Love is being *this* happy in a windy ass parking structure in Oklahoma City.

Ten years ago, two kids hopped into a silver Jetta and zoomed away from the DC Beltway.  They headed straight back to Austin.  They didn't pass Go, but they did pass a few Stuckey's and a LOT of Cracker Barrels.  

(I maintain:  Cracker Barrel is a fantastic place to stop and go to the bathroom on a road trip.  The restrooms are clean.  They are always in the same place, straight back through the "nostalgic goodies" from the door.  You can get an iced tea to go (sweet or unsweet, thankyouverymuch) and you don't have to stop and eat a Grampy's Breakfast.  But you can.  Up to you.)

Durel and I have decided that I can never get Botox because it will
inhibit my ability to make crazy expressions ALL THE TIME.
I'm a little bit disappointed, but whatever.
Also, this was taken at our amazing engagement party
 held on the DC rooftop of my dear Kristina's apartment building.  

Those kids were named Heather and Durel and they were gonna get married.

*     *     *     *     *

Today's Heather and Durel live in the suburbs, have two human kids and two furry kids, and go to bed earlier than they ever have.  I can't speak for Durel, but I've had bunion surgery and may or may not have Tums in my nightstand.  I have lawyered for a double digit number of years.  We are legit adults now.

We look back at those kids and think, "Damn."  

Young Heather and Durel were unencumbered by hangovers and fear of the unknown and guilt about debt and any thoughts whatsoever about 401(k)s.  I mean, they got their taxes filed and didn't run out of gas regularly (though I've come close more than I care to admit), but you know.  They were...kids.

*     *     *     *     *

On October 22, 2005, young Heather and Durel locked it down with one hundred-ish of their family and best friends watching.  I cried, as I knew I would.  (I'm a crier.)  When I got dressed, I had tucked a Kleenex into my cleavage, "just in case," and as I teared up I realized that I couldn't reach into my cleavage to get it in front of one hundred of our nearest and dearest.  Fat lotta good that Kleenex did me, standing in the oak trees before sunset.

Durel could read my mind then, as he still can now.  He saw the tears coming and saw a thought cross my mind and promptly get nixed.  He smiled a little and reached into his pocket, only to hand me a pressed handkerchief.  

We also look back at those kids and think, "Damn right."

Thanks for the decade, D.  The next ones will be even greater.  I know it.

Hope your big decisions are good for many, many decades.

Talk soon,

Heather

for the love of baseball

I can't pretend to like sports.  

Durel and I have been married almost ten years and my favorite part of football season is game day cooking courtesy of Pinterest.

So, I also can't pretend to feel a pang as Jack develops what I assume will be a life-long love of the Houston Astros.

Do I have several Baltimore Orioles t-shirts waiting in Jack's closet for him to grow into?  Yes.  That, I can do.  I can accessorize my feelings about my Maryland heritage.

*     *      *     *     *  

Durel, Uncle Dustin, and Jack went to Jack's first Astros game recently.  They had dude time and pizza.  They wore their shirts.  They took their pictures.  They bought their Legos(?).  

Quote from Jack the other day:  "I like to pull my shorts up, and they have to be above the knee."
Alllllrighty, then.

A good time was had by all.  Including the Lego company.

Hope you invest in a little kid's love of baseball today.

Talk soon,

Heather

the modern dad

Durel was on board with the idea of me taking a 40th Girls Weekend trip.  I mean, he wasn't doing back flips about it.  But he understands that I rarely see my three besties since they live in New England.  They come to visit me pretty regularly, which we super mega appreciate, but it was definitely my turn to get on a plane to spend some quality time with them.

Forty may be the new thirty, but it's still a big deal.  (Ahem, for the record, I am still in the throes of my 30's until the end of the year.)  So, we decided to go big.  We've done New York (which may or may not have involved dancing on a bar in the Meat Packing District when that was cool, and yes, that was a real time and a real thing.)  We've done DC (which may have involved drunk Metro riding, which is kind of inevitable). 

Anyway, last weekend, I gallivanted around Napa Valley with three of my best friends for life.

I'll get to that later, because I can't tell that story without telling *this* one first.

*     *     *     *     *

Pretty much as soon as I was out of Central Time Zone, daycare called.  Sawyer had a fever.  And was cranky and miserable, which he is generally NOT.  

Enter:  SuperDad.

Durel left work to pick him up and managed to get him into see the pediatrician, like, instantaneously.  He was diagnosed with a nasty ear infection in one year -- behind the tubes!  (I did not know that was a thing and WHAT THE HELL, TUBES?!)  

So, Durel's weekend went like this:

-- Antibiotics, both oral and ear drops?  Check.  

-- Nebulizing the little guy because he's still a little wheezy from the RSV (WHAT THE HELL, RSV?!)

-- Saline spray into the tiny nose for the massive boogers (The ratio on size for baby boogers to baby noses is way off.  WAY off.)

-- Probiotics into the tiny digestive system for the massive antibiotics  (No comment.)

-- Fever reducer because his fever would not quit (WHAT THE HELL, FEVER?!)

-- Wrangling a five year old (who only wants to play Star Wars Angry Birds and/or watch Odd Squad)

So, he pretty much had a great time.

My father-in-law (who is truly amazing) was there to assist.  It was the Two Men and a Jack and a Sick Baby show.  They did a wonderful job.  There was red wine in the evenings and March Madness on TV and general madness all day long.

Thanks, Durel.  You are SuperDad and a modern dad and an awesome dad.

Here's what I got of the weekend via text.  This is good stuff, people.

Teeth:  6 and 2 more visibly on the way.  Woah.

Jazz hands for lobster ravioli.  As we do.

Yup.  Awesome.

Hope you appreciate both your spouse and the power of antibiotics today.

Talk soon,

Heather

hey, durel...

In 2001, I met a handsome guy named Durel with a really sweet Southern accent.  I got a crush on him.  Our first date involved beer, some dude with a TV show on public access cable, and his friend the rabbi who wouldn't answer his phone.  We've never been boring.

Today is Durel's birthday.

He's been my best friend for more than a decade, my husband for almost a decade, an amazing dad for five years, and Coach D to the formidable DC Dragons four year old soccer team for a month or so.

He's great.  And given the amount of ink I spill about Jack's birthdays, I had to take a moment and thoroughly embarrass Durel by spilling a little ink in his honor.

Hope you get some well-deserved props today.

Talk soon,
Heather