March Madness

I was really happy with myself when I came up with the title of this post. I just think it has a nice ring to it... and it's just so original. With the clever alliteration and all... I'm sorry to toot my own horn but I hey I'm not ashamed to say I come up with clever things. CLEVER.

I just woke up from a two hour nap, kids. Two hours! It's unreal, isn't it? Yes it is. And would be a whole lot better if I wasn't awake with Lucy from 1:30 AM until 6 AM this morning while she threw up every 20 minutes. I'm not exaggerating. It was awful in every way. Poor little duck. Heart breaking. So I put Scarlett down for her nap and told Lucy we had to lay down. She tried to tell me she wasn't tired and that she was all better, but was twitching and snoring softly within 15 seconds of laying next to me. And of course, once both of my littles were sleeping soundly I had a burst of frantic energy thinking of everything I could get done and had to slap myself in the face a few times and FORCE myself to lay down and close my eyes and shove all those tasks out of my mind. And I feel a lot better for it.

So, this month has been nuts as usual. And before we get going on the run down I have for you, as a side note, I just want to say I don't remember having pregnancy clumsiness in my first two pregnancies. It's something I've heard of before but honestly, I'm an out of control buffoon this round. I drop at least one item daily. I have broken 3 or 4 dishes. A couple weeks ago I was pouring a smoothie from the blender into a rather large cup and while staring directly down at it in my hands, I started pouring the smoothie just next to the cup and directly onto the floor. I'm not kidding. Lucy was just standing there with a confused look on her face. So I had to tell her to beat it! I spill milk every time I try to pour it... into anything. And they tell you not to cry over spilt milk but I can tell you today that I have cried over it. Shed actual tears. I mean they can say that all fine and dandy until something that's out of your control takes over you and you find yourself involuntarily splashing around in gallons of milk all over your floor and counter tops on a daily basis.

And my body continues to deteriorate. Can someone who's had lots of kids just go ahead and confirm it to me that you fall apart more every pregnancy? So I can just know that and embrace it? Jason came into our bedroom last night to find me crumpled up on our bed with tears streaming, telling him I've always felt like I had a strong and able body but I am limping and waddling around all day long and I still have a month left. My calf muscles are out of control sore (from my daily calf presses ... just kidding. From walking up and down the stairs twice a day or so I presume) and my back and pelvis feel like I've been beaten in the night with a baseball bat. I've been expecting this to come the last week or two but it's been since at least a month ago this round. So I'm crying to him and then look up and he's reading on his iPhone and then he catches me shooting daggers out of my eyes at him and then tells me, as casually and innocently as he can, that he's looking up where I can get a prenatal massage. Whether this is true or not is irrelevant folks. I have to admit it was a clean save. He was probably reading sports commentators' tweets. But I have to hand it to him for the quick thinking.

On another side note, I'm getting really excited to meet this little girl. She's nestled into her final head down position, and sticks her feet out my right side over and over again pretty much all day long just to let me know she's there. And no matter how many babies you have, you're dying just the same to see who/what they look like. I was terrified to have two but three hasn't phased me in the slightest for some reason. Probably because Lucy turns 4 this July and therefore will be of babysitting age so I'll just be able to hand baby off to her when she comes home from preschool. It'll be really something.

Alright, back to our March Madness.

This month we:

Went to the Bean museum at BYU. Jason has been so busy and so stressed the last several months and this particular Saturday earlier this month was a blessed occasion indeed. He didn't have any training of any kind, he didn't even have any church basketball.We went to the museum that morning and then went to a matinee and then to dinner and just spent the day together. I love having him around.

We went with the Phillips to Disney on Ice, Toy Story! It was excellent. So cute. Thanks again Aimei and Eric!! We chose this background for pics to prove to you that we were really at Disney on Ice. See? You thought we were making it up!?

And here are the cutest Woody and Buzz around. Max looks particularly thrilled with the event doesn't he?

We tried craw dads for the very first time with an excellent group of friends. (Thanks again Mike and Tiff!) The night was quite superb. But don't play around with a live one of anything before you consume its family members. Just a general rule of thumb for how to live your life.

And we played some good Dance party on the Wii afterwards. I mean for being 8.5 months pregnant, it's crazy that I still smoked everyone. I even spun on my head for a while afterward for good measure. Some things you just don't lose.

