Tinily Huge

My baby is still in love with his Lovey Bear.

In. Love.

And he thinks it's funny to roll around on the floor with dad. Kindly ignore the dirty laundry and dishes and toys accompanying the boys on this roll.

But he also he does 1.5 mile hikes through the snow and swamp land without whining.

And he thinks it's funny to pick up worms with dad. Mostly because it makes his mother squeal. 

How can one boy be SO tiny and SO huge all at once?

Whoa! You got pregnant!

That's what my neighbor Dave blurted out to me when he saw me waddling down the driveway and getting into the car last week.

He stammered and stuttered and attempted a recovery, but how really do you recover from that?

"I mean, you're all of a sudden showing....ughh....uhh...I gotta go." doesn't really shout RE-COVERED! to you does it?

I would've written it off as a "we haven't seen each other for a while" comment except that 2 days later Josh watched me crawl around on the floor chasing Tommy and just stared at me for a long time before he finally said  "ummmm.....I think there's something growing in there."

I tell you these stories so that when you look at this picture (marking week 21) you can know that I know.
I'm huge.
There's a kid in there.
I DID get pregnant.
And we're only halfway done.
*sigh*

Lotion

Tommy has a (relatively) new obsession with lotion.

It all started when the sun came out (has it been a whole week already?) and he rediscovered sunscreen.

Now at least 3 times a day my child walks up to me with a bottle of lotion or sunscreen (or soap, or toothpaste, or anything else that looks like it might have lotion in it) and pulls his pant legs up above his knee and points to where we should put it.

[Insert adorable picture which I would only have if a full-time photographer followed the two of us around all day every day to capture "regular" moments just like this.]

He has the softest legs on the planet, plus he's adorable.

Also, he loves (and is completely terrified) of Tigger this week.

Aren't you just dying to move in with us now?

Justified

Sometimes I'm so incredibly unreasonable, irrational and emotional that I literally want to shake myself and scream "Get a hold of yourself woman!!!" Even though I'm not really sure what that phrase means.

Other times I feel completely justified in every single tear, every sniffling-sobbing-weep-fest, and every ice cream sandwich.

Today is the latter.

Summer Greetings

We celebrated the first day of summer by refusing to leave the blessed air conditioned space that is our living room.

But the 2nd day (yesterday) we did summer for reals. (Not 1 real. 2 reals.)

Because when you're standin' on the back porch naked eating otter pops, it is clearly summer.

Tommy missed me....I KNOW it

Sunday after we got home, Tommy just wanted to be held. Which suited me just fine since I'd spent my weekend holding entirely too big of a boy. And when I told him to "Suh-mile!!!" he couldn't take his eyes off me. Not even for a picture. 

That's how much he missed me. Also how much he wants to show me who's boss around here.


But I dont' think it compares to how I missed him.

It was nice to be away and deal with only my own potty needs.
It was nice to eat my own dinner. Every. Single. Bite.
It was nice to get out of the pool and dry myself off first. (And to be allowed in the "adult pool"!) Which, by the way, doesn't mean naked. We checked.
It was nice to know he was sleeping even though I'd heard zero crying.
It was even nice to not sing lullabyes before bed. Almost. 

But I nearly cried when I saw him, because my heart missed his. Even when I wasn't thinking of him.
I smiled bigger than my face when he looked at dad with his signature up-from-under-the-eyebrows look and a tiny smile sneaked across his face.
I hugged him almost tight enough to count as abuse because when you've missed 3 whole days of hugs, it takes a BIG one to make up for it.

I didn't miss him every second of every day. I didn't missing the crying, the dragging me around the house by my pointer finger, or even the adorably constant need for a "pop-o-pop-o-pop-o-sitle".

And while he wept and wailed on the way home from grandma's house, we nearly considered turning around to give him back to grandma for a few more days.

But the bottom line is that my family simply isn't complete without this child.

Park City

This weekend we abandoned our firstborn son and flitted off to Park City to enjoy a swanky hotel, and what I thought would be a WHOLE LOTTA sleeping in but actually turned into a whole lotta trying to entertain the oldest of my "little boys".

