...and We Ended Up at a Tattoo Parlour

Passport to Adventure graduation

Dear Emma Vance,

This is the story of how your Uncle Tim got a tattoo. Do NOT do this unless you too are over 30, have been thinking about your dream tattoo for several years, and have your father and I with you. Got it?

Love,

Mom

The night started off so typical and mundane with a normal Saturday evening dinner at a crowded restaurant. Somewhere along the way things got way off course--and we ended up at a tattoo parlour...

Something must be wrong with me because all my best friends end up moving away. (Or, perhaps it's just that I gravitate toward smart, successful, desirable people who inevitably end up being recruited to work for fabulous jobs in fabulous cities far, far away...) When my best friend since high school told me that after jumping around Georgia for the last few years she and her husband (best friend, guilty by association) were taking an amazing opportunity to move to South Florida, I was so happy for them. Then sad for myself. Then happy for them. Then sad for myself. (That went on for a while, but you get the picture.)

I had visions of Scotty and Tim's daughter, Brooklyn, and E.V. growing up together, going to college together, sharing crazy adventures and mission trips and secrets together, but as of May 15th, the girls will have to settle for being pen pals. As for me and Scotty? No tears. No tears. No tears. I see much texting and Instagraming in our future--as well as many trips to the beach to visit the Carleys in Florida.

Since it's their last weekend in Georgia, we planned an amazing dinner downtown to celebrate their new adventure. Too bad Scotty got MONO, meaning we ditched the trendy downtown restaurant and opted for a suburban classic, J. Alexander's. (In fact, we almost ditched the whole night because she felt so crummy, but props to her for rallying! However, she may have regretted the decision at about 10 p.m. last night, post-tattooing.) It was a great meal, a great conversation, a great way to cap off their life in the peach state. And then, right toward the end of dinner the conversation turned toward tattoos, which it often does when the four of us are together. Ryan has a tattoo on his forearm and has been planning on finishing a sleeve for a while now, and Tim has always dreamed out loud as to what he'd like to get "one day." Perhaps it was the energy of the crowded restaurant, the excitement of the chance to start over in a city where no one knows you, the desire to remember our "final" night together--or perhaps it was just the company of good friends that inspired it, but last night Tim decided that "one day" was TODAY.

Once he had said it out loud, the night was set in motion. We settled the bill, started calling tattoo parlours in the area (note to self: tattoo places in suburbia close way early by tattoo community standards), and then headed into Atlanta before Tim could chicken out. Half an hour later we pulled up to Timeless Tattoos. (Which, in its own classy way happens to be next to an adult-type shop, which Ryan thought was hilarious to park my distinct Durango in front of. :/) He'd been set on getting "abide" on his wrist for a while, and quickly decided on a font. There were no other crazies in the shop with us, so he was seated in a chair immediately. He was tough (but did calmly, forcedly admit, "Oh man, that hurts...") and maybe ten minutes later he had ink! The artist did a great job, and afterwards I think the adrenaline hit everyone. HE DID IT! I'm so stinkin' proud that he actually went through with it, although this morning it did feel a little bit like a dream--the kind where I'd call up Scotty and say, "I had this weird dream last night where we all ate Mexico City cheese dip and then Tim got a tattoo..." I'm pretty sure Tim probably woke up thinking the same thing, although his aching wrist quickly reminded him that he actually did it.

It's hard as a married couple to make other couple friends. There are so many factors at play, but the biggest hurdle is finding a couple who BOTH of you like equally and separately. Tim and Scotty are one of those rare couples for us, where Ryan and Tim could maintain their own friendship as easily as Scotty and I could. I got lucky that Scotty picked such a great guy to marry (thanks for that!), and although I'm sad they're going to live so far away, I'm thankful for the years we had living in Georgia together. And, let's be honest, this isn't the end. We'll be friends forever. Well, at least as long as they promise not to raise Caleb and Brooklyn as Gator fans... :)

I NEVER thought we'd end up here.

He's going to do it, folks!

