Archive for May, 2009
My Reality
I’m not sure why our nation is so obsessed with reality television. I don’t really enjoy it. I watch Jon & Kate Plus 8 when I turn to TLC and it’s on. (I’ll ignore the obvious discussion we should have about the turmoil in their relationship because it’s not the point of the blog. And while you know I’m not really one to (quote) stay on task (unquote), that’s just not a wound I really want to pour mounds of salt into right now. So.. moving on.) I own the DVDs too. And the book “Multiple Blessings”… but that just makes me obsessed with the Gosselins, not reality TV. And of course you know that I love The Biggest Loser. Maybe “love” is an understatement. But that’s neither here nor there. I still claim that I’m not a reality tv junkie.
There are so many shows that just follow families around. Are their lives really that interesting? Sometimes I wonder if people would watch my reality television show. What would we call it? “Royal Treatment: Life in Hurst Castle”? That sounds much more interesting than I actually am. I think that if someone gave me a reality show, some exec in some fancy office would lose their job. Probably the first time Rookie licked her butt. Or maybe right after the camera showed me cross-stitching while wearing my pirate patch on the couch while Stephen played “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” on the piano. In May. Someone would definitely lose their job.
Quite honestly, I’m not sure why someone at WordPress hasn’t pulled the plug on this little number here. Certainly there is some sort of relevancy clause. “Blogger must have a minimum of one (1) relevant story per 2000 words. Failure to do so will result in termination of blog, leaving said blogger all alone at her desk, fighting back tears and wondering who will read an email about the slightly entertaining (but totally pointless) event that happened last night.” I bet the WordPress execs (does WordPress even have execs?) are sitting in their offices, hanging their heads, wishing they paid closer attention to Field of Dreams. They should have known… if they built a free site for people to write freely, crazies like me would flock to them. Their fault really. They gave me a blog. But about that tv show…
What would our show look like? Here are a few of the activities you would see on this week’s episode:
- Stephen on the couch spitting ice cubes in the air for Rookie to catch in her mouth. Over and over.
- Me making banana chocolate chip muffins while wearing my pirate patch. Then forgetting to set the timer. Freaking out when I remember that I have something in the oven. Seeing that they aren’t done and leaving them in a little longer. Then freaking out again because I forgot about them again. Pulling “slightly toasted” muffins out of the oven. Eating them anyways.
- Stephen and Rookie running laps inside the house. Stephen hiding behind corners and jumping out at Rookie. Rookie hopping on and off the couches and pouncing at Stephen.
- Me watering my garden full of weeds.
- Me watching the last 4 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy on the laptop in the front living room and crying my eyes out. Meanwhile, Stephen in the main living room watching something educational on Discovery.
Wow. I don’t think my life is that boring. I am quite fond of it actually. But I can see how, from the outside, it might look lame. And pointless.
Much like this blog.
Props! to George
Strait, that is.
How do you accurately give appropriate props to the greatest country music artist that has ever existed? Well, you don’t. But you can try.
Last night as I watched the tribute to George on CBS for being the Artist of the Decade, I fell back in love with him. Back in high school, I was quite the George fan. I’ve been to a many of his concerts. I’ve owned many of his CDs. I even had a poster of him on my wall! (This was way after the days of JTT and Devon Sawa and slightly after the time of Spice Girls.) As far as name recognition, talent, and success goes, very few country stars can even come close to him. He’s THE King George. He has had 44 Billboard top singles. Forty four!
Amazing.
I watched the two hour program with googly eyes at a 57 year old man. He sat there with his wife and son (and some other girl?) watching other country stars perform his music. What a great night. They all told stories about him and when they first met him. It was touching. What a wonderful day to be George Strait. Actually, I’m sure most days are great days to be George Strait… but you know what I mean. I’d also like to comment that I never really liked the song “Run” but I think Taylor Swift did an incredible job with that!
