Mortified Doesn't Even Begin to Cover It

My mother dates like a 13-year-old girl: quickly, cyclically, too serious too fast and like every man is "the one." 

So a month ago when she casually mentioned she was going on a date with a man from Idaho I pushed it aside.  Because it's not unusual for her to say something like that.  A week later she mentioned him several times on a shopping trip we took with Marie.  Later that night when Rochelle and Becca joined us for dinner she mentioned him again.  And that's when Becca asked if he was her boyfriend and my mom said yes.  Like I was supposed to have figured it out or asked or something.  No.  You should just be like, "oh hey, that guy?  Boyfriend."  It's not a guessing game.  You should never play that.  You should also never play the guessing game about whether or not you're pregnant, either, because that leads to uncomfortable interactions.

I casually asked her two weeks ago if she was going to see him over the holidays, which was when she let me in on the fact that he was joining us for Christmas dinner AT MY HOUSE.  She did not ask.  She told.  She didn't even tell; she mentioned.  Like this:  "oh he's got the kids on Christmas Eve so he'll be here Christmas afternoon and evening."  We were conveniently celebrating at my place.  Luckily that fell through.  But after Christmas dinner she casually asked when my day off was this week and when I told her she said that we would get together for dinner on that day so I could meet Jeff.  Like hell.

Here's the thing:  Momma's been engaged three times since my parents divorced 9 years ago.  There was Eric, and then some creep named Ray and then some guy named Richard about two years ago that I never met.  But if you throw in the guys she thought she was going to marry then you also need to include Glade and the super weird Kevin.  And probably this old man from my old ward, Gary.  If your mom got around as much as my mom you too would not be inclined to meet every man that she was into for a week.

So when I wasn't even given a choice about meeting Jeff Grubbs with 9 children and a neck that doubles as a chin, I was livid.  Obviously.  I asked Blake to go with me, as I was picking him up from the airport that night anyway.  He wisely declined, so I asked Rochelle, who is a saint, and she agreed.  I told my mom that I was worried about the roads after all the snowy weather we've had.  We met up at the Applebee's where Rochelle says that I said less than 10 words to Jeff Grubbs.  Uh, yeah.  Why would I want to get to know a man that my mom has been dating for three weeks?  Here today, gone tomorrow.  He asked me one question before moving to the topic of how he and my mom wrote to each other via email for a month (8-9 page emails) where they told each other all of their secrets.  It doesn't take a bff to learn my mother's secrets.  She will willingly tell anyone.  So you, Mr. Jeff Grubbs, are not special.  Then he told me that he wanted to do something special for my mom seeings how it was her birthday and all and put his hand toward his pocket, at which point my mom came back to the table from the bathroom.

And that's when I knew.  I needed to vomit or slice my wrists or pull the fire alarm or grow a third nipple faster than Rochelle could down her glass of water. 

After a few minutes Rochelle went to the bathroom and I was left with my mom and Jeff Grubbs.  At which point he told her he wanted to give her something special and she told him that the pistol was enough (WTF!  When were guns an acceptable gift to a woman you've known for three weeks?  WHEN HAS MY MOM EVER WANTED A GUN?!?!?).  Then he pulled something out of his pocket and left it under his hand and I knew exactly what it was and I was tempted to yell "PUT THAT BACK!" but instead started avoiding direct eye contact and drinking my water like it was a glass of bourbon putting me in a state where I would not remember anything the next morning.

He asked my mom if she wanted the special something.  She said yes.  At which point he slid the ring box over to her across the table at an Applebee's with me wanting to have myself committed across the table.  She opened it.  Looked at it.  Didn't say much.  Jeff casually remarked "I was wondering if you would marry me" and my mom said "you've got to be kidding" and then "are you sure you won't change your mind?  Because others have" and I started gulping my water hoping it would drown out everything around me.  She put the ring on, whispered she'd think about it, and Rochelle came back to the table.

No one said anything.  It was totes awkward.

On the way out Jeff Grubbs went to warm up the car and my mom walked me and Rochelle to Petey, Blake's trusty steed.  She asked what I thought and I said something along the lines of "I mean, you should think about this a lot" which is code for "RUN AWAY!"  She said that he had treated her really well and she liked the way things were going.  I said "for the three weeks that you've known him?" and she said "we wrote to each other before that."  Like they've seen each other without their nice faces on in the three weeks that she's known him in person while living in different states.

Jeff Grubbs is not my daddy.  I do not need another 9 step siblings.  And I definitely do not need to be sealed to someone my mom has known for three weeks before taking the plunge.

Why get a job or a college degree when you can marry Jeff Grubbs and take care of him and all of his children while cooking and cleaning all day long? 

Gag me with a dirty baby diaper.

How to Have the Best Bachelorette Party

A.  Go to The Madison on a Tuesday night--no cover charge.
B.  Wear something sparkly:  sequins in the pattern of a cheetah, disco eyeshadow or a wide neck sweater with silver thread.
C.  Sit at the bar.  Ask the bartender wearing the name tag "Gato" for a Shirley Temple.
D.  Down the entire pint that he has given you.  The quicker the better.  Get a stomach ache.  Eat the cherry.  If you don't eat the cherry then feed it to your friend from the end of your straw.
E.  Most likely a semi attractive man will come over to your group of sparkly hott ladies.  He will slide over next to your best friend that no one is good enough for (in your opinion because she's awesome) hoping that he can get her tipsy because she could be even more fun that way.  She will respond with "Shirley Temples" and he will get flustered and ask, "what, there's not a shot of vodka in that?"  You will claim that really he just wanted a pink drink, because pink is in these days.  Especially in beverage form.
F.  Talk loudly about the forthcoming loss of virginity.  Or of your period.  Or your beliefs that all great foreplay starts with dancing.
G.  This will cause the dozen other people at the bar to stare at you.  Including a pair of women.  One of those ladies will come up to you telling you that her friend dared her to ask you something crude, but she wasn't going to ask so please just look offended for comedic reasons.
H.  Insist that she ask you the question.  She will, and it will be something along the lines of "my friend and I heard that someone over here just lost their virginity and we were wondering which one of you it was."
I.  Misunderstand what she said.  Think that she was shocked that there were virgins in your party.  Proudly group the two other virgins in the group and say "the three of us!"  She will be really shocked and your friend will deny it.  Because you are proud of your virginity say that your friend is lying.  When the stranger says that they guessed it was your friend denying everything, get really excited because you think that she thinks that someone wanted to have sex with you (as that's why you wouldn't be a virgin). 
J.  When she leaves and your friends explain that you got the whole situation wrong and that you made it sound like you and two other people lost their virginity at the same time get really awkward.  And then realize that they thought you were a virgin all along and let the reality set in.
K.  Mend your wounds by reminding yourself that the theme of the night is "Lower Your Expectations."
L.  Pay the bartender.  Then get on the platform in the middle of the room with all the couches on it.
M.  Take fun pictures with your friends.
N.  Try to take a group picture.  Rambo who wanted your pink drink will have been watching you (along with everyone else at the bar even though you are now behind them) and will run, jump onto the three foot platform, grab the camera out of your hands and insist on taking the picture for you. 
O.  When he wants you to look like you're having a good time, try to pose like a cheetah to match your sequined shirt.  He will mistake you for a raptor.  He will tell you that the raptor looks good.  Everyone should make a raptor face.  Picture taken.  Rambo who likes a good pink drink will leave.
P.  Dance.  Like no one is looking.  Because they are looking and the only way to actually get the courage to dance will be to pretend that they are not looking. 
Q.  Frame your face.  It's lame but you'll think it looks good.  Also, get bootylicious as much as possible.  Attempt a lift from Dirty Dancing.  Have your friend slide across the coffee table.  Try to catch her if it looks like she'll fall off.  Do your best imitation ballet moves.  Maybe get freaky with a post.
R.  Hopefully a man with an umbrella will approach you on the platform.  He will say "all you ladies look real good."
S.  You will realize that if you ever want to feel like the star of your own life, or just want to feel good about yourself, then you should go to a bar.
T.  After dancing you should leave.  Quickly.  Because you have all made fools of yourselves.  But have had the best time doing it.  And everyone else will feel like they got a bargain because they got a free show while having their drink.  Which is great because you were the most ridiculous people in the bar and the only ones not drinking, Gato excluded.
U.  Maybe go to McDonald's.  But don't get Happy Meals because they suck.  Seriously, you get like four fries.  Instead order a McDouble and some chicken nuggets.  Maybe a hot fudge sundae if you're feeling lucky.  Which you will be because you just had

