The Air Force Ball

Whew. We are back from a little road trip through America's dairyland (HAHAHA at this little post I wrote about giving up dairy), and there is just too much to talk about. I have been crafting posts in my head for about five days because I am wildly sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated, so that's what I'm into lately. I'll start at the top. As I mentioned in my previous post, Will and I were looking forward to getting all schmancy on Saturday to go to our first Air Force Ball. 

First of all, let me just say, I was worried about the prospect of squeezing into my gown. My only formal piece of clothing. A bridesmaid dress that I've worn at least three times. While the number on the scale is the same as pre-baby, apparently the soft tissue of the abdomen area has done some migrating around. I thought I could make do, since like I said, I'd worn this particular dress a few times. I figured it would be a little stretched out, maybe I could pump up to the very last second and then suck it in for a few hours. 

It'd be fine, right?

Well, as these things go, last week little Will wasn't napping, the temp was gloriously in the 60s, and my white-girl-in-the-Fall-ness took over. I was like OMG PUMPKIN!!!! and so  . . . 

I spent an afternoon in the kitchen.

GIVE ME ALL THE PUMPKINS.

These babes were a real obstacle to the ascent of any zippers. Kallah gave me her modified recipe from here. (Just substitute melted butter for vegetable oil, organic maple syrup for sugar, and use whole wheat flour.) The substitutions take the guilt down a couple of notches, but it doesn't help when you feel "justified" in having like ten cookies instead of two.  

Oh well.

My second obstacle was my hair. I wanted to go extra formal with an updo (especially if I had to go with a less formal knee-length dress, if I couldn't let out enough air to squeeze things in just right), so I took to Pinterest, because you know I am not about hiring a professional. I came across this image:

Easier than it looks! That's right up my alley. 

Of course Kate makes it seem easier than it looks, but when you try and do it yourself with your t-rex arms, it's more along the lines of just plain hard. 

Alas, I ended up with . . . 

Strange swirlness. . . I don't even know.

I wouldn't call it a #FAIL, but something more along the lines of #CLOSEENOUGH. A woman at the ball even asked me where I got my hair done (yes, I was way too excited about her asking), so maybe you'd call it a #WIN. Or, she was just trying to determine which hair salon to avoid. I know I should have stopped using hashtags about four sentences ago. Forgive me. Sometimes I try too hard to be clever.

Here is the side view, showing off the thirty minute ordeal that was that little braid, oh, and my earrings:

I would normally crop such a photo, but the football game and the breast pump in the background is just too perf.

I spent basically the entire afternoon getting ready and/or caring for Will and/or taking selfies to send to my mom to ask, "ARE YOU SURE IT LOOKS OKAY?!" Seventy-three bobby pins were carefully affixed upon my noggin, my abdomen was laboriously deflated and precariously squeeeeezed into my overpriced gown, and we finally headed out the door. We dropped baby Will off with some friends and snapped a quick family gem:

Little Will is not impressed with any of our tired efforts.

Anyway . . . Indeed, we had fun! We knew going into it that there wasn't going to be a lot of food. They were serving heavy hors d'oeurves (<--- much too difficult a word to spell, America), which was fine with me because I wasn't fitting any food in there. There was a cash bar, thank goodness. I needed the social lubrication. The theme was "Today's Heros, Tomorrow's Legacy." Some badass servicemembers were honored, of course. Then there was the band that played a few songs . . . 

. . . until they switched to a DJ who played every hip hop line dance (is that what you'd call them?) under the sun. I was taken back to my college laxer days when we would warm up for the warm up by doing the Cupid Shuffle. It was a very serious ritual where every member of the team had to be present. Team sports can be so weird. In a good way. 

I even managed to coax a sober Will Brez onto the dance floor.

Still clings to winning a 5th grade dance-off. Wanted to retire his dance skills on a "high note."

The highlight of the night was when we won a door raffle. Basically, they were going through the prizes (e.g., fast food gift cards, etc.) that were all "meh". . . but our ears perked up when they announced a $50 Schlafly gift card. Craft beer enthusiasts here, as you know. We've already done the Schlafly tour and eaten at their restaurant, as documented on someone else's blog entirely. And we won it! I was probably too embarrassingly excited when I went up in front of everybody to retrieve our prize, but I didn't care. I think I may have raised the roof. I smell a date night like blood in the water . . . . 

Things got real crazy when the mess dress jackets came off and we were introduced to the phenomenon that is party sleeves. A mullet in shirt form that may only be purchased in Korea. 

Thus concludes the story of our first Air Force Ball. 'Twas a night full of surprises.