I’m sure you’ve been on the edge of your seat these past couple of months wondering just how my new role as Elementary School Program Leader Extraordinaire is going.  In case you forgot, I decided to lead one of Starlite’s 10 programs this semester in order to stay in touch with what we actually do; in a moment of irony that only God could have arranged, I ended up with the largest program we have which happens to be one for 3rd – 5th grade girls on Monday afternoons.

In other words, I’m usually in bed by 7 p.m. on Monday evenings but hey, what’s new?

Every so often, we mix things up a bit and give the girls what they call “a crazy snack.”  Yesterday was definitely one of those days; for the first (and last) time ever, we brought in three types of cereal complete with milk and forks.

Listen, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t judge me for accidentally getting forks instead of spoons.  I mean, it isn’t like you’ve made the same mistake before.  Right?  Wait, you haven’t?

Whatev’.

On the cereal menu was Cocoa Puffs, Trix and Lucky Charms, three cereals that have two things in common as far as I’m concerned:

1. They’re full of sugar.  Lots of sugar.  More sugar than you can imagine.

and

2. They’re three cereals that I have, in 24 years of living, never tried.  For real, y’all.  Well, until today that is — I tried a spoonful of each just to say I’d had them.  And, if you want to know the truth, I’ll still be eating my bowl of Special K tomorrow morning — I didn’t even like them.

Obvs, something is very wrong with me if I’m choosing Special K over Cocoa Puffs and?  You know what?  Something is wrong with me and IT’S CALLED THE BRIDESMAID DRESS MOCKING ME FROM THE BACK OF MY CLOSET.

Anyway, let’s get back to happier things, namely little girls enjoying their cereal:

Oh, and this little girl.  I know we’re not supposed to have favorites but she is just darling.

Cousin Cate was present, of course.  Here she is immediately after telling the wee child beside her to drink the milk from her bowl because it’ll make her strong.

Each semester we do a service project with the girls; our current one is raising funds for babies at an orphanage in Ecuador that our very own Cara Maggie is living at for a year. Each week, the girls bring their pennies to deposit in our extra-large baby bottle; this week, the girls asked me if they could fill it with leftover milk and drink it straight from the bottle.

I’ll let you guess what my answer was but here’s a hint: it rhymed with so, toe and foe.

Around 18 minutes into the hour-and-a-half program, we realized that feeding sugar-filled cereal to a bunch of little girls was perhaps not the wisest decision we’ve ever made.  Look closely and I think you’ll actually be able to see the fear building in Cousin Cate’s eyes as she enjoys her own bowl of cereal:

Speaking of Cousin Cate, I have some VERY EXCITING news to share (with her permission, of course).  Our girl WENT ON A DATE THIS PAST WEEKEND (and, thankfully, this time it was with a guy that she actually sees potential with instead of her little lunch (mis)adventure a few weeks ago).  She texted me throughout the date to keep me updated and, after arriving home, called me three different times so we could analyze every last detail of the evening.  I can’t confirm or deny this, but there’s a definite chance that, during the third call to me, she actually said “I’m using my giddy voice, aren’t I?”

And yes, there was a definite chance that she was, in fact, using her giddiest of giddy voices.

The funniest part of her story, however, happened when she came into her house after Date Boy walked her to the door.  She said they had just walked up to the door when her dad flipped on the porch light. She, of course, made her feelings on that action very clear immediately upon seeing her dad inside:

“I hope you know that your little porch light thing caused me to get a hug instead of a kiss!”

Ah, the trials of trying to date whilst still living at home when you’re 23 and daddy’s only child.

I had only been at ye olde elementary school for about three minutes when I realized it simply wasn’t going to be a good day for high heels.  But then again, when is a good day for high heels when you’re hanging with a bunch of little girls on a sugar high?

I got home last night from my quick trip to Memphis to visit friends.  Shall we re-cap?

Upon arriving, I presented Baby Jordan with his “Aunt-Amy-Beth-is-visiting-gift.”  I trust you won’t be too surprised at which aquatic animal graces the front of this baby hoodie?

Listen, I know he’s just four months old, but you can never start them too early on the path to good animal webcam-watching habits.

After dropping the baby off at his grandparent’s house, we headed to Chuck E. Cheese’s hangout with Cadence, Christan’s firstborn (and my Snoogle model). The whole point was to let her play games, which we did other than the few tokens we adults might have borrowed in order to feed our Skeeball obsession.

