Katie + Scott = Looooooove

...REHEARSAL DINNER...Me, Katie (The Bride), & Allison

Katie & Scott (The Groom)

( It would only be fitting that I'm the only one looking in at the camera in this picture... )

...PARTY BUS...

Back row - Mer, Me, & Al

Front Row - Leah, Meg, & Alex

...The Reception...

Me & The Hubs (doesn't he look dashing in suit?)

Our Little Lady ADPi - above

Fellow Blog Mamma Below

Leah (Maid of Honor), Katie, & Cassie

The Pi Girls - Pledge Class '01

Me & Kate...isn't she stunning?

Me and Katie K.
Again, dashing, no?
And, Lee, this one is for you. #1 Blog Buddies ;)

To Katie & Scott...

Congratulations. You are such a beautiful and wonderful couple and I love you both dearly. To a wonderful marriage and life together....

XXOO, Abz

This day, three years ago...

Oh, for heaven's sake. I am about to die of cleaning product intoxication, as a result of cleaning every square inch of this house in prep for our Very First Houseguests. Everything smells like Windex with Vinegar. Gag. I think I need to jump on the green cleaning bandwagon for fear that we're all going to die of Scrubbing Bubbles suffocation if I continue to chemically clean our home. I'll just put that on next week's to-do list because I can't go all being green and whatnot with less than 24 hours til the arrival of the VFH.

My to-do list keeps getting longer and longer as I continue to add to it the things that need to be done by 5pm tomorrow. Did I mention that I'm in a wedding this weekend and the last day of school is this coming Tuesday? Oh, yeah. That too. In addition to preparing for our VFH. Wait, then there's report cards that are also due on Tuesday. I think there's more. [Katie, quit reading at this point, I don't want to stress you out on my behalf.] But, I have yet to make 20 ADPi awareness pins that all present Pi girls will wear at the wedding to let others know that we're still the First and the Finest. Can I get a hoddy toddy please? (Not the alcoholic kind, but the fist-pumping, loud and obnoxious kind.) Not that we like to draw attention to ourselves or anything...

Baby B is recovering. Still running a fever occasionally, and looking less spotty every day. He turned 11 months old yesterday, but that's a whole 'nother post.

Oh, and through the haze of Endust I almost forget to tell you that it's mine and B's THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY. Crazy. Insane. A dog, new car, house, and baby...oh and that stupid air conditioning unit - all in three blissful years :) The pic above is from our Bahamian honeymoon. I love you, B.

Don't know if I'll have time to post later, so this may be it until Tuesday. Bear with me. And say a little prayer that the VFH have an enjoyable stay...

RIP, Grandmother Air Conditioner...

An oldie, but a goodie...

And now the entire Babbling household can sleep sweat-free, since we bit the proverbial bullet and replaced one of our elderly appliances with its studly, gunmetal colored great-great-grandson. Ooh, la la...

Thank you for all of your well wishes for Baby B. He is still one sick puppy, covered in a red, splotchy rash and combating the most persistent fever ever. It's miserable. For both me and him. I took the day off to take him to the doctor, praying that it was an ear infection or some other treatable bug. But, no, it's one of those things you just have to wait out for three days. Three miserable days.

When he wasn't being all cuddly and sick puppy-ish today, he was pulling the diapers out of the diaper box. At one point he actually lay his head down inside the box. Hard work to disorganize, isn't it though?

Random, but I thought Leland could use some face time. She's pretty cute too. Not much else going on here, other than the crazy cleaning frenzy that I'm in to get ready for our Very First Houseguests due to arrive in t-minus 72 hours. Today I organized the pantry, just in case our Very First Houseguests need chips or spaghetti noodles or something during their weekend stay. Prior to today, a hand might have been lost in stale crackers or mostly empty boxes of cereal. But no more. Now it's all neatly stacked spices and alphabetically organized canned goods. [That might be a slight exaggeration, but it looks pretty darn good!]