The Best Bachelorette Party of Your Life.

My Life Story: Mormon Prom

When I was a senior in high school our stake became involved in a regional Mormon Prom.  It sounded like fun and I was kind of excited for it until more details were released:  you had to be 16 (not a problem) and you had to go with a date.  Period.  No exceptions.

This created a scurry.  For those of us that wanted to go but hadn't been asked our kind Young Women's leaders put us on the dreaded "list."  They took this list of all the eligible, desiring ladies and strong armed the young men into taking us.  I was terrified.  It was a set up with another undesirable, who also couldn't find a date.

Then the very, very unexpected happened.  One day my mom had gone to Brother Stanton, my old seminary teacher, to do her taxes.  That evening the phone rang and it was for me.  His son, Aaron, was on the phone.  We were the same age, went to different high schools and were both on water polo and swim teams.  We both liked The Aquabats and had gone to one of their concerts together when we both won tickets to a show.  He asked me if I was going to Mormon Prom, and dejected I told him that I wanted to, but that it didn't look like that was happening.  He then asked me, and I said yes.  I was excited, not because I was going with him, but because I was no longer on "the list."  And then I put two and two together and realized that it was interesting that my mom had seen his dad that day.  And so I confronted her about trying to set me up.  She insisted that Brother Stanton had brought it up by asking if I was going.  He said that he had talked to Aaron about it and asked him who he wanted to go with.  Aaron had told him that he just wanted to go and have fun with someone he knew he had fun with and that the only person he could think of was me.

Sounds sweet, right?

The awkwardness began, and it was not all in my head, I guarantee you.

Aaron called and asked me if he could wear a pink tux.  I did not care so I told him he could.  I asked my mom to do my hair (isn't this a thing?  For moms to do hair?) and apparently she didn't get it, because she put my hair in a twist and stuck some butterfly clips randomly through my hair.  It looked like a 10-year-old in the mid 1990s had thrown up on me.  She had also made my prom dress and because she waited to finish it the back scrunched up a lot on me.  Apparently I have a short torso.  And then Jacob wanted to buy something at Walmart so she had to take him which meant that I was all alone when Aaron came to pick me up. 

I opened the door and there was Aaron in his baby pink tux.  His dad was there wearing a beret.  He asked where my mom was and I said she wasn't home.  He got kind of awkward and said that he would take pictures for her, too, then.  Brother Stanton pinned my corsage on me and walked us to the car. Aaron and I got in the backseat and from that point on Brother Stanton only spoke French, which I do not speak.  At some point Aaron started talking about girls that he was interested in.  Including one named Aubrey who he couldn't wait to reach her sixteenth birthday.  He talked about a few other girls and I finally leaned toward his dad and asked him if it concerned him at all how girl crazy his son was.  He said, in English, that it did not.

When we got to the Reagan Library we toured around a bit.  All my friends from Oxnard had dinner together beforehand at the church so I didn't recognize anyone.  There were a lot of people from Camarillo that Aaron knew and as they talked to him none of them acknowledged that I was standing there, too.  We sat down to eat at a table with some... interesting people, including Heather Davis that was there with her list matchup, the older brother of Aubrey.  When Aaron went to the bathroom I found myself alone at a table with no one I knew, so I got up and walked over to a table with people I recognized from the Spanish wards, including Nicki, who was not from the Spanish ward.  I felt comfortable with them and at one point someone pointed over at Aaron and commented that my date looked lost.  He had come out of the bathroom and was standing by where we had been sitting staring down at my chair like he was confused about me turning invisible or shrinking or something.  I went over and sat back down with him. 

Then someone started playing a violin and singing songs from Phantom of the Opera.  He asked me to dance with him, which was slightly weird because only Heather Davis was dancing.  After a song the real DJ started playing some music and Aaron continued to dance.  Which worried me because I knew that I was not a dancer.  So I did the side-step-clap for about two songs while panicking about being alone with Aaron while dancing.  And then my saving grace came in the form of Marie and Tati. 

Marie and Tati had their own awkward prom experience.  Trying to save them from "the list" our friend Aaron Sawyer, who was dating Ashley at the time (who wasn't able to go to Mormon prom), decided to take both Marie and Tati so they could fill the requirement of having a date.  When the ward organizers heard Aaron's plan they nixed it FAST.  They demanded that either Tati or Marie go with someone from "the list," which unfortunately had dwindled down to only Mark Cosper, who was literally the biggest creeper in the stake.  I'm also pretty sure that he and my brother kissed while he was dating my best friend at the time and there were some allegations that he abused his siblings.  Sexually.  That kind of creepy.  Tati sacrificed herself because Marie was quiet and kind and no one wanted to see her stuck with Mark.

When they entered the room I ran to them.  I danced with Marie and Tati and Aaron, who wasn't the best of friends with my wardie friends, just jumped around the whole room like he was in a mosh pit at a rock concert.  So that ultimately worked out for me.  At one point while we were dancing, creepy Mark came around to Marie and tried to dance all up on her (Tati and I did our best to keep him away).  Then he looked at her and said, a little too audibly, "you have a nice butt."  WHAT THE FREAK?!?!!   Who does that?  Marie held her own, though, and replied with something like, "you can't say that to me!" 

