Pregnancy Brain

Everybody talks about forgetting things and not being able to think about things normally when they're pregnant. I didn't really get that.....

This morning was my first run-in with the dreaded "pregnancy brain" but don't worry, I'm very familiar with "rhinitis of pregnancy" and I think it's only fair that I don't experience all of the icky pregnant things at once.

Josh was showering when I ran into the bathroom gagging and puking.

In his oh-so-sensitive way he said "wait! I thought you weren't sick anymore! What happened?"
In my oh-so-sarcastic way I responded "oh yeah. I guess I forgot." finished puking and continued with my morning.

I hate 1st trimester flashbacks. And I hate forgetting that I'm not sick. or tired. or grouchy. Hopefully my memory all comes back later today.

Me and the Baby

This morning I called “dibs on the baby!” because when Josh tackled me and threw me on the bed face first I reminded him that that baby and I are on the same team, so when he’s squishing/suffocating me he’s squishing the baby too.

Then I had an epiphany.

I suddenly realized that the baby was going to be on someone’s team for the rest of its life and exactly who’s team that would be had yet to be determined. So, I called it.

Standard shotgun rules apply. I was in sight of the Baby and I picked it for my team for the rest of ever. So, now it’s me and the Baby vs. Josh. Even though he claims he already told the Baby to pretend it’s on my team but to really be on his team I’m pretty sure the Baby will stay on my team for a while. Also if the Baby really stays on my team, I just might beat Josh at Smash Brothers (without a ridiculous handicap) at least once before I die. That would be nice.

Da baby (and da bump) or 15 weeks

I know you're dying for some baby development updates, so here's the skinny: I'm not.

You wanna know how pregnancy is different when you start out....."pleasantly plump"? I'll tell you.

Instead of "going through" that chubby girl but not quite pregnant girl phase. You just go through that eat everything you can get your hands on phase. Which is really much more fun.

The clothes you've been trying to grow out of (the smaller way) for the past 23 years of your life are suddenly perfectly appropriate.

When you read "You finally look pregnant!" in your weekly update, you look down (just to make sure nothing popped out in the last 10 minutes....it didn't) and think "No. I STILL look pregnant. Only now I don't have to worry about little kids in the grocery store asking when I'm having my baby because I have an actual answer instead of a lie or an awkward silence."

Nobody says "you're getting a tummy!" or anything similar. Because it's not new, but you know what? It's different now.  I mean it feels different. I know it doesn't look different, but it is.

I can feel my baby in there (not feel it moving around or anything - holy crap! Yes I can! I just felt my baby moving for the first time! That is so. dang. cool! whoa. OK That's it's own post right there...back to the point) I was laying in bed this weekend (OK pretty much the entire weekend) and feeling my tummy and I can feel where my baby is. I can tell where it starts and stops. I can tell it's different and that it's there. Just so you don't think I'm insane, I made Josh come feel my tummy too (just in case you were wondering nobody else on the planet is allowed to poke the belly, just me and Josh. So don't ask.) and he verified that you can totally tell what's baby and what's belly.

Baby has become light sensitive, which might be kinda fun to play with if I could feel Baby moving around (which I can't).

Really I guess it isn't THAT different from not being pleasantly plump before the whole pregnancy, it's pretty much the coolest thing in the whole world.

Also, I've stopped puking on a regular basis (now it's just random and completely unplanned for, which has it's own disadvantages). Which is great news for you (the reader who is sick of reading my current puke count) and me (the writer who is sick of having nothing to write that doesn't involve my current puke count) and Josh (the husband who is sick of being sick).

All in all? 15 weeks freakin' rocks.

True Friends

When Josh and I met at EFY (7 years ago? Really? wow!) we went to a class together that was about being a "true friend forever". We were joking (really, we were joking) about how he was a "true friend" and I made him sign a scrap of paper (which happened to be a gum wrapper) signifying his eternal vow to be my true friend forever. We wrote the date on it and something about being true friends forever and stuck it in my scriptures with the glue-in from the class.

It's still in my scriptures, because yes, I really am that cheesy.

Wanna know what else makes a person a true friend forever?

• Knowing what "your jeans" are and calling to tell you that they are on sale.
• Saying that the cheesecake is kinda dry and really doesn't taste good when you're in the middle of a sugar-fast. Then they maintain that opinion even after the fast is over so you still don't regret it.
• Helping you eat an entire cheesecake while playing Skipbo and watching Friends for the 9 millionth time. Do I have an unhealthy obsession with cheesecake? Will ask shrink.
• Having that picture of you (you know the one where you look disgusting in every possible way?) and NOT putting it on Facebook.
• Praying for rain over the weekend so you don't have to go to a barbecue even when they are a cold-blooded (who really thinks that 80 degrees is comfortable anyway?) sun-loving person, it's April 24th, and it snowed last weekend.
• E-mailing you because they had a dream you're pregnant, and thought you should take a test since you didn't know it yet. (especially when they're RIGHT!)
• Calling/chatting to complain but listening to you vent instead, and not even whining that you won't listen to them.
• Being willing to tell you a story involving their "skirt half up and slip half down" in the office because you asked for something that would make you laugh.
• Walking back in the office after leaving for the day to find you in the middle of a complete meltdown and asking if you're OK, giving you a side-hug and whispering "have a good one" with a crookedy smile on their face when they leave for real.
• Answering your prayers by sharing their personal experiences and probably not knowing why.

