Aubrey's First Day of Preschool

Aubrey had her first day of 3 year old preschool today and she was so excited!

She attends a little preschool in our neighborhood so she got to ride her tricycle and she was pretty thrilled about that.

Here's her cute little class waiting to be picked up by their parents.  She had a great time!  She told me they sang songs, read books, and played outside.  And they made cute little headbands that said, "You did it!  First day of preschool!"   

Meanwhile, Ella and I got to enjoy spending some quality time with cousin Lizzie.

Dancing and singing along to the radio in the toy house

What a fun day!

Mommy, can I marry you?

The past week was not a terribly exciting one for us, but I do have two funny stories to share.  Last week I was driving home with Aubrey and Ella and Piano Guys' version of "A Thousand Years" came on.  I turned it up, explaining to the girls that it was one of my favorite songs and that Daddy and I had danced to it when we got married.  Aubrey was very interested.  She started asking all sorts of questions, so I explained to her all about marriage.  I thought I had done a pretty good job of explaining, but when I was finished, she asked, "Mommy, when we get home can Mommy and Aubrey dance to this song and get married?"  Hmmm ... so I explained some more about marriage and told her it's something she could do when she was much, much bigger.  She said, "Okay Mommy.  Good thing me eats so I will be big someday.  Me eat lots so I can be very big and get married."

A few days later, Marc was helping Ella say a dinner prayer.  He prompted, "Please bless the food."  Ella looked over at the food and and said, "It's broccoli."  She was clearly displeased.  Marc tried to continue the prayer, but all she would say after that was, "It's broccoli."  Clearly, broccoli does not deserve to be blessed. 

Ah, I love these cute, funny girls!

Bug Party!

Last month a crazy thing happened: our sweet little baby turned 3!

I seriously don't know where the time went (especially since the last time I blogged she was only 3 months old - my bad).  In the weeks leading up to her birthday I started asking her what she wanted as a theme for her birthday.  No princesses for this one - she wanted bugs!  So bugs it was  :)

We had a lot of fun with the decorations and food.  I made her a Happy Birthday banner of leaves and bugs (side note:  I love my Cricut!).  The girls and I decorated balloons to look like bugs and put them up on the walls all over the house.

I decided to serve a full on meal because there were just too many fun bug foods that I came up with!  Here are some of the fun foods we had:

And, of course, we had to have cake!  I decided to make these cute (and easy) ladybug cupcakes.  The M&M ladybugs were definitely Ella's favorite part!  She begged at least 5 ladybugs off of everyone else's cupcakes.

We decided to go on a bug scavenger hunt.  Since we had a family party with lots of adults and a few kids, we split up into teams with one child and 2-3 adults per team.  I hid plastic bugs around the yard (with numbers on the bottom corresponding to prizes), and each of the kids got a little "bug box" with bug grabbers and a little net (thanks Dollar Tree!) to put all of the bugs they found.  In addition, each team got a paper with a list of real bugs to find and I had prizes for the team that found the most.  The kids had lots of fun hunting for bugs, although since it was evening there weren't as many bugs to be found as I had expected.  It was a good thing I'd hidden plastic ones so there was enough excitement!

Aubrey loved opening her presents!  She is definitely a very loved little girl!

We're so glad so many family members were able to celebrate Aubrey's special day with us!

Pumpkins and Cornstalks and Tiggers, oh my!

Happy Halloween!  This year was the first time Marc and I tried to grow a garden and while I can't say we were very dedicated (pretty much we spent a couple hours in one afternoon planting everything and then never touched it again except to harvest it), I'd say it was a definite success.  We grew tomatoes, zucchini, squash, beans, corn, pumpkins, and one very tasty watermelon.

We decided to do a photo shoot with our little cutie to celebrate her turning 3 months old.  I can proudly say that we grew everything in this picture  ;)

And here she is in her cute little Tigger costume.

She was really into this pumpkin.

Our little 3-month old loves cooing and grinning.  This week Aubrey learned how to blow raspberries and she can't get enough of it, she's just so proud of herself.  She also learned how to roll from her tummy onto her back - though this isn't recent news.  When she was only ten weeks old, I put her next to me on the bed for some tummy time and she surprised me by rolling herself right over ... and right off the edge of the bed!  Luckily Mommy has cat-like reflexes and caught her in time.  She rolled over repeatedly for the next three days straight ... and then she promptly apparently forgot how for several weeks and only just recently started it up again.  

How Aubrey felt by the time we were done with our photo shoot

Daddy's Little Girl

From the moment our little Aubrey was born, I knew she was going to be a Daddy's girl.  How did I know, you might ask?  Well, to begin with, she liked all of Daddy's physical features so much she decided to copy all of them.  Like most parents, when she was first placed in my arms at the hospital I was mesmerized, studying all her little features to see who she got what from.  Imagine my surprise as I began taking mental inventory and every single feature turned out to be Marc's.

