Sunday, May 8, 2011

We've Moved!


Hey, everyone! Adam, Jude, and I have moved to a new blog designed by my gorgeous husband. It's called "A Private Tour." Feel free to mosey on over and follow us!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Rents

K so per request I posted some pictures of Adam and I as babies. Who does Jude look like the most? 

Adam

Britney
Jude

Maybe not the best picture of Jude, meaning the most accurate, but what do you think?

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Smiling Man

Jude and I have become pretty great buddies. The first weeks of our relationship have been a lot of one-way affection. I was doing all the smiling, kissing, and laughing for the both of us--though I can't discount his cuddling contribution, because he's pretty giving in that department.  
But that all changed last week when he started smiling. He first did it last Wednesday. That day was kind of a bad day for Jude--basically a bad case of cranky pantsness. Feeling somewhat guilty, I grew tired of my child, sat him down on his boppy on my lap and daydreamed off into the distance while he squeaked and growled at me. When I finally came back to reality I looked down at my young child beaming up at me with the biggest gummy smile ever, as if to say, "Sorry, Mom, I feel better now. And you're the best." Q heart melting. 
LOVE him. 
I've been trying ever since to get a video of him smiling. AND HERE IT IS. 
p.s. It takes a little while. And don't make fun of me for sounding like a moron. 
And the end is gross. 
You might as well just watch the whole thing.



Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Unhealthy Healthy Obsessions

Just a note:
I have an unhealthy relationship with this:
And this:
Cottage cheese? At 80-100 calories per half cup, 2.5 grams of fat and 10 grams of protein? I eat this too much. I'm actually eating it right now...out of the container...like a fat kid--except my point is that it helps you to not be a fat kid. p.s. searching Google images for "cottage cheese" came up with some nasty pics of cellulite...I almost had to put my spoon down. 

Fage yogurt? 170 calories and 13 g protein. K..not just plain. That's gross. It's like eating sour cream. It actually is sour cream..technically. You have to get the kind with the little pocket of fruit stuff. And I love it because they offer you a sugarless yogurt to add as much or as little fruit blend as you want. Nothing grosses me out more than the typical yogurt packs. They're like little containers of sugar with a splash of curdled milk. 

A food post? Yeah. I'm trying to not look pregnant anymore. Protein is my bff right now. 


Tuesday, April 19, 2011

White Trash

Today I was a bad Mom. 
I don't like grocery shopping. And I especially don't like doing it alone. While at school, Adam and I used to look forward to our monthly grocery shopping trips together. Again, not because we liked doing it, because we hated it, but coming home and unpacking bags of groceries was like opening presents on Christmas morning. Stocking up our empty shelves and refrigerator was the best feeling. 
Anyway...
I didn't want to go alone tonight. My smart husband suggested that I just go alone while he stay home with our infant son. I said, no, I'll feed him before we go, throw him in the car-seat, and he'll sleep the whole time.
I was wrong.
He got fussy in the produce section. Which is the first section. So, after repeated fussing and one red-faced baby later, Adam decided the little dude needed to be cuddled. Which meant taking him out of his carseat. So he did. Oh, and did I mention we grocery shop at Super Walmart?
Yeah. 
So here we were. New parents. Carrying a 3 week old baby in arm. Uncovered. Exposed. At Walmart. 
Walmart. 
And here's the kicker: He got hungry. Of course he got hungry. So what did we do? Mixed a bottle of formula in the bread aisle and stuck it in the kid's mouth as fellow customers squeezed by. 
And then what happened?
Lover boy decided it might be best to find a rocking chair on display to feed our poor child on--all the while people walked by, oohing and ahhing at the small infant.
Now, normal people would have judged us for being so thoughtless/negligent/selfish. "What kind of morons would take a newborn baby out in the public like that? I mean the poor dear is basically sterile." We would've left having been given numberless stink eyes and head shakes of disapproval. 
But people at Walmart aren't normal.
So they actually did the opposite. 
It would've made me feel better if everyone had judged us. 
Welcome to the world, Jude Bug. Your parents officially suck. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Work It


