Walkin' in Memphis

fol·ly
/ˈfälē/
noun
1.lack of good sense; foolishness.

Jonathan and I were dressed to the nines Friday as we cruised into a fancy joint called Folk's Folly.

It wasn't until much, much later that night that I Googled the second half of that odd Memphis eatery name to reveal perfect irony. This makes no sense right now, but bear with me, I have suffered head trauma. This post was supposed to be a review of an amazing dining experience, so I'll start there.

Dressed in one of my favorite LBDs with a face full of makeup that took more focus than normal, I waltzed in beside my husband like we owned the place. We had a 6:30 reservation and our bellies were empty. The restaurant was a fascinating place: full of cozy little rooms that separated groups of diners and white cloths on every table. We ordered wine and heard the specials, and understand me when I say we went for it. The actual reason for our weekend in Memphis was a business meeting Jonathan had nailed earlier that afternoon. This was a sort of celebration, after all, so I went for both the surf and the turf.

I've had lobster in lobster dip. I've had lobster on lobster pizza. I've had lobster in seafood bisque. And probably all of those dishes were from Red Lobster. That's it. Jonathan could see the relief on my face when our waiter Kevin asked if he could remove it from the shell for me. Lord yes, Kevin. It was absolutely delicious. The petite filet that accompanied it was topped with parsley butter and cooked to perfection. Every bite melted in my mouth and it's a contender for best steak of my life. Jonathan was much more certain that his steak was hands down the best he's ever had. It was a Frenched prime rib-eye that had been aged for no more and no less than 60 days.

We also shared a blueberry cheesecake that would top our best desserts list. It was not cloyingly sweet and it almost had a salty kick. I'm no food critic, but it was yummy. We left an amount of money at the table that matched our experience {read: a lot of dollars}, and we sauntered hand-in-hand into the parking lot, making more than enough "walking in Memphis" jokes. Too bad the best one was yet to come...

---

Now this story is going to take an interesting turn, so hold on to your hats. I could tell you about the bar fight I got into on Beale Street, a brawl that landed me in the ER {you should see the other guy and all that jazz}, but that would be a lie. At least the bar part. Because we didn't make it to the bar. We did make it to the emergency room, though.

I'm not going to paint a picture of what happened, because it's gross. I fell in the hotel room when we stopped by after dinner and my forehead caught the nightstand on my way down. What followed was an impressive reaction on my husband's part, and the destruction of about three hotel towels. We raced to the nearest hospital where I got the all-clear on brain damage and two stitches.

I don't want to take away from the image above, but I will say I look a little different. I have a lovely cut and swelling that has found its way to my eyes. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did a few days ago, but I'm already counting down to stitch-removal Friday. Perhaps I'll look a little less like Frankenstein at that point.

As it turns out, the folly from Folk's did not come until after the meal. I will now kick back with another round of Advil and try not to make too many facial expressions. Maybe the next time we make the trek to Tennessee, I'll do a better job of walkin' in Memphis...

Happy Tuesday, my friends. I sure hope your long weekend was well-spent!

After Eleven Years

The night of our eleventh wedding anniversary was spent together beside the ocean.

My husband and I drew long breaths of salty air and reminisced about our fresh start. As we stared into the distant shades of blue, not knowing where sky dissolved into water, our concentration was broken by a splash on the shore. It was our six-year-old son with his siblings close behind, scrambling to catch a sand crab before it buried into hiding.

This was followed by an inspired performance of Moana songs from Nora, who stood on a self-made sand stage, and keeping up with Nathan, who was schooling strangers on crab-catching techniques.

The waves continued to lap onto the shore, always moving, but never the same.

Last Friday, June 9, Jonathan treated me to a romantic date during our family Florida vacation. First, we cruised into the sunset on a catamaran. We spotted dolphins and sat as close as is allowed in public while the red sun sank beneath the horizon. Then it was on to a night of fine dining {we’re talking white tablecloths and French words}. I ate the best meal of my life while the breeze whipped my hair and the love of my life winked at me. It was heaven on the beach, and I treasured every minute.

The night of June 10, our actual anniversary, was the last of our trip. Deciding we needed one last look at the waves, we took the kids crabbing. We walked behind them as they darted in and out of the water, filling buckets and making memories. While date nights are vital to my soul and our relationship, this look at what our wedding made was surreal.

We’ve come a long way in eleven years, and the five of us standing on the beach while Saturday night fireworks boomed overhead made it clear. This is the result of our marriage.

Beneath the greens and purples flashing above the water, Nora danced around us. She crooned a sweet anniversary song, and one of my favorite lines was “Good job, Mom and Dad!”

Eleven years ago, my sister-in-law read from the New Testament during our wedding ceremony. This reading included the age-old words lining out exactly what love is. Love is patient and kind, it doesn’t boast or anger. It protects and trusts and hopes. In closing, I’d like to tack onto that page in Corinthians.

Love is hard. Love is scary. Love requires insurmountable bravery and the ability to step without looking. Love can come as natural as breathing, but love takes white-knuckled work. Love can bend and break, heal and save, lead and follow. Love is two people clueless as to how the universe will treat them, but going forward anyway. Love is building and growing, changing and moving, adjusting and readjusting. Love is going where the wind blows. Together.

Today and always I thank my lucky stars that the wind blew me his way. We have built a beautiful life together and like the tide, it’s always changing. No day is ever the same, and I love it.

Happy Anniversary, Jonathan. You make life an adventure and I love being along for the ride.
Good job. 😊

Coach Dad

It wasn't our winning-est little league soccer season, but it sure was fun to watch.

