After two months of late church, I can honestly say that it hasn't been too bad. Because of my morning running routine, I don't usually lounge around in pajamas. But late-church Sundays have given me an excuse to do so. I will not pretend that Rhett does well without a nap, however. Let's just say that early bedtimes on Sunday have become the norm.
How have we been spending the mornings? It's not yet warm enough to get Bruno walked, so after breakfast and Rhett's bath, I've taken it upon us to do different organizational projects. You know, like D and C 88:119 says, "Organize yourselves; establish a house of order."
Call it nesting, call it cleaning house, call it whatever you want. But already this year we've organized Rhett's closet, our snow clothes and gear, the camping supplies, electronic junk (free VCR anyone?), and my maternity clothes. Every where I look, I see another organization project. On the "to do" list is the medicine cabinet (which isn't a cabinet in the bathroom, but a cabinet in the kitchen and it's a disaster), our bedside tables, and my fabric and craft supplies. I'm so excited!
And how awesome is it that tomorrow is March? Uh, soooo awesome!
P.S. If you want to see a video of us sledding in Utah in January, click here Minute 2:20 is especially funny to me.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Sewing Again
I do 99.34% of my sewing during nap time and after Rhett goes to bed. But because this pregnancy continues to zap nearly all of my energy, I have done little sewing as of late, choosing to sleep during those times instead. I expected to be tired through week 13, but so am frustrated that the exhaustion is not completely gone as I near 17 weeks. Let's just say I'm tired of being tired.
Regardless, I have worked on a couple of things since the Pioneer skirt disaster. First was this calendar for Rhett. He repeatedly asks, "What day is it?" I tired of this and decided to make a calendar that is week-based. His follow-up question is always, "What do we do on _____?" (fill in the day). So now he knows! The little pictures are stuck on with double-sided tape, so it's easy to move them depending on what's happening that day. My Silhouette totally came in handy here.
This was another one of those, "Why have I been living with this [insert crappy object] when I know how to sew?!" projects. It also came at just the right time since Wednesday's mutual activity with the Laurels was on budgeting. Since I wanted a new checkbook cover, we all got new checkbook covers! I love the simplicity of Small Fry and Co.'s tutorial, made easier because I didn't do the button (I hate doing buttons). Thanks Small Fry!
Finally, when I purchased the sheet for what-was-to-become my Pioneer skirt, I also bought a sheet intended for maternity pajama pants (can you tell I'm super nervous about a summer pregnancy?). After stealing the elastic from the Pioneer skirt, I was able to finish these pants. They're too chilly for now, but I'm sure I'll love them soon enough. I followed Dana's tutorial on her blog Made.
And finally, I made this vest and tie for a good friend's newborn son. I really enjoy doing vests because they're fairly simple, but something a little different for a baby boy gift.
Regardless, I have worked on a couple of things since the Pioneer skirt disaster. First was this calendar for Rhett. He repeatedly asks, "What day is it?" I tired of this and decided to make a calendar that is week-based. His follow-up question is always, "What do we do on _____?" (fill in the day). So now he knows! The little pictures are stuck on with double-sided tape, so it's easy to move them depending on what's happening that day. My Silhouette totally came in handy here.
This was another one of those, "Why have I been living with this [insert crappy object] when I know how to sew?!" projects. It also came at just the right time since Wednesday's mutual activity with the Laurels was on budgeting. Since I wanted a new checkbook cover, we all got new checkbook covers! I love the simplicity of Small Fry and Co.'s tutorial, made easier because I didn't do the button (I hate doing buttons). Thanks Small Fry!
Finally, when I purchased the sheet for what-was-to-become my Pioneer skirt, I also bought a sheet intended for maternity pajama pants (can you tell I'm super nervous about a summer pregnancy?). After stealing the elastic from the Pioneer skirt, I was able to finish these pants. They're too chilly for now, but I'm sure I'll love them soon enough. I followed Dana's tutorial on her blog Made.
And finally, I made this vest and tie for a good friend's newborn son. I really enjoy doing vests because they're fairly simple, but something a little different for a baby boy gift.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Battle of the Sexes
Last weekend, we were invited by some friends to join them and others in a game of "Battle of the Sexes."
I'll be upfront about the outcome: the men won. But I won't hesitate to mention that this win was bolstered from a boost of, "You went out and bought your pregnant wife a bottle of pickles at 2 a.m. Advance to the end." The only help we women got was, "You did all of the work on the Christmas cards. Advance one space." I think I'll be getting my own pickles from now on, thank you very much. If the Christmas cards are that much easier, I'll gladly trade with Chuck.
The game works by splitting into two teams: men v. women. The men are asked questions that the women should know. And the women are asked questions that the men should know. Of course, this should was determined by the game's creators.
Here is a sample of the questions we read that night. Starting with those read to the women (again, so those that the men should know):
How many quarters are there in a hockey game?
What is the standard par for the shortest hole in golf?
What is WD-40?
What is Mach 3? (Hint: It is NOT a razor.)
In what sport is there a play called, "The Statue of Liberty?"
What is Al Pacino's character's name in "Scarface?"
What are the standard measurement units for nails in construction?
What does "DOHC" stand for in the automotive industry?
What does "trips to win" mean in poker?
Where is Jack Daniels made?
What goes in a screwdriver? (You know, the alcoholic drink, not the tool)
What is the distance from home base to the pitcher's mound in baseball?
And here are those read to the men (so those the women should know):
How many tablespoons in a cup?
What is Audrey Hepburn's character's name in "Breakfast at Tiffany's?"
In sewing, what is the standard seam size?
What is the attachment to a blow dryer that is meant to increase curls and volume called?
What is Snow White's sister's name?
