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Today Rob and I celebrate two years of wedded bliss.
But not really. We kind of already celebrated on Saturday night by splurging at Ruth’s Chris on a to-die-for steakhouse dinner followed by a trip to Best Buy to purchase a video camera. We always thought it would be cool to have one, but now that a baby is on the way it’s not only cool to have one, but absolutely necessary to have one. Wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to document a single burp or coo, now would we?
It’s so crazy to see how much we’ve managed to squeeze into just two years (numerous trips, building a new house, pregnancy), yet it seems like just yesterday I was stepping into my wedding dress getting ready to make a lifetime commitment to Rob. It’s fun to reminisce about where we’ve been, yet even more exciting to dream about what is still on the horizon waiting for us to experience.
I love you, Rob. Happy Anniversary to us!
Okay, so this has to be a quickie post. The Bachelorette starts in only half an hour, and my priorities lie square between the confines of awkward fairy-tale dates and red rose bouteonnieres determining magical, true love.
So this weekend – Rob’s birthday – was a good one. Since he doesn’t have a blog on which to recap the Big Day’s events, I thought I would give him one last present and do it for him on MY blog. That way he can look back throughout the years and recall just how young and exciting his life was when he was a wee young man. I wish there was a way to wrap a bow around this blog post because, really, what’s better than this gift that keeps on giving?
For some reason Rob decided to start his day out by torturing himself. If you ask him he’d tell you that he just ran ten miles, but if you ask me? TORTURE. Apparently he enjoys self-inflicted birthday pain, whereas if it were me then I’d allow my birthday to serve as my free pass to skip the workout all together, which is exactly why he’s training to be a half-Ironman and I’m not. But if there were a race to finish half a pan of rice krispie treats I would totally dominate.
We then went up to his favorite bike shop so he could shop around for some things that he had been wanting. That was basically my birthday present to him, since I didn’t buy him presents. The thing is, Rob is kind of particular about all things bike-related, so I don’t dare take a chance and buy him THE WRONG THING, THIS IS JUST WRONG, ALL WRONG! Life is much better that way, as he has a touch of The Picky in him.
Later that afternoon his family stopped over to shower him with love and gifts, then we headed to church and to Bonefish for dinner. See Exhibit A.
(Exhibit A)
Mm hmm, it’s a dark, crappy photo. Since I’m not the Photoshop wizard of the family, please just pretend that the photo was lighter, my cheeks were thinner, and Rob wasn’t tanner than me. Thank you.
(**SIDENOTE** Did Melissa just do the ol’ Running Man on DWTS? I believe she did. Can someone please tell me if that’s cool again?)
After dinner we made the fateful mistake of going to Cold Stone to get ice cream even though our stomaches were already beyond their maximum capacities, where Rob treated himself to an overly-indulgent “banana with bananas” mixture and I, on the other hand, decided to keep things a bit more festive with the Birthday Cake Remix.
(I know, these details? They’re a bit much, aren’t they? It’s all for Rob, guys, all for Rob. His memory is already fading.)
(**SIDENOTE** On the preview I just saw for The Bachelorette, they showed a guy who is obsessed with Jillian’s feet. Disgusting. I HATE FEET. My dinner just came up and burned my throat, if you know what I mean, and I know you know what I mean.)
When we finally got home, the old man got into bed to watch SNL with me and wouldn’t you know, he was sawing logs 10 or 2 minutes into the show. He’s such a party animal, which is exactly why I love him. Because I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I, too, was asleep before the opening skit was even over.
But I swear, I’m only 24. He’s the 30 year old. Don’t you forget it.
So, the word is officially out now. You know, the baby thing.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Insert obnoxious crazy girl scream here.)
I’m ten weeks along so far, which puts my due date around August 25th. I have always wanted to have a summer baby, so when I saw those two pink lines appear on December 14th and did some quick math in my head, I was thrilled to know that I’ll be delivering the baby in the warm, sunny summer months.
