Holiday Preparation

Spence and Em came to visit from Reno - which is always fun, and totally exhausting because it means we party ALL the time.Josh worked Thursday and Friday, which I spent with my family. Thursday I was barfy-sick. Friday I was tired-sick. Saturday morning when Josh was with me at my mom's I passed out, then had a breathing/heart episode that lasted just shy of an hour while the adults in the family watched/listened to me gasp for breath for 45 minutes on the couch and Josh held my hand and told me to stop it. Which is all they would have done in the ER, but I think everybody wondered at what point you take a person to the hospital when everything seems to be going wrong. I'm glad I didn't go, because the breathing thing passed, and really they couldn't drug me in the ER anyway. So. There's that. My mom is now finally on the "get out Grace!" bandwagon, which she hasn't been on until now. 

Sunday I was determined to go to church. I've been wondering if this would be my last week at church for a while. Will Grace really come this week? We sat in the short bench where we always sit and I thought about how huge her carseat is and how much space we'll take up at church. The morning getting ready for church was remarkably peaceful, but Tommy kept telling us he was too sick for church - I told him to come to sacrament meeting with me and we'd see how we felt at primary time. For both of us. Because the truth is that sitting up for that long is hard for me too. Only all through sacrament meeting he kept coughing this awful cough and he sounded miserable and everybody around us must have been convinced that we were spreading the plague. So I took him home just after the sacrament in the middle of a sick-nasty coughing fit. And when we stood up to leave, John just followed us. So I took both boys home and Josh stayed at church. At home we finished putting up Christmas (Fontanini!!!) and balls on the tree and snuggled and snuggled. It was lovely. But I tried hard to make sure we weren't skipping church so we could watch a show or play video games. We need to fix that being home is so much more fun than being at church. So there was no screen time until after church. When we had family movie day. Also lovely. It was the right amount of productive, and helpful and relaxing and fun. And it only took 4 days of holiday to do it! Miraculous.

Letting Tom decorate the tree is my favorite thing ever.

"I know it looks dangerous - because it is, but Santa's really gonna love this surprise."

In between the passing out and the not breathing on Saturday, Josh and I were trying to motivate ourselves to go home from the party at my mom's and I kept saying "we just really need to run the errands before we can't..." and it was starting to look like people were starting to talk about what fun thing to do, so Josh stood up and said "I bet I can run to the store and back before we figure out what we're doing" so I started to hand him my list. But in those 2 minutes, the guys got out a fun new game (which was a dude game, Josh would love and I would not) and the afternoon was decided. I whined about not being able to do the shopping, because I have seriously missed being able to do it by myself. Really. Truly. But I really really don't trust myself to stay vertical that long, or to be able to take that many steps in a row, or to reach the things on the bottom or top shelves. But honestly, I miss it. I was mourning the loss and appreciating the free time I now have and Wendy suggested she take me and we go to Walmart and ride in a riding cart and she'd take care of me if I passed out and we'd just be able to drive around shopping. The idea was thrilling! So we went. I've never even driven one of those cart things (holy slow.) and we shopped and shopped and shopped. I got some Christmas items taken care of (something to wear, a few stocking stuffers) and we went through the fun Chrsitmassy things, and shopped the regular old boring things, and it. was. lovely. And totally exhausting. 

This morning I unpacked the remaining totes in Grace's room, and now it's ready for Josh to haul bins up and down the stairs again. And then we're there! There's a space for The Chair and her clothes are hung in the closet, and Em gave me a bow board which Josh hung on the wall and the crib has bedding and the package of newborn diapers is opened and in the diaper changing station and aside from relabeling some bins, we have all the things taken care of! I need to pack my hospital bag, pick a "come home from the hospital" outfit from her closet and the snuggliest blanket in the whole world to take to the hospital. Dare I say we'll be ready before Josh goes back to work on Wednesday? Because then he'll work Wed-Tuesday and on Tuesday the hospital will call to schedule a time to go in and be induced. How's THAT for insane? Unless of course these contractions are doing things, and the swelling in my hands and feet and size of my nose are accurate in which case I'll burst at any second and it won't matter when they want to schedule my induction. 

