Two Scoops

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.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

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.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

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.

Monday, May 25, 2009

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!

Saturday, May 23, 2009

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.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

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.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

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.

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.