Mr. Romance Strikes Again

I don't think he even reads my blog (if I'm mistaken, then ... hi Babe!), but ever since my post re: my new glasses, Elvis has redoubled his efforts to be a super-romantic husband. He's full of displays of affection, sweet whispered nothings, and little treats from each trip to the grocery store. But the absolute most romantic moment of the year (so far) happened on Saturday night.

Our old friend Joe came around for his quarterly visit to see Elvis & me, and to check up on little Henry (Joe was E's best man, and was one of a few friends who actually came from out of town to be at the hospital when our little man made his big debut). He's currently splitting his time between his girlfriend near Houston and his job with a movie studio in Austin, so we don't get to see him as much as we'd like. He's also a confirmed bachelor, and the differences between his single showbiz lifestyle and Elvis' gig as a teacher and family man have never been more evident. We got caught up, exchanged stories, and heard much movie-making gossip. Then, after Henry went to bed, we settled into a nice game of Uno and played for about an hour without incident.

As it always seems to happen, I was forced to play a +4 card against Joe who was down to his final card. In his overzealousness and, perhaps, after a few too many drinks our often-socially-inappropriate friend Joe forgot himself and screeched "Slut!" Although I was a little taken aback, I knew that he wasn't actually casting aspersions on my character or questioning my fidelity. Elvis, however, did not hesitate. He got pissed, and turned to Joe with A Look in his eyes. After a serious punch in the arm, my knight in shining armor even delivered a rousing speech:

"Apologize right now. That is my wife. She is the mother of a 20 1/2 month old child, and I am the father of that child. Apologize."

Of course Joe apologized immediately and very sincerely, and we moved on to a game of Monopoly. The transgression was forgotten, and we enjoyed Joe's company until he left the next morning. But I learned a very exciting lesson about my husband: he is not only my best friend, partner and co-parent, but also a most ardent defender of my honor. What on earth could be more romantic?

I am NOT a Ms.!

So I understand we live in an age where the old standards of decorum and ettiquette have pretty much fallen by the wayside. But I'm an old-fashioned Southern girl, and I still observe the very important proprieties: I write thank you notes, I say sir and ma'am, I don't talk about politics or religion, and it makes me cringe when I see a man wearing a hat inside or - horror! - at the table. One of the little manners our society has moved past that I have not is the way we address ladies. I understand that unmarried ladies don't want to be referred to as Miss after a certain age, and that's why there's the option of Ms. But I, as a married woman, absolutely hate being called Ms. I guess I can see where, in this politically correct world of ours, it's easier to address everyone as Ms. Such-and-such rather than run the possibility of offending a single or divorced woman. But I am a Mrs. and I am very proud of those three little letters. I hate to sound snooty, but I do not wash, dry and fold 5 loads of laundry a week or get up at 6 to make coffee and breakfast for Elvis to be addressed as Ms. It's Mrs. thank you very much!

I wore this shirt for weeks before we got married.  I couldn't wait to be Mrs. Irwin!

My Practical Valentine

My sweet, sweet husband gave me the most romantic valentine this year: I got a new pair of glasses! Yay!

As a side note: It is ridiculous how unromantic our Valentine's Days have been. Every year Elvis plans something grand and romantic, and every year something completely out of our control goes awry. It's uncanny how life throws those curves at just the right moment, isn't it? But of course the disaster always reminds us that the whole point is to celebrate love, and who needs to shell out $400 for dinner to prove that we're in love? Not this couple!

Anyway ...

I'd been needing glasses for awhile. Mine got stepped on some time ago, and they've never been right since. The lens would pop out with little provocation, and the frame was pretty crooked. So Elvis decided this was the time, and here I sit with brand new spectacles upon my face! It is perhaps the least traditionally romantic valentine ever, but there's nothing I could have appreciated more.

Maybe some chocolate, but of course my beloved brought that too.  He is, seriously, the best husband I could have imagined.

