Rewriting the Vows

The other day we were working up at the property and I was scraping packrat fecal matter out of an oven.  Seriously, do other wives ever have to write sentences like that?  All I could think was I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS.  Which made me think about our wedding vows.  I’m pretty sure packrats weren’t mentioned, but maybe they should have been.

I mean, the original vows we wrote were sweet and all, but now that we’re getting a hang of this marriage thing (HA!) I realize we need to add a few things.   Toby, here are my amendments to our vows:

1. I vow to die first.  I know our vows said “until death do us part” but I want to be clear that it will be MY death that happens first.  I’m an emotional weenie and can’t handle anyone dying before me.  WE CAN’T AFFORD THE COUNSELING.
2. I vow to live to be one hundred.  Because I have a lot of crap left to do.  Luckily, you are younger than me so you only have to live to ninety-nine to fulfill Vow Amendment #1.  Start eating your veggies!
3. I vow to continue flashing you in empty grocery store aisles whenever the opportunity arises.
4. Anything that is said after 9pm will not be held against me.
5. Anything that is said before 9am will not be held against you.
6. I vow to support your dream to build our home yourself, as long as you understand that it’s not MY dream.  My only dream is to keep everyone alive and our marriage intact throughout the process  ;)
7. I vow to never lose my sense of humor.  (Reminder:  Vow Amendment #3 has a built-in waiver for after 9pm)
8. I vow to not wear a hoodie sweatshirt Every. Single. Day.  Even though it’s the best article of clothing ever invented.  EVER.
9. I vow to continue mountain biking, skiing and riding motorcycles with you for as long as this poor body will allow me – because those are some of my favorite times.

Suggested vow for you:  I, Toby, vow to remove dead animals and fecal matter from the trailer, shop, etc.  ASAP.  Also, maybe something about never caring if the house is clean or if dinner is made…  ;)

Does that cover all of the important stuff?  Sports, hoodies, laughing, supporting dreams, and NOT dying.  That ought to hold us for a while.

Bono. #1 on Laminated List

I have been in love with U2 – more specifically, Bono – since I first heard “Sunday Bloody Sunday” in junior high.  Over twenty years of daydreaming later, the man is still on my laminated list.  I’ve been to several concerts, I’ve bought every album, and yes…I STOOD OUTSIDE THE GATE OF HIS HOUSE IN MOTHER-LOVING IRELAND, waving at the security cameras.  Shouldn’t that win me “superfan” status?  Or at least a stalking charge?

Here’s one of the many reasons everyone should be in love Bono.  At the Nashville U2 concert there was a blind man, Adam Bevell, in the audience who learned how to play guitar while listening to U2.  Bevell stood close to the front of the stage with a sign that read “Blind Guitar Player.” Bono invited him up and told the crowd, “Dude’s gonna play some guitar,” and proceeded to accompany the blind guitarist with a little ditty you might know – “All I want is you.”  And then Bono gave the dude his guitar.

Seriously people, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS WAS OUT THERE?  He just brought Rock Star to a whole new level.

Double Deuce

Dear Roper,

Today you are twenty-two months old.  You’re kind of advanced though; you’ve been in your “terrible twos” for quite some time.  And I LOVE IT.  Mostly.

You want to do everything yourself and drop to the ground, kicking and screaming, when you don’t get what you want.   You get frustrated when you can’t master a skill in 2.5 seconds, but you’ve definitely mastered the fake cry.

Thankfully, you spend most of the time being your awesome self: loud, determined, entertaining, and curious.  You fill a room with your personality.

When I give you a PB&J sandwich, you carefully peel it apart for maximum mess potential.  You like to smear it in your hair.  You usually sleep with a car (or a book about trucks) in each hand.  Every car, picture of a car, or car noise must be acknowledged.  You use our car as your personal playpen and are so very pleased with yourself when you’re in there alone, turning knobs, pushing buttons and eating Chapstick.  Every truck is “Daddy guk” and every motorcycle is “Daddy bike.”

Your favorite phrase is “No,  Mama GO!” while you’re waving me away with your hands.  Did I mention you want to do everything yourself?

