We're Going to the (Log) Chapel and We're Gonna Get Baptized

Last Saturday, Conor was baptized in the Log Chapel on campus. Thankfully, the sacrament occurred even though I discovered that the key to the chapel was no longer in my purse pocket two hours before the scheduled time. An 'F' for me! St. Anthony helped my sister find it in our car, and all was fine and dandy until Conor told Chris that he didn't like his shirt choice via spit up. Despite all of that, we made it to the chapel.

Now we have a child of God. As Father baptized him, I realized that it was comforting to me as a mother who is merely a child of God herself, that no matter what, there is a love that is greater than my own for my children embracing them for all of eternity. 

It was a great day. Chris put it perfectly when Father asked him to speak after the baptism. 

There is nothing more wonderful than welcoming a child into your family. 

Kissing the newly baptized. Ryan chanted, "Bottom! Bottom! Bottom!" which means Baptism in case you didn't know.

Uncle Johnny was very, very interested.

We love Conor's godparents! My brother flew in from North Carolina, and Chris' sister flew in from Berkeley.

Thank you to Chris' family and my family who worked hard to create a feast for us to celebrate Conor's big day!

Yesterday's Babble

Yesterday, oh yesterday. 

It wasn't a terribly, no good, horrible day. It was actually a pretty darn good day of un-noteworthy normal. Which, in my blog world, means I have a lot of (not) cohesive notes to share. 
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We walked to story time and made it a bit early, but only after starting to get ready an hour beforehand. It only took one hour because Conor was nice on my first full day without help and slept in until ten. Only one is a success? Starting with my bar low. Nice and low. 
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Once we departed story time otherwise known as Ryan-stands-while-everyone-else-sits-time, we entered quite the fall wonderland. Colorful leaves, huge snowflakes and a pat on the back to my morning self who decided to dress everyone in many layers. 

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Let's talk about this photo. A God's view selfie, I guess we could call them. A mark of a blogger or at least a mark of an Instagrammer. Campus was pretty quiet when I did the whole raise my phone over my head and blindly tap, tap, tap on my phone in the hope that at least one photo captures the boys and their #nofilterneeded background and not an unfortunate shot of my chest or my uncombed hair. Even if campus weren't quiet, I'm already the weird young one with kids; will a little embarrassing interpretive dancing be detrimental to my not important image? No. But when I think of myself behind the insta-scene, it's an insta-chuckle.

My editor is probably going to say that that whole paragraph does not make sense at all. And he is probably (definitely) right. Nevertheless, who got that? Because you get blog hugs from me. A valid currency, no?
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Ryan got to try out his snowflake catcher for the first time this season. 
Video here. Conor wasn't interested as he just wanted his lunch-milk.
Ryan-catching-snowflakes from Katrina on Vimeo.

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I went to heat something in the microwave only to be greeted by a burnt scent and a not-so-sweet memory from the day before that graham crackers CAN burn in the microwave. 
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The sandman forgot to stop by at nap time. He is probably on vacation. I hope he gets sand in his swimsuit.

Stubborn and nap - defiant since 2012

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Hulu plus and Bob the Builder wasn't working on the TV. Four o'clock circles around, the brooms come out and the witching hour of the day begins.

A lot of sand. I hope he gets a lot of sand in his swimsuit.
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Ryan has created another opportunity to play peekaboo - between his legs during diaper changes. Now the soiled nature of those is offset by, "Peekaboo, Iseeyou!" I'll take it. 
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I had dinner prepped to be heated at five. 5:40 o'c'ock as Ryan says rolls around, and I remember that it is Tuesday. On Tuesdays, Chris has a meeting after work, but I could not remember if he gets home at 6 or 6:30. In case you didn't know, there are 777 or so minutes between 6 and 6:30 in stay-at-home mom time. And the number of minutes between 6:30 and 6:31? Don't even joke about it. Not funny. 

6:29 pm, the Harrington home

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It is funny that any poor behavior that occurs in the time between the expected time of arrival and the actual time of arrival absolutely must be blamed on the parent that isn't home. Am I right or am I right?
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But then, Chris came home, and all was right. Not just me. 

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What does the camel say? I don't know, but at bedtime when I sang that the new camel on Old MacDonald's farm had a spit here and a spit there, I sent Ryan into a peal of belly laughs. And another and another. It was one of those moments that was too good. I like that he thinks I'm funny when I don't even think that I am. 

So that was yesterday. I love you, yesterday, and I love this blog that I get to document you on.

Today we had a newborn who is, well, a newborn who wanted nothing else to be carried and a toddler with a fever who wanted nothing else than to be carried (not held, carried. And he requests that the piggy to his back-ride walk). Poor guy. Prayers that he gets better!

A Prequel to a Birth Story

I guess you could say that this whole blog prior to October 26, 2013 could be classified as a prequel to Conor's birth story, but let's pinpoint February 18, 2013.

The whole weekend I had been happy. Not just happy with my life; I felt completely alive and present. Everything seemed to glow. I had only felt this way one time before, and eight months later, our firstborn entered the world.

So. Monday, February 18, was the first day I was allowing myself to start the search for those telling blue lines. It was a cold day, and Chris had taken the car to work. No problem! There is a 7-Eleven a few blocks away. I figured they would at least have some cheap test. I called to make sure, and nope, plenty of slurpees, no sticks for expecting pee. So then I figured the small pharmacy on campus would have some. Nope. Apparently we live in a pregnancy test desert. The closest CVS was a mile and a half away. I used to walk two miles each way in Chicago to get to work so this would be a cinch. I didn't want to wait for Chris to be finished with work and his class. Thanks to the happy feeling, I knew I  was in the family way, but I needed to know.