If you think even for a second that any of these were you, they were. Thank you for being my true friend forever.

Questions & Answers

Do you ever have those moments when someone's words (which were in no way intended to be advice at the time) echo in your mind over and over again as a clear and simple answer to the question you've been beating around in your head against the wall for MONTHS trying to figure out the best answer?

The question: What do you do when someone you love does something you don't? What is the appropriate response and the most supportive way to act while being true to your feelings and the things you want (and need)?

The answer: You just love them. Because, what else can you do?

What'd YOU do for Earth day?

I ready everybody's posts about Earth Day at about 11:30 last night and thought back over my day. It's not a big revelation that I'm not the most environmentally friendly person around...but last night I thought about my actions all day long. Know what I did to celebrate Earth Day? (Without realizing it of course...)

• I flushed a toilet about 25 times....seriously (6 of those times were after I went to bed). I don't even want to think about how much water that is.
• I washed my hands 37 times. With the water on the whole time. And at home I waited for the water 
• I threw away 4 large Styrofoam cups.
• I drove Josh's big fat SUV to pick up our un-organically grown processed food that comes in disposable and paper wrappers. We ate said food and threw away everything that came with it. Plastic, paper, more cups, etc.
• I left the lamp on all night long....
• I turned on every light in the house at 5:30 when we got home. And I left them all on (even the closet light.....) until we went to bed much, much later.

So, there you have it. It's not like I woke up on Earth Day thinking "how can I make a mockery of an important holiday and issue?" rather, I was just doin' what comes naturally. Sad huh?

The Law of Consecration

We had this fantastic lesson in Sunday School on the Law of Consecration. We talked about the United Order and why we don’t/can’t live the Law of Consecration that way right now. We talked about what will be expected of us in the Celestial Kingdom, we talked about specific ways we will need to change in order to live that Celestial law. We talked about Christ-like Love, the belief that wordly possessions are not necessary and certainly not a priority. We talked about how we currently live the Law of Consecration and that we aren’t exempt because of our imperfect state.  We talked about tithing and fast offerings and how that’s the way we apply the Law of Consecration today.

As Josh and I talked about the lesson on our way to Lindon yesterday, he brought up an interesting point. He said that “back in the day” (i.e. during the time of the United Order) The Church was the steward of all stuff. Members would give all they have (time, talents, possessions) to The Church and then receive back what they needed.  Today, we are still commanded to live the Law of Consecration. However, instead of The Church acting as steward of all stuff, we are each responsible to act as stewards of our own stuff. As members who have gone through the temple, we have covenanted with our Heavenly Father to give all of our time, talents, & possessions to the church for the building up of the Kingdom and to serve each other. But, instead of the Church being responsible to make sure we are doing what we should with what we have, the responsibility lies on us, as members.

Josh’s example was a simple one. I have a truck, it’s not mine, it’s the Lord’s. As an agent of the Lord I should be using it in his service. If somebody in the ward needs help moving, it’s my job to offer all of my time, talents, and possessions to help that happen. The Lord would be willing to help, and if I’m gonna use his “stuff” I need to be responsible to use it as he would. Done. I will be there on Saturday morning. (He doesn’t really have a truck, so please don’t ask him to help you move….)

The concept applies to all that we have. Are we willing to accept callings that we might not want? Are we willing to help Sister _____ weed her yard? Are we willing to donate our canned food for the Bishop’s storehouse? Are we giving our excess funds in Fast Offering? Are we hoarding what “we” have? Or are we recognizing that all we have comes from God, and that it’s not our right to use/spend it on things he wouldn’t use it for?

The attitude adjustments that seem necessary and really struck me during our discussion were these:

1. If we truly loved each other as brothers & sisters it wouldn’t be hard to give all we have for the good of someone else.
   It seems that most families live the Law of Consecration within their own families. One (or two) parents work, and bring home money in order to provide for their children. Most Dads don’t go to work every day thinking “I can’t believe that I’m working this hard, and I don’t get to keep all this. I have to donate it to these bums (wife and/or children) who don’t earn any money at all.” Most Dads just recognize their stewardship over their family and because they love them, gladly work to provide for their needs. Imagine loving all of your neighbors that same way. Imagine not batting an eye at the thought that instead of going to Disneyland this year you considered that money “excess” and gave it to someone who hasn’t been able to pay their bills. That is a world where Christ-like love wins.
2. We can really think of all that “we” have as things that have been trusted to us by the Lord for HIS use and HIS purposes.
   When we stop looking at our stuff as ours, and realize that we’re just using it in the Lord’s service, it’s not annoying when someone asks you to help them move. It’s not annoying when someone wants to you serve in a calling you’ve had for the past 10 years.  You don’t feel like you’re giving up something special to you when someone asks for your donated food items when you still want them. None of those things are personal to us anymore because none of it is ours anyway. And if you are living close to the spirit, you know how the Lord would have you use what you have. So, if we don’t think of it as “ours” it doesn’t hurt to give it up. It feels good.
3. If we recognized how little material things mean in eternal perspective, it wouldn’t bother us to donate.
   It’s not hard to give things up that don’t matter to you, but when you become attached to a nice car, home, or toy, it’s harder to give that up. When we remember that what we have in this life is only for this life, and that it is not necessary for our happiness, it suddenly becomes easy to give what we have.

