Saturday, January 31, 2009

25 things

25 random facts about me:

I’m not that good at thinking of 25 things about me…
  1. I usually like to make lists of things. I suppose this is an exception…
  2. I was born in California so I used to sing “wish we all could be California GIIIIRRRLLLLS!!!!!” and pretend that I was a “California Girl” although the older I get the more I realize I have no idea what that means, and I’m certain that I’m not at all a “California GIIIIIRRRRRLLLLLLL”.  Eh well, childhood dreams don’t always come true.
  3. I married prince charming. In real life. And he awoke me with a “sweet and gentle kiss” one time when we were dating. And he thinks I’m a princess. Some childhood dreams do come true.
  4. I can make a 3 leaf clover out of my tongue. Also I always win the “unwrap the starburst in your mouth” contest, which really has nothing to do with your tongue, but whatever, I win anyway.
    I’ve never actually seen myself do that – it’ kinda gross. Sorry.
  5. I’m no grammar expert, but some things really bug me. Like your and you’re. And there and their and they’re. To me those are common knowledge and it bugs me when people switch them. Go ahead, start commenting on all of the terrible grammar errors I’ve made in this post so far. I’m listening.
  6. I am constantly surrounded by fantastic people. Really. The people I work with are great, my neighbors  are great, my families are great, I had awesome roommates, and the best friends I could ask for, PLUS my husband is incredible (see number 4). I’m pretty sure that in the pre-earth life when everybody picked their challenges (which by the way I don’t really believe happened….really.) somebody said, “Amy. Everybody else got here first (because I probably walked slow back then too….because, you know, some personality traits are eternal…) so instead of getting “surrounded by people who bug you” you’re getting “can’t have babies when you want them” and “bad teeth” OK?” And I said “OK. Great. Thanks for your help.” Because I always say that. No matter how much someone is bugging me or making my life difficult. I’m too much of a pansy to say anything else. (Because, you know, some personality traits are eternal.) At least to their face. I probably whined about it to Josh or my other friends later.  (Because, you know, whining is eternal.)
  7. I don’t always think #8 is true. 
  8. I used to have a lot of secrets. When Josh and I started dating I was pretty sure he was the only person I’d ever been totally honest with 100% of the time, and I loved that feeling. I didn’t like to talk about things (feelings, flaws, life experiences, etc.) until him. Now most people probably wish I would just “stop talking!” I claim it’s because I didn’t say much for the first 19 years of my life, so I have a lot of catching up to do.
  9. The first time I got junk mail addressed to “Mr. & Mrs. Joshua Egbert” I was so happy I saved it for like a month.
  10. I like it when things are consistent. Every morning I wake up (late) and (rush to) get ready for work. Every Thursday Josh and I fight over whether or not I get to watch The Office. Every Sunday we go to church and sit in the same pew for Sacrament Meeting. Every Tuesday I make a killer taco salad thing…in the cafeteria. I like this kind of consistency because I don’t have to do anything too drastic (read: stupid) to feel like I’m being exciting. Instead of sky diving, I can just forget The Office go ice skating on a Thursday night. (Not that I would ever EVER do that. Just that I could.) Instead of buying a new car, I can go to the grocery store on my way home from work. Consistent is safe. And therefore good.
  11. I hate leaky pens. I mean it. I hate them.
  12. In my life, I have been to most of the Western States – and only one place EAST of Wyoming. Sad, but true. Hopefully we'll cure that someday soon....
  13. I like watching Dr. Phil a lot more than I will ever admit to you.
  14. I really have no desire to go to Disneyland. I think it’s too hot. And crowded. And full of inconsistent rides which are NOT safe OR fun.
  15. I’m afraid of heights. But I love a really great view (you know, the kinds from high places...). You wouldn’t believe the internal conflict that a simple hike brings….