I also scrubbed - and by scrubbed I mean removed caked on layers of hairspray and powdered blush - from our sink and tiled floors and walls. It was bad y'all. Horrific even. Borderline embarrassing. But now our Very First Houseguests can beautify in our pristine shower, sparkling walls, and unsticky tiled floor. And I won't be ashamed to let them.

Lastly, the Mint Room is almost ready. Promise.

Off to watch The Hills ...nothing like a little Speidi before bed :)

And we're home...

We're back from the Lake. And Baby B has a temperature. So, like any mommy, and despite the fact that this is not Baby B's first temperature, I googled infant + fever and am now in a panic over the many possibilities that this fever could potentially morph into.

Google should automatically disable itself if and when anyone tries to search for an ailment or symptoms of an ailment - be it the common cold or a hang-nail because, inevitably, the search will ultimately lead you to believe that the only plausible outcome to said ailment is death. Let's petition for this google feature. Agreed?

So anyway, I've checked on sweet precious umpteen times, administered rounds 1 and 2 of infant tylenol, plus motrin in the interim, and still feel like I'm at fault for whatever germies he's contracted. Thank goodness I only have 5 days left with the kindercritters. As long as I am a teacher, they will forever be the scapegoat for whatever illness befalls me or my family.

But, back to our weekend. Saturday was beautiful and we ventured to the Mills Springs Cornbread Festival where B wore Baby B in the Baby Bjorn for the first time since he weighed +20lbs (read: we forgot the stroller. doh.). Baby B thought he was part of the Mills Springs greeting committee and proceeded to wave to man and tree alike, babbling on about how sweet it was to ride forward facing on his daddy's chest. Both father and son were a sweaty mess post-Baby Bjorn ride, and even an ice cream cone didn't cool them down. I hope I am creating a great mental picture for you here, since, in addition to forgetting the stroller, we also forgot the camera. Figures.

Yesterday, Baby B took his first boat ride, and put his new life jacket to good use. It really didn't seem to bother him, fortunate for us since he loved to crawl around on the pontoon. Of course, B and I were within centimeters of him at all times, and it was a rather pleasant day, if not a bit long for those of us with little ones.

The SophDogg is sporting her life jacket body suit and pink crocs, and pulls both off way better than most of us could.

I hope y'all had a lovely Mem Day!

PS. Just because I wanted to convince you that Trouble Baby B is keeping his momma busy, please observe my son unfolding every stitch of laundry that I just folded and put into the basket. The only reason I let him do this was because I was on the phone pleading for air conditioning by this Friday.

And now I will go check on sweet precious for the 174th time since 8:00pm.

I guess I'll go eat worms!

Remember this post?

Well, the 80 degree weather has returned and, once again, it is hotter than hades at the Babbling household. And the air conditioner is being all tempermental and isn't working.

And - wouldn't it just figure - B's car is acting up and is on its way to the shop as we speak.

A little break, that's all I ask for, just a little one. Like, maybe just one or two months where we can just save money for the next impending financial drama. We're just on the verge of being debt free (with the exception of our student loans - blah!), so I should have figured that we were destined to have to fix, repair, or replace something. Adulthood seems to work that way. Sigh.

In other news, Baby B and I took a lengthy walk today which proved to be rather lucrative. First of all, I found a pedometer just laying on the sidewalk. It's a cheapo one, but it works. Then, I found two quarters. Can't beat being paid 50 cents to go on a walk, huh? And, lastly, and most importantly, I found a lovely, slimy earthworm that I couldn't help but show Baby B. Having never experienced the wonder and amazement that was his first earthworm, I made sure to document the whole experience so that I could blog put pictures in his baby book about it. He's holding the creepy crawly in the second picture after snagging it out of my hand.

Somehow he managed to squish the worm into two pieces while I wasn't looking (fooling with my camera maybe?), and I think I got earthworm pee all over both of our hands, but, hey, whatever. It was fun and squishy and earthwormy.

We're headed to The Lake for the extended weekend, so we'll be a little MIA for the next couple of days.

