A Post You're Definitely Gonna Regret Reading...

This summer, Sam and I finally made the long trek to his mother's house in South Dakota. My main objective during the trip was to sort through (and confiscate) as many pictures from Sam's youth as I could get away with. After nearly 5 years with this man, I had yet to see a baby picture. Which is, in my humble opinion, a crime against nature.

I was especially looking forward to this experience because I imagined it would be some sort of grand unveiling. A glimpse into the somewhat mysterious past my husband has had so little to say about over the years. It never occurred to me that Sam just simply didn't have much to say about his upbringing. Or that he just isn't the "analyzer and reporter" that I am, and merely hadn't thought much about it. No, this couldn't be true. Certainly he was a secret fatty in his youth. Or a marching band mutant. And I'd been waiting a long time to find out.

As we delved through his baby pictures I felt distinctly maternal to the little munchkin I saw looking back at me. I saw no husband in these pictures, but a child that could have been mine, with features more familiar to me than my own... altered by chubby cheeks and the kind of innocence that accompanies only those with no real life experiences. I loved that baby boy.

As the boy grew older I was a little disappointed to find that there wasn't any big secret to reveal. He wasn't a marching band mutant after all (though he did spend three years as a Junior High Mutant... heaven help us... picture to follow).

At this point, the only reasonable conclusion I could come to regarding the "mystery" that shrouded my husband's past was that Sam had simply hated his life before me, and that I had come along and opened his eyes to what it was really like to be living. Naturally, this conclusion brought me great pleasure.

I continued sorting under this notion, puffed up with pride. Poor little Sammy, he must be so grateful for me! I really do bring out the best in him! Until we got to High School. At first, I found myself feeling all oooh la la and high school crushy over his football and dance pictures. Sam got all weirded out and awkward when I started trying to make flirty eye contact and playing footsie with him under the table, Kip and Lafawnda style. But once I snapped out of feeling swooney, something startling began to happen...

What in the world is that little pang in my heart and in my stomach? Seems so out of place right now. Why am I wanting to criticize all these pukey little friends in the pictures with Sam? Why do I want to be insulting about his cute and fun ex girlfriends and dance dates? Why am I feeling.... wait. Am I feeling..... JEALOUS???

I was. I was feeling jealous. And left out. I had heard about Sam's high school experience before, and he had never made it sound exceptional in any way. But as I looked through the pictures of him and his friends laughing, bon-firing, dating, pulling pranks (including streaking through the school on the last day of senior year. No, pictures not to follow. Perves.) and having an all around great time, I knew that my previous conclusion had been way off. He did, in fact, have an exceptional high school experience. He did have meaningful relationships and experiences. His life before me wasn't all dark and dreary and lacking in purpose. It was as if I was meeting a new Sam for the very first time, and this new Sam didn't need me in the slightest. I felt jilted.

At that moment I remembered vividly the first time Sam came to visit my home town when we were still dating. He behaved, for lack of a better word, shamefully, the entire time. He was stingy about taking any sort of trip down memory lane, resented my high school friends, and was completely uninterested in looking at any pictures. At the time, I was hurt, confused, and embarrassed by him. So much so, that I briefly considered breaking it off. And suddenly there I was, 3.5 years into our marriage, feeling perfectly sympathetic to my crusty little, poorly-behaved boyfriend. It was not a proud moment.

I have no real purpose for telling you this story. It just kind of spewed out of my fingertips as I considered how I wanted to present some pictures of Sam as a wee lad. But I will say, it took a good amount of snuggling and complimenting on Sam's part to get me through my stint of insecurity. You'll be relieved to know I did make it through though, with only minor damages... and now I'm really happy Sam had a happy childhood.

Now for some pictures. I'm sure they'll have the same effect on you that they had on me...

O.T.S. (Original Turkey Sub) Not to be confused with O.G. (Original Gangster)

Look at this little imp. This picture makes me laugh every time. What I really wonder is what derelict photographer looked at this picture and thought, "Yes, that'll do. Run along now."

I adore this one. That smile!

Ok, ok here we go. Junior High Mutant Alert: Brace yourselves:

.................

Don't hold back. Go ahead and scream. Upon seeing this photo I looked at Sam and with the most disdain I could muster, said, "I can just tell you would have bugged the crap out of me. You're lucky I didn't know you back then." Seriously, why am I so beasty? I shudder whenever I think of saying it. Forgive me, sweet hubby.

High School brings vast improvements

Such a handsome boy

Out with the old and in with the new! This is the Sam I knew from college.

I couldn't resist including this. For posterity.

Note the boots. And that sosweetitmakesmewanttocry couch.

And this one too... but just cause he's so fly

You've come a long way, my love.

Looking back, even though it was terribly difficult, I'm so glad I got to meet the Sammy of old. And now I'm so much stronger for it. I really have struggled through so much....