And, not gonna lie, I was totally thrilled at the fact that when I am at my fattest point in my life I can laze around in flowy sundresses and flip flops instead of trying to bundle myself up in some extremely oversized wool peacoat. Really, it’s the little things that make me happy.
Finding out that I was pregnant on the afternoon of December 14th was great, although it made the following eleven days extremely difficult. Rob and I decided that it would be so special to wait and tell our families on Christmas. It was a great plan in theory, but those days were some of the longest of my life. Some days I felt like the pregnancy was just a dream, that it wasn’t really happening, because I wasn’t able to talk about it at all. It felt like it was all in my head. However, we both stuck to our guns and held it in until Christmas.
The picture in the previous post – the one of Rob and I looking deliriously happy, as though we had just won a multi-million dollar lottery – was how we chose to break the news to our families. (And contrary to what most people thought, that picture was not taken recently. It was actually taken the first day of our honeymoon, at the moment when we finally got to Grand Cayman after a horrendous day of travel, one that included losing our luggage.) We printed up the picture with the words “We’re pregnant!” floating along the top, wrapped them up in individual gift boxes, then passed them out to each person when all the other gifts had already been opened.
As was to be expected, there were many tears and hugs and “how far along are you?”s. I wish we would have been better at documenting everyone’s expressions, but we were too into the moment to try and grab the camera and worry about things like, you know, pressing buttons. Luckily I think those memories are permanently burned into our brains and will never be forgotten.
Many people have asked me how I’ve been feeling…and I’m amazed to reply that I’ve been feeling great. Up until a few weeks ago I felt like I had no energy and was amazed at how this tiny little embryo could suck every ounce of life out of me. Besides being extremely tired, however, I have been lucky and haven’t gotten sick or even nauseous at all. For those of you who have had gut-wrenching pregnancies (literally), I cannot imagine what you went through and I admire your perseverance. I’m not sure why I was let off the morning sickness hook, but I’m eternally grateful that I was.
The reason that I finally felt like this week was the perfect time to announce our pregnancy to the world was because we had a great doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. As I said, I’m ten weeks along, and going into the appointment I had assumed that that would be the day when we would get to hear the heartbeat. However, as I was sitting there talking to the doctor (pre-stripdown), he quickly mentioned that, “I’m not going to get the heartbeat today”. My ears perked up REAL fast, and I was all, “what? So when will you do it, then?” to which he replied “next month’s appointment”. I quickly realized that that particular timeframe equated to AN ENTIRE FOUR WEEKS FROM NOW. Needless to say, I was a little heartbroken.
After that he left the room so that I could undress, and when he came back in he stood next to the table I was sitting on and pulled out this little handheld machine. With a sly little smile on his face he said, “Well, I could tell you were a little disappointed. I don’t think we’re gonna get it, but we can try”. And with that, he placed the cold Doppler on my stomach, cranked up the volume, and began looking for the heartbeat.
Static. Static.
Then all of a sudden we heard a quick and steady boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. I must have broken into a phony Cheshire cat-style smile because my doctor said he wished he had a camera to capture that very first look on my face.
I turned and looked over at Rob with tears welling up in my eyes. It was unreal. I actually had a living, breathing baby inside of me. It completely changed my perspective on this pregnancy, like all of a sudden it was actually really happening. I knew I was pregnant before. The doctors and nurses knew I was pregnant before. But now…now I really know.
Dear Kaley,
The all-awaited Big Day is finally here. You are more than ready, so stop being so nervous, biting at your acrylic nails and pulling on your hair extensions as you nervously twist them around your fingers. The ceremony will be beautiful, and the reception will be a blast – albeit more so for your guests than for you, to be honest. Don’t be surprised when you eat just a few bites of your dinner and only have half a drink; you’ll be way too busy attempting to talk to everyone, which you may as well give up on. As hard as you try, you’ll never get around to every single person, so give yourself a break, grab a drink, and head out to the dance floor. It is your party, after all.