Oh, and because I think everyone should eat their dinner off of their head, I will leave you with this...

Happy Memorial Day Weekend, BFFs!

Trouble, thy name is Baby B...

Before and after photos depicting Baby B eating, er, dumping his dinner...

You would think I would have had time to blog in the past two days, but I've been busy cleaning our house for the impending arrival of our Very First Houseguests and chasing after Baby B. But mostly just chasing after Baby B. That kid is in to everything. Maybe when I change his nickname from Baby B to something else, I can just start referring to him as Trouble. Though, I would mean it in the most endearing way. Because, despite his exploratory nature, that child is pure sweet precious. 100% of him. Here are some examples of Trouble at his best...

I am now going to go organize my coupons because goodness knows I can't do that when Baby B is roaming the plains...

Wait...is that Jay-z or Spencer Pratt? I'm confused...

!newsflash!

Spencer Pratt is going to be a rapper. SRSLY. And, I quote, "I'm the white Jay-Z in the game. I'm doing the baller thing. I'm more for the streets." Again, SRSLY. Uh, Spence, what "streets" are you familiar with? I'm pretty sure that Rodeo Drive doesn't count. Not that I'm all gangsta or anything, but your privileged white boy status isn't really helping your cause. Just sayin'. I guess if this fails, he can just go back to producing music videos for his wife. Success is in the stars for Speidi, is it not?

Had to get that off my chest. I'm sure it totally matters what I think.

Anyway, I spent all day cleaning. Mainly cleaning out and rearranging and de-clothing closets. You would not believe the amount of clothing that B and I own - yet, I never seem to have anything to wear. Strange.

Part of this task included removing all of the clothes that we no longer wear and somehow getting them down the stairs. My method for accomplishing this was me shoving all of the clothes (literally, thousands of clothes I think) to the edge of the stairs and then gracefully kicking them down until the heap was then at the bottom of the stairs instead of the top. Clever, eh?

My method of cleaning usually involves purging displaced stuff (i.e. clutter) from one room into another, ultimately amassing a collection of random objects in our kitchen that I must somehow get to the basement. The basement is our catch-all and has turned into a scary place. Not scary as in boo-ah!, but scary as in oh-my-goodness-you-may-not-see-the-floor-soon kind of scary.

It's practically begging me to have a yard sale. We have been in our house just two years, married three, and have managed to have a yard sale each year. Insane.

Alright, BFFs, have a great Saturday. And, if you coupon, go getcha a Sunday paper tomorrow because it's loaded!

Anyone? Anyone?

Hi all. B and I are looking to replace our ANCIENT air conditioning unit this summer. I can't seem to find anywhere on the internet that tells me how much this bad boy is going to cost without first asking me to proffer my telephone number, address, and firstborn child. I just need an estimate for goshdarn sake, and no I don't want you to stalk me with harassing courtesy calls during dinner to see if we're ready yet to buy a unit yet.

Anyway, if you could help me out by telling me how much you spent to replace your HVAC, it would be greatly appreciated. Anything to avoid actually calling someone who will inevitably convince me that they need to stop by just to show me a presentation. Know what I'm sayin'?

Thanks in advance :)

I'm not thinking about ice cream anymore...

I guess it's time for a post with some substance, rather than me posting about my ravenous milkshake craving. Which was, in fact, fulfilled by husband today when he brought me home a LARGE chocolate milkshake from Graeter's, and it was absolutely everything I dreamed it would be. I didn't even have to ask. He's great [swoon].

I really wanted to take a mental health day tomorrow, and pretty much do nothing. But, wouldn't ya know, I have a meeting tomorrow morning so I'll be at school. Sigh. Next week is my last full week of school, followed by a three-day week and then a two-day week. I guess I really can't complain.

* * * * *

Did you catch the most recent Momversation? It happened to be about birth plans. Unlike, Dooce, we didn't have a birth plan per se. We did, in fact, have a plan of action that B and I talked about leading up to the birth, but nothing written formally down on paper that I expected to issue to every medical care expert upon entering the labor and delivery ward. My birth plan was to HAVE THE BABY.

