Dear Baby, I hope....

I find myself daydreaming and fantastizing about Baby Thomas pretty much all the time. I wonder what he'll look like, what he'll sound like, and how tight his tiny little fingers will wrap around mine. I wonder what kind of personality he'll have, and what sorts of things he'll like. I'm curious and excited about all of those things. But more than anything, I'm hopeful.


I hope Thomas gets Josh’s naturally straight teeth….and his hand eye coordination…and his metabolism, good hair, fantastic laugh and ability to listen. And I hope he gets my ability properly pronounce the words library, grab and converse.


I hope Josh and I can learn how to be responsible parents and that Thomas can grow up to be a responsible kid. 


I hope Thomas knows that we love him more than anything and that he remembers that he knows that.


I hope Thomas is healthy, strong and capable. I hope his body does all the things it is capable of and designed to do.


I hope I can keep up with him, because so far he's wearing me out. I hope a get some random burst of energy that will allow me to function all day long on practically zero sleep for the next 20-whatever years.


I hope Josh is at least 1/10th as cute with our baby as he is with everyone else's. And I hope he's 10 times safer than he's thinking of being.


I hope our Heavenly Father hears and understands our prayers. That he'll give us clear answers and guide us to do what we should be doing.


I hope Thomas inherits his father's ability to love people. That he can be as calm, mellow and patient as Josh is capable of being.


I hope Thomas's mind develops as it should, that things come easily to him, that he gets my love of reading, and ability to "do school" easily and Josh's ability to build stuff and work with his hands.


There are so many things I want for him, so many things I want for me. So many things that seem like such great answers. 


I hope we get only those things that will be best for us and extra of those trials that will teach us the most important lessons.

It's official

I'm pregnant.

I've known that for 111 days.
That's 15 weeks.
2664 hours
159,840 minutes.

Funny thing is, today I can tell. Maybe I'm slow (probably most women don't take 111 days to be able to tell), I know women who "KNOW as soon as it happens". I'm not one of those women.

Some factors contributing to my sudden "feeling" pregnant?

• I'm tired. I'm so tired all I can do is cry. I can't even sob-cry, I just whimper cry because it takes less energy. My eyes won't stay open. I can't sleep. The worst part is I know this is NOTHING compared to what it feels like when you have 5 little kids running around and you haven't slept in 10 years since the first one was born. I know I'm a sissy for being so tired and I can't function when the truth is I slept for 8 hours last night and only woke up twice. That thought makes me more tired.
• My stomach hurts ALL the time. OK just since yesterday, but I swear I can feel things moving around and stuff stretching out. It hurts. Bad.
• My clothes don't fit. While we were camping last weekend  we sat down to play some cards and I swear my pants fit when I sat down, but when I stood up 2 hours later, they suddenly didn't anymore. Seriously. That's not gonna work for me.
• It's hot. I'm not really sure what my problem is, but I can't get my body to a comfortable temperature, unless of course I'm mostly naked (calm down, I wear a swimsuit) in a pool and eating a snow cone. 
• My ring doesn't fit today. I swear overnight something happened to my body because I'm hot and swollen and tired and in pain and my fingers (which were smaller than my ring yesterday) are larger than my ring today.

Today, I feel pregnant.

Yay! (for the printer, the credit card, and other small triumphs)

I work in the same area as The Printer. The Printer is the one that people from all over the floor use.

There are about 200 "shop guys" on this floor.

The "shop guys" have a lot of talents. A lot of them. They do beautiful work and I love them dearly.

Most of the shop guys have little to zero computer training and all things technology related are not on their "talents I have" list. 

They're not real friendly with computers. They hate them. They curse and swear and threaten to run drill presses, plumbing supplies, and staple guns through the "broken" computers on a regular basis.

Weldon (who is the 2^nd cutest overalls man I’ve ever met….1^st is my grandpa) came in and kinda cheered when he found his print job on The Printer.

I think a lot of the guys think sending your stuff to the printer is kinda like entering the lottery. If you’re lucky it’ll be waiting for you when you get there. If you’re the other 99% of the population the page size will be off, the paper will have jammed, or someone from Space Management will have just sent a 30 page set of detailed plans to the printer (collated, stapled and 3-hole punched) which will occupy the 100% of the machine’s ability for at least half an hour.

Weldon found it appropriate to cheer that he was one of "the lucky ones" today. I bet the other guys would agree.

The first time Josh & I used our new debit card from our new bank and our new joint checking account (which we had just deposited money in) we were at the grocery store. We ran the card, and kinda cheered when “accepted” popped up on card reader at the checkout stand. I think Josh said something like “sa-weet!” and I said “I love it when we get accepted!” and we gave each other high 5. 

The truth is we were excited. We remembered our pin, our money was already available, and our debit card wasn't stupid.

The unknowing checker-lady looked at us suspiciously.

Josh and I think it’s really funny to do that all the time now. We’re not cheering because we remembered our pin number, or because our card which has never been used before worked, (like we were the first time) sometimes it’s because there’s money in the bank (which is more of a gamble than I’d care to admit), but mostly it’s because we like to laugh at the concerned looks we get from people when they run the card for a $2 transaction and we get all excited when it goes through and make a comment like "must be my lucky day!"

Anyway, I really believe in cheering for small victories. So, GO WELDON! for being glad the printer printed your stuff, GO ME AND JOSH! for having a functioning debit card, and GO YOU! for whatever seemingly 'regular' thing you did today that made you feel like you won.

19 weeks

No wonder!

If I was smooshed all up in someone's uterus like this I'd probably try to make them puke too. 

Publish Post

Really it sounds quite reasonable, I mean less food in the stomach means more room to stretch out those legs! Right?