After the honeymoon (where you will no doubt spend way too much money on fruity drinks and fancy dinners, so please brace yourself when you get your bill on the way out because you are THAT way), you will get home and that’s when being ‘married’ will really settle in. It will be a huge adjustment, living with a man. Your husband. At first, however, it will be a total fantasy land. Your daydreams of sleeping in, drinking coffee in your pajamas, and cuddling in bed will finally come true. You’ll make him dinner every night using your fancy new kitchen paraphernalia, and frankly, won’t have a clue as to what you’re doing. Luckily, over time, the many hours you spend watching the Food Network will eventually pay off and you’ll finally figure out the difference between a clove of garlic and a bulb of garlic.
You will slowly start to get into a rhythm, Rob and you, learning how to live together. Figuring out who does what around the house and what role each of you will assume. And Kaley, let me tell you something; you may think you know someone pretty well, but honestly, you don’t know JACK until you live with them. What I mean is, you’ll encounter some personality quirks about your new hub that you never knew about before. And don’t be diluted- Rob will figure out all of your quirks, too.
For you, you will be eternally irritated when Rob leaves dirty dishes in the sink. Even worse, he’ll leave food in the sink (think cereal and/or granola chunks), which will dry up and harden like the bird poop on your windshield. And in a lot of cases, you will be one attempting to scrape it all off. Chalk it up to it just being a part of marriage. Learn to deal with it and move on. And definitely don’t forget that you’re not perfect, either. Rob will learn all about your flaws, and FAST. You know all that hair you have on your head? It will end up covering the bathroom floor within no time, freaking Rob out and giving him cause to wonder if you are going bald at 23 years old. And when you’re in the living room watching the aforementioned Food Network, you will probably make him feel bad when you diss him because you don’t want to miss Rachael chopping up an onion. RUDE.
Probably one of the biggest changes that you two will encounter after being married is sex. A whole new world, really. And you’ll like it, it’ll be great fun.
(Random groomsmen standing near: “Rob, quit grabbin’ her boobs! Get a room!”)
It’s ok, Kaley. He can grab your boobs, you’re married now. And while everybody knows that sex is so great (and it will be), it will also be the most controversial issue in your marriage. Basically because the two of you will find that you’re an anal, OCD, verging-on-the-edge-of-touch-o-phobe-type weirdo. But don’t worry, you’ll learn to work that out together, and even have some fun doing it. Wink wink.
The year will pass at incredible speed, and before you know it you will be celebrating your first year of (mostly) wedded bliss. You will still be madly in love with each other, and falling even more in love with one another each proceeding day. He will be your Honeybear and you will be his Baby Girl. Forever. You’ll sing stupid songs to him to make him laugh, and he’ll pinch your butt when you’re trying to unload the dishwasher. Probably forever, also.
So today, on your wedding day, have fun! Enjoy the day, and take it all in. Just remember that although it is so easy to get swept up in THE DAY, there is way more to a marriage than than your white dress and towering cake.
You found a good one, Kaley. He will take care of you and nurture you, even though you’re a butthead and sometimes don’t deserve it. But most importantly, he will love you. And you will love him.
Keep on loving each other.
Love,
Kaley
Because this trip was smack-dab in between my birthday and our first anniversary, Rob wanted to celebrate both occasions down here in Florida. The birthday part was taken care of a couple of days ago, and the anniversary part was celebrated last night at an awesome restaurant, Blue Water Bistro.
Right as we were about to leave for dinner, Rob stopped me and asked if I would open something first -a very small, green box. And as every girl should know, small boxes are very, very precious. So my eyes lit up, and I quickly opened the box to reveal an anniversary band that matched my wedding band.
See before:
(sorry for the crap photography, just work with me here…)
And after:
See how he added that third band at the top? I love my husband. He is too, too good to me.
(And please dismiss the swollen fingers and unpolished nails. Shame on me. Goes to show that a girl should do better at taking care of her nails because, apparently, you never know when you’re getting some new bling.)
So anyway, the rest of the night encompassed good drinks, excellent food, and a great time.
And the sweetest card that he has ever given me, which made me cry right in the middle of the restaurant.
