One thing I love about my mom

One thing I love about my mommy is that she always shares.

Every year my parents have the world's biggest garden. Even though there are only 2 of them at home now, they still plant the whole area - and it produces A LOT of good food. Then they share with anybody who needs/wants it. This includes: us (all of their kids), probably the kids in their singles ward, and the neighbors who don't actually want a 30 pound zucchini, but they get it anyway. With a poem.

Last summer my mom got a "laminator" and she "laminated" a bunch of squash and froze it. Of course, she shared some with us the last time we were down there.

She never EVER lets us leave the house without asking what we need. Usually it's in the form of food, all summer it's current fresh produce (tomatoes, zucchini, corn on the cob, peas, raspberries, cucumbers, and always a "new food" of the year, beet, carrots, purple potatoes, etc.) and the rest of the year it's canned/frozen food from their garden.

When I grow up, I hope I'm as cool as my mom. Now, if I can just figure out a way to grow a garden as good as hers without spending 5 hours/day in the garden all summer like she does.....

Baby Egbert

Baby Egbert is kinda starting to grow on me (and in me...) it seems like every weekly update makes this kid cooler and cooler.

Last week when I painted my toenails pink (remember last week? When it was still Spring? And I had to paint my toenails because people could see them peaking out from cute sandals? Yeah, me too.) Baby Egbert didn't even HAVE toenails. Just webbed....flippers .

This week, if Baby Egbert is a girl, (and Babyzone's chinese something thinks it is) we could totally have our first mani/pedi party. Er....I could paint my toenails and she (if she's a she) could suck on hers.... Still, we're more alike than we've ever been.

Other developments that have me ooohing and ahhhing over the small creature who so suddenly took over our lives include:

• A new less-clingy Baby Egbert. While Baby still doesn't want me to attend any major meetings, I have clearly won the "I'm going to work, and you're coming with me" fight for now. Baby has given up most vomit sessions during working hours, which is a much bigger relief than you think. 
• Baby Egbert looks less like a monster, and more like a tiny Baby. Still has a bit of a Klingon forehead...but we're working on that.
• Swallowing. I'm not really sure why this is a major development, but it is. So, Baby Sweetheart, once you exit the womb, you and I can paint our nails and swap pregnancy stories over a nice tall glass of smoothie. You're gonna like smoothies right?
  

I heart the underdog.

I have a thing for the underdog in almost every situation. I always want the ugly girl to be prom queen, the little guys to win the big football game, and the kid who always gets picked last to get  picked first when it really counts.

I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in those things, but I think my underdog loving might go a little farther than most.

I kinda hope this snow cover lasts through the day....I know there's not a lot of chance of all 3 inches staying on the lawn, especially not when the sun is bursting through the clouds like it is right now, but I'm still rooting (is that the right way to spell it?) for it.

However, I also hope the flowers survive this crazy spring snow-storm.

Which underdog am I hoping really wins? I'm torn.

I figured it out

When I was restocking my year's supply of toilet paper, I found the reason I got pregnant so fast (don't worry....it's G-rated). For the past 2 years, I've been purchasing my "feminine hygeine products" in the smallest packages possible....you know....just in case we miraculously got pregnant right away.

Just before we went to the Dr. and I knew I was starting on the long long road of figuring out what was wrong with me, I finally decided to just bite the bullet and acknowledge that this whole process would take a while.



Boom! 45 days later, I have no use for these babies.

Thanks Murph.

PS You should also know it's my fault it snowed this week. Last weekend I washed my car. The one that's been sitting in the garage for more than 3 months. What was I thinking?

PPS I just read the "Murph" link, just to clarify, I don't think getting pregnant was something that "went wrong"....I think my buying tampons at Costco was wrong. Also I probably stood in the longest line there was to check out - I always do that.

One thing I love about Chelsea....

One thing I love about Chelsea is that she always knows what I want to eat. Always. Every single time.

Yesterday I bought my afternoon snacks at lunchtime and she just laughed at me. “Why don’t you just get a fruit bowl? You’d like it better.”

I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a fruit bowl here. There is. And I did get it. And I did like it better. Better than anything in the whole wide world. I was exactly what I wanted, and had nothing scary or icky in it. There wasn’t even one item I shied away from, or picked around. It was perfection in a Styrofoam to-go container. And that is just one of the many reasons I love Chelsea.

