The baby likes....

If I'm going to assume that every kick means Baby Thomas likes something, here's the (very short) list of what the baby likes.

• Winger's freakin' amazing sauce. with good reason. The mom like this too.

• Nap time.
• Blogging. A genetic disorder? perhaps....
• NOT work. Someday maybe he'll start moving at work.....
• Blueberries. Fake ones. Real ones. Fresh. Freeze dried.  Those plastic things in the muffin mix that someone decided to call blueberries.....On ice cream, plain, in a shake, with nuts, on waffles... no matter. The boy loves them all.
• Long hot baths.
• Harry Potter OK really I can't say this because I swear every time I get in the car or come home Harry Potter is either on the tv or the stereo. It's really too bad that we have to spend 6 hours of every day devoted to this.... Or maybe he likes the car, or the house. Or the love sac, popcorn, popsicles, snow cones, sitting, standing, bumpy roads, smooth roads, traffic jams, mountains, or just about anything else that was nearby while we did Harry Potter.
• Josh's voice. Usually it doesn't make him kick, but I like to think he likes it anyway. When we're getting ready for bed Josh likes to put his mouth right up to the belly and yell encouraging things at Baby Thomas. Like, "HI BABY THOMAS!!! WE'RE SO GLAD YOU'RE COMING TO OUR HOUSE! BUT DON'T COME YET OK? WE'RE GLAD YOU'RE IN THERE! SEE YOU LATER!" and then Josh continues the conversation in his normal voice with me. "So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" If this kid comes out deaf, I'm blaming the husband.
• Nighttime.

Lookit what I can do!

What you should know is that baby stuff is hard for me to find while shopping. That's because I get creeped out by things with faces. Not all faces, but a lot of faces.

Like Winnie the Pooh's face. It scares me.
And bunches of animal faces scare me too. Particularly bears.
It would be cool if they weren't so creepy, but they usually give me the heebie jeebies. So, baby stuff is hard to find because most things have faces.

So, finding appropriate baby bedding was a bit of challenge. But a few weeks ago after spending 4 infuriating hours in every quilt shop from Provo to American Fork, and being lectured by Crazy Quilt Lady about how "it's not a big deal, just pick some fabric you like and piece it together. Even if it's just a simple half-square-triangle it'll be beautiful because you made it." It should be noted that she couldn't even DRAW what a "simple half-square-triangle" pattern was....that's how simple it isn't. We (my mom and I) finally left the store with our selection feeling deeply inadequate and thinking "if only we were Dianne Marsh...."

But, the bottom line is, we found something I like, (even if Josh isn't crazy about it) and I'm glad we're not Diane Marsh because....well....we're Fugals instead and I like us.

We wound up picking a kit for me to piece the top of (no I've never sewed anything more complex than my 7th grade windsock and there's no good reason I thought I could do this....) that my mom would quilt after I pieced.

So, I borrowed mom's sewing machine and did that ALL by myself.

Now, please take 2 seconds to reassure me about my choice of fabric and colors.....I'm a little nervous it isn't as cute as I thought it was after spending 4 hours looking at ugly creepy fabrics. Plus my mom doesn't love it......and Josh doesn't love it........but Randy said it's cool......and I'm pretty sure he meant it. Are you sensing my insecurities?

Also, kindly ignore the creepy face ABOVE that quilt....that is precisely the kind of thing that does NOT belong  printed all over baby bedding.....

Ear in the hole

When Josh started school for Massage Therapy I got all kinds of excited about how I'd get free massages all the time.

Then I remembered that we're busy people and don't have time for free massages all the time.
Then I remembered that a face in the hole massage is a rare (but beautiful) treat.
Then we found out I was pregnant.
Then I got excited about having a regular real live face in the hole massage. Which never really happened.
Then I grew a belly.
And last night I had my very first, real-live, pregnant-lady, enya-playing, ear-in-the-hole, massage.

I didn't know how bad I hurt until I crawled into bed feeling like I could lay down pretty much any way I wanted to. Nothing hurt. From my head to my toes I was relaxed and comfortable and happy. My swollen feet felt less swollen, my lower back felt less stressed, my ginormous belly felt.....OK it was still ginormous, but kinda cuter.

And that's just one more reason I love my massage-therapist of a husband. You're jealous huh?

A few stories about Josh

Do you think when Thomas comes I'll talk more about him or Josh? I think it's a toss-up....probably the combination of the two will put the blogging world on overload.

One thing I love about Josh is that he likes people. That's also one thing that makes me crazy.

I get depressed and anxious if I haven't spent a "proper night at home" in a week ("proper night at home" means that Josh and I are both there with nothing on the calendar and nobody coming over. I can do whatever I feel like and remember why we pay our mortgage (because we live there)).

He gets anxious and cabin-fevery if he hasn't gone out and done something with someone in a week. For that reason (along with many others) I will swear for the rest of my life that Josh is the social one in this relationship.

And here's my evidence:

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Exhibit A:


Last night Josh and I came home and dutifully split the chores. I was working laundry duty/Costco-putter-awayer/music nazi while Josh took over dishes/kitchen/clutter duty. Don't judge me. It's a much more equal split than you think it is.

Josh left to take out the trash, I continued with my jobs. Until they were finished. Then I started on his jobs. Until they were finished. And then I realized that he'd been gone for 45 minutes.......taking out the trash......the outside garbage can is exactly 13 steps away from the front door. I know because I counted.

I filled up another bag of garbage (so I'd have an excuse to go outside to make sure he wasn't dead on the sidewalk or something....because a wife needs an excuse to check on her husband if he really is OK which is more probable than him being dead on the sidewalk. If he was dead on the sidewalk I wouldn't need an excuse, but if he was alive and well I definitely needed an excuse and because it doesn't take 45 minutes to take out the trash doesn't count.) and headed outside to check for dead Joshes.

