Team Billiau

One and Two

2012-01-11T00:27:00.000-08:00

My sweet, sweet girl-

We are on the very edge of change. As we teeter on this cusp of one and two I can't help but wonder how it will all pan out. You innocently call for "Dabent, out!", freely offering kisses and belly rubs like they're heading out of style. But you don't know; you can't possibly understand. I, myself, can hardly comprehend it. And while we fully intended on filling our house with children, on making sure you had siblings, I would be lying if I didn't admit that a part of me is mourning the loss we'll be experiencing with our huge gain.

You aren't going to be my one and only anymore.

There are times when the whole idea of it kills me. When the guilt hits my stomach hard and all I can do is pray you'll forgive me. That you'll realize the gain will be ten fold. That we have intentionally brought this next child into the world, not just for him or for us, but for you. So you can know the amazing love of a sibling; the stability, the rivalry, the built-in best friend. So whatever happens to your dad and I, you'll never be alone. There will always be someone who knows the same love, who has the same experiences, who no matter how nuts you drive each other will always be connected. A bond that can't be broken; something that anger, hurt or difference cannot sever. So you can learn love and sharing and family like nothing else can teach you.

I have zero doubt in my mind that you will love your brother. We are giving him an amazing gift in you alone. You are perhaps the sweetest spirit ever to grace this Earth and you love wholeheartedly, without abandon. I can't picture a kinder soul and it blows my mind to know you're still months away from age two. Strangers who meet you for mere seconds comment on your kindness, on your gentleness, your good nature. And while I cannot guarantee Bennett from a few battle wounds along the way, I know he is already blessed beyond measure at simply being born your brother. I am excited beyond words to see you fill your role to him as big sister.

What I fear, more than perhaps anything else right now, is how you'll react to me. How you'll handle me changing from yours and yours alone to one you have to share. I can't stand the thought of being away from you during labor, only to have you come back to me to find me with another child. I fear you'll think I have replaced you. That I am choosing someone else over you. And while I find myself telling you a million times a day, I hope to God it sinks in. Nothing will ever take you from me. You will always be my girl. I could have a million more children and not one of them- nothing, ever, could possibly make me love you less. And while our one on one time may become fewer and further between, and while you may have to share my lap every now and then, I can only imagine expanding our family will make me love you even more. That watching you unfold as the oldest child, as a sister, can do nothing but accentuate my adoration of you.

I am not naive enough to believe I will have to split my love. I don't know how it will work, and truly believe it is nothing short of a miracle, but I know without a doubt that somehow, without loving you any less, I will love Bennett just the same. It boggles my mind to think I could love another like I love you, but I know I will. These next few weeks may be tough. You may feel a bit lost in the shuffle or angry with the lack of old. It will most definitely be full of change as we attempt to find our new normal, but you will not be left behind. You will never be left behind. You will still remain at the forefront of our every thought, our every decision. Your dad and I will still love you like nothing else, and even then some. To the moon and back 'thiiiiiis' much.

And while I know you're young and wont even remember life as an only child, I pray you forgive us for our shortcomings as we adjust. That if you feel hurt or wronged or left out that you'll know it is a fluke. That we simply don't have it in us to purposefully put you second, ever. Now or then. Past, present, or future. That you and Bennett with forever, both, somehow always be our number ones.

I love you, Reagan Lee. And I cannot wait to make you a sister.

Love,
Your Mama

If We Don't Teach Her, She Won't Learn

2011-08-08T21:40:00.000-07:00

Is abuse and neglect the only form of bad parenting? Is everyone really just doing the best they can?

I'm going to go easy on you and hand out the answers; no and no.

Can I preface this post with something? I believe I am a good parent. I know enough to know I'm doing some things right. I am absolutely consumed with love for her. I play with her, I talk to her, and I don't cover up her faults. I tell her she's beautiful but not nearly as often as I tell her she's smart. I feed her well balanced meals nearly all of the time, but I do not keep her from the occasional fun snack. I care about who she is going to be enough to discipline her now, while still making sure I talk kindly to her, more often than sternly. Even though it can be difficult, we take her out and about; we do not stay housebound. We do so because we know our struggles now will help her shape up into a well experienced, socialized person. And dealing with one year old tantrums is much easier than 5 or 6 year old tantrums. We know if we don't teach her, she won't learn. We know her entire life, her tiny section of the world, is so shaped and influenced by us it is almost scary. We fully understand what an honor and a blessing it is to have been given this child and we try our absolute hardest to not take it for granted.

All of that is not to say I am the perfect parent. Or even close to it. It's not to say I don't get frustrated, that I never give in and let her eat graham crackers for breakfast, that I don't ever get lazy or have never hid the book I am sick of reading over and over. Because I do. I have and I am and I'm sure I will again.

It is, however, to say I give it an earnest shot. Every day. I consciously think about how what I'm doing- or not doing- affects her. Is it for her or is it for me? I don't just think about the mess, I think about if the mess is worth it. It almost always is. I don't just think about how hot it'll be sitting outside, I think about the joy she experiences chasing the dogs, throwing rocks in the garden and splashing in her pool. I don't simply consider how much work it is to wake up early, shower, dress, feed and car seat her, I consider how important it is to us that she grows up going to church. I may get frustrated about it, but I don't let the fact that I know she probably won't eat it deter me from taking the time to make her a healthy meal. I don't eat things in front of her that I don't want her eating, and I try not to stay up too late, knowing morning always comes at the same time and I won't be nearly the parent I could be if I'm not well rested.

No one ever said it was easy. But someone (lots of people, actually) did once say that things worth doing are rarely easy.

Parenting is so much more than the required feeding, bathing, nail-clipping, sheet washing, car seat safety-knowing of many parenting books. And I will say it now and say it again, but abuse and neglect are not the only form of poor parenting. In fact, I'd wager to say it is much more difficult to be in the 'good' parent category than the 'poor.' We are not all doing the best we can. If you are letting your kid live in front of the TV, not getting down on the floor to play with and read to them, spending more time doing things for yourself, and disregarding behavioral and safety standards, you are a bad parent in my book. Yeah, you may not be starving or hitting your kid, but they, too, will suffer from your (lack of) parenting.

Having a bad or lazy day doesn't make you a bad parent. Nor does taking time for yourself. That is not the point I am aiming to make. What makes you a bad parent is consistently not doing what is best for your child. Being as every kid is different, what your child needs may vary slightly from what other children need, but overall, kids need much of the same. Time, attention, love and you. So often those things are even more important than the basic physical needs.

It really irks me when people say we're all just doing the best we can. Not only is that a horrible excuse, it makes people who probably know they aren't being a great parent believe that they're doing enough. We are shaping lives. We are taking blank slates and turning them into chalkboards full of answers, and to do any less would not only be doing a disservice to the individual, but our world as a whole.

(I apologize if this comes off as negative; it was written out of frustration. I am so sick of watching parents who don't stop their pre-parent lifestyle or who are far too selfish continue to treat their kids as if they're no more than caged pets that just need food and clean bedding every now and then. If you know me, you know I am oh so very against big government, but I sure wish you had to get a permit to get the privilege of parenting.)

Black and White

2011-08-04T10:51:00.000-07:00

How different can two pregnancies be? Believe me, I'm certainly not complaining. While this pregnancy has me plastered to the couch for entirely different reasons than my first (read: could. not. stop. puking.) it has been treating me oh so much nicer. Sure, I have no motivation or energy to do anything. And yeah, I'm still basically living on the couch. But the puking? So much further and farther between than before.

Reagan- 8 Weeks (Awful picture)

Little Gummy bear- 9 Weeks

With Reagan, I simply couldn't eat. The thought, sight, sound, smell and taste of anything but applesauce would send me running to the bathroom. With this little one, as soon as I start feeling nauseous, if I can convince myself to eat something, I typically feel better within about ten minutes. Even further on in the pregnancy with Reagan, I never really had strong cravings, but I most certainly had strong aversions. With this pregnancy, it is craving central. If you've never truly had a strong pregnancy craving, you can't understand how 'strong' they are. I heard it described once as the feeling of an anxiety attack coming on if you don't get what you're craving. And while at one point that sounded absolutely ridiculous to me, I can now stand firmly behind it. Because I've been there. Because if I didn't get that homemade hamburger patty, pan fried with onions, I am not so sure I would have lived to see the next day. My palms got sweaty, you guys. This is serious business.

These pregnancies have truly been black and white.Well, except for the fact both babies grew in my uterus and were put in said uterus by the same man.

I have been far more paranoid this go around than I was with Reagan. I don't know if it has to do with me having more knowledge, with the pregnancy being easier or the fact that I belong to a Facebook group of 300+ moms expecting in January 2012, and have seen more than I care to count leave the group due to miscarriage. It breaks my heart and always leaves me wondering, why am I so lucky? There really isn't an answer. I'm just blessed beyond measure.

In other differences, that are probably far too much to share but what the heck?- modesty and pregnancy are not friends. With Reagan, helllooooo constipation. This one? Lets just say I wish Kaopectate was safe during pregnancy. With my first I thought I had sore boobs; my boobs hadn't seen anything yet. Super with a capital S sensitive plus the little leech still nursing means if anything comes within a mile radius of them, I turn into the Wicked Witch of the West lickidy split. With my first I didn't so much as chew one Tums. This one? Holy moly heartburn. I'm two UTIs in this go around, which is something I have never experienced before, pregnant or not. I hope to God to never experience it again. With Reagan I lost 15 pounds in the first trimester, lived off of applesauce and didn't get out of bed. This one I have yet to gain any weight but certainly haven't lost any, I eat my normal appetites worth and, well, I still probably wouldn't get out of bed but this go around I have a toddler. That changes things. A lot.

In his usual fashion, Rob has been a champion. In the very beginning I couldn't stomach doing the dishes so he would come home from work, clean the kitchen, make dinner and be on Reagan duty. He was great the first go around, but having a one year old makes things more difficult, and he just takes it all in stride. He never rolls his eyes at my cravings and, while he certainly makes fun of me for them, he still always offers to head up the road to get it for me.

The pregnancies being so different have me truly thinking this one is a boy, though my record for guessing isn't great. (Note: I'm always wrong.) Truly, honestly, we will be super happy either way. I loved having sisters growing up and think it would be so fun to have two little girls so close in age. Not to mention cheaper because we already have (tons and tons and tons) of girl clothes. (By typing that, I would like to have it known that I am not, under any circumstance, promising to not buy more.) But we also both would, at some point, like to have a little boy thrown in the mix. Our poor family is surrounded by far too much estrogen, so a little more testosterone probably wouldn't hurt. Either way we're psyched to find out (13 days and counting! Assuming the little bugger cooperates...) and get started on the nursery!

Perhaps the very best thing about this pregnancy is Reagan's obsession with the 'baba' in my 'baba'. (Yes, 'baby' and 'belly' sound the exact same coming out of her mouth.) I truly didn't think she'd comprehend it at all. And while I know she doesn't actually understand, she remembers we said I have a baby in my belly and LOVES to wave 'bye bye' to (I don't really get that one) and kiss and kiss and kiss the baby in there. All the time. If we're sitting on the couch she lifts my shirt and pats my belly. If we're in the shower, she waves at my belly. If we're cuddling in bed, she kisses my belly. The girl loves babies, and even though she probably thinks I have absolutely lost my marbles saying there is one in my belly, she takes my word for it. I'm hoping her love for all things baby carries through to the actual baby that will come home to stay, but she is also quite the Mama's girl, so I guess we'll just have to see.

All Before Noon...

2011-08-01T11:18:00.000-07:00

It isn't entirely uncommon to hear someone wonder under their breath what stay-at-home-moms even do all day. Typically it makes me Livid with a capital L. And even more typically it comes from a non-parent. Because if you were a parent, you'd know.

You would know that getting out of bed isn't even something you get a few minutes alone to do anymore because "MAMAMAMAMAMAMA! Ouooot! Ouooot!" is being screamed from the crib next door. Your first morning pee becomes less of a time to continue to wake up and more of a battle to save the toilet paper from it's shredded fate. And pausing before flushing to excitedly examine and wave bye-bye to your pee isn't on your list of 'most relaxing ways to greet the day' either.

You would be impressed with how still-asleep you can be while changing an incredibly full diaper as the toddler tries to escape and the dogs prance around begging to go outside. Zombie like, you take the dogs to the door, and to avoid a full blown tantrum in your first ten minutes of the day, you follow them out so the toddler can play too. Because God forbid anyone or anything ever goes outside without her joining. Within seconds, you're fishing a pajama-clad toddler out of her kiddy pool, who is now screaming (shhh...don't wake the neighbors) not from being wet, but from being dragged inside. You round up the dogs and carry your thrashing, whining, dripping child back into the house, call your husband to tell him you're awake while you strip the kid, put a new diaper on (two in about twenty minutes if you're counting) and get the already distracted toddler her morning milk.

Against your desire to have her not watch any TV you turn on the one show you do let her watch in hopes to get a few minutes to check your email, indulge in your guilty pleasure of Facebook and read a few blogs before moving on to clean the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen that is very messy from the previous day because using your child-free time after bedtime cleaning a kitchen is the very last thing on your list of things you want to do. So you simply don't.

Unfortunately, the TV isn't enough to keep her attention off of the clanging of unloading the dishwasher so you either A.) unload as fast as you can, breaking every 30 seconds to tell her 'no' as she climbs into the dishwasher and move her back into the living room or B.) give up and promise yourself you'll do it at nap time. Clean kitchen or not, you move onto making breakfast. Scrambled eggs with cheese and ham, whole wheat pancakes slyly stuffed with fruit and veggie puree, fresh toast made with homemade wheat bread with extra eggs, or steel cut oatmeal with homemade applesauce, in addition to a banana, peaches or nectarine, cottage cheese or yogurt, and a sippy cup of water or a blended fruit smoothy with wheat germ. You feel like supermom for a minute for taking the time to make your kid such a healthy meal, but the feeling quickly slips away, because if she is even willing to give it a try, she now requires a spoon or fork meaning she will manage to not get a single bite in her mouth. Silently you curse the toddler eating stage. You realize you forgot to feed yourself as you're cleaning her tray and picking at her leftovers . Gross? Yeah, but whatever.

After a sponge bath cleaning breakfast off every inch of her, (and you and her seat) you're on the floor reading 'Moo, Baa, La La La' for the 4,897th time. Forget the fact that you haven't read an actual book for yourself since the day she was born. Goofy rhymes and silly stories are whats in your queue, and its all made worth it by the quietly sitting-in-your-lap toddler who says and signs 'more' before you're even done reading the last page. Tickle session, hugs, kisses, "ni-nights", "love yous" and nap time. You trip over toys on the way back from her room, pick up a few, shrug off the rest and fall onto the couch. Because its exhausting. Because it is constant. Because you love her enough to feed her well, to play with her on the ground and to forgo your own desires so she can have hers (Which is always you. Well, and graham crackers when you give in.) Because you are her everything. Because its only 11AM and you haven't gotten anything of visible worth done, but you have a well rounded, healthy toddler, who is learning in leaps and bounds, attempting to repeat everything you say and do, and is happy. She is happy. And while there is no doubt it is all exhausting, there is also no doubt that it is all worth it.

Five Months

2010-10-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

Bug-

Time seems to be moving really fast. I can't even tell you how old you are in weeks any more because I've lost count. All I know is you've been here for almost half a year now, you're starting to look like a person more than a baby and you are quickly becoming mobile!

First of all, you sit! One day I brought out the Boppy to help support you in a sitting position and it seemed to work really well and you enjoyed your new viewpoint! We would also spread your legs really wide to help you balance and sit you down in the middle of the bed and you'd sit for about two seconds before losing your balance, but we were still very proud and excited. Then just a couple days later, we sat you down in some grass and you just sat! For minutes and minutes on end! You weren't very sure of your new accomplishment, but Daddy and I were beaming!

You have also mastered the art of rolling. Rolling with a purpose! You can pretty much get around to all of your different toys that are (always) scattered across the floor. I have looked up to find you ten or more feet away from where you started! It is quite surprising how quickly some of these developmental milestones are reached. You are just checking them off the list one by one faster than we can blink!

We were finally able to get you to the west side of the state and have you dedicated at Lake City Church. It was so great acknowledging you as a gift from God in front of the church and we cannot wait to see the plans God has in store for you. While over there, Grandma and Grandpa (and Mom and Dad) took you to your first zoo- Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium! Its kind of neat because its the zoo I grew up going to. You thoroughly enjoyed yourself, but it was the people and kids that you enjoyed far more than the animals. :)

I don't really want to touch on sleep because, wait a minute. What is sleep, again? Ha. All kidding aside, you hate sleep. You come by it honestly, but waking every couple hours isn't easy even on this insomniac. We are up to our elbows in sleep training methods and are trying to figure out what works best for our family. So far, neither you or I are any good at the whole "crying it out" thing. You are a total champ at sleeping nestled up in our arms, but any where else? Yeah, not-so-much.

But in GOOD news, you no longer despise your car seat! Thank the ever-loving God! We were all but ready to sell the Jeep and walk everywhere because it was so awful every. single. time you were in the car. For our trip, we left dark and early in the morning for Lakewood, and you literally slept from the second we hit I-90, all the way until right before I-5! We could hardly believe it! Ever since, you're a champ in your seat. We don't understand it, but we're certainly not complaining.

All in all, you are a total joy. And even though most days, we're completely exhausted, and have given ourselves bedtimes as early as 7:30, we think we'll keep you around. We couldn't ask for a better baby.

Love you bunches,

Mommy

Your Favorite Things:

There really is no need to make a list, because for the most part they are all the same. Water and your puppies remain two of the most exciting things in your life. You are still a pretty big fan of books. You absolutely adore being tickled. Daddy usually makes you laugh the best. You are just a happy, giggly baby, and you really enjoy most everything.

Four Months

2010-09-15T19:55:00.000-07:00

Four Months. An entire third of a year. Two more times of this and we'll be sitting around a table blowing out the candle on your first birthday cake.

And holy developmental leaps and bounds! A short while ago I wrote about how much you've changed, and the growing and learning just keeps coming. I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise because growing up seems to be the current trend, but it is somehow different with my own. Being in the midst of you changing and learning and growing every day makes it so much more thrilling, exciting and yet somehow unbelievable. Because yesterday I could gurgle and blow bubbles and dance around like a fool and you wouldn't give me a second glance, but today a simple funny sound sends you into a gut-wrenching laughing frenzy.

You have finally moved to eating every three hours from every two. (Thank you, Lord!) It is amazing how much difference that one, measly hour makes. We used to schedule our days in two hour chunks, and now that we've moved to three I feel like we've been granted more hours in the day! So much more can get done. I have also become more comfortable with nursing in public (using my Hooter Hider, of course) which makes getting errands done more convenient. And you are so enamored with people watching, that you will go over four hours between meals if we are out and about because, "Look! A person! AH! Another one! And LOOK! A child! And walls and floors and shoes and heads and clothes and colors and movement and things and things and things!" You are an absolute joy and flirt with pretty much everyone we come into contact with.

We continue to create a long list of firsts, and this month has been no exception. You've knocked out all sorts of things, your first fair and 'pooping 36,000 feet about ground' included. We took you to the North Idaho Fair a couple weeks ago and oh. my. word. you were in love. I have never seen a baby your size laughing out loud at the animals until you. You thought the goats were the funniest thing in existence (save for your dog, Baylee.) The only animals you weren't so fond of were the Draft Horses, which, hello? Their heads were bigger than your entire bodies so I can't really blame you. You didn't really notice the bunnies and you were asleep by the reptiles and 'random critters' barns. You sat quietly on our laps throughout the entire hypnotist show, enamored with all of the people around us and on stage. Overall, the fair was a success!

And then the airplane ride. Dun, dun, dun. Actually, my dear, you were quite amazing. Our wonderful daughter, whom we can set our clocks to based on your every-other-afternoon poop schedule, decided you just had to go, on a non-poop day, at 5 in the morning, 36,000 feet about the ground. We were joking that the pressure change literally squeezed it right out of you. I'm sorry we made fun of your pooping. Truly, I am. Fortunately, we had the row to ourselves so I was able to change you on the seat next to me because I have absolutely no idea how one is supposed to change a baby in those phone booth sized bathrooms on board. You were on a total of four airplanes in three days and you couldn't have been better. The only time you got a little fussy, was for about 15, 20 minutes on the descend down into Seattle from Denver. And everyones ears were really bothered by that particular descent, so I don't blame you. We're so proud of our little traveler!

