Sweet Consistency

For women's eyes only.

2012-01-31T12:39:00.058-07:00

Now that I put that as my title and I know it's just us girls sharing in this blog, I decided it's high time for me to share my birthing videos on my blog. They're not edited at all, because I didn't want to take away from the sheer beauty of it all. So just free your minds and enjoy the miracles.

No, that's not true. But some people do that crap.

I couldn't figure out a good catchy title for this post. I thought of, "How pregnancy prepares you to relate to the children you bear," or "How pregnancy makes you more empathetic to tiny tots," or, "How you revert to infancy and toddlerhood while pregnant," or "Who am I?: introspections and observations while swollen with child," or "Newt versus Romney: a closer look at the issues that matter most." So any of them will do. Except for the last one. Not the last one at all. Forget I said anything about them, it's just that my husband... you already know.

So. Here is it. I really do think being pregnant has it's ways of turning back the hands of time and making little children out of us. Here's how.

1. Complete and utter loss of control of bodily functions. Spontaneous and projectile urination during pregnancy needs a blogpost of its own. (Well maybe not projectile, but spontaneous, yes.) So, we'll consider that similarity discussed. But what about gas. I'm sorry. Don't let me make you squirm here. And if you're reading this, don't be any guy I've ever dated, okay? Didn't you read the title?? You have to show your uterus card before you're permitted to read. So anyway, the thing is, I'd like to think I'm typically pretty lady like in my marriage. I am polite to my husband and don't like to gross him out. And he pays me the same respect. We close the door when we use the restroom. We try to avoid gas passage in close proximity. He's respectful in this way and usually not your typical gross guy who gets a kick out of this sort of thing. Neither of us are too amused by it. But all bets are completely off when I'm pregnant. I still don't like to gross him out, but it's not about what's within my control at this point. It's about space in my abdomen. And a human being inside that kicks and moves things out of her way. And the only thing I can say when he looks at me in disgust is, "I'm pregnant." Because I think maybe he's forgotten. And then he's like, "Oh yeah!" and we both let out a good hearty laugh and hi-five.

I have a near anxiety attack every time I'm in public or with friends, because I just don't if something will be expelled or not. It's a guessing game of hit or miss, and I consider myself lucky when I miss.

The other day I was holding Scarlett in Target and a woman stopped to talk to me and ask me if I knew where something was and this was the time Scarlett felt it was the right moment to expel a large amount of gas into the atmosphere. And it was actually so loud, that she basically muted the woman; as in I saw her mouth moving, but heard nothing, so I had to ask her to repeat herself. But I can relate to Scarlett. And sometimes I wish we were all so free and unjudged.

2. Spontaneous and involuntary ugly-faced crying. Scarlett knocked her head on the wall this morning and immediately burst into big wailing tears. As she was toddling toward me for some proper loving, I was thinking, What if adults all burst into tears like this... as many times a day as she does? and sortof laughed to myself. Until it occurred to me that I actually basically do. If Jason is stingy with sharing his food, tears will ensue. If I say something trying to be funny when we're hanging out with a new couple and then look to him for back up but he just sortof stares shifty eyed at the floor and makes me feel stupid and creates a real awkward moment for us all, I'll definitely bring it up later to him and then I'll cry about it (happened this week). If he completely ignores texts like this:

Or responds in an irritated way, I'll cry about it. (P.S. And don't let those flowers show up in a box. Presentation is everything, don't you know?) Or if he's stops while he's channel surfing and watches the the "edited" version of Wedding Crashers on TV for a minute, and a particularly crude scene comes on, I'll ask him to turn the channel and then cry about it. Burst into ugly face crying. And it will launch me into a huge tirade about how I need to know he's on the same page as me as far as what's appropriate and what is inappropriate media to bring into our home and where we will draw the line, and how the world is going to hell in a hand basket and what our responsibility is as we're bringing tiny, innocent, pure souls into it. This happened at about week 11 of this pregnancy. I'm thinking about 90% of my irrational crying is directed towards Jason. Then I save the remaining 10% for road rage and sappy movies and any experience that is remotely spiritual in any way. Flood gates. I sortof feel bad for Jason. I know it's gotta be like walking on a minefield for him.

But then I remember I'm giving him supremely beautiful babies and he gets to be their idolized hero for the rest of their lives. And it helps me feel a little better. And then we watch the The Bachelor, and it's good for our marriage, because it reminds him of what he could have married. Because those girls are more bat-shiz crazy than I am and they are not pregnant. And then sometimes we cry together because they're just so nuts on that show.

