The Where's Moses Game

Lucky number seven

Love is a friendship set to music. Happy anniversary to my beautiful dance partner.

Friday Night Tights: How a Onesie Opened My Eyes

It was an early evening in mid September. I was home alone. A Friday night, if I remember correctly.

Now there was nothing particularly special about this evening. I was waiting for Shelley to come home from work so we could go out for a delicious meal together. Probably Italian. I don't remember, I only know that it probably wasn't Mexican since the pregnancy robbed her, albeit temporarily, of her passionate love of the melted cheese, tortillas and chicken combination that had served us so well for years. In its stead, was a seemingly endless love affair with cuisine from the boot-shaped European country.

I'm not complaining . . . Italy has been good to us. If you can't say nice things about pizza, then you just shouldn't be allowed to eat. It's just that I really miss the chips and salsa. It's nice to go to a restaurant and be immediately treated to a unique blend of tomatoes and jalapenos along with some tortilla crisps. It's a lovely gesture and puts me in a very jolly mood. I like to think the salsa is made with a recipe that has been preserved for generations through a series of arduous and seemingly impossible circumstances that challenged the very existence of this little bowl of chunky goodness now placed before me for dipping. You'd think a baby would be into that sort of thing, but whatever. I'm not the one growing a human life in my torso.

But I digress . . .

On this nondescript evening of the ninth month of the year, I was at home waiting for my beautiful bride to arrive for an evening of non-mexican food and a guaranteed designated driver. That's one of the perks of being the male half of a pregnancy. "Should I have that second glass of wine? Booyeah, Shelley's got the keys!" Of course, most people who know me realize that I'm passed out under the table singing songs about my childhood dog, Princess, after a couple sips of a Mambo Taxi. Still, since Shelley can't partake in the spirits, it was good to know that I could be extra spiritual for the two of us.

But, again, I digress . . .

I remember very little about this quiet Friday night at Casa de Boudreau . . . but the fact that it was a Friday meant that I had a soccer game the next day. This means that I needed to throw my uniform into the washing machine. As an aside. . . when I have a couple of sips of Mambo Taxi in me I sometimes joke that Shelley is "my own personal washing machine", but she really doesn't get as much a kick out of it as I do. It's pretty funny, though. Well.. the delivery is key I suppose. Blogging doesn't allow for me to really sell it. Trust me. . . comedy gold.

But anyway . . . typically, I would be throwing both our uniforms into the wash since it is our co-ed team of four years that plays on Saturdays. But since our little bundle of Boudreau has come into existence, it has transformed our star player into our number one fan. I know it's been really hard for Shelley to sit on the sidelines week after week after years of never missing a minute of the action, but she still never misses a game. And I, we . . . well, everyone on our team never has a moment go uncheered or uncelebrated. She's as valuable off the field as she is on it. That's nice. She really is quite a spectacular girl. I miss playing with her too. She's also quite cute in that uniform.

Again with the digressing . . .

Friday night. You know the setting.

So I head to the laundry room to find my uniform in the delightfully smelling basket of used clothing and undergarments. And that's when it happened.

After seven months of pregnancy . . . seven months of seeing Shelley's cute little tummy grow bit by bit . . . seven months of a glowing face that frowned at fajitas and smiled at bow-tie pasta . . . seven months of a sweet after dinner buzz that made me *extra* funny . . . after all that time of witnessing my beautiful wife sacrifice and give of herself in just about every aspect of her life. . . I finally got an almost laughably tiny peek into the surreal and sometimes inexplicable world of pregnancy. I suddenly had a more pronounced understanding that I would be fathering a real life, tiny bundle of home-made, human baby.

Pretty jaw-dropping stuff, right? I know, it sounds absurd. But as a guy, my tangible evidence is all from the outside in.

And it was just such an outside-in moment that transpired in that laundry room.

Sitting on the top of that laundry basket was a pile of brand new onesies. Yes, I'd seen plenty of these before. But really, I normally glanced at them and thought, "That's nice. Very cute. . . I suppose, if you're really into that one-piece clothing style. Personally, I like to wear pants. I'm a pants guy, sorry. But whatever. That's cool."

But on this Friday night in September I picked up that little onesie and for a fleeting moment could feel that baby kicking for ever-shrinking space in Shelley's womb. I could see that flat fabric filled with bursting life and a wiggly body. There was a real baby on the way. And I was uniquely privileged and blessed to be its daddy.

So I burped the onesie.

Seriously. I am not lying. As God as my witness, I put that onesie on my shoulder, bobbed up and down and patted the thing on the back as if to burp the invisible, just formula-fed baby I was holding in my imagination.

I've got to say. . . I'm not ashamed to say there was a little knot in my throat as this whole charade transpired.

Typically when people behave in this fashion, it is followed by men in white coats and large doses of medication. But for me, it was simply a sincere and earnest moment of quiet, albeit somewhat embarrassing, revelation.

Tonight at 10 pm Shelley and I are checking into the hospital as a family of two for the last time. If all goes as planned, by tomorrow morning we will welcome our new child to the world outside the womb.

For Shelley, this will be the culmination of an arduous and beautiful journey filled with discomfort, sacrifice, exasperation . . . and a few breathtaking moments of awe. She will be turning in her pregnancy ID and taking her first steps into a lifetime of motherhood. I have not a single doubt that our child will be a better, kinder, smarter and more loving person having Shelley in his or her life. I know that I am.

As for me, I'm just eager to meet the little guy (or gal). There are inevitable fears and expectations, questions about the future, worries and hopes about the possibilities that are before us, concerns over whose nose our child will inherit . . . but I don't want to get ahead of myself just yet. There will be a time and place for all of that. Tomorrow is not a promise and I want to savor these final moments of our old life as two and cherish the first moments of our new life as three. Life goes by so fast, but that doesn't mean we can't seize the day and take it all in.

What else can I say? I had a tender moment with a onesie and I haven't been the same since.

Digital Epidural, Volume 21

I had my final doctor's appointment today. The baby has made some progress towards the exit, but my doctor is still pretty sure that it won't be coming before the induction date. As I write this, barring something unexpected, I will be a mom one week from right now. It was pretty surreal to leave the doctor's office and realize the next time I will see my doctor will be when I'm having a baby. I worked today and am working a short day tomorrow and then will be done with work for 8 weeks. Needless to say, I'm having a lot of life changes in the next week.

I recently read a blog my friend Katie Moore posted about her path to motherhood and I was inspired to write about my own journey and take a moment to reflect back on the path which led me to this place.

When Stephen and I got married, we both agreed we wanted to wait 4 to 5 years to start trying to have kids. I still had a year of law school left and wanted to get my career off the ground before I started thinking about adding kids to the mix.

Four years passed and we both agreed that five was a better number. Then five years passed. At that point I think Stephen was ready, but I wasn't. I'd always dreamt about having kids as a young girl, but I think watching friends have kids and see how much it really changed their lives and how much freedom they lost made that desire retreat deeper inside me. There was a point in our marriage where I wasn't sure I ever wanted to have kids. I liked my life the way it was. I like traveling and not having to worry about paying for someone's college education and being able to stay at the office late because a little kid wasn't waiting for me to come home.

So, in about October of 2007 (five plus years after we got married), I went off birth control. I figured that if I didn't do it then, I would get far too comfortable with my freedom and might never want to do it. In January, we thought we might be pregnant. We took an at home test which said that we were. I can't explain to you the panic that went through me. Stephen was so excited and I felt like I was about to poop my pants.

To make a long story short, they ran a number of tests that came up with varying answers as to the mystery of what was in my uterus. We went on a family reunion cruise the week after running all these tests. The question of whether I was pregnant or not was still up for debate as we boarded the ship. We were on board the ship about two days before my doctor called to tell me that the last test they ran indicated that I was probably pregnant at some point. When I told her I had started bleeding, she told me to go to the on board doctor to get a pregnancy test done and see what he said.

My little brother was with us at this particular moment so we had to explain what was going on to him. So the three of us headed to the ship doctor to see what was going on. This really sweet nurse gave me one of those pee on a stick tests. It came out negative and all I could do was cry. It was the first time in a really long time that I wanted to be a mom.

The jury is still out on what exactly happened to my body that January, but whatever it was, God used it as a way to show me that even though I wasn't entirely ready to give up my freedom and become a mom, being a mom was what my heart truly desired.

Two months later I took another test, but this time all the blood work backed up at home test results. And now . . . seven and a half months later, I sit here a week away from giving birth.

Pregnancy has definitely not been my favorite experience or one that I want to endure again soon, but I'm excited about what it is going to produce. I'm completely clueless about this world that I'm about to enter, but I'm entering it knowing no matter how hard it is, it's what I want.

Digital Epidural, Volume 20

Tomorrow I go in for my second to last doctor's appointment. I'm crossing my fingers that something . . . anything . . . has happened to progress the baby towards living outside versus inside of me but I'm not overly optimistic about it.

Now that D-day is getting closer and closer, Stephen and I are constantly wondering whether it's a boy or a girl. I think we both feel like it's a boy so we're convinced that it must then be a girl. The closer it gets, the crazier it seems that one of the names that we've picked out (which are still super top secret by the way) will be attached to a little human being soon.

When my mom was pregnant with my older brother, she and my dad were convinced they were having a girl. They didn't pick a boy's name because they were so sure they were having a girl. So, my brother was supposed to be Michelle Renee. Only, he wasn't a girl, so my parents had to pick out a boy's name for him on the spot.

Anyway, I was thinking about this the other day, which led me to wonder . . . what if Jim had been a girl . . . what would my name have been? Would I be the same person if I had been named Jennifer or Kelly instead of Michelle? Would I have had the same friends, gone into a different profession, ended up at a different college, would my life be totally different? How much does your name define who you are? Will the names that we have selected for Baby Boudreau determine who they become as people or will they be a certain way regardless of their name?

However your name affects who you become as a person, I'm excited to see what gender Baby Boudreau is and share his or her name with everyone. I am horrible at keeping secrets.

Digital Epidural, Volume 19

It's been awhile since I wrote my last blog. As I write this, I have less than 4 weeks until my official due date. It is hard to believe that d-day is so close. It's been a unique experience to be sure. But I am, without a doubt, ready for the baby to be out of the womb ASAP. The expiration date on the overcrowding in my uterus, my inability to sleep well, and heartburn every time I eat has come and gone. Bring on the next challenges.

I've started weekly doctor appointments where they check my cervix for dilatation. It's great fun and not at all uncomfortable -- HA! Actually it's not fun at all and super uncomfortable . . . especially since my cervix is still a locked vault, meaning our new arrival will probably not be coming anytime soon.

My boss has a little celebration every time I come back to the office after one of these appointments and report no progress. While I understand her wanting me to stay around as long as possible (who wouldn't, really), I'm ready for this journey to be over.

While we were at our most recent doctor's appointment, the doctor had us set up an induction date in the event that the baby doesn't come on its own. If baby Boudreau continues in it's stubborn ways, December 2 is the last stop. When the doctor was telling us about this, she began down the path of explaining how many people don't like the thought of induction, but that once you get past your due date risks go up, etc. I don't know if she thought I was going to put up a road block, but I cleared that right up. I told her that if the baby wasn't here by my due date, I didn't care how they did it but they needed to get it out of me. Like I said, I'm ready for the baby to take up its wriggly squirmy habits somewhere other than my uterus.

I saw a commercial on TLC the other day for a show called something like "I didn't know I was pregnant." I guess the premise of the show is telling the stories of women who end up delivering a baby without ever knowing they were pregnant. While I'm sure that this happens on the extremely rare occasion, I call foul on there being enough women out there with this experience to base an entire show on.

Having gone through almost 9 months of pregnancy now, I don't understand how this is possible. It's not like the only clue would be the lack of that monthly visitor. Among the myriad of symptoms, I don't get how you would explain the baby's movements (especially towards the end when they get painful based on the lack of room). I mean what kind of health issues could you possibly think you have that would result in that kind of symptom -- some kind of massive tape worm?

So, to wrap up, I can no longer bend over without great difficulty, sleeping is a chore more than something I enjoy, my baby thinks it's an acrobat, and there are no signs of labor on the horizon.

Hooray!

Digital Epidural, Volume 18

I've always imagined myself having a boy first. And to be perfect honest, my gender detection instincts tell me that the baby will be a boy. However, these instincts are not based on any kind of fact, logic or track record. However, the other night I had a dream that the baby was a girl. (I've also had dreams of having a boy for anyone trying to dig too deep a meaning.) My dream got me thinking about being a mom to a girl and her looking to me as her first example of what a woman should be. I always looked to my mom as an example of how a woman should act, what she should say, and what she could do.

With that in mind, if our little baby turns out to be a girl these are the things that I, at this point in my life, would like her to learn about what being a woman means:

1.Women are strong, physically, emotionally and mentally. This does not mean that it's not OK to cry or to ask a man to open a jar for you. That does not make you weak. Allowing anyone to dominate you, physically, emotionally or mentally, is what will make you weak.

2. Women and men are not the same. We need to celebrate our differences. Equality with men is important, but equality does not mean being identical.

3. Your career is in your hands. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not qualified to do something because you're a woman. No matter what you choose to do -- astronaut, doctor, lawyer, stay at home mom -- pursue it with your whole heart and full of passion.

4. Being smart and being pretty are not mutually exclusive. One of the most fun things about being female is the fashion, make-up and style that are uniquely our own. Don't feel like you have to forgo those things in order for someone to take you seriously. And, most importantly, don't ever play down your intellectual ability for the sake of a boy's ego.

5. Sports are not just for boys. Both the enjoyment garnered from playing and watching them belong to you too.

6. Women come in all shapes and sizes. Be healthy and whatever body that state of being generates, embrace it. Life would be boring if every woman wore a size 0. Happy people are always more beautiful than miserable people.

7. Do not depend on anyone else to define who you are as a person. Figure out who you are separate and apart from anyone else. The important people in your life will help shape who you become, but it's up to you to put those pieces together to make a whole person.

8. Every girl has an awkward phase. We get braces and pimples and have a bad hair cut and feel like we will never be pretty. You will become more beautiful each day of your life due in no small part to the confidence you will gain along the way.

9. Don't confuse love and sex. If a boy really loves you, he will wait for you. If he tries to get you to sleep with him by telling you he loves you, he doesn't really love you.

10. When you find that man that you will spend the rest of your life with, cherish him. Treat him the way you want him to treat you.

This is the woman I strive to be and the woman I hope I raise a daughter to be.

Digital Epidural, Volume 17

Stephen and I headed to Denver for Labor Day weekend to hang out with our good friends the Poetschkes. While we were there, my family in Denver threw a shower for me which was lots of fun and my first time to be the guest of honor at a baby shower.

Rosa told me on our way to the shower that she didn't know why, but she always got face-of-the-sun-hot during her showers. I am the type who is typically always looking for a blanket, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem for me. However, by the time I finished opening presents, I must have undoubtedly reeked from the gallons of sweat puddled next to me. I wondered for a second if I could just take finish up the festivities sans clothing. I remembered reading somewhere that getting nude for these types of showers was a faux pas, so I played it safe. I'm evaluating my most breathable clothes for my next shower.

