The Breeders Union

I look at these pictures with all these babies, and rather than feel like I'm missing out on something, I feel like I am part of something wonderful and unlikely, something that is a blessing to be close to even if it's as an observer. It's like I've got a balcony seat to the greatest performance on earth, and I don't have to go to a single late night rehearsal.

That a part-time job in high school would have flourished into lifelong friendships still amazes me. Together we've helped each other through heartache, rock bottoms, financial crises, the loss of parents, disease, layoffs, and miscarriages. We've celebrated graduations, engagements, marriages, and births, and while the physical distance between each of us has increased, the emotional closeness seems to be as tight as it ever was, if only out of gratitude and appreciation and understanding.

 

The only wish I have for this next generation is that they get to have people in their lives as wonderful as the people I've been blessed with in mine. I hope they have people like you who teach them what friendship is all about.

New Fitzgerald

He came last night at 6:43 in a full on tug of war with his umbilical cord.

 

 

He weighed 8 lbs. 8.5 oz. and was 21" long. He came equipped with 100 different squeaks, all of which made us go 'Awwww' and 'Oooooh' and 'Hahahaha.' His head full of hair and his detached earlobes are from his daddy, and his long fingers and perfect cupid's bow are courtesy of his gorgeous mommy.

After about 13 seconds of seeing him, he had a grip on my heart that is still choking me up.

He, like his sister, will probably remain nameless for another day or so while his mom and dad get to know him and feel out a name that suits him, which is why we nicknamed him Fitzgerald months ago (thanks to Liz's suggestion).

For now, he is our sweet baby boy, the littlest cousin, the newest addition, one of us. And we continue to be incomprehensibly lucky.

UPDATE: We have a name. Kieron Sparrow Ellis. Never saw that one coming, which means it's just what I expected!

Here's the deal.

Dear World,

We have no choice but to let you have this little guy. He is too smart and too curious and too awesome for us to keep him contained and fulfilled.

So, we are sharing him with you. But there are things you should know.

He is a sensitive boy. He has a depth of feeling and understanding that most adults don't even have.

He is full of love and kisses and fairness. He will not cut your kid in line and he will not disrespect you. He has been raised better than that.

He likes to wrestle and play hard, but he is not capable of bullying. He needs down time, quiet time, peace. Just give him some cut up red peppers and a movie about dinosaurs and let him chill.

He remembers everything, so if you tell him he can have a blue popsicle next Tuesday, by god you'd better have that damn blue popsicle or he will call you on your lies and you will deserve it.

He has healthy fear. It keeps him from jumping off the roof but it isn't so much that he is a prisoner of it. He will take risks, he will go out of his comfort zone, but he needs to be able to do it in his own time. If he's not ready, back off.

All that being said, perhaps the most important thing for you to know is this: his aunt is prepared to kill you if you hurt him.

Love,
Amber

Cray-cray

Mack sometimes needs attention, and he has become pretty good at finding a way to get me to stop watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey that is effectively annoying. Not too much that I get pissed, but just enough that I am distracted.

Well, the other day a magazine came and Mack started flipping through it.

Then Teresa said something totally bitchy with a smile and thought that'd make it okay.

"Ohhh look, there's a free sample."

My head snapped from the television to the man on the couch peeling out a free sample of something I needed, something that was MINE because I pay for that subscription, something that he was about to STEAL FROM ME!

"What is it? Huh? Is it perfume? I hate perfume. What is it? SERIOUSLY."

"It's a Bioré strip."

Dammit. I love those things.

"Give it to me. It's mine. It's my free sample. GIVE IT TO MEEEE."

He managed to keep it just out of my reach, peeling it out of the package, removing the backing and putting it on his nose, and all I could do was degrade into a swirl of irrational consumer jealousy. Finally he snapped his head around.

Yep, that's a pantyliner.

Maters Precious

My mom and I went to the Tomato Festival today. And we ate tomatoes. Like a dozen types of tomatoes. And it was fabulous.

The adventure started with crepes at 6 Friends. Then we rode our bikes to the Arboretum, where we pretended to be tomato connoisseurs and got our faces painted.

Mom and I finally did shots! :)

We decided to take a little walk around the gardens and the woods, and on the way to the gazebo area, a bee got caught in the strap of my sandal and did a little freak out that resulted in his death and a stinger in my foot.

Bee stings burn a lot worse than I remember.

Things seemed fine yesterday. I'm not allergic and the pain subsided pretty quickly. But then when I woke up this morning...

You know that movie Pure Luck where Martin Short is stung by a bee and his face explodes in swollen? Yeah, I have the foot equivalent of that. As if these feet aren't hobbit enough on their own, now I gotta deal with bee puff on them.

Happily Ever Laughter

Life escapes me sometimes. Or, rather, I get so busy living life that I have no time for soaking it all in. And then stuff that happens in April starts to come back to me in August and that's how we got to today.

Back in April, Ruble got married to Steve. I have been with Ruble through some pretty atrocious relationship dealings, so when I first met Steve, while we were all in Atlanta for Kristin and Will's wedding, I was delighted.