I get crabby and willing to throw things from my carry-on out the airplane window after about 30 minutes, but I still have the freedom to get up and walk up the aisle to the restroom for the leg-stretching part of the flight. So I can't say he's doing anything I wouldn't do.

Poor Baby Thomas is trapped in there with his legs in his face and no hope for change for 21 more weeks. Maybe I'll give him a break, stop poking him and "shame on you"ing at him because really, I'd probably be grouchier if in the same situation.

I guess babies aren't trying to ruin their mother's lives, just attempting to get a little space, comfort and love.

Why I like swimming:

This weekend the neighborhood pool opened.

Monday morning I was in my suit and on my way by 7:30. I cut through our neighbors yard (sorry Neighbors, I’m probably not going to stop doing that…) and the grass was still wet from the night before. My wet feet slid around in my flip-flops with every uneven step. That’s when the memories started to flood my brain.

I remember early mornings, hopping on my bike, riding up the street first to throw rocks at my friends’ windows (because it was way TOO early to ring the doorbell) and riding through the neighborhood while people’s sprinklers were still on. It was usually too cold to sit outside comfortably, but the water was the perfect temperature. After being in the pool in the morning, the ride home would dry out your hair in the ugliest possible fashion. But nobody cared because you’d clearly just been at the pool. By the time I got home I was always starving, and mostly dry so I didn’t feel the need to shower right away anyway. Last night’s watermelon out on the counter made the perfect breakfast.

Yesterday, I could smell the chlorine before I even got to the gate and it smelled like summertime in Lindon.

Nobody else is even at our neighborhood pool that early in the morning because the pool is mostly used by small children and sun-bathers. 7:30 is not the peak time for either making it the PERFECT time for me.

I started swimming laps and felt the water soak my hair from the second I pushed off the wall. I can only go 3/4 the length of the pool in one breath today, but by the end of the summer I’m sure I can do the full length.

After some laps, and walking around feeling the resistance of the water on my hands and arms, I just sat and treaded in the “deep end” (for the record 5’ doesn’t count as deep but it is enough to float in). I love the feeling of floating, of treading, and even of sinking.

While I sat there by myself doing flips and floating around, I decided this is what Thomas must feel like. He’s just in there floating around all day long, everything sounds muffled, and feels warm. Having that water surround me feels safe, comfortable, happy and easy. I hope that’s what he thinks. I hope he feels safe, comfortable, happy and easy.

It’s not like I needed a new reason to love being in the water, but feeling like I know what he’s feeling is just 1 more reason I love to swim.

Falcon Babies

A few weeks (maybe months?) ago Aundrea sent me a link to watch the falcons.

I turned it on that day and can’t stop watching. Still. Every morning I log into my computer, open my e-mail and “turn on the falcons”. Some people walk by my desk and ask how they’re doing, and I tell them. Because I know.

After a few days of watching them come and go from their nest, we finally spotted a red egg one Monday morning.

That’s when I started judging “these stupid birds” because they totally neglected their child! They were both gone for hours at a time, and this poor Falcon Baby was probably freezing. I know it was freezing because Aundrea was freezing, and she was inside where it was safe, and in my opinion a reasonable temperature. And her family checks on her more than the Falcons checked on their baby. Suddenly the adult falcons looked like irresponsible teenagers who have no idea what it takes to be parents (unlike me…you know, because I have a lot of experience in being a good parent…)

They (the supposed loving parents of Falcon Baby) would stop by every once in a while (one at a time, never together), they’d sit on the egg for a while, then leave for a couple of hours and one would return to sit on the egg again.

Then one morning there were 2eggs, and the 3^rd came quickly after that. That’s when “these stupid birds” turned into loving, kind, concerned parents. They were suddenly responsible, never leaving those 3 tiny babies alone. They took care of each other and called when it was time for “shift change”.

Sometime this past weekend 2 of the 3 Falcon Babies hatched. They are puffy little white birds and they’re beautiful. Click here to see them, you know you want to – it’s valid because they’re adorable. If you’re lucky (or obsessed and watching them all day every day) you’ll see them eating, which is cool in a pretty sick way.

I guess the bottom line is that these parents who were horrible people Falcons in the beginning have grown into good responsible parents and it’s been encouraging for me in a way.

I feel inadequate to be a mom and most days I’m pretty sure I can’t handle it (seriously, if I can’t even wake up to my alarm at the same time every day, how am I supposed to raise a child?), but maybe by the time my baby “hatches” I’ll be a kind, concerned, loving, and MUCH more responsible parent.

In the meantime, I’m going to try my hardest not to judge the parents around me (Falcon or human) and assume they don’t love their kids just because they choose to abandon them in a nest 11 stories up. Probably those parents will grow into the position and hatch beautiful, white, fluffy, cotton ball babies, just like everybody else.

Long Weekend

You know the crazies who go shopping on Black Friday? How they swarm to every big store on the planet, and they swear they getting deals making it totally worth waking up at 2am and camping out on the sidewalk?

You know how they don't stop for anything no matter how tired, grouchy, or hungry they are?

You know how the rest of us look at those people with pity and we don't even wanna hear about the great deals they got because we think that no price it too high for NOT having to fight those crowds?

Well, I think we might be the camping equivalent of hardcore-black-friday-shoppers because we (along with 99% of the state of Utah) went camping for Memorial Day.

The 1% of you who slept in your normal beds, plan to see a movie on Monday, and don't currently smell like smoke are really missing out. I mean really.

Wanna know what made this particular camping trip so great?

Nate & Wendy went up early on Friday to get us a great spot. Trees for shade, fire pit, close to the road so we could carry in all of our heavy gear, far from the road so you don't feel like everybody can see you, a place over the hill for the boys to shoot stuff and throw sharp things. It was beautiful. Seriously beautiful.