As a side note, one of my cousins brought her 7-year old daughter. Her daughter didn't want to come at first because she thought that everyone would actually be bathing me in a shower. Prettty funny.

Seeing the Poetschkes was lots of fun and made us both miss them even more. Their daughter, Lola, was born last December. Shortly thereafter they packed up and moved to Denver so we haven't spent much time with them in their new role as parents. It was my first time spending long periods of time on consecutive days around a baby since becoming pregnant. That weekend I had moments of great comfort and moments of absolute terror.

Being pregnant is starting to get pretty physically uncomfortable. I think I may have pulled a muscle under my rib cage from all the stretching my body is enduring. There's a part of me that's just ready for pregnancy to be over so I can lie on my stomach, drink alcohol, play soccer, and run without it being uncomfortable. Watching Stephen and Rosa with Lola, I had moments of, "Hooray! I can't wait to meet little Horace (my new code-name for our child). Being a parent looks like it's fun."

But, those moments were closely followed by thoughts of, "How many times a day does she eat? Do you get to do anything but feed her? When does she wake up in the morning? Does that include weekends? How much spit can she possibly create and why does none of it stay in her mouth?"

I think the closer we get to B-day, the more I realize how completely unprepared I am to become a mother. But, is anyone ever really prepared to enter that world? Since I've never done it before, it's so foreign and it's completely unnatural to my current state of things. I'm not saying I'm not excited to meet little Horace and take him or her home with us, I'm just saying that maybe I'll deliver a little late. . . like two or three years late.

Digital Epidural, Volume 16

So, I did it.

I became one of "those girls". The ones that get overly anxious about nothing and make the answering service at their doctor's office page their doctor so she can ask her a ridiculous question. Without going into too much personal detail, on a Wednesday afternoon not so long ago, I felt like something was not right "down there." Like maybe there was too much fluid or something. Again... the details aren't essential.

So I did what any proud member of the Age of the Internet would do: I Googled my issue. Within about 15 minutes, I was convinced that my amniotic sac had broken and I was leaking amniotic fluid.

Now, for the sake of full disclosure, I confess that I am a worrier. I worry about Stephen if I can't get in touch with him within a 2 hour period. My over-reactions aren't limited to Stephen, though. I once made Stephen drive out to Rockwall to make sure my mom was OK because she didn't call me back within 24 hours. Apparently I like to give myself a time schedule on which insanity is permissable.

In spite of these stories, though, I'm generally pretty even keel when it comes to medical issues. I have previously read stories about women who had their doctors on speed dial in the event of any and all pregnancy-related concerns. Working for a company where the people I deal with are located all over the globe, I have first-hand experience of how frustrating it can be for someone to expect you to be available at all hours of the day and night. So with that in mind, I try to be respectful of the fact that my doctor has family, friends and a life outside of being my personal answering service.

Back to the story, then.

After my Google research, I called my doctor's office only to discover that it was already closed. The message said to dial 911 if it was an emergency (I was still rational enough to know that wasn't necessary) or to dial 0 to to immediately speak with a doctor.

I wasn't sure.

Did I need to immediately speak to a doctor? I felt like that statement should be followed by, "Reasons you would NOT need to immediately speak to the doctor and should probably just calm down and stop overreacting include..." The problem would have been solved right then and there as I'm sure my issue would have been on that list.

So being unsure of whether to press 0 or not, I hung up and called Stephen. Keep in mind that Stephen has no formal medical training.

I explained the situation to him he recommended I call back and talk to the doctor if I was this nervous. So, I called back and pressed 0 and here's what happened next:

Answering Service: "Good evening, Dr. Krum and Dr. Carmichael's answering service."

Me: "I guess."

They paged the doctor. The one on call that night was not my doctor, but he responded to my page rather quickly. I guess leaking amniotic fluid at 25 weeks isn't exactly in the realm of "good for the pregnancy."

The doctor was nothing but sweet as he went through my issue with me. He told me that leaking amniotic fluid usually means fluid running down your leg. When I explained to him that my issue was not even in the same time zone as that, he kind of chuckled and said, "This is your first one isn't it?"

It was then that I knew it had happened. I had become one of "those girls."

How had that happened? I've prided myself throughout my pregnancy on not getting worked up or worried about anything silly and here I was taking away precious personal moments from this doctor because I was experiencing a pregnancy symptom that every pregnant woman experiences and, to be honest, that I've been experiencing since finding out I was pregnant.

"I was just worried," I told the doctor.

He assured me that he was glad I had called to assuage my fears and that if I was still concerned tomorrow, they would have no problem with me coming in and running a test.

So, I learned two valuable lessons that night: (1) I am not immune from being "that girl" and (2) never, ever, under any circumstances, rely on Google for answers to your medical questions.

Digital Epidural, Volume 15

Stephen and I were talking the other night about having a baby and how it would change our lives. We both understand that we'll be losing the freedom and flexibility our current lifestyle affords. In principle, this concept is easy to understand, even if it is overwhelming. Specifically, though, what makes me nervous is that I can't really understand how much of this freedom we will lose until our little guy or girl is born. And even then, I imagine it is an evolving process, not just an event.

So while I can prepare myself to go out less, get up earlier, be covered in baby spit up -- I won't really know what my life will be like until the baby is outside of my womb. Not being a huge fan of the unknown (unless it comes to not finding out the gender of my baby), this is an overwhelming thought.

With that in mind, I thought I should start getting myself ready in other ways. I was talking to a co-worker of mine the other day who has a 5 year-old. She was telling me how she had to discipline her child because he said the word"stupid". Apparently "stupid" is not a word that is allowed around their house.

That got me thinking about all the words I use on a regular basis that are probably not baby appropriate. I try not to use profanity, but freely confess that traffic and machines that do not do what they are supposed to do (even though I'm, of course, doing everything correctly) sometimes inspire a rage in me that can only be quelled by uttering words from the forbidden pages of the dictionary.

This habit seems a lot easier to cure, though, than some of the words that are more firmly planted in my vocabulary. For example, I often refer to things (or people) as "retarded", "stupid", or "dumb". I often say "shut up" and I regularly threaten to beat Stephen up (which causes him great fear. . . I'm sure) when he doesn't obey my benevolent and loving commands. As a child, these are all words and phrases that I remember being off limits (especially before we were exposed to the more egregious curse words).

So now, when I find myself saying "that's retarded" or "that's dumb" or "I'm going to kick your butt, Stephen" (which is usually followed by a "you wish you could" and me responding "you wish I couldn't" and this goes on for awhile as you can imagine), I realize I'm going to have to change the way I speak . . . very soon.

This realization also led me to the realization that my sense of humor is not necessarily G rated. If you've ever been out in public with me (and especially if you're the Poetschkes), you've no doubt been victim to one of my too loud, inappropriate jokes (usually induced by wine). I also find bodily functions hilarious and good topics for conversation (sometimes even meal conversation).

Now, you may be thinking – "What's wrong with her?" If so, we probably haven't spent enough time together. Seriously, let's hang out and you'll see how hilarious poop can be.

Or, you may be thinking – "She's right, that kid is going to be MESSED up." In which case you've probably spent too much time with me and probably wish you could erase from your mind some of my off-color jokes for which I apologize.

In any case, the clock is now ticking down for me to learn how to sensor and/or change myself. At the rate I'm going, my child's first phrase will be "mommy is dumb" followed closely behind by a poop joke.

Digital Epidural, Volume 14

I posted a couple weeks ago that shopping is no longer as fun as it used to be. This statement is still true when it comes to shopping at my favorite non-pregnant stores. Last week, though, I experienced maternity clothes shopping for the first time.

I had held off on this endeavor because I didn't want to spend a lot of money on clothes that I won't be wearing very long. However, after a never-ending struggle with the Bella Band, I decided it was time to make a trip to the mall. For those not in the know -- the Bella Band is a strip of material that fits snuggly from below your chest to your hip bones that holds pants up and smooths them out without them needing to be buttoned and/or zipped.

Here's my problem with the Bella Band -- my baby is lying as low as it possibly can right now. So my lovely baby bump is low enough that even my lowest pants don't button let alone zip. The Bella Band claims to solve this, but unfortunately for me, I end up with pants that look like they don't fit right. Couple that with anxiety that the bottom part of my zipper is going to unravel unexpectedly at work. That's not really the kind of exposure I'm looking to add to my life experience.

So, with much reluctance, I drug myself to Destination Maternity to locate some maternity pants. Destination Maternity includes three different maternity shops rolled into one:

(1) Pea in the Pod: for people who enjoy spending too much money on their clothes

(2) Mimi Maternity: for people who don't enjoy over-spending on clothes, but are still willing to do it

(3) Motherhood: for smart people who realize they're only going to be wearing these clothes for a brief period of time

I have a confession to make; I fall squarely in the Pea in the Pod category.

Hi, my name is Michelle and I am a clothes snob. I've tried not to be. I go to Ross and Target and attempt to outfit myself there, but it just doesn't work out. I get overwhelmed by the number of racks, the number of items on each rack and the number of people at each rack.

After much frustration, I give up and head to Anthropologie or Nordstrom. It is in these places where I enter into a peaceful state-of-mind the moment I step through the door. $85 for a t-shirt? No problem. I'm paying partly for the experience right? I tell myself these things.

Granted I'm not exactly a Neiman Marcus type clothes snob, even I draw the line somewhere. That line, though, is faint and in continuous movement.

So back to my story.

I picked out some lovely maternity pants. They were great, yet so lonely. They needed shirts to accompany them, at least in the fitting room. I mean . . . the one I was wearing would simply not suffice. So I ended up in the dressing room accompanied by about 2,348 items - give or take a few dozen.

I must admit: trying on the maternity clothes was pretty fun. My hump is still small enough that it falls into the "cute" and not the "oh my God, give her room she could blow at any moment" category.

I eagerly came home with my carload of purchases prepared to put on a mini-fashion show for Stephen. Lights, cameras, the catwalk... it was going to be great.

His response? "I thought you were just going to buy pants."

Oops, my bad. They were having a great sale . . . weren't they?

Armed with my new ensemble of maternity clothes, I told Stephen all I still "needed" was a pair of maternity jeans. He rolled his eyes at that one, but agreed to go to the mall with me the following Saturday night. While I didn't find any maternity jeans, I somehow did manage to find a few more dresses and tops to add to my maternity collection from Japanese Weekend.

Oops, my bad.

So, the moral of the story?

Maternity clothes shopping can be kind of fun. But in my case, as with all shopping, it should always be done with adult supervision.

Digital Epidural, Volume 13

A couple weekends ago, Stephen and I took part in an activity that we haven't experienced since being engaged: registering for gifts. Point and shoot a laser-guided beam at stuff other people will (hopefully) get for you. I had almost forgotten what a brilliant concept this was!

We both went into the experience with a mix of confusion and trepidation. Registering for marriage was pretty straightforward. We never really questioned whether we really needed both knives and forks in our new home. Neither of us was raised by wolves (although I do recall my parents accusing me of believing the house was a barn): we were both acutely aware of the dish/silverware/towel/sheet requirement to make a home operate efficiently.

But, when it comes to a baby . . . when it comes to fostering a healthy environment for a new life . . . well, all I know is that they need to be fed and changed. That's about it. I am assuming there's just a little more to it than an endless cycle of feeding and pooping.

A few resume items that should help set the table of my experience in your mind.

I worked in the church nursery once a week my senior year of college. (diaper changing, some really sweet kids, some super-explosive, diabolical, devil-children too)

Also, I have friends with children. (witnessing the beauty and terror of parenthood in action)

AND I have on more than one occasion watched Super Nanny. (I've been working on my British accent. Should solve just about anything unexpected that may come up during parenthood.)

Unfortunately, none of this has shed overwhelming light on what items belong on a baby registry. Couple this with my groundless fear of Babies R' Us and it all adds up to a recipe for confusion.

Before registering, I had stepped foot in a Babies R'Us once in my life. It was Christmas time. 2007. There was a chill in the air and a chill in my bones. Screaming, yelling, running children. Chaos. (I had a similar experience at a Wal-Mart in '06 . . . not pretty) Aren't these little people ever simply quiet? (That's a semi-rhetorical question all you know-it-alls. I'm going for dramatic effect here!)

So, Stephen and I reluctantly boarded the car on a Friday night and headed out to Babies R' Us. A couple hours of car seat and stroller research and a detailed email from my beautiful friend (and new mom) Rosa were all the preparations I had engaged. Should be enough, right? I mean . . . how many options could there possibly be?

The answer to that question was preposterously gi-normous. But before you are given access to the registry-gun, Babies R' Us requires nothing short of a full-cavity search and naming rights to your third child. After an eternity in which our registry assistant: went through a 700 page manual with us, questioned why we weren't finding out the sex, and a few dozen sheets of paperwork -- she finally relinquished the gun and let us on the zapping prowl.

Babies R' Us is conveniently laid out in a fairly simple pattern. All the feeding stuff is in one location, all the strollers in another, all the bedding in another and so on. Included in our paperwork is a handy checklist of everything you and your new baby will need as you begin your life together. I believe it was titled, "Everything in Our Store". Who knew that our little bundle of joy would need 15 strollers and 74 car seats (per car)?

So we took a deep breath and began.

First up was feeding equipment. Now, I've seen bottles and I've even fed a baby with a bottle, but I had no clue there were so many brands and variations of bottles. I was impressed how each touted it would be better at not killing my baby than any other. In case you didn't know, plastic bottles (those like the one you may be sipping a Coke or some refreshing water out of right now) are toxic. Seriously, I keep checking my pulse to make sure I'm still alive. My mom apparently doomed me to a life of cancer and/or spontaneous combustion because of her plastic bottles. Thanks Mom, real nice.

If you love your baby, you will buy glass bottles. But, if your name is Michelle Boudreau and you are incapable of not dropping things on a regular basis, you will throw caution to the wind and register for plastic bottles. Sorry baby.

Before you run to the phone and dial up CPS . . . I picked a premium brand of plastic bottles that are cancer, STD and anthrax free. Crisis averted.

Did you know that they don't sell bottles and nipples together? What's up with that? I guess it makes sense, though. I like having the option of simply pouring formula directly over the face of my newborn and hope they can lick up what they need. Thank you bottle makers.

After sorting through the myriad of options, we finally settled on a lovely and inviting nipple. So, 45 minutes in and we have bottles and nipples.

Up next were pacifiers. Those of you who know him will no doubt anticipate that if the nipples didn't kill him, surely the pacifiers would overwhelm Stephen and his pseudo-phobia of small plastic things covered in saliva. These types of items are not in his realm of "things he willingly touches". After we registered for the bottle sanitizer, he asked me why they didn't have one for the pacifiers."Seriously, if ANYTHING needs sanitizing it's these little mouth corks," he said with fear in his eyes.

I used to think it was one of his little jokes, but I really think I detected a dry heave when he saw the pacifiers.

I don't know if you are supposed to register for bibs, but we did and it was spectacular.