In other traveling news, your car seat constantly tries to kill you. Or at least thats what you think it's doing. For some reason, you absolutely loathe it. Simply getting into the car, not even in your seat yet, elicits a giant frown, followed by explosive screaming. If we put your in your seat when it isn't in the car yet, the second your little bum touches it, explosive screaming. We joke that 'car seat' is a cuss word in this house. You seriously hate the thing and we can't figure out why. Let me tell you though, it makes us think twice about going out when we really don't need to. You've forced us to go green and conserve gas by getting everything done in one outing. :)

You are getting so ready to eat, and whenever you are close to us and our forks while we're eating, you lean in with your mouth wide open trying to take a bite. I had to take my burger to go from Red Robin yesterday because you refused to be put down, but every time I brought my burger to my mouth you took a giant handful out of it. You can already drink out of a cup (obviously with a TON of assistance and mess, but you know what to do...) as well as a straw. Anytime we're drinking anything you think you should have some too. Obviously, you've only had water and breastmilk but everything looks tasty to you!

You are officially a roller. Unless being well entertained, you refuse to be on your belly and you have the ability as well as knowledge of your ability, to flop over to your back. You are definitely very proud of this feat and while we're very excited for you to be able to move around better, we do slightly mourn the days of worry-less couch, bed and other elevated surface time.

We are so absolutely enamored with you, it is kind of silly. The second you catch our eye, we're rewarded with a giant, toothless grin. When you're tired or feeling cuddly, you love to sit and play with our face with your unbelievably soft hands. And when we talk to you, you talk back in the sweetest, softest oohs, awws, and coos. You are too cute, sweet and lovable for words.

I consider it a privilege and an honor to get to watch you grow up, let alone be called your Mommy. I love you so much, bug.

Love, Mommy

Your Favorite Things:

1.) Your Sippy Cup- Holy Spumoni Batman! You would think we put liquid drugs in that thing. I bought one one a whim, seeing how much you like to take sips of water out of our cups and it was (and is) a giant success! It is one that has a thick, rubber spout so I think more than anything you like how it feels when you gum it. But you definitely know how to get water out of it, and do so when you want to. Unfortaenly, you usually end up soaking your entire outfit, but Mommy and Daddy are getting smart and starting to put a bib on when you drink out of it!

2.) Your Puppies- They really are your favorite things. You hardly ever look at them without cracking up. When they're around, you wont look at anything but them. Whenever we're taking pictures (a common practice in our household) we usually have to put the dogs away so you'll look at the camera!

3.) Spoons- I suppose this goes along with loving your sippy cup and water, but you LOVE to drink/eat water off spoons. You will actually grab the spoon and put it in your mouth and then yell when we take it away since, you know, metal spoons really aren't the best play toy for a four month old.

4.) Pink Elephant- Your Great-Grandma and Grandpa bought you (actually let you pick out) this large, pink elephant that dances and sings the ABC song. You absolutely love this thing. You can be throwing a full-blown fit screaming and arching your back and we press the little button and that things starts singing and dancing and you are instantly happy. Which is all well and good except for the voice of the elephant is SO OBNOXIOUS.

A Different Child

2010-08-26T10:27:00.000-07:00

Sometime over the last week or so, we woke up with a new child.

It has been fairly easy to see the changes in Reagan from when we first brought her home. The smiling, the cooing, the more focused eye contact. But today we have an entirely different child than the first Reagan we met 3 months ago. Heck, we have an entirely different child than the Reagan we knew a couple weeks ago.

Reagan has become intentional.

Intentional is the best way to describe it. Before, she would randomly bat at toys, and whenever something touched her hand she would grab it. Now, she reaches out with the intention to grab. She grabs hanging toys, toys just laying next to her, blankets, clothes, hair (ouch), hands. Yesterday she tried to grab the water streaming from the shower head. She tries to reach out and touch the dogs. (They aren't too sure about this new trick and back away most times) She will roll to grab a toy on the ground that's within reach. She reaches for and grabs my face while nursing. And everything she grabs always goes straight. to. her. mouth.

Suddenly, she finds things funny. And she cracks up over them. She used to make a low, guttural sound that was pretty clearly a laugh but we woke up on our 2nd anniversary (8/16/10) and she was busting a gut. (Pretty sweet anniversary present from a 3 month old, eh?) See?

Then, she decided she would have no more of tummy time when she didn't want it, and on August 18th, she up and rolled over. Every. single. time. that we put her on her belly, she'd flop right back onto her back. She is entirely capable of going back to belly, too. But she loathes her belly so much, that I'm fairly certain she just doesn't want to.

If anything within eye sight moves, she follows it. The dogs bounding (naughtily) around the couches. Daddy walking into the room. Bringing food from your plate to your mouth. Cars on the road. Even your lips as they move to talk. Anything moving, and she is locked on.

And then, to top everything and just blow us entirely out of the water, the morning of the 23rd, in my constant attempt to get her to smile and giggle, I was 'blowing bubbles' or 'raspberries' or whatever you want to call it when you vibrate your lips together. And then she did it back to me. My mom and I thought it was a fluke until she did it over and over and over. At first she was concentrating so hard, would sometimes forget to let the air through her lips, or her tounge would escape. But she got a pretty good handle on it and we spent the rest of the day spitting at each other. And now, she'll catch your eye and blow bubbles. It is her new trick and she (and her parents) are very proud of it. (And oh how the drool flows while she does it!)

It is so fun and exciting to watch her learn to interact with her environment. This whole growing up thing really works!

2nd Anniversary

2010-08-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

People ask if I can believe it has already been two years since that gorgeous, hot day in August when we pledged our love. And while I still remember our wedding day like it was yesterday, I find it hard to believe it's only been two years. I feel like we have always been a part of eachother, not to mention we have packed more things into the last two years than some do in a lifetime.

All I know is I'm looking forward to many, many more years with this man.

I love you, sweet boy. Through sickness, health and just so-so days. For better or for worse. Through being rich, poor, or middle class.Through your faults and mine. Always.

A special thanks to our amazingly kind and thoughtful daughter who blessed us with some of the best gifts this world has to offer. All today, our three month old began cracking up loud and often while we made fools of ourselves copying her. She also gave us a whole two hours, from feeding to feeding, of quiet, content play time on her mat which allowed her Daddy and I some quality, uninterrupted time together. We could hardly believe how long she played by herself. Then to top it all off, she fell asleep on my shoulder without an iota of fuss. That is unheard of. Thanks, Reagan. :)

Three Months

2010-08-14T22:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Reagan-

You're three months old today, and I am afraid I'm forgetting how small you were. Yes, yes, I know, you're still only three months old. You're still tiny and wiggly and warm. But I know you were smaller and I'm already struggling to remember it. And that stings a little.

People always say "I can't believe (enter child) is (enter age) already! Where did the time go? Just yesterday..." But I think it's a lie. And until now I could be accused of it myself. But today I realized I can't believe you are only three months old. I feel like you have been here forever. Like for as long as I've been, so have you. That you and Daddy and I have never been separate. Like we are one unit; who has always been and will always be. You just fit so well with us that there are no cracks or space between telling of what used to be. Life without a baby, without you, though only experienced three months ago, is an eternity away. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

You are literally changing daily. One day you began spastically reaching for dangling toys, and today you effortlessly (though very proudly) bat and grab and chew on them.The chew is very recent, and you still haven't quite perfected it. But whenever you grab something, it makes its way towards your mouth. Clothes, blankets, toys, fingers, hair...you name it, it's mouth bound. You actually being able to play is very exciting to me. For selfish reasons, you play in your jumperoo or on your mat for longer periods of time, allowing me to get some things done. But also because I love that you're able to do something. That you have moved passed the sitting and starring blankly to being able to interact with your environment and enjoy it! I am highly anticipating watching you become even more able to play and (gasp!) move around! (Many people gave me the advice to not ever wish movement upon you. But I cannot allow myself to be that selfish. I know you are going to LOVE being able to get where you want to go!)

Speaking of moving, we haven't achieved roll over quite yet. But you are certainly getting close. You are only happy on your belly for minutes at a time, but you are definitely starting to get your muscles working with you. From your back, you can roll to your side. This is your new favorite way to sleep. As soon as I lay you down, usually swaddled, for night you grunt and groan and thrash about until you're poor little head is thrown back, but SUCCESS! You manage to get on your side. Also on your back, you can spin in circles. We'll lay you on your play mat, only to find you minutes later in an entirely different position than we placed you in. I realize this is entirely unintentional, you just don't. ever. stop. moving. You kick and flail and kick and wiggle and kick and arch and kick and kick and kick. And all that movement literally propels you around the floor.

Sleep is somewhat of a sore subject. You take beautiful and sweet to whole new levels while you sleep, but while you're getting there you give Reagan Rage an honest meaning. You fight and fight and fight sleep. It can make for some very frustrating times. Especially because once you have actually fallen asleep (which, of course, you had to be rocked and sung to to get there) you don't want to be put down. Which eliminates naps as a break for me and makes getting anything done besides loving on you (which is my favorite thing anyways) absolutely, sometimes frustratingly, impossible. You have still remained a pretty good nighttime sleeper, rarely fighting sleep at bedtime, but in the last few weeks you have begun waking up twice in the night instead of your typical one time. I have said it before and I'll say it again, I truly don't mind getting up to feed you. But I wouldn't complain about a little more sleep either.

You have achieved the oh-so-typical baby bald spot right smack in the middle of the back of your head. Your hair, or lack there of, in general these days is kind of goofy looking. You have very little on top, some longish hair in the back towards the top, a bald spot, then more longish hair on the bottom in the back. It's a little funky but you manage to pull it off and still look completely adorable, of course.

Over the last few weeks I had been saying I think you finally had gotten some chunk in your cheeks. From day one you have been a little baby. Very petite with small, feminine features. You remained steadfast in the 25th percentile for weight and were just downright little. Don't get me wrong, you are still a pretty little baby. But in a mere 12 weeks, you gained over 5 pounds! That is just crazy to me. At 12 1/2 weeks, you weighed in at 12 pounds 4 ounces! You took a giant leap from the 25th straight up to the 50th percentile for weight! It is hard to believe, though, because you still look like such a little peanut. But a little peanut with some chunk in her cheeks.

Your Daddy and I truly cannot get enough of you. You have begun laughing in a more understandable way (you used to make this low, guttural sound that was clearly you attempting a laugh) and it is the most joyful sound on earth. You usually do it quite a few times in a row, so we're thinking you like the sound of it too.

Reagan, Reagan, Reagan. I knew I was going to love being a mother. I think everyone who knows me knew I would love it. But it is drastically different, amazingly better, and offers more incredible rewards than I could have ever imagined. I thought I knew what love was. And I did, to an extent. Your Daddy and I are giddy in love. But it is an entirely different ball game, the love I have for you. And I hope to God I can show you how immensely, how deeply, I love you. I hope you will never be without that knowledge. And I'm sure at times I will fail. Just know that there is absolutely nothing you can do to make me love you more or less. I am so completely enamored by you and this love you have grown within me. Nothing can ever change that.

To the moon and back, my sweet girl.

-Your Mommy

Your Favorite Things

Your Puppies. I didn't realize you would take notice to them so quickly, but ohmygoodness you love those crazy beasts. You can sit and stare at them for minutes on end, and anytime one of them comes up to you you are all grins. Bella especially loves you, constantly wanting to give you kisses until Mommy or Daddy yells at her to stop. Baylee procures the most smiles, though. Probably because she's so goofy looking.
Your play mat. You still absolutely love this thing. However, looking at the pretty baby in the mirror no longer receives most of the attention. Now, trying to fit as much of that hanging lion in your mouth as possible occupies your time.
Water. You LOVE being in water. You shower with me almost daily and you love being under the flow of water. Even when it goes directly on your head and over your face you are as happy as can be. You most definitely take after Mama in this regard.
Your car seat frog toy. Holy cow you love that thing. It is one of the toys that really enticed you to start reaching for things initially. You will sit there and spin and spin and spin those silly toys! You sometimes even complain when the music turns off. Teaching you to press that button is one of the first things on my to-do list.

Sleep

2010-08-09T23:01:00.000-07:00

She fights sleep. Always has. I'm afraid she always will.

Sometimes I can't wait for naptime.

For some time to get things I need to get done. Some time to get things I want to get done.

As I rock my tired baby, I sit and contemplate these things.

While she fights.

I sometimes beg her out loud to give in. "Sleep, baby girl. You are exhausted. You'll be much happier after a good, long nap. And Mama can get some things done. A win, win."

She eventually gives in. At least she usually does.

And she is still.

And I sit there watching her, and think about the dishwasher that needs emptying.

And refilling.

The floors that need mopping.

And the toilets that need scrubbing.

I think about the list of thank-you notes I still have to write.

And the stack of medical bills I need to pay.

I watch her chest rise and fall.

And listen to the sound of each breath.

I remember the calls I have to return.

The laundry thats piled high.

And the dinner I promised to make.

I kiss her head.

I run my hand across her cheek.

Then I lay down beside her and breathe in her scent..

And listen to her little sounds.

And I just can't wait for her to wake up.

Our Nights

2010-07-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

I hear you moving. The quietest sound coming from your bassinet wakes me up. I love having you next to me. A quick peak tells me you're fine, just stirring. Your tiny feet have broken free of your swaddle. I fall back asleep. Next it's a quiet talk, low and guttural. I check the clock, 1:45 AM. Too early. I pop your binky in and close my eyes. Three more times I put your binky back in and attempt sleep.

Now, the chomping. You sound like a dinosaur going at your hand, quite literally saying 'nom, nom, nom' while you chew, suck, slobber. I check the clock. 2:15. I slowly pull myself to a sitting position, reach over the walls of your bassinet where, when we make eye contact, I'm greeted with a sleepy grin. I pull you to me, breathe in the smell of your head, your check, the crook of your neck. This makes it all worth it. The smell and the warmth and the weight of you makes any hour a decent one.

You nurse as we both drift off. I somehow manage to burp you, change sides, burp again and re-swaddle. I kiss your head for the one millionth time, and lay you back in your bassinet. You don't make so much as a peep.

In three hours we'll do it all over again.

Some nights, as I lay there, exhausted and falling asleep, I wonder how I'll do it. I'm so tired that I'm afraid I wont be able or even want to wake up to feed you. But it never happens. Even though its hard to sit up to feed, even though I barely sty awake while you eat, it never frustrates me. I'm never angry and I don't even wish you were still asleep.

Because I know.

I know it wont be much longer that you'll be sleeping beside me. It wont be much longer that we'll get to cuddle, in the darkness of the dead of night. I know it wont be much longer until you don't fit so perfectly against my naked chest, 'til you're sleeping through the night, no longer breastfeeding.

The second time you wake to eat, I don't put you back in your bassinet. Instead, I hold you nestled in my arm, pressed against my chest while we both sleep for a couple more hours. This started out of necessity for sleep on my part, since you would rarely go back to sleep a second time unless you were held, cuddled up against me. Now I'm not sure if it's more for me or for you.

Our nights aren't full of the best sleep. They're short and choppy, sometimes downright restless. But they're our nights and I wouldn't change them for a thing.

**Sorry about the dark and blurry pictures. They were taken at night/early morning, and as you can imagine, its pretty dark. I lightened them a bit in Photoshop so you can at least see them a bit :)**

Two Months

2010-07-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Reagan,

Two months old! Can you believe it? It's funny how when we were two months away from your due date, it felt as though it might as well be eternity. Now, though, as we sit two months after you arrived it feels as though it has only been seconds. Every day you move further and further away from the newborn stage and closer and closer to being a regular old, bonefide baby! I know it's entirely cliche', but I truly love you more and more each day. It's weird how it works. I feel entirely consumed with love for you, bursting at the seams and gritting my teeth in a lame attempt to contain the feeling I get by just looking at you, yet some how the next day I love you even more. I certainly haven't tired of you. We're together literally every second of every day (save for (some) bathroom breaks and me leaving you with Grandma while your Auntie Jilly and I fanned the flame of our silly Twilight addiction and ran off to see Eclipse...) and I still can't get enough of you.

This last month was a big one! You got to meet almost everyone on daddy's side of the family after taking a SUPER long road trip (around 20 hours each way) down to Galt and Concord, California in your fifth week of life. You did amazingly well and complained far less than your father and I. We only had four days, but everyone just soaked up your sweet baby lovin'.

You and I then left daddy for a whole week (which he was very sad about) so we could celebrate Aunt Jillian graduating high school. While on the west side of the state you met TONS more people who love and care about you, too! You are one VERY loved little girl!

Your schedule really hasn't changed much. You still nurse every two hours throughout the day, and sleep for four to five hours during the night. Your schedule isn't so much of a time thing, though, as it is a pattern; you eat, you play, you sleep. Eat, play, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Because of this you are pretty darn predictable, and it's easy to keep you happy so long as you're full and you've had a good nap. A nice, long nap is the difference between my sweet baby Reagan and Reagan rage. Don't feel bad, though. You're mommy is a monster, too, when I don't get enough sleep. :)

The discovery of the swing has helped you and I both. You haven't cared much for the swing until these last few weeks. It is a wonderful place for a nap because I am able to get a few things done and you are able to sleep better, thus longer, while it keeps a'swingin'. Even if a loud noise wakes you up, it usually lulls you back to sleep. You still almost always have to be rocked to sleep in my arms, but more and more often you're able to drift off by yourself in the swing. Progress!

You are still absolutely in love with your play mat, where you spend about 20 minutes a few times a day after you eat. You're still in awe of the hanging, striped elephant, but the goofy looking monkey is coming in at a close second. You have started reaching for both, and it is quite funny to watch because you still have very little coordination. But practice makes perfect and practice you do! More so than either plush animal, however, you love looking at that adorable baby in the mirror that hangs above you. Laying and smiling and cooing at yourself in that mirror keeps your attention longer than anything but eating. I can't get enough of watching you smile and talk to yourself. It is the sweetest thing known to man.

Somehow even sweeter, though, than you smiling and cooing to yourself? You smiling and cooing to your Mama. I melt into a pile of mush right onto the floor every time you smile at me. And you are quite the smiler. When you're happy, you are happy. Nothing isn't funny enough to receive a giant, toothless grin. When you really get to smilin', you start making these guttural sounds with your open mouthed grins that is clearly the beginning stages of laughing. And then I die a million deaths. And just to up the ante, in the last few days you have started reaching for my face. And you might as well be saying 'I love you Mommy' by the look on your face and your hand touching mine and then I just lose it and die all over again. This being a mommy thing sure is something else.

Smiles and all, you have become a better communicator. Either that or we have become better translators. It is pretty easy for us to figure out what you want, especially since you are really only fussy whenever you need or want something. If your butt's dry, you belly full and you aren't too hot or tired (you HATE being hot, and fight sleep with the best of 'em) you are a smiling, cooing, happy camper; emphasis on the cooing! You have inherited your mother's ability to talk; and talk, and talk and talk. You absolutely love holding conversations and really get a thrill out of it when we repeat back to you what you said.

We have produced quite the mommy's girl. Don't get me wrong; you LOVE your daddy. He can calm you down in seconds when you're upset and you're pretty convinced he's one of the funnier things in life. But when you're really sad, when your belly hurts or the hiccups annoy you, nothing but mommy does the trick. Nothing is wrong in the world when you settle down and snuggle into my neck. My heart can hardly take it.

You are growing in leaps and bounds. At six and a half weeks, you weighed in at 9 pounds 4.5 ounces and 23 inches long. At seven and a half weeks, exactly seven days later, you weighed in at a whopping 10 pounds even ad 24 inches long. You gained almost 12 ounces and a whole inch in a mere seven days! You are hovering just above the 25th percentile for weight and are sitting pretty in the 80th percentile for height. Our tall, skinny girl!

And what about me? I with all honesty can say I am throughly enjoying my wonderful, underpaid yet over rewarded, new job. I want nothing more than to snuggle, play, and feed you throughout the day. I can't imagine not being with you every minute and feel so incredibly blessed and loved that Rob is able and willing to singularly provide for our family so you and I can hang out all day long. We're a couple of pretty lucky girls to have such an incredible daddy and husband.