There weren't any.

But he was leaning up against the car chatting with Cassie, our neighbor who was taking her smoke break.

Reassured that my husband was alive and well I went back inside. I had finished all of my jobs and his, and I wasn't invited to this conversation, so I sat on the couch and read until he came back in.

30. minutes. later.

He cornered our neighbor and talked to her for an hour and 15 minutes.

Only he probably said no more than 10 words the entire time. Not because she's an overbearing talker, but because he's an overbearing listener.

********************************************************************************
Exhibit B: 

Josh goes to Corporate to interview with some lady in HR so they can tell him they'd like him to move to Montana.

This is a woman who spends 8 hours/day interviewing people for jobs she knows nothing about. She is interviewing them strictly to be sure they are not psycho-killers or crazy-people. She has a full time job talking to strangers and finding out important details about their lives.

Josh calls me after this interview and I ask him how it was. His response?

"Oh it was great! She was so nice. She has 2 kids one in Jr. High and the other one going into 5th grade, I can't remember which one is the boy and which is the girl. I guess the dad isn't in the picture anymore because blah blah blah blah........ Oh and she told me about this restaurant where......blah blah blah....one time when she was 13 she......blah blah blah......."

This went on for quite some time before I remembered that SHE was supposed to be interviewing HIM. "Yeah? And what'd you tell her about you?" I asked.

"We didn't really talk much about me. I just sorta kept asking her questions."

Poor lady probably didn't even know what hit her. She probably had to go back to her boss and say "Well, I bet he's fine cuz he's from Utah, so he might be mormon,.......but I never got to ask him anything about himself because somehow he made me talk about me the whole time without really noticing."

********************************************************************************
Exhibit C:

Sometimes after church I see a guy open his wife's door for her and I get a little jealous. And then I remember why I banned Josh from getting the car door for me.

We'd only been married a few months, and Josh would open my car door, put me in the car, close the door and start the journey to his side of the car. Presumably this was so he could get in the car and drive us home. Sweet huh?

However, during the long journey (8 steps) from one door to the other he ALWAYS saw someone he knew and managed to strike up a conversation. There I am sitting in the car, and there he is, 2 feet away, caught up in a conversation completely oblivious to the fact that I'm sitting in the car NOT having a conversation.

The first few times it happened I thought to myself "Self: He just said 'hi.' then they'll say 'hi.' then he'll say 'have a good afternoon' and they'll say 'you too' and we'll get in the car and go. Just sit and wait."

Then he said "hi."
and they said "hi."
and he said "have a good afternoon."
and they said "you too."
and he said "any big plans?"
and they said "blah blah blah blah blah which is funny because blah blah blah blah blah"
and I sat there looking and feeling stupid in the car for 5 minutes! 5 minutes is a long time when you're sitting alone in a car watching your husband have a conversation.

Because every second I sat that I would've looked stupider getting out and inviting myself to the conversation. And every second I sat there I thought "he's got to end this conversation any second now, and if I get out now I'll get out just in time to get back in."
And every second I sat there I got more and more irritated. "what kind of person puts their wife in the car and leaves her there while he has a pleasant conversation with a ward member?!?!?! rude!"

And after the first few times I realized that he would never have a conversation where he goes "hi." and they go "hi." and he says "have a nice afternoon." and they say "you too." because that's just not the kind of guy Josh is.

So I banned him from "putting me in the car" (or opening my door) because I don't like being put in the car. It's just better if we get into the car in unison. That way if he starts a conversation, I'm already in it from the beginning; and if he doesn't, we get in the car and go home. Either way I'm fine, as long as I'm not sitting in the car wondering what could possibly be more important than LUNCH at a time like this!

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I'm not quite sure what it is about him, but he has this thing that just makes you feel the need to spill your guts, share your life's story, and not stop talking until you realize that your spouse has been waiting for you long enough to have gone home, had lunch, changed, and come back to the church parking lot to get you.

I used to think he only had this power over me (because clearly I talk too much) but I've come to terms with the fact that it's him. And he'll do it to anybody, anytime, anywhere.

If you haven't seen this side of him, it's simply because you haven't been in a small enough group with him. Don't worry, it's just a matter of time, he will get you eventually.

Diaper Bags

Remember when you helped me out with your advice about cribs, car seats, bumper pads, potty training, and music?

Today it's time for your help with diaper bags.

You know the drill, whether I know you or not, whether we've met or never heard of each other, whether you live next door or halfway around the world, whether you've just had your first baby, never seen a baby, or your baby's baby is having babies, it's all good. I want your opinion.

What's the most important stuff?
What do you love?
What do you hate?
Which pocket can you not live without?
Do you wish it was a backpack?
Did it come with something you can't live without?
Is the only important feature how cute it is?
Did you get a pink one and now you're on diaper duty for eternity because your husband won't carry the pink bag?
Is the $150 diaper bag really that much better than the $30 version?

Please. Educate me.

Da Belly: 32 Weeks

I think I'm in the awkward teenage phase of this pregnancy.

The acne, the sleeping till noon, the immaturity (I actually stuck my tongue out and put my fingers up to the sides of my head and said "nah nah nah nah nah naaahhhh" at Josh yesterday. And I meant every word of it.) and raging hormones are all but kicking my butt.

I consider food found at a gas station appropriate for dinner. My body is growing in very strange and uncomfortable ways. I need a new wardrobe once a month. The newness of "oh my gosh I'm pregnant" has totally worn off (I realized late last night that it seemed totally normal to waddle to the bathroom 5 times within the first half hour of being home. I don't know how much more adjusted I can get....) but the "holy crap! what am I gonna do with my life when I graduate? (have this baby)" hasn't quite settled in yet. I'm in that weird in-between zone.