  16. Josh and I talked about it, and I think we could easily fill up a 3,000 sq. ft. house with just the 2 of us. Since I think each activity should have its own area, I could use 5 rooms by myself. crafts, exercise, office, library, theater, etc.
  17. I played the clarinet in Jr. High band. Sometimes I pretend I was going for the sax because it’s cooler, but it isn't true. But one time I did get to play in the percussion pit (for one song) which was COOL.
  18. One time one of the cool kids in 6th grade – wait. Let me back up here. I went to dork school in 6th grade, because I was a dork. The program was called ALL and I don’t remember what it really stood for, I just remember that "they" (all the cool know how cool 6th graders are, right?) called us “All Lindon Losers” instead. Anyway… - One day at recess on the swings Matt (who by the way I very secretly loved with all of my heart) told me that “even though I was in the All Lindon Losers class, I was still pretty cool. In fact, I was probably the coolEST of the kids in that class.” I floated in from recess that day, confident that no matter what kind of dork classes I took (see # 18) Matt would still think I was “pretty cool” until the day we died….in each other’s arms.
  19. In 1st grade I was just developing my crush on Matt, in my class pictures everyone said it looked like I was trying to hold his hand. I wasn’t. I specifically remember that the photographer said we (the girls) should all try to look pretty, SOOOO, naturally, I was curtseying. I was mortified when my mom, grandma, and aunts saw the picture and accused me of having a crush on him. Partly because it was true. And partly because that picture shouldn’t have given it away! I didn’t even know I was standing next to him! But I was more mortified at the thought of being caught on camera “curtseying”.
  20.  I hate eating with people. It used to be because I didn’t want them to see me eat. Now it’s because I don’t want me to see them eat. I think eating is gross and entirely too many human beings don’t have what I think are basic table manners. I’ll be honest sometimes I don’t even have what I think are basic table manners. But usually I’m perfect and everybody else is not. J For this reason the phrase “let’s do lunch” pretty much petrifies me. Unless it involves my sisters and Sweet Tomato. They're exempt.
  21. Sometimes I read the words “random facts about me” and think it says “long stories that nobody cares about.” Sorry. I’m repenting.
  22. Someday I would like really to know what the tiny white things in miracle grow dirt are made of. Any chance any Platts are reading this? Help me out!
  23. I don’t complain in restaurants. Ever. When the waitress comes and says “how is everything” I say, “Great thanks!” and Josh says “can I have some ketchup?” and I kick him under the table for being rude. He almost has me convinced that asking for ketchup isn’t rude. Almost.
  24. I drove a 1985 brown station wagon all through high school. My parents loved me.
  25. I really want to take a photography class and learn to take incredible photos. This blog would be much prettier.

Thursday, January 29, 2009


I swear I've lost my mind. If you find it (or my remote, or Dan in Real Life CD which are both still missing) kindly return them to me immediately.

I like things closed

Monk makes me feel like I’m crazy for liking things to be where they go. Just because I want to change the umbrella so it's facing the same way as all the other umbrellas doesn't mean I belong in a psychiatric ward!

As of last night I had to choose between feeling totally insane and continuing to feed my Monk addiction. I picked feeding my Monk addiction and today I’m feeling 100% insane to pay for it.  (As a side note I also feel nauseous ALL THE TIME but I picked taking my “get pregnant now” pills over feeling good. Does that count as masochism? No, I didn't think so either.)

Today I just keep thinking about the things that really should be closed:
My desk drawer.
The lid to the copy machine (stop leaving it up people!!! It's not a toy!)
The shower curtain.
The toilet lid.
In fact, most everything in the bathroom should be closed. Let’s just leave it at that.
The kitchen cupboards.
My eyes.
The dresser drawer.
My task list.
The bill from the phone company.

What can I say? I just like things closed and that is not a disorder!

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Sometimes I keep secrets

I reserve the right to not tell The Internet all of my secrets (you're laughing now, right? because clearly I don't keep a lot of secrets...).

However, today I'm feeling very mysterious. And I'm not telling how many episodes of Monk Josh and I have watched in the past 24 hours.

Monday, January 26, 2009

One thing I love about our neighbor is that they take care of us.

The first week we moved into our house we had no idea when garbage day was. Our incredibly kind neighbor took ours to the curb with theirs. We thought that was the nicest thing and mentally memorized that garbage day is always Wednesday. Wait, Monday. No Wednesday. Or is it Friday?

Now that we are clear on when garbage day is, if they beat us to it, they still take out our trash. And put it away.  They are nice like that.

Also when they come home after we are already home and we have unwittingly and irresponsibly left the dome light on in our car, they call to tell us. And when we (Josh) go out to turn it off, they chat with us for a while like we're old friends.

They also tell us where to fish, and that the sidewalk is slippery.

I doubt any of you have better neighbors than us.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Josh, Poking, Anxiously Engaged

Sometimes Josh falls asleep on the couch while I'm watching Bones. OK this might be the first time that's happened, but once is enough to use "sometimes" right? I'm going with it, and you can't stop me.

Tonight that happened, but now he won't wake up and play with me. So, instead I'm playing with him.

He twitches when he's asleep if I poke him just right. I laugh out loud. He groans and tries to roll over.

It's cute because when he's asleep he actually thinks that if he rolls over I won't be able to touch him anymore. Like he'll disappear into the couch or something - which simply isn't the case. Unless he is my remote (Have I mentioned that somebody snuck into my house and stole my remote? Well they did and I'm mad at them for it.) in which case he might sink into the couch which is apparently connected to a black hole. But he's not my remote. So he doesn't.

Instead I just keep poking him trying to make him wake up and play with me.

Poking my husband to see how many times in a row I can make him twitch, watching 2 episodes of Bones, and 1 of Monk, and eating hamburger helper for dinner counts as anxiously engaged in a good cause, right?


