babyhungry.

My friends will sometimes tease me about quirky little qualities that I possess. For instance: I eat fruit snacks. Alot. I go out of my way to step on crunchy leaves. I like fancy pajamas and foreign films. And sometimes (all the time) I buy cute outfits for my future babies. Then my friends call me baby hungry. Sigh.

Somedays I can't wait for a baby. Most days Gid really can't wait- he's significantly more baby hungry that I am... Maybe that's what this post is really about- thinking about what an incredible dad my husband will be makes it super hard to not constantly have babies.

But other days, like when I hear a two year old tantruming in the candy isle in the grocery store, I remind myself that we've got pllleennty of time. And Gid and I are lucky- in the sense that we've never felt pressure from family or friends to start our family. That is until recently. I've held off writing this post, because a) it's difficult to write exactly how I've been feeling, and b) I'm not sure if I'll keep feeling this way, or if its just going to be a phase.

I've had friends have babies before. When my sweet friend Courtney had her little guy, I was absolutely thrilled for her and begged for more pictures on facebook. When my cousin had her first (and then second) little girl, I was ecstatic for her, but still felt no pressure. I've had several of my dance/college friends have children, but have never regretted my decision to pursue my graduate school (though I am still of course excited for them). And when my sister had Mimi, though I truly fell in love with her baby lips and chubby thighs, there was still no burning within me to have a baby.

Then my best friend called me with unbelievably exciting news: she was pregnant. And as excited as I was for her, and I mean genuinely excited (to the point of running around the room screaming), something pinched.

Brittany and I were roommates during the majority of our college years and had often had late night discussions of our dreams for the future. She'd often muse about having a canadian house full of well fed children impeccably dressed. I'd dreamily talk about a career in dance, living independently, and finding myself in paris. When we got married (two weeks apart from each other), I wondered how long it would be before our kids were best friends just like us.

As Brit's pregnancy developed, and she started to look like she actually had a baby growing in her, the strange feeling I'd had when she first told me the news was replaced by even more excitement than I'd felt before, which- to be honest- relieved me. I was a little nervous that the pinch I'd felt earlier was jealousy, and the last thing that I wanted was to be jealous of my best friend's blessing. I'd gush with Brit over nursery details, and baby names, until finally, she had her sweet little Autumn.

A few days after returning from the hospital, I had a webchat with Brit and her baby, and the pinch gently returned. It was at that point that it hit me- for the first time in my adult married life I'd felt like I had been left behind. And it sort of made my heart ache. Brittany had been with me through so many important times of my life- she helped me study for tests, get ready for dates (she picked out the outfit I wore on Gid and my first date), heck- she even helped me make the decision to end (one, two, three) weird relationships. Brit helped me get ready on my wedding day. And I helped her get ready on hers. I don't know why, but I just assumed we'd help each other through pregnancy as well. I guess it just didn't happen the way I imagined it would. And here I am- thinking about my thesis topic while I write on my blog. Brit is probably changing a diaper that smells like marshmallows (her baby is so sweet, I can't imagine it smelling otherwise). And I'm not jealous. (Brit- I swear!)

I'm just, for the first time, a little hungry.

Which makes my dieting for the next few years a little rough.

...I think I'll go eat some ice cream.

Hape this wasn't too weird of a post today, friends.

fixing cinderella's dress...

So mimi is obsessed with Cinderella.

My sister tells me that she'll run over to the couch,

 delicately lift one foot and say in her little 1.5 year old voice, "and look- glass slippers." 

(pronounced "sleepouus")

(original shoes)

  They don't live by a disney store. 

But I do.

(original dress- note ugly broach)

So gid and I went to pick up a little cinderella dress for my sweet mimi.

Have you guys noticed that all the disney princess outfits have these cheap looking pins with a picture of the specific disney princess on them? Color me tacky. Sure enough- the dress and shoes gid and I  picked up came with atrocious plastic pins on them.

So I snipped them off. 

And replaced them with jewels.

(The other day mimi said one of her many complete sentence statements- 

"I love diamonds", so I thought jewels would be very appropriate for her costume. )

The more I put on, the more I had to put on.

(her little trick or treating bag $1 as opposed to the $11 version below)

By the end of the day, I'd attached 11 teardrop or emerald shaped diamond looking gems, and super glued 44 light blue rhinestones to the dress.

Little headband made easily with jewels and hot glue.

Goodness, I didn't realize how tough fixing up a little dress can be. 

(And I didn't even make it!)

It must have been much harder for those mice in the movie... 

She's going to be the cutest little cinderella ever.

Crisp.

Friends. Do you know what day it is today? 

Think crisp. Think scarves. 

Boots, candy apples, and cider. 

Think color. 

Specifically, yellows, oranges and deep reds. 

