Posts Tagged ‘there’s a first time for everything’

One year ago today we landed in Nepal.

We haggled (badly) with our first Nepali cab drivers, threw our overstuffed packs in the car, and set off toward an unknown address.

(Seriously – we had no real directions. We were just told by Umbrella to, “head toward the Monkey Temple.”)


We took so many narrow back roads that I wasn’t sure we weren’t being kidnapped – until I realized that those “back” roads were main roads, and “narrow” was all relative. Which was proven when another car careened around the bend toward us, managing to pass without clipping a mirror.

We arrived at the volunteer house, exhausted after two days of travel, but still ready to go out to our first Pub Quiz night to raise money for the organization.


When we got back to the house that night, had no electricity, and crawled into our separate, differently-leveled (but not bunk) twin “beds”, I don’t think we realized quite how much our lives were about to change.

Rather, I know I didn’t.


But I knew, without a doubt, that I had stepped out of my comfort zone.

And the adventure just got better from there.


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Recently I’ve been wondering where the time has gone.

There were times when it felt like it was taking forever to get pregnant in the first place.

And then, once we found out we were, that first trimester of not making it public seemed to drag on and on. How do you sit on a secret that big?

Then I hit the second trimester, regained some energy, started showing, and found out that the little tumbler inside my belly is a boy. Everything became a little more real, and even more exciting.

But now we have about 11 weeks left, and I’ve entered the freak-out stage.

I’m still excited, don’t get me wrong, but I’m also keenly aware that I will have a human coming out of my body just a little bit later this year. And I (and Husband) will be responsible for his life.

And, as I said to a friend who has two beautiful little girls, despite all my confidence and experience caring for other people’s children, all of a sudden I’m terrified that I’ll do it wrong with my own.

She assured me that babies are tough to mess up, and that parenting is a process, but still I worry.

  • I worry about breastfeeding (especially after reading this article).
  • I worry about having the “right” bottles or diapers or swaddling blankets – none of which I can test out before he gets here.
  • I worry about knowing how to take care of him and making sure we get him to all the appropriate check-ups and appointments.
  • I worry about becoming so sleep-deprived that I can’t focus on conversations, or so consumed that I can’t talk about anything else (kind of like I’m doing now).

I worry about many, many things, and then I worry about more.

But at the end of the conversation, Mom-friend said this:

You just have to come to terms with the fact that something is going to have to give. Your house might not be clean, you might not have clean underwear, and you might have stale bread – but you will have a happy home filled with people you love and so the rest doesn’t matter.

So, for the next 11 weeks, I will attempt to commit that to memory, and try to breathe and stay calm.

And I will also buy extra underwear. Just in case.

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Five years ago today I started my first (and current) big girl job.

I remember the feeling of getting up early and taking the metro into DC from Ballston.

I remember the outfit I wore.

I remember the welcome lunch I was taken out to – at a downtown restaurant that no longer exists.

I remember the newness of it all.

And while I may still be at the same job – a rarity for my age group – many more things have changed over those five years.

Five years ago…

…I thought that Ballston was close enough to DC.

…I didn’t have a blog.

…I hadn’t yet met Husband.

…I hadn’t even considered grad school.

…I hadn’t run one marathon, much less three in three months.

…to be fair, I hadn’t actually runĀ any races.

…I’d never flown through the airĀ – with or without a net.

…I wasn’t even close to being considered a local.

Now, I still wouldn’t consider myself a local – and I’m not quite sure when you get to that point – but I do consider this city home.

And that’s something else that I didn’t imagine happening five years ago.

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1. Find out if everyone is going tanning before the big day. If they are and you don’t want to, just be prepared to look like a ghost.


With a couple other bridesmaids - you can tell I didn't get the pre-wedding tanning memo...

2. Always make sure there’s booze in the bridal suite as you’re getting ready. The bride will thank you. Profusely. (Even if some of that booze is Mike’s Hard Lemonade.)

3. If you are wearing a floor length gown, try to convince the bride to let you get it hemmed so you can walk. If you can’t, be prepared to do a fancy kick-step maneuver as you walk down the aisle. Nobody wants a bridesmaid to go splat. (Okay, that’s probably a lie.)

4. Bring a date who can handle being on his own, takes awesome photos as you participate in the festivities, and won’t judge you as you scarf down the appetizers at cocktail hour because you haven’t had a chance to eat since breakfast.

5. In the end it doesn’t really matter if everything goes exactly according to plan, as long as the bride (and groom) is happy.

Mazel tov!

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Up until last night, I had never seen The Godfather.

I know it’s a classic. I know it’s been around for years. I know that I should have seen it earlier. But, better late than never, right?

My initial reaction after just the first scene was, did I see this already and forget? Because I knew every line, word for word. But, no. My memory’s shoddy, but it’s not that bad. The opening is just that famous – in its own right, as well as from being quoted in other movies, and any number of parodies.

“You come into my house, on the day my daughter is to be married…”

It also took me a while (or, at least, longer than it should have) to find Al Pacino. And frankly, at his first appearance, I could hardly believe it. When I think of Al Pacino now, I think of Devil’s Advocate. Not his best movie, perhaps, but one that comes to mind nonetheless. And in that movie? He creeps the hell out of me.

I suppose that’s only appropriate, considering he’s playing Satan.

But it’s more in the eyes. As Michael Corleone, Pacino doesn’t have the scary eyes yet. At least not in the first one – I’ll reserve judgment on the sequels.

Despite being thrown off by those things, I did thoroughly enjoy the movie. Was it a bit bloodier than I anticipated? Sure. Could I have done without the horse head? No question.

(Sorry if that was a spoiler. I was under the impression that I was the only one left who hadn’t seen it.)

But the best little surprise, that was a slight distraction from, you know, all that murder business? Young James Caan is HOT. I just had no idea. I watched most of the movie thinking that the DVD jacket was labeled wrong because there’s no way that the same actor played Sonny Corleone and Walter Hobbs (aka, father of Buddy the Elf).


Leave it to me to watch a Mafia movie, a classic, and come away with that.

My powers of observation are astounding.

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