Da Belly: 37 Weeks

This is 37 weeks:

We are now full term, fully swollen and getting stupider by the day.

Josh freaked out a little (OK a lot) when I told him this kid could come anytime now and it would be fine. That's when he decided to tear my house apart....defense mechanism perhaps?

Baby is growing, moving, and squishing my guts out. If it weren't for the fact that my ankles are 3 times their normal size I'd guess that every pound I gain (a lot all of a sudden) is going straight to baby.

Dr. Man refuses to tell me that I'll go at least to my due date, but I really think he's just saying "I could go early" that so I don't kick him in the face.

"How to have a baby" teacher insists that I'll go a week past my due date and that all babies hate to be naked, love to be swaddled and NEED to be breast fed or they will immediately die.

Being pregnant rocks.

That's when I smacked her with my belly.....

Poor Katie.

There she sat on the front row in RS (it's because she came in late....probably not because she wanted to be there).

I always sit on the 2nd row, close enough for me to be able to pay attention, but not on the front row because I'm scared of being stepped on.

After the lesson (in which Katie made some fantastic and thoughtful remarks) I started to make my way toward the door.

I waddle/side-shuffled toward the door trying to get my church bag over my shoulder while taking baby-steps sideways through the aisle of chairs. My flip-flops flipped and flopped loudly because I don't believe in wearing flip-flops to church but they don't make real shoes as big as my swollen canoes feet. Since I don't believe in wearing flip-flops at church it's necessary for them to flip and flop loudly to attract the attention of everyone in the building.

As I approached the end of the row (where Katie was sitting on the chair in front of me) I turned to start walking forward and put a stop to the side-shuffle/waddle combo.

That's when my big fat belly smacked her in the head.

She turned, looked up at me, and laughed out loud.

I bumbled and tried my best to discreetly apologize. "I'M SO SORRY!" I bellowed discreet isn't my thing. "I STILL CAN'T GET USED TO HOW HUGE I AM!"

Fortunately she's been pregnant before and laughed some more while telling me I'll never get used to my belly being that big. Ever.

That's unfortunate, it would be nice to not ram my kid into the heads of unsuspecting victims.

The good, the bad, the ugly

The good: Today is the day that we're officially full-term. Now that the house is torn apart, I'm as far from "ready" as I can possibly get, and I have officially decided not to buy a Halloween Costume for Thomas...well, since Murphy (the one with the law) and I are such good friends, I'm glad that it's officially OK to have this baby now.

The bad: Costco Pizza joined the ranks with blueberry poptarts, yogurt, & fresh-mex tater tots, on the list of "nastiest things to vomit". I may never eat it again. Poor Costco - they might go bankrupt.

The ugly: Painting the baseboards requires moving all of the furniture in the world. Where's a girl supposed to sit?

Yom Kippur anyone?

Betcha didn't know (or care) that today is Yom Kippur. Unless you're my little brother, then you did know and care.

Josh works for a big national company. It's called Redbox. Maybe you've heard of it?

Redbox is not run by a Mormon. That means they don't celebrate Pioneer day.

I work for a big national company in Utah. It's called "The Mormons" (no, not legally, but in our house it is). Maybe you've heard of it?

"The Mormons" is run by a Mormon. That means we don't celebrate Yom Kippur.

That means Josh is celebrating Yom Kippur all alone at home today. Tragic isn't it?

If only we'd realized this was a Holiday (as in, paid time off!) maybe the two of us could've celebrated properly together by fasting, stinkily, in bare feet with no money and no sex. (really, read the link. that's how the celebrate - man they know how to throw a PART-AYYYY!)

Unfortunately it was late last night when Josh informed me he had the day off. So, I'm celebrating with my shoes off (nylons on DANG it!) by eating more food than you ever thought one woman could eat, and watching my feet swell a little more with each bite of blueberry frozen yogurt.

Meanwhile, Josh is celebrating by painting my baseboards and trim.

What about you? How did you celebrate Yom Kippur?

Crafty

I'm gonna brag.

You've been warned.

Lookit what I made! OK Mom Reilley (who has real talent) helped A LOT with this quiet book, but look how adorable this thing is! I love it and I'm proud of me for having finished it and for all of my work on it. And I'm glad to say that it is finished. Totally finished. (That's why I'm smiling.)

This thing is awesome, it's fully of pages like these:

The heads come off and switch around - we think it's funny for the elephant to be on the camel head...HA HA HA HA!

