i can haz cheezburger

For Halloween this year, the Loaf was a cheeseburger (with an extra side of bacon). I entered her into a Facebook contest to win a gift card from the best burger joint in the ghetto, Warrens, but some other girl got more votes. I am pretty sure it was rigged, because an 11-week-old baby dressed as a cheeseburger is pretty much a shoe-in to win a “Best Halloween Costume” contest hosted by a fast food restaurant. Whatever.

We also went to a ward party, where Papa Bear went as mayonnaise (although after a very serious argument that almost led to fisticuffs, I allowed him to go as Miracle Whip instead), I was ketchup, and you can’t see it in the picture, but the Loaf is fry sauce.

Halloween this year made me unusually angry. I kind of thought trick or treating was a thing of the past, what with everyone doing the trunk or treat thing these days, and us living in the ghetto where there are no streetlights and sex offenders behind every other door. But we had some trick or treaters. At the last minute, I panicked when I realized we didn’t have any candy, unless you count a bunch of mints and dollar store butterscotch candies we had left over from a church activity we did in July. Which I did.

In the end, I wasn’t so ashamed that we were THAT house (you know, the house that gave away the candy that kids don’t actually mind having to share with their younger siblings/parents) because trick or treaters were LAME. I have many beefs with the trick or treaters of 2011. First, very few of them actually said, “Trick or treat!” Second, none of them said “Happy Halloween!” Third, most of them did not say “Thank you!” Fourth, many of them didn’t even dress up!

And finally… Parents of children who A) Have to be carried, and B) Do not know how to form the words, “Trick or Treat!” or “Happy Halloween!” or “Thank you!” should not be trick or treating for their babies! If you come to my door with your kid who is not as cute as mine, expecting candy, you can expect to have one door shut in your face, and you will not be getting any mints from me, thankyouverymuch.

Halloween, be more awesome next year. I’m bringing my baby around. She’ll be 15 months old next year, so I expect she’ll be all about eating a pillowcase full of candy.

The goal I didn’t even know I had.

I once had a pair of jeans. (No, he’s not really going. Yes, we really are in the men’s room at the Sugarhouse movie theater.) Ahem, the jeans?

So I had this pair of jeans. They were my favorite jeans, purchased I believe just for the great day Papa Bear and I had our engagement pictures taken (shown above). I loved them, and they fit faithfully up until December 2010, when I started mysteriously getting fatter, despite how little I was eating, and how sick I felt.

Now, let’s step out of the jeans for a second. (Not literally. I’m still wearing pants. Are you wearing pants? Good.) There was another time I bought a dress:

Four months after I debuted in that dress, I started replacing all of my clothes, even my favorite pair of jeans, with maternity clothes, and ugly frumpy looking maternity jeans. I had a baby. I was still wearing maternity clothes. I couldn’t fit into anything.

Until today.

Let’s just say if I ever have the occasion to wear a wedding dress again (don’t worry, I’m sticking with this one), I’ll have a dress that fits. As for the jeans? They just got spit up on. But I’m wearing em. And I’m wearing em goooooood.

All thanks to no exercising and a baby who cluster feeds. It’s been a good day.

the real deal

Yup, we totally went and got sealed yesterday. After one year, two days, and all but two weeks of a pregnancy, we are eternally us. It was pretty much an awesome day, and although it has been less than 24 hours since I made this fella my eternal partner in crime, life feels different already.

Better different. A richer, more manageable different. We were walking out of the temple and right then I knew that it was going to be different. That while nothing about our marriage was particularly difficult before, we now have a bit more of a lift as needed.

Maybe it was the euphoria of feeling like a second wedding day or something, but I like to think that the reason I have felt so much happier since then–about marriage, about Papa Bear, about pretty much everything–is because of the covenants that we made to each other and with God yesterday.

I have even felt more loving towards PB, less prone to criticism and sarcastic thoughts/comments (and I pretty much always have a sarcastic thought or comment about something brewing up there!) and it feels good to be a wife for forever rather than the alternative. I highly recommend it.

I will talk about the rest of the day later, but wanted to shoot that out there.

Hey, remember when…

…this happened?

I do. Because it was awesome.

And it was one year ago today!

The decision I made to marry Papa Bear was difficult. Not the Papa Bear decision, but the marriage decision. What if I couldn’t do it again? What if I failed again? What if it was hard? What if he hated me? What if I couldn’t control my temper and he left? I remember having the very distinct impression in the temple that we would have problems, but unlike my first go-around, these problems would be different and more manageable. The one major thing I have found out this year is that God keeps His promises. We have had problems, but nothing significant. And now we’re having a baby, something I never thought would happen to me. So marriage is good and I like it.

Now a few words about PB. He is the most loyal friend you will ever have. He would do anything for anyone and is endlessly cheerful. I don’t know how we make it work between his general happy-go-lucky nature and my mood that changes from bad to worse and back every other second, but we do.

He is my best buddy. He supports me in whatever it is I decide to do (within reason). if there is something I want desperately enough, he will always find a way to make it happen. And he lives in a constant flurry of service and never complains about it. I sometimes get on his case about having to instruct him on what to do. I feel like a nag. But Papa Bear takes whatever it is I’m asking him for help with and does it 100 percent, insisting many times that I lay down and put my feet up while he takes care of whatever it is.

The other day we were talking about this baby, and it occurred to us that we were only married for four months before finding out I was pregnant. And ever since then, life has been crazy and all about this baby and how I’m feeling and if she’s okay and if I’m eating right and getting things prepared for her to be here.

PB has been the best through all of this. He has never complained about the stress that he feels in trying to get everything done. The whole time it has been about me and the baby, and what we need. And at night when he puts his hand on my belly because he missed feeling the baby move that day, it’s about the most precious and special thing in the world.

I guess what I’m saying is that I love my husband, and this past year has been the best of all of my years. And on Saturday, we get to be sealed and I will finally have the best husband in the world for eternity. And we’re going to eat sandwiches, so you should come.

I love you Papa Bear!