Next up: the first aid area. Things got a little sketchy in the land of first aid. Standing before us was the humidifier. Do we need that? It's on the list so it must be a necessity right? Right? I have no idea how useful or necessary a humidifier will be, but we registered for one. I leave the purchasing decision in your hands.

Next up was a small plastic item that you stick your little finger into to brush your child's gums before they are able to use a regular toothbrush and toothpaste. We had to take the defibrillator to get Stephen back. It was a close call.

Either way, we opted not to get the saliva collecting, gum-brushing finger tool. Stephen told me that he would never use it so it would be up to me entirely to brave the nastiness that would accompany using it. My motto: no teeth, no need to brush . . . right?

As we progressed through the aisles: car seat, check; stroller, check; swing, check.

On this night, we truly begun to realize just how many baby gizmos and gadgets are available to spend other people's money on. Did you know that you can have a swing AND a travel swing AND a baby bouncer (that also travels). Of course you did.

We finally made it to the end of the store. The whole experience from start to finish took about two-and-a-half hours . . . much longer than my pathetically short attention span.

By the end, I began losing my ability to think clearly. So if you see my list and think how in the world could she have not registered for this or that -- chalk it up to battle fatigue. That item must have been at the end of the emotional labyrinth they call Babies R' Us.

Weary from our journey and ready to never see a baby bottle again (well at least not for a few more months) we left the magical kingdom and spent some time in grown up world enjoying some tasty Greek food.

Now all that's left is to find somewhere to put all this stuff.

Digital Epidural, Volume 12

Last week Stephen and I went to the doctor to get our second sonogram.

It was a special experience seeing the baby so developed. Those fuzzy black and white screens make our child much more real and tangible. However, perhaps merely to provide me with blogging material, the staff at the office did two things that seriously irked me during our visit.

First, Stephen and I have decided to not find out the sex of the baby. I know there are many people that don't comprehend the desire to be surprised, but the unknown-factor is something we are extremely excited about. I was under the impression this was a personal decision that had no relevant impact on other people's lives, let alone a stranger. Far too often, this impression has proven to be false.

Before I begin my rant, though, my compliments to the lady who performed our sonogram. She was more than happy to peacefully and non-argumentatively acquiesce to our request. I don't know whether or not she determined the gender in the process, but either way, she didn't make note of it in her documentation. I appreciate that -- that way no one else can accidentally let it slip. Personally, all I gathered from the visuals is that there's a 50% chance it's a boy and a 50% chance it's a girl. Stephen thinks there is a 1% chance it's a kitten, but that theory was quickly vanquished by our doctor.

After we were done with the sonogram, they took me back to an exam room to do all the other fun things that are part of a routine visit. This is where our gender-mystery decision became a matter of public debate. When the nurse came in to take my blood pressure, before anything else, she made it clear that she thought we had lost all sense of rational thought. No "hello" or "how are you feeling?' or "my, what a lovely pair of shoes" -- just, "I hear you aren't finding out the sex. Why not?"

Lovely.

After a series of comments about the purposeful absence of any shred of mystery in her life, she hit us with the second most popular question we get asked, "But how will you know what to buy at the store?" (the most popular being, "How will you know what to do with your nursery?")

Ok . . . at the risk of over reacting I will simply speak my mind.

Are you kidding me? Every time I am asked this question, I become more and more unreasonably agitated. Mother Nature has kindly provided us a smorgasbord of colors to choose from outside of manly blue and girly pink. I was so wound up -- I'm surprised I didn't burst the blood pressure cuff.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind if someone is just curious about the sex -- that's the whole point. I suppose I have simply tired of the interrogation into the reasons why we would recklessly subject ourselves to the unknown like this. Likewise, I don't give the third degree to folks to choose to share in that special moment of discovery prior to the birthday.

So just to put a nice little bow on the issue, I will quote my articulate husband and his philosophy on the matter. He really only says this to me, but I think it's worth sharing here.

"When I compare the excitement I get from anticipating that moment of discovery with the ability to gender-specifically decorate and personalize a nursery -- I choose the one that I will treasure forever."

Not everyone treasures the same things, but that's why we have made the decision to keep it a mystery.

So back to my trip to the doctor.

The second offense (which was really a bunch of offenses rolled into one person) came in the form of my doctor's PA. She started off by being the second person to point out the foolishness of our not-finding-out-the-sex ways. She continued her encouraging talk by informing me that my placenta was "a little low". When I asked about it -- she wasn't worried because in 99% of cases it moves up, so no need for concern.

OK, but I wanted to know what happens if it doesn't move up.

Her response came in two parts.

Part one: a short in-take of oxygen, coupled with a painful grimace. Not just a standard in-take of air. One of those one-second bursts where you use your saliva and your mouth to make that atrocious sound that comes out when you are imagining someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard.

Part two: "Oh, don't worry, it will."

Ignoring the apparent contradictions in this two part response, there was the bigger issue of my question. The last time I checked, I was at a doctor's office, not a psychic reading.

It was like pulling teeth to get her to tell me what happens if it doesn't move. And would you like me to share with you the horrendous consequences of it not moving? The mysterious consequence would be a C-Section: a procedure that has been done successfully millions of times before.

Again, maybe this is just another of my unreasonable tirades against the innocent, but don't you think it would be better "bedside manner" to have just answered the question instead of hemming and hawing about how there was no cause for concern since the issue would resolve itself? Just my thoughts on that.

But the fun wasn't over. It wasn't just my misplaced placenta that she didn't want me to worry about -- I also needed to not panic about how I was tipping the scales. She noted, "I see your weight has gone up a bit, but since you've been playing catch up I'm not too worried, just keep the recent increase in mind." (Oh I'll keep it in mind... in fact I'll blog about it next week! . . . I didn't say that . . . but anyway . . . )

Would you like me to share with you the insane amount of weight I have gained in 22 weeks of pregnancy? You should be sure you're sitting down because the grotesqueness of this will knock your socks off. Are you ready?

Seriously, you're sitting down right?

I have gained a mind-boggling 2 pounds in 22 weeks. 2 pounds!

I know, I know, I'm a serious fatty and need to seek intervention. I'm already consulting a gastric bypass surgeon -- so rest easy: our genderless baby won't have to deal with a mother that resembles a Dallas Cowboy lineman. They'll have enough emotional damage to deal with anyway -- with their non gender-specific nursery and all. : )

I wanted to smack her over the head with the computer screen sitting behind her. But I thought better of it and just smiled politely instead. I knew I had a digital epidural on the way.

Digital Epidural, Volume 11

Since it's been awhile since I wrote my last post (not as long as it would appear due to my husband's refusal to post them in a timely manner : ) -- but still awhile), I had a lot of random stories/thoughts to share that I thought I would combine into one.

1. Stephen and I recently went to Spain and Portugal for two weeks. These two countries are the most amazing, beautiful, breathtaking place I've ever seen. Seriously, I didn't know places like that existed in real life. At one point I told Stephen I thought Spain is what heaven looks like. Traveling while pregnant was not bad. My ankles swelled up quite a bit on the way there due to my bad shoe choice so I had cankles for a couple days while walking the strees of Europe, but I've heard they're a new fashion statement.

Having only sips of wine was pretty heartbreaking. Stephen would let me drink about 3 sips of a glass before he would move the wine glass out of my reach and then tell me that if our child was born with extra body parts he would know why. If my child ever complains about us not taking it anywhere cool, I now have pictures to prove I have taken him (or her) to some totally awesome places.

2. I have been able to feel the baby move for awhile now. At first I wasn't sure if it was gas or the baby. There are still a few moments where I'm unsure which one it is, but if a fart doesn't come out within a few minutes of the movement, I assume it's the baby. : ) Stephen was able to feel it move a little before we left for Spain. Seeing his face when he felt it was priceless.

3. I still don't love Mexican food the way I used to. Being away from it for two weeks helped a little bit. We had it the night that we came home from Spain and it was actually pretty good.

4. I'm starting to show. I haven't outgrown my jeans yet as they're low enough I can still get them buttoned, but I discovered this morning that my work pants that fit before I left for Europe no longer fit. Related to this, I have discovered that shopping is no longer as much fun as it used to be which of course causes me great sadness. I have a vision in my head of what I should look like in an outfit and my head keeps leaving out my newly acquired protruding belly.

5. Children in pools make me nervous. We spent Sunday at Stephen's aunt and uncle's house with his cousins and their kids. I think because so many of my childhood injuries were associated with pools (if I still had a pool, I'd still be injuring myself in pools on a regular basis), I assume small children are as unable to not fall down and break teeth, scrape legs, etc. as I was.

6. I regularly refer to the baby as a him. Stephen says he thinks this means I will not love the baby if it's a girl.

7. We have purchased Coldplay tickets. Assuming I am not actually in labor at the time the show is taking place, I will be there.

8. After talking to numerous moms that slept on their backs while pregnant and did not meet with a horrible fate because of their back-sleeping ways, I am again a proud back-sleeper who is actually able to sleep at night.

Digital Epidural, Volume 10

Not everyone I work with knows that I'm pregnant yet. I have told my boss and a select few others have been carefully selected and been granted access to this not-so-secret secret. However, it is not a generally known fact.

It's a little weird for me to share the news with some of the people I work with. It always feels a little forced and unnatural to bring up. When I do tell people, it's always greeted quite positively. It's just getting to that moment that feels a little awkward sometimes.

The other night I was at a business dinner with some of the people in my group. We were at the less-than-impressive Tex-Mex restaurant known as Uncle Julio's in Grapevine. Everyone was enjoying some tasty margaritas and ice cold cervesas. Everyone, that is, except me.

One of my co-workers, seeing the glass of water in front of me, asked me why I wasn't doing one of my world-famous, girls-gone-wild keg-stands. Actually, he simply asked why I wasn't partaking in the drinking portion of the evening. So, I just told him about the bun in the oven -- seemed much more natural than just plopping it on someone as you pass in the hallway. He was very excited and it sparked much discussion as to how far along I was, who knew/didn't know, whether we were going to find out the sex (we're not), who the father is (just kidding), etc.

In order to fully understand this story, you need a little background information. My boss and I head down to the little coffee place in our building every morning. She gets a latte and I get hot tea. I have not put caffeine on the altar of pregnancy sacrifice. I have given up drinking, playing soccer, doing abdominal exercises, and (to a certain extent) sleeping on my back. I can no longer eat Mexican food and enjoy it because my stomach has waged a full-scale revolution against it. Chicken, one of my former favorite foods, now repulses me (unless, of course, it is contained in a Baker Brother's sandwich smothered in cheddar cheese and spicy mayo). In order to remain a person that anyone can tolerate being around, I am still consuming caffeine -- not obscene or unsafe amounts -- but daily doses of caffeine nonetheless. Now you know.

So, back to my story. . . after discussing a myriad of other things about my pregnancy, my co-worker (Ron) and I had the following conversation:

Ron:
"Well I guess your morning lattes will have to stop."

Me:
"Oh, I don't drink coffee. I always get hot tea which has much less caffeine."

Ron:
"But you shouldn't drink any caffeine while pregnant."

Me:
"Actually you can still have caffeine. You just have to make sure you don't have too much."

Ron:
"Oh no! You should stop drinking caffeine all together. Better safe than sorry! Dr. Ron is telling you no more morning coffee runs."

Seriously? "Dr. Ron" says so? Why do people think they can tell you how to run your life just because you're pregnant? Honestly, I'm not too shy to ask for advice from trusted loved ones. But outside of that, I really don't want your unsolicited advice on how to better care for my unborn child. I think I'm doing just fine thank you and if I wanted to know how you felt, I would ask you.

This is in no way means that I resent encouragement that people (especially people who read this blog) have given me. But, I don't understand why people feel the need to micro-manage other people's lives. Don't they have enough going on in their own lives to deal with?

Newsflash to all the Ron's of the world. You're not a doctor, let alone my doctor.

Digital Epidural, Volume 9

Lately, it takes me longer to get ready in the morning.

I used to be able to get up, jump in the shower, get ready and go. Now, I need a few minutes of sitting around in my bathroom coming up with various things to do that have nothing to do with getting ready. For example: counting the number of pairs of shoes I have . . . or trying to remember where each article of clothes in my closet was purchased . . . or playing another heart-wrenchingly frustrating round of brick breaker on my phone.

I'm not sure if this is related to being pregnant or not, but getting ready just takes longer. Mind you, I'm not getting up earlier, just getting to work later.

So, the other morning, during my "I don't feel like taking a shower yet, what should I do now" phase, I decided it would be a good idea to read my pregnancy book. (Aside: I have one book -- What to Expect When You're Expecting -- it's the only book I will be reading as I think our society has become set on freaking you out as much as possible while pregnant. But I digress, that's a rant for a different time.) I've read most (of what I'm interested in reading) up to the point that I'm at now, so I started skimming through it looking for something interesting. I ended up in the postpartum section.

Here's my advice if you're pregnant and haven't had a baby yet -- don't read this section. . . ever.

My face grew more and more horrified as the questions got more and more disgusting. To spare those weak in the stomach, I won't fill you in on what they were, but let's just say I was seriously considering whether I had to give birth or if I could just opt to keep the baby in my uterus permanently.

From now on, I'm going to stick to reading the pregnancy portion of the book. I don't even want to know what the delivery section entails.

Digital Epidural, Volume 8

The other night we were hanging out with our good friends, Becky and Evan, and we started talking about concerts -- who we'd seen, who we loved, who we'd like to see in the future -- and we all agreed that Coldplay was on our list of must-see's for the future.

To give you some background information, I think Coldplay is one of the greatest bands out there right now. I love their music -- great melodies (I learned about that term from Stephen although I probably still don't really understand it), great lyrics, and Chris Martin has an incredibly beautiful voice and their new album is absolutely incredible. When I ran my marathon, between about miles 20 and 24, I listened to Fix You about 7 times. I was so tired and so wanted to quit and that song kept me moving and kept me motivated.

So, back to the story, Evan told us he heard Coldplay was coming to Dallas in November. I made Stephen promise me that he would do whatever it takes to get tickets. I was so excited. It wasn't until a couple hours later on our drive home that I realized I'm supposed to have a baby in November. So as Stephen and I were driving home, we had this exchange

Me: "Do you think I'd be able to go to the concert eight months pregnant? I mean, I'm sure it will be at the AA Center so we'll have seats and you can't smoke in there, so it would be fine right?"

Stephen: "Um. . . I don't know."

Me (sulking): "Whatever, I'm asking my doctor. I'm sure it would be fine."

Since I don't go see my doctor for a few more weeks, I decided to do some internet research. Plus, since I think I may have already convinced her I could be a neglectful mother, I didn't want to ask her something that had an obvious answer. So, here are the two things I found out:

(1)
The Coldplay show is 11/19 -- only 8 days before my due date. There is a show in Oklahoma City in July but Stephen and I will be in Spain with my mom at that time. Other than the Oklahoma City show, the only other driving distance shows are Houston which is the day after the Dallas show -- not really very helpful.

