5 Things Friday: Roundup!

Well HEEEEEY! 

Been a minute! 

I took last week off because I was traveling to Chicago, and this week - well, frankly, pregnancy just walloped me this week. So I said, "Mmkay, I'll just lie down." But things have been happening! Here are some of them: 

1. Chicago is awesome and I loved it so much. 

That's the city by boat. Right?! Gorgeousness. It wasn't a bad way to be introduced to ChiTown. 

So I'd been about ten years ago with my dad, but hadn't been back as a grown up person. I got to travel there with a girlfriend of mine who is also pregnant, which made the trip perfect in every way. When we wanted to nap? We napped. When it was time for a walk? We walked. And when it was time for an entire deep dish pizza and cheesecake? WE ATE THEM. More on this fabulous trip and allllll the incredible places I got to see next week. 

2. I am really, definitely pregnant. 

This is obviously not a cute photo as I took it in a hurry per Jordan's request to show someone at work the bump, but w/e. This is my life. And this is straight up what I look like right now. 

You may be thinking, "You don't look THAT pregnant." Yeah, I invite you to crawl into my body and walk around for a while. 

Don't get me wrong - I am EXTREMELY excited to meet this baby and have loved being pregnant. But I've crested a hill in the last 10 days or so that has made the reality of pregnancy sink in in a new way. I'm achy and feel really big - but I know that things are just gonna get bigger. Like, I have 15 weeks to go. By the end of this movie. I'll be big as a damn house. Not in a cute way. In an, "I thought Mary Catherine used to have a jawline?" way. In a, "Maybe we should avert our eyes as we pass her on the street..." way.

This is part of the game and I'm rolling with it, but I'm also realizing that lots of my self-confidence has come from being able to control what I look like. I can't control a damn thing anymore, so I'm learning to find confidence from within (like I should've been doing all along). More on this next week, too. 

3. MISS AMERICA IS NEXT WEEKEND. 

This is my SUPERBOWL. If you've been following this blog from the beginning, you saw last year's posts here and here - my annual contestant rundown. But if you've been friends with me on social media for any length of time, you've seen my completely obnoxious, Newsfeed-monopolizing commentary on every single contestant in The Pag. It's a big day for me and I'm very excited about it. 

This year, the contestant videos don't even include them talking (UGH SO LAME), so I'm not sure how we're gonna run it down prior to the show, but I'll figure it out. Either way, I'm basically peeing in my pants waiting for it to happen. I thought about throwing a party to watch it, but then I thought, "People will talk though it and then I'll turn into a horrible monster and scream at everyone and no one will like me anymore." So I passed. 

But if YOU want to watch it with me, I'll be tweeting up a storm @mcmcannally. 

4. Game of Thrones, you are KILLING. ME. 

If you haven't seen Season 7 up to Episode 4, scroll down to #5 and skip this one. 

...did you do it? 

K. So HOLY WOW THE DRAGONS, THE DRAGONS, THE DRAGONS. Jordan and I are slowly catching up and just finished the episode where Daenerys releases the freakin' fire squad on the Lannister army and basically just turns everyone into human s'mores. WTF?!?!? This was INSANE. I'm realizing that I care way more about horses/dragons dying than I do about people, which is like...really sick and awful, but true. The second they threatened the dragon's death, I was all, "NO OH MY GOSH!!!" Meanwhile, there are like hundreds of men running around shrieking because they're burning alive. And I'm like, *shrug.* 

We have just a few more left until we're FINALLY caught up with the end of the season. At this point my thoughts are as follows: Kit Harrington is a lot shorter than I thought; I love The Hound so much; Sam cured grey scale!!!!; Gilly, you are #sodumb; Maisie Williams actually frightens me; Bran Stark is the most annoying character in the world. 

5. We are re-doing tons of rooms in our house and I'm so excited to share some before and afters at some point. 

...no photos here yet, but we've re-done our living room, bedroom, and are putting together the nursery. I will share that I bought the world's most precious animal prints to hang in the baby's room - how cute is this?! We did six and went with pig, bear cub, bunny, baby chick, fawn, and giraffe. This woman's shop on Etsy is called PinkeeArt - check her out. Absolutely makes my heart skip a beat. 

Go nuts this weekend and I'll see you back here on Tuesday - refreshed, recharged, and ready to rock. 

Hope for Charlottesville.

Hope is a frightening thing. 

Mostly because, in order to hope something, you make yourself vulnerable. You peel away layers of jaded, cavalier carelessness and reveal that you really want something. You want it so much, in fact, that you will be hurt - crushed, maybe - if it doesn't happen. 

