Thanksgiving Happy Style

I am thankful....

that I am not in Alabama right now.

that I won't be venturing out into the madness that is Black Friday.

for Sweet Potato Casserole.

for Target.

for my camera.

for DVR (although I hear TiVo is far superior).

for baby yawns.

for baby cuddles.

for baby breath.

for the thrill that Carson got playing with his little buddy's Thomas train set.

that my children are healthy.

for Pottery Barn and Pottery Barn Kids.

for the Internet.

for footie PJ's

for a great haircut.

for my friends and family.

for Tate.

Happy Turkey Day everyone! And for my Canadian, British, Australian, non-U.S. resident readers, Happy Thursday!

Reminiscing

The other day when I was finishing up the final post about how Tate and I came to be, I read through several pages of old emails that we'd sent back and forth.

I copied a few of them and re-emailed them to Tate with a note saying something about "remember when you used to write me these sweet emails."

That night, we reminisced about the things we used to do in early love.

"Remember when we could sit and just stare at each other for hours?"

Oh yeah. I do remember.

"Remember when we used to talk for hours on the phone and never run out of things to talk about."

Yeah (said dreamily).

"Remember when we didn't fart in front of each other?"

[Insert Beavis and Butthead laughing]

"Remember when you didn't nag me so much?"

Ahh, those were the days.

"Remember when I didn't mind it when you touched me?"

[Sigh]

"Remember when we would rather do it instead of sleep?"

[Verrrrry heavy sigh]

"Remember what is was like before kids and we could sleep in, leave at a moments notice without packing for an army, or when our lives weren't dictated by naps?"

Meh. This life is far better.

***********

I currently have very limited access to a computer. I last checked my email on Saturday at 3:30, cannot view my site on this computer, and am having severe withdrawal symptoms that include interacting with people face-to-face rather than on the computer.

See you all in a few days.

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 3 of a Love Story

Need to catch up? Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. The prequel to all this is here.

Tate and I began emailing back and forth. Our email topics included thrilling subjects such as hockey, the weather, and our weekend plans. Nothing romantic, just friendly get-to-know you kind of stuff. In November, I was surprised to get a call from Tate inviting me to a party with his friends that he was coming back to Missouri for. Luckily my very busy social and hot date calendar wasn't already filled (ha!) so I jumped at the chance to go and spend the weekend with him.

There was never an awkward moment between us. He was kind and considerate, always making sure to introduce me and (not surprisingly) keeping me well supplied with beer. A lady never kisses and tells, but since I've never been accused of being a lady, lemme tell ya, he was an excellent kisser. And that's all I have to say about that.

I told my mom after I got home, that I thought he'd be the guy I would marry.

Here's the email he sent me after the weekend. I have saved every email from him from November 9, 1998 until now.

Jenny, Hello and good morning. I am glad to hear you had a good weekend, because I had a wonderful time. It was so good to finally get to see you after so long. The only negative to the weekend is the fact that it went so fast. I did not want you to leave on Sunday. I guess that is a bit selfish, but I enjoyed your company. It's good news your drive back went well. Thank you so much for doing all the driving this weekend. [My friends] started in on me soon after you left, but it was expected. I knew they were just chomping at the bit to rib me while you were there. I am surprised that they didn't tease you anymore then what they did. My flight was quick and painless mostly because I slept the entire flight. I hope you do call this week, but if I have not heard from you don't think you are off the hook because I may have to call you. I work second shift all this week 3p-11p. I usually get home around midnight my time. Jenny thank you again for coming to Rolla this weekend I had a great time. Talk to you soon. Tate

Within 10 days, the emails included words like "darling" and "sweetie."

It took very little time for us to become a couple. Whenever he could, Tate came back to Missouri and we spent time together. In January, I flew to Knoxville. By February we decided that when I graduated that May I'd move to Knoxville so we could be together.

Even with my lackluster long distance relationship history, I knew that this time was different. We just WERE meant to be.

Reading through the old emails makes me feel that butterfly, ooey gooey, sloppy in love drunk feeling. I miss that.

This concludes only the beginning of our love story. There are many, many years to go.

***********

In reference to yesterday's post about my multiples names, I am somehow not offended when my blogging comrades call me Jen. I just don't like it when I've recently been introduced to someone (as Jenny or Jennifer) and they just start calling me Jen.

There. I feel better now.

Happiness Is...

...Going to brunch at Callaghan's Irish Social Club in Midtown.

...Finding a seat outside in the gorgeous 70 degree weather.

...Eating the most delicious breakfast evah!, the Charleston Street Special which consists of english muffins topped with creamed spinach, poached eggs, and a white wine seafood sauce and served with cheese grits.

