Today was the first day I ever took both kids to the pool by myself. I started packing at 7:00am. We were gone all morning, but the cooler, pool bag and stroller were packed for when we were to finally end up poolside by lunchtime. My husband gets half day Fridays in the summer. It’s nice.

My pool babies were wonderful…until they weren’t. I think these texts between he and I speak for themselves:

Note the photo of the 3-year-old mid-tantrum. Can you hear the baby screaming in the background of that photo? I can. The pool is awesome…until it isn’t. Happy freakin’ summer, ya’ll.

To My Husband On Our 9th Anniversary:

We’ve been married nine years today. It’s not a big anniversary. We agreed to not really do anything to celebrate. We are not jumping out of a plane like we did on our first anniversary. We’re not doing Vegas like we did on our fifth. No, we’re cooking dinner and folding laundry. We’ll watch a show on the DVR. We whispered “Happy Anniversary” this morning when we heard the baby fuss and the 3-year-old demand our attention.

Today we’ll likely be passing ships as we are so many days. We’re sailing the sea of everyday life together. We talk about money, work, the house and kids like so many other couples. There are marvelous things in our ordinary life that make me love you more than I did nine years ago.

You have to know that there is not a day that passes that I don’t appreciate us as friends. Best friends. When I was away with my girlfriends a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but text you about the score of the NCAA tournament. I wanted your opinion on the game. I wanted to hear your funny observations and witty comments. While I was enjoying myself with my friends, part of my heart was with you at home. Last night I smiled when you watched Dance Moms with me and I heard you say, “Oh! Yeah. I mean, Kristy is totally right about that one!” Yes, I just told the Internet that you watch Dance Moms. Sorry. But, I like watching it with you.

I love that we intensely discuss what houses we would be sorted into at Hogwarts. I love that we watch every ESPN 30 for 30. We plan our worldwide future vacations that are only dreams right now. I love that you get excited for our daughter when there is a new episode of Sofia The First on Disney Junior. You fetch pacifiers and bring me drinks when I’m trapped under a baby on the couch. Most of all you support my goals and honor my needs. I only hope I’m doing the same for you.

I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the life we’ve built together. You are everything I want in a best friend.  You make an ordinary life exceptionally wonderful. Thank you. Happy Anniversary.

Happy week after Easter! Or as I affectionately call it, “Ham Sandwich and Egg Salad Week.” I love Easter. I always have. I should say I love it because it’s the holiest day in the Christian calendar. It’s the day we commemorate Christ rising from the dead on the third day…blah, blah, blah. Our salvation…yadda, yadda.

I really love it for the clothes and the food. Sorry, it’s true. Ya’ll be sure to say an extra prayer for my heathen soul. Oh yeah, we also got engaged on Easter Sunday. That’s another reason I love it. My parents got engaged on Easter Sunday too, which was way more adorable before their contentious divorce. I digress.

You get to eat chocolate in the morning before church. There are dresses with sashes and seersucker bow ties. The family smiles in front of the azalea bushes for pictures. The ham is salty and sweet. Put it between a biscuit? Only if it’s hot and buttered, baby! Then there’s the chocolate eggs. Oh, sweet Cadbury, those are some scrumptious eggs!

One day I want my kids on the lawn of the White House for the egg roll. Can’t you picture Michelle Obama and I chatting about J Crew dresses and exercise for chubby kids while Malia and Sasha help Charlotte and Henry with their eggs? I can. The White House egg roll is kind of a bucket list thing for me. That, and eating a meal prepared by Chef Gordon Ramsay. Don’t judge! It’s my bucket list. I digress.

Easter this year was so wonderful! My sister and brother-in-law brought my nephew to spend three days with us. We may or may not have taken pictures of the baby boys in matching bunny ears. Remind me to bust those pictures out for their prom dates. That emasculation may delay their attempts at a prom night sexual conquest. There I go, digressing from Easter again. Sorry, Jesus!

Something that made this year extra special was Charlotte and Henry’s Easter clothes. My mom saved a dress that my Grandma hand smocked for me and I wore Easter 1985. My sister and cousins had matching outfits. We couldn’t find the bonnet, because I would have made Charlotte wear it. Not for long, though. No one likes stuff tied under their chin. I’m the tallest kid in the green.

Charlotte wore the dress on Sunday.

Greyson’s mom saved an outfit he wore as a baby, likely in 1975.