Jonathan made his coaching debut when the city park was looking for someone to help in Owen's age group. Obviously, he was quick to step up to the plate {or... goal in this case}. Owen and five other kids made for one rag-tag red team that never gave up. With many players new to soccer, Jonathan worked on the basics: which goal is the right goal and "stop touching the ball!" Despite the fact that the season is about to close without a win, they've had a blast.

One of the highlights of this team was a little four-year-old girl, smaller than Nora with a sweet-as-honey personality. She immediately took to Jonathan, holding his hand during practice and reminding him she was on his team. I've watched this guy be a father for almost ten years now, but my heart melted every time he knelt down to to tie a tiny cleat and doubled over for mini high-fives.

Although Owen doesn't have any Ws to tack onto last season, his playing improved. He scored a goal in almost every game, and he was more eager for the action. All the field time that comes with a six-kid team wore him out, but a quick drink and pep talk from Coach Dad got him back in the game. He ran harder, deflected opposing points, and worked on assists. It was fun to watch him grow as a player, and still have fun when he was losing.

There are all sorts of lessons learned in little league sports {or dance or music...} and losing is a big one. Owen saw that even though it's kind of disheartening to lose game after game, you still have to pull on your shin guards and show up. And they all did, with big smiles and semi-concentration.

Next on the agenda is an assistant coaching gig in an area where Jonathan has actual experience. Once the soccer tournament ends, t-ball/baseball starts and my husband is already trying to figure out how to pitch to someone who stands at three-and-a-half feet. This will be a new adventure for Owen {but not for us} and I'm excited to see which sport ends up being his favorite. Even more, I am pumped to watch Jonathan in action again. He's a fantastic father and I think it's pretty cool he's spreading it out to some of the other little sports fans in our town.

Happy Friday, friends. Have a lovely Easter weekend!

Valentine's Day: Then + Now

Eleven years ago Jonathan and I celebrated our first Valentine's Day together.

Sitting on the couch in a tiny one-room apartment that cost us less than $400 a month {you read that right}, I watched him cook in our meager kitchen. We were engaged and counting down to our June wedding, blissfully unaware of how easy life was.

He put his finishing touches on the romantic pork chop dinner he prepared, and carried two plates to the coffee table that held tall, flickering candles. Once he set the plates down and I commented on how good it looked, I prepared myself to chow down. I settled into the couch, lifted my leg to cross it over the other, and kicked my plate. The pork chop and potatoes went flying onto the low-grade carpet, and I immediately started crying.

At this point I assume we picked up the pork chop and blew the dust off, because what else are you going to do? I don't remember much more other than my husband-to-be holding me tight and letting me know it's okay when things aren't perfect. And for eleven years after that night, he's been reminding me. Our relationship has continued this trend of imperfections, and we're constantly learning to either move around the flaws or welcome them.

---

Valentine's Day 2017 was a little different. After a busy day of work, rushing to make the kindergarten party on time, and a crazy afternoon of fielding questions from three voices that never stop, I heard his truck. I peered through the window to see Jonathan step onto the gravel drive holding beautiful red roses. I gasped and asked the kid closest if he could see what his dad was holding. Owen's answer? "Your butt." Yes, things are different now.

Jonathan's cooking skills have greatly improved since the Great Pork Chop Incident {though I can't say the same for my clumsiness}. Last night he treated me to a plate of linguine with shrimp scampi {Ina Garten's recipe is here}. However, this time he made three plates, plus two extras for those not feeling the lemony noodles. It was an incredible meal and much better than anything a local restaurant could have offered. After taking Nathan to piano lessons, cleaning up the kitchen and kids, and collecting about 342 candy wrappers, it was once again just us.

My husband loves everything about me, imperfections and all, and he has spent eleven years helping me do the same. I won't get a five-star meal or floral surprises every night, but I love him for being a constant source of support, reassurance, and care. I love the amazing guy who first noticed me at the softball game and the incredible husband who shares my life. Last night we laughed like we've known each other a lifetime and we talked like we'd just met.

Thanks for a sweet Valentine's Day and a sweet every day, Jonathan. Also, the dinner wasn't half-bad.

Happy Wednesday, y'all!

Thankful for Him

{I almost titled this Thank You for Being A Friend. You're going to want to click that.}

It's not Thankful Thursday, but I'd like to give credit where it's due.

And believe me, it is due.

Last week wasn't my favorite week. Don't get me wrong, Halloween was a lot of fun and I had a blast watching my kids scoop up all candy in sight. Owen had a banner week with a lost tooth and a fantastic soccer game, and Nathan came home from his piano lesson with two songs to perform in the Christmas recital. Nobody broke a bone or too big of a rule, and we came out relatively unscathed. The bad part was that everyone was really just missing their Dad.

Jonathan was in New Orleans on business for a mere four days last week, and it was enough to make an impact on all of us. I know his job means more business trips and more meetings in the coming years. But that's later. Today I want to share why I was so thankful to hear that door unlock late Thursday night.

With my kids constantly yelling Mom! in any and all directions and my own Mom hanging out to save my sanity, it feels off to say I was lonely. However, I was lonely. It was more than just needing an extra body in the house, though. I missed the little things like laughing at Modern Family reruns and having him sneak in my coffee while I shower. I missed seeing his truck turn onto the gravel and slinging open the door before he could get to the handle. I missed his warmth in the bed {my feet are never not cold}. I missed him checking locks, and double-checking the kids each night. I even missed his clothes in the hamper. Lovesick, I tell you.

While Jonathan was away, I second-guessed everything I did. If you have ever heard me talk out loud, you will probably know I tend to lean toward self-doubt. This is a thing in my life that I work on, but Jonathan balances me. He builds me up and he holds me strong in all the places I need it.

Another big detail: Owen doesn't like the way I snuggle. He told me flat out. He also let me know I definitely didn't smell like his Dad. He still loves me and he slept like an angel, but it was made known I was second string.