Really the only differences between me now and me 10 years ago (in Jr. High) is that I now have a drivers license, bills, and a *shriek squeal* super-cute husband! Oh yeah, and I'm not looking forward to the stake dance this Saturday. That's different too.

This week Baby Egbert has:

• Full grown fingernails AND toenails (which will probably never be painted since he's a boy and everything).
• Maybe some hair. Or maybe some peach fuzz. Or maybe a balder than bald head. I'm really curious about the hair on this child. Do you think they'll ever invent an ultrasound that shows things like hair and eye color? That will be cool.
• Soft and smooth skin. I'm not sure who is more excited about this, me or Josh? Josh goes nuts for brand new babies. He loves to touch their skin, and their hair. I think he'll spend hours holding hands with Baby Thomas just so he can feel his skin.

Really from this point forward they know nothing about my baby. The updates are full of vague "facts about Baby" and always say " or maybe not....the development of every child is unique, even in the womb, so maybe your child is still working on getting rid of the tail, or maybe he's fully developed. Who knows really?".

However, the facts about how I'm feeling are something they are very confident about (and also wrong a lot of the time). For example they claim:

• I'm gaining a pound/week. I'm not. Last time I went to the Dr. the nurse said "wow. you've barely gained any weight at all! Looks like you're just getting past your pre-pregnancy weight. Lucky you!" It's true. I am lucky, and relatively certain that will change as soon my body realizes that eating pretzels, slurpees, and chocolate covered cinnamon bears for meals is not a healthy diet.
• I'm experiencing heartburn and shortness of breath (you know...because of the extra large nature of the floating uterus). I'm not. I take drugs for heartburn and the lack of shortness of breath is probably directly related to the fact that I take less than 25 steps per day. If butt-sitting were an Olympic event I'd have a gold medal. It's not and I don't.
• Back pain. "you can blame your growing uterus and hormonal changes for your aching back....This can make you feel less stable and cause pain when you walk, stand, sit for long periods, roll over in bed, get out of a low chair or the tub, bend, or lift things." OK they nailed this one. I am definitely experiencing a sharp shooting pain anytime I lay down on something that is not my bed. I cry and moan and groan and get stuck in whatever position I landed in. Josh laughs at me as he helps me up.

Somehow they don't think it's important to mention any of the "other" details like:

• Although you spend more time sitting on the toilet than anywhere else, the toilet seat will not be molding to fit the shape of your butt. It's still uncomfortable and cold even though you were there less 5 minutes ago. "They" make it this way so you'll be motivated to leave the bathroom at some point during the day, although since you're pretty much constantly peeing it's a big waste of time to pretend you get anything else done during the day.
• Just because you're so sick of the only 4 shirts you own that you've started closing your closet door for the first time since you moved into your house 2 years ago, doesn't mean you can light them on fire and expect your husband to support you in buying a whole new wardrobe. Anything you burn can and will be unavailable to you and The Baby will not be responsible to replace any such items. Besides stores don't even make clothes as big as you're gonna get anyway. So don't bother looking. Also, just get used to closing your blinds at 5:15 each night so you can walk around in your underwear as much as possible.
• Forget about stocking up on diapers and baby gear. Immediately purchase a case of waterproof mascara and a case of Puffs Plus. Because honey? You're gonna cry. Every. Single. Day. I decided it wasn't OK to pretend I'm just "in touch with my feelings" anymore when I cried because Fiona's dad turned around instead of talking to her since she was an ugly old ogre while watching Shrek 2 last night. What kind of father does that to his child!?!?! There is something wrong with the world.

It's a miracle BabyCenter hasn't hired me to correct and re-write their weekly updates for them.

Alexander Lake

There are no words to describe just how much I love this place. Really.

We got there late because...well it's a 2 hour drive, I worked 'till 5 and we still had some getting ready to do when I got finished with work. No matter, it was well worth the drive.

First order of business (I mean after peeing of course) was to build a fire and set up the tent. There's just something romantic about staring at a fire in the pitch black, glancing up at the 10 million stars every once in a while, with only your husband to protect you from the creatures and drunks next door. Last night did not disappoint.

Josh and I kept looking out over the lake, Josh wished he could be fishing, but of course he couldn't. Until it was time to put out the fire. Using our gigantic Subway cup, he went down to the lake to get some water to safely put out the fire (because even though Josh doesn't think so, I know that Only WE can prevent forest fires.) and returned with a cup full of......

A fish! (It's bigger than it looks in the picture.) I don't think it really satisfied the "urge to fish" but he was pretty proud of himself for catching a fish in a cup in the dark. I was proud too. You can tell because I took a picture.

After Josh kicked my butt at Phase 10 (I NEVER used to lose to him....maybe the child within is throwing off my groove) we crawled into bed. May I pause to highly recommend a 2 man sleeping bag? I never slept well camping without Josh close enough to keep me warm. Well worth the financial investment.

First thing in the morning I unzipped the tent to see if the lake was still there. It was.

and it just got prettier...

and prettier...

the longer I watched it.

After going back to bed for "just 5 more minutes" I woke up to this view (which in my mind is tough competition for the first).

Josh had already built the fire and was ready for another round of Phase 10 before breakfast.

But first another picture of heaven:

OK fine, 2 pictures of heaven.

And then I kindly kicked kicked HIS trash at Phase 10 (my only explanation is that Thomas was still sleeping...)

After breakfast (fire scrambled eggs and pancakes of course) we got ready to go for a swim.

Then started to pack up and head out (hey! It's Saturday, we got things to do!)

This might be my new favorite picture of Josh - handsome eh?