I was going through my documents on my desktop and discovered this picture from back when I did a photo shoot with Myra Kjer. I love it. I love it because I loved that day. Myra's work is so vintage-inspired and in the middle of nowhere in Idaho, in a shack that could have very well been inhabited by wild animals, quite possibly bears--I'm deathly afraid of bears--, I felt like a French model from 1965. And although I also felt pretentious and mildly silly, Myra's passion and excitement made that day one that I look back on with immense fondness. That day I was temporarily liberated from dowdy-dirty nursing student, and transformed into girly, flirty, and fabulous "model." It was acting, and are we really ever too old to pretend and play dress up? I recommend it to all. Ladies, we should all feel gorgeous, fabulous, and desirable--daily. But more often than not we need an experience to force us to feel so. 
Challenge of the week?
1. Put together a creative ensemble you wouldn't dare walk out the door in--the kind where you throw on your highest heals and most insane prints.
2. Grab your husband, girlfriend, or just your camera timer. 
3. Doll yourself up. 
4. Take some random glamour shots.
Cheesy? Narcissistic? 14 year-old-ish? 
Probably. Unfortunately probably. 
But who cares. 
Ten years from now no one will look at those pictures and think..."Wow she was full of herself." They'll think..."Wow, she looked fantastic!"

Hone your inner diva and never be afraid to work it. 

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Eat Your Heart Out

It's about time I posted about the new man in my life, right? I mean, he is 2 WEEKS OLD tomorrow.
Well, my little man is here. And holy cow do I just love him. 
We went in to get induced on Friday the 25th because he had become just a little too comfortable in there and we were getting antsy. After 9 hours of labor, 30 minutes of pushing, and a couple of scary complications, we ended up having to go in for an emergency c-section due to a dropping heart rate. So, at 8:12PM that Friday our little Jude screamed his way out of the womb after discovering that the cord had been wrapped around his neck once.  
Due to feeling pain during the last part of the procedure, the anesthesiologist had just loaded me up with a bunch of drugs right before he was born, so I was super loopy and tired when we first met. Otherwise, I remember everything clearly. 
He weighed 7 lbs. 13 oz. and was 20.5 inches long. He has my ears, Adam's chin and lips, and lots and lots of hair. His "do" kind of resembles an Asian mullet: long, sharp side burns, short, spiky hair at the crown, and long on the neck. It's adorable. He also has little monkey feet and insanely long fingers and arms--and those arms just love to wrap themselves around you. Personality-wise he is a super chill kid. He has a very mild temperament, is very aware, quick to tell you what he wants and very easy to please. We just can't get enough of him. Grandma calls him her "AP" baby because he has developed so much over this short week she's been here. 
Jude's current interests include: 
Tummy time--the pediatrician was so surprised that from birth he could lift his head up on his own.
Snuggling--he has to sleep grabbing onto something, which is usually your shirt collar or chest. 
Meal time--he is my kid. 
Baths--the kid LOVES these! He could be starving, but once you plop his naked bum into some warm water he goes right to sleep. 
Smiling and laughing in his sleep--he especially does this when you stroke his hair. 
Pooping--he poos like a champ...super loud and super often...sometimes so much that he startles himself. 
Sleeping--whatever, he sleeps a lot. 
Daddy--Jude loves Adam. He follows his voice around the house and stares intently into his eyes. 
His hands--he discovered his hands from the beginning and uses them to hold his bottle, claw at Mommy, cover his face while sleeping, and fold during prayers. 
His car seat--I'm considering letting him sleep in it at night.
12:00-2:00AM--I swear he naps all day just so he can party at these wee hours of the night. 


He is the greatest little thing that has ever happened to us and we can't imagine our life together without him. I mean, how crazy is it that he grew from the tiniest little cell to a fully complex human being..all in 9 months? It's seriously ridiculous to think what kind of miracles go on in the human body during that time. DNA is legit stuff. 


Thinking about having kids? We fully endorse it. 
Me? I'm feeling GREAT. The recovering has been super easy and I've had lots of help and support during it, and all the while I've become an excessively paranoid, worried, freaked out, and sleepless person. Do I check if he's breathing? Frequently. 


Eat your heart out on these. He's such a handsome baby. 
Bffs

After his bath with Grandma and Aunt Briana.

He's kind of a control freak about his food.  

He just loves her.

Our amazing nursing, Deb. 

