Growing Old

"And I guess that's when it hit me. For the first time, this man, who had always been Hercules to me, didn't seem quite the same. For the first time, my grandfather seemed... old"

Kevin Arnold always bringing up a good point. I was lucky enough to be born with four living grandparents. Grandparents I knew, loved, interacted with, and still remember. They were the quintessential grandparents.

I lost both of my grandfathers in the same year. I was twelve. Sure, I had plenty of memories of each of them, but twelve now seems like so long ago. I do know that they were both good men, and neither one of them seemed that old. Sure, my maternal grandfather had some health issues and at the time I thought his death was rather unexpected, but as an adult I realize what a blessing it was to see him go so peacefully without too much suffering. My paternal grandfather was gone in the night- one day here, the next day gone. It was shocking, but still not damaging.

The point is, they never really got old. At the time I thought they were kind of old, being a young kid myself. Now, as I watch my grandmothers age and one of them literally wasting away, I am starting to see what it's really like to grow old. It sucks. I feel bad for them in a way. My grandfathers were so lucky. My one grandma in particular is hard to watch as her body shuts down one bit at a time. She may not be with us much longer- days, even.

It's hard to watch people grow old. Not just the graying hair, playing golf, listening to the tv too loud old- the being lonely and spending most days in bed kind. It's devastating really. It's hard for me to see my grandma in a way that seems so unfamiliar. I just want her to get dressed in one of her dress suits and take all the granddaughters to the ballet, the way we used to. It's the first time in my life that I've had personal experience with seeing someone actually get old, and I'm not a big fan.

It makes me not want to grow old, not lose my husband, not lie in bed with declining health, and not beg for any company I can find. Not that people don't love my grandma and want to see her, but we all have lives and sadly but truthfully, they don't revolve around her. I'd much assume have death approach me at a younger age, because that is truly less scary than the alternative.

How Marriage has Made Me a Better Person

So, you wanna know one thing I hate about being married? When I get together with all my girlfriends, many conversations revolve around how our husbands are so strange, or disgusting, or lazy, or peculiar, and sometimes much worse. It's nice to know that other people go through some of the same frustrations, but sometimes I think we fail to see the best in people.

What happened to the days when I'd come home to my roommates, star-struck by young love as I sigh and land on the couch, only to have my roommates crawling over each other to hear how awesome my date went? I really miss that.

Yet, I realize that I still get those same feelings occasionally, when I'm not wiping toothpaste off the mirror or yelling for the hubby to shut the bathroom door when he takes a crap. Sometimes the glamour is overlooked, but it seems like the real important things are still intact.

Marriage is hard. Even for those of us who are better than most at it. It is amazing how differently you picture it before you are in it and yet there is still nothing tangible to pass on to help prepare those who haven't been married. It just comes with it's unique circumstances and trials that we all have to deal with as they come and go.

But, even as we approach 6 years of marriage, I am reminded every day and certainly more often than in past years, how much I love my husband. How he truly is the light of my life. How he honestly holds the power to make all my dreams come true, regardless of the fact that they are much different than they used to be and ever-changing.

There is some uncertainty as a young adult to where life will take you and you know that somewhere along the way you could meet someone that completely redirects your course. For me, it was a constant. It was lonely more often than I'd ever admit. There was some stress and a fair amount of pressure on how every choice I made could alter my destiny.

Now, even when I'm lonely, I know I'm really never alone. I know that someone loves me and I hope with all my heart he knows how much I love him. He makes me laugh every single day. He gives me the strength and freedom I need to feel independent while still knowing how dependent I really am. We don't always bring out the best in each other, but we push each other to try new things and do better. He is my very best friend. I am such a private person, but I am surprised at how much more comfortable I feel sharing things with him, and it gets easier with the amount of time that passes. It's so nice to know that no matter what, somebody's got your back.

Our little family of two is ever strengthening, it's roots growing deeper all the time. We become more attached, more intertwined, more synchronized, more complete with every passing moment. Marriage truly has made me a better person, even in ways I could have never imagined.

Something that Makes Me Nervous

As a young child I became very sick. After consulting with doctors, it was decided that I should be put on some very heavy medications. It was very scary and the outcome unknown and unimaginable to me at the time. I was young, but could still reason and I could hardly bear to think what consequences might lie in store and it became very frightening for me. One night I was expressing my concerns to my mother in tears as I asked, “Will I still be able to have children someday?” The whole event being far less dramatic than it seemed, she softened up and said, “yes, of course you will” and I said, “good, because otherwise it would never be worth it.”