Ryan and I normally went to the evening Mass at the Basilica on Mondays, which would conveniently end at the same time as Chris' class. The goal was to make it to CVS, buy the test, then try to make it to Mass. Of course, I left later than I should have and then since I didn't want to walk along the main road and chose to walk through campus to get to the shopping area where CVS was, it took quite some time to get there.

Carrying two kids at once

Ryan was a trooper in the Ergo, and we sang Old MacDonald Had a Farm for a large part of the way.

We finally got to CVS and Martin's. I debated whether or not I should go into Martin's to purchase the telling test, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, CVS had Haribo candy, which Chris is quite a fan of. I thought back to the last time I had this debate ... Walgreens or CVS? CVS or Walgreens? I chose wrong with Ryan's test and incorrectly again this time. PSA: CVS does not sell Haribo candy.

But they do have a wide array of pregnancy tests!

I think I purchased the test around fifteen minutes prior to the start of Mass. This is where the pregnancy delusional decisions begin. I was determined to go to the Basilica. I probably (100%) wasn't going to make it to Mass, but wouldn't the Basilica bathroom be the best place to take a pregnancy test?! 

I know.

I'm crazy.

But, I did it.

And so there it was.

I was a mother to two.

The second candle from Ryan on the bottom row was for the baby.

My toddler was now an oldest and not an only. We made our way to the Grotto to pray for that sibling I had prayed and prayed for. It was rainy and dreary. 

But really?

All was bright and cheery. 

And glowing.

Welcome, Fall!

That was the title of one of Ryan's favorite library books as of late that we just returned today, on its due date. I have been pretty good about delivering our library books on time recently since racking up quite the fine of an amount that I will not be divulging. Just know it was bad, and maybe share a story with me about your own New York Times best fines list to make me feel better. Hmmm, I wonder if due date delivery will be a trend around here??

I know that everyone proclaims, "Pumpkin spice lattes! Boots! Scarves!" when that can't-keep-its-balance season comes around. I love all of that, too, don't get me wrong, but you know what I think has been the biggest perk as of yet? My poor ironing skills and efficiency can be covered up by Chris donning a sweater. Mediocre housewife seasonal winning.

Besides that perk, I adore fall at Notre Dame. Breaking news, no? The changing leaves can cancel out any chilly weather incident where I'm the mom at the playground with a running toddler with a runny nose and zero tissues on hand.

For all of September and until last week, we were preemptively compensated for surviving the pending permacloud in the currency of golden sunshine. We spent so much time outside! I'd bike around the lakes until we would find the trio of a swan family. It was perfect. The paths were normally busy with runners and walkers, but they were usually spaced out enough that I could take swigs of Ryan's stale straw-cup water without a single rogue eyebrow judging me. Ryan would go nuts tossing fallen walnuts into the lake, and I would get my thrill of the day by sitting under the walnut tree attempting to be Isaac Newton pre-gravity discovery. There were some pretty close calls, but I have yet to feel the impact of a falling walnut on my nut so thank you, Guardian Angel!

The temperatures have sadly decreased, but our need to be outside hasn't. Thanks to this week being fall break, we have our our backyard all to ourselves. A positive: wider windows of time for the aforementioned straw-cup sneaking. A negative: Waddick's, the sweet cafe in the Arts and Letters building with equally addictive breakfast sandwiches and scones is closed for the week even though this is potentially the last week of my pregnancy and, thus the last week of my pregnancy craving excuses. Hmph.

This afternoon we ventured out once again and discovered a new game: how many ways can I try to get a toddler to keep his hat on? Incentives and distractions were the winners today. Cross your fingers in your mittens that I can win the battle again tomorrow.

Two Free Golden Tickets

This past weekend was a fun one. My roomie from college came to visit for the football and brought her boyfriend along, too. It was too much fun to get to chat each night just like when we were in school especially since Ashley is one of the few people in the world who thinks I'm funny and doesn't blink an eye at my use of Sabrina the Teenage Witch as a source. 

Ryan's reaction to the approaching band.

I wish I had captured a photo of the leprechaun high-fiving Ryan, but this was, in fact, the look on his face. 

At the beginning of the season, we decided that Ryan could go to a game only if tickets were miraculously handed to us. The kid may enjoy shrieking, "Football! Tackle! Touchdown!" all day, every day (which would make an interesting game if you think about it ... a touchdown for every tackle?), but let's not be confused ... he is twenty months old and has no real concept of those Go-den! helmets. 

Well, luck was on Ryan's side. We were walking home from tailgating and band-watching with about twenty minutes before the game started. Ryan was perched atop Chris' shoulders, and as we passed a house, one of the guys called out to us, "Do you guys want free tickets to go to the game?" 

Ryan was so excited:

And he was so impressed that his dad's prediction for a boring and ugly game was right on the money so thank goodness we didn't spend any money!

In all honesty, it was really fun to go to our first game as a family even though it was just Michigan State and Ryan was just twenty months. Our section was right above the band which is perfect for a toddler, and he finally got to let out those, "Tackle! Touchdown!" shrieks in an appropriate setting. Much better than in church.

In other news, my amazing little sister ran her second half-marathon on Saturday! So proud of you, little sister! Who knew what those size five feet could do.

(Yes, she really has size five feet).

My sister and my dad enjoying the post-race refreshments. 

No Whispers, Sisters

There is so much to say on this subject, but I'm just going to touch on a few things from my experience because let's face it ... I'm not exactly a confrontational person, let alone a confrontational blogger.