Just woke up from a nap. 
First picture as as family

He's a model already

Baby dreams

His first look at his extended family with his family picture book from Aunt Briana


Friday, March 18, 2011

Dress Dilemma

My bff from high school is getting married this June--SO exciting--and she's asked me to come and be a bridesmaid for her special day. I AM STOKED. I've never been a bridesmaid before--basically because I'm the only one married in my family and this is my first friend to get married. Imagine that. 
So, it is going to be a beautiful, traditional Catholic wedding and Tara's picked out a simply classic dress for her maids to wear. 
Only issue: it doesn't exactly cover my shoulders or back. 
It's a Bill Levkoff and really speaks for itself and I'm super paranoid about taking away from the dress with any alterations. 
All my (single?) ladies: we need to brainstorm. 
I'm not interested in jackets, cover-ups, or boleros--unless you can give me a killer idea for one. 
There is the one strap/trail of material that is attached in the back which is functional to use to cover me up. What do you think?
Here are a couple of ideas: 
-Use the portion of the sash that hangs off the back to attach material under the strap to hopefully make it look like the dress was meant to look like that--basically attaching a chiffon top underneath the strap, as if I was wearing an under t-shirt. 
-Cut off the strap entirely and attach some kind of sleeves. 
That's all I've got. 
Have any ideas? Would totally appreciate some input--even if it's just a pic. Actually pics are great. 
Thanks.
Here's the dress--it's in the olive-ish color, but it's actually more of a gold in person: 


Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Last Date

Hey Jude,

Mom and dad went on a date tonight. 
Dad spent a little bit more than mom wanted to. He said we needed to go "all out" since this was my last night out...for awhile. 
Thanks love. 
I made dad sit next to me during the meal. We talked about different things--mainly how dad should stop saying inappropriate things due to the couple immediately behind us. The last thing you want is a startling word like "nipple" floating around the air for just any old elderly persons' hearing aid to detect--someone could choke on their steamed vegetables.  
Anyway...
In a nutshell, we ate, dad bought a brand new belt, and we went grocery shopping. Other than that, the food was good--better than good--great. We'll for sure be back again, which will probably mean that you'll be at home with a babysitter. Sorry kid--you've been the ultimate tagalong for over 9 months now: it's time your 'rents got some real alone time without the cute and annoyingly frequent, not to mention potentially disastrous, jab in the bladder every time our faces get close. 
We love you. 
Get your naked butt out here.  
Don't laugh.


Sunday, March 13, 2011

I'm Loved

Hey Jude,

Mom's been featured. 

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Hey Jude

Hey Jude,

I know you're having trouble deciding when you want to greet the world. It's scary, I get it. In the course of a week you've send mom and dad to the hospital twice with the anticipation that you'd made up your little man mind. Although frustrating and emotionally taxing, these little fake outs of yours have made the reality of your influence into our lives a little bit more clear and we have appreciated the opportunity to become a little bit more prepared. Hey, practice makes perfect, right? But please, please, don't wait until we are perfect. Also, daddy really can't keep using up his personal days. 
So listen carefully:
I have a very cute and cozy-soft Ralph Lauren outfit waiting for you to snuggle up to mommy in. 
You want it? You want it? 
Come get it. 
Otherwise, I'll save it for your brother. 

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I Change My Mind

First of all, no need to point out--or talk ruthlessly behind my back--about how horrible my blog layout is at the moment. There's a kink I'm trying to figure out, or getting husband to figure out, so until it's either fixed or I create a new blog site: don't judge me for being tacky. 
Onward....
I can't help but dream about post-pregnancy body and post-pregnancy clothes. Last night I dreamt I had the little guy and I literally watched my stomach shrink back to it's original size. Dream Adam was looking over my shoulder going "yes!" 
p.s. Don't hate on me for wanting the little guy in my arms, not stretching out my skin. 
So I've stayed current with trends--not wearing, of course, just observing from the sideline (like the fat, uncoordinated kid), and awhile back I realized that one of my worst fears has become a reality. 
The 70s are back
I despise 70s fashion. 
Aside from the occasional classic faux fur piece or high waisted trouser, I hate the 70s. I feel like it was such a goofy, awkward time for fashion. It was like everyone threw all their creative energy into the amazing 60s that there was nothing left afterward. The country basically gave up for a decade and fried their brains until burnt orange became a good idea. 
BUT--And this is a huge BUT--the modern take that designers have created on 70s fashion today is so SOPHISTICATED IT KILLS ME. I think I'm kind of in love. Just kind of. It makes me want to pop out the kid, store up as much boob juice as possible, and diet hardcore so I don't have any added weight killing my feet when I buy a pair of sick 70s pumps--Q rolling eyes and stink-eye stares
Just humor me, even if you don't find me humorous. 






Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Now Please?

Yesterday I went to my OB appointment. I was excited and nervous--excited to see if there was any good news after being "checked", nervous because it's awkward..my feet aren't the only things I haven't been able to see. I got doubly nervous when the doc asked me if his med student could come in and observe during the examine...sure, why not! Trying not to get my hopes up, I anxiously looked at my OB for the verdict. He looked up with a big smile and said, "I've got good news! You're dilated to a 2 and 80% effaced. At this rate you could go to the hospital at a 4!" NO WAY!!! Then after saying something stupid like..let's hook me up to some Pitocin and get this going, he told me to hold tight and that I could go into labor any minute or go clear passed by due date. LAME, but still awesome. And of course when I called Adam he thought the news meant I was in labor--Q husband freak out--poor guy. 
Anyway, thought you all deserved an update. Sorry if I made anyone feel uncomfortable. Get over it. 

p.s. What do you predict? Will I go into labor within a week or so, or have to wait the full 3.5 weeks or later? 



Sunday, February 20, 2011

36 Weeks

Welp, here's 36 weeks!
Let's all take a moment to pity me. Just kidding, I actually feel really good. It's not until I see pictures like this one when I realize why every man, woman, and child seems to be giving me a 12 foot radius of space at all times--as if I'm my own vehicle and totally don't know how to drive this thing. 
Yesterday we went bowling for our friend Phil's birthday and I kind of felt like I should just roll myself down the lane with this mother-of-a gut. When I got dressed to go Adam just came saying, "Oh my gosh, hunny, you're so pregnant."
Tuesday I start my weekly Dr. visits. Hopefully the frequent--not to mention awkward--poking and prodding will result in me going into labor early. 
One can only dream. 
Checklist of symptoms this week:
Heartburn √
Pelvis about to snap √
Penguin waddle √
Seasons 1-3 of Grey's Anatomy watched √
Stretch marks √√√
Back rubs--someone is still working on that one
Indecent carb consumption √
Dr. Pepper infatuation √
I'm not going to get any bigger am I?





Monday, February 7, 2011

I DID IT!

I PASSED THE NCLEX! I'm finally a Registered Nurse! I have this picture of me from preschool where my mom dressed me up like a nurse with my little white scrubs and cap and it makes me feel warm inside. It's just a little girl going to preschool realizing that her first steps toward reaching her goals were to first learn how to spell her name. Exciting right?!!

Monday, January 31, 2011

Super Snacker

Tonight kind of went like this:
Dinner, FHE, workout, come home. 
Around 9 o'clock the little guy decided he wanted a snack.
So I got hungry, naturally, and Adam just so happened to be in the kitchen. 
My selection of night-time snack #1 went something like this:

Brit: Hey, hun. Would you bring me an apple?
Adam: Yeah, sure. 
....
Brit: And the peanut butter jar with a knife?
....
Brit: And the Nutella? 

By the end of it, I had basically destroyed any nutritional value in that poor, poor piece of fruit. 
But it was delicious. 
Husband couldn't help but laugh over the massive cliche I was tragically committing. I might as well have balanced both jars on my belly and demanded Oreos to come join the party. 

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Little Man Clothes

Am I a bad soon-to-be mom for planning on dressing my little boy like this?
Or like this?

The correct answer is no. 

Friday, January 28, 2011

Christmas and Belly

I finally found our camera cord, so I can upload a couple of pics from Christmas and a 32 weeks belly shot. I must say, I seriously hate my face in pictures right now. I look like a red, shiny-faced German. Maybe next time I won't wear balloon pants for these things. Moving on...
Just one of Mom's many healthy stocking stuffers. Who ever heard of such a thing...

Our yankee-swap pile at Grandma and Grandpa's. 
















Adam's first attempt. p.s. I didn't include too many pics of him because he had a sinus issue that whole day and his face was BEAT red.  

G-ma got Tae-Bo videos. Get kickin' lady. 


 I got an electric tea kettle/water boiler. AWESOME. 

27 weeks! Next year the little guy will be there to celebrate with us. 

What a good looking group, right?

The sisters minus one. 