The hope in me is strong this morning as I sit down to write this out. I'm upstairs in my house and a dense fog has settled over the mountains in Asheville. Looking out the picture window at the top of my stairs, I can't see anything but the houses immediately across the street from me. Later today, as it heats up a bit, the fog will burn off and the Blue Ridge Mountains will leap into view. This is not a hope of mine - it's a fact. I've watched the rhythm of this exact set of circumstances, this natural dance, take place many times since we moved here. 

Hope is in the the things we want to believe in, but we can't yet see. We don't have the same certainty about the things in which we hope. That's what makes hope so fragile, so earnest, and so scary. 

--

My husband, Jordan, found me crying on Saturday morning. At 5 1/2 months pregnant, this isn't a terribly rare event. I'd just finished watching crude video footage recorded on someone's iPhone of the white nationalist march in Charlottesville on Friday night, where white people of all ages carried tiki torches and chanted things like, "You will not replace us," and "Jews will not replace us." I guess they were worried it was unclear who the "you" was. 

That by itself got me. I couldn't believe these naked-faced folks were gathered by the hundreds to reclaim what they feel is their true identity in the social hierarchy: Number One. As though there were ever a moment when white men weren't the most powerful and influential group in the United States. 

But apparently, that's not how it feels to them. Because displays like that are born, if we're honest with ourselves, out of fear. No one stands in the front of a room and screams, "I'm in charge here!!" if it's clear that they're actually in charge. Trust me, I was once a teacher. I know that feeling well. 

Jordan, a medical professional and a consummate realist, kindly deadpanned me: "Sweetheart, why are you surprised by this? This is how these people are. This has been going on for hundreds of years. It's disgusting, but it shouldn't shock you as much as it is. We have to accept this in order to deal with it. I'm sure, in a few hours, the President will tweet something vague and unsatisfactory. This is the way it is right now."

(A few hours later, exactly that thing happened.)  

I grappled with his response for the rest of the day. On the one hand, I felt like my reaction was born out of my allegiance with my brothers and sisters of color: I AM SHOCKED AND I AM UPSET ON YOUR BEHALF. LOOK AT HOW MUCH I CARE FOR YOU! 

But people of color aren't shocked by this. My ability to be surprised by the behavior of hundreds of white people shouting racially charged things is born out of privilege. I don't have to live in a world where I'm subjected to these sorts of realities. I get to skim the surface when I feel like it, and then turn off the TV. 

The way that Jordan sees the world - for what it is - is, in fact, a more progressive view than my own. What chance do we have of fixing things when every time they happen, the first few hours begin with crying on the couch? Sure, we all process in different ways, but I would argue that people of color don't have the luxury of couch-crying. There isn't time for that. There isn't space for that. And Jordan is right. This IS the way it is. The more quickly we acknowledge that, the more quickly we can get to the business of fixing it. 

--

Monday, one of my dearest friends texted me asking what we should be doing in the face of this mess. At 28, she's the principal of a high-performing charter school in Nashville that focuses on advancing children of color in that community to and through college. She is brilliant, accomplished, and generally sparkling. 

But she had no idea what the next steps were, and neither did I. 

"I feel lucky that my job is the answer to the question, 'What am I doing to help?', but if I didn't have this job, I would come up blank. Posting on Facebook doesn't seem like enough. So what is there to do if I don't want to be silent? There's the obvious 'be kind to everyone,' and the extreme, 'Join Teach For America!', but concrete actions in the middle are hard to identify. I don't think young white women like us really know how to be supporters. What do we do?" 

I told her that I totally agreed, and that I had no clue where to start. For the next four days, I collected every resource I could find from the Internet, watched every piece of footage I could, and started a list. 

--

- The first thing we can do is watch this 20-minute documentary on from Vice TV. It is really upsetting and really dark. We should all watch it to get a beat on some on-the-ground reporting, to get a grip on what a white nationalist sounds like, and to bear witness to what is actually up. 

- We as white people can stop asking people of color to tell us what we can do to help. I saw a well-meaning tweet from a former classmate of mine that went something like this: "Black people, please help me understand how I can engage in this movement." I totally understand where this was coming from, and I support fully the motivation behind it, but it puts an unfair responsibility on our friends of color to help white people find their role in the madness. If we rely on minority groups to help explain to us where we should be plugging ourselves in, that means that those folks have to explain this hundreds of times over. That's not their job to figure out for us. Being an ally means figuring it out. If you're curious (and I certainly was), you can check out Upworthy's most recent post or the Southern Poverty Law Center's article. Both are great and offer helpful, tangible ways to plug in. 

