I don’t know who you are.  I don’t know what your week has looked like.  But, this is what I do know…God loves you with a crazy, intoxicating kinda love.  Let him.

It was 1997.  I was 15 years old.  I was dying to turn 16 and be among the other irresponsible driving teenagers that I went to school with.  I desperately wanted a Mitsubishi Eclipse.  I’ll spare you the details of what a bratty teenager I was.  Looking back, I have no idea why I wanted that car.  One of my friends, Alison, had that car and the only thing that we could fit in the back seat were our backpacks and our friends without legs.  Not very practical.  I ended up with a Pontiac Sunfire.  Which, by the way, when was the last time you saw a Pontiac dealership?  RIP Pontiac.

That’s all a lead up to say that yesterday marked 13 years since my Granny (great grandmother on my mom’s dad’s side) passed away.  I was 16 years old.  She was 89.  I had just gotten the Sunfire.  I had taken her for a wild ride around her neighborhood. And she passed away two weeks later.  I realize now that it sounds a little like the car ride may have done her in.  No, I don’t think the two are related.  Oh God, please no.  I just bring up the car ride because I think that was the last time I saw her.  It was a sweet memory.  She was excited for me and proud of me.

Granny was something else.  She cooked with no regard for cholesterol.   Pioneer Woman would be shamed at the amount of butter and grease she used.  Doc told her once that she needed to try to eat some things that would lower her cholesterol, like potato skins.  This is what she came home with.

My mom and I went to see her every Sunday afternoon.  One Sunday, she pulled out a stack of coupons for pizza places and said she had been saving them since I asked her to.  Uh, no, never asked that.  We silently resolved that it had been a dream, and graciously accepted expired coupons to CiCi’s and Little Caesars.

When I was younger, she would watch me when I was sick and had to stay home from school.  We would watch hours of The Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune, the reality television of her day.   She had no shame of interjecting her commentary of who was worthy of winning, based on appearances.  She always had Cheese Puffs and Diet Coke.  She mowed her lawn just two weeks before she passed away.  She was really something.  Man, I miss those Sunday visits.

When I was born, I still had 3 great-grandparents living.  Rhett has 11 out of 12 great-grandparents still living and still married.  It’s just so rare and I do take it for granted.  But, this weekend, we had one set of great-grandparents visit for a quick afternoon.  Meet MawMaw and PawPaw.  Oh boy, buckle your seatbelts.  They are a hoot.  They had just come from a hotel close to Bryan/College Station where they had a free breakfast.  MawMaw, bless her, had taken two pieces of bread and a piece of sausage and put it in her purse, because she hates to see food waste.  We’ll blame it on the Great Depression.   Nonetheless, she is one of my favorite people in the whole world.  Her name is Joy.  And I’ve decided there is no one I know more aptly named than her.

Rhett buddy, I wish I could bottle these moments and let you enjoy them when you care a little less about chewing on your toes.

Bagby and Rhett are not all that unlike each other, we’ve decided.

Both sleep more than half the day.
Both are fed by larger humans that have a slightly higher level of hand control.
Both have their, uh, waste cleaned for them.
Neither have much regard for licking others.
Both like to put anything in their mouths.
Both love attention.
Both like their backs scratched.
Both love their (respective) beds.
Neither communicate in English.
Both use all fours to move.  (Although the idea of Bagby moving on two legs is hilarious)

And it’s a good thing they have so much in common, because they l-o-v-e each other.

There’s nothing stopping him.  Every month, he gets one month older.  And I’ll tell you…sometimes it makes me a little bit teary.  This month, we lowered his mattress.  And I cried.  Lame, I know.  But, he’s just getting so big and I miss the days that he was just so tiny-tiny.  Sometimes I am amazed that we have managed to keep him alive for 9 months.  Nothing short of a miracle, for sure.

Here is the latest:

• Weighs 17.6 lbs (5th percentile) and is nearly 29 inches long (70th percentile).  A tall drink of water.
• Not a great eater – still eats about 24 oz. of formula every day, but not so great about the solids.  We’ve transitioned from baby food to finger foods.  He tried his first Tiff’s Treat cookie.  He looked at me like “I don’t know if she knows she just gave me this.  Stay cool.”
• Crawling!  Went from army crawling to real live crawling in less than two weeks.
• Doug and I both experienced the great joy of hearing “mama” and “dada” this month.  The first time he said “dada,” Rhett and I were in the car and I recorded it with my phone for Doug to hear.  Here is a clip:  Dada Sound Clip
• Talking a lot around us.  We think he may be shy.  Totally quiet, laid back, chill in big groups.  But when he is with just us, he’s so chatty.
• Consistently gets the “happy baby award” at the nursery at church.  Duh.
• Got his first piano lesson
• Got a ride on Beasty-loo. 

And our monthly slideshow:

It’s so easy to look at my life, the day-to-day, and sum up “me” with oh, little ol’ me?  i’m just your average young adult.  i’m a wife, a mother, a runner, an employee.  i clean constantly.  i cook.  i clean.  i watch ellen.  i play with the buddy. i occassionally fit in a shower.  blah. And I’m just here today to say that that is a lie.  I have a story worth sharing.  And so do you.