In fashion, what is a mule?
In what sport do Kristi Yamaguchi and Oksana Baiul participate?
Who does the voice at the beginning of the "Days of our Lives" soap opera?
What are the names of the boys who played the Hardy Boys?
To what does 99% pure refer?
On what side are the buttons on a woman's shirt?
What is the procedure called where a baby is removed from the uterus via an incision in the stomach? (Maybe this would get frat boys, but a bunch of married, Mormon men? Sooo easy.)
Mostly we spent the night laughing at the questions. The men thought the women's questions were ridiculously easy, while we women balked at what was given to the men. Overall, we had a great time. But being out sans Rhett...that's pretty much a given.
If we play it again, I think it would be fun to write our own questions. Suggestions?
P.S. I struggle with the movie and TV questions given to both genders. But thanks to Chuck's tutelage, I did awesome in the sports categories. And of the above questions, I did only slightly better on the questions I was supposed to know. I'll admit I didn't get the seam size one (so embarrassing), but I was thinking standard seams in quilting, which are smaller than that of regular, pattern sewing.
I'll be upfront about the outcome: the men won. But I won't hesitate to mention that this win was bolstered from a boost of, "You went out and bought your pregnant wife a bottle of pickles at 2 a.m. Advance to the end." The only help we women got was, "You did all of the work on the Christmas cards. Advance one space." I think I'll be getting my own pickles from now on, thank you very much. If the Christmas cards are that much easier, I'll gladly trade with Chuck.
The game works by splitting into two teams: men v. women. The men are asked questions that the women should know. And the women are asked questions that the men should know. Of course, this should was determined by the game's creators.
Here is a sample of the questions we read that night. Starting with those read to the women (again, so those that the men should know):
How many quarters are there in a hockey game?
What is the standard par for the shortest hole in golf?
What is WD-40?
What is Mach 3? (Hint: It is NOT a razor.)
In what sport is there a play called, "The Statue of Liberty?"
What is Al Pacino's character's name in "Scarface?"
What are the standard measurement units for nails in construction?
What does "DOHC" stand for in the automotive industry?
What does "trips to win" mean in poker?
Where is Jack Daniels made?
What goes in a screwdriver? (You know, the alcoholic drink, not the tool)
What is the distance from home base to the pitcher's mound in baseball?
And here are those read to the men (so those the women should know):
How many tablespoons in a cup?
What is Audrey Hepburn's character's name in "Breakfast at Tiffany's?"
In sewing, what is the standard seam size?
What is the attachment to a blow dryer that is meant to increase curls and volume called?
What is Snow White's sister's name?
In fashion, what is a mule?
In what sport do Kristi Yamaguchi and Oksana Baiul participate?
Who does the voice at the beginning of the "Days of our Lives" soap opera?
What are the names of the boys who played the Hardy Boys?
To what does 99% pure refer?
On what side are the buttons on a woman's shirt?
What is the procedure called where a baby is removed from the uterus via an incision in the stomach? (Maybe this would get frat boys, but a bunch of married, Mormon men? Sooo easy.)
Mostly we spent the night laughing at the questions. The men thought the women's questions were ridiculously easy, while we women balked at what was given to the men. Overall, we had a great time. But being out sans Rhett...that's pretty much a given.
If we play it again, I think it would be fun to write our own questions. Suggestions?
P.S. I struggle with the movie and TV questions given to both genders. But thanks to Chuck's tutelage, I did awesome in the sports categories. And of the above questions, I did only slightly better on the questions I was supposed to know. I'll admit I didn't get the seam size one (so embarrassing), but I was thinking standard seams in quilting, which are smaller than that of regular, pattern sewing.
Monday, February 21, 2011
To Pop or Not to Pop
I finished our taxes last week, even though I'm waiting to file them for another week or so. Turns out we're horrible at having the proper amount of taxes withheld. Once again, we are getting a refund that people-who-are-good-with-money would say is just too big. I get it. But for this year, it's still coming and there's no stopping it.
Although we didn't get the kitchen counters done yet, we've been saving for home improvement projects and therefore could do that without tapping the refund. And we've just started saving for our 10th anniversary trip (an Icelandic cruise maybe?!). Yes, that's four years away, but I feel like given our upcoming events (ahem, pregnancy, birth of a child, and recovery from birthing) it'll be some time before I'd like to take a big trip sans children anyway.
So this is one suggestion from Chuck: add this year's refund to the money we've already saved towards another car. Then add the money we'd get for trade-in for one of our cars and we'd be close to paying cash for car AND a pop-up camper. (Or wait a year and guarantee the cash upfront.) Having grown up with a pop-up camper, I love the idea. With a pop-up camper, camping is fast and easy because everything is ready to go. And weather problems? What weather problems? Camping in a hard shell during rain is nothing compared to camping in a tent during rain, especially with kids. Of course we'd need the new car to help towing the camper, so that's why the car.
It's just...I like tents! I like setting them up, sleeping in them (most of the time), cooking outside on a stove...you know, car camping! Of course some day, I hope to be able to backpack with my kids and husband, but I realize that's years and years from now. So here's the question for those of you like-minded individuals: Could you give up the fun of tent camping for the ease of a pop-up camper?
P.S. It took only 10 months for me to find an occasion to make that ice cream pie. It was sour, but since I like that, it was totally yummy.
Although we didn't get the kitchen counters done yet, we've been saving for home improvement projects and therefore could do that without tapping the refund. And we've just started saving for our 10th anniversary trip (an Icelandic cruise maybe?!). Yes, that's four years away, but I feel like given our upcoming events (ahem, pregnancy, birth of a child, and recovery from birthing) it'll be some time before I'd like to take a big trip sans children anyway.