That's Josh, also our "gear" yes, we could have lived there for days. Thanks for asking.

Do-rag courtesy of Nate. You should all thank him so you don't have to see my hair...yikes.

Nothin' like a good card game on the cooler.

After spending Friday night there, and most of Saturday, we migrated down the canyon to the world's most beautiful picnic site.

The picnic table and firre pit were RIGHT by the river, I mean RIGHT by the river. There were trees growing out of the middle of the river and a picnic table in the middle too. We chose not to use that one because when Wendy and I stuck our feet in, they ached because the water was so cold.

We at our yummy dutch oven food, built more fires, played more cards (ever played Rodrigo? you should) and more Yahtzee. Good times. We finished our picnic in the rain, and packed up to come home at about 8:00.

Things that made it slightly less than perfect?

Nate & Wendy's car got broken into. Window smashed in, but nothing missing. The nice man from the Sherriff's station came to take pictures & write up a report. Bummer for them. But, in Nate's words "of all the times/ways for our car to be broken into, this was great!" he has the week off work, so he doens't have to worry about when he'll get it fixed. And nothing was missing, so really it's just a matter of getting the insurance to cover it. I would've been much more peeved than he was...he's cool like that.

If you were the person who smashed in the car window, I gotta say, you really missed on this one. You forgot to steal stuff. Not the 80 GB iPod, none of the 50+ movies, not the pair of Oakley sunglasses, or even 1 cent of the $3.00 in change. You really should work on your thieving skills.

Since it rained on Saturday night, we packed up, went home and had a sleepover at their house. Where the games & good times continued.

We had a fabulous weekend, came home on Sunday night, have already put away the camping stuff, done most of the laundry AND taken naps. I've been swimming twice (so far) today and we're going to finally plant our tomato and squash buckets today.  Thank goodness we had the day off today because I'm beat!

Potty Training

You people have become quite the authority on all things child-rearing and now people from all over the country are dying to ask you questions. OK the truth is that my sister has a question for you, but I'm sticking with me "all over the country" comment because she lives WAY down in Utah County. And let's face it, that feels like a VERY different part of the country.

It’s about potty training.

Here’s the situation:

My sister is the mother to the most adorable red-headed energetic 2.5 year old on the planet (3 in November). With another beautiful princess on the way, she’s getting a little nervous about double diaper duty which is causing the appropriate panic necessary to go through the potty-training experience.

Problem is she’s not quite sure what to do. Here’s what she says about the experience:

I've very inconsistently tried to encourage potty training.  Several
months ago, I bought her some "big girl" underwear and put it on with
vinyl underwear over the top.  I gave her a big drink so she'd feel
the urge to go and checked back a while later to find her contentedly
sitting in a puddle.  After that, I called it quits, but now I feel
like I have a small window of opportunity from the beginning of summer
until the end of July when baby Lucy comes.

The other night, we got out her potty chair and left it on the ground
instead of putting it on the big toilet.  She was VERY excited about
that and put every baby doll and bear on the toilet to "poop."  (She
even pointed out the imaginary poop in the bottom of the potty.)  But
she didn't go.  And then she didn't want to put her diaper back on.
She kept sitting on the chair and getting up to wander pantless around
the room.  Since we don't want to clean up accidents all over the
house and she wasn't really going potty, we wrestled her back into a
diaper and haven't tried the chair since.

My opinion is that this particular child would rather die than sit still long enough to do her business. She doesn't sit still for any other reason, so I don't know why she would suddenly desire to spend any amount of time sitting on a chair with a hole in it. Especially when the other choice means you don't even have to get out of the sandbox.....

But, dear readers and experts on all things. What are your suggestions?

Oh, and one more thing before I let you work your magic: My sister is not a sissy, so don't worry about hurting her feelings by saying things like "you just have to do it, man up!" or follow Aundrea's example with a "don't worry about it, she'll do it herself" but she is pregnant, so try not to say things like "get off your fat lazy butt and plant that child on the pot!" cuz the "fat lazy butt" comment might cause a breakdown. Also you should know that she's pretty much wonder-mom. Not one for sitting on any sized butt. So, that certainly isn't the issue.

Bumper Pads

I love it when I get to ask "the blog world" a question and then I get the answer. I love that you guys tell me your experiences and opinions (yes, I'm actually ASKING for your opinions - go ahead and share them) and I love the having one place to go to find all the answers. Let's face it, there's a lot of garbage on the internet, and I trust you more than I trust wiki-answers. That's saying something.

So, help me some more!

Bumper pads:

They're adorable, yes?
They made the crib look less like a jail and more like a....crib, yes?
They help define the "theme" of your baby's space...or whatever, yes?
Are they also a death trap for my baby?

I've read some stuff that says if you have bumper pads you're a bad mom who cares more about the way your room looks than the safety of your own child (which I think is quite a leap by the way...) and I've read other stuff that says if you're so paranoid that you can't have bumpers on your child's bed, your kids is eternally screwed up because you'll also not let them play in the sandbox, go to kindergarten, or eat ice cream from the ice cream truck (also a leap in my opinion).

So, what do you know? Did your kid almost get strangled by a bumper pad? Have you had bumper pads on your crib for 20 years and never had a problem? Did your sister-in-law's dog's previous owner's brother do a study on this for his degree? If so, what did he find? What have you found? Is it appropriate until a certain age or level of mobility? Help me out here.

Walmart and why I love it.

I heard on the radio the other day that rooting for the Lakers is like rooting for Walmart. You just don’t do it. Sure you go there, you spend your money there, and you’re probably relieved when they move into your town because your life will be so much easier, BUT nobody actually cheers for Walmart because it’s the wrong thing to do and it makes you look like a bad person.

