Five Years

In some ways, it's hard for me to comprehend that this is my fifth Valentine's Day with Drew.  Yet in other ways, it feels like it's been forever.  In a good way, of course! ;)

Our first Valentine's Day was spent apart.  We'd been dating for almost a year and Drew sent me a package in the mail.  It's sad; I don't remember what it was!  I do remember the most important part, though:  the beautiful card that was included. <3

Our second Valentine's Day was a month before we got married.  I was living with my aunt and uncle in Southlake, Texas.  We had made reservations to go out, but at the last minute, we decided to give the reservations to my aunt and uncle.  Drew grilled some steaks while I made some mashed potatoes and we had a nice romantic dinner while we babysat my five cousins!

Our third Valentine's Day was our first as a married couple.  Drew went all out on the presents!  Then, I made a special dinner for just the two of us.  It was amazing, and I don't mind saying so!

Our fourth Valentine's Day is when Drew surprised me with tickets to go see Phantom of the Opera.  I wrote a blog about it here.

This year, Drew and I celebrated yesterday, as it was more convenient for our wonderful babysitter, Abbey.  We dropped him off at 2 and went put-putting, which is one of our favorite "couple" activities. :) Afterwards, we went to Texas de Brazil.  It's Drew's favorite restaurant, and it's pretty spanky!  We were planning on going to the Melting Pot, which is my favorite restaurant, but when we called to make reservations, we discovered that they didn't have their traditional menu this weekend.  Lame.  Needless to say, we're planning on going there for our anniversary.  The evening was finished off with a movie.

All in all, it was a great way to celebrate our fifth Valentine's Day together.  Sorry, no pictures because I failed hardcore at taking them. :p

When Inspiration Hits...

I've started writing again.

Drew left his job at the beginning of November and has yet to find a new one.  As we are without an income, Drew broached the subject of me getting a job.  It wasn't too intense of a conversation, although the thought did make me want to cry.

See, before we got married, we agreed that I would be a stay-at-home mom for as long as we had kids in the house.  It's all I've ever wanted to do.  It is my personal belief that the greatest job a woman can ever have is to shape tomorrow by raising her children to the best of her ability.  Other women can go out and get careers.  Me?  I just want to be a mommy.

However, if Drew isn't able to find a job, there is no reason why I should refuse to.  My husband is more than capable of staying home with Gabriel.

Drew suggested, facetiously (as it's a conversation that we have rehashed dozens of times), that I get a job that will utilize my degree.  Well, my degree is in English... and I still lack one class.  I got a little frustrated.

And then Drew said the most amazing thing:  "Why don't you write a book and make money?  Treat your writing like a job."

"I can do that."  I said, as if realizing it for the first time.  I did not have any inspiration, but I promised to pull out my files and see what ideas I had been working on before college decided to kick my bum.

Nothing jumped out at me, leaving me more than a little disappointed.

Then last night, I was laying in bed, unable to sleep, when inspiration just hit.  God started downloading an idea into my head that I know I could have never come up with on my own.

So I wrote it down.  I have to say that I'm more excited about this idea than I have ever been about any other idea.

God is awesome.

The End.

New Year

I am not usually one for New Year's resolutions, the reason being that my resolutions are always things that are completely out of reach:  spend an hour with God every day; erase soda from my diet; spend less time online; et cetera.  But this year, Drew and I decided to make our resolution together.

Now, before I say what it is, I would like to clarify something.  Drew and I rarely fight.  If we do fight, it's usually about our different understandings of the word "clean" in relation to our house. ;) However, we do argue somewhat frequently; both of us are argumentative people.  It's unfortunate, but true.

(Drew seems to think that I like to argue because my favorite book is Pride and Prejudice and because Darcy and Elizabeth argue a lot.  I argue that this reason is silly.  Haha.)

In any case, Drew and I have decided that our New Year's resolution is not to argue with each other anymore.  It's going to be difficult, but totally worth it.  With both of us having the same resolution, I'm hoping we'll be able to make it last the whole year.