Think golden undertones. Think crunchy leaves.

Think evening parties with hanging golden twinkle lights and dancing to ella fitzgerald.

Think pumpkins, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

Think college football. Think soup and homemade bread. 

Think of cuddling under warm blankets instead of cranking up the AC.

Happy first day of Autumn, friends.

ps- more details to come about my upcoming fall party. Stay tuned.

Year Three.

Dear Gid.

Three years. You and me. Remember our first meal in our first apartment? We hadn't even brought our boxes in from the moving van. No furniture. Nothing in the closets. No idea where the grocery store was. We happened to have some noodles, and some marinara (that I was given at a bridal shower), so we dug a pot from one of the boxes in the car, and ate the spaghetti on top of a printer box that we used as a dining table.

Then we sat. On the floor. Our backs against the living room wall. And then-- I had a mini breakdown. Something about neither of us having a job, any friends, or any idea what we were doing in boise idaho. I flipped. And you were calm, sitting with your arm around me. Yep. That was our first dinner in our first apartment. Fast forward to a year later. We both had great jobs. We had dear sweet friends. We had furniture. We went to Oregon for our anniversary. I felt like we'd been married for a few weeks. But it'd been a year. And then a few months later, we decided to move. To Salt Lake City. For graduate school. For both of us. (dun dun dunnnnnnn)

Remember moving into our slc apartment? Remember our 2 year anniversary a few days after we moved in? I felt like we'd run a marathon. Two whole years. Remember that time (those times) that I break down in a puddle of tears similar to the one I made in our first Boise apartment? And you put your arms around me, squeeze me, and somehow I just know everything will be ok? Remember how we've fit everything we own into 480 square feet? Remember how there is mold constantly in our bathroom, regardless how much bleach we cover it with? Remember how my leotards and tights are everywhere? Remember how we need pliers to turn our AC unit on and off?  Remember how lucky lucky lucky we are to have our sweet lives in our tiny apartment?

Which brings us to yesterday. Three years, Gid. You and me. And even though I feel like we've had lots of ups and downs, I'm super crazy about you. Absolutely nuts. Waay more than I was on our wedding day, (and I was pretty into you then...), or even our 1st or 2nd anniversary.

You're the marshmellow to my hot chocolate, the gravy to my mashed potatoes, and the hummus to my pita chips. You're my favorite hello, and my hardest goodbye. And we get to look forward to many many many more years, just you and me. And maybe even a few others.

Happy three years, sweet boy. Fist bump.

Ok, high five.

ask me to do something cool...

...and you'll probably get something super weird instead...

a big thank you to the lovely hannah stewart who asked me to be the subject for a project photo shoot.

and a big apology for my weird poses...

So. That happened.

I've been fighting a cold for the past few days. You know the drill- runny nose, scratchy throat, and pathetic droopy eyes. Thank heavens it came over the weekend; I'm taking way too many classes this semester to be getting sick this early in the game. Anyway, last night I decided I was feeling too sick to put any effort into a meal, so I looked up the easiest crock-pot recipe I could find. We were only missing a few ingredients, and since we live like 3 minutes away from a market, I hopped into the car around 10 p.m. last night, and made a quick grocery store run. 

Since I was still in my "hanging out in the apartment blowing my nose all day long" outfit, I looked pretty awesome. Wearing a zip up hoodie with my big clutch wallet in one pocket, my keys, phone, and notepad (with my grocery list on it) plus a pen in the other pocket, there was no need for a purse. That's one of the best things about hoodies, right? Anyway, I walked into the store, and by instinct headed straight for the best isle. That's right- the ice cream isle. As I gazed past the glass trying to decide (as I coughed and sniffled) if I'd rather eat orchard peach sorbet, or mango sorbet, an older lady came up to me, smiling knowingly and said, "late night cravings?" I smiled at her and nodded. She chuckled and said, "I remember those days." As she walked away I wondered why she would say that she "remembered those days". Isn't it our prerogative as women to always have late night cravings? Old, young, during any time of year and at any time of the month? Don't we deserve that? As I pondered the issue, I saw myself in the reflection of the glass, and noticed my bulging hoodie pockets.

And then I realized. Sweet old lady thought I was pregnant.

That awkward social encounter that I've had many friends cry to me about had finally happened to me. Not only did someone think I was pregnant, they thought it strongly enough that they actually commented to me about it. I tried to not let it bother me since I actually do have a pretty flat tummy, (when I'm not wearing an awkward hoodie with miscellaneous objects shoved into the pockets) but as I walked through the produce section I couldn't help but wonder how many other people thought I looked like I was expecting. 

When I got home, I told gideon the whole story and he laughed his deep gideon laugh and tried to insist that the lady didn't think that I was preggo, but I know the truth. I even made him take a picture of me so I could inspect it to see if she had good reason to assume I was expecting. I think I secretly stuck my tummy out a little bit extra, because I secretly wish I was a little bit pregnant, and it's sort of fun to pretend.