They are like these, because these are the pictures I took of the example book. Not mine. I totally took my iSpy page to church today. If you asked me I'd tell you I was making sure I could find all of the items in the bag, but the truth is closer to, "I wanted to play with my new toy". Thomas has no idea how lucky he is.

I also took down the March danglers this week. Instead of kites and 4 leaf clovers, we're Halloween finally.

I'm pretty proud of me on this one, because I did it 100% by myself. I free handed my ghost's cute face, I love the witch hat, and the cat's green eyes. Bottom line, I like these decorations.

And finally, I've been sewing bedding stuff to match the quilt that my mom is making for me. I make it look SO dang fun, that Josh wanted to play too. His mom would be so proud.

One thing I love about fall

Is hot drinks at work.

Mmmmm......

Da Belly: 36 Weeks

4 weeks left. 1 month. 3 weeks until "full term". Am I freaking out? Yes I am.

But, thanks to some fantastic baby showers and some incredibly generous people, I'm FAR more prepared than I ever dreamed of being.

Baby tidbit of the day: He's shedding all that body hair. I on the other hand, am growing it like crazy.

The cankles are coming!

I used to think I had cute toes. It's not because I'm vain, it's because they were actually cute. See?

I used to sorta like my feet.

Now they look like they've been swallowed by elephant legs. I know it's true because when I asked Josh "do you still love me even though I have elephant legs", he said "yep. Sure do." and kissed me on the cheek. If I didn't have elephant legs he should've said "of course I would if you did but you don't, so I don't really see how that's relevant." and dipped me romantically and kissed me right on the lips.

Are you as impressed as I am that I didn't start bawling on the spot and whimper that he must not love me if he thinks I look like an elephant?

Welcome to the 9th month of pregnancy.

Summer's End

It's kinda been the greatest summer of all time.

As a general rule I don't love summer. It's hot, and sticky. The days are too long. The nights are too short (and hot). The weekends are too busy. The family reunions are too abundant. The holidays too close together and not long enough (I'm more of a take a whole week off every 3 months kind of girl...not so much for taking 1 day here and 1 day there.).

However, there are a few things I love about summer and this year the weather wasn't so bad and we're having a baby and the whole summer was nice and relaxing and fun.

Now that tomorrow is officially fall, I thought I'd remember why I liked summer this year.

Camping.

Barbecues (games, swinging, jumping & BOLT are necessary parts to a perfect barbecue.)

Swimming

Babies.

Vacation.

Sheepdogging.

That is why this summer has been better than any other. Ever.

And I'm thrilled it's over and we get to have fall now.

Things I can't reach anymore....

Remember all the great things I used to be able to reach?

Now I can't reach anything. Ever.

My toes.

The radio controls.

The window button in the car.

The top shelf in the kitchen.

The buttons on my phone.

I don't stretch, I don't balance, I don't tip toe. I don't reach, squeeze, bend or crawl. For heaven sakes I can't even reach around my own belly to open the drawer the remotes are in.

I still haven't stopped turning sideways to fit in narrow spaces not an effective technique. Will I ever retrain myself?

Every time I bend down to reach for something I picture my 80-year-old-self (who, by the way, is totally cool) laughing and being tempted to just give me a little nudge to watch my 20-something-year-old-self fall over.

Then I find myself wondering...is this what old people feel like all the time? Is this why they're grouchy? When they bend and reach for things, do they groan because it hurts so bad? I'd like to ask my 80-year-old-self a lot of questions, but she's too busy laughing at me to be interviewed.

Sorry.....Also things I love.

I talk too much.
I'm too open.
I say words that make people uncomfortable.

For that, I'm sorry. But in my defense, it's all true!

Rest assured this post has nothing to do with body parts (reproductive or otherwise), babies, pregnancy, fluid of any sort, or Things The Dr. Does You Wish You Didn't Know About (now there's a great title for  post!).

This post is just your average every-day list of stuff I really like - because I'm grouchy and tired and I don't wanna spend my whole weekend that way: Also because I'm feeling self conscious about my last post being the one on top for even one more minute.

• The smell of rain. Or even sprinklers on a cool morning. I'm not picky.
• My family. All of them. But Josh, more than anyone else. Because Josh and I make a freakin' awesome family. Also all Fugals, Reilleys and Egberts and all of those related to them. I have an amazing family and I certainly don't deserve it, but I sure enjoy it!

• My pretty bottled peaches.
• Friends in the ward. I had an awesome baby shower last night and remembered all the reasons I love my ward. It's full of people who are kind and generous and concerned. People who genuinely care about each other and want to help. People who have great laughs and great jokes. And people who get along with each other. I love my ward.
• Fall. The leaves are changing color and getting crunchy. The Christmas lights are going up on Temple Square. And the mornings are cool enough that I wish I had a jacket. What's not to love?