New Christmas shoes. c/o Urban and H&M

And there it is


Adam thought this was clever. 
And there ya have it! 33 weeks on Monday! Maybe he'll come early and then I'll only have 5 weeks left. Holy cow that'd be awesome! 
Meanwhile, Adam's working and I'm studying still preparing for the NCLEX. Our days couldn't be more predictable. 

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Gush

Do you remember your first date with your significant other? I do. Absolutely. 
I was in the middle of my second semester of school and currently "seeing" a guy who, well, I basically couldn't muster up the feelings to exclusively date (think about 500 Days of Summer and you'll know exactly what happened), and needed to get away from. So I asked out this guy named Adam. I had met him the previous semester, as we had the same little circle of friends, but he showed no interest in me and my freshman face. In my previously-mentioned desperation to get away from this other guy for just a freaking second, I asked Adam out for a Friday night school show. He told me he couldn't, but we'd go out the next day with a big group of people to this big school event. As if I was an idiot and didn't hear, "I really don't want to go out with you, but I'd feel bad if I totally ditched you. So we'll go out with a big group so I can avoid you the whole night, but still say I was a good guy and took you out." Please. What made it worse? The thing I invited him to go to that Friday night (you mean the thing he said you couldn't go to?), he ended up being at with a bunch of my other friends. I just thought, "Really? Do you really hate me that much??" But, as planned, we went to this thing the next day. Now you have to understand: I had never been dissed like that before. Not to say it's because who could possibly diss me right? It's just that I was pretty good at reading whether someone would go out with me for at least a first date or not. And man, I just was so freaking off this time. So I was intimidated. Basically, I had set myself up for a pity date and I had no idea of how to be the pitied. So, I got ready, thinking it didn't matter how cute I looked or how good I smelled, because this guy obviously thought that I was totally unattractive and un-dateable. He picked me up, and I really didn't say much of anything to him. Awkward. 
But what happened?
Well, according to him, he thought I actually did look really good and that I actually did also smell really good and he felt actual attraction for me. Imagine that? So he flirted, touched, laughed, etc. I thought he must have been joking. Then at the end of the show, there was a random "dance" and he pulled me in real close during every slow-song, saying, "Let's take advantage of these slow songs." I kind of melted a little. Who was this ridiculously good looking man dancing so close and whispering sweet things in my ear?" Then he said something that took my breath away: "Yo quiero helado."--I want ice cream. So we went with another couple and picked out ice cream at the grocery store. For some reason, deciding on which ice cream to share with a guy who wanted to have nothing to do with you is kind of terrifying. We stood in front of that freezer door for what seemed like forever. All the while, leaning up against me, trying to get me to divulge to him what I actually liked. 
I swear--anytime he touched me I lost all feeling my legs. 
So after ice cream, he drove me home and walked me up the stairs to my door. I sheepishly hugged him goodbye and thanked him for the night. He said, "You know, we should hang out again." I said, "Really???" And he said, "Yeah, what are you doing tomorrow?" 
OMG. 
He came over the next day and the next and the next and really quickly we went from "please get this date over with" to "please don't leave even though it's 1AM." 
I loved that boy from that day on and love him far more now than I did then. He is everything to me. 
Sometimes when I'm busy and preoccupied with other things I totally forget how gorgeous, romantic, and hilarious of a husband I have. He's my best friend and I would rather spend time with him than anyone, and miss him when I'm not. 
Last night in the middle of the night I woke up to him half-asleep--or maybe even totally asleep--stroking my face and putting his hand in my hair. At first I woke up like, "What the heck are you doing?" and then I thought it was cute that his subconscious didn't have his mind on video games, work, golf, or food, but his very preggo wife with matted hair and blood-shot eyes. This morning, he woke me up to kiss me goodbye, with his new prescription glasses, wearing a white v-neck t and jeans and a blue scarf. He looked like something from an H&M catalog. It was one of those, "You mean, I got to marry HIM???" moments and in my surprise, I grabbed that boy's face and kissed it real good. 
And with him gone all day making the big bucks for our little family, I feel very grateful for him. 
So, let's take two seconds to GUSH about the sexy man in my life:
He's going to be the hot daddy of the other man in my life. He's always the one to pull out the Oreos so I don't feel like a fatty for initiating a cookies and milk binge. His hair is not only girl-approved hair, it's model-like and hard not to run my fingers through. His tush is almost impossible not to squeeze. The scar on his face makes him look like a bad-A. He always asks for seconds of anything I make. Especially cookies. He loves to surprise me and make everything special. He often turns to me and says things like, "Can we just wake up one morning this weekend and have a good breakfast together and snuggle in bed the rest of the day?" --ummmm: yes. He pays attention to my pleas for romance and always one-ups me. He doesn't criticize me when in coming home from work he finds me on the couch wearing the same clothes he left me in at 8AM. He was touchy-feely from the start and hasn't slacked off one bit. My head fits perfectly on his chest and our hands match effortlessly when interlocked. 
















