For some reason, I took my bag of Skittles and separated them by color. I haven’t done that since I was a kid (and even then, it was once or twice for school, I think).

What quirks do you have?

Right now, I’m watching “The Office” in “surround” sound. Next on the docket: wii fabulousness.

 

My wedding day was an explosion of love. Our family and friends gathered to celebrate the love of myself and the man I was destined to love forever. But he would not be the first to hold my heart. That honor belongs to the first love of my life: my daddy.

I remember walking down the aisle with him. As we waited to begin, I was an anxious wreck. My father simply took my hand and I could breathe again. As we walked, I stopped and took a (rather loud) breath. His grip tightened. He knew what was coming, and he knew it was time. As daddy handed me over, he leaned in to husband and said “I trust you.”

Husband takes that seriously, to this day. 

The father/daughter dance was a bittersweet event. To us, it was a small good-bye to the little girl I used to be. “You are a beautiful woman now, but you will always be my little girl.” I drank in his smell — the faintest trace of cologne and cigarettes lingered on his lapel — and I made a memory that will last a lifetime.

#1 “A daughter’s love” by BarelyJen

I am entering this into Cre13′s photo contest about love. Please stop by and check it out (and vote for my entry, of course!).

What’s your favorite memory of your parent(s)?

The crook of your chest is where I shall rest.
This is my favorite part.

Your heart guides me along, like a sweet flowing song.
This is my favorite part.

Your arms keep me warm; they save me from harm.
This is my favorite part.

Your fingers caress and prance ‘cross my back when we dance.
This is my favorite part.

Perking up are the ears that hear when I’m near.
This is my favorite part.

The mouth and the lips, with its kisses and quips.
This is my favorite part.

From your top to your toes, I want you to know, you are my favorite part.

I have lived a quiet existence the past few weeks … no phones, no meetings, no chaos. Now that I’m back in the eye of the storm once again, I feel whole. I missed work.

I really think there’s something wrong with me.

Since moving floors three weeks ago, I was finally able to unpack.

It will never look this organized again, I’m betting …

Oh, and that green thing on the table? That’s my lunch!

Looks good, doesn’t it?! Day two of healthy eating, and I’m still going strong. I did find out that soy yogurt tastes like ass, but soy milk is fab.

Husband and I went shopping at Sprout’s Market yesterday … thanks to sales and coupons, we were able to stock up at a really great price. I’ve already made a vegetable soup, fruit salad for the next few days, and a variety of salads for the week. No worries, there’s protein in there, too!

And thanks to his never-ending patience, we went to upgrade his phone (that, and it was just time to!) He is now the proud owner of a BlackJack II by Samsung. It looks nice enough, but it seems confusing as hell. I’ll keep my iPhone, thank  you very much!

“Wonder what this button does?!”

Definitely not impressed.

What kind of cell phone do you have?

I’m watching the “17 Kids and Counting” wedding special on TLC … Josh Duggar proposed to his girlfriend, but they emphatically stress they’re saving their first kiss for the wedding day. According to his parents, it will help them “avoid some of the missteps we’ve experienced.” (Among other reasons, such as mutual respect, self-control and religious beliefs)

I can appreciate the sentiment behind saving your first kiss for your wedding day, but I can’t imagine husband and my relationship growing into what it is now without that initial level of intimacy.

Alex and I were made fun of because we waited two weeks into our relationship before we smooched away … (We were able to exercise self-control in other areas, though.)

But, when that day of nothingness turns into two weeks, you tend to rethink your thoughts.

Each time I got out of bed was a treat for me. I’d walk to the kitchen and feel free for a moment. I was allowed to leave the house only twice, and both times I’d wish we’d full-throttle the gas to somewhere — anywhere! — that would be a change of scenery.

Today, oh glorious day, I’m able to walk away from my nest. Bed rest as I knew it is over.

To my bed, I make this promise:

• No longer will I sit on you in stretches longer than 12 hours 
• I promise to not eat each meal I consume on you
• If I do eat a meal, I will clean up any cracker crumbs that may have fallen your way
• I will make you up to look pretty more often. A pretty bed is a happy bed.  

My next step out the door: work on Monday. Wish me luck!

I think I owe it to myself to become a “B” … well, a skinny bitch, at least. I’ve been inspired and am now on a mission to look and feel my best.
 
Here’s the thing. Due to a variety of medical maladies, I’ve been overweight and unhappy with my physical state for several years. This isn’t about vanity (although I would love to look uber-hot), but my health.

There are a plethora of reasons I could have lost my baby. Chromosomes didn’t jive together, God felt it wasn’t the right time and/or my body isn’t “up to code.”

At right: me, 10 years ago. I was slender, healthy and happy. Today, that poor girl is buried under additional, unneeded pounds. I must save her!

I know how hard I’ve worked to lose what I have over the years, so I’m not blaming myself persay, but I know that I can do even more to get myself healthy.

I can’t rely on others to get my ass in shape — this task is up to me. Only I decide what goes in my mouth. It’s up to me to make better choices for my health, and the health of my future baby.

