I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to not sleep in the same bedroom as Babboo. Would it be weird to wake up in the morning and not have sleeping Babboo be the first thing I see?

I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have kitchen drawers that aren’t broken. Or how it must feel to have a dishwasher that actually gets your dishes cleaner instead of dirtier.

I wonder what it would be like to have space enough for my child to run and play in. A place where he could set up his train set and leave it set up without fear of his mommy tripping over it and cursing it’s name. I wonder if Babboo would know what to do with this space, or if he’s been forever conditioned to only running in confined spaces, back and forth, back and forth.

I’ve also been thinking about what it must be like to be able to bathe your child in a bathroom where we can both fit in the room without the door being closed. Or maybe just a place to hang all of our towels on the wall. I’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to have a place where we could tuck Babboo’s toys in after he goes to bed. Or a shelf that would hold all of his books.

I wonder what it would be like to have to have a closet where I can keep my shoes. Or a place for extra bars of soap and tubes of toothpaste. Or our winter coats.

Heck, I wonder what it would be like to have a place to keep our stroller.

When we moved into our little one bedroom apartment it seemed perfect for us. Sure, it was much smaller then the three bedroom house we just sold, but it was only The King and I. Plus the apartment would be temporary. We’d only be there a short time. And like my mom always told me, you can live anywhere if you know it’s only temporary.

We knew we’d be bringing home our baby to the apartment. But dude, babies are small. They don’t take up any space. Having a baby in a one bedroom apartment would not cramp our style.

Plus, it’s only temporary. Until the new house is finished.

Can you believe it’s been over two and a half years since we moved into our one bedroom apartment? Our once tiny baby is now two years old. He has no idea what it’s like to have a place to keep his toys and books. He’s never had his own bedroom to go to at night. He’s never eaten a meal at home with his mom and dad at the table. The concept of multiple bathroom is lost on him.

As far as Babboo knows, tiny hallways are synonymous with playrooms. Apartment lobby’s are where you go to play with your bouncy calls. He thinks all houses have elevators and pools and that mommy’s do the laundry in laundry rooms located on different floors. He thinks you get your mail from a slot in the wall and not out of a mailbox on the street.

Babboo also thinks that daddy’s are always working and aren’t usually home for dinner or bath nights. He thinks mommy’s always cook dinner and do the dishes and daddy’s are only home in the morning before taking him to school. He thinks the only day you can stay in bed and snuggle mommy and daddy is on Sundays, when daddy doesn’t have to work.

I’ve been thinking a lot about all of this lately because this week something happened that we’ve all waited a long time for.

We’re giving notice at our apartment.

That’s right, in a few week’s we’ll actually be living in The (New) House The King Built. We’ll wake up, together, every morning and go to bed, together, ever night. And by “together” I mean, all of us in our own rooms. (Well, The King and I will still be rooming together. You know what I mean.)

It looks like it’s finally going to happen. And frankly, I can’t wait. It’s an exciting time for our little family. Big changes are a foot.

Hi there. It’s just me. You know, the lady that keeps feeding you all the healthy food like ground turkey tacos with veggies on the side and homemade veggie pizzas.

I just wanted to check in and see how this past month doing Weight Watchers has been treating you. Have you missed the seven pounds you lost? Where do you think you lost them from? Do you think they came from your fingers, your thighs, or maybe your belly? (I hope they all came from your belly!)

I know you’ve been feeling good about your clothes fitting better. I know you’re super anxious to see if your summer clothes look better on you then they did last summer. I also know that you’ve been enjoying all the WW approved meals I’ve been cooking for you. Plus, those WW cups of ice cream are just plain awesome, agreed?!

It’s good to not feel completely horrified when you put on your bathing suit. I know you’re anxious for time on the beach this summer. I know you’re counting down the days until the local pools open up and you can put on one of your bikinis and not want to vomit at the sight of yourself.

So it sounds like we’re in agreement that this whole “lifestyle change” is a good thing. Am I right, or am I right?

I just have one question?

Why in the hell are you craving raw cookie dough constantly?!

Before we were on this whole eating better kick you never even liked chocolate chip cookies, let alone the raw dough. So what is it about healthy eating that makes you want to be so bad? Why can’t you crave lettuce. Or celery? Heck, I’ve even feel better about low fat popcorn, or Baked Layes.

But raw chocolate chip cookie dough.

Really?

So tell me, any of you have a secret recipe for a Weight Watchers approved, low fat cookie dough that won’t give me salmonella?

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Head on over to NewToUs to check out my latest New Thing. It involves trying to be more put together in my work attire. Taking pictures of said work attire. And then posting pictures to a Flickr group.

