite category. I'd imagine that getting pregnant is a lot like winning the lottery; all of the sudden, dozens of "family members" come out of the woodwork. Conversations of this nature often begin at church, with sweet old ladies who talk in the third person: "Ohhh I just can't wait for this baby to meet his/her Auntie Sue!!!" It's not really PC to retort with, "Ma'am, I really appreciate your passion for babies, but I've honestly never seen you in my life. You will not be my child's aunt."

The Weatherperson
This one is understandable (and even acceptable). Since we first found out in November that baby B would be born at the very end of August, people have always commented on precisely how hot I will be during the Texas summer. I have had 6 months of mental preparation for just how miserable I will be in the coming months. If you need me, I will be spending all of my time in a kiddie pool filled with ice in my front yard.

There is one off-shoot of the Weatherperson species that is less-than acceptable: the type that tells me how she had her baby in early June, that it was a record-high summer, and that she thought she was going to die of heat exhaustion. Not encouraging. Not encouraging at all.

The "Good luck"er
Certainly the worst category. It is probably best explained with a story.

Immediately after the gender sonogram, Taylor and I had to meet with the health benefits coordinator. We walk to her office straight from finding out we were having a boy, so we still have mega-grins plastered on our faces while we sit and try to focus. She asks what we're having, we tell her a boy, and she says, "Oh, well good luck with that. If I'd had my boy first, there's no way I would have had other kids." Seriously?

Let's all vow two things:
1. Don't react violently once you've heard the gender of someone's baby. Even if your boy is a punk or your girl is a diva, keep it to yourself.
2. Don't react violently once you've heard the final chosen name for someone's baby.

What a great segue...

Name & Nursery

I have had a girl's name picked out since about week 2. Boy names have been much harder for Taylor and I. For some reason, we have severely failed to agree. I wanted something different to combat my experience with what seemed like 16 Sarah's in my class in elementary school, he wanted something traditional so people wouldn't gawk or mispronounce his name easily. How can you compromise when one person wants "Wolfgang" and the other wants "Donald"? (Neither of those was in the running...just to clarify)

Alas, after 2 books of names, several rounds of eliminations, and final cumulative averaging, we have decided on a name:

Wilson Beckett Brooks

He'll go by Beckett (...Wilson is a Brooks' family name). Beckett Brooks. I know you love it - you don't even have to tell me. I can see it in your eyes as you read this.

We also picked out bedding:And a color scheme:

Don't let the bedding fool you - I am not collecting owls. Apparently your 3 options for nursery themes are ridiculously expensive custom bedding, creepy jungle themes with lions playing basketball, or "modern" which tends to only be in the owl-variety. I think it'll be super cute though.

I'm secretly hoping that the owls on his crib bedding will instill wisdom in him by osmosis. I do not hope they instill in him the ability to stay up all night, turn his head completely around, or ask, "How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?" Just the wisdom part would be fine.

Because I have 3 months of free time on my hands, I'm up for some creative genius in his nursery. I have some furniture I want to paint, but I need ideas for the walls, art, etc. Any ideas? Seen anything so super cute that would match well? Do tell.

Sex Party!

2011-04-19T10:23:00.034-05:00

Well, technically, it's a {finding out the} Sex Party, also known as a "Gender Reveal Party". We had a lot of fun with the name. My friend commented on how she and her husband were invited to a sex party where there were married couples, single adults, a minister, and a lab-mix.

We invited all of our family and a few of our close friends to our gathering, via the invitation below. I wish we could have invited a lot more people, but our little house isn't the best venue for large groups of people.

By the way, don't get your heart set on people showing up in blue or pink. Half of the boys we invited (Taylor's friends - I blame him) didn't show up in either color.

We decorated in pink and blue (and some yellow and green).

I also hung a few of the funny onesies I'd already gotten as gifts for the baby - regardless if it were a boy or girl.

For food, I put a table-full of my cravings out for everyone to enjoy. Delicacies included: Arby's roast beef sandwiches, Cheetos (puff variety), spicy nacho Doritos, Reese's Pieces, Teddy Grahams, and diet strawberry limeades from Sonic.

When people first came in, I had them vote on their favorite names and whether they thought it was a boy or a girl.

I also had them fill out 4 different cards with various questions for us to share with baby B one day:

If Mack could talk, a few things he'd tell you about living here would be...
To be a blend of your mom and dad, be prepared for:
Something embarrassing you should know about your parents is...
A few things you need to know about our family and friends are:

In the middle of the card table, I put a vase with pink and blue Reese's eggs with a note that said:

No one really guessed the gender based on the candy alone, but I sure did enjoy eating the Reese's later.

Once everyone had made their guesses and filled out the cards, we went through about 20 wive's tales to determine if baby was a boy or a girl. I had both grandmas, my mom (Jojo) and Taylor's mom (Brooksie), read the questions. Based on the ridiculous criteria, Finley won by 1.

Finally - reveal time! I had baked cupcakes earlier in the day and filled them with blue pudding. Once we gave everyone the go-ahead, they all got a cupcake and bit into it to find out that baby B was a BOY!

Of course, the grandmas surprised us with outfits they'd already bought for both genders - just in case.

From Brooksie:

From Jojo:

Overall, it was a lot of fun (for me at least). Plus, the food was AWESOME. I mean...all of my cravings on one table = heaven.

Papa Curt and Pop with Taylor:

Everyone else...

I put Mack in a pink shirt so he could vote for Finley (she was running low on votes). The shirt only lasted about 5 minutes until he went outside and peed on the bottom of it.

Next step: what will his name be?!

KC Visitors, Sonogram, & Unemployment

2011-04-19T09:05:00.011-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted - oops. Last time I wrote on here, little dude was a lemon; now he's a full-fledged papaya! Now that I have some free time on my hands (see last section), maybe I'll post every time something remotely noteworthy happens.