The only thing I do not love about Alexander Lake is that Josh prefers to drive in to the lake instead of stopping when the road gets bad and hiking all our stuff in. The worst part? Driving in also requires driving out.

When we finally got to the non-scary good road that had virtually no rocks, no bumps, and was easily twice as wide as what we'd been on for the past 20 minutes I was ready to get out and kiss the ground.

And by "get out and kiss the ground" I mean "take a picture because my eyes were open and my hand was free from gripping the door handle as though it alone would safe my life in case we rolled or crashed, for the first time since we left".

Although it was a short trip, it was perfect. We got to watch a fire, eat banana boats, swim, play cards, fish (sortof), talk, laugh, count a million stars, make fun of the awkward 15-year-olds in the next site, and just plain enjoy each other's company. That is my idea of the perfect weekend.

Josh is totally wiped out (and sleeping), which means we'll both be awake most of the night (surprisingly this sounds fun to me....it's been a while since we both got up in the middle of the night because sleep was too boring and did something exciting).

Meanwhile, I've had time to do 4 (count them, FOUR!) batches of laundry, we put away all of the camping gear, did the dishes and cleaned up, and now we still have a whole Saturday night ahead of us!

And THAT, my friends, is what I love about Alexander Lake.

Da Belly: 31 Weeks

It's growing.  That's really all there is to say about the belly. And the baby.

All the cool stuff has already happened, Baby Thomas is developed and now he's just getting bigger and bigger every day. He's done growing new parts. He's done changing from lump to baby. Now he's just growing. Getting fat. Preparing to live outside da belly. He blinks, he moves his head from side to side, he kicks and squirms sometimes, he's probably even crying - but I can't tell because...ya know, "if a tree falls in the forest?" or "if a man washes a dish....?"

I hold my new niece and nephew and sorta freak out over the fact that the tiny thing (which I can barely feel) inside me is ever going to be that size....possibly even be that size BEFORE he comes out.

Crazy to think that in just 9 weeks (or so...I hate countdowns to dates that don't really mean anything....) everything will be different forever. I suppose it's already been "different forever" since we found out he was coming....but this is even MORE different forever.

I love you 3 yucky fruit snacks...

Remember that movie where the mom says to her kid, "I love you a million swedish fish" and then the kid says "I love you a million red m&m's" and its sweet because that's a lot a love goin' on?

Well because of that movie Josh and I are always telling each other how much we love each other. "I love you more than green lights on 7th East" "Oh yeah? Well I love you more than a drawer full of clean whites!" "I love you more than Harry Potter" (this week we love Harry Potter...it's a bit of an obsession because Josh is reading listening to the books for the first time).

Yesterday it sortof fell flat because I was sharing my fruit snacks with Josh on the way home and I kept pulling out the yucky flavors.
"Do you want an apple one?" I asked pretending like I was making some major sacrifice by sharing my food with him (which is ordinarily a major sacrifice) but secretly being thrilled that I didn't have to eat the yucky ones before getting to the grapefruit ones.
"Yep!" He said and scarfed it down.
"Do you want a grape one?" I asked still hunting for a grapefruit one.
"Yep!" He almost bit my fingers off with that one he was so excited....
"Do you want a cherry one?" I hate it when there are only yucky flavors in my fruit snacks.
"Mmmhmmmm! 3 in a row? You must sure love me!" The man never fails to notices the major sacrifices I make for him. That's just one reason I really do love him.
"Yep." I answered dejectedly. "I love you 3 yucky fruit snacks."

Somehow it's just not as sweet as it was in the movies.

A Better Day

Today will be a better day. And here's how I know:

• My handsome handsome hubby woke up (quietly) showered (quietly) and ate breakfast (quietly) while I slept in. Then he left to get some work done, and came back home to pick me up to take me to work. Before he left, he (quietly) woke me up and told me he'd be back in an hour to get me. He kissed me on my forehead and sneaked (google thinks snuck isn't a word....what?) out the door.
• Tonight I'm going to do something productive. Watching hours of Dr. Phil and Cake Boss reruns does not count as productive. Laundry, preparing a Visiting Teaching message (and treat), sewing my quilt top, and going on a walk do count as productive.
• Today I don't want to go home nearly as bad as I did yesterday. 
• Josh has zero cavities!
• Somebody fixed my sleep number, got rid of the rocks, and made my bed (and accompanying pillows) the appropriate size to fit me, my belly, and my husband (who by the way wasn't snoring). Amazing what a good night's sleep will do for you.
• Josh got someone pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the road this morning. (The cop was busy with the person he just barely pulled over for the same thing, and Josh honked to get his attention while the Next Person did it. Next Person got pulled over too.) The fact that it totally made his day to be a big tattle-tale totally made my day.

And just like that, all is well in the world of Egbert. 

Sometimes I wonder if these extreme highs and lows are normal, and then I remember that they probably aren't but I don't want to know that, so I pretend they are. 

Whine-fest part 937 (of the 3rd trimester)

I want to go home.

Really I mean it.

I'm tired and I don't feel good.

My chair (not me, the chair) is uncomfortable and I can't sit up straight because Baby Thomas thinks he needs to stand up in there all day long. I know he's standing because if he's that long from his butt to his head, whoever is responsible for contributing the tall genes is out of the family!
My fingers are swollen. Did you know that swelling actually hurts? Not just looks ugly, not just irritating because my fingers don't fit inside my rings anymore....it actually physically hurts. My skin is stretching (which is itchy AND painful) and I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins. Everything is stretched as far as it can go and it hurts to touch things. 
My legs are falling asleep. It hurts to stand, it hurts to sit still. Every time I stand up the pins and needles SHOOT through my toes & feet. My feet are swelling too. Did you know that swelling hurts? It does.
I'm tired.
I can't breath. Not because I don't know how (I do.), but because my lungs are already as big as they get...only there's no air in them. Tell me, how I'm sposta breathe with no air?
It's hot. But Aundrea's wearing her coat. That means it's probably not really hot. It's just me. I hate it when it's just me.
I'm shaky and can't really see straight.
The only thing I have to really work on is filing and my brain can't even think enough to do that. Wait does 4106 come before or after 3798?
I put my face on the desk, hoping it would cool me off. The desk is hot and sticky. I hate hot sticky things on my face.
My night was long and sleepless. Have I mentioned that I'm tired?

