Two Years

Note: I intended to post this on Saturday, but with all the festivities I just didn't. :)

Two years ago today I wasn’t sure what was happening. Two years ago I was scared. Two years ago I was happy. And hopeful. Unprepared and ready.

Two years ago life changed forever.

Two years ago I met her:

6 Days


I don’t have any idea what I was using all my spare time on before she came along. I sang a lot less. Danced a lot less.

3 months


Balanced things on my head a lot less. Played peek-a-boo a lot less.

6 months


I washed less dishes and did less laundry.

9 months


I tickled less and chased less.

1 year



I slept more and saw more movies.

15 months


Now I splash more and clap more.

18 months


I swing more & smile more.

21 months



I laugh more. And worry more (but about more important things).

2 years


I listen more, watch more, hug more, wonder more, kiss more feet, wash more bellies, make more silly faces, teach more, learn more, and love more than two years ago.

I wouldn’t trade one second of the last two years for anything in the world.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Noelle. I love you, sweet pea.

This week's big debate

Brian has been trying (unsuccessfully) for the last week to convince me that a pair of his socks are dress socks. I insist that he is crazy and that they are not. They are most definitely athletic socks and he does not know what he is talking about.


His argument:

1) They are scratchy inside.
2) They are off white.
3) They just are.


My counter (which is longer, and also right):

1) They are a little scratchy. (If he thinks that all dress socks are scratchy, then we really need to get him some new dress socks.)
2) Dingy is not the new beige.
3) No they are not.
4) They are too thick to be dress socks, therefore, they will not fit into dress shoes.
5) They say Nike across the top. Which is ribbed. Not for my pleasure.
6) Again, no they are not.


Behold the socks in question:


Exhibit A



I think the evidence is clear. You may tell him he’s crazy if you wish. I would find that extremely funny.

Sick in the Head

Since we haven't been to the ER/Urgent Care enough in the last few weeks we decided to take another trip there this weekend. Me again.

The infamous migraines are back. I got one last Monday night & couldn't get rid of it. It just kept getting worse & worse until I finally couldn't take it anymore. So on Saturday my parents came to get Noelle & Brian took me to get a shot. Lovely. I hadn't had a bad one in so long I was hoping they were just gone forever. Wishful thinking I guess.

I know one bad one doesn't mean that they're back to the same frequency and intensity that they were before, but right now, still somewhat coming out of the drug induced haze, I don't have high hopes. I have kind of missed the neurologist, she's a very nice lady, but I would rather run into her at a restaurant or something. I'm not going to see her yet, but I'm not ruling out a future visit either.

I'm just frustrated. How can I go so long without having one to having such a bad one out of the blue? I don't want to have to get on all the preventative medicines & pain pills again. Yeah, yeah, it helps, but they add up too. $$

I know, I'm thinking of the worst case scenario, it's what I do.

Ok, enough about that. How was everyone else's weekend?

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OH!! I forgot to tell you! I'm SOOO EXCITED!! I just found out that they're building a Ted's Cafe Esconditos in Broken Arrow & it may be open pretty soon! If you've never eaten there, it's only the best Mexican food in the whole wide world. Ok, Oklahoma anyway. The tortillas are like little pieces of heaven! I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!

Dead Rabbits

Rabbit Test

The term rabbit test dates to 1949 and is a reference to an early form or pregnancy test. In the 1920s, researchers discovered a hormone dubbed human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG) that could be found in the urine of pregnant women. Unable to test for this hormone directly, they discovered in 1927 that if a female rabbit was injected with urine containing hCG (don't ask me who first thought of doing this, I don't think I want to know), the rabbit's ovaries would display distinct changes after a few days. Hence, the rabbit test was born, the term following a couple of decades later.

A common misconception is that that the rabbit died if the woman was pregnant. Actually, the rabbit always died as the laboratory had to kill the animal to examine the ovaries (later on techniques were developed to spare the life of the rabbit--after which the rabbit never died). But because of this misconception the phrase the rabbit died entered the vocabulary as a euphemism for a positive pregnancy test.

Modern pregnancy tests still operate on the same principle, testing for hCG. But the use of a rabbit is no longer required.

Source: http://www.wordorigins.org/wordorr.htm


I’d never heard that expression before in my life until I got pregnant. At my first doctor’s appointment he came in accusing us of killing a rabbit. We looked at him like he was Marvin the Martian.

I heard Aerosmith’s Sweet Emotion this morning. I’ve heard it a gazillion times before, but for some reason that just clicked this morning. “Can’t catch me ‘cause the rabbit done died.” Sounds to me like someone was trying to run from their responsibilities.

Then there’s Elmer Fudd. All that time spent hunting that wabbit. All he really ever wanted was an heiw to his thwone.

And Glenn Close? That rabbit died alright, but she was just psychocrazycruel.