- Denouncing white nationalism the KKK is really easy. Speaking out against it, even in places that don't seem to matter (like on Facebook, where many of you will have found this very post), MATTERS. Putting that into the world MATTERS. Keep doing it. 

- We can "get to it" more quickly. We as white people can stop sidelining ourselves with emotion and move to action more quickly. Assume that we don't have that luxury. This IS the way it is. But this is not the way it should be. 

(Oh, here comes the part that I don't want to talk about.) 

The really hard part, the part I would like to leave out because it involves me doing some work on myself that I don't want to do, is finding a way to engage not only against the nationalistic behavior we've seen, but with it. No, I don't mean in favor of it.

I mean that calling these people and this behavior racist and anti-American is exactly the right move. But then what? Do we all just go to our corners and decide we aren't going to speak to each other again? What happens then? What kind of progress are we making? That kind of stalemate means prolonging the agony, the injustice, and the  kinds of misunderstandings that lead to violence, bigotry, and generations of racism. 

WHITE PEOPLE: This is our job. It is our job to go on Twitter and say this is wrong, but it is also our job to turn back into our homes and examine the racist structures within which we operate. It's our job to write something eloquent on Facebook, but it's also our job to respectfully pull our relatives aside at family gatherings after they've said something racially insensitive and have a conversation with them about it. We have to be policing ourselves, we have to be policing each other.

And in case there's a chance I'm misunderstood - I don't mean doing this with hate, with condescension, or with impatience. Every time I write a piece about race, I include the fact that the only reason I have gotten to this point in my own evolution of thinking is because many people along the way were patient with and gracious toward me. We HAVE to be gracious with others. 

We will not change a damn thing if the way we go about speaking to each other leaves one person in the conversation feeling talked down to, stupid, disrespected, or less than. Pride is a touchy animal and we are all guilty of letting it eat us alive.

We can't expect our brothers and sisters of color to shoulder the burden of confronting racist, aggressive white people about their racist, aggressive beliefs (even though, to our shame, those brothers and sisters often do whether they want to or not). The reporter in that Vice.com video linked above is white, and that's not an accident. Do you think this group would've ever opened up to a non-white person? This is our mantle. This is our job. We have an "in" and we must use it. 

If you are a person who's decided to shut down toward the bigots of the world and are using that as a form of protest, I beg you to reconsider. People, even people whose ideologies are terrifying and dark and the represent the worst in humanity, have been made into whatever it is that they are. What is done can be undone. Hate is taught, as Nelson Mandela reminds us - no one is born hating. If you are refusing to engage, but including phrases like "Love wins" in your Twitter bio, you (forgive me for saying so) are missing the point.

Who do you think are love's instruments? Other people?

No. It's US. It's EVERYONE. Opting out is not a form of resistance. It is a form of privilege at work. 

Radical love means that you must stay engaged - it means that we must reach across a line that disgusts us and learn how to understand and reconfigure an American Nazi. 

(That is a sentence I never ever ever ever thought I would type, ever.) 

Here is a fascinating article from Vox.com that will help with that. 

- Lastly, I humbly submit, though I know people will push back against this, that we have to stop wasting energy being outraged that the President isn't doing much in the way of working these issues out. My dad always says - "You can be upset by someone's behavior, you can be disappointed in someone's behavior, but after enough of a pattern has formed, you have to stop being surprised by it." This has nothing to do with politics or which way I happen to lean, and everything to do with paying attention to the behavior we've gotten from our President to this point: Stop being shocked. Stop expecting better. We aren't going to get it. I don't mean it isn't despicable for him to condemn violence on "all sides" - it is. But your lack of tweet about him, specifically, will not be missed. We are the solution. He clearly isn't going to help, so we must double down ourselves. 

-- 

In the two hours I've been up here, the fog burned away. The sky is a bright, nearly cloudless blue. I knew this would happen.

Tears are brimming in my eyes finishing this post; not because I think it's important for anyone else to read, but because typing it out has arrested me in a new way, as a person of faith and an American citizen. I'm newly committed to keeping my arms open; to resisting the urge to close down and bow out. 

We have to keep working against and alongside and within each other as we are called to each of these tasks. This is a complicated mess we've made. It's easier to break things than it is to repair them. Where there's a lot to lose, there's a lot to protect. There's a lot of work that must be done in order to shield this fragile thing called justice for all. It's going to take all of us. 

But isn't that the point? 