So this is one suggestion from Chuck: add this year's refund to the money we've already saved towards another car. Then add the money we'd get for trade-in for one of our cars and we'd be close to paying cash for car AND a pop-up camper. (Or wait a year and guarantee the cash upfront.) Having grown up with a pop-up camper, I love the idea. With a pop-up camper, camping is fast and easy because everything is ready to go. And weather problems? What weather problems? Camping in a hard shell during rain is nothing compared to camping in a tent during rain, especially with kids. Of course we'd need the new car to help towing the camper, so that's why the car.
It's just...I like tents! I like setting them up, sleeping in them (most of the time), cooking outside on a stove...you know, car camping! Of course some day, I hope to be able to backpack with my kids and husband, but I realize that's years and years from now. So here's the question for those of you like-minded individuals: Could you give up the fun of tent camping for the ease of a pop-up camper?
P.S. It took only 10 months for me to find an occasion to make that ice cream pie. It was sour, but since I like that, it was totally yummy.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Uh, You Know He's a Pug, Right?
After Monday's very, very slow run due to a heavy toddler and an equally heavy jogging stroller, I had a brainstorm: make Chuck come with me so he can push the dude in the stroller and I could run scot-free! I'm sure that sans child, I'd be just bounding along, right?!
And as we in D.C. have been having simply lovely weather, this made sense because we could get out around 3:30, just when the day is at its warmest (which has been in the 50s but predicted near 70 today!). When I told Chuck this plan on Wednesday, this was my version: the homo sapiens from our house would run and then return to pick up Bruno and take him for his walk. But Chuck's version looked like this: "Since you're running so slowly these days, let's just take Bruno with us."
As my pace was one that Chuck could walk, I thought, "Okay, Bruno can handle it." I'm sure you've already guessed that no, no, Bruno can't handle it. As we started out Bruno was fine, trotting next to us. Along came some hills, which we chose to walk for Bruno's sake. Going downhill, we started jogging again. Bruno held strong for a bit. But at the midpoint we stopped to view an accident (Rhett was quite intrigued). This was about it for poor Bruno.
I didn't really want to walk the rest of the way, so we just put Bruno on Rhett's lap and off we went...for 20 feet, at which point Bruno tried to lay down on Rhett and just didn't fit so he fell out. That's when we thought we'd put him underneath the stroller and there he sat contentedly the rest of the run. Rhett thought the whole thing was quite hysterical, so did many people who got to see the funny long-tongued dog in the undercarriage of a jogging stroller. And raise your hand if you can listen to your toddler just laugh and laugh and NOT laugh. No hands? I didn't think so. Of course Chuck and I were giggling the entire run home as well. Fun times in our house!
P.S. Props to my sister for naming this post. When I emailed her the results of the run, the post's title was her response.
P.P.S. Inappropriate Pregnancy Comment Counter = Initiated at 1. Man from work said, "Well, you're looking quite plump." Really?
And as we in D.C. have been having simply lovely weather, this made sense because we could get out around 3:30, just when the day is at its warmest (which has been in the 50s but predicted near 70 today!). When I told Chuck this plan on Wednesday, this was my version: the homo sapiens from our house would run and then return to pick up Bruno and take him for his walk. But Chuck's version looked like this: "Since you're running so slowly these days, let's just take Bruno with us."
As my pace was one that Chuck could walk, I thought, "Okay, Bruno can handle it." I'm sure you've already guessed that no, no, Bruno can't handle it. As we started out Bruno was fine, trotting next to us. Along came some hills, which we chose to walk for Bruno's sake. Going downhill, we started jogging again. Bruno held strong for a bit. But at the midpoint we stopped to view an accident (Rhett was quite intrigued). This was about it for poor Bruno.
I didn't really want to walk the rest of the way, so we just put Bruno on Rhett's lap and off we went...for 20 feet, at which point Bruno tried to lay down on Rhett and just didn't fit so he fell out. That's when we thought we'd put him underneath the stroller and there he sat contentedly the rest of the run. Rhett thought the whole thing was quite hysterical, so did many people who got to see the funny long-tongued dog in the undercarriage of a jogging stroller. And raise your hand if you can listen to your toddler just laugh and laugh and NOT laugh. No hands? I didn't think so. Of course Chuck and I were giggling the entire run home as well. Fun times in our house!
P.S. Props to my sister for naming this post. When I emailed her the results of the run, the post's title was her response.
P.P.S. Inappropriate Pregnancy Comment Counter = Initiated at 1. Man from work said, "Well, you're looking quite plump." Really?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My Kid is Weird
I realize that everyone thinks their own kids are strange in funny ways. And I'm sure they are. Here are Rhett's latest weird-isms:
He is obsessed with signs. Obsessed. Every sign we pass, he wants to know what it says. We were out running (!) Monday morning and at one point I had to stop, turn around, and go back and explain to him what the sign meant. (It was a "no left turn" sign. Very exciting.) But seriously, he wants to know them all. And when you live in a fairly urbanized area, signs are everywhere and if I don't know exactly what sign he's talking about, oh boy. Can you say "breakdown?"
Also, he's very aware of what scares him. He'll run around all day pretending to be an abominable snowman or a monster, but this page? Oooh, better skip it if you know what's good for you. Because this "I" page is scary to the little man. Is it Icabod's face? Who knows!
And this book? We're not even allowed to read any of it. Ever.
Finally, he loves this headlamp. Loves. He puts it on and goes exploring. He's definitely getting his own for his birthday.
I have to say that while yes, we hoped to have a 9-month old at this point rather than a negative-six-month old, but man, am I ever glad that I was able to spend this much time with just Rhett. I love love love this age and can't imagine having to share him with an infant. And just think, when this new baby is my favorite age, Rhett will be in kindergarten, so I won't have to share him/her either! Sometimes there is good in the bad. Who knew?!
