Faithy Be Two


I'm the mom of a 2-year-old.

I'll have more to say about that (and the birthday party) when you have time to read about it. Right now you need to set aside the next 13 minutes of your life to watch this video. Yeah, yeah, 13 minutes is a little long. But do you know why YouTube changed its max upload time from 10 minutes to 15? Answer: moms. Moms like me.

Enjoy, and pass me the damn tissues. My baby girl is growing up!

Daddies Do It Different

The title of this post is the title of the book I bought Rob for Father's Day.

An excerpt:

At bedtime, Mommy dims the light, dresses me in a clean pair of jammies, and we never forget to brush my teeth.

But daddies do it different. With a thousand kooky voices, Daddy reads me silly stories, we jump like kangaroos, and he tickles me so much, I get crazy-hyper nuts.

It goes on to describe the differences between how mommies and daddies do things like breakfast, bath times and other routines. It is somewhat stereotypical, with mom being the responsible/boring one and dad being the irresponsible/fun one.

Faith's Dad: the fun one.
However, most of the situations couldn't be more true for how our family operates. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

When Faith was first born, I read something on Babycenter to the effect of "you may want to kill your DH (dear hubby) shortly after the baby is born." I remember thinking how ludicrous that seemed. Rob was so helpful, keeping track of my medications, getting up with me in the wee hours of the morning, running errands, etc. How could I ever even get mad at him, let alone want to kill him? Well, just like with household chores, sometimes you feel an imbalance when caring for a kid, even if there isn't one. It took a few months, but I got to the point where I felt like he wasn't shouldering his share of the load or just wasn't doing "it" right. That kinda makes me sound mean, but I think most moms will know what I'm talking about here. For example, the first bath Rob gave Faith, he dabbed some water on a washcloth and not so gently wiped Faith three times before calling it good. My mom and I just looked at each other like "What was that?"

Well, daddies do it different (differently to be grammatically correct). And that's OK. Because sometime after that bath, my mom and I decided to take a walk with Howie. When we got back Rob told us he gave Faith a tour of the house. Who would've thought to give a 4-day-old baby a tour of the house? Her dad.

He may not comb her hair like I would. Exhibit A.

Or dress her like I would when playing in the snow. (Those are pajama pants.)

Or play with her like I would. Yes, that's a worm. Ewwww.

But that's because he's not supposed to. Faith doesn't need two me's. She needs her mom and she needs her daddy. Our differences are what make us great parents.

If it weren't for her dad, Faith wouldn't get to enjoy weekly trips to the grocery store/Target, where her dad lets her push the cart and play with the pianos in the electronics department.

She wouldn't get to enjoy weekday morning trips to the zoo, where her dad teaches her how to "find Nemo" and appreciate all God's creatures.

Because Daddies do it different(ly). And that's OK with me. It's more than OK. It's perfect.

Everything's $.25 unless marked - Our Garbage Sale

Hah! You didn't think you were getting away without a post about the annual Lindquist garage sale did you? What's that? You'd rather hear about my failures to get my daughter to sleep in a big girl bed...well too bad. You're stuck reading about useless items we sold for a dime until I can find a way to spin Faith's ability to fall out of 1-foot tall bed and wander the halls half asleep into a positive light. That's what PR people do. Now you know.

Anyway, the garage sale. Many of you remember the original sale pre-Faith and the sequel were quite successful. But just like any trilogy, the third installment wasn't as big of a money maker. We still made $300 (between two families) and had fun doing it, but if it weren't for my mom's hoarding abilities (the woman owns four cheese graters) we would've been paying someone to haul our junk from our garage instead of holding a sale. Without her "treasures" there's just not enough to justify pricing all that cra gently used stuff.

As always, the funny stories are what make the garage sale worthwhile. This year's winners are:

These hideous ceramic dogs with hair. The night before the sale, my Aunt Kris, cousin Mandy and I were pricing items when we pulled one of these out of a box. We all lost it. When I pulled out the companion, we really thought we die of laughter. I got the bright idea to save them for a Christmas gag gift and set them aside. Faith found them in the garage one day and hasn't let go of them since. One is Mommy and the other is Daddy. Daddy's head keeps falling off, so I'm pretty sure my daughter will end up in therapy someday. Guess the joke's on me.

When cleaning out one of our closets, I came across Rob's artwork from high school. Now, my husband is very talented. See picture one. But picture I'm certain Faith will need therapy. I had priced the items for $1 or so, honestly because I wanted to meet the person who would buy #2, but then had a change of heart. I'd hate for someone to make a cool million selling that sucker on ebay when it can be mine, all mine.

This one isn't exactly garage sale related, but about 5 minutes into the start of our sale, Rob was walking around in the yard, when he suddenly groaned and announced, "Ugh, I stepped in poop." My reaction: "Whose poop was it?" Really, Nicole? My only defense is that it was early.

Because I have no shame, I'll list another doozy of a comment made by yours truly. Some dudes came up to the check-out table without looking at anything we had to offer and asked if we had any tools for sale. I responded, "No, but we do have some tiles." (In my defense, change a couple of vowels around there and you're in business. Also, tool people like to DIY. They might've wanted the tiles. However, they did not...this time.)

There was one item that a lady couldn't figure out the use for. I told her it was a necklace holder...she thought it might be a tie rack. (Who really cares if it's 25 cents?) After she left, my mom informed me that it was the top of a broken cupcake stand. Ahhh, now I see it. We were looking at it upside down.

