Progress isn't always pretty

There is a paint post coming soon, but I took the weekend off painting, so there is one final coat to get on before I can do my big reveal of the stripe-less room. Even now with the splotchy first coat of color on it looks like a new space.

I'll also share my color choice for the bedroom that is almost done. I won't know what to do when I'm not sleeping in the living area. Maybe I'll just do it for nostalgia's sake.

Or not.

Aside from painting, we've had quite a few other projects going on here during our extended stay in construction-ville. Obviously, the guys are still working hard on the decks. They got up to the second floor, found extensive rot-- any one else unsurprised by that???-- and are currently reconstructing the entire second floor west wall. I had no idea it was even possible to replace entire walls until this "little" project. Here's what it looked like about 10 minutes ago.

OK, here's all I know about what is going on. You obviously can't just take out a wall and hope the house won't collapse on itself. To prevent that from happening, the builders had to build a temporary wall to support the weight of the house, tear out the rotten wall, and begin constructing the new, improved, un-rotten wall. In the photo the wall nearest us is the temporary and the outer wall being framed will be the permanent wall. Since I'm upstairs writing this and Little Man is (somehow) napping through all the noise, I'm grateful that the house won't collapse into a rotten heap. Since Beau is currently  under the house I'm sure he is grateful as well.

Here's where what that looked like this morning:

See how even the temporary walls look sturdier than what was there?

OK, so that's what's going on with the builders, but we're not just sitting around watching the fun happen. There's the prepping and painting, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

And like that iceberg that sank an unsinkable ship, what looked at the start of the week to be a manageable to-do list turned into something surprisingly daunting.

Rather than devoting a post to each of the projects we have going on, I thought I'd do a little roundup to catch you up to speed.

1) Since the entire west wall on the second floor is going to be ripped out and reconstructed, we needed to fix the bathroom that wasn't associated with that wall. Here's the sad truth: Since closing on this place, oh, I don't know, seven months ago, we haven't had a fully functional full bathroom. We have had the equivalent of one, but not one one with all necessary functions in one place.

Most full bathrooms have the following: a flushing toilet, a working shower or bath, a running sink, lights, and a mirror. If they are fancy they might have towel bars. (We are decidedly un-fancy here. Nary a towel bar in sight.) The westernmost bathroom had the working shower, toilet and sink, but no mirror and no lights. That was the most functional room in which to bathe. Sad, right? Showering in the dark is an interesting event. I won't miss it.

The easternmost bathroom-- (which I will heretofore refer to as the purple bathroom because "easternmost and westernmost" make it sound like we live in some Downton Abbey-esque sprawling estate. We do not. We have two bathrooms on the second floor. Granted, two is a significantly larger number than the number we have in Virginia, so I'm not scoffing at it at all.)

I digress. 

The  purple bathroom has working lights, a nice sink, and a lovely reflective looking glass, but the toilet ran constantly (until we turned off the water supply and ignored it) and the shower leaked into the apartment downstairs. This week I put on my plumber pants (minus the requisite plumber's crack--I hope) which look much like my painting pants.

And I got in there and replaced the guts of the toilet. 

I did this almost all by myself. 

I know. I'm pretty amazing.

(Hint: It isn't hard at all.)

Then, in a crazy burst of industriousness because we could potentially have a bathroom with all of the basics, Beau sealed the leaking pipe under the shower with silicone and voila, everything was fixed! 

Or was it?

Today I showered in said non-leaking shower. It didn't leak into the apartment below, but the drain did leak into the crawl space where Beau was working on the forthcoming roundup item #2. (I know, I know. This is the wordiest roundup ever. Bear with me.)

OK, so Beau was in the bowels of the house and sewage was spewing out. Gross. But at least it was just my shower water. (This time...eeeeew.)

It turns out that a sewage pipe under the house had been torqued at a strange angle and broke. I ran to visit our new BFFs at the local-ish hardware store and got some rubber couplings so Beau could fix the problem.