He is obsessed with signs. Obsessed. Every sign we pass, he wants to know what it says. We were out running (!) Monday morning and at one point I had to stop, turn around, and go back and explain to him what the sign meant. (It was a "no left turn" sign. Very exciting.) But seriously, he wants to know them all. And when you live in a fairly urbanized area, signs are everywhere and if I don't know exactly what sign he's talking about, oh boy. Can you say "breakdown?"
Also, he's very aware of what scares him. He'll run around all day pretending to be an abominable snowman or a monster, but this page? Oooh, better skip it if you know what's good for you. Because this "I" page is scary to the little man. Is it Icabod's face? Who knows!
And this book? We're not even allowed to read any of it. Ever.
Finally, he loves this headlamp. Loves. He puts it on and goes exploring. He's definitely getting his own for his birthday.
I have to say that while yes, we hoped to have a 9-month old at this point rather than a negative-six-month old, but man, am I ever glad that I was able to spend this much time with just Rhett. I love love love this age and can't imagine having to share him with an infant. And just think, when this new baby is my favorite age, Rhett will be in kindergarten, so I won't have to share him/her either! Sometimes there is good in the bad. Who knew?!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Crafting FAIL
One of my new favorite things to shop for at the thrift store is bedsheets. There is so much fabric for such a great price. I made my sister some awesome pajama pants using some, taking advantage of the cute finishing that goes at your head, and I used that at the bottom at her pants. (What?! I must not have taken pics. Emily, please share.) Anyway, I have such a great thrift store that I never walk out of there empty-handed.
Last Monday's trip was no different. I bought a ton of books for Rhett (of course) and a beautiful white sheet for me. It had this totally cute eyelet piece on it that I thought would make a beautiful edging along the bottom of the skirt. (Yes, I'm already prepping for a pregnant summer.) But after I brought it home and started working on the skirt, I realized that due to my underwear, the skirt must be full-length or else my bottoms would show through the eyelet. Not what I wanted, but oh well.
Then I realized the skirt was too see-through and it had to be lined, making it much heavier than I wanted a light summer skirt to be. Again, oh well.
And while I wanted it to be a fun, full skirt, I didn't realize just how full it was until I put it on. And when I did, oh boy, the only thing I could think of was, "O Pioneer!" Seriously, right?! It's bad.
BUT for only $2, I learned what not to do! And hopefully another time I'll be able to show you a better version. Until then, make this for dinner because it is soooo good.
Last Monday's trip was no different. I bought a ton of books for Rhett (of course) and a beautiful white sheet for me. It had this totally cute eyelet piece on it that I thought would make a beautiful edging along the bottom of the skirt. (Yes, I'm already prepping for a pregnant summer.) But after I brought it home and started working on the skirt, I realized that due to my underwear, the skirt must be full-length or else my bottoms would show through the eyelet. Not what I wanted, but oh well.
Then I realized the skirt was too see-through and it had to be lined, making it much heavier than I wanted a light summer skirt to be. Again, oh well.
And while I wanted it to be a fun, full skirt, I didn't realize just how full it was until I put it on. And when I did, oh boy, the only thing I could think of was, "O Pioneer!" Seriously, right?! It's bad.
BUT for only $2, I learned what not to do! And hopefully another time I'll be able to show you a better version. Until then, make this for dinner because it is soooo good.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Winter Begone!
I know I've recently read very similar posts on friends' blogs, so sorry if this is a repeat for you. But I can't take it any longer.
In my younger days I would proudly exclaim that winter was my second favorite season (behind fall, of course). I loved Utah's snows, sweaters, fleece, and all winter outdoor activities. Loved. But all that has changed.
There's just something about a Maryland winter, especially a Maryland winter as a parent. In Maryland, it takes a long time for roads and sidewalks to be cleared of snow. Remember that storm we missed when we were in Utah two weeks ago (the one that dropped only 8")? Yeah, I'm just now seeing sidewalks in many places. That means the family walks with Bruno and morning runs with Rhett have been put on hold. It does not make me happy.
In addition, the hype over each little snowflake that falls is ridiculous. If only 3" of snow are predicted, the area starts to break down, even before the storm hits. It's all anyone can talk about, including Chuck. It drives me bonkers. And even when the snow falls, it's wet and heavy and not lovely and light like a western snow. Our snow would definitely be a different eskimo word when compared to Utah's snow.
It goes without saying that people here don't know how to drive in it. I get it; they get very little each year and therefore have little experience. Even my own sweet Chuck will admit his inexperience in driving in the white stuff. But because I live in a very populated area, there are still far too many cars on the road. Did you hear what that 8" storm did to some drivers? 12-hour commutes home. Having to return to your office and sleep there. It wasn't pretty.
In doing my research for this post, I checked my own local weather. At that time, it was 23 degrees, but felt like 12! Because of Maryland's humidity, it's a very biting cold and it hurts in a way Utah's winter never did. And this winter has been not only unusually cold (I've been wearing my down jacket since before Thanksgiving), but windy. Cold + humid + wind = Worst. Weather. Ever.
Further research from "Find Your Spot" revealed that I should move to Tacoma, Washington. I'm down! Chuck's salary would be slightly lower, but home costs are too. Of course I probably wouldn't find another part-time mathematical statistician position...not sure how I feel about that. (I just searched for all math stat jobs and of the eight, six were in D.C. The other two were Kodiak, AK. I'm just not that tough.) But Washington state is really beautiful. We'd have access to the beach, mountains, rain forest, and all the "Twilight" sights (kidding, soooo kidding). My second choice place was St. George. Well, not bad. At least it's warm there. But third is Kent, Washington. I'm seeing a pattern here.