So I love him. And I’m pretty sure he loves me too- even if he doesn’t know it. Why wouldn’t he? I’m a great fan. And I’m sure that I’ve contributed somewhere around $320 to his bank account… not that he’s shallow enough to love me for my money.
I watched the show while facebooking back and forth with Lyndsey (you know, the friend I’m going to bribe to move to Houston by having a baby). Well, obviously I don’t have a baby, so I’m bribing her to visit with something almost as enticing as my first born. George Strait tickets. So now, I’m the proud owner of 2 tickets to the show on August 8! It’s up to her to get her butt down here for it! If she doesn’t come, I will be taking my husband. And I will post massive amounts of pictures to make her jealous.
Consider yourself warned.
Comfortable Guests
I’ve had this one pair of yellow Soffe cheer shorts since 9th grade, 1999 to be exact. It’s 2009, in case you haven’t noticed. (And, no, I wasn’t a cheerleader. Cheer shorts were quite the fad back then, everyone had them.) I still wear them regularly. They are worn around the elastic, probably from being pushed to their limits. I’m not exactly the same size I was 10 years ago. But they are soft. And oh so very comfortable.
Comfort drives a lot of areas of our lives. Clothes especially. We have outfits that we know we can count on to fit properly even on the bloated days. But also food. We have “go-to” meals… things that are quick and easy and delicious that we make more often than we’d like to admit to the general public or anyone who isn’t required to love us until death do us part. (Lemon feta chicken is ours… check out the recipe blog for that one. Yum!) We have comfortable shows. You may have seen every episode but you know you can watch it again anyways. Because it’s comfortable, familiar, and there won’t be any surprises.
I think this also applies to friends. There are people in your life that are comforable. You know you can turn to them on those bloated days. They aren’t offended if you only need them when you are in a hurry and need something quick. They are those quality friends that often blur the line between friends and family. My friend Jim is one of those. And by default (and vows taken before God and man) Sarah is as well. Stephen and I love them dearly. It had been about 9 months since we’d seen Jim, but seeing him over the weekend felt normal. Conversation was normal, comfortable. Nothing was forced, we didn’t feel like we had to impress them or keep them entertained. We just spent good, quality time hanging out. Those types of friends are hard to come by.
Our community group back in Austin bred a lot of those friendships. You’d be shocked to hear how many marriages came out of that group, and how many true friendships were developed. At each wedding we attend, we try to get a picture of the entire group. I remember at our wedding, we saw them taking this picture from a distance. Stephen and I were meeting and greeting and doing the normal bride and groom “thanks for coming, so great to see you” rounds. I heard someone yell “Yeah, a CG picture!” and saw them assembling. A few shots were taken before Stephen and I butted into their picture and scolding them for excluding us. These photos were taken on multiple digital cameras and a few of the table throw-aways. The other day I was going through some old pictures and I found this one:
Before Stephen and I cut into the picture.
Top right... the tall fellow...
Horns down? At my wedding?
I guess I shouldn’t feel bad about forgetting to put pillowcases on their pillows.
100th Post
Today marks a milestone for R&R, it’s my 100th post. I know what you’re thinking… that’s it?! I thought I’d read at least 843 days of random crap. Nope, only 100. It just seems like much more because I don’t quite understand the art of brevity… so what you could say in 20 words, I need 200. Anyways, as I always say, I don’t apologize for this. It’s your fault for reading. I never claimed to be anything that I am not. Like relevant. Or helpful. You just get me. Plain and simple.
Many bloggers do “100 Things About Me” on their 100th post. And as much as I love reading those, I’m not going to do that. Maybe I will at some point. But not today. Today will be all about the blog. Enjoy.
One thing I love about WordPress is the extensive stats. I can see how people end up on my site. Below is a list of some of the most hilarious things people have typed into a search engine to end up here. Keep in mind that it only shows me a certain number of characters, so sometimes you don’t get the full sentence. (My comments are in parentheses.)