This one is short and sweet, but Auntie Kris had about four board games with no pieces. Not missing pieces. No pieces. I told her those should be recycled, but she put them in the free pile. And someone took them! People are weird.

Kris also tried to sell one shoe. The girl was devastated when I couldn't locate the other one. I can just see the ad for the garage sale on Craigslist: baby clothes, furniture and three right shoes.

I was grateful that my mom and dad were there, along with Kris to watch Faith if need be. It turns out though, she was our best customer, almost like a plant shopper advertising how much kids would like the items. Good thing she doesn't make an allowance yet, or she would've blown it on all Mandy's old stuffed animals.

in case you forgot what she looked like :)
 As per the usual, items went half price around 1. When we were desperate to close down at about 1:55, my mom had the best idea ever. $5 for everything you can fit into a good size box. Since most items were marked a quarter, we were just charging a dime when they went half price, aka it would've taken 50 items to make that worth it. The first family took us up on the offer. Little did they know they'd been had by my marketing genius mom, the original PR pro. 

As for the title of this post, that was my mom's strategy when she held her first and only garage sale in the late 90s. At the time, I thought she was cheating herself out of money. Now I know better.

Our Dam 5-Year Anniversary

My husband thinks he's lucky. He keeps calling it that (both here and here). But I'm the one who's blessed. Why? Because no other girl in high school or college was smart enough to see through that slight (oh, who are we kidding?) major nerdy-ness and skinny frame to the man he would become. Even me.

You see, Rob pursued me (still wondering why -- other than my love and knowledge of Cyclone sports) for about six months our junior year of college before he gave up and went out with someone else. For some reason, I just didn't think he was "my type." It took him dating someone else for me to finally question myself. "Why was it that I wouldn't give a relationship with him a chance?" I couldn't think of anything. 

When his relationship with the other girl ended, he called me (while I was in Disneyworld) to let me know. Fitting, today, that Disney is "the happiest place on Earth." Round two of being pursued began and this time, I didn't play hard to get. On Oct. 16, 2004, while I was in Missouri Valley, and Rob was in Ames, we decided to change our relationship status on Facebook from friends to "in a relationship with." 

I've never looked back. I guess in some relationships, you evaluate if it's working or not and proceed from there. We never did. We didn't have to. I think I was the first to say "I Love You" about three weeks into it. I just felt it and have ever since. 

Not to brag, but my 100-pounds as a high school junior husband gained some much-needed beer weight and is now a 170ish-pound snappy dresser with a heart of freaking gold. 

He's still a nerd though. As my sister pointed out to me a while ago: "Nerds make the best husbands." I don't know a lot of other nerd husbands, but I can vouch for mine. He cooks, cleans and is the best dad to Faith Janna I could ever ask for. 

He also puts up with yours truly. I don't want to make you dislike the author of this blog, but I have a short fuse, anxiety-ridden tendencies and can be a control freak (good thing I never had to fill out an online dating resume). For some reason, (other than that I can grow a pretty adorable little girl) he keeps on loving me.

Five years ago we vowed in front of God and everyone that we'd love each other no matter what. That was my lucky day. June 2, 2007. 

Beautiful weather. 

Beautiful ceremony. 

And I didn't know it at the time, but beautiful future. 

It was no surprise to me that June 2, 2012 was just as beautiful. 

It started off with a Dam(n) race. You see, last year I hurt my foot and watched from the sidelines as Rob crossed the finish line of the 20k that Iowans affectionately know as Dam to Dam. This year, we marked five years of wedded bliss by putting ourselves through the pain that a 12.4 mile run brings. Since I had so much time to think along the way, I realized that the course of the race is a lot like marriage -- there are ups, downs, bouts of pain and lots of laughter (my favorite sign: "Your feet hurt because you are kicking so much butt!") but it's so worth it at the end of the day. 

Rob crossed the finish line in 2 hours exactly. I was right behind him at 2 hours, 4 minutes. He waited for me by the medals, and I fell into his arms as tears came to my eyes. It felt so good to accomplish something so major together, even if we didn't run side by side the whole way. 

We made our way over to the photo area and posed like a bride and groom smooching. 

We cheered on some more runners (go Summer, who if you remember said she had "no desire to do anything that ended in a K" last year). We hung out with the friends who stood up with us on our wedding day five years ago. 

And then we went on a date (Men in Black 3 in 3D--highly recommend-- and P. F. Changs -- also amazing). 

I should also mention the night before our race-iversary we went to see the Nadas (my fav band) at Nightfall on the River in Des Moines. 

About three songs into their set, Rob asked me to dance. Mind you there was no dance floor. You sit in lawn chairs on a sloping hill. I REALLY did not want to do this, and tried to escape his grasp many times. Finally, after I decided I was making a scene, I gave in. 

Sure, I felt silly, but just like Oct. 16, 2007, once I was in his arms I didn't want to leave (cheesy, I know). I told him I didn't deserve him. He agreed and then laughed. Sometimes I'm not sure why God is so good to me, but I'll take it. On our way out of the amphitheatre, some guy stopped me and asked, "Are you two newlyweds?" I flashed him a smile and told him that no, we were marking five years together tomorrow. It was, by far, one of the best compliments we've ever received.

When we got back to the hotel, he gave me my anniversary card and a present of new running shorts for the race. All I had for him was a card and the story of a botched art project (more on that later -- damn you Pinterest). Like I said, pretty sure I don't deserve him. But in case you didn't know, this Dam to Dam was the 33rd annual. 33 is my lucky number. Pretty sure I'm the lucky one.