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You watching “The Tudors” on Showtime?  Or “Gossip Girl”?  (Dude, could Serena really have killed someone?!)  Head over to WeHeartTV to discuss.   And don’t forget, we always have lots to say about “Lost“.

For the last five months my little family has been attending the new church congregation that we’d planned on attending once we moved into the new house. This new congregation (referred to as a “ward” in my LDS faith) is so awesome. It’s full of other young families and tons of kids for Babboo to play with. The church house is old and very cool looking, which isn’t really typical in my faith. I love the Sunday school teacher and the ladies that are in the Relief Society with me. They have fun activities (like the Super Saturday that’s scheduled in a few weeks. Hours and hours spent doing some really cool crafts. Like making a purse out of a place setting!  And jewelry!). The teachers give meaningful lessons every Sunday and I leave church feeling edified and ready to take on the new week.

During the main worship service (Sacrament Meeting) last month I noticed one particular teenage boy that had blond curly hair and perfect teeth to match his perfect smile. He was waring a dark suit that made him look even cuter. I learned over to The King, “if I was a teenager, that would be the boy that I would have a super crush on!” The King just rolled his eyes and reminded me that I’m a grown woman. Whatever, this kid was adorable.

I noticed The King begin to scan the room. After a few minutes he leaned over to me. “See the two Sorenson girls sitting over there with their family? I can’t decide which one Teenage King would have a crush on. I guess which ever one is the older of the two.”

The meeting went on and eventually my Crush was invited to come up to the podium to make an announcement. Naturally I was excited to hear what he had to say.

Blah, blah, blond hair, blah, curls, smile, swoon, blah….apparently he had just received the letter informing him where he’d be serving his two year mission for the church. “Good. At least now I know he’s nineteen and of ‘legal age’. I don’t feel so bad anymore.” The King said I should still feel a little embarrassed.

As this kid continued to talk about his upcoming plans I sort of fell out of crush with him. He was just so unorganized and I noticed he was pretty pimply and heck, just so young. I told The King, “and now Teenage Isabel’s crush is over.” “That was fast”, he said.

Teenage Isabel is fickle.

“Well, I still haven’t decided what Sorenson girl Teenage King likes better. After thinking about it for the last few minutes I think Teenage King might just be using the Sorenson girls to get closer to their mom. She’s hott.”

“Right, because Teenage King is just so confident and suave that he can seduce the mother of his crush?”

The last few Sundays, I’ve walked into church and immediately scanned the room to see what the Sorenson girls are wearing. Those cute little tarts are always dressed to kill in sweet summer dresses and open toed heels. Teenage Isabel would be so jealous of them.

Teenage Isabel has yet to find her own new church crush.

Too bad the Sorenson girls don’t have a brother for Teenage Isabel.

Oh wait, I’m a grown up.  Never mind.

So tell me, I’m not the only one that develops crushes, right?!

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Have you been watching “Dexter” on CBS this season?  The finale was on Sunday and I blogged about it over at WeHeartTV.

On Friday night, I sat down on the couch to read a gossip mag my coworker gave me. We had just gotten home from a night out shopping for microwaves. Babboo was in bed asleep and The King was catching up on “Law & Orders” from the week. After I had finished reading all of the latest celebrity gossip, I decided to grab a pencil and try the little sudoku puzzle at the back of the magazine.

After that, my memory of the rest of the weekend is a haze. I remember getting up early on Saturday to walk over to the bookstore to buy my own sudoku book.

I seem to remember a hazy grouping of numbers, one through nine only, of course. I also remember some grid lines. And maybe some eraser and pencil shavings.

I came out of my foggy haze last night after showing The King the basic rules of suduko. He took over my book and I was forced to step away from the sudoku and make some dinner for my family.

Tonight, after I get off work, I’m going back to the book store to buy The King his very own sudoku book.

There’s no way I can spend another night at home taking turns with my sudoku book.

So tell me, why didn’t any of you tell me how awesome sudoku is?  Or how addictive?

While discussing all things Clothing-Related yesterday with OperationPinkHerring (or just “OPH” for short) due to her latest Mission: Put Together (ie: let’s all try to dress better for work and then post the pictures to a Flickr group of our more put-together outfits for all to see and judge), I was all, “And what’s with the Ann Taylor Loft website tricking us and putting up loads of clothing items on sale for $3.88 and then having all of them ‘not available at this time’?”

I sent OPH the link to a super cute navy blazer that was marked $3.88 (!!) and she wrote me back immediately, “And that $3.88 jacket on Ann Taylor Loft had to be a mistake. $3.88???? I can’t even get the picture to display right now, but I’d still buy it for $3.88. ”

To which I responded, “there is TONS of super cute things on the Ann Taylor website for that price right now. But all of them are all “not available at this time” and I’m all ‘then take it down off your site, a**holes!’”