We started off wondering if we should relax and be bums all weekend, or take advantage of the personal fitness classes, fitness center, and yoga studio. We opted for bums.

Bums who play ping pong.

That night I saw a picture of Pizza Hut in the elevator so we ate greasy pizza in our hotel room while watching tv. Talk about a totally hot weekend away!!!

But the next day we went to the Olympic park where we were too cheap to pay to watch the aerial practice so we wandered the museum and watched aerial practice through the window instead.

Josh runs the Olympic torch

Amy wears a weird bird costume

Amy is a totally awesome skiier.... Who doesn't dare  skip the bottom step because  she's scared of heights.

Josh has excellent ski form.

Plus he rocks at "jump the marble".

And I rock-10 yards at jump the marble.

When we got back, Josh coerced some little kid into playing ping pong with him so I could lay around trying to see around the enormousness that is my belly.

Since we got free-fifty-dollah at the schwanky* restaurant for listening to a sales pitch, we went out for fancy-pants dinner. Where I experienced real live fondu for the first time in my life.

And Josh made a weird face when I tried to take a picture of his food.

And the waitress talked us into dessert before we even had a chance to tell her there was no freakin' way we had room for dessert.

That's why we ate chocolate sushi even though we were full. It was delicious. I may never turn down "hearing about our desserts" again.

It was a lovely weekend, and we learned some important things while we were gone.

1. Josh likes to wake up early on vacation and always insists that we "go play now!!!!!" Even when we're just in Park City. 
2. I have turned into a lay-by-the-pool-to-get-dry-in-the-sun girl. I never wouldda thought I'd rather read a book and feel my skin burning than play Hands Up Stands Up in the deep end. 
3. I think about Thomas more than Josh does. We could tell because at least every 10 seconds I'd say "Tommy would LOVE this" or
   "It's nice to sit here and not have my lemonade spilled on my lap." or
   "Hey! A teeny tiny Olympics t-shirt! Tommy needs it."
   And Josh said "My mom just texted me saying 'he went to sleep without even crying!' Does my dad usually cry before falling asleep?" or
   "Remember that kid who sometimes hangs out at our house....what's his name again?" or
   "Wait a minute, we have a kid?"

*schwanky is defined by the way the menu lists prices. No pennies format ($XX) = schwank. Pennies ($XX.99) = no schwank. You're welcome.

Unalienable Rights

I'm a snob about some things (mostly paper products) and I simply refuse to use the knock-off brand. I recognize that not everybody cares about the same stuff, and that to a lot of people it's a big fat waste of money to insist on fancy toilet paper and facial tissues, and that's OK.....for them.

But there are some other things which I believe are certain unalienable rights. Things that every person in the whole wide world should be allowed to have on a regular basis. No matter who you are or where you live, these are things you should certainly be a snob about.

1. Time alone in the bathroom. Every human on the planet should be allowed to walk into the bathroom in their house, close the door behind them and have nobody bother them until they are good and ready to come back out. They can bathe, or shower, cry in an empty bathtub, or spend some quality time with the porcelain throne. But the bottom line is that it's nobody else's business what they're doing in there or how long it takes them. From a  30 second potty break to a 60 minute bubble bath, it should not be interrupted or questioned. Ever. There is only 1 exception to this rule and that is for the persistent eternal shower-er. That guy's wife should be allowed to say "it's been half an hour! save some hot water for me!" because that guy's wife is probably a saint (and probably has pretty eyes, and besides that she's carrying his baby!), and clearly his lack of consideration for her ability to use this rule is unreasonable. 
2. Good-smelling wet wipes. I used cheap wet-wipes for a while, but what it really comes down to is that when a person is scraping poop off another human being's bottom, they are entitled to use any tools they'd like. If they wanna use imported silk with hand stitched embroidery which has been dipped in Aqua diGio cologne (or some other insanely expensive and beautiful scent) they can. Because you take any perks you can get when poop-scraping.
3. A pedicure given by a person who speaks little-to-no English. This is new on my list as of this summer. And not everybody wants a pedicure, and that's OK. But they should allowed to get one if they want. I learned the beauty of a non-English pedicure a couple of months ago. The guy who beautified my feet didn't say a word to me for a solid hour.
   He prompted me to raise and lower my feet with subtle taps on my legs, he signaled for me to just sit there and relax with a hand gesture, he asked me if the water was too hot with his eyebrows and I understood every single word. The man was a genius. I read, I listened to the news, I closed my eyes and leaned into the massage chair. I did not ask where he was from, or how old his kids were or even discuss "this crazy weather".
   That's when it occurred to me that I'd prefer a lot of other people not speak English. Like the grocery checkout lady. The dentist (not you Lisa). The Kirby vacuum guy. And the gynecologist. The list goes on. 