I know how lucky I am to have this guy in my life. Jonathan is my clarity and his absence makes an impact, even if it's just four days. Time is promised for no one, so I want to thank him today and every day. His presence makes a huge difference, even in the smallest ways. I am so happy he's home.

Oh, and Owen is, too. Snuggle time is back to normal.

We Love Dad!

Yesterday fathers everywhere were honored with neckties, grilling aprons, and golf balls.

We spent our day in North Little Rock to celebrate Jonathan's dad in person {after hanging out with mine the night before}. I'm sure we had a great Father's Day with our dads, but this post was written for the guy who shampoos Nora's curls and somehow makes Owen fall asleep. He helps Nathan with the math that goes beyond multiplication and with the life problems that go beyond the range of Mom. He's a big reason I claim the mommy blogger title and I want to share a few reasons why.

Jonathan is one of the best fathers I know and I can't fathom parenting without him, but let's save that mushy stuff. Today's appreciation comes not in the form of greeting cards, but straight from the mouths of babes. Without further ado, following are a few Father's Day thoughts from the Bauer Bunch:

Nathan: "I like my Dad because he's helpful, like when something makes me frustrated he helps me through it. He tells me to slow down and think about what's wrong and helps me find an answer. He's also nice when I feel sad. He makes me feel better by cheering me up all the time. He is also really good at cooking. I love his steak, grilled asparagus, and fried okra. It makes me hungry just thinking about it! He's my dad and he's my friend."

Owen: "He smells so good. I think it's his soap. I like him because he brings me chocolate milk in bed. At swimming lessons when I do something like jump or swim all the way to the ladder, I give him a high-five and he says something nice to me. He says I did a great job and he is proud of me. Also I love him because he knows how to make shell macaroni and cheese and cheese roll-ups. And he snuggles me in bed when I am being a nice boy."

Nora: "I like my Daddy because I love him. I love him because he takes me outside when it stops raining so much. He takes me to play with the baby chickens. We check them and throw worms together. Daddy gives me hugs because Daddy is my best friend because I love him so much. I like when Daddy holds my hand, but he doesn't need to because I can walk now."

Happy Father's Day to all the dads! Whether you're dealing with teens, comforting toddlers, or just waking up from a newborn all-nighter, you are awesome and you are appreciated. And for the dads whose kids are sending love from heaven, my heart is with you. You guys are incredible fathers, too. Please know that.

No One Else

Today marks a decade since Jonathan and I shared our first kiss as man and wife.

There was a unity candle, a white train that trailed behind my fidgety body, calla lilies that filled the church with perfume, and age-old chords blasting from a piano. It was a gorgeous wedding, but a wedding does not a marriage make. I loved that day, but sitting down to write about our tenth anniversary, white gowns and gold bands do not come to mind.

The last ten years haven't been easy, and in some aspects each one has been harder. We started our marriage in a fog, swept up in ideal futures, white picket fences, and baby names. Getting married and getting started was the easy part. We were obsessed with each other because that was all we had.

Years passed and we learned life was no picket fence. Money was scarce, jobs were demanding, and Nathan was preparing to flip it all upside down. We met our son and learned a new kind of love. Life changed, so we adjusted and continued. Then loss came and everything broke. We picked up, leaned on each other, and loved harder. Owen came, Nora came, jobs changed, and life threw curve balls we never saw coming. Our metaphoric camel is buried under a decade of straw. Sometimes it looks like his back is about to give, but we've gotten good at straightening his legs.

In the last ten years I have learned to love. I know forgiveness and I feel what unconditional means. I could write a novel about the ways Jonathan has helped me become the woman I am today, but when it comes down to it, the message is simple: there's no one else.

No one else can hold me tight enough to catch my breath when the world crashes at my feet.
No one else looks at me with the same intensity.
No one else can make me relax by his presence alone.
No one else could ever have my trust when it comes to backing decisions that scare me.
No one else would be the same sitting in the driver's seat while I roll the windows down and sing into the wind.
No one else can make me feel beautiful without saying a word.
No one else can unravel the worries that make life heavy.

Ten years is a long time, but the most important thing I have learned since that hot June day is that I am his and I can count on my husband, no matter what. {And also that we're still pretty obsessed with each other.}

Day after day, month after month, and year after year, I still get butterflies. I will be the first to tell you marriage is not the piece of white cake we shared on June 10, 2006, but I'll also be the first to tell you that marriage is so much better than the wedding. He started as my friend, he turned into my husband, and now he is more. Jonathan is my partner in life. He makes me whole. No one else could ever do that.

Jonathan: Thank you for giving me your love. Thank you for asking me to return it.
Thank you for holding my hand when I cry, high-fiving me when I get it right, and making my life lighter.
You have made me more than I ever thought I could be. Happy Anniversary.

Frozen Football Weekend

Sometimes you have to get away from it all. Even if that means wearing three pairs of pants.

My weekend was full of friends, football, and frozen toes. Despite the last one {and the final scores of both games we attended}, this weekend was incredible. Let me share a few reasons that contributed to its success:

Friday afternoon my husband and I hastily packed separate weekend bags - one for us and one for the kids. We grabbed every piece of warm hunting gear we could find and dropped off the kids without looking back {okay, maybe once}. We pointed the car north and headed to Little Rock to watch my hometown high school football team in their second round of playoffs. When the score was ugly at halftime, we sat down to margaritas and tacos at 9:00 BECAUSE WE COULD.

We started the second leg of our trip that took us all the way to Fayetteville once dinner was finished, which ended with us checking into our hotel well after midnight. The road trip was spent belting out college music with no thought of the morning.

It sleeted in northwest Arkansas early Saturday, but I didn't see it. I didn't see it because I slept until 10:00 AM.