Toilet Seat Covers

I’d like to start this post by proclaiming that I’m a certifiably insane germophobe. I’d like to make some statement about how it’s so inconvenient and I really wish I could be as carefree as everyone around me seems to be. But then I’d be paranoid that sometime you’d come to me house, take one look at the dust on the baseboards in my bathroom and call me a liar.

And you’d be right.

So instead, you should know that I’d like to be a germaphobe. Well…at least more than I am. The truth is I’ve eaten potato chips that fell on the floor, and not just out in the middle of the kitchen floor either, but one that fell clear under the ledge, which is probably the most disgusting place on earth. In my defense it was a pringle....and the last one. Whatever, don't judge me.

However, I happen to think that bathrooms are the germiest most disgusting places in the world. I really do. I don’t like touching things in public restrooms – in fact don’t even like using public restrooms, but sometimes you just have to do things you don’t like. That’s called “being a grownup”. When I use public restrooms I don't make skin contact with anything, except the top of the soap dispenser, and that's just because it's a necessary evil. I always use toilet seat covers, and I open the door with a paper towel. I hit the button to the air dryers with my elbow, and I prop the door open with my foot so I can reach back to the trash can to throw away the paper towel.

For some unknown reason I don’t consider the bathroom at work a “public restroom”. It is. Stalls and everything. And technically I don't really know who else uses it. But because I use it every day, and because I know every woman who works on this floor, it’s not as gross to me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I wanna go lick the floor, or have a picnic in there, I’m just not as germaphobic about it as I am about the restroom at the Wendy’s downtown. You know?

When they remodeled our restroom a couple of months ago, they added toilet seat covers and I was thrilled! I went in and got all kinds of excited. But, the more I think about it, the more I really don’t care. Too much? Sorry. It’s just that if any of the women who worked on this floor came to my house (or even ALL of them…at one time!), and used the bathroom, I wouldn’t cover the seat with toilet paper before using it again. I also wouldn’t sanitize it before using it again.  I also wouldn’t be grossed out that they had used my hand towel to dry their hands. And I wouldn’t refuse to make skin-contact with the door handle. So why do I have to worry about it at work?

Maybe I’m disgusting and unsanitary….and maybe you’re all grossed out now….but…..really? Do I have to use the toilet seat covers?  

Mrs. Seller's my grandpa thinks you're crazy.

I’ve been typing my Grandpa’s mission journal for like 5 years now. Actually if I’m being honest, I typed it for 6 months, then I watched it gather dust on my bookshelf through 3 moves and 4 more years. I’ve been working on it again for the past 6 months and it has been the source of much guilt, grief, and pain joy and peace.

OK, honestly, for the most part it’s kinda boring. A travelogue full names of people and places that I really don’t know anything about. My grandpa’s old, so he wrote this journal back before it was cool and appropriate to “share your feelings” and stuff. He doesn’t say much about what he thinks, and there aren’t many details about what is actually happening in the mission. It’s more like “tonight we taught 3 discussions and stayed with the Brown’s.” “Spent the morning packing, cleaning, and driving the Ford 160 miles to _____ . Ford required new tires which cost $2.40” It’s kinda interesting, but not really enthralling. Not the kind of thing I can’t WAIT to get to when I get home. More the kind of thing I force myself to do so I can be done with it and he can have something cool and I can get back to wandering temple square on my lunch break.

But every once in a while I catch tiny tidbits of the juicy stuff. I know there’s a lot more he isn’t saying, but I’m reading between the lines. Mrs. Sellers, if you’re reading this, I hate to break it to you, but Elder Fugal totally thought you were a quack back in February of 1944. I know because he said “….then visited Mrs. Sellers – who, by the way, wanted Bro. Cloud to preach a funeral sermon for her dog – Robert Allen Sellers – which dog she said “was part of me”. Glad to get away…..”

Speaking of funerals for dogs, I watched Marley & Me last night, and I bawled my eyes out and loved every second of it. If you’re sensitive about wordly things (mom…..) don’t watch it, because it is a movie made in 2009 and it has “that one scene”…..and plenty of innuendos….but if you’re dead inside and have no concept of what is inappropriate and what isn’t because you were raised in the same hooligan generation I was, I recommend it. I laughed, and cried, and fell in love with the characters. I’m a fan.

A day in the life:

It’s funny how different life is right now than it was 6 months ago. 

