all roads lead back to

It's amazing that I'm 26 and I still don't really know how to take care of myself.
It was 2:00 and I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my stomach growled. I realized I needed food. So I ate a six inch sandwich in twelve seconds and it was the world's fastest recovery.
Yesterday I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my eye-lids drooped. I realized I needed sleep. I went to bed at a decent hour and woke up to the world's second fastest recovery.
When I start to get fussy Stephen usually asks, "Are you tired? Are you hungry?" So the good news is there is one adult in our household.

I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller.

Ollie and I are training for a half marathon. Ollie is better at it than I am, probably because he has twice the number of legs. Today is a rest day, and while I was savoring the extra hour of sleep this morning, Ollie sat at the foot of the bed and growled. He looked at my running shoes. Looked at me. Back to the shoes. I don't know where he finds the drive.

Speaking of small animals, turns out having a mobile baby makes life about 147 times more complicated. It's unbelievable how quickly Ivy can scoot from one side of the room to the other. Is she interested in her stuffed animals and teething toys that we've strategically placed around the living room? No. Is she interested in the ethernet cable, blinds and the fireplace? Yes.

Speaking of strategy failure, Stephen taught me how to play chess and we've played every night for over a week now. I have yet to win. Suddenly my skills in Scrabble and Monopoly seem silly. I'm playing with, and losing to, the big boys now.

If you woke up this morning and said to yourself, "I really hope that today Meg blogs about three unrelated topics and feebly attempts to tie them together but ultimately fails," dreams do come true!

Our lucky number

At his Birthday Breakfast this morning

Happy 26 years to the husband! 

I think it's so strange that Stephen had 23 birthdays before we were married. 22 before we even met. Twenty two years living completely independent of each other, unaware that the other person existed. Now here we are, celebrating Stephen's third birthday as a wedded couple, with a child, completely dependent on each other. And thank goodness for that. It's such a relief to have my best friend by my side at all times. Someone who always has something interesting to say. Someone who enjoys heckling movies as much as I do. Someone who agrees that burgers should be a separate and essential food group. Someone who puts everyone at ease. Someone who will start laughing at the exact same thing at the exact same moment I do. Someone who takes good care of me. Someone who takes good care of my baby. Someone who hates his birthday, so I should probably stop. But Happy Birthday, Love. 

the secret to a really good meal

"Did you know that Siri says 'goodnight' back?" -Stephen, after spending a week alone.

Reality Television

Jef with on F to Emily on The Bachelorette last night: "I can't wait to wake up next to those big brown eyes every morning."
Stephen my husband to me: "I can't wait for you to hit me until I turn off the alarm every morning."

Happy Day

You can follow the bowling live radio station on twitter

To celebrate our two years of weddedness, we bowled. Not because we're ironic hipsters, but because we legitimately enjoy bowling.
The Longmont alley is everything you would both hope and expect it to be. It smelled strongly of stale hot dogs and was all but empty save for a few seriously suspicous characters.
Stephen's a pretty consistent bowler, and I actually kept up the first round. But it wasn't long before I had to switch to the six-pound child's ball just to avoid throwing gutterballs. #upperbodystrengthfail. So yeah, Stephen won, blah blah blah, and I eventually sort of gave up and just focused on figuring out what exposure works best in flourescent light.

Ivy makes a great cheerleader.

For our romantic dinner I made this:

I probably should have plated this better.

I found the beef broccoli recipe HERE. So tasty. Yeah, I had to buy a few wacky ingredients, but I'll for sure make this dish again because what else am I going to with oyster sauce? Not use it as an air freshener I can tell you that. #thestuffreeks.

#heightdiscrepancy #tryspellingdiscrepancywithoulookingitup

Four score and seven years minus four score and five years

Today marks two years of marriage for Stephen and I. I should write about my feelings of love and appreciation, but instead I spent way too much time creating the following artistice representation of our life these past 730 days.

Yep.

Maybe I'll eat cheesecake for lunch. Try and stop me.