• Reading a good book. Even if I can't go to book club because I'm learning how to have a baby, I love always having a list of good books to read.
• This day is over. And I get to start again tomorrow.
• A shoebox of photographs.
• Qwest finally found my money. That's comforting - it only took 64 days, 6 follow up phone calls (with an average hold time of 13 minutes) and 4 different payment research agents. Was it worth the $30 bill? Probably not, but it's a matter of principle! (Or is it a matter of principal? My mother would be ashamed...)
• The crib. Something about having a crib makes me feel more prepared. Imagine how high I'll be flying when it's actually set up!

Medical Euphamisms

The same person who decided to call it getting "fixed", "light pressure", and "a small pinch", also thought that getting "checked" was an appropriate term for the terrible invasion of my space this morning.

Surprisingly I'm more emotionally stable this morning than I anticipated being, and I didn't cry at the Dr.'s office or in the car.

Baby's head is down. We know that because Dr. Man felt it. As in: he reached up in me far enough to feel my baby's head!

In case you wondered if that is a comfortable process or not....it's not. Just go ahead and try to feel your own insides by way of your cervix. I dare you.


But here's why you never hear about how painful it is to "be checked": Because after the Dr. leaves the room the mom flops back on the table and lets out a tiny little groan. Then she starts to say "holy crap that HURT!" But she stops herself at "holy" because that's when she realizes that if she can't handle "getting checked" there is no possible way she's pushing a full grown BABY (starting with its gigantic head) out of her.

So mom shuts up and bites her tongue and starts to tell herself things like "there are more than 6 billion people wandering this planet right now, and they all got here the same way. Clearly this will not kill me."

Not this mom. This mom laid flopped back on the table uttered every word of "holy crap that HURT!" to Josh (who chuckled heartily), got dressed made her next appointment and left.

It wasn't until we were on the elevator that I realized the whole if you can't do this you'll never make it thing. And Josh told me that "it's all in my head" after which I promptly told him that "if it were all in my head my cervix wouldn't hurt so bad". And then I stepped on his toe and kicked him the shins and told him THAT was in his head. OK I didn't really kick him, or step on his toes (but only because I can't get close enough to his toes with mine without falling over...da belly gets in the way...) but I sure thought about it.

Fortunately Dr. Man is fantastic and while he's torturing me he tells me that everybody winces and whines when he does this. I'm totally normal. Oh good. Because I wasn't at all concerned about the pain, just about whether or not I was normal.

He also had the "this is labor, this is not" talk with us. Then he said we'll be doing these checks more frequently but not to worry because this baby is going to come before we can do too many of them (still at least 2-3 weeks out he's guessing). 2-3 weeks? For some reason I'm still counting in MONTHS over here!

When I told Dr. Man "everything hurts and I have to get out of the car before Josh drives over the bump at the end of the driveway so I can still walk up the stairs", he nodded knowingly (he gets a free pass to nod knowingly because he deals with whining pregnant women all day long) and said "yeah, I hate to tell you that there's nothing anybody can do about it and it's only going to get worse. A lot worse."

I tried to be positive and said "eh, nothing a month or 2 won't cure".
He put down his pen, stopped writing in the chart, his eyes got big and he looked at me and said "hopefully not a whole month!" like I was completely insane for thinking this could possibly last longer than 34 days.

I'm not sure whether to be comforted or totally freaked out by that.

As we walked out Josh asked "When did we get to this point?" and I had absolutely no response. We've been "planning" for this baby for 100 years and suddenly the 280 days of pregnancy are almost gone.

Da Belly: 35 Weeks

Here we are at 35 weeks:

I'm pretty sure that most people reach this level of discomfort a lot sooner than I did.

I'm also relatively certain I whine more than most people.

I'm also fairly confident that tomorrow's visit to Dr. Man will make me cry. Do I have to wait until we're in the car to cry? Or can I do it right there on the table?

Baby is growing. And kicking. And jabbing. And stabbing. Generally making sure I know he's there (he is) and mad about how much of my stomach space I think I have the right to use (I can't really tell the difference between a mad kick and a happy kick, but if I were him I'd be mad).

I am trying (unsuccessfully) to sleep, walk, stop whining, and eat the entire contents of my fridge on a daily basis (did you know it's possible to eat MORE?). 

I am also trying (successfully) to "nap" often, waddle around the office every 2 hours, mentally spend a small fortune on all the things I never knew I can't live without (do I really need a wipe warmer?), and tricking Josh into painting my toenails for me. (thanks for the help Tara!)