I keep thinking I've fixed the comment thing and then it re-breaks itself. So, here is my plea to all of you, comment if you can. You don't even have to say anything, well I don't actually know if it will let you leave a blank you might have to say something.

In fact, we'll treat this as a giveaway (because I think none of you love me enough to comment and not get anything out of it). One lucky commenter will win 2 lucky pennies from me (one for you and one for someone you love). Plus you'll win the envelope I mail them in, 1 used stamp, and a DNA sample from yours truly (just in case the perfect the cloning process and I'm dead and you want to "grow your own Amy"). All that for the low low price of $.2 seconds of your time.

What, you have nothing to say? Well, if you're still hesitating to comment because I've written absolutely nothing thought provoking? Well, then here is the deep question for the day. What's your favorite color?



I often wonder what people really think of me. I mean the truth. What was your first impression of me? Am I quiet? Nice? Scary? Loud? Funny? A geek? Smart? Naïve? Clumsy? Sophisticated (ha!)? Lazy? Bored? Maybe a little “rock star”?  I probably spend entirely too much time thinking about it, but I really do want to know. The problem is, I know that nobody will ever tell me the truth on this one.
Not even Josh. And he NEVER lies to me. But when I ask him his first impression with me he always takes the opportunity to say something incredibly sappy and kind like “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen and I couldn’t wait to marry you.” Given that we were 17 years old, at EFY and he had girls crawling all over him, I kindof doubt that, but I’m OK with him saying it anyway. That’s just the kind of generous person I am.
 So, last week when I heard myself talking to the nice lady doing my hair, I realized just how Mormon I sound. Really.
It was just polite small talk, but everything about me, my entire life experience, shouts “I AM A MORMON!!!!”
Where are you from? Utah County.
What do you do for work? I work at the Church Office Building.
Where did you go to school? LDS Business College.
Where did you meet your husband? EFY. Summer camp for Mormons.
What’d you do last weekend? Prepared my lesson and taught Relief Society.
Everything. All that I am is wrapped up in the church somehow.
It’s not that I think that it’s a bad thing, or that I’m embarrassed to be a member of the Church, I’m not. In fact, I’m quite proud of it and I certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.
But it seems like when I’m talking to somebody who is not a member, they (and probably I) immediately rule out any possibility of common ground. Those who are not members of this church talk about different things.
What’d you do this weekend? Me. Went to church. Her. Partied and got too drunk to remember.
Remember that one crazy party in college? Me. No. Her. No. But for different reasons.
Don’t you hate it when your ex-boyfriend calls to tell you he has an STD? Me. Ummm…..we don’t say S.T.D. in my house. Her. Yes! But that hasn’t happened to me for like a year. I’m pretty lucky.
You know that club downtown? It’s just down the street from where you work…. Me. Don’t know, don’t care. Her. Oh. It’s the best one so if you ever decide to go clubbin' start there.
I know it isn’t fair to assume that all people who are not members of the church lead a lifestyle involving drinking and an indefinite number of sexual partners, but really my life is different in a lot of ways because of the church. I happen to think it’s different in a very good way, but once in a while I’d like to say “I grew up in a family, I have siblings, I’m married, my husband and I enjoy being outside, playing games, seeing movies, and traveling. I lived a life that isn’t that different from yours, and you and I can have a conversation that doesn’t end in the baptismal challenge.”
When it really comes down to it, we’ve both felt happy and sad, we’ve had good haircuts and bad ones, we’ve probably lost someone we loved and found the love of our lives. Chances are that you have a family and so do I. I’ll bet you slid down the stairs in a sleeping bag, but not as fast as I did because I am the undisputed champion of that game and I have the scars (emotional and physical) to prove it!
Why is it that in Utah of all places, I feel so different for being a member of the Church? How is it possible that I suddenly feel so uncomfortable when the person across from me has clearly decided that the two of us have nothing in common. I know better. One thing is for sure, I don’t want to be the one assuming that we have nothing in common based on one tiny (or gigantic) aspect of a life.

Monday, January 19, 2009

The power of music

I love music. I always have. I don't function without background music. It has a certain power over me. Music moves me to do things.

I hear the Carpenters or Natalie Cole and immediately start cleaning bathrooms.
I hear Jingle Bells and vomit.
I hear Baby Its Cold Outside and need to sing in the shower (thanks Elf).
I hear Rascal Flatts and fall in love with my husband again and again.
I hear JoDee Messina and want to go for a run in the rain.
I hear One Boy, One Girl and put one hand at a time on Josh's tummy. He likes to pretend his belly is big enough to be "carrying twins" and ALWAYS sticks it out when that song comes on.
Wicked makes me want to type (thus the blogging and facebooking) because I was introduced to it at work.
Obviously you can't Sun without "BEAM" -ing while jumping out of your chair. Even when you're the grown up reverent pianist you can't do it. Believe me, I tried.