...Enjoying the meal while both children were quiet and happy, Carson drawing pictures and Ella making zerbert noises and playing with her toes.

...Feeling drunk on life (or possibly drunk on the very potent Mimosa I ordered.) Whichever.

That is happiness.

September 11

My story isn't unique. I'm sure that we all remember where we were, what we were doing when we heard about the attack on the World Trade Center.

I was working at an elementary school in Knoxville, TN. I remember having lots to do that morning, phone calls, copies to make, and lessons to plan. One of my co-workers told me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. I was standing in the copy room and I thought she was mistaken. She turned on the Today Show. There were images of smoke billowing out of one of the towers. We talked about how odd it was for a plane to hit a building. Had the pilot suffered some sort of health issue and was not able to fly the plane? Had there been a terrible mix-up by air traffic controllers?

As the tragedy of the attack on this country unfolded that day, I felt fear, shock, anger, and confusion, as probably most everyone did. We were told to not say anything to the children, as our principal felt it was their parent's responsibility to make the decision on how to handle telling them. We were told to act normal for the children. Oddly enough, acting normal is what I think got me through the day.

That night, and for weeks afterwards, I was glued to my TV. I couldn't stop watching the non-stop coverage. I remember being very disturbed by a report by Rehema Ellis on NBC where victim's family members were pleading with the public to help them find their missing loved ones, showing worn and tattered pictures or make-shift missing posters. The desperation of these people has never left me.

Tate eventually made me stop watching TV. We bought our first house a few weeks after the attack, and the stress of moving made me focus on something besides the loss and devastation. I'm sure the news will be filled today with stories and reports from September 11. I still can't really watch this stuff, the wound still feels fresh. I'll always remember.

****************
I'm going to hug my children and my husband a little harder today. I'll count my blessings. Back to my regular scheduled bitching tomorrow.

Finding Peace at the Beach

Yesterday, I let go.

It's rare that I engage in risky behavior, especially the type of behavior that could lead to major regret on my part. Most outings with my children as of late fall into the category of risky, since they have left me stressed, sweating, and vowing to never take them in public again. EVER.

But Sunday morning was beautiful and sunny. And the thought of spending the day inside doing the same things I do everyday...ugh.

So we took a huge risk and loaded two very small children in the car and headed out on our adventure, to the beach. (Again, we have two very small children... a toddler dangling ever too close to the brink of the terrible twos and a recently emergent colic survivor).

Very risky indeed. But so very worth it.

There is something to be said for sea air, sand, and salt water. It works wonders on your psyche. And on your children.

Mea Culpa

After my week long rant about my son, his behavior, and napping patterns, I think I should remind you all that I do, in fact, love that kid.

I love his sweet little voice. I love that he's learning to say please in such a way that he makes it impossible to say no.

I love that he would sit for hours having me draw hearts and trucks if only I had the time.

I love how he loves his sister, his concern for her when she cries, and how he always kisses her first...even before Mommy.

I love to see his joy when Hi-5 or Blue's Clues starts, how his eyes light up and his smile widens.

I love how he loves his Daddy, his hero, his favorite play pal.

I love his laugh and his never ending ability to make me laugh.

How could I not love a little boy who wears a bucket on his head, camo shorts, and my flip flops, all while mowing the tile in the kitchen?!

This is my boy, my heart. My love.

A Haiku and Some Silliness

An Anniversary Haiku

Six years, you old fool
Happy Anniversary
Here's to many more

********

H oly cow! Six years?

A lot of people came to see us wed

P retty, I looked!

P utting rings on our fingers

Y ou looked sexy, man

A lovely day, our wedding day was

N ot a cloud in the sky

N ot too hot

I only got one bite of cake

V ests were worn by our wedding party, not cummerbunds

E veryone had fun, I think

R um drinks flowed, so did beer

S ome people danced

A rguments kept at bay

R oast was NOT served

Y ou and I, married

Better

Worried about being jinxed as I was last time, I haven't talked about Shel and colic or acid reflux. Or any crying related cause. Or crying in general, except my own.

Don't be misled. She still cries, and rather too often for my taste. But overall, she seems better. No longer does she appear to be in pain, crying in agony or playing light as a feather, stiff as a board.

However, (and there's always a however) Shel is what I would classify as high maintenance. She is not a baby content to just sit in her baby papasan, or just swing, or just lay on a blanket.

Shel likes to be coddled. She likes to be entertained. She really, really likes to play spit out the binky and see how long it takes that lady to put it back.