Near the end of the night everyone was getting ready to go and talking about going to the after party at a house in Camarillo.  I wanted to go with my friends but Aaron didn't seem to want to go.  So as his dad drove me back to my house I made plans with Tati for her to call me so she could pick me up.  But then Brother Stanton dropped us off at In 'N Out for milkshakes.  In 'N Out was in Camarillo and filled with people coming back from the prom.  And they all recognized Aaron and talked to him and left me out.  I had also tried to hold open the door for Aaron to be polite and egalitarian and he refused to go in while I held the door.  It was seriously awkward. 

On the rest of the drive home I started to feel a little weird and crampy.  As I exited the car I distinctly saw a brownish spot on the seat where I had been sitting.  I had started my period.  I was embarrassed and ashamed so I said nothing and walked quickly to the door with Aaron.  We hugged goodnight and I walked into the livingroom.  Jacob was online which tied up the phone so Tati couldn't get a hold of me.  I waited up for awhile and then finally went upstairs where my suspicions were confirmed.  There was a blood stain on my bum. 

In the morning I was awoken by my mom who excitedly wanted to show her best friend the dress she made for me.  I cringed hoping that they would not discover my feminine mistake.  Luckily, they did not.  If I believe correctly the dress is still stained and hanging in my closet.

Guest Birthday Blogger: Marie

I know this is past due (so no need posting it) but I wanted to make sure you knew how much I love you.  I’m not the best with words and expressing myself so this gives little justice to how important you are to me, but I hope you enjoy reading it. 

How did we meet?

We grew up in the same place (good old Oxnard) though we didn’t really become friends until my senior year of high school when you invited me over to your house after cleaning the church.  I got very excited about your punching bag and went a little crazy on it.  For some reason this impressed you so we began to hang out at your house pretty much every weekend since then.

What is your most memorable Jessica moment?

There are oh so many.  The first time you farted in front of me.  It was in the empty theater halls of Provo Town Center and it was super loud and echoed.  The time we ate all those Reese’s at your house and you blamed it all on me.  All the late nights talking in our (separate) beds.  Those late nights when you would go crazy and keep me up all night.  All the many wonderful and delicious meals and desserts you have shared with me.  Our great Christmas cards.  Our road trip to Oxnard together.  The time you lied to me about online dating and then you left the house with two different shoes on.  There are lots more and lots more to come…

Why are we still friends/why do you read my blog?

We have often pondered this.  We seem so different it seems strange that we even became friends.  But I am so glad we did.  I don’t know what I would do without you.  As can be attested by all your guests bloggers you are an amazing person and an amazing friend.  You don’t give yourself enough credit.  We are different in a lot of ways, but I can’t talk to anyone like I can talk to you.  You are always trying to step up and help me anyway you can when you can see that I am stressed out and overwhelmed. Even though I am not the best at letting you do so you always find ways to help.  I agree with everything everyone else has said.  You are hilarious and also make me feel like I am funny.  You are so domestic and I always reap the benefits.  You have such a kind and open heart for those you care about.   What can I say, you are the best roommate and friend I have ever had! Like you like to say we are each others surrogate spouse (in other words wesbian wovers) (Plus who else would you live with if I weren’t around)

Even though you usually always tell me your stories before you write them on your blog I still read your blog because you are a great writer and so darn funny.  

Word of advice/hopes for the future/birthday wishes/last thoughts/anything else?

You can be the best! And I hope you know how great you already are!

 I don't think that anyone would try to convince me that someone besides Marie is my best friend.  You just can't.  It's not possible.  There's no contest.  Marie was always quiet, not necessarily shy, just quiet.  So when she punched that punching bag it was like a whole new person that I had never seen before.  That's what impressed me, not some sort of physical show of strength.

Marie and I had lived together for about a year and a half when we had a really awkward bed time conversation.  She admitted that I was her best friend but that she knew she wasn't mine.  This really bothered me.  She was completely right but it didn't make sense.  We got along really well.  We did almost everything together.  I told her everything.  Why wasn't she my best friend?  I think part of me thought that because we were so different that she just couldn't be.  This changed rapidly.  Within six months she was my best friend and she has been since then.

Marie has literally heard me cry about everything.  She is a saint.  One of the most touching moments happened on my 20th birthday.  I had just talked to Jacob on the phone and he told me that my mom was mad at me and was not going to call to wish me happy birthday.  I started sobbing.  As I told Marie what happened she had tears in her eyes as she told me that she had burnt my birthday cake.  In that moment I saw how good of a heart she really had.

Marie is my surrogate spouse.  When I see her at home I literally want to tell her every little thing that happened to me since I last saw her.  I want her to try everything I cook so she can tell me how good it is.  If she's not home by her usual time I start to worry and want to text her to see if she's okay.  I want to help her whenever she's stressed but I don't always know how.  And I tend to complain that her interest in sports gets in the way of our relationship.  She listens to me very diligently.  And she gives some pretty nice hand massages.

Marie has single handedly been my biggest support over the last five years.  She has acted as my family when my family wasn't up for the job.  In return I have fed her and helped her be a bit more touchy.  She is a genius, and after me, she is the funniest person I know.  I worry constantly that I don't mean as much to her as she does to me, as seen by my self consciousness while she was in DC and my recent dream about her telling her DC friends that she was engaged before telling me. 

At the risk of being too tender or too kind (as I tend to cry easily when talking about how much I love and depend on Marie) I will end simply by saying that even if Marie hates animals and would never let me own one, I will be content to live out my old maidenhood with her instead of a pet.  Although I rather hope that someone of the male sex will recognize how wonderful she is and will love her and marry her instead of her being stuck with me.

Guest Birthday Blogger: MaryAnn

I had always wanted a large family. Jason was toddling around and every time I felt sick to my stomach, I inwardly prayed that I was pregnant, I wanted another baby so badly. Once I was certain I was pregnant as the nausea lasted over a week. Month after month I was disappointed. I don't recall now when I discovered I was pregnant with you. I most likely purchased a pregnancy test. Your dad was self-employed, so we had no insurance. So... I didn't get to a doctor. The business wasn't doing as well as your father hoped, so he felt moving to where a shop rental would be cheaper was the plan. There were friends of the Callahan’s who lived in upper state New York on a huge farm with lots of empty buildings. They had hay fields and a small family garden, but it was no longer the milk cow farm it had been in the past. They agreed to let your father use some space. So we loaded up the truck and moved to Mechanicsville, New York. We rented the 2^nd story apartment of a two-family dwelling, just as the heat of the summer was kicking in. We had one vehicle, a truck your dad used for the business – our customers were still in Massachusetts. So... more often than naught, your dad was gone with truck delivering the repaired pallets and gathering up more to bring back and repair.