Hair?  Daddy's.
Eyes?  Daddy's.
Nose?  Daddy's.
Ears?  Daddy's.
Fingernails?  Daddy's.
Build?  Daddy's.
And the list goes on and on - despite the fact that most of Marc's features are recessive so mine SHOULD have been more dominant.

During the first few weeks we had her home, the similarities between them became even more apparent.  For example, Daddy's little girl also inherited Daddy's not-so-little appetite.  In Marc's family, there literally is something called a "Marc size portion", which you would ask for anytime you really liked a dish.  I can already envision that among this generation of cousins there will soon be an "Aubrey size portion" in honor of our little chunker.  The one thing Aubrey did inherit from me, however, was the speed at which she eats - and this was not a good combination.  Those first few weeks she could (and did) literally eat for three hours straight at times, trying to satiate her ginormous appetite, while eating at the pace of a snail.  Eventually I had to start pumping bottles for her, just so she was forced to eat a little quicker and I could at least have a break between mealtimes.  


The similarities were all over the place - from faces she would make to little noises she would utter to little personality quirks.  I found myself using the phrase "just like daddy" about every other sentence.  I even took a picture of Marc holding Aubrey and they are both (unintentionally) making the same stink face.  I planned on posting it here as evidence, but Marc made me delete it ...




In the past few weeks, though, is when her loyalties have really started to come out.  Recently she has started smiling and cooing up a storm, it is really quite cute.  She'll smile and coo at me all through the day, but when Daddy comes home that's when she really pours on the charm.  She'll grin and grin at him and try so hard to talk to him.  Ten bucks says her first word will be "Daddy" ... and not just because Marc works so hard on it with her every chance he gets.  ;)

Further proof:  As I was getting ready to post this, I played this video to make sure it worked. Marc was at work and Aubrey was eating at the time, but the instant Aubrey heard Daddy's voice, she immediately stopped eating and got a huge grin on her face and started looking around for him.  I'd be offended at her obvious preference, but it is just so cute that I can't help but love them both all the more for it.

Baby Poop: the organic paint stripper

The other night we made quite a discovery. It was 3 AM and we had been peacefully sleeping when Aubrey woke up and decided she was hungry. Marc got up to give her a quick diaper change while I continued half dozing, waiting for him to bring her back so I could feed her. Suddenly, I heard a panicked yell from the nursery.

"Is everything okay?" I called out sleepily. There was a long pause. "... Yeah ... " he responded, very convincingly. That was good enough for me, and I returned to my half conscious state.

A full ten minutes passed before Marc reappeared in the doorway holding out a measuring tape. "Did you know Aubrey can poop five feet?" he asked. I blinked sleepily at him.

Apparently in the middle of the diaper change, just as Marc was about to remove the dirty diaper, our sweet baby decided to relieve herself again. Marc had a premonition and pulled the dirty diaper back up to cover her, but he underestimated Aubrey's awesome abilities. She pooped so forcefully that it arched over the top of the diaper, cleared the lip of the changing table, and landed a full five feet away on the floor. Hence, Marc's panicked yell.

It wasn't until the next morning that we discovered an interesting property of baby poop. Marc thought he'd cleaned up all the poop, but apparently some had oozed under the changing pad cover. In just a few short hours, it managed to completely strip the paint off my changing table. We no longer underestimate either Aubrey or the destructive power of baby poop.

Aubrey's pooping face

In other news, our sweet little baby girl turned one month old. Her favorite activities include eating, sleeping, and staring at ceiling fans. She's started smiling in response to Mommy and Daddy, and she weighs a whopping eleven pounds. She is certainly a cutie.

Ohh BABY!

Written by Marc, Edited by Robyn

The Keelings are proud to announce the birth of our newest family member. She arrived on July 24th, 2015 at 1:50 after 24 hours of labor, numerous attempts to administer an IV, and lots of pushing (and resisting on the baby's part).  We have a beautiful little girl we have decided to name Aubrey Anne Keeling.

Like every parent in the history of mankind... we will now start talking about how awesome and sweet our daughter is.  Little Aubrey has brought so much joy into our lives in the few short days that she has been here (even at 2:00 am, 3:15 am... etc). We love to watch her twitch in her sleep as she dreams about... well, we don't know what but it is fun to watch.

Marc never thought that he would enjoy changing diapers, or getting his shirts contaminated with spit-up, but for her... it is all bliss.  Robyn already knew that she would enjoy all of it, but what she could not imagine was how beautiful and cute Aubrey would be, nor to what degree she would love being a mom having now begun the journey.


