the party is over
Husband’s birthday party was yesterday. Our little house nearly burst at the seams. We had something like 30 adults, 14 kiddos and 3 little babies. It was insanity at its best. The good news is that we also had 32 hot dogs, 68 hamburgers, 3 birthday cakes and 3 freezers of ice cream. Yes, mouse is that party planner who is always afraid of not having enough, so she has way way too much. I am now the proud owner of:
- 16 uncooked hot dogs (minus the two I had last night AFTER the party)
- 20 uncooked hamburgers
- 8 leftover cooked hamburgers
- gazillions of partially eaten bags of chips
- an entire freezer of home-made ice cream
- an entire leftover white birthday cake with cream cheese frosting
- condiments galore
- 6 deviled eggs
- a partridge in a pear tree
A good time was had by all (as far as I know) and it was amazing to be in the presence of so many people that love husband.
He is a pretty good guy. Not only did he man the grill (birthday present from Mousie) for the entire party, but he also got me motivated to clean up when everyone finally left and he vacuumed the whole house just for good measure. No birthday diva here.
On a completely unrelated note, I bought some of those amazing popsicles in the plastic tubes at Costco when I was buying for the party and I ate 7 tonight for dessert. I mean nothing says “perfect ending” to a Taco Bell dinner than 7 popsicles.
throwing up in my mouth a little bit
While watching a tear-inducing episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition, I see an ad for this: http://abc.go.com/primetime/exwivesclub/index. I’m really at a loss for what to even say.
one day younger than Star Wars
Happy Birthday, sweet husband. Today you are thirty years old. You’re an amazing man and I am in awe that God blessed my life with you at just the right time, and even though I think you’re crazy for marrying me, I am so glad that you did!
What a whirlwind of changes, you’ve seen over your last few birthdays:
By age 27, you were convinced that you would be like your Uncle Larry and always remain single.
By age 28, you had experienced your first kiss and we were talking about engagement rings.
By age 29, you were married!
Since your birthday last year; you broke your ankle, we shared the joy of early pregnancy and the sadness of a miscarriage, we bought our first new vehicle together, remodeled the house, and finally got our wedding pictures ordered.
I love living life with you by my side. I love the servant that you are, the friend that you are and the husband that you are. I love your tender heart and the way you are goofy like my dad. I love that you stopped peeing in the shower because you know it grosses me out. I love the way you think it is cute and cheer me on when I fart or burp. I love when you call me silly names. I love your backrubs. I love holding hands with you in church. I love the way you can’t seem to brush your teeth without getting water and/or toothpaste foam on your shirt. I love when you put your hand on my leg in a casual, unconcious, but possessive way. I love your dedication to our Lord and our marriage.
Happy Birthday, Mr. Mouse.
Love,
Your best friend.
is this heaven
Flipping channels between the American Idol finale and reruns of the Biggest Loser while eating homemade ice cream and doritos for supper.
Oh, and I’m in my sweats.
what’s in a number?
32 more days. That’s right, 32. 32 more days of being a career woman. 32 more days of waking up stressed and constantly feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. 32 more days of being “working mouse”. 32 more days of being the person that I despise. 32 more days of being the person that I know. 32 more days of familiarity. 32 more days of torture.
The real story here, all my non-existent readers, is this. I quit my job. I don’t have another job and I don’t plan on getting one. I’m going to be a stay-at-home wife until someday I become a stay-at-home mom – a much more acceptable venture for a woman of 26 years. The reasons for quitting the job are many and varied and justifiable, but I justify things too much, so here I will do my best to not justify.
Quitting has been an interesting process. It has shown me how concerned I am with what people think of me. For example:
The FACT: We have lived on husband’s income since we got married because we didn’t want to get used to living on two salaries while we were purposeful about an intent for me stay home once babies come along.
THE FEAR: People know I had a miscarriage and will think I’m pregnant if I quit.
THE FACT: I work a normal job that operates on normal business hours, and yet I’m also working most evenings and virtually all weekends.
THE FEAR: People will think that I’m lazy, can’t hack it, or a myriad of other similar unflattering options.
THE FACT: As of June 30th, I will be a stay-at-home wife.
THE FEAR: I won’t know myself apart from my identity as “Employee of Current Company.” Now, when people ask what I do, they will find my new position in life much less noble.
THE FACT: When I gave my (8 weeks) notice, I was told “How will we replace the unrelpaceable?”
THE FEAR: I like being validated too much and possibly value the praises of men over the praises of God. Also, I have less concern for hearing my husband rise up and call me blessed or whatever it says in Proverbs 31.
I guess this is where I am in life NOW, and these are the things I get to explore NOW and in them lies many lessons that I get to learn NOW.
And when I say NOW, I mean in 32 days.
this is me
i am a friend, a wife, a sister, a christian, a daughter, a shopper, a napper, an aunt, a reality tv addict, a snacker, a granddaughter, an awful housekeeper, a soulmate, a fast driver, a college graduate, an email addict, a blog lurker, a baker, a follower, a leader, an emotional eater, a twentysomething, a church member, a critic, a judge, a nose picker, a work in progress. i am a blogger.