I was alone with nothing but Jason, a Husky your dad insisted on getting (named Pepsi) and a bicycle. I had a washer and dryer to do laundry, but quarters and change were still cherished as I was usually gathering up all I could find to buy milk and bread for me and Jason. I would put Jason in the child carrier and strap a back pack on my back, and 6 months pregnant, ride the bike in the humid summer heat through the rural town and up and over the overpass to a major highway, to get to the nearest grocery store to buy the bare essentials to keep the two of us fed until more money arrived from a paying customer. We couldn't afford to pay taxes and the IRS came after us. Once, they drained our bank account of all the cash, your dad was out of town and needed gas to get home and the truck payment was due. It proved more than we could handle and didn't see a way to survive the loss of funds.

Your dad decided to check with a recruiter and find out if he could re-enlist. He was told if he was out 36 months, he couldn't re-enlist. The very next “boot camp” for returning military was at his 35 month mark – it was that session or not at all. So he took it. He went to Great Lakes, IL for a few weeks and when he returned with orders to Port Hueneme (at my insistence – I refused to be in Mississippi alone with 2 young children while he deployed). We loaded up all our possessions again and prepared to move back to California where we'd moved from just three years earlier. We went to Massachusetts first to say “Good-bye” to the Callahan’s When we went to drive off, Grammie almost refused to come out and see us off, when she did, she was sobbing, “I'm never going to see my grandson ever again!” We made the 3000 mile drive in a U-haul: Your dad, me and Jason in a car seat in the cab.

When we got to Oxnard, we stayed with my parents until we could find a place to rent as the waiting list for military housing was months long. I got a doctor's appointment, finally at more than 6 month's pregnant – I got quite the scolding from the doctor but tests showed you were healthy and fine and set a due date for around the first week of November. Your dad was set to deploy about that same time (sorry, exact dates escape me.)

I can tell you now and to no surprise (I'm sure) to you – you have had a mind of your own from the very beginning. Being pregnant with you was interesting to say the least. With Jason the first half was plagued with morning sickness, vomiting almost like clock work, and nausea in the evenings. The second half was plagued with heart burn – which I'd never before experienced and had to find out Rolaids offered instant relief after weeks of suffering. You? I had mostly the morning sickness with a little bit of heartburn, to my relief (no pun intended – well okay, maybe it was.) You were very entertaining too. You got the hiccups – a LOT. Grant was on a mission but Kenneth and Gerald were frequent visitors (they appreciated my cooking even back then.) We used to sit and watch and wait to see my belly jump when you got the hiccups. They were fascinated – me... not so much! I described it as not unlike Chinese Water Torture – awaiting the next hiccup and never knowing when the last one would be the “last one.”

About the time you were due and your father had deployed – we were getting quite impatient awaiting your arrival. Jason loved to talk to you. This is the time he coined the phrase, “He'up Jec'ca!” The closest he could enunciate “hurry up, Jessica!”

Unlike the days when no one was allowed in the delivery room, they now had a requirement to have a “coach” in the room. I couldn't imagine anyone being there with me, but it was insisted, so Shauna Reist accepted the job and was fascinated at the opportunity to be on the other end of child birth. You were about two weeks late when the finally decided to schedule me to be induced. That morning, Grandma drove me to Community Memorial Hospital in Ventura, California and got me checked in. I told her she could go home and the nurses wouldn't let her – they insisted someone had to be with me every minute. It was an agonizing hour or so waiting for Shauna to arrive, fearing I'd go through the entire process with my mother – thank heavens she was late, but showed up. I was SO relieved!

I will tell you now, if given a choice – don't ever agree to be induced. No contest between natural and induced! The Pittosin (sp) drip was agony – they keep upping the drip until you are having hard contractions about 30 seconds apart from beginning to beginning. So I was having major contractions twice a minute until 4:12pm when you were born. (Don't ask me why I remember the time, but I do.) You were perfect and had a full head of the most gorgeous hair! The Pediatrician teased that he coveted your champagne colored hair so much he wanted to take you home with him. When it came time to fill out your birth certificate, I toyed with the idea of naming you what I wanted to name you (Christina Marie) but I'd been out-voted by your dad and Jason and a “J” name won out and you were named “Jessica Rae.” Fearing I'd never be forgiven by your father, I went with the insisted upon name – as un-natural as it felt to me to call you Jessica. It took some time to get used to calling you Jessica but now I cannot imagine you being anyone but “Jessica.” It suits you.

We were staying with Grandma and Grandpa for the first couple weeks while I got back fully on my feet and could handle both you and your brother on my own. If you made any peep at all, Grandpa would run to pick you up. He does dearly love to hold babies... so much so, I used to have to insist he bring you to me so I could nurse. I'd wake up so full it hurt and you'd be in your grandpa's arms and I'd have to call out for him to bring you to me. It was a mixed blessing. I had enough milk for two babies, so you were certainly a healthy baby.

When we went back to our little apartment on Fifth Street, across from the Oxnard Airport, your uncles continued to visit often so of course, they were there when I nursed you. I remember they get me laughing so hard doing something silly with or to Jason and they'd comment on how they felt sorry for you. I just burst out once and said you were lucky, cause you were getting a milk shake instead of just milk. (I can almost hear you groaning – too bad.) You were a healthy, happy, beautiful, perfect baby girl and I couldn't have asked for a better baby. You were a welcomed and loved addition to our family.

I don't remember how old you were, but I know it was only a few months old when you got sick. You got a fever. No big deal, babies get fevers. I gave you Tylenol and took your temperature like a dutiful mother. The thermometer crept upward each time I checked. You broke out in a sweat and put you in a cool bath... you cried. Your temperature hit 103 and I took you to the emergency room. There, they told me if it had gone any higher, it would have been life-threatening. They got your temperature down and you went home within a few hours. I was so relieved you didn't need to stay overnight. I think I held you all night while you slept, aware that I could have lost you and knowing again just how fragile life truly is.

You were over six months old before you finally met your father. I remember when he called the first time after your birth, you started to fuss in my arms and your dad got all choked up and emotional – which was a rare thing for him. I think not being there really was hard on him.

I really enjoyed having a baby girl. Your champagne-colored locks became the most adorable curls any girl would envy. I did a lot of sewing and sewed many outfits for you. My favorites were the ruffly-frilly dresses, one was for your flower girl dress for Grant and Patricia's wedding and one was just because. Once you outgrew them, they got sent off to your cousins Hydee and Moriah. That was a short lived phase for you. You soon developed an opinion of your own and you wanted nothing to do with frills, ruffles and lace. You had barbie doll but you seldom played with them. You really loved your cabbage patch dolls, remember? The soft-stuffed ones with the trademark faces? You loved stuffed animals and had issues finding room for you in your bed for all the friends you were sharing your bed with.

Speaking of Grant and Patricia's wedding... Her parents were staying at our house for the wedding. Her Papi fell so much in love with your cuteness! He nick-named you Muñeca (spanish for Barbie Doll).