Now we have one bathroom that has a flushing, non-leaking toilet; a non-leaking shower; a sink; a mirror and lights. Oh, and raw sewage doesn't empty out under the house. Bonus!

This is what progress looks like, people. And it happens to be just in time for the builders to rip out the wall of the other semi-functional bathroom. While that would have remedied the darkness problem, I don't think I'm ready to shower in a bathroom that is missing a wall... 

2) In addition to having moisture in the walls of the house, we also had a lot of moisture under the house. (Probably in part thanks to the showers emptying out under the house...) All of the insulation was moldy and sopping. Beau spent the better part of two days in the bowels of the house removing the old and securing itchy, awful insulation to the house.

This was his workspace.

Creepy, right?

You totally wouldn't catch me under there.

I bought him a work light on one of my trips to the hardware store. I think that qualifies me for the most thoughtful wife of the year award.

My husband is so brave.

And damn sexy when he's in his workin' clothes.

Sorry, ladies. He's all  mine.

3) In addition to the moisture under the house causing the insulation to become wet, moldy and generally nasty, there was also a nice puddle of water the accumulated against the west wall. I choose to think that the water is not shower water, but is ground water from the abnormally wet year we've had here. 

Just go with it.

Beau didn't want the water to remain there and compromise the foundation, so he donned his sexy work clothes and started digging a trench to encourage the water to flow away from the house.

It's ugly, but soon enough that rich soil will start filling in with grass and other assorted mountain growth and it won't look as much like a mud pile. 

I hope.

Because little boys are magnetically attracted to mud piles and I don't really want my kiddo playing there anytime soon...

So, there you have it. Those are the big non-painting projects we have had going on here. I know it seems suspiciously like Beau did all of the backbreaking/disgusting/creepy work, which might be true, but someone needs to watch the Little Man. And, in my defense, I did a lot of painting and running to the hardware store. That counts for something, right?

Which of these projects would you least like to do? Don't you think Beau deserves a prize of some sort for doing all of these gross tasks on his vacation? Maybe a new set of coveralls? You can never have too many, you know.

Traveling with a toddler

I'm pretty hesitant to post about mom stuff. I mean, come on, this is my fist time at the rodeo. What do I know? It's all trial and error for me.

With that said, I'm not sure that having four, six or eight kids would make me feel any closer to being an expert. (That's totally not something I want to test out, either.)

Recently, a few people have commented on my "bravery" in traveling with Little Man when Beau is unavailable to join us. I didn't ever really consider it brave. (Or stupid, or crazy, or inspiring or any other adjectives assigned to our adventures by outsiders.)

Just this morning we returned home from our weekend in Chicago for my first BlogHer conference. This time I didn't travel solo. My wonderful, sweet, kind mom came with us. Her pseudonym from here on out will be Granny Nanny. (Don't worry, she likes it.) I realized during this most recent trip that traveling with kids can be hard. It doesn't have to be. (And by kids, I mean my one kid. Moms of many, I don't pretend to speak for you.)

Here are some pieces of advice I have for moms of toddlers who want to travel. I've tested these on planes, trains and automobiles. They work. At least for my kid. I've even tried them out traveling solo with him. I'm still here to write about it. Go figure.

1. Accept help
This one is the hardest for me. Just ask my mom. She saw it first hand this weekend. I am fiercely independent. I have an "I can do it" attitude about most things. I fully realized the benefit of accepting help last night when Little Man was asleep on me and I was trying to figure out how to get my backpack down from the overhead and put it on without waking the sweet baby. Mom was further back on the plane, so I was going to have to do this on my own. (Yes, I realize I could have waited for her to get up to us. I didn't think about it at the time.) The sweet grandfather who shared our row of seating offered to get my backpack for me. Instantly I felt less stressed. He was also sweet enough to offer to carry my bags off, but that seemed like overkill given my proneness to fierce independence. I'm a work in progress, what can I say.

Likewise, I've had strangers offer to help carry the stroller down stairs where a ramp wasn't available. Doors are often held for us. These gestures are so, so helpful.

