Archive for category Life is Never General
Tweetit was about ten years ago that i received a certain letter from nick
and he used a phrase that i haven’t forgotten after all these years. he wrote, “today was such a beautiful day and yet i know that it’s also a day that i’ll likely never remember.” i remember reading that sentence and being struck by its complexity about the gift of our lives, compounded by our inability to remember much of it.
today was like one of those days. i would call it a perfect day in my little life // perfection, as in, i had a day that perfectly reflects the joy in my current life situation. not the absence of flaw. //
nick was off with his best buds, enjoying the morning after cinco de mayo in pittsburgh. and i was left with nothing but a bouncing two year old with an expanding vocabulary and eroding interest in naps, along with one of the most gorgeous weather days cleveland has ever seen. i kept wishing my skin had a sensory camera to capture the sweet lavender in the air, the near aqua skyline, and fresh burst of lime green trees. it was almost unreal, my eyes kept scanning the horizon of wherever I was, i just wanted to keep taking it in.
isaiah wondered into my room when he woke up and proceeded to tell him me that he did NOT want to go to church. i wasn’t alarmed. he also says that he doesn’t like pizza and i know that is definitely not true.
i spoke sternly to isaiah to stop playing with my glasses case because the cleaning cloth i stored inside the case was missing and i knew he was fond of opening and closing it when i wasn’t looking. as i turned my back on his somber face, i wondered if i had come down too hard on him. the thought evaporated as he gleefully called my attention, “mama! look!” as he held the small piece of cloth that had been missing. “it was on your chair!” he said proudly.
i couldn’t believe he found it.
I packed cheerios (“mama! that’s too much cheerios!” he said as i filled the sandwich bag) and pretzel rods: his staple church food. i loaded him in his red wagon, strapped him in, and tossed his diaper bag and my monstrous purse in the empty seat and began the slow wagon walk to church, closing my eyes into the wind. the quiet was delicious.
we parked the wagon in the back of the church and slipped into the cry room where isaiah has learned to behave quite well for an hour mass, including shaking hands and giving peace greetings.
we headed home.
we danced in the kitchen to FM radio and changed our clothes to play outside. it was only 10:30am and i felt he and i had already loved each other and the world more than three times over. our heads were delirious with excitement over nothing.
i had more energy than i knew what to do with and washed the windows outside while isaiah trotted back and forth on the lawn, pretending to mow it. after i dragged his miniature basketball hoop to the front stoop and began taking impossible shots from the lawn, isaiah quickly learned context as i shouted, OH MONEY! when the ball swooshed through the net.
he ran around dunking it screaming MONEY! MONEY! MONEY! for ten minutes.
the neighbors think we’re wack.
then our favorite next door neighbor, ms. m., came outside and we talked on and off while we both worked on our homes and trees, weeds and herbs. isaiah talked to her as well:
ms. m: how are you isaiah?
isaaiah: great! did you see squirrel in tree?
ms. m: the squirrel? oh yes. all the time. they run everywhere. they’re so…so…oh what’s the word?
ms. m and i laughed for a good several minutes at isaiah’s vocabulary suggestion.
as i pruned the trees that draped from our property onto ms. m’s driveway, isaiah dutifully picked up the long branches and put them in a pile. this went on a few hours. neighborly exchanges, borrowing tools.
when we went inside, i was shocked that i was already 3pm but isaiah’s tired hungry face didn’t lie.
i filled a plate with a sandwich and a few of his favorite treats, marshmallows. a glass of milk within arms length. within minutes the food was gone. i turned around to ask him if he wanted more and his head was hanging low, his eyes half closed.
the kid was asleep on the table.
i gently picked him up and his head rolled onto my shoulder and brought him upstairs. he smelled of the earth, spring, and toddler sweat. a perfume of boyhood and love. i laid him in his bed, second guessing if i should change him. he was adorable, but filthy. for once i let him be dirty. i took off his sandals and his fat sweaty toes instantly took a breath. his eyes never once opened.
i wandered to the kitchen, wondering how my allergies had not yet kicked in at all, or my seasonal asthma. as i chopped a baby eggplant and sautéed it with garbanzo beans, i nonchalantly labeled it a miracle from god. i tossed the eggplant and beans over small serving of golden fluffy couscous and a king size bed of mixed greens and ate until my heart’s content, feeling like my appetite sharpened from so many hours in the sun. as i admired the rare occasion that our house was tidy and our landscaping was reasonably under control, i heard a familiar laughter in the driveway.