As a teenager I always wanted eight- yes, EIGHT- children. I had it planned out perfectly and hoped at what time in my life they would come and what gender they would be. It was all a bit naive but I know plenty of teenagers who plan and hope for the same types of family life. Almost as if, as a woman, we know at a young age that it’s the most important thing we’ll ever do. As I grew into young adulthood, but still not married, I used to pray at night and hope that Heavenly Father would pass on a message to those sweet spirits whom I awaited that I always thought of them and hoped that in a matter of years we would all be joined here on Earth. I know that many close friends of mine did something of that nature with the same ideal.

I finally did get married at the ripe young age of 22. A bit late for my eight children plan, but the reality of having eight children seemed daunting by then anyway. So I’d cut back by a few. After all, the riches I imagined having in my life with eight children didn’t seem to be as easily attainable as I thought they might be for someone with such good intentions for it. Not to mention, the grown up age of 22 didn’t seem quite so “grown up.” I suddenly felt like a baby myself regardless of friends my same age having children.

There have been times in my six years of marriage that I have felt a yearning for children, but those times and those feelings have been dwarfed by the trials and the uncertainty that always lie ahead. In a world where most of our friends not only have children, but some are done having children, it has been easy to see the exhaustion, worry, and marital strife that children can bring with their mere existence.

I love children. I think I am actually good with children. They have a way of softening even the hardest of hearts and making you laugh in even the hardest of times. Even with the arrival of nieces and nephews, they possess what can only be known as magic in capturing your heart.

Still, as I grow older, the thought of having children and the great task that comes with each precious soul seems so overwhelming. And yet.... there is still that piece deep within me that knows I will never be whole, and our family will never become a family, without those souls enhancing and richening our lives. I know what I should want and while sometimes I do, I feel so unprepared, so burdened, so terrified at the risk of failing. Things that I once thought would come so naturally I question constantly.

My health is at as much risk now as it ever has been. It hasn’t eliminated the possibility of bearing children, but it has made it that much more cautious and there is much to be done to plan for it. It also fills my mind with so many mental blocks in addition to my physical capabilities that I fear will not sustain me through child rearing. I no longer dream of having eight children. I know that I could never provide for that many, neither financially or emotionally. I don’t think I could handle more than four and still dream of even being able to have what seems an “incomplete” family with two children.

Part of my fear stems from being able to give them the few things I never had or cherishing the things I had so much and not being able to give them those experiences. I love to travel- I want to take them all over the world, experience different cultures, see the beauties that lie over every inch of this planet. I want to take them to Disney, my most happy and favorite place in this entire world, every year. I want to be able to put them in private school and give them a great education and a direction that I have still never found. I want to give them every advantage they could possibly use as an adult to carry on in happiness in creating a life of their own. I want to be able to take family vacations, a dying experience for my family and in-laws, which I miss and regret to even say. I want to be able to provide them with toys, birthday parties, braces, college, weddings, and all the things that cost a substantial amount of money.

I fear that in these last days we will miss all the teaching moments that will seem so small and yet be eternally important. I fear that as parents we won’t always be the examples that we wish to be for them. I fear that trials might overcome our ability to have hope and trust in our faith. I fear that our children’s trials might come between my husband and I in times when we might need each other most. I fear that my body will cripple during the ever so important moments of hide and seek, taking first steps, and other important milestones that happen in the dullness of our every days. I fear that the shift in life that comes with taking care of children may make my husband feel overwhelmed or maybe ignored or even unimportant and unloved. It may seem silly, but I’ve seen it happen to other couples and it is so tragic when it does.

I want nothing more than a home filled with love. With people who stay by each other’s sides as we grow old. Who share in the richness of all the experiences that family life can bring. A place that we’d rather be than anywhere else. A place where each person feels welcomed and important and useful.

The problem is, there are no guarantees.

There are so many risks.

I have seen so many failures.

I am sure that’s what almost everyone wants and yet it seems to be such a rare thing to find, and when you do, it’s easy to recognize how special it is to be a part of it.

My husband is fairly nonchalant about the whole thing. Either that or he’s overly confident. Still, I know he’s got to have some concerns.... some fears... many hopes....

Or maybe he’s just that naive. I just wish I knew.