We will probably fail at least a few times.  But the point of this resolution is not to attain a perfect marriage.  We simply want to create a lifestyle of harmony and an atmosphere of peace in our home.  We have made this resolution with the understanding that both of us are going to come up short.

It's the awareness of how much we argue and how detrimental it could potentially be to our relationship that we want to address.  It's the recognition that arguing is unnecessary to our marriage that we want to acknowledge.

In addition to having a "couple's resolution," I also have a personal one.  It's actually more of a reading list.  But I don't think I'll have a problem with that one. ;)

Hello, Old Friend.

You know that one piece of clothing?

That one that you put on and it just makes you feel good, no matter what it looks like or how it looks on you?  That one that you've had for ages and brings back so many memories?

For me, this piece of clothing is my purple sweatshirt.

My mom and I found it at either Steinmart or TJ Maxx about ten years ago.  I was in search of warm clothes for my first PK/MK retreat in seventh grade.  I fell in love with it immediately, despite the fact that I never have (and never will) like purple.

It became my constant winter companion for the next few years.  Those of you who knew me in middle school and even high school will probably remember this sweatshirt making its appearance at youth retreats and winter outings.

I pulled out some of my winter clothes today.  My purple sweatshirt was at the bottom.  I smiled when I saw it and pulled it out lovingly.  "There you are, old friend," I thought to myself, realizing that I hadn't even pulled it out last winter because of being pregnant (it probably would have still fit, as it's huuge).

I tried it on, noticing how misshapen it is from all the wear.  I saw the bleach stains on the sleeve from one time when I cleaned the kitchen sink for my mom, unwittingly bleaching my beloved sweatshirt as I worked.

Immediately, I pulled it on, relishing the feel of it.  It's not quite as soft as it once was, but that's okay.  It's faded and out of style, but that's okay, too.  It's my purple sweatshirt, and I will always love it.

I looked for a picture of me wearing this sweatshirt when I was younger, but couldn't find one among my digitals. :( 
I'll have to check my hard copy pictures (yay, early 2000's).

Perspective

Isn't it funny how perspective can really change things?  I mean, I know that it can't actually change something, but it certainly alters our perception.

I'm reminded of the 2008 movie, Vantage Point, in which a crime is pieced together by interviewing witnesses who all had a different physical perspective of what happened.  It fascinates me how the whole picture can be seen by compiling perspectives.

There are things in life that also require perspective.  Motherhood is one of them.

As a child, I viewed my mom as a source of protection, comfort, and discipline (lots of discipline--I was not the most well-behaved child).

As a teenager, I perceived her as an obstacle that stood in the way of my independence, an authority figure that I did not need or want.

As an adult, I found that she became more like a mentor/friend--someone I could always count on to provide good advice and a listening ear.

But now that I am myself a mother, I see my mom in a whole new light:  The sacrifices that she made daily for me and my siblings.  Sacrifices like sleep, time, and energy--all things that seem so insignificant when there is plenty to be had, but are so hard to give up.

I am only three months into this whole "being a mom" thing and I have to say that it is extremely hard.  It's hard when my baby wakes me up at 2am after he's been sleeping through the night for over a month.  It's hard when he again wakes me up at 6am when he's been waking up at 8am for two weeks.  It's hard when he decides he only wants to take a 45-minute nap when I have tons of reading to do for school.  It's hard when he is crying for no apparent reason other than wanting to be held when I again have schoolwork to accomplish or dinner to prepare.  It's hard not being able to run errands and/or go out in the evenings because it interferes with his schedule.

But you know what?  I would not trade any of it for the world.  My mom was and is a champion for all of the hard work that she put in to raising ten children (and still does, as most of my siblings are still under sixteen).  I hope I can be half as amazing at being a wife and mother as she is.

So who is my mom?



Put all the perspectives together. ;)
(Except the teen one... teenagers have the most wacked out perspectives ever!)