You should also know that my personal version of hell involves Walmart. On a Saturday.  In July. When it’s 10,000 degrees outside and everybody is walking around naked and smelly. Also it has to do with folding cardboard boxes (even typing it gives me goosebumps) while waiting in the “return line” on the day after Christmas. (still July and 10,000 degrees though, time doesn’t matter in the next life, remember?)

However, sometimes I go to Walmart with a list of items in my mind that I need.

Snow cone maker.

Baby boy outfit.

Thigh highs.

Check.

Check.

Check.

The problem with thigh highs (and every other kind of nylons on the planet) is that they either have the correct color or the correct style. Usually color trumps style because nobody wants orange (or yellow) legs. Really. Nobody.

However, Baby Thomas and I are officially boycotting all forms of “real” nylons with knee highs, thigh highs, and ankle length skirts.

That’s why today I have orange legs, but I don’t care because I’m gonna go home and make a snow cone. And that has nothing to do with my personal version of hell. 

I love the 20th.

Josh and I got married on July 20^th like ump-teen (ahem…..2.5) years ago. The first year that we were married we kinda celebrated the 20^th every month.

And by celebrated I mean said “happy monthiversary!” to each other. Or “happy love day!” or “hi babe.” Or “what’s for dinner?” What can I say, we’re party-animals and we are always looking for an excuse to celebrate.

Now the 20^th is the due date of Baby Thomas (Listen, it’s not like I’m actually going to name our child “Egbert” but I REALLY miss calling him Baby Egbert….so I’m gonna have to ease into this ‘Thomas’ business by putting ‘baby’ in front of it for a while. Sorry. I know that’s annoying. I’m just not great with change. Get over it.) and every month on the 20^th I think “holy crap, we only have ___ more months!” (5 today…in case you were wondering) “….AND we’ve been married for 2 years and ___ months (10 today, in case you were wondering) today…that’s nice.”

I used to work with this lady named Kim and she thought it was unfair to only celebrate her kids once a year (on their birthday) so she celebrated their “worth day” every single month. She didn’t go all out or anything, no parties, cake, or favorite foods. Just a nice note with a candybar, or a phone call in the middle of the day saying “happy worth day, I’m glad you were born”. I think that’s nice.

So the 20^th is my worth day of love and babies. And I’m happy about that. With any luck at all Baby Thomas will be born on the 20^th and I won’t have to try to remember any extra dates. It’s not my gift.

PS We’re 18 weeks now. That’s a lot of weeks. Really too many to expect anybody who is not currently pregnant to understand. Also Baby Thomas can probably hear now, so no more calling names or saying cuss words around me. OK?

PPS I also just got the e-mail from BabyCenter telling me not to drink alcohol. Not that I do, or have been, but wouldn't it kinda be too late to stop at this point? Isn't most of the damage done by now? I'm glad I'm Mormon so I don't have to worry about this stuff.

This is why I don't answer the door

Josh is downstairs trying to convince the salesman that we don't need to buy their $2 coupons for oil changes.

Today I'm proud of him, he usually gets sucked into the sales pitch, but he may not let them make it past "can we come in and tell you about it" this time.

In the meantime, I'm just glad I made that deal about not answering the door for strangers, because I do not love them, they do not love me, and I NEVER have as much money as they want.

The rest of the weekend

Saturday afternoon we slept in our own bed (much better, thanks for asking).

Saturday afternoon (later) we prepared our food for the weekend. Tin Foil Dinners. Pasta salad for Sunday. Snacks for all the moments in between. 

Saturday evening we went to Santaquin. (Yes, CLEAR out to Santaquin) for a fire food party/game night at Tahnee's house. That's where we played games, ate fire food (minus toast-tites because who wants a toast-tite when you can have the Ward's yummy lava chocolatey goodness? nobody.) and hung out with work friends all night long. I got out my camera and took zero pictures, because Jessica was taking them so I didn't feel like I had to. I LOVE it when I'm off the hook!
Big news of the evening? Aundrea rocks at word games (surprise surprise) and I ate a bite of deer hot dog. Wasn't as bad as you think it was. Actually kinda good. Maybe I've been craving the rest of that deer hotdog ever since. But, I have some pride and I'm not telling Tayler that I liked his yucky deer dog. Gross.

Saturday night we slept in Lindon, inside my parents house this time. Also with permission. Also we didn't break anything, not a lamp or anything. Also there was no booze involved AND we didn't invite everyone we know. We're responsible children and that's why my mom gave us permission to stay there without them. She'd probably never let Katy do that. :)

Sunday we spent the day with the Reilleys. More food, more games, more laughing, and a tiny bit of a sunburn. OK I can barely move my arms, but whatever.

We finally landed back at home last night and unpacked cleaned up and went to bed at a "reasonable hour" thank goodness.

That's when Baby Thomas decided my bladder was a soccer ball and went to town. It was another long night and this morning I feel like crap. I woke up puking. I'm too dizzy and tired to walk from the bed to the bathroom, so I crawl. I have zero brain ability and zero desire to do anything.

I'm tired, worn down, overwhelmed and incapable of functioning like a normal human being. All I want to do is lay in my bed and cry all day long, but instead I'm blogging because somehow I think then I can say I was sorta productive today.

Mostly I doubt my ability to handle things, to be a mom, and to make it through the remaining 155 days of this pregnancy. BUT a lot of people have lived through a LOT worse, and I really I shouldn't be whining. A year ago I would've KILLED to be this sick and pregnant. Today.....I'm not so sure I've got what it takes.

First camping trip of the season

Remember in high school when you wished every weekend that your parents would go out of town so you could have the house to yourself and throw a big party?  Well, for me that never happened. Not once. My parents are entirely too responsible.