Whatever "having it all" means ... does it include not waiting in line for the ladies room? And surprisingly, Ryan was not the toilet paper throwing culprit

We eat lunch with Chris pretty much every day, which is one of my favorite parts about living so close to campus. Today, though, after I could see that Ryan wasn't going to accidentally trip one of the many students swarming around the dining hall while he chased a ball yelling, "Soooccer!" toward his dad, I slipped away and went up to the Oak Room in South Dining Hall to listen to a panel titled, "Professors for Lunch: Can Notre Dame Women Have It All? Career, Family & the Pursuit of Post-Graduation Happiness."

When I first arrived at college, I was floored when my future best friend told me confidently that she wanted to stay at home with her potential future children. I remember thinking, "We are allowed to say that?! We as in female college students could say that we wanted to stay at home?!"  Her simple statement was the very beginning of my discovering why I couldn't seem to settle on one career choice or major for longer than a few months; I couldn't choose because what I truly wanted to do wasn't even offered as an acceptable potential option.

As the semesters passed in college, I became more confident about one thing that I wanted to do. Each semester starts with the usual what is your name, where are you from, what do you want to do introduction. I started to realize that if I truly wanted to be clear about my intentions and wanted to help normalize the concept of an educated parent being able to choose to stay at home with his or her children, I might as well be honest when it came to be my turn in the round of introductions in each class. 

"Hi I'm Katrina, I'm from Ohio, I live in McGlinn, I'm majoring in Economics and I hope to be a consultant and then a stay at home mom." The consultant part would vary as I delved more into my career search, but the shocked reaction of silence and uncomfortable shifting remained consistent. Once, while introducing myself in French, the female professor double checked to see if I knew what I meant when I said, "une mère au foyer." When I assured her that I meant stay at home mom, her response was a perplexed, "Huh." Her reaction did not need a translation.

Now, here I am, living the dream one rendition of Old McDonald at a time. I get to stay at home. And I love it. And it is a luxury for us! We choose to have this luxury even if it means the rest of our life isn't luxurious. It works for our family.

What has surprised me the most since it became apparent that I was officially going to set up a home office of diapers and board books is the response from other girls, friends and acquaintances alike. A friend at work whispered to me behind the closed door of an elevator that she would love to stay at home. A friend at a tailgate whispered the same. Wherever the location or no matter the number of people around, revealing the desire to stay at home was treated like a confession rather than a declaration.   

As I sat there at the table so not looking like a college student, I wondered what image I was giving off, sitting there pregnant with my Notre Dame necklace from freshman year hanging from my neck. That pregnant women can eat it all? Probably. What else does a combination of grilled cheese, lasagna and eggrolls say?

I enjoyed the first two panelists who basically said everything that I think (it's not about having it all, it's about balance, different definitions for each woman), but I had to slip out right as Coach Muffet McGraw took the mike since Chris had to get back to his job and Ryan isn't exactly office-friendly. I was delusional for a bit and thought that maybe, just maybe Ryan would stay quiet if I slipped back into the talk. We lasted maybe a minute of me reminding Ryan to be quiet or to whisper until Ryan proclaimed, "All done." But in that minute, I realized that while I was standing there in the doorway with my little boy on my hip with his leg draped over my expectant belly and praying that he whispered, I was hoping that all of the girls in the room who might be entertaining the idea of choosing to stay at home would stop whispering.

  
Save the whispers for lullabies and bedtime stories. Those are much better.

7 Quick Takes

Linking up with Jen for 7 Quick Takes. Head on over to her to see some other than alma-mater-centric takes. 

In honor of the start of the the football season tomorrow (I'm talking the ND football season not NCAA in general), all seven of these quick takes will be about Ryan's obsession with our Irish. It really seems to have exploded the past two weeks, but realistically, I think it is just a word explosion coinciding with the our non-stop anticipation of the first game rather than being an ND savant. Either way, it is going to be blog-documented. 

1. When we were in Texas, Chris' Uncle Steve (Hi, Uncle Steve!) so generously gave us a framed photo of the Snow Bowl, which just happened to be Chris' very first Notre Dame football game when he was six years old. When we got home, I just propped it up on this dresser until I can hang it (at eye level, of course! Uncle Steve is a master at decorating his house and that is one tip that I remember). Ryan kept staring at the photo and then started chanting, "Game! Game! Game!" 

Chris asked me if I had told him that the frame was a football game. I had to furrow my eyebrow and think about the past events of the morning ... I actually didn't. 

2. Later that afternoon, Ryan upgraded his jabber to, "Football! Game! Daddy!" The pressure is on, Chris ... 

3. I mentioned that Ryan enjoyed my rendition of the fight song during our little road trip. When we traveled to Charlotte for Laura's wedding, he kept requesting, "Dame!" which normally means he wants me to sing Notre Dame, Our Mother, the alma mater. When I started to sing it, he would vehemently demand, "Dame! March!" After some Ryan-translator eyebrow furrowing, I realized he was asking for the fight song. Which means that he can understand words in songs even when I am not making my hands into an itsy-bitsy spider or singing about animals. Bye-bye non-censored Mumford & Sons. 

4. He has known known that Jesus was on the front of the library for a while, but during a bike ride past the mural this week, it was finally upgraded to, "Touchdown! Jesus!" The touchdown portion is said with a lot of gusto.

5. He has been bringing me this book to read to him. "Gipper!" he says. Well if that doesn't warm a Domer heart, what does?

6. We can't ride past the stadium without him seeing a football statue and then saying, "Football! Running! Fast! Tackle!" 

7. We have been practicing the phrase, "Go Irish!" 

It sounds like, "I-shit."

