ABC's

A. age :: twenty-four

B. bed size :: queen (currently piled with seven pillows for me and one pillow for Tim)

C. chore you hate :: shaving my legs - does that count as a chore?

D. dogs :: no-thank-you

E. essential start to your day :: raspberry smoothie made by Timmy

F. favorite destination :: Hawaii!!!

G. gold or silver :: gold

H. height :: five feet, four and a half inches

I. instruments you play :: piano (kind of), flute (kind of)

J. job title :: wife, mom-to-be, graphic designer, support analyst

K. kids :: Baby Love! (yup, still pregnant)

L. least favorite :: DENTIST (just thinking about the dentist makes my skin crawl) 

O. overnight hospital stays :: once for tonsils

N. nickname :: Sweet Bea (my family), Little Darlin' (Timmy) M. maiden name :: Davison

P. pet peeve :: people who complain all the time

Q. quote :: "Words which do not give the light of Christ increase the darkness." - Mother Teresa

R. righty or lefty :: righty

S. siblings :: older sister, younger sister

T. time you wake up :: 6:45 AM (weekdays), as late as possible (weekends)

U. useless information :: I love eating ice.

V. vegetables you dislike :: sweet potatoes, squash

W. what makes you run late :: the snooze button, being distracted by Timmy's kisses

X. x-rays you’ve had :: dentist x-rays

Y. yummy food :: fresh summer tomatoes

Z. zoo animal favorite :: penguins

 (ABC Banner made for Baby Love's nursery)

As I was cleaning out my closet the other day, I found this:

full of this:

 and this:

 Sad times.

A boy? Really…?

(I feel it is likely that there are people, to this day, who think my parents had a son.)

our life in a nutshell: free time

If you were to peek into our lives, analyze how we spend our free time,
and make a pie chart of the results, it would look something like this:

After looking at how our life is divided,  

I would say that our priorities are mostly in the right place.

We go on adventures (big and small ones), 

we dream exciting dreams (and make them come true), 

we snuggle (a lot), 

and our second favorite place to be is with family (and friends).

 Goals for the Future:

Move "watching movies" to the bottom of the list. 

Replace "eating out" with "cooking together". 

Boost "exercise" a little higher up.  

I love my life.

they say its your half-birthday…

23 and one half years old.

How do you celebrate half-birthdays?

(We celebrate with Indian tents in the bedroom,
half-kisses, and peanut butter cupcakes.)

happy St. Patricks day!

Oh my pretty Emerald Isle,

How your magic makes me smile.

Green above and green below,

A million greens that gleam and glow.

All the world is bright and clean,

When you're in the Irish green.

I like to wear green on St. Patrick's day. I love to walk among hundreds of fellow green wearing friends. There's something just so magical about it. I wish we had color themed days more often.

I like that Chipotle is giving away free guacamole for St. Patrick's Day. 

And I really like that my last name is O'Brien. 

I'm Irish. 

And I'm a very lucky girl.

born on a Wednesday

 My middle name is Beatrice. 

And the fact that Beatrice means "bringer of joy" was the only thing that could console me when I found out that Rebecca means "tied, bound, or hung".

The lady who told me this was also named Rebecca, and she pretended to hang herself as she visually explained exactly what my name meant. I was truly traumatized. Especially when she next turned to my sweet little sister and, with a smile, told Kathryn that her name meant "pure".

A short time later, my older sister (whose pretty name meant "God's promise") informed me that I was  born on a Wednesday. After she read me this Mother Goose poem. She, of course, was born on a Monday.

On a Monday in March. Little sister was born on a Tuesday in October. And I was born in November, right on top of Thanksgiving. It was an emotional day when I realized that their birthstones were dazzling aquamarine and sparkling pink. And mine? A hideous gold/brown/tan stone that calls itself Yellow Topaz. On top of everything else, it seemed rather unfair. Especially with a grandmother who had a habit of giving birthstone jewelry...

But I had Beatrice. And somehow that made things better. Because my sisters may have had me beat in the first name meaning department. They had better birth days and better birth months. But, out of us three girlies, I had the best middle name.

And, to me, it is the most glamorous, beautiful name. I love that it is perfectly unique and timeless. I love that I was named after a dear friend of the family. And I love to picture my parents softly speaking it over me on the day I was born.