I used to spend every Sunday crying because everybody in the ward has adorable perfect well behaved children and I couldn’t take any of them home with me. Now I spend every day crying because I am overwhelmed at the thought of being a mother, I’m scared I won’t be good enough, and I just plain don’t feel good. When I’m not crying because of the slew of negative emotions, I’m crying because of how lucky I am. Because I am so blessed to be surrounded by good people, because our infertility problems really weren’t that bad, and because I can’t believe this is (finally) actually happening for us. Note to self: Buy stock in Kleenex…..

I used to come home from work, glance through the mail, find something for dinner, hang out with Josh, play games, do laundry, clean up, watch a movie, play more games, read, and finally fall asleep on the couch or the love sac around 11:30 or 12:00. Now I spend my ride home from work puking (on one hand I’m thankful for Ziploc bags….on the other I know I’ll never be able to store anything in a gallon sized Ziploc bag again because everything looks like vomit….), I run up the stairs, crying and puking, I try to choke down some water so I won’t get too dehydrated, I sit on the chair wrapped up in a blanket whimpering and crying while Josh does the dishes, and the laundry, and scrounges up dinner for himself and asks if anything sounds good to me. I sit around asking him for things and he provides it pretty much every time. I turn on a movie around 6:00 and struggle to keep my eyes open through the whole thing. I pause it every 20 minutes or so while I run to the bathroom and try to puke up my remaining internal organs. Apparently they’re attached…..to something…. I get my laptop and check my e-mail, blogs, and facebook while watching the movie. I spend 20 minutes reading about my baby and how I’m not the only sick pregnant lady in the world (I just like knowing I’m not alone….and that I’m relatively normal). By 9:00 I drag my lazy butt into bed and go to sleep for real.

I used to wake up to my alarm in the morning, I’d snooze it 3 or 4 times and try my hardest to tone it out so I didn’t actually have to get out of bed.  Now I wake up for no apparent reason at 3am. And at 3:30. And at 4:30, 5:00, and 6:00. I take a shower and crawl back in bed as soon as possible. Because after 6am I can finally sleep soundly. What do we call that again? Oh yes. Irony. Cruel irony.

I know this is nothing compared to how different it will be once Baby Egbert actually arrives, but my life is not even close to what it was before….

I'm thankful for:

Even though it's March and Spring and not November and Fall I'm feeling particularly thankful today, and here's why:

• We live close to family. That means today Josh is 4-wheeling at the sand dunes, and I'm going to lunch with my sister.
• There are people who can (and will) entertain Josh while I am "great with child" and don't feel like playing basketball, going 4-wheeling or doing anything that takes me more than 10 feet away from indoor plumbing.
• I've had 2 meals so far today and have not yet puked, even a little.
• I got to spend my morning cleaning and watching my version of Saturday Morning Cartoons. 
• We turned off our heat a week ago and our house has been the perfect temperature since.

I love days like this.

My house is scary at 3am

I fell asleep ridiculously early last night. Really. Really really early.

I ordered pizza so it would meet us just as we got home from work. I was starving, and it was a good choice for dinner. So, dinner was eaten and cleaned up by like 6:00.

I got comfy on the love sac by the open window and curled up to finish watching Bolt (cute movie by the way) and pretty much immediately fell asleep. I'm guessing I was out by 6:30.

I woke up for the last 5 minutes of the movie (which is how I know it was cute, I always judge a movie by it's ending anyway.) and again after the 934th time the menu played it's little 5 second soundtrack.

I looked out the window and thought about what a beautiful night it was, the cool air coming in through the window smelled good (really! even out here!) and I considered that we should probably go for a walk instead of wasting this beautiful day.

Then I rolled over and fell back asleep.

That's why I know my house is scary at 3am.

By nature I'm a sleeper inner and I like it.  But when I've already been asleep for 9 hours, and all the windows in the house are open, and my neighbors (not the great ones) are having some mondo fight (which apparently requires the F word about a thousand times) in their driveway "Well #$*&# I'll just leave you #$^@ here then! #$&^#% that!" I'm bound to wake up.

Once they revved their engine and tore off into the night, I started hearing every other sound my house makes at 3am.

