breakfast in bed never gets old

Good thing being able to judge how much waffle batter it takes to fill the iron isn't a test you have to pass before you can get married. Every year since I was little, my parents have given us breakfast in bed on our birthday (or a day semi-close to our birthday, if life was crazy). Matt and I do pretty well at not letting our life get crazy, BUT he had to be at work at 5:30 on his birthday, so we put off the breakfast til Saturday. He got what he asked for, plus a pregnant wife to lay beside him with her own bowl of grapes, and a dog who thought those begging eyes were going to earn him a little something from the birthday boy.

Putting a shirt on was an unnecessary hassle which is why Matthew isn't pictured in this, his breakfast, post.

fourteen weeks

 Officially finished with my first trimester! No weird cravings yet. For the most part being pregnant feels similar to not being pregnant. I have had some weird dreams, though. You know, playing paintball (but with bullets) inside the church, being the designated non-drinker at a giant drinking party with everyone we know, and high-speed car chases down the interstate running low on gas. Another strange side-effect to carrying a tiny human around is that my tummy wants to poke out of the bottom of all of my shirts. Needing a belly band in the near future.

My sister, Rebekah, who shares a birthday with my husband Matt, has recently crossed into her teen years. Thirteen feels like fifteen, which is closer to twenty-four than I used to think. Happy birthday, beautiful.


breezy days

It's fall, now. Not because the calendar has deemed it so, but because when I leave my house in the morning the grass is still wet with a cold looking dew.

If it sounds like I'm bragging, far from it I assure you; I have no control over how easy this pregnancy has been, but my first trimester presented no problems worse than exhaustion and occasional nausea. The new stage is even easier. My tummy is growing so that people wanna reach out and touch it, and I feel less sick and more full with a second human.

In case you're wondering if I'm about to start bragging, I am. By one measurement, Matt is in the top 10% of athletic people in Hampton Roads. We visited an adventure park attached the to Aquarium here, and on Matt's first trip through the courses, he completed the double black diamond course which the crew members said only 10% of the people who start are able to finish. I know I could never have done it. Aside from being over 50 feet off the ground (which I don't think would scare me), the obstacles required a lot of upper body strength and stamina. Most of the men who I saw quit, didn't fail because they fell part way through an obstacle, but instead because after completing obstacle after obstacle, they didn't have the strength to continue to the next one. Yay, Matthew!


thirteen weeks

Today I went in to the doctor and got to hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time! Everything looks and sounds good! We're so excited for this growing life! Today they also scheduled the gender finding out appointment for early December. That seems forever away, but I know it'll sneak up and tackle us in a good way.

The neighbor's kittens are the best. I love baby cats more than I love big cats, and that's saying something. I could sit on the neighbor's steps surrounded by tiny attack kitty cats all day. I think Tater saw me cheating on him. He's not a fan of other cats.

A couple of neighborhood kids joined me on the steps, and the younger one wanted to take my picture. She directed the sideways peace sign, in case you think that's my go-to picture taking face.

Matt power washed our house before his birthday party. I didn't even know our house was so pretty! It's the American dream. :) Married to the man who was made for me, pregnant with our first baby, living in a little white house with black shutters, greeted at the door by a frisky, old dog, climbing into a bed which is pre-warmed by a giant, black man cat. Love, love, love. I love the life God has given me.

matt's 26th

For his birthday, my handsome husband requested a backyard fire pit with friends and family. My camera doesn't do well in low lighting, but I'm still glad to have captured pieces of the night. Half of these were taken by an eleven year old guest, who wasn't afraid to get in people's faces.

We roasted hotdogs and marshmallows over the fire, ate homemade (by future sister-in-law) cupcakes that were stuffed with fruit, and played basketball, foosball, and pool until after midnight. We also invited our guests inside to sign our kitchen floor subfloor/draw us amazing pictures before we cover it with bamboo in the (hopefully) near future. You know, normal party activities.

We're celebrating his birthday with his family this weekend, and then as a couple on the actual day next week. I'm glad we got to have a little bit of time with friends and family, including some people who hadn't been to our house since we moved in a year ago.

I'm thankful for him, ya know. He's selfless, kind, and twenty-six.



It used to be that I would forget to take pictures. You know, throw a party, have a blast, forget to capture any of it with technology. BUT, my problems are evolving. I did not forget to take pictures at Matt's birthday party; I only forgot to bring those pictures with me to this place where I have internet access. Erps.

So, this is a post telling you that there will not be a post until later today when I return to this place having, hopefully, remembered the camera card.


twelve weeks

When I poke my tummy, I can feel the baby. Not like it wiggles around enough to be felt, but there's something hard and out of place there. Baby.

Tell me twelve weeks is the end of my first trimester. Cause twelve weeks is three months, and you're pregnant for nine months. See how my math makes sense? But then when you divide forty by three, you get something higher than twelve. Sad face. 

The other day we were on a walk; Matt walking Max, and me pushing Maura in her stroller. We walked by a house with a moving truck in front of it, and a woman popped her head out and asked us to wait. Because she saw Maura in the stroller, she brought us two giant bags of baby clothes. Girl stuff. Almost all of it is too small for Maura. Like two pieces would do us any good if Maura was really our baby, but it makes me wonder if this baby is a girl. What good will a bunch of adorable baby girl's clothes do a baby boy? Either way, eventually we want both boys and girls, so it won't go to waste, but it made me stop and wonder about this little one. Wonder if God is providing her some free clothes before we even know what clothes we need.

Now that I've put that out there, it'll be a boy.