(2)
People posting questions online concerning whether or not it's ok to go to a concert are normally about 5 months pregnant. I couldn't find anyone asking if it was ok to go at 39 weeks.

So, either the answer is obviously no or no one has faced the particular dilemma I'm in so it would be ok for me. I think I'll go with the latter.

Digital Epidural, Volume 7

Stephen went out of town for a few days this past week so I, of course, took the opportunity to do one of my favorite activities (and one of his least favorite) -- SHOPPING! Yippee!

As I was browsing the racks, I heard the thunderous cry of a little boy being carried outside by his mom -- "I DON'T WANT TO GO OUTSIIIIDE!!!!"

My first thought upon hearing the cries and seeing his obviously annoyed and frazzled mother was, "What am I doing? Maybe my child will be born without vocal cords!?!?"

After I quickly evaluated the option of never taking a child out in public before his 18th birthday, a story from my past came rushing to my mind.

Now I only know this story via the legend it has become, so the dialogue may not be exact, but you'll certainly get the point.

At some point, either before I was born or when I was just a wee tot, my parents took my older brother to a nice restaurant up in the mountains. Apparently my older brother Jim was misbehaving and generally being a child so my dad had the following dialogue with him:

Dad: "Jim, would you like to go outside and see the buffalo?"

Jim: "Golly gee, boy would I!"

So a wide-eyed and thrilled Jim went excitedly (and willingly) outside with my dad. It was there that he discovered there were, in fact, no buffalo. Instead, there was a friendly little spanking reserved especially for him.

Jim was kind enough to pass on the wisdom he learned that day to my little brother and me. That way if we were ever offered the opportunity to "see the buffalo", we would quickly turn it down.

Seeing that little kid last night made me realize how brilliant this little scheme was. All my dad had to say was buffalo and we sat at attention. My parents didn't create this little scheme so I would have a funny story to tell one day, they did it so they could avoid spanking us in public and attract the inevitable looks of disapproval from people who don't mind their own business.

Parents can be pretty smart.

Digital Epidural, Volume 6

This week has begun my "no more sleeping on my back for the next five months" stage of my pregnancy. To speak frankly . . . it has been an unhappy stage thus far.

Sunday night
I decided that I would be fine if I just fell asleep on my back and then rolled over to my side. As brilliant as this plan may sound, I quickly discovered that sleeping on my back now makes my stomach hurt. Joy of joys!

Monday morning
I gave sleeping on my side a shot. Unfortunately, my shoulder ached so badly I ended up getting up about an hour before my alarm went off because I couldn't take it anymore.

Now you need to understand: a pre-alarm wake up is not something I do . . . EVER. In fact, I typically calculate the number of tasks I can cut out of my morning routine so that I can snooze the alarm just one more time. (To ease any fears you may have: this never includes the omission of showering, deodorant application or the de-stinkifying of my breath via the brushing of teeth.)

Monday day
I researched some body pillows specifically for pregnant women but those things are absolutely massive. Seriously, check it:

Which reminds me . . .
When we moved into our house, Stephen wanted to get a king-sized bed. I, however, told him that we should get a queen because I wanted to be nice and close to him. In spite of his better judgement, he acquiesced. With that in mind, I don't think it's an option for me to now take up more than half the bed with my Amazon-woman height, a pillow that completely encircles me, and -- eventually -- my baby bump.

Monday night
Stephen and I went to Target and purchased a pillow that contours to my neck and, also, a run-of-the-mill body pillow. As we prepared for bed, I settled in with my new fleet of pillows and looked forward to seeing if they would help alleviate my side-sleeping-sorrow.

It started out OK, but then came the encore visit of my old friend: the shoulder ache -- which I don't think any pillow will deter.

So I tried to semi-sleep on my stomach with the body pillow kind of wedged under me. That would be a negative.

I just ended up pushing the body pillow out from under me and laying flat on my stomach . . . then my back . . . same sad result.

So, as a last resort, I turned over and faced Stephen's side of the bed. Before I knew what had happened -- he instinctively snatched up my body pillow in his sleep. It was actually pretty cute and made me laugh in my semi-sleep-state. One second I've got the body pillow between my legs and the next Stephen's got his body wrapped around it. I managed to wrangle it back from him, but by that point, I'd pretty much conceded this round to the sleep-deprivation-gods.

For now, I have resigned myself to the possibility of living on a lot less sleep until the baby joins us in the outside world . . . at which point I'll just go ahead and learn to live without any sleep at all.

Digital Epidural, Volume 5

I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately.

It's been almost six years since he passed away and I still think about him every day. The wounds of his death haven't healed per se, but they've started to scab over. They'll always be there, but they don't hurt quite as much as they did when I first got them.

There's been a few big moments in my life that my dad wasn't there to see -- my law school graduation, my first job, my Saturday soccer games -- but since he was there to walk me down the aisle, there hasn't been a monumental moment in my life he hasn't been there for -- until now.

I always knew my dad would be an amazing grandfather.

Spoling his kids was just one of his many talents. I guess that's why he needed to even that out with discipline -- so we wouldn't grow up totally rotten. But with grand kids -- he wouldn't have had to worry about that at all. That whole disciplining thing would be Stephen's and my dirty job to handle. He could just love them and spoil them without worrying about whether he had saved enough to pay for braces . . . or college . . . or who they were out with at night . . . or whether they were hanging out with the right crowd.

He never got to do that. And that makes me really sad.

This man -- the first man I loved, my hero, my dad, my coach, my teacher, my mom's husband, the man who taught me how I should be loved by the way he loved my mom, and, who was the first man to break my heart on his death -- will never be known by my children. These little people that Stephen and I create will never know his laugh; they'll never hear his voice or feel his touch.

Life just doesn't always turn out according to plan. It's not fair, but I have to roll with that and appreciate what it has given me and what I do have.

So, I'll tell my kids stories about my dad and show them pictures of him . . . and for now . . . that will have to do. But I have faith that one day we'll all be together. And on that day I'll finally get to introduce my kids to my dad and he'll get to be the granddad I always knew he would be.

Digital Epidural, Volume 4

I know that Stephen is the main author of this blog, so most people that visit here know him pretty well. However, since it's fathers day week, I thought I would share with you a little about my Stephen.

Stephen is . . .

The greatest husband I could ever ask for.
I know, it's a bit corny to say. But Stephen listens to me and understands me more than I even understand myself. He gives me everything I need and more. He is perfect for me.

My best friend.
In fact, Stephen is just generally a great friend. He loves his friends and has a genuine desire to always see them happy and successful. I think growing up without siblings made Stephen appreciate his friends even more. He's the only person I know that still keeps in close contact with all of his high school friends (some of whom he's known since he was only a few years out of the womb).

The funniest person I've ever met.
I think if Stephen had wanted to and tried to, he could be doing what Jack Black is doing now. I'm glad he's not though because the whole "acting" like you're kissing other women is not cool with me.

Expressive with his emotions.
Stephen loves to tell people how much they mean to him and how much he loves them. People that don't know Stephen that well or only recently met him sometimes confuse this expressiveness with his sense of humor and think that he's just being sarcastic. But, believe me, he means what he says . . . he really does love you that much.

Honest.
Stephen will always tell you the truth, even if you don't want to hear it. I never have to worry about whether what Stephen is telling me is the whole truth or some version of the truth warped to make him look better.

A great musician.
This one is one that frustrates me, because he doesn't believe he's great. For some reason, somewhere along the line, Stephen got it in his head that he's simply mediocre. I'm grateful for people like his friend James (who Stephen respects immensely as a musician) who also tell him how talented he is. I think it means more when it comes from someone who understands music in a way I never will.

Super smart.
The great thing about his intelligence is he can have a conversation with anyone without making them feel like a dunce. He's articulate and expresses himself well without needing to use five syllable words and reference dead philosophers to get his points across.

A great writer.
I've told Stephen on more than one occasion I think he should write a book. He's so great at conveying a story in a way that makes you feel like you're right there experiencing it with him.

Passionate.
Whether it's me or soccer or music or his friends, Stephen is passionate about the things he loves. He throws himself into them whole-heartedly and never gives up which is why he's so great at so many things.

And finally . . .

Stephen is going to make a great dad.
He has a youthful spirit that's infectious and an energy that children are drawn to and love. When he's around children, it never ceases to amaze me how well he's able to relate to them and understand what makes them happy and what makes them laugh.

And for those who know Stephen well, I'll leave you with a little of his special brand of humor. The other day Stephen asked me, "What if our kids hate me?" I told him that of course they wouldn't and that he would be the coolest dad ever. So, he said, "That's true. What if our kids hate you?"

Digital Epidural, Volume 2

Last week Stephen and I went for my 12 week check-up with my doctor. This was weird since I was almost 14 weeks, but it had to be put off because my doctor had to perform a surgery the day I was originally supposed to do my 12 week check-up. I could have rescheduled with her PA for the next day but since I'd never actually met my doctor, I thought that would be a good first step in our relationship.

We got to hear the heartbeat for the first time which was really cool. Apparently the baby was moving around a lot because they would find it, then lose it, find it again, then lose it again. Since I haven't gained any weight yet and I can't feel the baby yet, it's good to have these little milestones to assure me that there's still a baby inside me.

After she did the examination (which was rather quick and did not require me to remove any clothing -- always a plus), she asked me if I had any questions. I did have a list of questions and felt kind of embarrassed about the last one:

Me: Well, I'm going to Spain in about a month, and . . . um, I've heard that maybe it might be OK. . . Well some of my friends who've had babies said their doctors said it was OK if, um, maybe you had, um, like, um, maybe a, um, glass of wine, um, you know, um, maybe once a week . . . weak laugh.

Doctor: Well . . . I normally tell my patients to abstain entirely from alcohol since we don't really know how much is too much but. . . I guess if you were to just have a glass very occasionally, it would be OK since you're out of your first trimester.

So, the first time I meet my doctor and now she probably thinks that:

(a) I don't care about my baby;

(b) I'm an alcoholic;

or (c) both of the above.

I'm smooth like that.

Digital Epidural, Volume 1

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my fears about having a baby, and not really the typical, "Will I be a good mom?" type of fears. This post is hard because I don't have answers for any of these fears. I know that people with kids out there are will read these and think, "you'll be fine" and that's great that you think that, but I don't know that yet. I haven't gone through this before and no matter how much someone tells me "it's going to be fine" I'm still scared. So, here are some things that have been in the forefront of my mind lately (from the more serious to the more silly).

(1) The changes having a baby will cause to my relationship with Stephen.

Stephen and I have been a couple for 11 and a half years and married for 6. I can't think of anyone I know better or who knows me better. I have had more fun with him during these years than I could have ever imagined. He's my best friend and the person I treasure most in most in my life. We've been able to do so many things during our years of marriage and have had so much freedom that the thought of having a baby is pretty daunting. I know my relationship with Stephen has to change. I can't focus all my attention on him anymore, but I don't want it to. I'm scared of how it will change and how our life together will change.

(2) Being a working mom.

I want to work. I don't think God made me to be a full-time stay at home mom. In a perfect world, I'd rather work part-time than full-time, but this is not a perfect world so after my maternity leave, I will be back at my desk 5 days a week. This fear kind of ties in with the one above. I'm not really scared about feeling like I don't get to see my child enough. My hours are flexible enough that I should be able to be home early enough each evening to spend a few hours with him or her before he or she goes to bed and I never work on weekends so those will always be free for the baby. Plus, never having had a baby, I don't really know what it's like to miss a baby. But having had plenty to time with Stephen and my family and friends, my concern is how do I fit in time with the baby and time with them? My life is pretty full already, throwing in a newborn that is completely dependent on Stephen and I for its care is pretty daunting.

(3) Losing my soccer skills.

After all that heavy stuff, let's get to the more silly fears. I love playing soccer, and I think I've gotten to be a pretty good player. I'm scared that when I got back to play after having not played for 8 months that I'll forget how to do it. That would make me really sad. My face would be like this :-(

(4) Not being able to sleep in on weekends.

I am a sleeper (and so is Stephen). I don't understand people our age that don't have small children and get up before 10 on weekends. As far as I'm concerned, God didn't make Saturday mornings for being awake. He made them for sleepy time. I'm not sure how a baby wanting to get up and eat at 6 on a Saturday is going to work for us. Do you think God will send us a baby that understands weekend mornings are for sleeping?

(5) My clothes.

I love my clothes. Most people that know me know that. I'm a big fan of shopping and especially of buying. I love shoes and handbags and accessories, but I love clothes the most. I mourn for my clothes when I have to throw them away and I probably keep them longer than I should, always thinking that I'll want to wear that item again one day. And, as an antithesis to this love, I hate dirty, sticky things. And what are babies and children, if they are not dirty and sticky. I know I'm not supposed to "love" my clothes and so God will try to change my heart by having my baby spit up on my favorite dress or stick a lollipop to my favorite pair of pants. I'm considering investing in Teflon and coating all of my clothes with it.

Coming soon

As most of you already know, come this Thanksgiving Shelley and I will be welcoming a new life into our own. But in case you didn't -- we are now in our thirteenth week of pregnancy. And when I say "we', I of course mean Shelley.

I am filled with fear, joy, anxiety and jubilation. More than anything, I am overwhelmed with a sense of wonder.

So now you know.

One step closer to Chuck Norris

The rumors are true. Shelley has finally relented and granted my facial hair access to the outside world.

I have been a bearded man now for one full month. To satisfy your headshot fix, here are three of my most glamorous shots (not Glamour Shots). This is about as long as I've let it get - so don't be alarmed by the prowess of my facial testosterone.

Here i am frightening small children

This is me pondering the awesomeness that is my beard.

People often ask me, "Is being beautiful a burden?" Naturally, I tell them, "You're too ugly to be speaking to me and my beard. Away with you." (Of course, by "often" i mean "never".)

I don't know how long I will keep it, but for now - my beard and I will be leaving the Fusion in the drawer.

Si vas para Chile

It was a significant and wonderful time. Some might say it was scrumtulescent.

The photos from our visit are finally uploaded for your viewing pleasure.

Back from the south of the world

Sorry it has been so long since my last post. It's been crazy the past couple of months with work and life - but it's been wonderful. One of the best things is that I spent the last couple of weeks with my family down in Santiago de Chile. It was a great time of catching up, eating delicious food and staying up late. Most importantly, they finally had the opportunity to meet and spend time with Shelley, which (of course) always makes people happy.

Overall, it was just a perfect experience.

More on that - including photos - in the coming weeks. But for now I just wanted to post this little note. Pictured above is me and two of my cousins (and two of my greatest friends) - Javier and Pablo.

Talk to you soon!

Labor of love

Welcome (back) to the world Ascendio.com!

We wanted to let you know that after years of effortless procrastination, we have finally welcomed our new website into the world. While still in its infancy, it grows with each passing day. When you have a chance, come by to pay a visit. They are so cute at this age.

Our family continues to grow . . .

We're hiring! If you or someone you know is skilled in web design and/or customer support, we are looking to add another chair at the lunch table.

Check out our job openings and details.

And then there was one

After finally experiencing the euphoria of seeing Rhode Island this weekend, our license plate game is nearly complete. Only Delaware remains unseen.