nick was home.
as we exchanged updates about our weekend, we laughed like a couple on a date, when everything someone says is fascinating yet familiar which makes you laugh even harder.
as i laid back in the couch, i heard nick rustle and felt him gently lay his head on my chest. quiet.
we could feel the spring wind coming through the newly washed windows. a small kiss. made me think that our 7 year anniversary is in a few weeks and felt, in that moment, “this is exactly why we got married. to have this moment right now.”
and before i could tell him that, i heard the pitter patter of excited feet, the small wood groan of a door on a rusty hinge, and a voice, “mama? mama?”
i walked up the stairs and turned the corner to find two huge brown eyes looking for me. they were my eyes, but nick’s expression. dark pupils, an unassuming spirit lingered behind them. his father’s son indeed.
nick went into laundry gear and I went on a bike ride. a 43 minute cruise of the noiseless streets, with a scant showing of human existence. everyone seemed to be elsewhere in the world. i didn’t mind.
i strapped on my heart monitor to keep track of my workout pace and challenged every hill i could find. push. push. push. puuuussshhh.
when i came home, isaiah met me at the door, squealing and nick was on the phone with his parents. he was updating about our impending events. my father’s 70th birthday party. nick’s graduation and graduation party the following weekend. then memorial weekend. it was a busy time.
isaiah came outside to help me put my bike away and somehow found the remnants of the costume he used when making a snowman. he flopped on the hat and swung the red scarf around his neck. and then he grabbed the shovel out of the driveway. as i swept the helicopter leaves, nick talked on the phone, and isaiah the snowman started shoveling non existent snow, my heart swelled.
an ordinary sunday evening at dusk, with no particular reason to be grateful except that’s all my heart could muster. even this photo of isaiah is ordinary. slightly fuzzy, the lighting off, begging to be sharpened, but it’s real. it’s perfectly imperfect. it’s isaiah. it’s life.
i whirled a spaghetti and garlic bread dinner as “a league of their own” – nick’s favorite movie – came on tv. we ate, chatted, joked. isaiah tried out his newly cemented manners, “i don’t like this anymore, thank you.” as he pushed his plate as far away from him as possible when he was done eating.
we watched the rest of the movie, dancing during commercials and tickling each other until someone screamed STOP.
and then we ate vanilla ice cream with sprinkles before showers, prayers, and bedtime.
and now i write this.
i write this not to share what a grand life i have. i write this not to throw joy in your face if you feel joyless. i don’t even write this for anyone else but myself. to remind myself that every once in a while, a day, a moment comes along that gives us amnesia. it has no memory of what brought us to that day, it only knows what is happening in real time. in those rare moments, there is no past or future, or even whimsical dreams. there is only now.
i write that moment down now so i can have that fraction recorded somewhere. i write it because i know that most things written today are about anything but what i just wrote: un-newsworthy events that affirm every goodness still in the world. a sunny day. a child’s innocence. gardening. dirty feet. a conversation. spaghetti. a photo taken. scrubbing a toddler clean.
and these things i write are only a handful of the million moments i experienced today, but already, i cannot remember all that took place. i can’t remember what isaiah said to me after i asked him if he wanted strawberry milk. (but i do remember the face he made when he licked the inside of a lemon for the first time last night) i can’t remember what my neighbor shared as we exchanged parenting stories. i don’t even recall what i wore today.
each thing was done with love and gratitude.
//it was a perfect day//
TweetFor those who know us best, the gene that determines competitiveness runs strong in both Factora and Borchers families. It has to. I’ve never met anyone who’s more competitive than I am. That is, not until I met Nick.
Competitiveness comes in many forms. There’s the obvious kind that reveals itself in sports. The Michael Jordan/Tiger Woods (sans sex scandal) kind of competition. This is the “I CANNOT LOSE. EVER.” gene which makes athletes train twice as hard and cultivates a near military discipline that most of us civilians would find unbearable.
Then there’s other genes of competition, more subtle but just as lethal. This competitive gene revolves around the oratory debate stratosphere, aka “I MUST BE RIGHT. I AM RIGHT.” kind of thinking. It’s a gene that makes its way into the most innocuous of situations – bowling, finding a parking space, starting a campfire, any household project, insurance claims…
You think these situations are not competitive? Move in with us for a week, you’ll understand after that.