Last night, Doug shared with me this organization called StoryCorps.  They provide people with equipment and space to record their stories.  You can go to one of their booths and take someone with you that you’d like to interview, and record the interview on a CD.  To have and to hold from this day forward.

And people do it.  And they bear their souls.  They propose to their girlfriends.  They confess.  They cry.  They make some loose, but poignant, metaphors, like “Love is like a color television.”  And they are all meaningful.

If you’re thinking, “nah, I don’t really have much of a story…I am just (fill in the blank),” then this post is for you.  You have a story and you should share it with someone.  Today.  Or tomorrow.  I want to learn from you.  Your kids want to learn from you.  Your grandparents want to learn from you.

If you have some time, this is worth your listening ears.  It’s 17 minutes, so you can fast forward, if you want.  But, there is some good stuff.

StoryCorps Sampler

I threw myself a dinner party last night.  I’ve never really had much shame about throwing parties for myself.  Turns out that not everyone does that. A friend of my mom’s said “That just means she’s confident and loves herself.”  Well, okay.  I’ll take that.  Bottom line is that life is too short to not throw parties for yourself.

Last night’s dinner party had a black and white theme.  And because it was my birthday, I wanted everyone to wear black and white.  And they did.  Even the peanut belonging to our neighbors.   I loved it.  You can get away with asking just about anything from your friends on your birthday, except asking everyone to tell you what they love about you or to throw you a party.

This was my first time to host a dinner party.  I’m already planning the next one.  I had so much fun planning, cooking and decorating.  A few things I learned: eight people seems like the perfect number of folks – small enough that everyone can feel included and large enough that you feel like you have a crowd.  Namecards on the table take away the awkward “where should I sit?” dance around the table.  Next time, I should learn how to set silverware.  A few bites in, I realized everyone was eating their lasagna with their dessert forks.

On the menu, bruschetta, mista salad, lasagna (recipe from the Pioneer Woman) and banana cake.

The table

The bruschetta (Doug calls them fancy bagel bites)

The eating

Ross saved the day by reminding everyone that they should sing to me.  I, of course, didn’t mind the attention.

The partiers, in all their black and white goodness.

Today makes me 29 years young.  No one really warned me that at 29 you might have a pain so bad in your glut (that’s proper for booty) that you can barely walk, causing you to pop 800mg ibuprofen every 4 hours on the hour.  Oh so very welcoming, 29.  So glad to be here.

But, really, I am glad.  29 years that I’ll never get back and so very few regrets.  I have that to be proud of.

So, for my 29th year, I will share with you 29 goals, hopes and dreams.

1. End less sentences with prepositions.
2. Go on a super romantic vacation with my hunkity.
3. Beat my best marathon time.
4. Get pregnant, God-willing (eeeeek!)
5. Sew a dress.
6. Throw a party for my acting debut.
7. Take Rhett to his first Baylor Homecoming Parade.
8. Take a train ride through the Hill Country.
9. Love Doug better, more selflessly.
10. Buy at least one piece of furniture for our bare bedroom.
11. Successfully plant a flowerbed in my back yard without the brown beast destroying it.
12. Grow a winter’s supply of broccoli and lettuce.
13. Blog more…at least twice a week.  Pressure.
14. Go to a sing-along at the Alamo Drafthouse with my girlfriends.
15. Finish Gone with the Wind – the book and the movie.
16. Conquer my extreme anxiety of taking Rhett on a plane.
17. Be more quick to forgive.
18. Meet more of our neighbors…throw a block party?
19. Plan our meals for the week on Sunday.  Go to the grocery store less.
20. Learn how to do that super loose curl thing with my hair.  Do you know what I’m talking about?
21. Study Luke, Acts, and Romans verse-by-verse.
22. Wear more comfortable shoes.
23. Soak up every day with Rhett.  It’s going too fast.
24. Say I’m sorry more and less.
25. Get a hold of our laundry situation.  It mocks me.
26. Take Bagby on more walks.
27. Read more fiction.
28. Talk on the phone more often without getting the stutters.
29. Give more of myself.

I have a lot to do before I hit 30 and start pricing hearing aids and ground plots.

You can just pee on top of my pee. -Amanda

Can you talk to the monkey for me? -Amanda

I thought I wanted those green balloons.  I thought they were full of money. -Amanda

(Listen, I know these are all my quotes.  But, the rule is nothing goes in the quote book unless the other person says it goes in the quote book.  And apparently I am not as generous with my quote book qualifications.)

Rhett is not crawling yet, but he can roll clear across the room in jiff…which occasionally results in a situation in need of intervention.  For example, you’ve seen these, right?

Those are sucker fish that clean out the yuck stuff in your aquarium.  Turns out, we have our own little sucker fish.

I have no idea why he does this (regularly).  Maybe this is one of those things they just don’t tell you.  And I know it’s disgusting that I let him do this long enough to get a picture.  But, that’s what mothers do…memories first, cleanliness second.

Plus, I’ll give him a bath next week.