And most disturbing, this kid is a nap bucker. She wants to sleep, oh how she wants to sleep, but will fight the nap to the bitter end. This nap bucking is the root cause of the majority of her crying spells.

Shel does have her good traits, though. After all these hellacious weeks of crying (hers and mine), she's begun to smile. Baby smiles make up for many past indiscretions.

She also has begun to whimper when you're not paying her enough attention. It's as if she's saying "hey, lady, coo at me some more! I like you, you're funny!"

Hey Shel, I like you, too.

******************************

Join in the fun, The New Girl has put out a call for pics of our squalling babes. And since I seem to be the Queen of crying babies, I couldn't resist.

Happy Father's Day, Tate!

Happy Father's Day...


To the master swaddler


To the giver of the much sought after tractor ride


To the master baiter (I'm talking about fishing!)


To the funniest giggle getter


To our hunter and gatherer


To a comfy place to sleep


To you, Tate.
Thank you for our beautiful family.

Love,
Jennifer

Swallowing a Huge Bite of Humble Pie

Remember this post where I worried about how I would let go of my need for things being done my way?

Yeah, I guess you could say that being knocked on your ass has a way of making you appreciate every bit of help people offer.

My in-laws drove all night to be here to care for Peanut so that I wouldn't have to worry about him being cared for. They are staying until after the baby is born. They could be here for over 3 weeks. I couldn't have made it these past few days without them.

My kitchen linen drawer is not organized, nor are any of my cabinets. The dishwasher is being loaded "incorrectly". Peanut is a little off of his schedule.

Guess what? I don't care. It doesn't matter to me.

My MIL, who is just spectacular, has cooked, cleaned, tended to my family, and changed some king-size crap diapers. And she hasn't complained or criticized one time.

I am so lucky to have this great support at a time that I so very much need it. This experience has made me swallow these petty control issues. Suddenly nested tupperware bowls seem insignificant.

Peanut is being well cared for. That is all that really matters.

I'm off now to eat a slice of my freshly baked humble pie.

Showers and Gale Force Winds

Dear friends,

Greetings from the Island of Shake-Shake! Having a lovely "vacation". I have to give thanks to my two blogging buddies...The Queen herself, Heather and to the Oblivious one, Sara for a spectacular baby shower! There was a great turn-out for the festivities! Thanks to all who came!!

Here's a picture from the Island.



Can you guess which one I am? Here's a hint. I'm the fattest one. And pasty white. Hey, look at those giant arms! And oh, so hot!

Although the festivities had to be moved indoors due to gale force winds (probably a tropical storm moving in, or something), everyone enjoyed themselves. . Mockeritas and Margaritas were served by scantily clad cabana boys. Wish you were here!

Thanks for the great shower, ladies! What a great day to spend at Shake-Shake!

Hugs and Kisses,
Jennifer

I Should Have Gotten an Epidural

I don't think I can tell Tate that his birthday gift to me was a little, uh, torturous. I'm quite sure there's a bruise in the shape of a thumbprint at the base of my skull as a result of the massacre massage I received on Saturday.

It's been so hard not to complain about the massage. Complainer is my middle name (Jennifer Complainer Playgroupie). Telling him that the massage therapist was quite possibly a masochist would certainly make him feel that his birthday gift to me was a waste.

It wasn't a COMPLETE waste. My toes look fabulous from my pedicure. That's something, at least.

So it all started innocently enough, right. She was a small, friendly-seeming woman. I was greeted with a smile and a lovely pat on the back. Then, I was led to the torture chamber massage room.

I didn't see the vise grips. I had no idea they were coming. She must have had some way of removing her human hands and replacing them with these steel-embedded torture devices.

How does one little woman have that type of super-human strength? How did she think that this deep pressure was relaxing? How did she not notice my gripping the table for dear life?

I did ask her to be more gentle. Apparently our definitions of "gentle" varied. Widely.

I thought of screaming for help, but I feared the repercussions of her vise grips while waiting for help to arrive.

Throughout the massage, I kept my eyes tightly shut, for if I opened them, I knew I'd see a woman dressed in a black rubber suit donning metal studs and a ball gag.

There were a few instances that I enjoyed the massage. Especially the part when she was all finished.

It's now been almost 48 hours since my release from the pits of hell the massage ended. I'm so sore, my muscles in my neck and back ache. Even my skin is sensitive to the touch. Showering is painful. Hopefully I can hold out and let Tate continue to think that I thoroughly enjoyed my massage.

After this, I can handle a few labor pains. At least when you're in labor they'll give you an epidural.