The wind blows my curtains, which bump against the papers on my hope chest and it sounds like someone is RIGHT THERE. The stairs creak when nobody is on them. Josh snores - but only once every 28 breaths (yes, I counted) and it sounds like someone is suffocating him. Birds chirp, but not in the "birds chirping, sun shining" kind of way, more in the "I'm creepy and I will kill you" kind of way. Cars drive on Legacy going 2 miles an hour, which clearly means they're stalking someone. And our other neighbors (the incredibly nice ones) open their garage door. OK probably because she's a nurse and nurses work weird hours and she was probably just leaving for the day...but still! It's creepy!

Let's just say it was a good thing I'm too chicken to get out of bed (remember, there's a guy standing RIGHT THERE rustling papers!) and call the police about all the people who are trying to kill me in the middle of the night.

This morning things look a lot better. Birds chirping, sun thinking about shining. Cool breeze blowing the curtains and softly floating back down. Things really do always look better in the morning.

Time for a poll.

Josh and I got breakfast at Carl’s Jr. today (post Dr. appointment because I didn’t wanna puke there….) and while waiting for our breakfast, my very rebellious husband did something appalling.

Whoever was there before us filled out the comment card. In the notes section it said “bad bad really bad excuse for music.” I happen to agree with anonymous commenter. I’m just not THAT big a fan of “Hero” and “Dust in the Wind” although Josh really is. (a big fan, not “dust in the wind”.) Anyway, Josh immediately picked up the comment card, and the tiny pencil and scribbled out each word individually. Seriously. He scribbled it out! Then, below anonymous commenter’s black splotches, he wrote “have a nice day”.

Was this action:

• Morally wrong. You can’t just disregard somebody’s comments. If you wanna leave your own, get your own card! You don’t get to say your comments are more important than somebody else’s.
  
• Totally normal and justified. If they wanted the comment to be read, they should have put it in the “place comments here” box. Clearly they didn’t care if anybody read it or not.
  
• Neither. You’re both crazy because everybody knows that the bottom of that box is a shredder anyway. And nobody cares. 

Please vote above.  Because even though I’d like to be as cool as Light Refreshments Served, I can’t put a poll in the post….. I’m lame.

Perfect Growth

In the whole history of the English language there are 2 words that sound and feel better than any other words in the whole wide world. At least for today those 2 words are “perfect growth”.

Before the ultrasound Dr. Man said that today we should see something that looks like a baby and that even though “your chances of miscarriage are NEVER 0%, if everything looks good today, that’s as close as you’ll ever get.”

Once he got “in there” with his cool camera we immediately saw Baby Egbert which was a huge relief. Last time we saw nothing, then he zoomed in and we saw the yolk sac, then he zoomed in again and we saw tiny little speck of baby. It was nice this time to not have to zoom in 3 times before even seeing anything.

Instead of

“see that?”

“no”

“how ‘bout now?”

“no”

“ what about this flicker right…….here!” 

“yeah OK”

“that’s it”

“Oh. OK.”

It was more like

“oh look! That’s our baby! And there’s the head, and the toes!”

“And here’s the heartbeat. And here’s the umbilical cord.”

“Lookit! I can see it!”

I know none of you have ever seen anything that looks at all like my ultrasound, and I know you’re all dying to see my 9 weeks and 3 days baby. So I’ll scan the printouts he gave me and post them later.

My favorite part is when he measured everything, and said “yep. That’s 9 weeks 3 days - perfect growth.” The first time we went, he said “no baby in there. Either we’re early, or we’re miscarrying” and my heart sank (sunk??). Deep. Fell straight through that stupid exam table and down 3 floors to be buried below the colon Dr.’s office on the 1st floor.

Today when he said “Perfect growth.” I could’ve jumped off the table and done backflips. I’m laying on the table, Josh is holding my hand and all of a sudden everything is right in the world.

As a side note, he gave me some suckers (yep. Suckers.) which should help with the nausea. He also gave me a prescription, but it will make me sleep….so I might not be able to pull that one off and still wake up in the morning. He figured the dizziness and feeling of passing out is due to being dehydrated from all the puking. He told me to TRY to drink more (of anything, he didn't even care what it was!) but that the real cure is to wait a couple of weeks for the nausea to pass and then I’d be fine anyway. Since baby is growing right on schedule, he’s not concerned about my current lack of nourishment.

Ughhh.....

Sunday night as we were leaving my mom's house, I had this crazy dizzy spell and started to feel really weak. We made it home OK, and I eventually fell asleep.