-“roots and rings > chelsea hurst” (Obviously this person was just typing in everything they knew to make sure they found the blog, but this is funny because this is actually saying that Roots and Rings is greater than Chelsea Hurst… and as true as that may be, it’s hilarious that someone would type that.)
-“squished under my shoe”
-“biggest loset blue team dane stupid” (They misspelled “loser”, I didn’t.)
-“google catipiller” (Once again, their misspelling.)
-“poop on stoops hurst”
-“pronounce tara- jillian” (haha)
-“i ate a tiny bit of sharpie what’s going” (Seriously??)
-“sharpie pen hurt pregnant women”
-“ike bradley’s family life” (What does that even mean?)
-“the pros and cons of stopping sweat”
-“quitting chapstick” (Two things: 1. See, I told you it’s a normal problem! 2. Whoever googled that shortly learned that they wouldn’t be getting any advice on the topic from me! Poor googler!)
-“did helen from biggest loser starve hers” (Probably.)
-“arthur of the very hungry caterpillar” (Arthur? Really?)
-“chelsea hurst prom 2009” (Seriously? I’m 24… 24 year olds that go to prom are probably put on some sort of list. It’s not normal. Or socially acceptable.)
-“ancient chinese torture methods” (Are yall trying to tell me something?? You don’t HAVE to read this!)
-“why does vomit smell?”
Another stat that I think is interesting is which posts are read the most. Here are the top 10 R&R posts. If you click on the title, the link will go to that post.
1. The Very Hungry Caterpillar
4. Making An Educated Decision
5. 25 Things
10. Brat Beef Kielbasa Hot Smoked Sausage Cheddar Wurst
These are probably the posts that show up most on Google or WordPress searches. They aren’t necessarily your favorites, or mine. Actually, I only like about 4 or 5 of those posts. Here are a few of my faves:
Don’t Ever Ask Me To Save The World
Anyways, happy 100th Post Day! Thanks for reading and commenting. You guys are awesome! I hope you’ve enjoyed these 100 posts as much as I have!
Have a wonderful 4 day work week!!
One Very Short Thought
I used to think I was a pretty nice person. Friendly, personable, understanding. I gave most people the benefit of the doubt. Certain people annoyed me, yeah, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a small hiccup in my day and then I went along my merry way.
Then I entered the work force.
And that’s all I have to say about that. This three day weekend couldn’t fall at a more necessary time…
Redeeming Qualities
Why are certain people in your life? Why have you let them in? Probably because they add something to your life that wasn’t there without them. Right? You make a new friend because that person adds joy to your life. You like their company. You have fun with them. They make you want to be a better person. Hopefully the majority of your relationships are healthy and selfless like that. I’d bet there are a few people in your life that don’t bring as many benefits. Maybe you are just friends with a guy because your wife gets along with his wife. Or maybe you work together so you have a professional work-friendship even though you have nothing in common.
When my friend Lyndsey and I first met, we weren’t friends. I joined an organization at UT and she was an officer. We saw each other a lot but weren’t really friends. Not really sure why. Maybe it was a case of “I hate her because I want to be her” on both sides. It only took us a couple months to realize we should be friends. And, I’ll be honest, it was a selfish friendship at first. I wanted to be friends with her for 3 main reasons. (1. She’s hot. And who doesn’t want hot friends?! 2. She’s funny. 3. She’s tall. It’s hard to be friends with tiny people when you’re tall… I feel like a beast!) I didn’t really think we’d become great friends. I thought we’d go to baseball games together and joke around when we saw each other at events. And I was okay with that. I had a hot, tall, funny friend. Who wouldn’t be okay with that?! I’m not sure why Lyndsey decided she wanted to be my friend. Maybe it was so I’d wake her up in time for meetings. Or because I laughed at her jokes and understood her sarcasm. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, we became friends. In case you’re curious, Lyndsey now falls into the “best friend” category. She was in my wedding. I plan to be in hers one day (I hope you plan for me to be in your wedding too, Lyndsey!) I’m considering having a baby just to bribe her into moving to Houston.