RIP, Old Friend

I bought my very first brand new car just weeks after I turned 19. I'd been working hard for about a year and a half at my crappy little job saving up money, and 9/11 pushed interest rates into the ground. I found exactly the car for me, and committed to an indecent car payment for the next 5 years. It was a sporty little red number that made me feel like a princess, and I LOVED it. Then, one rainy morning about a year later, I totalled it on the way to school. Super. I mourned deeply for awhile, and - once the insurance was straightened out - bought another brand new red car (if God is merciful, I'll never have to drive a car of another color. I love red). I drove the hell out of that car, all over the place. It was our only car when Elvis and I first lived together, and we put thousands of miles on it together. Of course, each year or so it would spend an expensive week in the shop, but we loved that little red car like it was a member of the family. It was our "getaway" car after we got married. We drove it on our first vacation together after we were married: a weekend trip to Mississippi. We brought Henry home from the hospital in it.

Our dear friend Spongy (yes, we name our cars) died for the final time this week. I'd had her towed into the shop, and got the dreaded call on Tuesday morning: The estimate was $3500, and they hadn't even gotten to the major problem yet. With an exceptionally heavy heart, we made the decision to let Spongy go, and I had her towed back home where she's currently sitting and being slowly emptied of 10 years of accumulated junk. Sigh.

Big Game Day

Even though none of us really cared about the game, we had a little get-together last night to watch the Superbowl. It was totally last-minute, but everyone had a great time and got a belly full of delicious food. My parents and E's dad (his mom had to work ... boo!) came over right time for kickoff, and my brother joined us after he got off work, just in time for halftime. I myself am SO over professional football, so I sat with my back to the TV and watched Henry show off for his grandparents and uncle. The highlight of the evening was, without a doubt, halftime. I'd been hounding (pun intended) Elvis to let us watch the Puppy Bowl, and he finally relented and said that, rather than watching whatever Beyonce was going to do, we could watch Puppy Bowl at halftime. Almost everyone protested when Elvis turned the channel (not because they love Beyonce; they just thought the puppies would be lame), but the protests died quickly when Henry caught sight of the TV. He pointed and laughed and even squealed with delight at watching the precious baby kittens. He would look around to make sure we were all watching, and then he'd scream and laugh and do a little dance. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. I hope he's half as delighted next year!

The Facebook

I saw a headline yesterday about Facebook that intrigued me (yes, I'm a dork. Thank you). Maybe you saw it too, I dunno. It was the results of a study that determined that people, more often than not, feel bad about themselves and their lives after visiting Facebook. I was a little surprised at first, but then when I thought about it I figured that could be about right. I can see where scrolling through various friends' engagement/wedding/baby/new house/new car/vacation/dramatic weight loss photos could be like a tour through your life's failures if you haven't reached those milestones.

As for myself, the ole Facebook has been very very kind. In the past few years I've been blessed to get to know Elvis' extended family via Facebook; I've been able to keep in touch with friends and family as they travel the world; I've kept tabs on engagements, weddings, pregnancies, and babies; Yesterday I reconnected with my best friend from high school. We had some stupid falling out and hadn't spoken in almost a decade (!!!) until Facebook put us right back in each other's paths.

So I guess the lessons I got from all this are as follows:

1. If your friends' successes in life make you feel bad about yourself, get your own life together and make a change. It's up to you, and nobody else.

2. If your friends' Facebooking makes you feel bad about yourself, just be a grown-up and get off of Facebook. You don't HAVE to be there.

3. Be happy with the blessings, experiences, and relationships you DO have in your life.




Facebook Envy

Talkin' It Out

I had my very first conversation with Henry last night. We were playing catch when suddenly he started babbling pretty seriously. He looked so earnest, but I just didn't know what he wanted so I told him "Sweetheart, use your words. Say a word." And he looked right at me and said "Potty." I asked him if he had to go, and he nodded his little noggin with no small measure of exasperation, and then waddled off to the bathroom where he did his business and washed his hands.

That. Was. Awesome.

Back to the Grind

Wow, I can't believe it's almost halfway through January already! It sure seems like the end of 2012 flew by, huh? I hope you had a wonderful holiday season, full of friends & family, good food, and a little bit of extra sleep!