And this last Saturday we spent the day with Jason's side of the family down in Gunnison at Heidi and Steve's. We had a little early Easter celebration because Cathy was in town, and because we're always looking for a reason to party.

We headed over first thing in the AM for a session at the Manti temple. I loved it. First time through that temple, it was exquisite.

We went horse back riding for a bit. Carson was able to come with us and needless to say, Lucy was over the moon the entire time in his presence. Still wants to marry that cousin. Bad.

A little natural cowgirl.

This Scarlett was all laughs and giggles... making fun of all the other kids for being hesitant around the horses... calling them wusses...

Until it was her time to shine. Not so giggly anymore. Despite her initial uncertainty, she still ended up doing a handstand on it's back while it trotted her around, and dismounted with an awesome back flip off its rear.

But I must admit, the real star of the show was this cowboy right here. Watching him gallop was seeing him in his element like I've never seen before...

Look at the intensity on that face.

And lemme tell ya, it was really somethin' to behold for me as his wife. In fact, this here horse he's on was a wild mustang that they've been trying (and failing) to break for months. Until Jason came to town. And that wild mustang is tame as my little pony now. I was quite invigorated after his little show. It really made me swoon. Until he tried to ride by me, grab my arm and swing me onto the back of the horse with him like the hotshot riders do to their damsels in the Old Western movies. I made the horse lose its balance and instead of landing gracefully onto the saddle with my cowboy, slammed into its rear end and thudded to the ground. That part didn't play out how he'd imagined it in his mind.

I insisted on taking this pic with my BFF/SIL Becky because last pregnancy our due dates were 2 weeks apart and we took like 500 pics like this throughout the entire 9 months. But I mostly insisted on it to flatter my figure.

Best cousins. Like I said, Lucy is always trying to move it from "cousins" to "more than cousins", but Carson keeps it in the cousins zone.

And we had an early Easter egg hunt. Win/win/win. For everyone around.

Lucy trying to look all sultry. Scarlett too, with chocolate smeared all over her face. Love these sisters.

See? I told you our March has been mad. And I'm in shock it's almost April now and we could be having this baby this month. Life flies by fast. And that's all I have to say. For now.

A tale of two husbands...

...that didn't listen. I make it a point to write husband-deprecating stories on the blog. I keep telling him that this is our "family blog" and that if people will get a laugh out of it, he's more than welcome to write stories about me. But then he sighs and tells me the only stories he has about me are things like how I clean the kitchen 7 times in one day and how nicely I fold his shirts and stuff and how I cook him delicious meals that make him feel fat and happy inside and how I'm basically the best wife and mother on the planet. And then I coyly tell him that no one would think those stories are very funny, but he certainly has permission to write them still.

No, this story isn't too husband-deprecating. It's just a little husband-deprecating. It's mostly just a goodie that must be shared.

Anyway, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

It's a peculiar thing I tell you. The ability my husband has to be an active participant in a conversation with me but to be completely mentally checked out of that very conversation he's involved in. I wish I had the skill, to merely appear to be listening. Because it conveniently relieves him of accountability. Or so he thinks.

The other night we had a whopper of a situation, involving these three girls, from left to right, there's Jules, Katie in the middle, and moi:

and these three boys to whom they're married, Jason on the left, Dave in the middle, and Mervis.

Try to stay with me now, because this story has lots of "and then he said this, and then she said that." I'm gonna need you to focus.

Some of our besties Dave and Katie were in town this last weekend from California and Jason invited Dave to the Jazz game with him. I invited Katie to cooking club. All was right in the world. When suddenly, that very day, I got an email from yet another bestie couple of both of ours, Mervis and Julie. (Mervis isn't his name, it's Curtis. But "Mervis" is in fact his name to us. There's a story behind it, of course, but I don't have time for it now.) So Julie and Merv are the most recently wedded twosome and are yet to be blessed with posterity, and thus, naturally, have been on a trip around the world for the last 6 months. All over Asia and Australia and all over the place. Crazy kids. So I get an email from Julie saying, "We are back! Came home early unexpectedly, I want to see you!" I started freaking out and wrote back immediately, "Oh my gosh, did you know Dave and Katie are in town?!? This is toooo perfect! I can't believe you guys are home! yada yada blah blah yada." So Julie came to my house that night, just before Katie got there. I had her hide in our laundry room and when Katie got here I nonchalantly asked her to grab the broom out of the laundry room... except when she went there she obviously didn't find a broom, but Julie doing Michael Jackson's Thriller dance towards her. There was much screaming and jumping and I busted around the corner to join in the hullabaloo and we all hugged and jumped and mosh-pitted and head-butted around together for a good 35 to 45 minutes. It was joyous! The way a surprise should be.