Because seriously, you can’t show me something for $3.88 and then not allow me to buy one in every color.

OPH said she likes the option to buy and return later, if needed. Although she did admit, “for $3.88, I’d buy it and keep it. And love it. ”

“You’re darn right you’d keep it and love it. I’d buy it in bigger
sizes and gain weight to fit into them for that price.”

OPH started searched the Ann Taylor Loft site with me and found a super cute dress for $3.88. “Damnit! Check it out, $3.88!!! NO LONGER AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE!!!”

It got even better when OPH started looking at the maternity clothes on the site and found that some of them were also marked $3.88!!

She was bold enough to even say. “I would buy this maternity shirt for $3.88 and get knocked up just so I could wear it.” (Although I had to agree with her that it was the best thing to do. I mean, you should always base your gestating on cheap clothing options.”

And then I thought, “dude, I’m calling the freakin’ 800 number for Ann Taylor Loft and getting to the bottom of this!”

I spent the next 30 minutes on the phone with a lovely Ann Taylor Loft call-agent in Salt Lake City as she looked up every.single.item marked down to $3.88 to see if she could find me anything in any size close to my own size.

Okay, so we didn’t find anything. And my heart broke a little. And my Ann Taylor gift card sitting on my desk, mocked me. But dude, I have it my best effort.

So tell me, have you ever actually had any luck finding stuff as cheap as a kicky trench coat for $3.88?

(And while it isn’t $3.88, these Shade Clothing shirts come pretty darn close.)

*This does not mean I won’t stop shopping there and that I don’t love ATL. Because you know I love ATL.

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Did I forget to mention that I had a new post up over at SeattleMomBlogs this week? Um, sorry. Go and check it out.

Oh, and you know you want to discuss all things “Lost” over at WeHeartTV.

The night before The King and I got married, we met a bunch of friends at The King’s apartment before heading out to a local bar. I use the term “friends” loosely as they were mostly The King’s friends. I had only lived in Seattle a few months and hadn’t made any local friends. Yet.

While sitting in his apartment, waiting for everyone to arrive, I looked at the window and saw a couple walking across the street and towards the building. Although I hadn’t met them before, I was pretty sure it was The King’s friends May and Mr. May. They weren’t walked together. In fact, Mr May was about three steps in front of May.

They both looked upset.*

May and her husband were the last to arrive, so once they got inside, we all packed up and stuffed into a few cars to head out. The rest of the night was spent sitting around a table, talking and laughing. Most of the people there knew each other from their time in the art program in college together.

That evening we all joked and laughed about how everyone was practically related to one another. The King had known May and Smelly since their freshman year. He’d known Smelly’s fiance since 5th grade, and had actually introduced them to each other. Heck, The King had even known Mr. May longer then May had known him. And there I sat, the lone person at the table. I didn’t know anyone except The King. And he wasn’t even really paying attention to me.

A few months after The King and I got married, Smelly had her wedding. The King and I took the day off work and attended their ceremony inside the Seattle LDS temple. Again, I didn’t seem to know anyone else that was there. Until I looked up and saw May sitting here. We exchanged pleasantries. It wasn’t until after the ceremony was over and everyone was outside taking pictures that May and I started to talk. She was cracking me up left and right. And I was digging it.

After that night The King and I made an effort to hang out more with May and her husband. Unfortunately, they lived out in the ‘burbs, so we didn’t see them as much as I would liked. Fortunately, May and I both had jobs that allowed us to e-mail each other during the day. Unfortunately, May and Mr. May decided they were moving away from Seattle.

Mr. May had become disillusioned with his job in Seattle, so they had decided to pack their bags and move to Reno, where Mr. May’s family lived. (Reno!) I begged and cried. And yet, they still left. The King told me not to be so sad. He promised, “they’ll move back.”

Again, May and I were able to e-mail throughout our days at work. It was during this time that we really were bonded. We would e-mail about what outfit we were wearing that day, or about what silly thing our husbands had done the night before. You know, the important things in life.

(All of us together, the night before they moved to Reno, the first time!)

Again Mr. May’s job situation in Reno didn’t pan out. They decided to move closer to May’s family in Orange County. I wasn’t sure if their move to the OC was one step closer to them moving back to Seattle. But I hoped it was.

The King and I flew down to visit them in the summer. We stayed with May’s mom and took advantage of all the sun and fun that California has to offer. We even spent the day at Disneyland with May and Mr. May. Nothing more fun then four childless adults enjoying what Mickey has to offer. It was a fabulous trip and just reminded me even more how much I loved and missed having May around all the time.

A few months later, May informed me that Mr. May had been offered his old job back in Seattle. He was considering accepting. I tried to not get too excited about them moving back, while also praying that they would.