On Friday night, we all headed to the local indoor soccer arena to watch Christan play.  In over eight years of knowing the girl, I have never actually seen her play.  All I’m going to say is girl can play.

Of course, whilst she was playing, I did my part by continuing to wear Baby Jordan.

On Saturday, Christan and I left the kids with their daddy and headed out for a little walk at a local outdoor mall where we made a beeline to my favorite Memphis store, Swoozies.  I, of course, made my own beeline directly to the wedding paraphernalia display:

I was very happy to see that they still carry my favorite wedding organizer, though it’s not like I check to make sure it’s still there every single time I visit the store or anything weird like that.

I’m happy to report that it was still there and practically BEGGING me to purchase it.  You’ll be happy to know I held my ground and left without said wedding planner.  Call me crazy, but I feel as though it’s better to actually, you know, go on a date or something before buying a rather large wedding planner.

Christan assured me that, the day I call her to report that I’m engaged, she’ll be purchasing the planner for me seeing as she’s been watching my obsession with it for a few years now.  I told her that sounded like a wonderful plan as long as they still carry it 37 years from now.

Oh, I kid.  It’ll probably only be like 14 years ’til I’m married.  Mark your calendars now, girls.

Whilst we were gone, Cadence let her daddy think she was taking a nap whilst she was really organizing the entire contents of her bookshelf on the floor for when we came home.

Did anyone notice that I just used the word “whilst” twice in one sentence?  Impressive, no?

We went to church on Saturday night and then, afterwards, Kelly (whom you’ve met before) and I went out for dinner.  When she dropped me back off at my car, I realized I had taken no pictures of her during the weekend despite the fact she and I had been together several times.  So, I casually suggested that we get out of the car so Kelly could do a cartwheel in the parking lot.

To my surprise, she actually got out of the car and did the cartwheel right there in the church parking lot.  I had no idea she was so areobic.

And would you just look at how pretty the girl is, even after doing four cartwheels for me?

I had to head home on Sunday morning, but not before Christan made pancakes for us all.  I hate to be critical, but aren’t these the ugliest pancakes you’ve ever seen:

I mean, sure, they’re all round and perfect and everything.  But, deep in your heart, wouldn’t you rather have some of my pancakes?

Wait, don’t answer that.

As I was loading my car to head home today, I made sure I kept my new prized possession safe and sound.  And, of course, as close to me as possible.

I somehow ended up with a sling holding a baby attached to the front of my body earlier today.  And, though you’ll probably never get me to admit it again, I absolutely loved it.

Well, I’m in Memphis. With an almost four month old baby on my lap as I type this. Oh, you don’t believe me, ye-of-little-faith-in-my-ability-to-care-for-wee-children?

There you go. Real-time picture of a blog post being written whilst holding a baby on my knees. I believe we call this the art of multi-tasking.

Well, until he spits up on me. Then we’ll just call it the art of handing him back to his mama.

I’ve not even been here 24 hours so far, but already have plenty to tell you, of course. Sadly, all my fun stories will have to wait ’til Monday because I have something FAR more important to share with you: I have decided I don’t need a husband.

Now, I know this may come as a shock seeing as I’ve written about wanting a husband in every other post on this blog a time or two. But that’s just because I had never slept with a Snoogle until last night.

What’s a Snoogle, you may ask? Observe:

For the record, the Snoogle is the large, C-shaped pillow not the wee child laying with it. Her name is Cadence but I guess you could call her Snoogle if you really wanted. But let me check with her mama first before I give permission for the name change. She might have an opinion on her firstborn being renamed Snoogle, though one can’t deny it has a certain ring to it.

Anyway, here’s how my Snoogle-love began. For the last three years, as all my friends have been having babies, all I have heard is “I love my Snoogle!” and “I could sleep with my Snoogle for the rest of my life!” So, knowing that Christan had a Snoogle left over from her recent pregnancy, I asked if it might be allowed to join me on my air mattress last night.

I know that might sound a little odd, but listen, I’ve heard so much about the Snoogle that I just had to try it out for myself, even if I’m not, um, actually pregnant. Christan happily passed the Snoogle my way and even showed me how to properly situate it around myself whilst laying on said air mattress. It was the closest I’ve come to having someone tuck me into bed in years and, for the record, I LOVED IT.

Listen, I’ve told you before: physical touch is my love language though I’ve begged God to change it. A girl has to be careful when she’s rocking the physical touch love language, after all.

