On the Occasion of My 8th Wedding Anniversary

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Eight years ago today I became a wife. More specifically, Bobby’s wife. It was the best day of my life, even better than when my kids were born, because it didn’t require major surgery or a hospital stay. 🙂 Bobby and I were together for over four years before we got married (at the ripe old age of 22), but we met in the 6th grade so we had known each other eleven years! We actually “dated” (if you can call it that, which I don’t think you can) in 8th and 9th grade, and even after he ripped my heart out and stomped on it, we still managed to be friends. And after awhile, best friends. And after three years, we got back together again. Here’s a little pictorial trip down memory lane. We got our picture taken in a photo booth several times over the years.

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8th grade
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9th grade
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10th grade
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11th grade
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12th grade
And fast forward to…
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February 2006

Well, that was fun! But anyhoo, as soon as we got back together, I knew we would get married. I just knew. Even though I went away to college and had a good look around at what was available to me, I never saw anything as wonderful as who I already had. So, eight years ago today I was thrilled to become Bobby’s wife.

Of course, neither of us had any idea what we were in for.

When we are young, I think we look at marriage as sort of a fairy tale. Then, when we find the person we want to spend the rest of our lives with, we can’t imagine it ever not being perfect. But the thing is, we’re not perfect. We make mistakes, we hurt each other, we don’t communicate well. Not all the time, not every day, but more than we ever think we will. Some people don’t know what to do with all that, and when they realize marriage might be hard work instead of all play, they get the heck out of dodge.

Bobby and I have had eight great years of marriage together. That’s 2,920 days! All eight years have been great but not all 2,920 days have been great. We have had some little ups and downs, and we’ve had some big ups and downs, but they were all ours. We were always in them together. And we always will be. Not because we love each other, although we really, really do, but because we promised. We promised God and we promised each other in front of a whole great cloud of witnesses that we would stay together until one of us kicks the bucket (that’s a paraphrase). We’re in it to win it! I gotta tell ya, life can throw a whole lot of crap at you, and I am so thankful that when it does, I have Bobby to go through it with. There’s no one else I want to be with for better or for worse, for richer (richer? when’s richer?) or for poorer, in sickness, or in health.

So, Bobby, happy anniversary baby. I love you so much and I’m so glad I get to do life with YOU every day! I love being your wife, your baby mama, and your BFF. Thank you for every day we’ve spent together and all the many more to come!

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Blogger Baby Bump Watch 2008

The awesome chicas at Pinks and Blues Girls are hosting a contest… to enter, you must put a picture of your baby bump on your blog.

You know the prize must be good if I’m willing to do that!! Yes, I will embarrass myself for a chance to win a Duo Double Deluxe Edition diaper bag from Skip Hop.

So here you go… the baby bump.

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BTW, the only reason this picture even exists is because Kate got ahold of my camera the other day… fortunately for me, she cut off the symptoms of my dreadful disease, Fat Face Syndrome.

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Our Ikea Adventure

And what an adventure it was!! I don’t think either one of us has recovered yet. But it was awesome.

We met at the secret rendevous point we’ve been using for years (which is actually the Towne Mall parking lot for you locals, but it is a convenient place to converge when we are heading to the Cincinnati area!). Armed with Cini-melts, coffee and Diet Coke, we were on our way.

After stopping at Kinko’s to fax forms for my life insurance application (Jenny got a big kick out of that – I think she thought I was in fact concerned that Ikea was going to do me in), we finally saw it. A big blue and yellow building. I’m pretty sure it was glowing. If you’ve never seen the place, it is a monstrosity. The parking lot is enormous – we made sure to note that we were parked in Bam Bam 5 (actually it was like C1 or something, but I always like to use King’s Island references where applicable). The parking lot was apparently not big enough, however, because the first thing we saw was a big charter bus that was shuttling people to and from the Ikea Park ‘n’ Ride area a couple miles away. Yes, this is truly a tourist attraction.

Have I mentioned it was pouring down rain? Yeah, but like that was going to stop us. We made a run for it (the entire time I was running I was saying “I can’t run!”), and when we reached the promised land, we asked the first yellow-shirted worker we saw to take a picture of us. Apparently Jenny introduced this guy to the world of digital photography, because he was trying to look through the view finder and couldn’t see us, so he and Jenny were simultaneously yelling “I can’t see anything!” and “There’s a screen. Look at the screen!” for about 45 seconds before the guy finally got it. So anyway, here we are in front of one of the many bins full of big yellow bags.

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Dear Lord I cannot believe I posted that picture on the internet. Anyway….

The big yellow bags were the first of many “green” things about the store (Karen, you would be proud). They have recycling bins wherever there’s a trash can, toilet flushers that offer the option to use a lot or a little bit of water, and they don’t give away bags at the check out like every other store does – you have the choice to buy blue bags (like the yellow ones) for 59 cents or “throw away” bags for five cents, in an effort to discourage using the throw away ones. Pretty cool.

Another thing to note about Ikea is the family-friendliness that can be found throughout the store. The restrooms even have little seats where you can strap in your kid to prevent him from wallowing on the floor (they also have a button to press in case of a medical emergency, which I made sure to take note of in case this baby did decide to come out). Ikea is all about promoting family life to their customers and their employees – the can always be found on the “Working Mother” magazine list of the top 100 companies to work for.