Not only do songs motivate me to do thing, but they remind me of things. Every song reminds me of something and I love that.

Like the first time I heard "When It's Over" was while driving to Yogurt Parlor in AF from my then brand new job at USDC. I went with Lori who I was replacing, and now that song makes me think of her. I haven't seen her since she quit. I don't even know her last name.

Or Back At One which will forever make me think of Stake Dances and my friends from Orem ("Oremers").

Most Collin Raye songs belong to my high school boyfriend due to a VERY sappy mixed CD he made for me at Valentine's. However, now that Josh and I have been together almost as long as Braden and I were, Josh is kinda taking over some of those....

The Friends Theme song will immediately take me back to my beloved apartment in the dorms. I get teary just thinking about it.

Anne Murray has everything to do with dancing in the kitchen with my daddy.

Just like that music can make me do, think, or feel any way I want. I just realized it's kinda like a super-power. Do you think Josh knows he could so easily control my moods? Probably not or I'd be grouchy a whole lot less than I am. Maybe I should tell him.....or MAYBE I should use my power for evil....

One thing I love about MLK

Is that I'm at home in my pajamas with my bed made, the dishes washed, the Wicked soundtrack going in the background, my e-mails answered, facebook updated, and big plans of watching The Office for the rest of the morning.

I took a picture of the beauty of my morning, but it turns out I'm not that beautiful before I shower (how on earth do I convince Josh to stay with me?) and I can't find my camera cord. So, just let your imagination run wild. I know you can hardly stand the beauty of the picture in your head right now.

Incidentally, if you know the monster who has been living in my home this week, stealing critical things, like my Dan In Real Life soundtrack, remote control, 1 black sock, 1 white sock, and camera cord, please have him meet me at the flagpole at noon. I have some words for him.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I'm a tolerator, I tolerate.

I am a tolerator (I’m assuming google just hasn’t had time to update their records to show that this is a word….bear with them, they have a lot to do). And in the words of my beloved Bill Murray “I’m a sailor! I sail!” Sailing is not the point. Tolerating is.
I attended a meeting not too long ago in which we discussed the proper and improper phone rolling sequence that was occurring in the office. If Person A (who by the way, is a very important person, or VIP for the sake of this post) doesn’t answer their phone, it rolls to Person B. Person B’s phone also rings at Person D’s station. If B doesn’t answer, it’s up to C to pick it up. Although by this time the phone has been ringing for 12 minutes, they still have 2 rings to pick it up. If they can’t catch it that quick (or are “around the corner” which is slang for “using the restroom” which is apparently too rude to say aloud these days….) then the real fun begins. Once A, B, C, and D don’t pick it up, it just starts ringing everywhere. Every phone in the entire building starts ringing until some Unsuspecting Secretary (US) answers the phone “This is Amy, how can I help you” and then the person who called make the request, which of course  US can’t help with at all given that she’s never even heard of (much less met) VIP A.  
The point of all this ringing and rolling is quite simply this: When a human being calls, VIP A wants a human being to answer. For some reason it doesn't matter how many human beings they have to talk to in order to get who they really want. A human being must answer. Every. Single. Time. In theory it’s less frustrating to talk to a real live person who knows nothing about why you are calling or who you really need, than get the “3 rings. Voice mail.” procedure that is used by every other company on the planet.
The best part of this meeting was the following exchange offered by VIP A and Person B.
A: “VIP 007 called me the other day and said he got my voice mail. How does that happen?”
B: “I don’t know. It should never do that.” Then B proceeds to explain the entire rolling sequence. (see above)
A: “Huh. So voice mail never comes in, right?”
B: “Right.”
A: “Must have been a fluke in the system.” (ready to move on.)
B: Furiously writing in her notebook “Well, we’ll figure out what happened. We can’t tolerate flukes.”
Seriously. B can’t tolerate flukes. She was absolutely serious. While I might have painted this picture to make A and B look like insane human beings, they are actually very nice, down to earth individuals and I think the world of them both.
But seriously? What kind of person can’t tolerate flukes? I sure can.
In fact I LIVE for flukes.
Josh: “How come we didn’t have dinner tonight?”
Me: “Dunno. Usually we do. Must’ve been a fluke.”
Boss: “Why did this report show 20 instead of 10?”
Me: “Hmmmm. Certainly not because of any error on my part. Gotta be a fluke.”
I probably give the almighty Fluke a lot more credit than is deserved. One thing I know for sure is that I am definitely a fluke-tolerator....I don’t think it’s really a bad thing.

It's genetic. I can't help it.

There are a lot of flaws in my personality. I won't take the time to list them all here just yet (maybe for a future post...)

One of them (as evidenced by my blog) is that I think people want to hear me talk. I probably do far too much of it. Fortunately a blog is a better way to get it out than actually talking at people. It's less demanding because nobody HAS to read it if they don't want to.