Anyway, the moral of the story is- I'm not pregnant. And even if I sometimes wish I was, I don't want to look like I am when I'm not. The end. Also- I think I'm going to start going to the gym when I get over this cold.

Happy Sunday to you all,

lucky.

When I use the word "lucky," my mom always corrects me. "Blessed," she insists. "You are blessed. It's not a matter of luck. You have been given blessings and you should be grateful for them, not your horoscope or the star you wished on the other night." 

It makes sense, and I believe it. But sometimes I still just say lucky. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I don't see how I could ever be justified in the blessings that I've received. 

I guess I must say "lucky" when I don't think I deserve the blessing I've gotten. Kinda like its a freebie that was meant for someone else; someone who doesn't think grumpy thoughts, or growl at her husband when he tells her church is in 10 minutes. I suppose I think to myself, "How could someone like me keep getting blessed?  I must just be lucky." 

You know?

  (Mom would be scowling at me right now.)

Anyway. 

I received some major blessings this morning in my email. Miracle sized. I don't know why, but someone is sure looking out for me. So tonight I went to the temple. And on my way out, when I saw the lovely sunset, and breathed the pre-fall evening air, I found myself thinking to myself, "Gosh. I'm lucky." And then I thought of how my mom would sigh wondering why her perfect example and patient lessons still haven't penetrated my thick skull. And then I thought about how blessed I am. 

Have I mentioned Thursdays are my favorite?

A lovely evening to you all,


ps- just in case you're wondering, I'm not pregnant... not quite that lucky yet. :)

things I love today:

Today I love Boba Tea.
I love the excitement of preparing to go on a roadtrip.
I love feeling athletic just because I do that awful workout insanity. (Even though I'm pretty sure I do all the exercises wrong...)

Most of all I love when my gid slow dances with me in the kitchen.
To the song we first danced to as husband and wife. (The way you look tonight.)

I love when I know everything is going to be just fine; even though I have no idea what the future holds. Seriously- no idea.

Today I love my mom. My sister. My niece. My aunt. My best friend. All the women in my life, really. Love them. Miss them.

I love that tomorrow is new with no mistakes in it yet.



Happy Thursday, friends. I just love thursdays.

things i hate today:

Today I hate realizing in one swift moment that there are a hundred things I'm behind on.

I hate looking at my "planner" just to discover that I have about 2% of my responsibilities actually accounted for in writing. The rest I have to try to remember, and I hate that.

I hate feeling hopeless about the possibility that maybe one day, I'll have it all together. (Pshhhhh)

I hate when I zone out during important conversations because I'm trying to remember all of the things that I'm trying to juggle.

And oooohh- I hate it when I inevitably fall a little short on one of those things. (Or feel like I'm about to, even though I don't know what it is exactly.)

I hate spazzing out in front of my husband and blubbering on about how I don't think I'm going to make it. (What does that even mean? Not going to make what? Make it to the end of the week? Make a cake? What is it that I'm not going to make? And why am I acting like a bomb will spontaneously explode if I don't make whatever it is?) I guess I just hate when I act like a prima-donna just because I'm tired and hungry.

...I hate that I've been in the same leotard since 7:45 this morning, and still haven't showered like a normal human being.

I hate feeling chubby.
Which reminds me: I hate ballet tights.

...did I mention the semester started this week?




ps- Things I love today: the text my mom sent me, the picture my sister sent me, the video my other sister sent me, laughing, dancing, sweating, eating, and finally taking off my leotard/showering. (Well- I'm about to shower. And I promise, I'm going to love it.)

2 weeks in 20 photos.

Mom could be a beach model. True story.

Dad's not scared of waves twice as tall as he is. True story.

And together...

They make a pretty awesome pair.

They'll probably call me as soon as they see this kissy picture and demand that I take it offline, 
so get a good look, friends!

Mel and I spent the majority of our time at the beach pretending that we were professional boogie boarders (can you even be a professional boogie boarder??). We would loudly discuss the "Honolulu Classic Invitational" that we were training for. A few people looked at us.

No one seemed impressed. True story.

This was taken right after we did a karate leap over a baby wave.
Hardcore, right?


  We went to a secret beach.

I did fancy dance moves and held extra attractive poses so Gideon would think I was super good looking. (see below)

(ps- this is actually the pose that Mimi would make spontaneously during the trip, and since I want to be just like her...)

As always, Naomi was the comic relief, the reality check, and the boss of all of us. 

Man, that girl has got some eyelashes, right?

Can you see the family resemblance? She is so my niece.

Last but not least- we think she may have spotted a shark during this photo...

Until next time.