Sing With Me Now: Happy Birthday tooooooooooooo Yoooooooooou!

Using my public forum to wish a happy, happy, happy birthday to Charles!!!

I'm so blessed to be married to my best friend, who just so happens to be the best husband and father I can imagine.

I'm looking forward to everything the next year holds: a new baby boy, a move to Wichita (who'd have dreamed that a year ago?), love, family, surprises, adventure.

Happy Birthday! I love you!

P.S. Rock Chalk?! Go Shockers?! All I know is that Charles matched in Wichita. Midwest, here we come (come June)!

Love Story, Part II

Part I is here:

When last we left, Charles and I had failed to meet for nearly a decade of our lives . . .

Just before Easter 2008, I agreed to be the RCIA sponsor for my best friend/RCIA sponsor's younger sister, who had been baptized Catholic, but never received the sacraments of First Eucharist or Confirmation. Unlike lots of places, the Newman Center at that time (since I don't know how they do things these days!) ran RCIA more-or-less year 'round. As a result, she and I started attending RCIA sessions on Sunday evenings a week or two after Easter.

I (obviously) didn't know it at the time, but Easter was on Charles' (March) birthday that year, so we must have finally met at the beginning of April. I remember the day. A good friend of mine from when I studied abroad was in town visiting family, and we met for lunch that Sunday afternoon. It was a warm, sunny April day in Phoenix, perfect for eating outside, which we did. I was in a happy, tired, sun-drenched mood when I got to RCIA.

We always sat in a circle for RCIA, and when we got there, I was surprised to notice a cute, blonde guy across the circle. Which proves that I have never, ever thought of Charles as a redhead, even though everyone else does. Colorblind, thy name is Ashley. Anyway, I decided he must be too young for me, and I kinda put it out of my head. Or at least tried to.

Catch that? I finally met the guy!!

Then, one week, maybe the next week, he sat by me during the RCIA session, and we shared some laughs. I decided he was definitely cute. And nice. And clearly a good Catholic boy. About this time, I friended him on Facebook and learned 1) that we had several mutual friends and 2) that he wasn't actually really young. In fact, he was my age, minus six cougar-ific months. By then, I convinced myself that he was, indeed, cute, but that he had the potential to be a really good friend. I didn't want to blow that with some stupid romantic entanglement that would, inevitably, end badly. No, I've never overthought anything. Ever ever never.

Also about that time, I remember talking to an RCIA team member who I knew from my own jaunt through RCIA (a post or 10 for another time), who was going on and on about all the great people who were RCIA sponsors that year, including Charles, and my heart did that stupid beat skipping thing. By now, I was working really hard at not liking him and doing a fair-to-middling job of it.

Meanwhile, according to Charles, he thought I was cute, but didn't think it was even possible.

So, Mother's Day rolls around. Meaning it has only been like a month, but girls, you know how it is when you're developing a crush on someone; things go in slow motion and fast forward all at the same time. My sister and I had gone to Prescott to spend some time with each other and with our dad. We talked about boys the whole way up, but I was so convinced that nothing was going to happen with Charles that I never even mentioned him to her.

We made it back to Phoenix in time for me to fulfill my obligation to serve the 7pm Mass. There was no RCIA because of Mother's Day, but I did get a little wave before Mass. I decided, for sure for sure for sure that nothing was going to happen. All I got was a wave! Not even a "Hi"!! Clearly.Not.Happening. After that, I joined the young adult group for a drink and fellowship at a local brewery. I was sitting there chatting with some friends when Charles walked in. He said, "Hi," to one of the people I was talking to, and I smiled and said, "Hi," to him. I got a "Hi" back, but things moved on. It was a big group.