No matter what the situation, Nick and I often pit ourselves against the opponent, be it a piece of stubborn firewood that will not flame up along with the others or a slow car in the Panera Bread parking lot who is blocking traffic. Everything’s a competition. No dispute too small, no challenge too big. There are two trophy words uttered in our house that carry more weight than anything: I WIN.
Sometimes it’s shouted, sometimes it’s whispered into a billowing pile of laundry. Whatever needs conquering shall be conquered in our house.
So, you can imagine the kind of raised eyebrows and smack talk in our marriage when the competition is between us. It can get ugly, but it’s always entertaining. Many people do not know that Nick is, as Keith Borchers said in his best man speech at our wedding, “an ego maniac who thinks he’s sweet at everything.”
Save opera and any form of dancing, this is true about Nicholas David Borchers. He hates losing. He can’t stand being second. He likes strategy and mind-games during poker. He’s all about focus and readjustment. Don’t be fooled by his calm demeanor. There’s a beast inside him called THE WINNER’S CIRCLE.
And then there’s me. Don’t think that I don’t have my own monster and even according to Nick, I may be more competitive than him. There’s a reason why I have the Rocky IV soundtrack on my iPod. Most people wouldn’t see it coming, kind of like a CATEGORY FIVE HURRICANE that didn’t come up on your weather outlook.
My competitiveness is often stuffed away because of its monstrosity. It can and has ruined moments of friendly game playing. While everyone else shrugs after a loss, I seethe inside. Competitiveness is like a constant search for perfection, which can never be attained. So, the desire to win or be right or dominate knows no rest. But, it’s not always appropriate to be competitive so I, along with Nick, keep it to myself. We’re like two man-eating sharks in a Sea World tank: it’s in our blood and in our nature, but we’re trained to be harmless.
That was a long introduction into the heart of this post, but it’s critical for you to know the background of our competitive edges.
Nick and I have a combined goal to be and become healthier parents. Running around with Isaiah necessitates optimal states of health so we decided to commit to losing a few pounds. I need to shed my pregnancy weight and Nick, many months ago, invented a campaign called, “Don’t Get Fat” because of his fear of rolling into a “fat new dad.”
So we made a deal and the stakes are high.
Beginning Sunday, March 7th, we are having our own personal Biggest Loser competition. We adapted the show to our own lives and here are the ground rules:
Weekly weigh-ins on Sunday
Largest percentage of weight loss wins
Two goal dates: June 4, 2010 (our 5 year anniversary) and September 4, 2010.
Whoever has the largest percentage of weight loss on June 4, 2010 has the intermediate prize – winner gets one evening of their choice every week to go out and do whatever s/he wants while Isaiah is with the other parent.
If you don’t understand the impact of that reward, go back and read it again. This prize is HUGE. This can mean going out with your friends. For Nick it can mean going to play racquetball with Books and Sam or going to the library for a few hours. For me that means extended trips to a coffee shop or taking my time at a farmer’s market.
The ultimate prize, come September 4, will be individualized. Nick has yet to announce what his prize will be if he wins. If I win, I get to go to the conference of my choice in any part of the United States. (I’m such a nerd. I adore conferences on writing, feminism, media, etc…) Beside the fact that I want to shed my preggers weight, that conference-attending prize alone all but guarantees that I will win. Hello? Travel? Hotels? Learning? Meeting new writers and artists? That’s what I was born to do.
This competition is huge and normally, I would not post something like this on our blog, but I figured if our friends and family – and God knows who else on the internet is reading this – is in the know, we are accountable to seeing this through. And we will.
It’s man vs. woman. Focus vs. Passion. Tall vs. Short. Endurance vs. Intervals.
Choose your team now and place your bets. Nick is team blue. I am team green.
Cheers to a healthier Borchers/Factora-Borchers family in 2010.
(And, here’s to ME, cause you know I’m going to lick this thing…)
TweetSome bullet updates:
Saturday, January 2: Umbilical cord fell out while Nick was changing Isaiah! Hooray! Sponge baths are over. Hello glorious baths.
Sunday, January 3: St. Dominic’s Sunday mass bulletin announced Isaiah’s birth to the whole congregation.