It was about 10am and I was hungry. I opened the fridge and pulled out the pasta salad. A certain member of my family (hint: the father of my child) pulled a disgusted face and said, "Ew, for breakfast? Gross." That's not the first time my morning meal has been scoffed at. A roommate once saw me eating a bowl of peas in the am and nearly lost her own breakfast. Why? What is so wrong with nonbreakfast foods for breakfast? What's more innocent than peas? How is steak and eggs any better than pasta salad? Bacon better than a grilled cheese? Pancakes better than cold cuts? And a breakfast burrito? Give me a break. That's a burrito with eggs. Just because I prefer the savory side of life and tend to avoid syrup drenched cuisine, I'm considered a culinary heritic.

Yesterday was Ivy's two month mark.



 She's decided that she has lots of opinions about lots of different things, and that it's important to make

those opinions known to the world. Be it smiley babbles or red-face screams, she's a communicator. Also a cuddler:

I guess it's healthier than arguing

I owe Stephen approximately $315,863,724 from every time I've said "I'll pay you a thousand dollars to take the dog outside" or "twenty dollars if you change Ivy's diaper".
Good thing this blog is so lucrative, am I right, my 51 followers?

california raisins

3 years ago today Stephen and I went skiing for our first real date.

2 years ago Stephen and I went skiing and he proposed.

And now this V-day we're skiing the slopes of parenthood. Yikes. That was really rough. Forgive me.

Her face reflects how most of us feel when wearing an accessory for the first time. Is it too much? Am I trying too hard? I've assured her that while yes, sometimes headbands are overpowering, this one is the perfect size to add a subtle, feminine touch to her ensemble. 

Happy Valentine's Day, lovers.

da doo da doo da doo

Kids love Stephen. Every kid in the world. Or at least every kid we come in contact with. Whether we're sitting in church, shopping at the grocery store, or walking down the street, young ones stare, smile and giggle anytime Stephen looks their way. Some take it a step further (literally) and walk up to him. And some, like this small child, without saying a word, approach our table, hop into Stephen's booth and cuddle up close. Stephen's new friend didn't seem to mind that I was cackling with laughter or taking his picture. In fact, I don't think he even realized I was there. All that mattered was Stephen.

Prairie winds

Yesterday someone found my blog by googling "Million dollar cars and hot girls."

To that surely disappointed teenage boy, I'm sorry. You were misled.

To that boy's mother, you're welcome.

There may not be an abundance of hot girls and fast cars on this spot of blog, but I want to do whatever I can to keep the internet happy, so here's a boy with pretty hair.

Stephen's about two months overdue for a haircut. In Boulder terms this means he could go another four months. Boulder is many things, but well-groomed is not one of them. However in a few days we'll trek home to the motherland, and the Beehive State isn't quite so accepting of long, flowing, shiny hair on males.So the appointment is set.

Now's the time to pay your respects.

sunshine superman

Why we can never have a pet duck:

It's dead.

Before we brought Ollie home from the breeder's, we brought him a toy duck that had been hanging out in our apartment so Ollie would grow accustomed to our smell. It has long since been his favorite toy. We can ask, "Where's your duck?" and he'll immediately find it and bring it to us. Ollie has destroyed many many toys. He's not satisfied until the plastic is shredded into 576 pieces all over the floor and all the insides are on the outside. But he always left the duck alone, showing it respect he hadn't shown any of his other belongings. Until yesterday. Yesterday he viciously ripped apart the feet, the wings, the head, and pulled the squeaker (the heart) out and ran around proudly squeaking what was once the life of his beloved friend. Let's all pray Ollie knows the difference between plush toys and infants.

Why my husband is thin:

Stephen's breakfast, left in the toaster.

Who just forgets to eat?! I remember watching Oprah and some healthcare professional asked a group of the morbidly obese "Are you eating to live, or living to eat?" I immediately answered, outloud, at the television "Living to eat!" Apparently that's not great. Whatever. Food is awesome. I read recipes for fun. While eating one meal, I'm planning my next meal. The highlight of any vacation, in my opinion, is the eating out. But Stephen? Stephen is barely eating to live. Food just isn't his thing. What a bleak world that must be.

NEW CAMERA

Maybe it will help improve my blog's asthetic? We all know that needs to happen.

Ollie, looking deep into your soul.

Stephen, using an ironing board as a shelf.

Me, pregnant!

This post is worth 3,000 words. You're welcome.