Somehow, we ended up standing close enough to converse. He asked me a question about RCIA. Except that he says I said something to him. Regardless, we started talking and continued talking (with a couple of friends--one of whom had to later confirm for him that I was interested) for a couple of hours, until I couldn't put off getting home and going to bed any longer, since I had to get up early the next morning. Before I hit the pillow, however, I posted on his Facebook wall, because I'm that cool late at night. It was something like, "I had fun talking to you tonight. I hope we can do it again sometime." Subtle, too. The wall message turned into a couple of private messages turned into a phone number exchange turned into plans for Monday night.

That was that. We went to the movies on Monday. We hung out on Tuesday. I don't remember why, but we didn't hang out Wednesday or Thursday, but we talked. I'm pretty sure that every day that we've been able to talk to each other or see each other since then, we have. We got engaged just over two years later, got married 51 weeks later, and had a baby 52 weeks (and a day) after that.

I didn't ruin that awesome friendship with romantic entanglement. I got so very much more.

My dad calls us two peas in a pod, and I think that works rather nicely. We may not be grand gestures people, but we certainly are happy together, raising our family, and doing it side-by-side.

All we had to do was meet.

La Familia

 

7 Quick Takes, Vol. 29

Linking up with Jen and the Conversion Diary Crew for 7 Quick Takes.

1. Having been a desert-dweller pretty much my whole life, has caused me to be freakishly enchanted by rain. Being in a place where it rains more frequently than a) a handful of late summer afternoons in July and August, or b) January, is like being in a magical fairyland. Only this land is populated by rabbits and squirrels instead of nymphs and dwarfs. Or maybe it is a Disney fairyland.

Via

2. It has been a week of celebrations 'round here. Our anniversary was low-key, buuuuut, I did manage to pull some Mexican food together. We had Mexican at our wedding, and Mexican last year, so I've decided it should be a tradition. Fiesta!

3. We also had a 2nd mini-celebration for Clare. (I still need to get a birthday party post up.) Mostly she got to destroy another cupcake after a very 21st Century rendition of "Happy Birthday" that included both sets of grandparents on FaceTime.

What? You gave it to me.

4. Charles, being way too sweet for his own good, likes to bring flowers home for his girls on special occasions. We have double bouquets. *swoon*

Anniversary flowers on the left; birthday flowers on the right

5. Clare is pretty much obsessed with playing peek-a-boo with her blankets. She does the peek-a-boo-ing, and laughs and laughs and laughs every.single.time. Adorable.

6. Sunday or Monday, Clare discovered that there is a deep range of her voice. It is hilarious to hear a baby with a voice that sounds like she has a 20 year pack-a-day habit practicing her vocabulary. Gruff "Baby." Gruff "Puppy." Gruffy "Happy." Then she, for example, throws her cup and wants us to get it, so she starts with the high-pitched scream. No extremes. Not around here.

7. I found this picture from our trip to Prescott last month on my phone the other day. I had totally forgotten about it, but it just makes me smile.

Just call me Diva and let me eat my fingers.

Happy Friday! Be sure to visit Jen's for more.

Love Story

In honor of our second anniversary, which is today, I thought I would do the requisite and type up Charles' and my love story. Except that the story isn't really that great. C'est la vie. I'm typing it anyway.

You know the scene from You've Got Mail where it shows Tom Hank's character and Meg Ryan's character occupying the same sliver of New York City, crossing paths over and over but never meeting? If you don't, I apologize, I couldn't find a clip on YouTube. Anyway, that was us. But without NYC.

We both graduated from high school in 2000 (old, indeed), and trotted off to the same university. Not too surprisingly, we didn't immediately run into one another among the 45 million or thousand or whatever other students. He didn't get his college career off to an auspicious start, and deciding that Tucson wasn't the right place for him, moved back to Phoenix at the end of the year. I made some friends, studied abroad, finished in four. You know, we lived our lives.

We walked along life, blissfully ignorant of one another's existence.

Fast forward to about 2007. Ifinishedcollegeandwenttolawschoolanddecidednottobealawyer. Heworkedandgothisassociate'sdegreeanddecidedtogetseriousaboutschoolandgointothemedicalfield.