Monday, January 4: Isaiah’s 2 week doctor appointment went great. He was described as “mellow,” with “great skin and color” and overall “looking fantastic!”
Tuesday, January 5: We solidified Isaiah’s baptism date – Sunday, January 24! Bring on the Holy Spirit!
Wednesday, January 6: Um, ok – hard lesson. Isaiah doesn’t like peanut butter, anything too greasy, or pizza. He fusses and gets a little skin irritation. Bad mom. Back to bland foods…
No more Wendy’s…
Thursday, January 7: His first bath. Oh, you should have seen me and Nick climbing in and out of the tub, nervous as hell and as clumsy as a first graders. Also – first visitors tonight to watch the Alabama/Texas Nat’l Championship game. Uncle Brian and Christina are coming over. Thank goodness! My social exposure is just as bad as my sleep deprivation.
Also, I finally drove today for the first time in two and a half weeks! Ah, the open road! The FM pop music! Target! The grocery store! Strangers who don’t know I just had a baby! No pregger belly that everyone tries to pat or stare at! It was invigorating!
TweetYesterday was a normal day for most people. A typical fall day with Halloween costume chatting, and leaf raking commencing…a very normal day indeed.
And yet, a raging two month mental battle also ended yesterday with my wondering over whether or not to get the h1n1 shot.
I’m fairly knowledgeable about the issue. Research is one of my specialties and I spared no pamphlet or website when absorbing the pros and cons of vaccinations for pregnant women. Despite my insides telling me that regardless what I choose, I will likely be fine, my housemate seems to be a magnet for all local and national news reporting bad news about the swine flu. Steeped in worry, Nick passes the information along to me as if I need more momentum to swing me back and forth in my decision.
To get or not to get the h1n1 flu shot is risky. It’s risky either way, I saw it, and in the end, seeing how slow my body was recovering from a simple, albeit nasty, cold and cough, convinced me that I probably should go ahead and get stuck by the needle.
So, after work yesterday Nick and I made plans to get to the middle school where they were administering round #2 of the vaccine. I imagined it was going to take hours, Nick disagreed. Of course I was right.
But before I took the shot in my arm, I felt like I had to confess something to Nick. A deep, dark secret welling inside me like a balloon. I looked up at him in the kitchen over chopping Bok Choy and green beans for dinner and announced,”I realized today I have been stalling to get the shot because I think if anything goes wrong with the vaccination and hurts Isaiah, I’m afraid I’m going to blame you for the rest of our lives.”
There. I said it.
Nick had a confession as well. “Last week, when you were sick, all I kept thinking was that if you had the flu and something happened to Isaiah, I was going to blame you for not getting the shot for the rest of our lives, too.”
Immediately, I brightened, “Really? We were ready to blame each other for the rest of our lives? This sounds demented, but I feel SO much better!”
Now that our confessions were confessed, we headed to the middle school and saw the lines wrapping around the building. It took several minutes to find parking and finally got in line. It felt something like a combination of the lines at Cedar Point, a huge pediatrician’s office with a million kids running around, and a gigantic holiday sale where they haven’t opened the doors yet and make you wait outside.
In other words, it was hell.
Immoveable and inflexible situations are prime time conversation periods for me and Nick. The possibilities were endless. We had hours to wait, so talked about numerous things:
Nick’s Topics: the lack of efficiency when it came to setting up the lines (half the people were waiting outside when the whole middle school could have been utilized), his brainfart that he did not bring a heavier coat, how people were supposed to “prove” if you were on the priority list (pregnant people are kind of obvious, but healthcare workers? ), and other issues relating to orderliness and publicity.
I was fairly single-issue minded: WHY ISN’T THERE A SEPARATE LINE FOR PREGNANT WOMEN?
No chairs. Standing out in the chilly air with children running amok.
A thought occured to me and I shared it with Nick, “Do you think that it’s slightly ironic and even more slightly idiotic that they make us stand outside in the cold with a bunch of screaming children with no heat or chairs so we can get vaccinated for the FLU?”
The women behind me had a stroller for her perfectly big 6 or 7 year old. She was not careful with the wheels and kept rolling over the back of my foot. I was feeling a bit snappy but bit my tongue countless times. After all, she’d be right behind me for God knows how long.
We make it inside only to wait another hour or so. A volunteer took pity on my very pregnant state and asked if I wanted a chair. I nodded gratefully.
