The Walk of Shame

I love going to church for some obvious reasons.

1) Worshiping Jesus.  You know him?
2) Learning about Jesus.  
3) Seeing friends

But I have a secret. There is one not-so-obvious reason I love going to church.  Want to know it?

Each week, my drive to church takes me past our local jail. 

Hi, criminals! Jesus loves you!

Accompanying my weekly drive by, is the weekly showing of at least one coed doing their jail-time walk of shame.  

You know the walk I'm talking about.  The one those silly college do after they have a sleep over in the drunk tank.


They all look the same, after their harrowing night.  Be it a guy, or be it a girl, the situation is the same.  Allow me paint the picture for you.

Pat is not sure what is going on. Pat is squinting, and walking down the street.   Not having a car won't stop Pat from getting as far away from the jail as fast as Pat's hungover legs will carry shim.  

What's that Pat is doing?  Oh that's right, s/he's on the phone begging for a ride.  All the while, Pat can't shake the look of embarrassment, confusion and bile stained party shirt shim is wearing. 

I might sound a bit (ok, very) cruel, but I believe this is a priceless gift I get to enjoy just about every Sunday.  

I am sorry to say I have not taken pictures. By this time I could have a small scrap book of images.  Perhaps I should start?  Or at least start pulling over and invite them to church.

Either way, I am glad to finally be on this side of that lifestyle.  

Look mom, no handcuffs!


Rescinding My Application

I feel like I have been lying to you.

I once blogged about being a part of the "adults" club.  However, in light of this weekend's events, I must rescind my application to this prestigious (if not slightly boring) group immediately.

Here's what went down.

Jeff and I bought a new vacuum this weekend. 

We saw a need to replace the one I bought for $30 when I was in college since it smelled like the cats my roommate had (over six years ago!) and hardly worked any more.  

Jeff had been researching for a while and eventually gave me the option of three to choose from. And by that, I hope you know I mean that I pretended to listen to him talk about each one and just picked the one I could tell he really wanted to get.  I'm learning.

We even used a coupon to buy it.  

What could be more adult than that?

Sadly, dear adult friends, we spent the first ten minutes of the new vacuum's life giggling like fools whilst suctioning various parts of each other's body.  

Not those body parts.  Well... some of those body parts.  :)

My favorite was the forehead. 

Don't give up on us.  We will become adults one day.


Mighty fine Valentine

It was a non-traditional Valentine in my house.  Hubby dearest was out of town for the (silly) holiday.  Since I could not spend the day with my man, I spent it with some of my boys.  

Honestly, we are not Valentines day people.  I think it has something to do with the fact that we celebrate six major holidays in three moths.  

1) His birthday
2) Thanksgiving 
3) My birthday
4) Jesus' birthday
5) New Years
6) Our anniversary 

By February 14th, we are over it.   Not each other.  We're not over each other.  In fact, we kind of like each other. 

A lot.

Here is my Valentines day in picture form, featuring nephew #2 and #5.

Forgive my blur.  I was a little worried about Duncan hulking out.

Duncan made a valentine for his parents. He's got some great handwriting for a 2 year old.

Duncan was SO EXCITED to show his mom and dad his valentine. He stood at the top of the steps waiting for them. SO cute.

Hello Gorgeous

Sweet little family on Balbintines Day

New Baby.  He is starting to smile. Holy mess, he's a doll.

Can I just hang out with him all day?


I had a wonderful day. How was yours?


Dear former me...

Dear Former Me, 

Was it fun having a jaw line?   

I bet.

I have wild plans to find you again.

Present Robin

There you are, buddy- second from the left.  Hanging with your sisters. 


My First Midwife Experience

I can't tell you how many times I have sat down to write this post. This is such a monumental story.  It is such an intricate story.  It's just plain hard to write.

But here goes...

A few months back, I quit my job (hooray!!) and took a week off before starting my new job.  That week was the week of my sister, Megan's due date. Perfect timing, huh?

Isn't she pretty?

The Friday before I quit my job, a friend asked me what I was doing the week I had off.   I mentioned hanging out with my sister in her ripening state.  The conversation lead to birth stories and the like.  She asked if I had ever been in the room with any of my sisters during their labor, and I said no...

But that I had walked in on my sister in transition, hanging over her husband moaning.  It was horrifying because I hate seeing any of my sisters in pain.  It was also horrifying because of the non-human sounds coming from my gorgeous sister.  I was a touch disturbed and majorly terrified of labor after seeing that scene.  I shut the door, shuttered, and decided I was not going to talk about what I had witnessed.  