I think my baby's trying to kill me.

Aundrea dreamed that my water broke while I was at work and she had to fight with me over whether she should go get my car or if I should. I'm not saying that just because Aundrea dreamed it, it's true - but it is. The way this kid jabs at me with the knife he has in there (Who is smuggling this kid the weapons and toys? I sortof suspect Josh.....but  have no evidence. Can he go to jail for that?) I don't see how my water isn't going to break in the next 24 hours.

Maybe I'm not having a baby this week I don't know. All I know is that something happened this weekend.  Saturday morning I was fine. Today I am not.

Pregnancy is very suddenly harder and much more painful than it's been. I don't feel good, my body hurts, I literally have to hold my belly up with my hands every time I stand up or it will fall off. The whole thing, straight to the ground. Know why? Because the muscles supporting it are going to give out any second now. I can hear them ripping.

The pressure, sore muscles and bruising are enough to make me cry and never stop - except that crying hurts.

Yesterday I fell asleep at Josh's mom's on her couch in the front room. I was too tired to sit (yeah, too tired to sit!) and "had to" go lay down. And I did it before anybody even asked me if I wanted to.

I woke up about 4 times last night (I know it's not that many) and stayed up for at least an hour each time. I couldn't sleep because it hurt. Everything hurt. I couldn't move because it hurt. I couldn't lay down or sit or "roll" or breath or cry or even whine (I know, hard to imagine huh?) because everything hurts.

Those of you who feel like this the whole 9 months.....wow. I'm a sissy and you are brave. And I'm sorry.

How did we meet?

Well, I'm really glad you asked because this happens to be one of my very favorite stories of all time. Also I like to talk about how much my husband loves me.  oh yeah. and how much I love him.

Way back in the day, the summer before my senior year in high school, I had a friend who lived across the street named Platt. Actually we're still friends, but we no longer live across the street from each other, or attend the same school, and we're not in the same ward...so really I rarely see her, but I still think we're friends (wanna come play Platt?). I digress.


Her mom and my mom decided we were going to EFY in Idaho together. So we did.

One of our first activities in our group was where you all stand in a circle (this is outside on a grassy hill in Idaho, in the middle of summer) and close your eyes (I bet you were supposed to be blindfolded because I remember not being able to see, and normally I cheat at "close your eyes" games. I hate them.) Anyway, the leaders came around and whispered in our ears what animal we were, then we were supposed to make our animal sound and find all of the other people who matched us, and that would be our small group for our first activity.

I got assigned the oh-so-graceful pig. Stuff like this is why I hate games that start with "close your eyes". You should know that I can make a mean pig-snort-sound. And I did. And then I found other people who were pigs who were daintily walking around saying the words "snort snort" or "oink oink" while I was really snorting and oinking not just saying the words. And then I felt stupid. I was way out of my league. I don't think I've made that pig sound since then.  Ever. I was mortified.

Josh was the snake. Yes. That's right. THE snake. The one and only. After letting him wander around being the only one hissing somebody finally took pity on him and told him to just pick a group. He claims that he saw me and immediately decided to be in my group. I think he's making it up. Mostly because I don't remember him being in that group.

Anyway, I snorted, he hissed, and we wound up hanging out with some friends for the rest of the week.

It was EFY and he was who everybody wanted (and I do mean WANTED) because he was handsome and old and mature and had a car. It was EFY and there were twice as many girls as boys. It was EFY 2002 which is really just code for "flirtfest 2002" and Josh was the object of most people's affection.

Still, we were friends, but I tried my hardest not to throw myself at him (like all of the other incredibly immature people there) so I was really subtle. I sat by him as often as possible. I attended all of the same classes he did. I made him sign my gum wrapper and stuck it in my scriptures next to the scripture in 2 Ne. about being a "True Friend" (it's still there) and I stole his Seminary pen, and made him chase me for it. See what I mean? I'm much more mature than those other girls.

Later that year he mailed me the Seminary Pen. :) That's when I knew he loved me. (I'm rolling my eyes right now because what really happened was I freaked out and didn't know what to think. What does this MEAN?) That Seminary pen was analyzed by yours truly and I agonized over what he was trying to say for weeks. Years even. To be honest I still don't know what he was trying to do when he sent it to me.

The rest of the story gets juicy, sappy, and makes both of us look bad, so I won't tell it. Besides, the question is really "how did you meet" not "tell me all about your entire dating experience."

So, I'll leave you with that and my favorite picture of the week we met.