All I really want is to go home. Go home and crawl in bed and go to sleep. For. Ev. Er.

My bed was so soft and warm and inviting on Saturday night. I almost slept clear through the night. But last night? Last night I remembered that Someone is out to get me.

Someone threw rocks in there (the bed). Someone changed my sleep number (no I don't really have one of those...at least I don't think so....but Someone still changed it. That's the only reasonable explanation for how a bed can be so comfy one night and so NOT COMFY less than 24 hours later.). Someone stole all my pillows because I only had 4 (plus 1 body pillow) and clearly that's not enough to support the giantess that is me. Someone started their noisy diesel truck in the middle of the night. Someone lit my heart on fire just to see if I could still feel heartburn. (I can.) Someone fed me buffalo roast and expected me to NOT puke my guts out. Someone set my alarm clock for 5:45am (the nerve!) and expected me to get out of bed then. Someone shrunk my bed and I know it because there wasn't room for me, the baby belly, the pillows and the husband. Really the only detachable part of that list is The Husband and he was snoring to loud to notice I was trying to kick him out of bed to make more room for me and the entourage that I require to sleep.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Someone is also responsible for the fact that I didn't drive myself to work today, so even if I could go home sick, I couldn't. Well....I suppose if I weren't such a sissy I could walk home. But remember about the heat? And the tired? And the nylons? And the swollen sleeping appendages? I'm not walking home from work.

I'm also not going home sick. Because really I can't. My job is far too important. What if someone calls (nobody has called after 4pm for weeks) because a restroom is out of toilet paper and I'm not here to answer the phone because I'm too tired? That would be a tragedy. So, I am tied to my desk until exactly 5pm.

Or Worse. What if Josh is late to pick me up and I have to stay here more than 30 seconds past 5:00? Now THAT would be a tragedy.

And then I made a Buffalo Roast

There are a few things I never thought I'd ask my mom for help with. Skydiving. Hotel shopping. How to use the internet. And how to cook a buffalo roast.

But this Sunday I called and asked what to do with the Buffalo (which we got from the Egberts because Josh's dad shot it and Meleta and Ben probably aren't really capable of eating an entire deep freezer full of dead buffalo.) so we could serve it to Nate & Wendy for Sunday dinner.

Josh was thrilled that we had an excuse to cook it.

I was thrilled that it would no longer be staring at me every time I opened my freezer. Plus, more room for pretzels! Bonus!

My mom laughed out loud at me when I asked what to do with it. Then she said, "well, how big is it?" because somehow that makes a difference in how you cook it. 

Next she wanted to know what kind of pan I had to cook it in. 1) A pyrex 9x13 which has only ever been used for Relief Society Potatoes, Jello, and brownies. 2) A cookie sheet. 3) A cake pan. 4) Muffin tins. She thought the 9x13 covered with tin foil sounded best. I agreed.

Then her guess (which by the way, WAS as good as mine) was to put salt & pepper on it, stick it in the oven at 350 and smell when it was done. Which I did.

When it smelled done we peeked.
It didn't look done.
When it smelled more done we peeked again.
It did look done.
We googled how hot it should be and took it's temperature.
It was "well done".

We mashed potatoes, made a salad, turned the drippings into gravy, steamed some squash and set the table in record time so it wouldn't be "beyond well done" by the time we ate it.

Josh drowned it in ketchup, A-1 sauce, and gravy. I'd be offended if it weren't for the fact that he drowns everything in ketchup, A-1 sauce and gravy. Then he told me he really liked buffalo and he was glad we had leftovers and he shoved 2 more slices down his throat. I'm taking the compliment.

Nate & Wendy both liked it (or pretended to anyway) and I even had a couple bites of it, just to prove how brave I am. Then I put the rest on my plate and enjoyed my real food.

It felt like Sunday dinner, I don't like any kind of roast  (remember how I'm a sissy about meat?) so really it was the same as Sunday dinner at my mom's house. Except my rolls were gross and hers are NEVER gross.

Who knows, someday maybe I'll call my mom asking for advice about skydiving and she'll say "well...how big are you?" (after she's finished laughing hysterically) and I'll wind up with a wildly successful skydiving experience to blog about.

Soap

I love the Bath & Body Works soap sale. Love it.

Found:

This week I walked into work and found these beautiful booties on my desk:

I immediately got out my "talking to/like a baby" high pitched squeal and asked Aundrea if she knew where they came from. She didn't. But lookit how tiny these little things are! They're soooo cute and will cover his teeny tiny toes and keep him warm! (are you sensing the squeal? You should be sensing the squeal.)

So, some kind Anonymous left these on my desk and I love them. They made my day. They are handmade and beautiful and soft and somebody is very very generous. But how do you deliver a thank you card to Anonymous?

On a blog:
"Dear Anonymous. Thank you for these booties. You have an amazing talent and I'm honored that you would share it with me! Love, Amy and Baby Thomas"

Christmas Music

Some of you just rolled your eyes.

Some of you punched through the computer screen cuz you're so mad at "people like her". (No I will not assume responsibility for that screen or reimburse you for your new one.)