I'm going to be a typical, optimistic fan and say that his shoddy pronunciation is not foreshadowing the outcome of the upcoming season. Let's just hope he doesn't ask for a fork at a tailgate tomorrow right before he sees a leprechaun shirt. Oh me, oh my.

How We Met: The End

Part I

Part II

Linked up with Grace!

When I think of sound of the summer of 2008,  I think of the peculiar non-boing and non-chime sound that you receive when someone IMs you on Skype. Keyboard click-clacks, chat alerts, and the piercing ring of an incoming Skype call were the summer jam for me. I had no idea what Skype was when I first left for home, but Chris was a long distance extraordinaire so he made sure that I became acquainted with the tin-cans-on-a-string of our time.

You know in the beginning of a relationship when you don't want to do anything else but spend time with each other (oh wait, did I say in the beginning? ... we are still like that so luckily both of us feel the same way)? We definitely were feeling that pull, and my dad could definitely see it on the family phone bill. Oops. After that multiple page and multiple dollar sign bill, we were more careful about only talking on Skype for the most part ... you know besides the endless emails. I camped out in my brother's empty room that summer, and the internet signal seemed to enjoy prohibiting me from being comfortable during those hours long Skype talks. The internet did not work near the window where the chair was, worked about 50% of the time when positioned perfectly on the desk, worked on only the left side of the bed, and my computer charger had a short cord so I could only be in a few of the comfortable spots for a short amount of time (okay maybe a couple of hours, but that is minutes in new relationship time) before I had to camp out near an outlet.

We talked about everything that summer, and I mean everything. I think when you know, you become extra confident and don't scurry around the important questions. What's your favorite color was covered, but so was faith and family size. It was almost like we were testing each other to see if the other one was really, truly as good as we thought. And from my point of view, Chris was. I actually love that we were long distance for four months because we were forced to get to know each other and get a bit closer to becoming experts on communication. The expert title still hasn't been bestowed upon us and won't ever be, but I know that we built such a good base that first summer. Muchas gracias, grazie mille, merci beaucoup, Skype.

For the first part of the summer, Chris was in San Diego. He and Brad (Harrington #3) slept in the same room so Brad normally joined in our conversations. Sometimes, Chris' sisters would pick up that he was skyping with a girl and all of a sudden try to give him a hug while he was sitting with his laptop. It was really cute. I was so fascinated by Chris' family that I had them memorized them all long before meeting any of them. My dad is the oldest of thirteen so I grew up with the best Christmases and family gatherings with my grandma's 34 other grandchildren. I always felt sad that my kids wouldn't experience the same joy of a big family so I was determined to have a lot of children so my grandchildren could experience the fun that I did (of course, there are other reasons I want a big family, but holidays sure are a perk). Imagine my happiness when it dawned on me that my own kids could experience having a big extended family.

One of our inside jokes that is about to become an outside joke was always talking about MIRL (apparently this is a common acronym on dating websites?) ... when we would meet in real life. I thought it was funny how nervous I was to see him as the end of summer approached even though we talked for hours. Of course, my excitement towered over the nervousness. It was so amazing to finally be in the same place.

We hadn't kissed before I left for the summer because Chris had been set on not getting into a relationship yet. Once after my return to school that fall, when he was being particularly cute and I was feeling particularly impatient I accidentally jumped the gun and gave him a really, really, nanosecond-quick peck of a kiss. I rationalized that this was made inevitable by his obvious foot dragging!

One night soon after, Chris came to take me on a walk late at night. I was wearing a red long sleeve top. We walked around the lakes talking about our relationship ... After circling the lake once, we stopped at the benches ... And we kissed. It was a perfectly sweet kiss. So for the record our first kiss was very pleasant for both parties. Our second kiss that followed immediately after? Chris says it was one of the worst kisses ever because I basically crushed his lips into his teeth. I blame four months in different states.

A couple weeks later, Chris got a wonderful job offer right there in South Bend! We were beyond relieved. Chris looked mighty fine in his new suit (hilarious side note: Chris bought a new suit just for his final interview in Indianapolis. When he took it out of the suit bag in his hotel room the night before the interview, he discovered the the sales associate hadn't removed the security tag! It was in a very conspicuous place on the back of the suit jacket, and there wasn't going to be a store open before his interview. Skyping with him when he discovered the mistake was pitifully hilarious, but he is Chris Harrington so he was able to let the tag break the ice and ace the interview. Proud girlfriend, I was).

Our relationship was blissful, but I had this mindset that nothing was going to change from my precious freshman year. I didn't know how to balance my friends and Chris. Furthermore, it was very hard to juggle what I thought I was supposed to be doing as a young woman because of all of the romantic comedies that I have watched, magazines that I have read, etc. (I'm easily impressionable, sue me) and what Chris actually deserved. For example, I thought it was completely normal to hang out alone with a former crush on a regular basis. (What? Everyone doesn't do this?) I took Chris for granted so much because I knew I could count on him no matter what.  I wish I had Verily magazine around when I was a sophomore in college. This article about men and women being friends is spot on and would have helped me avoid building so many bumps in our relationship. Nevertheless, all of those bumps in the road did help me grow in my appreciation of our budding relationship.

Chris always was the dream boyfriend. He brought me endless flowers and treats after class, made me flashcards with funny notes, and most importantly, always went to Mass and Confession with me. We used to see this family of a young couple with a little blond baby boy whenever we would be waiting in line for Confession. I would jab Chris' arm, and whisper, "Let's be them!!" Now, I actually know that family so it is neat how things come full circle.