This "bound" Rebecca, born on a Wednesday in November, wouldn't be quite the same without Beatrice in the middle.

Today is "Middle Name Pride Day". What's your middle name? Are you proud of it?

a brief history of me.

For the first 10 years of my life, I was known as Rebecca. And then I somehow turned into Becky, with a "y". I was Becky for about a year. But there weren't many creative possibilities for a name ending in "y", and so I decided to become Beckie with an "ie". This seemed rather glamorous to me at the time, and I was Beckie for a good two years.

Then, in a very dramatic 13 year old moment, I suddenly realized that Beckie with an "ie" looked very awkward. And so I quickly dropped the "e" and became Becki with an "i" - dotted with a heart. It was totally me.

And at that point, nobody had any idea how to spell my name.

But, while the spelling of my name changed, my favorite color remained the same. Pink. (I had a brief period in middle school where I only pretended to prefer lavender - because the boys had, due to my pink infatuation, started calling me Pepto Bismal.)

It's never really been much of a question to anyone. Would Becky/ie/i prefer purple or pink? Pink. What color did Becky/ie/i paint her room? Pink. Pink purses, pink shoes, pink coats. Pink pens and pink sunglasses. Pink birthday cakes, pink toothbrushes. Pink sapphire engagement ring. For as far back as I can remember, everyone has always known that my favorite color is pink. It's kind of an immediate knowledge.

And with pink comes happy. (Sorry all you pink-haters, but the studies have proven it to be true.) I have always loved being happy and making other people happy. (Timmy makes me happy.)

So I have become known for Becki with an "i" dotted with a heart, pink, and happy thoughts. Which is where the name happilyBecki came from.

Where is all of this going?

I'm changing the official color of happilyBecki. To a delightful teal blue. I'm actually really excited about teal blue.

My favorite color is still pink. I just don't want my logo to look like Valentine's day.

Any thoughts on teal blue?

packed suitcases

My tummy hurts when I'm tired. My eyes feel droopy, and I get a little cranky.

Today I am tired.

This week has been a long, busy one. So busy that I couldn't really justify my usual 9:30 bedtime. I don't like being tired. 

Timmy and I have a sunrise alarm clock. Every morning the "sun" starts rising in our room at 5:30, and we are gently awakened to the gradual light. I usually wake up happy - but this week I have woken up completely out of sorts.

And my first immediate thoughts are centered around what I need to get done. Normally I wake up thinking about breakfast (which is partly why I always wake up happy - I love breakfast). But waking up to a "list of things to do" the size of forever is not a happy wake up.

I feel like I really do have a list the size of forever. If I try rewriting it, in hopes it will end up shorter, it is inevitable that I will find another thing to add to it. I need to stop rewriting my lists.

But I love lists. I'll share with you my favorite list:

Great Things I have Accomplished this Week:

**Successfully created a similar home made version of the Chipotle burrito.

**Convinced Timmy that we need to have a weekly "business dinner" at Chipotle. (We love Chipotle.)

**Found time to work out three times on my new exercise equipment.

**Did the laundry. (Rather, directed Timmy to do the laundry...)

**Celebrated 2 years at my job.

**Finished and mailed Valentines to all my favorite girls. (pictured above)

**Visited our potential retail space and began mapping out our store layout.

**Created notecards, promotional folders, and a bus advertisment for my freelance job with Care Net. (And I am admittedly excited to see my design cruising around on Madison's buses!!)

**Worked endlessly on my Etsy shop designs, packaging, branding, etc. (This is the real culprit of my busy-ness!) Launch date is March 1!!

**Packed a suitcase.

And now Timmy and I are leaving on a romantic weekend adventure. (That's what the packed suitcase is for.) It will involve a lot of driving, relaxing, snuggling, and smooching.

Happy Valentine's Day!

i'll make a home with you.

  

this weekend

because I have officially accepted a freelance graphic design position.

because Timmy and I were itching for a completely unpractical adventure.

because I found the most perfectly amazing shelves online at IKEA...

We decided to take a road trip to Chicago. To hold hands and listen to The Hobbit. To IKEA. To spend hours entranced by all the IKEA lovelies... to practice self-control. To buy those beautiful shelves. To bring them home to live in my art studio. To give me space to create... a place to design.