I'm all for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, but I think that everyone getting bathroom time, scented wet wipes & pedicures would probably improve the state of this country. 

Just sayin'.

Vacation with Josh

I think I've talked before about how much we love Josh's step-dad Franky. He's a fabulous human being, and we love him dearly.

But here's the problem, he's the one who taught Josh how to go on vacation.

Last night after dinner we fell into bed at 9:30 and Josh was dead asleep by 10:00. I watched How To Train Your Dragon, and read a book.

This morning he started stirring at 5:30, tossing and turning and what-have-you. I had already explained to him that my main goal for this childless vacation was to sleep in to the double digits. So he tossed and turned in bed as an attempt to support my sleeping goals.

At 7 he got up and turned on all the lights and started asking me what we could do today. I recommended he go to the gym, or the steam room, or jump off a cliff. He turned on the noisiest thing in the suite. The jetted tub.

At 7:30 he asked if I'd go play ping pong or air hockey with him. I recommended a silent breakfast, or a movie in the other room, or he jump off a cliff. He opted for a movie in the other room, while he cooks breakfast.

It's now 8:00. Breakfast is not cooked, I am not rested. Josh is not entertained.

I think we're failing vacation.

Sometimes...

Sometimes when Tommy goes to sleep I have to convince myself to work instead of nap and eat snacks.

Sometimes I shoot the Angry Bird backward just to keep my skills up.

Sometimes I eat more goldfish than Tommy does. Because he feeds them to me.

Sometimes we bribe older kids to come & play with Tommy so he can learn how to put his plate on the counter when he's done eating.

Sometimes I wonder why they don't consider pregnancy an STD.

Sometimes I pretend that my non-pregnant clothes fit. They don't.


Sometimes I have 3 bowls of cereal in one day. Because I'm the mom.

Sometimes Tommy can pull of the "oatmeal dripping from my chin to my diaper" look. Sometimes he can't.


Sometimes Josh and I leave our child with Grandma overnight. And it stresses me beyond all reason. Will he understand I'm not leaving him forever? Will he know that we love him and we're coming back? Will he be scared when he wakes up in a strange place? Will he realize how much cooler grandma is than us? 


Sometimes last night's tv isn't even worth watching on hulu.

The empty crib

Back in February I started to write this post because it seemed so strange for me for Tommy to take up the whole bed. Now that he's in a big fat man-bed he's small enough to sleep sideways again.

You probably don't remember back when Tommy was so tiny (and trustworthy) that we stored his stuff in his crib with him.

We'd lay him with his head on a spit cloth and put a few folded swaddling blankets down at his feet for when he needed to be swaddled. Why didn't I take a picture of that? 

Well these days we put him to bed with a blanket (or 2) and a lovey bear (or 2) and because I hate changing the crib sheet so much, we line the mattress with a big fluffy blanket too. Plus he has the biggest fluffiest pillow at his feet.

And when he wakes up he throws it all overboard.

Baby David: The visuals

When we walked in Lady Ultrasound asked how I was feeling.

"I really have to pee." I answered.
She giggled to herself and said she could never do what she asked me to do "at her age".
Then she swore she'd hurry and make sure to let me go if my bladder was full enough to get the higher stuff post potty.