Monday morning I couldn't get my head off the pillow. I couldn't do it. And every time I tried I fell over, puked, or passed out. I spent the entire day in bed. Literally. Josh didn't have to work, so he (of course) doted on me hand and foot. He held my hand, brought me juice, and asked if I wanted to go to the Dr. I didn't. 

After spending 19 hours in. a. row. in bed. Sleeping for most of them, I woke up and watched a little tv. By 9:30 I was exhausted (you know...from all the sitting around...) and went back to bed. 

This morning, I suppose you could say I was really just hung over, but after getting up and getting ready for work, I started again with the uncontrollable puking and dizziness. For me, that equals another sick day. If I can feel the nausea coming on and make it wait until I'm ready, it's one thing, but randomly spewing everywhere is not appropriate OR professional work behavior. Even if I'm not contagious, it's not OK to share that.

I called my Dr. who thought I was probably fine until my regularly scheduled appointment tomorrow morning. I agree, but it was nice to have him back me up.

All in all, today was much more productive. Yes, it took me 8 hours, but today I opened my windows (what a beautiful day!), made 1 tiny loaf of banana bread (smells horrible...Josh thinks it tastes good though...), and folded two loads of laundry. Normally that's a lazy night AFTER a full day's work, but today it took all I had to do that much. Lucky for me, Josh pretended it was a big deal, and that made me feel good. I'm sure glad to be married to him.

In all, it's been a relatively productive day, and tomorrow morning I get to go see Dr. Man, and he'll take my blood (again) and we'll get to see our baby. Dr. Man promised that this week instead of looking like a blob, it'll actually look like a baby. I'm not sure I believe that, because my BabyCenter picture still looks like a floating bundle of alien. On the plus side Baby Egbert is no longer sporting a tail, and has eyelids that are fused shut - at least for the next 27 weeks.

What a great weekend!

On Friday I started a new prenatal, which was "money back guaranteed" to help me stop puking. It sounds like a good thing, and I figured I can't really get worse, so I figured I had nothin' to lose. To my pleasant surprise, I didn't even puke once on Saturday. Or Sunday.

Saturday I went to the temple (for the first time in months...) and it was fantastic. It was good to see everyone again, and to feel like I had something to offer instead of just sitting around the house all day with the garbage can in my face. I love feeling productive.

Saturday night we had a pizza party with the Marshes, which is always fun. We played games, we ate pitza, we hung out with Ryann and went looking for the pot of gold the leprechaun stole. My sister is so dang cool.

Sunday we went to church with the Marshes and spent the rest of the day with my parents which was really fantastic. My mom even forgot to make the pilaf, which meant I got mashed potatoes and I was one happy girl.

All in all, we had a fantastic weekend. I felt much better than normal, and we were surrounded by my family, who I love. How could it possibly get better than that?

I just KNEW that would happen!

Tonight was this big Relief Society celebration. Jennifer asked me to accompany her for a musical number, last week, and I gladly agreed. But the combination of my spending the weekend at my parent's and Jen having a crazy week meant I didn't get to practice for it at all until yesterday. It's been a long time since I played, and it was tough, but by the time I practiced with her tonight I felt pretty good about it. And then I totally fell apart. I'm not sure what my deal was. But for some reason, I just couldn't pull it together.

I've spent the past 2 days at home in bed because the combination of constant (and this is new: uncontrollable) puking, and crazy strong dizzy spells had me convinced I'd be no good at work anyway. But it's not like Jen would be able to find someone with zero notice, so I went anyway. She probably would've been happier if I'd called in sick and she did it a capella.

It was Relief Society, so there was dinner.
Dinner was first.
I was hungry. And at a table full of people eating. So, I ate.

Toward the end of dinner, I sat in my chair all awkwardly really needing to just go puke my guts out, but not sure what the schedule was. When they stood up and announced that we were first, I figured I'd make it through the song, then run for the bathroom and be just fine.

Well...I only kinda made it through the song - poor Jen. She has this incredible voice, but I was so distracting with my wrong notes and banging on the high keys (I blame the electric piano. I have NO idea how to make the high notes not sound so loud, I promise I wasn't banging on the keys!) that probably nobody even noticed how great she was. The worst part is I really thought I was gonna vomit all over the whole thing right in the middle. I should't have eaten anything, but I felt dumb not having anything, plus I was hungry. My mistake. I knew better.