The ironic thing about the card, just so we are all on the same page, is that he didn’t used to even give me cards at all. Last birthday? No card. Last Valentine’s day? No card. But I think he finally got the point now, of how I love sweet simple cards even more than new diamonds most presents.
We had a perfect time celebrating the first year of being married. And I hate saying this, due to me sounding OLD when it comes out, but how does time go by so fast?!
Due to a bit of a sunburn on Rob’s face, stomach, legs, etc., we decided to spend our day out of the sun. He was still waiting to take me shopping for my birthday, so we took advantage of the better stores here in Florida and headed out for a shopping spree.
Throughout the day, there were several times when Rob would laugh to himself and say something to the effect of how I hate paying full price for anything, and how I don’t like to splurge on myself. And I replied with, Duh, don’t you know me? Hi, I’m Kaley, and I only splurge on jeans or on gifts. Period.
However, my frugality really worked in my favor yesterday, because all the stores were having major sales, trying to get rid of their Summer inventory. Which means this is practically my favorite time to shop.
Let me explain:
At Express I got two shirts for $10 total. They were on sale; 2 for $24.50, and usually $24.50 each. PLUS, I had a $15 off card. SCORE.
At Aldo, they had almost all of their inventory on sale, 30-50% off. I got these shoes for 30% off the already-marked-down sale price. YES.
At Banana Republic I had some exchanges to make, so I was able to get two new shirts and a pair of shorts and only paid for one of the shirts. HECK YEAH.
How is that for some deals?!
And, okay, I did pay full price for a few things: a pair of AE sunglasses, and MAC lipglass.
And if any of you are feeling sorry for Rob that he didn’t get anything, have no fear, I gave him a $10 off coupon I had from DSW and he got a sweet pair of Pumas.
It was a wonderful, successful shopping day and we had a really good time.
When we got back, my cold was really starting to flare up, so I laid on the couch and fell asleep. At 7:30. I didn’t wake up and go to bed until 1, then got up at 7:30 a.m. when Oliver had finally had enough sleep and decided that he would like to go outside and use the facilities.
That means twelve hours of sleep last night?!
Which is my definition of vacation.
Rob and I have almost been married for a year. One entire, whole year. If our plans for tonight, a Friday night, lead anyone to assume that we are already a so-called ‘old married couple’ then carry on. You are probably right.
Because tonight, folks, we are planting trees! Landscaping! Please, shush, you’re all little too rowdy with excitement.
Just like me. EXCITED!
If you know our landscaping, you know that it is in dire need of some major help. Right now we have rocks. That’s all, just rocks. Maybe with a couple o’ weeds thrown in there.
Although our friends, Rocks and Weeds, don’t bother us too much, we figure that if (or when, really) we decide to put our house on the market that it might need a little curb-appeal. And from what I hear, a little pretty landscaping can really be the trick to getting your house sold.
So tonight The Transformation begins with a couple of crabapple trees.
And really, in case you can’t tell, I am inexplicably excited.
Mostly because my dear hub Rob, being the handyman/landscaper/janitor extraordinaire, will be the one digging around in the dirt while Oliver and I sit on the porch sipping our Polka Dot Riesling discussing things like politics, gas prices, and why in the world crabapple trees are called “crabapple trees” when they produce neither crabs or apples.
I’m sure he will indeed have the answer to all of those things, because Oliver, he is a very intellectual one.
In other news, as I prepare for our first-ever wedding anniversary, I bought Rob’s gift yesterday. Or one of them, at least. Of course, I can’t tell you all what it is, yet, since he reads this silly thing from time to time. But I will definitely give you the inside scoop after July 28th, don’t you worry.
One thing I would like to know from all of you out there, though, is if you are married how did you and your spouse celebrate your first anniversary? (I mean, I probably KNOW part of what you did to celebrate, so lets just go ahead and leave out the parts that I probably KNOW and can easily ASSUME, know what I mean? Thanks.) Did you guys buy each other gifts? What did you give them?
(Oh, dear Lord, I hope I am not opening up a can of worms that I really didn’t intent to open…)
Yesterday on my way home from work Rob called me.