All of that to say that sometimes we like people for selfish reasons. We get something from them so we welcome them into our lives… even if we previously could care less.
Last night I went to the grocery store to get a few of the necessities for our weekend with the Johnsons. I headed over to the milk area. Standing in front of the Whole Milk door was a little Indian woman with a toddler screaming in her cart. No worries, I’m a 1% milk girl, a whole two doors down from her. I’ll just sneak in, pretend I don’t hear the blood-curdling cries, and grab my milk. As my arm (and head) are in the fridge, reaching down to pick up the perfect gallon, I’m struck. No, not with a brilliant idea. With a door. The very door I just opened to get my milk. This woman had backed herself and her cart into my door with as much force as a bull running toward a waving red sheet. Okay, okay. Or maybe with as much force as a tiny Indian woman taking a few backward steps. Regardless, I was hit on the head with a door. And when you’re bending over, any sort of force is hard to take. She mumbled some sort of embarrassed apology and ran off. I knew we wouldn’t be friends.
I continued to go through my shopping list. I see “creamer”…crap. I made my way back to those dreaded glass doors and guess who is standing there. Yep, my non-friend. Her son is no longer in her cart… I look around and see him running down the candy aisle with dad. I stand in front of the creamers, reading all the names. When I chose the tastiest looking one, I brace the door open with my shoulder, making sure to keep my head far from it. As I back up, creamer in hand, there she is. Standing uncomfortably close to me. (In case you didn’t read yesterday’s post, I don’t like physical touch… so the threat of physical touch makes me nervous.) I’m sure she didn’t mean to sneak up on me. She doesn’t know that my left eye doesn’t work properly. I’m sure she doesn’t read my blog. How dare her… I told you we could never be friends! (Get to the point Chelsea.) Okay, so I look at her to see what she needs. Maybe she wants me to bend back over so she can close the door on me again. No, that’s not it. “Um, come here?” Her broken English was kind of cute. I walk with her to another door. “Land O’Lake. Large?” she says as she’s point up. I look up and on the very top row (about my eye level!) is some carton of something with the name “Land O’Lakes.”
I handed her the carton and realized that even though she previously didn’t care about me, she now wants me to be her tall friend. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.
Updates and Links
Today is one of those days we both hate. I don’t have any stories that I care to share, so you have to read about a bunch of stuff you may or may not be interested it. And, sadly, you don’t know if you’re interested until you read it. So, sorry if none of the topics below interest you.
-Our friends Jim and Sarah are coming into town on Friday. We are so excited. We planned this little weekend months ago and it seemed like it was years away. I can’t believe it’s already here!
-Speaking of Jim, check out his garden. I’m thoroughly impressed. While his garden looks like it’s actually bearing fruit, ours appears to be bearing grass. Lots of grass. And weeds. Mad props to Jim for doing his homework and planting a successful garden. No props to Stephen and I for randomly planting seeds and ending up with grass and the beginnings of beans and cucumbers. We know we need to pull the weeds but we’re too scared… what if some of it is actually a veggie? We wouldn’t know the difference! So hopefully Jim’s expert eye can give us a hand this weekend. Jim, please be gentle when you tell us that we actually have nothing of value in our garden. Let us down easy…
-I’ve mentioned The Five Love Languages before and I’ve told you how great of a book it is. Check out what my friend Amanda has to say about it. She mentions that her and her fiance have opposite love languages. this is pretty common…. which is why it’s so important to learn your spouse’s love language. If you know me well, you know that I don’t like touching. Hugging is fine, to a certain point. I was never one of those girls in middle school that walked down the hall with her arms linked to her BFF. I’m terrible at cuddling. I hate to be held. It’s so sad. This is especially sad since Stephen’s love language is physical touch. So after reading the book and realizing that he feels loved when I touch him, the same way I feel loved when he does the dishes or mows the lawn, it was shocking. It definitely made me more intentional about hugging my man! (I know, Stephen, I am a work-in-progress!)
