Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.*

My baby girl is currently in the other room, sound asleep against her daddy, after a very loud (and let's be honest, very annoying) crying fit. I'm not sure what set her off this time. Maybe it was because she woke up in her swing and she wasn't really done with her nap yet? Clearly, the torture device I had placed her in, with its gentle swaying motion, was just too much for my trying-to-sleep child. I thought about taking a nap myself, also snuggled up against the rest of the family, but decided to update my lonely blog instead. My big sister asked me once while I was pregnant if I was going to turn this into "one of those annoying mommy blogs". I laughed and told her I hoped not. Considering I haven't updated this since before I found out I was pregnant, I guess we'll see what happens. (Although, how updates about my adorable child could ever be considered annoying is beyond me.) Tomorrow is Mother's Day and since it's finally quiet in the house (for now...), I figured it was time to tell my story. Not all of it, because there are things I don't want to relive right now, and maybe not ever, but some of it.

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning with black spots over my eyes. I could see, sure, but there were spots. No matter how many times I blinked my eyes, the spots remained. I told the husband, called the hospital, and was advised to come in. "Right now? Really?" "YES." After arriving at the hospital and getting my blood pressure checked, I was told we were going to have a baby. Immediately. (My BP was ridiculously high, like so high, I didn't even know that number was possible in relation to blood pressure. Go me. Always aiming high.) (Isn't that the Air Force motto?) (My bad. Oorah. Semper Fi and whatnot.) I tried to explain to my doctor (who had come in just to help deliver my baby, even though it was his day off) that we had plans for the afternoon. We had a cheesecake made and a cheese dip. Oh, and a corn casserole! My favorite. I really needed to eat turkey and see my friends. This was all so very inconvenient. (Did I mention this was  a *month* before my scheduled due date? That, too.) I was told, in no uncertain terms, that to save myself and the baby, we were having a c-section. Immediately. Happy Thanksgiving!

After our beautiful, tiny daughter (Not even five pounds!) was born, and the jokes were made about naming her "Sweet Potato" or "Turkey", I seemed to be getting better. Which, when dealing with pre-eclampsia (the doctor's diagnosis), is what happens to the majority of patients. But, because I always like to be the exception to every rule, I got worse. (My doctor actually used me as a test subject at a conference he had coming up just for that very reason.) (SPECIAL.) I don't really remember the exact sequence of events, but I do remember details. 

I remember the nights when I couldn't breathe. My husband sitting across from me, holding my hands, telling me to look into his eyes and follow his breathing. Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out. Mine was breatheinbreatheoutbreatheinbreatheout. (This happened more times than I count and even a few times after I got home.) I prayed for morning to come just so I could be awake with everyone else (instead of awake and alone in the dark). I remember the doctor asking me if I wanted a blood transfusion or to just continue taking the iron pills which "may or may not actually help". I eventually chose the blood transfusion and I remember watching someone else's blood being pumped into my veins. I remember the late night cat scan to check the fluid on my lungs. I remember the anxiety and the Xanax they finally prescribed just to calm me down. I remember begging the nurse to let my husband take me for a "walk" down the hall just to get me out of my room. (I was in a wheelchair.) I wondered what would happen if we just raced out the front door and never looked back. I remember being hooked up to the blood pressure monitor which checked my BP every five minutes and would beep if it was too high. It beeped a lot. I remember refusing to take any more Percocet after the first dose because it gave me nightmares, even while I was awake. (Horrible awake-mares that kept me up all.night.long.) I remember my husband sleeping on the tiny, uncomfortable couch every single night I was in the hospital. I remember friends coming to visit, even one who brought me McDonald's and sat with me, all while I was hooked up to oxygen and running out of breath from talking. I remember my mom buying another (stupidly expensive) plane ticket just to come out a month early to help take care of me and the baby. I remember thinking there was no way my God was cruel enough to take two daughters-in-law away from my husband's parents. I remember thinking I loved my life and my family more than anything and I was not leaving this world anytime soon. (I know this sounds like total DRAMA, but at the time and even now as I write, the drama was/is very real.)