Steve was funny, down to earth, outgoing, and tolerant of our shenanigans. He was like Ruble in all the good ways and a perfect balance for her special blend of crazy. When Ruble would hinge on freak out, which doesn't happen too often, Steve wouldn't let her topple over the edge... mostly because he'd laugh at her. He's equipped with a personality that manages to lighten the mood, maintain the perspective, and find the fun in it all.

By "shenanigans," I mean beer drinking.

And unexpected, competely unwarranted drunken attacks.

Ruble's laugh is the thing that I have always loved the most about her. It didn't matter if it was the middle of a test in high school or the middle of the championship NCAA basketball game, if Ruble felt like laughing, that well of joy erupted like a volcano. There is just no stopping it. She can't keep it in. That freedom to be loud and delighted no matter what is adorable and admirable.

Ruble and I started going on 'dates' when I moved back to Kentucky, days Mack started calling "Rube Days." Steve would sometimes come along, and we'd all sit on a patio somewhere, drinking beers as big as our heads and talking and laughing. Ruble and Steve quickly became one of my favorite couples, one of those rare units that don't make you feel like a third wheel no matter what. I love Ruble, absolutely adore her, all on her own, but somehow, when she and Steve are together, I like her even more.

When they got engaged, on a hot day in July 2009 near the summit of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park, it was sort of like having the universe reaffirm that things are right with the world. Sure, accidents happen and sometimes there are piles of shit, but in the end, yin meets yang and all is well.

Because the epic and overblown World Equestrian Games made people in the business of weddings inflate their prices, Ruble and Steve decided to have a long engagement and get married this past April instead of October 2010 like they wanted. I don't know if that extra time was necessary considering the detailist that Ruble is, but it sure gave her time to spoil the crap out of those of us lucky enough to be her attendants.

Me = legs scarred by bugs in Ghana. Kristin = 6 months pregnant and jealous that we can imbibe. Michelle = definitely not as big a lush as pictures make her out to be. Sarah = not in town. Ruble = 'what have I gotten myself into?'

Ruble's wedding affair started with nails at the nail salon. Then it was a day at Keeneland. After that we had a rehearsal dinner of sea bass, calamari, fried lobster risotto balls, cheesecake, and an open bar. Then we had mimosas at the hair salon and mineral makeup at the spa on the big day.

Ruble did all of this, gave all of this to us, planned it all down to the last detail, even ordering me a special vegetarian sandwich in the lunch order. Most brides need their attendants to handle these things, but Ruble made her attendants feel like princesses while she did the tough tasks of being the queen.

Then there was the wedding.

Ruble was the most beautiful I have ever seen her, gorgeous and effortless and with a figure to die for. Her dad walked her down the aisle, and in true Ruble fashion she started to make small talk with guests on her way to meet Steve at the altar.

During the ceremony, while everyone else prayed, Ruble chuckled and pinched Steve's butt.

You see all those heads bowed? Even that atheist there playing along? Not Ruble!

Words were repeated, rings were exchanged, and I'm pretty sure a pinky swear sealed the deal. Through the whole ceremony though, laughs. Bursts of laughter. Delight echoing off the walls of the church. Pure and unyielding happiness. It was everything you could ever want in a wedding and everything a marriage should be.

There was also a reception, complete with beer chugging contests, the Electric Slide, and even something we'll call 'dancing.' The details are fuzzy, thank god, but the feeling of having a blast is still crystal clear.

No, I did not learn that move from Elaine on Seinfeld. That is all mine.

Congrats Rubeskis. I love you!

Just in case.

Seems like my friends are having babies and losing their dads in freaky ratios right now, and since Shannon is 2cm dilated with Fitzgerald and my dad is out of town, I figured I'd better just tell my dad how much I love him.

So, Daddy, you know the biggest fish you ever caught? Well, I love you the size of the fish that eats the fish that eats the fish that eats that fish.

And I also love when you look at me like I'm crazy, which is why this is one of my favorite pictures of you of all time.

Greg, I love you too. Neither of you go dying on me, okay, because how my friends are getting through life without their dads is beyond me. I can't even talk about it.

Ya'll ain't gonna believe this.

I had a White Trash Party. It was real fancy.

 

We dressed up real nice and ate some extry yummy foods like macaroni salad and Manwich. They was also some Squeezy Cheese, which I ain't ate since a white water raftin' trip a few years back when me and my friends got into some trouble for play actin' too loud. I found some purty amazin' decorations for the house, some thangs from the Goodwill that I could not believe people had given away -- especially that kitty tray.

The reason we was havin' the party was cause one of my best friends, Sarah Smiley, had her birtday last Wednesday and I never get to celebrate her birthday with her. So we got to talkin' before her first trip to Africa (she just left for another 'un today, that world traveler) and me and her and Ruble decided she outta have done a keg stand once in her life and next thing we knowed, we was plannin' a white trash party.

It was lots of fun, complete with some backyard brawlin' and a truck pool. Yep, we did it riiiight. And we'll never do it again.