B is for blonde

(once upon a time)

and brave

(seeing as you have a scary reptile on your shoulder)

B is for beginnings

(with Noah, 2006)

(with Jude, 2009)

B is for beloved

(by your family, and so many others)

B is for bold

(because you have to be to run a marathon. Bold, and a little crazy.)

B is for backyard

(where I still spend much of my time, no matter where you live)

B is for blessing

(which is what you are to me, in more ways than I can count or express)

B is for Beki

and it’s her

B-day today.

Happy Birthday,

my beautiful friend.

Love, Lauren

This will give you an idea of Beki and Todd’s gift of hospitality: they hosted a backyard barbecue at their old house on the evening of their move!

Wesley and Beki (note Wes’s broken ankle, poor guy)

Now if I had been packing for weeks and hefting boxes and furniture all day, I would probably grab Taco Bell to go and call it a day. But that’s not their way. And I’m so glad — because it gave me a reason to stop crying, put on makeup, and rejoin the land of the living.

I love this family.

Todd fired up the grill and cooked us some Bubba Burgers, which we promptly devoured.

There is nothing like a huge spread of food to ease the pain of parting. At least, in my world (and don’t tell me I need therapy).

I think Sammy-Boy was hoping to get in on the feast. Those eyes!

Only kids can get away with eating a huge meal and then bouncing themselves silly on a trampoline.

Our friends Mike and Debbie, who live just a few streets over, also joined in the fun, so it was truly a neighborhood affair. Our little gang has spent a fair share of holidays together, which turn out especially hilarious when Mike brings his fireworks.

No explosives tonight though, other than my stomach. Either I’m nearly eight months pregnant, or I ate waaay too much.

It’s just that sometimes, when you find a good thing, you can’t get enough.

Case in point.

The Orlando Magic losing to the Lakers in overtime.

A car without air conditioning in 95° weather.

The big things: Injustice. Poverty.

The little things: Library fines. Frizz.

But most of all today, this:

Watching Beki and her family move out.

Sometimes you need consolation; sometimes you just need to cry.

Today, I cried.

The world got more beautiful today. At 1:57 a.m., to be precise. The moment Ann and Davison’s baby girl, Emily Caroline, entered the world.

I am cradling this news like I would little Emily herself, holding it to my heart with awe and wonder and happy tears.

Congratulations, Ann and D. Emily is all sweetness and light.

And yes, I am already planning an arranged marriage with our soon-to-be born baby boy.

This is what happens when you instruct two-year-old boys to hug. Observe:

It looks a lot like professional wrestling, but they are hugs nonetheless. With a lot of tackling, giggling, and shrieking.

The occasion for this hug-fest is the painful truth that Iain, Noah’s BFF, is moving (with his family, of course) to GEORGIA. I have remained in a comfortable state of denial for the month that I have known this news, but now that the moving van is being packed, my emotions are starting to unravel.

I met Allie (mama to Iain and Cory, wife of Jeremy, and one of my best friends) when taking newborn Noah for a walk in the neighborhood, and her mom introduced us. If my memory serves me right, Iain was just 11 days old. Allie and I exchanged phone numbers and agreed to go walking together in the near future. A couple months and several walks later, I remember inviting Allie into the house saying, “Please just ignore the mess.” Allie said, “I think we’ve become the kind of friends that don’t need to worry if our houses are messy.”

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I am thinking about taking the two-year-old approach to this whole move-thing. You know, a hug/tackle, maybe grabbing Allie by the ankles with my kung-fu vise grip. Do not underestimate the power of a woman who’s been taking her prenatal vitamins.

Or who really, really loves her friend.

They say that when you’re pregnant, you can get away with eating for two. This week, I think I ate for six. I feel like the human embodiment of the Golden Corral buffet line. My child is swimming around, tethered to his umbilical cord, saying, “Hmm… Shall it be steak tonight or chicken breasts wrapped in bacon?” (My apologies to all vegetarian readers — I am a bit of a carnivore during pregnancy.)

I can comfortably blame my diet on vacation eating, however, seeing as the occasion of Ann and Davison’s visit virtually demanded a time of feasting and celebration. And celebrate we did. Ann is always the life of the party. Just look at these happy faces.

You might say we are glowing, too, since both of us have a bun in the oven (OK, what is it with me and the food imagery?). Ann and D’s sweet little hot cross bun is due at the end of May. They are the truly disciplined ones who did not find out the gender of their child in advance, whereas Pete and I are counting the days until Friday. FRIDAY!!! FRIDAY, PEOPLE!!!

Whoa. Take it easy, Golden Corral.

Here is the happy couple and future Best Parents in America:

Judging from their tireless entertainment of Noah, their agility in buckling him into his carseat (despite his squirming), their boundless creativity (D made Noah an airplane out of a paper towel tube, OK?), and their general good humor, they are going to make AWESOME parents. *I have 6,001 other reasons, too, but that would make for a very, very long post.