One nice thing did happen to us this winter: After our Utah trip, I knew I'd be coming back to a house where snow had yet to be shoveled. Just thinking about it made me tired. However, we were greatly pleased to see that someone had shoveled paths from the driveway to the house. It definitely made bringing in luggage so much easier. Hooray (and much thanks!) for secret service people!
So here's to hoping the groundhog is correct and that spring lasts until September.
In my younger days I would proudly exclaim that winter was my second favorite season (behind fall, of course). I loved Utah's snows, sweaters, fleece, and all winter outdoor activities. Loved. But all that has changed.
There's just something about a Maryland winter, especially a Maryland winter as a parent. In Maryland, it takes a long time for roads and sidewalks to be cleared of snow. Remember that storm we missed when we were in Utah two weeks ago (the one that dropped only 8")? Yeah, I'm just now seeing sidewalks in many places. That means the family walks with Bruno and morning runs with Rhett have been put on hold. It does not make me happy.
In addition, the hype over each little snowflake that falls is ridiculous. If only 3" of snow are predicted, the area starts to break down, even before the storm hits. It's all anyone can talk about, including Chuck. It drives me bonkers. And even when the snow falls, it's wet and heavy and not lovely and light like a western snow. Our snow would definitely be a different eskimo word when compared to Utah's snow.
It goes without saying that people here don't know how to drive in it. I get it; they get very little each year and therefore have little experience. Even my own sweet Chuck will admit his inexperience in driving in the white stuff. But because I live in a very populated area, there are still far too many cars on the road. Did you hear what that 8" storm did to some drivers? 12-hour commutes home. Having to return to your office and sleep there. It wasn't pretty.
In doing my research for this post, I checked my own local weather. At that time, it was 23 degrees, but felt like 12! Because of Maryland's humidity, it's a very biting cold and it hurts in a way Utah's winter never did. And this winter has been not only unusually cold (I've been wearing my down jacket since before Thanksgiving), but windy. Cold + humid + wind = Worst. Weather. Ever.
Further research from "Find Your Spot" revealed that I should move to Tacoma, Washington. I'm down! Chuck's salary would be slightly lower, but home costs are too. Of course I probably wouldn't find another part-time mathematical statistician position...not sure how I feel about that. (I just searched for all math stat jobs and of the eight, six were in D.C. The other two were Kodiak, AK. I'm just not that tough.) But Washington state is really beautiful. We'd have access to the beach, mountains, rain forest, and all the "Twilight" sights (kidding, soooo kidding). My second choice place was St. George. Well, not bad. At least it's warm there. But third is Kent, Washington. I'm seeing a pattern here.
One nice thing did happen to us this winter: After our Utah trip, I knew I'd be coming back to a house where snow had yet to be shoveled. Just thinking about it made me tired. However, we were greatly pleased to see that someone had shoveled paths from the driveway to the house. It definitely made bringing in luggage so much easier. Hooray (and much thanks!) for secret service people!
So here's to hoping the groundhog is correct and that spring lasts until September.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I Don't Know Who Loves This More...
Last week we ordered some light-switch extenders. We simply got tired of hearing, "Mom, Dad, turn on the light please!" because most of the time, this sentence was yelled, not just spoken. We put one in his room and one on a basement light switch and it's changed our lives (kinda). But it has been ridiculously nice. And after the first day when lights went on and off as if they were strobe, let's just say he is slowly learning the appropriate use of them.
Also a new development that I am loving...Rhett is finally playing by himself for much longer than he used to. Just the other day when Chuck and I were working on dinner, he was left to himself and we caught him just sitting amongst his animals. Awesome. We didn't want to interrupt him because then he might require us again, so we just laughed our heads off while quietly observing him (and then snapping a picture, of course). And right now he's bowling with his Little People. Happily. Alone. And so am I.
Also a new development that I am loving...Rhett is finally playing by himself for much longer than he used to. Just the other day when Chuck and I were working on dinner, he was left to himself and we caught him just sitting amongst his animals. Awesome. We didn't want to interrupt him because then he might require us again, so we just laughed our heads off while quietly observing him (and then snapping a picture, of course). And right now he's bowling with his Little People. Happily. Alone. And so am I.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Lighter Side
After last week's blog meal of steak and potatoes, how about some Jell-O?
Rhett: Mom, what does snot taste like?
Me: Well, I don't know.
Rhett: I do. I just ate it.
Me: And?
Rhett: I like it! Snot tastes really yummy.
Am I the only person who doesn't get "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey?" I mean, it's a circle knob, right? So moving the knob towards the right on top of the knob is just moving to the left on the bottom of knob. I stand by my helpful saying, "clocky-locky" (clockwise is locked, get it? Ooooh, I'm good).
And I KNOW I'm not the only person confused by this next one as I recently learned. But are there others who consistently get confused by the labels at the airport for "Arrivals" and "Departures?" I mean, if I'm dropping off someone at the airport, I'm arriving at the airport, so do I go to Arrivals or Departures? It gets me every time. This friend, who shall remain nameless, says that he has to tell himself every time, "I'm arriving to depart...I'm arriving to depart." That has helped some.
Does anyone else add raisins to Raisin Bran? Chuck thinks I'm crazy.
Any bets on whether or not I'll be able to quit Facebook once I'm released from my YW calling? (This calling was the main reason I joined when I did. It's a much better communicator with my girls than email.)
Do you see a problem with the following: 24/7/365?
Chuck and Rhett are leaving church last Sunday. The drive home almost always includes a stop at a corner where there's a McDonald's.