God, I hope so. 

Second Trimester Bumpdate

How are we already at 22 1/2 weeks?! This is cuh-razy!! 

So many big important things have happened in the last couple of months. Here are some highlights! 

Pure Barre/Exercise. 

Um, wowie. So, yeah. This has been quite an adjustment. 

I work at Pure Barre Asheville as an instructor and have for almost a whole year at this point. I absolutely love my job and get to help encourage and motivate the amazing clients there to be their best selves and own their fabulous bodies. This job has been great for me for so many reasons, and one of the biggies is the sweet community of female friends that I've formed there. It is such a joy to have so many women (lots of whom are moms themselves!) keep up with this pregnancy, ask about how I'm feeling, give me tips, and even knit me a baby blanket. I mean, are you kidding?? The best. 

Working at Pure Barre has also helped me feel like my body was strong. Prior to getting pregnant, I was taking 3-4 55 minute classes as week. Pure Barre targets your arms, thighs, seat, and (probably most important for me) core - so I feel like I had a bit of a home court advantage going into the pregnancy game because it's literally my job to work out. 

And THEN, my body fell apart.  

Not really. But it has been incredible to see just how quickly my muscles started to fatigue once I hit about 3 months. The Pure Barre studio is also literally surrounded by mirrors, so whether I'm teaching class or taking class, I have a 360 degree view of my changing body. Helllloooooo, self-consciousness! 

It was really easy to be tough on myself at first about how I thought I should be a little stronger, or a little thinner, as I went along. But I hit a point where I decided that whatever weight I gain just is what it is, and that I'll lose it afterwards! I think actually having a belly that showed really made a difference in how I was perceiving my body and my fitness level. I'm really learning to love my body in all its various shapes during this period of time, because, just like Christmas, there's a "reason for the season." This weight isn't from nowhere, it's because there's a human being in there who needs support! 

All that to say, Pure Barre has been incredible. It's so low-impact and is still keeping me as fit as I can possibly be (for ME - everyone's body is different, some people barely look pregnant at all! I'm not one of those). I'm really grateful to have a safe, healthy workout option that is good for me and good for this little corn on the cob. 

Maternity Clothes. 

I want to live the rest of my life in maternity clothes. Holy cow. They are THE BEST. 

I resisted buying them for a long time, thinking that somehow if I was still in my pre-pregnancy clothes, that meant I wasn't gaining too much weight. 

Oh, Mary Catherine, you big ol' dummy. 

Pregnancy clothes are a DREAM, people. Jeans with a belly panel that holds all your tummy junk in. Maxi dresses. Shirts that tie off right under your boobs and are otherwise floaty and delicious. This is a good world we live in, y'all. And because celebrities have made being pregnant trendy, gone are the days of our mothers' maternity clothes that made them look like giant walking confections. No way. Target and GAP have the cutest options and they're so very affordable. I even went to Forever 21 and bought out a bunch of their size L tops so that I would have something cute (and cheap) to wear and then donate or store! 

Check Up.

We had our "big" ultrasound last month and it was divine. The second trimester ultrasound is typically the one where you get to really see the baby for the first time (not looking like a thumbprint/random dot). And boy, did we ever. This sweet little baby's profile, feet, hands - it was really putting on a show for us! That appointment was the first time that I broke down in tears and truly realized that there is a brand new little life that is going to COME OUT AND BE AN ACTUAL PERSON I REALLY CAN.NOT. The technician did such a great job protecting us from the sex of the baby by turning the monitor around each time she got close to what we dubbed the "danger zone," so we're delightfully still in the dark about what we're having!

We got a hilarious piece of news from our doctor, which was that this baby is in the 93rd percentile of weight for its gestational age. In short, that means it is a monster. Which is unsurprising, because I was 9 lbs 14 ounces at birth, while my brother basically walked out of the womb at 10 lbs, 9 ounces, and 22 inches long. 

My poor mother. 

So it's possible that this little guinea pig will level out and quit growing like a maniac, but it's also possible that this baby will be born smoking a cigarette and speaking in complete sentences. Who even knows?? I'm weirdly proud of how big it is because of the precedent that my own mom set - someone pointed out that this is the first thing I'm bragging on my child about. So cute and SO true. Come on, Biggie!! Do yo' thang! 

Some random questions: 

How far along? 22 weeks, 23 on Friday. So 5 1/2 months. 

Total weight gain/loss: Oh, ya know, a casual 16 pounds. Maybe more at this point since that weight was recorded at my last doctor's appointment. 

