blessed times a million

This past weekend was a special one:

Dale gave little miss Vivian a name and a blessing.

She was blessed with a strong personality and fiery spirit. 

She was blessed to touch the lives of those around her,

and she was blessed with a strong testimony of the gospel.

She was reassured of her purpose on earth and the love Heavenly Father has for her.

The whole time she was staring at the priesthood bearers holding her

and when Dale held her up at the end of the blessing to show her to the congregation, the flower of her headband fell right into her eye so she looked like a flower girl version of a pirate.

Everyone laughed, 

and when that happened, I looked at the other half of my little family standing at the front of the room, and little tears sprang to my eyes.

I thought to myself in that moment,

"How cute are they?!  I am so lucky."

also included in the weekend:

a vintage dress (found before we knew viv was a girl)

handmade booties (adapted from this tutorial)

a beautiful, happy baby (finally!)

family in town (we love you all so much! Thank you!)

supportive friends (you guys are the best!)

thoughtful people (thank you times a million!)

a cute new dad (I love you darling)

and of course,

a beautiful blessing.

 I am so blessed to have the little family that I do.

What a sweet blessing to be blessed with on blessing day.

just keep swimming

What is cuter than a baby in a swimsuit?

What is cuter than a baby getting in the pool for the first time?

I contest that there is nothing cuter than a baby in a swimsuit.

And nothing cuter than my baby and her wide blue eyes getting in the pool for the first time.

Can we agree on that much?

Viv loves the water, she loves to splash, she loves her dad, and she loves being around people.

Her cute little personality sure is starting to shine through.

She is a talkative fireball with a ginger temper to match.

We love her and her (almost) chubby legs.

alliterations and un-hateable things

I was thinking the other day about the months passing by and words that come to my head as I think about them in the wee hours of the night while nursing a baby.

Just January 

Because it was just that: January. Nothing exciting. I hit 30 weeks in my pregnancy and kind of hit a wall. Looking back...it was a dang good wall. Kind of missing it right about now.

Freakin' Forever February

My pregnancy lasted forever. Is it freakin' over yet!?! I want to meet my baby!!!

Miraculous March

Do I need to explain this? I had aforementioned baby. And she's a cutie.

Amazing, Atrocious Adjustment April

Because a new baby is pretty awesome, but adjusting really is atrocious.

and then....

well then we hit May. As I was sitting in church the other day, I started coming up with words that describe my month of May so far:

(my days are) monotonous

(my house is) mayhem

murderous (sorry)

miserable (ugghh)

mysterious (i have no idea what I'm doing)

(i feel) marginal 

and a tiny bit magnificent (because Vivian is Vivacious).

Vivian is hitting her two month mark of life today. Two months.

You know that feeling where time feels like it has flown by, but has stood still at the same time? I think that happens with kids...or any time really. You look at your life and realize that life is passing you by quickly, but you seem to have been in the moment forever.

I feel like these two months have been my whole life, and at the same time that I blinked and here we are. Two months. They have been so hard, and so wonderful. They have been painful for baby girl, and painful for us. Don't you hate when doctors can't figure out what the heck is wrong? And don't you hate it when your baby is in pain constantly and you don't know why? And don't you hate when you can't do one single thing to fix it? 

Well, I hate all those things.

And all of this hate has made me really down lately.

So guess what?

Here's a list of un-hateable things that I un-hate lately:

*driving fast*

*listening to really loud Nickelback/Breaking Benjamin/Shinedown/3 Days Grace while I drive really fast*

*eating my feelings at the new In N' Out by my house at 11 PM. Even though I'm supposed to be on a diet*

*saying screw the diet and getting a really big cookie. Or maybe two*

*having a really funny PMS rant session with your SIL*

*pink lipstick*

*colored jeans*

*lifting at the gym! Again! Finally!*

*the wonderful women I serve with*

*drive-in movies*

*finding old CD's that rock*

*new embarrassing pictures of my ginger man*

*cool planet Earth phenomenons happening out my front door*

*singing Beatles and Beach Boys and Taylor Swift songs as lullabies because they are the only songs I can remember the words to right now. And most of the words are made up*

*funny dreams*

*new work out clothes*

*neon*

*watching Seinfeld*

*reading a really good book for the first time, getting lost in that world, and it making it onto your exclusive favorite books list (The Night Circus, if you were wondering)*

*a smiling baby who is starting to talk and squeal and aalllllllmost laugh. We're getting there.*

oh.