A few weeks ago, my parents along with their comrades, Sandy & Sharon, came to visit. It was a really fun, really gluttonous weekend. We planned our days around where to eat lunch and dinner, so we all gained roughly 10 pounds.

To recap, I am so glad we were able to experience the following: drunk girls walking in the stall with Sharon at Joe T's, the flat tire on the second trip to the airport with Sandy (and the man who wouldn't accept money because we'd "block his blessing"), riding a scooter through Canton like a 90 year old woman, walking around the entire perimeter of Canton to find mom's missing credit card and license after already spending what seemed like an eternity there, eating at Twisted Root in Dallas where Dad was positive someone was going to steal our newly acquired treasures, shopping endlessly for maternity clothes and gender-neutral must-haves, coming home from work to find all of my dad's handiwork around the house (and then breaking the door he fixed within 2 days)...and much, much more.

Taylor and I are so blessed to have the Brooks (Sandy, Jeff & Taylor...girl Taylor Brooks...it's confusing) and the Fulks in our lives, as well as Jojo and Papa Curt of course.]

It's a ... what?!

Shortly after the girls left, Taylor and I had our sonogram appointment to find out whether baby B was a boy or a girl. I'd read a lot about "Gender Reveal Parties" and loved the idea, so we decided to have our own, especially since my parents were still in town. Originally, I wanted to find out what we were having at the party along with everyone else, but Taylor hated that idea...so we compromised, resulting in one of the best weekends ever.

Our appointment was on Friday afternoon and our party wasn't until Sunday afternoon, so Taylor and I used some of his Hilton points to treat ourselves to a "staycation" until the big reveal.

Meanwhile, back at the doctor's office, we get started with the sonogram where the sonographer just happens to start the exam exactly on the baby's junk. Right off the bat she says, "Well, do you want to know right now?!" Since I was 100% convinced little Finley Hope would grace us with her presence in August, I confidently told her we were ready to know. The lady says, "Ok - here is one leg, here's the other leg, and then there's something in the middle."

Here is what transpired:
Me: Oh no, what's wrong with her?
Her: Nothing. It's a boy!
Me: WHAT?!! A boy? A boy. Hmmm. Are you sure?
Her: Here's another view of his ... stuff.
Me: WHOA! Umm...is that normal? That looks sort of large.
Her: Yes, it's normal. He also might have a full bladder.
Me: Ok, but, like, that's really big, right? What do you even do with boys? Don't they only play in dirt, smell like grass, and make swords out of their "natural resources"?
Her: Ha - you might need a minute to process.
Me: So...we're positive it's not a girl then?

I don't really remember the rest of the appointment. The funny thing is, I was sure I would be a little disappointed because I was so sure it was a girl. In reality, I wasn't at all. For one, I now have a son! For two, I can get my girl fix by dressing my son in bows and headbands while Taylor's at work and neither one of them will ever know.

All kidding aside, I almost can't remember how badly I wanted/how strongly convinced I was that it was a girl. It's hard to think of anything other than our little dude. Taylor is such an incredible man, husband, friend, etc, that I can't wait to see Taylor 2.0. We are going to be two very blessed parents when baby B comes in August. We are going to be even more blessed when we can think of a name for him. Any ideas?!

About Taylor 2.0...I like to inform Taylor (current version) of all the enhancements that Taylor 2.0 will have. For one, he'll be much better at making sound effects that are appropriate to what he's saying. (Current version will say, "So I saw this bald guy..." and then insert a swooshing noise. That's nonsensical.) For two, his face will be much more attractive when he fake laughs. It's something we're working on with current version, but I'm hoping version 2.0 will have this automatically built in.

For the rest of the weekend before our party, I stopped by every baby store within the area to stock up on little boy clothes. We find some serious treasures on the clearance racks from winter. Here are a few of my favorites:

And I absolutely love this one because, embarrassingly enough, Mack has almost the same onesie. Judge me if you must.

Side note: little boy clothes can be kind of creepy. Little girls wear cute, outrageous little outfits that grown women wouldn't be caught dead in (or at least would be friendless and alone if they tried). Little boy clothes, on the other hand, are just mini-grownup clothes. If you already have a kid who tends to look like a little old man, that is only magnified when you dress him in a three-piece suit with penny loafers. Just a thought.

The reveal party will be the next post. Stay tuned.

Unemployment

Big Fun Friday last week was just like any other BFF at my company...oh, wait, no...that's when I got laid off. True story. 6 more weeks left to work before I took the summer off to bask in a pool of my own pregnancy fat...and I was laid off.

I leave work around 3 every day, so at about 2:40, I get called into my boss' office where he tells me that orders have been down, they've eliminated my position, etc. It really isn't a surprise they had to lay off several people and it's no surprise that marketing is the first to go. He gave me the option to scale my hours back...to one day a week. Since I drive 36 miles one way to get to work, I decided I'd call it quits that day.

At first I didn't think there was severance, because he didn't mention anything about it, but I ended up emailing him yesterday and he told me there would be some compensation.

For those who knew my stance on my job, I'm pretty glad to not be driving to Dallas every day anymore, and it was never the dream job I had in mind. Still, I got close to several people and it was hard to say goodbye, gather my things, and leave forever - all within about 10 minutes. I would have appreciated a little more time to say bye, but I get that it was a sudden decision. (I guess...I still would have liked more time.) I also wish I didn't leave the company with a bad taste in my mouth. Oh well. Life goes on, and I am certainly not missing it.

I also wasn't on the company's insurance and, excluding the severance, they would have only paid me for 4 more weeks of work. I'd like to think that wouldn't be CRAZY to "eliminate my position" in one more month after I left anyway. Oh well. Now I have plenty of time to get caught up on what's been going on in Mack's life, planting a fabulous garden, reading stupid romance novels, watching daytime talk shows, and posting on my blog.

Now, on to the reveal party. Seriously, you won't want to miss this next post...

