Birthday Boy and Girl

Brett and I have birthdays that are just a few weeks apart, and somewhere in between them lies our anniversary. So the last couple of weeks have been hectic. However, we're back in the swing of things so I finally have time to update our blog. I want to keep this updated in case anyone out there actually reads this and cares about our lives, but mostly for myself. It's fun to look back and see how far we've come! Anyway, back to birthdays...

I turned 25. EEK! Every birthday since 21 has just gotten more and more tough. I know it's not like I'm old or anything, but I cry two to three times on the actual day, and the next morning I wake up completely relieved that it's over. Is that insane? Am I alone on this one? Regardless, that's just how I feel. We were actually on our way home from our cabin in Brown County that day. So the actual "day" wasn't super, but the week prior was amazing. When Brett and I arrived home, he surprised me with a Jeff Saturday Green Bay jersey. For those who don't know (is there ANYONE who doesn't, by the way? ha!) I'm a huge fan of #63, so I'll cheer for him regardless of who he plays for. But, rest assured Indiana, my loyalty belongs with the Colts. Anyway, it was a fun surprise and so thoughtful of Brett, buying a jersey for me with a man's name on it I adore. ;) Brett knows I'd pick him over Mr. Saturday anyday :)

We got home that afternoon and took a nap right away. Three hours later, we woke up, still exhausted, but forced ourselves to get up. Brett was a good sport. He kept saying, "It's your day babe, what do you want to do?" It was sweet, but I was tired. The last three nights we stayed up until after midnight (something I haven't done since college), and I guess at the ripe age of 25, a girl just can't handle inconsistent sleep. We decided to order take out, and bought a bottle of wine and stuff to make smores. We had the best intentions to get cozy outside around a bonfire, but we wound up watching the Olympics and falling back asleep around 8. Twenty five is exciting, I tell  ya. Speaking of exciting, I bought myself a gift this year. In the years past, I'd go on a shopping spree and buy new clothes, or a new camera (which I actually need right now), but this year was different. This year, I decided to surrender my youth invest in something I'll reap benefits from in the years to come. What was it, you ask?

Again I say, I'm getting more and more exciting with age...

Brett, on the other hand, handles birthday's MUCH better than his beautiful wife. It's like the day didn't even phase him. We actually celebrated his birthday a few days before the actual day because we knew his real birthday would be consumed with school and football (as is every other day every August through November). Anyway, I had an idea in mind of what to get him. I actually thought of it last summer but never got around to purchasing it for him. I told him about a week before his birthday that I got his gift. Big mistake. This guy is worse than a 5 year old around Christmas time. He said, "You know I'm just gonna look all around the house until I find it." Real mature there, buddy. Anyway, I told him I was keeping the gift safe at my parents house for now. The next couple days, all I heard from him was, "You got me a motorcycle didn't you? You did, I know you did!" First of all, he and I have had this discussion and he knows I'm not in favor of him purchasing a motorcycle. I promise I'm not a strict wife, I just have this thing with...ah, I won't even go there. 

So ya, motorcycle, motorcycle, motorcycle. I finally convinced him there was no way on earth I'd get him one. Even though he knew I was telling him the truth, I know part of him was hoping I was just saying that. The afternoon before I gave him his present, he calls me and says, "It's an iPad, isn't it?" THROW ME A BONE HERE, FOX! I just told him how disappointed he was going to be if he kept up with these ridiculously high expectations. He came home to this:

(Told you I need a new camera...)

Inside the gift (complete with 27 things I love about him) was eight bean bags. He figured it out. He asked where they were and I told him to look outside. Before he got to the door he said, "They better be sweet Notre Dame ones!" 

Whew, good call Kayla. All things considered, July and August treated us well. And if I have to grow old with anybody, I'm glad to do so with someone as awesome as that foxy Mr. Fox.