Immediately after the song, instead of going back to my seat, I bolted to the bathroom where I was finally relieved of holding actual food in my stomach, which is apparently my new pet peeve. I made Josh go back in to grab my purse and take me home early.

What am I thankful for? Nobody but me saw me puke. Jen didn't yell at me and storm out saying "I can't work in these conditions!" (she's nice like that.) Josh had volunteered to serve dinner for the event, which means he was there to rescue me and bring me home early.

Still, it's embarrassing to have no control over yourself, and to ruin somebody else's talent. Sorry Jen!

I think the hormones have multiplied...

Getting the mail is something we just don’t do a lot of. Unless I’m expecting a package. Partly because the drive home usually includes a race to the house so I can puke in the toilet instead of on the porch. Partly because it’s just not that exciting to open the mailbox and see only bills and junk mail.

That’s partly why I’ve now had 3 “kind gesture” sob fests in the past 24 hours.

Our bi-weekly trip to the mailbox included a card from my MIL Egbert – she’s just so thoughtful. It amazes me how she can write 10 words on the inside of a card and totally reduce me to tears in the middle of the kitchen. And she’s just one of my incredible Mothers In Law. *sigh* lucky me.

A package of Saltine’s from Aundrea – I swear she hears more of my whining than anybody….even Josh. But she still loves me AND takes care of me.

Elder Perry called today. As he was about to hang up he very cheerfully said “Thanks, it’s great to have you around!” I’m pretty sure that’s a standard farewell for him, but he can pull it off because he is just so dang pleasant to talk to! How you could you not believe this face? I don't care if he's said to to every person he's spoken with in the past 50 years, I still believe him. It is good to have me around.

Sometimes Robin likes to pretend he’s tough.

Before you can understand how funny it is, you have to know some things about Robin. He’s nice. Like REALLY nice. He’s that guy in the office who gets walked all over because he’s so nice. He’s also the guy in the office who actually has one of these at his desk.  And it currently looks like this:

He likes to listen to music but is kind enough to use earphones (unlike me) so it doesn’t blast out the whole office. I know because sometimes his radio beeps and he can’t hear it, so I invade his cubicle to tell him he’s beeping and he jumps all startled-ly (we’ve already established that I like to make up words, right?) and rips the earphones out of his head. Then he says mumbles something about how he’s listening to Twisted Sister. Sometime I’d like to pull a Best Two Years move on him and yank the headphones from the computer so we can all hear what he’s really listening to.  Maybe a little Hillary Duff?  Maybe Celine Dion? Who knows. Until I’m brave enough, we may never know.

Today he needed to sign something for someone else in the office, when I asked him if he’d already called her he sauntered over to my desk, put his hands out and started examining his fingernails (in the manly way, not the femme way, like you’d expect him to whip out a pocket knife and start digging any second. That way. ) He looked at me kinda crooked and said “Nope. And I’m not gonna do it.”

“OK.” I replied in my best I don’t really care one way or the other voice. “But if she asks, I’m tellin’ on you.”

“Well go ahead and tell. I won’t be a slave.” He said in his very best I don’t really care what you tell her, cuz I’m the toughest tough guy there is voice.

Then he turned and walked back to his desk. Once in his own cubicle he shouted over the wall that he had already stopped by and signed it. That’s how I know he really is a softy, even when he’s trying to play like he’s the tough Army guy he used to be.

Oh to be young again.

Last week was Reilley Sunday. I love Reilley Sunday. We eat good food, have good conversation, play good games, I love it. Plus Josh's parents (the Reilleys) live in this fantastic little neighborhood. In a cul-de-sac right by a park, with sidewalks and nice neighbors,  it's perfect for Sunday afternoon walks.

This week I was feeling a little antsy, and it was such a beautiful day outside that I begged Josh to go on a walk with me. Problem was he wasn’t really in the mood. So we played more games inside.

During our last round of Rummikub Braden was dancing in his chair, jumping up and down all over the place and getting up to wander around the house between every turn. This may or may not have been related to our complete disregard for the “2 minute” rule.  Anyway, he and I both needed a walk, so I asked if he’d go on a walk with me after the game since Josh wouldn’t. He said yes. Just one more reason I love that kid.