Lemons, Pringles, & Flu Shot

2011-02-24T18:25:00.007-06:00

Attention, attention: Baby Brooks is now 14 weeks old as of today. He/she is the size of a lemon, which is quite a bit bigger than the poppy seed we started at. Who knew that time could go by so fast? I'm already in the second trimester!

It seems like just yesterday I was scheduling an appointment with the doctor to confirm that both of the pregnancy tests were false positives, and I had indeed breathed in hormones from the 4 other pregnant women at work - hence the high HCG levels in my blood from the test at the walk-in clinic. Turns out, the signs were there all along (who knew?) and here we are a new trimester later.

We now have 6 pregnant women at work - in a company of 35 people. One more that I know of is officially in the "trying" stage. We will soon have 1/5 of our workforce with child. You can imagine the a) craziness of it all and b) HILARIOUS jokes that abound. [Side note: if I hear one more person mention "not drinking the water at work", well...I will be less than amused.]

Pringles

As far as cravings go, I can point to a few moments of weakness, but no real re-occurring obsessions. When I was about 9 or 10 weeks along, I got on a serious Pringles kick for about a week that got a little out of hand. I had at least two flavors to choose from everywhere I was - 2 cans for work, 2 cans for the kitchen, 2 cans in my car...it was excessive. The crazy part is that I was very protective of my chips. Pringles are the kind of snack where you never quite have enough. If you really put your mind to it, you can easily down 1/2 a can in a few minutes without feeling the slightest bit full. Reality is, there are not as many chips in there as you think there are; ergo, when my brother or Taylor would reach for a can of Pringles, I would become immediately enraged. I mean, honestly, get your own can. Better yet - eat everything else in the kitchen, just leave my Pringles to me. All 6 flavors of them.

The downside to pregnancy is that you still think logically about what you're eating and how bad it is for you, but you just can't help it. I downed a whole Burger King original chicken sandwich (circa 1995) one day and immediately felt disgusting about it. Have you seen one of those things lately? Truly horrible.

I also stopped on the way home from work yesterday to grab a snack at Arby's (the one 2 miles from home) to tide me over until dinner (30 minutes later). I texted my brother in the drive-thru that was I was ashamed of myself, but not ashamed enough to go ahead and order a whole combo.

Aside from the aforementioned stories, (...ok, and the one time I drove around for an hour looking for Girl Scouts and their stupid cookies...) I've been doing pretty well, I think. I've just learned to not grocery shop alone and/or hungry, to consider how I will feel after eating 17 tortillas from Rosa's before indulging...you know, just the normal considerations.

Flu Shot

Since I can't get through life or any normal circumstance without something abnormal happening, let me just tell you a bit about our experience thus far with our OB/GYN. First off, I didn't plan ahead on the hospital, doctor, etc. because I truly believed I wasn't pregnant - so I called the first doctor I saw listed on Google.

The first time we went to see said doctor, she came in and gave her name, did an ultrasound immediately, confirmed the pregnancy, then said, "Ok great - so what questions do you have?" as if I had come prepared with a list of questions I'd been keeping since 7th grade in case of surprises like this. I told her I didn't really know what to ask, she said a few things, then left after 10 minutes tops. When I got to the front desk to check out, I didn't even know the name of my doctor to tell them. It wasn't the best first impression (and subsequent visits weren't much better) but I thought I'd just get through this pregnancy with her, until....

I start running a low-grade fever a few days ago after having been around 3 people with the flu. A few other symptoms popped up, so I called the doctor after hours just to check and see what I could do. My doctor wasn't on call, so this lovely, sweetheart-of-a-lady was:

Me: I think I might be getting the flu. Is there anything I can do to prevent it?
Doctor: Well, you should have gotten a flu shot...
Me: Uhh...ok...but I didn't. Is there anything I can do?
Doctor: (still continuing thought) ...because pregnant women have an increased chance of dying from the flu. It is very important to get the shot.
Me: Ok. So...even if I think I have it, I need to come in and get the shot?
Doctor: Yes. You should have already gotten it.

Let me note here that the doctor should be the one to tell me these things ahead of time, right? The good news is that I didn't have the flu, and the better news is that our little phone call sealed the deal on my changing doctors. Hopefully I will have a new one to report on my next post.

Just for funzies, I'm including this graphic I saw recently. It's very funny, and very true. The "pickles & ice cream" joke does wear thin pretty quick.

HPT, Pudge, & Wiggles

2011-01-20T16:28:00.004-06:00

I have been waiting entirely too long to write this post, and I haven't blogged in a while because I couldn't think of anything to talk about that didn't involve baby Brooks. I also have discovered through this process that I am a very bad secret-keeper. It's not that I mean to tell people, I just can't ever remember who I'm not telling what.

Alas - it is time to finally shout our excitement for our baby that will be coming sometime in the vicinity of August 25, 2011.

This baby was a complete surprise to Taylor and I both. Since I've been married, I cried wolf many-a-time about possibly being pregnant because of my forgetfulness when it came to taking that very important little pill at night. I've been forgetting my pills every now and then for quite some time now, but finally it caught up to me and - boom - here comes baby.

HPT

It all started once up on a time on December 15th. Taylor was out of town and I didn't feel good so I stayed home from work. I hadn't felt good for a few days, so I decided to take a pregnancy test on a whim, even though I knew I definitely wasn't pregnant, since I was on birth control.

Turns out not only the first, but the second test I took showed two very distinct, very positive results. At this point I'm freaking out like a 15 year old in high school. My palms are sweating profusely when I call Taylor and tell him.

The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey. So...I think I'm pregnant.
Him: Ha. Why? You always say that.
Me: Yes, I realize that. But this time I really think I am.
Him: Why?
Me: Because I had two pregnancy tests confirm. That's pretty positive evidence, right?

He was excited from moment one (he even suggested buying a billboard to announce to the world) ...but it took me a while to overcome the shock. I also still needed proof of this alleged baby, so I went to a local lab clinic.