I had texted Jason earlier that day, "Mervis and Julie are back!!" And by the time Julie and Katie got to our house, Jason had already headed up to pick Dave up and go to the Jazz game. Dave had no idea Merv and Julie were back on this side of the planet, and I called Jason and told him, "Don't tell Dave Julie and Merv are back, we're gonna surprise him! Just come back to our house after the game and we'll have Mervis come wait here for you guys. We'll have him jump out of our bushes at Dave with a hockey mask on and a chain saw, maybe he can lop off a few of his limbs, and then we'll all have a good laugh about it. It'll be really something." Jason laughed and replied, "Okay! I won't tell him!"

So the three of us head out for our girls night, ecstatic with life in general. Dave was originally gonna just stay the night in Bountiful at his parents, but Katie convinced him to ride home with Jason (solely for the purpose of Merv surprising him). She said, and I quote, "Just come to Mer and Jason's house after the game with Jason and I'll be here waiting for you, and then we can ride back to Springville together," (where they were staying). And all was effectively communicated and received. Everything appeared to be falling into place perfectly.

Until the the time came when they should be arriving back at our house. We girls had been home for some time and Mervis had joined us and now we were just waiting. So Katie and I texted our husbands where are you guys texts. And thought they should be walking in the door any minute.

Except Katie got a text from Dave saying Jason was about to drop him off. And then I got a text from Jason saying, "Sorry babe, the game went into overtime and I'm dropping Dave off in Springville."

??!!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!?

We both call our hubbies and ask what the crap is happening. Dave's all, "What? You told me to come to Jason and Mer's? Oh sorry. I know I responded and said that sounded like a fine idea, but these shrimp I was eating were really really big." And Jason's all, "What? There's a surprise happening I'm supposedly in on?" Actually he didn't say that. Alls he could say in Dave's presence to me was, "I love you, we'll be there in a minute," because I asked him what on earth he was doing taking Dave to Springville when we discussed the fact that Julie and Mervis would be waiting at our house to surprise him. And then I followed up with, "This is really somethin' moronic! I'm in disbelief!"

And Katie and I hung up with our husbands and just stared blankly at each other with big, hunky, furrowed brows. Complete and utter disbelief. And then the scene flashed into both of our minds all at once. Apparently they'd both been having conversations with their wives on the phone, sitting across from each other eating before the game, and Dave had been puppeteering his jumbo shrimp so well that Jason was lost... completely riveted by Dave's shrimp puppet show. They had both agreed to the plan to each of us individually, a verbal agreement, but had simply been lost in each other's charm. And then after dinner they went and watched the game, and from that point on... you can forget about it.

They came home (after getting all the way down to Springville and turning around) and when we heard the garage door we had Mervis and Julie go out on our patio and walk into view in our window when we were all settled in on our couches. And it was the most anticlimatic surprise I'd ever witnessed. Because at the game Jason had accidentally let Dave see my "Mervis and Julie are back!!" text to him. And then when Dave asked, What was that? Jason just said, "Let's have another round of jumbo shrimp puppet show! I stuffed a few into my pocket from dinner." and they laughed and hi-fived.

Here's the thing ladies and gents. I could plan every detail of a surprise birthday party for Jason right in front of him. He just has to be mildly distracted in Bill O'Reilly or a sporting event. I have oftentimes walked right past him, arms full of his unwrapped Christmas or birthday presents, and perhaps stopped to ask him something arms still full to the brim, have him stare directly at me and I'll know he won't notice a thing. This is why I said in my last post that I'm not sure he knows we're gonna have another baby. I mean we've had several conversations about it, discussed names and the whole 9 yards, but there's still a 50/50 chance he'll be caught totally off guard when I go into labor. He might ask me if I need some immodium AD or something. Let's just be thankful I'm a woman of pure heart and pure intent. Because I could get away with murder I tell you.