However, now that we're all grown up, and they live home alone, they sometimes go to Seattle to visit my older brother.

Friday morning we decided to go camping that night.

Friday afternoon we called everyone we're related to and asked if they wanted to join us (only the Marshes and the young Reilleys were brave enough).

Friday afternoon (later) we called the campsite we planned to go to and found out it wasn't open yet.

Friday evening we drove to Lindon with Tato & Cami to eat dutch oven pizza with the Marshes. We pitched tents, played games, sat around, ate food, jumped on the trampoline, played on the swing. Then the Hunters came and we played night games until way past our bedtime.

Friday night we laid on the ground in our tent and pretended we were sleeping. All. Night. Long.

The Marshes were sissies and used the trampoline for a bed, I'm pretty sure they got a great night's sleep.

Saturday morning we woke up cranky and ate breakfast at Carl's Jr. before returning the Reilley's to their home.

We're claiming it was still pretty wilderness-y after all...want evidence?

See? a tent.

And a tree.

And Randy will swear on his life there's a squirrel somewhere in there....I can't see it....

*update* Nate can see the squirrel and pointed it out to me. Here's the proof.

and Nature!

And that was the first camping trip of the season. We are sissies.

Baby Egbert will be called.....

Now that we know it’s a boy, we’re pretty sure he’ll be named Thomas Adam Egbert. I say “pretty sure” because if one or both of us hates it after a month of referring to “da belly” as “Thomas” then we know it’s not going to last a lifetime and we’ll be back to the drawing board.  Here are my reasons for thinking we’ve chosen a GREAT name (so far).

Thomas is our Reilley-Dad’s middle name. And we really like the idea of naming our kids for people who we love and who are important to us. Also people with normal names. Not like Orvall, or LaMont.

Adam is Josh’s middle name and I like that Josh is our baby’s daddy. Also I like that his middle name is normal not like Blaze or Poindexter.

Thomas is a great name because it has great nicknames. Tommy, Tom, or Thomas. It doesn’t sound ugly any way you look at it. When you say it like he’s in trouble “Thomas! For the 10-thousandth time, put down that frog and come to dinner!” that fits and it doesn’t sound stupid when he’s brand new and NEVER does anything wrong “I love you Tommy-Wommy” (OK Tommy-Wommy is definitely NOT on the list of approved nicknames) and it fits in the Happy Birthday song “Happy Birthday, dear Thom-as” and it fits in that banana fanna song “Thomas mommus, bo bommus, banana fanna fo fonnus, me my, mo mommus, THOMAS!”. So far those are my criteria for names. Also normal initials that don't spell anything bad or stupid. TAE, that doesn't stand for anything bad or stupid does it?

As far as I can tell it’s the perfect name, and so far I really like it. Am I missing something about it that when he’s all grown up people are going to say “didn’t your mother love you, doesn’t she know your name means ____/sounds like _____/spells _____?” So, if I say that name, and you think “I can’t believe she’s actually considering that!” feel free to call me to repentance.  I may or may not listen but I will definitely read.

Some great things about having a boy first include:

*A mini-Josh! As if it gets any better than that.

*A big brother for any future kids.  My big brother once sat on my head until I memorized D&C 82:10 (which I did and have never forgotten). That was his version of “leading the family in scripture study” while my parents were gone. I’m convinced that every child needs a big brother.

*Trucks.

*Tuxes.

*Easy haircuts.

*Tiny little vests and ties.

*Maybe someone tall enough to reach the top cupboards when I’m old and shrunken.

*Father/Son campouts.

*Scout campouts.

Josh and I are thrilled that we are going to have a well-behaved, law-abiding, gentleman, kind, caring, capable, good at building stuff, intelligent, ADORABLE baby boy.

Don’t worry, I know it’s not all fun and games. And if I didn’t know, Katy (my sister) would tell me.  Not that she’s bitter…just that she feels it is her duty to warn me about being peed at.

Drumroll please....and the Baby Color is.....

Dr. Man: "Well this one is easy!"

Josh: "It's a boy!"

Amy: "Really? That's what we're looking at?"

Dr. Man: "Yep. This is definitely a boy" (Dr. Man then proceeded to label all of his parts in very clinical and embarrassing terms using the mouse as a pointer. Fortunately I have extra blood going through me so I can blush on cue.) 

My favorite conversation of the morning has to be this:

Amy: "We're havin' a boy! Dr. Man said 'this is definitely a boy'"

Josh: "I said it first."

Amy: "Yeah. Josh could TOTALLY tell, I couldn't though."

Papa Fugal: "Well, you can usually tell because boys have that thing hanging down."

Amy: "Thanks for that Daddy. I'm really glad we finally had this talk. Took ya long enough!"

Nana Fugal: "He's not talking about the uvula, OK?"

Love, Baby Egbert

Dear Bloggers,

Thanks for offering my mom 10 million hideous names and 6 nice ones. The 10 million made her more sure she hoped I was a boy, and the 6 made her know she wouldn't groan outloud if I was a girl.

Love,
Baby Egbert

PS Does anybody actually KNOW somebody named Drucella?

Girl Names

Nope, not an announcement. The big day is tomorrow. But I need help before that.

I'm nervous, I haven't really cared what gender our baby is because I will absolutely love it either way. Seriously I will.

But, I kinda hope it's a boy because I really can't think of any girl names that I like that are not yet taken. I know everybody is pregnant and you don't wanna share* your adorable girl names. I get that, I'm not so great with the sharing thing either. But seriously I need your help. Please share your cute girl names (that go with Egbert) because if we show up to that appointment tomorrow and he says "she's a girl!" and groan because I can't call her anything because all girl names are ugly....well the repercussions could be huge.