Here is our sweet little Aubrey.  Hope you enjoy!

Length: 20 Inches
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Auburn (depending on the light)
Weight: 9 lbs 1 oz

Marc's Non-Eternal Companion Encounter

Written by Robyn, Co-Authored by Marc

Last Sunday night, Marc and I were peacefully watching a nature documentary in our living room together when there was a knock on the door.  As it was nearly 9:00, we weren't expecting anyone, and I was not fully dressed (being pregnant in July is not conducive for wearing unnecessary layers of clothing), Marc rose to answer the door.  From my position in the beanbag chair, I had a perfect view of the front door and the woman on the other side of it as Marc opened the door.  She was probably in her early twenties, was wearing a very short skirt, and had multiple tattoos and piercings.

"Hi, I'm Clover," the woman said rather bouncily, and she started to walk into our house.   In confusion, Marc at first started to politely stand aside for her, but then he realized something was off and put his hand up to block her entry.  "I'm sorry, do I know you?"  he said.

"Oh, I'm the companion you called," she replied.  Marc flushed a moderate shade of red.  "There must  be some mistake - I didn't call a companion," he told her.  "Isn't this 69....?" she said, reading an address off her phone.  "Well yes, but I can assure you that we never called for a companion."  And without another word she immediately got on her cell phone to her boss and walked away, explaining as she went that the client at our address said he had never called for someone.  

Marc closed the door and came back to the living room with a look of utter bewilderment on his face.  "I thought that was illegal in Utah!"  he exclaimed, and I admit I could no longer contain my laughter.  I educated Marc on the "companion" underworld in Utah (I have some experience with this as I used to work next to a "massage and tattoo parlor" with a fascinating night life), and we both had a good laugh about the whole experience.

We finally settled back in to continue watching our documentary about birds when again there came a knock at the door.  Marc and I exchanged glances (his was rather wary, mine more of an anticipating grin), and he again went to answer the door.

This time, the young woman at the door was more modestly dressed, but with exceptionally long hair and decked out with what had to be at least a pound's worth of jewelry.  "Hi, I'm Summer!" she exclaimed.  "Do I know you?"  Marc responded.  She looked at him in confusion.  "I'm Summer," she again stated, as though that should be her passcode for Marc to let her in.  "Who are you here to see?"  Marc asked.  "I don't know ... but I'm Summer," she responded.  "I think someone is pulling a practical joke on me because I didn't call anyone, but you're the second person who has stopped by tonight," Marc said.  The girl simply looked at him in confusion.  "I'm Summer," she again responded.

To his credit, Marc had handled the first situation quite gracefully, and he had done pretty well this time as well, but at this point his composure started to falter, unsure of how to respond to this girl who simply kept repeating, "I'm Summer" and making no move to leave until he had let her in.  Finally, Marc blurted, "There's another family living downstairs ... maybe you're here to see them.  Their door is around the side of the house."  "Oh!" the girl happily exclaimed, and walked away in obvious relief.  

The instant the door was closed, Marc turned around, looking very, very flushed.  "Marc!" I exclaimed, "You sent her to my cousins??"  (My cousin and her husband rent the downstairs from us).  "I didn't know what else to do!  She wouldn't leave!"  he said, looking very guilty.  "I should warn them!" he said, and flew down the stairs and started pounding frantically on the door to the basement.  Finally, my cousin answered and Marc attempted to explain that they were going to get a visitor at their door, and that he had accidentally sent her to them.  Marc was still a bit flustered though, and unable to find the right words to communicate the situation, and my cousin was very confused as to who this visitor was they would be getting, so finally I yelled down, "Marc accidentally sent a hooker to your door."  "Oh!" she responded.  "Sorry.  I got nervous," Marc said.  However, a knock on their door never came ... so the three of us assumed Summer had decided not to pursue it after all and had simply left.

Unbeknownst to us, my cousin's husband had been outside, enjoying the evening on their back steps and Summer had walked right into him.  "There you are!  You didn't tell me you lived downstairs!" she told him.  "Um ... yes, I do," he responded, confused.  "I recognize your voice.  I'm Summer," she happily told him.  "Hi Summer, I'm Devin," he cordially, but confusedly, responded, shaking her hand. "So ... who are you here to see?"  "I don't know," she said, giving him an odd look, "But I'm Summer."  "Summer ... what's your last name?"  Devin attempted.  "I'm not going to tell you that!"  she responded.  