Bags and Shoes Make Jennifer a Happy Girl

Thanks for indulging me yesterday on my "all about me day!" Talk about narcissism!

For not really looking forward to my birthday this year, it turned out really nice. Well not THIS nice, but seriously, that was an impossible fantasy! Actually, part of my fantasy came true...

Tate went to work late yesterday morning so that I wouldn't have to get up at 5:15. (He goes to work EARRRRRRRRLY). Very thoughtful. He lovingly presented me with a cake he decorated himself. He was very proud of his masterpiece. It was a very nice surprise. And!!! He presented me with a gift certificate for a Mother-to-be massage and a pedicure at the Grand Hotel Spa in Point Clear, AL (score 1 for fantasies!!). He even said that I should go shopping in Fairhope after my pampering day. For those of you that don't know (that would probably be MOST of you) , Fairhope is this really quaint, upscale town filled with antiques stores, boutiques, artsy fartsy shops, and cafes. It's a lovely place to walk around and browse the shops.

My in-laws are vacationing in Puerto Vallarta right now and said my gift would be something they find in Mexico. Hope it's not Mexican water. Or tequila.

I got some money from my parents and Grandma for my birthday. And it was burning a whole in my wallet. And it was a perfect 75 degree, sunny, no wind day, stupid to sit inside reading blogs all day kinda day. So, I packed up Peanut in my non-Parents magazine approved vehicle and we headed off to TJ Maxx. Woo hoo! Peanut actually cooperated with the stroller and my bladder didn't demand to be emptied every two minutes! Obviously, they knew I was coming! It was a good shopping day. Hey, not just good, spectacular!

Looky what I got!



Yes, it's Ralph Lauren! Aren't you impressed? I am! Guess how much I paid? Give up? $29.99! You read that right! $29.99!!

It's going to be my hospital bag! A completely unnecessary purchase (which makes it even better)! How shallow am I?



You like my new shoes?!! They're wedges. I feel so trendy! Oh yeah, and they're Born. I know, my high style shoes are oh so impressive!

I also found some cute washcloths and a pink photo album for Petunia pictures, and a book on Trucks for Peanut. I didn't take a picture, there wasn't any name brand dropping to be done here.

Tate came home early so we could go out to dinner. We even went to an Italian joint, which is NOT carb friendly for my carb nazi husband. Another very kind thing for Tate to do. (Who is this man and what did he do with my husband!?) And there were lots of leftovers so I don't have to figure out what's for lunch today! Yay!

Other than being OLD and having Dora's song "backpack, backpack..." in my head all day, it was a fine day indeed. Actually, I had my own version stuck in my head all day..."back fat, back fat..."

To Tate, With Love

Ahh, yes. It's Valentine's Day. A day of romance, flowers, and candy. A day we look forward to just for the sheer thrill of rediscovering that spark, the oomph in our relationships. There's those birds chirping and angels singing again!!! Huh? Sheesh, I'm sorry, I guess it was that damn pregnancy brain striking again.

Yes, it is Valentine's Day. For us married folk and Mommys, it's probably a day more for your kids than for you and your spouse. I am nearly 100% sure that I won't be receiving any flowers today. Nor will I be getting any sort of gift. Not that my husband Tate is being a jerk, we just didn't budget for gifts for the occasion.

Tate, great guy that he is, doesn't have that romantic gene. He used to, but it seems to have succumbed to the tired and must go to sleep early on the couch gene. That's okay. To be honest, getting flowers or a gift tomorrow would seem cliche. Getting flowers or a gift on June 23rd would be romantic. "June 23rd, what's the occasion?", you ask...well, it's no occasion. Just a random day. A no reason to get a gift, but it would be oh so romantic day.

I promise that I'm not trying to make my husband look like an oaf. Although at some time in a recent blog, I may or may not have insinuated that he's lacking in the brains department. In truth, he's actually quite smart and a very lovable guy.

He is the greatest dad to our son. He went to back to the Fresh Market and bought more sushi when he accidentally left if unattended on the coffee table and the dogs ate it. He mows the lawn (all 2 acres of it). He's repainted, by himself, most of the rooms in our house. He continually checks our investments online to insure we won't be eating cat food when we're eighty. He bought me a "thank you for giving birth to our son" ring. He watches "What Not to Wear" with me most Friday nights and rarely complains about it. He has never once complained about a meal that I've prepared (even the nastiest concoctions). He picked out our first dance song for our wedding. He earns a paycheck so that I can stay home and blog, I mean take care of our son and daughter. And most importantly, he's hung like a Clydesdale and is fantastic in bed.



I love Tate. True Love Always. Tate + Jennifer.