There's a quote from Christopher Robin to Pooh Bear in which he says, "...you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think". I thought about that a lot in the hospital. I just kept telling myself to "put your brave face on". (Blog alert!) I always wanted to be a mom and I finally was. It was time to celebrate! The time for being scared was over. ("Be anxious for nothing", amiright?) You know, I was convinced we were having a boy, but when the doctor said "girl", I think my heart did a little happy dance. My heart still does a happy dance every time I see that sweet baby's smiling face. (And even when it's not so smiling.) She put me through a lot (as I'm sure I'll remind her SO many times in the future), but God, is she worth it. Happy Mother's Day, mamas. May your hearts be as happy as mine.

*You get me, Pooh Bear.

(Un)Domestic Goddess.

Whether the husband wants to admit it or not, I think one of his greatest fears for our married life was dinner. Yes, dinner. All through our dating life (and as you may remember, it was a looong life), I never cooked. Ever. I mean, maybe I made ramen noodles in the cup. Or maybe some Kraft dinner (macaroni and cheese, for you non-Canadians). (Not that I'm Canadian, but I am an honorary Newfie so that kind of counts.) This isn't to say I didn't know how to use the oven or the stove or the all-mighty microwave. My sister taught me how to bake and I try my darndest to keep up with her Betty Crocker-ness. (Match it? Not even close. Although I can make a mean chocolate chip cookie from scratch when I want to.) But when it comes to an actual meal, complete with an entree and (look out!) even a side? The husband prayed for his future mealtimes.

Growing up, my mom made dinner for our family almost every night. We had dinner together more often than not and I look back on those times and am so thankful. It gave us a chance to spend time together, whether we wanted to or not. (Forced family time is best family time, amiright?) We could share stories about our day before we went our separate ways to do homework, watch television, or just sequester ourselves in our room and be moody kids. (Not that I ever did that...) It gave my big brother a chance to make me snort milk out of my nose from laughing too hard. It gave my dad a chance to tell one of his million stories and we couldn't go anywhere because we were too hungry to leave. (Tell us again about Jigs and Fuzzy, dad!) Now here's the kicker- my mom didn't (and still doesn't) like to cook. It wasn't fun for her and she didn't pour over recipes and make extravagant meals every night. She did it because she cared about her family and wanted us to have good, healthy meals made by the woman who will always love us best. (And to this day, she still cooks for my dad most nights, except when she can convince him to take her to a restaurant. Which, to be honest, is a little more often than it used to be...)

So on this, I can totally relate. I don't like to cook. It's not a passion for me like it is for other people. Even the husband loves to cook and can make delicious meals when he has the time to do it. I don't read cookbooks. I don't go down every aisle in the grocery store and think about what next great meal I can make. I don't even write a weekly menu before I go to the grocery store. (As much as the husband tells me I should.) I just buy what looks good and make up a menu as I go along. The husband works long days (Seriously, Marine Corps. He was deployed for  a YEAR. Do you still need him for thirteen hours every day? Really? *ahem*) so it's up to me to make sure he has something good to eat when he gets home. It may not always be wonderful, but it's always decent (and edible). (That's still something to be proud of, right? Just because he can eat anything and was in a warzone three different times and probably ate some disgusting things, I'm pretty sure I can still cook better than that.) I love to eat out and there are definitely weeks when my homecooking happens way less than it should, but I'm still doing it. We have dinner at the table just like my family used to do. It's a chance to talk about our day and just be together before the television and laptops consume us. It's a tradition I'm happy to make ours.

...And I think the husband can finally stop worrying that our children will only ever eat chips and salsa for dinner. (They still might, but at least now I can make chicken enchiladas as the main course!)

Tonight's meal: Crockpot lasagna, 

made in the fancy pressure cooker. 

Fingers crossed it's actually pressuring and cooker-ing.  

So long, SoCal!

We have BIG NEWS in this family and it's time to finally share it with everyone. No, it's not THAT. (Thank you for asking, though, and I'm sure you mean it lovingly, but I'll let you know when it is THAT. 'cause it's not right now. So you can stop asking. But thank you anyway.) Well, maybe it is kind of THAT. We do have a new member of our household. She's so sweet. You should meet her. (Really? Right now? Okay, I'm sure I have a few photos of her...somewhere...)

Penny Pendleton, rescued from the same 
USMC animal shelter as Mateo.
Once a Marine kitty, always a Marine kitty.

 Who could say "no" to this face?
(Obviously not us.)

Mateo is not impressed.