I’m sure over time we can face each milestone as it comes and I still yearn for those whom I know I must have loved so much in the life before this. It’s just very, very intimidating.

Culinary Magic

Everyone has talents. Lucky for me my husband has the talent of Culinary Magic. That's right. Some of our favorite foods that we commonly want are from Disney World restaurants (as we spend so much time there). We are always taking friends to try some of our favorites and they often ask, "Why? What's different about it?" And my husband always answers by saying how it's made or what's in it and then adds, "... and a little bit of pixie dust!"

Pixie dust does make things taste better. If you are unaware of this by your own experience, you can just take my word for it. There are different kinds of pixie dust and for one reason or another, my hubby has harnessed to ability to produce culinary pixie dust. He really makes some amazing stuff. I joke that I'd be a lot skinnier if I weren't married to him:)

Our Disney trips are now emphasized with good food. Here are some of the delicacies that have inspired us (I'm getting hungry!):

I Hate Camping

The title of this post is actually sugar coated- I LOATHE camping. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there willing to try and talk me out of my distaste for outdoorsy-ness, but I am officially not buying. I have plenty of camping experience that proves otherwise.

You may think I am just being high maintenance, and if in truth that is the case, so be it. Still, there's a reason I was born in this century with all of it's modern luxuries and urban ways of life. Convenience is nice. Comfort is nice. Luxury is especially nice. None of which you will ever find on a camping trip.

I didn't grow up with hippie/granola parents or anything, but we did venture out every year or two to "enjoy" a nice camping trip- or what some people call a "vacation" for reasons beyond my understanding or comprehension. I will never understand how sleeping on the ground and pooping behind a tree could be classified as a vacation.

Anyway, as far as the family goes, I don't remember much tent time. We did, however, purchase a tent trailer around the time I was about 8 or so. We thought that thing was awesome! We had queen and full size beds that pushed out to the side and a convertible twin from the dining table. We had this little kitchen which basically made it a life size play house for us. My dad would set it up in our driveway or in the backyard and we would cry when he'd insist on taking it down.

Then one time, we actually took it camping. It suddenly became much less glamorous. I remember trying to pull it into a campground and my parents arguing about getting it stuck and not knowing how to back it out without jack-knifing the thing. It was a short lived crisis. So we got 'er all set up, made some dinner in our little kitchen, and then settled in for a good nights sleep. Well, that tent trailer became a lot less palatial with two parents and five children in it! Plus, this was no RV, so we still had to grab some leaf first thing in the morning or head to the filthy campsite bathrooms which were detestable at best.

I remember taking this same trip to Jackson Hole a few times. We always planned to go at the same time as my *very well off* cousins. They also had five kids and never failed to stay in a condo that was bigger than our house. After one night in that tent trailer I was begging my parents to let me have a sleepover! Thankfully, they obliged. Probably due to the tight living quarters back in the trailer, but whatever the reason, I was grateful.

We had our share of dramas on these camping trips- bird poop on the head, breaking other campers' belongings, getting lost in the woods, creature encounters, trashy campsite neighbors fighting all night with the use of a sailor's vocabulary. It really was such a happy family time! Still, I must give credit to my parents for making their best effort.

The fun continued as an adolescent since I am indeed a Mormon and the church hosts a girls camp every year. The first year was not so bad. I was 12 and I hadn't been camping with the family in a couple years so any memory I had of it was distant and fuzzy. We did have to sleep in tents which was far from ideal, but I managed somehow.

The second year of girls camp was with a bunch of girls I barely knew, thus creating my lack of enthusiasm for the whole excursion. We did however sleep on the floor of a cabin, which was a slight upgrade.

The third year was awful- not the worst (that's still to come), but it was bad. It was Stake camp, so there were hundreds of people there. We all slept in tents and our ward had the spot right by the river. The temperature drop at night was bad enough, but sleeping nearly on top of the water made it unbearable. I would have to sleep with my head inside my sleeping bag (actually my 2 sleeping bags). I got so sick and was not feeling well at all. Then to top it off I got diarrhea for 2 nights making treks to the glorious camping toilets every 10 minutes throughout the night. Then I got eczema- fabulous. Camping was destroying me.

That same year we had a youth conference camping trip. It was mainly a boating trip, so not quite as bad. Still, we had about 8 girls squished into this little tent like sardines. I happened to be sleeping on the unstable side where the tent was lopping of the side of a wooden berm. So I'd have this piece of wood in my back all night or just fall right off the edge where there was no solid foundation.