Stretch marks? Newp. But according to my doc, those are mostly genetic, so it's not terribly contingent on how big you are/what you do to prevent. 

Maternity clothes? Helllllllllll YESSSSSSS. 

Sleep: Ugh. This is probably the only true tough part of pregnancy so far. I LOVE to sleep, and sleeping is starting to get pretty uncomfortable. I bought a body pillow that I love so much, but I also run hot while I sleep, so I get down to a Sophie's Choice between sweating at night and having back pain without the pillow. Poor Jordan is gonna turn into an ice cube by the time this is all over with. #sorryboutit 

Best moment this trimester: Oh man - best moment, hands-down, was seeing the baby open and close its hands on the ultrasound. I have never felt or seen anything like that in my life. Surreal, magical, and just that little movement gave me a tiny clue of how much I'm going to love this angel. 

Movement: Only ALL OF THE TIME. *thunk* *thunk* that is exactly what it feels like. I stopped mid-sentence sitting in our church pew yesterday because I couldn't believe how intense the movement was. It felt like the baby had cannonballed into my bladder. 

Food cravings: Mostly just garbage-y food. Shouldn't shock anyone. Anything with an intense flavor profile has really been delicious to me - things that are very tart, very salty, very sweet - love Popsicles, berries, orange juice, chips, cookies...yeah. So, just "food" probably should've been my answer. 

Anything making you queasy or sick: Nope. Bring it all. 

Have you started to show yet: YEAH! Gosh I wanted it to come for so long and now it is finally HERE. Jordan has really started to see that this is a real thing that's happening, and it's been really fun to see it through his eyes. I, of course, have been feeling totally different for months, but for him, it's all starting to gel.

Leakage: Um, no? And also this is the first time I’ve considered that this is a thing and now I want to die.

Gender prediction: I am firmly convinced that this baby is a boy. I've thought that since we found out, and all the wives' tales (ring on a string test, cravings, clear skin, lack of morning sickness) point to a big ol' boy. But who the hell knows? Could be either and I will be THRILLED either way. The "boy" feeling isn't a preference at all - just my guess, for whatever reason. 

Labor signs: Nope!

Belly button in or out? In.

Wedding rings on or off? On.

Happy or moody most of the time: Happy, but I'll tell ya what, the tolerance for BS in my life is at a dangerous low. I have a finite amount of patience these days and it is very particularly distributed. I don't feel mean at all, I just feel like...hyper-efficient. I suffer no fools. COME AT ME! (Just kidding, it's really not that intense, I basically just like for things to get done and get done right.) 

Weekly wisdom: Get up when you wake up. Trying to "sleep in" after tossing and turning from 5-7 AM doesn't make sense. You can always nap, girl. 

Milestones: Cleaning out the nursery and buying our crib and changing table; circling in on a few names that make me grin like an idiot (but we're keeping them all a secret!); seeing my baby shower invitation mock-up; Tom Hanks being extra cuddly because he knows a new member of The Snack Pack is quickly arriving (we've dubbed Tom Hanks as the pack leader of the small people, so his pack is now named "The Snack Pack); my parents visiting; celebrating our third anniversary with a baby on board; being at the lake with my best friends, one of whom is also pregnant; this little thang movin' and groovin' all over town! 

YEEHAW!! 

A Poem: Game Of Thrones, I Hate You; I Love You.

It was late in the week when a horrible scream
rang out out while my husband was watching TV.
"What the hell??" I said, panicked, expecting to find
Something awful had happened, like Tom Hanks had died. 

"Sorry!" Jordan winced, "Nothing is wrong,
I was just catching up - Game of Thrones is on." 
Rolling my eyes, I plopped down on the couch,
Hating this show and being a grouch. 

"Have you given it a chance?" he asked with sincerity,
Though watching this show is, for me, an act of charity.
"I watched Season One," I replied, unamused,
"Then I'd had my fill of torture and boobs." 

"Just see what you think. Here, this episode is ending,
give it a go. And at least we'll be spending
time together watching TV, 'cause you know
I can't watch the Housewives." "THAT'S NOT MY ONLY SHOW. 

But fine," I sneered. "I'll give it a shot. 
You've roped me into the world of GoT, 
But just for one episode." Then I proceeded
to watch dead, naked people, and good guys get cheated.  

The scene opened on a pack of mean, scary dogs
Eating a girl alive in the dense forest fog. 
I then watched two siblings have sex near a coffin - 
Not an anomaly! They do this quite often! 