*and the bright spot of parents coming this weekend to help celebrate a blessing of a darling baby girl in a beautiful vintage dress*

What a list of un-hateable things. 

(is un-hateable happening? I was trying to go with the theme of "un-birthday", but I don't think it's happening.  If you want to throw a Mean Girls quote at me, now would be the time. 10 points if you get the quote I'm thinking of.)

Here's to a jolly, joyful, jubilant, juicy, jovial, jam-packed-with-fun June

(did you figure out that Mean Girls quote yet? Do you have things you are un-hating right now?)

promalicious

High school dances are so awkward, aren't they?

I'm in a reminiscing mood, I'm lacking in good material, and I'm linking up here, hence this stupid post (It's been a long week).

In my town, dances were a BIG DEAL. You had to make sure that you asked someone who would fit in with your group of friends, because you all HAD to go together. The day date had to be spectacular and an all day thing. Dinner had to be good. Or else (Rusty's anyone?). Ties matched dresses, corsages had to be just so. Picture poses are thought of before hand. It's expected that you will go hang out somewhere and watch a movie after the dance. Until 3 (it's like we hadn't seen enough of each other in the last 24 hours).

So here in this blog, I may be mentioning someone you know. Maybe it's your son. Or your brother. Maybe your husband? Like I said, I'm from a small town. Everyone knows everyone and their dog and all the dirty laundry on their mom. Seriously. 

But high school was SO five years ago. So don't get offended. I'm over it. Also, if you've changed times a million since high school, raise your hand {raised}. I don't still love the boys that I mention. ok? ok. I'm married. duh. Plus, boys don't read this blog. I think we're safe.

There was that one time when we all asked our serious boyfriends to the Sweethearts dance with us. I asked my out of town boyfriend...I was that girl. Basically I remember feeling so in love. and now looking back, there was way too much PDA and teenage lover angst for my liking. Makes me want to puke. Also, please love how my BF is proudly wearing his state ring. Pretty sure he wore that thing everywhere. I bet he still does.

Oh, I almost forgot. This was the dance where my friend reluctantly let me borrow her dress and as I was heading out the door with my beloved for the date, I stepped on it and ripped a huge hole in it. Sweet.

Then there was Junior Prom. This picture quite captures the beauty of it all: 

Two things I remember about my Junior Prom:

 I was so anticipating it. The guy who asked me? Well I was pretty psyched. I had become attached, you see. We had a little bit of a booty call thing going on, and I liked him. He was cool. And we hit it off pretty well. Looking back, maybe it was just so we would make out, but still. We were pretty good friends after.

And I remember how pissed I was about these pictures they gave us. No frame! And what was with the little glowy halo 80's thing? The lighting was terrible and we both look like crap. There went my perfect Jr. Prom down the drain. Except for one thing: we ate a 5 course meal at a mansion that night. Taken there by horse-drawn carriages. It was awesome.

(funny side story: one time we "went on a drive" to "look at the stars". The next day I showed up with a huge bruised bottom lip. I'm serious you guys, it was HUGE. Like, purple. No joke. Everyone asked me what happened and I told them that I got hit in the face with a basketball at practice the night before. What really happened? Well, you can guess. And it wasn't violence. He didn't talk to me for two weeks after that. Ouch, right?)