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He came to Thanksgiving at my Grandma's and met my huge family. Then, I went to San Diego for New Year's (well technically, I spent New Year's Eve alone in the Nashville airport weeping into (some food item). I was very nervous about meeting his mom because Chris had mentioned during the summer of Skype that she liked to take tea at a local estate when they were growing up in England. This made me think she was someone who would be able to tell that my favorite tea was iced, came from the golden arches' drive-thru in a giant American cup, and was half sugar. What would she think if she found out that my exposure to British culture consisted of The Parent Trap, Winning London, and my fascination with one of my former crushes. Well, I was just being silly because Chris' mom turned out to be a fellow country girl like me who was from middle of nowhere Texas who prefers corny jokes over tea and is frugal beyond belief. My trip out to San Diego was fabulous. The next month, Chris called me and dared me to guess what his parents had just told him. Baby #11 was on the way! 

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In the summer , I worked an internship in Belize for about eight weeks. I was miserable. I was Chris-sick to the max. I ended up having a fabulous time because of the wonderful community, but I definitely was on a first name basis with the potbellied man who sold the phone cards.

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That fall we flew to San Diego for little Johnny's Baptism. When it came time for family photos after the baptism, I tried to stand in the back and take photos, but oh my goodness was my heart soaring when his family called my name and insisted that I step into a family photo.

I kind of stick out.

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Both Chris and I knew that marriage was on the horizon, so I had a pretty good idea of when Chris was going to propose. I knew it was going to be before I left to study abroad for France since we wanted to book the Basilica and would have to be engaged before the first Monday of  March and I left for France at the very end of January. I also knew that it would be on campus because ... come on ... that one is not hard to guess at all ... so before Christmas break. I knew it had to be after Thanksgiving when he would see my dad and would be able to ask for his blessing. So that left any time post-Thanksgiving and before the second week of December was over. We had figured out over the course of our relationship that we had met on February 2, first told each other that we liked each other on May 2 and first kissed on  September 2 (scarily, none of those dates were planned. We are just really good at making it easy to not forget those ever-so-important milestones). Based on that trend, I thought he would propose on December 2. Exciting! I'll be honest though that I wanted to be at least a teensy bit surprised so I was bummed that I had pinpointed the event so precisely.

December 2 also happened to be a jam-packed day. I had a ton of class, work, and project meetings, and Chris also had a lot of work and meetings. I was confessing all of this to Laura, and she was empathetic as best friends are and hatched a plan. How about we switched up our traditional Wednesday night post-work-at-Reckers Grotto trip to Tuesday night after work? We would go to the Grotto and then have a "college night" (when we would get semi-dressed up and go grab tea or coffee (okay tea for Laura and then whatever I wanted)). That way there was a bit more time on Wednesday for me to see Chris if that happened to be the day of the proposal. At first, I thought something was up. Did this mean that Laura was trying to plan something with Chris and the proposal would actually happen on Tuesday? However, Laura was so convincing so I believed her.

Well, I had 97% confidence that it wasn't happening on Tuesday, but that remaining 3% told me to pack my red shirt that I was first kissed by Chris Harrington in for the college night post-Grotto trip for my change of clothes. A pizza-covered Reckers T-shirt wasn't going to cut it. I was soooooo distracted during work. I just kept thinking about the next day, and I kept zoning out. After messing up the second pizza of the night, my manager asked me if I had something on my mind. Ha! Of course! When was it going to happen!? Looking back, I realize that I was very lucky that the key question dealt with when and it wasn't "Will it happen!?"

Chris texted me good night since he had an early meeting the next day. Okay, it definitely wasn't' going to happen on Tuesday. I now 100% didn't think it was happening then. Laura and I changed into our clothes and began our walk to the Grotto arm in arm as we always did. She lead me to the kneeler. The spot was way farther to the left than where we normally knelt at the Grotto, but I didn't think anything of it. I bowed my head down to pray and saw a single red rose right in front of me. I smiled. I knew it was from Chris. He always did sweet things like this. I still didn't think it was happening; I thought he was just being Chris! Then I heard footsteps coming from behind. I turned around to see that blond-haired blue-eyed boy who had told me good night walking toward me.

"What are you doing here?!"

He got down on one knee, told me a lot of sweet things that I have no recollection of and opened up a ring box to reveal the ring. Yes! A thousand times yes! (Okay I said yes, obviously, but I was in no way as eloquent as Miss Jane Austen, but I am sure you could have guessed from reading my blog).
We went and lit a candle right away. He and Laura had fooled me; although I was suspicious in the beginning of Laura's plan, I was still so surprised and so so so happy. Surprise of the year: I could not stop smiling.

It turns out that Chris almost didn't make it on time! Chris was always very good at getting onto campus whenever he wanted, but that night when Chris asked to go park by the Grotto, the guard told him that he would have to park in the outside parking and walk there. Chris even showed him the ring and told him that he was going to propose and was going to be late, but the guard still refused. Chris had to sprint to the Grotto to put the rose of the kneeler.
--- Our engagement was a wonderful, but way too long time. We were engaged for sixteen months since we wanted the Basilica on April 2, 2011 after I graduated in January of 2011. Plus, Chris moved to a town almost two hours away and I went to study in France. The extra-extra long distance relationship was no fun especially when all you want is to be married. Thankfully, Chris got to come visit me with his aunt after a long delay that involved me breaking down in the Pisa train station thanks to a certain Icelandic volcano (thanks for calming me down, Laura M!)... but that is a story for another day. 

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I wasn't nervous to marry Chris. There were no jitterbugs at all.  I had been waiting for that day since we talked on the deck at the rugby formal almost three years before; now I had just swapped out my seersucker Target dress for a wedding dress. We had over 300 guests there to celebrate with us, and it was incredible.