An army attacked a small village and killed
A boy's mother and father, and because still
That wasn't enough, they ate them for fun. 
Ate them. As in, cannibalism. Not done! 

I grew attached to a character, then learned my lesson:
Your favorites will soon become delicatessen.
Sliced up like a sandwich tray. It's a guarantee:
You like them? They're dead now. Hooray! Whoopee! 

Some horrible child of the devil named Ramsay
Did awful things to some women, then later - WHAM! he
cut off this poor bastard's penis! For REAL! 
He did it with joy! He did it with zeal! 

I sat there in horror, mouth hanging agape,
"How many storylines on this show include rape?!" 
"I know," Jordan said. "It's awful. It's true. 
But the plot is compelling. It really stays with you." 

Leaving the room in a dignified huff, 
I swore off the show and any similar stuff. 
Jordan clicked "PLAY" on the next episode,
And I made sure my indignance apparently showed. 

And then something happened. I'm not proud to say
that I woke up, rolled over, and whispered, "Hey...
I don't want to watch it again, that's still true,
but real quick - what happened in Episode 2?" 

Sleepy Jord filled me in and I sat there enraptured
Amazed at the attention this dumpster fire had captured.
I couldn't stop thinking - consuming my thoughts
were dragons, The Hound, and whether Arya got caught. 

How had this happened?? Surely there was some cure. 
I couldn't care this much; my heart is too pure! 
"No," I thought, solemnly. "You're a person of principle.
...but what about The Mountain? IS HE invincible?!" 

After dinner, the dishes were cleaned and put up,
I casually wandered to the couch with my pup. 
"I'm not watching," I said. "I'm working on my computer." 
And secretly watched Sansa marry her suitor. 

Four episodes later, my lower back ached,
My eyeballs were dry and unblinkingly awake. 
"WHOA," I breathed out. "A hell of a season." 
"No kidding," said Jordan. "NOW you see the reason." 

Begrudgingly, I have to admit I was wrong. 
The fantasy nerds had it right all along. 
The gore and the sex and the torture and smut
Are too much, it's true, but it's not that clear-cut: 

If you turn up your nose at the thought of this series,
or hold fast to pacifist, feminist theories, 
I get it. I do. And all I can say
Is that my heart is still with you. Yet later today, 

I'll be on the couch, digesting my meal, 
Watching Jon Snow wield Valyrian steel. 
And later, I'll dream of those bone-chilling stalkers
I saw for the first time last episode: White Walkers. 

So hear this lesson, stay far away. 
Don't yield to the old "Just one episode," play. 
You'll find yourself falling in love with Khaleesi
And learn that resistance just isn't that easy. 

I have no self-respect. My dignity is gone. 
and yet, I don't care once the TV is on. 
Heed this eulogy, friends, be not deaf to its tones - 
My soul is now owned by Game of FREAKING Thrones. 

3 Years with Jord.

I love a special occasion. And this one, for me, is particularly special - it's the last anniversary I'll spend with my husband as "just the two of us." 

Next year at this time, we'll have a precious little 6-month old in our lives. And for the rest of our lives. Nothing will ever quite be the same for us, and while we're so excited, we're also treasuring this time together. 

There is no one I'd rather navigate this next step with, or in whom I have more confidence as a future dad. It completely melts my heart to think about Jordan stepping into a father role. What a lucky kid. 

I decided to share last year's post (as it still totally encapsulates how I feel about my angel husband) along with some wedding photos/videos by the amazingly talented Leslee Mitchell and Brittany Sturdivant of Love Be Photography, respectively. I just love looking back on this sweet day and looking forward to the future, but, today especially, I love standing right here, planted in this moment, holding hands with the man I married. 

8/2/16

It's pretty early in the morning. There is a dense fog hanging over the mountains - I can't see anything except the houses immediately across the street. I'm drinking a hot cup of coffee that my husband made for me, because he always does that when he wakes up before I do  (which is *cough* every morning *cough*). The only sound I can hear are birds chirping somewhere in the mist, and the "click click click" of my dog's feet as he wanders through the the house downstairs trying to figure out where I am. 

(He found me. He is now preventing me from writing this post because he wants to be in my lap. He is not a lap dog.) 

Okay, he's satisfied. Now sleeping at my feet. 

Confession: before I got married, I always thought it was kind of gross when people called their spouse their "best friend." 

That's your best friend? I thought. Don't you have real friends? Don't mix church and state. That's your spouse, not your friend. 

