The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Portland – Part I

So… yeah. We went to Portland. And we’ve been back two whole days and I haven’t even written a single word about it. I know, I know, I’m THE WORST. In my own defense, I’ve been distracted by a work backlog, puking family members, a dead minivan and you know, the internet and stuff. Why do they put such interesting stuff on there anyway? God.

The point is, I’m here now. I’m also stranded in my house with a dead car battery, three children and shockingly low supply of Diet Coke and wine. And tonight is the night Jason starts softball practice for the company softball team I urged him to join, so he won’t be home until late. THE UNIVERSE IS CONSPIRING AGAINST ME, SEND HELP, is what I’m saying.

But back to the Portland trip.

We headed up to the Northwest for a wedding. My gorgeous sister-in-law, Julene, married my smart and adorable new brother-in-law, Nick.

Aren't they cute? This was actually after the wedding so they're not holding hands in sin or anything.

Of course, if you remember, I mentioned before I left that my sister was due to give birth right before we left Arizona. Inevitably, this is how that went:

Wednesday: No baby. We fly out to Portland in the evening.

Thursday: No baby. We spend a lovely day breakfasting with Jason’s twin sister, Jen, and her man-friend, Ken (not to be confused with my father-in-law, Ken) and then practicing for the flashmob the bridesmaids put together to surprise Julene and Nick.

Jen and Ken's adorably perfect and Portlandish house and breakfast spread.

Flashmob practice led by Julene's hottie best friend, Leisel, who also happens to be one of the Blazer Dancers.

We finish up Thursday night with a wedding rehearsal and dinner.

Diane and Ken (of the non-Jen-and) practicing walking Julene down the aisle.

Jonas, at the rehearsal dinner, pretending he's an angel and didn't just tell me, "I'm going to kill you," in a way more literal and violent tone than I usually use when I say it to him.

Friday: It’s wedding day. I wake up to texts from various family members that my sister is in labor. BECAUSE THE UNIVERSE THINKS THAT’S FUNNY.

By 8:30 AM my sister’s husband has cut off all communication with me because apparently not everyone is amused to find out the progression of my sister’s labor by Facebook status update. I’m not sure why no one explained to him he was lucky I wasn’t there to live tweet the event with the hashtag #ababyiscomingoutofmysistersvaginaRIGHTNOW, but I’m working hard to forgive him, so we don’t need to talk about it any longer.

The groom and I head over to run out our tensions around the river and bridges of downtown Portland. I highly recommend this activity to anyone with tensions. The bridges are rad and tension-relieving. It was an awesome experience and I’m glad I got to share it with Nick on the day of his wedding (although, who am I kidding, we didn’t actually run together. He used to be a professional runner who told me all about how that last time he ran in that area it was for a 5 mile race he was invited to participate in. Which he ran in 23 minutes. Sometimes it takes me 23 minutes to put on my shoes and I have to stop in the middle to take a nap).

After the run I head home to shower and then over to the hotel/event space to help get the kids and Jason ready for pictures. Even though boys don’t have hair and makeup to take care of while getting ready, there is an inordinate amount of ironing, tucking, and belting that needs to be done (and then REDONE to the first child after you finish with the last) to get them into matching dress clothing.

Then I’m left alone in the hotel room to do my hair and makeup and get dressed while they had wedding party pictures taken. Since I had LOTS OF TIME, I do elaborate hair and makeup, making sure to Instagram my progress. As, you know, you do (but not, apparently, if you’re my sister’s husband, John).

3:28PM – I have my dress on and my hair pretty done. My makeup is about 50 percent complete.

3:29PM – Cell phone rings.

Jason: Hey… can you come down for a couple of pictures?

Me: Sure. When?

Jason: Well, like now. They actually would like you here like right this second.

Me: !!!! uh… well…. I need to get my eye makeup, uh… I mean, OK YES FINE I’LL BE RIGHT THERE I’M HANGING UP NOW SO I CAN FINISH MY STUFF YOU SUCK FOR TERRIBLE SCHED *click*

3:30PM – I shakily (because as soon as any stress enters my life in any way my hands start shaking) try to finish applying my makeup as I contemplate the rock and hard place I’m currently wedged between. Slow up the wedding photos and possibly upset the bride, who I love and only want to be happy on her special day OR take pictures with no makeup and look like a troll in wedding photos that will last in our family for the rest of my life. Is death an option?

3:30PM and 30 seconds – My phone starts blowing up with texts from Arizona and photos of the birth of my new nephew, Augustus Tolar Huckelberry (Gus). I burst into tears, effectively ruining the shaky and pathetic makeup job I’ve attempted.

3:35PM – I manage to get downstairs with makeup smeared in the general vicinity of my face and pose for a few photos with family and mostly don’t cry or shake during any of them.

So yeah. HA HA UNIVERSE. YOU’RE HILARIOUS. I think you just proved I can multitask. Sort of.

Luckily, I got to talk to the whole delivery room right before the ceremony and hear about Gus’s arrival AND the wedding went off without a hitch. The bride was GORGEOUS and they totally got married (which my dad always reminds us, is really the only point of weddings). Jonas, who was the official Flower-Boy, chucked a handful of rose petals violently into the face of the photographer as he walked down the aisle, but luckily, rose petals aren’t pointy or heavy, so she’s OK.

And the flashmob was a total success. Aren’t you jealous because you didn’t get to be in an awesome wedding flashmob? I know. You totally are. (Don’t look at the part where I point with the wrong hand. I sometimes have trouble telling the difference between my right and my left.)

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