Poor Josh has to deal with it on a regular basis. After spending 25 minutes in the car with me, listening to every detail of my day. I usually get around to asking him about his. He says "good". Probably hoping that his one word answer will shut me up. What he doesn't know is that silence just encourages me to fill the space with something. So, since he isn't talking, I do.

Today I found an excuse for this impolite tendency and by golly, I'm gonna use it!

I've been "typing my Grandpa's mission journal" for approximately 5 years. I was typing it for like 3 months, then I stopped for 4.75 years, and now I've started again. Wanna hear a piece? Oh good, I thought you'd never ask!

The lot fell to me to occupy a good share of the time - & I preached repentance for converted members.

It's more funny if you know my Grandpa. He really likes to speak. He was a teacher for 100 years, and then he lead tours to Israel, and he speaks at every family gathering (just for a few 20), and he loves it.  However, there are a few topics that he REALLY loves to talk about (the Gospel, history, the women in his life, politics, alternative health practices and why you should use them).

It never really occurred to me that loving to talk about the Gospel might be something he learned on his mission (along with picking berries, peaches, and cherries). But now I'm fairly certain it was. His journal is littered with references to his "discourses, sermons, talks, and speeches" and anytime there was a meeting, I can just tell, he felt the need to fill the time with an "impromptu, or extemporaneous" talk.

So, the fact that I can't let time go by without something being said, well, it's genetic and I can't help it! At least I don't make you listen to a full sermon every week in church. Forgive me.

Monday, January 12, 2009

One thing I love about being married...

One thing I love about being married is that when Josh is out of town his cologne is still in the bathroom. Do I sound like a 12 year old girl when I say my pillow smells like him and I'm happy about it? Eh well, there's still a little 12 year old girl in me and that's OK.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Are we changing?

Tonight my mom and I had a chat about how much different Relief Society is now from when she was at BYU (almost 40 years ago!). My dad is in a bishopric of a BYU ward and they are seeing college kids as they really are for the first time since they were that age themselves.

She talked about visiting teaching and how nobody does it. I told her that was normal and not to freak out so much about it. I think that made her freak out even more.

We chatted about how hardened "girls these days" are.  I told her it's because we're allowed to wear pants and get degrees.

She voiced her concern that nobody cares that nobody (not even the leadership) attends church on a regular basis. I backed her up in that one because I think it's a valid concern.

The truth is it does concern me, but because it's "my generation" it doesn't freak me out like it does her. I'm disappointed and concerned about the future of the world, but not surprised that girls in college don't want to go visiting teaching. I didn't either. It's hard to want to do something you don't have a testimony of yet. 

Apparently when my mom was in school, she did want to go. In her words "Relief Society was on fire!" but that was back before "Home, Family, and Personal Enrichment" when they had craft night once a week and learned how to sew together. It was also when all roommates shared groceries and took turns cooking meals. Their Relief Society bonded together because nobody had a car or a cell phone so they didn't go home or call their moms for recipes and help. They called each other. Being a woman 40 years ago meant something different than it does now.

Are we missing out on something important using the excuse that "it's different now"? Is reading blogs as good at keeping us together? 
Has Visiting Teaching been replaced with something equally valuable? If so, what is it? 
Is it a "sign of the times" that even the Sisters in the church can't keep active? Have we become so evil and so far gone that we don't even bat an eye when our attendance is at 35%? 
Are we allowing ourselves to be women in spite of the fact that the world demands more of us than ever before? Or are we better off for becoming more? 
Am I taking the time to build relationships with people of all ages like my mom did? Or am I sticking myself with only those people who are my age assuming that older/younger people don't want to be friends with me? 

Bottom line: It's interesting to hear the things my mom is most concerned about now that she's seeing college kids in real life. What I hope is that even though it's different now, we aren't losing who we are in the list of things we are expected to be. 

Life around here

Maybe some of you think all I do all day every day is sit around thinking of what I'm going to do once I'm a mother. Just in case you were starting to be concerned, I thought I'd tell you some things I've done that didn't revolve around the current state of my womb.
  • Today I taught Relief Society. With not one reference to fertility. Impressed? You should be.
  • Friday night I went with my sister and her husband to see an art exhibit (it was fantastic, I highly recommend it). Josh stayed home with the love of his life.
  • Saturday night I got my hair cut. I always hate my hair right after a haircut. 
  • Monday night I walked in the snow. I love the snow.
  • Wednesday evening I taught piano.
See? I have a life. And there is the proof.

Normal (?) life

Last week was an emotional roller coaster. I cried, I laughed, I cried some more. Josh and I smiled and got all sorts of excited to share our good news with everybody we knew.  We talked a lot and prayed a lot. We have felt overwhelmingly hopeful and thankful. I want to celebrate every day, but I'm not really sure that being able to take a pill every day is worth celebrating. To me it sure feels like it.