Pudges

I walk into a lab clinic - basically a place for druggies to check their urine to see if anything will show up on their next screening at work - and tell them I need a blood test done.

Mind you - at this point, I'm maybe 4 weeks along.

While I'm filling out some paperwork, this girl behind the counter makes conversation because she can tell I'm freaking out.

Her: Is this your first?
Me: [Gulp] Yes.
Her: Aw...[insert patronizing face] how old are you, sweetie?
Me: 23.
Her: Oh. That's a fine age. Does your boyfriend know?
Me: No. But my husband does.
Her: [insert "you're an idiot" face] Oh. Then why are you so nervous?

She took my blood, missed my vein, took my blood again, and as I'm leaving....

Her: You know, I knew you were pregnant when you walked in.
Me: Is that right? How'd you know?
Her: I could just tell. Well, and I saw the little pudge.

Pudge, really? I'm 4 weeks. I won't have a "pudge" for 12 more weeks. That "pudge" you think is so cute is the Girl Scout cookies I can't stop eating. Thanks for trying though.

Wiggles

So we finally went to the doctor for the second appointment yesterday and got to see the little dude/dudette for the first time since last month when the doctor printed off a sonogram picture of what appeared to be a flake of dust on their machine. Supposedly that speck was a baby, but I have my suspicions. Either way, we finally got to see little one in full baby form:

It was an incredible moment, as I'm sure most of you have experienced. We heard and saw the heartbeat, oooing and ahhhing over the little tiny arms and legs. I was always afraid I'd me that mom who can't appreciate the sonogram. I mean..someone hands you a black and white picture of a blob and then says, "Isn't he/she just SO cute?" Really, what can you do with that? No. It looks like someone spilled whiteout on that picture.

The good news is I did appreciate my baby's picture, because you could see so clearly the little body parts. After we just looked for a while, the doctor said, "Let's wake this baby up!" as she began to poke and prod on me. I really had my doubts, but sure enough little Brooks just started going nuts and wiggling around like crazy. It was the most incredible experience to date, I do believe.

It's always funny to me how easily I forgot how little control we have over our lives. I met Taylor the first day at ACU, I got pregnant years before we were expecting to... God is in control with such greater plans than I can even imagine, and somehow I forget that about once a day. (Let the record show that even though I forget, I still think I have great plans every now and then. It's just that not many of them come to fruition.)

I can't wait to bring mini-Brooks home to our family. For the first time for Taylor and I, we will get to watch our baby be loved and doted on by 4 grandparents (plus a few pseudo-g'rents) and a kazillion aunts and uncles. Neither Taylor nor I were able to experience that in it's fullest capacity, so I cannot wait to see that for my child.

I'm sure many of my posts will be dominated with baby-talk, or at least gross things I crave while preggers...like egg drop soup and Italian-style pizza (whatever that means). All-in-all, we are two very proud parents who are praying fervently for this little one to be healthy!

Punch Bowl, Adult Movies, & Blessings

2010-12-14T16:05:00.004-06:00

I started to write a Thanksgiving post, and, well that didn't get published. It's hard to top the Halloween costume story and I've been quite nervous to post again. I just don't really know how these things happen to me, but I shall now entertain you with two more "This would only happen to Sarah - and apparently now Taylor, too" stories.

Punch Bowl

A few weeks ago, I was at an import store (you know - the kind that you really don't like to shop at but has really good prices and is coincidentally where all the "cute" places actually get their merchandise) in Dallas trying to pick up a punch bowl for my mom. The sales person was a nice Hispanic lady, but we were not on the same page about which specific bowl I was picking up. After a few minutes of miscommunication, this kind Hispanic lady says (quite loudly), "Ok. Paaaancchbowl." And I repeat, "Yes. A punch bowl. PUNCH BOWL" with as much diction as I can muster up. She just kind of smiles to herself then politely says, "I heard you, ma'am. I was calling a man named Pancho." Sure enough, Pancho himself walked out of the back room a few seconds later.

Arrrggg. Sometimes I curse my couldn't-be-any-whiter state of being.

Adult Movies

Taylor has been out of town for work the past few weeks, and last Friday he did an inventory at a book store chain. Apparently you must audit whichever box/item/product you randomly select, and whaddyaknow he selects a box full of adult films. Not only does he have to sift through this box of movies, he then has to announce the titles of each DVD aloud to the 40-something woman standing beside him while she checks them off a list. What are the odds of that happening?! I bet she's still blushing.

Maybe my uncanny ability to get in awkward situations is finally rubbing off on Taylor. One can only hope.

Blessings

Last Sunday was the kind of day where I was moving non-stop. I had class, church, lunch, wedding shower, and then a youth group play. It was a busy day already, not to mention everything was slightly going wrong. We forgot about a meeting in the morning, Fuzzy's got my taco order wrong, I forgot to wear a coat in the 40 degree weather...not a good start. In the afternoon, I have about 30 minutes between when I got home from the shower to when we were leaving for dinner, so I came in the apartment expecting to do a little cleaning. When I walked in, I saw that football was on and Taylor was taking a nap. For some reason, it irked me to no end that I hadn't sat down all day and was now having to clean, while he just slept. Furious at the situation, I ran to Target to grab some cleaner, since - of course - we were also out of that. At the time, I felt like I was in the "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."

I'm stomping around through Target grabbing everything I need and head to the checkout where every line has 26 people in it - what else do you expect at this point in my day? The ratio of cashiers to shoppers never ceases to frustrate me. 3:74 is not a good ratio. The checkout lady is taking her sweet old time, chattin' it up with the current shopper and I am about to flip a lid, since I have to leave in negative 3 minutes to get to dinner with the 11th graders on time.