At that point, I was living in an apartment in a large-ish complex a couple of miles from ASU while I was a 3L (3rd year law student). He was living in the same apartment complex in his second year at ASU pursuing a biology degree, working in a neuroscience lab. We both attended the Newman Center on campus. He remembers following a car from the apartments to the Newman Center and mentally noting that someone else in the complex went to Newman. He's convinced it was me, but admits that he isn't really sure that it's not an invented memory, inserting my car into the scene. I'm pretty sure I remember seeing his truck in the parking lot, but I also don't know how real it is. Regardless, the car's owners remained unknown to one another.

The next year, still at the Newman Center, we were both regular attendees of the 7pm Mass. I started serving as an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion. I had been participating with the Young Adult group for years. He began volunteering and doing other service work with the Young Adult Group. Result: mutual friends. We both attended a series of catechesis lectures from the associate director of the parish. Late in the year, I started serving a different Mass. The team of servers for that Mass was frequently led by Charles' then-roommate.

We never met.

One particularly memorable non-meeting was at a party we both attended. Both of us were driving (read: sober), but an attendee who was not had too much to drink. The results were particularly memorable. Since everything ended okay, and since I don't even know this individual, I'll spare the details. The important (to this story) thing is that later, that event came up in conversation. He started telling me about it, and I gasped that I was there, too! After a little recounting, we realized that we must have been mere feet from one another that evening.

We still never met. As far as I can recall, we never even saw each other.

I've spent a lot of time pondering our not meeting. For a time, I wondered why we never met, in spite of ourselves, especially those last couple of years. Were we thwarting some bigger plan by not meeting? Or thwarting it by coming perilously close to meeting? Now though, I am increasingly convinced that God blinded us to one another until the time was right for us to meet. I understand free will enough to know that there isn't a "plan" in the sense of the future being spelled out for us, but I do know that God has goals for us (Heaven) and wants us to have the best chance possible to attain them (vocations). He's looking to help us, if only we'll listen.

During that time, I was feeling particularly antsy about being single. One particular time during prayer before Mass, I got the distinct message from God to be patient. I misinterpreted it at the time, but looking back, the answer is obvious.

*****

I didn't plan to do this in two parts, but I think I'll leave it there for now. I probably won't get around to posting the second part until next week. We might be two married years old today, but someone will be one tomorrow.

I'd call it a cliffhanger, but . . .

(Link to Part II)

Spoiler

{Andplusalso, because great minds think alike and all of that, no sooner had I hit 'publish' on Monday than Grace did the same thing. And turned it into a link-up . . . so, more better love stories there. Part II is set to run on Monday, for the two non-related people who might care.}

7 Quick Takes, Vol. 22

I'm seriously running out of ways to say that I'm linking with Jen. There I did it!

1. Charles' aunt gave us an amaryllis bulb during 2011 holiday season. His green thumb and my knowledge of the ones my dad give my Nanny every Christmas nurtured that thing and nurtured that thing. It grew three big, long leaves. One leaf died, but the other two have lived on, strong and happy and healthy. The thing never bloomed though. Imagine our surprise early in the week to notice a blossom sprouting (and seemingly growing right before our eyes!). We're going to have a bloom! Finally! Yay!

The bud stalk is in the middle.

2. I mentioned in my 5 Faves post that I love plastic tumblers with straws. Well, as a side note, Clare is always trying to steal mine. Yesterday, I gave her her own straw sippy (actual sippy cup) to 1) work on her straw drinking skills and 2) Leave mine al-one already! Imagine my surprise when #1 happened way too fast and she downed a cup and a half of water over the course of the day. It was a total bittersweet baby girl is getting too big moment.

3. A just plain sweet baby girl moment has been developing. Every morning when I get her up, I point her to the Crucifix in her room and tell her, "Say, 'Good-morning Jesus! Thank you for another beautiful day Jesus!'" I would love to instill a habit in my kids of starting the day with a prayer, even if it's just a brief, kid-friendly one. Heck, I would love to instill that habit in myself! Anyway, the last few days, she's been turning herself to the Crucifix, waving and saying "gee ga do oooh beh doo!" It is undeniably adorable.