Since starting the game in April, we have seen 49 states, Washington D.C. and even Guam. We have even seen a number of plates from various Mexican states.

Good times, my friends.

Totally Random: Stephen Edition

The Rules
Same rules as before.

The Facts
1. I have a series of odd phobias:

(a) I don't like handling other people's jewelry. Specifically rings and earrings.

(b) If at all possible I avoid the use of plastic silverware and straws. Those little spoons they give you at ice cream shops are the worst. In fact, many small plastic objects are going to cause me some level of anxiety. This one does have a small story associated with it. When I was in sixth grade I remember this one kid chewing the end off of his pen cap and sucking air in and out of it. The sound of that saliva flowing about . . . still haunts me.

(c) With the exception of Shelley, I don't like to share my drink or take a sip of a drink from the same glass after someone else. When someone asks me: "Can I have a sip of that?" I usually just let them have the rest. It has no specific relation to germs or cleanliness; I just don't want to do it. End of story.

(d) This might be somewhat related to point c, but my phobia for it is so intense it is worth its own bullet point. Have you ever noticed when a lady with lipstick takes a sip from a glass and the lipstick residue remains behind? Instant gag reflex. No lie.

2. Life as an only child spawned many unusual entertainment options.

As an adolescent, I had a series of fake radio talk shows that I recorded either alone or with my best friend, Jerry. Fake products with fake commercials, interviewing fake guests, doing dozens of impersonations, a variety of voices and even a recurring character or two.

One popular recurring character Jerry and I created was an inventor named "Harry Feldman". In our little world of myth, Harry invented a children's toy called "The Waterful Ring Toss" and later accidentally discovered that there was a unique ingredient in human urine that caused pajamas to glow in the dark. Thus, he inadvertently invented the glow in the dark pajamas. He was so "popular" that he eventually became the M.C. and/or features reporter for the show.

Sometimes I would pre-record commercials at certain segments of the cassette and set my stop watch so I would have to pause for and come back from commercial breaks at specific times. If I had to go to the bathroom, I would just have to wait for a commercial. This is how I simulated live radio in my bedroom.

This went on for years. I wish I still had those tapes . . .

3. I used to be absolutely obsessed with the band Collective Soul. Seriously, if a member stubbed his toe, I knew about it. Furthermore, I did not tolerate even the slightest implication of a negative notion about the band be uttered in my presence!

There was a positive byproduct of this adulation. I took my first steps into the world of web design by starting a fan site for the band (formerly at collective-soul.com). It was one of their most popular fan sites at the time and gained me many "insider" type connections with the band. At the peak of its popularity, they included the site on the back of their CD, "Blender". That was quite a thrill and unexpected honor.

Shortly thereafter, though, I decided the 20+ hours a week i was putting into it was a bit much, so literally out of nowhere I pulled the plug. It was just as well. Within a week they released their own official website and sites like mine became fairly obsolete.

Don't get me wrong, I still have an affection for the music. But in a normal, you're-not-embarrassed-to-be-seen-in-public-with-me, sort of way.

4. I love palm hearts (also known as palmito), jicama and those little corns. Not a lot of people like these the way I do, so I figured it was worth mentioning.

5. The trailer to the movie "Eight Below" made me tear up.

6. When I was in seventh grade, I met Scottie Pippen at DFW airport. It was right after the Bulls won their first NBA title over the Lakers. I was a huge Magic Johnson/Lakers fan at the time and was actually sporting my Lakers ball cap and t-shirt. Fortunately, he still gave me an autograph -- so it was a fun experience.

Side note: on that same trip I also met the great Jimmy Connors.

7. I used to cover the City Hall and Homicide beats as a reporter for the Brownsville Herald. City budgets and dead bodies -- it was fairly disturbing, yet a pretty remarkable summer job.

8. More than anything else in the world, I wish I was a professional soccer player.

The Tags
Sorry, I'm going to break this rule. If you are reading this consider yourself tagged. Otherwise, have a nice day.

Totally Random: Shelley Edition

This post is inspired by Katie who "tagged" us. Stephen's 8 facts will follow next week.

The Rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
(check!)
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
(check!)
3. People who are tagged need to write their own facts and post these rules.
(check!)
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
(I'll leave that to Stephen)
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
(Stephen's duty)

The Facts:
1. I am terrified of sharks, but I love the ocean. So, I prepare for the shark attack that I believe deep down is inevitable in my life by watching shark specials on the Discovery channel to get tips on how to defend myself. In one special, I discovered that sharks are attracted to shiny things and that the sun reflects against our skin making a shiny reflection. Apparently the paler you are, the shinier you are. I myself am very pale so when I am in the ocean, I try to find someone paler than me to stand by. In high school, that person was my older brother.

2. I sucked my thumb until I was 5 or 6. My parents tried many different methods to try to get me to quit including putting pickle juice on my thumb.

3. I had a blanket when I was younger that I took everywhere (even hot and sunny Hawaii and Florida). Before I started kindergarten, my parents bought me a book called The Blanket that Had to Go. The book is about a girl who loves her blanket but can't take it with her to kindergarten. She keeps cutting it smaller and smaller to try to make it into different things so she can somehow bring it with her. I was worried after reading the book that my parents wanted me to cut my blanket up. They didn't.

4. I went to Catholic school growing up and my grandparents were friends with a nun that taught at my school in Denver. My grandpa had to go to the hospital once and when the nun asked me how he was, I told her he was in the veterinary hospital. He was really at the veterans' hospital as he was a person, not an animal.

5. I was a very strict rule follower when I was a kid. I hated getting in trouble. When I was in second grade, I got a bad grade on a spelling test and had to get it signed by my parents. I was afraid of asking them to sign it because I thought they would be upset so I attempted to forge my father's signature...in crayon. I realized after using the crayon that I probably could have picked a more mature writing utensil so I proceeded to cross out the signature...with a black crayon. Needless to say, I had to explain this mark to my parents when they signed it and my teacher when I gave it to her. Not fun for someone who hates getting in trouble.

6. I love shoes. This is a well documented fact. I especially love high heeled shoes even though they can make me over six feet tall. I have certain shoes in my closet that I like to just admire every day. And when I wear those shoes, I like to watch my feet when I walk because the shoes are too pretty not to look at.

7. I hate talking to strangers on airplanes. I will fake being asleep to avoid it. I know it's rude but I feel put upon when strangers attempt to talk to me on a plane.

8. I hate crickets. I had two particularly scarring incidents with them in college. One involved a cricket crawling up my pants and another involved one nesting in my hair and only revealing itself as I was getting ready to take a shower.

The License Plate Game

As many of you may (or may not) know, Shelley and I have been playing "The License Plate Game" for the past few months. How does the game work, you ask? Basically, we are trying to see license plates from all fifty states and Washington D.C. It's not a competition or marital rivalry - it's just a while driving pastime. The only rule is that one or both of us needs to actually see the license plate in person - not in a movie or a book. We are very near completion needing only four more (New Hampshire, Delaware, Rhode Island and D.C.).

Anyway, the game has been filled with some surprisingly exhilarating moments. Partially because some cool things have happened, but mostly because we are unbelievably silly. One particular moment of emotional chocolate was when we spotted both Alaska and Hawaii within 45 seconds of each other just a few blocks from our home. YES IT'S TRUE! This moment was followed up with embarrassingly excessive celebratory cheering and applauding (mostly by me). I even called up some friends to let them know.

They were not as on fire for the moment.

Anyway, today was another great event in our diversionary car-gaming career. An incredible treat just one block from our home. We pulled up behind a car from Guam. Guam! People - this is unbelievable!

Allow me to direct your attention to this map:

What are the chances of this happening? There are a mere 170,000 people in Guam... so there are only so many possible cars that even have Guam plates on them! If that doesn't make the hair on the back of your neck stand.... ok, now I'm just kidding.

But seriously, this was an awesome moment.

Day on the Green

If you are free... I, along with a few of my chums, will be playing some music at a little event called "Day on the Green".

Happy Birthday Shelley

Love is a friendship set to music. Happy birthday to my beautiful dance partner.

Three things

First...

(you can click the images above for a slightly closer look)

Secondly...
After watching the season finale of Friday Night Lights last night, I have to say that this is my favorite show on television since The Wonder Years. This show is unbelievably authentic, moving and just plain good.

Thirdly...

The character of Matt Seresen on FNL, played by Zach Gilford, has an uncanny resemblance to one of my favorite American soccer players named Steve Cherundolo. See for yourself.

A Mini addition to the family

The order has been placed and she'll be arriving in two months. Time to make some room (but not too much) in the garage!

Ten years ago today...

It was ten years ago today that Shelley and I shared our first kiss and my life began again.

Lessons from the road

One
I am stronger than I thought I was (both mentally and physically). If someone would have told me a year ago that I would be completing a marathon this December, I would have thought they were crazy. I always thought people who ran marathons were strange. The training makes you sick, you get injured, it's rumored that toenails sometimes fall off . . . all for what? To run a race? No thank you. Truth be told, though, I was a bit envious of those who ran marathons because it was something I thought I could never do.

But then, to my own surprise, I got the bug and I wanted to try.

So I started training . . . slowly. It began with just a couple miles. I remember being so beat down after some of those runs that I couldn't help but doubt the entire process. If I couldn't run 2 miles, how was I ever going to do 26?

I was amazed at how much my mind came into play in something as simple as running. Put one foot in front of the other and repeat . . . how simple is that? And yet my mind made it so complicated. There was constant self-doubt and a temptation to just quit. I had to figure out how to replace "I don't think I can do this" with "I know I can do this".

But then one day 2 miles didn't seem so bad. Then 4 was less nightmare-ish. Then 6. 8. And even 10 and 12 seemed surmountable. In the end, completing the marathon was probably 25 percent physical strength and 75 percent mental endurance.

Two
I have an amazing support system of friends and family. I started off the day surrounded by people I love. My mom and Stephen's parents came out to cheer me on and our great friend Jeremy flew in from Houston just to see me. When I got to the American Airlines Center, we ran into Marshall and Elizabeth…my original inspirations for running who wished me luck and gave me a few last words of encouragement. My wonderful husband and the Poetschkes (some of the best friends anyone could ever have) signed up to do the relay marathon, so that at least for part of the way I would not be alone.

By mile 15 I was on my own . . . or so I thought.

At mile 20, the Poetschkes were waiting with cheers and encouragement.

Half a mile later, Stephen, his parents, my mom and Jeremy were there to rain their cheers down upon me.

Speaking of rain, it was about that time the skies opened up and started pouring down on us all.

Waiting for me at mile 23 was the wonderful Courtney who sprayed me with silly string and trotted along side me for a few hundred yards encouraging me and telling me she was proud.

Then at mile 24, when I felt like I might not be able to keep going, I saw Chris and Melanie (Melanie was my training partner until an injury sidelined her about a month before the race). They ran along side me for a little while and when I told Melanie how much it hurt, she offered to run the last two miles with me . . . in her street clothes . . . in the rain! I know I would have finished without Melanie, but those last two miles would not have been as sweet without her next to me.

With a little over a half a mile to go, we saw Jon and Marianne who also ran to the end with us in their street clothes. My spirits were sky high as I ran with my little group. Just a few miles before I could barely get one foot in front of the other and now I was engulfed by a group of people experiencing this moment with me. Encouraging me. Pushing me through to the end.

Suddenly we were upon the barricades and Marianne asked me if I wanted them to finish with me or if I wanted to do it myself. For a second I couldn't believe what she was asking me . . . was this really the end? I opted to take the last hundred meters myself and I sprinted to the finish line.

All the pain my body felt could not hold a candle to the euphoria of crossing the finish line. I can't even begin to describe the feeling. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. For a brief instant the world stopped. My body didn't hurt. I wasn't cold . . . I was just ecstatic.

At the finish line, in addition to all the other people I'd seen and been encouraged by that day, our cousin Michael and his beautiful fiancé Julia were there to shower me with even more love. It was an amazing moment to get out beyond the finishing gates and be embraced by people that I love so much.

Everyone keeps telling me how proud and inspired they are by the whole event, but I am really the one who left that day completely awed and inspired by how loved I am. My friends and family are beyond compare. It was breathtaking to be confronted with the love of so many and know that there are people who want to be there when I need them most.

It was a great day.

Miracle miles

More to come on the entire experience, but I wanted to let everyone know that Shelley crossed the finish line victorious in more ways than we ever imagined.

What an absolutely amazing day.

Come cheer Shelley on THIS SUNDAY!

Hello everyone! I am writing to invite you out Sunday morning to cheer Shelley on as she runs in her very first marathon! She has been training for the past TEN MONTHS and it has been extremely demanding on her physically, mentally and emotionally. She's very excited, but she is definitely going to need moral support from friends and family. If any of you can come out - even for just a bit - and cheer her on to the finish, it would mean so very much to the both of us.

A few of us will be running the 5-person marathon "relay" so that she will have someone with her every step of the way, but every little bit of encouragement and display of support will help push her across that finish line. The race kicks off Sunday morning at 8 am near the American Airlines Center.

More information - including the route - is available by clicking here.

26.2 miles . . . averaging about 11 minutes a mile . . . It will take her between 4 and 5 hours to complete. That's a pretty wide range of time to drop by - so try and put it in your schedule if possible. Bring your cheers, signs, cowbells, smoke signals . . . anything you want, the most important thing is simply your love. She will feel it and I know it will help.

I didn't know I was a mac snob... until she was gone

On Sunday morning, as Shelley and I were preparing to go watch some friends play in a soccer match, I was sitting on the couch in the living room of the Boudreausian palatial estate. On my right side, an acoustic guitar. On the left, a small stack of three folded shirts fresh from the dryer. In front of me, a perfectly stable, hardwood coffee table.

Ah yes... the coffee table. A good place for coffee cups. Coffee table books. Stacks of coffee-related mail... and in this case, a beautiful 12" PowerBook.

Yet there I was, laptop in hand, contemplating the options. With the urge to play guitar coming on to me like Pat O'Brien after a couple appletinis, I needed a place to set my 4.6 pound treasure of modern technology.

I chose ... unwisely.

It happened in a flash. As I turned my head to grab the acoustic, I heard the slithering sound of of steel sliding off a folded ladies tank top from J. Crew. Before I could turn my head, it was over. The tile floor had shown no mercy. There by my feet she laid motionless. Cold. Silent.

She was gone.

My PowerBook hasn't started up since. The "Caps Lock" light still blinks on and off when plugged in, but nothing appears on the screen and the computer has no pulse. Stranger than that, when left plugged in for an extended period of time, it heats up so hot I've considered converting it to waffle iron.

So I am left with nothing but memories, deep regret ... and a Dell.

I really shouldn't complain. My PC has never done me (too much) wrong, it just lacks that mac sophistication... and style... and functionality... and class...

Oh well. It can only do so much. I mean... dude ... it's a Dell.

The time of our lives

While I wasn't expecting my high school reunion to be dramatized with a charming Beach Boys soundtrack, I very much looked forward to seeing my old friends. We keep in touch, speak frequently and even get together a couple times a year. But there's something special about gathering in the nostalgic setting of our childhood.