Given that I’ve been on perpetual bed rest lately, I’ve been catching up on my reading. In the queue:

The Skinny Bitch phenom was started by two beautiful vegans hell-bent on getting their no-nonsense advice out for all to hear. Their straight-to-the-point advice and “slap in the face” attitude really grabbed my intention. Put down the candy bar? Okay! Of course I don’t want a fat ass forever! You’re so right, SBs!

The Organic Food Shopper’s Guide is a really informative book that explains how to shop for, store and utilize your food to the fullest potential. I’ve been pouring over it, compiling a shopping list of my organic “must haves.” Plus, I’ve already set aside quite a few recipes to try next week. Yum!

The Student’s Vegetarian Cookbook intrigued me. It’s written with the poor college student in mind, but why not have a poor writer take full advantage of its secrets? It teaches you how to use common ingredients in a more healthful, tasty way — who couldn’t use that advice? (They also have a vegan companion book available, but I’m not too interested.)

I’m not going vegan or fully vegetarian — anyone who knows me I can eat the crap out of some ribs or homemade hamburgers! — but I am converting to a more organic, less meat lifestyle. It amazes me that I’ve put crap in my body for 26 years … and I’m not talking about the sodas and candy (though I’m beyond guilty), but things that we’ve been told were good for us: milk, veggies full of pesticides and meat with more problems than I care to discuss. These are things we’ve always heard in the background of society, but never paid much mind to. Well, my mind is beginning to open. It’s time for a new way of life.

I just want to become the healthiest version of myself possible. I want to enjoy the nutrients my food has to offer, without all the crap (or less of it, at least). I want to lose 40-50 pounds before having a child. 2010 has always been our “year” for the baby, so I’ve got AT LEAST 11 months to get in shape.

For a few short weeks, I had a life growing inside me. It was magical and exciting; a life-changing event you couldn’t help but look forward to. I’ve wanted to be a mommy ever since I could remember … playing house at 5 years old, rocking my dollies to sleep and feeding them plastic food. Mommyhood is something I’ve always been destined for.

But, as I sat trembling on the exam table, watching the doctor struggling to break the bad news to us, a sense of calm washed over us both. Huh? Where’d THIS emotion come from?

I don’t know if you all have noticed, but I’m pretty “Type A” when it comes to organization. My life functions better with a list and a schedule (especially since I juggle so many different things). From the moment the plus sign appeared, I went into overdrive, trying to compensate for weeks of lost planning time. Where would the baby sleep? How would we pay for daycare? Would husband really be okay being a stay-at-home dad? We could make anything work, especially for a most-treasured new arrival … Yes, we figured out a way to manage, but it wasn’t ideal.

Now, back to that calm feeling I was talking about. See, husband and I have always been very pragmatic when it comes to life. You can’t change the past, and your past doesn’t necessarily dictate your future. We think of ourselves as “grounded optimists” — eternally positive, with a touch of reality. Yes, we lost a baby. It’s a sad and tragic thing that we continue to grieve over. BUT we can’t change it. In a twisted way, this miscarriage is a bittersweet “blessing.” We now know that we can get pregnant (something we had genuinely been concerned about), but more than that, we are able to take a step back, refocus our lives and better PREPARE for this next step in life.

I’m not sure if these thoughts are coming across the way they need to, but you all told me to talk through this.

This was a letter I had posted the night President Obama won the election by a landslide. I celebrated with my Xanga friends, jubilantly typing our excitements out in the BFN chatroom — definitely a night to remember. Now, as he is about to be sworn in, I wanted to share my letter to him with you once again. Today, the world will change forever … I am hopeful for us all.

---

First of all, I’d like to congratulate you on your fantastic win this evening. Not only is it a victory for the ages, but one that was hard-fought and most-deserved. 

I am writing to thank you, because for once in my life, I feel as if I was part of something bigger than myself. A single voice — lost far too often — has finally been heard.

I’ll be honest with you: I was never one for political dealings. After the 2000 election, I was jaded. Politics were well-known for being a dirty business, but why bother casting a vote that wouldn’t count? I was blissfully apathetic … until I heard you speak. Your words were eloquent and your presence, commanding. It felt like I was listening to a real person, not a fronting politician.

I am one of millions that signed the petition to get you to run for president; I watched the live feed as you announced your candidacy; I proudly voted and caucused in the primary race; I swelled with pride as you accepted the democratic nomination.

It hasn’t always been easy to be your supporter, though. Like your candidacy, the road has been a bumpy one — I’ve been met with a great deal of criticism from friends and strangers, neighbors and family members. My faith and ability to think have been questioned. I am happy to tell you I never wavered from my position, thanks to your strength, convictions and hope for change.

Tonight, you legitimized our belief in your campaign for change. Tomorrow, I will hang my head high, knowing I’ve been with you from the beginning. And in January, America will watch you begin your journey to live up to your potential. Please, sir, do right by us. I know you will.

As I shed a tear or two, I realize that the world is different, and it started with an admirable man from Illinois. You won, sir. WE won.

The entire journey was worth it; thank you for letting us be a part of it.

Sincerely,
Jen

There are few times in life that you enjoy such unbridled happiness when sharing earth-shattering news.

I am very happy to have experienced all three of those announcements. They truly make up some of my most treasured memories. Today, however, I experienced the complete opposite.