4. She's also obsessed with the Holy Water font by our front door. We instruct her in proper use, but she's ready to dump the stuff like an over-excited priest during a Sprinkling Rite. (I've up, never gotten a direct hit or anything). Pretty sure we have some sort of religious prodigy on our hands.

Oh, how I long for that water.

5. Somehow, Charles managed to receive the Sacraments of Baptism, First Holy Communion, and Confirmation on May 5 of three different years. I mean, plenty of converts receive all three on one day, but it's pretty impressive to receive them all on the same day of different years during the normal course of things. He used to half-joke about receiving the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony that day, but it wasn't meant to be. Regardless, we'll be doing some celebrating this weekend.

6. Of course, May 5 is also Cinco de Mayo. Don't get me started on Cinco de Mayo. I can barely tolerate St. Patrick's Day and its everyone's-Irish-so-let's-drink thing, and it's a legitimate Catholic-y holiday. Cinco de Mayo is nothing. A commemoration of a battle. I just hate fake drinking holidays. I do love Mexican food, though, so there's that.

7. I can still want tacos, though, right?!? I mean, every day could be Taco Tuesday in my world. Mmm...tacos...and chips and salsa and....

Happy Birthday!

Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday to the best husband

and father

a couple of girls could ask for!

We love you!!

Love,
Ash and Clare

P.S. Since we're celebrating with a trip to the ballpark this afternoon! Go D'Backs!
 

5 Things

Random collage of pictures from our minimoon in/around Santa Barbara? Why not.

 So, the cool kids have been passing around this 5 Things bit, where the poster types 5 random get to know you type items and then tags a few people to do the same and so on and so forth.

Imagine my surprise last week when MamaH (aka Heather) tagged me. Seriously. It felt like being asked to sit with the popular girls at lunch. 

1. I’m one of those crazy introvert people who doesn’t fit into society’s mold because I’m quiet and have a hard time putting myself out there. I like to read and can be a homebody. The thought of having a million real-life friends kinda freaks me out, because I don’t have actual time or emotional space for them. The thing, though, is that I’m not against those things. They're just not me. As my nearest and dearest can attest, when you get in, look out. I am a total chatterbox, I open myself up to you, and I have, like, a personality and opinions and can be goofy and stuff. My husband actually doesn’t believe this about me, because we clicked right away, so he only ever saw the real (talkative) me. 

2. I was not an English major. I was the English major’s nerdy cousin: the history major. I also double-minored in French and Spanish. I would be remiss if I failed to mention that along the way, I took classes in Portuguese, Italian and Russian. Yep. History geek. Language geek. I wish I had had a chance to do Latin, but it never worked out. That is still a goal. With my (not) super-useful history degree in hand, I trotted off to law school. I got my JD, but along the way realized that I was not meant to be a lawyer. From there, as luck would have it, I ended up teaching 7-9^th grade . . . English at three different schools. I loved the kids, hated all of the crap (meetings and paperwork and having so much stuff to grade that you can’t do a good job and being annoyed that kids can’t capitalize correctly no matter how many times I try to teach them -- stupid internet). Also, I’m more of a writing person than a lit person, even though I love to read, so I never really fit in with the English teachers, but got along great with the social studies teachers. Go figure. Ahem, I have lots of opinions on education, so I get really impassioned about it. I know a lot about the legal system, so it makes me stay more level-headed about it. Never not contradictory here.