I was overwhelmed with happy, warm love this weekend. Seeing my babies in these outfits was so special. I joke around, but I really love Easter because of family, tradition, faith and renewal. I hope your Easter was happy. Let me know if you know how to get on the White House invite list.

They say your children teach you more than you teach them. I’m starting to believe that.

Recently my daughter was belting out the “Alphabet Song,” which she charmingly calls “ABCDEFG.” She barely took a breath before starting “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I think she learned a Russian or Slovak version as she says “Tvinkle, Tvinkle.” So worldly.

My husband pauses. With realization dawning on his face he says, “Whoa! Do ‘ABC’s’ and ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ have the same melody?!” I looked at him funny and replied, “Um, yeah, you didn’t know that?”

I’m no composer, but I have two ears.

Last week I was changing the baby’s diaper. He’s finally getting over a nasty cough. I was making the switch from dirty diaper to clean when he coughed.

Ya’ll. They moved.

I gasped and nearly jumped back from the changing table. Realization dawned on me. I said to my husband, “Oh, my God! That’s why they have  you guys turn your head and cough!” He looked at me funny and said, “Um, yeah, you didn’t know that?”

He’s no urologist, but he has two balls.

The news that former American Idol runner-up and Raleigh native, Clay Aiken was running for congress in North Carolina brought a smile to my face yesterday. I watched him in numerous TV interviews during his media blitz. His red hair, familiar native twang and sparkly eyes reminded me of another time. A quirky phase I went through in my life.

I have already voted for Clay Aiken. Oh, yes. I was one of millions who voted for him back in 2003. My roommate and one of my dearest friends, Sara and I shared an apartment near campus. I was 21. I turned 22 that summer. We were college seniors who were just a summer semester away from graduating when we watched every episode of American Idol. Okay, I made Sara watch every week because I was captivated by this kid from my home city.

He had a nice singing voice. We were just two years apart in age. I knew some people he knew and he just seemed like a really nice guy. I loved seeing a hometown kid succeed on the nation’s most popular show. I joined the message boards and encouraged Clay support with my AIM icon. I bought the Rolling Stone magazine with his picture on the front and made Sara go to a Kelly Clarkson/Clay Aiken concert with me where I may or may not have bought a t-shirt. I understood why girls were all about him. He was non-threatening and charming. Unlike some of the “Claymates” however, I was not surprised when he came out a few years later after his fame from the show had faded. I was happy for him that he felt like he could say that he was gay and be who he was.

Am I a little embarrassed of my silly infatuation in 2003? Of course. I was a little too old for that. But, I think the reason I had a summer fling with Clay Aiken was that subconsciously I was clinging to my last bit of lighthearted, teenage fun. Voting for a contestant on a reality show was a welcome distraction from my first real-world scary, frustrating job search. That was the summer I ended my internship, finished my final classes of undergrad and had interviews for a real jobs at TV stations. That was the summer I said goodbye to my college friends and moved back home with my parents because that’s where the job was and I had no choice but to face the startling, adult reality that I had no money and no where to go. Little did I know, when summer turned to fall I would fall in love with the man who would eventually become my husband. I quickly left the room at my parents house for an apartment I shared with him. Stashed in that girlish closet were old prom dresses, sorority photos and even a Clay poster taped to the inside of the door where no one would see the evidence of my fandom.

Me and my husband in Oct. 2003

Yesterday, the 32-year-old woman that I am now rocked the baby and wiped the nose of the three-year-old I have with that same man I met the year Clay Aiken became famous. I reminded my husband that he went with me to see Clay at the NC State Fair and the Raleigh Christmas Parade back then. He laughed and rolled his eyes telling me that he must have really been in love to have done all of that. We watched one of his interviews  last night and listened to his views on issues he wants to address as a potential congressman.

I can’t vote for or against Clay this time. I live one district away, but I wish him luck and thank him for bringing back memories of a funny, fleeting time in my life. I wondered how his political career would pan out and wondered if I would remember the day he announced he would run for office. I think this may be a funny, fleeting time in my life too. It is the first week of my life as a stay-at-home mom. I’m sure I’ll look back fondly.

Good luck Clay. While you campaign to get voters to mark your name on a ballot, I will always remember when Ryan Seacrest campaigned for you and I called a 1-866 number over and over, just to be a silly girl for just a few months longer.