I envy his focused mind. Because when he tunes into something, EVERYTHING else tunes completely out. And I think he enjoys things in life more this way. And I know that's why he's such a good hunter/gatherer/provider/protector. Because he's able to fully get. into. the. zone. I, on the other hand, am changing a diaper with one hand, nursing a babe with the other, typing an essay with one set of toes and playing a concerto on the piano with the other. And I'm assessing potential harms and dangers that could befall my children, 24 hours a day. Call me Jason Bourne. And at the end of the day, I can't remember a single thing I've done. Because it's one big, mixed-up blur.

I have another one for you. A real doozy. A story that involves these two contemplative, pensive sisters:

And these two vibrant brothers-in law whom they're married to.

This story happened on this very trip here to Monterrey California together. The four of us were in the car and we pulled over so Jason could run and grab something in a convenience store. While Jason was away, Vanessa and I hatched this great plan to talk complete nonsense when he got back into the car just to see how long it would take to thoroughly confuse him and possibly send him off the deep end. Just whatever nonsense came to mind. For example:

"Oh my gosh and then that dolphin with that guy in the cowboy boots... could not take his hands off of that diamond encrusted purse...."

"Oh I know, and how about that little kitten though with the purple hat on? I loved that little guy."

Sam wasn't necessarily involved in the plan... but we trusted he wouldn't blow our cover at the same time. We trusted he had our backs because he was just sorotf looking back and forth between the two of us while we schemed, witnessing our plan unfold. We thought we were pretty funny.

So Jason gets back into the car and we take off again. And Nessa and I commence the jibberish. And it actually goes on for longer than I'm expecting. I'm pretty sure buffalo chips and RuPaul make it into the conversation. And Jason' s just sitting next to me, looking back and forth from me to the scenery out the window, humming to himself a merry little tune, pleasant contented look upon his face all the while. When suddenly, after a few solid minutes of this, Sam, with the crustiest tone of voice and most bewildered expression on his face, exclaims,

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?!??!"

There was a befuddled moment of awkward silence as Vanessa and I took in what had just taken place. And then the rioting began. Riotous laughter of such severity that we almost sent that car we were in off one of those rocky cliffs and plummeting into the ocean. Rioting and head-butting of dash boards and the backs of seat and screaming. The only thing I can think of to compare the situation with is when someone from the audience at a hypnotist show gets hypnotized. You know the scene, you're watching the panel of poor fools sitting up there in their chairs, with hypnotist pacing the stage in front of them with his sultry sleepy voice. And then before you know it you spot someone out of the corner of your eye in the row in front of you suddenly slump over in their chair. And then get down on their hands and knees in the isle and start barking like a dog. That's about what it was like. We were so pleasantly surprised with our unintentional victim. It's just really hard to put it into words.

And my dear Jason never did tune in to any of it. He just sat back there doing a little jumbo shrimp puppet show to himself. Until the rioting and skidding around on the road of our vehicle. He was just humming to himself that same merry little tune throughout the whole ordeal, thinkin', "I wonder where we'll stop and eat dinner," and, "I wonder what kind of bird that is flying overhead. Hmm. Oh well."

Oh the joy and bliss of it all. The joy we find in celebrating the differences of man and woman. Sheer joy and bliss. Until someone gets their eye poked out. But until then, cheers!

These are the days of our lives.

I had an awful night's sleep. I hate this! The sleep deprivation has to be one of the very worst parts of being pregnant. Because, why mother nature, why?? I posted a little something about this on FB already but I just need to warn mothers of one that the raunchy end of pregnancy stage happens earlier with each pregnancy. When I was pregnant with my first I was happy as a clam up until the very end. Honestly I was uncomfortable and crampy and beached-whalish but I was in no huge rush to get her here. And I was pleasant to be around. I mean I went down on a week long family retreat with Jason's whole side of the family to Bryan Head 2 weeks before giving birth, and went hiking while we were there. I'm 8 weeks from my due date and would I do that now? Not a chance. Not if I care if any of them like me anymore. And I happen to like them, a lot. So I do care.