I still can't believe I get to be your mommy. Forever. Nothing can ever change that. Ever. You have completely stolen my heart.

I sure love you baby girl. Happy two months!

Love,

Your Mommy

PS- Your ever lovin' bum is finally big enough for your tree huggin' mama to put cloth diapers on! Wahoo!

Your Favorite Things:

1.) Your Play Mat. You absolutely love just hanging out on your back on your play mat.

2.) Mirrors. I realize you have no idea it's you you're looking at, but you absolutely LOVE staring at mirrors; on your play mat and in the car you constantly stare at the mirror.

3.) Moving. You LOVE when Daddy flies you like an airplane (and your doctor says its good for your neck!) and if you're fussy a good bouncing on the lap can usually calm you down.

4.) Football hold. Daddy has perfected it, and rarely does it not work. He holds you like a football with your face towards the floor and his arm across your belly and you sit happy, content, and usually drooling.

5.) Music. We go deaf in the car, not because of your screaming, but because you like the music to be on and loud. When I sing to you while changing your diaper you almost always smile and coo back at me.

6.) Sitting. You LOVE sitting up. One of your favorite positions currently is propped up against the couch cushions so you're sitting like a big girl! (Like in the diaper picture, above.)

7.) Books. It's kind of weird how attentive you are to books. You love to sit and analyze the pictures, but your favorite one BY FAR is your black and white book from Aunt Lindsay. You will sit and stare at that for minutes on end, cooing and smiling at the pictures. You absolutely love it!

Reagan Lee Birth to Two Months from Kristin Billiau on Vimeo.

...And Babies Don't Keep

2010-06-29T22:30:00.000-07:00

"Quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

-Author Unknown

My baby is growing up. And it absolutely terrifies/devastates/breaks my heart that I don't have every single second documented. That the picture with her sitting next to the stuffed owl that I was going to take daily turned into weekly turned into monthly turned into "woops I forgot the first month so five weeks old will have to do." The 'Line a Day' journal is missing 40 days worth of lines. This blog I planned to update at least once a week? Yeah, you can tell how that panned out.

I haven't failed. I just didn't know.

I didn't know how entirely consumed I'd be with her. That each time she smiles and coos at me that I can't take my eyes off of her long enough to grab the camera or video camera. (Thank goodness for cell phone cameras!) That if setting her down and propping her up next to a stuffed owl makes her cry that I would rather just hold her and snuggle her to my chest instead. That writing anything is nearly impossible with the maybe one free hand I have at any given moment. Even now, I type this one-handed while my other holds the weight of my sleeping babe sprawled across my chest.

Our swing sits, empty and neglected, against the far wall. Her crib is filled with clean laundry I have yet to fold and put away. We have all these gadgets and gizmos to set her in and on, and yet I would so much rather just hold her. I have a hard time convincing myself to put her down when being in my arms is what she wants most, too. And please don't bother telling me I'm spoiling her; she gets plenty of back and belly time. And besides- it isn't much longer that she'll fit this perfectly in my arms. Or be this content to be there.

So our house is pretty messy. I tend to be able to get the dishes done daily and thats about it. Rob, the amazing man/dad/husband he is, has voluntarily taken over laundry. (Out of fear of not having clean clothes? Perhaps...) I can barely count the number of dust balls I can see from my current position on one hand, and I can't tell you the last time I mopped the bathroom floors. The dining room table is random stuff central, and the fish can hardly be seen in his tank.I have not even made a home cooked meal since Reagan came home. We're going on seven weeks here, folks. We had a lot of freezer meals from friends and family, invitations to dinner at friends' houses, and we've, ahem, eaten out a bit. Okay, a lot. Fine; probably a few times a week. But look at it on the bright side; at least Reagan's getting a head start on restaurant manners! :) My best piece of advice to new parents? Get a comfortable couch. You're going to be sitting and doing a whole lot of the best kind of nothing. :)

So while I hate the fact that I'm not going to have every second of her life pictured and recorded for years to come, I find comfort in the fact that I'm experiencing it. That I'm living in the moment and that each smile isn't rushed with having to find the camera. That I'm not missing a conversation between Reagan and a hanging, striped elephant while I fiddle around with the video camera. It's taken me awhile to get to this point, but it is so much nicer not worrying about recording every moment in time. I figure I'll just pray for a good memory and continue to enjoy this amazing little miracle in the here and now.

**This isn't to say I'm not going to take pictures and videos. I'm just trying to not make it my main focus.

**Pictures don't do her justice, anyways.

**Note- I have postponed posting this post (holy batman that's a lot of 'posts') until I uploaded pictures off of our camera and cell phones from the last FIVE WEEKS so I could decorate it with pictures of our sweet baby's face, so you can sit and stare at her for hours too. :)**

A Tale of Two Boobs

2010-06-09T16:44:00.002-07:00

(Do you mind if I just say boob? Saying breast makes me feel like I'm someone I'm not and we all know what they are anyways. Boob, boob, boob. Is it demeaning? I don't think so. I hope you don't either...)

Disclaimer: I don't know if this even needs to be said, but this really is a post about boobs. Mine in particular. And their newest function. So if me saying boob or reading that breast milk really comes out of them makes you squeamish, I'd advice you not continue. :)

I can truly say I never thought I would write an entire blog post on my boobs. I knew they would become a much more integral part of my life once we had children; that they would sustain said children for over a year. I didn't know our first child would be head over heals in love with them, requesting them vehemently as often as every few minutes whether she needed to eat or not. I didn't know I could love and hate them so much; loving the bond they allow between my child and me, hating the leak stains they leave on the bed sheets, my shirts, the couches. So as much apart of my life that my boobs are now, it seems only fitting they get their 15 minutes of fame on our family blog. So without further adieu, A Tale of Two Boobs.

One of my biggest fears of having a baby was knowing that people would see my boobs. I'm a very modest girl and prefer to keep them nice and covered up where they belong. But knowing the basics of how child rearing tends to work, I knew eventually people would see them. And see them they did.

The second Reagan was born I ripped open my gown. I wanted her directly on my chest and I couldn't have cared less at the time if someone saw anything. My mom laughed at me for my sudden lack of modesty. I had a goal, though, and modesty played no part in it. Reagan had latched within the first 5 minutes of life. It didn't last long, but I felt success! Breast feeding was something I was extremely passionate about, but I had my concerns. I have known many people that struggled with it, and I wanted to give my daughter and me the best chance at succeeding as possible. I desperately longed for the bond of breast feeding, to be able to sustain our child from my own body, to experience such a natural thing.

Our first actual feeding a couple hours after she was born must have been extremely annoying for Reagan as I tried to put everything I had read into practice. No one showed me what to do, so Reagan and I just went off of what little experience I had and winged it. She fussed, squirmed and complained greatly in newborn fashion, but I pushed forward. I was determined! She wasn't latching well but fortunately I had what they told me was a 'great supply' and I could literally leak colostrum into her furiously rooting mouth. I was not discouraged.

We were up most of the first full night in the hospital. She had decided she really was hungry and was desperate to eat, but still couldn't quite latch. She would seemingly get a good latch here and there, only to loose it after a few sucks. After numerous attempts and fails, I finally manned up and asked for help.

Let me tell you- having someone, albiet a nurse, handle my exposed boobs is just as awkward as I imagined it would be.

Between about four different nurses from the remainder of our hospital stay, I got a lot of advice. Sandwich your nipple, make sure she gets enough boob in her mouth, make sure her chin is down, make sure her head and neck are aligned with her spine. Reagan and I managed. She still struggled with latching but between the hours she would spend nursing and me just leaking into her mouth, she ate.

Our Pediatrician (who is amazing and comes to our house! But more on that in a later post...) is also a lactation consultant and really worked with us to find out what our issue was. Turns out our sweet little girl sucks in her bottom lip. She does it so often that while she is nursing, most of the time she will suck her lip in with my nipple which leaves little to hold the nipple in her mouth, thus she would loose the latch. We began literally opening her bottom lip with our fingers when she would go to latch and it has worked wonders!

Reagan got down to 7 lbs, 2 oz which was as low as our pediatrician wanted to see her get, especially since she was jaundiced. So we nursed and nursed and nursed. Reagan was seemingly satisfied between feedings, was peeing and pooping us out of our savings account, and wasn't overly groggy or tired. All the signs that she was getting enough. She was gaining weight slowly, but she was gaining.

I really do enjoy breastfeeding. Even when she wasn't latching well, I didn't get too stressed. When we had learned that her jaundice had gotten worse towards the tail end of our struggles with nursing, however, I did stress out. I had just read that breast milk is the best way to remove jaundice and that if her bilirubin got to a certain level she could get BRAIN DAMAGE or DIE. And here we are told that our 3 day old baby's, who is struggling with nursing, bilicubin levels are even more elevated! And she wasn't gaining weight as fast as she should be. Three strikes against us! My stressing out did nothing but lessen my milk supply, which stressed me out further, yada, yada, yada, insert catch 22 here, my milk supply retreated. Our pediatrician told me breast feeding was 99% head game, and I needed to just trust that my body would do it's job. So I did. And then it did.

It hasn't been a walk in the park but it certainly hasn't been a walk through hell either. The most stressful part about breast feeding, to which I'm sure most mom's will agree, is not knowing how much she's getting. How do I know if it's enough? Well, I just have to trust that my body us doing it's job. And Reagan is a pretty good indicator, too. She is 100% jaundice free, has been gaining about half an ounce a day, and is up over 8 pounds! She (usually) is a happy camper between feedings and still pees and poops like a champion. Through our nursing session, I listen to make sure I hear swallowing, and watch to make sure her jaw is moving as she sucks.

It isn't the sit back, relax and nurse like I expected it would be. But you know what? I am sustaining a human being with milk that I make on my own. What's YOUR super power?

One Month

2010-06-09T16:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Reagan-

As we (all too) quickly approach your one month birthday, I can't help but think about how fast time has flown. Truly it was just yesterday that we met you for the first time, excited beyond tears to finally see you, touch you, hold you. Yet the calendar swears you're nearing that four week mark, and I can't call it's bluff.

It's bitter sweet, you growing up. Your breath has changed. From birth it was an amazing scent best described as sweet nail polish remover. People laughed at me when I described it as such, but it was true! I know it sounds crazy but I could sit and breathe it in for hours at a time- your breath just smelled that good; sweet, warm and alive. It has since moved on to a sour milky scent, still comforting to a needy mom, but it's just not quite the same.

Your cry has grown up, too. While you still do my ever loved (and laughed at, sorry, dear...) "uh-wah! uh-wah!" cry, you have mostly moved on from your squeaky bird cry. It was such a sweet, sincere, tired sounding cry. It sounded as though you put forth little effort, or almost as if you were hoarse. You have, however, perfected your anger cry. It hasn't been coined "Reagan Rage" for nothing.

Fortunately, for my poor breaking heart, you haven't lost you spastic, 'aerobic' movements. If you're awake and not nursing, you are constantly, without ceasing, moving. Your limbs have yet to look attached to your body. Your legs flail out between kicking, bicycling and Lord only knows what else. Your hands are constantly moving back and forth to your mouth, and if startled to any extent, they shoot outward as if you are triumphant in your winning of some award. Your face rotates between umpteen different expressions; the root of many of our laughter outbreaks.

Watching you wake up is my most coveted time these days. You do not wake up crying. You wake very slowly, starting with quiet grunting, squinting your eyes without opening them, and then begins the stretching. You stretch your arms straight out in all directions. You stretch the full length of your body, quite often arching your back off the mattress. Though you're swaddled from your armpits down (Lord help the man who inhibits movement of your arms and hands) you usually manage to stretch out of your blanket. Blinking a few times, you open your eyes and are bright eyed and alert. The last week or so, I've been able to squeeze a few smiles out of you at this time. You're quiet and content until you realize that feeling, and OH-MY-GOODNESS-WOMAN-FEED-ME-ALREADY!

It must be pretty confusing because I laugh at you almost through our whole nursing session. You are so predictable and funny. Realizing you're hungry is always such a sudden event and you do not take to the situation lightly. You are instantly furious, writhing and screaming lest I get you to my breast immediately. You can be mid-shriek as I lay you on my lap to pull up my shirt, and you know enough to know whats coming to quiet down. But I only have about .34 seconds before you start wailing again. As I bring you to my breast you inhale and exhale 3 to 4 times very quickly, from impatience or excitement I'm not quite sure. You rooting for my breast cracks me up; you are so ferocious about it. Apparently, nursing is an extremely serious task. Once latched, you almost always make a few little guttural noises as you exhale that almost sound like snickering. It is definitely a noise of success. When you first latch, you always suck so fast, as if you haven't eaten in days, all while scrunching your forehead and squinting your eyes. This is most definitely one of my favorite faces you make. While nursing you rotate between holding my hand, breast, or trying to poke your eye out.

But my favorite part about nursing, hands down, is if you break the latch before you intend to. I call you my little Velociraptor; you are all business. You usually let out one quick cry of frustration, scrunch up your little forehead (which wrinkles up for effect quite nicely) and begin wildly thrashing for my breast, upon which you thrust your head forward like a chicken on steroids pecking at the ground. It really is quite the site. If I wasn't so modest I'd take a video to have forever, but you'd probably think that I am crazy by the time you'd be old enough to find it funny anyways.

It's hard to believe we ever struggled with nursing in the beginning, what with you sucking in your bottom lip. You and I, kid, we're pros now. You're even finally gaining what you're supposed to (at least half an ounce a day) and you're chunking up to where those tiny little newborn outfits are actually starting to look a tad small on you. You were back up to your birth weight right around the 3-week mark, and at 3 weeks 3 days, you weighed 8lbs 1oz. I'm proud of you and glad you're healthy and growing like you're supposed to be, but I've gotta tell you; it breaks my heart.

Save for the first few nights home from the hospital and those AWFUL days and nights of having to be on/under the bili-lights, you have been an All Star in the sleep department. We go to bed around 11:30 and you sleep for four to five hours, nurse, and go right back to sleep for, get this, another four hours! This means I get 8 (not consecutive, but still!) hours of sleep a night. I have yet to really feel the 'new parent exhaustion'. But I'm not complaining! Okay, so I probably don't quite get eight hours because half the time you're asleep I spend just looking at you. It truly can't be helped, though. You are too darn adorable! You almost always have the cutest little frown face on while sleeping, and the part that melts my cold, cold heart is your hold your tiny little hands right up by your face. Even in your ultrasound pictures, you did this. It is too sweet for words.

This first month has been a whirlwind of falling in love with you. From meeting you for the first time to already seeing big changes as you grow, I'm not sure how much more I can handle. But I'll be the first to tell you I can't wait to see what next month brings.

I love you more than I knew I ever could.

Love, Your Mommy

Your Favorite Things:

Boobs. Seriously, though. You could eat and eat and eat. There hasn't been a problem yet a boob couldn't fix.
The changing table. You LOVE being on the changing table. This is where you smiled the first smile that I count. (You were two and a half weeks. :)
Your hands. You are always holding your hands, sucking on your hands, or just keeping them right next to your face.
The ceiling fan. We lay you on the coffee table and you'll just gaze up at the fan (whether its moving or not) for quite a while.
Being held. You really aren't that big of a fan of being put down, except every once in awhile, you love to just stretch out on your back. (Like on the coffee table to stare at the fan or on your changing table.)
You have started to really enjoy hanging toys. On your play-mat or in your bouncer, you will sit and stare them down. A few times it looks like you're attempting to reach for them, but I'm still pretty sure its accidental. Soon, though!

A Family is Born

2010-06-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

Our labor and delivery went absolutely nothing like what we had planned or pictured. It was so much more and so much less than I could have ever imagined and though in the end we veered from our plan, I wouldn't have changed a thing. Our daughter came into this world naked and screaming, healthy and loved, and that was perfect for us.

DISCLAIMER: This is a birth story. If you don't want to, you know, hear a story about birth, I advise you to not continue reading. That being said, it isn't super gory. Beautiful as it may be, due to the nature of, well, birth, I probably will use words like 'cervix' and 'dilate' and maybe even a 'fluid' thrown in here or there. Consider yourself warned. :)

Wednesday the 12th of May was a quite non eventful day. My mom was in town, helping with the house, keeping my extremely 40-week-pregnant mind occupied so as to not let me go any more stir crazy and to hopefully be around for when my labor began. We moseyed around Spokane, bought some groceries, some flowers and planned pedicures for the following day. After dinner we all took the beasts for a pretty good walk, came home and lounged on the couches for a bit before retiring for the night around 10PM. I tried to ignore the fact that our due date was a mere day away and I wasn't having many contractions, I hadn't dilated much if any in the last four or five weeks (at 35 weeks I was dilated to a 1-2 and 50% effaced) and generally wasn't showing any signs of impending labor. Except for, you know, the giant 40 week old baby that was living inside of me. Like every night, I fell asleep picturing what our daughter would look like.

I woke up shortly before midnight to console my screaming bladder. This was typical; for the last few months I was literally getting up 3-5 times a night to use the bathroom. Just as I stepped from the hallway onto the bathroom floor, I felt a weird popping sensation, and fluid started steaming from 'down there.' The excitement was INSTANT. I knew exactly what was going on, and I knew that labor was imminent. I called for Rob in the same shaky voice when I had called him into the bathroom 9 months prior to show him the pregnancy stick. This time, though, he SHOT out of bed, made sure he glanced at the clock (11:58PM) and came to see what had happened. He immediately got on the phone with our doctor's office who told us to come on in. I ran downstairs to wake my mom, threw a few last minute items into our hospital bags and loaded into the car. We were heading to the hospital. To give birth. To meet our daughter. To start our family.

I was in a stellar mood. Though my water had broken, I wasn't really experiencing any contractions and was filled with pure joy and excitement. We were sent straight back to OB triage, and after having verified my water truly had broken (a much more difficult task than it should have been since my body will never act normally medically) I was gowned and admitted into our labor and delivery room. I was checked and was dilated to a 2-3 and 50% effaced. Rob posted a message on Facebook letting people know it was 'game time.' It was surreal. We were sitting, comfortably and content, in the room in which our baby would be born.

No more than an hour later, I began contracting. I was extremely pleased my body began on my own, as I desperately wanted to avoid being induced. It only took a few contractions until they were strong, consistent and ALL in my back. Though I hadn't pictured myself having back labor, we still went through the motions. I relaxed my body, going entirely limp, allowing my body to do it's work. I breathed slowly and rhythmically, groaning as I exhaled, not from the pain but for distraction. It felt good to make noise. Rob would rub my back, putting pressure on as I requested, while my mom kept a cool washcloth on my face. All the while I pictured my uterus moving our baby down and out. It wouldn't be long until I could see her, hold her, breathe her in. We just had to get through each contraction, and one by one, they brought us closer to our sweet little girl.

I wont lie- the contractions were painful. But they weren't unbearable. They were not nearly as bad as people make labor out to be. The worst part is that they were in my back; it made it more difficult to picture my uterus working to deliver my baby. It also limited the varying positions I could labor in, as very few were comfortable. It was literally like having the kidney stones again, though this time I had a couple minute break every minute or two. The best part is there was zero pain between contractions. I was chipper and alert between them, and though for the most part I wasn't hooked up to a contraction monitor, you could tell instantly when one started because I would go limp and groan with my exhaled breaths.

My labor appeared to be progressing efficiently and pretty normal. I was contracting every 2-3 minutes, with the contractions lasting about one and a half to two minutes each. For the majority of the labor I was laying in the Bradley Methods "side relaxation position" where you are on your side, almost belly, with your knee pulled up and resting on a pillow. This was by far the most comfortable position I could find, though we tried many. Our amazing day nurse, Maggie, was so supportive and helpful. She had us trying all different kinds of positions, she would practically take the bed apart to provide support for various positions, and she had all kinds of helpful advice. Not only was she an absolutely sweet heart, she was amazing at her job. I took a few showers, and one bath. (I was allowed only one bath with the tub plugged because since my water had broken, that could allow for infection which all of us wanted to avoid.) We had packed two (count them, TWO!) different things for me to wear while in the shower/tub so I could maintain my modesty, which didn't ever leave our bag. It is true what they say- modesty was out the window during labor and delivery. I count myself a VERY modest person, and I really, truly couldn't have cared less about who saw what.