I mean, I do like to plan and all, but fine-tuning details such as what music would be playing as Baby B crowned seemed, um, a little ridiculous to me. Though, if I would have chose crowning music, I think the Survivor theme song might have been appropriate. Because, dear God, surviving natural labor was all about surviving.

In my pre-birth stupor, I planned to be a champion baby pusher-outer, opting for a full out au naturel birth. For me, this meant NO drugs and NO epidural. I was scared that I'd be in that sparse population of mother's who wound up paralyzed as a result of not bearing that beautiful pain. So, like an idiot, and with my husband by my side saying encouraging things like Our moms did this without drugs, you can do it! I went the natural route until I was TEN CENTIMETERS DILATED. Again, stupid.

So, it pretty much took me gobbling like a turkey and screaming obscenities to realize that Baby B would not be entering the world unless I was numb from the chest down. What, you never knew that women could morph into a Thanksgiving delicacy as a result of her abdomen being devoured by alien demon pains from the inside out? Oh, totally possible. Ask my nurses. They were probably whispering in the halls about the lady that gobble, gobble, gobbled her way through contractions. I don't even think it was me that was in my body during that time.

After ordering politely encouraging my husband to FIND THE NURSE, the original plan to go epidural-less was nixed and the sweet relief of the epidural allowed me to birth our beautiful child within the hour.

I won't be anyone's hero next time, and will totally have an epidural upon arriving at the hospital. Not that I have any desire to procreate in, oh, the next decade, but ya know. For future future reference.

Despite the horrendous labor pains, the result was pretty spectacular. See Exhibit XYZ below.

PS. If you did have a plan or do have a plan, good for you! I'm so not knocking them, it just wasn't for me. I'd love to hear about your birth plans or lack thereof!

ChocolateMilkshakeChocolateMilkshakeChocolateMilkshake

Recent conversation with my husband while he's edging around the mulch in the front yard...

B: So, I guess I'm going to straighten out this edge here...

Me: Yeah, uh, good idea. So, I've been wanting a chocolate milkshake. For five days in a row.

B: How far do you think I should come out? (motioning with shovel in the general direction of the mulch)

A: (Pointing) There looks good. Five nights in a row, B. Five nights.

B: Hmm?

A: (Walking inside) Just let me know if you find any chocolate milkshakes out there in the mulch.

PMS, anyone?

I love to see you smile :)

A long, long time ago, there was a sweet little 4-year-old with a charming space between her Chiclet-like front teeth. This gap was ideal for housing things, such as quarters and zippers, and her mother insisted it added character to her smile.

That 4-year-old girl grew up, got married, and had a baby.

That baby now has teeth...

Um, I think the picture speaks for itself :-D

* * * * *

And, by request (and because my husband deserves some recognition for picking out and correctly sizing my Mother's Day gift), here is the newest addition to my wardrobe. And, yes, I am 110% posing for this picture, gap-tooth smile and all.

PS. Happy Birthday, Allison!!!!!!

The Mother of All Holidays

It was a great first Mother's Day. Absolutely perfect in every way.

And I am the luckiest mother in the whole, wide world.

Make mine a blonde...

And, on the eighth day, the good Lord said: Let there be blondes.

And it was. And it was good.

* * * * *

Went to a wedding tonight. Baby B was up waaaaay past his bedtime. If this were you or I, that would mean that we would sleep in to make up for it. Not the case with Baby B. In fact, if he gets to bed past the "bedtime window," it's usually a guarantee that he'll wake up even earlier than usual. Figure out that logic.

While I was away reconnecting with my former blonde self today, B fed Baby B some delicious strawberries and bananas. He ain't scared of no mess, no siree.

This is Baby B acting like a dinosaur. Raaaawr.This is Baby B waiting for daddy to come home from work the other day. Sweet precious.


Happy, happy Saturday.