After a few more minutes of awkward exchange, poor Summer eventually realized that she was most certainly at the wrong house, and she left.  The four of us had a good laugh together about our evening's adventures.  I only wish now that we knew how on earth two "companions" ended up at our door.  If it was indeed a practical joke, then I would like to personally thank whoever did it - they gave me hours of entertainment, anytime I think of the experience.

Adventures in Sunbeam Land

For the past nine months now I have spent two hours every Sunday trying to keep a dozen squirming three-year olds in their chairs and somewhat entertained.  It has honestly been a blast.  I love those little guys and they give me something to laugh about nearly every single Sunday.  When I first started we had 18 (yes, 18!) sunbeams in our class - 16 little boys and 2 little girls.  Every week was an adventure.  In January, though, we got a brand-new, fresh-out-of-nursery class of 6 little girls and 1 boy.

Together we learn very, very basic lessons every Sunday, such as "Heavenly Father has a Body" and this week's lesson, "I am thankful for Fish".

Here are just a few of the lessons I've learned from my Sunbeams:

Lesson 1:  The answer to everything is Jesus.  Doesn't matter what the question is.  While on a deeper level, I can philosophize about how wise it is to have Jesus as your answer to any question, I'm not convinced that my little guys are answering this out of wisdom.  For example, I once asked my class what animals they could think of that lived in trees and received the answer, "Jesus."  Um . . . let me ponder that one.

Lesson 2:  Three hours is too long for kids to go without food.  My very first week in Sunbeams one of my little boys came up to me at the end of class with the saddest look on his little face.  Sorrowfully, he told me, "Avery ate my paper" and held up his reminder slip that he was giving the prayer in primary next week.  Sure enough, his poor slip of paper was very soggy and looked like someone had taken a giant bite out of it.  Poor kid, life's rough when you have to guard you handouts for fear of other kids eating them.  Fortunately, we now have snack time every week and this has dramatically cut down on the eating of non-food items in our classroom.

Lesson 3:  A promise from a three year old is not very binding.  Just last week we had a lesson entitled "I am thankful for Plants, Trees, and Flowers", and since the weather was so nice I decided to take my little girls on a trip outside to look at all the plants and flowers we could see around the church.  Before we left the classroom I made them promise me that they would not leave the grass and would not go into the street.  After I had extracted a promise from every single one of them, we proceeded down the hall to the door and no sooner did I open it for them then one of them immediately took off running, straight for the street.  Fortunately, Marc was my co-teacher that week so he chased her down while I was able to keep the other five little girls enthralled finding pine cones.

Lesson 4:  The difference between boys and girls.  My little boys were INSANE.  There were times when we'd arrive in our classroom to find a dozen boys, all climbing up on the chairs and jumping off of them while making explosion and fighting noises.  However, when once told to do (or NOT do) something, they were pretty quick to respond and happy enough to do it.  Imagine my surprise when during the first week with our new little class of girls I told one of them that she could not stand on the chairs, only to have her burst into tears and spend the rest of the class time in hysterics.  Since then I've learned that I have to be a LOT more gentle with my little girls because they are simply so much more sensitive.  Even still, we have at least one crying fit every single Sunday when one of them doesn't get their way.  I miss my wild little boys.

Lesson 5:  The concept of honesty is impossible for three year olds to understand.  We once had a lesson entitled "I can be honest."  To begin my lesson, I spent a fair amount of time trying to impress upon them what a truth was versus what a lie was.  It was a timely lesson - the very first attention-getting activity we did was play Button Button, Who's Got The Button, and the very first child (who did NOT have the button) that got asked if he had it giggled and said, "Yes!"  Of course, that was hilarious to all the children, so they all responded in turn that Yes, they had the button, until it got to the little boy who actually had the button, and he responded that, No, he didn't have any button.  Even after an hour's worth of teaching and explaining, though, they still just couldn't grasp the concept of what truth/lies were.  We played a game at the end where I would tell them a simple statement like, "Johnny's wearing a red shirt today" or "We came to church today" and they would stand up if it was the truth, and with every single statement they all just stared at me in confusion.  By the end of the lesson I concluded that three years old is simply too young to understand something as complex as "truth."

Lesson 6:  Learn to keep a straight face.  My very first week in Sunbeams, a week after Marc and I got married, we were in the middle of a lesson about temples when one of the little boys suddenly started screaming at the top of his lungs, "The bad guys are coming to steal Jesus' body!" over and over and over again.  No amount of soothing from the other teacher could dissuade him from this idea, and I have to admit that I wasn't much help, as I was having difficulty keeping a straight face while she kept trying to explain to him that there were no bad guys in the temple.

The path that led me here

Exactly one year and one week ago, the love of my life returned home from a one year deployment in Afghanistan.  Words cannot express what I felt on that day when we were reunited, but I attempted it anyway.  What follows is a blog post that I wrote at the end of that day, Jan. 20, 2013, but which I have never shared until now.  Dedicated to Marc, who still fills me with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again anytime we're apart for more than two minutes.

