Time is relative....

Lately, it has been pointed out to me by numerous people that I am being neglectful of my blogging. To be honest, I think my brain may still be stuck in the summer of 2005....How did I get here? When did I get married? What the hell is a Justin Beiber!?

I have much to catch you up on. Remember in this post how I was lamenting the fact my baby brother was graduating this year? Well that jerk did it, he went and graduated. I've come to terms with the fact that he is leaving me to go to college in a little over two months but I'm only ok with that because I've informed him I will be visiting him every weekend.

The way our High School does graduation is kind of neat. The have a 'senior assembly' the morning of the graduation where the seniors get to say good-bye to all the underclassmen and celebrate their accomplishments, just as a school. My mom and I didn't want to miss ONE second of our smooshy face's big moment and went to the assembly.

The kids who didn't do their homework the night before and are super grateful to get out of class, shuffle in the gym, find their friends and have a seat on the bleachers:

My mom found her place with the other moms who were equally trying not to lose it:

I saw many graduates that I have known since they were sweet kids in kindergarten to tweens in Junior High and now know-it-all High School students:

Hi Marcus!!

Kali was in the middle of explaining the 'night before' graduation ritual where seniors try their best to stay up all night and not get into trouble....

I started to get a little panicky because I couldn't see Andrew anywhere in the sea of red caps and gowns....

Who are you people?!

Finally, after scanning the crowd numerous times, I spotted him between two girls. I was so excited to see him in his cap and gown that I left my seat, rushed over to him and yelled: "HEY ANDREW!" and raised my camera to get a perfect candid shot.

He whipped his head around to see who called his name, smacking his face with his hat tassels in the process: 

Doesn't it look like he is happily surprised to see me? 

If you said no, you are absolutely correct. 

However, I severely misjudged his facial expression. 

It was not one of love and joy at seeing his big sister coming to support him at 8 in the morning. 

 How do I know this? Because the next words out of his mouth were: 

"Oh my God! Are you serious? What are you doing!? Get away from me!!" 

I kid you not, he literally said that to me...TO ME! 

At this point I was so crushed by his rudeness I said the only thing I could think of:

 "UH! Yes I'm serious and now I don't even care if you graduate!" and then I ran away.  

What I should of said was: 

 Check back with me tomorrow and I'll have proof that he actually DID graduate, and his mood didn't improve much.....

No Talk Thursday....

I am designating this Thursday as a "No Talk Thursday" because it's pictures of Andrew and his teammates at their "Senior Day" for baseball, and I don't know if I'm emotionally available to talk about the fact my baby brother graduates tomorrow! So without further ado:

9 Ways you know you are married to a baseball coach

9 Ways you know you are married to 

a baseball coach:

1. The bed in your spare bedroom turns into make-shift closet with uniforms, sweatshirts, pants, hats,etc.

Honestly, I did not stage or adjust the stuff on the bed in ANY way...I can't even be mad at him, I'm actually kind of impressed at his "organized chaos." Does anyone want to come spend the night at our house?


2. There are boxes and boxes of baseball related paraphernalia lying around your house....
 

 

See what I mean? 

3. You know the exact order he gets dressed in because of his superstitions....

....so does your boxer, Layla

3. You get to listen and learn about bunt defenses:

"OK! So normally the guy on first is standing like this"

"Hey! Are you taking my picture?"

"fine, whatever. So anyways, the guy on first is responsible for........"

4. This view is permanently in your brain from March until June...

5. When he takes off his shoes after windy thus dusty practice, he looks like he is wearing a pair of hairy leggings:

6. You think you have the team signs figured out, only to realize they are way more complex than you realized. Then you sadly realize you'll never learn them in a million years no matter how many times he's explained them to you:

Bunt! No...hit and run!! ummm....nevermind

7. You have more baseball related t-shirts than you know what to do with... 

8. You look at this picture & know this bat is actually called a 'fungo'; and you know exactly which part of the pre-game warm up the team is in: 

9. You look at a picture like this, sit back and think.....

Man! He really needs a haircut!!

HAPPY FRIDAY!

Divined by the universe....

Last week marked the day ten years ago that I was a senior sitting in my High School journalism class. I had completed my assignments, was doodling on my notepad and the ADD was kicking in. Bored, I asked my brilliant journalism teacher, Mrs. Baxley, if I could go to the bathroom. In our High School, the closest bathrooms are next to the weight room. This seems like an insignificant detail, but it is crucial.

You see, Chris was in weights class that fateful day, and they were timing 20 yard sprints in the hallway- by the very bathroom I was wasting time in! Timing the sprints was a 2 man job, and a clipboard was shoved in my hand to write down the sprint times (actually I was standing there talking and was told to get back to class, or make myself useful).  Chris, being the stud he is, was on track to break the record (which he still holds- no big deal) and stayed after the bell rang to make the record  his own. I stayed to write down his time.

On my way to return the clipboard (and Chris' return to the locker room), an innocent conversation took place that would have lasting consequences, for both of us:

Me: So. Do you have a date for prom yet?
Chris: No, not yet. What about you?
Me: Nope.
Chris: Uh...Do....you...wanna....go....?
Me: Sure!

Ten years ago today, Chris and I went on our last first date, and have been partyin' ever since....

Isn't he handsome!?

God bless Senioritis...and ADD.....and sprints in the hallway...

and Mrs. Baxley for letting me go to the bathroom....

Say Cheese!

One of the great things about going to High School with Chris is being able to share memories, "Hey, I remember when that happened" or actually get to the bottom of a story, "Explain to me in detail why you guys decided to drive by the police station for hours then prank call them saying a mysterious vehicle was circling the police station?"
Chris' doesn't really ask me anything about High School, other than to say: "What the hell did you see in that guy?"

We found our old year books in his parent's garage, which is always fun. Fortunately, I am not one to be humiliated, but I did notice some interesting things: 

Hello friends, what strange memory are you going to bring up that I buried long ago? Oh,  just that we're still rockin' it and  totally living like bosses? Duh.

Freshman Year:

Clearly this was before Chi irons were invented...and invisalign. That is mouth FULL of metal.

Awwww! Honey, your weird haircut, odd head position and non-smile makes you look like a sweet lost little muffin! I wuv you! That's ok, you'll always have next year's photo to really show off your baby blue eyes, cute smile, great lips and...

WHAT?! 

You let them give you ANOTHER mohawk hair-cut?! I guess that's ok, maybe you didn't remember it was picture day. And you know I'm nothing but a picture-perfect fashionista:

Classy!

Ok it's now Junior year, let's kick it up a notch:

Not too bad...what are you working with Chris? 

I know you probably took this year's picture very seriously, smiled your best,  and you most definitely....

*Sigh.

I'm beginning to see a pattern here. Maybe all boys don't take their yearbook photo seriously? Let's not forget my smooshy faced brother, Andrew, senior yearbook picture.

Speaking of senior photos, let's see if we can get it right:

Have I told you I was voted "most photogenic" my senior year? That means "most pretty"...not really, but that's what I tell myself anyways when I feel fat.

OK CHRIS. This is your last chance to make your momma proud....

There he is!  What a GREAT picture, honey!

 Although I gotta say, now that I'm thinking about it, those first three weren't so bad. Yearbook photos are silly anyways...both of us should have really smiled like this:

Now THIS is a framer...