Bundled in the fashion you see above, we went to the Arkansas/Mississippi State game with a couple close friends after an early dinner that involved zero kid menus, no spilled drinks, and a minimal amount of trips to the restroom. I had nothing to be responsible for other than my game ticket. I screamed and cheered and gasped as the Hogs broke every heart in the stadium with the blocked kick heard 'round the world.

Still yet, we drug our frozen and disappointed selves out of the stadium and warmed up on the epic trek up the Hill. We returned to a hotel with grown-up friendly beverages and family-friendly board games and the four of us reminisced well into Sunday. We did that because we could.

I love my kids dearly, but it's fun to remember who I was before I became Mom. It's refreshing to take advantage of freedom and it's important to connect with the guy who's the reason for those kids waiting at home. Alone time with Jonathan will always be something I'm struggling to find, so I want to soak up every second I get.

I was happy to see my bunch and start looking forward to our family Thanksgiving, but I also started planning our tenth anniversary escape vacation immediately upon arrival.

How was your weekend?

Eye Eye, Matey

I understand this is an old picture, but it fits today's theme. Also, I don't think Jonathan would appreciate my sharing actual eye-patch footage. Keep reading. This will make sense.

Last week was a bit of a bummer.

Bad news seemed to pile on with a flat tire, a light pole that popped up out of nowhere, and a blanket of living room Goldfish as far as the eye could see. I began to toss around ideas for a post about how things go wrong, but we shouldn't lose sight of the blessings we see before us. Then my husband's vision began to disappear.

{bonus points for each eye reference}

Being thankful is still a theme I'm working toward, but our bad week took an unexpected turn. It started as dots and flashes in his right eye that developed into a dark line, beneath which he saw nothing. He booked it to the eye doctor and that eye doctor promptly called a retina specialist in Little Rock.

We saw the specialist Friday morning and he cancelled all his special tests the moment he put on his fancy head instrument and peered into my poor husband's dilated pupil. He said words like "several tears" and "retinal detachment" and "atrophy" and other things I couldn't even try to comprehend. As soon as he left the room I leaned toward my patient and whispered, "Oooh, Jonathan, your eye is messed UP." If you haven't noticed, I probably wouldn't make a very good nurse.

To make a long story short, there were lasers in his eyeball for about an hour and a half Friday afternoon and I was well-equipped with pirate jokes for the ride home. Apparently it was a traumatizing experience, as it turns out he was awake during surgery. I basically learned everything I know about eyeballs over the last five days, so this was crazy and new information. Thankfully, surgery was a success and now we wait for his vision to return.

This recovery has meant no driving, no bending down, and no lifting over 10 pounds. I've been hauling chicken feed and Nora, trying to avoid excessive tardiness at school, and cooking lots of hot dogs for dinner. Believe me we will all be happy when Jonathan is back to normal, but until then Nora will enjoy playing swords with her Daddy she now calls Jake.

Hope your weekend was better. Keep smiling even if it wasn't, and have a great Wednesday!

My Left Hand

Today marks the tenth anniversary of a big day on the University of Central Arkansas campus.

It was my senior year and I was sitting in Stanley Russ Hall in some sort of broadcasting or journalism class... give me a break, it's been ten years. I was 21 years old and had been dating a guy for a little over two months. Many of my classmates had met him through department functions or seeing us out and about. They liked him. My friends liked him. My mom loved him and so did I. Things were going well after a tumultuous spring and summer {different story} and the fact that this semester had started while I was stuck in the hospital {ditto}. I was happy, and that was new.

Back to the class. It's been a long time, but I remember being clueless as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and bid my friends goodbye. I pushed open the heavy glass doors with the day's plans on my mind. Even back then, it was important for me to know my every move. That's why I lost my breath in the parking lot.

Inside my Jeep were red balloons. I don't know how many, but I couldn't see much else inside. I stood there for a few minutes looking over my shoulder for hidden cameras or pranksters behind the pear trees. Knowing I was being watched, I kept calm and opened the door. I brushed the balloons back and there in the driver's seat was a piece of loose leaf paper, folded into thirds with "To my love" carefully drawn on the outside. It was from him.

I began to read and from the corner of my eye I saw a handful of people from my class waiting to see what would happen next. Frozen with fear and anticipation, I made my way through the love and promise that poured from every word. He talked about how much I meant to him, how badly he wanted to take care of me, and plenty more things I probably shouldn't publish on the Internet.

I don't look at that letter often, but I'll never forget the last line. He told me to turn around.

There he stood. All 6 feet and 5 inches. I could hear an audible gasp from the audience as he slid to one knee in the UCA parking lot. I didn't care that anyone was watching. I didn't care that I looked a hot mess. I didn't care that there were students and professors going about their lives oblivious to this defining moment in mine. There was no one else.

He said my full name, and I laughed as my nerves hit and said his. He asked me to marry him and I told him I would. He slipped his grandmother's ring onto my left hand and he kissed me like nothing could break it.

He later told me he had big plans for a romantic proposal on the dock of my Mema's lake with a beautiful background and beautiful words and a movie scene. However, he had gotten the ring back from the jeweler that morning and couldn't wait another minute. Knowing how much he wanted to marry me was a movie scene. It was perfect.

These ten years feel like a lifetime. It's been so good and it's been so hard, but I will always be thankful he was in the parking lot.

I love you, Jonathan. I'm glad you couldn't wait.

The Blessed Break

Five Bauers traveled to central Arkansas last Tuesday, but only three returned...

No, it's not the start of an unfortunate mystery plot, it was time for a visit with the grandparents! The Bauer Boys enjoyed three sleepovers at Grammy and Poppy's place, and their parents enjoyed hanging out with the one kid who goes to bed at 7:30. She's also the only one whose bed is surrounded by high bars from which she cannot escape. Three kids down to one was pure bliss, but we took it a bit further Wednesday night, when Nora packed her bags to stay the night with my parents. I love my kids. I feel as though it's unnecessary to interject these words here, but just know that I do. Please remember that as I move forward.