Some of you are secretly jealous that you're not brave enough to admit that you wish you were listening to Christmas music when it's 93 degrees outside.

Some of you are (OK, really just one of you is) living in Cairo and doesn't care about the temperature as much as the fact that it's August and Christmas is still 133 days away.

And one of you (ahem Anna ahem) left me this lovely message on Facebook 2 days ago which got the ball rolling:

 I just wanted you to know that I am listening to Christmas music right now. And I pretty much have been for like 2 months now. So I've got you beat this year. That is all. :)

So, as of this moment I am listening to Christmas Music and you can't stop me! (Go ahead and try, I used to be one of the stoppers, so I already know all of your good reasons not to and they're all stupid and wrong.)

No, I will not listen to it exclusively. Ever. OK. Maybe the day we put up the tree and MAYBE Christmas Eve. But that's it. Today it's a mix of Tim Jannis, Jim Brickman, Dana Cunningham, Jon Schmidt & the like. Because they are actual artists, with albums, that people buy, today counts and that day in June when Josh was singing in the shower doesn't.

Know what's great about Christmas this year?
We'll be a family. A family of 3.

Thomas will still be tiny and totally immune to all of the excitement, but in those quiet moments at home (my very favorite part of Christmas) there will be 3 of us laying under the tree watching the lights twinkle and reflect in each other's eyes.
There will be a stroller to drive around Temple Square while we look at the lights. And a beautiful little bundle of baby wrapped up in a million blankets and a hat.
We'll have a 3rd stocking to drape over the back of the couch.
We'll have an excuse to wrap diapers in something pretty. (Yes Thomas is getting diapers for Christmas. But only if he's really good.)
The toy aisle will matter a little more and the game store will matter a little less.

More than anything, this will be the first Christmas that isn't laced with my declarations that "I can't handle one more Holiday season with no babies." Because this year, our family will be complete.

So, yes. I'm starting to celebrate that beautiful season today.

Turnabout's fair play

Every spring I laugh at all the poor suckers who live in Utah (some who are new to it and some who should know better) who get all excited for summertime when it starts warming up in early March.

I laugh because I know better (and so should they) than to think it is done snowing. I know very well that anything they plant will freeze. And I REALLY know that the swimming pool doesn't open until Memorial Day no matter how hot it is before then. Because until Memorial Day there is always a chance of snow in this state.

So why is it that last weekend I got all excited about the cooler fall weather? The random rainstorms? The evenings worthy of opening windows and sitting on the porch? Why did I think "oh my gosh! Fall is coming!"? Why didn't I laugh at me - knowing VERY well that Summer isn't over. Anything I fail to water will burn, and the pool will be open until Labor Day because before Labor Day there is always a chance of 100+ degrees in this state?

Somewhere some summer-loving psycho is laughing at me. And it'll be 7 more months before I get to laugh back. *sigh*

Last Chance

The belly grows every day. Seriously, I bet if I measured every day (I won't because that's depressing) there is probably significant change daily. Don't worry, I'll never take belly shots more than once a week.

As it grows my body becomes less and less capable of doing seemingly normal things. You know, the basics like sitting, shaving my legs, painting my toes (oh my poor toes!), getting out of the love sac without Josh's help, eating without leaning backward to make room, fitting through doorways, etc.

I'm getting a little nervous because what if I paint my toenails hot pink and then find out that I'll never be able to reach them again? What if I'm stuck with hot pink toes for eternity because I didn't know that was my last chance? It's better when you know it's your last chance. Like prison.

"This is your last meal, what do you want?" Sure there's a lot of pressure in that decision, but at least you have fair warning that it is your last one. You can properly prepare. I'd hate to wake up dead this morning knowing that mac 'n cheese was my last meal and I didn't even know it.

This weekend we're going camping (yes we know it will rain, we're tough...and we're doing it anyway)  and hopefully next weekend we will too. But I can't help wondering if that will be the last camping trip? Is it going to be so horrible that I'll not go (while this pregnant) again? If so we'd better be going to Alexander Lake because it would be a shame for my last camping trip sans-child to be anywhere but my favorite place on earth.

What if this is the last chance and we are camping in the backyard like a bunch of sissies? It really would be tragic.

So I suppose everything* I do for the next 9.5 weeks will have to be the best of the best, you know....just in case it's my last chance.

*"Everything" does not include meals because when you eat 10 times a day there's no way every meal is gonna be "the best" - certainly not for 10 weeks (and certainly not if I'm required to prepare it)!  Also excluded are other everyday occurrences like outfits, movies, and books. Things that really should be "the best" are things that may go quickly, like camping and toenail painting. Also long walks on the beach (in my dreams) and at least 1 full night's sleep (so the dreamy beach walking can begin).

Baby Belly: 30 Weeks

Fear not. This week's series of pictures come with narration. But first, a little background:

It was Sunday. I didn't sleep much Saturday night. I was tired. I was grouchy. I wanted to go home. (oh wait. I was home....that sucks.) While getting ready for church I puked my guts out requiring another shower and last minute wardrobe change. When you only own 4 shirts and 2 skirts wasted wardrobe changes make you mad.

Then I went to church, where I sat reverently with my arms folded.

Until I left during the Sacrament Hymn to puke my guts out in a public restroom. Fortunately no wardrobe change required.

Then I came home and slept through Sunday School. Stumbled through my Relief Society lesson and told Josh he had to take a picture of "da belly" before I changed into my pajamas for the rest of eternity. That's when he reminded me that we had family bondage familial obligations to attend to. Then he leaned back on the love sac for my photo shoot. 

"You'd better take more than one because at least 2 of them are always hideous and I'm not getting dressed again. Ever."

