The day we knew it was time to spill the beans

by Katie on September 4, 2012

My apologies to anyone who isn’t interested in tales related to our recent breaking news (or not so breaking, actually – more like long overdue), but I essentially have three months worth of stories to tell on my husband from this little adventure that I haven’t been able to share, so you’ll just have to bear with me (or skip the next few updates).

We will begin with what Brandon dubbed as “the day we knew it was time to tell.”

It was Sunday, August 26th.

The week preceding, his parents had been out of town and thank goodness, because let’s just say it was the week I “blossomed” if you will. In our minds, anyway. Let me rephrase that:  in Brandon’s mind. I still don’t think there’s all that much to show, but he thinks it’s a pretty big deal.

So anyway, we were running about five minutes late for church, as usual, and since we were in such a hurry to get out the door, I was checking things out in my passenger side mirror as we got on the highway. You know, making sure I didn’t have antelope chorizo dripping down my chin or something. Now, I was very much in the lucky camp of women who did not hate their lives every day for the first weeks of this process. But, I was am in the “lucky” camp of women whose skin reverts back to freshman year of high school days. Super attractive.

During my mirror examination, I say to Brandon, “Man, between my braces and my awful broken-out chin, I look like a fourteen-year-old.”

He just glanced down, gave my expanding waistline a once-over, and proclaimed, “Uhhh, maybe an active fourteen-year-old.” …If you catch his drift.

So then, halfway to church (it’s a 20-25 minute drive), I notice my wrap dress is feeling awfully snug in the high-waist area where it buttons underneath, then ties on top. I announce to Brandon, kind of half-joking, that I am slightly concerned I may lose a button at some point that morning.

Ten minutes later, we pull into the parking lot, and I turn to exit my truck.

…And consequently feel the release of that tight button. Right before we head into church. Lovely.

I did manage to keep my dress together through the service, but we definitely exchanged a few back-pew giggles about the whole ordeal.

Once we were safely back in the truck headed home, we got in a good laugh, and Brandon said, “Well, I guess it really is time to tell.”

Granted, we already had plans to spill the beans in two days anyway, being as my mom was coming out to visit, meaning we didn’t have to pick a side of the family to tell first, but this little event kind of sealed the deal.

And moved that particular dress to the back of the closet.

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