I feel like a slut when I tell that story. I mean, geez. Do you know how long it takes to get a fat bottom lip from that kind of thing? A freakin' LONG TIME! Don't judge. I was naive.

Then there was the time where I went with a kid I was dating. This was my very first formal dance of all time. And I'll tell you, it was a disaster. Ugly dress? Check. Ugly hair? Check. Cheap jewelry from Claire's? Check. Awesome sunburn from softball tournaments all day? Check. The most awkward prom picture pose of all time? Check. (ps: who even came up with that pose? Do people actually do that in real life?!?) Other than that, I seem to remember it as romantical. I got to be in a group with my brother and my best friend and my softball girls. It was a good time.

Oh, and then this other time when my hair was bigger than a balloon and my dress was a little too tight on my larger than life hips. But I thought it was my best look to date and I got to go with a guy I was totally in love with. Homecoming dances are my favorite. School spirit days, football butts, stupid cheerleaders and girls wearing their boyfriends' jerseys all in a week that ends with a big, fun dance just does something for me.

 And even though the guy didn't like me like me, I thought maybe he might. Although I can't remember specifics, I'm sure I flirted openly and awkwardly (as only I can), and I'm sure he was completely turned off by the whole thing. I think I got to kiss him for as a dare on New Year's Eve though. That was a major plus in my book.

Story of my life.

Last but not least, my two favorite dances:

For Sadie Hawkins, I went with one of my good guy friends that I had known forever.

We got along well, we talked easily, we had fun and had inside jokes and flirted like there was no tomorrow. But it was friendly flirting; you know the kind.  It was fun. I could be myself because I knew he liked me as a friend. Things were easy. 

It helped that the dance wasn't formal and I could be weird.

My group, which consisted of pretty much every single one of my girl and guy friends (and my brother! again!), was the best group in the history of groups. It was so fun. And because it was Sadie Hawkins, the girls chose the theme for the costumes. I remember it like it was yesterday: me and my softball girls coming up with the epic idea of doing Disney couples for the theme. I want to say it was my idea. We'll pretend it was.

Disney couples. Can you tell who everyone is?

And then there was the Junior prom I went to as a senior. I went to it with one of my friends, Jon the Mexican (that's what we called him. So not derogatory. He told us to call him that, I think.) It was so fun. Again, because we could be ourselves and just have fun. No pressure.

Biggest regret of my high school dance career? Not going to even one dance with my best guy friend. Not even one! So lame. I'm still pissed about it. 

 Moral of the story:

Don't go with crushes who may or may not like you and that you may or may not be obsessed with. Dances are much better with good friends. 

So tell me: 

Do you have any awesome high school dance stories? Pictures? Embarrassing moments?

Please share.

Link up if you dare.

some thoughts on motherhood

With Mother's Day right around the corner, I have been thinking a lot about mothers lately. About being a mom. About becoming a mom. About other moms; young ones, old ones, future ones, heavenly ones.

Before this earth-shattering, mind-twisting, game-changing event of having a baby happened to me, Mother's Day was a day to tell the mothers in my life just how much I appreciated them.

Mother's Day in my mind was a day to honor them and recognize the under-appreciated and under-paid work they do every day. It was a day to tell them the things that I don't usually tell them. To say the things I have always wanted to say. To reflect on just how much they have done for me in my life. To say I love you. To let them relax for one day; give them a day off from their demanding 24/7 365 day job.

And now the tables are turned, and I am a mother. And Mother's Day is something entirely new.

As it gets closer, I find myself dreading it.

I dread it because that's the day that I will have to come to terms that I am a mother. A real live, legit mom to a little girl. I grew her in my belly for 9 months. I've dreamed about her my whole life. And now she's here, and I have no idea what I'm doing.