At this point, The King and I were just getting ready to move into the first house we built. We were digging what was going to be our new neighborhood and things were looking up with the prospect of the May’s returning to Seattle.

And things just got better. Not only did Mr. May accept his old Seattle job. But they bought a house in our new neighborhood. On our same street. Mere houses away from our new house.

May was going to be closer enough to almost be my sister-wife. I had visions of eating dinner together every night, taking nightly walks together, getting pregnant the same time, having babies in the same week, our kids being best friends, only to have them grow up and marry each other.

I had it all figured out. And I was happy.

(Me, May, and Smelly during a Girls-Only-Weekend to Portland.)

May and I did do everything together. Okay, we didn’t have dinner together every night. And we missed a few nights of walking. And we had our kids about a year apart. (Although we were pregnant at the same time. But only for about a week. And um, I lost that baby.) But other then that, it was Heaven.

After living so closer to each other, we decided to sell out house and start work on the new house. Even though May and I now lived three miles apart, we still hung out all the damn time. Sure we couldn’t walk together every night, but May was good to drive downtown to hang out at my apartment and I was happy to take the bus down to May’s house.

(Celebrating May’s birthday, weeks after Babboo was born. You’ll notice the matching skirts May made for her and her daughter.)

May was there to help me transition into being a Mother. She was there to help take advantage of my maternity leave. She was there with me to take Babboo to the zoo for the first time.

She was just always there.

And what made it even better was that Lil’ May was there with May.

Spending time with the two of them always made the day better for Babboo and me. It always made me smile and thank the Lord for blessing me with such good friends.

May and I started the tradition of Girls-Night-Out with our small group of friends. May and I were always the ones to organize the outings and May always choose her favorite restaurant to go to. Those evenings spent in the corner of the restaurant was one of the reasons I survived that first year of Motherhood so effortlessly.

(Vesper and May, enjoying one of many Girls-Night-Out.)

And then it happened. Mr. May decided he wanted to go back to school. Apparently his two degrees weren’t enough. He wanted to try out a whole new line of work. And crap, schools in Seattle are way too much money and darned it, it costs too much to live here.

They were selling their house and moving back to Reno.

(Oh Reno, how I loath you.)
Last year, for May’s birthday, I bought her a crate full of flowers to plant in her yard. I thought that, maybe, if her yard was extra pretty she wouldn’t want to move. What it probably did was give her house more curb-appeal and help it sell fast.

So, they sold their house. Made arrangements for Mr. May to start college in Reno. During this May discovered she was knocked up. They both quit their Seattle jobs.

And my heart broke more and more as their move out day approached. Instead of actually dealing with it, I just tried to ignore it was every going to happen. I (secretly) hoped that Mr. May would decided that maybe college wasn’t for him. I prayed that his job would offer him more money. I tried desperately to get him a job with my company. I begged and pleaded with my boss to just give the guy a chance. Alas, he wasn’t hired. During all this, May just kept packing boxes after boxes and making plans to desert me move to Reno.

I spent their last few days in Seattle helping May pack up her house (and by “help” I mean that I stood there talking to her while her sister in law did the actual packing.) I think I tried to contain my emotions and never pleaded for her to “never leave me”, but I may have said those words. I’m not proud.

(Look at May’s cute barley-pregnant belly!)

The King was out of town on business, but he flew home early to say good bye the friends that he loves just as much as I do. We spent the rest of the night laughing and eating McDonald’s and prolonging the inevitable. (While May’s sister in law just kept packing and working hard. Seriously, she was an awesome help to May. Much more so then I was.)

(I love how May and her family are all dressed in bright colors and The King family is dressed in all black. That’s how we roll.)

Eventually, I could no longer deny the time. My poor kid was up later then he’d ever been. It was time to say our farewells and go home to put Babboo in bed.

May and I hugged each other and I got in my car to leave. I was sobbing before we hit the freeway. Months of pent up emotions came pouring out. I was having a hard time breathing and I wasn’t sure if it was from my tears or from the sudden realization that I was without my best friend.

Of course May and I have cell phone with cheap long distance this time around. We still have e-mail and now I have this blog. So really, we’re still connected. And yes, there’s still a part of me that is dreaded this summer, without May by my side at the pool or at the park.

Plus, there’s that little baby she had back in December that I’ve yet to snuggle.

It’s a good thing May and her entire family are coming out to Seattle to visit us (ME!) in a few weeks. I’m seriously giddy with anticipation.

Happy Birthday May! Thanks for always being a good example to me. And extra thanks for doing it with just enough irreverence to make it fun!

*I found out, years later, that they were upset. Apparently May had asked Mr. May to help trim her hair. It did not go so well. Lesson learned, don’t let your husband give you a hair cut.