Say thank you. Profusely and sincerely.

And if you refuse help, do so politely as well. Don't be the one to make the person offering not want to help another solo mom some other time.

2. Don't expect help
People will help. Probably. Except for when they don't. Don't count on it, and don't expect it. Formulate a plan that you can manage on your own. That means you should have the means to carry all of your luggage and manage your child at the same time. When we flew to San Diego, Beau's company booked his flight and because of logistical difficulties, Beau had to book us on a different flight. Little Man and I flew across country on our own. The most difficult part of that was that I carried his car seat with me because we rented a car and I didn't want to rent a sub par seat (tried that once, wasn't impressed) and I didn't want to check his seat (the abuse that luggage takes can damage a seat and compromise your baby's safety). This meant that I had to traverse the airport in Detroit with a baby, a car seat, and a diaper bag. I erroneously didn't want to deal with a stroller in the airport, so I didn't bring one. There was no nice grandfather on his way to visit his grand kids to help me in this case. There were a lot of people in a hurry to get where they needed to be. I was just another ant (albeit a baby wearing ant) in a maze of other ants.

Instead of expecting help, I prepared to make the plane change on my own. I wore Little Man on my chest in his Baby Bjorn and made sure that I could balance his jumbo car seat on my hip and still walk a good distance at a solid clip. It would have been nice to have had help, but I didn't need it. We made our connection with enough time to grab a sandwich and have a college age couple comment on my car seat/baby carrying guns.

3. Prepare, but don't over pack
When I travel alone I bring extras. I have "just in case" stuff. A just in case magazine or two. My laptop- just in case I want to write. A water bottle just in case I want to fill it up after getting through security. Et cetera. You get it. When traveling with a person who doesn't contribute anything to the experience (aka your offspring), you get to play Sherpa. It ain't as fun as it sounds. Know how many diapers your little one will use, and then plan on bringing just a few more. (I know, mom, I over-packed diapers this trip...) Know which small toys and books will amuse your little one and just pack those. If your little person is as nosy curious as mine, you won't need many toys. The airport should be stimulation enough. And on the plane, Little Man could have played with the shade and little lap-table-thing for days. Know your child well enough to know what amuses him or her. A new toy? Get one. Can't survive without his or her lovie? Pack it.

Even if you aren't flying and the amount of luggage is a non issue, remember, you'll have to carry it, load/unload it, and pack/unpack/repack/unpack it. Bring what you need plus a little extra and call it a day. Do keep in mind that if you don't bring an extra outfit or two there will be a poop explosion or something equally messy and stinky. Preparedness is not synonymous with over packing. Know the difference. 

4. Give yourself more time that you think you could possibly need
This last trip, mom and I could have booked a connection that would have gotten us back to Richmond earlier. The layover would have been less than an hour, though. I wasn't keen on the idea of changing planes with a toddler in Atlanta with less than an hour between flights. We probably could have made it, but it would have been tight and I would have been stressed. Be aware of layover times, the size of the airport you'll be changing planes in, and any customs requirements when booking your flight. Plan according to your needs.

Similarly, plan to get to the airport earlier than necessary to get through security. On both legs of this trip I got pulled aside to have my bag searched. While it is perfectly within FAA regulations to bring as much food or liquid as is reasonable, my bags got flagged and the food packets got pulled out and the bag rescreened. Likewise, it takes a few minutes to take care of strollers and seats, get the little one situated back in the seat or sling, put shoes back on, etc. It is much easier if there is no real rush.

Little Man and I have made two road trips to West Virginia when Beau's work schedule didn't allow us to join him. The drive itself is a pretty straightforward five hour drive. I never plan it taking five hours. I know that we will stop at least once for a nice stretch, meal and diaper change. We'll play for a little bit and I'll let him expend some energy. I never know how long this will take and I have learned not to begrudge it. Giving him time to recover from being strapped in a seat for a lengthy period makes the rest of the trip go by smoothly. Be aware and considerate of your little person's energy level.(Because if you aren't you--and possibly the other 100+ people on a plane--will suffer through the ramifications of a baby who has too much energy and nowhere to go.)