I'll Have Mine Toasted...

I feel like I've had a lot of random things to talk about lately, which can mean only one thing: the turkey sub hasn't been getting nearly enough air time. I realize, even though I've been taking a slew of pictures of her, and capturing all sorts of tasty moments to share, I've been a complete blog hog. SO, I plan to redeem myself entirely with a post so full of pictures of the sub your head might explode. I've already blown three fuses .... But mostly because my little girl is so grown up and beautiful these days that I feel like crying and laughing and having a panic attack all at once... which pretty much sums up what it feels like every day to be a mother.

Warning:

***NO NON-S.L.E.s (serious Leah enthusiasts) ALLOWED ***

Haters of posts consisting solely of child bragging and oogling need not continue

On Monday, the Hives (other wives currently replacing void left by absentee husband. husband+wives=hives. thank you) and I ventured to Indiana for the requisite fall appleorchardpumpkinpatch extravaganza. Leah was really getting into the spirit of this place with her tractor and rake.

Until she realized raking is for suckers and bull rushed me at the speed of light, swinging and chopping that rake in an attempt to take my life.

Whenever Leah would disappear for any amount of time I would find her here. Peeping.

We interrupt today's programming with a Quick Blog Post Progress Report:

Thus far this post has taken me no less than 2 hours to complete. The process has been as follows:

...click back and forth from picture to picture. Zoom in. Grin like tard. Zoom out. Grin like tard. Swell with pride. Brim with tears. Grin like tard....

.... fight Leah off with left hand while hunt-peck typing with right. Get annoyed. Find something within reach to distract. Throw with precision into bedroom. Contemplate running and closing door with her inside. Feel a little guilty. Consider putting computer away. Reconsider....

.... cue tard grin.

Just look at her!

*photo by Amber

We took a little tractor ride out to the orchard. The driver calls out the different kinds of apples as you pass and then you tuck and roll when you hear the kind you want to pick.

We opted for Gala... or Fuji? Leah was gleeful and greedy, dutifully gathering up her loot.

They carved and painted faces into some of the trees at this place and each time Leah would reach to pluck an apple, this ogre would slap her little hand away. Don't think for one second Mama didn't whip out her trusty pocket knife and hack that limb right off. Normally I don't resort to violence, but I had to make an example out of him.

Seriously though, how disturbing were these abusive apple trees from the Wizard of Oz? I will burst into tears right now.

Luckily, Leah was left unscathed.

In other news...

Lately, she loves to watch Backyardigans... under very specific conditions. She starts witching around if I try to start the show before she has settled into her "go to" position on the lambskin rug that sits directly in front of the TV. She also requires not one, but two pillows. Whenever I try to prop her up on one, she inevitably gets so excited by the splendor she is beholding on the screen that she rolls off... which all but ruins her entire Backyardigans experience.

Notice the hand up the sleeve in this one. She does this as a friendlier version of an old self-pinching habit some of you may remember from this post.

I thought this was a good one to end on. This is her, "clearly you have no clue what you are talking about and therefore I must patronize you" face. I laugh out loud every time she does it. She generally tops it off with a little pat to the forehead

She makes me very happy, my little turkey sub.

Wait, what? What's that you say? Why isn't Sam in any of these pictures? Oh, he's been loving life doing this:

Poor guy. We miss him.

A Lesson in Self-Awareness... and some other stuff

Whenever I make eye contact with someone on the street/hall/whatever, I always make a point to smile. Not like a big toothy grin or anything, more like one of those slight, closed mouth, minimal effort smiles. You know, the "stranger smile." This particular point has been a source of some stress and annoyance because I rarely get a smile back. More often than not, my little gesture of camaraderie is met with a hurried glance to the ground. I've attributed this discrepancy to my Idahoan upbringing starkly contrasting the guarded streets of the big cities that have been my home these last few years. Recently however, my sister snapped this little jewel, and I was faced with a startling reality...

Turns out my "stranger smile" looks like this:

Meet Chester McPervy. It's sobering to discover that my making a conscience effort to smile at strangers (something I've secretly always congratulated myself for) was in reality, only seriously creeping them out.

Sam had a "self-awareness" moment like this a few months ago when I happened upon him peeing himself with laughter on the couch... no doubt thinking back on something hilarious and brilliant I had done that day. I just so happened to have my camera in hand and immediately began snapping pictures. He suffered through a small identity crisis and a brief stint in therapy after seeing these...

Of course I think these pictures are completely adorable and am over the moon when Sam laughs... especially if I'm the one making him do so. BUT, have you ever caught an unintentional glimpse in the mirror, or had a picture taken of you mid belly-laugh? It's never anything like you imagined you would look... and it's usually quite terrifying.