A mystery solved

We we first moved to Foxboro we opted to go to a "Marriage and Family Relations" Sunday School class instead of "normal" Sunday School. We just weren't up to be grown ups for the whole 3 hours and this was our way of rebelling.

The teachers were Dave & Kirstin. When we walked into the class I whispered to Josh that I was pretty sure I knew Dave but I couldn't figure out why.

He agreed and we sat and spent the rest of the hour wracking our brains to figure out why we both knew him whispering rejected ideas back and forth to each other listened reverently to the lesson. We didn't know that many of the same people because we'd only been married a little while, so the fact that we both knew him narrowed down our options significantly. Not high school. Not college. Not an old ward member. Not a co-worker.

For the next year and 9 months every time I see Dave my brain tweaks still trying to figure out why I know him.

Today it all comes to an end. And here's why. Today Dave & Kirstin spoke in Sacrament meeting (they were fantastic by the way).

Turns out I didn't know Dave before we were in the same ward.

Not even a little.

I just knew the guy who can only be his identical twin brother. Adam. Who walked into our sacrament meeting and sat on the front row. Maybe to support his brother who was speaking, but more likely so my mind could rest and I'd know why Dave looked so dang familiar.

At the EFY where Josh & I met Adam was.....memorable.

This kid was cool - he lived in Alaska. What's cooler than Alaska?

Plus he'd be walking around Ricks Campus (back before it was BYU-Idaho) and suddenly stop mid-step, turn to look behind him, bending both knees, smile his biggest cheesiest smile, and wave at.....nobody. The first time he did it someone asked what the crap he was doing. He smiled and said "Every once in a while I like to turn around and wave at the Camera of Life. I think it'll make for a better movie when I'm watching at judgement."

Everybody knew and loved Adam.

On picture day, Adam insisted that each picture he was in would include a great big hug.

I think all the pictures he took that day look like this:

And somehow he caught every single person off guard. Even those of us who watched 10 people go before us and knew exactly what to expect.

That my friends is how I don't know Dave, but I do know Adam.

**By way of update "Adam's" name is actually Seth. And he is Dave's brother, but not twin. And he did wave at the camera of life. And now he's rich and famous and makes awesome movies. Check him out here.**

Miracles

Earlier this week we had a "how to bottle peaches" Enrichment activity in our ward, which was awesome. We all learned how to do part of the process, we all worked together, and we all got peaches out of the deal.

The kitchen in our building was not really in "warming and serving" mode, but the activity was fantastic and I'm glad I went.

Here's the miracle: Every single bottle sealed. Yes. All of them. There were like 10 million or something and not one didn't do what it should have. That is a miracle.

**********************************************************
Josh and I went grocery shopping last night. It was the case lot sale and we thought we should stock up on some food-storagey stuff. We bought like 10 million cans of stuff and came home and every single can fit in our closet.

The fact that we could buy enough to be concerned about having a place to put it is a miracle. The fact that it all fit in our closets is a miracle. The fact that we have food storage is a miracle.

**********************************************************
Usually Josh rolls over with me all night long. Every time I roll, he rolls and we take turns being the "outside spoon". Now that "rolling" (let's be honest, that maneuver cannot be called "rolling" by any stretch of the imagination but we're calling that anyway because "rolling" is shorter than "hefting my enormous self up and over and flopping me back down again in a way that you've only seen a beached whale move") is such a fiasco he (and I) come all the way out of our deep sleep to roll.

Except not last night. I woke up, but Josh didn't. That means I didn't feel so guilty about waking him up all night with my rolling. And that is a miracle.

**********************************************************
At work on Friday Aundrea got Mike to move all of his Work Orders to History. You don't get it, and that's OK. But it is a miracle.

Planning ahead

It's September.

This morning the air outside was cool. And wet. Like fall. (Or like summer when the sprinklers have been on.... I'll take what I can get.)

Fall is when we get our first snowfall.

Therefore, it's time for me to start planning on exactly how I'll pull ahead.

This year presents a new challenge to make it more interesting: the waddle.

I'm open to suggestions.

I dreamed a dream

Normally my dreams are weird. And unreal. And disturbing. And strange. And nothing like real life.

Normally when I wake up crying it's because I'm a sissy and scary dreams freak me out. Or because something sad happened and I wasn't finished crying when I fell asleep.

Normally when I dream of my Baby I dream that he comes out and he's a girl. Or that he's sticking his foot out of my belly. Or that we accidentally named him Poindexter.

Today wasn't normal. This morning I dreamt a totally normal dream of Baby Thomas.