I look over at the other lines to see if I can do a little line-skipping to get checked out faster. When I look at the line next to mine, I see this tiny girl checking out who was wearing kind of raggedy, old clothes and had two small children with her. The look on her face drew me in for some reason. After I looked for a second, I realized it was probably because she was incredibly sad. She wasn't crying or anything, you could just see a deep sadness in her eyes. When she turned towards me, I saw that she also recently had the living daylights beaten out of her - enough so that the entire left side of her face was black/blue and swollen.

After my stomach was done twisting and I finally breathed again, I began to tear up looking at this poor girl. She was so beautiful, and so hopelessly sad. I mean - what can you do in those situations? I walked past her a few minutes later as she put her groceries in the car, so I came up next to her and said, "Your kids are precious!" She stopped what she was doing, looked me in the eyes, and (as sincerely as you can imagine) said, " Thank you so much. I really appreciate that."

I'm glad I was able to get off of my high horse to tell you this story. Here I was, a grown woman, fuming through the aisles of the grocery store while thinking about how unfortunate it was that I got a grilled fish taco instead of a grilled shrimp taco, and what an injustice it was that I had to clean out the dishwasher for the third time in a row (I keep a record for such purposes), and how freezing the church auditorium was since I forgot my coat...and...well, I could go on forever.

It's embarrassing, really, to share this story. I think it's important though, because on some level, I think you do it too. It's all about perspective. The reality of my situation is that I am incredibly blessed with a Savior who forgives me despite of my ridiculously sinful nature, a husband who loves and protects me (and takes the occasional nap on Sundays after working 60+ hour weeks to provide for me), family who show me daily what it means to follow Christ, a church community that helps me grow...again, I could go on forever.

My challenge to you this week, and throughout the holiday season: Keep things in perspective. We are all blessed with immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

Resurrecting Bugs & Halloween Costume Failure

2010-10-31T18:13:00.007-05:00

This post is in honor of this ghoulish Halloween evening...

Side note: does anyone else pronounce it "Holloween"? I need backup.

Resurrecting Bugs

Once upon a time (last week), I was running through Bob Eden park at dusk. The sun was setting, the swamp creatures were out, and I was gasping for air during my grueling 1.5 mile run. During one gasp of oxygen, a plump (perhaps "big-boned") flying insect made a dive straight into my windpipe. I gagged a little, coughed quite a bit, swallowed even more until that bug went down.

Now, kids, this is when the story gets scary...

I continued on my jog through the park when about 3 minutes later, I felt something crawl back up my throat. Sure enough, it was that flying bug. He resurrected his fat self and began to climb out of the throat of despair. At this point, I gagged and coughed for a solid 5 minutes before Mr. Fly gave up and died.

It was the second grossest thing that's ever happened to me. Ask me about the first...if you dare.

Halloween Costume: Epic Failure Edition

Have you ever just had a terrible lapse in judgment? A failure in a social situation? A faux pas if you will? Taylor and I have. Let me tell you about it.

A group at church was having a Halloween costume party on Friday night, and Taylor and I thought it would be a great thing to go to and meet different people from our young adults class.

Costume parties are tricky, though, because you don't want to be the ONE person who 1) doesn't dress up, 2) goes too far with your costume, or 3) just fails miserably when trying to be funny.

We went with option 3.

Taylor came home from work and I was laying out our "nerd" costumes for the party. He was about 3/4 done with his costume when I decided I wanted to Google other costume ideas. I searched "DIY Halloween costumes" and found this:

A roller coaster car with fake legs?? That's genius, right?

So we began constructing, and within about 30 minutes had our own roller coaster car to ride in.

We get to the people's house where this costume party is, put on our costume, and walk up to the door. Luckily before we rang the doorbell we looked in the windows to survey the crowd. When we looked in, we saw a few older people sitting down eating dinner - uncostumed.

We immediately turn around and start walking down this neighborhood street to consider our options. While we're frantically exiting before anyone sees us, Taylor is going, "Just act natural - play it cool!!" as if two people walking down the street in a cardboard box holding on to a broom handle with fake legs hanging off the front is normal.

Long story short, we call a girl that we know is in attendance and verify that other people are in fact wearing costumes, and have her come outside to walk us in. Since our costume was kind of wide, we had to shimmy in sideways, through the front door of people we'd never met in our lives. What happened next was best described as a walk of shame. We walked all the way into the house while everyone (mostly people we'd never met before) just stopped and looked at us. No one really laughed... just looked.

At this point, someone turns and goes, "So....what movie are y'all from?" Oh. You mean this is a themed party? Oh. The theme is your favorite movie character? Hmm.

It was an epic failure on our part. The party was fun and we played a few games, but I think I'd recommend going with a more traditional costume in the future - especially to a party full of people you don't know. Why didn't we stick with the nerd idea? Or maybe Spiderman? Or Dorothy? All very reliable costumes.

Here is the finished product for anyone interested:

We took our costume off about 5 seconds after entering the party, and this was Taylor taking it to the car. I promise the party wasn't as crazy as it looks below. He didn't actually have to carry anyone out.

2 Kings 2:23-24

Finally... a bit of creepy from the Bible.

From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some youths came out of the town and jeered at him. “Go on up, you baldhead!” they said. “Go on up, you baldhead!” He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the LORD. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.

Moral? Don't mock bald men.

Waco & Pesky Denominations

2010-10-24T15:30:00.005-05:00

Team Ice vs. Team Brooks

Today has concluded a fabulous weekend spent in Waco with our good friends, Whitney & Estebaan Ice. We took a [very] long overdue trip to visit them and had a fabulous time, of course. Funny how much fun you can have when you carve out time from your "super busy" schedule. They're great friends and we miss them being around.

Estebaan is one of the most randomly knowledgeable person we know, and the most naturally talented person we've ever met. He could literally do anything he wanted to.

Whitney is super fun, very passionate, a great listener, a killer competitor, and a fabulous cook. She also has a puppy (Kate) that I really want, so I guess she's a little greedy too since she's keeping Kate for herself instead of giving her to me.