"Stop it.  You already took 2 and I'm too tired to pummel you!" (said in my whiniest voice)

"OK. Seriously. Not funny to take pictures of the fat lady." I start to threaten. Josh laughs out loud. He didn't even bother to say "you're not fat, you're beautiful" which is what he should have said. No. He just laughed. Know why? Because he thinks it is funny to take pictures of the fat lady.

"Fine? You wanna belly shot? Here's your belly shot!"  Fortunately nobody was around to take pictures of the blood bath that ensued. 

30 weeks means: 

• I've forgotten what it feels like when you wake up after 4am for the first time since you fell asleep. 
• I walk with my whole body. Not just my legs. The trick is to get the belly swinging from side to side hoping that the counterweight will fling my legs in a forward fashion. It looks even more ridiculous than it sounds. 
• 10 weeks left. 10 is the number of fingers I have. Also the number of fingers Baby Thomas has. Unfortunately 10 is NOT the number of items left on my to-do list.
• Sitting through 1 hour and 15 minutes of sacrament meeting leaves my bladder aching from the effort.
• Thomas has started moving much more regularly. He has tiny spasms where he freaks out for like 2 seconds punching everything he can get his tiny fists on. Then he stops as soon as I get all excited to feel him moving. Rude.
• He's working on the eyesight. Currently 20/400....I'm pretty sure he'd fail the driving test although they passed me and I was totally making stuff up and not reading it. The lady wasn't really listening. Sorta makes me nervous about what other crazies are allowed to drive.

Baby Taege

The Summer of the Babies continues:

My baby brother and his wife had their baby! Taege John Fugal was born on August 3, 2009.

Josh and I decided to forego the regular "day before teaching" routine and spend some time in Logan meeting Baby Taege. 

Aren't they a beautiful family?

Josh tends to be a bit of a baby hog. He'll hold any baby until I snatch it from his arms and run away so he can't catch me. That usually takes at least 2 minutes. Wait....maybe I'm the baby hog?

And my daddy loves to just put them on his lap and watch what happens.

Then Josh steals the baby back and starts examining them. Taege has a good grip even in his sleep!

But my favorite part is still the tiny little toes!

I'm amazed at how well Wendy is doing. Delivering this child was no small feat. He was 9 lbs 7 oz. at birth. Which is HUGE compared with Baby Lucy who was only 6 lbs 5 oz.

Now that Baby Lucy has had 2 weeks to grow, and Baby Taege has had a few days to lose some of his weight, they look closer to the same size.

I can't wait for Baby Thomas to join these 2, and REALLY I can't wait for next year when they're all a year old we're all chasing after them. They're gonna be the best of friends.

Adorable kid huh?

Montana

WAAAAHOOOOOO!!!!!!! We've made our decision about Montana!

This whole Montana saga has been an interesting one. We've been back and forth, excited and scared, going and not going, everytime we think we're sure.....we're not. Until now.

Here's what happened: (If you are a "read the last page of the book right when the plot is thickest just to find out what happened" kind of person....I'm warning you....skip ahead and die...OR, skip ahead and I'll never know the difference. Whatever.)

June 14: Josh and I abandoned all responsible things and went to Montana for a week. We had a blast. Felt good about being there. Loved the area and thought maybe it would solve all of our "what to do when the baby comes" questions.

June 19: While sitting in the Pizza Hut parking lot we decide that we're going to go for it.

June 21: We come to find a letter on the table from SLCC where Josh applied for the nursing program 2 or 3 years ago. He was put on the waiting list. This letter said "Welcome to the Nursing Program! Classes start August ____. Come to orientation July ____. Tuition is due __________ let us know by June 15th that you've accepted your acceptance." We'd already missed the deadline (who does that?) but were confident that we could weasel our way back in since we were out of town, and the letter was postmarked June 14th.


Jun 23: Josh officially applied for the job feeling great about it.

Meanwhile: Corporate people sat......for....weeks....I suppose I can understand, I spend more weeks sitting, but come on!

Sometime mid-July: Josh had a phone interview with a lady who made him feel stupid. She quizzed him on computer stuff and Redbox parts. She called an hour earlier than she said she would and caught him off guard. It wasn't the worst interview ever, but he didn't feel too confident about it.

The next day: Josh had a phone interview with some guy who make him feel REALLY stupid. He asked him about his leadership experience and at the end of the interview told Josh that he sounded nervous and unprepared.

Meanwhile: Josh had 4 massages in one week. He loves it. He loves everything about giving massages, he like feeling like he's helping people, he likes feeling like he's good at it (he is good at it in case you wondered) and he likes the flexibility of working out of our house anytime he wants. (Call him. He'd love to work on you.)

The next morning he talked with the Regional Manager about some things he should know for future interviews. They reviewed spreadsheets, numbers, reports, technical issues, and what would be expected of him as a manager. Josh hung up the phone (after two hours) and looked totally depressed. I pointed out to him that usually these kinds of meetings and converstaions do not get him excited about life and his options. We both sortof realized that he was applying for a position that was all about the stuff he hates in Business.

This is when we start to doubt the whole Montana thing. The position would require a lot of travel, a lot of nights away from home, and a lot of time spent doing things he doesn't like to do. It puts him on the path to becoming a Corporate Dummy which is not something he's ever been interested in. At all. Even remotely.

July 27: Josh flies to Chicago for the big interview and presentation. He gets good feedback except that one guy who tells him he looks nervous because he can't sit still. Josh somehow resists the urge to say "Nope. Not nervous. I'm always like that. You think it's annoying now....just WAIT!"

July 28: Josh comes home from Chicago feeling like the position is probably his if he wants it (unless "nervous guy" can't get over the chair bouncing). I tell him that I'm not even thinking about it until they offer it.