Moving on...

I got a call from Megan that week.  She was going into labor, and since my other sisters were all away, and our mother had to work, I was up to bat to take care of my sister's first born, Duncan.  Psssh.  I can totally do this, I thought.

When I got there, Megan was laboring in the tub like a champ.  She had done this at the hospital with #1 and had great success.  

After a while, Duncan became aware of his mother's pain and started to freak out.  I decided it was time for us to go outside but I could NOT find his shoes.  

From the bedroom I heard my brother-in-law yell, "Robin! Get your sister's shoes!".  Those I could find.

I put Duncan in the play room and ran downstairs to grab my sisters shoes and jacket.  Even though it was November, my panicked mind picked up her sandals.  Stupid panicked mind.

Looking back I know why I was panicking.  I could hear Megan telling Bobby, "I'm sorry- he's here.  He's here, Bobby. I can't make it."

My sister had labored so well, that she was already to push.  TO PUSH, people!

My sister waddled down the hall, where I met her with her sandals and jacket.  Then she leaned over me, wrapped her arms around my neck and began to moaning. The exact scenario I had told my friend about.  The exact scenario I had been so scared by.  Only this time, it was me my sister was holding onto. Only this time I was not going to get to just close the door and walk out.

Only this time, I was not afraid.  I was ready to help.  Thank you, God.

Megan made it to the basement in her sandals (I'm such an idiot) and got into the garage where she promptly alerted her husband and I, that she was not going to make it to the hospital.  The baby was going to be here within a matter of seconds, and she was either going to have the baby in the car, or in the basement. 

My brother-in-law, being the sound of mind person in the room (remember the sandals?), brought her back into the house.  At which point, I collected Duncan and ran upstairs to call 911.  

All this while Duncan had been in my arms, because he was crying seeing his mother in pain.  Earlier in the day he wrapped his little arms around her leg while she was having a contraction and then when she was finished, he stepped back and said "All dun?".  Buuuh. Broke my heart. 

I run upstairs, Duncan in hand, to call 911.  Instead, I called my father.  Again... I am NOT the smartest person in a state of chaos.  Good thing I did call him, because that is how I found out he was in the driveway.  As I ran downstairs to unlock the door for him, I heard the sweetest sound.  Baby Whit crying.  He was here!  HE was here!

He was here?

I opened the door and tried to explain to Papa what was happening.  I'm sure I was very clear and he understood perfectly. Sike.

Bobby and Megan had somehow made it back into the house and (wisely) chose the laundry room to deliver the little man. One tiny push, and Bobby caught Whit!

I should mention here, that Megan is an RN.  She knew what was going on during this whole thing, and she was completely coherent.  Just a little too good at giving birth.  

Back upstairs, I finally called 911. One small problem; I could not remember their address.  

Side note- this is simply unforgivable is because I lived there for 9 months in 2008. 

I grabbed an envelope and could not to read their address to the dispatcher because my hands were shaking so violently.  I laid the envelope down on the table and read it to her.  

My father loves to tell the story of what I looked like while calling 911. He likens it to me aggressively exfoliating my face with my cell phone.

Laugh it up, Papa.

At this point, baby Whit was eating, Duncan was being taken care of by Papa, and the ambulance had arrived.  

I started to call the family and tell them their grandchild/nephew had arrived. Three of the six I called thought I was joking, and one had to call me back five minutes later because she was so in shock she didn't understand fully.  You think you're in shock, sista? 

Megs, baby daddy and baby went to the hospital and were released that evening.  Whit is healthy, beautiful and the same can obviously be said about Megan, my hero.

Here are some pictures of the wonder boy.  

Yes- I am responsible for the hat.  It was all I could find at the house. 

Barrett Whitlow with Aunt Katie

The family

Brothers. Awwwwww.

I think Whit farted in his arms. Either that or Duncan just realized he has competition in the cuteness department

Catcher/Father and son and son

Tissues, please.

Barrett Whitlow Collier.  

Cute hat from his great Aunt 

It was one of the craziest days of my life, hands down.  But it does make me appreciate my sister (and my brother, the catcher) so much more.  I mean, she did at home what most people can't do drug free in a hospital.  And Bobby... he was so calm!  I just made a series of idiotic decisions that just happened to not hurt anyone.

The number one question I get after I tell this story is; are you afraid of having babies now?

I can honestly say I am less afraid now than I was before. Mostly because I was uncertain about a lot of what goes on during labor and delivery. Now, I am not uncertain at all. Not one bit. Nope. I am 100% clear on the process.  Suuuper knowledgable. No fear of the unknown.