Too bad we'll never get to visit them again since I managed to spill my entire plate of food (specifically Italian - think marinara sauce) on Friday and my entire drink on Saturday on their carpet. Sorry, Ices.

Estebaan and Taylor are like peas in a pod somehow, and it's fun when they're together. Taylor doesn't laugh out loud at that many people, but he belly laughs when he's with Estebaan.

On Saturday, the boys could think of nothing more fun on the weekend we visited than to get their hair cut together, so Whit and I bettered our appearances also by going to the nail salon. When we picked the boys back up after their visit to Sports Clips, well... we laughed very hard for a very long time. Exhibit A:

Apparently cutting hair straight and even is optional at the Sports Clips in Waco. Those poor boys thought they were so good lookin' after their groomings, but the longer we inspected the terrible cut jobs, the more hilarious the situation became. It made for a great memory.

We watched the Rangers beat the Yankees, ate breakfast at a delicious eatery, got drenched while trying to look at the Baylor bears, spun tops (that were apparently faulty), failed at Spades, bought Taylor fancy jeans, argued about ethics of getting hair re-cut, bought dog beds and coffee at HEB, and worshiped at church together. I think it was a success.

Pesky Denominations

We went this morning to the Ice's church and it was pesky, but not for the reasons you may think.

I once heard an illustration about how we (and different denominations) view God. Actually, I have no idea if that's what this illustration was saying, but since this is my blog I can use whatever analogy I want out of context. Suckers.

Imagine we're all standing in the dark with a giant elephant in the room (not metaphorical for something uncomfortable - think actual elephant). Someone asks you to describe to them what the elephant looks like. Since it's dark and you can't see, you can only use touch to deduct what this creature is.

One person touching the tail is going to describe the elephant a completely different way than someone near the tusk, or the ear. Because no one can see the animal firsthand, they all have different viewpoints.

Such is the church. She is made of many beliefs, many ideas, many cultures, many people, many views of God. Just because she is different depending on the denomination, area, or culture does not mean that we cannot learn from her. We can see a different side of God, of Jesus, of the Holy Spirit from being around other religions and denominations. Have you ever considered that the church down the street may have something to teach you about Jesus? That they may have a new way for you to think about your favorite verse? That they may have a different spin on praying, or reading, or worshiping?

Although the gospel is unchanging, we are ever-changing. We are ever learning, ever evolving, becoming more like Christ. Sometimes those pesky denominations down the street that we have a history of avoiding can teach us a lot about God. Sometimes it's less about how you or I feel about this one specific chapter and verse and more about falling deeper in love with Jesus.

Side note: if you're in Waco, I'd highly recommend Harris Creek Baptist Church. They have good coffee, among other things. Also, ask for Whitney and Estebaan Ice. I heard something about "lunch is on them"...

Futuristic, Giant Legos, & The Individual Church

2010-10-14T17:37:00.010-05:00

Futuristic Age Already?!

In case you haven't read this yet, Google has developed a car that drives itself. They've driven it 100,000 miles in California, and it has been in one wreck... when it was rear-ended by a human-driven car. Seriously, we are living in a futuristic age. Remember when you would watch the Jetsons and think, "Flying cars and a robot that makes you bacon - that'd be awesome!" Now that is coming true. TRUE! Maybe not the flying cars yet, but I wouldn't put it past Google to do that too. They're taking over the world.

Here are some other crazy things that are currently blowing my mind.

Eyeglasses that guide you with GPS
Willy Wonka 3-course meal gum becoming a reality
QR Barcodes that open links on your phone (Firefox extension because it's cool...)
Justin Bieber's nail polish line (Just kidding, but seriously. He sounds like a 10 year old girl)

Any other recent inventions that we need to cover?

Mega Blocks (aka Giant Legos)

I will never buy my children Mega Blocks. Ever. The company is terrible. That was free, now on to the story:

This past week, the marketing department at my company (=me and one other person) built a tradeshow booth out of 10,000 blocks. It was pretty impressive, even though my body hated me the following days. You'd be surprised how sore you can get from using and moving 85 boxes of Mega Blocks.

The final product is below. I'd venture to say we made a bigger impression than the booth with one banner.

Note the mailbox. It was my favorite part. People came by and put their business cards in. We also added fire in the fireplace - but we didn't get a good picture of that. (And by fire I mean red, orange, and yellow tissue paper. Very realistic.)

The Individual Church

When Taylor and I were in Abilene at ACU, we bounced around from church to church looking for the "perfect" experience. The mega Baptist church had a great pastor, but it was essentially impossible to get involved in different programs. Highland had terrible seats - which, embarrassing as it is, was enough for us to avoid going. Southern Hills had a super repetitive sermon series once that turned us off.

It's very annoying when you don't have the whole package. Is it too much to ask for a church that:

avoids songs from the 90s (sorry, Twila. And "You are the Words and the Music?" Don't even get me started...)
has a thought-provoking message every week
provides comfortable seating - no cushioness church pews or smelly movie theater seats
doesn't use cheesy taglines, e.g. "iGod" or "Mission POSSIBLE"

It is very hard to find a church that has everything you want and more.

On a serious note, what scares me about our constant ability to customize everything is that we automatically take that mindset into our churches. We move from church to church as if we're trying out different restaurants. We tend to have mindsets that churches exist meet our personal agenda. If they fail an item on our checklist, we'll just go to the bigger church down the street.

"Well, I don't want to go to that church anymore, because they don't have a Knitters United group that meets on Tuesday nights at 7...I mean, how am I supposed to get involved?"

We are slowly losing the ability to worship in the one-room-schoolhouse setting with people of all ages, all walks of life, all nationalities. Especially at larger churches, you can literally find an interest group that pertains to your gender, age, and hobby. You can even go to the service that best fits "your style" - Instrumental? Acapella? Conservative? Conversational? Home Church? We've got it all.

