07.25.27.2007

I'm the luckiest of all girls- I get to celebrate two anniversaries with Mr. B.  The church one and the beach one.  One a bit sweeter; the other a bit more fun.

07/25/07

Him- handsome, confident, beaming, like he always is.  Me- trying to hold back my tears so I would still be a pretty bride.  I love that we walked down the aisle together, both ways.  How untraditional, huh?  He also tied the bow on  my dress when I was getting ready.  I carried a thrown-together bouquet of flowers from Safeway with my Grandma Katie's rosary.  To be honest, I think I tried to play off the 25th like it wasn't that big of a deal- figuring I'd be more excited, nervous, anxious, etc. on the 27th when everyone would be there.  I was wrong.  I remember thinking I'd keep my cool, but the second we started walking together and I heard the music, I lost it.  I made eye contact with Stace, and, with tears in her eyes, she wagged her finger at me to stop crying.  At the front of the aisle, I felt at peace.  Father Jim made us (I mean MADE us) memorize our vows.  "But can we take a cheat sheet in case we get nervous," we asked a few days prior.  "Nope," he replied.  But we both did it.  And didn't screw up.  He got a little teary.  I got a lot teary.  And it was perfect. 

07/27/07



Fast forward two days later...the vibe was much different.  The boys came back from golfing about 25 minutes before we were due to take pictures.  They were still ready before all of the girls.  I was almost giddy walking down the aisle- no more nerves. 

What else comes to mind?  nine beautiful bridesmaids; nine handsome groomsmen; Father Dave- the best internet-ordained minister two people could ask for; a guy using his shoe as a phone; double-dutch dancing; bridesmaids and Joe in the pool; bridesmaid dresses in the Mexican ocean; wild Poppy dancing; my poor dad witnessing a few people who had far too much to drink; lots of little girls in beautiful dresses; AMAZING food; inappropriate music; one pissed off wedding planner; Coronas, Coronas, Coronas; dancing to The Beatles with my dad;  mariachi band; watching the last 15 minutes of the party from the deck with D.

A wild wedding if there ever was one...

Stache Bash

We threw a good ol' fashioned stache bash for our boy a mere 23 days after moving to our new pad (nothing like throwing a party to get those boxes unpacked):

(This is a complete and total rip-off of a pinterest picture.  Don't judge- the wreath is cute.)

(The shirt was a rip-off, too.  Have you guessed that I'm not very creative?)

Mustaches galore!

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Pretty ladies.

A blast from the past.

Blondies.

Lots of family.  (KiKi's making some of her famous "konfectionaries" in the bottom right corner.  As one guest put it, the mini pies were "God's work."  Well done, KiKi.)

Someone was really happy to be hosting his boy's party.

Dads with babies and beers.

JW's not sure about Auntie Chanel's sunnies.

Gramma was Jack and Ky's favorite person- the power of Cheerios is nothing to mess with.

"Don't mind if I do."

Not impressed with mom's attempt at a cupcake cake. 

The littlest party guests.

Happy birthday, Jack Wyatt.  We love you!

12 Months, One Year, 52 Weeks

Dear JW,

My dear, sweet belated birthday boy....by now you've probably come to realize something about your Mama- I'm rarely, if ever, on time.  I hate this about me.  It's a terrible quality to possess.  I have all the confidence in the world that you'll take after your militant-like dad and be the first one to show up wherever you go.  Though this letter wasn't written on your birthday, it was completed within your 12th month which must count for something. 

I could go on and on about how fast this year went by, how I can't believe you're not considered a baby anymore, etc., etc.  Instead I will just say this: thank you for helping me discover a love I never knew existed.  You have made me a better person- more sensitive, more understanding, much more mushy.  Looking back, I am positive I never really got what people meant by the term, "a mother's love."  There just isn't anything that compares.  I am absolutely, 100% crazy for you. 

I love your wispy hair, especially when it curls up over your ears.  I love your blue- with a touch of hazel- eyes.  I love your expressive brow.  I love your big, full lips.  I love the way your little tongue sticks ever-so-slightly out of your mouth, just like your dad.  I love how chunky your thighs are.  I love how you roll your feet around when you're tired or really want something.  I love how you laugh when other people are laughing- a great quality to possess.  I love how much you love other kids.  I love how observant you are- I think you'll be a details guy, just like your dad.  I love how you stop and listen for sounds, especially when we're outside.  I love how much you love Tar and Amelia.  I love your "happy bird" laugh, the one we usually only hear after you've spotted Amelia.  I love how you give hugs and snuggles and big, open-mouthed kisses. 

I love you, little man. 



xoxo,  Your Mama

One

Happy birthday, sweet boy

You are loved beyond words, adored beyond measure.

7/12/11

A year ago tonight I went to SoCal dinner at Steph's where we ate Papa Murphy's pizza and Margie's delish salad. I thought I might have been having contractions. I was right.


I went home, spent some time with D, and went to bed.  At 12:42 I woke up to, what else, pee. But then I felt like I had to do more than that. I tried and tried with no success, went back to bed, but didn't want to wake D, so I went downstairs to watch tv. I couldn't sit still so I googled "what does labor feel like." I read a yahoo answer that described exactly how I was feeling. Even still, I was in denial. My mom wasn't coming for five more days because we were convinced there was no way I would have him early, so, logically, he was going to stay put for five more days.


I flipped and flopped on the couch; tried to go the bathroom over and over again; finally, I sat on the yoga ball to bounce or do some stupid move I learned in our labor and delivery class. Rather than me popping the ball like I worried about, the ball popped me.  Broken water, all over the place, just like in the movies. I waddled upstairs to let D know it was time.  It was almost 2am on the dot.  I'll never forget the look on his face- as he is with just about everything in life, he looked confident, excited, and completely ready to go.  I don't know how I was expecting to feel, but I certainly didn't think I would be as calm as I was. 

After changing my pants six times (no one tells you when your water breaks that it's like a freakin' faucet), we headed out the door. 


The rest of the story is too long to get into in a single blog entry, but it was eventful, as all birth stories are.


In five minutes it will be my boy's first birthday, but I wanted to take the time to remember the events leading up to 10:13am on 7/13/11...

Quatro de Julio

I don't know what's up with my Spanish titles lately...

Jack Wyatt's first 4th was a big day, and not just because it was the first day it actually felt like summer. 


He kissed a boy:

And he took two and a half steps on his own!

Mi Casa es Su Casa

We've been in our new house two weeks and I never even gave our old home, neighborhood, or neighbors a proper good-bye. 

To our neighbors three doors down who kept their Christmas lights up all year and the other neighbors around the corner who kept a pumpkin in their front window from October to October, thank you for your festive nature, and good-bye.

To the teenage boy who washed his parents' cars every. single. Saturday morning.  Good work, and good-bye.


To the woman two doors down who wore a different wig for each day of the week.  You are lovely, and good-bye.


To our next door neighbor "boy" who I thought never grew in four years but actually was three different boys, please don't throw garbage in your new neighbors' yard or taunt their sweet dog, and good-bye.

To the Hasidic Jews down the street.  You are the happiest, most beautiful, kind, and fulfilled people I've ever observed.  I hope to raise my children to be as well-behaved and content as yours, and good-bye.


To the neighbors directly across from us who we never spoke to until we brought Jack home from the hospital and then who completely spoiled us with food, baby clothes, and gifts- we will never forget your kindness.  Thank you tremendously, and good-bye.


I will miss our pretty bathroom.  I will miss the park across the street.  And probably not much else.


I will always love this house because it's where I found out I was pregnant, and it's where we brought home our son for the 11 and a half months of his life.


Good-bye, funnily-designed house.