Photo by Yue Wu

The next day, Chris whisked me off on our honeymoon. He had managed to keep it a surprise, and I had no clue where we were going other than it would be warm. I could not believe it when he showed me on his phone where we were going right before we went to the ticket counter. I saw a beautiful island resort, and then I saw ... The Philippines! We were going to the Philippines! 

It was the best two weeks (although Chris would say it was the best two weeks minus the few days he was in severe pain because I did a less than stellar job after volunteering to help him apply sunscreen. His legs looked like a variation of these. 

Two weeks after we got home, on the day that William and Kate got married, I saw a positive sign almost immediately after I used a pregnancy test. Surprise! Ryan got to walk in the graduation ceremony a month later at the ripe old age of eight or so weeks in my belly. Sneaky kid. 

  
And now here we are. Would I ever have guessed that I would be here?! Here = met the one at the age of eighteen and have two kids by 24.  H-e-l-l no. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't find the perfect guy for quite a long time, and I remember I would hop around from career plan to career plan because my heart wasn't in any of them. I didn't think that my dream that I wouldn't tell anyone would actually come true. When someone in my dorm got engaged my freshman year when I was a junior, I told my roommates that my parents would kill me if I got engaged as a junior. Ha! Little did I know ...

I am happy that I was doubtful. It makes the okay days, good, and the good days, the best. So there we are, future grandkids: the how we came to be story of your madly in love grandparents.

My jackpot

How We Met: The Benefits of Overreacting

Well, after that very flattering kick in the behind from Grace, I was a leeetle overzealous and wrote an extremely long post that covered only four days. After coming to my senses and realizing that no one except for me would want that much detail, I spent the last few days copy editing that behemoth of an overshare into something a bit more respectable. A bit. So, here we go. 

Part I

After that not-so-smooth (and embarrassing!) smile coverup, I somehow recovered and proceeded to feign normal human emotions by not expressing joy over Chris' break-up. Upon his departure, I whirled around to face Ashley with saucers for eyes and incredulously relayed the news that Chris Harrington had broken up with his girlfriend. I texted Laura and then went to the bathroom because, well I had drank a lot of coffee that day. When I came back, I had already missed a call from Laura. When we finally did manage to connect, I suspect that I was babbling incoherently in shock.

Let me tell you a bit about my best friend, Laura. She is the kindest soul in the world who seriously finds beauty in everything ... even the perma-cloud that hovers over South Bend for the majority of the year.  She is good. I don't mean she is good at something; I mean she is a personification of good. And she is not sneaky and definitely not conniving. So what follows was a complete and utter surprise... and I can't even help her out by blaming liquid courage or runner's high.

Laura bumped into Chris at the dining hall and told him that she was sorry to hear about his break-up and that she had prayed a rosary for them already. That was followed with this statement: "So are you interested in Katrina?" 



Palm to face over here still realizing the forward nature of it all, but eternally grateful because she had just sent the ball that would soon be his old ball and chain rolling (without my knowledge!!). Chris was taken aback, replied no not at all, and told her that he was in no way ready to be interested in anyone else.

But the seed had been planted. He knew that he was graduating in two weeks and then who knew where he would be after that? Once the fact that I liked him had been revealed, he had a limited amount of time to get to know me although he wasn't ready to be in a relationship. I guess he thought I was an okay person.

Laura and I had our normal Monday night shift at Reckers, which I had mentioned to Chris if he wanted to visit after we got off of work. Lo and behold, 10pm came around, and there he was. I don't remember who all was there, but we all sat in the corner across from the smoothie counter. I was venting about how it was going to be a really long night and how I was nervous to write my paper (which was an easy paper...and this is just an example of how nervous I get before I have to write something. I work it all up in my head that it has to be perfect, and nothing is scarier than a blank canvas/paper/word screen. This also happens when I click "New Post" in Blogger. Why I attempt to keep a blog, I do not know). Things left off with Chris mentioning that he was looking forward to watching the Manchester United game on Wednesday with a few of his friends and that I was welcome to watch as well. Cool. Okay, more than cool.

I might have gotten an hour of sleep that night, but don't worry, Mom and Dad, I got an A! I went to my last classes of the year, and then returned home to my dorm room. I sat down at my laptop and there was a message from Chris Harrington! The Manchester United game was today, not tomorrow! I walked (fine, you caught me ... I run-walked) over to Dillon, knocked on room 109, and Chris opened the door. I'll never forget how cute he looked in his blue-green polo that made his eyes just pop. Weak at the knees and everything, but I couldn't even think about him being interested in me. He had told Laura that he wasn't, after all.

Chris' friends all seemed to have only two things to talk about that day: the game and what was an uncomfortable point for me: the rugby formal. Casper (that is his nickname, his parents didn't bestow him with a ghostly name) walked in and started watching the game. At one point, he asked who Chris was taking to the rugby formal. I hoped that Chris didn't see my ears perk up, and I focused on the game I was only vaguely interested in. Attempt #1 to unknowingly embarrass and torture Katrina. A little bit later, Liedl stopped in. Talk, talk talk, "Hey Chris, so who are you taking to the rugby formal? Attempt #2. Both times Chris brushed off the questions. My phone received a text, and I checked it. A friend from my dorm had just texted me, "Hey Katrina, are you going to the rugby formal?" The world was out to make me feel anxious and tortured, and it was succeeding.

I ignored the text and thought I would reply later. The game ended, and his roommate asked if Chris was going to the dining hall. I was so shocked and confused and happy at the same time when Chris turned to me and asked when I wanted to go to the dining hall. He wanted to continue to hang out? He assumed we were going to dinner? I don't think Chris thought any special about it. It was just dinner at the dining hall with other people, but to me ... whoa. I had to pick something up at my dorm so we walked that way first and, of course, ran into the friend who had texted me.