FREE. AT. LAST.

It had been a little while since Jonathan and I enjoyed a date night after which we didn't have to go round up the troops {bless you, all four grandparents}. We caught a movie, we broke in the new Texarkana Steak N' Shake, and we tried really hard not to talk about our kids. On the windy road home, my husband drove too fast with the sunroof open as I counted stars and let the hot summer breeze blow my hair however it wanted.

I felt like myself. I didn't feel like someone's mom. I didn't feel like someone's caretaker. I didn't feel responsible. I didn't feel apprehensive. It was just me and the guy I slipped into love with a decade ago. I forget I'm not that carefree girl sometimes, and I think that's okay. I definitely have all the bells and whistles that come with being 31 years old, but beneath all that is a spirit that is wild and free. Believe me, I am aware that dinner-and-a-movie is not skipping town to lay down my life's savings in Vegas, but hanging in the thick August air was something different. It's nice not to be Mom every now and then.

It sounds like a cop out, but being an adult is tough sometimes. There are piles of responsibilities on top of worries on top of attempting to know what's around every corner. It sure is lovely to let go of that whenever possible. Date nights for the OG Bauer Bunch are rare, but necessary. How often do you get to check out of real life and away from the people who call you Mom? If you hesitated to answer that one, do yourself a favor and get the grandparents on the phone. I can pretty much guarantee you need it. 

Have a lovely Monday, y'all!

Here's to the Dads

I don't know about you, but I cringe when someone insinuates that I have four children, husband included {har, har}.

It's not that I don't understand the joke that grown men may sometimes act like children, I just don't think it's particularly funny. It seems odd to imply that fathers are needy and less involved. My kids and I are very proud {and very lucky} to be able to say our experience is the exact opposite.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing this wrong; that my motherhood doesn't look right. Supposed gender roles are swapped all over our home. I can't cook much more than frozen waffles, but I sure spent half an hour shoveling chicken manure last night. I keep my house as clean as possible, but I haven't gone grocery shopping in months. I change diapers, he changes diapers. I give baths, he gives baths. I hide in the bathroom and count to ten, and I can only assume my husband does the same. I am not the flawless Lead Parent Mother of All Who Need Her. This is a partnership, and it's right for me.

I can remember almost eight years ago, standing over a five-pound baby wrapped like a burrito in his tiny hospital bed. I knew I needed to change his diaper. He had been born just a few hours ago, but it was time. I was paralyzed. I hadn't done it in years and didn't know where to begin. His legs were so little and he was so fragile. Then Jonathan gently touched my arm and asked if I needed help. I sat down and watched as tears started rolling down my cheeks. Not because I couldn't do it, but because he could. And because he would.

I know that's a weird memory to dredge up for Father's Day, but it was in that instance that I knew the three of us would be okay. Jonathan has taught me more about parenting than I could imagine. I wasn't ready, he wasn't ready, but I think that's how parenting goes, honestly. We help each other figure it out and we make it work. We aren't just a mother and a father, we're parents. Together.

In the years that followed, I saw my husband answer baby cries, sit on the edge of a toddler bed for hours, cook dinners, fix problems, mediate battles, help with homework, and brush the sweetest blonde curls. He doesn't do this because I ask him to, or because he loves me and thinks I need a babysitter. He does this because he's their dad.

Although being married to a man who bashes the Dad Stereotype has proven beneficial to my sanity, I think the best part is his example. Kids may learn to parent by watching their own {shout out to the in-laws!} and I love to think that mine are soaking this up. They see that dads aren't just second bananas. It can be easy for us to get caught up in the "I changed the last diaper!" trenches of parenthood, but it's more than that. It's not who does what and why. It's about helping new people grow because you love them. I thank Jonathan {a man of all things} for teaching me that.

Here's to the dads who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty, so to speak.

I want to wish a Happy {Early} Father's Day to all the men who have spent countless hours raising, encouraging, and molding their children into good people. You are more important than you realize. Not just to the kids who look up to you, but to the partners who stand right beside you.

Now, grab a cold beer and turn on the tube. It's almost Father's Day, after all!

Nine Years Better

I don't know if I've ever heard of National Best Friend Day until Monday {and believe me, I pay close attention to Facebook}.

I couldn't help but grin when I realized this day came a few days before the anniversary of legally telling my best friend I'd hang out with him forever. Yes, I married that Bauer boy on this day in 2006, less than a year after I told him I'd be his girlfriend. We planned for months, chose flowers, picked colors, and quickly learned just how overwhelming wedding planning could be. Despite it all, we tied that knot, slipped on those rings, and haven't looked back.

Nine years ago we partied like there was no tomorrow and had no clue what the next few thousand tomorrows would bring. As much as I like to wish my husband "Happy anniversary, can't wait to see what's next!" it's just as fun to look back and see how much we've grown since that hot June day.

In honor of the love that built this bunch, today I'm sharing nine memories that I will carry forever:

1. Saying "yes" with a guarded heart when he asked me {again} to be his girlfriend.
   
   
2. Saying "yes" before he could get onto his knee in the parking lot at UCA.
   
   
3. Saying "yes" when one pink line became two in the bathroom of our first rent house in Conway.
   
   
4. Looking for lightning bugs in the bottoms of Faulkner County.
   
   
5. Looking for a beating heart on the ultrasound screen.
   
   
6. Driving home at 6:00 in the morning after staying up all night talking about nothing.
   
   
7. Going to bed at 6:00 in the morning after staying up all night soothing a colicky baby.
   
   
8. Holding his hand and knowing what love and safety and friendship felt like.
   
   
9. Loving him more today than on all the yesterdays combined. No joke.

Things have changed so much in nine years. There have been struggles, there have been fights, and there has been plenty of imperfection, but I can say with 100% certainty that we have steadily improved. This relationship gets better with time and understanding, trust and patience. My life is sweet because I know I can fall into him, and he knows the same. I can't wait to see just how good it can get.