Anyway, back to our adventure. The first thing we noted was the “SmallLand” area, where the poor suckers who have to bring their kids shopping with them can drop off (potty-trained) children for a while as they shop in peace. Fortunately, we were not two of those suckers on Friday, so we didn’t pay too much attention. Unfortuantely, I was one of those suckers the following day, but more on that later.

We were corralled upstairs, and we tried to make a beeline for the sign that said “Children’s Ikea,” but some worker dude cut us off and said “You want to go this way.” Jenny said “We do?” and he assured us we did. I said “Where do we get a cart?” and he said “Carts? Where you’re going, you don’t need carts” (a little less Back to the Future-y than that), so we did as we were told and went where he pointed, cartless. We wandered around all the fun little areas where they have the furniture set up into realistic living areas (ok realistic if you’re really good at home design and have a ton of money) (oh and we picked out a really cool round bed that was my #1 choice to give birth on should the situation arise) until we finally found the main point of our shopping extravaganza – the kids’ area.

The have SUCH cool stuff for kids. We were a bit overwhelmed! And I was getting hot, so I stopped to take off my sweatshirt. Another yellow-shirted worker was dying to put his new skills to work and help us, but he quickly changed his mind after hearing Jenny say “No, we don’t need any help. We just stopped to disrobe.”

I immediately saw one of the main things I had been eyeing on the website for weeks – a super cool changing table.

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I carefully wrote down the aisle and bin numbers so we would know where to go to pick it up in the warehouse area, and we went on with our shopping.

About 10 minutes into it, we discovered that the yellow shirt dude was wrong and we were definitely going to necessitate a cart. We eventually found one, and while we were in the elevator taking our it upstairs, we heard a woman say “I forgot my camera! I was going to take pictures to put on my blog.” We were like “Hey that’s what we’re doing!” Great minds think alike. So anyway, we went about filling our cart.

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After we showed Children’s Ikea who was boss, we needed some nourishment so we headed off to the food court for some chicken fingers (we weren’t brave enough to try the meatballs).

But we did sample the chocolate cake.

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The foodcourt is one of the things that’s super family-friendly. They have 99 cent kids meals, jars of baby food for sale, and a spot that has bibs, kids’ dinnerware, a microwave and even bottle warmers! How cool is that??

After lunch, we headed downstairs to the Marketplace, where they have anything and everything you’d ever want for your home. The only problem is that all the tags are in Swedish, so sometimes you don’t know whether you’re looking at an ice cream scoop or a toilet brush. But whatever it is, it is sweet. We grabbed a bunch more stuff and headed to the furniture warehouse.

We were pretty successful in finding the areas in which the items we wanted to purchase were located, and we felt so smart. A good Samaritan even helped us load the super-heavy packages onto our (second) cart, and a friendly yellow-shirt took our picture for us. The “after” picture, you might say.

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We then headed to the check out, got in the wrong line (of course) and finally managed to pay for our goods. Except the pillow I grabbed happened to be the floor model and they wouldn’t sell it to me, so Jenny waited with our stuff while I went back for another pillow. I really wanted that pillow! However, it’s not exactly as simple as running into the King Quick and getting a gallon of milk – the clever Ikea people set up the store so that if you want to go in for anything, you must walk through everything. So in addition to the pillow, I came back with a blanket and something else (is it a bad sign that I can’t remember?). With that little jaunt, on top of our already lenthy trip, it is truly a miracle that I made it out of the store without going into labor. I was nearly dead by the time I found Jenny again.

Eventually, and with the help of some friendly workers in the loading zone, we were safely in my car and on the road. And it had only taken us a little over four hours.

It was awesome.

But that night I felt like I had been hit by a truck. At about 9:00, I had to make the sad phone call to tell Jenny that I was going to have to wimp out on Part II of our weekend o’ shopping, the Mom’s Market. I told her I was too tired to think about standing in line for an hour only to battle the crazy bargain hunters.

“And,” I said to her, “I have to go to Ikea again tomorrow.”

You see, I had intended to buy this.

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But when I got it home and completely assembled, I realized that I had in fact bought this.

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What is that, you ask? I have no frickin’ idea. But it sure isn’t a changing table.

So Saturday morning, as Jenny stood in line for the Mom’s Market cold and alone, Andy, Kate and I headed to Ikea. I was only there to buy one thing, the elusive changing table.

We came home with the changing table.

And with this.

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This (it’s a dresser – or it will be someday – because we had to have something to put the other random piece of furniture on).

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And this.

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And various other random items that were begging to be bought.

Another four hours and a whole lot of money later, we finally left.

Someday, when we have all these things assembled (and the baby is starting elementary school), I will show you the before and after pictures of the nursery. It is going to be really cute, I swear. But for now, you’ll have to take my word for it, because it is a disaster.

So baby, if you can hear me, thanks for not being born at Ikea, despite the copious opportunity to do so. Jenny, the yellow-shirts and I appreciate it. And although I’ve been begging you to be born just a little early for months and months now, do me a favor and stay gestating for at least another week. That is, unless you understand Swedish. In that case, we could use your help translating assembly directions.

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