What if she winds up being a cross-dresser? What if she won't let me paint her toenails, or she does drugs, or rebels against her femininity her whole life? What if she doesn't wanna be a mom because she resents being a girl? What if she shaves her head bald and paints her face black and puts one of those icky spiky collars around her neck? What if her whole life is screwed up all because I can't think of a girl name and I groaned when I found out that's what she was?

Also I sorta believe that if I'm more prepared for a boy, it'll be a girl. And visa versa. So, if I could find like 10 girl names that go with Egbert that are cute that Josh and I both agree on, then it'll be a boy and we won't actually have to use any of them. So please. Help me.

*Disclaimer, while I reserve the right to steal any names offered here, just because you list it doesn't mean I'll like it. I'm REALLY picky. I mean REALLY picky. So, don't be afraid to list a bunch, or your favorite one that you've secretly been saving all these years. Chances are I won't use it anyway, there are like 10 million names out there, ya know?*

The “Real” Moms

I know you’re all thinking I’m a horrible person for not even mentioning my “real” moms in the previous post. You’re right, I am a horrible person, but it’s not my mom’s fault. Sometimes you just get stuck with bad kids (look at Cain and Alma!). But it’s really because these are women in my life who just can’t be lumped in with “the others”. They don’t belong in that category because they’re in a league all their own.

My Mom happens to be one of the most incredible people in the world. The funny thing is, I never even knew how strong she was until now. I think most people don’t realize how cool their moms are until they are grown up, but I was totally clueless. It’s amazing the things I don’t know about her, and even more amazing how much fun I’m having learning all of these things!

My mom went on a mission to South America. Back in the day when they washed their dishes and cooked with water gathered in “rain barrels”. Do they still do that? Gross. Then she came home and married my handsome handsome father, who (legend has it) had to give her $100 to go to Israel with his whole family before she’d say yes.

She now has 5 grown kids, 5 grown in-laws, and 8 and 3-halves grandkids. She’s still an amazing mom, and she gets up and does hard things all day every day.

She’s always been faithful and active in the church, she accept callings and serves willingly. She knows the difference between right and wrong, and she acts like it. She taught me that “there’s never a good reason to be mean to anybody” and she makes the world’s greatest rolls. She gardens, runs marathons, and cleans like moms used to (you know…back in the old days when dinosaurs roamed, ring was a pup, and she was a kid).  She humors us when we wanna roll around in the dirt, and doesn’t complain when we’re out on the lake and she’s cleaning up from or preparing a meal over a fire. Her fire food is every bit as good as her kitchen food. She plays the guitar, piano, and organ. She sings. She rocks babies to sleep. She snuggles with the best of ‘em, and even though she’s tiny, she can still hold her grown children on her lap and make all their owies go away. Believe me. I’ve done it.

The things I’m just learning about her amaze me. She went through a miscarriage while in Israel where nobody spoke English. She probably hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in 30-whatever years because of entirely too many physical issues to name. I’m sure her body hurts, and her joints are sore (what with the arthritis, fibromyalgia, and just plain old age (ha ha ha)), but you’d never know it. Why? Because she’s on her hands and knees waxing the kitchen floor, pulling weeds, planting flowers, talking to grandkids, or praying.

Probably crying sometimes too, but I’ve never seen her break down. I’ve seen her cry, but it’s always with joy, from feeling spirit, or for someone else’s hurt. She doesn’t complain, she doesn’t whine, and you’ll probably never know about anything that bugs her. I don’t think she has pet peeves, and I don’t think she gets annoyed by people. My mom is wonder woman, and no matter how hard your mom tries, she’ll never be able to beat up my mom.

I’ve only had mothers-in-law for 3 years but I can’t begin to express my appreciation for these wonderful women.

Josh’s mom is one of those people that you know are going straight to the Celestial Kingdom because of their pure and simple goodness. There is no doubt in my mind that if I wanna see her after this life (and I do), I’d better shape up and be better. She knows the rules and she follows them. She is dedicated to the gospel and to her family. She loves kids (even those of us she didn’t raise) and she has perfect faith. I don’t think anybody ever questions her intentions because it’s clear that she does things out of love. She cares about people and always knows (and remembers) big events coming up. She’s interested in what’s going on in your life and she wants you to know she cares and she loves you. She’s strong and capable of anything. She fills so many roles it’s hard to imagine how she has time to do the “regular mom stuff” but somehow she always makes it happen. The faith with which she has lived is amazing to me.

Josh’s step-mom is that woman that you look at and wonder how she keeps going. From my perspective her life is exhausting, and she takes on jobs that most women don’t. She works graveyard shifts as a nurse, and I’m pretty sure she knows everything medical there is to know. She runs the household, cooks, cleans, gardens, and puts up her own Christmas lights. She stepped in to be an incredible mother to Josh when he was young. She is not the kind of woman who asks for help, probably because she can do everything by herself. She is strong and knows how to stand up for herself and I truly think there isn’t anything she can’t do.

Not only are they incredible mother’s to me now, but they raised Josh and taught him how to be the man he is. They taught him respect and caring, they taught him how to work and how to play. I’m pretty sure they taught him about PMS, but it’s not the kind of thing you truly understand until you’ve married to it….they tried though. J I’m married to an incredible man, and lucky enough to have mothers-in-law who managed to give him all of their goodness and keep plenty of it for themselves too.

The bottom line is, no matter how old I get, no matter where I am, no matter who I’m with or what I’m doing. I have mommies who love me and really, what else matters?

Let’s talk about moms.

Growing up Mother’s Day was not only about my incredibly-super-fantastic-amazing-super-mom but about ALL of the women who helped raise me. All of the women I looked to when I needed advice. And ALL of the women who loved me unconditionally. There are a lot of people who fit into those categories (seriously, a lot) and even though I haven’t seen many of them for years I still think of them every year on Mother’s Day.