“Hey baby. Will you do me a favor?”
“Maybe. What?”
“Will you go get your car washed on your way home?”
(Note: I drive past a car wash everyday on my route home)
:::Insert long silence, and loud over-exaggerated sigh:::
“…Do I have to?”
“Baby, come on, your car is filthy”
“But Rob, I HATE SPENDING MONEY ON STUPID THINGS LIKE CAR WASHES!”
That is not an exaggeration. I really, really do hate it. I also really hate spending money on things like oil changes, car parts, hose reels, lawn fertilizer, and basically any other item that can be found within, say, a hardware store.
My hub, on the other hand, loves to spend money on those sorts of things. In fact, just a few weekends ago he dropped $150 on the aforementioned hose reel, HELP ME GOD.
DID YOU GET THAT? $150! ON A HOSE REEL!
I know. Please keep breathing.
When he finally decided to inform me of his fiscal decision I passed out for about seven minutes (cue lecture about how I am a frugal accounting major). Interestingly enough, however, while I lay there dead my hands still managed to work their way around his neck to wring it out a few times in order to, apparently, inform him of what I really thought about that decision.
I just can’t seem to justify a $10 car wash, let alone a $150 hose reel.
Help me, I’m feeling a panic attack overcome me. Again.
I suppose maybe I can try to understand a man’s desire to blow big money on, you know, tools and cars and whatnot, if I figure out some analogy here. What I mean is, LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MAYBELLINE AND SMASHBOX.
Oh, there is just no comparison between these two makeup lines, is there?!
Bronzer, for example. Believe me, I love me some good bronzer. Thank God for bronzer. It is a daily must for me, and case in point: over the 4th of July while prancing around in my new bathing suit, my sweet little sister cackled a comment in my direction, something to the tune of, “Geeze, you must have a desk job or something, you are SO PALE!”.
Really? Did she have to point out the obvious? Clearly I forgot to dip my entire person in bronze that morning. I then apologized for not looking more like an Oscar at the Academy Awards.
Anyway. My analogy. Because bronzer is (obviously) so vital to my existence, I allow myself to pop for the expensive Smashbox kind instead of the orange-y drug store kind. Same with jeans. Got to pay the big bucks for the good ones. It’s just worth it to me. It’s no joke that it can be painful come time to pay for these things, but they are a higher quality product and therefore last longer, so those excruciating moments at the Bloomingdales and Sephora cash registers are few and far between.
Which was exactly the explanation Rob used regarding his million dollar hose reel.
So here’s to hoping we never, ever have to buy another hose reel for the rest of our lives.
Throughout recent weeks, Rob and I keep having conversations about having a baby. Actually it’s mostly just me asking (begging?) if now is a good time for me to get pregnant. Or if now is. Or if tomorrow is. Or how about now? Basically, the content of every single convo boils down to something like this:
Me – Ready, rearin’ to go, dreaming of pregnancy (literally)
Rob – No, let’s wait a couple of years, let’s just be married (Really? Because we won’t be married after childbirth?)
However, for some reason he decided to bargain with me. Because that is the best deciding factor of when to produce your first offspring.
The deal? When we get a Boxer, we can have a baby.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Why did this ever seem fair in his mind? Because, 1) I don’t exactly adore Boxers, and 2) as if having a baby wasn’t enough, Hey! Let’s throw a new puppy into the mix! Because a baby most certainly won’t produce enough poop by itself. And the Taylor household really requires a higher poo quota. Especially poo that someone else I will need to dispose of.
Obviously, Rob has a certain affinity for Boxers. Me, I don’t get it. I mean, I guess they are kind of cute (read: a little bit more tolerable on the eyes) when they are puppies, but then they grow up…
See the Transformation? You know you do. He transformed into a Grumpy Old Man who got punched in both eyes and whose jowls have fallen down below his waistline.
So anyway, the point of this is to say that I guess we will be waiting for awhile. Which is okay. No need to rush.
And DEFINITELY no need to rush if a Boxer is part of the deal.