-Sometime in the next couple weeks, Roots and Rings is getting a facelift. One day you’ll come to the site and everything will look different. I’m so excited about it, I just know you’re going to love it. And if you don’t, don’t tell me!
-In an effort to keep things fun and interesting around here, I would love to hear your thoughts. With Biggest Loser being over, I was thinking about adding in another weekly post. Take a look at some of these or throw out some ideas of your own. I thought about a weekly recipe, but I already have the recipe blog. Just look there if you want a recipe! I will continue to do Props!, but this is not a weekly post. It’s a whenever-I-darn-well-feel-like-it post. So be creative and let me know what you want to read about it. After all, if you’re coming here to get your daily dose of R&R, I want to make sure you’re getting your fill!
-Rookie still looks ridiculous. And now I’m scared that her hair isn’t going to grow back. She has an under coat of fine fur and an over coat of coarse fur. Does the over coat of a dog grow back?? Does anyone know? I think I’ll vomit if it doesn’t.
Hopefully something today struck your fancy. If not, just scroll down and look at the pictures of Sophie again. Once you see her, I’m confident you won’t stay mad at me for long!
Sophie Grace
There are no words for how adorable Sophie is. In case you haven’t been keeping up with the ever-interesting goings-on of my life, Sophie is my cousin’s baby. She’s about 6 weeks old and 5.5 pounds. She is pure joy, swaddled in a onesie. Instead of trying to tell you how precious she is, let me show you. Over and over. (I have Kim’s permission to introduce Sophie to the world wide web.)
That's my hand. And I have small hands. Really, I do. Freakishly small.
Sophie holding Lindsay's finger. She has a death grip. I think that would be an okay way to go... squeezed to death by a sweet baby!
The Cutest Little Longhorn! (As you can see, this onesie is still a bit too big for her. But she wanted to wear it to show it off! And you don't argue with that face.)
(Insert Mommy-related "you look like a natural" comment here.)
There is no better place to be than on a comfy couch with a sleeping baby on your chest.
Four Generations
Okay okay. Is that enough? No? Okay, just one more…
She started getting an attitude with us. Something about being tired of cameras...
I know I said that was the last one, but I lied. Here’s just one more…
I know what you're thinking, but I promise that she's real. That's not a doll. She's really that cute!
I love you Baby Sophie!! I can’t wait to see you in July. Please don’t forget me… my ego can’t take that!
Weighing The Pros and Cons
Life is all about balance. Give and take. Every decision we ever have to make has options that could be considered. Sometimes we ignore the other options and take the bad with the good. Example: This weekend I was in Alice, Texas visiting family. The church had a potluck after the service. I ate a finger sandwich, some veggies, deviled eggs, etc. and then, of course, I visited the dessert table. Little old Presbyterian ladies make great desserts. Then we got back to my aunt and uncle’s house and I ate another Saltine Surprise because, well, have you had Saltine Surprises?? And these were made with dark chocolate. So… I really had no choice. A couple hours went by of reading and holding baby Sophie (more on her tomorrow!) and I was still feeling quite full. I pulled the ultimate fat girl move and put on athletic shorts with elastic. (Elastic that was digging into my gut and turning me into a human play-dough spaghetti maker thingy.) But then my cousin asked, “Do you want a piece of pie?” Do I want a piece of pie? That ridiculously amazing homemade chocolate cream pie that my uncle made? Let-me-think-about-that-for-a-second-Yes! In this instance, there really are no other options. If I opt out of my 3rd (who are we kidding.. 7th) dessert of the day, I may feel a little better, I may not bust the elastic on my shorts that were purchased in the men’s section of Old Navy. But I’d regret it. Forever. Because that pie rocks. In this instance, the other options don’t matter.
