the best year

 
In January,
I told everyone I was pregnant. And then it all seemed real when we heard a galloping heartbeat.


In February,
we made a video that eventually got a lot of YouTube views announcing we were having a boy. We also made a less popular video of our cat opening the door.

In March,
we registered for the baby boy. I talked about my aversion to a lot of baby stuff. I take back my hatred for pacifiers and infant car seats. The bumpers, nursing pads, pack n play, bouncy seat and huge swings? Haven't needed them yet.

We also went to Belize where Shea felt the baby kick for the first time. I also drank a lot of watermelon juice, climbed pyramids in 115 degree heat and rode bikes along the ocean.

In April, 
we accomplished some really big budget goals. Then I gave up sugar for a week but wimped out and ended up passing my glucose test regardless. 

In May, 
We moved into a rental house. Got a temporary roommate. I got bigger, our fridge stopped working and my little sister graduated from college. I also had the worst day ever.

In June,
I had my first shower and received a lot of cloth diapers. Then it started to get really hot, and I got proportionately moodier.

In July, 
we had two more showers. Freaked out about the car seat,  and then freaked out about our marriage never being the same. Lots of freaking out.

In August, 
I gave birth really, really quickly after crying eight hours before that I COULD NOT TAKE IT ANYMORE. Henry heard me apparently. Then I lost blood and had iron infusions. And slowly got better. There was a lot of crying and not much sleeping from all members of the household. 

In September,
life was hard. And too busy for eating and showering. We were totally in love and totally and completely overwhelmed.

In October, 
Henry got a cousin. And I got new tires.

In November,
I celebrated turning 29 with pizza in bed. Henry started giggling. And I started work.

In December, 
we completely failed at getting Henry to sleep in his crib. But succeeded in making him way cute for his baptism.

By far the best year of my life but also the most challenging. I have no idea what 2012 has in store but I am confident my average weight will be less and my sleep will be more.

from another mother

I grew up an only child. But today I would tell you I have a brother and sister - Chris and Layne. 

I started babysitting them when I wasn't even old enough to be a full-fledged babysitter. Instead, I was a mother's helper while their mom worked upstairs. Then I started babysitting after school. And then evenings. Sometimes I'd stay for Saturday night pizza or cheese and crackers Sunday. Then we started taking vacations together, and celebrating holidays, graduations and a wedding. They became my family with a different last name.

We've experienced crazy sickness, buckets of mac and cheese, hours of homework followed by reenactments of Power Rangers scenes. There's been broken hearts, new puppies, an engagement, softball games, moves to college and abroad, endless nights of Ghosts in the Graveyard, a 21st birthday, dinners and beer. Last weekend, we got to celebrate Chris' graduation from college, and next year it's Layne's turn.

We've been super close, and we've been not so close. But now we're all adults, and connected in a way that doesn't always involve our parents. Plus, no one has to pay me to hang out with them. Two years from now, we could all be in different parts of the country - all three in graduate school. (Hello, I'm the slow one.)

My relationship with these two is precious. One I will work hard to maintain and grow for the rest of my life. We may have different last names (and clearly different height genes), but I'm claiming them.

if I had blogged five years ago...

I just graduated from college, woo! The events leading up to the final graduation ceremony were exhausting. 

The final newspaper edition followed by long, deep sobs in the editor's office. They were tears of sadness at leaving behind four years of hard work, fun and passion. But they were also tears of anger and disappointment at the way this place let me down by instilling idealistic yet completely unrealistic notions of journalism.

And then there was the post-production party, the pub crawl, the graduation parties with the kegs and the graduation parties with the great-grandmas. There was the display of articles, awards, certificates and press passes. And the congratulations cake of me marrying the First Amendment because at this point in my life, it's my greatest marriage prospect.

Then the graduation ceremony at the exact same arena where I graduated high school. But this time I was surviving on four hours of sleep and running a fever of 101, later to determined as a bad case of strep throat. I sat there in the aisle in a sweaty robe feeling dizzy and nauseated by the odor of my classmates, whose scent indicated they did a few jager bombs before affixing their cap. But all this was forgotten when I accepted my diploma from my very own father. 