So, bottom line, it’s not that hard to live the Law of Consecration FULLY. Also it’s not a guilt trip that we don’t live the United Order, because we can (and should) still live the Law of Consecration. Trying to develop Christ-like love for the people around us, recognizing that what “we” have isn’t ours, and putting “stuff” in its proper place will prepare us to live the Law of Consecration in any application we’re asked to. 

Aren't you jealous that your ward isn't as good as mine? 

Carol

There are a lot of Carol's that I talk to on a mostly-daily basis.

There's Carol-who-thinks-everything-is-an-emergency. "THERE ARE NO PAPER TOWELS IN THE RESTROOM, WE NEED SOMEBODY NOW!!!!!!!" Yes, she says it in that screaming shrill voice, and she barely leaves spaces between her words, and she hangs up before you're finished saying "we'll send somebody there right away."

And there's Carol-who-thinks-nothing-is-an-emergency. "There's water coming out of the wall behind my desk, I thought it would be a good thing to get a plumber up here sometime if they're available.....you know, if it's convenient." She says it in the temple/librarian voice. If you haven't heard that voice, call my friend Jamie. She has that voice too. And she speaks in slow soothing tones, and would never demand anything be done at any specific time. It's always "when we can" and not "NOW!!!!!".

And there's Carol-who-will-make-your-day-every.-single.-day. A couple weeks ago when I was having a meltdown at work, she walked by my desk to pick something up off the printer. She glanced at me to say "hi" on her way out, took one look at my stupid red puffy face and said "you look like you need a hug" then she came around and gave me a hug and left. She didn't ask what was wrong (nothing was wrong, I'm just hormonal and pregnant and I cry for no good reason, but she didn't make me say that outloud.) She didn't say anything stupid or awkward, just gave me a hug and left. Then 2 hours later she brought me chocolate. A good one too. You know the kind in the checkout stand at the grocery store? The round ball ones? The ones you always want but can NEVER afford? Yeah. She brought me one of THOSE. And it was GOOOOD.

Today she walked in and said "just in case nobody's said it yet today " (That's the sound of the whistle. Most people probably spell it different from that, but at our house instead of whistling we actually say "chwit chwooo".)

Carol-who-will-make-your-day-every.-single.-day. is my favorite of all the Carols.

At what point do you become?

Aundrea’s husband ran another marathon this weekend. He did a great job. He can even walk up AND down the stairs today (after just 1 day of “healing) I know because he told me that the oatmeal was downstairs and he “will walk for food”.  Aundrea’s husband and I are friends I think. Maybe I’d better request him on Facebook just to be sure though. However, he’s not the point of this post. He’s just an example. In my mind he is “a runner”.

My mom went running every single day for like 9,000 years (or however long I lived at home….whatever.) she ran marathons too and I think she’s “a runner”.

I went “running” er…waddling…. every day for like 3 months last year. I am not (nor was I ever) “a runner”.  I was “a person who went running”. Mostly against my will. Is it because I didn’t do it long enough? Or because I didn’t like it?

It can’t be directly related to the number of days in a row a person runs, because then no 16 year old could ever be “a runner” based on the fact that they haven’t been alive long enough to run enough days in a row. It also can’t be related to if you like it or not, because I’m pretty sure my mom prefers most things to running on a sheet of ice. She just did it so she wouldn’t die. Also so she wouldn’t go crazy. And sometimes so her bones wouldn’t hurt (I think…you’ll have to ask her to find out for sure).  

So, at what point do you become what you do? Is it when you love it a certain amount? Is it when you’ve logged a certain number of hours doing it? (Now there’s a depressing thought….how many of you are “dish doers” or “laundresses” or “diaper changers”….hmm….) Maybe it has to do with what you give up for it? Like if you give up your extra $2/day it’s one level of “becoming” and if you give up your only half hour of silence each day, that’s another level. But if all you’ve given up is Saturday morning chores, then really you’re just someone who goes running (or waddling…whatever). But if you give up watching American Idol then maybe that’s the level you really become a runner.

What about other things? At what point are you a quilter? A driver? A scrapbooker? A couponer? A drunk? A lazy bum? (cuz if it only takes 3 months to become a lazy bum, I’m there. And it’s unfair that 3 months of sitting makes you a bum, but 3 months of waddling doesn’t make you a runner…) A biker? A napper? A reader? A blogger? A writer? (When does a “post” become a “piece”?) A dancer? (or are we human?) A photographer?

When do we become what we do?

Things that made me smile this weekend

This week has been a special one. As of Wednesday I am morning sickness free and I feel like a new woman!

None of this:

And lots of things that made me smile. Like this:

You may think it's "just dessert" but no. This is trifle. And it's GOOD. And it didn't make me puke. That means it's the best dessert of all time.

This is a photo of my clock AFTER 11:00PM. Yes, that's right. I saw it after 11. 2 nights in a row. That means I wasn't asleep at 8 because I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. That means I stayed up like the party-animal I am on the inside.....er something.