But sometimes other options matter. Sometimes the pros and cons should be weighed. At one point, I considered quitting Chapstick. For those of you who don’t know, I am severely addicted to Chapstick. (Classic Cherry to be more specific.) And by “severely” I mean that I always have a tube in my pocket. I apply at least 20 times each day (more, depending on what I eat). If I leave it at home, I have to stop and buy a new one. I haven’t gone an entire day without Chapstick in 8 years. I probably haven’t gone an entire two hours without Chapstick in 8 years. It takes me approximately 21 days to get through a tube. It’s bad. Really bad. So I considered quitting. I don’t want to be a slave to Chapstick for the rest of my life. But after some research, I compiled a list of pros and cons.
Pros:
-I’d save approximately $1.69 every 21 days. That comes out to $29.37 a year. Assuming I live another 55 years, that’s $1615.56 over my lifetime.
-I wouldn’t feel like killing myself every time I couldn’t get my hands on that tube of glory. My lifeline. My brand of cocaine. I would be a slave to nothing. (Except chocolate. And cheese. And sleep. Oh dear. I have issues.)
-I wouldn’t ruin any more clothes by accidentally leaving the tube in my jeans pocket when I throw them in the washing machine.
-My hair wouldn’t get stuck on my lips when it’s windy.
-That’s it. That’s all the pros.
Cons:
-I might die.
-My lips would bleed for a few weeks until they learned to make moisture on their own again. (This is one of those instances where “use it or lose it” applies.)
-I might die.
-I would cry and Stephen would have to put up with me.
-Each time the weather was dry or I went to Colorado, I’d tempt my addiction again.
-I would die.
So that’s that. Not quitting. The mere thought of it makes me sweat and my heart rate accelerates to a point that makes me question my safety. I’m getting a headache just thinking about quitting. Not going to happen. Glad I considered my pros and cons on that one.
Have you ever made a decision after weighing your pros and cons and then later realized that your one con should have heavily out-weighed your list or pros? Stephen wanted to shave Rookie. A lot of people in Texas shave their dog in the summer. A lot of people in Texas also have outside dogs. We do not. In my opinion, Rookie’s thick fur wasn’t going to kill her in our 70 degree, fully AC’ed house. But whatever. The girl has got to pee and I suppose it’s possible that she could pass out in the 2 minutes she’s outside sniffing out her next pit stop. Also, she sheds a lot. Our house is constantly covered in dog fur. We sweep about every 2-4 days. Each time, we sweep up so much hair that we could build Rookie a litter of baby-Rookies. So shaving her would (supposedly) cut down on all the shedding. Two pros. That’s what Stephen came up with.
I only had one con. She’d look ugly. I think shaved dogs are ugly. They have bushy faces and bushy tails but their bodies are skinny and weird looking. I don’t like it. And I don’t want an ugly dog. But after half of the family argued “the only difference between a bad haircut and a good one is a couple weeks,” Stephen won. Two pros (to the untrained eye) appeared to outweigh my one measly con.
Maybe now if I take all of Rookie’s old beautiful fur and put in on my con side of the scale, it would tip in my favor and I can win and this will never happen again:
My naked dog...
...that no longer looks like my sweet Rookie. She now looks like a moose. Or a deer.
You can't tell but I'm dangerously close to tears. Mourning the loss of my beautiful BLACK pup is not enjoyable.
Cons: She is ugly as sin and I no longer want to cuddle her. She doesn’t feel like my Rookie.
Pros: They say blondes have more fun…
Babies, Babies Everywhere!
You know that whole phenomena where you don’t notice things until they apply to you.. and then it’s everywhere? Like you don’t ever see certain cars until you’re in the market to buy a car. Then, all of a sudden, you see Nissan Muranos all over the place. You can’t even see street lights because the Nissan Muranos are taking up your entire vision field.