I was checked at about 3:00PM, 13 hours into labor. I was only a 3-4. It was pretty disheartening; 13 hours of labor and only one centimeter to show for it. Dr. Zwiesler gave us until 6PM to show progress, or we were going to have to put me on a penicillin drip (an antibiotic since my water had been broken for so many hours) and pitocin to help with dilation. I was demoralized, but determined. For the next few hours we went gung-ho with walking, using the birth ball and hands-and-knee type positions that are known to help move baby down, thus further dilating the cervix. It was extremely painful and I was losing steam. I was on 24 hours of no caloric intake, I had been puking from the pain and thus losing liquids, and it had been nearly two full days since I had had some decent sleep. Between contractions, my mom swore I was going to faint because my eyes kept rolling back into my head.

About half an hour or so before they came to check me again, my contractions became AWFUL. They were literally one on top of another. I would have three to five minute long contractions with mere seconds between them. We thought for sure I was in transition, so we were very hopeful I had made some great progress and wouldn't have to be hooked up to an IV. But when she checked me, no such luck. I was still only measuring a 3-4. No progress meant the IV. It meant antibiotics and induction. It meant more time and more pain. I broke down.

Maggie, our wonder nurse, brought up pain management. I knew the pitocin was going to strengthen my contractions and, though I was relaxing pretty well on my own through each contraction, my morale and energy reserve were shot. She said if we could get my pain managed, my body would be able to better do it's work and move our baby down and out. 19 hours of the hardest work I've ever done, and I felt it was all in vain. We discussed our options between narcotics or an epidural. Narcotics, we were told, would be administered through the IV and into my blood stream, thus straight into the baby. The epidural wouldn't affect the baby nearly as much. Rob and I asked for some time alone to talk about it, and I totally lost it. I'm not so sure I've ever sobbed so hard or so long. I had failed. I knew I was going to take the epidural. I had to. Here we were practically starting from the beginning, and I was already 19 hours into the hardest work of my life.

About an hour later, I was given the epidural. I didn't really see the big deal- so many people complain about how painful it is and I didn't even feel it. Mind you pain has taken on a new meaning after 20 hours of back labor with no medication. Within about a half hour, I was no longer feeling my contractions. I attempted sleep, but felt too numb to drift off. I couldn't stand the feeling, so the anesthesiologist came back in and turned the epidural way down. That helped a bit, but I still wasn't a fan of not being able to feel my legs.

A little before midnight, right around the 24 hours of labor mark, I felt the very distinct feeling of needing to push. I was actually convinced I needed to poop, but when checked and told I was complete, 10 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced, we knew it was FINALLY time to meet little Reagan. After a few practice pushes, we decided to have me labor down. This was the most painful thing of the entire labor. It is hard to describe the need to push without using the needing to poop comparison, so I apologize. But laboring down is literally like having to use the bathroom extremely badly, but not being allowed to. With each contraction that was pushing our baby out, my body desperately wanted to push but I would refrain from doing so. What this does is allows my uterus to work at getting our baby out, without me expending energy.

While I still had my epidural, it had been turned WAY down and I was so uncomfortable during each contraction, that I was shaking like mad. I also had gone a little mad. I kept saying, over and over and over, "I am so hungry but I don't want food. Please don't make me eat food. I'm so hungry but I don't want to eat." I then obsessed with the manufacturers sticker on the ceiling light, complaining that I couldn't read what it said. And was that a phone number written on it? Does it say MKL? I then began complaining that through each contraction, as I moaned, I sounded like a whale. And I was SO afraid of pooping on the table, I kept asking if I pooped. "Are you sure? It stinks. I don't want to poop. Please don't judge me if I poop." (After the fact I was assured it never actually stank and I truly hadn't pooped. Thank goodness.) Like I said, I'd gone crazy.

During this whole time, though I was pretty unaware, Reagan's poor little heart rate shot down and then straight back up with nearly every contraction. While they were glad it would come right back, they didn't like how low her heart rate was dropping and were concerned with the stress it could be causing her. After consulting with a few different nurses, they all decided she seemed to be handling it, so we kept on keeping on.

Finally, shortly before 1:30AM, it was time to push. The relief was instant. I LOVED pushing! Rob and my mom each held one of my legs and we did three 10 second pushes through each contraction. The amount of pressure I felt was amazing, but it wasn't painful. It felt very good to actually be able to DO something. Dr. Zwiesler (sorry in advance...) massaged my perineum with mineral oil the ENTIRE time I was pushing to help prevent tearing since I wanted to avoid an episiotomy if at all possible. He really was a rock star. Reagan's heart rate began acting up again, and though I was unaware of it at the time, Dr. Zwiesler had ordered in the anesthesiologist and another doctor because we were pretty darn close to having an emergency c-section.

On my last contraction, after my three pushes, Dr. Zwiesler asked me to push one more time and I felt amazing relief as Reagan was born into this world, looking straight up. In no more than a second, she was screaming. As the doctor prepared her umbilical cord to be cut, I kept asking, "is she a girl? is she a girl?" Rob cut the cord, and then per my very adamant request, she was handed straight to me and I snuggled her right on my bare chest. It was pure and utter bliss.

Reagan was pretty purple since her oxygen had been being cut off with each contraction, thus the reason her heart rate had been fluctuating. They assumed her cord had been wrapped around her leg or something, and with each contraction, it was being squished and the oxygen supply cut off. They set an oxygen mask just next to her face while still on my chest, and in no more than a minute or two she had pinked right up. It took a bit for me to give her up to the baby nurse so they could check her vitals and get her weight. I laid in the delivery bed getting stitched up, (thanks to Reagan's idea of coming out face up instead of down, I got a nice 2nd degree tear and she came out so banged up and bruised she looked like she had been in a bar fight) and watched my husband watching his baby. My mom commented on how patient I was being while they were taking care of her, and I told her I was enjoying watching Rob with her too much to mind that I wasn't holding her. We finally had our family.

Reagan Lee Billiau was born at 2:02 AM on her due date, Friday May 14th 2010. She weighed in at 7 pounds, 15 ounces and 21 inches long. She was here and she was healthy. She was beautiful and she was perfect. And she was ours.

A Second Trimester and a First House

2010-04-17T10:26:00.000-07:00

I feel little need to go back and relive the details of the first trimester. We'll just go ahead and say from about week 6 or 7 to about 14, all I could do was puke and sleep. Literally. Puke, sleep, puke, sleep. I lost about 15 pounds.

We entered the second trimester with much promise and hope. Not only is it nice to get out of the first and onto more stable, reliable ground (baby's chance of survival goes up ten fold once you hit the second trimester) but along with the second usually comes the feeling good. The morning sickness has faded, energy and appetite will return. It took us a little longer into the second than we would have liked, but by about week 14, I was feeling pretty good. I had my moments, there was definitely still plenty of food aversions, but I could move my head without needing to hope I'd already rinsed out my puke bowl. Running to the bathroom made little sense as I never would make it.

Sometime at the end of the first or beginning of the second trimester, Rob was able to get a route back in Spokane. We were very excited for this, as we wanted to raise our family in Spokane, but it did mean a lot of work. Work like packing and cleaning and moving. Oh. And buying a house.

We spent nearly every weekend of November in Spokane with our incredible realtor, April, driving around poking in and out of houses trying to find one that would suit us and our growing family. I did a lot of sitting in the back with a plastic bag up to my face trying to hold in my lunch. But we got through it. April was a star at letting me get out and walk around, taking plenty of bathroom breaks in random places and would cut our drives short if my stomach was revolting.

In our first or second run we found a house we really liked on Gustavus Street. It was a 50s rancher with hardwood floors, three bedrooms, two baths and a full, unfinished basement. 2400 square feet total, a fenced backyard, two car garage and in a nice, well kept neighborhood. Our brains were flooded with houses, so we went home to think over the week and had plans to come back the following weekend.

We were consulting with April on Friday, going over houses we wanted to look at again, both of us still having the Gustavus house on our minds. We knew it was the house for us when re-looking at pictures online, we noticed it has been reduced $10,000 that morning! The next day we walked through it again, this time being sure to open closets and flush toilets, and tried our best to imagine all of our stuff in it. That evening we put in an offer.

The entire process was exciting but nerve wracking. The owners had some, um, shall we say interesting? negotiation strategies, that finally ended after 3 or 4 amendments to the contract with us still feeling like we got an awesome deal on the house, a near new washer and dryer plus a 46" flat screen mounted on the wall above the fireplace and they paid all of our closing costs. Plus, our mortgage is only 50 dollars higher than what we were paying for rent. Not bad, eh?

The house belonged to us as of 4:45PM on December 31st, 2009. We made sure the closing date was in 2009 so we wouldn't have to amend our taxes to get in on the $8,000 first home buyers credit. The timeline couldn't have been more perfect. We certainly did some pushing of the bank to get paperwork done. As it was we closed in less than a month, which is super fast for an FHA loan. But we've known for awhile that we've got the Big Man Upstairs on our side. We feel so blessed.

You Know You're Pregnant When...

2010-04-10T11:04:00.000-07:00

I will admit I'm slightly nervous about giving birth. Not for the pains of labor, not for being entirely responsible for a tiny, completely helpless human being. Not for any physical or emotional reason. I'm nervous about not having the excuse of pregnancy anymore. I use the term excuse probably too loosely because everything that inhibits me in pregnancy is completely honest. I truly have ZERO energy. I seriously lack the desire to get anything done, all well fretting the un-doneness of it all. Food honestly has no appeal and cooking it equates right up with playing with spiders in my book. (And no, I am not fond of spiders.) My hips literally are about to pop right out of place, and frequently feel like they have every time I roll over in bed. Which is approximatively every 28 seconds for those who are wondering.

What if the energy doesn't come back? What if I never feel like getting off the couch again? I'm assuming blaming the pregnancy will no longer work once the baby is outside of my body.

Stop. Rewind. All of this is to say, I hate that I haven't kept the blog updated. I meant to. I truly had the best intentions to keep this as a running history of our first pregnancy. The quirks. The excitement. The cravings. The aches and pains. Yet here we are into week 35 and we have, what? Three, maybe four, pregnancy posts? Ay yi yi.

So, and I ask very politely, if I may backtrack? Go back through the last 6 months or so that have gone undocumented and just pretend I've been that perfect balloon bellied, soon to be mama who forgets nothing and accomplishes everything? Please and thank you. :)

A Letter to You

2010-01-14T10:35:00.000-08:00

Dear ~~Poppy~~ ~~Nugget~~ ~~Sugar Packet~~ Baby Billiau,

It seems kind of strange to write you a letter, seeing as you're curled up inside me right now, testing out the mobility of your limbs against my uteral walls. That and I talk to you all day, every day. And when I want to feel you, to rationalize this crazy idea that you really are mine, that you really are growing within me, I nudge you until I feel you kick out against me. Its a weird feeling knowing you're so close, but in a sense you're still pretty far away.

Though I cannot wait until I can hold you in my arms, to feel you nuzzle your head into my neck, to breathe in your sweet baby scent, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I am totally in love with being pregnant with you. I love knowing you are growing within me, I loved feeling your first flutters of movement and now your much more practiced and perfected art of kick boxing. I love knowing you get everything you need without having to so much as bat an eye, that my body just provides the way God intended it to. I love that you and I, together, are a part of moving the world forward, having joined the history of millions and millions of women and babies who have expanded our species, who continue our existence. I love that I have been there for you, from day one, since you made the journey of one cell to billions.

But most of all, I love how safe you are in me. How there are no bullies to push you around (aside from Baylee the dog, who absolutely insists on stepping on my belly every time she comes near me...), no disappointments, no fears. No hunger, no cold, no pain. You are completely safe and protected. I sometimes vow to myself that even once you come screaming into this world I will do everything to make sure you are still completely safe and protected. Which, between your Daddy and I, we will. But I will have to watch myself. I already can't stand the thought of watching you fall. But how, then, will you learn to walk? I can't stand the thought of watching your feelings get hurt, but how, then, will you know a true friend? I can't stand the thought of watching you experience disappointment, fail over something you tried so hard for, not meet a goal. But how, then, will you understand success? This awful, beautiful world we live in offers no life worth living that doesn't come with a few bumps and bruises along the way. So while it is my job to protect you, I also know and fully understand that it is my job to let you live.

I promise I will try my best to let you live your life. To be a child. To fall over a toy, to bump your head on the table, to play on the ground and get filthy. To talk to a stranger, eat something off the floor, to blow your nose on your sleeve. I will do my best to protect you from the craziness of our world, as long as it is what's best. But I realize one day you will grow up, and you will join the world in all of its awful wonderfulness, in its craziness and its beauty. And if we've done our job, if your Daddy and I figure this whole parenting thing out like we plan, you will be prepared.

Baby Billiau, the one thing you are guaranteed in this life is to be loved. We don't know what the future holds. We can't begin to guess how our country, how the world, will unfold. There will undoubtedly be changes we cannot predict. But we do know that regardless of what is going on in this world, you will be loved. Your Daddy and I already love you so much we ache inside with it, dying for the chance to see your sweet face, to hold you in our arms, to see the person you'll become. You have grandparents and aunts and friends who love you. You have more people than I can count praying for you. You have a God who already knows you, loves you and calls you His own. You will never, ever be without love. And regardless of whatever else you may be lacking, that will take you a long, long way.

We really cannot wait (but we will! Please stay nice and snug in there!) to meet you. But for now, we are completely content feeling you thrive and grow within me. We love you like no love we've known before.

Love,

Your Mommy (and Daddy, too!)

Sweet Sweet Baby Ultrasound from Kristin Billiau on Vimeo.

Welcome to Fetus-hood!

2009-10-18T17:50:00.001-07:00

To my sweet Poppy, Sugar Packet, Nugget;

I should begin by letting you know how proud we are of you! You have overcome your first milestone, accomplished your first task, and boy oh boy do I have the nausea to prove it! You took one look at being called an embryo, and decided to up the ante. Hello, fetus-hood! You have grown from a tiny little ball of cells to a somewhat-functional little person! Its so exciting for us to know that you now have all of your organs safely in place, that you're testing out your new accessories by moving your little arms and legs like crazy, pumping your own blood and even making your own waste! Way to go, kiddo!

Even though I swear I knew you were growing inside of me before the pregnancy test confirmed it for us, even though I took four pregnancy tests, had the doctor confirm our pregnancy, have seen your adorably cute little blob of a body swimming around on a screen, even though I've been sick to my stomach for weeks, can't even think about eating food, and am up and down all night to use the bathroom, it is so incredibly hard for us to believe you're actually in there. That we are actually blessed enough to have made you. That you're strong and growing on schedule and healthy. But it is still so hard to comprehend that we get to have a child; that we get to have you!

The weirdest thing about it all? We are already so in love with you. Its hard to explain how we've only known about you for mere weeks and you already mean the world to us. There is nothing we wouldn't do for you. You are ours, and we are yours. We are so excited to watch my belly grow as you do, to go to the doctor to check up on you, to get to see you again on the ultrasound screen, and to feel you moving around inside of me. We lay in bed, your daddy and I, and talk about your life. What you'll look like, how you'll be. The kind of parents we want to be for you.

Speaking of your daddy, you are going to get a kick out of him. He is quite the man. He takes care of me (and you!) like there is no one else in the entire world that matters. You aren't so fond of anything right now, so I've been pretty sick and tired and useless. All I can do lately is lay around and try not to vomit. But your daddy? He does everything. He works hard for our family and he loves you and me like crazy and thats plenty in my book. But lately? He's been cleaning the house, doing the dishes and laundry, and as I write this he's making dinner. This morning for breakfast he made French toast, ham and bacon, and even turned it into a smiley face. I'm sure there will be plenty of smiley-faced breakfasts in your days.

He also can't stop touching you. He loves to rub my belly, kiss my belly, cuddle my belly. He still goes on and on about how excited he is that we get to have a child, that we get to have you! I cannot wait to see him interacting and playing with you. You really are one lucky little tyke to get to call such a man Daddy. And I'm pretty darn lucky myself. :)

Keep on trucking, our sweet little unborn! There are plenty of weeks and milestones ahead of us and we can't wait to experience each one with you.

We love you more than you can possibly know.

-Mommy and Daddy

Attached Parenting/ Exterior Gestation

2009-10-14T12:26:00.001-07:00

Clearly, at this point and for the next six-ish months I am 100% attached to this baby, and this baby to me. I rely on him/her to make me feel nauseous, to crave something that just makes me puke, to bring me really weird dreams (like the CPS lady showing up asking me where my baby is and upon telling her baby is still growing inside me, I get 'taken in' for losing my baby...) and to make me constantly touch my lower belly, dreaming of our future, of our family, of the amazing love I already feel and how it is growing exponentially daily. Baby, on the other hand clearly relies on me for safety, nourishment, temperature regulation, and plenty of other life-giving stuff. It is obvious that both of us are significantly impacting each others lives. We rely on each other. We are basically one.

Unfortunately for many, many babies, this whole attachment parenting ends when it is no longer obvious that mom and baby are attached, namely, when baby is born. Nursing babies tend to stay more closely attached, strictly due to the round the clock body sucking they need. Our baby, however, will maintain attached to me. Yes I am planning on breast feeding, and no I am not planning on keeping this little sea monkey in me longer than the 9 months. But I have been doing research (really, Kristin researching? Thats odd. Not.) that shows the immense benefits of attached parenting and something that was entirely new to me called Exterior Gestation, or exterogestation. (Apparently this is new to blogspot, too, as it is telling me its spelled wrong...)

The whole idea that the closeness ends after birth is something us crazy westerners and Anglo-speaking people came up with. Around the world babies are constantly attached to their parents until they are completely mobile. We're talking baby wearing here, folks. Around here, though, we have all these nifty products that are made with the express purpose of ease, and keeping baby occupied and out of the way so mommy and daddy can get stuff done sans baby. But the research that has been done on babies that are constantly in physical contact with their parents is pretty amazing.

Here is the deal. Human infants are born more immature, mentally and physically, than any other mammal. Most mammals are already mobile (we're talking walking or crawling) within a few hours after birth. Not so much with the human infant. Something interesting, though? The average number of days a baby is born from the day of conception is 266 1/2. The average number of days it takes for a baby to crawl (like really, actually crawl) from birth? 266 1/2. Therefore, if a human were the typical mammal, our gestation period would actually be about 18 months. This also falls in line with the fact that most mammals are born with 50% of their adult brain, whereas humans are born with 25%. And how long do you think it takes for humans to be at 50% of their adult brain? Thats right. 9 months after birth.

But because we are superior (I'm not being all GO HUMAN! here, just stating the facts) than these other mammals, it has proven to be extremely beneficial to be born so immature. "The infant is not a passive creature who is shaped by his environment, but is constantly exploring, trying to learn, and bring the environment under his control." (Karen, Ph.D, R.) Long story short, humans shape their environment, more so than the environment shapes them. The critical first nine months after birth, when the baby is still extremely immature and developmentally incomplete, are vital to the baby's development. Think how much more the baby learns while his brain is growing faster than it ever will again, being outside of the womb with all of the sights and sounds and smells and tastes of the world around him.

We are one of the few societies that isn't constantly attached to our babies. We are breast feeding less and less, working more and more, and plenty of us consider picking up a crying baby spoiling it. (Post on this for another day. I'm sure your retinas are already bleeding.) The fact of the matter is, throughout most of history, if we took care of babies as we do today, bottle feeding, leaving them for work, sleeping in different rooms, etc, we would not have survived as a species.

"Nature intended for babies to be with their mothers, especially at a time when their brains will grow more than any other time in their lives. Babies could not have been born developmentally incomplete and left alone most of the day or separated from their mothers if we were to survive as a species. No matter however numerous its advantages, however, retardation of growth rates and birth at an earlier state of gestation could never have occurred had there not been compensating care taking behavior on the part of the mother."

So what does this mean for us as a family? It means we'll be sleeping together for awhile. It means I'll be staying home as a mommy. It means I will do everything in my power to breastfeed, and will go into thinking and KNOWING I can do it. It means this little love duck (love duck? Really, where do I come up with these names?) of ours will be attached to me. A lot. Thanks to this:

Enter: The Sleepy Wrap. Weird name, but from all of my research, this is one of the best wraps out there, and wraps are one of the best carriers out there. Once the little tyke gets to be about a year, we'll switch to a Mei Tai of the BabyHawk Brand.