Bless her. Maybe Baby David will also go by Lady Ultrasound every now and then.

Although Aundrea is threatening to call him "Froggy". Because lookit.

Sometimes when Tommy is pantsless I look at his legs and think that he is the most perfect specimen I've ever seen. I can see the perfect shape of his legs, his muscles doing exactly what they should. And looking at this picture of David's perfect little leg, I think the same thing. He is positively perfect.

Lady Ultrasound said "perfect" less times than she said "ok you guys" which is how she started every sentence. But I think that's her problem, not David's.

Remember my weird obsession with adorable feet? It continues.

And this is a spine curl any anesthesiologist would be proud of. Am I right? Somebody? Any anesthesiologists out there? No? I shouldn't have bothered to look up how to spell it right then.

I'm only slightly disappointed that Lady U. never turned on the sound. It means that although I feel this baby's heartbeat on a regular basis, and see it every time we go see Dr. Man, I have yet to hear it. That magical sound, the shwish shwish shwish, fwap fwap fwap. I miss that sound. When I go see Dr. Man for a follow up tomorrow I'm hoping and praying I get to hear that sound. Because I could use more pretty sounds in my life right now.

The Last Time

Remember the night my water broke while I blogged?

That night while packing my bags for the hospital and looking around my house, I wondered if earlier that day I had experienced all my "lasts" that day without even knowing it.

The last time I left my house without a diaper bag.
The last time I drove in to work and didn't have a stroller.
The last evening I had home alone with Josh.
For.ev.er.

When they admitted me to the hospital and told me "you'll be having this baby in the next 24 hours" it was even more strange. How exactly did all of that happen with so little fan-fare?

Some people schedule their babies (induction, c-section, what have you) and it just seemed so odd to not celebrate with one last hoorah.

Eating Wendy's in the parking lot (because the dining room was closed and truth-be-told I wasn't getting my soggy-pantsed-self out of the car for anything but Dr. Man.) was hardly the final meal I thought it would be. However, it was delicious.

Anyway, I like to pay attention to The Last Time because of that.

Like the last time I called in sick to work. Because I was having a baby instead of going to work that day.
Or the last time I played with just one baby in the snow, because it was March and by the next time it snowed  we'd be 4 instead of 3.

Right this second I'm thinking about the last time I "emptied my bladder" and while it's only for 2 or 3 hours, it feels like it's for the rest of all time. Because that giant mug of water is sitting on my desk taunting me. I've never hated my "you had a baby" mug until now.

Today is the ultrasound. The big ultrasound. The one where they give me a video of my adorable child. The one where they check all the parts to make sure they're all where they should be. The one where Lady Ultrasound says "looks perfect" at least 200 times. The one where I spend all of that magical and priceless time focusing on my kegals so as not to pee my pants on her table and have to ask Josh to show me all the cool stuff later. That ultrasound.

Wish me luck!

My Dad vs. Texting

My dad has been fighting the "I need a cell phone" mindset for the past 10 years. (10 years? Is that when cell phones became necessary accessories?)

He is an attorney and a husband and a dad and a grandpa and a mormon. He doesn't think he should have to be available to all of the people who want to talk to him anytime they want to. He relishes long drives to Salt Lake during which is truly is unavailable. He comes and goes when he can. And when he's in the same room as a ringing phone if he acknowledges it at all, it's only to give a casual wave and say "don't worry about that, it'll go away soon."

It isn't that he's anti-social, he is the best listener I know, and I really think he likes talking to people. It's just that he doesn't think he needs to have a leash.

3 years ago he was called to serve in a BYU (college) Singles (18-30 year olds) ward (congregation). Every time he told someone in his ward that he didn't own a cell phone they tried to figure out how on earth they'd ever be in touch with him. Would they have to etch a message on a stone tablet and drop it in the ocean hoping it would arrive on the other side of Provo by the end of the week?

Today he was ordained and set apart as the Bishop of a different BYU Singles ward. It means he works very closely with 150+ young college students. Texting is suddenly necessary. He promised the Stake President he would get a cell phone with texting and that he'd learn how to text.