It's awesome that we are getting people plugged in to groups with shared interests and that we are culturally relevant. Sometimes, though, we take for granted the community and oneness that unites us through Christ, regardless of how much we have in common ordinarily. When we can customize our church experience enough that we are only surrounded by those identical to us with the same needs and passions and hobbies and lifestyles, well, that's a dangerous path to be on. You are in for a surprise when you get to heaven, my friend.

Don't get me wrong - there is power in being surrounded by those who understand you, struggle with you, rejoice with you, and empathize with you. No doubt about that.

On the other hand, God is pretty stellar at bringing people and groups together in relationships that may look odd to the world. Prime example: Denver Moore & Ron Hall. You can learn an incredible amount from someone completely opposite of you. The catch: you have to be willing to get a little uncomfortable.

Don't rob yourself of the joy that comes through a multigenerational, multicultural Christian community. Don't pass up a chance to participate and get involved because you can't find something custom-tailored to your wants and likes. I promise you - you'll miss out.

Angry Hispanics, 30 Minute Floods, and Saving Lives

2010-09-14T17:36:00.009-05:00

"No Truck for YOU!"

When I was training for my halfsie recently, I would run through this one neighborhood pretty regularly. One day, I passed a truck that had a hand-written sign on it that was begging to be read. I stopped to snoop, and saw the message below:

I mean, seriously?? How lucky is this guy? This lady just stops by and offers to buy a truck that has no For Sale sign on it. At this point in the story, Taylor goes, "I'm going to park my truck over there." Ha!

Then comes the good part.

I run through this neighborhood a good 3 weeks later and see the same tr uck sitting outside the same house, with a new note. I stop to snoop yet again and this is what I see...

...which apparently means "This truck is not for sale so please don't stop and ask." Funny, huh?? Nothing like a little neighborhood tension.

I think the clip art makes all the difference on the sign.

30 Minute Floods

Last week when I stayed home work (and met Cheryl) we had a randomly short torrential rainstorm. I really thought we were pulling a Nashville, but luckily it let up and the massive amounts of water dissipated. Before it ended, I drove around and took pictures to send to Taylor. Look at the before and after photos below - crazy!

The road above was completely closed off...in case you can't tell.

And this is Bob Eden Park...

These photos are terrible quality, but you get the gist. The craziest part is that all the water was gone by dinner time.

Saving Lives

Our D Group (11th graders at church) met for the first time this year on Sunday. First off, I love my D Group so much. Second off, all 11th grade visitors to our group think I'm in high school. One day that will be a compliment. For now, it's just...funny.

We watched a movie called, "To Save a Life" that our discussions will be based on for the year. It was a really intense movie that covered about every topic a high school kid deals with.

It covered:

Teen suicide
Cutting
Teen pregnancy
Alcohol (Beer Pong, specifically)
Drugs
Parent's divorcing
Struggling with faith
Fake Christians

I'm sure I'm forgetting some. I highly recommend the movie to any and every person. The best part about the movie is that I didn't even know it was "Christian" until about halfway through. Kirk Cameron-style movies are almost always on the terrible side (bless his heart) but this was surprisingly well made.

Plus, no need to rent multiple movies to talk to your teens about big issues. Buy this one and you'll be able to cover every topic in a 2 hour span.

Reading List

My top books for you this month:

Half the Sky (Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide): Really really really really powerful, but very graphic. Great detail about women in the world being oppressed. A must read.
Reason for God: Exxxcceeelllleeennnntttt book for critics of God/religion/Jesus/whatever. I had to read every paragraph about 5 times to understand, but Tim Keller presents an air-tight case for God.
Jesus Wants to Save Christians: A Rob Bell book that our small group is reading. He facilitates a great thought process about America, a new Exodus, and how we can be (and see) Jesus today.

Nashvegas, YAM, & Cheryl

2010-09-08T20:16:00.009-05:00

Nashvegas

Whew, it's been a while since I've blogged. Oops.

Taylor and I had somewhat of a sibling reunion this past weekend with his two sisters and brother-in-law in Nashville. It was quite possibly the funnest weekend we've had in a while. His middle sister and her husband are going to Chile in January, so we had a Labor Day festival at his oldest sisters' house.

We went to vineyards, ice cream shops, lounges, church, Mexican food...I recommend you look at my album on Facebook. I'm not gonna lie - we're pretty fun.

YAMs at The Hills

A new ministry started at our church - the Young Adults Ministry (YAM!). I'm pretty excited about the group and the opportunity we have within Tarrant - and maybe even Dallas - county. We have about 120ish young adults coming every week to our Sunday morning class. Taylor and I are part of the leadership team, and it's fun to envision and work towards what the ministry could look like in 1, 5, and 10 years, and how we get there.

Most importantly, we've been brainstorming a good name for the group. YAM just isn't working for me or for anyone else on the leadership team. Ideas....Refuge? Oasis? Sanctuary? I threw out other ideas to match our newly renamed church (now "The Hills" from "Richland Hills"), since we're going with reality tv show theme... The Real World: Tarrant County? The Real Young Adults of Tarrant County? I'm here all week.

Out of the YAM has also come a small group that meets at our apartment on Tuesday nights. We're currently talking about Rob Bell's book "Jesus Wants to Save Christians". It's good stuff, and we have great discussions. Everyone should either show up, or Skype in.

Cheryl

Short story long, I wasn't feeling good today, so I stayed home from work. A random torrential rainstorm came through Euless and flooded most streets around my apartment so, naturally, I went driving around to see all the damage.

As I was pulling a u-ey under the interstate to go back home, I see a 50ish year old lady walking in the pouring down rain so I pull over to offer a ride. She gets in and asks where she can put all of her bags, which I immediately think is weird. Who carries around 5 bags in the pouring rain? She smelled really good (odd detail to remember) and her hair was fixed...very non-threatening.

