What's in a Name? Apparently a Lot

I recently did something that forced me to change my name.

No, nothing sinister—I just got married!

With that marriage came a cute new name. (I loved my old name, Aimee Hancock, but now I get to be Aimee Robbins. Doesn't that just look so cute?) I love my new name, but I don't love the hassle that comes with it.

We haven't gotten our marriage license in the mail yet, and without it I feel like I'm in limbo. My nameplate at work says I'm Aimee Robbins, my new email address has my new name in it, and my husband (still weird to call him that!) calls me Mrs. Robbins (even weirder to hear him call me that!). But according to my bank, BYU, and my driver's license, I'm still Aimee Hancock. And I can't change that without a marriage license. So much that one little document can do!

One thing I never even thought of when I used to daydream about my wedding was having to jump through all these hoops to change my name. Some women choose not to change their names, for whatever reason, but I always knew that I wanted to take my husband's name. This way, I finally get to have a middle name—Hancock!

I've always wanted a middle name. Back in elementary school (back when it was fun to try and find out each other's middle names), I would always say my middle name was "Nothing" so I could play the guessing game with my classmates.

Hopefully soon, I'll get to truly and legally be Aimee Hancock Robbins. But for now, I'm saying my middle name is "Hancock."

My Angel of a Mother

Have you ever thought that your mom was the best? I think most everyone has, and it's because the world is full of amazing mothers. My mom is one of them.

One of the hardest things about going to college was leaving my mom. It was a bit easier since BYU is only about an hour and fifteen minutes from home, but with school and work, it was still hard to visit very often, and that distance felt very far when I was a freshman. Not having her just in the next room definitely took some getting used to. She had always been there to motivate me and to give me her opinions and advice.

Freshman year, I probably drove her nuts with all my phone calls asking her advice or just talking. Even now as a senior, I still miss my mom and probably still drive her nuts with the amount of phone calls and texts I give her (although I blame that on all the wedding planning that's been going around).

When coming to college, I wasn't only leaving my mom: I was also leaving my coach. It was really hard knowing that I wouldn't be playing competitive sports anymore after high school (besides intramurals, which are super competitive!) and that I wouldn't have my mom to coach me. She had been my coach since I was tiny, probably since I could walk and hold a ball. My mom knows a lot when it comes to sports, and she's willing to help anyone who wants to learn how to play and truly cares about his or her success.

My mom is hilarious and always makes me laugh. She is the most sacrificing, loving, and forgiving person I know. She does whatever it takes to make sure her children and those around her are happy and have everything they need. My mom is still kind to even those who have wronged her. She's the only one who can tell Amber and me apart from our baby pictures and who always treated me like an individual instead of "one of the twins." I love how crazy she gets during games sometimes. Sports are one of her passions, and it's fun when she shows it.

I don't know how she raised us four girls (with only one bathroom!), dealt with our drama, fulfilled her church callings, coached junior high and high school teams, and was a school teacher, all at the same time. I know she did even more than that with all her volunteer work she did, and I'm probably still leaving some things out. I really don't know how she did it. She's truly amazing.

Mothers' Day was yesterday, but I still wanted let my mom know how much I care about her and how much she means to me. I'm so thankful for all that she's done for me. To partially steal from a cute movie that my mom loves, here's a little poem that sums up my mom: "She taught me sports, she's always there; she makes sure my cupboard isn't bare. My mother is beyond compare."

I love you, Mom!

Taking Time to Unplug

You know you're hooked on technology when forgetting your phone at home puts you in a panic. Sad, but true.

I was on campus working from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. the day I forgot my phone, and not having a phone almost felt like I was missing an arm. It was awful. I would jump and search around for my phone every time my coworker's phone buzzed next to me, only to remember that mine was safe at home. The wrapper next to me would catch the light every so often and make me think it was my phone glowing with a new text from my Wesley.

The office was mocking my pain.

Once I was finished at work and left my computer, I was cut off from technology completely. It was a weird feeling. I couldn't call, text, or snapchat anyone or look up an address on my map app (I'm way too dependent on that thing, but this is the life of someone born without an innate sense of direction). No one knew where I was and had no means (short of sending smoke signals) of contacting me.

With nothing else to do as I clomped down the hill, I actually paid attention to my surroundings. The bright tulips were opening and dripping with water from their shower from the sprinklers; fuzzy, newborn ducks were quacking as they furiously splashed after Mama Duck; the scent of freshly mowed grass tickled my nose.

I felt free—free from Big Brother and from all the distractions of technology. It was just me and the wide world.

As nice as technology is, sometimes it feels good to unplug and power down in order to connect more with the beautiful, real world.

Do You Speak My Crack-a-Lackin' Language?

I'll admit it: I am just a bit crazy about quoting movies. OK, really crazy. Even toeing the line of obsessed, I suppose. Let me tell you why. 

Ever since I can remember, staying home sick from school was actually kind of fun.  Best. Day. Ever! I got to stay home all day and watch whatever movies I wanted. Of course, I always picked Disney movies because they make me happy and they were about the only kind of movies in the house. My sisters and I wore out the VHSs (wow, am I that old?) because we watched them so much.

Because of this, my sisters and I became experts of those movies. We could watch a movie once, maybe twice, and already have favorite quotes picked out and have most of the movie memorized. The other zillion times of viewing the movie was just for the giggles and so we could quote along.

My sisters and I would even have entire dinner conversations completely in movie quotes. If we had chicken pot pie, there was always a “I don’t want to be a pie. I don’t like gravy” in the conversation somewhere. Or when passing the salt, “Ooh, take it Kronk, feel the power,” to which the response was, “Oh, I can feel it.” My poor parents were usually lost, and our witty quotes went right over their heads.

