Being Able to Throw Your Voice Can Get Your Unskilled Assistants Out of Tight Jams

I turned 30 this weekend ... on Saturday, to be precise.  I wondered if I would feel different, no longer being a twenty-something.  The verdict:  yeah, I actually do feel a little different.  But that may be more because of becoming a parent this year than turning 30.  It's hard not to feel a lot more grown-up and, well, older, when you are responsible for a tiny, helpless little being.  Speaking of the tiny, helpless little being at our house, new pics for your enjoyment:

How can you not feel 30 when looking into that face?  Ha!  No, it's fine ... he was actually just mad because he was hungry, and I was taking pictures in an attempt to get everything ready for birth announcements ... I told Alan we had to get them out before the child turns one.  This is actually a pretty reasonable goal for us. 

Anyway:  30.  A milestone.  A different box on tax forms.  This is, apparently, when I'm supposed to start thinking about Botox.  I wouldn't do that, by the way.  Not that I have anything at all against plastic surgery.  Quite the contrary.  But I don't think I could willingly deposit botulism in my face ... however, you never know:  never say never.  I don't think I have to worry about that right now, though, and I've got genetics on my side because my mother has wonderful skin (because she takes good care of it and has passed that knowledge along to me).  I got the funniest birthday card from my friend Julie, it says:  Welcome to your thirties!  It's a lot like your twenties, except the hangovers are worse and you start buying sensible shoes."  Ha!  I find both of those statements to be completely accurate.  I wore heels the other day to work and was pretty miserable (although, PSA:  those Dr. Scholl's For Her High Heel inserts really do work - awesome).  Went back to flip flops the next day.  Much better (I mean, they are nice flip flops and, in my defense, I spend a fair amount of time on ladders at the courthouse vault and at our storage building, so heels are not a good idea unless I'm going to court or something).

What did we do for the big three oh?  One of my dear friends got married on Saturday so we went to the wedding and partied.  I told her it was so nice of her to throw me such a lovely birthday party.  We had a good time, got to hang out with our college friends that we don't get to see very often (well, not often enough, in my opinion).  Our friends that we stayed with, the Runnells, have a pool (and an almost-20 month old, Andrew Wesley, who is so cute.  He went around all weekend pointing at Jones and saying, "Baby?!") so some of our friends came over to their house and we all swam and hung out and just generally enjoyed eachother's company.  We're all getting older, getting married, having babies, and that makes it harder to hang out, but also more fun, since we're all pretty much in the same stage of life and can exchange fun stories and laugh about our kids and watch them play together.  They all got me a sweet card and my favorite petit fors from Rick's Bakery (if you're in Fayetteville, go by and get some petit fors, some Snickerdoodle coffee, a sausage roll, and a chocolate-whipped-cream-filled donut ... thank me later, after you're out of your sugar coma).  Aren't they cute?



On Friday, Alan sent me flowers and a cake (which, contrary to the popular belief about only children, I shared with everyone at my office):

I don't know why this is turned sideways, and I can't fix it.  My technological inexperience is well-documented, so just tilt your head and enjoy the pretty flowers in my favorite color:  yellow.

Half-eaten cake:  delicious.  Didn't have my camera with me when we cut into it and chowed down.

It was actually a pretty low-key birthday, and that's fine with me.  I'm trying to talk Alan into going to Jamaica in December to celebrate the birth of Jones, both of us turning thirty (I tried to plan a big surprise party for Alan for his thirtieth birthday in March, but then I got put on full time bed-rest and was actually in the hospital on his birthday, so the big throw-down got cancelled and he also had a low-key celebration), and our 5-year wedding anniversary.  So, if you see Alan around town, tell him he deserves a lovely vacation, mon (which, in all honesty, he does:  he's a good husband and dad and deserves a nice vacation).  See, doesn't this look like a man who needs to be sipping a Red Stripe on the beach?

What else, what else?  Oh, I know:  I dyed my hair (again).  Perhaps you will remember that I dyed it red back in November.  I liked it a lot, but red is a lot of upkeep.  That was in November, and then shortly before six weeks when I would normally go back to the hairdresser was when I first got put into the hospital and then was on part time (half day) bed rest.  So the hair appointment got pushed aside.  Then I went on full-time bed rest, then I was in the hospital, then I had a premature baby, then I was at home on maternity leave, and hair maintenance in general got pushed aside.  My sweet husband, noting that it had been awhile since my hair had been "done", bought me a gift certificate, so I took advantage of it.  Et voila:

It's very dark, no?  Here's the secret:  during all of the time that I was not dying my hair (the first time in many, many years), my hair grew in a lovely (if I do say so myself) shade of dark brown.  So, I just told my hairdresser to match the color to my roots that had grown in after the red (and to cut a few inches off (in layers) ... truth be told I was looking pretty mangy), and this is the resultant color.  I like it.  I like, too, that it promises to be easier to maintain.  But, I mean, you know:  who knew?!  After all of the years and $$$$$ maintaining blonde hair, there was a pretty color underneath just waiting for its time to shine.

I know y'all are dying to know what the boo-boo has been up to, so here's a little taste but I'll do a bigger post later on this week because we're going to the doctor for his four month well-baby check-up and I'll have more information.  One of our new favorite things is the jumperoo:

One of our other new things is rolling over both ways to sleep on our stomach.  Little Bit just rolls every which way - if you put him on the floor on a quilt or his playmat, he's rolling over.  Lay him down at night in his bassinet, he rolls over and sleeps on his side or his stomach.  This, of course, makes me a bit of a nut because of all of the SIDS stuff you read about, but then I read something that says that once they are able to roll over both ways, the SIDS risk is greatly diminished.  And it 's not like I can stop him anyway, nor do I blame him.  I sleep on my stomach and Alan sleeps on his side, so of course he wants to be like Mommy and Daddy.  I mean, look how comfortable he looks:

And, speaking of sleeping, it's that time on Sunday evening when Alan and I go to bed and watch The History Channel and The Discovery Channel and wind down and gear up for the coming week.  So, happy Sunday, folks!