Happy Anniversary, Jonathan. I sure do love you.

Still

I don't typically use this space to write love letters to my husband.

I don't always wax poetic on how he has changed my life for the better, how I fall in love with him more each day, and how I can't imagine building this life without him. I'd like you to keep your lunch down and your eyes in your head, and I feel some things are better left private; however, I could fill every space on this page. Today is Jonathan's 32nd birthday, though, so I feel it's a good time to shout it from the rooftops.

I've known this guy half his life, and he's been my best friend for most of that time. We've been a couple for nine years and a family for eight. We've had such an incredible time growing up and learning and changing together, but that doesn't mean the spark has faded. He won't let it. I'm thankful he was born and I'm thankful our stories turned into one.

I still get butterflies when I turn into our driveway and he's home.
I still count the seconds until our date nights and treasure the time we have alone.
I still love standing on tiptoes to kiss him.
I still look at him and see the college kid who wanted more than anything to be there for me.
I still see in his eyes what I saw a decade ago.

Today we have big plans. I'm taking the birthday boy to the movies and an afternoon of Christmas shopping sans children. I have been looking forward to this date for so long and as I type this the day before, the butterflies are creeping in. We have so much fun together, and I get such a thrill just from being by his side. He's a pretty cool dude, basically, so be sure to send him birthday wishes if you can. He deserves it!

Happy Birthday, Jonathan! I still get a kick out of you.

`

Chef Daddy: Blackened Tilapia

Today marks the start of a recipe series on this little blog of mine. No, this is not a joke.

You may be wondering why there are no culinary posts in the six-year history of this blog. There's a simple reason, and it's because I can't cook. I could if I tried harder, but it seems my knowledge of the perfect grilled cheese and boxed macaroni have been good enough thus far. It also helps that my husband is really good at it.

I've posted his creations on social media and even brought one to a blogger meetup {spinach dip post coming soon}, but I never thought about sharing recipes. When I approached him about writing down his methods, Chef Daddy was all in. In the interest of alliteration and not reinventing the wheel, I figured Foodie Friday would be a good fit. You get the gist. I will take pictures of food I had no hand in cooking and share the fruits of my husband's labor for you to enjoy. This week's dish has been a popular one in the house lately. Today we're talking blackened tilapia with a side of sautéed vegetables. We've been attempting to trade fried food in for leaner fare, and this rates high on the healthy scale.

My lack of skills means I can't really explain the details, but the recipe card below should point you in the right direction. I will say the way he cooks this fish is better than anything else I've tried, and when I ask what he does, he says, "secret recipe." Consider yourself lucky. He tops it with fresh ingredients: a mix of pepper, cilantro, tomato, avocado, and a splash of lime, but it's just as good without the topping {Nathan prefers it that way}. The veggies seem like a no-brainer. Just turn the left into the right:

For the entrée, I think you take sprinkles of some sort and put it on the fish. Then you put it in the pan, pull it out when it's ready, put some stuff on top of it, bada-bing, bada-boom you've got dinner:

It should be quite clear that I have no idea what I'm talking about, so I'll let the Chef Daddy-written recipe do the talking {hint: click on the recipe to enlarge, then save}. Print it out, ignore my cues, and cook this for your family. It comes with the Jessica stamp of approval, and although I'll admit that both Nora and Owen opted for hot dogs, Nathan gave this dish three thumbs up:

In his words, "I prefer salmon, but this is pretty okay." Nathan is such a picky eater, so to get him to try this, let alone eat the majority of it, is a win in my book. If your kids are open to new and exciting stuff, give this a whirl. It's good for them and comes with all sorts of vegetables disguised with delicious flavors. Bon appetit!

Dad Lessons

I've written birth stories, mom confessions, and heart-pouring revelations about the incredible blessing of motherhood.

What I don't always point out, however, is my parenthood is a two-part situation. That guy shown cradling his sweet babies plays an enormous role in not only saving my sanity when it comes to raising three kids, but a very heavy hand in the raising itself. I know I have been mushy about this dude all week, but it's far from undeserving. He's a wonderful husband, but he is an incredible daddy. I'd make a list of all the awesome things he does, but I wouldn't know where to begin or end. From midnight feedings to blowout diapers, fixing bloody knees to pureeing butternut squash, and doling out lessons as often as hugs, he's first class, y'all.

Today I want to wish Jonathan a very Happy Father's Day, his first with three sidekicks. As much as I talk about how cool it is to be a mama, I couldn't be one without him {literally and figuratively}. He's taught me a ridiculous amount about caring for kids, and he surprises me a little more each day with how good he is at handling business. However, since he is not my Daddy, I thought I'd let the kids who call him that share a little about the lessons he's taught them. Here are the results:

Nathan: "He teaches me fractions and some other cool actions. He also taught me to swim underwater and beat the hard levels on video games. He makes me feel so good whenever he tells me he's proud of me and if I do good things he gives me treats like candy and little boxes of Legos. I think he's the best dad ever because he is very nice to me. He makes me feel safe when I'm outside in the dark and hear scary noises. He tells me how long I need to brush my teeth and that's good because I don't want to go to the dentist and have to get my cavities filled. I love him tons and tons and tons and tons and tons."