Since I practically lived at Carly’s house, I saw her mom as much as I saw my own. Not once did she yell or scream. Not once did she kick us out (and I’m sure she wanted to) and more than once she planned cool stuff for us to do. More than anything though, she let us be stupid teenagers and didn’t hate us for it. It may not sound like a big deal, but to me it was. Carly’s Grandma falls in this same category. Also she taught me that there’s no point in leaving stuff in the fridge for more than 3 days because nobody wants it after that anyway and it’s easier to just throw it away before its growing things. I’m pretty sure she still has the cleanest fridge I’ve ever seen.


Other neighborhood moms I have to include:
Heather’s mom who taught me how to swear (a talent I probably wouldn't have learned anywhere else) starting with the first time I ever walked through their door.
Megan’s mom who does it all. I really can’t think of one single ‘mom-role’ that she doesn’t fill. She's the kind of woman all the other moms hate - not because she's hateable....she's not....just because nobody can keep up with her.
Platt’s mom who is the queen of service, bettering yourself, and working hard.
Andrea who let me play mom to her kids….I look at kids the age I was and admire her for her faith in me. (yikes!) I truly can’t believe she trusted me with her kids.
Of course there were others, but we'll stop here.

My “work moms” are some of the most incredible women I’ve ever known. Ever. I was lucky enough to land a SWEET job at USDC in high school and stay for 2 years. The ladies I worked with were so good to me it’s ridiculous. They helped me make decisions. They taught me how to grow up. They loved me and celebrated with me when I decided to do something good. These women made me feel like a grown-up and a valued member of “the team”. I learned all about business and real life in that office. My 18-year-old brain could barely stand the thought of leaving there, ever. Even to go to more school. Mostly because I loved them so much. But of course they wouldn’t let me “settle” there because they thought I could do and become more. They were right, but I’d still like to hang out there for 4 hours a day. Also they taught me how to spell “development” and laughed with me when we saw that the receipts we’d been using for umpteen years said “devleopement” on them. I still can’t spell development without thinking “dev-lee-ope-ment”.


Now that I'm a grown up working with grown ups, I don't think of my co-workers as my own moms, but as my friends. Still Aundrea and Karleen are some of the best examples of motherhood a girl could ask for. I can't begin to list the things they've taught me, mostly by showing me how they are with their kids. They're kind enough to share their personal experiences and teach me from their experiences. I'm thrilled that Baby Egbert will get to know these women as adoptive moms (grandmas if they were old enough...they're not....no matter what Spencer says about looking "motherly" or how many grandkids they already have).

My Young Women leaders (Reeves, Gurney, Joy Lee, Bowman and a million others) were amazing. Mostly I think of Girl’s Camp when I think of them, and WOW did they put up with a lot. But, they “roughed it” with us and they attempted to help us have better attitudes. They taught me about trenching and being prepared. They taught me about drying out sleeping bags in the morning because I hadn’t trenched as I was taught. They taught me about responsibility and setting a good example (I didn’t act on that until MUCH later in my life…but I hope they know they taught it to me). These were women of faith and women of courage and I’m alarmed at the things they went through with me & my incredibly obnoxious group of friends (13^th ward anybody?).  Probably because most of them were moms of the other girls and couldn’t very well disown their own children. They also taught us how to work, serve and obey our leaders (even though we whined about it the whole time).

When I turned 18 and had to go to Relief Society (kindof against my will) there was a small group of women who made me feel more welcome than I could have dreamed. Dianna Otterstrom always said hi to me and asked how I was doing somehow she knew what was going on in my life (it was a mystery then, kinda like how the tooth-ferry knew when I lost a tooth….something makes me think the same source kept both people filled in….) She was also a “cool mom” and I’m pretty sure she was in YW at one point so I felt like I belonged wherever she was. It just so happened that she went to RS. Sister Maughn is the perfect example of poise and lady-like-ness, but not in a holier-than-thou snooty way. You still feel totally comfortable with her. She’s like the queen of England without the stress....or the tea.

I could go on all day, but I’m pretty sure you’ve given up reading by now. The examples of good moms in my life seems to never end. I’m continually surrounded by incredible women, some who have given birth, some who haven’t. Some who currently care for kids full time, some who don’t. No matter their situation, they’ve taught me the most important things about being a mom, and for that I am incredibly thankful. 

Breakfast of champions

Because apparently scarfing a bowl of Special K and smashing your gag reflex with a toothbrush repeatedly doesn't mix well with pregnancy.

Eh well, I'm here.

I feel...

I feel.....

• Happy for a beautiful spring day. I truly believe that the current 62 degrees it is outside is PERFECT.
• Thankful for my husband.
• Glad to have been married in the temple.
• Anxious about the upcoming temperature hike.
• Pressure to be EVERYWHERE this weekend. (I'm becoming a Holiday hater....but that's a whole other post....)
• Like chopping off all my hair and starting over.
• Excited for my Scentsy stuff. (Thanks Jess!)
• Lonely - is anybody NOT on vacation today? Anybody?
• Loved by my family.
• THRILLED for Misty & Ryan (my baby won't be the only Baby Egbert!)
• Nervous about major decisions.
• Ready for summer camping season to start.
• Baby Egbert swimmin' around - at about 4:30 every day. It's our special bonding time.
• Ready for a new wardrobe.
• Surprised that the blue votes are currently more than pink!
• Not as filthy rich as the people around me.
• WAY filthier rich than the people far from me.
• Irritated by people's inability to CLOCK IN when you're here and CLOCK OUT when you leave. (Really. It's not rocket science.)
• Happy to have pregnancy buddies, Nancy (closest to my due date), Katy (closest to my DNA), Wendy (closest to my brother) AND Misty (closest to my crazy-in-law life). Anytime ANYTHING happens in this pregnancy, someone else just went through it, or is about to. That's a nice feeling.
• Grateful for priesthood leaders. Especially my totally awesome bishopric.
• Content with life in general.
• The clock ticking slower than my heartbeat....is that a bad thing?