3. I love to write, but always having a hard time wrapping things up. I liked news writing in high school, because, in theory, there is no end. In perfect journalism land, each paragraph is of decreasing importance, so it can get cut off anywhere appropriate to make adequate space. That was good. Fiction is bad. Besides not being a fiction writer, because conflicts do not pop into my head (ever), I have a hard time wrapping things up. I can handle research, because there is a definitive need for a particular kind of conclusion that is, let’s be honest, repetitive.  I feel my inability to close is particularly evident on my blog. How do you conclude randomness? I’m not fond of ending things with questions. I often end up employing sentimentality, but I find it grating, especially when I look back on posts. I don’t like trite. I dunno, I am working on it. I do love being free to write with full expression and purposeful ignoring of grammar, like starting sentences with conjunctions. Using fragments (see that?). And using colloquial language (and again!). I could never get through to too many kids why you can write like this on a blog or Facebook post, but not in an essay or business letter.

4. A particularly weird quirk of mine is that I love making citations/footnotes/references perfect. Give me a style book and a document and a red pen and I’ll go to town, happy as a clam. I learned this when I was on the law journal. Journal was, for me, the best thing about law school. Most people consider this a terrible “honor” that is mostly a resume item and something akin to slave labor. Law journal kids have been known to work lots of hours a week for 1 credit (and that resume line). I thrived, because I was really good at it and happy to do it. I spent loooooots of hours making those darn citations really perfect. I can actually see if a period it italicized in Times New Roman without checking digitally. I was a rockstar, and so my 3^rd year when I was an editor in charge of Bluebooking stuff, I got all the really ugly, hard, messed up stuff, because my higher-up editor knew that I would do a great job. And I did. Truly. I'm pretty sure that paragraph is walking that fine line between not having false humility and pride.

5. I am very, very, very opinionated. As a result, when watching TV/movies, I have something to say about everything. Charles' and my first date was to a movie. The theater was pretty much empty and I talked my way through the whole thing. I told a friend a day or two later that one thing I really liked about this guy was that he didn't mind it. Fast forward . . . turns out he can't stand the fact that I talk through everything, and if it weren't for the pause button, well, I don't think "domestic bliss" would describe our lives.

Random enough? I'd love to see Jamie, Lauren, and Andi (even with your not-lame not totally personal blog).

5 Favorites, Vol. 3

You've never had a long week, right? Well, assuming you ever do, if you're a glass-half-full kid like me (no, really, I am), you find little things that get you through. These are the things that have gotten me through my week. (Seriously, I thought yesterday must be Friday.)

1. Snapeas. Seriously. I love these things. Too much. They are one of those addictive can't-eat-just-one snacks. Yum!

Via

2. Raisins. Yes, lame snack of your youth raisins. I looooove them. I mean I love them chocolate covered and in cookies and stuff too, but I also think they make a great afternoon snack. As an added bonus, Clare thinks raisin boxes makes a great toy. As a result, our afternoon ritual has been me eating the raisins, and her eating the box. (Until she starts actually eating it. Then I take it away and she cries in protest for 30 seconds.)

3. My coffee mug. I have a million, even after cleaning out my cabinets, but this one was a Christmas present from Charles. It is the perfect size for my hand and for a not-cold morning mug. Plus, it makes me think of him. Awwwww.

He knows too well my Olympics addiction.

4. Squeezy food. Most of Clare's baby food is homemade, but these have been a lifesaver (no hassle, easy peasy) on days we've been out of the house for most of the day.

Via

5. This face. I know it's cheezy, but her smile brightens my day every.single.time. And when she smiles and sticks out her tongue . . . no one is immune!

Blurry, but...

Have a great week, and thanks again to Hallie for hosting us!

Bubbles and Suds

I don't think it's a stretch to say that bathtime is a favorite for both Clare and her Daddy. Once we got our new parents of a new baby selves together and got a bedtime routine going, bathtime became an integral part of it. Now that Clare is sitting up and playing...it's game on.

Charles loves suds.

Clare loves splashing.

I wipe down the kitchen in the end.

What does soap taste like?

Splish to the Splash.

Beisbol

So many attractive, cheezy and cliche titles for my post about Clare's first baseball game . . . so I ditched them all and went with el espanol.

n-e-way . . .

