Half a Decade Down

Today marks our 5th wedding anniversary.

In past years, we really haven't done much to celebrate because we're lame.

This year, we aren't going out to celebrate because we have a better option at home.

We'd rather hang with this little guy...

We're only seven weeks in with this parenting thing, but I already turn to mush when I see these two together.

That is my absolute favorite picture from the hospital.

Because while he's holding August in one hand, he's hold my hand in the other.

Probably because I was still clinging on to it for dear life, but I'd like to think it was more out of sentiment.

He claims to have no feelings and says he doesn't get attached.

But I beg to differ.

Mr. Stoic is softening up.

And while he hasn't changed a diaper or gotten up at night yet, he's definitely got the snuggling part down.

These two are becoming best buds.

And that's enough to melt my postpartum roller coaster hormonal heart.

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EDIT: Okay, so we did go out. We went to a local Irish pub for dinner. When we got there they were seating for dinner. But of course by the time we left it had turned into a full-fledged bar scene. So yes, I was the lady with the baby in a bar.

But he slept through the whole thing like a champ.

And in my defense, there were a several kids still there from the dinner hour.

Throwback Thursday

When you are home with a baby you quickly learn that daytime television is awful, you can only bake so many Pinterest recipes and lounging on the couch has totally lost its appeal.

So, you go hunting for things to do.

Which lead to a trip down memory lane.

I came across my shot book from my 21st birthday.

That one oughta make my parents real proud.

But in flipping through the scrapbook-styled book, I was taken back to a time long before diapers, bills and real responsibilities.

It was also a time long before hips, flabby arms and funky shaped butts.

College ... Where our biggest concerns were what to wear out that night and if we had time to squeeze a tanning session in first.

We didn't go to the gym because we had to.

Our metabolisms were still intact and our bodies were tight.

We went because the boys went.

I even went as far as to strategically plan my workouts around when I knew a cute guy named John would be lifting weights on Monday afternoons.

We would go to theme parties.

In the pic above, my roommate Brooke and I are headed out to a "Professors and School Girls" party.

So inappropriate, I know.

Or my favorite was the "Broke as a Joke" party where you could only spend $5 on your outfit.

While most people hit up Goodwill. I decided to wrap a $2 Wall Street Journal around my body and use packing tape to make a mini-dress.

Classy.

As I look at some of these pictures, I just can't believe we were ever that skinny.

I might be able to fit my right thigh into some of those miniskirts now.

And you won't ever catch me wearing white bottoms these days.

And least not until I lose 1,000 lbs.

I don't think college kids know how good they really have it.

Even while working on two degrees and holding down three jobs it was pretty damn awesome.

I mean, when else can I get away with cutting up a Bud Light box and fashioning it in a cowboy hat?

Meet August

So I had a baby.

I wish I could tell you that's what I looked like at 9 months, but far from it.

That was more like 6 months.

Heck, that's practically what I looked like when I stood in front of the mirror this morning before church.

About month eight, I was getting tired of wearing the same maternity clothes over and over.

So I got creative.

To mix things up a little, I resorted to wearing my non-maternity stretchy strapless maxi dresses below the belly as long hippy skirts.

And that little gem of a sparkle top in the above picture?

That thing was a mini-dress from college.

By the end of my pregnancy, I was rocking it as a tank top.

Sad, I know.

But let's get real.

This is what I really looked like at nine months....

I felt like everywhere I went people were thinking, who invited Shamu?

I looked like I was about to tip over.

But then, out of nowhere, 11 days early, this little guy showed up.

Caught us off guard since we swore he would be late.

I had to pack a hospital bag between contractions because I was so sure he'd be late that I didn't even plan ahead.

Nursery wasn't totally done, bassinet wasn't up.

We were off to a great start at parenting.

Nineteen hours later, he made his arrival.

7 pounds, 14 ounces.

And thanks to the support of my husband and amazing doula, Anna, I got through it without any drugs, epidurals or IVs.

Continuing my brown-nosing ways from elementary school, I bribed the nurses with goody bags in hopes of getting on their good side.

