You know you live in Utah when... The U is not just a letter - Neither is the Y. You can pronounce Tooele. You know what fry sauce is made of. You go to the duck pond to feed the seagulls. You negotiate prices at a garage sale. Your car breaks down on the highway and someone stops to help you. The speed limit is 65, you go 75 and a mini-van passes you.
You know you're ready for a kid when Easter egg hunts lose their appeal and 4th of July fireworks lose their sparkle. At least that's how I knew. Easter came and went the month before we found out we were pregnant. We had the candy filled eggs and the one empty egg to represent the tomb after Christ was risen. We had the chocolate bunny and reeses peanut butter egg (you reeses fans know what I'm talkin' about). But we didn't have the easter egg hunt. It was kind of lame. And that's when I knew we needed a baby. Someone to dress up in special easter clothes for church that Easter Sunday. Someone to take pictures of surrounded by baby bunnies and neon plastic eggs. Someone to hide eggs for. And most importantly, someone to teach about the special celebration of Christ's atonement using advent eggs. Yes, I am going to be one of 'those moms'.
You also know you're ready for a kid when fireworks on the 4th of July lose their enticing joy. Last year I got off work and we walked over to the park across the street to watch some awesome fireworks, but it was really more out of duty to tradition then to pure enjoyment. And that's when you know. When you're watching the families around you and giggling about the three year-old's fascination with the lights in the sky, the one year-old screaming at each boom and the five year-old standing up to watch each explosion and then fall to the ground screaming, "I've been hit!" each time the sound echoes through the air. Yup. Sure signs right there. All of the enjoyment is built into those little eyes reflecting the bursts of color in the sky. Except the smokey smell of gunpowder. I must admit that is reason alone to go to a firework show.
And then... after you have had those two signs of 'now you know' you know that you're still on the right track when 4th of July comes around again after the morning sickness is gone and you have a baby in your arms and you are glad for the excuse to 'put the baby to bed' rather then go sit on the ground starting at 6 so that you can get the perfect view, get a crick in your neck, and then wait in traffic for a hour and a half to get back home. Because you wouldn't want to look lame and unexciting. I'm talking about the unexciting you become after you get married. It happens again after you have kids. It's all downhill from there. Someday you're bound to be the most boring person on your block. And you don't want to admit that last year's duty to tradition was kind of a bust and you don't want to do it again. So you have your little bundle all in bed by 9:00 on the 4th and you stay inside blogging about how relieved you are not to be sitting out on the grass as your body cramps up from the uncomfortable sitting position.
But next year I tell ya, we're gonna have the quilted blanket, the perfect spot on the hill, the seven eleven slushie, the popcorn or carmel corn or whatever treat I come up with and we're going to have the little girl dressed in a blue or red dress with pigtails wrapped in ribbon. You can count on it. And she's going to cry each time a firework goes off and we're going to love every single second of it.
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