In need of major hair-apy

Did you know that my hair is causing all sorts of drama today? Well, it is. It's unruly, too long, and my roots are disgustingly obvious showing. Isn't it funny how the state of your hair relates directly to your self-esteem/mood/the way you respond to innocent comments from your husband?

B: Did you see on the news about the guy that got a root canal, and...

ME: What?! Roots?! They're that obvious?! You think I look like skunk? You're ashamed to be seen with me in public?!

B: 'Scuse me for a second while I extract my head from your mouth...

So, my highlight appointment is set for Saturday morning at 11:20am, and I will be there with bells on. My stylist is going to FREAK. OUT. when she's sees the condition of my mane. It's embarrassing, it really is. I vow every time that I will never let it go that long again, but always end up waiting two months too long and wind up with a major blonde complex.

I really wish I didn't have to highlight my hair, but it really is a must. My natural color is mousy and drab. Blonde just suits my personality so much better. I'm not mousy or drab in real life, so why should my hair reflect such a dismal existence?

You can tell I've spent a lot of time thinking about my hair today. And even more time in front of the mirror trying to tie it up in some kind of ratty looking ponytail to disguise my rootastrophy. Every attempt was unsuccessful, so I've surrendered to looking absolutely heinous for the next 36 hours while I await my appointment.

I was actually going to attempt a vlog - as inspired Linds - but I decided that I would not subject you my nasaly voice and my roots all at one time. So, it's just the written word today, but don't you worry - I'm so all over the vlogging.

And here is me, at this time last year, plumped up and glowing over baby books at one of my showers, looking all of the 60+ pounds I gained during the 9 months I warehoused Baby B. Oh, and that blonde you see there, is exactly what I want to return to :)

I love lists!

Things that should be illegal:

1) Pirate Booty. Have you tried this stuff? OMIGOSH IT IS DELICIOUS. And expensive. I bought it for Baby B since I was enticed by its all-natural goodness, and the fact that it can be dissolved and not necessarily chewed. Now, I'm addicted, and did more than help in quickly diminishing the entire bag. Baby B had 15 Pirate Booty corn puffs, mommy had 179. It's all about equality.

2) Men driving around topless in their souped-up cars. Seriously, do they think they look all cool reclining waaaay back in their seats, cigarette hanging nastily out of their mouths, SHIRTLESS? There are so many things wrong with that.

3) Dogs barking just for the sake of barking. If a dog is barking to ward off an intruder or warn of imminent danger, bark away. However, if a dog is barking because it sees another dog, hears an ambulance siren, or breathes air, my blood pressure rises instantaneously and I think that it should be devoid of its vocal cords.

4) Spitting. Gag, retch, blech! I cannot stand spit. We have this soap dispenser at school that has the watery-est soap, and every time I squirt some into my hand it resembles spit and I throw up a little in my mouth. The only time spitting is acceptable is when your mouth if full of Crest or Colgate.

5) Hyper-florescent lighting in dressing rooms. I mean, those things highlight every single bodily flaw you possess. I'm all like, Does my skin seriously look yellow-blue in real life? Is that cellulite spreading to my knees? My gosh, do I need a highlight...

6) Spencer Pratt.

7) Strangers touching babies. This makes me CrAzY. If you want to grind my nerves through a cheese grater, get thisclose to Baby B [practically exchanging air with him] and touch his hands with your undoubtedly germy paws. I'm not that much of a germfreak (Swine Flu, Schwine Flu!), but I just can't guarantee that you washed your hands the last time you went tee tee or petted your flea-infested dog. Just saying.

8) Character clothing. Especially Looney Toons anything.

9) Any Nickelback song that comes on the radio. Seriously, do those guys ever stop? I feel like every station I listen to plays Nickelback like twice an hour. And every song sounds exactly the same. And, hey, I admit to singing along with them for the first hundred times I hear their latest tune, but they are getting a little overplayed.

10) Odd-numbered lists.

...Blog Friends Forever...