My sent e-mail folder from this time is filled with job applications, job advice, and clear confusion of whether I wanted to work on Capitol Hill or in a newsroom. 

All was forgotten, though, when I hopped on a plane to Brazil the next day. Doped up with antibiotics and hallucination-inducing malaria medication (true story), I left the job search, the pub crawls, the 1 a.m. newspaper deadlines, the 4-hour/night sleep schedule, the papers, the finals, and the friendships behind.

Calendar of nerds

I love Google calendars both for the organizational tool and the satisfaction I get from seeing different aspects of my life in color. I have four of them because my life is very complicated. Also, I am a huge nerd.

Green: My life including bill pay reminders, pay days, activities, parties and birthdays. This week's entries include: Jamaica G's concert, Pampered Chef deadline, D + R do KC and Royals v. Twins game.

Pink: Meal planning, which makes grocery lists infinitely easier. This week's entries include: enchiladas, spaghetti, squash/asparagus risotto, chicken tortilla soup and barbecue pulled chicken.

Purple: Running, where I record the mileage I run each morning. This week's entries: "2.5 miles, 4.1 miles, 4.2 miles."

Blue: Shea's calendar, which is technically not mine. However, I basically maintain it by sending him invites despite the fact he refuses to delete old entries that make no sense like "Boston Beer Marathon." Luckily for him, I not only invite him to things like "car payment due" but also Great American BBQ Festival, the Kansas City Zoo 8K Run and first K-State football game.

It's also fun to look back and see what I was doing a year go. Now you're curious, right? Well according to my ever so reliable calendar, last year during the second to last week in April I was having coffee with Rachel, going to grad class, getting paid, going to the chiropractor, babysitting my favorite little lady and going to a Twins game. Odd that I am doing two of those things this year, this week: Coffee with Rachel and a Twins game. Except both in a completely different city.

So there you go, I love calendars. Excuse me while I go wipe off my pocket protector.

Things I'm glad I did before I got married

Moved to two different states. Alone. Owned a red Mustang. Learned to carry nine bags of groceries up three flights of stairs. Skated in a rollerblade marathon. Twice. Took an Italian language class for no reason at all. Had some bad dates. Received a six-page long, typed, single spaced love letter from someone I met once. Lived in London by myself. Interned for a US Senator. Celebrated my 25th birthday. Had a job that involved constant travel. Stayed in a presidential suite and had wine and cheese delivered every afternoon. Rode on the Tower of Terror in Disneyland. Ate nothing but frozen vegetables and rice for a week. Met Dr. Drew of Loveline. Drank cocktails while standing on the Colorado Rockies home plate. Attended a pirate flotilla in North Carolina. Became friends with my parents. Learned to knit. Decided it hurts my hands too much. Got over my breakups. Threw away pictures of exes. Attended a World Series with tickets given to me by Jim Leyland. Learned to drive stick shift. Kicked a board in half. Smoked a cigar. Did a sake bomb while wearing an elf hat. Wielded a sledge hammer at a school in Mexico. Learned to put art on my wall. Slept in a Guatemalan cloud rainforest. Learned to love sushi. Traveled to Paraguay hidden in the back of a van. Voted for a Black president. Memorized 1,000 words. Took the GRE. Learned to love wine. Learned to love red wine more. Skipped a day of work because I could not dig my car out of feet of snow. Drove car into a ditch. Sold car with rear-wheel drive. Determined what I need in a relationship. Had my court case make it to the US Court of Appeals. Saw four Broadway shows, on Broadway. Threw a coin into the Trevvi Fountain. Lived without cable TV. Went to Starbucks so much I was greeted by name. Took a graduate course that made me uncomfortable. Attended the Winter Olympics. Figured out my favorite flowers are tulips. Went to a movie by myself. Cried everyday because of a job. Found my passion. Changed my mind and found a new passion. Drank a beer with Layne. Went to John Kerry's election night party. Worked retail during the Christmas season. Ate meat that had been cooking for days. Dyed my hair purple. Went four days without showering. Got a pedicure by a Chinese woman in New York. Fell asleep on a bathroom floor cuddling with Rachel. Became a fan of NPR. Celebrated Thanksgiving in Mexico with a turkey cooked in a bag. Cried until my body was void of tears. Learned to make my mom's lasagna. Spent a weekend on Cape Cod. Rekindled my faith. Learned to appreciate Kansas prairies. Saw the town in Sweden where my ancestors came from. Learned to love without holding back.