Shelley and I flew in early Friday morning. I was bursting with excitement. It had been six years since my last visit to Brownsville and I had heard so much about the changes that had taken place. This dusty old city was turning into a thriving metropolis. A cosmopolitan destination for jet-setting trend setters . . . or something like that.

As we drove into town I was horror-struck by how unsightly the city had become. Granted, Brownsville had never been palatial or lavish, but it did possess an undeniable charm with its unique border-city culture and the beach so nearby. Old buildings had become severely dilapidated. Empty spaces filled in with tacky strip malls. Litter scattered throughout the streets.

The hardest part was driving through my old neighborhood. Not long ago this was one of the best kept and most desirable areas in town. Now it looked like people had stopped tending to their gardens, ceased with general house maintenance and just generally stopped taking pride in their homes. My old house looked so sad. A fading shadow of its former splendor.

I felt like a confused George Bailey wandering the streets of Pottersville looking for ZuZu's petals. At this point I was ready to get back on the plane.

But all was not lost. Hope remained. And it came in the form of a beef taco.

As long as I can remember Antonio's has been one of Brownsville's most popular restaurants. A favorite of the entire Boudreausian household, I spent nearly every one of my adolescent birthdays there. And during the summers of my high school years, Jerry Ruiz and I would eat there multiple times a week.

So it was only fitting that my first meal back in town had to be with my old friend Antonio. We picked Jerry up and raced towards a mealtime destiny with the Fajita Taco Dinner.

Suddenly, things starting making a turn for the better.

So what if Brownsville looked like a giant flea market? Big deal if there was a chalk outline surrounding the tattered remains of my childhood home? These were just temporal props in the story of our lives. As Jerry and I shared stories from our childhood with Shelley, while we enjoyed the perfection that is an Antonio's meal, and we all agreed that a lifetime of memories was still yet to be made -- in the midst of it all, everything seemed right in the world again.

By that night, everyone that was going to make the reunion was in town. The cast of characters included Carlos, D.D., Abelardo, Eric, Jerry, and me. Unfortunately Teno, Ruben, Jorge and Jacob couldn't make it, but many (and I mean many) a toast was made in their honor. Along for the ride were the incomparable Danny, Abelardo's partner, and -- of course -- my beautiful Shelley.

That first night we spent the evening at Abelardo's dad's spectacular restaurant over in Mexico. Fine wines, tender steaks, and catching up. It was the perfect combination for a night that could only be described as flawless.

The next day we spent the afternoon at the beach soaking in the rays and swimming in the blue waters. There's something about being on the beach that makes a vacation truly relaxing. The smells, the sounds, the breeze ... it must all just come together and release some kind of relaxation endorphin.

And then came the moment of truth. The night where ten years of changes would occur in an instant. Forgotten faces would reappear. And everyone would see how kind or unkind the years had been.

To make it even more authentic, our high school reunion took place in our old cafeteria. Yes, the cafeteria. St. Joseph Academy really broke open the budget for this celebration!

In spite of the dining-hall backdrop, the night was a smashing success. In a small high school like mine, everyone was familiar, with many of us having been in school together since kindergarten, some longer than that. So it was very fun to see and hear where life had taken everyone.

It should come as no surprise that Shelley was a big hit. I once lost track of her for well over an hour only to find her outside hanging out with all the cool girls, laughing it up and turning me into a legend. It was priceless.

Two after-parties and numerous beverages later it was 4 a.m. and we were finally back at the hotel. So many stories could be told detailing the many escapades of the night, but for now, those will remain between me and the streets of Brownsville.

When it was all said and done, my ten year high-school reunion was an unforgettable experience. It was filled with personal reunions of every kind. Hugs with old friends. Catching up with estranged acquaintances. Laughter at how some things never change.

Most of all it reminded me that no matter how much change life brings, there's nothing quite like an old friend. Whether it's put on some pounds. Lost some hair. Or been filled with strip malls.

Ten years later

This seems like a big deal. I mean, it is ten years. That's a pretty high percentage of my life thus far. Something like 3,650 sunrises and sunsets have come and gone since I was that semi-innocent, know-it-all 18 year old kid many of you knew and loved. I find this very hard to believe. But life, as we know, teems with these kinds of fully-expected surprises.

In a blink of an eye a decade went by... sort of. I went to college. Fell in love. Got married. Moved to Dallas. Started a professional...ish career. Discovered ebay. Got a myspace page. Well... maybe it was a long blink.

Shelley and I will be heading down to my old city this Friday. I am optimistically anticipating an unforgettable weekend. I have a lot of thoughts on this milestone and I'm sure the actual event will provide me with many more. I'll share all those upon my return. First things first...

For a weekend, I'll be 18 again.

See you in Brownsville.

Always use an ice chest

Last weekend Shelley and I hosted a "Couples Wedding Shower" for my good friend and business partner, Chris, and his beautiful fiancee, Melanie. It was a big soiree that brought nearly thirty people into our home. I was a bit concerned about fitting that many people into our domicile, but as it turns out, we have a much higher seating capacity than I anticipated. Most of the people in attendance were strangers to me, but everyone seemed very kind, gracious and thoughtful.

There was, however, one anonymous visitor who left an indelibly negative impression. This is their story.

A Saturday night party at The Boudreausian palatial estate. As one would expect, our refrigerator was brimming with liquid refreshment of all types. One item in particular was in vast supply: beer. Namely, we had a 12 pack of Heineken (one of my favorites) and 24 bottles of Shiner Bock (a popular choice for other folks). For a party of this size, there was plenty of beer to go around.

Tucked in the back of the fridge was a lone bottle. A bottle who traversed the Atlantic, legally immigrated across our borders, and found a new home in our Jenn-Air fridge. This bottle of icy cold delight contained a special Italian beer that I enjoy above all others. Its name: Peroni. Its taste: heavenly. And so there it sat. The last of a six pack. Pushed to the very back of the shelf to make room for the influx of our party beverages. You must understand: in order to even find this bottle, one would have to dig through an obstacle course of bottled beer.

As the merrymaking was nearing its conclusion, I began picking up some of the empty plates, cups and bottles that were lying around the house.

A few empty bottles by the couch. Got'em.

A plate with a half-eaten chicken breast and dirty napkins on the coffee table. Got it.

A mostly empty cup of frozen margarita on a chair. Into the trash with you!

A nearly full bottle of Peroni on the ledge... wait... WHAT?

I stopped dead in my tracks. Who? What? How?

Shelley noticed my sudden jolt of horror. I raised my hand and pointed in disbelief. I looked at Shelley. She looked at me. My expression spoke for itself as she empathized with my pain. My astonishment. A hug from my lovely bride was my lone, but pleasant, consolation.

Now it's not that I wouldn't have shared my last bottle of Peroni with a guest. In fact, it would have been a moment of kinship. Of great satisfaction. Face to face with a kindred spirit in the beer drinking community. We would have been eye to eye, affirming one another with knowing grins.

But that was not how things transpired. A much more inconsiderate path was chosen by this secret, one-sip, peroni-hating, party attendee.

First: they had to make the effort to dig through the fridge.

Ok, so maybe not everyone likes Shiner. I know I'm not a big fan. Perhaps Heineken is too trite an import for the more astute drinker. To each his or her own.

But after seeking out an alternate beer, they knowingly took the very last bottle of this Italian treat. And then -- and this is tragic end of this melodramatic tale - after opening the bottle... they took a singular sip. Put the bottle on the ledge of a wall nook. And walked away.

Forever.

Un-freaking-believable.

This, my friends, is why people use ice chests.

Smooth as silk

A surprising twist of fate befell me last week.

Last Tuesday as Shelley was packing her bags for a brief stay in Tampa Bay on business, she mistakenly smuggled my Gillette Mach 3 razor to the southeastern peninsula.

There I was. Alone. Scruffy. Razorless. If the story ended here, surely this would be just another sad, hopeless tale about a guy who couldn't shave . . . or slit his wrists. But no, my friends. For the sake of all things unimportant enough to blog about, the story does not end there.

A simple packing error turned into the closest shave of my life.

That afternoon I went to Walgreens on a mission. A mission to not only find a new razor, but to upgrade my shaving experience. You see, when it comes to facial hair, I may have a few patches that run the race a little slower than the others . . . but where it grows, it grows like marijuana fields in Mexico.

The Mach 3 has always done only a semi-decent -- albeit unspectacular -- job at cleaning me up. Moreover, I have always loathed having to devise a financing plan to cover the overpriced Mach 3 razors. Needless to say, all of this caused me to be quite skeptical regarding what I believed was Gillette's over hyped, overpriced new five blade, money-sucking, face-shaving mechanism: the Fusion.

As I examined the competition, though, I was left with only one conclusion: Gillette is the Microsoft of the shaving kingdom.

First we have Bic. They offer a variety of face cutting tools I liken to orange pixie sticks with an edge. These things look like they could no more easily erase my facial hair than one of their classic erasable ink-ball pens. Perhaps I won't entrust my cheeks to a company whose logo is a man's body whose head has been replaced with a magic eight ball. My sources say no.

Next.

Schick seems like the most viable of adversaries to the shaving giant. But they are certainly no Apple in Microsoft's eye. One reason being, Apple is awesome. Schick is not.

The "Quattro", Schick's premier offering, may be good enough for Andre Agassi's bald cranium, but this wasn't my first encounter with this four-bladed shear. Once in a fit of rage about having to relinquish three tons of bullion in order to purchase an 8-pack box of Mach 3 razors I ended up with a 4-pack of Quattros. I should have thrown in a value-sized carton of Band-Aids.

Was there no worthy competitor in the face razor market?

I briefly recalled watching a movie where John Wayne used something that looked like a machete to shave his chin. After a brief mental assessment of our kitchen knife catalog I decided the butcher's knife was better left to chop the raw meat, not create it.

There was always waxing. Laser surgery. Maybe a patchy beard?

No . . . none of these was going to work for me.

But there he was. My old nemesis. Mocking me for even thinking I could be like John Wayne.

Five blades? That's preposterous. Who needs five blades to shave their face? (Not to mention that sixth blade for those tough spots to reach) Who wants to commit to leveraging a second mortgage to pay for cheeks a smooth as a baby's bottom?

Who?

Apparently, I fit that description quite well. After only a moment's hesitation to do a quick mental reworking of my household budget, I reached for the Fusion.

There it was in my hands. I turned for the cash register. What was I doing? Was I out of my mind? I have resented that Mach 3 for the better part of the past 10 years!

: : dramatic pause : :

Seven days have passed since I sold my shaving soul to the Fusion. I must confess I have no regrets. This is the finest shave I have ever experienced. Shelley is on the verge of Fusion conversion and soon, we will all become part of the Gillette matrix.

These cheeks are as smooth as silk and, in what can only be described as an ironic twist, I can push off shaving for an extra day if I prefer.

Eat your heart out John Wayne.

Along for the ride

In an effort to make her marathon training regime a bit more enjoyable, I recently purchased a black iPod Nano for Shelley. I am blown away by how tiny this thing is. It's amazing!

She straps the thing onto her arm and off she goes. So light. So small. It doesn't get in the way. And she can still run at her swift pace. I am so proud of her.

I am now in the process of making fun "run-mixes". Most of them are Justin Timberlake heavy, but I've also been able to work in a variety of other styles. I gladly welcome all recommendations for songs to include.

As a side note: we also purchased one of those FM transmitters for her car, but I am finding the sound quality to be desperately lacking. Anyone have any luck with these contraptions?

World Cupping Extra

World Cupping 2006

Here is our photojournal from our excursion into the heart of the world soccer experience.

I have a few videos I will be posting later this week.

Back in the USA

We have returned! The trip was absolutely unbelievable. One of the greatest experiences of our lives. In fact, we are already making plans for 2010 in South Africa.

Many stories to tell... many photos to show... but first we need to catch up with life.

More to come soon.

"Auf Wiedersehen!"

Shelley and I will be departing on our Germany / World Cup adventure Friday afternoon. We arrive in Amsterdam Satuday morning and head across the border to deutschland Monday morning.

Words can't describe how excited we are.

See everyone back home in Dallas soon. GO USA!

Four Years

Today Shelley and I celebrate four years of the wonderful and mystical experience known as marriage. It's a beautiful day!

On a side note, in January of '07 we will have been "Stephen & Shelley" for a decade. Wow. Time flies!!

See you in Germany

The UPS man made a visit the Boudreausian palatial estate this weekend. And he came bearing gifts.

This past weekend Shelley's and my match tickets to the upcoming World Cup arrived. And with them, even more material evidence that we are about to embark upon a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Four years in the making, we've been talking about and planning this trip since the last whistle blew at the '02 tournament. It's hard to believe that it's almost here.

On a Friday afternoon next month, we'll be getting on an international flight bound for Amsterdam. After a couple of days taking in the sights, experiencing the culture and hanging out with a bunch of Dutch people -- the real adventure will begin as we go to the only place that holds the prescription to our World Cup fever: Deutschland.

We'll climb aboard a train and arrive in Cologne, Germany. To make matters even better, we'll rendezvous with our friends, The Poetschkes. Cologne will serve as our home base for a few days as we will be taking in a couple matches in the surrounding areas. First will be our beloved team USA vs. Czech Republic in Gelsenkirchen. Assuming I survive the euphoria (or heartbreak) of that experience, a couple days later we will see host-country Germany take on neighbor-to-the-east, Poland, in Dortmund. The atmosphere at the German game should be electric. We were very, very fortunate to get our hands on these tickets. Actually, I think it's safe to say we are very fortunate and blessed to be going on this trip, period.

On that topic, the atmosphere in the entire country will be breathtaking. The entire world will be converging on Germany - in person and/or in spirit - for a little over a month to watch 32 teams compete in 64 games for one treasured prize. Being a part of that would be enough, but getting to attend games makes it all the more special.

So where was I? Ah yes... Cologne. After the Germany/Poland game we will be catching a train down south to catch up with the Poetschke's in Munich. A couple days of experiencing the beauty that is southern Germany, fraternizing with fellow soccer enthusiasts and drinking lots of Hofbrau House beer - we'll head back west to Frankfurt.

About an hour and a half south of Frankfurt, near the border of France, we'll be catching our last game in a small town called Kaiserslautern. There we will watch the USA take on Italy in a match that will be pivotal for our team in advancing out of group play. (Sorry if you aren't familiar with how the World Cup is structured or what a soccer ball is... I will digress from that now.)

That game will be a late night match. We will probably roll back into our hotel in Frankfurt very much past midnight. But there will be no rest for the weary as a flight bound for DFW airport will be leaving the next morning. And yes, we will be on it. Asleep. We'll need our rest.

There will still be four weeks of World Cup action to watch from home.

Time to water the lawn

The neighbors have complained. They've sent emails. Left voicemails. Text messaged their concerns. The message has been received. Loud. And also clear.