July 29: Josh's dad dies. The next days are a crazy whirlwind rollercoaster of feelings, meetings, and funeral plans.

August 1: Josh talks to the Regional Manager and tells him about his Dad. Regional Manager ends the conversation with "well, on a positive note I've heard nothing but good from corporate offices about you." Great. No pressure. Josh tells him that with everything that's going on he may decide to stay here to be with his family and "take care of" Meleta since she'll be on her own once Little Brother leaves. (You have to know Meleta to know how ridiculous it is for anyone to think they're taking care of her.)  Regional Manager tells Josh to take his time, and he'll keep us posted when he gets the official OK to hire him.


Meanwhile: We spent every day last week hanging out at the Egbert's and have never had so much fun there. I've always felt uncomfortable there and all of a sudden that feeling is gone. We're having a great time. I feel like we are suddenly allowed to have really great relationships with Ben & Meleta. I feel like we can enjoy their company and I want Baby Thomas to know that family. If we move to Montana I know Thomas will know his Fugal and Reilly families because I can see them coming to visit and when we come to Utah we'd stay with them. But I couldn't really see us spending a lot of time with the Egberts if we're 9 hours away. Us moving away would pretty much seal the deal and Thomas may never know how cool his Egbert relatives are. That thought sorta breaks my heart. On one hand it seems heartless to abandon Meleta, on the other, it breaks my heart to miss out on that relationship for any more years. These are all things we've been talking about all week.

Meanwhile: We spent every day last week hanging out at the Egbert's and have never had so much fun there. The relationship with Ron has always been a little....strained. I've always felt uncomfortable there and now that feeling is gone. We're having a great time. I feel like we are suddenly allowed to have really great relationships with Ben & Meleta. I feel like we can enjoy their company and I want Baby Thomas to know that family. If we move to Montana I know Thomas will know his Fugal and Reilly families because I can see them coming to visit and when we come to Utah we'd stay with them and see them a lot. But I couldn't really see us spending a lot of time with the Egberts if we're 9 hours away. Us moving away would pretty much seal the deal and Thomas may never know how cool his Egbert relatives are. That thought sorta breaks my heart. On one hand it seems heartless to abandon Meleta, on the other, it breaks my heart to miss out on that relationship for any more years. These are all things we've been talking about all week. Meleta insists that she's fine and we should do what's best for us. Because...well she's tough like that. What I think she may not know is that even though she doesn't need us, we need her.

August 4: Josh is officially offered the position in Montana.

Later August 4: Josh calls me at work and says: "I'm going to turn it down. There are too many reasons to stay here." I have a little party in my head and in my most composed and professional voice say "Fair enough. I can certainly support you in that decision." and then jump up and down and scream and squeal and do the "beauty queen eye fan" in my head because I'm at work and I think Aundrea will make fun of me if I do it outloud.

More Later: Josh calls me at work and tells me that he did it. He officially turned down the job. Regional Manager totally understood and it was a great conversation. I can't keep the celebratory party in my head anymore and I tell Aundrea and we have a tiny little party at our desks - I may or may not have beauty-queen-eye-fanned.

So, just like that, the decision is made. It took 2 months, 60 hours of driving through Montana, a trip to Chicago, lots of fasting, prayer, and time in the temple but it is finished and I'm thrilled.

There are still a million questions unanswered - what are we going to do now that we're staying here? But I'm so relieved to finally have this decision made that I don't care.

Plus the "no buying anything big for the baby because we might be moving" ban has been lifted! KSL Classifieds here I come!

Enough?

Do you think the widow ever thought her mite wasn't enough? 

The rest of us look at her as a woman of great faith, as someone who gave all she had and couldn't possibly have given anything more meaningful. But, do you think she ever stood back, looked at what she'd given and thought "I just don't have enough."

Some days I feel like "giving all I have" falls short. I know it's all I have, and I know that the receiver appreciates the effort, but all too often the result is.....well.....just not quite enough.

I wish my skills, my talents, and my abilities were a little more far-reaching so that I could give the things I really want to give. 

I hate feeling like I've tried my hardest and done my best, then standing back to look at my work and tilting my head to the side, squinting, and still not being satisfied with what I've done. Part of me thinks "if I just try a little harder or work on it a little longer maybe it will come out right" but another part - a huge part - thinks "That's it. That's all you have and all you can do. If it isn't enough, it isn't enough."

I know my best is appreciated. I even know my best is good enough in some situations. I'm even pretty sure other people don't look at me and wish my best was more...but today, I wish my best was more.

Wanna know the stupid thing? All of this is because of our 2nd bedroom. It won't be a nursery at all, but it isn't quite a massage room, and certainly isn't an office. In the qualified and capable hands of someone else, it could probably function as all 3 of those things, but I just don't have enough.

Overwhelemed.

When Josh and I got married we were amazed and flattered and completely overwhelmed by how many people loved us. Or loved our parents and through the Law of Genetic Relations (yes. that's a real thing. google it.) automatically loved us. We had no idea that many people even knew we existed, but apparently they did because they came to our reception, bought us stuff and offered their love and support as we "joined together to embark on this grand adventurous journey".

This last week has been a lot like that. I am blown away by the people who care about us. Our friends, neighbors, coworkers, ward members and family members have taken care of us and sent their thoughts and prayers (and mint brownies!) our way. They have showed up at our house just to say hello. They've dropped off cards, sent e-mails, plants, and baskets of food and goodies.

We are completely surrounded by people who are kind and giving and generous. People who are willing to help in any way they can. People who, quite frankly, we don't deserve. And for that we are truly grateful.

*OK the Law of Genetic Relations is not a real thing, but I'm curious, did you google it? If so what did you find? I didn't bother because I knew I made it up.