I vividly remember a conversation right before Jordan and I got married in which I told a girlfriend of mine in Memphis that Jordan was definitively NOT my best friend. He was my fiancé. To me, those were different. Jordan, on the other hand, was sure that I was his best friend. I felt a little guilty, but I stuck to my guns. Friends were friends. Husbands were husbands. 

Isn't it great to look back at yourself and think, "Wow, you were such a dummy. I'm so glad you learned some things!"? I think so. 

It took this move for me to realize that friendship - deep, understanding, soul-bearing friendship - is at the heart of a great marriage. And now, most days when Jordan leaves for work, I say, "I love you! You're my best friend!" And he still (thank goodness) returns the sentiment. 

Our first year of marriage was peppered with small challenges, most of them based in Jordan's residency and his countless hours of back-breaking work. Despite his schedule, it was certainly not a tough year, all things considered. 

This year hasn't been tough either - or, at least, it hasn't been unpleasant. But putting at least 5 hours between everything and everyone that's familiar to us has made the emotional roller coaster that is my life take dips and twists that are much more intense, much more thrilling and scarier, than ever before. Moving away is an adventure, but it also involves a little bit of mourning the life that you leave behind. 

This is my long-winded way (because, when it comes to me, is there any other kind?) of saying that I have never been more in love with my husband than I am today. 

This year, Year Two, Jordan has seen me at my most vulnerable and my least self-possessed. Not going to a job every day gave me time to think about what it is I'm doing on this planet, which, of course, led to a lot of self-doubt. In fact, this blog was born from such doubts and is my daily way of overcoming my fear of being unproductive. 

Through all of these moments - from the small triumphs of making a friend to the deep bowels of feeling profoundly aimless - my husband has been a rock. Well, really, he's been a rock, and a cheerleading shaker, and a bottle of champagne, and a laugh track, and a pillow, and a cool breeze, and a hiding place, and a safety net. Whatever it was that I needed. 

Jordan wakes up happy. He's kind to people, especially those he works with and those he works on. He's sharp as a tack, quick-witted, very funny - funnier than I am, to my deep chagrin (but secret delight - don't tell him I said so). Always playful. He's smart...scary smart. Steel trap smart. Want him on your team at pub trivia smart. He's no-nonsense and straightforward, solutions-oriented in a crisis. He's diligent, thorough, careful, confident. Perfectionistic in the best way. He finishes the DIY projects that I start and abandon. He regularly asks what he can do to help around the house even when he is bone tired. He says, "Thank you," for meals and clean laundry. He is empathic, motivated by helping people and animals who can't help themselves. Loves this earth. Experiences God in nature and doesn't understand the appeal of a city skyline, no matter how many times I explain to him that glittery lights are pretty. He's hard on himself and always improving, moving forward, in each of the roles he plays. He loves my friends. He is patient - good grief, is he ever - and long-suffering EVERY. DAY. He once housed his mother-in-law and his mother-in-law's dog for five straight weeks and didn't utter a word of complaint - instead, he walked through the door every afternoon and asked, "How are my girls doing?" Decent. Does the right thing. Doesn't take sick days. Doesn't complain. Always shows up. 

Look, we've all got problems and undesirable traits. Jordan, too. But if looking at someone's character is about what they do in the way of patience and kindness, selflessness and humility, celebration and cool-headedness (haven't I heard this somewhere before?), then he's got character spilling out of his pores. 

In Year Three, I will undoubtedly want to kill him at some point. And he will probably want to lock me in a room to let me run out all my energy like a five-year-old at a McDonald's Playplace. C'est la vie. It's part of the gig.

Over the course of me sitting at this computer, typing this post, all the fog has burned away. It's bright, sunny morning. I can see the mountains all around our house, wisps of clouds suspended in the air. It looks like a Bob Ross painting. My dog is snoring down the hall, where he moved to be closer to the air vent. Jordan just came up and asked if I wanted anything else. He meant coffee.

But the answer is, I don't. 

5 Things: Ways To Avoid Current Events Burnout

This has been an exhausting week in terms of keeping up with the world. Lots has happened. Lots has been really sad, disappointing, upsetting, and tough. I've felt a lot of anxiety around trying to inform myself about current events without allowing myself to become anxious or overwhelmed, which is not an easy combination. Here are some things that have helped me. 

1. Stay off/limiting social media. 

As much as it kills me to say, I have a Facebook problem. Many (most) of my friends have moved past this stage, but Facebook is still the website that I go to when I don't have anything else to do. Because of that, I find myself mindlessly scrolling through status after status - people's complaints, the products people are selling, photos of engagements and babies being born, etc. It's not all bad! But it is a LOT of input for one brain, especially when most of it is white noise. Reading about how the person who sat behind me in Algebra feels about the transgender ban in the military is not, in my opinion, a helpful way to process how I feel about it.