5. Always pack food
Even if I'm driving an hour to see family, I pack food. It may just be a small baggie of crackers and a sippy cup, but it is food nonetheless. Sometimes that hour turns into two plus hours because of traffic. Sometimes a 45 minute flight sits on a tarmac for two hours. Sometimes the food/beverage cart on the train is out of food your baby can/will eat.  Those packed snacks can often keep a meltdown from happening.

And that is very good.


6. Be flexible
Travel is stressful. Babies and toddlers are stressful. The two of them together could very easily be a stress cocktail. Don't let it be. If traffic has you stopped long before you planned your leg-stretch stop, let the traffic dictate your stop instead of your agenda. If your flight is cancelled or your bag is lost, calmly ask the airline personnel how they are going to remedy your situation (and then thank me for reminding you to pack that extra outfit and a few extra diapers). If your baby ALWAYS eats a nutritious and balanced meal at noon but the plane is still ascending, distract him or her with a cracker or whatever you have handy and let your schedule slide for a day. Having goldfish for lunch one day will not have long-term affects on his or her health and wellness.

Travel is exciting and novel for your baby. It is also overwhelming. Schedules will be thrown off. Routines are out the window. Be ready to adapt to that three hour time change or missed nap. Plan for what you can (i.e. Little Man's inability to go to sleep at a decent hour the day we make the five hour road trip to WV) and be cognizant of the fact that you can't plan for everything (maybe a lost lovie or pacifier). You can only adapt. Be ready to adapt to any number of events.

I truly believe that babies react to our stress. If you are flexible and calm, your baby will use those cues to formulate his or her reaction to the trip. 

Here's wishing you safe and happy travels.

What other general travel advice do you have to share?

Thoughts on being 35-- very, very deep thoughts

Last Thursday I turned 35. What? I don't look a day over 30? You're sweet. Thank you.

I've had a few days to let my new age grow on me and I have some thoughts on being 35.

1. Celebrating your 35th birthday at Great Wolf Lodge is a way to totally forget that you are anything but a kid at heart. I highly recommend celebrating anything there. Especially if it is on a weekday in mid-May. It was incredibly uncrowded.

2. The US Census Bureau considers 35 to be middle age. Most other sources feel it starts later. You're wrong, Census. Way wrong. Ain't nobody here but us spring chickens. (For some reason simply typing "spring chickens" made me feel at least 80.)

3. It is possible that your body will play funny tricks on you and have you wake up on your birthday with a very sore back. You will think this is the onset of old age. It is not. It is caused by sleeping in an uncomfortable (by your overly pampered standards) bed and carrying a 20+ pound baby around. A soak in the hot tub and a good night's sleep in your own bed will take care of that. If you're still feeling bad, see #1.

4. My 30s have been my favorite years. If the events in the past year or so--a sweet baby and marriage--are any indication, things will only get better. If that is even possible.

5. Cake. Every birthday deserves cake. This does not change when you are firmly ensconced in adulthood. If it does, immediately ditch whomever you celebrate your birthdays with and find people who worship at the altar of Cake. Your life will be tenfold better for it. Promise. (Disclaimer: The it in question is cake and not the ditching of people...)

6. The process of ageing is natural. You had no choice in when you were born. The choice you do have is how you are going to spend the days you are given. If you feel the need to wish away your days on being younger and hipper you will probably miss out on beautiful things, end up looking foolish and/or woefully regret not taking advantage of whatever age you are grumbling about. It is, therefore, pointless to lie to make yourself younger. Nothing will actually make you numerically younger, but your attitude will determine how old you feel.



Babies discovering your nose will make you feel young...