The fourth year my mom made me suffer through about 3 nights before our scheduled family vacation to Hawaii. Hallelujah! That was the year we encountered a Moose and a very scary incident with a Mountain Lion. Luckily we were in a cabin again that year. All the girls kept saying I would miss out on the best activities of camp and I was thinking, "What part of HA-WAI-I don't they understand?"

My fifth year was the kicker. We went to Park City in June. School was obviously out so it even had to be the latter part of June. It was once again Stake camp, which in high school was great because you knew more people and could associate with your regular friends from school that weren't in your own ward. We were off to a good start regardless of- once again -tents and no bathrooms.

Everything was good until the first night it started to rain. We hoped it would pass and we had a field trip planned for the next day to the Olympic Park, so we would be inside anyway. Off we went to tour the park, but the rain just kept coming down. A group of about 6 of us- including one of our adult leaders- were left at the park for hours. We had no phones at that time and no cell service anyway, so we just waited. We waited for hours just watching the rain come down until someone came back to pick us up, which was the good news. The bad news was that they had only noticed we were gone because the camp was flooding and no one from our tent had picked up and moved. Aye aye aye. There was basically nothing salvageable and our only dry clothes were the ones we were wearing. We moved into another tent who was willing to take us in and squish so that we were basically sleeping on top of each other. It was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life.

In the morning we woke up to a few inches of SNOW. Anyone who knows me knows I detest snow nearly (that's right I said NEARLY), as much as camping. This is basically what we were facing (and totally unprepared for it).

I didn't care what rules they had laid out for us- I rallied up a group of girls to trek on down to the Chevron I could see from our campsite to get some hot chocolate. Lucky for me, a couple of the leaders were in on the plan so they drove us. While we were doing that, some people from our tent had brought in heaters to help melt the snow and keep us warm inside. Wow, the relief was great... but within a couple hours that tent was flooded as well.

My dad had arrived on the scene by that point as part of the back up crew. Me and my sisters BEGGED him to take us to the Park City house- a house owned by the same Jackson Hole cousins- only miles down the road. Since we had no clothing to stay and be part of the chaos anyway, he obliged. Never have I enjoyed a hot shower so much as that one. We never did go back to camp that year as they had moved it to a stake house in the area only to cancel camp altogether a few short hours later.

The sixth year my mom was trying to get me all excited about it and I just gave her that look. That "if you mention it one more time I may kill you in your sleep" look. So she made me drive up with her one afternoon to deliver lunch and we were there less than 2 hours before heading home.

I never was a camp counselor, much to my mother's dismay, but I received my Young Womanhood camp recognition, that is apparently part of God's plan to make you miserable in nature, award. And on the bright side, I never even had to complete the hiking portion of the requirements due to my arthritis.

Phew. Bullet taken. My family would never be able to talk me into going camping again and I was sure I'd have no more church obligations.

WRONG.

I did go on a young single adults trip, which was actually a river trip, which included one night of camping. It was an adventure and for all intents and purposes, it was actually quite enjoyable. Still, there was that moment after 6 hours on the river and going into my leader's RV to use the bathroom that I thought, "maybe they'll let me sleep in here if I beg them..." Yeah, right. Off to join the tent gang I went.

Only a year ago, my husband and I were called to be the leaders in charge of all the ward activities. We accepted with the condition of having the professional chef in our ward on our team. Within a few weeks they sent us a list and timeline of activities they wanted us to plan. Everything looked great until I got down to WARD CAMPOUT. Oh, hell no.

So, we put it off and put it off until the bishopric started mentioning it. Luckily by that time, living in Arizona, it was too hot to go camping until the fall. Still, they wanted us to start thinking about it. So I thought about it and came to one conclusion- I cannot, will not, no way in hell, go camping. I will plan it, but I will absolutely not be coming.

So I talked to my husband about this, bringing up some very valid points.