It seems I have been a bit neglectful of my dot com property and the weeds of stale content have choked out the life from what was once a field of fresh, green communication. Sincerest apologies for my delinquency. Thankfully, the information superhighway has survived in my absence.

A quick update on the lives of The Boudreaus over the past few weeks:

- Shelley celebrated her 28th birthday on Easter. I continue to be stunned by how this gorgeous, wonderful and caring woman continues to laugh at my jokes.

- Certainly one of the biggest announcements is that Shelley has commenced training for a marathon. The race is in December here in Dallas. She was slowed a bit by a soccer-related ankle sprain, but is back on her feet and nearly 100% again.

- On a somewhat related note, Shelley ran in "The Race for the Cure" 5K out in Ft. Worth and finished in about 30 minutes. I am very proud of her.

- My cousins, Ryan and Melinda, are now proud parents of a beautiful baby boy named Carter. He was born with an awesome Beckham-like faux-hawk hair style. Seriously. He is great.

- I read the book, "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller. This is a good book.

- Many friends and family have come in from out of town to visit. You know who you are and you are always more than welcome to return to the Boudreausian palatial estate.

- Ascendio has relocated offices. The office is now in Valley Ranch, just three blocks from our house and a mere five minute (at most) commute. Not quite as exciting a building or office space, but the proximity to home is priceless.

- I have been in physical therapy for the past five weeks for treatment on what the doctor described as "chronic shin splints". Not fun. Neither is the fact that after taking nearly five weeks off from soccer, they continue to flare up if I do anything resembling rigorous athletics. But, I'm determined to overcome this. I suppose life is more interesting when we have challenges to overcome.

So I think that's a fun little update for those of you estranged from regular contact with us.

Regular posting will now resume at its normal inconsistent frequency.

Death Cab for Cutie

Shelley and I went and saw Death Cab for Cutie and Franz Ferdinand last night at Nokia Theater in Grand Prarie. The show was ok - nothing too spectacular, but I think had we been in a better venue we could have appreciated it a bit more. Nonetheless, DCFC is still one of my favorites.

The Phantom of the Opera

Shelley and I went and saw "The Phantom of the Opera" at Fair Park Music hall last night. Don't let your theater-snob friends tell you otherwise, it is quite good.

"Intimate Sensations"

For the past couple of weeks we have been settling into our beautiful new home. I really can't adequately describe just how much we love it. But as is the tradition in our lives, something kind of funny has happened.

Well, with the new house we decided to get a new phone number. Little did we know we were getting a "recycled number". Here's where things start to get funny.

Over the past few days I have noticed on the caller ID that we have been getting several phone calls from "Unknown" numbers and even one call from Mexico. I found this quite odd considering no one yet knows our new number. As part of our service, we got voicemail with our new phone. I hadn't yet configured it, so I called up the number and did that last night. When our voicemail picked up though, there was already a greeting message on it. Apparently a company called "Intimate Sensations" previously used this number. Interesting.

So I go ahead and change the greeting, pass code and set everything up to reflect The Boudreaus. Easy enough.

Then came this morning. We were having some furniture delivered so I worked from home this morning.

: : ring, ring : :

Me: "Hello?"

Strange lady: (very serious tone) "Is this Intimate Sensations?"

Me: "No."

Strange lady: (still quite serious) "Is this phone number xxx-xxx-xxxx?"

Me: "I'm not sure, I just got this phone number and can't remember. Let me check, I've got it written down right here."

Strange lady: (almost desperate) "Is this Intimate Sensations? I'm looking for Intimate Sensations"

Me: "I can't really help you with that. Can you give me that phone number again?"

Strange lady: (in a VERY hostile tone) "Is there someone more responsible there I can talk to about Intimate Sensations? Let me speak with your manager!!!"

Me: (in an even MORE hostile tone) "THIS IS MY HOME!"

I have no doubt that more phone calls like this will be coming for a little while. I wonder what kind of business Intimate Sensations is? Maybe I'll ask.

Anyway...

Stay tuned as Shelley and I will be hosting a housewarming party of some kind in the coming weeks. We would love to have many of you local, non-criminal Dallas readers over. We can't guarantee intimate sensations, but I think good times will still be had by all.

The Royal Blue

Well, for those of you who have yet to hear the news, The Royal Blue has decided to part ways.

There was no big fight, no hostile words exchanged and definitely nothing that would make for an interesting "behind the music". Bottom line, there was a dramatic shift in motivation and commitment on the part of the members of the group and it just wasn't a congruent fit any longer. With that change, The Royal Blue went the way of so many other bands before it and broke up.

It certainly was a bit of a surprise, but definitely for the best. I feel good about everything and where everyone is headed.

I am not sure what my next musical chapter will be, but I am excited to see what happens next.

Extra, Extra

Quick Magazine in Dallas had a write up about The Royal Blue yesterday. Fun stuff.

New Years City

We had quite a weekend in the city that never sleeps. It was my second trip to NYC and Shelley's first excursion, but we both experienced a unique trip that we won't soon forget. See the photos below for some of the highlights captured on digital film.

Near our hotel - we stayed right next to Grand Central Station. That's the Chrysler building in the background and a goofy smile on my face.

Speaking of Grand Central Station, Shelley is standing there above. Unfortunately, the photo didn't quite capture just how beautiful this building is. It was particularly stunning with the Christmas decor on display.

New Year's eve was the highlight of the trip. We were invited to a soirée at Times Square. As you can see from the photo, we had an eye-level view of the world-famous "ball" and it's subsequent dropping.

A view from above. In a day that included several rain showers and even more snow showers, the masses started gathering very early in the morning. We certainly did not envy these merrymakers. Fortunately, we strolled in around 8 pm and were able to experience the evening enjoying the comfort of a heated building, access to bathrooms, tasty treats and an abundance of adult beverages.

Another view of the ball from the corner of the building.

I guess I could have shot a quick movie, but instead I took a bunch of photos of the ball dropping. And there you have it.

This was our "Travel Crew", from left to right: Johnny, Mica, Shelley, Stephen, Rachel, Jeremy.

A miscellaneous photo of Shelley and I at the shin-dig. And yet further proof, that I am, indeed, the man.

At Central Park, only moments prior to being snowed on.

On top of the Empire State Building. A bit overrated for our tastes, but the view was splendid.

A little late-night room service? Absolutely. $80 for ice-cream, brownies and coffee. Cha-ching.

And finally, here I am on the subway with one of the friendly locals. HOWDY!

The Dandy Domicile

I apologize for the lack of updates, but I do have some big news. Shelley and I have put a contract on our first home! We close in mid January and will be moving in shortly thereafter! It is quite a charming place that we will be happy to call home. Can't wait to have many of you over!

The picture above is all I've got at the moment. Unfortunately, the current residents decided it was ok to park in their driveway and take away from my photo. I tell you... some people!

The home buying process is quite a complicated, frustrating, joyful, depressing, confusing and clarifying life process that I am glad has come to a pleasant conclusion. Our realtor was a God-send and was unbelievably helpful throughout the entire process.

One other exciting note. Shelley and I will be ringing in the new year at Times Square in New York City! Can't complain about that.

Stay tuned ... it's Christmas time ... and at TheBoudreaus.com that means something quite special.

Not a happy camper? Maybe...maybe not

Most of you who know me well know that I am not what one would describe as "an outdoorsman". I take no offense at this categorization (or is it a lack of categorization? anyway.) While I do love nature and very much enjoy quite a bit of outdoorsy-type activities (fishing, hiking, anything involving lakes and rivers) -- I have a fairly strong disdain for camping. To be more specific, I am averse to circumstances that leave me with no access to a hot shower, provide bathroom with no plumbing, and, most of all, force me to sleep in a tent.

Well, this past weekend our good friends Luke and Mary invited us on a weekend primitive camping extravaganza in Billy Creek, Oklahoma. Needless to say, I was less than enthusiastic about the general premise, but figured that it would still be ok. I have to say that I had as much fun as I could possibly have had on a November camping trip! This in spite of a massive thunder and lightning storm on the last night that flooded our tent and made the environment less than favorable. We actually ended up sleeping the last night in the back of the Xterra.

So is there hope that I may become a fan of camping after all? I doubt it. But I am always a fan of good times with good friends.

We drove back up early Sunday so that we could attend MLS Cup 2005. This is the championship game for Major League Soccer. Shelley and I had midfield seats in the fourth row. Unlike camping, I unabashedly love soccer and this particular environment was breathtaking. Fans flew in from around the country and the atmosphere was electric. With a national television audience, perfect weather, and an overtime finish: it was absolutely incredible!

As is my unfortunate habit, I forgot my camera.

So that's the update from The Boudreaus.

U2

The U2 concert was absolutely unbelievable. We had wonderful seats right up near the stage, the music was beautiful, the production was outstanding and overall... I feel like my words do not do it justice.
Without a doubt, the best concert I have ever been to.

Also, there was a very lucky fan at the show that got to come up on stage and play a song with the band. Unreal!

Wicked

This past weekend Shelley and I went and saw a splendid new musical called "Wicked" at the Fair Park Music Hall.

What is Wicked about, you ask? (yes... I believe you just asked.)
The Playbill summarizes it as follows:

Long before Dorothy dropped in, two other girls meet in the Land of Oz. One, born with emerald-green skin, is smart, fiery and misunderstood. The other is beautiful, ambitious and very popular. How these two unlikely friends end up as the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch makes for the most spellbinding new musical in years.

Shelley and I both absolutely loved the show. It was both very funny and heartwarming, not to mention a creative and riveting tale. The music, of course, was quite memorable. In fact, Shelley and I are still singing many of the songs off-key around the house.

Molding the Minds

It's hard to believe, but tonight I will be giving a lecture to a business class at the University of Texas at Dallas. In it, Chris and I will be discussing "how to start a successful business", specifically in web design. Quite a topic! It's very flattering and humbling to do something like this, but it is also very exciting.

For those of you who don't know, Chris Mechsner is my business partner at Ascendio.

Wish us luck!

The Royal Blue

In case you have yet to check it out, be sure to visit our brand new website. While you are there you will be able to listen to all of our newly recorded songs.

Enjoy.

Soccer Memories

Extra! Extra! I have been quoted in an article about the USA-Mexico soccer rivalry over at MatchNight.com. I am the very last quote at the bottom of the page.

Lyle Lovett and His Large Band

Last night Shelley and I, coupled by The Poetschkes, went out to Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth to take in a concert by Lyle Lovett and his large band. The performance was dazzling, his persona was extraordinarily delightful and the music was both charming and moving.

The "large band" is, in fact, quite large. There was a pianist, a percussionist, two saxophones, a trumpet, a trombone, a cello, acoustic guitars, electric guitars, mandolin, bass, steel guitar and six vocalists in addition to Lyle. It all came together for a beautifully captivating show.

If you've never listened to Lovett's music, you are in for quite a treat. His unique blend of country, jazz, big band, blues, gospel and rock and roll is unforgettable and timeless.

Get a cool T-Shirt

Here is something I forgot to post to the site a few months back...

As many of you know I have what some may call "an obsession" with soccer. Even more specifically, the United States Men's soccer team. With that in mind, I have started a side-project/business designing and selling t-shirts supporting the team and the sport at www.usasoccerfan.com. Currently there are two designs available (one is pictured above).

Celebrate the USA qualifying for its fifth straight world cup with a nice new red tee! Or even if you don't care for one, just check out the site and tell me what you think of the shirts.

California

Our journey to San Diego has come and gone and we are now back deep in the heart of Texas. Now that we have returned to the oven-like temperatures and concrete landscapes, I can't help but keep asking... no, interrogating myself with the haunting question: "So... why do I live in Dallas?" ha!

We had an incredible time relaxing, sight seeing, shopping, eating great food, and all-in-all - just enjoying each other's company. Both of us were completely enchanted by San Diego and are pretty much set to pack up our home and take up residence there. :)

While on our trip, one of the definite highlights was spending some quality time with one of my best friends in the world, Mr. Jerry Ruiz. He currently lives out in La Jolla, a suburb of San Diego, and went out with Shelley and I a couple times during our visit. He and I originally met back in pre-kindergarden -- right when my family first moved to Brownsville, let alone the United States. From that time on through the end of high school we were pretty much inseparable. Having not seen him in a couple years, it was so, so great to catch up and just see him again. It was also wonderful for him to be able to interact with Shelley. Good times. Actually, great times.
Speaking of great times, we also spent an evening with two other magnificent friends: Don & Letty Bernstein. They met us in "Downtown Disney" for dinner. We sat around afterwards for hours just catching up and laughing as hard as possible.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take any pictures of us with them or Jerry. In fact, I pretty much failed to take many pictures at all. It is a shame too, we were staying in this beautiful hotel right in the middle of what is called "The Gaslamp District", which is a really fun part of downtown right in front of the bay. I'd love to have shown you guys that sort of stuff. Oh well, that's life sometimes.
The picture above is from our fun-filled day at Disneyland. It is one of the few pictures from the whole trip. Seriously, I'm trying to be better about taking pictures, I just always forget.

Well anyway, no need to expound on the little details of our trip. It was a wonderful experience. We'd love to live there. And even though it is Dallas, it's always good to be home.

Unbelievable Week

Well this has turned out to be quite an adventurous week!
To start off, we got word last week that a significant client we have been "wooing" wanted us to go up to New York and make our official sales pitch to them this week. Not only was this extraordinary for the business, but it was my first time in NYC. (Which is ironic because we already have a client in NYC. ha!)

So off we went to the Big Apple. These guys really treated us to an amazing night of wining and dining the night before our big presentation. We had an absolute BLAST eating in the private room at a restaurant near times square and central park called "Osteria Del Circo" followed up by smoking some Cubans at The Grand Havana Room, a cigar bar on the 39th floor of a building at the epicenter of midtown Manhattan. The view from this place was absolutely unreal. While we were sitting there enjoying our cigars and just getting to know each other better, in walks former vice president Dan Quayle with some friends and family. Needless to say, it was quite an experience.

New York is an unbelievable place. I have done a bit of traveling in my short life-span, but even in my short visit, I can affirm that New York City is definitely a unique and exciting place like no other. Honestly, the energy of the city inspired me. Cheesy, I know... but true.

We met the following morning at their office on Madison Avenue and absolutely nailed it. We had a great repertoire with them and things are progressing as we had hoped. While they were certainly extraordinarily wealthy and successful people, they were extremely down to earth and eager to hear our ideas and recommendations for them. It was both a humbling and inspiring couple of days in NYC! I definitely will be heading back again, but next time with my beautiful bride.

So I got back at midnight on Tuesday only to turn around Wednesday morning to meet with a client in Dallas and then catch a 3:00 flight to Charlotte to do a couple days of on-site consulting with yet another client out here... where I am now.

Whew!! Even typing that makes me tired. ha!

Fortunately, Shelley will be flying in Friday night and we are going to make a weekend out of it here. Should be outstanding!

So there is your update for this week.

Fun in the Sun

We're off to Destin, Florida for the weekend. Should be a nice relaxing break on the beach.