So, Nick held my place in line while I sat for about 20 minutes, giving my back and feet a rest. Watching Nick, I just shook my head while he made friends in line – chatting with people in front and behind him – and even helping a stranger get their stroller down the stairs. What a good samaritan. All I kept thinking of was how much I wanted a Twix bar.
I got back in line with Nick and discovered he’d made his own h1n1 support group in line. Everyone was offering us advice on birthing, breastfeeding, sleeping, pain meds, and Hillcrest Hospital where we’d be deliverying Isaiah. It was nice to be talking, inside the building and shielded from the cold, but my energy had depleted and I just wanted to get it over with.
Surprisingly, Nick was able to get a shot as well, thanks to Isaiah’s due date of 1.1.10, Nick qualified as a parent with a child less than 6 months.
Then came the time to decide whether to get nasal mist or the needle.
Another decision. Not my specialty.
The nasal mist is the activated vaccine. It has no mercury.
The needle is the inactivated vaccine with mercury to keep it germ free.
My only question was, “So where’s the INACTIVATED vaccine with NO MERCURY?”
One of the volunteers replied, “They are just starting to make that now, but we have no idea if or when those will ever come to the Cleveland area.”
So, loaded with all different kids of information pamphlets on brightly colored paper, we got in line – Nick in the nasal line, me in the needle line.
And within 3 minutes, it was over.
How can one seemingly simple decison be so complicated and anxiety-ridden?
As someone said to me, “Welcome to parenting.”
TweetDepression resulting from sports-related issues certainly cannot be resolved overnight.
I know this for a fact because it is Sunday afternoon and I am still moping over OSU’s loss last night to USC. I’m normally not an advocate of bottling away emotions without properly processing them first, but, in this case, I think it’s better for everyone in my life, especially Nick, if I just move on as best as I can and deal with the blemish on the Buckeye’s early football record.
When my sister was a highschool senior, their graduating class’ senior tshirts were custom designed for the class of 1993 and on the back it just read: Seniors rule. Deal with it.
I think I should make a similar tshirt for myself that reads: We had that game but we lost. Deal with it.
Beyond football frenzy 2009, Nick and I have had a lovely weekend of hanging out with friends, attending our neighborhood block party, and sleeping in. This morning we attended a pre-baptismal training class which Nick both led as the Pastoral Associate and participated as a soon to be parent.
It’s always fun getting the opportunity to watch your spouse in a different role, a role outside of the house. Not surprisingly he was great at making sure everyone’s little bundle of joys were on the right path to their first sacrament.
Our little saint, Isaiah, has been stretching his limbs and tumbling around like an Olympian. Sleep has been a bit finicky for me lately and some days I just feel like I just need a comfy chair to lie down in. Others days I am rip roaring with energy.
Today is a lay low kind of day. Nick is working. I can’t take any more football this weekend. And our house is a dustbowl of disaster because of the bathroom demolition.
I am hoping by the end of the day my Buckeye-induced sadness will have dissipated.
TweetNick has decided to do some volunteer work.
You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone’s spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]
So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.
The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner…when will you do something, I don’t know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm…now there’s a possibility.
Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.
And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, “Remember, you’re doing the most important part for us – making sure Isaiah is good and growing.”
Ah, yes, our son.
And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.
So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It’s gone so fast!
In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of “More Than a Game,” the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron’s St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.
The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.
Yeah, we’re important.
TweetThis week has been normal.
I love writing that sentence.
Sometimes the routine of life can help one relax, breathe easy, and appreciate the itty bitty grains of awesomeness in August. Like how AMAZING the weather has been, holding steady at 70ish degrees this week with pure sunshine.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what kind of weather announcer I would be. Channel 5 news would definitely have higher ratings because all I would do is squeal and yell YES YES YES when there’s a beautiful day on the horizon. I don’t know much about jetstream or northeast winds pushing whatever into whereever region. But I DO know how to be excited for cool August weather.
I’d also announce the weather wearing sunglasses.