When I talked to my sisters and my mom, they all asked the same question: "how sick will the medication make you?" My response? "hopefully very sick. For about 9 months. And then sleep deprived for 20-something years....that's the goal anyway." 

I've now filled the perscription and started taking it and it makes me a little sick. My Dr. told me to ease into it and "work up to 3 times per day" because "it'll make you feel like crap". So, maybe it's all psychological. Maybe the women in my family freaked me out unnecessarily. Maybe I'm a hypochondriac. No matter the reason, yes, I feel sick. Mostly just nauseated, and I puke for no apparent reason in the middle of a meal on a fairly regular basis. 

I'd be lying if I said my first thought wasn't "pregnant ladies always puke in the middle of their meals". I'd also be lying if I said I didn't think that every time I felt the least bit ill over the past 2 1/2 years. Any time I've any symptom of pregnancy (which I know all about because I saw How to Deal and the girls are reading the pregnancy symptoms out loud to each other "heightened sense of smell, nausea, breast tenderness, strange cravings") I've secretly thought "maybe that means I'm pregnant" which is never the case for me. But, this time it's different.

You see, since "coming out of the closet", I've heard more "we struggled to get pregnant too" stories than "nourishandstrengthenus,dousthegoodweneed"'s from Josh since we started praying together(that's a lot in case you were wondering....).

It seems that a lot of them end like this "just when we'd given up trying, we were on our way to the adoption agency to fill out papers so I decided to take one last pregnancy test...." or "we'd been told time after time that we couldn't have kids, and we had finally let it go and decided to enjoy out time together instead when I decided to just use that last pregnancy test in my closet instead of throwing it away...." or "it's funny, but I found out I was pregnant because I'd decided to go back on the pill since we weren't really ready for kids just yet and used my only remaining test...." Of course the "..." is invariably "and it came up positive!"

I keep telling Josh that if we could just decide we don't want kids, or start the adoption process tomorrow, or plan an international trip for 9 months in the future that maybe that would trigger in me whatever it seems to trigger in every other woman on the planet. 

So tonight, secretly (ok, I put it on my blog, the only people it's really a secret from here are my mom and Josh...) I hope I'm baby-sick and not pill-sick. Secretly I hope that by going to the Dr. and starting some meds it had that mystery "let it go and it will come" effect on me. Secretly I want to not have to go through this treatment and worry that it won't work on me. Secretly I hope that by pretending to move on with our lives, we tricked whatever it is that's stopping our family from growing.

On the other hand, I (not so) secretly hope that when we went to the Dr. last week, there was some spirit child jumping for joy and singing our praises that we finally did what it takes to get a body ready for them to join us.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Sometimes it comes out my eyes

There are moments in my life that I feel so loved, or so much love for someone else that my heart can't contain it and it all comes out my eyes. I know it's corny, but hey, that's just the kinda girl I am.

Thank you all for your kind thoughts and comments (posted or not) and offerings of support and love. I am truly overwhelmed. In case you wondered if anybody loves me, just check here and you'll know as well as I do that I am loved.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Sometimes I know I'm not a grown up because I write letters to inanimate objects and people I've never really met.

Other times I know I am old because people younger than me are doing grown up things or I do/say things that make me feel old.

Rarely do I feel grown up. Very rarely.

Today there are 2 reasons I feel a little grown up:

  1. I have a syndrome.
  2. I went to a male OBGYN without freaking out or crying. See how mature I am?
Last week I made an appointment for an annual exam with every intention of chatting with the Dr. about our "fertility issues". (Ouch, it hurts to write that, but in the name of honesty.....let's call it what it is.)

I've felt nervous and anxious about it all day, but figured that if I really want to have a baby, I'll have to get over it anyway. Plus, of all the people who are un-paranoid about men in positions like that, I ought to be OK with it since Josh is a massage therapist. Right? Right.

Sitting in the waiting room watching all of the moms and their beautiful babies made me feel better about being there. That is something I desperately want, and I probably won't get it if I don't figure out what's going on. Staring straight into the eyes of Nemo made me relax a little. (Seriously, my OB owns the actual Nemo, and not a knock-off Nemo from Walmart either. This was the real thing. I know because a little boy kept talking to him, and he called him Nemo, and the fish responded. That's what we call indisputable evidence.)

And wham bam, 3 hours later we were outta there! In all I spent about 15 minutes with the Dr. He looked at my chart, listened to my sob story and said "Well, clearly your problem is _______. Let's get you started on these drugs. When you're about 7  weeks along please come back so we can hear the heartbeat and put your mind at ease that everything is OK with the baby. See you soon!" and sent me on my way with my prescriptions in one hand and my instructions on how to take them in the other.

I'm surprised by this, but I've had some mixed feelings about the news today. 