I ask where she is headed and she tells me she needs to go to Central and Hwy-183 to meet up with some friends. I ask why she's walking in the rain and she's sketchy about the details, but something about she forgot money for the cab ride back from Walmart. I ask her several other questions and she was extremely appreciative and very sweet, but very hesitant to give me all the facts. Slowly throughout the course of our conversation, I begin to piece together that my new friend, Cheryl, is homeless.

Cheryl tells me very minimal details about her past or how she got into her current situation. What she does tell me is that she doesn't panhandle, she loves coffee, and she walks with God - who always provides for her. She occasionally sleeps at Super 8 if she can afford it; otherwise, a very nice waitress lets Cheryl sleep in her truck while she's on shift.

Before I drop Cheryl off at McDonalds to meet her acquaintances, I ask her if I can pray with her, I ask if I can give her a couple bucks for a coffee, and I give her my number. She thanks me profusely for my kindness, tells me she hopes I get to feeling better, and gets out of the car.

It was about a millisecond after the door shut that I began to sob.

When we think of "homeless" or "destitute" people, we often think of stinky, old men with cardboard signs who panhandle for money that may or may not be used for whiskey the second we leave. I don't know about you, but I don't often picture sweet, intelligent, good-smelling, God-fearing women. I think I saw a different side of Jesus today, and it just so happened that I saw him in a homeless woman named Cheryl.

I hope that you meet Jesus this week in an unorthodox way.

Facebook invites, Myrtle, & Valentine's

2010-02-16T19:36:00.004-06:00

As I logged onto Facebook today, I experienced the ever-present guilt trip when I checked my event and group invitations. Have you ever received the "Pray for John Smith's left leg" or "If 10,000 people join this group, my friend will become a Christian" invitations on Facebook? It doesn't matter if it is a hoax, if you know the person, or if you are actually going to participate in the group, you have to accept. It is your Christianly duty to accept anything with "prayer" or "Jesus" in the title. Is anyone else guilted into these groups or do you have the strength to ignore?

A dear friend of mine passed on this week. Her name was Myrtle and we spent a solid 7 years together. We exceeded speed limits, squealed tires at green lights, did donuts in parking lots...oh the memories. She has been replaced by a Ford Edge (name TBD).

And, no, it doesn't look like a station wagon so don't even say so.

The car did, however, save us on Valentine's Day presents. When you buy something as big as a new car, you make it fit as a gift for whatever holiday is up next. Luckily, our purchase coincided nicely with V-Day. For dinner, Taylor and I made a fabulous dinner. Because I like you, I am including 3 fantastic recipes. Enjoy!

Paula Deen's Banana Pudding (better after it sits)
Twice Baked Sweet Potatoes
Spinach and Artichoke Dip

And finally, something for the road. I put this on Twitter, but it's still good:

"Be slow to pray. Praying puts us at risk of getting involved with God’s conditions. Praying most often doesn’t get us what we want but what God wants, something quite at variance with what we conceive to be in our best interests."

Hands, Desensitization, & Butt Brush

2010-01-30T10:58:00.006-06:00

Fried Hand

Here are few reasons why you should not fry your hand:
1. It hurts pretty bad.
2. People in Dallas gasp at the extreme flesh wound and wonder when the plastic surgery is scheduled for.
3. It doesn't actually add any flavor to the chicken wings.

It's actually almost healed now, but the past several weeks have been 3 parts: "Man, that hurt but it's not too bad", "I think I have gangrene," and "Crap - that scar is pretty permanent."

Desensitization

Switching gears, I read an article a long time ago about how Generation Y (born early 80's to 1994) is desensitized to tragedy because of how saturated our entire lives have been with media coverage. We've grown up with the Oklahoma City bombing, Columbine, September 11, the space shuttle disasters, Hurricane Katrina, Virginia Tech, and on. We were the first to grow up in the 24/7 constant media coverage era which has almost made us immune to tragedy.

I read that article and thought, "Yea - I guess that's true.." Last week, I realized how true it actually is though. When the hurricane in Haiti hit, I didn't even think twice about it. I had no idea how bad the situation was, because it seems like every day there is a breaking story on some terrible think that killed tons of people. It's hard to differentiate the severity between "Breaking news - Eating a McDonald's hamburger can kill you" and "Breaking news - there was a hurricane in Haiti".

I found a similar article here that is interesting to read. It actually talks about how we're shaped, not stopped, by tragedy. It's worth a read for Gen Yers. Or really anyone.

Butt Brush Factor

I'm reading Paco Underhill's "Why We Buy" book again and I am completely obsessed with it. He is pretty much the inventor of the science of shopping (pretty much the psychology behind why we buy and shop the way that we do). He consults companies and gives them extremely detailed information about how consumers shop in their stores. I want to work for him. Or at least go and get my master's in Consumer Behavior.

My favorite phenomenon he discovered - that I recommend you try next time you are out shopping - is the Butt Brush. Basically, he concluded that consumers have a personal bubble that must be maintained while shopping for a maximum experience. If another person gets too close and brushes the butt of a shopper (mainly women), the shopper will drop what he or she is looking at and walk away. For example, if I'm in a store looking at a scarf that I really want to buy and someone gets right up next to me while I'm trying it on, I get really uncomfortable, drop the scarf, and leave (or at least relocate to another aisle).

It's a really funny psychological thing, but I do have to admit that I've purposefully butt-brushed people before so they'll move. Is that bad? I mean, sometimes someone is looking at the last pair of the exact shoes I want. A little butt-brush effect solves all of your problems. Well, most of the time.

99 Balloons

I put this on Twitter, but I'll post it again. Just grab several hundred tissues before you watch it. Watch the 99 Balloons video. It's crazy to think that, as humans, we can't love unconditionally. What we can do, is tap into a supernatural kind of love that gets us through even the hardest times. Can you imagine what would happen if we all tapped in to the full-extent of love?