"before"

"after"

Thanks for the lollipop, Timeless Tattoo, because, yes, that hurt as much as getting a cavity drilled at the dentist.

Mono-appropriate goodbye elbow hug!

E.V.'s "First" Scoop

Someone had their "first" taste of ice cream today. I say "first" because Ryan thought he was being funny when he gave a tiny taste of Chick-fil-A Ice Dream to E.V. when she was about a month old. Guess who didn't think it was so funny? No, dear, feeding a baby ice cream is NOT like giving it milk--nor is it the same type of milk. 

Do you think she enjoyed it? :)

Shakeology

As usual, we're always trying new things with our eating habits in the Shove family. Every once in a while we stumble upon something that is really great, and it becomes a part of our long-term routine. Our most recent "find?" Shakeology!

A friend of ours, Leah Case, is a coach for Beachbody, a company that sells workouts (like Insanity) and nutrition products (like Shakeology). Leah has made a total body transformation over the past few years and has found a passion for health. Curious as to what her secret was, I contacted her and shortly thereafter ordered a bag of chocolate Shakeology. Oh. My. Gosh.

It's delicious! I'm a big smoothie lover, and although this powder has about a bajillion healthy ground-up fruits and veggies in it, all you can taste is the chocolate. I've tried about half a dozen of the recipes they send along and have found my favorite few to add to my regular routine. Although it's not organic, there's no weirdo chemicals in Shakeology. In fact, although a lot of people use it for weight loss, it's really about health. After a month of drinking Shakeology once a day, I felt great, energetic, lighter, healthier all over (and, yes, I lost weight). I thought to myself that perhaps it was a placebo effect (since I was doing something "healthy" for myself), but when I made a dumb error in ordering my second bag and went TWO WEEKS without Shakeology, I realized that it really was making a significant difference in how I felt. I joked with Leah that I was like a crack addict, eager each day to see if my order was going to be delivered! Ha!

I usually make my shake for lunch, while Emma Vance happily eats her bananas and cheese. She hated the sound of the blender at first, crying at the loud noise, but now it's part of her lunch routine. I did a little research, since E.V. (who is curious about all foods nowadays) started whining and indicating that she wanted to have some of my shake while we ate lunch together. Since there's no "junk" in it, I decided to let her have a taste--and she was hooked. Now she has tiny little bites all throughout her meal, happy to be sharing Mom's grown-up food. As for me, I'm excited to get a few more healthy things into her growing body, all the while under the guise of her being able to have a sweet dessert. (I kinda' love the idea of her growing up thinking that Shakeology is a "milkshake"...)

Over the past month I've had a lot of people ask me about Shakeology, and since then a lot of them have ordered it. Their reaction has been the same across the board: "It's so awesome, I crave it now!" I don't get a commission, or a "cut," or anything like that. I really just love this stuff that much! Curious about it? They've got sample packs you can order as a trial (although, really who wouldn't just choose chocolate?!?). Just click here to read more about Shakeology and to support Leah's venture into working for herself (while taking care of 1.5 kids!). It's totally worth it--and even a baby approves!

Shakeology mustache (and nose)!
Emma Vance is one happy customer. Me, too. :)

The Russians Love Me, They Love Me Not

I gave our current rental house its nickname, Amityville, for a variety of reasons, one of which being that the house next door was a scary foreclosure. (And I mean scary.) At the beginning of the year, our landlord mentioned that he had seen the property go up for auction and that someone had bought it. We waited patiently for that person to claim Amityville's Sister for several months, and finally a few weeks ago a family moved in--and started gutting the place.

