Goodbye Modesty, Hello Baby!

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!

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!

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

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...

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

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!

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.