So there you have it. Part of our plan to be the best parents we can be. Part of the whole 'best parents we can be' thing, though, is knowing that every child is different. That plans can change, that life can throw curve balls and that things may not end up exactly like we'd like them to. But this is what we feel will best suit our family and our baby and so this is what we're aiming for. And we'll try are darnedest to make it work.

Love at First Sight

2009-10-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

Let me just go out on a limb here and say I was so incredibly nervous/anxious/terrified/excited/worried/thrilled/sick to my stomach/ecstatic at the thought of our ultrasound. The week or so before, it was mainly the good. I couldn't wait. It was scheduled out two weeks from the day we had it scheduled and that seemed like an eternity. As if 9 months isn't long enough!

Then as they day approached, namely the day before, I started worrying. I had been sick all week with that rotten cold, which was a more complained about endeavor than the pregnancy symptoms that week. Then, I read a stupid, stupid, STUPID article by accident Thursday morning that said one of the first signs of miscarriage is not feeling pregnant. So what do you think I was feeling at that exact moment? I certainly wasn't feeling pregnant! Surely, I had lost this baby. Surely I wasn't fit to carry a baby. Surely this was all too perfect, all too surreal. There was no doubt in my logical mind that I was pregnant; four home-tests, as well as a urine and blood test at the doctor, a board certified nurse coming in to tell us, "You're most definitely pregnant!" and a doctor spending an hour going through medical history and birth stories of everyone I've ever known and then oh so wonderfully 'checking to see if my pelvis is large enough to give birth naturally'. I'm fairly certain all that doesn't happen from lack of proof of a baby growing. But my regular brain? The logic-free one? Yeah. There was no way I could be pregnant.

We got to the imaging department half an hour early, because, well that's just how I roll. And if you know me well, you will know that in any situation where quiet, still waiting is required, I prefer to do nothing. No reading, no talking, no anything. Just sitting and staring. People watching is allowed. The entire time I'm sitting there, while Rob reads a camera magazine and tries to grab my attention to take it off of what I'm certain he knows I'm thinking, I am praying to God for peace and protection of our unborn, and arguing with my logical brain that, of course something is wrong, of course we're not going to see a heart-beat and how in-the-heck am I going to be expected to just waltz right out of this place just having learned my baby is gone? I understand I'm crazy, people. Really, I do.

Side Note: I was told to drink one quart of water one hour before the appointment and DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES PEE AFTER DOING SO. Okay, um, I have to pee like the dickens sans drinking any water. What kind of foul punishment is it to make a pregnant woman drink two bottles of water and not pee? I was in pain. If my bladder has ever caused me pain, that was the day.

So we finally get called back into this dark little room with a chair for my love, a bed for me and a sweet ultrasound tech (I don't actually know her title, so we'll just go with that) who was very soft spoken and told me she'd let me pee as quickly as she could. She was my new best friend. So I lay down, fold my jeans down a bit, and she squirts that weird feeling warm goo on my lower belly and the instant she touches that little magic wand to my belly we see our baby. Our baby! Oh the screen! (Not that the little tyke is all that big anyways, but dude was DWARFED by my GIGANTIC bladder! I know, I know, too much information but OH MY GOODNESS. My bladder was a BEAST!) We sat amazed as she showed us this video/picture of our baby, in my belly for twenty minutes. I tried my best to ignore to agonizing pain of having my already too full bladder pushed on over and over as she looked for various parts of me and measurements of baby.

She then zooms in on baby and we see this tiny little light bulb flashing; white, gray, white, gray, white, gray, white, gray. Our baby's heart. Beating! Strong and fast and perfectly normal! The screen was then cut in half; half ultrasound of our baby, the other half this weird, lined, chart looking thing which she told us was the motion of our baby's heart beating. All 151 beats per minute of it! We were amazed. We sat in utter bliss. I'm fairly certain I would trade never peeing again for being able to sit there for the next seven months and watch that adorable little heart beating on our little blob of baby.

When it was time to go (we avoided the, um, 'other place' of interest for first trimester ultrasounds because the tech was able to get the measurements she needed just from my belly) we walked out to a different world. We had our baby, alive and well, with his or her little arms and little legs and amazing little beating heart. Rob couldn't stop saying "that is the coolest thing I have ever seen in my LIFE" and "I have never seen anything so AMAZING" and "that was our BABY!" Needless to say, he doesn't cuddle me in bed anymore. He only cuddles his baby. Have I told you how much I love this man? I feel like the luckiest woman alive to not only get to be called his wife, but that my child, our child, will get to call him daddy.

The picture we got isn't great, but it is still amazing to stare at because it is a picture of our baby. Of that tiny little 3/4 of an inch baby, our large raspberry sized nugget, that we are already head over heels in love with. Here's to counting down to December, when if everything goes normal and well, we'll have our next ultrasound!

Statistics:
Crown to Rump Measurement- 3/4 inch
Weight- too little to measure :)
Due Date: Friday, May 14th, 2010 (doesn't that sound so futurish?)
Ultrasound from Friday October 2, 2009: 8 Weeks 0 Days

Goodbye Modesty, Hello Baby!

2009-10-01T14:45:00.000-07:00

I took the crazy test, and it was a positive two pink lines; pregnancy has made me crazy. Not only does this pregnancy have me eating nothing but applesauce, peeing 347 times a day (17 times in the middle of the night), irrationally needing to rearrange and/or buy new furniture, perilously sorting through things and wanting to give EVERYTHING away, but it has me crying. Desperately crying. Ridiculous, reasonless crying through pretty much any song or show or commercial, but namely Friday Night Lights. Have you seen the show? Disclaimer: if you're pregnant, for the sake of yourself, your spouse and your unborn child, please do not watch this show. Holy cry fest 2009.

Aside from the peeing, the crying, the needing to buy new and the purging of old, pregnancy and this sweet little nugget growing inside of me haven't really treated me too badly. I'm nauseous most mornings and evenings, and sometimes through the day but I can really track it to when I let myself get too hungry. Which is quite an easy task, seeing as absolutely NOTHING sounds good. Applesauce? Yum, delicious! Anything else? No thank you. I have actually had to (I apologize) hold in my vomit just thinking about certain things. The other day I about lost my applesauce at the mere sight of some canned black beans in our pantry. I had no intention of eating them, I was not trying to concoct a recipe using them, and I'm not so sure I was even thinking about them, but the sight of that innocent little can had me running to the bathroom and praying to the Good Lord Above that I could keep down my lunch.

With the help of my loving Water Nazi (you know, the Baby Daddy) I've been doing my best to down as much liquid as I can, (I promise, Mom!) but it has proven to be a difficult task when there are times pure bottled water makes me gag. I still can't figure this one out, but I've taken to just going with the flow and figuring it is what it is. At least I have managed to not throw up my prenatal yet, though I gag even just thinking about trying to swallow that pill. And believe you me, pills have never been an issue. But apparently my unborn isn't too fond of them.

So aside from the very typical (and my mom thinks I've got it pretty easy as far as these things go) first trimester symptoms, this whole baby making thing has gone pretty textbook so far. I've been stuck with a rotten, ache-all-over-my-body, throat-burns-like-the-depths-of-hell, congestion-like-New-York-traffic-at-rush-hour type cold all week that I think is just starting to leave me alone and let me be. Fortunately, Benadryl is a Class A (meaning it has been tested and approved for use in all trimesters of pregnancy) drug that I have been taking at night to let me sleep. And I'm fairly certain the house will recover from lack of me doing ANYTHING but laying in bed for the entire week. I actually even ventured out to the store (oh boy!) last night to get some more soup for me and mine, who has also caught this wonderful cold.

Exciting news of the week? Ultrasound TOMORROW! Woohoo! We are so very, very excited to see our sweet little blob of a peanut on a static-y black and white screen. We may be a little over zealous, but come on! This is our BABY! And we're seeing him or her! On a screen! From inside my belly! And apparently another place I'm told they utilize for first trimester ultrasounds... heh. Oh well. Goodbye modesty, hello baby!

And there is reason to celebrate- our little poppyseed is so grown up! The little tyke is now 3/4 of an inch! That is a far, far cry from the little poppyseed he/she was when we first were introduced via that nice pregnancy test!

Alright then, folks. Updates tomorrow I'm sure with news from the ultrasound.

Let the Symptoms Begin!

2009-09-23T15:26:00.000-07:00

I am exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted. The kind of tired where I wake up from a decent full night of sleep and feel like I could sleep for another eight hours. And I'm sure I could. I've never been much of a sleeper- I hated it from day one (ask my poor parents!). This feeling of wanting to be sleeping ALL THE TIME is so foreign to me! I've been taking about an hour or so long nap a day and it doesn't seem to help restore the energy at all. By 8:30 at night, I'm begging to go to bed. They say our baby is set to TRIPLE in size this week, and I'm pretty convinced that has something to do with it.

I have learned what they mean by morning sickness, and have jumped on the bandwagon to get the title changed to ALL THE TIME sickness. Truth be told, from the get go of this whole baby making adventure, nighttime hasn't been so good to me. The night after we found out I was pregnant, I spent an hour or two in the bathtub trying to work through some awful stomach stuff. From then on, nights have just been bleh. Gassy, bloated and feeling like all my innards were turned into outters and replaced with a dense, wet sand. Fortunately, aside from nights the constant need to pee, I felt really, really good. This whole week, however, has brought a brand spankin' new brand of nausea. True blue nausea. The "oh please don't throw up. Come on Kristin, please don't throw up. Think through it, work through it, oh God please don't let me throw up" kind of nausea. My lovely unborn has yet to make me actually puke, but I sure have had some close calls.

Oh. And my brain? Gone with my energy. It is gone. I've been told you get mommy brain pretty much as soon as you get pregnant and it never. goes. away. Not after the kid is born, not after the kid is in school, not after the kid moves out. Never. It is here to stay. Which really sucks considering at about 6 weeks into the whole deal, I went and got my purse stolen. I say stolen, but I pretty much put it out there for anyone who was experiencing a lack of judgement to take. Bye, bye credit cards. Bye, bye check book. Bye, bye point and shoot camera. Bye, bye positive pregnancy tests I was keeping to remind myself when I found it surreal. Bye, bye work time cards. Bye, bye favorite wallet. Bye, bye journal. Bye, bye keys and the 4-500 dollars it is costing to replace you. Bye, bye normal brain.

Hot flashes, food cravings, food aversions (who thinks a frickin' ice cream sandwich doesn't sound good? My kid is a weirdo!) added to the nasea and bloating and I'm FINALLY really feeling pregnant. This kid is coming. And I am so ready. We are so ready.

After work today I took a bite of a much coveted apple slice and it totally made me feel like a million bucks. (I may or may not have even giggled out loud to myself.) But three apple slices in, I was doing my best at convincing myself to keep them down. I am fairly certain during that mental battle with my stomach, I decided I never want to eat another apple again.

I then proceeded to fight the air conditioning the whole way home. It would be freezing and then it would be a million degrees. There was no middle ground. It took a good long 20 minutes for me to realize it probably wasn't the jeep, rather my incubating child giving me hot flashes.

This afternoon I got three dishes into the massive pile holding our sink hostage. I then had to sit down. Three dishes? How am I expected to labor for hours and hours and then push a kid out if I can't even do THREE FRICKIN' DISHES without being exhausted? This miracle of mine is rendering me useless.

But do you know what? I love it. I love every single aspect of this pregnancy. I love being sick because it means my hormones are fighting hard for this little tyke residing somewhere near my bladder. I love the cravings because they remind me I'm not just taking care of myself. I love the bloating and the hot flashes and the crazy dreams because it makes me feel pregnant. It makes me feel like a mommy. And that makes me feel amazingly blessed and more excited than I can possibly imagine.

Bring on the Babies!

2009-09-11T09:38:00.000-07:00

Every night for the last week or so I have dreamed about having a baby. Literal dreams. I had one where I was in the hospital bed, laboring and pushing out a baby. I dreamed of Rob holding him there next to me on the bed and we named him Connor. He was ours.

I dreamed the other night that I was holding a baby. Walking through Costco, content as could be. This time he was an older baby, probably around 6 or so months. I was in love, and he was mine.

I dreamt I was exhausted as I pulled myself out of bed to snuggle with a screaming, floppy newborn. He smelled like me. He belonged to me. He was mine.

There have been other baby dreams, here and there. I wanted to be pregnant. I cried in amazement and jealously at every new baby born. I felt resentment towards pregnant woman in Target. I always stray through the baby clothes section. We hadn't really been trying, but I was so very ready for my own.

I began to feel pregnant. They say you just know, and I'm pretty sure I did. For me, though, I wanted it so badly I was convincing myself it was my desire giving me these odd feelings. I was super tender in areas that usually weren't and I felt bloated. I took a test and it came back negative. I took another the following morning; same deal. While I hadn't expected a positive, I felt let down. I didn't trust my body to work in the way God intended it to and it killed me. There is nothing more in this entire world that I want than a baby, a child, a family.

Yesterday while shopping for the new Batman video game for Rob, I bought a pregnancy test. They were on sale; a two pack for $5.99. What the heck, why not? I hadn't had my period and I was about a week late. So this morning, as I sat there on the toilet, peeing on a stick, (you're welcome for that information...hehe...) I figured I was up for another dissapointment. I watched the stick. Slowly a line began showing; surely it is just the line to show the test worked. There were two. There were two? There were two! There were two lines! I began shaking. I called for Rob. I'm sure I sounded like something was wrong; my voice was week. I was weak. I was excited and thrilled and in utter disbelief.

I showed it to him. "It has two lines, Rob. It has to lines!" "Does that...what does...are we pregnant?" "Thats what it means! Look!" I compared the test to the box instructions. 1 line= not pregnant. 2 lines= pregnant. "You're...we're having a baby!" He was stunned. He was just as shocked as I was. "Are we ready?" I asked him. "I'm ready. I'm so ready. You tell me if 'we're' ready.." he replied. I am fairly certain I couldn't be more ready.

I forced myself to use the bathroom again, using the water dripping as an aid, and tested myself on the second stick. Positive. I shook with joy.

I went to Target to buy another test. I was glowing. I'm sure I looked like a fool, smiling to myself. But I had a secret. The best secret. I get to be a mommy. There was life that we created growing inside of me. This perfect little being. My perfect little being.

My mind is crazy, and I know this. Now that I know for sure, I swear I can feel where s/he is, even though according to babycenter.com our baby is only the size of a poppyseed. I feel tense and tight and buldgy in my low, low belly. I know I'm making it up. But I love the idea that someone, someone that Rob and I in love created, is growing inside of me and it is up to me to keep him/her strong and healthy and warm and fed. I love this. I have never been happier. I kid you not- there has never been a more happy day.

Today is September 11th, 2009. Today I found out I get to be a mommy. Today is the beginning of happily ever after. I don't think dreams come any truer.

Bring on the babies!

All in a Year

2009-08-13T09:50:00.001-07:00

It is hard to believe that a year has come and gone and I've had the privilege to be called his wife the entire time.

It is hard to believe that in that same one year, we have changed as individuals and we have changed as one. That we have loved and forgiven. That we have lost and found. That we have bought and sold. That we have moved and stayed put.

It is hard to believe that I have actually thought that I could never love him more. That my love was so strong, so powerful and so very present that I couldn't imagine it growing, that I couldn't possibly love him more than I already did, than I already do. But I do. I inevitably will. Because with each passing day, each passing hour and minute, beyond every argument, further than any disagreement, so much greater than any time he makes me angry enough that I could scream, I love him more.

It doesn't matter what he does, or doesn't, do. It doesn't matter if we're happily in bliss or arguing over misunderstood words. He cannot do anything to make me love him less. I will always continue to love him more.

It almost feels inadequate to tell him "I love you." Even though he makes sure he never hangs up the phone without saying it. Even though in the wee hours of the morning when he's showered, dressed and all ready for work and I'm still curled up under the covers sound asleep and he makes sure he whispers it into my ear before he leaves. It still feels wrong when I say it. It feels like it is too simple, too streamlined. I feel like I need to tell him more. Like loving him isn't quite the word. Like I need to put the sign for exponential at the end of it. Maybe I should just tell him "I love you exponentially." I could even try explaining it every time; "There is no way I could possibly love you more, but I will and I'm pretty sure I already do even more so then when I started this sentence." 'I love you'? Does that really seem right? I feel like "I need you" may be even more precise, but that seems so selfish and my love is anything but. I couldn't help but love him. If I wanted to stop, I'm not so sure I could. It is woven into the fiber of my being.

Don't get me wrong; I love loving the man. He makes it easy. It is just that my love for him is such a part of who I am, of what makes me, me, that the choice is hardly mine. I chose how to show that love to him, but I am not so sure I could simply 'chose' to stop loving him. Not that I want to. Not that I would ever want to.

I am a grudge holder. I hold grudges like there are a billion tomorrows and I'll be just as upset on every single one of those as I am today. And I hold back. When I am mad, I am MAD and you will know about it; no questions asked. This is something I am working on with God and I realize it is not the way to live. I slip up with Rob, though. I accidentally tell him. It falls out of my mouth without my knowing. It slips through my teeth and before I realize what I'm doing he's telling me he loves me too. My love or whatever better word there is for it for that man pours through my pores. It seeps out of my skin. Words that aren't quite powerful enough fall from my mouth at the sound of his voice or the sight of his face. I love that man. Words cannot describe or define. I just, well, I just love him.

This first year has been exciting. I think that would be the best way to describe it. So many people told us the first year is tough- you are thrown into life together. No longer is it just the dating, the courting, the dinners out, the walking through parks, holding hands, the late night movies. It is bills. And things breaking. And family dramas. And decisions. And growing up. But do you know what is exciting about it? The bills. The things breaking. And the family dramas and the decisions and the growing up.

Standing in the midst of these, things can look bleak. But when you stand back from them and look, OH MY GOODNESS! I am paying bills with the man I love. Things break and we, together, get to figure out how to fix them. I am not alone on my side of the family drama. I have a built in, permanent teammate on my side. And the decisions? Exciting! We are planning our lives! Growing up? It is scary. But it is so, so very fun and new and exhilarating. And I get to do it all with this amazing man who I think is just outstanding, and from what I hear he kinda likes me too.

And pay bills we have. Fix things? Check, check. Family drama? You better believe it. Decisions? We moved, didn't we? Growing up? Well, we'll just say baby planning is in the works.

The Internet let us get to know each other. We fell in love across the state, college let us be together. Dates let our love develop. Challenges let us get to know each other better. The engagement made us busier. The wedding made us permanent. The honeymoon made us deeper in love. The moving to the middle of nowhere three days later made us closer. The coming home to each other made us happier. Calling each other husband and wife made us giddier. The bills made us stingier. The rough job hours made (and make) our time together sweeter. The sweet surprises made us kinder. Reading the bible together at night made us hit our knees harder. The constant travelling made us crazier. The birthdays made us older. Holidays made us feel like our own family. The new, big purchases made us feel more grown up. Our disagreements made us stronger. Mean words made us nicer. And every single day in between for this first whole year, has made us more and more in love.

In the meantime...

2009-07-09T00:39:00.000-07:00

We are still as busy as ever as the summer of 2009 proves to be one of no mercy to the tired homebodies. We arrived safely home (and free from an anxiety attack on my part at having to ride an airplane. Twice. And if you promise not to tell anyone-it wasn't half bad!) from California and had a great trip visiting family members from Rob's side of the maternal variety.

We actually have this weekend free due to some cancelled plans so we can clean out the garage full of accumulated stuff (read: crap) that we don't need/want/have any reason to keep. Technically (and by that I mean, it definitely needs to) the Camaro has to be in a fully enclosed garage for insurance purposes. And technically (and by that I mean, it definitely isn't) it isn't, because quite frankly, it doesn't fit.

So dump run, Goodwill run, maybe even a little feet-up-in-the-backyard-in-perfect-80-degree-weather-sipping- Italian-Ices-with-my-darling-though-sometimes-annoyingly-mannish-in-the-listening-department-husband, then cleaning and pantry stocking for our house guests who are due to arrive the following weekend. (Yay! We are excited to have people visiting us, so we get to mingle while still being at home!) It's amazing how being gone every waking moment of your life makes all of the food disappear.

Before we know it, the houseboat trip shall be upon us! What houseboat trip, you ask? You soon shall find out. Stay tuned for "The Griswald's* Drive a Motorhome-esque Boat on a 130-mile Long Lake Roosevelt for a Week" adventure tour. I'm sure it'll be a doozy. Coming soon to a blog near you, the end of July, 2009.