I remember when I was in 3rd grade and a group of my friends were swimming at the Aquatic Center, an indoor swimming pool in Idaho Falls. There was one boy I loathed more than anything named Brad Vuccovich. I write his name unabashedly because he knew very well that I hated him. Anyway, after various attempts to dunk him under the water (I was a brute of a 3rd grader and he was a complete pip squeak of a 4th grader and when you're in elementary school it's still okay to practice violent dominion over those smaller than you) we actually started having a real conversation. For some reason, I was explaining to him and showing him all of the different kinds of "smiles" I had in my repertoire. I remember one was "flirty" and one was "cheesy." I don't remember the others. I had never practiced these smiles in the mirror, or differentiated my different kinds of smiles before, but it seemed super interesting at the time and I was sure the feelings I was having on the inside were showing through perfectly on my face.

After our conversation, my feelings of hatred towards Brad had, of course, transformed into feelings of true love. When I got home I was anxious to get to a mirror to check out the different smiles I had showed him... just to make sure I had indeed been as sexy and charming as I thought. I can still picture exactly the ridiculous, chestery, creepy little girl that looked back at me from the mirror when I reenacted my "flirty" smile... hair still slicked straight back from swimming (not a good look for me) with the little bit of my mom's make up I had secretly applied that morning, forming dark smudges beneath my eyes. Come to think of it, it was pretty much the 3rd grade version of my "stranger smile." It was hideous. I had made a complete fool of myself. And making a fool of yourself while trying to be flirty (seductive) is ten times more foolio than any other kind of fool you can make. If that makes sense. At that moment the only obvious choice I had was to start hating Brad again.

I realize this post has gotten off topic... hence the addition of "and some other stuff" to the title. Here's where I attempt to tie it all in. Ahem.

I can't even count the number of experiences I've had like the one I had with Brad, or the discovery of the "stranger smile." Not over the top humiliation (those I'll save for another post) but just times where I was completely lacking in self-awareness. I wish that I could go back and talk to my teenage, or pubescent, or pre-pubescent self and tell me not to worry, and that I wouldn't even remember the times I made a spectacle of myself... and to take comfort in knowing that the adult version of me is super confident and graceful and pretty much awesome in general. But I can't. Because the truth is, I still get a wave of embarrassment down the back of my neck when I think back on my "flirty" smile from 3rd grade. And I still make a big fat fool of myself on the regular.

I Yuv Estrogen

One thing they don't tell you when you apply for business school is that you will be required to sever all relationships not pertaining directly to the enhancement of your career. This includes spouses, children, extended family and all (non b-school) friends. You are also expected to devote all remnants of extracurricular time to kissing professor/alumni butt, fellow student butt, recruiter butt, and any and all butt deemed necessary by career services... which includes many different kinds of butt but absolutely no wife butt. SO, those of us who are officially "Booth Wives" (U of Chicago Booth School of Business) have decided to take a collective stand against being lonely and have vowed to seek comfort in each other's arms. Oh, and be deliriously happy... with or without our better halves.

In keeping with this theme, on Saturday, Booth Wife, Carina, sent out a text saying, "I wanna do something fun today." Of course this sent all on the receiving end of the text into a gleeful, giddy scurry... something akin to the way a dog dances around when you finally notice it needs to be let outside to pee.

After deliberating over what we should do, we settled on a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry. Don't let the name fool you--this place is hoppin'. Mostly because there's an expansive, gated area with all sorts of child mind-boggling things to look at... which allows for minimal tending and maximum blabbing.

Booth Wives Club (BWC): Mimi, Amber, Carina and Moi....

There's also one more first year Booth Wife named Dianne... but she's a newlywed so she still waits around at home just in case her hub gets some free time. Pfshhhff whatever newlyweds (little bit jealous).

This picture brings me great joy. Look at Mimi in all her sassy glory. Amber was refusing to harness her inner sex kitten for this picture... but don't let her fool you... she was merely considering the children and married men within the vicinity.

This was the exact position Leah and Mimi's Josh stayed in for pretty much the duration... Mostly I'm just including this picture as proof that Leah was actually there, considering like TWO of the pics I took turned out.

This little afternoon delight is Amber's Avery. She is the single most squishable baby I have ever seen. She's only 7 months old and seriously, look at her mop on top. This picture alone makes me feel as though I might huck my laptop across the room. I can't take it.

After the museum we ditched the littles and went out for a girl's dinner. It was a glorious occasion spent laughing and talking and pillow fighting and tag-team wrestling. One real highlight was when Amber attracted the attention of a gawker who STARED at her the ENTIRE meal. The weird thing about it was she was a woman... a rather hostile looking woman. Of course we all huddled in over the table, whispering, giggling, feeling a little frightened, and taking turns peeking to see if she was still staring. Every time...

