A Whimsical Roald Dahl Baby Shower

This weekend kicked off the first of three baby showers for yours truly. Don't judge! I have family and friends in both northern and southern California, and the majority of Kyle's family are in San Diego. Thus, three.

And boy, oh boy, was it a surreal blast. I can't exactly describe the feeling of opening gifts for your unborn child, but it makes things a tad more real imagining an actual person using them. A person. I'm creating a person. Still coming to grips with that, apparently.

My sister and mom hosted, and from the invites to the decor right down to the attractive servers in matching outfits (hat tip to Ginny on that one), they went above and beyond anything I ever could have imagined.

It was overwhelming to see how many people already love my son and it makes my heart burst. Just a little, anyhow.

If you've ever read any of Roald Dahl's books, you know color is truly the only way to go.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory bags for...

... a Willy Wonka inspired candy bar.

These adorable cups were for the watermelon basil lemonade (made by yours truly).

BBS is definitely loved.

Guests received "Bun in the Oven" candles and Butter of London nail polish in "Yummy Mummy."

Colorful flower arrangements.

The Mimosa Station. Three different juices, three different berries, two different hunks. ;)

At the end of the day, it was a lovely afternoon spent surrounded by women I love and admire.

Does it get any better than that?

27: A Year in Review

Today is my last day of being 27. As of tomorrow, I take on 28 with a bright, welcoming and hesitant hug.

Not to sound like a total cliche, but I feel each age has something you can take away from it. Not every year is going to bring huge life changing moments or eclipses of insight;  some are more eventful than others, what can I say?

When I think back to where I was last year on this exact day, 26 and about to turn 27, I don't think I could have imagined how much evolution this age had in store for me. Unemployment. Moving. Personal struggles and triumphs. Africa. Pregnancy. Yowza, what a year.

I decided it might be good to give a quick summation of the things I learned, as well as a few things I'm looking forward to educating myself on, at 28.

What I've learned:

Don't ever settle for unhappiness. Even when things seem desperate, they will get better. On this day last year, I was miserable with my life. I hated my job, more so than I even realized, but put up with the misery because the money I was making was good. Also, I think I was so entrenched in my daily reality that it was difficult for me to take a step back and look at how anxiety ridden I had become. It was incredibly unhealthy.

Your self-respect is worth more than ANY paycheck can provide you. I finally found the balls to leave my job after a situation forced me to examine what I had come to accept as my day-to-day reality. If you hate what you're doing or hate the person you're working for, figure out the next step and quit. It's scary and uncomfortable, but good things can only come from following your heart and listening to your gut.

Life is meant to be enjoyed. Experiences, love, laughter... these are the things you will think about when you are close to death. Wow, that took a sudden morbid turn, didn't it?  I am trying, in my pregnant brain stupor, to explain that I have been trying to soak up the goodness in every opportunity life provides me. While some of those experiences couldn't be bottled up and paid for, there are others I will NEVER regret splurging on because adventure, taste, landscapes and moments are memories. And memories (AND LOVE) will keep you company in your old age.

Love is hard work. Ok, so I didn't necessarily learn this lesson this year; it's more of an ongoing bit of discourse. Some days I am loveable. Some days, I am not loveable at all. We all must face the fact that we cannot be loveable all the time!!! So when you find yourself driven to the point of insanity by the person you're with, take a step back and remind yourself of why you fell in love in the first place. And then remind yourself that they too have to take a step back and remind themselves of why they love you.

You are most likely the person who is hardest on yourself. And you should give yourself a break. Try to remember these lovely words from Roald Dahl: “A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”

What I Think I Might Learn:

How to change a diaper.

What my mom went through to give me life.

How to bake a loaf of bread from scratch (full disclosure: I technically already know how to do this. But I haven't done it on my own yet. So there in lies the challenge/lesson).

How to be a successful freelancer AND stay-at-home mom concurrently. This may be the hardest lesson of all.

Ok, 28... I think I'm ready for you. 

San Diego: Hen Weekend Special

One of my best friends, Miss Jenny herself, is coming down for the weekend and I am ever so excited. We've been meaning to have a weekend sans husbands for quite some time and the fact that our all our guy friends (our men included) are heading to Vegas to bid "farewell" to my husband's life sans child gave us the opportunity!

We have lucky husbands.

So, a quick breakdown of my tentative plans for us. Apologies to any of you (Jenny included) if it sounds a little less than... exciting? Pregnancy kind of takes the party, party, party out of you for the most part.

I am no longer a baller, shot caller, if you will.