I stood anxiously scanning the hundreds of faces around me, searching for one particular and very familiar one.  Somewhere within that crowded hangar was the man I love. 

I first fell in love with him almost two and a half years ago.  He won my heart so completely that it scared me how deeply I cared for him, and I reacted by pushing away.  When we broke up I somehow managed to convince myself that it simply wasn't meant to be, and over the course of the next year then I tried to convince myself that I had moved on.  It wasn't until a year later that I dared crack open again the heart I'd sealed up so carefully to see what was inside and the depth and truthfulness of that love came rushing out to hit me in the face. 

I knew that a difficult decision now lay before me, and that in choosing one of those paths I would have to lay bare my heart and risk having it crushed completely.  But I also knew that I would never forgive myself if I didn't take the risk and make that choice.  So I took a deep breath and took the leap of faith, emboldened as only those who are in love can be.  But things did not exactly go as planned and a few short weeks later I found myself saying goodbye once again, unsure of where we stood and if there was even any point in trying to continue.  He was headed to Afghanistan and it would be another year before I would even see him again.  The path that had once been so clear and straight now seemed completely overgrown and blocked by fallen trees.  But again, I remembered the promise that I had made myself when I first made the decision to begin this journey, and I knew that I could not give up until I had truly given it everything.  So again, I took a deep breath and continued the journey, fighting through the undergrowth and climbing over fallen log after fallen log.  For eight months I persevered, because every time that I would falter, discouraged by my lack of progress and on the verge of giving up, something inside me would call me back and remind me of what I was fighting for. 

Finally, in the ninth month since we'd said our goodbyes something changed between us.  I felt the change as soon as it happened and my heart leapt for joy inside.  I was only too eager to believe it, yet I was cautious, afraid that it might not be real.  Yet every day the little voice that whispered caution grew quieter and quieter.  Each day as we talked I could feel myself falling more in love with him all over again, until finally it reached a point where I knew that I was in very real danger of falling hopelessly and completely for him.  The last month, and especially the last two weeks, until his homecoming crawled by.  I knew that I was pretty deeply in love with him, yet I couldn't be certain how he felt or how things would be once he actually returned.

It had all come down to this moment.  I stood only ten feet from where the rest of his family stood, waiting to find him, yet we were separated by walls of people between us.  Anxiously I scanned the face of every soldier I saw, trying to find the one that had been ingrained into my memory.  Suddenly he appeared, only a few feet in front of me, and my heart skipped a beat.  For one moment I stood frozen, unable to believe that it was really him, and then our eyes met and I saw the light of recognition in his eyes.  I came unfrozen in an instant and threw my arms around him.  I could have stayed in his embrace forever, it felt so unbelievably good to have his arms wrapped solidly around me.

The rest of the day passed in a dream.  At times it seemed surreal, to have him actually there and to be walking and talking with him.  But at once it was also the most natural and comfortable thing in the world to be together with him, laughing and teasing.  Every time we touched, however briefly, my heart raced inside me. 

I know it's only the first day that he's been back, and so this might seem premature of me to say.  But I can't help myself - this has been a long time coming.  I love him, plainly and truly.  Being together with him feels undeniably right.  It has been an incredibly long and at times painful journey, but we have now reached the end of this path and the beginning of a brand new and exciting one.  I can't wait for what the future holds.  But for now, I'm content just knowing that tomorrow I'll get to see him again.

Cross that one off my bucket list . . .

There's an awesome underwater cave up in Logan, Utah called Ricks Spring.

That dark blue patch in the spring above is the entrance to the underwater cave, which has been explored up to 2200 feet down and contains incredible stalagmites and even an underground waterfall. 

Since I first learned of the cave's existence a few years ago, it has been on my bucket list to explore that cave.  And I can now say that I am crossing that one off my bucket list.

Not because I actually explored it though.  Nope - rather, it's because I found this video a couple of divers made as they were exploring it.  I got about five minutes into it when I became aware of a strange thing happening - I suddenly and inexplicably felt sick to my stomach and very claustrophobic.  It took me a minute to realize it because the sensations were not ones that I am very familiar with, but then it hit me that the physical queasiness and shakiness I was feeling were a direct result of one emotion:  fear.   

I know that I seem utterly fearless and adventurous most of the time.  I certainly have never been afraid of caves before.  But apparently underwater caves scare me to death - who knew?  Guess I'll be crossing that one off the bucket list for good . . . 

