An Addendum to my Last Post, and Brian Becomes a Man

I just need to add a PS to my last post: PS I only love snuggling a sick baby for about a night. Maybe two, maybe. After that, I’m an emotionless zombie who is not counting baby eyelashes, rather, my steps to make sure I don’t walk into a wall. Luckily, Gus is feeling a little better after a long, sick, sad week!

In other news, Brian turned 30 and became a real, live, MAN.

I’m just kidding. Brian’s been a man ever since he squished a large spider for me while we were dating in 2009.Before Brian came along, I would stun spiders from an arm’s length with hairspray until they curled into a sticky ball, and then throw a cup on them. I’d removed the cup a few weeks later with tongs only to find-VOILA-NO SPIDER. Now it could then be anywhere, just watching me, waiting to attack. I became more and more disturbed with each stealth spider incident. How are all species of spiders so good at escaping? That’s the real deal magic cup trick if I ever saw one.

When Spider Slayer Scurr won my heart and his manhood.
When Spider Slayer Scurr won my heart and his manhood.

What I’m saying is, I’m glad I have a man in my life. A Brian type of man. An insect exterminator type of man.

And now…a thirty year old type of man.

Brian woke up on his thirtieth birthday with a partial view of his eyelids. That’s because his eyes were stuck shut with eye crusties from pink eye. Having never experienced pink eye, we will pretend like it was a novelty for him. Happy birthday, Brian.

After he had pruned his eye goo, we spent the day as a family, eating Brian’s favorite things: bacon and fried chicken. During the fried chicken eating, Gus developed a fever. Happier birthday, Brian.

Gus was sick with something + pink eye, so he went to bed early. That’s when the party really got started. We were treated to Benihana by my grandparents. We love getting to spend time with them! Brian shares a birthday with my grandpa, so there were TWO free bowls of ice cream at our table.

Brian so blinded by my whiteness that he can't open his eyes.
Brian so blinded by my whiteness that he can’t open his eyes.

The birthday boys! The birthday boys!

Arizona friends give Brian a surprise visit for the weekend, so I’m sure he revisited the glory days of his youth. Whatever that may have entailed.

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PS This isn’t a mental health confession

Some people have alter egos. Beyonce? Sasha Fierce. Nicki Minaj? Roman Zolanski.

Me? My alter ego is Mom. Just Mom. It’s debatably an alter ego, as opposed to my life role right now, because Mom and Ashton are two drastically separate elements of me. I imagine they’ll fuse together at some point, but Mom makes very different decisions than Ashton would.

Mom is still developing; I think she’ll be pretty colorful by baby #2. She gets real crazy, real fast. Ashton tends to be more mellow, but Mom is proving to be dominant.

I have a sick little man at my house right now, and sick babies break my heart. I was up with Gus multiple times last night…and luckily for Ashton, that’s when Mom really comes alive.

I held a crying baby at 12, and at 2:30, and at 4, and kissed him and snuggled him until he fell asleep. Ashton would have gently placed him back in his crib to hop back into bed, but Mom just couldn’t be coerced to do that. The Mom in me is doesn’t care about practicality, so, surrendering to Mom mode, I held that sleeping baby almost all night. Gus has never (with the exception of once) fallen asleep in my arms, and I couldn’t lose any of those enchanting minutes to sleep. I listened to his breath, smelled his hair, and held his hand. I admired every perfect eyelash, every perfect tiny fingernail, and every perfect feature on him that couldn’t possibly have been created by my own body.

With a new baby moving safely inside me, and my other baby sleeping warm on my chest, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Too overwhelmed to sleep.

Ashton has regretted Mom’s decisions all day and prays we all sleep like rocks tonight, but Mom wouldn’t mind another endearing night of cuddling-baby bliss. Hopefully, the two find a happy medium before my concealer runs out.

Just like the old days...blurry pictures, blurry nights.
Just like the old days…blurry pictures, blurry nights.

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Live Joyfully

I used to do most of my deep thinking while running. These days, I find myself doing most of my thinking while hidden in the pantry, eating chips during naptime. Gus has an incredible sixth sense of when he is being excluded from chip eating, particularly Pringles. I have to stay muffled.

Although I tend to get distracted from personal reflections by wondering things like, “Would a fashion blogger be less of a fashion blogger if she developed a macaroon allergy?” I usually gravitate back to thinking about my growing family. The past few days of pantry grazing, I’ve contemplated the current hurdle in our family’s life and how I’ve been doing a terrible job handling it. I’ve spent time weighing the benefits of a full blown, shave-your-head meltdown vs. keeping it all in and being emotionally constipated.

At church on Sunday, I was lucky enough to have heard these great quotes.

I hope this keeps other people from shaving their heads like it did me.

“In nature, trees that grow up in a windy environment become stronger. As winds whip around a young sapling, forces inside the tree do two things. First, they stimulate the roots to grow faster and spread farther. Second, the forces in the tree start creating cell structures that actually make the trunk and branches thicker and more flexible to the pressure of the wind. These stronger roots and branches protect the tree from winds that are sure to return.” (“Responses of Young Trees to Wind and Shading: Effects on Root Architecture,” Journal of Experimental Botany, vol. 46, no. 290 (Sept. 1995), 1139–46.)

“…difficulties allow us to change for the better, to rebuild our lives in the way our Heavenly Father teaches us, and to become something different from what we were-better than we were, more understanding than we were, more empathetic than we were, with stronger testimonies than we had before. This should be our purpose- to perservere and endure, yes, but also to become more spritiually refined as we make our way through sunshine and sorrow.” –Thomas S. Monson

“Be cheerful in all that you do. Live joyfully. Live happily. Live enthusiastically, knowing that God does not dwell in gloom and melancholy, but in light and love.” –Ezra Taft Benson

How can I be anything but cheerful when I have these two, healthy, sweet boys? My whole world.
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