This is my baby brother and his wife. They came and had a pizza party and a sleepless-over on Saturday night. They make me smile.

These are pansies and I love them. They are on my porch.

This is the "window box" they're in. It was buy 2 get 1 free, which means I have 2 planters of strawberries and one of pansies. Nothing has ever been so beautiful.

These are new sheets. That's something worth smiling over.

These are oranges and we have a whole case of them. Yummy.

Church snacks. I was hungry. During church. That is a beautiful thing.

This is Ryann watching her daddy play BOLT! She pretty much always makes me smile.

This is Garret. He smiled for me when I asked if I could take his picture. That makes me smile. Also the grass is green.

I don't know about Grandmas at your house, but Grandmas at my house ALWAYS share their candy.

This is the dessert the nice man at Olive Garden brought to me when Ron told them it was my birthday. He didn't sing. Best birthday dinner of all time. Also, when you're there, you're family.

In all it was a FANTASTIC weekend, full of things I love, things that make me happy, and things that taste good. We shopped, we played outside, we stayed up late, we watched movies, we took naps, we went to church, we had parties and company, we celebrated and most of all, we did not puke. That's why it has been the best weekend of this pregnancy.

Taxes make me cry

*This post has been written and waiting for a good "daddy picture" until right now, that's why I get to backdate it.* 

Not for the reasons you think. Although once in a while I wanna cry about the fact that the government takes all our money and spends it on things I don’t believe in, but that’s another story for another day.

Last night I watched the news (trying to figure out who went home on American Idol, NOT to brush up on current events or Pirates or other important things going in the world….I want to make sure that’s clear) and they did this big story about how it’s tax day.

They sent their reporter to the post office to show the enormous line of cars to drop off their taxes.

I am a chronic February filer. Well I was. Then I got married. Now Josh is a chronic February filer.  He asks me to do it about 10,000 times between February 1^st and 15^th, then he does it on the 16^th and calls me all day long to find out where all of our files are.  Our taxes are always filed early.

Growing up my Daddy was a chronic April 15^th filer. Of the extension. And an October 15^th filer of the taxes.

From the time I was like 13 or 14 he let me start “working” at his office. I started filing phone messages, which was an eternal job and quite possibly the most boring job on the planet, and one year he “promoted” me and let me help balance his bank accounts for taxes. He watched over my shoulder while I entered the information I didn’t understand into his Accounting software. He read me the numbers and I typed them in. At the end of each bank statement we’d go back through the whole thing 20 times trying to find my $.03 error. The “bwlip bwlip bwlip” of the data being entered would keep us both awake when we were too tired to keep ourselves awake.

He’d take me to work with him after hours or on a Saturday, and I would’ve said “held me hostage” until the work was done, but now that I look at it, I loved being there with him. I whined and moped and complained and wanted to go home; “just 3 more bank statements and we can” he’d answer.

Some days I was too tired to do anything and I’d curl up on the hard floor and try to sleep. I couldn’t sleep, but I refused to work, I think I was trying to prove a point. I’d watch him out of the slits of my eyes, and he’d just sit there. Working. For hours. My Daddy is the strongest man I know. He never stops. He never quits. And nothing is “too hard” or takes “too long”.

We’d do the taxes together, get the forms filed, printed and signed. He taught me how to balance a bank account (although I had no idea what any of the numbers or transactions meant). He taught me what the software was doing and why. He taught me that when things are due, you do what you have to and get it done. He taught me that it feels good to come home from a long day at the office and have (what was once hot) dinner out on the table for you. We’d come home together and eat at the two places left out for us.

We’d talk on the drive home, and he’d tell me how great it was to have me there with him. He told me that he couldn’t do it without me (which is ridiculous to think about now…because he did it for the first 30-whatever years of his life without me….) and he made me feel like I was the only person capable of that job. He’d watch me put the numbers in and be amazed at how fast my fingers could go (the same way I watch how fast other people text…and think it’s impossible).  He’d wait at the top of the stairs to turn out the lights so I didn’t have to go down them in the dark, and he ALWAYS opened the car door for me.

It was Daddy and me against the world. And we were gonna win. It didn’t matter what needed to be done, we could do it together.

I’ve always thought of myself as a Daddy’s girl, and for some reason I always thought he loved me the most of all my siblings. He has the ability to make a person feel like they are the most loved, and most important person. If you asked me who I trusted most in the world, it would be him. There is nothing he can’t do, and nothing he wouldn’t do for me.  And growing up, I always knew he loved me more than anybody.

So tax time every year reminds me of my Daddy and how much he taught me. It reminds me of how much time he spent with me, and how much I love to be around him. It reminds me that no matter what I need to do, I am capable of it. It reminds me that he loves me, and I love him. And that, is why Taxes make me cry.

One thing I love about being pregnant

One thing I love about being pregnant is that this baby comes with me wherever I go.

I’ve been watching the falcons at the Joseph Smith Building (what? you're not addicted to watching falcons come and go and sit on eggs? There's something wrong with you. You should click the link and see if they're home right now....if they are, I bet you'll get addicted) and today there is an egg in their box (it's that red rock on camera 2). There used to be a falcon sitting on and guarding that egg, but now the egg is alone. Left to fend for itself. On a VERY cold day, it’s just sitting there unprotected and unarmed.