This happened in college. Senior year I was anticipating a proposal. Stephen and I had talked about getting married after we graduate. I knew after dating him for 2 months that he was “the one.” Waiting to get engaged was more for yall’s sake (oh yeah, and that money issue). We didn’t want any of you freaking out about us “rushing things.” So we waited. Starting at our one year anniversary, I began the anticipation. Being the female side of the relationship, I knew what had to happen in order for us to have our wedding the summer after graduation. These things take time to plan. (Not that I would know…. Thanks mom!) So the one year anniversary came. No ring. My birthday, no ring. Thanksgiving, no ring. Christmas, no ring. New Years, no ring. His birthday, no ring. And, of course, everywhere I looked were weddings. Commercials, girls in my classes with bling, people asking, etc. It was mid-January. We were graduating in 4 months. Weddings don’t get planned in 4 months. When Stephen proposed, I think all of those ads went off television. I think those girls stopped coming to class. Either that or I couldn’t see or hear anything over the beauty of my ring.
We are currently going through this same thing with babies. They are everywhere! I had the great joy of holding a precious, week old baby girl last night for the better part of an hour. I don’t know how anyone can hold a newborn and not believe in the amazing power of the Lord. Babies are perfection. They are so tiny. Their ears! Their toes! And their squinchy faces! Their bellies! Those little baby sighs. Oh dear. I’m in for it…
Well that’s just one baby, you say. First of all, holding one baby is enough to consume your thoughts. Secondly, there are more. I just got sidetracked talking about baby toes. Moving on. I have gotten two emails from Stephen about pregnant women at his office. (Baby count: 3) A girl from my high school and now blog-friend, Amanda, had a baby a few months back. He’s so stinking cute! Click on her name and scroll through her blog for pictures. You’ll want to drive to Austin just to squeeze Ian’s cheeks! (Baby count: 4) A girl from my community group in college now has baby #2 on the way. (BC: 5) A couple at our church just had a baby in January. (BC: 6)
Tonight after work I’m heading to good ‘ol Alice, Texas to visit my cousin and her baby girl, Sophie. (Oh looky there, Baby Count: 7) I am beyond excited to meet her and hold all 6 pounds of her tiny preciousness! And I will do everything in my power not to squeeze her and cuddle her! I can’t even imagine a mother’s love. I’ve never met Sophie and I love her so much! I would post pictures of some of these babies but I’m sure there are a lot of mom’s out there that aren’t as eager to exploit their babies as I will be. Oh, and did anyone see The Office last night… just saying. Also, a gret friend of my sister-in-law (Courtney) just had a baby. (BC: 8 and 9)
No, this post is not leading up to me announcing my pregnancy. But it is leading up to me showing you this picture (BC:10)!
Onesie says: Grandbaby On The Way! Can't wait to meet you. Love, Baby Rosenhagen
Congratulations to my brother and sister-in-law! We are all so excited about the news! I can’t wait to see Laura gain weight! I can’t wait until the little miracle is here! I can’t wait to see you as parents! I can’t wait to see your dogs go into depression! Also, congrats to mom and dad! (Do you think I’m over-doing the exclamation marks?! I’ll try to control myself.) You’re going to be grandparents. (!) And congrats to my sister, Aunt Lindsay. And to my grandparents who are going to all be great-grandparents. And to all of our aunts and uncles and cousins… nobody is really sure what you’re going to be called but it’s still exciting. (!!) I think, as I’m typing this, that I truly understand the meaning of the term “my cup runneth over”… my Joy Cup has spilled all over my keyboard and is taking over!
Oh. Blessings. Blessings. What a joyful time to be me!
(I hope I didn’t miscount or leave out any babies. I’ve had to edit this twice because I’ve remembered more babies!)
Sidenote: Isn’t my family hot? Seriously, good genes! Too bad you can’t see my dad’s cool plaid shorts!
**Below photo added so Jim could see the shorts.
Is my dad too hip to be a grandpa? We better call him something cool like Poppi or G-Pa!
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