Sir Booska Squeakerface

Let's be honest, I'm not a kid person. Yes, I have a history of baby-sitting and I even did a few stints as a volunteer at Summer Bible Club, but I'm not too thrilled with the general idea of children. Particularly babies. Poopy diapers, constant crying, never being able to read their minds, getting up at 3am to feed them (sounds a lot like caring for the Man...). I simply don't do babies. Until...

my nephew Sir Booska Squeakerface came along. (Facts: Ivan William Thomas, born 1:13pm on March 14th, 2010; 8 lbs, 11 ounces, 23 1/4" long.) Everyone said that my views on children would change when it was my own. He is only my nephew, but I cannot even begin to express how much love I have for this little boy.

My poor sister had a rough go-round with him, and maybe the dramatics associated with his birth have added to my ridiculous obsession. (Facts: She had an emergency C-Section as a result of HELLP syndrome. Google it -- I had to.) She made it through and both mom & baby are doing well. All I want to do is hold him and kiss him and snuggle him all the live long day.

I mean, seriously. It's getting ridiculous. Let me clarify one thing though -- the Man and I are NOT, I repeat, NOT ready to have one of our own. By no means am I ready to be financially, spiritually, physically, and emotionally responsible for another human being. Instead, I will just spoil the CRAP out of this kid. Seriously.

I think I need therapy.

Snow, Miley Cyrus, and Zombies

Last week the Man and I did something we haven't done since our honeymoon (no, not that); we packed up my Jetta and headed out of town for a few days. Our destination? Mountain Lake Park, Maryland. The land of ridiculously scary hills and towering snow banks. A place where Denny's is considered fine dining and the Wal-Mart is a shopping mecca. Amish country. God's country, some might say. Why did we spend more than 10 hours in a car to get to such a place? Simple:

To visit our dear friends, Mike & Jess! After college, Mike got a job at some computer-software-technology-hacking company and they moved out east to Podunk, MD. Ok, enough small-town jokes; in reality, the Man and I fell in love with their little town. Recent snowstorms had dropped over 4 feet of snow, which was a bit much for my Oklahoma-born friend! One afternoon we "hiked" (I use that term loosely as we walked on pre-packed snow) to some nearby waterfalls, which were absolutely beautiful.

And, of course, we took ridiculous pictures. Actually, we didn't take too many because A.) my camera is broken and B.) we spent most of our time talking, which doesn't make for very exciting pictures. While Jess & I caught up on life's happenings, the boys rekindled their friendship by playing Left 4 Dead 2. Maybe I played a little. And maybe I kinda liked killing zombies with an axe. Maybe.

It was such a wonderful trip filled with good food, lots of laughter, and great friends. We can't wait to go visit them again (maybe this time, with less snow)! Oh and in case you're wondering how Miley Cyrus fits into the title -- the Man bet me a tall decaf peppermint mocha that she did not sing "Party in the U.S.A." I do not keep up with the tween-superstars, but she somehow ended up on my Garth Brooks Pandora station. Mmmm......the sweet taste of victory!

1 Down, Eternity to Go

To those who bet that we wouldn't make it through the first year of marriage successfully (I think a few people honestly placed wagers -- I can't blame them), WHA-BAM!

Wealthy couples spend their first anniversary in an exotic, beachfront resort. Higher class couples go away to a big city for the weekend to enjoy top-notch luxury. Middle class couples splurge on a romance package at the local spa, or dinner at a 5-star restaurant. White trash couples go to IHOP and shop at the K-Mart "Going Out of Business" sale. Don't judge us.

We're simple people with simple tastes. The Man's work schedule has been hectic, to say the least, so to have 36 uninterrupted hours together was a rare treat. We shopped, we saw a movie, we ate whatever and wherever we wanted (which happened to be IHOP -- even when we "splurge" we still choose pancakes), we stayed at a hotel, we drank Starbucks, we laughed and we talked until the wee hours of the morning. We've achieved 365 days of pure husband-wrangling, pancake-eating, fart-smelling, truck-driving, chess-playing, Starbucks-drinking, Styx-singing, dirt-loving, aneurysm-inducing wedded bliss. *sigh* It's been the best year of my life.