Bleeding purple since kindergarten

Shortly after moving to Manhattan in 1987, we became huge Wildcat fans. Before the days of Frank Martin, Michael Beasley, and even the Powercat logo. Vintage Willie was the only Willie.

Before purchasing football season tickets, my dad and I would walk to the games and get in free during the second quarter and have the freedom to sit pretty much wherever we wanted. Later we got season tickets to both football and basketball.

My elementary school days are filled with memories of games. For basketball, sometimes we'd get lucky and be able to sit with our friend Carolyn who had floor seats. My most vivid memory of sitting there was catching a stray ball on the sideline and having point guard Anthony Beane (pictured right) lean down so I could throw the ball back in to him. I am positive I beamed for a week.

I prided myself on knowing the numbers that went with every player. Each fall, our church hosted a  basketball dinner where we got to eat with the team and get autographs from each player and coach. I'd leave with a huge sheet of signatures and if I was lucky, a little message. So began my scrapbook collection. Every game, I would cut out the main article and accompanying photos and paste them into my basketball scrapbook. Sometimes from multiple newspapers.

My mom and I would take bets on what lame headline the Manhattan Mercury would come up with: "K-State stampedes the Colorado Buffaloes." "KSU blows past the Cyclones." I could recognize bad journalism even at age 8.

Then on March 24, 1994, Askia "Ski" Jones scored 62 points in 28 minutes against Frenso State in the NIT. I remember a sports columnist writing the next day that many more people would claim they were there that day than actually were because the game was during the students' spring break. But we were there. And at age 11, I learned sports could move you to tears. After the game, Ski came out in his red practice jersey, sweating profusely, to thank his screaming fans. You can only imagine my frantic newspaper clipping and diary writing following that game.

Just as much as violin, softball and 4-H are interwoven throughout my childhood, so are K-State sports. I decorated my room with memorabilia, refined my scrapbooks, played make-believe games where I was adopted as the team's little sister (ok, I was a weird kid) and dyed my hair purple. I attended games up until college and then ironically found I had more fun at games before I was a college student. The players didn't quite seem as hero-worthy.

After years away from Kansas, I am relieved to have returned. And what great timing. I've only gotten to go to a few K-State games in recent years, but I'm a loyal TV and radio follower. And tonight you can be sure I'll be adorned with purple and cheering the K-State team on as they advance to the Elite Eight!

An ode to Molly

Four years ago this week I took this picture:

 
In case you can't tell, it's the red Mustang formerly known as Molly eaten alive by a Minnesota winter. I had only lived in Minnesota  a month and a half and I had to walk two blocks to a gas station to buy a retractable shovel. I failed to dig the knee-deep snow away from the tires and stayed home from work watching Gilmore Girls for the rest of the day.

A year later, I gave this shovel away to a neighbor man in exchange for him pushing Molly out of her icy parking spot.

Two years later, I met Shea. At Christmas time, I drove home alone from my grandparents only to have a six-hour trip take almost 12 hours due to Molly's inferior rear-wheel drive and Wisconsin's even more inferior roads. I gave up at 8 p.m., with tears and violently shaking hands and resolved to sleep in Eau Claire, Wisconsin because I had risked enough lifetime for one day.

My new boyfriend Shea, though, was already on the road coming toward me with a little dog in tow. I remember how my dad asked me to thank Shea, this boy he hadn't met, for saving me.

A few weeks later Molly was traded in for Burple the Mazda.

Four years later, Burple is sitting in a parking lot - away from the knee-deep snow and instead experiencing the thunder and lightning of a Kansas City spring.