You had and still have an infectious laugh-like giggle that was easy to get lost in. You were bright-eyed and happy most of the time. Playful and intelligent too. You practically potty-trained yourself at earlier than expected. Your blue eyes would sparkle with mischief and you'd giggle like you had a secret, then you'd do something silly... like fart.

You had a favorite blanket. The teddy bear with the primary colored balloons. What was so interesting about that is Deena had made you a beautiful quilt – purple with bunnies on it. She'd hand stitched the quilting and it was beautiful. Grandma had crocheted you more blankets than any one child could use. Yet... your favorite was one I'd made for Jason and you inherited from him. It go so ragged we tried many times to make it disappear – you always found it or cried until it re-appeared. You learned the art of manipulation way too early. We didn't have a chance! You were too smart for your britches almost from day one.

Once while your father was deployed, we took a trip with Lorena in Grandma's camper to visit you Montana cousins. Jake was the baby. We stopped at the side of the road for an on demand rest stop. (no bathroom in said camper.) I held you in the sitting position so you could relieve yourself and when done, movement caught my eye... as gross as it is... fact is there were worms! I don't know what you ate, but as soon as we got to Montana we found a base and took you in to be checked. Worms were the confirmed diagnosis. Everyone in our party had to take the medicine, including Deena's family (she wasn't pleased with me.) I hope this reminds me you of the time I did find you eating something you should not have been eating... 'nuff said.

When you were in Kindergarten, Mrs. Eichblatt's class. I got to go in weekly to be a room mother. At the end of the year your teacher confessed to me that the first day of school she pegged you, little blue-eyed, curly blonde haired girl as her “wallflower” of the year. Her confession was it was within the first week she discovered she could not have been more wrong about you and kept her on her toes. She might have used the word precocious. You loved school and learning.

Once... Grandmas was holding you and all of a sudden you just “honked” both her breasts simultaneously with both your hands. Grandma was, to say the least, shocked and turned red. You? Well, you just lit up those blue eyes and giggled that knowing giggle that said you knew exactly what you had just done and loved the reaction you got. Talk about a Kodak moment, what I wouldn't have done to have had a camera ready to capture that moment. Priceless, and so Jessica-esque.

Somehow you escaped stitches, casts and broken bones (at least I don't remember any.) What you didn't escape was the need for glasses. While we were living in Snowflake, we had your eyes checked and the eye doctor said you were legally blind and needed glasses. I accepted this and got your glasses ordered. Since your dad was still stationed in Pt Hueneme, I had to call him with the news. He FREAKED OUT! Demanding a second opinion, his daughter wasn't blind. What kind of quack was the doctor I took you to? I had to calm him down and explain it just meant you'd need glasses to do anything and need them all the time. It was a term. It didn't mean you'd be 10 and walking with a red-tipped white cane. Maybe he's where you learned to be soooo dramatic?

While we lived with Grandma and Grandpa, you and your two brothers all shared a room. One evening I recall hearing some unusual sounds from behind your closed bedroom door. I went to investigate. When I opened the door, I was met with a lung full of white powder. It took a few seconds to taste the sweetness of the powdered sugar. One of you three decided to take the canister into the bedroom for a snack... somehow it “spilled” all over the top bunk bed. One of you geniuses decided you needed to beat the mattress to clean it up which caused the fine dust to create a white atmosphere in the breathing space of your bedroom. Not wanting to get caught, another genius idea was to get wet towels to clean up the mess. EVERYTHING in that bedroom was coated with a film of powdered sugar. I had to get the vacuum out to vacuum the air, EVERYTHING had to be washed. The walls had to be wiped down. And the mattress? Well it was YOUR bed... so I'm guessing MOST of the genius ideas came from you...? I may never know. If you were experimenting with “white powder” I hope that convinced you to leave other white powders alone and out of your lungs/nostrils. To the best of my knowledge the only white anything going up your nose since then... has been tampons to stop a bloody nose.

Around that same time is when I was in the kitchen and heard a blood curdling scream – your's I think. I ran out the back door and saw you standing on a stack of toys and pointing over the cinder block fence separating our yard from the neighbors. I jumped up next to you and there was Jake on the other side of the wall, in a rose bush with the neighbor's puppy jumping on him and a brick “topper” missing from the fence's cap, laying broken next to Jake and blood on his head. I'm still not sure how, but I managed to lean over the fence, reach down, grab your brother and haul him up and over the fence and into the house. I grabbed a towel and wet it.... screaming for Joy to call your dad and tell him to meet me at the emergency room. I managed to drive the old gray pick up (with no power steering) with one hand while I held my arm around Jake and holding the towel with pressure on the top of his head. By the time I got to the emergency room, your father was pulling up too. Another miracle, because he was in the military and in a training class - I'm not sure how he was reached and released so quickly... (before the day of cell phones.) I will never forget the sound of each and every staple going into the crown of his head... he was only 4 or 5. I don't really remember your reaction as I was having my own very traumatic experience, but you were involved.

Your quiet curiosity... no one ever suspected you were at a neighbor's house and viewing pornographic photos. You were so intelligent and curious that the things coming out of your mouth at such a young age had us concerned you were being molested and we had you in therapy in an attempt to find out. The therapist was ineffectual and we stopped taking you about the time you insisted that you'd “learned” everything from pictures and from hiding under the open window at Holley's home when I was “venting” having just discovered your dad was having an affair with my cousin Joy. Just too smart for your own good... not always in a good way.

I remember when we told you we would be moving from California to Snowflake, Arizona. You were not happy with this information and because quite the obnoxious, rebellious little snot. On one rant you were having about how we were ruining your life, I whirled around and said, “What are going to do if we move, run away?” Without skipping a beat, you simply replied, “No, I'll kill myself.” Well... we did move and you didn't kill yourself... Thankfully.

Often you would get quite upset with me and threaten to call 9-1-1 and report you were being abused. Having had just about enough one day, I made sure to tell you, “Go ahead. You know what will happen? They will take you and your brothers away, put you in foster care; and your father and I will be 'free.' We would have to prove ourselves not abusers to get you back... That is IF we even want you back. So, go ahead and call 9-1-1.” You never made that threat again. In another attempt at verbal manipulation, you screamed at me that you hated me – my reply? I calmly stated I hated you too. You were speechless and stunned. After a few profound moments of silent contemplation on your part... I then let you know that I really do love you, but it hurts when someone you loves says such hurtful things. There too, you never again said those words to me. There was that fateful period of time where I knew you were angry with me and hated who I was dating, but you never again said you hated me.