It's been an interesting process to watch, especially the transformation of their backyard, which went from weeds-taller-than-Oscar to a beautiful garden seemingly overnight. We'd seen the family here and there, yelling apologies across the fence as the dogs barked at their children running around in the newly-mowed backyard, but we hadn't really spoken with them much until last week. I noticed that the whole family was outside, mom, dad, and FOUR kids, so I brought out the baby to say hello. It turns out that they're from Russia, they moved her over a decade ago, they have three girls and one son who's disabled and in a wheelchair, and they are perhaps the sweetest family ever. Their kids are so wholesome and adventurous; they ride bikes and explore nearby neighborhoods and climb on the roof and jump off and pretend pine straw is rose petals to shower upon one another. Their daughters are the best of friends, not afraid of anyone or anything, and I'm pretty sure they don't even own a TV or computer. It's like glancing back into the '50s, when kids were real kids. I love The Russians!

The mom has been so nice ever since, sending over homemade Russian cookies and pastries (ohmygoshdelicious), giving the girls--who are both extremely outgoing and obsessed with E.V.--every excuse to knock on our door incessantly. They're always eager to hold "Baby Yeh-vah" and play with the dogs, and yesterday they were especially anxious to see E.V., ringing the doorbell more than a few times when Ryan was home alone. When I arrived back at Amityville with the baby, I took her next door to relieve Ryan for a bit, but since it was close to dinner, they asked if they could have more time to play today. I agreed, telling them to meet us at 4 p.m. in between the yards. They begged me to bring the dogs out too, and I told them I would bring just Oscar (because he's nicer). I had set up a play date with a 13-year-old, a 9-year-old and a 6-year-old. I should have known better.

Today came, and I adjusted E.V.'s Baby Wise schedule to make our little Russian play date work. I doused Emma Vance in sunscreen, gathered up all the stuff we'd need, including E.V. and Oscar, and headed out into the burning heat. (I even brought my camera to take some pictures of the girls to give their mother as a thank you for all the treats...) I set up camp, waited a few minutes, and then went to knock on their door. Silence. No one was home! I mean, these girls are ALWAYS running around after school. I have never NOT seen them playing outside during daylight hours--and no one was anywhere to be found!

So my poor little Emma Vance got stood up. {pouty face}

I, of course, kept thinking how dumb I was to think that kids would actually keep a play date. (Ryan said in reaction, "What did you think? That they'd add it to their iCal?" Well, yeah. Isn't that what the iGeneration is SUPPOSED to do?) So sad Miss Emma Vance was all alone, and in an effort to salvage the afternoon, I picked a rose from our flowerbed for her to play with. It wasn't until she started pulling off the petals that I realized how ironic it was--The Russians love me; they love me not. They love me; they love me not...

After about 30 minutes, the eldest girl hopped off the middle school bus, waving and heading for the front door. When she realized that she was locked out, she joined us for a bit, saying her mom sometimes runs to the store and that she just plays outside until her mom gets home (innocent 1950s lifestyle, right?). She played with E.V. for a bit, but after a while I had some errands to run. I gave her my number, telling her to use our other neighbor's phone to call me if her mom didn't come home soon. She looked up at me and said with puppy dog eyes, "The worst part about when I'm stuck outside is that I'm soooo hungry and thirsty." Oh, the subtlety of kids! I am NOT a kid-snack kind of grocery shopper, so I ran inside and grabbed her a Caffeine Free Diet Coke and an Odwalla Bar. Merp. :/ (The other options included Lemon San Pelligrino and an opened can of mandarin oranges, so don't judge me. Ha!) Sorry it's not some delicious homemade Russian pastry like you're used to, kid!

Emma Vance was so happy to have at least a little time with a friend today, and for that I'm thankful. It wasn't a total waste of an afternoon, I suppose, since I got some pretty pictures of my little lady, and my little lady got some good wholesome time outside. (Not everything can be Sesame Street and Leap Frog!) HOWEVER, will I make official play dates with non-adults again? Um, I'd say not... :)

Growth Spurt + Teething

Early morning "teeth brushing," aka molar soothing!

Seriously?

Emma Vance has been both ravenous + exhausted as well as whiny + sleepless for the past few days. It took about two days of super long naps, super short naps, snoring like a buzzsaw, and waking up every few hours for me to figure it out. I put two and two together when I realized that E.V. had both grown out of her nine month clothes AND cut a molar (!) overnight. The molar thing caught me by total surprise since she's only gotten her two bottom teeth so far; the top four are bulging out the front of her gums but not yet pushing down, and I figured that surely babies get all of their front teeth before their back teeth. Apparently not.