I am here to tell you that I had THE BEST SLEEP OF MY LIFE with that Snoogle. The whole thing kind of wraps around you and, though I have never actually slept with a husband, um, wrapped around me, I have a very active imagination and am quite sure it was pretty much the same experience as having the love of your life spooning with you all night. Well, other than the fact that the Snoogle didn’t have morning breath when we woke up this morning. Yet ANOTHER reason to skip a boy and go straight for the Snoogle, no?

I am a very active sleeper and by “active sleeper” what I’m trying to say is “If I am in bed with you, we WILL be cuddling whether you actually want to or not.” I mentioned yesterday that I spent a bunch of weekends sleeping at my friend Cara’s house whilst in my last out-of-town dating experience; the poor girl had to literally PUSH me off her during the night on multiple occasions. The worst part of it is that I have no idea I’m doing it in my sleep so I couldn’t even stop myself if I tried.

Of course, in all honesty, it isn’t like I would actually try to stop even if I could. I’m a fan of cuddling, snuggling and spooning even if it does cause all my friends to draw straws to decide which one will be forced to sleep in the same bed with me on overnight trips.

The best part of my Snoogle news is that Christan offered to let me have the Snoogle! I, of course, tried to argue her generous offer by asking if she was absolutely sure she wouldn’t want it to sleep with again in the future seeing as, when the Snoogle goes home with me on Sunday, he won’t coming back.

What can I say? I don’t like to share my man.

She said that I could take it because, even though she’d still like to sleep with it, her husband banned it from their bed after the baby was born. In his defense, Joey said “Well, of course I did. I want to be her Snoogle!” Who knew that a Snoogle could pose such competition in the marriage bed?

I’ll tell you one thing I do know, however. That Snoogle has found a new home in this single girl’s bed and he won’t be leaving anytime soon.

I’ve spent this evening packing for a short trip I’m leaving on tomorrow morning. Christan, one of my very first college roommates, welcomed a baby boy into her family a few months ago and, with Starlite being on spring break this week, I’m going to take a couple of days off to go meet that little bundle of blue.

I love to travel and especially love packing, so I couldn’t understand why I kept feeling an odd sense of sadness as I started to pick out which clothes to take. I can’t really explain it other than to say my heart felt like it got heavier as I placed each item in my bag. Even though I tried to ignore it, the feeling lasted throughout the evening and followed me into bed tonight.

As I laid there listening to my bedtime iTunes playlist, it suddenly hit me: this was the first time I was packing to head out of town on my own since my last relationship ended. Before I could even tell it was happening, memories started flashing through my mind.

The brown shirt I had picked out to wear for that one Friday night, tossed into my bag simply because I knew he would like it.

My favorite silver necklace, carefully packed with the other earrings, rings and bracelets.

The DVDs slipped into the bag at the last minute, knowing he would probably want to stay in on Saturday night so we could just be “us.”

You, of course, remember none of this because I simply didn’t blog the relationship. You missed that entire part of my life, those nights of marathon phone calls that somehow made up for the 212 miles that separated us Monday through Friday. You missed hearing about the texts and the letters and all the little things that make a relationship so special. But most of all, you missed the freedom and excitement and nervousness I felt each Friday afternoon as I packed my bag to spend a weekend in his hometown.

It just worked best that way, my going to him although he did come to me, occasionally. I would leave the office at 5 p.m., rush home to pack a bag and try to be on the road by at least 6 p.m. I drove alongside the river then around and finally over the mountain before showing up on his doorstep. He always knew right when I’d arrive because we’d already be on the phone with each other as I pulled into his driveway, not wanting to miss even one moment. We’d spend almost the entire weekend together, him bringing me to my friend Cara’s house far too late each night. I’d slip through her front door as quietly as possible, begging God to keep her parents from waking up. I’d tiptoe down the staircase to Cara’s bedroom, open the door and jump right into her bed where we’d lay talking about both of our relationships until we fell asleep mid-sentence.

It’s been a few months since it ended and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that it was supposed to end, should have ended, needed to end. And when you’re certain that something wasn’t meant to continue, it makes it a bit easier to digest the ending of it. Quite honestly, I’ve been over it for awhile now so I couldn’t understand why I found tears streaming down my face just a few minutes ago. But as the tears slowed to a trickle, my heart found the answer I was looking for.

When I was packing my bag earlier tonight, it was to go be a part of someone else’s story. Into my bag went a little dress-up outfit for Christan’s two-year-old and a couple of new outfits for her darling baby boy. I was preparing to celebrate the newest chapter in the story of one of my best friend’s life, a privilege that has had me excited for days.