By the time the game was over, we were all going on the walk. Even Josh. :)

Cami drove because she has to have hours of driving before she can have her license, and Megan was teaching her how to drive a stick, so they met us over at the elementary school. We found a (kind of flat) four-square ball and played that for a while, we swung, Braden, Megan  and Josh had a “who can zipline the farthest” contest, and then we all shook each other’s brains out on some crazy jumpy toy.

Mostly it made me miss elementary school. Remember getting recess every day? Being required to go outside, run around, and get some fresh air? Remember the games of tag? Hopscotch? And 4-square “Asbury rules!”? I loved most of my elementary school career – sure I had my bad moments, I was awkward, and kinda icky looking (how many 3^rd graders do you know with braces?), but I had friends who either ignored that or didn’t care. I got made fun of just like any other kid, and I played by myself plenty of days.  I got in fights with my friends, and one time a Seagull pooped right down the back of my shoe during field day. But for the most part, I enjoyed it. I had great teachers, good friends, and a fantastic playground.  

In fact, I’m still certain that the playground I grew up on was the greatest playground ever built. We had monkey-bars, and spinny-go-pukey and everything was made of metal instead of plastic. That means that even my daddy played with us on them. The slide was HUGE and you didn’t have to push yourself down it, gravity worked better back then. We had teeter totters when I first started school – they were taken away before I graduated. Shortly after, everything was replaced with plastic and ground up tires instead of steel bars and asphalt. Something about a safety hazard?

I always knew I’d have good memories of Elementary School, and even practiced some of the things I’d tell my kids about it. Like how I lived so long ago that I really did “walk to school uphill both ways”.  This is actually true, there is a huge hallow between the house I grew up in and the elementary school ½ mile away. I also walked downhill to school both ways…..but that doesn’t really sound as cool.

I remember a few mornings that I went to school with wet hair and it froze during the walk there. One time I broke off a tiny piece of my hair like an icicle and made sure to remember that forever so I could brag about it later. “I walked to school, uphill both ways, when it was so cold my hair froze! Ha! Your life is easy!” Eat THAT kiddos.

I really miss the playground – maybe when I grow up and I can be a recess lady….. In the meantime, maybe the Church Office Building will replace a flower bed with a playground and start letting us have recess twice a day…..I’ll keep you posted.

Puke diaries

Maybe I should just rename my blog....but I can't help it - you've got to write about the things you spend your time doing. Lately, this is it.

There's just something un-glamorous about puking your guts out in a public restroom, then brushing your teeth in warm hand washing water and walking in late to the morning meeting because of it. Maybe it's the kneeling on the hard floor in a stall. Maybe it's the fact that someone might walk in any moment. Maybe it's the extra time spent trying to trick the sensor into flushing. Maybe it's that I can't lay down on the cold tile to cool off my face, or that I actually used one of those stiff paper towels to wipe off my face afterward. No matter what the reason, I think not the best way to start the day.

On the plus side, my mom feels much better about how the pregnancy is going now that I feel like crap. It makes her less nervous because she (and every woman she's ever known) only felt good when she was miscarrying.

People keep suggesting that the prenatals are doing it to me....I might be convinced, I never puke on the days I forget to take them.  So....Flinstones chewables, here we come.

Some good choices I’ve made today include:

Going back to the cafeteria for 2^nd lunch and buying a Butterfinger ice cream bar.

Calling in late instead of puking in the car the whole way to work.

Listening to music on my blog instead of my uplifting book of the day.

Is it bad that I can’t think of any others?

Today our baby has webbed toes.

I love having weekly pregnancy updates. Statements like “the child within is the size of a kidney bean”, “new developments include eyelids and kneecaps”, and “you should  be starving all the time. Eat more! It’s probably good for you!” really make me happy. Yes, when I see “increased appetite” I do read “eat more”, that’s something you should know about me.

One thing I do not love about an October 20^th due date is that I’m afraid people will say “oh! You’re having a Halloween baby!” and I will say “MY CHILD IS NOT A MONSTER!!!!” My poor sister got an earful.  Must apologize when the hormones chill out…

I’m sorry, but I’m not giving birth to a one eyed creature. My child will not jump out of the womb and yell “boo!” or immediately ask for candy. I’m not really the biggest fan of Halloween (other than the crunchy leaves and the walking around outside) but the fact that it’s all about evil and monsters and death and blood and guts and spiders and creepy crawlies and chainsaws and the phrase “gimmee somethin’!” makes me hate it even more. I think it’s important to note that Josh and I don’t produce these kinds of children. And even if our baby happens to exit the womb on October 31^st, it will not be a Halloween baby.