The weirdest thing is that her schedule is so much a part of her natural rhythm now that she's actually keeping herself pretty normal, switching back and forth between giving in to her exhaustion one nap then taking a short nap later, waking up eager to chew on something--anything--that can reach her molars. The current favorite? A grown-up toothbrush. She likes to flip back and forth between the scratchy bristles and rubbery handle. Hey, whatever works, works!

Cinco de Avocado

Happy Cinco de Mayo everybody!

Ryan and I thought we'd be clever and miss the crowds by going out to lunch instead of dinner today--yeah right! We got caught in the post-church-non-margarita rush, but with a celebratory outfit like this one, we didn't mind too much! Our friends the McGlowns bought it for E.V. on their honeymoon last year, and we've been patiently waiting for this holiday--which also happens to be their one year anniversary!--to put it to good use. Needless to say, Emma Vance garnered a LOT of attention and was the belle of the Cinco de Mayo ball at La Parilla this afternoon!

There was a bit of a wait, but we didn't mind since E.V. loves to keep us occupied. Everyone commented on how cute she was and how adorable her outfit was, and one of the employees even gave her a beaded necklace (which totally won over E.V.'s affections). When we sat down, I ordered an avocado to feed Emma Vance (and to keep her from complete boredom) even though she had already had her official lunch at home. It's her latest favorite food, and after scarfing down the WHOLE thing, I ordered another half--which also quickly disappeared along with a small bottle and a kids' water! (Can you say "growth spurt?!?") Her mouth was full of food and smiles all during our meal, and we were more than happy to hang out with our little lady in public for a couple hours. She was such a good girl that our server rewarded her with her first balloon, and, man, was she pumped about it!

As we left the restaurant, I laughed at the thought that we can officially declare that Cinco de Mayo is really "Cinco de Avocado"--well, at least in E.V.'s world. :)

Mama No Shower

Oh, what I wouldn't give for Emma Vance to be fully vocal these days!

She's developed this unexplainable little habit over the past month or so that I've titled "Mama No Shower." I try to shower everyday during her first wake time (since I have other things to do during nap time and because if it doesn't happen then, it won't happen) and have done so since she was a newborn. When she was immobile I'd set her in her bouncy chair, and she was content to observe the bathroom around her for that 15 minutes each morning. As she began to crawl and explore, she would just motor around our master bedroom and bathroom, getting into the trash or knocking over laundry--small prices to pay for 15 minutes to myself each day.

HOWEVER, one day it occurred to her that I was in that noisy, steamy shower, and she lost it. I initially thought she had bumped her head or something, so I cut my shower short to tend to her. When I jumped out and picked her up, she stopped crying immediately. I didn't think anything of it until the next day when it happened again! This time she crawled over to the shower, pulled herself up and started banging on the door and bawling. Hmmm. This went on for a week or so, each day getting worse, until I decided to deduce what was causing her all-of-a-sudden-angst. I began by just running the shower to see if it was the noise of the water that bothered her. Nope. The next day I pulled her into the shower with me, thinking she was curious. Definitely not. The third day I stood in the shower fully clothed with no water running. She was happy, and clearly thought I was being silly. I even tried to get Ryan to distract her with playtime while I jumped in the shower. She wasn't fooled. I then resorted to showering with the bathroom door closed, but she'd just bang on the door and sob her heart out until I emerged. Dang.

Everyday, the second I step into the running shower, she freaks out--even if I play with her through the glass, showing her I'm still here. It's become a natural part of our routine, this whole crying-while-I-shower thing. I wish I could tell what she was thinking and WHY she cares if I'm in the shower, but for now I'm happy to imagine her just yelling at me, "Mama no shower!" over and over. :)

"Ooooh! Mama no shower! Mama no shower!"