Induction Day

When I saw the Dr. for my regular check, they (again) said that everything looks and sounds great and "anytime she wants to come she's welcome" we've been in the "we wouldn't stop labor" safety zone for so many weeks and I've been so miserable, that I feel like she could come any second. But today when Dr. told me I could pick an induction date I realized that she might not do exactly what her brothers did and break the water 2-3 weeks early. She might wait! 

So we picked a day a week before her due date when Josh is heading into a week off work a that is now the day. If she doesn't come on her own before then, she'll be here on the 9th. I can't imagine waiting clear until the 9th, but at least I know it won't be longer. 

Baby Guh-luh gets a name

First a story about names from months ago:

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This evening as I scrolled through facebook I came across a friend's photo of their (adorable!) baby snoozing in a crib.

Little John was watching over my shoulder and asked "who's dat baby? Is Baby Me?"

I told him no. This baby was my friend's baby.

John : "His name is called Baby?"
Me: "No. His name is Cooper."
Tommy: "Ooops? They accidentally named him Cooper? Did they know he's a bad guy?"
M: "Cooper is a bad guy's name?"
T: "Like King Cooper from Mario. He has spikes."
J: "Him only got one name?"
T: "Yeah, how come I got 3?"
M: "His first name is Cooper. (Which is different from King Koopa, but don't tell Tommy that) and his last name is Berry"
J: "Because him loves to eat all the berries? Like blackberries, and raspberries, and BLUEberries! My name Berries too!"
T: "No. You're John."
M: "So what should we call this baby?"
T: "Baby. Cuz it's just a baby."

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So you see, naming the baby with The Naming Committee (including Tommy and John and Josh and the ever opinionated Mother-who-has-known-Baby-Girl's-name-since-well-before-we-were-even-pregnant) has proven to be a challenge. At first the boys wanted to name her Koo Koo Head and Poopy Face and Tommy really was sold on the idea of High Note (like the high notes on the piano, because she's a girl and a baby and that's what she'll sound like). But eventually they started getting serious with names like Pink Heart Sweetheart and Darling Baby because they figured out how sweet babies are.

As for me, I knew her name was Elizabeth Katherine (or Catherine? Or Kathryn?) Egbert. Elizabeth is my sister Sarah's middle name and Katherine is my sister Katy's name. And Elizabeth Katherine is beautiful and traditional and royal and perfect. She could have any nickname in the whole wide world (Ellie! Elle! Liza! Lizzie even Beth if she must or Kate Katy Kat!) She could be anyone she wanted. It was perfect in addition to making me tear up at the idea of one sweet little girl holding SO much goodness in her name. She'll grow up knowing her aunts well, and to carry even a tiny piece of them with her through life would be a dream.

So I told it to Josh who crinkled his nose and mumbled something about how he does not love the name Elizabeth and immediately vetoed the perfect name.

A few weeks later he told me it didn't matter if he vetoed my idea because he already had the perfect name for her. And it is Grace. Which is actually a name I truly love. But how on earth do you combine any pieces of my sisters' names to create one perfect middle name out of theirs? (spoiler alert: you don't.) Grace is a lovely name and a beautiful life-changing concept. Grace comes in your life and helps you gather your courage to keep going. Grace is a gift from God whether we deserve it or not. Grace is THE game-changer. Grace gives you what you lack. Grace is unearned and undeserved and Grace is...well....she's just everything.

For a few weeks I thought if I just started calling her Elizabeth he'd catch on and it would grow on him. It did not.

For a few more weeks we talked about Elle or Eliza. Which also didn't catch on.

For all the weeks he just kept telling me how perfect the name Grace is for this sweet one and kept calling her that.