But the last time I packed my bag, the time I was heading to be with him? Well, I was going to be a part of my story. Everything that went into my bag from the cute high heels to my favorite perfume was something representing the newest chapter in my story.

In my circle of close friends, I’m one of the last left single. There’s Christan, married to her high school sweetheart who tucks their daughter into bed while she rocks their new baby boy. You’ve met Ashley who lives with her sweet husband, darling Gracie and baby on the way in a house that’s so filled with love I always want to stay an extra day. And then there’s Brandy who served cupcakes at her wedding and decorated her first daughter’s nursery in the most precious theme you can imagine. My adorable Katie has the unmistakable flush of a bride-to-be; we’re going together to take a tour of the wedding site this coming week. Even Cara, the one we had all pegged to be last to settle down, has tasted the sweet promise that love brings with it; you can see it in her eyes.

The idea of my being jealous of any of them is absolutely incomprehensible to me. I love those girls so much that, if given the choice, I would pick the desires of their hearts being met before my own without missing a beat. Watching each chapter of their lives unfold — an engagement ring that sparkles in the sun, a white dress that God must have designed Himself, a nursery filled with soft lights and even softer blankets — has been one of the most fascinating parts of my life over these last few years. We’re spread out over several states now, but I’ve taken my role as the single one seriously and tried to be the one going to them as often as possible since I don’t have car seats and strollers to load into the car. It’s just easier that way and there’s not a one of them that doesn’t have a couch I haven’t slept on.

It’s just that a little part of me misses how it felt to pack a bag knowing it was to go watch a chapter of my own life be written. All those Friday afternoons spent throwing curling irons and eyeshadow compacts into my bag gave me a little taste of what it feels like for it to be your turn at love, even if that love only lasted a short period of time in the grand scheme of things.

What made tonight so different was that the old Amy Beth would have berated herself for crying over the fact that she would one day again like to pack a bag that leads into a new chapter in her life. She would have been angry at herself for wanting those things and frustrated with herself for her inability to just be happy with having a couple of puppies who sleep at the foot of her bed each night. But the new me, the one who is choosing to love herself as God does?

Well that girl is about to turn off her laptop, lay back down and remember that the book does not tell the Author what chapter to write next but instead trusts that no word will be forgotten.

And I believe with all my heart that absolutely no word will be forgotten in your story, either.

After finishing shopping for dating books and talking about how darling those Gap pajamas were this past weekend, Cousin Cate and I headed to Bass Pro Shop.

I’d just like to begin by saying that I wasn’t too thrilled about going but, seeing as I had never been and Cousin Cate was insistent that we go, I turned my frown upside down and pulled into the parking lot with very low expectations.  I mean, hello? Do I really come across as a girl who would enjoy visiting a random hunting and fishing store?

And yet, bless my darling heart, I’m here to tell you that I was WRONG to judge Bass Pro Shop.

From the moment we walked into the store, I was hooked (get it? fishing? hooked?).  If you’ve never been, they have this huge aquarium on the main level.  Surely by now y’all know how I feel about aquariums (and if you somehow don’t know, one of my top dreams in life is to be kissed while standing in front of an aquarium).

(And no, I have absolutely no idea why that dream is in my heart, but you better believe I’m waitin’ for the day I find myself there with some boy other than Imaginary Boyfriend.)

(Also, if it ever happens — nay, WHEN it happens — I will blog it for you.  You’re welcome.)

If a huge aquarium wasn’t enough, they actually have this area where you can walk over a short bridge that takes you past a waterfall.  Off Cousin Cate and I went, talking about how cool the store was while noticing that we were just about the only girls around.  We spotted some camo-themed recliners in the distance and, of course, settled ourselves in for a little chat.  During said chat, we discussed two very important things:

1. We will never have camo-themed recliners in our homes.  Ever.  Never ever. Ever, ever.  We actually know someone who has camo-themed couches, but their set is actually tasteful.  Which is, you know, a bit difficult to do with camo, so we’ve decided to never attempt it ourselves.

2. Bass Pro Shop would be an EXCELLENT place to get picked up by guys.  Cousin Cate suggested we start going there on Saturdays and just spend the day walking around the store until we get dates for the evening.  I told her we’re not that desperate.  Yet.

And yes, “yet” is the operative word in the paragraph above.

Also: we actually would like not only to be asked out on a date whilst walking around Bass Pro Shop but actually be taken on a date to Bass Pro Shop.  I mean, really — it has a restaurant, Starbucks and fake shooting range all under one roof.  What more could a girl ask for?