For now, let’s talk about cake — because cake makes for good subject matter. Or subject batter. Oh man, somebody make me go to bed.

On Thursday, we had the pleasure of hosting Ann’s parents for dinner, who were also on vacation from Virginia. Since both of them recently celebrated their birthdays, a cake was clearly in order. I went to work.

Here is Chef Noah, always willing to contribute his taste-tester skills. Do not underestimate the value of a good taste-tester.

Or his glee at the prospect of sampling the finished product:

I think Noah sang the birthday song the loudest. He is really into birthdays these days (giving me his wish list on a daily basis, lest I forget).

So good to celebrate, to feast, to make birthday wishes, and to stock the babies’ buffet lines with sugar and spice and everything nice. (Ann and I agree that frogs, snails, and puppy dog tails are definitely off the menu, unless the snails are seasoned and served in a Parisian café.) So good to be with old friends and get stomach cramps from laughing at past memories while making some new ones. So good to watch another chapter in each of our stories unfold. And just to be together.

It really is the icing on the cake.

Last night Beki called me at 6:45 and said, “I’m pulling into your driveway and I’m not leaving until you get in the car.” My excuses of having to clean the kitchen, get Noah to bed, and make myself look halfway presentable before going out in public were apparently unacceptable. So, seven minutes later — ponytailed, clean-shirted, and lipsticked — I said goodbye to Pete and hopped into her Honda, gleefully, and we set off to meet our friend Janette at the dollar theatre for a showing of Made of Honor.

The movie-theatre experience is one of the things I miss most from my pre-mommy days, when Pete and I caught a new release almost weekly. As it stands, I am currently reserving my full-price movie ticket dollars for a sweeping epic-romance, à la Pride and Prejudice, though I’ll have to wait until all the summer blockbusters have crash-bang-boomed their way through theatres. For some reason, car chases and alien mutations don’t evoke the same feelings as Mr. Darcy strolling through an open field at dawn. My husband, on the other hand, tears up at the sight of the Batmobile.

We ended our evening with ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery and a stroll around the lake. Not a bad abduction experience, if you ask me. Beki, if you’re reading this, be assured that you are welcome to park in my driveway and insist on kidnapping me anytime. Particularly at the end of a long week. And especially when there is ice cream involved.

You have to read what Noah’s friend Wes wrote on his blog last week. (Wes is nine years old, in case you were expecting a toddler prodigy.) Wes and his brothers, Owen and Zach, live across the street and Noah absolutely adores these boys. It appears that the feeling is mutual! (Makes my heart go pitter-pat.)

#1. Seeing Ann again—my gorgeous, wonderful, hilarious friend from Virginia who knows all my funny quirks and habits (having lived with me for three years in college and survived to tell the tale). If you ever want to hear some good stories of our days in the converted-mental-hospital dormitory three miles off campus, let me know. Nothing like isolation and late-night fire drills to cement a friendship. Sigh.

#2. Spending time with Davison, Ann’s husband (who Noah affectionately calls “D”). Davison has a killer mustache and kept us all laughing at the Gator Land exhibits. (Warning: the following images may disturb you, but I assure you he made it home in one piece.)

#3. Gator Land. Shocking, isn’t it? I, Lauren, voluntarily entered a habitat for creepy-crawly scaly things that go bump in the night. Needless to say, I skipped the snake exhibit. The alligator wrestling was a bit much to take, but Noah’s excitement over the Gator Land choo-choo train made it all worthwhile. All aboard!

#4. Chowing down. When else but on vacation can you indulge in chocolate chip muffins, pancakes, a Steak ‘n Shake Frisco Melt, lobster, swordfish, boiled peanuts, cookie bars, strawberry shortcake, and a peppermint pattie milkshake, all within a span of five days? (And for the record, that is a purely hypothetical question.)

#5. While we’re on the subject of food, the DeLeon Springs Pancake House. Rocks. My. World. It was well-worth the 2-hour wait and lack of air conditioning to enjoy a hearty batch of pancakes cooked right at our table. Noah (aka, “Short Stack”) downed three before the sugar coma hit. He is one pancake-lovin’ man.

#6. The Winter Park Boat Tour. Another great adventure for big and little kids alike. Just remember it’s B.Y.O.C. (”Bring Your Own Sippy Cup”).

Of course, the best moments weren’t captured on film: the fun of watching Ann chase Noah around the front yard; the bug spray incident when Ann sufficiently repelled every mosquito within a 100-mile radius; Leo, basking in Davison’s attention (the most he’d received in quite some time); the long naps; the late-night hilarity. So much goodness in just five days.

Ann & D, come back soon! You are loved and missed!