With my second I started to get what I like to call anery (anery= angry + ornery) about 3 weeks before she was born. Those last two weeks I was really done with being pregnant, but then it turned out she was almost a full 2 pounds bigger than my first, so it's no wonder.

This pregnancy I am anery already, and the aneryness not going anywhere. Like I said, 8 weeks left. Wish my husband luck. It's been hard on me this round. Really really hard. I have been fatigued out of my mind. 24 hours a day. And I collapse into a coma every night at 8:30 pm. I'll lay there awake for an hour or so, just paralyzed, able to only dart my eyes around the room if my husband happens to come in to talk to me.

I think it has to do with getting roundhouse kicked and head butted all over my body (belly included) all day long every day by mini people. They are both going through super clingy-mom stages and they fight over my lap every time I sit down. And every time I stand up and try to walk anywhere, I have two legs for each of them to cling to. But it's weird, ya know. I think they sense the presence of another sibling drawing near, because Lucy was super clingy to me right before I had Scarlett, too.

But Scarlett will be sitting content on her dad's lap, until Lucy comes in the room. And she'll see her sister coming and frantically start climbing down from her dad, all the while saying, "No way... Mama... No way... Mama," and torpeedo over to me on the other couch, just as Lucy will start charging towards me from across the room. Then they will both dive on top of each other, on top of me, give me several nice pile drives to the face and belly, yelling at each other all the while. This happened just the other morning. And of course, I am angelically patient and reassure both of them of my unconditional love for them individually, and that, "You don't need to compete for my attention, beautiful little ones. There's enough of Mama to go around. 30 pounds extra enough in fact," with a serene smile. And then we sing a few rounds of that loveable Barney's, "I love you, you love me," together.

And then I try to do my pregnancy yoga, and this ensues instead. I may or may not do the Tarzan Gorilla yell/ chest beating 12 to 15 times a day on average. But it's a good Tarzan yell/chest beating.

Then there's my husband. Oh Yason. Poor... poor yiddow Yason. We had a conversation last night about the possibility of him having to go to North Carolina in May on business instead of this month. May 16th. 11 days after our due date. And he said, "It will just be better for the company to postpone the trip til May." And for some reason I was so tired that was all we said about it. Then I tossed and turned all night, chewing him out in my head that he would consider leaving out of town so soon after his wife having a baby. I thought about how he told me so nonchalantly that he might have to go in May instead. And then I had an epiphany. It occured to me that I don't think he knows we're expecting another baby. I think that he thinks I've just put on a few pounds and that I have indigestion. I think when he sees me with a new baby in my arms, he's gonna be like, "Oh my word, she's so cute! Who's is she?" And then when I'll say, "She's mine." And he'll have look of utter horror and shock on his face. And then I'll follow up with, "And I named her Jason... after her father," as the way of letting him know she is his also. And then joyful tears will fill his eyes and he'll say, "What?!?? I'm a Daddy?? How did this happen?" And I'll just be nodding my head, smiling all the while looking up at him. "I tried to tell you honey, I tried to let you know... like when we went to the doctor together and saw her on the ultrasound... or how I've had an enormous belly for some time now... I mean there's lots of ways I've tried to tell you but it just never came out right..."

That's the only reasonable conclusion I came to as to how he could think it was okay to go out of town and leave me with our 3 kiddies all by myself so soon after giving birth. And this morning when we talked it/hugged it all out (I feel much better now), and I told him, "Ya know, I stood over your side of the bed and stared at you for a good long while at 4:30 AM, debating whether or not I should wake you or not because I needed to talk to you about this so urgently," his only response was, "Did you have a butcher knife in your hand?" Poor, poor Yason.

*I know there are plenty of women who give birth without the support of the fathers, plenty of women who mother without husbands, women who send their husbands off to war and have babies while they're gone, etc. (These are things my husband points out to me during discussions like this). But we're talking about what's relevant in our marriage, and if there is a choice of whether he can go this month or right after we welcome a new baby, I'd rather him be around during the latter. I don't pretend to have it bad or to be picked on. And as a general rule I am against these types of clarifications but will just say it anyway.*