I’m happy to report that we had the foresight to whip out the camera and capture a little video footage for y’all.  This may be my favorite video of us together simply because, not long into it, we realize that they’re feeding the fish on the floor beneath us and COMPLETELY LOSE CONTROL OF OURSELVES.  We actually had no idea that you could feed the fish; an employee just happened to start doing it while we were filming the video and we just seriously LOST IT.

If you’ve ever wondered what I’m like in real life, you’re about to hear it for yourself when I go running for the elevator and almost throw myself into the pond containing catfish and a very attractive male mannequin.  It doesn’t take a lot to excite me, but when something like this happens, I just forget that I’m supposed to be 24 and revert back to age six or something.  I’m actually a little embarrassed to post this because, really, my level of excitement is just way too high for feeding some fish in a sporting goods store.

But then again, that might explain how we ended up leaving without dates.  Foiled yet again.

Also: the actual video footage is a little wild, but try to stick with it just for the audio of us realizing that they’re actually feeding the fish.  I promise you won’t leave disappointed, especially when you see the hot mannequin standing in the pond at the end.

While I’m enjoying living alone for the most part, I start wishing I still had a roommate whenever I spot these tiny cards in my closet just waiting to be left on someone’s pillow at night.

When I was in sixth grade, I met a girl named Ashley who quickly became my best friend. We were at each other’s houses constantly, typically fixing each other’s hair whilst talking about which boy in youth group was the hottest. I grew to love her family over the years and, to this day, her mother is still one of the most important people in my life and an example of what I hope my life looks like down the road.

Ashley and I have been playing phone tag for a couple of days now so I was excited when I was actually available when she called this morning. After the usual “Hey, how are you, I miss you desperately” start to our phone call, Ashley threw the gauntlet down with two little words:

“I’m pregnant!”

I just about lost it right there in my office, literally jumping up and down like a little girl. And, because I sometimes don’t think through things when I get excited, I’m sorry to admit that the following conversation actually took place:

Me: “Ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness! When did this happen? And HOW did it happen?!?”

Ashley: “Um, if you have to ask how, you might need to take a class or two, Amy Beth.”

She makes a good point, but considering I didn’t know how s*x actually took place until my freshman year of college, it might not be that bad of an idea for me to take a class sometime down the road before I get married myself.

And yes, I’m dead serious about not knowing until my freshman year. Let’s just say I have my college roommates’ Christmas gift of a copy of S*x For Dummies to thank for broadening my horizons.

And no, I will never forget them reading parts of it out loud to me while I sat absolutely frozen in horror on the floor of our dorm room. I think the only words that came out of my mouth were “I’ll have to do WHAT with WHAT?”

Of course, seeing as y’all have already provided some, um, unsolicited yet highly appreciated advice in the comment section of today’s earlier post on my choice of sleepwear apparel, I think it’s safe to say that when the time does come for me to be married, I might just skip the class and let y’all just email me lessons directly as long as you promise not to frighten me.

Ashley and her husband Daniel already have a beautiful daughter, Gracie, but have been believing for another baby for quite awhile now. I know it’s one of the biggest desires of Ashley’s heart to have another baby, so it’s been heavy on my heart, too. Just last week I started crying in a bookstore when I saw a little nursery sign that said something about a baby being an answered prayer. I’ve so wanted God to answer the prayer in Daniel and Ashley’s heart and I’m just bouncing off the walls now that we know He has done just that!

The funniest part of Ashley’s call was telling me about how she’s known for a couple of days and hasn’t been able to tell me since we missed each others calls. She kept wanting to call me at night, but would look at the clock and think “Oh, it’s 9:30 p.m. — I don’t want to wake her up!” after reading this post of mine last week. Daniel, God bless his heart, kept telling her that I would want to be woken up for news like this but sweet Ashley just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She said she wanted to just get in her car and drive to Cleveland to tell me but a little thing called morning all-day sickness prevented that from happening.

As a single girl with no kidlets of my own, I’m sure you can imagine that there is nothing more exciting for me than having those I love most in my life having their own little blessings that I can diaper, feed bottles to and spoil rotten. I’m Honorary Aunt Amy Beth to four babies already, so Little Baby On It’s Way will be my fifth pretend niece or nephew! Y’all haven’t really seen Aunt Amy Beth in action before but let me just tell you it is a sight to behold. Those mama’s just have to pass their babies my way ’cause Auntie needs to teach them all about Shamu and other important life lessons, but of course.

Congratulations, Ashley! You are going to be one hot mama yet again!