On one hand (probably the big hand) I'm relieved. And thrilled. And hopeful for a VERY happy future. I suddenly feel empowered and in control. I feel like I finally have an answer and a solution to the problem. I'm glad there is a "take a pill for that" answer instead of a "work out, eat right, say your prayers, have faith, and maybe it'll happen for you someday" I'm tired of that answer. I'm tired of not knowing or understanding. I'm tired of having faith. I'm tired of being patient. And I'm tired of having no idea when this will happen for me. There are a lot of days between now and the end of eternity, and it's not always encouraging for the answer to be "in this life or the next". So, this was fantastic news for that side of me. Incredible news really. I have a syndrome. They don't know what causes it, but they do know how to treat the infertility symptoms. It's common, and usually a simple pill "fixes" in this situation. I might have cried a tiny bit when I realized that everything I've ever wanted to be when I grow up (a mother) is actually possible for me.

On the other hand (smaller, but still there) I'm terrified. Being in control makes me nervous. Feeling like I'm all of the sudden the boss of this situation makes me wonder if it's really right for us right now. Before we could just say "we're not preventing it, and if it happens we'll be thrilled because we'll know it's right for us. If not, it must not be right" but now it feels like we're forcing it to happen and if I'm going to go around forcing things to happen, I absolutely want to be sure that it's the right thing. That's just the getting pregnant part. What about having a baby?!?! That's a BIG deal. A really big deal. Our lives will never be the same. We won't sleep for 20-something years. Once we start, I want more than one. But what if I can't work? What if I can't not work? What will we do for money? What about the bills? Who will help me with the baby while Josh is at work? Will the pregnancy go OK? Are we really ready to start our family? What if the baby doesn't like me? What if I'm too chicken to give birth? What will the baby look like? If I'm this paranoid now, what on earth will I be like when I'm actually pregnant?

As I think of all those questions, I come back to those same answers "have faith", "be patient", and "it will all work out". When I talk to Josh about all of these feelings and more, he just smiles at me and tells me how excited he is to finally have a "solution". 

He gets it. I know that he is running through all of those questions in his head, but he just isn't saying it out loud. I'm sure he's as nervous as I am, and I'm sure he is as thrilled as I am. 

Tonight when we say our prayers, we finally get to say "here's our plan, OK?" instead of "please help us find a plan, and the strength to deal with not having a plan". If nothing else, that is reason enough to feel happy, and very, very hopeful.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Dear Toaster Oven, it's over.

Dear Toaster Oven,
I’d been buying my morning bagel for months, when I first saw you across the cafeteria.  It was love at first sight. There you were, your silver casing gleaming in the florescent lights. The warm glow of your toaster-y coils coming from inside. The black plastic knobs already turned to the “bagel” setting just for me.  That morning, I enjoyed my bagel perfectly browned, warm and toasty, the cream cheese melted into the cracks just perfectly. Truly, I knew I’d never love another toaster oven in my life. You were everything I never knew I wanted.
That is why it’s so hard for me to tell you that it’s over. It breaks my heart, but things just haven’t been the same lately. You’ve changed, you’re full of other people’s crumbs, there’s grime coming out of your knobs. Those things I’ve looked past for a few days, but this morning you crossed the line.
Lighting my bagel on fire is inappropriate and inexcusable. I won’t stand for it because I deserve better than that. I’ll never see you the same way again, because you burned me. The blisters on my fingertips may heal, but the scars on my heart never will. I used to think you’d never hurt me, but now I know the truth.
It pains me to do this, but I’ll just have to eat cold un-toasty bagels each morning from now on. I just can’t risk burning down the entire building just because of my feelings for you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m leaving you. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find some other unwitting human whose bagels you can burn. But it won’t be me anymore.
With the tiniest pieces of my broken heart,