Rhett: Dad, there's a lot of people at McDonald's.
Chuck: Yes, there are.
Rhett: Can we go to McDonald's?
Chuck: No. It's Sunday.
Rhett: Why are they there?
Chuck: Because that's the decision they made.
Rhett: Why don't we go?
Chuck: We choose not to go because it's Sunday and we want to show our love for Jesus. When you are older, you will be able to make your own choices.
Rhett: When I get older I am going to choose to go to McDonald's on Sunday.
This is a picture of the trash can "smoking." Boy my son is creative! And serious about not smoking.
Rhett: Mom, what does snot taste like?
Me: Well, I don't know.
Rhett: I do. I just ate it.
Me: And?
Rhett: I like it! Snot tastes really yummy.
Am I the only person who doesn't get "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey?" I mean, it's a circle knob, right? So moving the knob towards the right on top of the knob is just moving to the left on the bottom of knob. I stand by my helpful saying, "clocky-locky" (clockwise is locked, get it? Ooooh, I'm good).
And I KNOW I'm not the only person confused by this next one as I recently learned. But are there others who consistently get confused by the labels at the airport for "Arrivals" and "Departures?" I mean, if I'm dropping off someone at the airport, I'm arriving at the airport, so do I go to Arrivals or Departures? It gets me every time. This friend, who shall remain nameless, says that he has to tell himself every time, "I'm arriving to depart...I'm arriving to depart." That has helped some.
Does anyone else add raisins to Raisin Bran? Chuck thinks I'm crazy.
Any bets on whether or not I'll be able to quit Facebook once I'm released from my YW calling? (This calling was the main reason I joined when I did. It's a much better communicator with my girls than email.)
Do you see a problem with the following: 24/7/365?
Chuck and Rhett are leaving church last Sunday. The drive home almost always includes a stop at a corner where there's a McDonald's.
Rhett: Dad, there's a lot of people at McDonald's.
Chuck: Yes, there are.
Rhett: Can we go to McDonald's?
Chuck: No. It's Sunday.
Rhett: Why are they there?
Chuck: Because that's the decision they made.
Rhett: Why don't we go?
Chuck: We choose not to go because it's Sunday and we want to show our love for Jesus. When you are older, you will be able to make your own choices.
Rhett: When I get older I am going to choose to go to McDonald's on Sunday.
This is a picture of the trash can "smoking." Boy my son is creative! And serious about not smoking.
Friday, February 4, 2011
A Conception Story: Chapter 5, Pregnancy
I'm not sure if it's because I was pumped with more hormones or maybe just because I'm older, but this pregnancy has been a bit harder than that with Rhett. For starters, my nasal cavity is continually clogged. I have blown my nose more times than I can even describe. Also, the dreams! Oh the dreams. For the first five or six weeks I would wake up with a dream that got crazier each night. (The two most memorable both contained me insisting something I was wearing was appropriate. I assure you, dear readers, this is most certainly NOT the case.) Unfortunately, I've had no dreams announcing the name of this fetus (sorry, but no Ms. Mullet this time).
And I've been unbelievably tired. I can't exercise because if I do, I'm so beat that I can't even take care of Rhett because I just fall asleep. I nap nearly every day and have 9 o'clock bedtimes. I experienced such tiredness with Rhett and it disappeared around 13 weeks. Here's to hoping! (Since writing this post I've passed the 13 week mark. I'm definitely still tired, but feeling better. I even ran twice with my sister when in Utah and exercised with Jillian Michaels at home on Wednesday! Too bad it's single-digit temperatures with unshoveled sidewalks here in Maryland otherwise I might try running with Rhett.)
Also, when I went off the pill, I gained about five pounds. Add these five to the couple that I've gained with this pregnancy I'm starting to be too big for my clothes. This is not what I wanted to happen at only three months. I feel gross and yucky and am already hating my body. The not being able to exercise has only made this worse.
Side note: Can I just say how excited I am to replace my entire wardrobe in about one year's time? Every time I put on any item in my current wardrobe, I just imagine trashing it because everything I own needs to be trashed. Chuck and I have been saving money to replace my wardrobe and it'll be like a mini-What-Not-to-Wear shopping spree.
I can't believe I'm going to have to be pregnant during summer. Do any of you know me during a Maryland summer? I'm miserable. And now a pregnant Maryland summer? I can't even imagine. I just picture myself sitting naked in the basement from May until I deliver. This picture may or may not include Chuck spritzing me with a spray bottle whilst feeding me a Skinny cow.
And what is it like to be pregnant after a miscarriage? I'm scared about everything. Even though I know that everything will likely be okay, I can't help but have a generally raised level of anxiety. Having doctor's appointments every one to two weeks didn't help this.
But really, all of these bad things don't matter. Chuck and I are going to have another baby. We couldn't be more thankful. In some ways, I learned a lot and in others, my doubts only increased. I can't say that I know why God gave me this challenge or why I was blessed to have it be such a relatively short one. But I can say that I am glad that it's over. Now, any boy names? I got nothing.
The End.
And I've been unbelievably tired. I can't exercise because if I do, I'm so beat that I can't even take care of Rhett because I just fall asleep. I nap nearly every day and have 9 o'clock bedtimes. I experienced such tiredness with Rhett and it disappeared around 13 weeks. Here's to hoping! (Since writing this post I've passed the 13 week mark. I'm definitely still tired, but feeling better. I even ran twice with my sister when in Utah and exercised with Jillian Michaels at home on Wednesday! Too bad it's single-digit temperatures with unshoveled sidewalks here in Maryland otherwise I might try running with Rhett.)