*My Grandpa refers to us (the Madson's) as "The Griswalds" especially when talking about vacations due to our uncanny ability to always assure something goes wrong. I am wondering if I jumped ship on this label when I changed names? I suppose we shall see...

So in the meantime, while I'm uploading pictures of our California trip, cleaning out, dumping, goodwilling, re-parking, Italian Ice sipping, cleaning, restocking, and packing, you can enjoy this ridiculously long movie I made out of boredom, an interest in old pictures, and in response to an off-hand comment a friend made about how kids never really know who their parent's were before they ~~took over~~ came into their lives.

And seriously, folks. It's like 13 minutes long. We're talking four full-length songs here. So if you are interested in watching it, maybe space it out. Or at least watch it while enjoying a hot cup of Joe, the newest Tonight Show or bluebooking (is that a verb?) your cars value. Anything so you can't blame a wasted 13 minutes of your life on me and mine. Kapeesh? Good. Enjoy. :)

Untitled from Kristin Billiau on Vimeo.

Happy Birthday, Rob...Again

2009-06-23T11:39:00.001-07:00

As if Rob needed anymore birthday celebrations, I planned a fun, relaxing, romantic trip to Seattle where we stayed in the fancy-schmancy Hotel Monaco (thanks to my Mom and Dad!) ate at all-too-fancy (and expensive) restaurants, walked our feet to a nice blistery state, and enjoyed each other immensely.

We left the pups at a kennel, and headed off late afternoon on Friday. It was our first little trip alone since our Honeymoon, and we just soaked up the time. We had no official plans except for dinner on Saturday, so we got to enjoy our time at our own pace; we even snuck in a nap on Saturday!

Friday night we ate at the always wonderful, always crazy crowded Cheesecake Factory. And also as always, we were way too full to even get to enjoy some of the delicious cheesecake. We walked around a bit, and then finished off at Sazerac restaurant, which is connected to Hotel Monaco with some drinks and a shared Gooey Chocolate Cake with pouring creme (...think whipping cream on steroids...) which was actually even better than it sounds.

Saturday morning was a nice, late and lazy morning (Rob didn't wake up until 7 which is practically unheard of). We ordered room service, and ate breakfast in bed; also from Sazerac, it was absolutely amazing.

We walked up and down Pike, but didn't actually go to the market. Both of us have been many, many a time and really had no interest in fighting the summer tourists on that (somewhat) sunny Seattle Saturday. We did a little shopping, and then made the nice long walk to the Space Needle and surrounding area.

We had every intention of taking the trip up the Space Needle but those darn summer tourists got the best of us and we decided not to wait in the line that WRAPPED AROUND THE ENTIRE AREA. And, it saved us 38 bucks. Thanks to the wonderful, golf ball sized blisters that had taken residence on my feet (Hold the scolding- I now realize I should have packed better shoes) we retreated to our hotel, with a brief stop for Pulled Pork Sandwiches and Sweet Potato fries for lunch, from, you guessed it. Sazerac. Not only was it totally convenient being attached to the hotel, we couldn't resist trying more things on their menu. They're food was AWESOME.

We then read and napped for a bit. We never, and I repeat NEVER get time for reading and naps. Especially together. Especially while snuggling. Especially while on a ridiculously comfortable 300-and-some-odd-dollars a night bed. Especially while looking out over a really pretty view of Seattle.

Okay, okay. I was only kidding. But wouldn't it be neat if that's what Seattle looked like?

We got up and dressed in time to go to our Hotel's 'social hour' where there was free wine sampling. We enjoyed a glass, and then headed down to The Pike Brewery, which was really, really neat.

Rob's all time favorite beer (okay, aside from Guinness) is brewed by them, and he had always wanted to visit. Upon our beer sampler, he actually found a new favorite. All I can tell you is that it was #5- I couldn't for the life of me tell you what the names were.

We made our way down to the waterfront to Elliot's Oyster House, which by the way, is "Where Seattle gets their Seafood." It came highly recommended to us by my dad and the entirely of the internet for the best Seafood joint in Seattle. I enjoyed Coconut Prawns with Plum Sauce (the first coconut prawns I have found that were actually better than the ones I was serviced in a tree house restaurant with a sand floor in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico- and I don't even like seafood) and a house salad, while Rob was served what appeared to be an entire crab on a plate. After, I must add, being adorned with a cute little bib.

When we were done, they brought over a bowl of the best creme brulee in existence, topped with a little candle. (Ahem. Where were the other TWENTY-NINE?) They accidentally left a desert menu, and because we are incredibly indecent human beings with zero self control, we ordered another desert to share. This time? Deep Fried Chocolate Truffles.

Hello? Is this thing on? I said Deep. Fried. Chocolate. Truffles.

By Sunday morning we pretty much couldn't button our pants. We were around 600 dollars poorer, and about 10 pounds heavier. Each.

After paying for parking (60 dollars for two nights. Whaaaat?) we headed back towards home. Even after only 48 hours we missed our wonderful, horrible terriers and ached for our own bed a little. We really do love being in our little rental house, in what seems like our own private section of the world in sweet little Wenatchee. We finished off the wonderfully romantic weekend with homemade carne asada and wine in our backyard. We are such homebodies.

And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Happy Birthday to Rob!

2009-06-17T08:33:00.001-07:00

Though it wasn't my birthday last Wednesday, I have realized something about getting older: time starts going faster and faster. I'm pretty sure we only got married last week, yet in a couple months' time it will have been a whole year!

But I'm probably not the one you should be talking to about getting old. Enter: Rob. Handsome gentleman, reddish-brown hair, 5'11'', 180lbs, and 30 years old. I repeat. Thirty. Years. Old.

Well a very happy birthday to you, old man! :)

He is actually getting a whole birthday month, and it isn't quite over yet. We kicked off the month with a trip to Spokane, met with some friends for dinner (Red Lobster wasn't worth the at least two hour wait, so we opted for Italian Kitchen, which comes in at a close second) and had a grand old time. (No pictures were taken as the restaurant was deemed to nice for pictures. Whaaat? I'm still trying to get over my sadness.)

Next stop was the 10th, his actual birthday, and we celebrated as just Mr. and Mrs. here in our quaint little home. We kicked off the day (before he had to leave for work) by giving him the card I had made him. A huge cut-out '30' with the front entirely covered with pictures from his entire lifespan, and the inside filled with the "30 Reasons I Love My 30-Year-Old Husband" (see below) His response? "Wow. That's a lot of writing."

While he was working, I decorated with streamers and a couple 'Happy Birthday' banners in a very my mom-esque style. For dinner we Rob had two whole pounds of King Crab Legs, (served on ~~real~~ silver platters) which I marinated in a wine/garlic/lemon concoction, and then roasted, which I am told turned out amazingly well.

Of course the night ended with an (if a may say so myself) amazing peanut butter icebox pie/cheesecake thing with crushed Oreo crust. (http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/06/another-pie/) It was so good, that we both accidental forgot to wait for him to blow out candles. I'm sure you can see the missing pieces in the pictures. Whoops! And yes, you silly, silly people. Of course I sang the love of my life "happy birthday" all by my lonesome. I totally wooed him, too.

This weekend we are going to Seattle to indulge ourselves in a very relaxing, romantic time at the Hotel Monaco. We have no distinct plans but to enjoy each other and the city. We plan on walking everywhere, have an entourage of restaurants we have to eat at (I know, have to, right? Like we are even trying to resist...) and just being with each other, on our first little trip alone since our honeymoon. And we do plan on having a blast, thankyouverymuch.

Finally, on the 3rd of July, bright and early in the morning, Rob's mom is generous enough to fly us down so we can visit and celebrate our countries freedom along with my elderly (he he) husbands big 3-0! I think it should be a fine way to end a birthday month!

Whew! Did you catch all that? Just in case you haven't already ready enough about my soon-to-be-wearing-depends-husband, I'll finish this post with the email I sent out to our friends and family. Yes it's sappy, no its not me sucking up, and yes it is absolutely, without-a-doubt, the 100% honest truth.

And without further adieu, 30 Things I Love About My 30-Year-Old Husband-

1.) He is a ferocious experimenter. Plenty have gone awfully awry, but quite a few are successful. I love him for it, but it also drives me nuts.

2.) He is a forgiver. Oh my is he ever. I've had my share and then some of his splendid forgiveness. He truly forgives and forgets. The kind of person we all should be.

3.) He is a fighter. The man doesn't give up. He fought through some rough childhood situations, overcoming plenty of odds. He's fought for friends, for jobs, for God, and Lord knows he has done is fair share of fighting for me. I love that I can know he will continue to fight- for me, for our family, for our marriage, for our children.

4.) He truly is a man's man. Of which I am eternally grateful because his 'man' jobs include taking out the trash, checking on strange noises, squishing the bugs, and making all the 'mean' calls in which you have to be a little stern to get what you need. I probably would have gotten married just to avoid having to make the 'mean' calls myself, but I've gotten a heck of a lot more than I bargained for. ;)

5.) He isn't a fan of television. Okay, okay, okay. So we watch a few shows via steaming them online, but he isn't a "I hold the remote and no one else touches it, and my backside never strays from the couch" kind of guy. Neither one of us can stand sitting in front of the TV for long.

6.) He is a mad tech genius. I kid you not the man can fix a computer thats been stung with viruses, thrown under a bus, drowned in a river and resembles nothing more than a wheezing, steaming rock.

7.) He is a walking dictionary. I actually have a love/hate relationship with this aspect of him. I love that I can ask him the spelling/definition/synonyms/antonyms of any word that ever existed and he can tell me accurately and instantly. I'm not so fond of him talking to me like I'm some rocket scientist who knows what he means when he says, "I'm sorry I have a weakness for sesquipedalian excess." (http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/1999/10/25.html) Okay, okay. So he's never said that. But he probably will.

8.) He has an amazing, active imagination. I will ask him to tell me a story, weather it be out of boredom, on a long drive, or trying to sleep, he comes up, instantly, with an entirely random, compelling,and quite elaborate story. Did I mention instantly? It expands beyond that too- he's the kind of guy who, when asked what we should do, comes up with things like "write a story, create a recipe, invent a new game, create a home video movie about ninjas, write a five-year plan, take dancing lessons, or join some kind of club" when I'm like, "uhhh...we could watch a movie?"

9.) He puts up with me. He puts up with my obsessive picture-taking; my never-ending music-listening; my baby clothes buying; my awful, repetitive guitar playing; my scrapbook mess-making, my bland food-likes, my outside water fight desires, my crazy, intimidating, daunting ideas, and all of my faults that I'm not brave enough to spell out. Out of frustration I once asked him, "Why do I put up with you?" to which he quickly responded, "Because I put up with you." So very, very true.

10.) He is so sweet. He is a kind of sweet that I didn't even know existed until I met him.

11.) He will always be a kid at heart. And you know what? Life is too short to get old. So we'll play silly games and we'll sing made up songs and you can point and laugh at us, but I can guarantee you we are having more fun. :)

12.) He is not afraid to admit his mistakes. He apologizes no later than .34 seconds after he realizes he was wrong.

13.) He loves my family...or he is a really good faker. We've all heard the in-law horror stories. Since I think my family's pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread, I am eternally thankful the two get along and can actually have an honest good time.

14.) He is so much more than I deserve. And, for some crazy reason, he will tell you the exact same thing about me.

15.) He is a family man, but a blood-schmud kind of man. Friends and family, and family are friends. And if you're locked under one of those categories for him, you can practically consider yourself set. He would do anything for any one of us.

16.) He set aside his manhood and read the Twilight Saga just because I liked it so much. (If you catch him in the right mood he will admit to actually enjoying it.) And then he even pretended to be a vampire.

17.) He brings me 'just because' gifts. I am not a needy girl, but it still makes me feel like a princess.

18.) He is a man strong in his faith. He believes with every ounce of his being, and does his humanly best to live as such.

19.) He wrote (and had illustrated) a book. Not just any book, though. A children's book. A children's book that was written for our first child, and dedicated to me with a signed "I'll love you forever." Um, hello? How can you NOT love this man? He wrote a book for our unborn child? How lucky am I?

20,) He is witty. He isn't afraid to be goofy and he absolutely cracks me up.

21.) He knows the most random facts. Ever. And if I knew anything about anything I would probably be able to remember one to reference, but you will just have to take my word for it.

22.) He is a hard worker. He is a strong and ethical and little-complaining worker. He leaves the house by 5:30 in the morning, drives all over the map, and depending on how the day goes, he gets home anywhere between 5PM and 9PM. And he complains way less than I do about it.

23.) He once told me, while we were out in the middle of nowhere, that, and I quote, "If our country keeps spiraling downwards and we ever enter another depression, you realize I will do whatever it takes for us to make it? I don't care what it is, but I do know we will be okay." I'm not so sure that will ever need to be, but just the fact that he thought it enough to vocalize makes me love him even more.

24.) He likes when I pick out his outfits. I'm fairly certain it is just because it is easier than him trying to figure out if a brown polo and brown shorts match (it doesn't, sweetie) but he pretends he likes it just because I do.

25.) For Christmas he put together a huge room-divider picture frame containing only pictures from our honeymoon. He worked so long and hard finding which pictures should go in which slot, ordering the right size, only to realize that all of the 8X10's he had printed were horizontal when they needed to be vertical. So when he gave it to me he said, "we get to fix it together!" But I am really quite happy with my side-ways pictures, thankyouverymuch.

26.) We never run out of things to talk about. We'll put it this way; Rob and I once ran up a $1000 phone bill (just on my side) in one month- you can ask my parents. And, to this day, we've still never had an issue of finding things to talk about. There is rarely a silent moment in this household.

27.) He introduced me to Peggle. Whats that? You've never heard of Peggle? Oh, well, I apologize upfront for the inconvenience to the rest of your life as you obsess over this game.http://www.popcap.com/games/peggle

28.) He gives a mean back rub. And I am spoiled with it nightly. Every. Single. Night. Oh how I love his strong hands laced with lavender baby oil. :)

29.) He loves me. And I really can't figure out quite why he adores me, but he does. And he shows it. And I have no right to ever, ever complain about him not showing his feelings, or about him not being sensitive to mine because he does and he is. My old neighbor had a group of girls come over for wine and cheese party's every now and then. Rob (as the only guy) went twice and was his typical charming, helpful, friendly, funny, humble self. Every time after that those girls would always ask, "Where is my Rob? Why haven't I found him yet?" I am so, so very glad and blessed to have found MY Rob.

30.) He is Rob. He is the one and only- no one else even comes close. He is my best friend, my accountability partner, the love of my life, my comedian, my caretaker, my confidant, my dream chaser, my shoulder to cry on, my joy to laugh with, my hand to hold, and the best thing that has happened to me. It makes the world a better place just knowing that he's here to share it with me. I consider it a privilege to be called his wife.

Hapy Easter!

2009-04-09T15:27:00.000-07:00

I don't have too many words to say, because this video pretty much says it all. It is kind of long (6 minutes) but you really should watch it- it is simply amazing. It'll bring you to tears. The sacrifices this man made for us are overwhelming.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Easter surrounded by family and friends. We are heading over to Lakewood to celebrate with my whole family- something we haven't always done for Easter but I am very glad for because we haven't seen much of eachother lately.

Take care and God bless.

(The song is New Again by Brad Paisley and Sara Evans. Lyrics below.)

Mother, do not cry for me

All of this is exactly how it's supposed to be

I'm right here, can you hear my voice?

My life, my love, my Lord, my baby boy

As they nail me to this tree

Just know the Father waits for me

God how can this be your will

To have your son, and my son, killed

Whatever happens, whatever you see

Whatever your eyes tell you has become of me

This is not, it's not the end

I am making all things new again

I remember when you were born

In that manger where I first held you in my arms

So many miracles, and lives you've changed

And this world repays you how? With all this pain.

And as they nail me to this tree

Just know the Father waits for me

God how can this be your will

To have your son, and my son, killed

Whatever happens (whatever happens)

Whatever you see (I don't want to see)

Whatever your eyes tell you has become of me

This is not (tell me it's not)

It's not the end, I am making all things new again

Whatever happens, whatever you see

Whatever your eyes tell you has become of me

This is not, its not the end

I am making all things new again

Wait...we're doing what?

2009-03-06T09:23:00.000-08:00

There are many days throughout the week where my news hungry, podcast listening, somewhat nerdy (though undeniably adorably so) sweet, sweet husband leaves up an article or two on my computer that he thinks I will find interesting. Interesting usually meaning passion evoking. When things just strike the right (or wrong, for that matter) chord, I can't help but promulgate my opinion.

This is was what happened to my poor, unsuspecting brain this morning.

This whole housing bill thing just gives me the shivers. And not the good kind. Rob and I want nothing more right now than to be able to buy a house. It is our number one goal at the moment and we are budgeting and cutting and sacrificing and researching and saving, saving, saving so we will be able to do so. We know we will not take a house loan with a morgage over 1/3 of our monthly income. We know it will be tempting; and we know it would be ridiculously stupid to do so.

I can agree, to some very small extent, that part of the blame for this entire 'morgage crisis' lays in the hands of the banks, who greedily gave loans far and above the means of many people and familes. But I can also say without a shadow of a doubt that nearly every single bit of the blame, if not all of it, falls in the hands of the people who stupidly decided to bite off more than they can chew.

It all comes down to personal responsibilty, folks. Just because we are the land of the free doesn't mean we are a massive plot of land filled with idiots who do whatever the heck they want just because they can. It also doesn't mean that said idiots preforming said actions will not have to face any consequences because our knight-in-shining armor of a government will bail us out. Or does it?

In the article Rob left up for me this morning I read this quote. Then I stopped, and reread it. Then I copied and pasted it into a blog because it was so good/true/viable/pertinant to everything thats been going on lately- "This legislation punishes the successful, it taxes the responsible, and it holds no one accountable." (said by Rep. Lamar Smith of Texas, the senior Republican on the Judiciary Committee.) I just wanted to throw up my hands, and shout EXACTLY. This is EXACTLY my issue with our government. This is EXACTLY why I believe America is heading in a very wrong direction. This is EXACTLY what I mean when I say personal responsibility is practically non existant anymore. Thank you, Mr. Smith of Texas. Thank you for saying EXACTLY what I wanted to in words far better than I could have chosen.

So, way to go government. You are in the process of successfuly showing the people of America that it is okay to be irrisponsible. That, "you know what? We'll just remove the rock and hardplace you've wedged yourself between." Nicely done. Touche'.

And a very big congratulations goes out to all the irrisponsible people. I mean, way to swing getting a house way above your means for practically free now. You can thank me, and the rest of the responsible tax payers later.

For now, I'll just continue paying my taxes and sitting comfortably in my cheap little rental house. :)

"Everything is Amazing and No One is Happy."

2009-03-04T11:19:00.001-08:00

I've never been a fan of my generation. Quite frankly, I'm disgusted with it. We are seriously a massive group of over-privileged, under-appreciative, spoiled rotten, "The World Owe's Me Everything", woe is me, whiners. I don't know what could have possibly gone wrong to cause this colossal group of 20ish and younger brats to throw self responsibility out the window and sit back while the rest of the world hands them everything they "deserve".

If I've learned one thing in my life it is that no one owes me anything. In fact, I am the debtor WAY more than the creditor. I owe way more than I will ever be able to give (we're not talking money here, folks) and I'll be damned if I don't live like it. I am not the top dog, the bee's knees, the cat's meow, and I am most definitely not going to pretend that I am.

Dear My Generation,

Get over yourself.

Love, Kristin.

I saw this clip whilst perusing the Internet and it made me laugh my guts out. It isn't quite pinpointing my lame generation, rather how spoiled and 'holier than thou' people are these days. You should watch it. It is totally worth the 4 minutes.

(On cell phones)..."Give it a second! Its going to space! Can you give it a second to get back from space?" Hahaha. I love it.

Alright, folks. Thats my random tangent for the time being. Take care.

Appreciate life. And remember, no one owes you anything. :)

We're Alive!

2009-02-19T15:23:00.000-08:00

So I am minding my own business, folding laundry, forgetting to shower and obsessing over Photoshop when a little birdie came by and informed me I have this thing called a blog that I unofficially vowed to keep up. Slightly paranoid about a talking bird, I obliged to look into it and realized its been oh so very long since our last post in which we apologized for it being oh so very long since our last post. Does that make sense? Good.