• The people who insist on us holding this activity will very likely have a scheduling conflict and not show up.
• The other people who insist have nice RV's or four wheelers or boats or whatever other toys they need to have a good time. Camping is much less "camping" for them than those of us sleeping in our Walmart tents or even the back of our midsize SUVs.
• I have NO IDEA how to camp in Arizona. It's much different than Utah, where I grew up and I wouldn't even know where to begin to find a decent campground.
• Also, I have no idea what kinds of critters or wildlife live in the Arizona wilderness- what about bobcats, bears, scorpions, rattlesnakes, or other exotic bugs and rodents?
• What about serial killers?
• What about unpleasant neighbor campers? Fighting, yelling, or just disturbing us.
• What about underage drinkers just looking for a place to get wasted?
• What if my Crohn's disease acts up and I get diarrhea all night and have no bathroom? I can't go without a bathroom.
• I paid good money for my bed and I deserve to sleep in it!
• What if we have an emergency and don't have cell phone service?
• What if someone wanders off and gets lost?
• What if kids burn each other with hot marshmallows from the campfire or poke each other in the eye with a stick?
• What if we don't have the proper supplies?
• What if we don't store our food properly and it spoils making us all sick?

... and thank heavens at this point my hubby stopped me and said, "I don't think you hate camping so much as being down right terrified of it!" Which is partially true. I'd call it fear in addition to hate- not a great combination. So, he suggested we talk to our friend in the bishopric about this and maybe pass it off to someone else.

It took some time to get our point across, but I think they started to understand although they still encouraged us to be involved. If by involved they meant delegate, then we were all over that. In a meeting one Sunday morning, the bishop asked about the dates of the camp out and then asked my husband, "So you're gonna be there, right?" He responded with no hesititation, "Absolutely not. I will find any excuse to be out of town that weekend."

Well, it did happen and we did not go nor were we very helpful in planning it as we moved only a few weeks later. All I know is that if I ever get called to participate in girls camp, I will easily decline. I just can't handle it. I will have nightmares of this happening:

In college we lived right near these great canyons. There were always tons of activites going on up there like bonfires and such. Those were pretty fun, but we always got to drive home and sleep in our bed.

I do enjoy nature. The beautiful lakes, the wildflowers, the fresh air- but a couple hours will suffice. The s'mores- I make in my backyard firepit. The tent- I'll pitch in my backyard if my kids ever insist.

I know that a lot of people would argue that those are priceless family memories that I surely cannot deny my children of. I think about that only to be reminded of a sitcom I once caught on tv. I don't remember what it was but one of the main characters had grown up in New York City and the rest had moved there after growing up elsewhere in the country. The episode was based on having adolescent experiences involving a car- driving one, making out in one, etc. This woman was so distraught that she had none of these in her upbringing, so she goes out and gets a driver's license and tries to capture some of those experiences. She fails miserably only to realize that her experiences were merely different, not less. She had had so many advantages living in the city that her friends did not.

That will have to be my kids. Just different. I am willing to do a lot of things for them, even take them up for an evening of bonfires, singing, and s'mores, but we will definitely never be spending the night.

**Also, if you want to have a good laugh you can type "hate camping" into google and read some hilarious stories on why other people don't like camping either. So funny.

We Live in the Future!

Ok, so we're not exactly the Jetsons, but we're getting closer all the time.

New inventions and technological gadgets are being built and distributed every day. I rarely realize how advanced my everyday life is becoming until I look back about 5 years and see how far we've come.

Two years ago my husband got a brand new car. It had all the bells and whistles- it's a hybrid (our first) and has the bluetooth phone, the nav system, and a few fancy car tricks (just thinking how funny this will sound in another five years- ha!). Anyway, we had these cute Sister Missionaries in our ward at the time, one of which was from the Philippines. I had to pick them up one day from one of their meetings and give them a ride home. As my car was "talking" to me they became interested and I showed them some of the features. Then the one sister said in her cute Philipino accent, "Sister! You drive a space ship!" Classic.

I often think about the other things we have at our access without giving it a second thought, or even get irritated if we don't have it. The internet (which we have access to nearly every second), not to mention a laptop- a portable computer of which my husband and I each have our own when I grew up in a house without a computer at all, gps, cell phones, and digital cameras- just to name a few.

My first younger brother went on his mission to Ukraine. By the time he came back after two years, it was amazing how much had changed that was new to him. None of us had iPhones when he left and we ALL had them by the time he came back. My family had also upgraded to Blu-Ray and HDTV. So now my youngest brother is gone and it will be interesting to see what changes in the next two years, although he's in Paris so the modern way of life is not as foreign there.

It may not be the Jetsons or Back to the Future II, but we really do live in the future!