This week has had a little rumbling of busy-ness throughout it. One of Nick’s coworkers is moving and so we, along with our pals, are planning a goodbye party for her this evening. Tomorrow, Kelly and Tim Norris will be hiking it up to Cleveland for a wedding so we’ll get to chill with them for a few hours before their wedding. Then tomorrow evening we have a BBQ to attend. Sunday, both Nick and I are helping chaperone/drive/be with a bunch of highschool cats who are spending the day at Cedar Point. Now, other than the ferris wheel, there isn’t much for me to ride at the greatest amusement park on earth. But, that fact does no stop me from going where I will have access to funnel cakes and elephant ears.
So, we’re back in the groove of our lives and as Nick often says, “I’m just excited, you know, for life!”
TweetOur 4th of July weekend was terrific. It was terrific in a kind of firecracker way, not big boom fireworks kind of way.
Nick came back from his week long service trip Friday afternoon and we both needed a quiet evening at home before a long weekend of activities. So we made dinner and rented Revolutionary Road and invited our friend Alexis over who brought three boxes of ice cream to share. We feasted on just mint chocolate chip and gave the movie a B rating for compelling themes but mediocre acting. Nick, who obviously read the book, kept commenting how much one loses in cinema as compared to literature. He likes to rub it in that he’s such a book worm.
That night, I think I fell asleep face down in my pillow. I was exhausted.
Saturday afternoon was spent cleaning up the house, running errands, and enjoying the beautiful weather. I know my energy level is depleting as my pregnancy marches on when I have to take a 1 hour nap after mowing the lawn. Apprehensive as my Dad on prom night, Nick wondered if it would be safe for me to mow the lawn. I assured him that as long as he can rev the motor up for me, I can take care of the rest.
The jittering and jostling may have taken more out of me than I would care to admit, but I laid on the couch afterward and fell asleep. Snoring as loud as the mower itself.
Then we headed off to Christina and Brian Emerson’s for a BBQ. Nick dominated at cornhole while I ate a hamburger like I’ve never eaten before. My appetite, to put it lightly, fluctuates. Somedays I can barely swallow three grapes without feeling like a stuffed cabbage. Other days I feel like eating a rhino would not suffice. Saturday was a rhino kind of day.
Then we watched the fireworks and I got all sappy and happy sitting on the lawn and thinking how by next year, we’ll have a little live firework in the flesh of our own.
Sunday afternoon was spent in Canton, Ohio where Nick and I went to a baptism reception. My highschool friend, Becca, married and now lives in England but her son, Logan was baptized here in her hometown and had a gathering to celebrate the little tyke’s induction to the holy Kingdom. I saw a bunch of highschool buds and it was great to catch up after so many years.
And that was our weekend.
Upcoming weekends are going to N-U-T-S.
July 11-15 Borchers’ family vaca to Charleston, SC
July 17-19 Russia bound for Staci Condon’s wedding
July 24 -26 Russia bound for Abby Cordonnier’s wedding
July 31 – Aug. 2 Cincy bound for a wedding I’m shooting (like, for money!)
And if you’re wondering how everything else is going — all I can say is the God honest truth: splendid.
Nick is wonderful.
I am wonderful.
Baby is wonderful.
(You are wonderful, too, in case you need a pick me up.)
TweetI’m right at 11 weeks today and it’s going to be a long haul to January if I don’t keep my annoyance in check. I’ll chalk it up to hormones, but lately, I’m so flipping irritated with answering the same questions over and over and over and over and over again.
From family and friends, I don’t mind, but at the mechanic’s body shop, at the grocery store, library, WHEREVER where people see you are buying something that indicates your preggers, people undoubtedly will ask the following:
1) How far along are you?
2) What’s your due date?
3) How are you feeling?
4) Is this your first?
5) I bet you’re excited, aren’t you?
Now, I sound like a total jerk, but I just want to remind people that answering the same questions, multiple times a day, everyday can add to the overall fatigue and moodiness of a pregnant woman.
The only thing that I REALLY don’t like is when complete strangers’ hands make a dive for your belly. HEY — belly is off limits to unknown persons.
Family and friends, that’s a totally different story.
As Nick does a 1/2 day at work, I am getting ready to leave for Russia. Of course, I have procrastinated to where we are now leaving in about 3 hours and I have not packed a thing, eaten, exercised, or showered yet. I better get a move on.
This weekend will be another hectic one. Eric Rosenbeck will be getting married while Keith is in the wedding and Nick is a reader. Big involvement for team Borchers this weekend. As always, I’m excited for another June wedding.
Russia-bound in t-minus 3 hours.
Ok, enough procrastinating.