So here I am, yet again, needing to catch up on our life's story, post much past-due pictures, and even older events. I have decided, however, to pretend I'm caught up and start anew. Eventually I will get this thing down pat and throw up one or two of the million of pictures I snap each week, write a couple words, a nice parting sentence and maintain my unwritten promise to the blogging world to do my part. Eventually.

What a nice word. Eventually. No deadlines, no promises. Eventually I will have thousands of extra dollars in the bank just waiting for that rainy day. Eventually Rob won't have to remind me that we are t-minus -3 days in need of clean socks. Eventually I will know every setting on my camera and use them, perfectly, without thought. Eventually I will finish those two online classes that I am kindly attemtping to will out of existence. Eventually I will play the guitar like a pro. Eventually we will get Rob's car cleaned up, the credit cards payed off, and the dryer won't make that awful chunk-chink-chunk sound for the entire duration of the cycle. But now? Now I will continue obsessing with Photoshop, reading The Pioneer Woman a little too frequently and pretending that the sock drawer is full.

Oh. And now I'll post some sweet Valentine's pictures of me and my sweet lover from -gasp- Valentine's Day!

We should begin by saying our Valentine's was really spread out due to our being spoiled by family. My parents brought us over a really sweet basket with our wedding wine, a cozy heart blanket, and all of the tasty ingredients for a yummy Italian dinner, and cash for a movie. Then my grandparents sent us nice Valentine's wishes and a gift card for Red Robin which we thoroughly enjoyed Friday night. And one of my grandma's sent over some cash in a sweet card in which we used to purchase some of our Valentine's ingredients. Aren't we ridiculously spoiled? Thanks for all the love, everyone!

We had a royally fun weekend. It would have been an amazingly great weekend Valentine's or not simply because Rob had a short day Friday, then the weekend, and Monday was a holiday! A nearly four day weekend?!?! What is that that you speak of? We were so excited to not shower, dress, brush our hair, answer our phones or do anything but sit on our butts and enjoy the presence of each other and the lack of anything to do.

Oh. And he woke me up to breakfast. Wasn't quite breakfast in bed but it was darn close. What a sweet, sweet man I have.

This weekend was the longest amount of time he had off since our wedding. Er, well, would have had off if he hadn't had to answer Boyd's beckoning call on Saturday. On Valentine's. Three times.

Luckily my man is about the most patient, flexible man out there and kept his calm, talked the Ellensburg customer (You know the one in Ellensburg? You know that city 150 miles away? From me? On my first Valentine's day with my husband? On a Saturday? Yeah...that one) into waiting until Tuesday, quickly fixed the issue out in Leavenworth (still 25 miles away) and on the way back stopped and dropped off coffee at the third needy place.

My Momma would be proud that I am able to look at the bright side and say it turned out alright. Even though he was gone for almost two hours, it was in the middle of the day in which I took the time to wrap his present, set the table, and try my hardest to control my excitement knowing I got to see him come in the door, our door, to me. (There is just something about watching him come home to me...)

Once my knight in shining armor returned home to me, we began the rest of our Valentine's fun. We started off with Lemon Drops which was a whole new world to me. And oh what a fun and tasty world it is. Seriously, folks. You have got to give Lemon Drops a fair chance to please your taste buds. They deserve it just as much as your favored margarita or cosmopolitan or whatever it is people drink these days.

Note: Technically, a Lemon Drop is where you take a shot of really cold Vodka, and follow it by sucking on a slice of lemon that has been dipped in sugar (see right). I tried to make my own Lemon Drop Martini (seen left) and while it was tasty, it just wasn't quite the same.

We continued our glorious nothingness whilst playing a game, doing Lemon Drops and staring at each other wondering how in the heck it had already been six months since we said "I do" all the while wondering how in the heck it had only been six months since we said "I do."

Its a rough, confusing life we lead. :)

For dinner we brought out the full meal deal (literally) and began with a delicious, mouth watering, seriously I could only eat it for the rest of my life, Baked Pecan and Honey Crusted Brei served with none other than raspberry jam and whole grain crackers. Mmm...

(Warning: No peoples lost weight in the making of this Valentine's Day.)

We entirely bypassed our planned salad. I guess we figured we were going so far overboard, why taint it with lettuce and other healthy articles? We then had T-Bone steaks covered in homemade roasted garlic, bacon, and various spices, Homemade Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and pan fried asparagus. Can you say yum? Its a good thing we were only kissing each other that night because we most assuredly had garlic on our breath.

We meant to finish off the night with our good friends recipe for "Better Than Anything* Cake" (*censored name) but a few Lemon Drops in and two extremely full bellies later, we waited to make the cake until the next day. Which is why I don't have a picture of it. Which is probably a good thing. You see, this cake is a German chocolate cake, which is taken freshly baked out of the oven, holes are punched all over, sweetened condensed milk is poured on top, then covered in caramel, whipped cream and heath bar chunks. Simply said, it is known to cause Diabetic shock merely by looking at it. (We cheated and used Oreos instead of heath bar and oh my goodness was it delicious.)

Eating in was so much more fun for us than getting all gussied up and going out to a crowded restaurant, dishing out a hundred bucks and calling it a night. Oh how I love our hermit crab lifestyle.

The thing about Valentine's Day is this; it is not the only day to pour love out on each other. It isn't the only day to buy your love gifts, to go all out on a fancy four course meal at home, to clean the house, or surprise your one and only with breakfast. It isn't the only day to kiss every three minutes, or write a sweet card. It is a wonderful, much needed reminder, however, to spoil your love. To tell them they still mean the world to you, that you still get the excited jitters when they come home, and to take time from your busy lives to focus just on each other.

And that, my friends, is exactly what we did.

Wedding Video

2009-01-08T20:52:00.001-08:00

Oh why hello!

We will soon post some much long over due pictures, but for now here is a little something from our wedding.

We took some home videos from our wedding that a friend filmed for us and put it together in a nice, easy to watch 4.5 minute clip. Of course, I spent hours trying to figure out how to make it the best quality and when it was finally where I was happy with it, I uploaded it to Youtube, which proceeded to make it look absolutely awful. But as for now, I will smile and deal with it because the last thing I want to do right now is research video quality AGAIN.

So just don't put it into fullscreen and you may be able to get a nice glimpse of our wedding. We had such a blast and are still amazed by our wonderful support group that all came out to celebrate with us. Albeit a bit fuzzy, we are so glad to have this 4 minute piece of one of the best days of our lives.

If any one wants a copy, the DVD version looks much, much better and we can definitely get you one. Parents and grandparents need not inquire- you will have one on the way shortly.

Enjoy.

Welcome the newest member of our family!

2008-12-27T22:53:00.000-08:00

Hello Folks, this is Rob posting for a change!

Kristin and I celebrated our own private little Christmas on Christmas day, which was wonderful (I love my wife more then anything!), but then her family came over for the weekend to have a Christmas with them, and boy was it fun! We got to spend some good ole quality time together, and we even went and saw the movie "Marley and Me", which I can tell you is just as moving as the book, and very well done.

In any case Kristin's parents had brought over a bunch of presents for us all to open, along with the disclaimer that this year was strangely over-abundant because they sold their house. After we had opened all the wonderful things they had brought us, they looked askance at each other with quotes like "I think we forgot one..." and "Isn't there one missing?" upon which they made us close our eyes and went out to their car to get something. When they came in this was sitting in front of us.So welcome the newest member of our family, 32LG30, we will make sure he is well cared for!

I know I shouldn't, but...

2008-12-23T23:10:00.000-08:00

I really cannot help myself. Baylee is too darn cute (and getting very good at her 'stay' command...) and much too willing for me to stop. She just sits there and looks so happy that- I mean, is it really that much of a crime to plop a hat on her head and make a cute picture out of it? I think not.

See for yourself.

First, she started out very happy with her new Santa hat (that she tried to eat about 30 seconds prior.)

She struck a few poses, looking all purdy for the camera. Still pretty content with the hat, though it was tough to get a picture without her trying to eat the ball she realized was firmly attached to the end.

It isn't long before she begins to tire of the hat.

"...Oh what joy does she get from such torment?"

Then she pulls the, "Fine, I'll just sit here and look sad so your pictures aren't as cute anymore" look and she wins. I tell her to go.

Relieved, she tastes freedom and shakes free of that awful hat.

Man, I love that dog. I can't even imagine how much I'm going to love my own kid if I can feel this much for a furry, four legged lick monster. And, to show that I also humiliate myself, and to give Bella (who hates it immesely) a little bit of shutter time, I shall throw in this one for good measure. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Christmas Time!

2008-12-22T00:40:00.000-08:00

I suppose it is time for an update! Winter is in full swing! So far, Rob and I have been having a blast. We have gotten quite a bit of snow (not nearly as much as our friends in Spokane who are pretty much stuck inside) but it is a good amount to where everything is nice and white but not too much to where it hinders our ability to do anything. Although, and I think Rob would agree, it is getting a little tiresome to have to shovel the sidewalks 2,3,4 times a day.

With just a few days to go, we are ready and rearing for Christmas! Sadly enough, we will not be able to go to Lakewood and take part in my family's Christmas traditions. Rob's family is pretty much all in California, and while it is slightly sad that we will not be in the middle of family gatherings, there is plenty to be said about getting to spend our very first Christmas together, alone with our pups, in our own little house. My family is driving over on the day after Christmas and will spend the weekend with us so we will still get some fun family time. Needless to say, we are very looking forward to all of it.

We set off December with a bang and on the first (my birthday) we went out and got a tree, (real, of course) put lights up on the house, and got out the (few) Christmas decorations and made our house feel a little more like Christmas!

(These stockings were so easy to make it was almost like cheating. I borrowed an idea from Martha Stewart of all people, and went to Goodwill, found cool, old sweaters, and made them into stockings. We are really excited with how they turned out.)

Quite a few years ago, I got this dancing/singing snowman from my Grandma. Over the years, he has become a family favorite. This year, however, Baylee decided she absolutely HATES- and I mean loathes- Mr. Dancing Snowman. I don't know if she is jealous of his moves or what, but she wants nothing more than to take him down.

I spent much of last week baking all sorts of cookies that we really aren't too sure what to do with. I will post one of my favorite recipes sometime this week; it is definitely one to use.

The dogs aren't too sure of the snow. For awhile, they would run outside to use the bathroom and hide under the deck until I bribed them out with treats. They still aren't too fond of tromping around in it, but Baylee has taken it upon herself to make sure she eats each and every last flake until it is gone. There is enough snow outside now, that if they don't jump through it, they sink and just their heads show. They don't think that is nearly as funny as we do.

Today while we were out shoveling the sidewalks for the third time, I (in my picture obsession) decided it would be a great time to get some good family photos. I set up the camera on the hood of the Jeep on top of a cardboard box, pressed the self timer, and ran as quickly as I could without slipping in the snow and ice and falling flat on my face. Due to the harsh weather conditions, I only took two (compared to my typical 2-3 hundred) and considered myself lucky to even get that. This was the best of the two, (considering our heads were entirely cut off in the other) but still not all that great. (Note to Santa: I would really appreciate the remote and tripod for my Nikon that's on my list...)

Luckily our neighbor was pained in watching our failed attempts at self portraits, and offered to snap a picture for us. She works at the humane society and photographs the dogs for adoption, so using some very interesting noises, she actually got both the dogs to look at the camera and it turned out to be a pretty darn good shot. Thanks neighbor!

That has been our December thus far. Hopefully we won't get too much more snow than what we have been getting because I feel sick to my stomach to think of Rob driving all over the place in it. The man drives right around 1100 miles a week and that is about 1099 miles too many in this weather for my liking.

(Bella was extremely sad about taking a Christmas portrait. Baylee was, well, Baylee...she doesn't really care what you do to her.)

We hope you all have as merry of a Christmas as we are having and a really happy new year. We sent out Christmas cards last week, so hopefully you all enjoyed our little poem. :) We sure had fun writing it.

Happy Birthday To Me!!

2008-12-01T23:45:00.000-08:00

Today was a great day. It would have been a great day birthday or not, due to the fact that my loving husband busted his butt so he could get home early and we got to spend the majority of the day together. We got out all of our Christmas decorations, went and got our tree (live, of course...I refuse to do fake) and put up lights on our house! It was so great being able to do all of these typical Christmas traditions, together, for the first time, as our own little family unit. We loved it. (Of course, typical me had to stop Rob constantly for pictures of which I will post soon.)

We then came inside, he made me lasagna and garlic bread, we watched a few episodes of The Office (yay for Netflix streaming!) had super-duper brownie sundaes, and he headed off to bed while I stayed up to post cute pictures of me from when I was a young tot. ;) Really, though, we had a blast.

I love that we didn't feel the need to go all out on my birthday. Not only are we trying to stick to a budget, it is still so neat for us to get to be married and do everything together that spending the day putting up Christmas decorations and just being together is about the best thing I could have thought of doing on my birthday. Of course he was extra sweet, too, even going so far as to let me backseat drive without repercussion. :)

When I was going through some pictures to try and find some for my last post (Wow! Two in a day, crazy, I know...) I found all sorts of pictures from my childhood. I thought they were too cute to pass up and since its my birthday and all, and I was already using our obnoxiously loud scanner, I figured I'd post a few up here to share.

There really isn't anything to not be happy about when you've got a duck like this one.

Yes, I have been baby obsessed from day one...

When my parents let me dress myself I would do so in a manner I called "Wacky-Wild-Koolaid-Style" which looked something like this...

We really were that cool.

I have quite the cheesy grin, if you haven't noticed yet.

Two cases in point: wacky-wild dressing as well as cheesy grin.

Our boy cats' kittens. Even the vet said he was a boy. However, biology doesn't lie and if you give birth to five children all in an hours' time, my bet is you're female.

Who doesn't go riding around on elephants every now and then?

This is what Texas does to you...

Holy cow. Look at that haircut! Product of being born and raised in the 80s/90s I suppose...

The haircuts just keep getting worse...

Well there you have it. My life in a nutshell. So happy birthday to me. Who knows what kinds of pictures I'll have to post next year...

Happy Thanksgiving! It may be late, but I am still just as thankful...

2008-12-01T22:25:00.000-08:00

While this is a little overdue, I do not believe it is ever too late to express your gratitude for all of the wonderful blessings in your life. Rob and I had a great Thanksgiving here in our little home in Wenatchee with my family and Grandma Barb. We loved hosting our first Thanksgiving and really just had a blast. I hope your Thanksgiving was as surrounded with family and fun as mine was, and that you are as full of thanks as I am.

I am one ridiculously blessed kid. I almost feel guilty for the immeasurable blessings that have been bestowed upon me since that one early evening in 1986 (22 years ago to the day, actually) when I arrived into this world, naked, screaming and in tip-top, perfect health.

God must have been having an amazingly great day when he decided that mediocre me deserved the family he allowed me to be born into.

He gave me a father who is an amazing man; strong but gentle, focused but silly. A man who works so hard for his family and loves them beyond all measure. A man who isn't afraid to bow down and worship our God, who isn't afraid to protect his family at any cost, a man who isn't afraid to admit his own weaknesses, and a man who gives to others without so much as a second thought.

God continued to smile down on me, before I was even a twinkle in my parents eyes, when he gave this sweet, sweet angle of a woman to my father, who became his wife, who, in turn, became my mother. There is no exaggeration in my words when I say there isn't a mother better than my own. She loves without restraint and she gives of herself with no limit. She too, is unashamed to love our God. With her contagious good moods and her amazing talents and creativity, these two, my mom and dad, make an amazing pair.

God prepared the perfect place for me, right smack in the middle between an incredibly gifted and perfectly stubborn older sister who would show me many of the ways of the world, and followed with the sweetest, most honest, though respectively obnoxious, little sister who continually brings innocence to our life. The former has an amazing talent of standing up for what she believes that we really could all learn a bit from. She isn't afraid of what people might think, she isn't afraid to be wrong and she certainly isn't afraid to upset anyone with said beliefs. The latter, has this amazingly concrete faith that she has had from day one. She knows that in all aspects she will be taken care of in life and therefore has gone at living said life with gusto.

As if my immediate little family isn't more than one can dare ask for, our little flock is surrounded by some of the most loving, caring and downright good people we get the privilege of calling relatives. We certainly aren't flawless, we may have a few black sheep or two, but when it comes right down to it we are rock solid, full of love and life and would do anything for anyone of us. My extended family is not big, but it is most definitely all that I need and more. My grandparents, yes ALL of them, are seriously some of the most giving people I know. I can think of 110 examples just within this last year in which they have sacrificed things solely for my purpose of happiness, need or comfort. I know without a shadow of a doubt I am loved by them, and none of us are afraid to say it.

I make friends with fascinating people who for some reason or another find me someone they want to enjoy life with and we make more great memories than one deserves. We find ways, even in the murky days of high school, to have the most fun of times while sticking to our guns and not turning our backs on our morals. We have our differences but embrace them rather that letting them be the wedge that shoves us apart. I love these people like they were born into my family. I still know I can count on them for anything, at anytime and hope beyond all hope that they know they can count on me for the same.

So here I am, living an overly blessed life. My parents are still giddy, head-over-heals in love with one another, I have been given my faith in a loving God from day one, I have great, nay, amazing parents, friends, siblings, grandparents, aunts, cousins... like I said, I am one blessed child. I have been given opportunities to live in different areas, always have more than enough food, clothes and shelter, and have had so many marvelous experiences presented to me in such a way that I can enjoy and learn from them. I am loved by more people than I can shake a stick at and, really, haven't a worry in the world.

Then, amidst probably the lowest point in my life, when I was full of teenage angst and had made up my mind that everyone was out to get me, while I did some not-so-great things (mind you, this is the lowest point in my life) out of my shame and misery comes my knight in shining armor. I can call him husband now, but my then 'boyfriend' of sorts stuck with me through the hell I drug him through for no better reason than my own entertainment. I would consider myself beyond my rightful blessings had I been born in a cardboard box and left to fend for myself had Rob still stuck with me, still loved me, and heck- still wanted to be with me.

I don't know why I deserve the man who I call my husband. The truth is, I probably don't. He is the kindest, most trusting and honest person I know. He is the best of everything from everyone I know. He is a hard worker like my father, he gives of himself to no end like my mother, he stubbornly stands up for his beliefs (and me) like my older sister and he loves his Lord and God unconditionally like my little sister. He would give his last penny to a perfect stranger in need like my grandparents, and for some reason unbeknownst to me he loves me for me, like all of my friends and family.

Our entire relationship, from day one, has been a roller coaster, but entirely guided and planned. There is no way God's hand isn't in on this, because the story is entirely unbelievable, yet 100% true. I have been given this incredible man that I get the privilege of sharing a life, a family and a faith with. I cannot express enough words of thanks for everything (namely, everyone) I have been given in this life. God is so gracious.

I write this in my cute little house, listening to the subtle snores of my wonderful husband, sitting next to my sweet, sweet puppy, belly full, toasty warm, and perfectly taken care of in every single aspect of my life. And all I can think about is that sweet little girl on my refrigerator who is thousands of miles away, living in who-knows-what kind of house, who hasn't eaten a meal in who-knows-how long, and has a greater need for health care than anyone I know, and has the least chance of receiving it. This little girl is Verina, an 8 year old who lives in Malawi, Africa. My parents decided to sponsor a child under each of our names (my siblings and me) in order to give more. They gave us all a picture and the name of our sponsored child at Thanksgiving, with the promise to send their monthly money every single month until the children are grown adults.

I cannot stand to think of how blessed I am, how much I have, while there are so many millions of people who don't even have their basic needs met. So this Thanksgiving, my sincere 'thanks' for everything in my life comes with a prayer. A prayer for all of the people of the world who either don't have food, shelter or family, as well as those who do not have faith in the one true God, who gives, and loves, and who has a plan for everyone in this wild, crazy life.

What are you thankful for this year? Make sure you really consider all of the blessings, the true blessings, in your life. I have so many, I have completely lost count.