Friday, January 2, 2009

Josh is 25

WARNING: This post contains high-fructose sappiness and may induce vomiting or extreme jealousy.
Today marks the 25th anniversary of Josh’s birth. Sounds like a great excuse to make a list of things I love about that man don’t you think? Here are 25 things I love about Josh:
  1. He drives me to work because the weather man says it might snow a little bit. He also drives me when there’s a blizzard, and when it’s 102 degrees outside. But anytime there is any chance of snow in the forecast, he makes sure to drive me. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to pay for an accident, but I choose to think it’s because he loves me.
  2. He calls me his “wonderful wife”.
  3. He likes to be healthy. Not something I always love, but since I started the 6 month sugar fast, it’s been so nice that nobody whines or complains when I don’t feel like making birthday cake, cookies, or any other dessert.  Plus he’s supportive of anything I decide to do health-wise. Nothing is off limits to him.
  4. He tells me the truth. Every single time (except when he thinks he’s funny “Bishop asked us to speak in Sacrament meeting tomorrow….” That’s not honest. But I love him anyway). In all the things that matter, he always tells me the truth. He even confesses his sins to me (like when he ate ALL of the cookie dough that I planned to use for visiting teaching) even if he knows he’ll be in trouble.
  5. He hates debt. I hate debt too, but for some reason I’m not as good at staying out of it as he is. He doesn’t buy things he doesn’t already have money for, even big things. We paid off my 5 year car loan in a year because it made him so anxious to have a monthly payment.
  6. He is the world’s best listener. I think a lot of wives have to teach their husbands how to listen to them, I don’t know what that’s like because Josh just came with expert listening skills.
  7. He doesn’t believe in “man” or “woman” jobs. He does laundry, cooks, and cleans as much as I do.
  8. He can make any kid laugh within 5 seconds if he wants to. “Who wants to be tickled” he shouts while he “raises their hands” and gets them in the armpits.
  9. He’s a dreamer. If he wants to do something he just does it. “I wanna be a massage therapist” he says. And now he is. “I wanna go to nursing school” he says. And he is. “Let’s go to Alaska” “Let’s save $10,000 in a year” “We should buy a house” “I’m gonna build some food storage shelves” “I will be a master yoga instructor on our Wii by the end of the week” OK he’s not really close on that one….
  10. He knows how to apologize. Even if it isn’t his fault he’ll tell me he’s sorry because he loves me and doesn’t ever want me to be unhappy. I think that’s sweet, and it always makes me sorry for being the one who did something wrong in the first place.
  11. He’s lovable. He knows how to get along with everybody, all kinds of people, they immediately love him and he loves them all right back.
  12. He can keep his wrists on top of his head, while talking like a ventriloquist for like 30 minutes at a time.
  13. He looks really great in a tux.
  14. He cuts his own hair. One of those things he couldn’t bear to pay for on his mission, so he just started doing it himself and hasn’t stopped.
  15. He loves to camp, and even dares to get in the water at Alexander Lake. Even though it’s cold and he doesn’t like swimming.
  16. He lets me tell him he shouldn’t say cuss words. And he lets me correct his grammar. “’Where are we’, not ‘where are we at’”.
  17. He cooks! His mom told me that she always used him to put the right spices in her soups, so I can too. He can taste something and tell right away what it needs. That’s not a gift I have.
  18. He has the perfect crying shoulder. Maybe I’ve just molded it to my face after more breakdowns than I care to admit to having, but he knows just how to hold me to make it all better.
  19. He can fix almost anything. He did a lot of work on his truck by himself, he fixed our frozen pipes, he builds things, he puts stuff together, he took care of my “potato peels in the sink” incident. I couldn’t figure out what he meant when he said he couldn’t fix our ice dispenser. He’s never said that to me before because he really can fix almost anything.
  20. He’s romantic. He proposed to me at Sunset on top of the world on my birthday after taking me to all of our “first date” places.  It just doesn’t get any better than that.
  21. He’s fun to be around. It doesn’t matter if we snow-shoeing, swimming (which he hates), playing games, hiking, talking, watching a movie, or anything else. He is always good company, which is a good thing for a best friend to be.
  22. He sometimes lets me win. Like water fights with the squirter thing in the kitchen. He doesn’t always take it away from me and drown me with it, sometimes he just lets me get him last then uses me as a mop to clean up the mess. Or snow-ball fights! One time he let me tackle him in the knee-deep snow and didn’t evn white wash me! See? That’s love.
  23. He doesn’t make fun of my old-man wheeze laugh. You shouldn’t either, it’s not nice.
  24. He dances with me in the kitchen. Let me explain a couple of things (a) we can’t dance. We’d like to learn how, but we haven’t learned, and we do it anyway. (b) my daddy always danced with my mom (and me) in the kitchen growing up, and I happen to think it’s the most romantic thing that any two people could ever do.
  25. He tells me he loves me every single day. And I believe him.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

2008 in review.

Well, I don't do a Christmas card, I don't make new years resolutions, and I rarely sit and meditate life. So, I think I'm required to do 'a year in review'.

2008 has been a big year for us. Some major milestones include:

  • Homeownership .
  • Josh graduated  (2 graduations down, who knows how many to go) from UCMT.
  • Coming out of the "we're not pregnant and wish we were" closet. Turns out it's an enormous closet and most everybody I know has been in that closet at one point or another.

Fine, it wasn't really that big of a year. But it was a year full of spiritual growth and learning:

Fine, it wasn't really that spiritual of a year either. But we did make a lot of friends.
  • I blog stalk 45 people. Probably only half of them know I do.
Blog-stalking doesn't count as making friends? Oh. Well, we had an OK financial year. 
Major milestones? check.
Spirituality? check.
Social growth? check.
Financial survival? check.

I guess overall it's been a pretty great year.

Here's to enjoying last year, and looking forward to an even better one to come.
Share |