And when I woke up I cried because I thought it was real. When he wasn't there with me my heart hurt because I wanted him back. He had a beautiful smile and an even more beautiful laugh. And he was perfect and he loved me as much as I love him.

I tried to go back to sleep to continue my dream, but I couldn't. And I didn't.

So I suppose I'll have to wait until he's ready to come and be mine and smile and laugh and be perfect in my arms - only next time it'll be in real life.

Just keep swimmin'....

Before this point in the pregnancy I would rate Baby Thomas's activity level rivaling that of a slug's. Or perhaps a sloth. But not that cute chatty sloth from Ice Age, the kind you see on the discovery channel, just sitting there hanging upside down from a branch. Or the kind they talk about in the scriptures. You know, the l.a.z.y. kind.

I suppose since I blame him for everything he could blame the laziness on me and it would be fair. It probably is genetic and heaven only knows he doesn't get it from his father. (Check me out! I'm a grownup referring to Josh as "his father". Don't I sound old?)

But this last week something has changed.

Suddenly Thomas is dying to get out of there. Or maybe he just learned to like it in there. Or just discovered a soccer ball to play with. Or figured out how to do flips. Or realized he's alive. Or ran out of reruns to watch (Me too Thomas. Fortunately SYTYCD starts tonight).

He's moving. He's kicking. He's swimming. He's flipping. Who knows what else he's doing in there. Whatever it is it's throwing off my balance.

There's nothing like walking down the hall and having your belly move independently to make you trip over your new and improved enormous feet. I don't actually think my feet have grown that much, they're just swollen and I'm awkward so I'd like to blame it on the body changing....

I swear every time I eat (which is pretty much all day long since Dr. Man told me I could only take 2 bites at a time and then maybe I wouldn't puke so much) the kid is like a fish coming up to be fed. He gets his head  up as high as possible then does flips walking up the walls of the stomach to force his feet over his head. Maybe he'll be one of those weird extreme walking guys.....or the crazy fish from Nemo. (Josh is already trying to teach Thomas to speak whale.) 


I love this kid, but the constant motion is kinda making me sick (this feeling is why I don't do roller coasters. Or heights. Or drive fast over speed bumps or down hills.) And sometimes he hurts! I suspect that "baby fat" is code for "muscles with which to beat you from the inside". But nobody would go "oooohhh...how cute...." over muscles. So they call it "baby fat" instead. And I'm 1000% distracted by it (the constant kicking - are you following what with all the side notes?). And it usually ends in the mother of all seat-drops on my bladder which is currently doubling as a trampoline. Because you know...."make it do or do without". This kid wouldda been a great pioneer.

But here's the thing. I totally love feeling him move. He's a real live person in there! And he's MINE! And my big belly never looks cooler than when he's trying to get out. And he moves even when I don't. And when Josh rests his hand on me he kicks it. And when I rest my hand on my belly he calms down. And I love him. And I can't believe how lucky I am that I get to carry this kid.

So, whether he's swimmin' or kickin' or flippin' or extreme walking, I don't really care. Because secretly, even though it makes me sick and nervous and unbalanced, I really really like it.

Don't you wish....?

Don't you wish you had dinner at my house on Sunday?

That's A LOT of fresh (from someone else's garden) veggies (squash, asparagus, tomatoes, zucchini, and onion) mixed in with a bunch of spices and some noodles and it was goooood.

And Josh cooked most of it for me.

Sometimes it's OK to covet.

Just sayin'.

Sheepdog Competition

On Thursday Josh called me and asked if we had plans he didn't know about for the Holiday weekend.

Given that my version of "making plans" these days has more to do with napping and eating than.....well anything else, he would've been safe betting that my answer was a slightly hysterical "You actually think I'm going to initiate either one of us getting off the couch this weekend? Good try babe, but you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming from my very comfy couch."

But Josh is a Mormon, so he doesn't bet.
Also he's a good husband so he pretends I'm still fun even though I'm not.

I (very hesitantly) told him we had no plans, and asked what he was thinking.

"Dude! (yes, he calls me dude. It's how I know he thinks I'm lovely and beautiful and charming and elegant and feminine....cuz what's more romantic than 'dude'?) I just saw a sign for some sheep-competition-dog-fest thing. It's at Soldier Hollow this weekend, can we go?"

I sat on the other end of the line unsuccessfully trying not to laugh out loud at him. What kind of person wants to go to a "sheep-competition-dog-fest" anyway? Josh is allergic to dogs. We don't have dogs. We don't have sheep. We don't even know what sheepdogs do. And we certainly don't care about the festival of all things relating to sheepdogging.