And then...

because we had been meaning to for the past six months.

because color makes my thoughts sparkle.

because it made sense to do before we assembled the shelves...

We bought three gallons of paint from Home Depot at 8PM. To paint my studio a pink so light it whispers. To stay up very late dripping pink paint and sharing painty kisses. To watch my handsome husband put on his tool belt and expertly assemble my beautiful shelves.

 

To just bask in the reality that we were painting our home together.

Because, oh yeah, I'll make a home with you my love.

commitment

We have a plant that lives on the window sill in our kitchen. It "lives" in a perpetual state of dying.

I probably remember to water it once a month (maybe), and only when I suddenly notice that it is on the absolute brink of death. And then I mournfully apologize to it's wilted leaves, pour as much water into its parched soil as possible, place it back on the sill, and vow to never let it go that long without water ever again. But, a month later, I find myself in the same place as the last. Noticing a dying plant and reviving it just in time. And I can only imagine how maddening it must be to be dying of thirst - living only inches away from the water faucet.

I consider this one of my deepest faults - I'm sure my plant would agree.

And so, my resolution for 2010 is to learn to water my plants.

This resolution encompasses much more than just my dying plant on the window sill. In 2010 I am determined to "water" every area in my life. I want to be a woman who is committed to everything - big or small - that the Lord has entrusted to me. Whether it is house plants, my marriage, my design work, or my relationships. I am so, so excited to throw 100% into every area of my life and just see what happens!

2010 is going to be a beautiful year. My prayer is that 2011 will find me with a gorgeous green plant on my window sill and a well-watered life to go along with it. *smile*

Here lies my wilted plant. And if you look very closely, you can see my handsome Timmy's reflection in the window....

goodbye 2009

 

Sometimes... while I'm sitting at work I get emails like this one from my darling husband:

"So I just had an amazing revelation of how talented you really are!!! It really has just bursted to overflowing in my heart!!! You are an incredible writer! Incredible photographer! And the most artistic creative designer in this whole world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am more excited about you and more proud of being YOUR husband than ever before! Congratulations on being amazing!! love, your Timmy"

Sometimes... it's nice to have someone think you're way more amazing than you really are.

And sometimes... their unwavering belief in you is what makes you truly amazing.

my christmas

(This is a picture of Pinklepurr by my parents' fireplace. I think she is pretending to be a log.)

Dear Mom,

I lit candles in the living room the other night. Lots and lots of them. As I was lighting them, I told Timmy how you never ever let me have candles when I was growing up. He couldn't believe that and wondered why. I said I had no idea. I thought perhaps you had a traumatic experience with candles as a child.

And then, while I was happily putting out Christmas decorations, I dropped a tag into one of my candles. And it started on fire. Timmy had to put it out.

And then, as I was intently situating holly berries on the mantle, I tipped three candles over onto myself, all at once. I burned my tummy, ruined my shirt, and got wax all over the mantle and the hearth and the carpet. As I was sniffling in the bathroom, putting ice on my burns and apologizing for making such a huge waxy mess, Timmy hugged me close.

"I think I know why your mom never let you have candles." he said.

I have a very wise mother. Thank you.

Love,
Becki

P.S. Timmy is in charge of our candles from now on.

friday favorites - home

I grew up in a valley, surrounded by thickly wooded forests and meandering streams. My parents built our house out of logs they cut down from our forest - kind of like modern-day pioneers. My daddy can build anything, fix anything. He is strong and smart and full of adventure – my hero. Because of him, I always knew what it felt like to be cherished.

We raised chickens, turkeys, ducks, pigs, goats, and cows. We spent hours petting, feeding, and playing with our livestock. And then we ate them. (This was before we became vegan.)

We had huge gardens full of vegetables and sprawling orchards of fruit. We planted fields of flowers in the springtime. We picked wild berries in the summertime and gathered nuts in the autumn. My mom cooked and baked and canned. She cuddled and loved and read us beautiful stories. She taught us to knit, quilt, make our own clothes, and to love the simple things in life. Gentle and sweet, unwavering and so, so good. Because of her, I learned what makes a woman truly beautiful, inside and out.

My two sisters and I grew up without television. Instead, we ruled the forests together as fairy princesses, with kittens and chicks as subjects, flowers in our hair, and eyes sparkling bright with imagination. We knew every tree, every flower. Hours were spent playing, (often completely naked), in the stream by our house. We tripped down hills, jumped off cliffs, raced through prickles, and climbed tall, tall trees. Because of my darling sisters, I have never known a moment without friends.