Just before your 10^th birthday, they found your uncle Gerald dead in his apartment. We were all in shock. You kids took it really hard, especially Jason. You were so close to him. He'd lived with us a few months before getting into the assisted care facility where he died. Gerald had some specific ideas about how he wanted to be buried, knowing his time was short. It is a family tradition with the Schnebly's for the men to build a pine box casket when someone passes. Probably a tradition that began to save money. Your dad loved Gerald like his own brother and offered to build a pine box casket to keep up the tradition and to honor Gerald. He looked up instructions and “guessed” how big to make it since Gerald was a large man. He built it in our garage on Homoja Drive. I went to Wal-Mart and bought them out of white satin to line and pad the casket. You offered one of your pillows for me to cover in satin to place in the casket. Your dad and I worried that seeing a casket being built might “freak” you kids out. But quite the opposite happened. When the casket was done, you asked if you could try it out to make sure it would be comfortable enough for your beloved uncle. Each of you laid in it taking turns to make sure it was good enough. It passed your inspection. There was much conflict about how and where Gerald would be buried, but we finally got him to Snowflake to be laid to rest – several hours after his funeral took place in spite of our best efforts to get him there. So on a cold November Sunday morning, with frost on the grass, with just family in attendance, we had a simple grave side ceremony mixing Gerald's requested Native American influence with traditional LDS values. The result was burning sage being used to “purify” the items we were placing in the casket with Gerald. You wrote a poem for him, read it, and when Grant tried to “purify it” with the sage, your freaked out and put it in the casket.

Your birthday has been significant few times. It was your 15^th birthday when we packed and moved out and into the two bedroom condo on Jefferson Square to escape your father's abuse and live our lives in peace without him. This is the third time your birthday has fallen on Thanksgiving day... That could be good, many people gathering to celebrate, or bad – getting lost and no one wanting cake after eating the pie. And birthday pie just doesn't have the same ring to it. I felt so bad the first time when you about 3 and all I managed amidst all the feast, were some chocolate cupcakes. During a time I was separated from your father and living in Snowflake, you three kids were in California living with your dad on base. I'll never forget the call I got from your dad screaming at me because I'd raised such an ungrateful daughter! He took you and your brothers to work with him and fed you canned ravioli. You got in a fight with one of your brothers and he couldn't get you to settle down. I could hear you crying in the background. When he put you on the phone, all you'd wanted was a little respect and consideration on your birthday and you were being ignored and when the fight broke out, your dad sided with your brother. You were heartbroken and just wanted to get away from him. I was helpless to do anything in that moment and my heart broke too... I felt I was a horrible mother, allowing you to live with your dad, knowing how he was. Except for that day, he always told me you three were happy and he was always hovering nearby when you talked to me on the phone so you never felt “safe” to tell me the truth, how miserable you and Jake truly were. I knew I just couldn't bear to be in the same house as him and I believed you were fine. Shortly after that, your dad had to go on a Field Exercise for the military for 10 days and I came from Arizona to be with for those days. When he left you and Jake felt you could finally open open and tell me how miserable you were with your dad. I swore I'd never leave you again – and I didn't. Even when he got back, I was to have found a job or go back. I didn't find a job in 10 days so he ordered me back to Arizona. I stood up to him and refused to go, insisting the “family” was better off together than separated. He hated it, but let me stay and made every day miserable for me to make me pay. I was trying so hard to find a way to leave him permanently but it took me about 18 months to finally get you and Jake away from him and find our peace.

I can't take back those years. I can't erase them from your memory, or from my conscience. Due to many factors in my life, I went inactive for about 5 years. Those were crucial years for you kids. In some aspects I regret that. My childhood was difficult at best and I'd so wanted to give my children a better life. Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. Who's to say what is worse or better. I don't believe that is the point anyway. No sense in keeping score. What I do know is I don't regret how you have come out. You are strong, opinionated and stay the course. You work through difficulties. You survive challenges and come out stronger and smarter for having experienced them. You are resilient. You are slightly twisted... but so am I so that can't be a bad thing, can it? I am well pleased with you, your goals, your strengths, your sense of humor, your resilience, your confidence, your sense of style, your loyalty, your ability to make and keep friends, your talents, your love of reading and so much more. So, no matter what may or may not have occurred in your youth and childhood, you've turned out great so far. You are determined and you will succeed. I believe in you. I love you. I am honored to be your mother.

Happy 24^th Birthday Jessica. Don't let the turkey be the “Main Event” this year.

Guest Birthday Blogger: Blake

During my first day behind the Helaman Halls desk I was asked, "Have you met Jessica yet?" 

 "I don't know if I've met her yet." I replied... (Having met so many new housing people.)

 "Oh, you would definitely know if you've met Jessica!" Everyone agreed.

And sure enough, once I was introduced to Jessica... I have never forgot her.

Her initial impact was so powerful, in fact, that I couldn't help but touch her. Yes that's right... I touched HER first. With that infamous first arm-caressing began one of the most incredible friendships  I have ever had.

Soon after that first touch, I was pushed against elevator doors, walls, and counters alike... I have never been "hit on" so many times... and each time my heart melts when Jessica unleashes her devilish grin, eyes beckoning come-hither-but-I-know-you-wont-and-so-I'll-love-you-anyway.

Jessica CallaHAN (as she is known among friends and family) invested in my life. She knows my story, she knows my family, she even knows the name of my cousin's wife and kids. She is one of the most loyal friends I've ever had.

The importance of our friendship was intensely realized as we both worked through sexual harassment accusations as well as the student coordinator fiasco. Our relationship is worth fighting for... talking over... and crying over.

Jessica is a deeply faithful woman. She helped me work through my questions of faith and questions of self. With violently tight hugs, she squeezes a smile out of me on my hardest days.

I love Jessica Callahan... and that's why we're friends. I love her passion. I love her hand-made books. I love her curly hair. I love playing connect-the dots on her arms. I love tossing my phone on her. I love when she talks about books and science. I love sitting next to her in Petey. I love hiking with Jessica... taking pictures of her loveliness so that the world can see her the way I do. I love her cooking. I love the way she talks about Marie and how important her friends are to her.

I love her and I together.

Happy Birthday Jessica Callahan... I sincerely hope life is as good to you as you are to me.

 Blake Fisher and I have come a long way.

I thought that we wouldn't be friends because he's beautiful, and I am not.  So that first caress, besides being unexpected, was what cued me in to the fact that Blake wasn't going to be a meanie.  My earliest memory of Blake is from when Ariel treated all of the CAs to lunch at the Cannon after our first training meeting.  Blake was leading the group discussion and told us he wanted to be a speech therapist.  He asked us if we had gone to speech therapy as kids and Tim said, "yes, but I don't know why."  No one laughed because we weren't sure if he was serious (he... has a lisp.  Or something).  I think he was serious.  My next memory is from playing the game Things with him and some other people.  I still wasn't convinced that he was a good guy or in any way intelligent.  But then the thing was "things you dream about" and Blake wrote down "that one day my children will be judged by the content of their character and not by the color of their skin."  He was handsome and smart AND witty!  And then there was the caress.  And then there was my training him to rove Hinckley Hall and while in the elevator I said something like, "do you watch Grey's Anatomy?  Magical things happen in elevators" and then I shoved him up against the wall.  Totes awk but also the best thing ever.  Half way through the summer I asked him if he reported me for sexual harassment.  Again, totes awk.  And then at the end of the summer I spent an hour in a basement screaming at/to him.  He handled both times like a champ.