All three of us were sick for much of Christmas break, so that was kind of a bummer. Henry came down with a little cold, and then Elvis and I took turns having the flu. He had it for Christmas Eve, when we celebrated with his parents, and then I got it Christmas morning, when my family came to celebrate. Good timing, no? Well, at least we got to spend our sickness surrounded by the people we love most, so that's something. And despite being sick as a dog, I think we all had a great Christmas. We (Elvis) cooked some delicious meals, everyone enjoyed their gifts, and Henry was so sweet. He could tell we weren't feeling well, and every so often he'd stop playing to come over and give one of us a kiss. Such a little angel.

New Year's Eve was a different story. My dad was out at the family ranch hunting, so my mom offered to babysit so that Elvis and I could do something fun. Last year we went to a baby-friendly party with some of our new-parent friends, and that was awesome, but it sounded great to be able to have some alone time. That's getting rarer and rarer. We went out for a nice dinner (thanks to some thoughtful giftcard givers!), and then came home and moved out onto our patio. It wasn't very cold, so we sat out there in our fancy dinner clothes and drank champagne. At midnight we were able to see fireworks shows from about 5 of the little surrounding towns, so that was really cool. As always, I felt so happy and so blessed to be able to ring in the new year with the love of my life at my side. And, of course, I look greatly forward to the new fun and adventures that 2013 will bring.

And now the school semester has started back up. Elvis is back to working his 12-hour days, and Henry and I are getting back into the swing of things without Poppa. The first few days were pretty rough, with Henry missing his Poppa dreadfully. But I think we're just about back to normal now, playing and frolicking all day long with minimal temper tantrums. My little one is such a sweet, funny, good-natured little thing, and I am so lucky to have him.

WTF???

I cannot stop thinking about this heart-wrenching tragedy in Connecticut. I can't even come up with a word awful enough to describe what happened there last Friday. The worst ones I can think of do not even begin to cover it. What a hateful, senseless, disgusting, cowardly, EVIL act.

It breaks my heart every time I think of the parents who kissed their babies goodbye for the last time ever that morning, and dropped them off in a place where they should be safe. I can't imagine what they must be feeling; I guess I hope they're not feeling anything yet.

Henry stayed with my parents last Saturday night, and even that small separation caused me endless anxiety. I couldn't fall asleep without hearing his breathing on the monitor. Every time I would finally nod off, the thought of his empty crib in the next room would jolt me awake. Even though I know he's safe at my parents' house, and that every person in it would die before letting my precious come to harm, I know that no place is completely safe. And now I also know that even 24 hours is too long to go without kissing my beautiful boy.

I bawled like a baby on Sunday night, listening to President Obama read the names of Heaven's newest angels. There were so damn many. And I held my baby tight even when he tried to squirm away, because who knows how many more hugs I'll get.

God help us.

Party on the Potty!

Oh, I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined what I'm about to write. I already mentioned - months ago - how uncomfortable I am/used to be about bodily unpleasantries. That has fallen by the wayside now, after 18 months of motherhood, and Potty Time is quickly becoming my favorite time of day.
We bought Henry a potty for his birthday, but it was clear he wasn't ready yet. We let him get it out of the box and explore it, and then waited patiently until he showed some sign of wanting to use it. At this point he's been using it for about a month, and I'd say he's batting about .500. So, since I stay at home with him during the day, I'm the one who typically sits there with him, singing and dancing to encourage him. He's already begun some most hilarious Potty Time habits, such as:
*After he does his business, he gets an M&M as a reward. He used to eat them, but now he drops them "accidentally" into the potty and then signs for another one. Cheeky little boy.
*He loves to "read" Elvis' bathroom crossword puzzle book.
*About half the time he doesn't want me to put his pull-up on him (independence!), so I'll hand it to him. He does one of two things with it. He either pretends to wipe his bottom with it, or he puts the pull-up on like a hat.
*He also enjoys a rousing game of shower-curtain peekaboo.
*He loves to sit on his little potty while I'm sitting on the big potty.
*Sometimes he'll sit on the closed potty lid and "read" a book for 5 or 10 minutes at a time.
*When he hears his potty hit the water, he makes the most hilarious Excitement Face in the universe. His eyes get enormous, his mouth shrinks to a little dot, and about half the time he squeals with delight and then falls off the potty laughing.

Every day I think to myself "There's no way I could love this little boy one iota more than I do right now." And the next day I'm always proven wrong.

 

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