Not my baby. My baby is safe and warm inside me where it can grow and get everything it needs out of my blood (and other icky bodily fluids). Dr. Man told us that babies are like parasites, they take what they need first, and then the mom gets whatever is left. Then they’re born. And that doesn’t really change. Then they turn 18 and it still doesn’t really change. We laughed. That’s why he wasn’t concerned about my weight loss. Baby is still growing, so it doesn’t really matter if I am or not (and let’s face it, I’ve got plenty of weight to lose….) but he told me if I keep losing weight through this 2nd trimester we'll worry. I have a sneaking suspicion that will be the least of our worries. Not the point.

The point is this: I love knowing that my baby stays with me. Safe, taking what it needs and that all I have to do is act normal(ish). For now. I don't have to worry about making sure Josh is there before I go hunt for pigeons....er....dinner. I don't have to leave my child not knowing who's out there or what will get it. I don't have to sit in one spot to keep it warm. I can get up and go, and be relatively comfortable. Whether it's stuffing myself full of veggies at Souper Salad or eating popcorn in bed, this baby will come with me and take what it needs....leaving me with the leftovers. And that is one thing I LOVE about being pregnant. It's comparatively stress-free.

fwawp fwawp fwawp

Yesterday we had another Dr. appt. Only this one was COOL. And I didn’t walk out thinking about how lame the advanced medical equipment we have is.

When he first stuck the heartbeat-listener-thing (what is that thing called?) on me, it sounded like he was trying to tune the AM radio at the beginning of conference. He moved the thing around, and held the receiver/speaker up to his ear and it still sounded like a really bad radio. Josh and I glanced at each other and I saw the panic in his face and opted to stare at the ceiling to avoid getting tears in my ears. I wanted him to jump up and run across the room to hold my hand and squeeze it 3 times so I knew he loved me. He just sat there. I just laid there…..trying not to breath.

Dr. Man moved the thing around some more…..more fuzz.

He moved the thing WAY out of the way…..more fuzz.

He moved the thing way out of the way the other way…. and there was the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. Quiet at first, and drowned out by the static. But now that Dr. Man was on the trail, he quickly “dug deeper” and landed right on the thing. “fwawp fwawp fwawp fwawp fwawp fwawp fwawp fwawp” Baby Egbert said to us. A loud sigh of relief from me messed up the rhythm for a minute, but Dr. Man was right back on it.

“That’s a very strong heartbeat about 150” from Dr. Man.  Then because he’s nice he let us listen to it a while longer.

I wanted Josh to jump up and come squeeze my hand 3 times so I’d know he loves me. He just sat there. I just laid there…..trying not to breath.

13 weeks means...

Well, we've already talked about what it means to me....although if today counts as an indicator either "we're not as far along as we think we are" (again) or the whole "energy and eating" theme of the 2nd trimester is a load of crap. Oddly enough, I'm kindof hoping we add another month to this pregnancy again. But what this week means to you is:

• Fingerprints. No more anonymous crimes in there Baby Egbert. Next time you wrap your tiny hands around my stomach and squeeze, I'm sending in the police and they'll catch you what with all the fingerprints. So, you'd better knock it off.
• Thin-skin. We've talked about how you're not going to be a monster or an alien when you decide to grace us with your presence, right? OK. Just do your best thicken up over the next 6 months. Thanks.
• If Baby Egbert is a girl she literally has more than 2 million eggs in her ovaries. If she's a girl we'll talk about that later. I'm just thinking with 2 million eggs...she's probably not going to have the same problems I did....at least I hope none of my babies have to experience that.
  

Also, I've noticed a slightly hostile tone when I'm talking to Baby Egbert. It's important to note that I love this child with all my heart. I am grateful that I get to be a mom. 

The whole experience of having a baby grow in me, depend on me, and be a part of the man I love more than anyone has been incredible, spiritual and completely indescribable experience. It brings me to tears. It melts my heart. And when I pray every night for this baby to grow and develop and for Josh and I to be the best parents we are capable of, I do it with nothing but love and admiration for this whole process. I'm overwhelmed and honored to be a part of this miracle.

Farewell 1st Trimester

Today I am officially 13 weeks along. As in I’ve already done 13 weeks of this pregnancy business. As in the first trimester is over. As in we start the glorious and beautiful 2^nd trimester NOW.

In Relief Society somebody asked how I was feeling and I said something about how I’m 13 weeks now, so I have every expectation of waking up some morning this week and feeling completely fine. The days of puking and irrational exhaustion will be behind me. I’ll suddenly have every desire in the world to clean and cook and buy stuff for Baby Egbert. I’ll have energy beyond compare and want to eat everything in sight instead of gagging every time someone mentions food.

I was being sarcastic and thinking I was real funny (ha ha ha, I laugh at my own jokes in my head….even in my own head it’s a pity laugh….) when everybody behind the person I was talking to started nodding in agreement. None of them were laughing at my hilarious joke. All of them had straight faces.

When I pointed out that I thought I was kidding. They all said “No really. You will.”

Well ladies, thanks to you, my hopes are HIGH. Seriously, very high. Higher than….___________ (the only thing I can think to compare to high-ness has to do with drugs, but I don’t know enough about drugs to finish the comparison. So, fill in the blank with whatever witty/funny comment you want to there.)