I still wasn't convinced that after the end of the summer we would still be friends.  He was always telling us "maybe" when invited to things and disappeared a lot to hang out with non-CA friends.  I figured that after the summer he wouldn't be obligated to hang out with us in the first place.  But that was when we really became friends.

I love Blake Fisher.  I love when he fails to pop my thumb joint.  I love that it is so predictable that he will find pleasure on making my stomach jiggle when throwing his phone at it.  I love that he always says nice things about my cooking.  I love when he gets excited to show me something.  I love how he asks for validation with a look.  I love when he lets me knead his scar tissue.  I love when he tickles my forearm.  I love the face he makes when he says "poo powder."  I love his hearty laugh when I've done something ridiculous.  I love that he lets me touch him even though he doesn't like being touched.  I love the weird sounds he makes.  I love his handwriting.  I love when he speaks deaf.  I love when he brings me flowers.  I love his little lips.  I love his spirit, I love his heart, I love his face!

I think that Blake is better to me than I am to him.  He has been there for so many of my mood swings and outbursts.  He has seen me cry more times than I like to admit.  We have eaten more chocolate together than I like to admit.  Blake listens to me intently.  He offers little advice.  He just lets me speak.  He is completely honest.  He makes me melt when we briefly cuddle and when he starts talking about how imperfect he is because then I get to tell him exactly how much I love him and when I let myself talk or think about how much he means to me my brain releases too many hormones and I feel an overwhelming love and gratefulness for him.

Guest Birthday Blogger: Hayley

Jessica!! We met when we were forced to be suite mates in Taylor Hall.  I was with my friend, Danielle, out in the lobby and you stopped by. I don't really remember, but I'm pretty sure it was an awkward introduction.  And then, after moving in, you brought by a housewarming gift :) I knew it was the start of a beautiful friendship! :)

Oh dear, there are a lot of memorable moments.  You and I can be pretty different, but one thing we share is a love for the holidays, and holiday traditions.  I love remembering the Halloween that we drove out to the Big Red Barn, a pumpkin patch out in the middle of nowhere.  We rode a hayride, got to pick pumpkins out of a patch, bought treats in the Barn, and took pictures that are hideous to look back on.  It was hard to enjoy Halloween this year because I missed the Big Red Barn!  I also loved celebrating Thanksgiving together.. was it 3 years in a row?  We would make dinner (well, you and Boyd would make dinner while I took a nap), and then watch the parade and dog show.  It was home away from home, complete with all the Thanksgiving trimmings, and I will miss it this year!  I also loved watching Project Runway, having dinners together, going to the see that creepy movie with Tomas, arguing about who is funnier, going to the dollar theater, having sleepovers, celebrating New Years with a crazy dance, hiking the Y and almost dying of exhaustion, hearing about our cat babies that we will have, enjoying game nights, going to the single adult dance and watching you hit on the pumpkin man (haha) and so many more memories! 

Jessica, I love that you are fiercely loyal, very honest, and such a fun friend! I call you when I want to hear an honest and intelligent opinion on most any topic.  You are unique and not afraid to express yourself.  You are faithful and seek to serve others.  We are still friends because even after living in different states, I still rely on your friendship for advice, humor, and love.  I can truly be myself around you and you accept me as I am, which I've always been grateful for!  Thanks for being willing to be my friend!  

Jessica, dream big dreams and make them come true.  I love that you are trying again with Medical School and you are hopeful about the future!  When you keep trying, things have a way of working out :)  I just know that you have so many great experiences ahead of you, in this year and the many more to come!  Happy Birthday, friend! We love you! 

It was super hard to approach Hayley.  We were at our first day of CA training the day before move-in.  I am not usually a super social person who goes out of their way to approach someone.  But I knew that we were going to be suitemates and that we would be spending the whole summer together so I sucked it up and went up to her and introduced myself.  It went over well and we went over together to talk to the Taylor Hall Advisor about when we could move in.  Another really awkward thing that isn’t much talked about is that the night before I met Hayley I was up late doing laundry.  I knew her name because I had asked the office who my roommate was going to be.  I needed the washer and had to move things out of it.  As I put the pink frilly underwear on top of the washing machine I noticed that someone had left their ID on top of the machine with their soap and basket.  It was Hayley.  I was so scared that she was going to come in and see me moving her undies and be mad and we would start things off really badly.  Luckily that didn’t happen.  When we saw our rooms I was not as reserved as I should have been when I exclaimed that my room was a lot bigger.  Like twice the size.  I’m not the most modest.  And even though our shared bathroom had doors to go to each of our rooms I exited my room to knock on her outside door to bring her a candle as a housewarming gift.  I really wanted her to like me.  She is being nice when she doesn’t mention that she thought that I was a crazy freak.

In the subject line of the email that Hayley sent me she explicitly said that she would kill me if I shared any embarrassing stories.  I don’t know what she means by embarrassing, because she definitely didn’t have as many embarrassing moments as Rochelle did.  Let’s review my favorite Hayley memories.  There was the time that she asked me if there were any skills that I thought I lacked in order to be a doctor.  I was like, “Like… social skills?” and Hayley said “that’s exactly what I mean.”  Definitely implied that she thought I lacked social skills.  I still don’t think I lack the social skills needed to be a doctor.  Maybe I’m delusional.  This one other time she asked me what I would change if I were her.  I said that maybe I’d stop being such an uptight witch all the time.  She responded with, “you mean start being one?” and I said “no, stop being one.”  Our arguments about who was funnier was always unfair, because I am definitely the funnier one but the only person around to judge who was funnier was Boyd, and well, he was a biased opinion.  One time we also decided to go see a rated R movie.  It was Precious and we went because we wanted to delve into a sociological experience that we weren’t familiar with.  It was a terrible decision!  I broke my no rated R movie streak to go see it and the language was terrible.  And I know that I can’t want to understand a culture and leave the offensive things behind, but really, it drove the spirit away big time.  And tons of old people got up and left during it but we stayed and watched the whole thing.  There was also this time when we were presenting our ORCA research and I showed up in jeans with paint stains (they fit me best…) just to get to the presentation area to discover that no one else was in jeans.  Awkward.  Hayley was like, “how could you hear that we were presenting research and think that jeans, especially with paint stains, would be okay?”  I just figured it wasn’t that big of a deal.  It was.  Yet another time Hayley took me to her niece’s first birthday party.  It was Yo Gabba Gabba themed and I dressed up as Plex.  No one else dressed up.  Not even Boyd and Hayley and it was their idea.  They were always getting me into awkward situations.  I guess the jeans were my own fault.  Hayley and I took Intro to Women’s Studies together and I loved it!  I loved that we could continue our friendship after being CAs and that we could discuss our thoughts on feminism together.  One time for my birthday Hayley gave me a starfish finger puppet.  I loved it!  I named it Frederico and it resides in my scripture case.  I pull him out during Sacrament frequently.  Also there was this really awkward time where I felt like the third wheel with her and Boyd and I was kind of a diva about it and we didn’t talk for a long time even though she wrote me a really nice note (I wasn’t sure how to respond).  It was several weeks, at least it felt like it.  Maybe it was really only one week.  But I had asked Boyd for a blessing and on the last day of the summer Hayley asked if she could be there so we could write notes for each other.  I reluctantly agreed.  It was seriously the best thing that could have happened.  It made me feel like for some cosmic reason we were meant to be friends and I really had no choice in the matter.  Not in a bad way.  In a “Jessica get over yourself this minute” kind of way.  Needless to say that after that we were best friends.  At least, she was my best friend.  At that point Marie and I hadn’t become best friends yet.  She was Marie before Marie was.