I just love him. And I can't wait till he comes home everyday because he still makes my heart race and my whole frame melt. 
Dang boy, I just wanna buy you things!

Monday, January 24, 2011

Compare Yourself


































See that?
That was me. 
18 years old, certain I'd go to medical school, caring only for field hockey, boys, and food. Lots of food. All the time. 
I saw this picture today and longed to be back playing in that game, basking in that humid-hot sun, walking off the field bleeding and dirty... 
But I remembered that I hated my senior year and couldn't wait to be out of there the entire year. 
I love this picture.
I was buff from powerlifting all summer, super tan from lifeguarding, in the best shape ever, co-captain of my team, had the biggest beater of a car, cared little about school, ran 3-5 miles every other day...blahblahblah. 
Why am I bragging about this girl?
She for sure wouldn't be bragging about herself. 
Because I'm jealous. 
Yet, at that time, her self-esteem was little to none. She hated that she weighed as much as most of her guy friends, the fact that the only clothing she was comfortable wearing were the sweatsuits her teams ordered each season, had an ugly car, couldn't keep a boyfriend for more than 2 weeks, and so on. 
I'm sure that if that girl knew that her 4.5 year later self--married, graduated, and pregnant--would be jealous of her, she'd about piss herself. 
Why am I jealous of her? 
Because I'm incompletely comparing myself to her. 
We women are harsh on ourselves, aren't we? 
We compare our little "imperfections" to the qualities of others to determine if we measure up, if they're totally "better" than us, or if we're totally "better" than them. 
But as far as I'm concerned, if we're going to put ourselves in the dangerous position of comparing ourselves to those around us, we'd better be pretty thorough in our comparing. 
Why?
Because when we compare ourselves to others, we always compare that person's best to our worst
And once we determine that their best is far better than our worst, we declare that they are better than us and we are only left to be jealous, while avoiding them entirely and punching a golfball-sized hole in our guts.
It's silly, right?
Take this instance: 
A woman spends hours and hours of a year finding the perfect recipe and perfect way to bake the perfect loaf of bread. After long days of sweating over a hot oven, throwing out thousands of failures, and crying in the corner, she finally does indeed perfect herself in the art. She feels excited, proud, and accomplished. So, she decides to share with her neighbors. 
Susie next door receives one of these gorgeous loaves of golden brown bread, takes a bite, and realizes that perfect Molly's loaf tastes like something from a dream. 
Susie immediately compares this lump of heaven to what she could bake for her family and realized that her own ability was limited to baking a flat, dense, grainy brick of wheat that ended up barely eaten and ultimately thrown in the trash. 
What's more? 
Susie's husband came home that night, took a slice of Molly's bread, and stated, "Wow hunny, Molly really knows what she's doing." 
Get the picture? 
How does Susie feel? 
Like she could never measure up to Molly in not only bread making, but anything Molly endeavored to accomplish. To Susie, Molly was perfect, and Susie couldn't stand her. 
But all the while the reason why Molly tried perfecting her loaf of bread was because she had tried for years and years to master chocolate chip cookies like Susie had, but accepted defeat and moved onto something else. 
We are all silly, aren't we? 
Next time, instead of comparing yourself to someone else's hard earned and practiced talents, fitness, belongings, etc., admire their ability to do so and your own personal ability to master other things that are equally admirable.
Kind of the typical Mormon-Mom example, but it works. 
One of Satan's greatest tools is to have us accept our own defeat as a person, limiting our desire and belief in ourselves to progress and become better. He would love more than anything to have us pine away in a lonely corner about how wonderful Molly's bread is, how stupid we are for not being able to make it as good as she does, and totally forget how to bake chocolate chip cookies altogether. 
That's lame.