I dread it because I will have to analyze why I became a mother. Why I wanted this. This event has changed everything about my life. Most people say it is a wonderful change. It is. But it is insanely hard. And I don't do well with change. Things are different with my husband. My days are not my own. My body is not my own. Every day I am reminded of the things about myself that need to be fixed. People say that it is worth it. I am still trying very hard to see how it is worth it. Because everything I have loved about my life is different. I can't say honestly that I love being a mother right now. Sometimes it feels suffocating.

I dread it because I will have to take stock of how I'm doing as a mother. And I will have very poor marks in that regard. There is so much to do. So much to live up to. So much pressure and worry and guilt and pressure. So many things pulling you in different directions. I feel like I'm dog-paddling half-heartedly and can barely keep my head above the water here.

Like, you know when you were a teenager and your room was SO DIRTY, and it was spring cleaning time, and you got that cleaning bug. But where to start? The laundry? Go through all of your clothes and get rid of old stuff? Organize your shoes? Get distracted by your old yearbooks? Throw away the crap you've accumulated over the year?

Piles and piles and piles of little things, all related in some way or another. You have to find places for these piles and piles and piles of things, but where to start? Is there even room? Do you even need half of this stuff? Your head just spins in circles. You wander to the different piles, pick up an old trinket here, flip through an old book there. Eventually, you just sit down in the middle of the chaos and dazedly listen to loud music on your stereo.

(ok, I have to say that analogy was awesome.) (Did your cleaning go even remotely like that? I may just be a space case.)

Regardless, this superb analogy of mine describes perfectly how I feel. There are piles and piles and piles of things I could (and should) be doing to better myself. Become more spiritual, better my relationship with my husband, foster learning in my child, while trying to figure out ways for my new baby to not get attached to the pacifier that you weren't going to use, and to figure out how to get her to sleep EVER. Etc, etc, etc. The list is never ending.

In this past month I have wondered why people become mothers. Why do they love it so much? Why is it the most divine calling on this earth? How can I come to love motherhood? How can I change my attitude and embrace the biggest blessing in my life right now?

Some people can't have children. Some people have a hard time having children. Some people have children with special needs or have children that only live a short while. When I read about these people, I feel ashamed that I complain about my perfectly healthy, though very frustrating little baby girl. She is beautiful and perfect and sweet. I love her so. But motherhood? It seems daunting. It seems dirty. It seems unglamorous and underappreciated and just so insanely hard.

Basically, I guess I just wonder how I will ever become a mom to Vivian like my mom is to me. Will I ever measure up? Most people love their mothers. They look up to them and cherish them. I know how I feel about my mom, and that is the most daunting thing. How will I EVER become that woman? How? How is it possible? Our moms are so wonderful. Every mother that I have the privilege of knowing is amazing in their own special way. But how did they get that way? I don't feel I measure up to the task. I don't know how to be that person.

And so Mother's Day is just a day that I dread, because it will remind me so much of the things I am lacking in.

I hope and pray that the Lord will teach my unworthy self what to do and when to do it.

And if there is one thing that I could wish for, it would be that i could be a mom to Viv like my mom has been to me. A best friend, an example, a number one fan, a believer, a secret keeper, a giver of the hard truth, and the one person who loves you unconditionally.

If I worked my whole life, I won't measure up to that.

But I will try, always.

In conclusion, I will take motherhood on one day at a time.

I will remember to love on those sweet milk cheeks of my baby,

to bask in her wide eyes that she has only for me,

remember how she snorts when she's hungry and plays with her hair when she eats,

and try to remember why I wanted to be a mother:

Because I have such an amazing one.

Happy Mother's Day to all you women out there.

You are my inspiration.

I have a psychic baby

when you pick up the remote control.

when you pick up a book.

when you kiss your husband.

when you have a quiet, un-busy second alone with your husband.

when the car stops.

when you sit down.

when you really have to pee.

 when you stop "shhhh" ing.

when you touch any form of eating utensil.

when you get really comfortable in bed.

when someone calls you.

even if she is dead asleep,

she knows.

and then she cries.

Should I start renting her out for party entertainment?