Also, when I went off the pill, I gained about five pounds. Add these five to the couple that I've gained with this pregnancy I'm starting to be too big for my clothes. This is not what I wanted to happen at only three months. I feel gross and yucky and am already hating my body. The not being able to exercise has only made this worse.
Side note: Can I just say how excited I am to replace my entire wardrobe in about one year's time? Every time I put on any item in my current wardrobe, I just imagine trashing it because everything I own needs to be trashed. Chuck and I have been saving money to replace my wardrobe and it'll be like a mini-What-Not-to-Wear shopping spree.
I can't believe I'm going to have to be pregnant during summer. Do any of you know me during a Maryland summer? I'm miserable. And now a pregnant Maryland summer? I can't even imagine. I just picture myself sitting naked in the basement from May until I deliver. This picture may or may not include Chuck spritzing me with a spray bottle whilst feeding me a Skinny cow.
And what is it like to be pregnant after a miscarriage? I'm scared about everything. Even though I know that everything will likely be okay, I can't help but have a generally raised level of anxiety. Having doctor's appointments every one to two weeks didn't help this.
But really, all of these bad things don't matter. Chuck and I are going to have another baby. We couldn't be more thankful. In some ways, I learned a lot and in others, my doubts only increased. I can't say that I know why God gave me this challenge or why I was blessed to have it be such a relatively short one. But I can say that I am glad that it's over. Now, any boy names? I got nothing.
The End.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
A Conception Story: Chapter 4, Starting Again
After the miscarriage, I had to wait another three months before Chuck and I could try again. Of course I had to use drugs to induce periods, otherwise who knows how long it would have taken me to have the necessary three periods. Gotta love those drug-induced periods. But finally I had three and we were able to get back to the Clomid and the baby making.
Tries 1 and 2 brought the same disappointment as before. When we went through round 3 (which was really round 6), I was positive that it, too, would be negative. I was sure that this meant that we'd be sent to infertility specialists. I knew enough to know that I did not want to do that. If I thought Clomid conceiving was difficult, then IVF would kill me. The shots, the tests, the prodding, the costs, the everything. I just wasn't sure I was up for it. I mean, we had Rhett. He's a (near) perfect little boy and we love him something terrible. I had to start to talk myself into being happy with only one child. It was hard, but a necessary defensive move.
My next period was supposed to start right before Thanksgiving, you know, the due date of the baby I lost. You know, right when two other babies in my ward were being born. You know, right when another set of in-laws announced their own happy pregnancy. Isn't that all just so convenient. (I realize no one was trying to hurt me, and so I tried hard to conceal my jealousy and hurt. I'm not sure how well I did and apologize to those who may have thought me callous or unexcited about their news. Hopefully you understand now.) It was a really hard time and I was especially emotional, which indicated, of course, an upcoming period and negative pregnancy test, which made me even more emotional.
As we got close to the expected start date of my period, I started taking the ovulation predictor kits. I knew that they could show up positive if I was pregnant. I took so many of these that Rhett (who would not stay out of the bathroom!) would often ask, "Mom, what you going to pee on?" But the tests started showing up more and more positive. When I finally got up the nerves to use a pregnancy test, good news for us: positive! Even better news: I didn't have the same foreboding feeling of impending doom.
Let me say that I was so sure that the pregnancy test would be negative. As this was to happen the week of Thanksgiving, I even scheduled a Monday appointment with my doctor to get another Clomid prescription. Instead, I ended up having blood work done to confirm pregnancy. I have since had doctor's appointments nearly every week or every other week since conception. And because of my history, I have already had four ultrasounds. Four. Everything so far shows nothing but a healthy, viable pregnancy (that's possibly a boy, but I'll wait for the later ultrasound to confirm this) with a due date of early August (happy birthday to me!).
Chapter 5 tomorrow...
Tries 1 and 2 brought the same disappointment as before. When we went through round 3 (which was really round 6), I was positive that it, too, would be negative. I was sure that this meant that we'd be sent to infertility specialists. I knew enough to know that I did not want to do that. If I thought Clomid conceiving was difficult, then IVF would kill me. The shots, the tests, the prodding, the costs, the everything. I just wasn't sure I was up for it. I mean, we had Rhett. He's a (near) perfect little boy and we love him something terrible. I had to start to talk myself into being happy with only one child. It was hard, but a necessary defensive move.
My next period was supposed to start right before Thanksgiving, you know, the due date of the baby I lost. You know, right when two other babies in my ward were being born. You know, right when another set of in-laws announced their own happy pregnancy. Isn't that all just so convenient. (I realize no one was trying to hurt me, and so I tried hard to conceal my jealousy and hurt. I'm not sure how well I did and apologize to those who may have thought me callous or unexcited about their news. Hopefully you understand now.) It was a really hard time and I was especially emotional, which indicated, of course, an upcoming period and negative pregnancy test, which made me even more emotional.
As we got close to the expected start date of my period, I started taking the ovulation predictor kits. I knew that they could show up positive if I was pregnant. I took so many of these that Rhett (who would not stay out of the bathroom!) would often ask, "Mom, what you going to pee on?" But the tests started showing up more and more positive. When I finally got up the nerves to use a pregnancy test, good news for us: positive! Even better news: I didn't have the same foreboding feeling of impending doom.
Let me say that I was so sure that the pregnancy test would be negative. As this was to happen the week of Thanksgiving, I even scheduled a Monday appointment with my doctor to get another Clomid prescription. Instead, I ended up having blood work done to confirm pregnancy. I have since had doctor's appointments nearly every week or every other week since conception. And because of my history, I have already had four ultrasounds. Four. Everything so far shows nothing but a healthy, viable pregnancy (that's possibly a boy, but I'll wait for the later ultrasound to confirm this) with a due date of early August (happy birthday to me!).