Twitter is another danger zone. This week, I found myself all spun up about John McCain's decision to vote "Yes" on the proposed healthcare legislation, only to find later that what he voted "Yes" to was to open the floor to debate the plan - not the plan itself (in fact, he voted "No" on the plan last night, so, ya know.). I am still unsupportive of this choice, but a series of fifteen angry tweets by my peers led me to believe that something more catastrophic had happened than had actually happened. This happens to me A LOT - allowing the opinions of others to work me up into a froth. Had I done my own research, I would've figured out what was really going on and saved myself the embarrassment of tweeting something dumb. 

2. Seek out credible news sources, and, even then, limit what you choose to read. 

If you've been following this blog for any length of time, you've probably heard me rave about theSkimm, which is a daily e-mail consolidating all the important sound bytes and news items of the day into a digestible, easy-to-read, ten-minute experience. 

But theSkimm is far from the only platform offering services like this: The New York Times has launched its own capsule daily news, as has NPR. Whatever news source you enjoy, it's likely that they'll start offering something similar. 

The reason this has been so effective for me is because I can't mentally and emotionally process a constant, day-long stream of opinions and updates about the world. Doing so makes me unproductive, depressed, and often keeps me from holding valuable perspective about what's going on vs. how big a deal it's being made into. Processing my information at once, every day, in the mornings, has made me able to retain more information and feel more confident, informed, and stable. I've stopped watching cable news completely and GOSH does that make a difference. 

3. Talk about it. 

Something about talking through tough issues with my peers or parents is helpful to me. I think being able to just verbally dump all my concerns on the people I love and then have them help me sort through it makes me feel like the walls aren't collapsing in on me. It's probably because I'm a verbal/written processor. I know that shocks you! 

Allowing other people into your head means you aren't alone in there. Holy hell, my head is a scary place sometimes. I bet yours is, too. Don't get trapped in there by yourself. Talk to your people. If your people are good ones, they'll help you make sense of it all. Things aren't as scary with a community around you. It's tribe mentality, and boy, does it work. 

4. Call your legislators. 

Oh, the instant joy that comes with hanging up after calling a legislator and leaving a voicemail for his or her aids to listen to later. Not impolite ones. Just normal, "Hey, this is how I feel, can ya let my boy/girl know?" sort of things. 

Y'all, people are passionate, but I'll tell you what does almost nothing: e-mails to your legislators. Facebook posts. Twitter rants. I'm not knocking these outlets on their own - often, you can get a lot of relief from either reading one or penning one of your own - but those things by themselves produce nothing but a momentary laugh, nod, or grimace from readers. It is so rare for a piece of writing to galvanize anyone to action without follow up of some sort. 

Calling your legislators and letting them know how you feel isn't just a way to blow off steam - it's actually part of our duty as citizens of this country. It digs way down to the bones of what makes America America. No march, no rant, no article, no 140 characters can do anything by itself. Keep calling, keep calling, keep calling. 

5. Remember that the 24-hour news cycle requires news. 

It wasn't so long ago that there were four channels and a hard stop to broadcasting every night that concluded with the national anthem. Since then, the monster of the 24-hour news cycle has been created. And it is HUNGRY. 

The mere fact of this neverending parade of news means that there has to be content to fill it, whether that content is meaningful or not. That might mean bringing so-and-so's ex-boyfriend's dog sitter on to offer her analysis of a situation, of bastardizing a truly tragic news story (like Charlie Gard), or reporting on content that no one is sure about yet for the sake of having something to put on TV. News media, it seems, cares less and less about credible sources and more and more about ratings. 

Fake News isn't just a thing that happens by clicking suspicious links your aunt posts on Facebook. I'd like to submit that Fake News can also mean stories about real events, but that those stories are inflamed and beaten to death to a degree that they mislead the public. It's just not responsible, and it's a product of the current need for news to be ALL THE TIME. 

So. Take a breath and step away from the computer if ya need to (I do). It's our job as consumers to CHOOSE what we listen to. I am terrible about having something "on" just for the sake of having noise in the background - I'm not even listening to it. Turn on some instrumental music. Sit in silence. If that's too much, flip on a white noise machine. But do SOMETHING to allow yourself a decompression every day, away from the noise of the world. Re-set. Otherwise, your brain might just become its own never ending newsfeed of anxiety-producing material that you just can't seem to get on top of.