Today is a new day, lip gloss AND mascara, and I’m fairly certain my little “incident” this morning marked the end of the ongoing battle with nausea.

I celebrated by eating a Krispy Kreme donut for breakfast. Take THAT Baby Egbert.

The thing about 24 is....

First let me clarify. 24 the age. Not the tv show.

It's not a big deal. It's just not. Yes, it's old. Yes, I survived another year. Yes, my mom remembers "24 years ago today" but the truth is, nothing special happens when you turn 24.

You're not allowed to do anything that used to be illegal (driving, drinking, gambling, voting, buying spray paint or dry ice), you don't get anything special in church (the priesthood, a necklace, not even an "I am special" pencil), and nobody says "are you excited for the big two-four?" because...well...why would you be? 24 doesn't even come down to a cool fraction of a century, I mean, nobody's gonna say can you believe you're 6/25 of a century old?

Regardless of the insignificance of turning 24, I'm glad I was born, I'm glad my mom remembers "24 years ago yesterday" and I'm glad that I have miraculously survived another year. I just don't feel the need to throw myself a party and wear a goofy hat.

However, I will say I had a really great day.

Josh and I went to church, then to the Reilley's for food and games. We had turkey dinner which was (not surprisingly) fantastic and happens to include some of my favorite comfort foods. Stuffing, turkey, potatoes rolls...what's not to love? Josh played basketball with the boys and I talked with Misty and she told me I wasn't crazy for being possessive of my unborn child. I like it when people tell me I'm not crazy. She also keeps me informed of the great baby stuff she sees while browsing at Go Bananas. What a great sister!

After the Easter festivities, we came home early and went to sleep.

And that, was my super-fantastic 24th birthday. Maybe this week I'll buy spray paint....just to celebrate my 3rd anniversary of being able to.....

Car seats

Calling all moms again.

This week I need help with car seats. I know this one matters more than cribs. And I know there's a lot more to it. So, what do you like, love or hate about your car seat?

Which way should the handle face? Parallel or perpendicular to your body? Or does it move?
How do you feel about bases, both for the car and for the stroller?
Do the straps twist? (in a bad way, not in a "what a cool feature" way.)
How bad do I need one of these? And how fast will my child poop on it? (if you actually own this, I'm sorry for making fun of you, I just think it's funny....)
How much weight should it be rated for? Some go way up to 100 lbs, and others max out at 20....
Really, what's the deal with the 5-point harness? Is it harder than my pregnant brain can handle?
Do you love or hate the way your sun-shield thing is? Why?
Do I need one for each car (seems nuts to me...but what do I know?)
Does my baby really need a cupholder armrest?

So, let your voices be heard! I'm hoping you have some SERIOUSLY strong opinions about this one....

Debt Free

There aren’t very many things my handsome handsome husband isn’t good at. There just aren’t. He’s good at talking to people. He’s good at throwing a football. He’s good at building stuff. He’s good at breaking stuff. He’s good at learning things. He’s good at listening. He’s good at listening. He’s good at being serious and being funny. He’s good at reaching things up high (not because he’s tall, but because he’s not scared of climbing on the cupboards). And of course, he’s good at opening pickle jars. He’s not afraid of things, and he has zero “too shy to try” in him.  

However, there’s one thing he’s REALLY bad at….and it’s starting to rub off on me. It’s debt. And anything involving monthly payments. He can't handle it. At all.

When we were dating he had saved up money to buy a truck. Since he was raised in a home that preached zero-tolerance for debt, he had zero credit. Since he was dating me, and I was working at Fair Credit Foundation, I told him that even though it was good to be debt-free, it was not good to be 30-years old and unable to get a home loan because he’d never built up any credit.

He accepted my advice, but couldn’t quite go all the way with the “get a loan” principle.  He talked to his credit union (where’s he’s banked since he was 10) and told them his dilemma. He had no credit, and he needed some. He asked if he could pretty please have an unnecessary loan for his car so he could build his credit. He promised he’d pay it back.

The loan officer suggested that he take out a loan for the vehicle, but instead of using the car as collateral (which they wouldn’t give him a loan for…..BECAUSE he had zero debt) they’d use his money as collateral. So, he took out a loan for $5,000 against the $5,000 sitting in his savings account.  The interest on the loan was less than the interest they paid him on his money, so it wasn’t as stupid as it sounds. They set him up with a payment book and he had a due date for his payments and everything. The best part of it all is that he was building credit by making a monthly payment.

He probably only made 3 or 4 payments before calling the bank and telling them he just wanted to pay it off. He was done building credit. He was done writing checks to himself, and he was done living “in debt”. He really couldn’t handle it, he hated it.

Fortunately that was enough to get his credit built up enough for a small credit card, which he used only for gas and paid in full every 4 or 5 days (he couldn’t let it go a whole week…he hates debt).

When he decided to go to massage school, he almost died when he signed the papers for the student loan (which didn’t have any interest for another 2 years).

We'd been married for 3 months when he informed me that "doubling my car payment was taking too long" and that we would be quadrupling it for the next year so we wouldn't owe any money on it. Seriously. 

When we bought our house I had to put a wet washcloth on his head in the office of our Title Lady so he wouldn’t pass out. (OK, that’s a lie, but he really was freaking out. And I did have to get him a bottle of water….)