When I calmly and politely (read: yelling and screaming in the shrillest PL* voice you’ve ever heard) expressed my feelings on the subject to Josh he said “You know, sometimes little girls are princesses for Halloween and boys are knights. We could have a princess baby instead of a monster if you’d rather.”  Yes Josh, I would rather.

All of that taken into account, you should know that today our baby has webbed fingers and toes.

*PL stands for Pregnant Lady. Get used to that phrase.

PS I'm over the cookie thing

I came home and Josh had cleaned the whole house, caught up on the laundry, vacuumed (even the stairs and door mats!) and mopped, and moved some of the stuff from our garage to our attic. He worked his butt off all day long, and all he wanted when I got home was for me to make some pizza for dinner. Then he let me watch The Bachelor (what the?!?!?!....that's another story) and told me what a great cook I am.

I don't care if I never eat no-bake cookies again. I think we're gonna be just fine.

What I wish I'd known before I got married.....

By the time Josh and I got married, I felt like I knew him pretty well. We had been dating, seriously dating, for a good long time. We spend nearly every day together for months. We knew each other’s families (and liked them!). We’d had our moments and worked through our differences. I wasn’t really nervous about marrying him at all.

He had graduated from the Institute of Healing Arts where he learned all kinds of emotional release work stuff and sometimes it felt like we were already in marriage counseling (in a good way). We both went through a kind of therapy together working on our own stuff and working together to make our relationship stronger. We went to a lot of classes, seminars, and lectures.

Every time we attended a seminar about emotions, the older women in the room would look at us and say “if only I had the opportunity to do something like this when we were just starting out, we could’ve saved ourselves so much heartache! You two are so much better off than we were.” Before people started saying that to us, we already considered our relationship to be strong. We felt very comfortable with each other and we felt good about where we were going as a couple. When people said things like this to us, our heads grew bigger and bigger. We knew we were the greatest couple ever, and that we could handle anything that came our way. We also knew we were WAY better off than 99% of the couples in the world.

We took a Marriage Prep class at Institute together. That means we talked about all the stuff they tell you to talk about. Expectations, gender roles, child rearing, family planning, how to spend Sundays and Holidays, which way you put on the toilet paper, whether or not General Conference was a vacation weekend. You know, the important stuff.

Immediately after getting married, every time we went over to Josh’s parents his dad would ask about the things we were learning about each other. I think he just liked to laugh at us. I quickly learned these conversations were more fun if we avoided talking about the serious differences and talked about things that really were funny. “Josh uses my hand towel to wipe off his toothpastey mouth when he brushes his teeth!” “He wants to be asleep by 10:00 Every. Single. Night.” We laughed over these trivial things, knowing that if that was the worst of it, we’d be just fine.

However, yesterday I learned how serious our differences could get. I had no idea what I was in for, and I don’t know how we’ve been married for 2 ½ years without knowing about this. I’m a little nervous for what this means to our relationship….a little uncomfortable with the things I’ve just learned about my husband.

He doesn’t like no-bake cookies.

What’s a girl to do? Why wasn’t this question on the Marriage Prep checklist? How has this not come up? Can we really spend eternity together, no-bake-cookie-less?  

The battle continues

I think babies want their moms to stay home with them. In fact, I’m convinced that our baby decided just yesterday that the best way to make this happen was to force my head into the toilet bowl for at least 15 minutes. Those 15 minutes being 8:55 – 9:10. Church starts at 9:00. Once again, Baby gets what Baby wants. Ever since we got married we knew our child would be spoiled. Little did I know that Baby run my life from the time of conception.

The problem is that now Baby thinks that making me puke will earn me and Baby a day at home, lounging in my bathrobe doing nothing but eating and sleeping. And breaking the Sabbath by watching Monk.

Well Baby. Just like you can’t have Tater Tots for lunch anymore – I’m at work today and you will no longer be rewarded for playing with my gag reflex. That’s just not how it’s gonna work around here. 

We laughed at you

If you were singing "Where Can I Turn For Peace" in a choir at BYU in 1993 where President Hunter spoke (when he was still the President of the Quorum of the Twelve) we spend the whole opening song mocking your goofy hair, your white pumps, and your ugly ties.

I apologize if that was you, it's not because we don't love you, it's just that you looked like SUCH a dork!