My Sweet, Sweet Pup

2008-11-12T22:09:00.000-08:00

I know I am probably way too sentimental and overly in love with my wonderful, terrible terrier, but my sweet little pup turned two today. We didn't go too overboard, but we did buy them some nice wet food (a big treat since they only get dry) and as funny as it sounds, we also gave her one of her toys back. You see, Baylee obsesses over toys to the point that we have to hide them. There is no suitable hiding place in the house because she smells it out and whines and whines until we retrieve it, that is, except for the freezer. So we have a freezer full of dog toys. Needless to say, she was thrilled.

It is also a little more than just Baylee. It is nearly impossible to believe that two years have passed. About the time Baylee was born was about the time everyone realized Rob was around to stay. But holy cow, two years? I can honestly say they have been the most life altering years of my life thus far.

While I went from this to this...

Baylee went from this, to this...

Pretty big changes, eh?

I don't have too much more for you tonight. But, since I am feeling all sentimental, I shall leave you with an entourage of pictures of my sweet, sweet little pup.

I cannot believe she was that little!

Right after birth, and one week later in the same bowl. Look how quickly she grew!

I go to bed later than Rob, most nights. He is a softy, and lets them sleep in the bed until I come in. This was too cute to not risk waking Rob up and take a picture of. Of course, Rob didn't wake, but Baylee did.

This was our small birthday celebration.

They thoroughly enjoyed their yummy food.

And she couldn't get enough of her toy.

She even had to sleep with it, once she passed out.

Political Rambling...feel free to ignore.

2008-11-07T15:48:00.000-08:00

It pretty much goes without saying that I am disappointed with the outcome of this election. I truly hoped the people of America would look deep inside themselves and really vote for morals, values, and basically for what this country was founded upon. I am so sick of watching our country turn into something that is afraid to offend anyone with what is right and what is wrong. I can hardly stand sitting here watching my beloved America turn into pile of lack of self responsibility. Of, do whatever you want and face no consequences. Of, don't worry about taking care of yourself and family, we'll do it for you. I'm 21 short years old, and I realize that our nation is on a fairly short spiral that is dwindling down to hell.

Shortly before the election, I posted things on Facebook and Myspace and even here on the blog saying things like, "Remember to vote! Some issues are more important than others, and I choose life", and things of the like. Then, shortly after the outcome of our election I posted things such as "Kristin is praying for the nation she loved. Lord knows we'll need it." or "Kristin and Rob are saying goodbye to the America they love", etc. I got bombarded with questions like, "how can you vote for a candidate based on one issue?" and "why do you believe you have to say goodbye to America?" Well, my beloved friends, some issues are more important than others. If it came down to it, I would probably side with whomever believed abortion was wrong simply because I am so firm in my belief that it is, and I cannot, and will not, vote for someone who plans on making it as legal as possible. However, luck was with me and the man who believed abortion is wrong also held many, many other policies and beliefs that I agreed with.

Please let me begin with the fact that I am 100% no where near racist. I have friends of all different skin colors and nationalities. I grew up in a school system where being white was nearly the minority. I embrace different backgrounds and races and find the varying histories, cultures, beliefs and lifestyles extremely interesting and amazing. I love the fact that America exists because of all of the numerous nationalities coming here for the betterment of themselves and the future of their families. One of the biggest reasons I believe in creation is because of the amazing differences within our one species. We are so much the same and so much different all at once.

Now, keeping all of this in mind, I feel that Barack was nominated to be our president, in large part, due to the color of his skin. It worked like reverse racism, which to me, is still racism. There was around a 20 percent increase in black voters this election, and Obama scored 95% of those votes. Now, Obama did win by a landslide while considering electoral votes (which, I know, it is how our country runs our elections...) but he was barely ahead in the popular vote (which is every single vote counted.) Since the vast majority of black people reside in well-populated states (thus states with more electoral votes) many of which are swing states; well, you can see where I am going with this. I feel that people were more attracted to his race than his policies and beliefs. I have a really interesting audio clip if you would like to hear it. Howard Stern went into New York and asked numerous different black people who they were voting for, all of whom said Obama. He then attributed aspects of McCain to Obama, and asked their view points on them. For example, one question he asked was "Are you voting for Obama because of his policy of pro-life or how he believes we need to keep the troops in Iraq until the job is done?" only to be answered with 'both.' They even asked if they liked Obama's choice of vice president as Sara Palin, and they said they did. I mean, seriously, come on.

Now, all race things aside, I understand you cannot vote for a candidate simply based on one policy, but the abortion issue is one that is probably the most important to me. For God sakes, the man voted with the side of 'neonaticide', meaning the killing of an infant after it was born alive. In the specific case, the woman had gone to an abortion clinic at 30ish weeks pregnant, the abortion had failed and the baby was born alive. Since this baby was destined to be aborted, they made no attempt to keep it alive and left it for dead. I cannot mark a ballot promising my support for any person who would condone that.

You wouldn't even have to go that far to be considered incredibly wrong in my book. Abortion, at any point in the pregnancy, is WRONG. It is already determined what the baby, the human, inside you will have for hair color, eye color, height; the child already has everything it needs to grow into the man or woman he or she will become. There is a great chance the heart is beating by the time you find out you are pregnant. I could care less if this baby was conceived at an inconvenient time; you can't kill you boss for scheduling an inconvenient meeting. I don't care if this baby was created, causing an obnoxious pregnancy. You can't kill an obnoxious neighbor. Why did we decide as a nation that it is okay to kill the most innocent, the most fragile, the most pure and decent human beings that exist?

Every time I have asked someone why they believe the woman has a right to choose, they always throw in some sob story about a baby who would come into the world in a horrible, abusive household and would most likely be born addicted to drugs, yata, yata, yata. Here's the deal, folks. For starters, this is a rare case scenario. For the most part, abortions take place simply as a form of birth control. Second of all, do we go out and kill all of the children that are already living in abusive, drug-filled homes? Um, no. Third, and perhaps most important to my heart, is I have a person who is extremely close to me (I will protect the identity simply for their sake of feelings) who was born to parents whom were both on drugs all through the pregnancy and childhood of this person. This person was abused and neglected throughout the majority of the beginning of their life, and I can say with the utmost confidence, that this person has become an amazing, intelligent, successful, wonderful human being. And the last thing I would ever want to imagine is a world in which they didn't exist.

Now, because people harass me about my unfailing pro-life belief, I should let you know that another big issue of mine is the War on Terrorism. I believe we are doing wonders over there and have MANY friends who have served one or two terms in Iraq and Afghanistan, all of whom see the changes and believe that we are doing the right thing. Believe me, I would love to see our troops coming home. To see every man and woman out there being able to come back, safe and sound, to the country they love and fight for, to their families, to their homes. I cannot wait until this can happen. But we cannot bring our troops home as a surrender. I will laugh and shout and cheer and cry when we bring our troops home in victory. To do anything else, will only hinder our attempts, and nearly make all those who have sacrificed their lives to have done so in vain. To pull out now would, not only be nearly impossibly strategic wise, but incredibly dumb. We would leave these nations in utter chaos as they are trying to rebuild their governments and we would look like failures, giving up and surrendering. It really says something to me, when terrorists are pulling for a certain candidate.

I also believe we need to stop relying on nations that hate us for our oil. I believe free health care is absurd; we have a neighboring country that proves it doesn't work. Not only that, but there are already programs for those in need. I worked at a hospital for years; we couldn't turn down someone who really needed medical attention simply because lack of health insurance. It is something like (and don't quote me on these numbers) nearly 10% of all hospital patients are homeless. Obviously, they don't have health insurance and are still cared for as anyone with a tip-top health care plan. I could go on and on about the issues I believe and don't believe.

I truly believe that McCain would have had it in the bag, had the economy not taken a downward spiral mere weeks before the election. Since republicans are in office now, (and already not favored) even though McCain is not very far right at all, the whole party was blamed and many decided to swing their vote because of it. Interestingly enough, Obama really has no plan to fix the economy. Distribution of wealth, which to me is not a plan at all, is entirely socialism. If I wanted to live in a socialistic environment, I would move to Cuba. Rob and I are no where near rich, or even wealthy. I think we are considered low, low middle class. And still, I want nothing to do with someone else's money. My dad makes a pretty penny every year and it is because he does, and has, worked his butt of to get where he is. He doesn't have 18 different college degrees, and he wasn't handed and golden spoon; he worked for it. I think it does more harm than good to tell someone we don't think they will ever succeed, so here, have someone else's money.

Perhaps, for me, what it all comes down to is personal responsibility. You had unprotected sex? Guess what, that WAS your choice. You can't keep a job? Obviously, you need to work at that. We started this war, we need to finish it. Aside from personal responsibility, the other main reason I tend to be republican is because I truly believe the smaller the government, the better. I understand and support social programs; no one should starve, if people are having a hard time, we need to get them back on their feet but we cannot carry them for the rest of their lives. It is telling them we don't believe they are any good. It is so frustrating to me that people don't see this; it is so incredibly clear.

I am proud of our country for voting in someone of a different race for the first time. However, I never thought it wasn't possible, I never believed we couldn't, but I do believe that is what America is all about; giving everyone an unbiased opportunity to succeed- so I do not think it is that huge of a deal. However, Barack Obama is soon to be my president, and I will respect him for what he is. I do not want to be the person (like so many others did these last four years) driving around with president-bashing bumper stickers. I still love my country and I will not stoop to the level of demeaning it or the person that is in charge of it. I just hope my America can stay the America I love. and I will do my darnedest to put my faith in it and believe it will.

I will now stop my frustrating banter and let you breathe. If you made it through all of that, congratulations; it was quite a mouthful.

Vote life!!!

2008-11-04T09:55:00.000-08:00

Please remember to vote today, guys! Unless, of course, you're planning on voting the wrong guy...

All jokes aside, make sure if you are planning to vote that you are making an informed decision. A lot of really important policies are on the line (like every election year) and we need to think about those that are most important to us. Some are simply more important than others.

DO NOT VOTE PARTY. This election year is a little different because on one side of the line, we have the extreme, where he is as far left as you can go, and on the other, we have a much less radical right; some hardly call him conservative. Please, please, please look at their beliefs and policies before you vote based on a party, on your parents, or on your friends beliefs. Everyone gets one vote; make sure it is yours.

I don't know about you, but I voted life. :)

There isn't much better...

2008-11-02T01:12:00.000-07:00

I, my friends, have a wonderfully amazing, amazingly wonderful husband. Not only does he put up with me (and continues to love me like nothing else) but he puts up with my rampant, exuberant ideas that (as I am) must be dealt with quickly and precisely before I contrive them into even bigger, more flamboyant affairs.

Exhibit A: Picture sometime a little over a week ago. I, Kristin, get some random thought to make blankets. Not for any particular purpose, just to do so. Within days I had been to Lakewood and back, my mom's sewing machine in hand, and had already produced (mind you, with no previous experience, books, patterns, or any other form of aid) two flannel baby blankets (cowboy material, of course) and a quilt. Rob, my dashing sugar daddy (who provides the income for my absurd endeavors) was pretty impressed and set about helping me pick out various fabrics for blankets to be given as Christmas presents. As if I don't have enough 'projects to keep me busy...'

Exhibit B: The weekend before Halloween, 9PM, Sunday night. T minus one hour from Rob's bedtime (one and a half, worse case scenario.) I had come back from a quick trip to Lakewood (yes, the same trip in which I became temporary custodian of my mothers sewing machine) late the night before, and he had worked a long, hard (not to mention all day) Saturday. That morning, we were both utterly exhausted; we dragged ourselves out of bed at a seemingly outragously early 9am, off to walk the dogs, a few errands, and back home to carve pumpkins.

However, upon the arrival of home, we decided we would much rather just laze around, watch some tv, maybe read a bit, have some dinner and crash for the long week ahead. This suited me, Kristin, just fine until around 8:30 or so when I brought in the Halloween decorations my mom had loaned us (as ours are in a storage unit in Spokane) and began putting them up. I find the Halloween CD my parents used to play every Halloween and gently request Rob cease his video game and let me play the CD while we finish decorating for Halloween.

Then, of course, since I am in the spirit, I suggest we carve pumpkins that night, and my wonderfully loving husband abliges. The poor man had to keep pausing his carving for pictures, and then washing his hands to take some of me. While he might have gotten to bed just a *tad* late, we produced two wonderful pumpkins, and made some great memories of our first Halloween of many.

Exhibit C: Perhaps my most recent and most patience-drilling from Rob's standpoint, was my sudden need for us to have fall pictures together. Since we are not floating in money at this point, and the idea was too instantaneous and called for immediate, drastic action, we decided to use my DSLR that Rob bought me for my birthday last year, instead of getting some professional pictures taken. (Photography is another one of my many, many enterprises that I have been experimenting within.)

I must add, to prove my point of his patience, that we had just arrived home from a morning and afternoon full of errands, I had very nicely instructed him on the placement of some Halloween decorations, and we were discecting a recipe for dinner. Of course I went through our closet and picked out matching clothes, dressed myself, Rob and the dogs in the "fall-y" outfits and we set off to take some pictures!

Now, we do not know anyone here yet, so I had to play photographer as well as subject.We oh so delicately balanced the $800 camera on the deck railing, with Rob and the dogs already posed, and I would run like the dickens to beat the ten-second selftimer and get posed in my position and smiling before the picture took. Surprisingly enough, we didn't get any of me as a flash, or my backside turned- I made it every single time. We actually got some really cute ones.

Then, just when he thought he was finished, I noticed our garage had the ever-so-loved-by-photographers, old, peeling wood siding. Since we are not quite yet graced with children, I had Rob assist me in getting the dogs to sit still long enough for my quick-shuttered camera to snap a few good ones of them against this setting. Of course, this was to no avail.

Therefore, my sweet, sweet husband sat in, bare feet and all. I decided it was too good of a picture for me to miss out on, so I found our cheesy, 4 dollar plastic table-top tripod, set up the camera, only to find out the lense was too heavy for the tripod to support. Since our shoes were off for the picture, I used one to support the lense, set the 10 second timer, and ran to make the picture. While these aren't my favorite, some of them turned out pretty cute.

As you can see, I am a needy, awfully creative, idea emitting beast and couldn't have been matched with a more perfect man for me. Congratulations if you got through all that. It really is more for me, to look back and remember when I am frustrated or angry with my true love. He does anything and everything for me; from the mundane to those things of utmost importance and I love him even more for it.

Miss Molly

2008-10-02T16:28:00.001-07:00

So I am back home in Wenatchee now (weird as it may be to call this place home...) and I have left the new little family to their own devices. I always assumed they would be great parents; they are fun, easy going people who are just a joy to be around. Not to mention, they were entirely consumed with love for Molly while she was still in the belly, and seem to have pretty darn good heads on their shoulders. That being said, so far they are even better parents than I would have expected. Mindy, as a first time mom, is so calm and relaxed with Molly and you can tell that she picks up on that, and turned out to be a pretty content little tyke. Donald is about the best Dad and helper one could ask for- he is eager and willing to do as much as he can to help his new little baby girl and his wife. They just make the whole crazy lifestyle of parenting look so natural. They've pretty much been pros since day one.

While I would love to soak up every single second of that new little being and her wonderful family, I know that it is extremely important for new parents to get their own, personal family time together. There's got to be nothing in the world like the first few weeks with your brand new family. Therefore, I took many-a-picture and plan to study them until I can hold miss Molly Moo again. Please remember to keep our little goddaughter in yours prayers every now and then. Rob and I are making it a goal to pray for her daily, but as her godparents, we know that the more surrounded in prayer, the better. Those georgous blue eyes have a wonderful plan laid out by God, and we are so excited to watch her grow and develop into all that He intends.

For now, enjoy some pictures.

This is what Molly's room looks like. It is too darn cute. Donald did the mural on the wall. If you can't tell, the theme is 'princess'.

He is going to be a wonderful Daddy. I can't wait!

All dressed and ready to go home! They used one of the outfits we gave her as the going home outfit. Rob was pretty proud because he was the one who picked it out. :)

Such a cute little family.

I decorated the door and the house for when they got home. I think it turned out pretty darn cute. It was a girl party!

Rob and I found this onsie and thought it was just too cute (and too true) to pass up. Then, of course, I had to make a photo-op out of it.

This one, though blurry, is so darn cute. It actually looks like she's smiling (even though shes only three days old)! I'm still pretty mad I didn't bring my DSLR camera. I just had my point and shoot, so the pictures aren't nearly as nice as they could have been. Oh well, shoulda, woulda, coulda...

I am in Awe

2008-09-26T23:00:00.000-07:00

I cannot even begin to describe how awe-strikingly amazing our bodies are. How can you not believe in God when experiencing the birth of an absolutely perfect human being? Though I am tired (no sleep in over 48 hours) and hungry (no real food in over 36)I couldn't be any more elated to have been invited to partake in such a glorious event.

Molly Elizabeth came into the world at 6:00pm tonight weighing 7lbs 5 oz, 19 inches long. After exhausting all avenues, she eventually arrived by c-section. She is perfect. Gorgeous. She is so much more than ten fingers and ten toes; she already has her own little personality and has managed to have her daddy wrapped around her little finger since he first set eyes on her.

The intimacy of the love that exists so instantly and ferociously at the very beginning of ones life between the creators and the created almost makes me embarrassed to be a part of. It seems too perfect for such a measly human being as myself to invade. But I wanted to be there to show my love and support, and I was welcomed with opened arms.

Though we have told them, I do not think Donald and Mindy could possibly understand how proud and honored we feel to have been given the privilege of being Molly's godparents. I hope they understand how serious we plan to take our given role and how much we want to play our part in Molly's little life. We have known her for mere hours, and already are head over heels in love.

I will post more on my newest love later. I will say this: she truly is one of the most beautiful babies I have seen- and that is saying a lot. I have a few pictures, but they were taken from behind the nursery glass, so be forgiving. :)

From the hands of the wife...

2008-09-22T16:22:00.001-07:00

I am happy. So incredibly content. Massively elated. Absurdly giddy. Beyond jubilant. It's funny because you don't truly know the meaning of 'happy' until you are way passed whatever you thought it was. And that, my friends, is where I find myself today.

Married life is, to say the least, amazing. I still get kicks out of referring to Rob as 'my husband' and my stomach always flutters a little when he answers his phone, "Hello, wife." Being married, for us anyhow, is so much more than saying goodnight and falling asleep in the same bed, and coming home to each other, in our house, night after night after night. It is even more than knowing that someone can see the depth of who I am and love me even more for it. It is the feeling that penetrates my very being of knowing that he is my forever. Knowing that regardless of where life takes us, of the many successes and failures we are destined to see, the ups and downs, the experiences, the challenges and every single change this life throws at us, that Rob will be my constant, always there, never-ending adventure partner.

I can handle moving away from my friends and family, because I know he will be there. I can handle financial problems, because he will be there. I can handle the emotions of a pregnancy, the frustration of a rebelling teenager, the loss of a pet, the rage of let-downs, because my lover will consistently and constantly be there. For me, for us, for life.

The problems Rob and I faced before the wedding are still here. Our conflicts and our issues haven't changed. We are still so far from perfect, yet one hundred percent in the midst of bliss. Marriage wasn't our solution; it was our promise. Our never-ending vow that we are going to be together forever; that regardless of our differences and the struggles we face through life, that we will always be there for one another.

Our marriage is more than just words we spoke, or the papers we signed; it is now a feeling embedded deep within us. People ask if it really feels different to be married, especially after dating for five years. And I tell them; heck yes it does. I don't think I can really describe it, but it is a whole different ball game.

Here goes our forever...

Time Waits for No One

2008-09-18T19:10:00.000-07:00

So I am sitting around in our new house, in our new city, waiting for my husband (husband...what? Still slightly weird to think about...) to get home from his new job when I get smacked in the face with how quickly everything has gone. I kid you not just yesterday I drove up to my house where Rob was feigning a lost dog, which was inevitably found, newly branded with a dog tag asking me to become his forever. It wasn't even that long ago that I was meeting him for the first time, the first hug, the first kiss.

Thus, the reason for the blog. We had tried to set one up on the website (kristinandrob.com) but to no avail. So, here we are.

I know our lives are going to continue to pass by just as fast, if not even faster. It won't be long before we buy a house, have our first child...who knows what else is to come. I figured, the best way to hold on to each and every moment is to document. And boy do I love to document.

Rob got me a digital scrapbooking program which allows me to, well, make digital scrapbook pages. I will be posting them here as I make them for me to remember, and for you to enjoy if you chose to do so.