Owen: "He teaches me about swimming lessons and about playing outside lessons and about chicken nugget lessons. I like to play toys with him and he pushes me to the moon. He will do it tomorrow. I like him to cook little hot dogs. I like him to snuggle in the chair and watch cooking shows. He is the best daddy because he is just the best ever. He's not a meanie mama."


Nora: Obviously this one can't speak for herself, so I'll loosely translate. Nora would like to say her daddy has taught her to dance like no one's watching, kiss as hard as possible, and always steal an extra snuggle. He's changed countless diapers for this one, stayed up all hours of the night during a rather rough teething episode, and is still desperate for me to hand her over when he gets home from work. Heaven help anyone who ever gives a second look to this daddy's girl.

Good stuff, right? Jonathan has made a huge impact on our kids, and it's just the beginning. No matter how many timeout threats, lectures, and countdowns he shouts in their direction, he is number one to all three. They look to him for advice, for information, and most importantly, for love. Although he is a huge blessing in their lives, this guy had to learn it somewhere. I mean, dads don't just come pre-programmed with lessons:

Of course, Mama had to get it from somewhere, too:

Wonderful daddies run in our families, and we are thankful for every one of them. Happy Father's Day to all the rad dads out there. Thank you for holding hands during contractions, pushing swings for hours, and being there when we need you, no matter the distance.

Easy Eight

It's been eight years since I met my husband at the end of the aisle.

It's been seven years since we became parents for the first time, completely clueless and head over heels.
It's been six years since we faced difficult decisions about what we wanted for our future.
It's been five years since we picked up everything we built in central Arkansas and started over in our new home.
It's been four years since our faith was tested and our hearts were torn by the loss of a baby.
It's been three years since our family of three gained a spunky fourth with dark brown eyes and a wild hair.
It's been two years since half of our duo moved into a new decade {and the other half isn't far behind}.
It's been one year since this two of a kind reached a full house with the addition of Nora June.

Today is our eighth wedding anniversary, and it still feels like it happened yesterday. I can still feel the humid air threatening my perfectly curled hair and weighing heavy against my white, beaded gown. I can see the pews of friends and family, watching the very first moments of the Bauer Bunch. I can hear my sister-in-law reading the scripture that has served as the cornerstone for countless marriages. It highlighted exactly what kind of love God wanted for us, and it has been an absolute truth over the past eight years. "It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

We've been through a lot since that hot day in June. That was the day we signed the paper that legally joined us together, but one thing I've realized since fretting over the dress, the flowers, and every detail imaginable is that it is so much more than a piece of paper. It is so much more than calla lilies and jumbo shrimp, bridesmaid dresses and boutineers. It's so much more than just that one moment in time. While that day was an amazing celebration of the joining of two families and the beginning of a new one, it's about our love.

As you can read from the beginning of the post {and already know if you've read here for awhile}, our lives have not always been a walk in the park, but the best thing about everything we've been through is that we went through it together. Since that moment at my Mema's house when Jonathan asked me to be his girlfriend to the moment in the church nine months later to that moment this morning when he told me he loved me, we've been together. We've disagreed and fought, yelled and screamed, but we have always done it together. And together, we've always figured it out. More is coming, too. More heartbreak, more joy, and more uncertainty. I will never take for granted the fact that he's the one constant.

In the grand scheme of things, eight years is just a small part of my life, but what an eight years it's been. I know I sound cheesy and perhaps unbelievable to those who don't know me, but I love this dude a little more with every anniversary. Those kids who exchanged rings had no idea what was coming, and had no idea what their love would become. Love is absolutely not just something that I say or something that I'm in, it's something that I do. Every single day of the last eight years and every single day of the rest of my life. Life can be tough, complicated, overwhelming, and unforgiving, but this love? This love is easy. I thank God every day that I found it.

Eight years of wedded bliss and still working it.

Happy Anniversary, Jonathan! I am hands down the luckiest.

Date Night

The original Bauer Bunch circa Christmas 2005.
Do you know your vacuum's Lucky Charm capacity? I can say without hesitation that I do.

But that cute, well-rested girl up there? She doesn't have a clue. She probably hasn't even seen her vacuum in a few months nor does she know the best travel path for cleaning her shoe box of an apartment. A week's worth of laundry is probably waiting in her bedroom and I'll bet you a crab rangoon she grabbed one of five crumpled Chinese food menus seconds after this selfie-before-selfie-was-a-word was snapped. Oh, and also? That girl is deliriously happy.

See that guy up there? Yeah, she's been dating him for about five months and wearing his grandmother's engagement ring for three. Once she allowed their friendship to blossom into something more, sparks flew. They have no idea where their June wedding will take them, and they can't imagine the walls that will stand in their way. All they knew in this frozen moment is that they wanted to do it together, and if that's not reason enough to get married, then I don't know what is. Fast forward a little to see that she found her vacuum, he honed his cooking skills, and married life was the picture of domesticated bliss. Then they made three babies, and things got a bit more complicated. And, here we are.

{Thanks for keeping up.}

Day in and day out, I feel like I'm chasing my tail. While I'm in the kitchen sweeping up one mess, my kids are in their bedrooms making another. Dishes pile into the sink the minute I close the dishwasher and the cycle of dirty laundry is endless. Between the job I'm paid for and the jobs I'm not, life has me running crazy, and I can become desperate for escape. Those two in that picture are still around. They're older, they don't get nearly enough sleep, and they vacuum up Lucky Charms more often than they'd care to admit, but they are still very much in love. And they deserve a break.

Tonight Jonathan and I have dinner and hotel reservations to stretch our Valentine's Day celebration another weekend and enjoy a little kid-free time for conversation, romance, and glorious sleep. You better believe I've perused the menu and can already imagine sinking my teeth into gorgeous filet mignon. It will be the best steak of my life, mark my words. No kiddie menus for our table tonight. Just us.