7. Lies about your age ARE OK if you tell students that you are 25 for 11 consecutive birthdays. The reactions are priceless. In doing this I have made some interesting sociological and anthropological observations. Among them are the following: 1) boys generally take you at your word, 2) girls will scrutinize you and/or do the math to figure out you are fibbing. Someone will call you out, and 3) no matter how young you say you are, someone (usually a boy) will always lie and tell you they thought you were younger--sometimes much younger. (There is no way I look 22, Charmer. I see you have a beautiful future as a politician. You have my vote.)

8. The advent of Facebook makes users feel uber popular on birthdays. (Wait, what? I have 64 pending messages? Look at all that love.)

9. I always thought being an adult would feel more um, adult like. Generally I feel like I'm a kid pretending to be an adult. Does that ever stop? I don't want it to.

I mean, I look like an adult, right?

10. Having a birthday does not make your library books un-due. They are still late and you still have a fine. Oops.

Do the 5's and the 0's seem to carry more weight for you, too? Why is that? What are your thoughts on your latest "milestone" birthday?

Peace Out 2012, You Were Good to Us

What a year.

I'll try to be brief, but really, so, so, so much happened this year that it'll be tough.

1) Life changed drastically

The best things in the world happened. I married one of the loves of my life, and I met the other:

 

2) Travel was abundant

We went to the Dominican Republic for our babymoon.

I went to California to see my dearest friend Cyndi, her beautiful family, and some wonderful friends I don't get to see nearly enough.

 

 

We visited family in Massachusetts. (Twice!!)

 

Somehow though, I have no photographic evidence of our first trip when Little Man was just three weeks old. I was a sleep deprived new mom. We drove there. Crazy? Perhaps. Worth it so that Beau's entire family could meet the little guy? Absolutely!



 

This fall we visited the Outer Banks with my family.

 





Little Man and Grandma waited patiently at the bottom of the Currituck lighthouse as mom, dad and PopPop climbed to the top for some amazing views of the Sound.

 Not all of our travel was to a beach. While in Massachusetts the second time, we snuck away to check out the foliage in New Hampshire. It was stunning.

 

We also fell in love with the mountains of West Virginia. We traveled there three times. This view, as well as the kind people we've met keep drawing us back.

 

 

And, since Grandma and Pop Pop live near Williamsburg, we decided to get a little Colonial up in here.

 

 (Blurry, but you get it, right?)

 

3) Milestones came and went

 

It is hard to believe that Little Man turned seven months just two days ago. In those seven months we've watched him grow and change from a sleepy cuddle bug

 

 

 

 to an alert, smiling, chattering extrovert.

 





 On Thanksgiving he got to taste (and wear) solid food for the first time.

He looks good in sweet potato.

 

We use mooshy Cheerios to work on fine motor skills.

 

 

It's a work in progress.

 

 

At this point (seven months and two days), he's rolling, scootching and saying "momomommomoomoomm", "baaaa", and "daaaaa" lots. He loves to laugh and be social. And he loves bath time.

 



 

(And not just because of the stylish post-bath garb.)

 



4) Superstorm Sandy hit

Sandy could have been much worse to us. She was devastating to much of the country. We just got a little wet, but being our first big storm with a baby at home and living in a flood prone neighborhood, we were on high alert.

5) We love to learn

Little Man's mom is an English teacher, Grammy is a librarian, and all three aunts on dad's side were English majors, so the poor kid is going to be forced to read. He seems to love it so far.

 

Since he seems to have an early love for learning, when we were in New Hampshire we subliminally planted the seeds of an Ivy League dream into his little head. (Though Beau refused to let me buy the "Dartmouth Medical" romper. Spoilsport.)

 

 

As a true product of the 21st century, he seems to love technology. Especially to discuss stock trends with dad.

 

 

 

6) Sophie

 

When you've got a Great Dane in your life, you know life is good. Carter loves his Sophie.

 

Uncle Andy ain't so bad himself. Shoot, he's pretty cool. He's got an awesome wife, a cool boat, and a dog that can work as a horse in a bind. Carter thinks spending time here is the bee's knees, so we try to do it as often as they'll let us.