Anyway, the point is that he hates debt. He hates monthly payments. He hates owing people money. And he hates feeling like the money he’s making is already spent. It’s not such a bad quality really. In fact, given the other extreme, I’d pick his brand of insanity any day of the week.

The best part about it, is that this week we were looking at his student loan statement, and our bank statement, and decided we were done making payments on student loans. I’m tired of watching the balance shrink by such a miniscule amount every month. I’m tired of remembering to pay it every month. We’re both “sooo over” the whole loan. So, this month we took our CD which just came due and paid off the loans. We are (once again) debt free with the exception of our house.

This might be a bigger day than yesterday …..nah, not quite.

Big Day

Today is a big day. Wanna see why?

What? You can't tell? 

Here's a hint.

Still no?

Come on.....look HARDER!

Yes, that's right ladies and gentleman. Today (for the first time in WEEKS) I am wearing mascara.

Let’s talk about Conference.

Katie tagged me. OK fine, she didn’t tag me, but I read her blog and I am part of "you all” so I’m doing it too.

I love conference, I always do. I used to think that old people who said that were just saying it because they were supposed to. The same way they say they love cooked broccoli and running. But, I love conference in a VERY different way from cooked broccoli and running.

Conference at my house is a fantastic event involving lots of food,

family,

swinging outside between sessions,

sleeping on the couch during sessions,

catching bits and pieces of really important things, trying to occupy the kids,

trying to keep the house from being completely torn apart, and putting it back together once we’ve failed.

Lest you think I didn’t listen to ANY of the talks during the whole weekend, here are a few of my favorite quotes (which is the point of the tag) from General Conference this time around.

• “Each temptation we overcome is to strengthen us, not to destroy us.” - Robert D. Hales

• “There are great lessons to be learned from the past. You ought to learn them so you don’t exhaust your spiritual strength repeating bad choices.” - M. Russel Ballard

• “Is my net faith positive or negative?” - Elder Kevin W. Pearson

• “If our lives and our faith are centered on Jesus Christ and his restored gospel, nothing can go permanently wrong. On the other hand, if our life is not centered on the savior and his teachings. No other success can ever be permanently right.” - Rafael E. Pino quoting Howard W. Hunter.

•  “A man may fast and pray till he kills himself and there isn’t any necessity for it nor wisdom in it.” – Russell M. Nelson Quoting Joseph F. Smith

• “Discipleship is not a spectator sport. We cannot expect to experience the blessings of faith by standing inactive on the sidelines anymore than we can experience the benefits of health by sitting on the sofa watching sporting events on television and giving advice to the athletes.” - Dieter F. Uchtdorf
  

And that's the tag. I tag each of you to share some of your favorite quotes/concepts/ideas/thoughts from conference.

One thing I love about Conference

You make think Pretzelmaker has nothing to do with General Conference. But you're wrong.

Josh proposed to me in April, he bought my ring in April. It came with a warranty thing that requires "them" to check the ring every 6 months. The ring store is in the mall. Preztelmaker is in the mall.

Now do you get it?

No? Well then, there's no hope for you.

Happiest place on earth

Sure I've been to Disneyland....but I was like 3 and the Dumbo ride was too scary for me, let alone anything else. My non-existant memory of the place doesn't merit the "happiest place on earth" title.

However, this does.

I used to have a walking buddy named Dave. He and I would wander through the avenues all night long sometimes, our walks were different every time, but one of our favorite places to "wind up" was the top of the Hospital parking garage at the U.

When Josh and I started dating, I took him there on one of our first dates when I was showing him my favorite places. He immediately fell in love with the view and it's been one of "our places" ever since.

On Friday night when all I wanted to do was go home, curl up in a blanket, and cry, he claimed to have to hit a Redbox real quick, and somehow without my noticing we wound up here.

I quickly remembered why it's one of my favorite places, and why he's my favorite man.

You know when the view is good, the camera really won't do it justice.....but here's my pathetic attempt.


Don't judge me, I'd already puked 3 times since lunch.


Josh likes to climb on stuff....the nasty pile of snow in the corner is certainly not excluded. :)

The reason I decided to just tell you.

I just hit 12 weeks, which is 3 months, which is close enough to when it’s safe to start telling people you are “great with child”.

Imagine that past 8 weeks hadn’t happened. Imagine you had no idea how many times a day I puke. Imagine that all this time I’ve been that Josh and I are expecting.  Are you imagining? OK Now is the blessed day we’ve chosen to “come out” of the “we’re not having fertility problems” closet. It goes a little something like this.

For the past 3 months, I have been growing a tiny fetus in my uterus. All the posts about how much I’ve been wanting a baby are still true, because I still wanted one, even though I was already getting one. I just didn’t dare tell anybody that said creature was taking over my abdominal section until it was “safe” to tell. So, I had to keep up the “infertility” façade. Sorry I’ve been lying a tiny bit about “wondering when it will be my turn” and feeling left out.

FAQs:

When are you due? October 20^th is the official date.

How are you feeling? Crappy. All the time crappy. And I don’t see the end in sight, but babycenter tells me I might be starting to gain energy this week and stop the puke-fest. The fact that I stayed awake past 9pm last night might mean they’re right. I’m still a little skeptical.