Adorable kitties are adorably distracting. Sorry about that. (Back to the BIG NEWS.) Remember in my last blog post when I said we weren't going where we thought we would be going? And remember how I said you can never count on anything in the Marine Corps, except to count on it changing? Right. It changed. My adorable Marine (the adorableness quotient in this household is off the charts) has been accepted into the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. That's right, my dear readers. The McBrides are MOVING! (These McBrides, the two of us. The rest of the McBrides are probably staying put in their respective cities.) This is what the husband really wanted to do and he is looking forward to being a student again. If all goes well (and you know it will), he'll finish with a Master's degree in Computer Science. (I, on the other hand, will probably need to resurrect my trusty red pen and brush up on my editing skills. I see a lot of late night "grading" in my future...) For those of you unfamiliar with California geography (and let's be honest, my geography skills are pretty much nil), Monterey is in Northern California (Helloooo, NorCal!), right on the coast and about an hour south of San Francisco. We report for duty in July so I have about five months to get in my fill of Disneyland, palm trees, and celebrity sightings. I am less than thrilled to be leaving my bookstore and the awesome friends I've made here, but such is the life of a Marine Wife. No longer a single one, pining for her deployed husband, but an attached one, following aforementioned husband to parts unknown. 

...and that's where the fun begins.

 It's been swell, SoCal.

More swell than I could ever imagine.

Wants, needs, and The Stones.

Once again, the Marine Corps has reminded me that "you can't always get what you want". (Or was that The Rolling Stones? Either way, they were right.) We found out today we're not going where we thought we would be going next and our future is pretty uncertain. Not that it was ever certain because, really, in the military, when is it ever? It just seems less certain than it did yesterday. But, to keep myself from being too dramatic, I don't actually know that where we thought we would be going would be the very best thing ever. It was just nice to have an idea of what was next and now that the idea is gone, I'm a little apprehensive. It's the fear of the unknown. (You know?)

I'm sure that wherever we go next WILL be the best thing ever. (Hello, my name is Sally Sunshine and I'm always positive!) I certainly didn't want to live in Southern California, but I've grown to love it. (Honestly. It's 80 degrees the week before Thanksgiving. LOVE.) Which also reminds me that I have a lot to be thankful for, no matter where we live. I'm thankful for friends who make me feel like family, a family who I'm happy to call friends, and a God who is overseeing my future. (I may not know what's next, but HE does. And that makes it okay.)

You know what else I'm thankful for?

  That no matter where I go, I still have him.

And that makes it better than okay.

Let's not forget the rest of the song because Mick really said it best..."You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."

Happy Birthday, Marine Corps. 

You may not always give me what I want,

but you give me a man who looks good in uniform.

And who doesn't need that?

(Now please don't send us to Japan.)

I get the joy of rediscovering you.*

I've been getting a lot of grief lately from friends and family for not updating my blog. "People probably think the husband is still deployed," I've been scolded more than once. So, for those of you who don't know, HE'S HOME! HE'S HOME! HE'S HOME!

Can you feel the excitement?

We've been having a pretty great month of getting reacquainted. A month that has included a trip to Maui with our families, eating out a lot, going to the movies, and just remembering what it's like to be a couple. Our precious kitty is super excited to have him home again, too. This month also now includes going back to work and starting our "new old normal". (Complete with work trips for him that start off as "I'll only be gone for one night" and then turns to "Well, now it's two..." That's cool, Marine Corps. The husband and I were SO ready to spend some time apart anyway.) The "new old normal" which includes working all day, washing dishes, doing laundry, and fighting over the remote. Ahhh, domesticity!

Getting lei'd in Maui. 

(Classic joke.)

Mateo can't take his eyes off him.

Everyone asks me what's it like to have him back home. Is it weird? Do you still feel like you know each other? Is he different? Is your relationship different? Honestly, it feels like it always did. I feel so lucky to be with someone who still makes me laugh, still gives me hugs, and still listens to my crazy stories. Being apart didn't change that. We dated for so (soooo) long before he (finally!) proposed. Those years (and years) of being together when we didn't have to be (aka dating) made our relationship all the stronger. He had no choice but to deploy and I had no choice but to say goodbye. After eleven years together, I felt strength in the knowledge that he would come back to me and we would continue to be happy. His one year deployment was just a minor blip on our relationship radar. I would never hope for another deployment, but I'm not naive enough to think another won't happen. Anything is possible in this military life. Right now, I'm just thankful he's home.