 





7) Love was everywhere

More than anything, 2012 showed us what pure, sweet love looks and feels like. Sometimes it is a reassuring hand on your shoulder when you need a pep talk.

 

 

Sometimes, a fierce (?) lion and tamer.

 

 

Or, friends and students going out of their way to throw a amazing showers to show how loved Little Man, Beau and I really are.

 

 

 

I know I've left out so, so much of this year. There are so many moments where we just lived and neglected the photographs. There's something to be said for that.

 

It doesn't make for good blogging, but it does make for a good life.

 

All in all, this year was by far the best year of my life. I'm not sure what 2013 has in store, but I imagine it'll be interesting. These guys have my back,

 

 

so I'm pretty confident that it'll be a good year.

 

 

Even if Beau and Little Man are stuck with a crazy person.

 

Are you guys sad to see 2012 go, or excited to usher in 2013? Or maybe a little of both?

Happy Birthday, Beau

Today my Beau turns 34. I thought to celebrate, I'd talk about some of the things that make me get all weak in the knees over him. My friend and neighbor, Mary, who has a sweet blog (tulips & flight suits) recently wished her husband a happy 27th by discussing 27 reasons she loves him here. I thought I'd modify her thoughtful gesture in my own little roundup of love. (Thanks, Mary!)

Well, I'm wordy, and no one has time to read 34 reasons I love Beau. (See here, here and here for examples of why a simple list of ten can be way too much for this verbose gal). I could easily think of 340 reasons he's the bees knees, but here are 17 instead. One for every two years? Sure. Why not.

1) The dad you are. Seeing you with our Little Man melts my heart. You beat me to the diaper change on our guy's first day of life, and you continue, every day, to be the very best father you can be.

2) You make me laugh. You just get me and my strange sense of humor. I think I laugh with you more than I have with any other person. You're dang witty, mister, and I appreciate that trait so very much. I think laughter is so very healthy and it means so much to me that we can look at serious things like parenting, responsibilities, work, etc. and laugh or fool heads off. (Like in this picture where even during our vows, you made me laugh...)

3) Your brain. Smart is sexy. You are smart. You know what basic logic says about you, then. The conversations we have astound me. I recall I once mentioned I didn't get the difference between a regular engine and a diesel engine. After a lengthy lesson, I can say I now do. You're not just limited to engines. Politics, finance, current events, space exploration, history-- it doesn't matter-- you know what's going on and you never make me feel less for asking.

4) Your red shirt. Yeah, yeah, you know I actually kind of hate that red shirt. But, I love that you don't care what people think about you or that hole filled red shirt. (I typed holy, but I didn't want to give you any ideas on why you should continue to wear the thing.) You are you and you don't really want to be anyone else. I love that. In today's world, that's hard to do. I love that Little Man will get to see that, and hopefully he'll emulate it. He will, though, probably hate the shirt too.

I'm not going to glorify the shirt by including a photo. That, and I don't think I have any...

5) Your job. OK, there are aspects of your job that I really dislike, but I love that you do it without complaint and you provide so willingly for our family. I know that you work hard and you make personal sacrifices for us. They do not go unnoticed, nor are then unappreciated.

6) Your priorities. Little man had a college fund before he was born, we married only after knowing that marriage wouldn't change the "us" we cherish so much, and we live within certain means so that we have the (almost..come on stock market, be good to us...) certainty of a long comfortable life together. Really, I guess what I'm saying is that Little Man and I are your obvious priorities and that's pretty cool.

7) Our adventures. We do some pretty fun things together and it's because you think of the most exciting things to do. Balloon rides in the mountains? (Almost) check. A trip to NYC to see a brand new show? Uh-huh. A babymoon planned three days before departure? Done that. An afternoon at the beach with an infant on a whim? Sure. A hike in flip-flops? Why not? you are fearless and spontaneous and I am neither of those. You're kind of my hero that way. (When I'm not complaining about hiking in flops or how I need more time to pack, plan, etc.)