But for any of you that are braver than I am, here's the video that had such a dramatic impact on me.

http://www.wendellnope.com/ricks20091010small.wmv

Is it just me?  Did anyone else get all nervous watching this?

Happy Birthday!!

To my dear little sister

I love being your sister.  

I love all the adventures we've shared over the years . . . 

And we've had quite a few

I loved growing up with you.  

You were the best and cutest little sister.

I loved the hours I spent playing with my best friend every day.  

But even more I love being grown up with you.  

You have become a beautiful, smart, fun, and extremely talented woman.

I'm excited for you and the fun age at you're at, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for you.

I love you and wish you all the very best on your birthday!

YES!!

Or, in other words, the short and illustrated story of how Marc and I took a giant leap toward the land of marriagedom.

On Saturday, Marc and I decided to take a hike up to Grandeur Peak.  We listened to General Conference all the way up and stopped to take pictures and generally had a good time.

We had gone ring shopping several weeks earlier, but had only decided on a ring on Wednesday, and I thought it would take a while to actually get the ring.  Plus, Marc had told me that he was going to fake me out at every possible opportunity before he actually proposed.  So in sum:  I truly did not think he was going to propose that day - in fact, I bullied him about it several times on the way up.

We finally reached the top of the snow-covered peak, and I teased, "Aw, too bad there's another guy coming up the trail behind us - guess you can't propose today after all."

"Yep, guess I can't propose today.  Hey, want to take a picture of us at the top?"  And Marc set up his little tripod and we posed for the picture.

Or so I thought . . .



My very romantic reaction as he took out the ring and was preparing to get down on one knee in the snow was, "Are you punking me?"  I truly thought that he was teasing me, and that he'd even gone to all the effort of getting a ring box.  It was not until he opened it that I knew he was serious.

I said yes.

"True love isn't easy, but it must be fought for.  Because once you find it, it can never be replaced."

Marriage Blues

Disclaimer:  I didn't actually write the following thoughts - I found them online and they described how I've been feeling so perfectly that I just tweaked it a bit and changed the names and here you have it:  an insider's look into exactly how I'm feeling at the moment.

She is my favorite person on earth, and the one who I feel is most deserving of all of the happiness that life has to offer. I couldn't wish for anything better for her.  So why now, as the big day creeps closer do I feel so strange about it?

There’s a voice in my head that I just can’t shake: this is it. This is the end of something. What you have with Marg won’t ever be the same again.

This is not about jealousy or disappointment with my own life. I’m happy, no question about it. What it is, I think, is a dread that my beautiful, brilliant friend – and our beautiful, brilliant friendship – will change when Marg becomes somebody’s wife.

It happens. Just about every friend I’ve ever had who gets married has said as much.

“Oh, I really didn’t expect it to, but it does feel so ... different.”

“Better” is what they mean. Better than before, when you were all they had. And the real knife-in-the-back implication: better than what you’re left with, you poor, unmarried creature.

So it’s not really about that. I don’t mind that Mark takes my place in the car and at get-togethers (well, I do, but a manageable amount). What stings is that he’s taken my place at the comfort table as well. When Marg has a miserable day at work, it’s Mark who hears about it.

And well he should be; he’s going to be her husband, for goodness sake. But while that makes me genuinely happy for her, it has also disturbed the careful balance of our friendship. The thing is, I used to be that person for Marg. If Mark takes over that role (and, let’s face it, it is inevitable that he will), where does that leave me?

If she doesn’t come to me with her stuff, how am I supposed to go to her with mine? She won’t need me anymore, but I’ll still need her. And that’s where the problem comes in.

So, am I losing her? Why does it feel like I am?

Like most women in possession of half a dozen brain cells, I understand that I’m not really losing my best friend to marriage. I know that the blush of being a newlywed will wear off and that she’ll soon start coming to me again. Maybe not for everything that she used to, but probably for a few new things, too.

I know that our relationship will change and make room for Mark and their eventual offspring, and all of this will be OK.

I get all of this. But I still feel weird about it. It’s like she’s moving on to some new stage in life and I’m lacking the pass to cross with her. She’ll be a wife. And with that title will come all sorts of respect and responsibility. And if she’s all that, then what am I? What if all the stuff that has bonded us until now can no longer sustain us? What if it gets swallowed up by wifedom?

Go ahead and tell me it sounds ridiculous. I know it does. But for the past 10 years, Marg and I have been the primary witnesses to each other’s lives. We’ve had other friends and our families, of course – it’s not like we’re maladjusted – but we were each other’s rocks. Now she’s got a new rock, and I’m in a hard place.

