Category — Family and Friends

We have a pretty nice camera. Chris also has not one, but two, pretty nice tripods. During the first winter after we met, we were walking around Circuit City when Chris spied a tiny, digital camera. It was just too James Bond not to have. So we bought it, 50, 50. And we took a bunch of pictures with it. We even took pictures of ourselves. Chris was a master of the one-armed camera pose.

But we were young. Love was involved. There was room for silliness.

Here we are, Winter 2002:

The pixillation’s a shame. That couch is downright offensive. You can see up my nose. But at least we’re in the same picture.

There’s a frame hanging on Caelyn’s wall. It’s white, hung by a sweet pink ribbon I attached to it back when we first started working on her nursery. It’s been hanging there since a few months before she was born, and it’s still empty.

It’s supposed to have a family photo in it, but somehow, in two years, despite the one-armed skills, tripods, and camera, we haven’t managed to take a decent photo of the three of us. We don’t even have one of the two of us. Not even from our anniversary, when there was another adult in our apartment who could’ve taken our picture, had we just asked. Heck, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Caelyn’s birthday all went by this year without a single shot of parent and child both looking at the camera.

So for my birthday yesterday I was determined that we’d take a picture for that poor, sad frame in Caelyn’s room. But, of course, when we got dressed, there wasn’t time to get out the tripod, and Caelyn threw herself on the floor crying when we tried to take one of just her and me. So I figured Chris could take one of me; I could take one of him. We could even photoshop ‘em together, if we wanted.

Here’s what we ended up with:

“In 27 years I still haven’t learned how to stand up straight.”

“I’ll stand here ’cause it’s your birthday, but that’s all the silliness I’m partaking in.”

Be careful when you talk your wife into blogging. You never know what’ll happen.

But picture or no picture, it was still a pretty great birthday.

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In case you can’t tell by the title, you and I are in the midst of another Adventure in Senseless Blogging! Truth be told, the topic of this post absolutely could make for serious bloggin’. But, honestly, I’m not in the state to do much serious blogging.

I’ll be upfront with you on another point too. The title of this post addresses what I wish I was really writing about but feel conflicted about whether or not I should. Basically, I’m being cryptic and taking advantage of you. But at least I’m being honest about it, right?

If you disagree, now would be the time to bail. . . .

So my family was in town last week. Two of those days, Mom and I watched my niece so my sister could go to a conference. While Caelyn and Claire napped, Mom and I sat in the living room. I got out the laptop. She got out a blanket.

“You takin’ a nap, too?”

Mom looked at me with the same face she makes when the waiter at Abuelo’s asks if we want “dessert nachos,” and she wants some but doesn’t want to be the one to say it: “Maybe, unless someone wants to talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. What are you reading about?” she hinted, with raised eyebrows.

I wasn’t reading anything, but I said I was thinking about some personality stuff online that I’d checked out recently: “You wanna take a test?”

“Sure!”

And that’s how we ended up spending the next two afternoons personality testing. I started her off with the Enneagram. Mom was uncomfortable with the open-endedness of the questions. She wanted me to further define about 70% of them. In the end, she came out as a One. (If I’m not mistaken, that’s what I predicted.)

Personally, I think that assessment is pretty accurate. (I’m trusting you to have the skills to Google “Enneagram One” and any other terms I might toss in.) But Mom wasn’t so convinced:

“Are you sure this is THE VERY BEST personality test?”

I told her that I really like it, but to understand the Enneagram and get the most out of it, you have to do more than just take a test. You’ve got to really consider it, because the Enneagram isn’t just about personality traits. It’s about motivation.

She looked at me dubiously, “What about that test Jennifer made Kevin take? Can you give me that one?”

I assumed she meant the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which I informed her could be taken for free in short form, but not in full-form. And, just like that, we were out of the Enneagram and into Jung.

It’s not surprising that she’s an (extreme on every trait) ESTJ. When Dad got back from the mall, she talked him into taking the test too. He turned up ISTJ. My sister’s an ESTJ.

And, me? I’m a (fairly extreme on every trait) INFP. (No wonder I’m a Four.)

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So I got a haircut last week, right smack in the middle of all the birthday and family preparations. This came about only with much prodding from Chris (in the “do it for yourself” way, not the “your hair looks like crap” way).

He was right to prod.

I’m not very good about getting my hair cut. It’s not like I have trouble sitting still in the chair or anything. I didn’t even have trouble with that when I was a kid. Back then, my mom made an appointment for me. I’m not sure how often, but plenty often I’m sure. (Mom’s always on top of things.) But I’m the mom now, and I just don’t remember to get it done very often.

There are a few reasons for this:

1. It costs a lot.

2. It requires picking some place and making a phone call.

3. I’m never sure what to talk about with the stylist. (I never go to the same lady because she always tells me to come back in 3 months and I always forget until it’s been 10 and I know she’ll tell me I should take better care of my hair.)

4. It takes a long time and requires someone else to watch Caelyn.

5. I just don’t think about it until it gets so long that it starts looking weird tied up. If I have to resort to a bona-fide bun, it’s time for something to be done. I’m too young for a bun.

If we’ve hung out in person, you already know that I wear my hair up almost all the time. It’s not really that I like it up so much. It’s just easier. It’s curly and there’s a ton of it, so blowing it dry takes forever. Curls without the frizz means applying product and drying layer by layer. For real straightening takes hours. Fake straightening takes curlers.

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It’s been a while. So long, in fact, that you probably thought that last post was THE last post. (Actually, I did think about doing that, as it would’ve been appropriate in theme, I think.) But, really, I’ve just been pretty darn busy lately with birthdays and family and all sorts of various extravaganzas.

Obviously, I’ve got lots to tell you about and tons of responding to do. (Hey, John!) And eventually it’ll all happen. (I hope to be caught up and back in the swing of things by Monday.) But for now, I’ll just get things rolling with Caelyn’s 2nd Birthday Party, Online Photo Album Edition.

The party featured The Tubes of Irving Bible Church, 28 guests (all family members), and, of course, Caelyn:

This year’s cake was a whole different story than last year’s, and not just because this year’s cake was really cupcakes.

(Meet me after the jump for way too many b-day pics!)
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Between my blogging history, Twitter, and context clues, you probably already know, but today is Caelyn’s 2nd birthday. We’re having a party this Saturday with the immediate and extended fam, but it was on this date two years ago in an operating room that a doctor peeked over the sheet at an incredibly swollen me and said, “Okay, it’s gonna feel like there’s an elephant on your chest. Ready?” and then drew his elbow way back past his ear and shoved Caelyn’s head out of my ribcage.

Caelyn doesn’t know today’s her birthday. I burst into her room this morning with a huge smile and a, “HEY! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!” She just smiled, pointed at her posterior, and said, “Biper?”

But, still, I couldn’t let the day go uncelebrated, could I?

Birthday Stop No. 2

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