Finally through my laughing I told him I thought he was "so weird!" and that "yeah sure. we can do that if you want to." You should know how proud* I am of myself for having such a great attitude and laughing instead of crying and saying 'yeah sure' instead of 'over my dead body'. Sometimes I really am a good wife.

Turns out a lot of people not only knew the International Sheepdog Festival exists, but they go to this thing. I know because all of you (Rachel) blogged about it and I saw you there (Felecia) and we waited in line behind you to get our lunch (crazy guy with a tattoo) and we sat behind you on the bleachers (old guy with a big butt) and you parked too close to our car (dirtbag in a big fat truck), and you took all the seats at the lunch tables (grouchy lady who whined about teh wind), and you were as excited as I was about the port-a-handwashing-stations outside the cleanest port-a-potties I've ever seen (mother of 3 kids under 5 years old).

Also I know you were there because we stole the last seats at the Amazing Canines show and felt guilty when you looked as hot and tired as we felt, but we didn't offer you our seats because we earned them. Also because we're not the nice seat-offering kind of people you wish we were. Sorry. I'm pregnant and I don't care that you've been dragging around your 2-year-old looking for "lost sheep" so you can get a free ice cream cone all day long. But we're not going to talk about that because it makes me look bad.


We started the day with the splash dogs competition because we heard (OK I read it on Rachel's blog) that it was the coolest part. And I'd hate to be grouchy during the coolest part. When you plan to spend the day out in the hot sun waddling around crowds of people grouchy is pretty much inevitable. These dogs freakin' rocked. They looked beautiful jumping (see?)

Except those that were pansies and wouldn't jump. They did not look beautiful - probably because they weren't jumping. Sissies.

These guys tried to get this dog to jump for a good 5 minutes, patting the end of the platform, "go go go!" they'd shout. The threw stuff into the pool, they tried to make him run off the edge without noticing that he was jumping off a cliff, but this dog wasn't going for it. Way too smart for that. He walked around to the ramp intended to let him out of the pool and walked into the pool that way to get his toys.

We watched lots of other dog stuff (mostly cheesy and geared toward young kids), the actual sheepdog part (some guy actually came from South Africa to compete...SOUTH AFRICA!), talked to people and got a wicked sunburn.

The day ended with the decision to veto Swiss Days (didn't really feel like looking at expensive crafts I can't afford to buy) in favor of stopping at 7-11 for the greatest slurpee of all time. Doesn't matter the flavor, (but it didn't cost $10, and it would have at Sheepdog Land) just matters that it was at the end of a VERY VERY long hot day.

In all I was really pleasantly surprised at how un-lame the Sheepdog Festival was (even though I'm still laughing that we spent Labor Day there). Will I go next year? Haul my 1 year old child around in the hot sun and hope he's entertained by a dog running up a hill to gather the sheep (for like 20 mintues)?

No. Absolutely not. Even if I'm trying to convinvce Josh that we still do fun things. Even after all these years.

If he needs convincing, we'll go to the beach. Or the zoo. Or the grocery store. See? I'm cool.

*Pride is a sin, but you wanna know what else I'm proud of? Being smart enough to just take a picture of the big sign with the schedule instead of paying $5 for a program. Cheapskate extraordinaire.

Logan Temple

We went to the Logan temple instead of our own for Ward Temple Day. Probably defeats the purpose, but we were in Logan anyway and wanted to go somewhere new. So we rebelled.

I really love the Logan temple - look how pretty it is!....even during construction.

Mostly I love it when Josh takes me there. It was a great day.

Da Belly: 34 Weeks

That's right. 34 weeks. That's a significant number because it means just 6 weeks left. 

Only pregnant ladies know about all the other numbers of weeks. But even normal people measure by 6 weeks. Even my 19 year old brother-in-law could tell you that 6 weeks is just a month and a half. The countdown is real now. And it seems to be going by faster every week. I'm still bitter that I'm counting down to nothing....kindof annoying.

For baby 34 weeks means:

• Developing lungs.
• Fat layers. I won't lie, I love baby fat.
• Smooth skin.

For me 34 weeks means:

• More panic over all the things I have yet to prepare. Everything falls in the category. My particular brand of nesting is totally useless. My child has nowhere to sleep, no decorations, very few essentials and I have no clue where we'll put all of his stuff....BUT my bookshelf is reorganized and I wiped the dust off the tops of all the light switches.
• More sleepless nights. I kid you not, last night I woke up for my 2am potty break and wasn't even back to my bed before a swift kick in the bladder had me running back for the toilet. The toilet is not that far from the bed. 
• Swollen hands and feet. I'm secretly hoping that by keeping my feet propped up on my computer tower all day long I'll avoid cankles....that's fair, right?
• Apparent hyper-sensitivity to the sun.