Daddy, Mom, and three little girlies made five.

And now, the three little girlies are all grown up. Two happily married with homes of their own, and one a globe-trotting missionary. (I'm the happiest of the happily married, btw.) But no matter where life takes us, I believe our hearts will always call our house in the valley home. No matter where we go, the love and character our parents patiently passed down to their three girlies remains.

And home is still one of my very favorite places to be. Only now, Daddy, Mom, three girlies, and two handsome husbands make seven.

And, with a house full of seven, all  my very favorites are in one happy place.

introducing Rebecca Beatrice O'Brien

Today I officially became Rebecca Beatrice O'Brien. (About time, huh?)

O'Brien is a great last name. And, as Becki O'Brien, I couldn't be happier. Tim and I have become we, the O'Brien family.

But I will admit to feeling like I've lost just a little bit of me. Becki Davison no longer exists, really. From now on, everyone who meets me will know Becki O'Brien and Becki Davison will be somewhat forgotten.

I had been Becki Davison for a long time -- 22 years -- and it served me quite well. I always felt that, while Davison was not an especially glamorous last name, I had been fortunate to not get stuck with a horrid or embarrassing or impossible-to-pronounce or dreadfully boring last name. My biggest complaint was that it was always mistaken for Davidson. No big deal.

Becki Davison is someone I know. Becki O'Brien is a new person to discover. I spent years building Becki Davison's reputation and character. I'm proud of the person Becki Davison was, of the choices she made and the things she accomplished. Becki O'Brien still has to prove herself.

So here's to Becki Davison. Here's to that blessed little baby, born into the happiest little family. Here's to the little girl with big brown eyes, who spent her days coloring pictures, and because she couldn't say her "R's", called herself "Webecca". Here's to the shy sweetheart who was loved and kissed and cuddled through her childhood by amazing parents and the very best sisters. Here's to the homeschooled teenager who graduated early and, honestly, truly, never really gave her parents any trouble. Here's to the college kid who worked long hard hours to earn her graphic design degree. Here's to the woman who chose to move to Madison just because the Lord told her to. And here's to the princess who saved her heart and held out for her perfect prince.

The days of Becki Davison are gone, but she will be remembered forever in the hearts of those who loved her. *sniff sniff*

And here's to the over-tired, emotional Becki O'Brien who is mourning the loss of the last name of her birth and desperately needs to go to sleep.

about laundry

In the almost-five months that Timmy and I have been married, we have done laundry three times. Three. It's true.

I think this proves a couple things. First, that we both have way too many clothes. (Don't worry, we never, ever wear dirty/smelly/stinky clothes.) Second, we don't especially love to do laundry.

It's not that doing laundry is a particularly loathsome chore. And we're really not lazy. It's just one of those chores that gets pushed farther and farther back. It's just that we would rather be snuggling  by the fire if we can push off laundry for just one more night.

Tim has officially run out of clean socks. Not me! I could probably wear a different pair of socks every day for at least two months. So, Tim has been borrowing MY socks. This worked nicely for a while, because I do have some boring black and brown ones. But, the majority of my socks are delightfully girly -- pink stripes, paisley, argyle, lace, etc.

On Sunday, we went shopping for new shoes for Timmy. A super cool looking salesman at the Buckle was helping us, bringing out boxes full of potential shoes to try on...

And then Tim took off his shoes. And we all just looked. Looked down at Tim's wiggling, pink striped feet. (And I noticed that his handsome face turned a very bright shade of red.)

After an awkward pause, Tim said nervously, "I umm.. I'm wearing my wife's socks today..."

"Yeah. Cool cool dude, whatever works, right?" The salesman avoided eye contact. (Boys are so weird.)

Me? I laughed. So. Hard.

As we were leaving the store (with the perfect shoes in hand) Tim firmly informed me that "we really HAVE to do laundry tonight, babe."

Well, it is Wednesday, and we still haven't done laundry. Today Timmy is prancing around in pink and purple ruffled knee socks.

And I have been giggling all day just thinking about it.

(I'll post a picture of my ruffled prince tonight, if I can convince him to pose for me...)