8) You let me be right...even when I'm not. I'm hard-headed and a little headstrong. You let me be that and don't argue or fight with me when I know I'm right. (In most cases, there is no right.) A lesser man would want to one-up me or prove me wrong. You know that I'm usually mortified when I figure it out on my own. I think you're kind enough to not make it worse. (Thank you.)

9) Your ability to jump in with both feet. Remember when you bought two liters (!!!) of vanilla from Mexico to go with the ice cream maker you thought would be fun to have? (It is!) There was no small step there--we were going to have vanilla enough to make ice cream whenever we wanted (for the rest of our lives, it seems!). Both feet for the plunge. I love that. There's no timidity with you when you want something. That was true when we started dating. You called the next day (no three day rule for you!) and didn't beat around the bush and play dumb dating games. You were upfront, real, and all in.

10) Our conversations. I look forward to our road trips and other extended times together because we always have something to say to each other. Sometimes they are silly conversations, sometimes they are deep, sometimes they are memorable and sometimes not, but they always make me feel engaged in us. Here's hoping we can easily withstand twelve hour car rides to the Cape for the next 50 years without an uncomfortable lull.

11) You read. Lots of people couldn't care an iota about this. I, however, think it is downright sexy. It also contributes handsomely to # 3 and #10. On our first date we talked about books. I read the two you recommended and was impressed that you had read them and enjoyed them. It is so important to me that we bring Little Man up in a house with books so he can foster a love of reading and learning. I'm so glad you're on board with that. It's also way cool that you have good taste in books so we can enjoy #10 about some of the less finance-y ones. (Because no matter how good you say they are, I have zero interest in them.)

12) You nested. Not when we were about to have a baby, but when you realized I was a keeper. All of a sudden you needed to have things to make your house comfortable, a home. I don't think you even realized what you were doing, but I could see it. It's sweet and charming that you wanted to make your home comfortable for me. And when it became our home, you never, ever made me feel like it wasn't mine. In your vocabulary it just stopped being "my" house and became "our" house.

13) You let me be me. I know I'm not perfect. I know I make mistakes. I know I can be difficult. You have never, ever made me feel any of these things. You've never tried to change me or make me feel bad about who I am. When you fell in love with me, you fell in love with my flaws too. More so, you support my big ideas: Hey, Amy, you want to put our lives on the Internet for complete strangers to read? Sure, go for it. You'll do a great job...

I hope that I have been as gracious and loving and let you be you.   I think because of #4 I maybe have. Though, I might not have been as quiet about it as I should have been.

14) The nook where I sleep. When I curl up next to you and nestle my head in that nook between your shoulder and chest, I am home. That is my all time favorite place in the world. I feel safe and loved right there. It is my happy place.

15) Your handsome mug. OK, OK, I had to get a little shallow on you. I think you are one fine man. You're too humble to know how attractive you are, and I won't embarrass you by going on and on about it. With that said, I will spend the rest of this sentence letting you know that if you never want to wear a shirt again, you don't have to. (And that's not a ploy to get rid of the red one, I promise!)

 

 

16) You're a chocoholic, too! Aside from your father, I've never met a man who has a bigger sweet tooth than me. If I eat ice cream, you have a bigger scoop. Cake? Yep, you'll have seconds. Not only do I often know dessert will be ordered (yippie!!), I also know that I'll never feel like a fatty for eating it. (Maybe this should have been #1. It's pretty important.)

16) You appreciate me and tell me so. When you are out of town for work and we FaceTime, you always ask me how I'm doing and tell me that what I'm doing--staying at home with our Little Man-- is hard work and is important. You understand. Very few men do. I know that, and I count myself lucky every single time you voice your understanding.

So, Beau. On your birthday that's full of bill paying, dentist appointments, and a screaming reflux-y baby, I want you to know, from the very bottom of my heart, you mean the world to me. I'm pretty dang lucky to have you as my other half.

Happy Birthday, my love.

p.s. I know you probably hate this as much as you love it (and maybe more...). Sorry, but the world deserves to know how awesome you are.