So VERY thankful.  

*I've said it before and I'll say it again: I heart that song. 

BIG NEWS.

Wait for it...Are you ready?...My husband (you know, that guy who has been deployed for almost a year) is coming home. I mean, we knew that. There was never a doubt in our minds. (Right? Right.) But the big addition to that news? He's coming home NEXT WEEK. Ooo, that was good. Let's do it again...NEXT WEEK. (I could tell you when and where, but then I'd have to kill you. Or something like that.) When he left, I honestly thought it would be the worst year of my life. Granted, it was certainly not the best ever, but it was so much easier (and funner! ...more fun?) than I thought it would be. (Thank you, sweet Jesus!) I cannot even begin to thank my family and friends and coworkers and Facebook friends and kitty and every other person I met who offered me so much love and attention and support. I never could have made it through this year without them. (Without YOU!) I'm so thankful he's coming home, I'm not even annoyed about the piles of clothes that will inevitably be all over the floor. (...but ask me again next week.)

    Job well done, boys.

NOW COME HOME!

(My cute husband- front row, first on the left.)

Today is far from Childhood...I held her hand the tighter.

I haven't written anything in a long time, and for that, I apologize. We're getting down to the wire of this deployment (Less than three weeks left! O.M.G.) and I've been squeezing in as much fun as possible. (That's not to say I won't have fun when the husband does return!) My mom and sister came to visit for an entire week. We had such a good time at Disneyland where we saw saw the Mouse, at California Adventure where we saw the Cars, and at the La Brea Tar Pits where we saw the mammoths (who were extra woolly).

Nothing beats a California sunset with my mama and seester. 

My best friend also came to visit and I swear we were sixteen again. I forgot how truly awesome it is to be with someone who knows everything about you. There's no need for backstories or explanations because she already knows...everything. We laughed until we cried, we had seriously serious discussions, and we sang country music at the top of our lungs. Oh, and we got tattoos. Because that's how we roll.

OSU girls ready for the Timmy and Kenny concert.

I promise to write very soon about the husband's homecoming and my feelings (and freak outs) about it. But, my main reason for wanting to post is my big sister's birthday today. She's currently in Canada with her (Canadian) husband and having a great time. (At least, I'm guessing she is. Note to self: call sister.) I won't tell you her age, except to say she's eight years older than me. I have an older brother who taught me everything I know about beer and sports and being funny. But my sister? Oh, she taught me...

*Just because your little friends are into *NSync, Backstreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block (...fifteen years ago), doesn't mean you have to assault your ears with that drivel. (Although, I admit to loving me some JC Chasez.) It's okay to know every word to every Gin Blossoms, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Cowboy Junkies song. (Also, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, Violent Femmes, and Todd Snider.)

*Reading isn't just for nerds. Read often, read everything, and read outside of your comfort zone. A story with an unhappy ending? Read it anyway. An epicly long poem from the 17th century? Read it anyway. A romance novel just for fun? Read it anyway. Because, as we both came to realize...

*When you're an English major (as we both were), reading is part of the gig. As is proper grammar, appropriate punctuation, correct spelling, and editing every paper to within an inch of its life. She's a big-time editor for a big-time publishing company and I'm so proud of her. She took our shared love of using that red pen (which we both learned from our mother) and is making a living out of it. Kudos!

*When I was a kid, I loved to raid her closet. She always had the coolest clothes from The Limited (Outback Red, anyone?) and Express. She taught me how to wear scarves, brooches, and bodysuits. (Oh, the 80s. You were a melting pot of craziness.)

*It's okay if you're not the best chef in the world, but knowing how to bake a cake always comes in handy. (Even if it isn't homemade because Rainbow Chip is your little sister's favorite cake ever. Just be sure to teach her to make it with milk instead of water. It's the little things.)

*Sometimes, nature isn't pretty. (That's an inside joke, but there are some people who know the story. It's a little gross, and yet hilarious. Ask me about it sometime.)

*There have been times in her life when circumstances haven't always gone the way they were expected to go. While I know they were upsetting, she always just kept on moving forward. During this deployment, I've had moments when I just wanted to quit and move home, but being a strong woman and dealing with whatever life throws at you, was always the better decision. Motto: keep calm and carry on.  

   Happy Birthday to my big seester!

I lurve you!