Boy or girl? Dunno. Yes we’ll find out. But not until the Dr. can tell (in like a month) because I can’t afford an extra 6 weeks of knowing what color of clothes to buy. Not in the budget.

 Names? We think it’s good to name children, although that’s where our agreements end. We’re not going to fight for any name until we know the gender.

OK. See how awkward that was? I had already shared too much about wanting a child. I had already whined too much. I had already told you all of my secrets, so if I had held out on you for the past 8 weeks you would’ve been hurt. Really. You would’ve.  You would have felt betrayed, lied to, and used. You’d probably be bitter.

That’s just why you’d be sad I didn’t tell you before now. The reasons I would be sad I didn’t tell you have more to do with the comments. 

The comments on this post which would’ve been full of “I knew it!” “No wonder you were at the Dr. so much!” “You seemed to have the PL glow!” and “I wondered if something was up….” Would’ve made me cry. Let’s be honest, most things make me cry, but that probably would have been the root of a full-fledged breakdown. “I’m glowing? They knew? Do I LOOK pregnant to you? (don’t answer that) Why would you think something was up? I’m GOOD AT BEING MYSTERIOUS!!!!!!!”

So, even though the journey through the first trimester has been a long annoying process full of vomit stories and complaints, secretly you’re glad I told you as soon as I knew….and so am I! 

*To anyone who may have felt hurt, judged, or offended by this post, I sincerely apologize. I understand why people wait until now to wait, and I respect that decision 100%. I didn't mean to offend anybody in any way. Please forgive me if I've hurt you, that's never my intent. I just meant to say "I'm glad you already knew because you've been supportive and kind and it would've been a long hard 8 months on my own."

How about cribs?

I need your help. I'm going to have a baby, and today when I told someone "not for 7 more months" I realized that it's really closer to 6 months, and then I had a tiny panic attack. (Tiny in comparison to my major meltdown last night.)

So, I'm really hoping you'll help me out. Since this is our first, I know nothing. I. mean. NOTHING.

I look at a crib and see a crib. A mattress, legs, and bars to keep the child in. I'm thinking there's got to be more to it than that.

Obviously there are a million styles and colors, but are there certain features you can't live without? This isn't the kind of thing I wanna learn on my own, so if there's something you love (or hate) about a crib you've owned or used, I want to hear about it.

Is there an annoying bar that you knock your shins on every night?
Would you die if the wall didn't drop down? (Do they even make cribs with walls that don't drop down?)
Are square bars dangerous and your kid split their head open on it?
Do you love the size/height of yours?
Is it really all about the looks?

I know you people are reading this blog (I feedburner'd you, and I know you're out there...even when you don't comment. Take THAT lurkers!) and I know a LOT of you have kids, or you know someone who has a kid, or you saw a kid crying at the grocery store. I don't care who you are, or how experienced you are, I want your input. So, please share!

PS Don't even start to think the only thing I'm asking for your advice about is cribs, it will be an ongoing series. It's just that right now all I wanna do is sleep so the crib is on the mind.

Men

I work with some of the most incredible men (and women, but they get their own posts) on the planet. I know you’re all rolling your eyes because you think I’m gonna start name-dropping again. I’m not.

I’m talking about the real live non-famous people I work with. Mark, Mike, Jared, Robin, Dave, Lon , Tayler,  Paul, Vance, Greg, Scott. See you can tell they aren’t famous mormons because they don’t have middle initials. Like all famous mormons (Ty Detmer doesn’t count cuz he’s a sports mormon…also Steve Young) do.  

Now that I read back through that list as just names, (which is how you’re reading it…unless you’re Aundrea, or Tahnee, or Kim, which most of you aren’t) it kinda looks like a good list of potential Baby names….cept Vance and Lon….those are weird, no offense guys…

They each have a million things that make them so fantastic, they’re all kind, considerate, and caring. They all smile and say “10-4” when you ask them to do something stupid for a stupid reason. They all care about each other and their families, and every last one of them has their head on straight.

One of my favorite things is to listen to them pray in our meetings. The way these men address our Heavenly Father brings me to tears. They pray for their families, for us, for the men they work with, for the church leaders. They do it humbly and reverently. At the same time, these prayers sound comfortable (not to be confused with rehearsed or recited) and intimate.

During lunch I walked upstairs (to look at the snow, and the beautiful colors it brings out on Temple Square) and it was swarming with The Mormons and The Suits. There must have been some kind of event for the visiting Area Authorities going on, and I was again awed at their goodness. They walked up to each other and hugged. As I walked through the crowd I overheard “How are you?” “How’s your family” and “It’s just so good to see you again!” over and over. They smiled and laughed together. They were concerned for each other and for their families. They were thrilled to be here, surrounded by others who know what they know. They gathered in small and large groups, talking and sharing stories.

Times like this are why I get annoyed when people go on man-bashing rants. There is a power that these men hold that brings me comfort and peace. There is something special that happens when a group of good men gather together, and I love to observe from the edges of it. I hope that someday, my home can be full of this man-goodness. 

PS Mark became a grandpa again today (it's his 2nd) and he is absolutely giddy. He might be the cutest grandpa in the world. With the exception of my daddy of course. :)