"Katrina, are you going to the rugby formal?" Attempt #3. I tried to not turn beet red and to not hesitate at all so it didn't seem like I was expecting an invite from Chris Harrington. "No, I'm not," I replied and tried to change the subject hoping that Chris had miraculously zoned out for those ten seconds.

The next day seemed to be Chris Harrington day as I saw him multiple times. I was waiting outside the dining hall for Ashley when he walked out carrying a grab-n-go bag. He looked so handsome in his corduroy blazer and ... he gave me a hug when he saw me. My first hug from Chris Harrington!  Then that night for dinner was best friend dinner. Laura and I came up with the not cheesy idea that the two of us should go to Chipotle with Chris and his best friend, Chris. I borrowed Ashley's Rav-4, and we picked up the guys at Main Circle.

Dinner was so fun. Chris paid for Laura and me! A gentleman.

I had to work at 8 so we had to rush back so I could change. Once I was at work, Chris and Chris came to grab Ashley's keys from me because they had forgotten something in the car. I was working with Buddha (a nickname once again) who also was on the rugby team. Buddha was working pizzas which is to the left of the cash register, which is where I was working. The Chris' came back, and started talking to Buddha and me. Buddha loudly asked Chris Harrington, "Hey, who are you taking to the formal?"

Oh. My. Goodness. Attempt #4 in two days to unknowingly embarrass me! I was so mortified I didn't even hear what Chris replied to Buddha.

THEN Chris Harrington came over from the pizza area to the cash register which was about two steps, but seemed longer to me and asked me to go to the rugby formal with him.

Silent squeals all around.

(And I'm still squealing five years later). 

Of course, I said yes, and I'm 75% sure I managed to control the giddy twirling on the inside. Once they left, and it was super slow, I ducked into the bathroom and texted Laura that Chris Harrington had asked me to the formal!

Laura came to start our 10-12 shift, and I highly doubt we talked about anything else but deciphering what this meant. He had just broken up with his girlfriend! He had said he wasn't interested! I was still convinced that he saw us as only friends in the future, but I was now gone. Gone, gone, gone. Our managers offered Laura and I a deal: if we came back and worked from 2am-4am, then we wouldn't have to work any final shifts at all. Cloud Nine offers a whole lot of adrenaline so I was all set to do it. We made this insane plan that Laura and I were going to go to the Grotto as we did every week after our shift ended at midnight, I would go home and change and go to a party with my roommates very quickly and then I would come back and visit Chris in CoMo because he was writing his last paper ever and then we would work from 2-4am.

I would have been extremely annoyed with me if I were my friends. I kept insisting that we were only going to the party for 20 minutes. Cringe. I deeply apologize, roomies!  Luckily for me, the party ended up being awkward and a bust so we maybe stayed for ten minutes. Plenty of time for me to visit Chris for five minutes in CoMo with Laura. I was wearing some weird outfit that I thought was sooo cute...gold heels, yellow shorts and this multi-pastel-colored pajama nightgown that I had belted and thought could pass as a going out top. I have no clue what I was thinking. Laura and I returned to work and were so slap happy after that we were rolling around in the hallway of McGlinn completely sober saying that our beer had the word "root" before it. We are really cool people, as you can tell.

The next day was the rugby formal. My friend and I just happened to be in the dining hall at the same time as the rugby team for dinner. They were all muddy from practice, as usual. They were all sitting in the back of the right-right section, and my friends and I were in the front of the same section. Chris came over to my table to tell me about when he was going to pick me up and ... he asked for my phone number. After the he closed his phone, said bye and left our table, the whole rugby team in the back starting whooping, hollering and whistling.

When I was getting ready, I was nervous about what to wear. It had to be perfect. I remember telling Ashley and Laura that this was different. I didn't want to look hot. I wanted to look beautiful for him. I can't really describe it, but maybe you understand. I quickly tacked up the chest area of a seersucker dress I hadn't worn yet. He came to pick me up, and he happily took a bunch of photos with me (unlike now...ahem, Chris Harrington, hint, hint).

We walked to Main Circle where the rugby guys were waiting to bring those of us without cars to the formal. It was slightly drizzling, and Chris kept offering his suit jacket for me to wear. We got to Main Circle, and the only spot left was in the trunk of Donnie's SUV. I thought it was so fun and "so college", but Chris kept saying things like, "I'm sorry we are riding to the dance in the back of  car with smelly rugby stuff." Like I cared. I was going to a formal with Chris Harrington.

The formal was terribly fun at the legendary Oak Hill apartments that led to a broken beer pong table and all. We danced a bit, and while we were dancing, Chris told me that I looked very pretty.

Now I feel like I need to make it clear that even though Chris had asked me to the formal, I was still uncertain of his feelings, or if he even had any feelings for me at all.  I was the silly girl who was interpreting every move, and every move was contradicting the previous one, or so I made it seem in my head.  Chris had told me when he picked me up that I looked very pretty. It was the best thing to hear, but I thought that I didn't know what that meant.

So when he told me that I looked pretty a second time, I was completely lost in the maze of confusion I had insanely created in my head. I started asking, "What do you mean?" "You said I look pretty?" "What do you mean??"

Side note: Chris always teases me now about how I overreacted over what was merely a polite thing you say to your date...You said I look pretty! We need to talk. Yikes, sane girl over here, folks.