In some weird way, all of the romantic, everlasting love that Mark gives Marg trivialises what we feel for each other. Friendship is the only sort of love that has no standing in society. It doesn’t grant you access to a hospital room.  It doesn’t make missing persons appeals on TV. It’s not an emergency contact number. As far as onlookers are concerned, as “just” a friend you’re on the sidelines. And that’s just not fair. I was there first. What about us? Is “us” now less important than “them”?

And then it dawns on me: not less important, but different.

So here’s the conclusion I’ve reached: friendship, just like the rest of life, is a constantly changing thing. Although the essence of what connects you may remain the same, the relationship will continue to reinvent and remould itself.

And you can’t freeze it in time at a supposed heyday, clinging to the shards like an old woman mourning the lost beauty of her youth. You can only embrace it, love it and move with it, celebrating each metaphorical laughter line along the way.

That’s the way not to be left behind as your friend moves on. Besides, it’s not just you who’s scared.

“When I get married, will you assume I’m always busy with Mark and stop inviting me to places?”

I told her of course not, but the fact is, I don’t know. It could happen. In fact, it probably should happen.

I can only promise Marg what I’ve always promised her – that I’ll always be there for her if she needs me, that while our friendship will change as a result of external forces in our lives, it will never disappear because of them.

She may have become someone’s wife, but she’s still my best friend – and even if she and I are the only two who understand how fundamental that is...well, that’s enough.

This time I've been pondering the mysteries of the universe

Last night I had an amazing spiritual experience.

Background:  Last Saturday I went through the temple for the first time to receive my endowment.  The temple is an amazing place and the experience I had there was definitely a positive one.  However, as I've been pondering over everything the last few days since then I kept feeling a sense of . . . well, disappointment, because I'd been hoping to gain more insights and personal revelation in the temple, yet I found that I had even more questions than answers after going through the first time.

However, last night I had an incredible dream, or rather, series of dreams.  I went to bed around midnight and I had a dream about the temple.  In the dream my eyes were opened and I received answers to many of my questions.  I woke up at the end of the dream and my mind was extremely clear and sharp.  I remember just pondering, taking it all in for several minutes, feeling overwhelmingly excited and joyful.  I fell back asleep and again, I dreamed of the temple and this time my eyes were opened further and I received more light and understanding.  Again I awoke at the end of the dream and simply pondered everything for several minutes, taking it all in and reveling in the knowledge.  Several more times I fell back asleep and received greater understanding and woke up and processed it before falling back asleep again.  The last time I woke up (early this morning)  my mind was completely and utterly at peace (something that maybe has never happened before in my life since I am ALWAYS pondering something) - all the mysteries of the universe had been revealed to me and I understood everything perfectly.  I was filled with utter joy and wonder and excitement over all my knowledge.  I fell easily back to sleep one last time, utterly content and filled with peace.

I don't remember what I dreamed about that last time, or if I even dreamed.  When my alarm went off and I awoke this morning I could no longer remember any of the details of any of the dreams.  However, I remember very distinctly waking up each time and the feelings that I had as I pondered the mysteries that were revealed - and that is enough for me.  I don't think I was meant to remember any of the details or mysteries of the universe . . . yet.  But I am content, simply knowing that they do exist, that they are at once complex and simple and logical and beautiful, and that one day I will once again know them.

A little bit more polished . . .

I was reflecting today on some experiences that I've had the last few years and I have decided to share some of those thoughts that I've had with you.  What I'm about to share is intensely personal and it's not something that anyone outside of a few extremely close friends and family members know, but I feel like the time is right to share this experience with you.

A few years ago I had an interesting experience which shook my testimony to the very core.  I had thought that my testimony was unshakeable, yet the ramifications of this experience struck at the very foundation of my testimony and brought it to its knees.  Within the span of about one week I underwent a total transformation from being completely solid in the gospel to being essentially an atheist.  I was legitimately about 97% sure that the church was not true and about 85% sure that the existence of a God was nothing more than wishful thinking on man's part.

This was easily the most devastating experience that I have ever had.  It is difficult to describe what it was like because unless you have experienced it yourself in such great contrast then you truly can't even begin to imagine it.  It wasn't just my belief system and way of life that was demolished, but my entire personal identity that was dissolved.  It is truly amazing how much of the person that you are, even down to the most miniscule belief, was formed by the principles that you have been taught your entire life.  If you take away those, what do you really have left?  In the weeks to come I found myself completely at a loss, unable to determine who I really was once everything else had been stripped away.  For example, was I really a compassionate person, or had I only been driven to serve others because of a selfish desire to achieve some greater reward someday?  If the moral guidelines that had been my foundation my entire life were based on false principles, then what was the premise for societal morals, and what moral structure was I bound to?  And what obligations did I have to myself and to my fellow man, if this life was nothing more than a passing chance in the universe, with nothing to follow?