I also did tell him that he has no right to complain about any kind of physical discomfort until I'm well recovered from having this baby. Considering if there is 8 weeks left of this pregnancy and then about a month to follow if things go well, that's three months of holding his peace. It's just that he strained something in his elbow during a church basketball game FIVE weeks ago and still has a gimpy T-Rex arm because of it. So we'll be hauling boxes or some other manual labor job and I'll be wondering why I'm the major work force behind the task. And then I'll look up at him and he'll just sortof point to his T-Rex arm and shrug his shoulders. Or if one of our daughters need to be carried up stairs or hauled around elsewhere, he'll be like, "Sorry, I can't, I got this bad arm." The point is, I just can't take it anymore. I have shooting pains up my back and abdomen with every move I make. And I am a hot sweaty panting mess every time I walk up the stairs, hauling only me, myself and I. So I told him it has to stop. Told him we were moving on from that stage of our life, the stage where he's "injured". And I made him a doctor's appointment.

Sometimes I don't know how that husband of mine juggles it all being married to me. And by sometimes, I mean, I wonder that every day. My mom has this funny way of saying things that regular people find offensive, but tries to turn them into compliments. And the thing is, she really is innocent in what she's doing, so there's really no offense ever taken. She was in town a couple weeks ago and said to me, "Meradith! I have never seen your buns SO round and SOOO full! They look so good!" And I'm like, "Mom, you know how that could be taken, right?" and we laughed it off. Except then I caught a glimpse of the old derriere in the mirror and did a double take. So I had to text husband a picture of my rear end, right then and there while he was at work. I think it was especially unfavorable because I was in the unflattering type of maternity jeans with no back pockets. And I said, "How many more pounds would you say this rump is packing than usual?" And after a few moments, he texted back a very generic, very safe, "I'd say it's lookin' pretty good!!" And I was satisfied. Where would we be if he didn't find me sortof amusing in all of my hefty splendor? Even when I don't feel amused or amusing at all.

Okay. Let me tell you about a couple other things that are adding to my general state of aneryness as of late. Some things in life just chap me, like the folllowing:

-Our white trash fridge. Something is wrong with our refrigerator. It vibrates and hums on and off all day long. And this humming vibration is ridiculously loud. And I keep telling Jason we need to have a fridge guy come look at it. And then he's like, "No we don't, you just have to punch it and then it's fixed." And then he stands up and walks over to the fridge and sucker punches it. And the humming vibration stops. And he feels good about himself. And I feel like we are 100% dub-T. Yeah, you're right... it says right here in the owners manual, "in case refrigerator starts making a loud humming vibration that drives you to near insanity, as in, you have to turn the volume up on your TV to be able to hear the show you're watching while in the next room, what you'll want to do when it starts up is square your shoulders to the appliance and give it a right hook.

-Angelina Jolie quote I stumbled across. This is what she said in an interview while she was pregnant with twins. "Pregnancy is great for the sex life. It just makes you a lot more creative. So you have fun, and as a woman you're just so round and full." Angelina, I don't hate you because you're beautiful, I hate you because you're a liar. And you want to make normal women feel like there is something wrong with them. I want to expound on this quote, but feel inappropriate doing so as a Christian woman. But last time I checked, having a huge round belly makes everything in life awkward. Period.

A couple of other things that don't chap me at all, but in fact positively elate me:

-Jason performing princess karaoke songs with his 6 year old niece for his two other nieces and two daughters. "Reflection" from Mulan was particularly touching because it includes lyrics like, "I'll never be the perfect daughter, I'll never be the perfect bride." This makes him the coolest uncle on the planet. And the coolest dad. And allowing me to post this after much pleading makes him the best/coolest husband.

-And, last but not least, Lucy's original compositions. This might be more for grandparents and aunts and uncles, but every night when we go to bed she asks me to sing her a song and then halfway through interrupts me and tells me, "sing me that song that Jesus taught me." So I have to tell her I don't know which song she means, and so she has to sing it for me. Each time it's different, she's become the queen of improvising and her lyrics as you will see are quite profound and moving. And then when she's done, she asks me to sing it back to her. When I can't, she gets all haughty with her superior musical skills. Because the song is too hard for mommy. So, here goes nothin', for your listening enjoyment.

I think Mozart was doing about the same at 3 years old. We expect big things in her future.

And that's a wrap folks! Stay tuned for more. As in, I want you to sit at your computer and stare at our blog until I update again. Loves!