Friday:

Pick Jenny up from airport with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies waiting in the front seat. This recipe to be exact. Vegas boys, you may be lucky enough to receive some in the goody package I may have packed for you. This is also a good way for me to find out if any of you read my blog.

Heeelllllo? Guys?

Saturday:

Sleep in.

Little Italy Farmer's Market! Our plan is to pick up ingredients for a fantastic Saturday night dinner. According to the link, Little Italy in San Diego is a "hip and historic neighborhood."

We shall be the judge of this statement.

After moseying about, my next guess is pedicures, but where we will get pedicures has been undetermined. This strategy didn't work out for us in San Francisco a couple weekends ago, but here's to hoping! If it's sunny, I'm thinking picnic in Balboa Park.

Dinner will be masterfully crafted by us complete with tasty, but non-alcoholic beverages. I DO have wine and beer for Jenny though.

I would never expect her to suffer on my behalf.

We may watch a movie, we may just prattle on to our hearts content... who knows? It's a girls' weekend after all!

Sunday:

Sleep in. 

Brunch at Searsucker... which I am mucho excited about.  

The more I type, the more I realize how this weekend revolves around eating.

I'm ok with this, and I'm hoping she is too!

Either way, as long as the weekend involves some bit of shake face and air guitar, I'm good.

Photos courtesy of famed photographer, Dawn "Butt Cut" McGaw

Happy weekend to all, and to get it started on the right foot, why not listen to this?

For My Beautiful Sister on her Birthday

"A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost." -- Marion C. Garretty

 Here's the thing about the above quote (aside from the fact that it's very true): if I were to base my relationship with my sister Ginny through our interactions in childhood, we might be in some trouble. She was always the sassy one (still is most of the time), getting us into trouble (still does occasionally), stealing my clothes, starting physical fights for no reason other than she liked fighting, then telling on me after I won said fight (I believe it's called self defense in some circles)... the list of naughty things she did when we were little goes on and on.

But there are also the things that cannot be ignored: our fierce propensity to stick up for one another, her ability to make me laugh, our innate understanding of who the other truly is deep down at the heart of it all... We really have made it through the thick of things time and time again, only to find ourselves as best friends.

It feels awesome to be able to say that.

My parents have told me that when they brought my sister home from the hospital 26 years ago, I spent two weeks being a complete nightmare: crying, screaming, throwing tantrums left and right... essentially, anything I could to show my anger at that fact that I was not the only baby anymore. My mom says around day 14, I kind of realized my efforts were for naught and that, no, in fact, you can't just take her away. She was there to stay, just like me. 

And thank goodness.

So, to my beautiful, caring, thoughtful, mischievous sister: I love you and a very happy birthday to you.

Happy Birthday, Papa Burt.

Photo courtesy of Deb at Smitten Kitchen

Today marks what would have been my grandpa's 90th birthday. He only made it to 80 and it still manages to surprise me how seemingly long he's been gone, as well as how it feels as though he only passed just a couple weeks ago. He died the day I moved to college and while I'd like to believe that 18 was relatively recent, the fact that I'm two years from 30 cannot be ignored.

I am a very different person from the one I was 10 years ago.

Sometimes I like to imagine what it would be like if he and my grandmother were still around. What it would have been like to have them at my college graduation. At my wedding. I used to say to them when I was little, "But you are going to live forever, thankfully!" to which my Papa Burt would always reply, "Elizabeth, if you live long enough, you're gonna die." He was pragmatic, if anything.

A man of very few words, he was a puzzle I knew like the back of my hand and one I could never figure out all at the same time. I still do, really, feel like I knew him so well and not at all. It's hard to explain.

There are things I have about him ingrained in my head that are vivid, and it's comfortable when a memory suddenly floods in. How he used to style his snowy white hair with Brill Cream. His tan or gray Members Only jackets and how he always smelled like Brut cologne. His love of Cowboy Western movies. His homemade vanilla ice cream. Playing "Clair de Lune" on the organ. 3 O'clock Diet Cokes, always with extra ice and a straw. Turbo speed in his light gold Saturn.

I realize how lucky I am to have had a set of grandparents like my Grammy and Papa. When you get older and start to see the intricacies of the world, you realize that not everyone is lucky to have wonderful grandparents (or even a mediocre set); amazing grandpas and grandmas are truly a thing to be treasured and cherished.

So while I will always greedily wish I had more memories, more time with him, I am forever grateful that in all the inexplicable luck, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it in the world, that he was mine.

That he was my grandpa.