Today I thought I would drum up some attention to my dearest BFFs. For those of you who don't know already, BFF is a little term I coined to refer to my Blog Friends Forever. I read so many wonderful blogs around the internet that I thought I should share my love of them with you. Some of these dears I know in real life, and others are those I found through my passion for blog stalking. So, if you're looking for something new to read today, here's who you should check out...

• If you're looking for a funny mommy read, check out Rachel at Babywebbsite. Rach and I are Pi girls (first, forever, & finest - wink, wink) and had sweet baby boys within months of one another. She's getting ready to post about her stint in bed for the last ten weeks of her pregnancy. She's very entertaining, keeps it real, and her kid is cute. A quality combination.
• If you need a little southern charm in your life, visit Lindsay at Trio Posts. She's another Pi girl, also has a sweet baby boy, and will crack you right up. Her vlogs (video blogs) are hilarious -go tell her so because she thinks otherwise. She's currently on a TV hiatus and is conducting a variety of contests this week.
• Need decor advise? (I do!) Then visit The Nester. Her ideas are inexpensive, classy, and her motto is It Doesn't Have To Be Perfect To Be Beautiful. Don't you love that? Her window mistreatments are to die for.
• So you're planning a wedding? Love wine? Adore the prep life? Then Nat over at It's a Charmed Life is the girl for you. We would totally be friends in real life if she didn't live miles away, I just know it.
• And then there's a southern transplant - another Nat - at The Pettijohns. She's quite possibly the cutest pregnant girl I have ever seen. Her funny take on pregnancy will keep you in stitches, and you can join her on her new adventure up east in the 'Burgh.
• My teacher friend Carrie blogs about hometown life, her adorable children, and their chicken at The Ossege Family. Really they raised a chicken and are getting new eggs from eBay! She's also incredibly creative and posts idea/pics of her latest adventure in card design.

I hope you enjoy checking out my BFFs! Leave them some love!

As soon as I'm finished blogging tonight, I am going to make brownies. I mostly bake brownies because I adoooooore eating the batter. Raw eggs? Salmonella? Pffff. I love me some ooey gooey chocolatey brownie batter.

So, anyway, B and I are sitting around being boring tonight. We took Baby B on a walk, ate some dinner, and now we're watching The Biggest Loser. I'm such a fair weather reality TV show watcher. Survivor, The Biggest Loser, Big Brother - I love each season the last, like, four episodes. It just doesn't get interesting until then, ya know?

The above pix show Baby B sporting, what we refer to around the Babbling household, as The Hedgehog. Post bath, when I'm not fauxhawking his tresses, I'm slathering his scalp with Aquafor and spiking it into tiny peaks all over his head. Surprisingly, he wakes up every morning with wonderfully soft, non-greasy hair. Sometimes it's even still spiked.

If I've never mentioned it before, that little Peanut has TERRIBLE eczema. Like, we can't wash his clothes/blankets/Stinky G in anything but the unscented detergent, and his skin can only tolerate Dove Sensitive body wash; otherwise, he breaks out terribly and scratches his noggin and belly like crazy. So, his nightly bath routine includes loads of Auquafor and Eucerin, thus resulting in many fun photo ops. Love him.

Speaking of laundry detergent, we're completely out of the unscented variety at our house. And, since I refuse to separate our clothes from Baby B's clothes, the laundry monster is rearing its ugly head in the basement. Growl. Isn't it pathetic that three-fourths of our clothes are probably piled up in the basement, and yet I can still find clean clothes to wear? I need to lessen my environmental footprint and donate what I don't wear.

Thank goodness tomorrow is Wednesday. I have senioritis summeritis kindergartenitis I think. This is when the sunny sky outside reduces attention spans, induces excessive amounts of talking, and results in lots of color changes ultimately making me, the teacher, develop a repetitive twitch and go cross-eyed every time I have remind them to RAISE THEIR HANDS. We're actually re-introducing detention at our school, and *yes* I am totally allowed to send unruly 5-year-olds there. And you bet your Hannah Montana/Pokemon eraser that I will send you there, little buddy. Try me.