So Chris suggested that we go outside to get some fresh air, but we didn't make it past the stairs because we kept running into people to talk to. Then they did the speeches about the seniors including a stellar one about Chris Harrington. The girl who had texted me if I was going, nudged me and said, "Wow! Look at who you came with!"

Chris and I started dancing again, but not for long. He suggested again that we go outside to talk. That is how I found myself on the deck standing across from Chris Harrington. It is so hard to describe what it looked like to me so bear with me: it was kind of like Serendipity when the man and woman are finally on the ice rink together at the end of the movie. It's night time, the lighting is just right so it seems like both are glowing and they just know. Are you following me? Now switch out the perfectly falling snow and romantic background music for some red Solo cups and sounds of drunken debauchery wafting from inside and you have the scene on the deck. It was perfect, hollers and all.

I hope at least one person followed that Serendipity-college-party mash up. The concept should be coming to theatres soon.

I think Chris could tell that I was nervous and too shy to start saying what we both knew. He started talking, and I felt so alive. I wanted to soak up every detail. He let me know that he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but he knew that he thought I was too good of a person to not get to know better. (blush. Maybe the whole love is blind thing had already clouded over his relationship vision).  He didn't know where he was going to be after the next year, but he did know that in spite of that, he wanted to get to know me. When he continued with the fact that he liked me, I think my whole body smiled. I didn't care if he saw my ears perk up. Somehow, I was able to pull off some ventriloquy and told him through a permanent and probably scary beam of a smile that I felt the same way. I liked him.

Since you already know that I was tip-toeing on the line of crazy with my gold sandals that night, let me be fully honest and possibly make you think I was already on the crazy side. I knew I was going to marry him. I just knew.  Not only did I feel awakened because of my feelings for him; I truly admired him, crooked nose and all. I was never, ever confident that I would be able to find the right guy. A guy who would be Catholic, want a big family, be okay with waiting, and still make me laugh, brighten my day with just a glance and all of that mushy gushy stuff.  But, there he was: strong in what really mattered, and strong in what didn't. He was strong in his faith and family values and able to make my twitterpated heart sing when we weren't even dating. He was blond, blue-eyed, athletic and could pull off a British accent. 

(I think I'm going to have to really work on explaining how I just knew in order to do it justice, but for now, this will do or else I will never ever click, "publish" and I will forever be stuck as a girl who smiles when people break up).

After we walked back inside hand in hand, I grabbed my phone from the bench near the kitchen and put my wild and crazy premonition into the very official writing of 2008; I texted my little sister, "I found the one." 

Is there a Stereotypical Like-struck Girl Anonymous organization out there? Although I guess the whole blogging about it concept takes away the anonymous aspect ...

The first photo after we talked on the deck. Beaming.

After the formal ended around 3, we ventured back to school and stayed up the whole night walking around campus. Laura and her roommates had invited the rest of the girls in our section to watch the sunrise on South Quad that next morning so Chris and I decided there was no point in going to sleep when we would get up in a couple of hours anyway. We met the girls in the middle of South Quad, and we didn't even care that we couldn't even see the sunrise because of the cloudy sky. All of us went to the dining hall after, and Chris made the best first impression on some of my friends by getting a piece of his omelet stuck in his throat, trying to drink it down with water and then just spewing water + omelet everywhere. Nothing says nice to meet you like letting people see your breakfast. 

Later that afternoon, I was IMing with my brother, and, I don't know, the guilty-little-sister complex got me telling him all about the guy that I liked. This is what I chose to tell him: that he was the captain of the rugby team (hmm...rugby doesn't exactly have the best reputation), he was an Army ROTC dropout (my brother was in his third year at the Naval Academy), he grew up in England, (my brother is quite the patriot), and that he was a senior (we all know what people think when they hear a senior is interested in a freshman). I would say that I did a pretty good job of making him seem like a guy my brother would approve of, wouldn't you? Needless to say, Peter was not happy and might have issued a few typical big brother threats. 

We had seven days left together before we would be forced into long distance communication for who knows how long. His pending graduation really catapulted us into discussing the future and whether it would be our future. During one discussion on a bench near Old College, Chris was skirting around the concept of what my view of us was, and I felt a surge of confidence and blurted out, "If you are asking if I see you as my future husband, then yes." Surprisingly, I didn't scare him away. And even though I saw him as that and knew he was the one, we agreed to continue to get to know each other over the summer before we officially started dating and all that jazz. 

Chris had a lighter finals schedule than I did so once he was finished with his, he offered to help me study. I still have the flashcards that he made for me complete with funny little notes written in the corners. After finals were over, Chris took me on our first date. I asked him what I should wear, he replied, "Smart casual," and then I asked what "smart casual" meant. Newsflash: you don't live in England anymore, Master Harrington.

Smart casual.

The next day was move out day for me. Chris was supposed to come to my dorm room to help me finish packing, and we were going to wait for my dad to come pick me up. I got a phone call from my brother telling me that campus looked really nice that day. Oh shoot. Chris, the kind of English, ROTC dropout, senior rugger was on his way to my dorm and my big brother had surprised me and was there!! Luckily, the meeting went smoothly. 

Rogue bra strap in 3, 2, 1 ...

At the end of the day, Chris gave me a hug (two things here: we were waiting to kiss until we were dating, and Chris was super scared that my dad saw that he accidentally exposed my bra strap while doing so. Scandal) and closed the door after me. I rode away with the playlist on the old iPod Chris had given me playing in my ear sad, happy, hopeful, in like, waiting for that kiss and not knowing how high a phone bill could reach ... but I was about to find out that summer. 

And so I stretched part II from four days to twelve days. I'll try to pack more efficiently in the next and last memory box blog post.