Chapter 5 tomorrow...
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A Conception Story: Chapter 3, Success (Albeit Short-Lived)
When the third trial of Clomid resulted in a positive pregnancy test, I was nervous from the beginning. For some reason, whenever I spoke of it (with all of the three people who knew) it was always with the caveat of, "If this takes..." or something similar.
I went in at seven weeks pregnant for a confirmation ultrasound. The tech's face gave it away immediately: she was nervous about something. Baby's heartbeat was slow and it was measuring much smaller than it should be. There was also a large subchorionic bleed and so the doctor advised me to take it easy (no running) and come back in one week for another ultrasound. And yet, I wasn't that surprised. When I returned the following week, the fetus had no heartbeat. A D and C was scheduled for the next day. You better believe I took one angry run that evening.
Of course I was devastated by the miscarriage, but I really wasn't surprised. The worst part about it was that it felt like such a setback. You see, I didn't really want to be pregnant, nor did I want to have a newborn. Rather, I wanted a 2-year-old. Rhett was in my then-favorite age and that's what I wanted. No sleepness nights, no helpless babies. I wanted a communicative, funny, obedient, happy child. The miscarriage cost me three months of trying, two months of pregnancy, and three months of not trying; I was then eight months behind where I wanted to be. It was just so frustrating.
I guess I can look back and be thankful that I had such a premonition because it didn't let me get too excited nor too attached. Why do I think I had this feeling? Who knows. I had been praying so hard for pregnancy, like many of you have, I'm sure, and I wanted it so badly. But when I actually got pregnant, all I could think about was the story of Joseph Smith and Martin Harris and the lost pages of the Book of Mormon. You know, where Joseph continued asking for something he really wanted, was finally granted that thing, but then...devastation. I just felt like the Lord gaveth and then tooketh away. And that was the hardest part of it all.
Chapter 4 tomorrow...
I went in at seven weeks pregnant for a confirmation ultrasound. The tech's face gave it away immediately: she was nervous about something. Baby's heartbeat was slow and it was measuring much smaller than it should be. There was also a large subchorionic bleed and so the doctor advised me to take it easy (no running) and come back in one week for another ultrasound. And yet, I wasn't that surprised. When I returned the following week, the fetus had no heartbeat. A D and C was scheduled for the next day. You better believe I took one angry run that evening.
Of course I was devastated by the miscarriage, but I really wasn't surprised. The worst part about it was that it felt like such a setback. You see, I didn't really want to be pregnant, nor did I want to have a newborn. Rather, I wanted a 2-year-old. Rhett was in my then-favorite age and that's what I wanted. No sleepness nights, no helpless babies. I wanted a communicative, funny, obedient, happy child. The miscarriage cost me three months of trying, two months of pregnancy, and three months of not trying; I was then eight months behind where I wanted to be. It was just so frustrating.
I guess I can look back and be thankful that I had such a premonition because it didn't let me get too excited nor too attached. Why do I think I had this feeling? Who knows. I had been praying so hard for pregnancy, like many of you have, I'm sure, and I wanted it so badly. But when I actually got pregnant, all I could think about was the story of Joseph Smith and Martin Harris and the lost pages of the Book of Mormon. You know, where Joseph continued asking for something he really wanted, was finally granted that thing, but then...devastation. I just felt like the Lord gaveth and then tooketh away. And that was the hardest part of it all.
Chapter 4 tomorrow...
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A Conception Story: Chapter 2, Starting Again
In August of 2009, when Rhett was about 1.5, we thought that we’d start trying again. September, October, November all went by without me having a period (and without positive pregnancy tests). No periods, means no ovulation, means not even a chance for pregnancy. I was hesitant to call my doctor because I had heard that couples should try for at least a year before getting help. And yet, here I was at four months already complaining. However, the doc assured me that people try for a year with 12 attempts. I was at four months with zero attempts. So he saw me.
We started Clomid immediately. What is it like being on Clomid? Well, at least I felt like I was doing something towards conceiving. That's about the only positive. You take the pills for five days. Then you have to start taking the ovulation predictor kits to time intercourse. Then you have to go get your blood tested to see if you ovulated. And when it doesn't work, go back to the doc for another prescription. Let me be blunt: Is there anything worse than the slap-in-the-face period when you're hoping you're pregnant? Not much. It's a cruel, cruel joke. And these Clomid-induced periods? The first one I had was the first time I experienced PMS (I know, I know, poor me). That first day of PMS I swore Chuck and I were getting a divorce. The next day both of us were like, "What was that?!" The second time around, we at least knew sooner, even though it still through us for a loop. I know that other methods of helping people to conceive are much, much worse. But this was just so unexpected that it was hard (well, hard for us). I can't imagine that I would handle a more-intense conceiving regimen well.
Chapter 3 tomorrow...
We started Clomid immediately. What is it like being on Clomid? Well, at least I felt like I was doing something towards conceiving. That's about the only positive. You take the pills for five days. Then you have to start taking the ovulation predictor kits to time intercourse. Then you have to go get your blood tested to see if you ovulated. And when it doesn't work, go back to the doc for another prescription. Let me be blunt: Is there anything worse than the slap-in-the-face period when you're hoping you're pregnant? Not much. It's a cruel, cruel joke. And these Clomid-induced periods? The first one I had was the first time I experienced PMS (I know, I know, poor me). That first day of PMS I swore Chuck and I were getting a divorce. The next day both of us were like, "What was that?!" The second time around, we at least knew sooner, even though it still through us for a loop. I know that other methods of helping people to conceive are much, much worse. But this was just so unexpected that it was hard (well, hard for us). I can't imagine that I would handle a more-intense conceiving regimen well.
Chapter 3 tomorrow...
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