Nope. Just a rational fear of the known. 

Happy 3 Month Birthday Whit! 

P.S. I am sure there are a few questions you have.  Questions too personal/schmawkward to talk about here.  Email me, or comment below.  I'll tell you everything I now know.  Happy to help.


Questions and Statements Part II


- My handwriting changes constantly throughout the day.  Once second it is tall and thin, and the next it is messy and loopy.  Almost like I'm having mini-strokes.  That might be a rull problem.
- Last week I was running late, and my grizzly man helped me get me get my oversleeping hind out the door.  De-lightful man, isn't he? Best part- he did not say a single bad thing about my alarm ignoring ways until I got home that night.  Blamo.
- I have been noticing people around me start their sentences the exact same way each time they speak.  "So my question is..." "Let me tell you..." "I'm just trying to say..."  I wonder what mine is.  Don't tell me, please.


- Should I do any races this year? I was not planning on it, but I've gotten pretty chubbers again.  Perhaps a 10 miler is in my future.  Or bulimia.  Am I not supposed to joke about eating disorders?  Ooops.
- Why do I tend the fill the silence with information that is WAY too personal?  
- Can you see my nose hairs?
- Why can't I get out of bed on the first alarm? One morning last week I got up at 7:38 and I was out the door at 7:45.  That's just plan awesome irresponsible.
- Should a woman of 35 really say "ewww" to another person's lunch?  I'm sorry, ma'am, I forgot that we were in middle school.  Guess I'll have to go find my Nano Baby and smack you in the jowl with it.  
- Why does my stomach growl every time it is quiet in my training class? And why is it that said growl sounds more like a fart than anything else?  I guess that's why I feel the need to fill silences with overly personal information.  Super personal information or fake farts.  I guess you know which one I choose.

That's all I have for now. Leave me your statements and comments in the comments section!

Oh, and get excited for the next post.  It's all about this face and how he came into the world.  Hold onto your stirrups, its going to be a graphic ride.


No Shave February?

He has no idea I'm posting this...

He says he derives his power from the beard.  And the patches are just where the beard was too powerful to let anything grow.

I love my mountain man.


Did you know?

Three years ago yesterday, Jeff and I got murried. 

Say it with me now. Awwwwwwwwwww.

I was a bridal basket case with a side of just plain crazy before my wedding.  My sisters did a great job calming me down by feeding me tater tots (is that the second time in two blog posts that I have talked about tater tots?) and croissants with ketchup. In my wedding dress...? 

My favorite part of the day (not night… I won’t post about that), was our first look.  This was a new concept to me since none of my sisters had done it. And I pretty much don't do anything unless it has been tested and proven worthy by one of my sisters.

I had always dreamt of seeing my husband for the first time as I walked down the aisle, so I was pretty opposed to seeing Jeff before that moment.

I realized that what I was craving more than anything was time to just be with my lovey.  Plus, I wanted to give my photographers time to get some BANGING shots of the two of us without time constraints.  So we decided to do it.

While I waited, hiding in the library, I was the most nervous I have ever been in my life.  That is saying something given the number (and locations) of piercings I've gotten in the past. 

In that insanely nervous moment, my wedding planner tried talking to me.  Tried being the operative term. I was so nervous I could barely even carry a conversation. It was like I had marbles (or 14 shots of tequila) in my mouth. I could not form a sentence to save my life.   

I am incredibly thankful that these crippling nerves took over my mind and body in a library with my wedding planner and not with my father, about to walk down the aisle.  

As a plug to future brides, let me add that seeing Jeff pre-ceremony did not rob me of my special moment of walking down the aisle. I was calmer after seeing him, than I had been all day.  I got to mess around in the limo, I got to enjoy my bridesmaids and I got to soak in my father giving me away. 
Back to the first look...

Jeff took his place on the porch at Fairfax Hall...

I walked out and tapped my husband on the shoulder. He turned around and  we  I started crying immediately.  

Another plus to doing the first look= the man gets to have a genuine reaction instead of worrying what his brosephs think about him crying.

We hugged and kissed. We took time to complement each other on how great we thought the other looked. We giggled, and shivered and soaked in the moment. 

And we got some baller pictures.

and some awkward ones too...

It was honestly the best part of my day.  Just the two of us. 

I would not change it for the world.
And did I mention the pictures???

Happy Anniversary, my love.  Thanks for still holding doors open for me, for loving me despite my salty tongue and spicy moods, and most of all, for being the best husband I’ve ever had.

Photo credits: Lisette Price Photographyand Over the Moon Photography