Now, I'll be talking to people and quotes just slip out of my mouth, like daisies. At that point, either they think I'm really clever because—regardless of whether or not they know I'm quoting—it was cleverly woven into the conversation, or they think I'm really weird. My quote slips right through their fingers, and they can’t grasp what I’m saying. My quote-loving heart bleeds a little when this happens.

 

Luckily, I found someone to marry who speaks my crack-a-lackin language. I like him, I like him so much. You hate him compared to how much I like him. He has bewitched me, body and soul, with his clever tongue and witty remarks. There will be many quoting fests between us, to infinity and beyond.

Ducky Love

At BYU, there's a duck pond just south of campus. It's one of my favorite places, especially when there are little ducklings to fawn over. There are always lots of kids at the pond who either chase or are chased by the ducks. It's a great place for studying, having a picnic, or just relaxing.

It's also a popular place for couples to go on dates.  After all, what's more romantic than lobbing tiny pieces of bread to ducks and watching them squabble over it? Little do the couples know that the ducks also have love on the brain.

There are two ducks in particular that I always see together. I call them the Married Ducks because since they're always together, it's easy to think of them as being married (if ducks do such a thing).

One night, the Married Ducks found their way to my apartment complex and were waddling around the pool in front of my apartment. They were so cute that I fed them a piece of bread. I tried to lure them closer to me, breadcrumb style, but they were too smart for that and made me use what's left of my softball skills to throw the pieces of bread over the fence to them so they didn't have to move.

They come back to my pool from time to time, and I get ridiculously excited and rush inside to grab some bread (you would be excited too if you were desperate for a pet and your apartment complex banned them). It makes me happy to see two little creatures so happy together, toddling away, wing in wing.

Psych: More than Just an Ab Workout

The first time I ever watched Psych was at one of my best friend's, Janelle's, house. I thought is was so funny, and we laughed until we cried and almost wet our pants. It was the best ab workout I've ever gotten!

From there, my twin, Lavender Gooms–I mean Amber–and I took it upon ourselves to catch up on all of the seasons on Netflix. I think it only took us about two weeks, and then we started over again. We couldn't get enough of Shawn and Gus's shenanigans. Phrases like "C'mon, son!" and "I've heard it both ways" became part of our everyday language. We probably drove our mom crazy from watching it so much. She'd always know we were watching it from the booming laughter that drifted up from downstairs. Not only was it funny but it was also pretty clean. Good, clean humor is hard to find these days amidst all the gore and sensuality that worms their way into shows.

However, Psych isn't just a good show that I am obsessed with; the show also played a role in how my fiancee, Jerrick, and I started dating.

We met in a print publishing class (CHUM 230 or DIGHT 230; I've heard it both ways) at Brigham Young University. We sat next to each other, and one of the topics that got us to finally start talking to each other was Psych. We found out we had the love of the show in common and discussed the episodes each day after they aired. Jerrick didn't have cable, so one night I invited him over to watch the episode at my place so he didn't have to wait until it went online to watch it, and we've been watching it together ever since. We even made–wait for iiiiiit– Psych t-shirts as one of our earlier dates.

Last night was a bittersweet episode: the last episode of Psych. As I snuggled with Jerrick and watched the final episode, I couldn't help but think back to last year (almost exactly a year ago) when Psych helped bring us together. I will dearly miss the Blueberry and searching for the pineapples in the episodes and hearing Gus's latest name. But if Psych had to end, that episode was the way to do it. If my roommates and future sister-in-law wouldn't have been there, I probably would have cried. And since Jerrick is a sympathetic crier, he would have cried too.

Farewell, Psych. Thank you for all of the great memories, quotable lines, and laughs. You are totally dope.

Would You Bee So Kind as to Get Off My Lunch?

The day started out great: I had rocked my volleyball test (the board at the testing center had even called me fantastic); I had enough change to buy cookies and cream milk (a BYU specialty); and it was finally starting to look like spring. By the time lunch time rolled around, I decided it was warm enough to eat outside. I took my milk and sandwich to my favorite bench between the Kennedy building and the Eyring Science Center. It was peaceful there; there weren't too many students around and I was partially blocked from view by some mostly dead shrubbery.

I decided to look up a conference talk (read it here) to listen to on my phone while I enjoyed my lunch. I got my earphones out of my backpack and put them on the bench on my sandwich. That left both hands free to take the case off my phone so the ear jack would go in all the way. I turned back to my earphones and froze. There, sitting on one of the ear buds, was a bee. As I watched in horror, the bee climbed off the bud and onto my sandwich. The nerve!

Now, this was a delicate situation because I'd had run-ins with bees on campus before, and those haven't ended well. Mostly they ended with me dancing around like a fool while people slowed down to stop and watch the crazy girl swat at what they thought was nothing. This time, I was determined to solve the situation with as little hubbub as possible.

I calmly gathered my volleyball shoes and ear phones, and put my phone back in its case so I could make a quick get-a-way. As I stood by the bench, watching the bee, I pretended to be texting on my phone so people wouldn't think I was crazy while I was keeping my eye on the bee. When no one was watching, I made my move, but a swift kick to the sandwich did little to faze the bee.

 I had just about given up my sandwich as lost when the bee crawled onto the bench. With renewed energy, I swiped my sandwich and ran for dear life. Still afraid of the bee coming back for my sandwich, I bolted down my meal and dreamed of a world with no bees.