I have to say...

I love my adorable son. He rules.

The inspirational 'do...hopefully.

So here it is...and I feel great! Gabe now calls me Posh Spice. 

We'll see how "poshy" I can be while the novelty lasts...

So far, I have foregone t-shirts five out of the six days I've had this haircut.

Assuming that for me, a neckline lower than my collarbone counts as a non-t-shirt.

hmmmm...resemblance? Just gotta work on those smoky eyes...

What is real...

Yet another insight in the bathroom before running off to class... 

First of all, I have not been able to follow a graffiti conversation since seventh grade, when a bathroom stall was more of a social network than facebook.

I have to admit that the maturity of content (if not method) of stall graffiti has improved since middle school. Instead of "I [heart] Stephen Camp" and "F*** Veronica Little" I entertain my short hygiene moment with inspirational axioms, witty phrases, and philosophical musings.  

What I read today made me laugh. 

She said she cried at least once each day not because she was sad but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.

Life is too short to cry about it being short. ENJOY EACH DAY  

stop trying to be so deep. This is a bathroom stall

Yo. If you can't be real in a bathroom stall, where are you going to get real?

Haha. Point taken.

Last night Gabe and I were sitting on our bed. We had a small moment of down-time between dinner and helping kids with homework. Gabe was being cute by leaning over to hug me and kiss my shoulder. Then out of the blue he used my back to stifle an enormous burp.

He attempted another nuzzle, but seeing as I was appalled, I pulled away, telling him he had lost "being romantic" privileges for ten minutes.

I realized my mistake immediately.

"Really?" he jumped off the bed, "Haha, I don't have to be romantic! Freedom for ten minutes!!! I'm going downstairs, then!"

He then proceeded to show off his coin-slot on the way out the door toward the basement, where he could find some manly sports channel to watch. "HeeheheHeeehehe!" If he could have mustered up more burps and even pushed out a fart or two, his ten minutes would have been even more advantageous.

I love my husband.  

My Wardrobe Has Regressed

It hit me a minute ago as I closed myself into a university bathroom stall before class. 

I hung my bushy-hooded coat up on the hook with my Jansport backpack and as I looked down I realized anew that I am frumpy.

It's been a creeping suspicion of mine for awhile, now.

I 'd like to think this development began with pregnancy, when my clothing options consisted of stretchy pants and t-shirts.

Yet honestly I can't say that was the beginning of my fashion degradation. 

I recall a turning point being when I moved in with Gabe for the first time after we were married. We ran off to Chicago to get married over Spring Break at the beginning of March. When we returned, we both still were tied to an apartment lease for the remainder of the semester. Scratch the word "apartment," insert "room." We each had one room we were renting in different houses. 

To make things simple, I moved into Gabe's room at his house. Which meant I just brought over my scriptures and enough clothes to fit into his middle dresser drawer. If I needed anything else I could  walk the five minutes to my house. To my surprise, it was refreshingly easy working with no options. In the morning I wore one of two pairs of jeans and one of five t-shirts. Nothing fancy or complicated. Nothing that took any thinking or creativity. Just pure function. It was great. In addition to this, Gabe was not a good influence on me; to this day he only owns one good pair of jeans. 

I  have since justified my fashion attitude of straight practicality and comfort by my more aesthetically pleasing feminine characteristics, like long hair and a good shape.

I had no lack of confidence in my appearance. Heck, I  love the look of a good t-shirt . 

But now it's time for a change, I think. I find I 'm feeling quite plain lately.  I remember when I felt hot the majority of my week, no matter what I wore. I liked having the control over my appearance potential. I knew I could pretty up real nice, but I just chose natural most of the time so as to have the power to switch it up every once in awhile, like for church. Then, the change would get more attention for the effort I'd put into my appearance. Why put in so much effort all the time for minimal appreciation? The worst would be for people to take for granted your hard-earned beauty. 

However, I don't believe Gabe would ever do this. He tells me I'm hot and beautiful everyday all day.

I could be dressed in anything--or nothing--makeup or no makeup, hair nice or hair a psoriasis-infested mess. Doesn't matter, he always appreciates my looks both vocally and with kisses.

And he is the one I want to look good for. 

Is this why my wardrobe has regressed?

Have I just gotten lazy?

Really, I think it's up to me. What I feel good wearing. What makes me feel pretty and IF I want to feel pretty. 

What has spurred this post? With the gradual realization of my frumpiness, I am leaning toward a new haircut as a way to inspire some changes. I have it scheduled for tomorrow. I hope it goes well!

Discussion Panel

Almost a week ago, Gabe and I were  invited to be a part of a discussion panel on marriage and dating. 

It was to be the combined activity for Young Men and Young Women for Church.

We were the "guest couple" along with Adam and Ginny Tanner, who are also cool and young like us. A model couple that the youth look up to because we seem to have it all and have it together. 

Anyway, we sat at the table at the front of the room, some slips of paper laid out in front of us containing questions written by the Young Women. Did the Young men have any questions for us? Nope.

Of course, the young women wanted to know everything about how we met, how long we dated before we were married, etc. etc. 

One of their questions even asked, "If a redhead goes on a date with another redhead, and since redheads are going extinct, does that mean they are soulmates?" Thank you, Caroline.

We actually ended up having a good discussion with the youth about dating and marriage. And it also allowed me again to reflect on Gabe and my story. Do we have some good stories to tell! Stay tuned...

Good Things...

I just received a text from Gabe, who is downstairs and I am upstairs captured in my chair by a sleeping baby. It said, I am dreaming about u in my heart


Nate came up to me with a pot he'd been working on at the sink, wondering if it was clean. it was spotless. I love how much attention to detail and focus Nate gives to almost everything he does. He reminds me of my dad that way. Earlier he had had a seizure right as school let out so he missed the bus. I received a call from Cora who works in the guidance office. He would need to be picked up from school. Only problem was, I was 30 minutes away in Marquette with the car seat base in my car, and Gabe was at home with John. Gratefully, the principal, Mr. Loukkala, was willing to give him a ride home.

When I picked up Felipe from school today before his 2pm appointment, his teacher was waiting for me. Felipe hasn't been doing his math, she tells me. He had an assignment due that day that he just didn't do.  on the way to the car, I gave him the lecture, asked him why. He didn't know. I gave him a consequence of no electronics for the rest of the week. He replied with a humble okay, like he was almost looking forward to accepting chastisement. It made me wonder if we are spending enough time with him, or if he uses this because he knows it will get our attention. He graciously accepted all chastising for the evening with an air of enjoyment almost. Good ol' Feleeps.