Free Stuff

Since I don't wanna share my lopsidedness with the whole world I'm working really hard on winning a free one of these. Also because it's cute, and I need to work on my cute factor. Thanks Nancy, for the tip.

Do you think I could "wear" it on a regular basis and not have to buy as many shirts?

If you want to win one too, you can enter, I guess. But the less people who enter, the better my chances are.....so.....you know, I'm not going to tell you to run over and enter the contest now. I'm also not going to tell you that I've been putting off posting it on my blog so you wouldn't have as much time to enter. :)

Shameless, I know.

But I will tell you (when I win) how much I love this thing, and tell you to buy one from her. I'm all for supporting the business, just not sharing my opportunity to win it for free.

Lopsided

It's not like I've been perfectly proportioned my whole life, but until yesterday, I've never looked in the mirror and been able to SEE, actually physically see, one side of me bigger than the other.

Nobody told me that I'd pee my pants every time I puked, coughed or sneezed. And nobody bothered to mention that my boobs were gonna grow at different rates.

Josh laughed at me when I told him, and said "yep. they're different."

Seriously? I get that my body is gonna change, but can't it change on BOTH sides? Come on.

Things I can reach

I have to stand up and move about every hour. Really, I've started making excuses. Pretending I meant to print something so I can walk to the printer and back with nothing in my hands, needing more ice, stocking office supplies, etc.

Just now I realized that there are a lot of things within arm's reach that I don't even have to move for. Believe it or not, most of these things are relatively entertaining....

my cell phone

stapler

tape dispenser

2 giant cups of water (one of ice, one of ice water)

an orange

my debit card/ID badge

the "hold up the papers" thing that I like to pinch my fingers with

my "knocking wood"
(I asked the cabinet guys for a "scrap of wood" so that when I "knock on wood" I wouldn't have to knock on laminate anymore. They brought me this beautiful polished piece of mahogany complete with felt feet.)

my glasses

a very lovely picture of me and handsome hubby

a snowman

pen and paper

name plate

phone

kleenex

heart paperclip from Tahnee (she loves me you know...)

there were 2 grimy ziplock bags, but i just threw them away cuz they were grossing me out.

my radio
(Aundrea and I might be allowed to play marco polo now that she has a mobile one instead of a big "base radio". I think I'd win if we played I Spy....I'm not so sure about marco polo.)

Sticky notes & post it flags in every size and 2 colors (respectively)

Really I should be able to keep myself entertained with all that stuff, right?

So why am I SOOO BORED?!?!?!?!

Priorities

One of the hardest things in life for me is figuring out which good things to do at which times.

Like tonight. 

Should I watch The Biggest Loser Finale? Or American Idol?

Make dinner? Or go on a walk?

Dishes? Or Laundry?

Nap? Or read about parenting and giving birth?

Ideally I wouldn't be so drained, tired, and overwhelmed and I could choose all of those things in one night. Ideally I’d feel like waking up before noon. Ideally we'd be independently wealthy and throwing money out of our helicopter on our way to kayak (in our own kayak...) in Alaska and it wouldn't be irresponsible or unreasonable. Ideally I’d weigh 105 pounds and never eat chocolate. But sometimes you sleep till noon, have a Cadbury mini egg for breakfast, show up at work in Utah in a regular old car without giving anybody as much as a dime, and weigh more than you want. That’s called being a grownup.

So, tonight I have some choices to make, but that’s nothing compared to the other choices I have. Especially when it comes to parenting.

I have a theory that mom’s only have a certain amount of energy. Rather than labeling with a number (which would be wrong anyway) we’ll just use percentages. I have 100% of my energy. How I spend it is up to me. 

Right now the split seems to be 50% sleeping 40% eating 5% puking and 5% blogging about the sleeping, eating, and puking.

When the baby is born, I’m betting it switches to 50% diapers, 40% cuddling, oohing and ahhing, 5% eating, and 5% sleeping.

But eventually I’ll have to get up, take a shower, and act like a mom. That’s when the choices really get hard. There are so many really great practices, theories, and things to teach your kids. And a lot of them are best if you start right away. So, how am I supposed to know what’s most important?

I hope we do the babywise (or something similar) thing so our child WE can sleep through the night.

I’m really interested in Elimination Communication, because I’d love to not be changing diapers my whole life.

I’d like to spend plenty of time signing and reading with my child.

I hope I’ll be better about meal planning and cleaning on a regular basis.

I should be offering choices a la Parenting With Love & Logic.

Teaching my kid to eat good food, make good choices, and of course read, write, and rithmetic are important.

I want to have plenty of time for playing and bonding.

Learning to interact with other kids and sharing is a must (although I don’t have a clue how to teach a child that).

What about the actual birth? Natural or drugs? hypno? water? bradley? In those precious first few moments of Baby Egbert's life, how do I make sure that Baby is getting everything Baby needs?

And that's just the beginning of the list of things I know about, and there are 10 million more that I have no idea about.

The problem is every one of these things take a lot of time, dedication, and making sure that you take some action every time something happens. i.e. putting the child in the crib when sleeping. Child on the toilet when taking care of business, etc.

The bottom line is, I only have 100% of my energy, and 100% of my time each day. So, how do I pick which of all these good things are most important and how do I pick what really doesn’t matter that much to me? 

What did you pick and why? What do you wish you'd picked? What am I completely forgetting about? How much time/energy do which things really take? How much time/energy do I really have?