I think of all the ways being a Bishop will impact him this is the biggest.

He's already good at all the other Bishop-y stuff, and while he'll be extraordinarily busy with meetings and interviews and counseling, that will be easy-peasy compared to learning to text.

Score:
My Dad: 50-something years
Texting: 1. 1 really really big one.

You fought a good fight dad. You really did.

Bedtime

Tommy thinks that reading in bed the cat's meow. He also thinks that bedtime is better when Daddy's home. Something about unlimited story-time.....

"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!"

Hats

There are oh-so-many ways in which Tommy is exactly like his father.

But every now and again he is, quite simply, mine.

Me at Walmart 2005

More me at Walmart 2005

Me & Tommy at Kohl's 2011

 

My kid is so. dang. cool.

Madness

At one point today Josh and I have 4 overlapping meetings/family obligations.

Obviously we are only 2 people (maybe it's not obvious to you, what with all the hugeness going on around here....but it's obvious to me because we still only have 4 hands between the two of us. And 4 hands can only carry so much stuff.) and we won't be at all 4 places at once; but I think we might make it to at least part of everything today.

Of course that means that since I left the house at 8:30 this morning, the only time I'll see Josh was when we just met in the parking lot of Arby's to do the Tommy hand off.

I bet all the people at Arby's thought it looked pretty funny with the 3 of us dressed in our Sunday-duds hanging out in the parking lot because those 5 minutes were the only chance we'd have to talk to each other. *sigh*

Oh well, there's always tomorrow.

One thing we love about Grandma's house.....

One thing we love about Grandma's house is the porch swing.... 

And the garden.... (because it's filled with "dit! dit! dit!")

And the ba-oul.....

And the hose....

Bottom line: We're glad Grandma lets us come and play.

Superman: The next generation

When Josh and I were dating he had this superman shirt that he wore all the time which I loved. I wouldn't let him throw it away until we'd been married for 2 years and I think I cried when he finally did.

Us after a finger-painting experience which ended in a face-painting experience.

Anyway, when we got married, Josh's mom gave me two aprons: one with a cute flower on it - for me, and one with Superman on it - for Josh.

Yesterday Tommy "helped" me make banana bread  and was thrilled to wear the apron.

 

I think it just might be cuter on the next generation than it was on Josh.

Then again....

.....that crookedy smile still makes me giggle.

Reunited

When Tommy was given Scout by our totally awesome neighbors the two became fast friends and Scout started to accompany us everywhere.

So a few months when the batteries died, it was OK with me if I went a little while without hearing that song.

I'd like an....owl...please, it's my fav'rite an-i-mal......


But when ALL of the batteries in every toy in this house were dead at the same time, I thought we probably ought to bring Scout back to life.

And the reunion was a thing of beauty.

I'm a little sorry I let them be apart for so long.

They're clearly the best of friends.

One thing I love about air conditioning

One thing I love about air conditioning is that it's cold.

And that's important in an air conditioner.

Summer Plans

Our summer plans have quickly gone from
Hiking!
Biking!
Swimming!
Play dates!!!

to eating, sleeping and sitting. With an occasional mix-it-up of cooking and cleaning.

Last night we thought we'd go for a hike, but then we remembered that I'm all knocked up and lazy and a 5 miles hike at the end of the day with Tommy AND me whining the whole way probably wasn't as fun as it initially sounded.

It took nearly the entire winter to figure out what fun things we could do inside. Let's hope my brain hasn't already melted and I can get my booty out the door for something fun before the snow flies again.

I think.....

I think that people around us must be looking at Josh & I thinking "they're looking awfully thin - let's fatten them up!" and that's why we wound up with 3 different plates of delicious sweets in one weekend.

I only think that because I refuse to believe that people look at Josh & I and think "they'll probably eat an entire plate of sweets this weekend - they look like they do that".