I seriously think that in the pre-Earth life Hayley and I were destined to be friends.  Hayley was a big part of me figuring out that the Gospel is true.  She was always such a good spiritual example to me.  She was there for so many of my important spiritual experiences.  I’ve never been afraid to talk about the Gospel with her, even during a time in my life when the Gospel made me uncomfortable.  Hayley straight up tells it like it is.  Like telling me that I lack social skills.  Or that I’m being rude.  It’s hard to remember that she’s a little younger than I am because she kind of feels like a mom to me.  And she’s paving the way for me.  She graduated from college first.  She got into grad school and will graduate from grad school before I go back to school.  She went through the temple first.  She got married first.  She’ll be a mother first and a working professional first.  She has always taught me to follow the Spirit, to work things out in my mind, to pray always, to feel free to laugh at the ward weirdies, to work for what I want, to do what you want and not what the Relief Society biddies want, to compromise and to be honest with my feelings.

Hayley calls me a lot.  And it sucks because I am literally always at work when she calls!  When we do talk she asks me what’s going on in my life and I think she wants some cool stories or something but there is seriously nothing.  Nothing goes on in my life!  I work with some needy boys that sometimes do weird things.  But besides that I don’t date, I don’t go to ward activities, I don’t make new friends and really I just watch a lot of tv.  I sincerely hope that my 25^th year of life brings me some interesting stories that I can tell her so she doesn’t think that I’ve grown to be boring, which maybe I have.  I also sincerely hope that by the time I’m 30 Hayley will have a cute little baby that looks like her and Boyd.  Can you imagine a little Boyd baby?  I can’t wait!  And I hope that after she graduates at the top of her class from USC (because she’s a hard worker more so than an overachiever like I tend to tell her) that she’ll go on to do way cool things in the health industry!  And that one day she works at a place and she can hire me because we all know that I will be in desperate need of employment that I can never get on my own.  She questions things and looks for answers and that is pretty freaking cool.  Long story short, Hayley is the sh*t.  And one day when I go through the temple she’s going to be my escort lady.  Yes, let it be known that it will be Hayley and not someone else… like my mother.  Because someone who’s sanity is still in tact will need to be next to me just in case I start losing it.

Guest Birthday Blogger: Becca

So I know we aren't like best best friends but I still love you so I thought I would tell you!  Don't feel like you have to blog it though cuz I know there are so many people fighting over a spot on your blog!

How did we meet? We met through that devilish institution by the name of BYU housing. Jessica worked at heleman, I worked at heritage.  Apparently there was some unspoken (jk I think it was pretty spoken) hatred between the two.  I don't remember the exact time or place when I first laid eyes on Jessica but it was probably some training on sexual harrassment or in the canon center surrounded by millions of 12 year old boys.  I DO remember thinking, "that girl is funny and way too cool for me".  And she had a really cool laugh that enticed me.

What is your most memorable Jessica moment? My most memorable Jessica moment was probably a series of moments when Blake, Rochelle, Jessica and I went to St. George and stayed with Jessica's mom.  I was genuinely surprised by how much fun I had on this trip.  My favorite Jessica moment of that weekend was when we were playing Pandemic in her mom's dining room, eating chocolate cake, and laughing uncontrollably for unknown reasons.  Everyone was being weird.  Stuart was there for part of it, so obviously it got even weirder.  It was just a really good day.

Why are we still friends/why do you read my blog? We are still friends because I would be sad if we weren't.
I still want to be friends with Jessica because she makes life more funny and interesting.  I am so impressed by how you can be crazy and silly and then have a meaningful conversation about life the next.  You're not overbearing,  You're genuine and compassionate and you love people who are maybe a little different (that includes me).

Word of advice/hopes for the future/birthday wishes/last thoughts/anything else?

Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater!

Yeah.  Those are the pictures I could find of me and Becca.  What high quality!

I need to clarify something.  Several people have now written that I didn't like them when we first met.  It's true, I mostly didn't, or I was rude.  But with Becca this is untrue.  It is true that there was a Helaman/Heritage rivalry, and that was because Heritage was way weird.  Like way, way weird.  My first year as a CA Heritage had such delights as Kourtnee, who was balding and had a loud personality with an inverse relationship to the amount of hair she had, Creepy David, who was literally a creeper and would stare/make girls uncomfortable on a consistent basis, Matt Scott, who had this way weird smile and may or may not have had a thing with Kourtnee, and Claire, who I like and is a lot of fun but is also pretty weird.  So the rivalry stemmed from there but continued with CA year 2, when Becca and I met.  But I honestly liked Becca the moment I met her without any preconceived ideas and whenever I saw her in the Cannon I wanted to sit with her.  I usually only did if she wasn't surrounded by Heritage weirdies.  Becca had a very cool vibe.  She was quiet but she was not shy.  And I thought that she was too cool to be my friend.

I am really glad that Becca and I got to know each other better on the St. George road trip.  I had always wanted to be friends with her but I didn't really know how to do that.  We had a lot of friends in common and went to a lot of the same activities but we still weren't really friends until St. George.  It was literally so much fun.  She was so excited by the John Wayne restaurant and wore a jacket with fringe and lots of southwest patterns.  The ultimate highlight was when she stole a cactus from a state park.  She saw this cactus, said "I want that" and went and hacked at it with a stick and then carried it to the car and put it in the trunk.  To this day she still had it in a pot outside her apartment.

I'm really drawn to Becca.  I think that she is super interesting and whenever we are at a party or something together I want to be next to her and talk to her.  I think that she lives a crazy life and I like to hear about it.  She is her own person and wears what she wants, does what she wants, styles her hair like she wants and there's nothing that anyone else can do about it.  I have the biggest friend crush on her and hope that we can become better friends as time goes on!  Really, I have a huge friend crush on Becca, Rochelle and Lindsey all together and want to be their number 4.  For reals.