These were only a few of the many questions that I wrestled with in the weeks, and eventually months, that followed.  Rebuilding my testimony was not easy, because I was extremely mistrusting and wary of being tricked.  Ultimately, I was praying so hard for an answer, yet I was unable to receive it because I was unwilling to open myself up and let the spirit back into my life to give me that answer.  One of the most surprising things to me is that the utter destruction of my rock solid testimony took less than one week, yet it took me the next year and a half to clear away the rubble, lay a fresh new foundation, and begin to build again.  Given the chance, though, would I go back and change that experience, painful and nearly devastating as it was, so that it never happened?  Would I trade my pristine old testimony for the new one that I have carefully rebuilt, brick by brick?  Not on your life.  I have learned more about myself, the nature of each member of the Godhead, the atonement of my Savior, and the meaning and purpose of this life than I ever could have discovered in a lifetime of never having doubts.  My faith is more real, my trust in my Savior more true, and my relationship with my Heavenly Father more deep than it ever could have been before.  My patience has increased, my empathy and understanding for others has magnified, and, having been knocked down to my knees, I'm a little bit more humbled than I was before.

The adversities, trials, and errors we make along the way are what shape us into the person that God intends for us to become.  We never know what we are really made of or what inner strength we possess until we are given a mountain to climb that pushes us to our limits.  And it is only through the tumult of the currents and being ground against other rocks that a rock ultimately becomes perfectly smooth and polished.

Hello Pinterest!

I am proud to announce that I have at last joined the Pinterest world.  I have always said that I would get a Pinterest account as soon as I got married and had a reason to make all the cutesy decorations and delicious recipes on there, but I recently discovered that Pinterest encompasses so much more than that - so why wait? 

I've only just gotten started with Pinterest, but I would highly recommend it to anyone.  You should at least check it out.  Below is a link to one of the board I created, which at times made me laugh so hard I nearly cried.  Feel free to check it out if you need a pick me up.

Pinterest Board: Laughing Out Loud

Patience, patience, patience

First off, I woke up this morning with this song in my head and I really like it.  Please enjoy while you read the rest of the post . . .



Okay, now down to business.  With the beginning of a new year I decided to start a new scripture study plan, where I focus on a different study material each day of the week (for example, Tues = Preach My Gospel, Wed = D&C, Thurs = Conference Talks, etc).  Friday is the day that I choose a specific topic and study it in depth.  I've decided that each week I'll select a different topic and create a "Mindmap" for that topic as I study it, so that theoretically by the end of the year I'll have a guide for a total of 52 different topics. Think of all the talk potential!  (Not that I'm wanting to give a talk, especially not 52 times ha ha).

I only just came up with the idea of creating a "Mindmap" each week so tonight I did my very first one, and it was so fun to make and much more enlightening than traditional scripture study that I thought I'd share the idea here in case anyone else was looking for a way to spice up their scripture study too.  Below is the one I created tonight - basically you just start with the main topic/idea and then as you study everything you can about it you create a free-flow "spiderweb" linking all the different ideas that you find together.  Pretty awesome, right? 

 

Marg and Rob: Mythbusters

The following is a real event which took place in Margaret's bedroom, sometime last summer.  We had just gotten back from doing something epic (naturally) outside and were happily sipping away on slurpees inside to cool off.  

Marg:  Did you know that it's impossible to swallow something while you're upside down?

Rob:  No way, I don't believe that.  You could totally swallow like a grape or something while hanging upside down.  The human body is stronger than gravity. 

Marg:  No, it's true!

Rob:  False!  I'll prove it right now!

[Takes a giant mouthful of slurpee and jumps up on Marg's bed and dangles backward off of it.  Swallows.  Slurpee goes up nose.  Jerks upright, coughs and chokes, spews slurpee gloriously all over Margaret's bed.]


Myth:  It is impossible to swallow something while upside down.  PROVED!

Chunky Monkey

This year for Christmas I went through and scanned every single family photo from our childhood and gave each of my family members a digital copy of their own.  It took a lot of work (we literally had thousands of photos), but it is pretty neat to have (I think).  And I found some pretty classy family photos . . .

Unfortunately, I can't post any of them on here because I don't have their permission.  Instead, you'll just have to be satisfied with an illustrated guide to my early childhood. 

This was me on the day of my baby blessing.  I worked hard at an early age to develop a healthy set of lungs . . .

Believe it or not, I was a chubby little kid . . .

I think it's because I had a very healthy appetite . . .

I remained fairly chunky through my first year . . .

 . . . and my second . . .

 

 

. . . . and my third . . . 

And then suddenly one fine day the baby fat vanished, never to be seen or heard from again!