About a month ago, I said "What about Grace Eliza Kate Egbert - she'll just have a little too many names, but they'll all be perfect." We tried it on for a while and the more I say it the more I love it. I don't even mind that her initials are GEKE. And having 4 names seems just fine to me because they are all the perfect name.

When we took "Grace Eliza Kate" to the The Naming Committee, Tom said "why won't she be an Egbert like us? Cuz she's a girl? Only boys can be Egberts?" and John said "you mean Heart, not Gwace." It was a statement not a question. When we explained that she'd still be an Egbert, like us, she'd just have 4 names they scrunched their noses and wondered how that was even possible. Then we told them that she could have LOTS of nicknames and if they called her Heart her whole life that would be perfectly beautiful. (In fact, I'd love it.)

So even though it's a mouthful, there's not even one name we can leave out without crying. So, (we think) she'll be Grace Eliza Kate Egbert. And we might call her Heart or High Note or GEKE or Grace or Gracie or Elle or Eliza or Kate or Katy or any other thing we think of. But whatever we call her, we're whooped.

Snowball the First

In fall of 2005 Josh and I started dating. But more importantly we started the epic battle of "who threw it first: the first snowball of the year" he wins WAY more often than I do. Mostly because he has better aim and the ability to dodge when we're both playing and he makes me feel guilty when I sneak attack him in bed. But when I win? It is with grace and beauty and exceptional planning and sneakiness. 

And since I know you're Team Amy (or you're a traitor!) I know you'll be thrilled to know that even in my "too pregnant and sick to cook or clean or shop or stay our of the ER" I THREW IT FIRST THIS YEAR!!! In my bathrobe. While Josh sat on the sofa staring out the window at the beauty of freshly fallen snow - like a chump. I threw the most perfectly packed snowball across the house up the stairs and pegged him right in the chest.

Then I threw my hands up in the air and did a little victory dance (waddle) and whisper-shouted "2015 is MINE baby!" and Josh laughed the "I can't believe I'm married to the coolest person on the planet" laugh and we all lived happily ever after. (And the effort of it all didn't even send me into labor.) 

Last year I couldn't find the score and was too embarrassed to look hard for it. I'm pretty sure that this year, on the 10th anniversary of the Greatest Snowball Fight Ever, the score is 

Amy: 4 

Josh: 7. 

(Unless I get double points for the first ever EVER from 2005. Or triple points for "pregnant while balling". Both of which I think are totally legit bonus points. And would make it a tie this year.) 

When Brene Made a Fool of Me (again)

I haven't purchased yet (but plan to) Rising Strong for a Brene Brown class I'm starting in January. So I started just listening on audible while I was at work this morning. Not listening closely, just kindof taking comfort in Brene's friendly and familiar voice and knowing that I'm soaking up goodness even if I'm not really listening. 

But then she starts telling this story (not a spoiler) about going to the lake of her childhood and Steve blowing her off when she was sharing a beautiful moment with him and the fight they could've had in their sleep because they've had it so many times ("I dunno what's for breakfast, let me ask the breakfast fairy, oh wait! there IS no breakfast fairy, because on vacation just like every other part of life *I* have to make the breakfast and do the shopping and make the plans and watch the kids and and and and.....") and that's when Troy (a guy in my office) said "are you OK to meet right now?" and I realized that I have totally stopped working and started crying at my desk and the guys have gathered at the conference table 3 feet from my desk and are waiting for me to join our weekly coordination meeting. 

I grabbed a tissue and a notebook and spun around trying to look like a professional while some other thing she said earlier (when I wasn't really listening) was running through my mind. Something about how there's not a neat and tidy and business professional version of vulnerability you can use to get through the middles at work. That you still just have to dig deep and be authentic and look stupid. 

And that's how passing out in the middle of a business strategy meeting with a guest professor a few months ago became my 2nd most embarrassing moment in this office.

*sigh*