..........

Didn't budge an inch....

Aside from our intimidating admirer (we'll just say she was admiring) we were miffed because we ordered the four cheese pizza and after one bite we agreed immediately it needed to be sent away. When I talked to the waitress about it she said, "Oh yeah, this happens all the time with the four cheese pizza." Are you kidding me? Now, I'm not a restauranteur or anything, but it's probably a good idea to take the poo sandwich off the menu.

Anyway, the whole day was fab and I guess the real, A.D.D., roundabout point I'm trying to make with this post is that I've found this little group of beautiful women here in Chicago who seem to fit like a glove. Women that my mom would refer to as "soul sisters." In my experience, that doesn't happen very often. Needless to say, I'm twitterpated...

Has Anyone Ever Told You You Look Like....

My entire post-puberty life I have been told I look like Tiffany Amber Thiessen. Not so much the Kelly from Saved by the Bell Tiffany, but more the Valerie from Beverly Hills: 90210 kind. People always make a point to make that distinction. I'm guessing it's because I'm such a sexy, sultry vixen.... Funny enough, I was even asked for her autograph once. Except I don't really remember any of the details of how it happened... which kinda makes me think I might have made it up.... Hmmmm....

Anyway...

Strangely, I haven't gotten the comparison much since I gave birth to my body altering, celeb look-alike destroying little cherub... BUT last night I got a text from my friend Brad saying he saw Tiff on the tube and it took him 5 minutes of pondering why in the world I was on TV to realize it wasn't me. Which of course threw me right back in the zone and gave me all of my peoplethinkIlooklikeTiffanyAmberThiessen confidence back.

So, I started musing about all the lookalikes I know and wanted to share...

***Disclaimer: after perusing pics of my peeps and their celeb counterparts for like 5 hours trying to find perfect, identical matches, and showing each picture to Sam for his approval only to get a "no, they don't really look alike in that one" I realized my laptop was singeing my thighs and I was all sweaty and frustrated so I had to settle... and now I'm starting to think none of them even really look alike at all (including mine) so just use your imagination. And I say these things in the name... just kidding.

My sister, Mera, always gets Mandy Moore. Cept' let's be honest here... Meradith is way hotter than Mandy. And she sings better, too. No disrespect, Mandy, but even you know you're a little annoying.

Mera's husband Jason is twins with the Italian Stallion... which is precisely why he holds a Rocky movie marathon annually.

I have to give Meradith friendly little reminders to keep the fist fights in their marriage to a minimum.... heaven forbid Jason ends up looking like this:

BFF Shalyse looks a lot like Debra Messing. Except she's a lot hotter, too! Come on celebs! I guess I should add that I've always thought the resemblance was stronger when Debra's on film, not in still frame.

This next one is an interesting comparison because Lady Gaga is kind of the fugly version of my friend, Jenna. Or maybe the not so cute big sister who's always been way jealous of hotter little sister and therefore acts out in a trampy, weirdo with lots of heavy make up, version. BUT, there is a total resemblance--in a one's hot and one's not kind of way. Sorry Denny.

I'm so progressive that my celebrity comparisons even span across racial boundaries. Now hear me out. For some reason, my friend Stacy has always reminded me of a white Tyra Banks. I told her this once and she called me a freak so I'm looking for some validation.

This next one is really legit. My friend Tawny and Jessica Simpson. Don't pretend you don't see it.

Back in the day (like 6 months ago) my sis and I would fall to pieces watching our two little munchkins together...

Because we are demented, we became particularly slap happy when discussing their resemblance to...

A few weeks ago Sam's brother, Seth, Sam, Meradith and I were all sitting around the dinner table talking about this very subject. Seth piped up and said, "People always tell me I look like Will Ferrel." Of course we all gasped and objected. Seth, looking defensive, said, "What? I don't mind, he's a good looking guy." We were stumped, but Seth was adamant so we just moved on with the conversation. After a bit I noticed Seth staring down at his dinner plate, looking contemplative, when he looked up suddenly and said, "Oh wait, not Will Farrell. I meant Colin Farrell." Then he went on eating as if nothing had changed.

Seth and Colin....

Seth and Will....

Pretty much the same thing.

And last, but not least....

Sam's step mom, Kathy, always goes on and on about how much she thinks Sam looks like George Clooney. That's right. Good ol' Georgy. Sam, of course, thinks this is completely preposterous and gets all agitated and huffy whenever she says anything. When I told him I was going to put it on the blog he said, in the words of Ron Burgandy, "You do that and I'm gonna punch you in the ovaries."

SOOO, just for that....

I have a few more but they involve a couple of Sam's exes, which he told me would be weird... and a couple of my exes... which he told me isn't allowed. So, that's all she wrote. Now, tell me about your celeb comparisons.