Capital Visit

Shelley and I spent four days in D.C. last month. We absolutely loved it and are looking forward to visiting again soon. There is so much to see and do, the architecture is breathtaking, and the history is humbling, fascinating, and inspiring. Here are just a few of the photo highlights:

Here we are outside the capitol building. A great friend of ours, Jeremy, works on capital hill and was able to give us a great little tour of this beautiful, historic building.

We checked out the Lincoln Memorial late one night and enjoyed this truly awesome tribute to our 16th president.

Here Shelley is pictured reading the Emancipation Proclamation.

This is me at the World War II memorial. I look like I mean serious business.

Jeremy was able to arrange a private tour of the West Wing of the White House for us. This was certainly the highlight of the entire trip! The opportunity to see the Oval Office, the Roosevelt Room, the Cabinet Room, the Rose Garden, and everything else was was an honor and privilege we are so thankful for. We weren't allowed to take pictures on the inside, but here is a photo of us being silly just outside the entrance.

Actually, we were trying to look like we were discussing important matters, but as Shelley will attest, I have a problem with not being a freak of nature.

The two of us in the "front yard" of the White House.

Here I am taking some important questions about the lack of updates to our website in The White House press room.

Somehow this is the only picture I have of Jeremy from the whole weekend. Thanks my friend. We appreciate your kindness!!

Austin: The Other Capital City

A few of my old high school buddies and I got together down in Austin for a weekend of nostalgia, catching up, and unruly debauchery.

From left to right: Teno, Ruben, me, Daniel, and Abelardo.

Just a picture of me. That's all.

Ascendio News

Last month my company, Ascendio, moved into our brand new office in north Dallas, just off the tollway. Here are some photos from just after the move in.

We are really excited about the new place and are excited about the unbelievable growth the company is experiencing. If you want to know why TheBoudreaus.com has not been updated very often, it is pretty much because of the work that goes in in the place pictured below. That doesn't explain, though, why we haven't been able to update the company website for what seems like over a year. ha!

We were able to get the corner office on the sixth floor. So not only do we have a great view, but the office is full of natural light all day. I love that

Here is my work area, where the magic happens.

Beautiful Day

On June 1, Shelley and I celebrated our three year wedding anniversary. Our marriage has been a supernatural, surreal, and wonderful experience. We have come a long way since we started dating as freshman in college to where we are today. I am simply blessed to have such a patient, caring, loving, beautiful woman by my side every step of the way.

Fitness Update

Week seven is nearly complete and I have to say that these have been some of the best weeks of my life. Shelley and I have really firmed up and gotten in pretty good shape. We've both lost a bit of weight, but since neither of us was really overweight to begin with, the most dramatic difference has come in muscle tone, endurance, and strength. That being said, both of us have lost an inch or two from our waistlines. Hooray!

One of the things that I have found priceless in the process has been adjusting our diet and scheduling our meals. It really affects the way I feel, my energy level, and, obviously, the way I look.

Again, if you are interested in learning more about what we are doing you can visit this website or you could just ask us directly.

Have a good Thursday.

Pull!

So Chris and I took the morning off and had a relaxing, Ascendio-sponsored, extravaganza-o'-fun. Armed with a shot gun and 200 rounds of ammo, we experienced the art that is clay shooting.

Having never done this before, I anticipated that it would be a subpar performance by yours truly. To make things more interesting, we did their advanced "challenge course". This course involved 10 different stops with the clay being launched at different angles and levels of difficulty. Throw the hurricane force winds in and you've got yourself a recipe for quite a spectacle.

Fortunately, not only was it a total blast (pun intended) -- I wasn't half bad (for a beginner). More importantly, I soundly defeated Chris "the miss" Mechsner.

Winning is nice, my friends, but bragging rights...those are priceless.

The Office

So a few weeks ago my buddy Ryan asked me, "Have you heard of 'The Office'?" When I answered no, it was only a matter of time before he had gotten the complete series on DVD in my hands.

Last night, Shelley and I completed watching the final episode of the BBC show and I have to say -- this series was quite possibly one of the funniest things I have ever watched. Through both seasons and the concluding specials, there was never a dull moment or wasted scene. Of course, the British accents were difficult to decipher at times.

If you are a fan of "mock-umentaries" like Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, Spinal Tap, etc... then you just might find this show to your liking. One word of warning, though, the humor is pretty raunchy. This is not what one would describe as "safe for the whole family".

Enjoy.

Update

So we're going on nearly two weeks of our new fitness and nutritional regime. Without a doubt this is one of the best decisions Shelley and I have ever made. We look and feel great and I think it's made a real difference in my overall productivity, energy level, and strength.

It hasn't been easy to turn our lives upside down and make such a dramatic change, but at the same time -- it hasn't been overwhelming either. Working out six days a week and eating six times a day is much bigger on paper and in the mind than it is in practice. It has been worth it physically and mentally.

Once again, all I can say is so far, so good.

There's your update.

Band Update

Assuming Matt is up for it (he's been very under the weather), we will be hitting the stage tonight at The Liquid Lounge in Deep Ellum at 11:00.

It will be our last acoustic show for a while, because we have finally found a drummer! (Hooray!) His name is James Johnson and we have been having a blast practicing with him and retooling our songs. In addition I have put down the acoustic and have been playing with the electric and all that comes with that. Soon Matt will follow suit and we will finally start to hone the sound we have wanted since the beginning. It is all quite exciting.

We are also in the process of renaming the group. I call it a process, because that is exactly what it is. If you've never been in a band or tried to name one... let me tell you, it's the most ridiculous little circus you've ever been a part of. Band names are typically fairly ridiculous and as you try to name one you are toeing the line of being overly pretentious and overly childish. Overall, I just want to settle on something that everyone is happy with and let our music speak for itself. Most great bands didn't start with great names, but great music. The name will become more attractive as the music becomes more beautiful.

OK... enough waxing poetic about band names. If you have any brilliant band names that you would like to share or suggest, let me know. We are in dire need of ideas.

Can't and Won't

So I'm only on day two of the new lifestyle and I think I'm already starting to learn some valuable lessons. One in particular that stands out is my ability to push myself past the point of my own assumed limitations. The difference between what I can't do and what I won't do is a gap I'm learning to close. Personally, this is especially true when I'm in the gym. It's amazing how much of the battle is not necessarily against my body, but my mind.

Well, my upper body is definitely feeling the effects after yesterday's workout. Shampooing my hair this morning was challenging, to say the least. Ha! But as they say, it's a "good sore". This morning was a cardio workout on the exercise bike.

I'm really glad I took the time to read the book beforehand. Understanding the why and how of the interaction between the diet and exercise is extremely motivating, not to mention enlightening.

So far, so good.

Day One

Well, today was a big day in The Boudreausian household. After a few weeks of contemplation, this weekend we decided to commit to changing our lifestyles quite a bit. We are changing the way we eat and getting our bodies out of "park" and kicking them into overdrive.

Without getting into all the details, we are following a diet and exercise program called Body For Life. Honestly, it is a pretty dramatic shift. But I'd say we've had a pretty dramatic shift in our focus and priorities as well. I would think that doing anything would be pretty dramatic when you've been fairly sedentary and semi-gluttonous for so long.

Our first workout was this morning, followed by a breakfast meal an hour later. The workout involved upper body weight training and was quite a challenge. I'm just really glad Shelley and I are doing it together. Having her there giving her all as well is quite an encouragement -- even if, maybe especially because, doing something like this exposes our weaknesses. Most importantly, though, it is a challenge for us to exceed what we think we were capable of. That is my hope, at least.

After one ego-busting morning, I'm happy to report we survived.

All of this to say, I am posting it here for the sake of accountability. Ask me how the workouts are going. Are we sticking to the diet? Are we still motivated? I really believe the support of friends and family we'll be able to push through a lot more than we could on our own.

Thanks in advance for your support.

Tonight at the Grenada

Shelley and I will be catching Midlake at the Grenada Theater. I've never made it out to see them before, but apparently it is quite impressive. They have a great sound that blends both indie and pop-rock styles. Sort of a Radiohead meets Flaming Lips thing. ha!

I've wanted to see them for quite some time. But once they got signed and started touring all over Europe, we almost never got to see them here in Dallas. So now tonight has arrived and barra-bing, barra-boom. We're there.

Anyway, the two real highlights of the night are more personal than musical. One of my best friends in the world (and also the best man in our wedding) is coming up to Dallas for the show and we're going together. So that will be a blast! And secondly, an old college friend of mine is Midlake's lead guitarist -- so it will be neat to see him perform and witness his throng of fans. :)

If you've got nothing planned for tonight, you should come out to The Grenada. Also playing will be Radiant, The Hourly Radio, and also Pleasant Grove. That's quite an impressive line up my friends!! The "seated areas" and balcony are almost completely sold out, but the general admission still has a few hundred tickets left. (This is a big venue)

Well, hope to see some of you there. Have a great weekend!

Seriously, we're back

Ok all you wild and crazy kids. Due to a lot of nagging emails, phone calls, and bomb threats... I have decided to go ahead and roll out the new site.

I never realized how many of you possess a slightly alarming, but mostly flattering interest in reading our musings on the day-to-day. But hey, if this website can serve as your online Prozac fix, we're here for you and apologize for the long absence.

Well, we took down the site mostly to take some time to give it a fresh, simple, friendly, and more personal look and feel. But I must admit, it was nice to take a short break after two-and-a-half years of blogging like a madman.

All of that to say, we are happy to be back online.

The 2004 Christmas E-Card

In honor of this festive time of year, The Boudreaus have prepared an entertaining holiday presentation for your viewing pleasure.

If you like corny music and bad singing, this is, indeed, your lucky day!

Check it out here.

We'll be taking the rest of the year off from blogging, but we'll see you again in January. Until then, have a merry new year and a happy Christmas.

May God continue to bless you!

Date-Night Update

As much as I wanted to order the crusted chicken Romano, this is how it all went down.

First off, my original plan was to get the 'steak sandwich with fries' as my mamacita recommended. When we arrived to the restaurant and perused both volumes of the menu, we were confronted by the unfortunate realization that there was no such item on the menu. With a quick phone call, we came to the clarification that when she said 'steak sandwich', she meant chicken cheese steak, like a Philly cheese steak sandwich.

First off, I’m shocked my mom even likes those sandwiches.

Secondly, gross.

Anyway, now for the rest of the story.

We started off with the sweet corn tamale cakes that Rosa recommended. They sounded good. They looked good. And Rosa, they were as sweet as you. Excellent choice.

So then onto the main course. The problem was, once I saw that my mom had not only commented on the website, but gone the distance and recommended something, the excitement caused me to forget most of what everyone else had posted. Not to mention all events and circumstances in my life that had preceded that moment.

Just when I was starting to panic and the words "crusted chicken Romano" were about to leave my lips, I had a flashback.

2nd grade.

Mrs. Potts classroom.

I forgot to wear pants.

Wait! That was later. What I remembered then was that Mr. Matthew "Not-Less-But" Moore had suggested the Pizza.

I like pizza. I like pepperoni. And hey, cheese is good too. Armed with that knowledge, I requested the peeeeppeeerooooni piiiiizzzzzahhhh. In retrospect, I should have ordered with an Italian accent. That would have been perfect.

The final verdict: Matt, the pizza was moore than I could have asked for. Another outstanding choice and suggestion.

All in all, a perfect evening. We ended up laughing the night away watching Elf on DVD at home.

Thanks to everyone for your assistance.

Dinner, a movie, & the word de trop in a sentence

Ahh. Thursday night. AKA: Date night. This is our regularly scheduled evening where we make a point to go out in public, gaze longingly into each others eyes, and if all goes as planned, make everyone around us uncomfortable. Ha HA! Just kidding... sort of.

It is indeed our wonderful date night this evening. So here is the situation. Shelley and I have made a semi-tradition out of going to Cheesecake Factory. As luck would have it, that is the plan for this evening. One of the most uncommon qualities of this hot spot is its de trop menu. In an *Alanis-Morrisette-like* twist of irony, I rarely veer from one of my two staple items. These are:

(1) Crusted chicken Romano (with extra sauce)
(2) Chicken avocado club (no mayo)

FACT: It was delicious to just type the names of those items.

So here is my question for you, the beautiful people of the Internet. I am considering, let me reiterate, I am merely considering, trying something new this evening. That's where you come in.

Fellow Cheesecake Factory aficionados, I want to hear what your *favorite items* off the menu are. That's right. You have the opportunity to make influential suggestions for my dinner this evening. Just when you thought your day was going to be dull!

Just a heads up, I pretty much like most types of food. My only restrictions are that I don't like mayo, pickles, chocolate, clowns, chocolate clowns, or using straws.

Cirque du Soleil

THE EXPERIENCE

So yesterday we experienced Cirque du Soleil in person for the first time. If you've never heard of Cirque or if you've never seen it in person, it will absolutely blow your mind. We saw "Verekai" under the big top set up at Fair Park in Dallas.

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

A Cirque show is a theatralized show which mixes the arts of the circus and "the street", and features original music, light effects and costumes. There are acrobatics, body contortions, singing, musicianship, comedy, drama, juggling, dancing, and well... it's like nothing you've probably seen before.

Some of the more impressive displays are put on by the acrobats, who perform without the aid of nets. It's hard to imagine the years and years of (painful) training these people have gone through to be able to perform these acts flawlessly.

WORTH A TRY

If you live in Dallas, they will be in down until December 12th. One of the most impressive things about Cirque is that the production is of the highest quality. The music and singing is performed live and is breathtaking, although secondary to the amazying physical displays.

You can also catch them on TV from time to time on the BRAVO network (if you have cable).

LEARN MORE

Learn more about Cirque, Verekai, and all their shows here.

Welcome to the Family

Yes, I couldn't stay away from the Telecaster (specifically: this is a brand-spanking-new '62 Telecaster Custom with Bigsby). These pictures don't really do this guitar justice AT ALL. The glossy candy apple red finish coupled with the nickel hardware and chrome Bigsby really give this guitar a classic look that I think is outstanding. Not to mention how amazing it plays and sounds!

And for all my tube/analog purist friends out there (you know who you are), have no fear, that digital Line6 amp is merely a backup amp that I use at home. Although I have to say it is a TON of fun to play with, as is the PODxt.

USA 1, Mexico 0

We were there and it was AWESOME.

Related story.

Dallas in February

Looking out over my balcony this morning I noticed something unusual.

Swearing In

Shelley got sworn in before the Texas Supreme Court this weekend.

In a word: awesome.

Hire Quality

Shelley received an offer of employment this week! we are very excited as she starts her career.

One other note: bar exam results come in on Thursday!

Off to Keystone

We're off to Keystone, Colorado! See you online in a week. : )

Happy anniversary to us!

It's been an amazing first year! Time passes by so fast, but we've treasured every moment together.

We are both happy to say that the adventure has only begun! : )

Graduation Day!

After three years of hard work and highs and lows -- it is finished! This past weekend Shelley graduated from SMU Dedman School of Law. We had all kinds of family in town and plenty of fun and celebration!

Words can't express how proud I am and can't wait to see what the Lord has in store for Shelley in the future. I love you sweetie! God bless you.