August has been an angel from the very beginning.

It's fun to see his personality develop everyday.

I'm so thankful my parents were able to make the trip here from Kansas to meet the little guy when he came home from the hospital.

They were so helpful.

My mom took care of things around the house while I got in a solid two weeks of nothing but baby snuggles.

You can definitely tell there is a baby in the house now.

My husband had said that he didn't want baby stuff all over, cluttering things up.

But August's swing managed to find a spot in the den.

And he loves it. 

He's in it at this very moment, sleeping like a baby doll.

My little kangaroo baby is such a snuggler, too.

We have an assortment of carriers that he loves.

I just strap him on and go about my day.

Although my husband has decided that the sling is a little too hippy for his taste.

Too bad.

Baby loves it.

One great thing about being blessed with a pretty calm baby is that we can cart him just about anywhere and he just goes with the flow.

He checks irrigation.

And even picnics in the sod fields.

Now he is officially one month old and growing before our very eyes.

If I could just freeze this moment in time, I would.

Pretty Kitty

Back in April, my baby had babies.

And they have been melting my heart every since.

When they all disappeared recently for more than a week, I was devastated.

My husband assumed a hawk got them.

It made me sick to my stomach.

But then they slowly started showing back up.

Each day a different one would reappear in the shop.

And now my heart is full again.

I seriously can't get anything done with these fluffballs around.

We just snuggle.

All day.

Meet Flip.

(Short for Flippy Floppy)

A super sweet little boy.

He got his name because he's like Gumby when you pick him up. 

You can flip him all around and he just flops in your hands.

This is DG Ranger.

(Short for Dirt Girl Lone Ranger)

She got the Dirt Girl title because anytime there is a pile of dirt, that's exactly where you will find her napping.

And Lone Ranger because she used to separate herself from everyone else in the litter.

She likes to do her own thing.

On the left, we have Lou Lou.

(Short for Lou Lou Holtz)

My husband named her Lou Holtz (and added the second Lou after we realized she was a girl) because she's got this cute this pink spot on her lip and nose that reminds him of the former football coach.

Weird, I know.

And on the right is Tigger.

No great story here.

He just has tiger stripes.

Tigger is the playful one.

They are absolute doll babies.

All of them.

The snuggliest barn cats you've ever come across.

Now hopefully these little punks figure out how to catch mice.

Pickin' Berries

My husband has been trying to get me to make preserves from the wild berries that grow on the farm for several years now.

It finally happened this year.

But I managed to trick him into doing it himself.

We went out to pick berries the other night.

And one of the benefits of being 1,000 months pregnant in the scorching heat is my husband helps me out with little chores that he otherwise wouldn't.

And I don't just mean picking berries.

When it came time to make jam the next night, I had enough berries and plums for three batches.

He got home from guys night at 11:00 pm and I put him straight to work.

I convinced him I just needed him to stir.

But by time the night was over, he had made the berry jam all by himself.

As well as one of the batches of plum jelly.

I'm entering them in the fair in his name.

Who's manly now?

Well Damn, So Much For That

My husband has worn his wedding ring a total of maybe ten times since we got married. And only for a few hours at a time at church or a wedding. 

At last check, he wasn't even sure where it was.

I don't think he's seen it in a couple of years.

Everyone wanted to act like I was some huge a-hole when I bought him the cheapo $168 ring.

Now they see why. 

I'm starting to think now I could have saved an additional $30 by not opting for the comfort-fit style. He doesn't even wear it long enough to be uncomfortable.

I, on the other hand, haven't taken my wedding bands off since our wedding day almost five years ago when he put them on my finger.

Until now.

I had dreams of wearing them until the day I die.

But pregnancy and the summertime heat had other plans for me.

Rather than risk getting them cut off in the very near future due to swelling, I went ahead and took them off.

My finger still hasn't regained its original shape.

It's actually pretty gnarly right now.

I guess that makes going to the bar and playing single out of the question.

If the giant belly doesn't tip guys off, the crazy indention on my ring finger will.