Clueless

This movie came out when I was in Jr High and was HUGELY popular. I'm sure nearly everyone my age could quote the entire show. I find it fitting that it came out at a time in my life when I was better at nothing more than being CLUELESS- and not the movie kind. The real life, painful, other people ache for my mis-fitting in kind.

So last night I was watching What Not to Wear on TLC. The show itself can be overly obnoxious and yet so addicting. I think I sat through 4 episodes telling myself each time a new one started that I would change the channel and find something better on tv. Well, I didn't.

Instead I started thinking about how the way I've dressed over the years has changed. Now, I am not offering up any advice here, because I am no expert. As Cher asks, "Do you prefer "fashion victim" or "ensembly challenged"?" I would answer both. BUT, I think I get better at it each year.

Take for example a pair of jeans. I used to buy a pair of jeans that were affordable and fit pretty nice and then just pair them with anything. Only in the last year or so have I realized the value of a variety of jeans- dress jeans, casual jeans, long jeans, tight jeans, flare jeans, hipster jeans, dark vs. light jeans. All this stuff matters if you're going to make an outfit out of it! Yeah, it's actually pretty important.

Also, the makeup thing is starting to catch on although I do admit that I have a long way to go. I used to buy my makeup at the grocery store. Can you believe it?! THE GROCERY STORE! The same place I buy my food! After that I used all the free makeup I got from work and made it last for a good long while. Then I discovered makeup stores! They are still somewhat intimidating to me and I am still learning what I can and can't get away with, but I'm taking one step at a time. I am at least learning what doesn't work for me and that's a huge hurdle in itself.

I think the most important is that I am learning to dress for my body type. Now, I'm not gonna tell you that I don't pick up some cute little number that I wish I looked good in from time to time. Still, I soon realize that I don't look cute in them and I best leave them for someone else. I carry my weight in my stomach so I have to learn to hide that. My swimsuits are getting less skimpy (love handles at the beach are not hard to come by, so why expose mine?) and my shirts are not as tight. It all sounds kind of depressing, but I'm also learning to play up my assets. I have great legs, so dresses and shorts are very flattering. I also have skinny arms and do ok in the breast region, so I learn to play those up as well. Thank heavens. It's about time.

I know I am no fashion diva or anything, but I hope to at least be respectable. And to leave you with a great quote:

Mel: What the hell is that?

Cher: A dress.

Mel: Says who?

Cher: Calvin Klein.

Being "First"

As the firstborn, you are first for everything.

First experiment for the parents who follow your "first" everythings, first to go to school and climb on that school bus all by yourself, first to drive a car, first to date and be embarrassed by your family, first to go off to college, first to move away from home, first to marry (not always, but in my case). You never get hand-me-downs and you are always the one "in charge."

It's no wonder us firstborns get a complex! It's like a lifelong game of follow the leader! The family is always focused on what you are doing. Every milestone I ever hit was celebrated not only by me, but the whole clan. By the time my brother was going on his first date, we were all unaware watching a movie in the basement.

In any case, you can see how for a very long time the world revolved around me to an extent. After one semester away at college I came home for a weekend and my sister told me, "I'm glad you don't live here! YOU'RE BOSSY!" And she was right. But can you blame me? I actually kind of find it funny that she never realized it until I was gone and no one was telling her what to do all the time.

Still, I'm getting off point with my background details. Being the first to do everything basically seems like a right of passage when you are the oldest child. My oh my, how things are changing! Adult life is not so much like that and I think that in some ways it makes the transition harder. As I mentioned, both my sisters are having babies this year (actually one already had hers). WEIRD! You mean I'm NOT first!?

Of course I assumed my whole life that I would get married and have kids before any of my siblings. Things were thrown off course when my sister got pregnant out of wedlock and then married a man with a child. Well, I could still kind of be first, right? Wrong. She was pregnant again only months after she got married. I thought it would upset me, but it really didn't. I wasn't ready for kids anyway, but it was strange.

Now I'm falling WAY behind, but for once in my life I'm taking the mellow route and just trying to enjoy it. The truth is, for the first time in my life, it's nice being a follower. It's nice having someone do something before you and learning from their experiences. It's nice getting their good advice (let me stress the good part), and it will be nice to get their old baby items when my turn finally comes. I guess it's not bad to sit in the backseat once in a while instead of always being the driver. Perhaps I'll try it more often ;)