It’s fun to hear you string words together to form sentences.  While your dad was on his motorcycle trip, (which you will eventually get to join because you have a penis!)  we went to visit Boo and The Heeeeed in Stanwood.  Boo is a Speech Nerd so she counted how many words you know and at that point it was 75-80, and you’ve probably learned at least 15 more.  You’re a verbal little monkey!  Every day you bust out with at least one new word that surprises me.

You had a blast visiting with Boo and I’m very proud that we trained you to refer to Jeff as The Heeeed.  Because the dude has a giant head.  GIANT.  I think it weighs more than you.  You loved following Jeff around, being spoiled by Becky and joyously making out with Max The Dog.

When you’re tired but fighting it, you stick your binky in your ear.  Or a little car, or the magnet from the fridge.   Orange is your favorite color.  In fact, it’s the only color you acknowledge.  You will find the tiniest bit of orange in any object.  When I ask you what color the (blue) shirt is, you’ll point to a microscopic piece of orange lint and say “orange” emphatically.  In a similar run of obsessive stubbornness, you refuse to acknowledge your name.  This isn’t frustrating to your mom AT ALL.

Little Bear, you are a total water baby.  You LOVE swimming and had so much fun playing in the pool with your Cooper cousins over the last two weeks.  You jump into my arms from the side of the pool and kick and shriek with delight.  Watching your cousins jump in, or better yet, be thrown in, earns a deep belly laugh from you.  You never wanted to leave the pool so we’d have to force you out of the pool when your teeth started chattering from cold.

We went to Slidewaters with the Cooper cousins, grandparents and the Hildenbrands.  We started on the baby slides and you’d sit it my lap, head held high with a stoic look on your face.  Once we landed, you’d give a little kick of approval and unsmilingly demand to go again.  By the time we were on the big slides you’d chortle the whole way down, do a happy dance at the end and frantically sign “more” with your hands while repeating “Go. More. Up. Go. MORE!”  I think you enjoyed it.

It’s possible that your parents expect too much from you.   When your dad was in charge of you at the pool he let you almost drown three times within as many minutes (Editor’s Note:  your dad would have said “swim” not “almost drown” so it was probably something in between the two).  You took it in stride.  At Slidewaters, not only did your mama flash innocent children – twice – but I also made Grandma send you down the smallest slide by yourself.  BECAUSE I’M FUN.  I was waiting at the bottom to catch you and things were going PERFECTLY for the first three seconds.  Then you toppled over and torpedoed at me, head first and on your back.  Alas, I did not have my catching mitt with me so my catch was…the words frantic, clumsy and seemingly painful come to mind.  You cried for about two seconds and then demanded more.

Yesterday, I received a bunch of paintings by your Great-grandma Bee.  Two were of me at about your age.  I know the Steeres love to claim you as theirs, saying you look just like a Steere (you do) and you have the personality of a Steere Boy (you do).  But I think they sometimes forget that your mama has always been more of a risk taker than your daddy, and you look SUSPICIOUSLY like a Cooper here.  At least 50%.

So you’re a hilarious mix of your dad and mama.  The best part is that both of us love you from the top of that crazy natural mohawk to the tips of your sweaty little toes.  And guess what?  You have two sets of grandparents that love you just as much!  You now ask for your Papa, Nanny, Oma and Opa by name.  Usually when you’re not getting what you want from your parents.

Little Bear, you are growing up way too fast for me (I know, I say that every time.  And it’s STILL TRUE).  When I see you trotting across the property with your short little steps and your Carhart cap on your head, you look far more like a little boy than a baby.  And that squeezes my heart just a bit.  You’ve become such a wild, hilarious, sweet little man and I am so proud of you.   I’m grateful for every second of chaos you provide (sometimes it takes a few hours and a stiff drink before I appreciate that day’s chaos, but it eventually happens).  I love you to the moon and back!

Love,

Your Mama

PS.  Here’s a VIDEO of you acting like a wild man and jumping on your mama while she was trying to rest her injured neck.  And I wonder why I never heal….  ;)