Here's your sign

When you come to work looking like a , by 9am you realize that more people see your skin than you ever noticed. 

Maybe part of you feels exposed.
Maybe part of you feels noticed and cared for.
Maybe part of you feels stupid (what kind of idiot stays outside all day long with ZERO sunscreen anyway?).
Maybe part of you feels like everyone ELSE is stupid (what kind of idiot sees someone who is this shade of red and feels the need to ask "didja get some sun this weekend?")

Maybe part of you wants to respond "Nope. Sat in my basement all weekend long with the lights off watching movies....here's your sign." or "Nope. Call it a makeup malfunction....here's your sign" or "Nope. Showered in tomato juice this morning.....here's your sign."

But mostly you probably just laugh because deep down inside you know that they spent their weekend doing something way less fun than the Sheepdog Festival.

Besides, One thing I love about being sunburned at work, is that everybody knows I had a great holiday weekend, and a lot more people ask what I did. So instead of dishing out signs to all 9,000 people who ask about my current shade of red, I'm just gonna smile and pretend they're the first to comment. Even if it is 2pm.

After all these years....

My mom is pretty dang funny. And she knows it. (I think. Mom, do you know it?)

She always used to say she knew she had been married to my dad for a looooo-oooong time because they were "already on our 2nd bottle of Tabasco sauce".

That's why I thought of her last night as I emptied a spice container for the first time in my entire grown-up life.

I think this means I'm old. Which is funny because sometimes Josh & I like to pretend we're old ("Isn't it amazing that we're still so in love? Even after all these years?" He's been saying that to me since our honeymoon. A whopping 3 years ago. "Amazing what they can do with technology now'a-days, isn't it?" We're barely old enough to have watched the iPod revolution....and my personal favorite "Kids these days..." Josh will say while shaking his head. Meanwhile, some real live old person is looking at him going...."kids these days...."), but if we're really old none of that's funny anymore. And if I have to start buying more spices because I RAN OUT (instead of because I've never owned it, what kind of cool, young, hip college student actually stocks cumin anyway?!) well now, that's just a slap in the face isn't it?

Filth

Does anyone actually remove the cover on the back of the hairdryer to clean out that filter thing? Ever? If I read the instructions (I don't, and won't) would I find a maintenance schedule? How often is a person supposed to do something like that?

I may or may not be asking because I left my hairdryer on the counter, causing Josh to throw it on the floor in a fit of rage accidentally bump it with his elbow knocking it on the ground, breaking the cheap-o plastic cover revealing this nastiness:

Dr's say the darndest things.

"Next time you come (in two weeks) we'll start checking to see if anything's going on. If you have any contractions after that point we won't do anything to stop them because really it's "go time" and you could have this kid any day now."

Do you think Dr. Man is saying things just to freak me out?

No worries he also told me that if I'm not having a lot of contractions by now (I'm not) there's very little chance of pre-term labor. Chances are I'll at least go to my due date.

He gave me another prescription that will hopefully stop the midnight puking sessions which is "not about the hormones anymore, it's because there's physically no room for your stomach to hold any food, so you just puke it out instead of digesting." Oh great then! Just keep it coming. 

Biggest milestone of the day? I drove to the Dr's office all by myself (for the first time) and didn't even get lost! "just follow the road until the weird tooth flower bed....weird tooth flower bed, weird tooth flower bed." There is a dentist's office that has a flower bed in the shape of a tooth in their front yard. They've planted red and white flowers in it so it looks like a diagram of a tooth. Dentists are a weird bunch. What if they pull those flowers out before Baby Thomas comes? Will I be able to find the hospital?

Da Belly: 33 Weeks

Cool development of the week: Baby's skull (while hardening) is NOT fusing together. You know...to make the birthing process easy and comfortable. Awfully generous of him, don't you think?

Meanwhile I'm trying to nap regularly (and by 'regularly' I mean 5-10 naps / weekend to make up for the lack of naps during the week) and Thomas is moving much more consistently. Do you think he reads my blog and tries to prove me wrong? Every time I say he doesn't move much....he makes it his personal goal to move as much as possible. Last night he woke me out of a dead sleep with his kicking. I liked it.

Pregnancy is hands down the coolest thing I've ever experienced. And I'm starting to be a little sad that it will be over soon.