Life can start spinning away from me, but I know I can cling to him when everything else slips through my fingers. I can't count on Owen to listen to me, I can't count on Nathan to be quiet, I can't count on Nora to sleep through the night, but I can count on Jonathan to hold my hand and walk beside me. I am well aware of how lucky I am for that.

I may complain and whine and moan about the everyday life of a mother, but I do know exactly how good I have it. I am blessed.

Holy Matrimony!

{Recycled from the anniversary post, but it's just too darn cute}
Today our church is holding a big celebration for all of its married couples, particularly the ones who have been married for 25 years or more. Being the youngest of the bunch, the hubs and I were asked to speak during Mass and give our take on the sacrament of matrimony while simultaneously revealing how much more we have to learn.

Gulp.

I figured we needed some form of preparation and I didn't want to pen a script, so I thought a post would help get my thoughts in order. Having no guide other than "talk about marriage for five minutes," these are my Cliff's Notes:

{Also, this will publish on the day of our talk, so there's a good chance none of this actually came out of my mouth.
Just take my word for it and don't ask the parishioners, okay?}
You may or may not know this about us, but Jonathan and I met at the same Catholic Youth Convention we take a group of teens to every May. We tell the kids each year to pay attention to who they meet as you never know what God has planned. An entire decade and a half ago, our teenage selves shared a dance or two, talked over lackluster sandwiches, and sat in the same group during an icebreaker. However, other than an email or two after the convention {this was the dark ages before cell phones and Facebook, y'all}, that was our relationship. Just one weekend out of the year.

After his first year at the University of Central Arkansas, I joined him in the same dorm building, we became fast friends, spent the majority of our free time together, and the rest is history. Well, a bit of a complicated history when it boils down to it, but that's a different post for a different day.

We started our relationship in July 2005, became engaged in October 2005, and married in June 2006.

That period of my life was a complete whirlwind and I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I mumbled a shocked "yes" to my down-on-one-knee boyfriend. I didn't know how hard it would be to grow up. I didn't know that you have to work at marriage. I didn't know how overwhelming raising three kids could be. And I had no clue what true love could mean.

After seven years of marriage, I think I'm slowly figuring it out, but I can't wait to see what it's like at seventy.

From the moment we fell in love to this moment in front of friends and family, our love has grown every day. Perhaps we don't always show it and sometimes it feels like we take a step back, but we're human. There is one thing, though, that helps me know we can conquer anything life hurdles toward us.

There have been hard times over the past seven years. Financial woes, career confusion, pregnancy issues, and general frustration have created bumpy roads and wrong turns. But the one constant I see when I recall our problems is prayer. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it's real. Whether we did it silently or aloud, holding hands or in completely separate places, we did it together. The one constant in our lives is the desperate need for God's intervention. Now I don't mean that He parts the clouds, greets us with a warm hug, and places a blinking arrow toward the solution. Far from it.

To get us through these times, we typically don't get obvious answers. We may want them, but it doesn't work that way. Instead, we look to Him for strength. For the courage to face these issues, work through them, and find peace. One of my favorite things about Jonathan is his unwavering faith. I need this in him as much as I need it in myself. I need to see him give his problems to the Lord, thank Him for all he has, and love Him unconditionally.

Together Jonathan and I try to keep the light of Christ in our marriage, we work together as a team, we laugh with each other, we offer limitless support, and we allow ourselves to falter. We are not perfect and we cannot be perfect. We will make mistakes and our relationships will take steps backward. It's the way we get back on course that makes us strong.

Don't get me wrong, I am well aware that we have barely dipped our toes into the ocean of marriage. We have so much to learn about each other and about our life together. We have a long way to go and no map to get there. I'm just thankful that I'm on this adventure with my best friend.

And to think, it all started at a gathering we attended because of our love for Jesus Christ. Imagine that.

"We love because He first loved us."
1 John 4:19

Lucky #7

Seven years ago I was 21 years old. You know, the green, clueless, just-starting-out kind. I didn't know what all I wanted out of life, but I knew 100% that I had someone to live it with.

On June 10 seven years ago, my 21-year-old self climbed into a gorgeous white wedding gown that weighed heavy on my young hips. I covered my face with a veil and I tried to keep everyone from hearing my heartbeat.

I saw the tears in my best friend's eyes as she walked around me, making sure everything was good to go. I saw the tears in my dad's eyes when it was time for the door to open and us to make our debut. Then I saw the tears in the eyes of a guy I met at a youth convention in high school.

A guy who was the best friend I could ever ask for throughout college. A guy who shyly asked me to be his girlfriend the previous July and then followed that up with a proposal three months later.

And we've been crying ever since.

Yep, today is the seven-year anniversary of this particular branch of the Bauer family. It has grown fast and it has grown a lot since that sunny day at St. Patrick's, but it just started out as two people. Two people who didn't know much about the world, but they knew love.

Amazing highs, depressing lows, and enough tears to flow a river, and here we are. Two of a kind and working on a full house. We would still both admit that we have no idea what we're doing, but we're doing it together. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.



Seven years of a new last name and a live-in best friend.
Six months of picking the perfect shade of blue and learning the difference between roses and callas.
Five months after our wedding before our family started to grow.
Four fantastic friends (each) who stood beside us as we said "I do" and who are still a huge part of our lives.
Three years of being protected by a sweet guardian angel.
Two rambunctious, smart, amazing boys who doubled the size of our original little family.
One tiny baby girl who will soon add to the love that has grown so much since that hot June day.


Seven years is just the beginning and I can honestly say I'm not itchy in the least. We are still starting out, but we now have (almost) three little sidekicks to tag along beside us. We are all in this together and together, life is sweet.

Thank you Jonathan, for starting this journey that has pretty much rocked.

Here's to a hundred more! <3