But the top-secret truth is that in a matter of 48 hours ALL of the delicious sweets have been consumed. And Tommy can only be held responsible for a bite here and there and one brownie for breakfast. Josh held his own, but really Baby David & I (I get to count him right?) ate our weight in sugary treats over the last two days.

Somehow I don't regret even one single bite of it.

Old & Homeless

When Josh and I were newly married, we rented a house from an older couple while they were on a mission. The house was old, the people were old, and we rented it fully furnished, so the furnishings were old too. We LOVED our time in Millcreek, but when we first moved in we giggled a little bit about some of the old people things.

There were chairs everywhere. In the middle of the hallway, around every table, next to ever doorway. Chairs. Places to sit. We joked that it was probably necessary because the walk down the hall from the bedroom to the kitchen was like 35 steps. So probably around step 20 you get tired and need to rest, and thank goodness! There's a chair right there!!!

Now I'm looking around my house and we have chairs everywhere. Folding chairs tucked behind every door, couches, stools and a million other places to sit and rest your feet.

Speaking of getting old and needing a rest, either pregnant is the same as temporary advanced age or I'm old. Either way it's a bit annoying.

First thing in the morning I went to pick up my first ever Bountiful Basket (delicious) and their truck was late, so I asked if they needed help getting stuff put together. I wound up staying to unload a big fat semi-truck full of produce. I hauled big bags of onions, crates of strawberries and grapes, cases of citrus fruit and cantaloupe and even bigger bags of potatoes. Then I helped distribute them into smaller containers.

The whole process took about an hour. And even though it was hard work it never occurred to me that NBE (David we're calling him this week....) might not like it. Until I was driving home and I felt a few contractions. I was fine within 30 minutes of getting home, but really? I'm too old and decrepit to unload a truck of produce? Stupid.

Yesterday Josh was cleaning the carpets. Like moving all the furniture in the whole house and shampooing them.

For some reason he thought Tommy and I wouldn't be helpful to this process (I can't imagine why...) and he banished us to "go do something fun" while he worked his tail off. Really. Worked it off. When I was checking out his butt this morning, it was tailless. Clearly he worked it off.

So Tommy and I walked around the store and outside at the park and outside at the other park and outside between the parks.

It was hot.
Heat + pregnancy = swelling.

Have I ever mentioned how much it sucks to be homeless? A lot.

By the time we were allowed to come home I was far too exhausted to make it clear up the stairs and all I wanted was a chair at the bottom of the stairs so I could rest.

I suppose we can officially say that the whining phase of this pregnancy has begun.

A Pointless Tag

Platt tagged me. It's funny because I was just thinking how I wish I had something appropriate to share on a blog today, but I don't. I simply don't. So, instead I will be glad to do a pointless tag. :D

Do you think you're hot? Smokin'. Enormously, pregnantly, un-make-up-edly smokin' hot. Wanna see? 

Dead serious. This is what I look like right this second. 

Upload a photo that you're using right now:

I just wasted at least 2 hours on Pinterest. I am currently using this photo to remind myself that someday I'll be so filthy-stinkin' rich that I'll sleep in the middle of the pool instead of spending all my spare time on hold with insurance companies. That's my plan.

Source: tidystuff.com via Amy on Pinterest

When was the last time you ate chicken?

Last week. I was feeling fancy so I added a can of chicken to our pasta roni. Josh thought he had died and gone to heaven because (get this) I "cooked". 

The song/songs you've listened to lately:

Tommy and I sing Book of Mormon Stories and Little Bunny Foo-Foo every day. Also I have been listening to an awful lot of the Drop Dead Diva theme song lately. 

What are real people listening to? Yipes! Sometimes I don't realize how lame I am until I blog. Then the lame just comes a-shinin' through.

Born With It

When I ask Tommy "What's the funniest word" he smiles real big, real big - so big his lips can't touch to make the "p" sound - and says "pooop" and giggles his head off while repeating it every time his cheeks relax long enough to make the "p" sound. "poop poo pooop!"

I did not teach him that.

He was born with a 9 year old boy's sense of humor.

He's gonna kill it in elementary school.