Saturday, we took advantage of the superbly perfect weather and met some friends for some Spring Training action. Just one of the perks of living in the ol' AZ (or Florida, I guess).

Our diva

It was Clare's first game, and, as far as parents instilling values in our children is concerned, love of baseball (preferably the National League and especially preferably the D'backs) is right up there behind love of God and country. Muy importante.

We were totally "those parents" with our sun-protection obsession.

Basking in the sun

Chillin' like villains

My new Target-knock-off-no-shoes-for-Africa shoes

It was a fantastic day . . . good great perfect weather, good friends, junk food, a game we kinda watched. Clare had a blast playing on the grass (for spectators, not players!), catching a nap on Daddy, trying to get into the soda.

A bottle of soda is the same as a bottle of milk, right?

Nap time

Oh yeah, there was a game.

After the game, we all had dinner at a nearby restaurant, which is all touristy/cowboy/"authentic," so of course was yummy and tons of fun (with a great view that was not captured digitally). We did see a bull and put her in the children's menu hat/headband for long enough to snap a picture.

Not impressed by the bull

Or by her headgear

 The day maybe ended with accidental egg-eating and the fun that follows and red Gatorade and Benadryl and general misery for the ol' Mama, but it was a win for the home team overall. Sorry...couldn't resist the bad baseball cliches for toooooo long.

Baseball's newest fan

7 Quick Takes, Vol. 13

Volume 13, eh?!? I've never been particularly superstitious, but I know a lot of people are really antsy about the ol' 13. Anyway, linking up with Jen, 'cause it's Friday, yo. Yep. I'm bad, and I know it.

1. If you know anyone from Arizona, I’m sure your FB let you know that we got a freak winter storm here on Wednesday. If you’re from Arizona, your FB feed was nothing but comments about said winter storm. I also saw it on Sports Center thanks to a golf tourney, in case your tastes are more “basketball scores” than “baby pictures.” Our place is too “urban heat island” to have seen any of the white stuff, but I love when we get snow in the desert, in part because it is such.a.big.deal. and, in part, because it looks really pretty.

Shamelessly stolen from the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum FB page.

2. All of this reminds me of when I arrived in France for my study abroad program, (Gulp. How was that 10 years ago? I’m old.) and woke up to about ½ inch of snow in Marseille. This is beyond unheard of, and this city was pretty much shut down and freaking out. Even though I was well on my way to becoming a desert rat at that time, growing up in the mountains of northern Arizona taught me enough about snow to know that there really wasn’t much anything to fret about.

3. Which, in turn, reminds me that I want to do a looking back post or 10 about my study abroad adventures. I need to get scanning, since all of my adventures were captured with film. Remember that stuff?

Euro Ash with Florian, the (happily married) French teacher who half the girls (not including me) were in love with.

4. I’m being all stream-of-thought-y with my Takes today. I spent lots of hours putting together a killer Study Abroad scrapbook. I’d like to say that I’m going to scrapbook Clare’s life, but I assure you that it is never going to happen. Instead, I am going to start working on a 1^st year photo book, so I have some tangible proof that I have taken the 10 thousand million pictures I have, in fact, taken. I’ve gotten all paranoid in the last week or so that our photo storing technology is going to stop working/become increasingly obsolete/cataclysmic event/something, so this tangible picture holding/seeing thing is sounding good.

2 page spread!

5. Which means I also need to do something about my wedding pictures.

'Cause I like it.

 6. Crawling? I think we’re going to have a victory post very pretty somewhat soon. Teething? Hah.

Me? Crawl? I'm too busy picking up this microscopic piece of dirt.

7. This week, I’m increasingly seeing that Clare is becoming a total Daddy’s girl. It’s pretty darn adorable. When we found out we were having a girl, Charles was nervous about it, and now she’s wrapped around his little finger. 

Randomly falling asleep in his arms. I'm not going to say I wasn't totally jealous. I was.