Don't I look like an ape in this pic? Pretty awesome. I love him. A lot. My husband, that is. Not the Bachelor. Can't really stand him much after last night's episode.

Point is: I'm more empathetic to my children's' illogical outbursts of emotion that happen several times a day. And joining in myself makes me a better mom. I just know it.

3. Embracing the fact that your body is not your own. See, when your pregnant, people are touching you in strange and unfamiliar ways. Strangers touch your belly, which I've actually always been quite comfortable with. But your OBGYN does other strange things, not to mention the experience of labor and delivery. Fact is, you're exposed in basically every way humanly possible. And it becomes pretty casual. I realized my babies bodies aren't really quite their own yet either, are they? I wipe bums, I wipe noses, I clean out eye gunk and ears, I do hair, I dress them (Scarlett at least), etc, etc, etc. The list goes on. It must be kindof frustrating for them. Actually I know it is. Lucy's very vocal about her feelings of my grooming, and Scarlett's following right along in her footsteps.

Pregnancy gets you comfortable with your body being on loan. I mean you've sortof gotta be to avoid insanity. When Jason and I were first married, he came with me to a routine check up at the OBGYN, came back into the room with me. Poor chap; his eyes were bugged out of his head for several days after that, couldn't really shake him out of it. He was a quaking, trembling mess; afraid of his own shadow for a time.

And now after having 2 babies and preparing for a third, he realizes how G-rated that first little check-up was. Am I making my doc sound like a creep? Because he's not. He's completely professional in every way. But it is what it is, isn't it?

So, motherhood lends your body out for a time. Pregnancy and nursing are all consuming in this way. But even still once they get a little older. Scarlett's thing when I'm looking at something she doesn't want me paying attention to, she grabs my face and forces it towards her, and yells, "Mommy!!" as loud as she can. Not in a gentle way whatsoever. She's starting to be a real bully. This happens in our house 12-17 times a day.

But this happens just as much, so she lures me back in just when I'm really fed up. It's called "battered-mother syndrome".

Not only am I crawled all over and followed/bullied around all day, but the other day I tried a new pregnancy yoga video that I ordered (I actually love it) and for some reason the fact that my legs were in lunge position and my arms stretched out made it free game for Lucy (3.5 years old) to rub her hands furiously all over my belly, buns and chest. It was a total free-for-all. I'm not sure why she had this reaction to my doing pregnancy yoga. Upward/downward dog position was even worse. But as many times as I'd push her off, she'd circle back around for some more furious rubbing and motor-boating of my belly. It was like she was rubbing barbeque sauce all over a ham for basting. But her enthusiasm for it was somewhat alarming. It made for a really really relaxing mediation/yoga session.

The truth is, I'm poked and prodded and rubbed on so much that strangers may be able to sneak up in a crowd and cop a feel or give a tushie squeeze in public and I wouldn't even notice it. That's not an invitation. Just a reality. Point is: My body is not my body anymore. Not sure when it'll be mine again, but I'm okay with it.

Okay. Just needed to get some things off my chest. And I wanted to convince both you and me that being a bit batty will make you and me better moms in the long run.

Genetics.

2012-01-24T14:13:00.006-07:00

Is there a little similarity here?

Guess they really are related after all. And I guess narcolepsy runs in our family. These clips were filmed less than 24 hours apart. I only wish Jason had nutella smeared on his face with a bib on, too. And I wish Scarlett also would have whispered, "you retard" to me when she saw I was filming her nodding off. Jason always makes it a point to snooze while we're sitting in the chapel of our church. Dim the lights for a broadcast? Forget about it. Little tykes just play so hard. All tuckered out. Love them.

Pick-me-up.

2012-01-18T08:19:00.056-07:00

I need a pick-me-up. Not a red bull. But honestly. I don't know how to face this day. And the absolute only things I have on the agenda are feeding my kids, and I also wanted to try to work in wallowing around in blankets on the floor. I mean, there is the eternal to-do list of my life which consists of gutting my house and redecorating, cleaning and organizing my closet, washing the all of the bedding in the entire house, and figuring out window treatments for our front room window and bedroom windows. But we did make kool-aide playdoh yesterday (which I'm fighting constantly the urge to eat) and I even did all of the laundry in the house yesterday, which does not mean in fact that it's done because I already did it yesterday, oh no no no, you're so silly! It only means today there will be a fresh stack of dirty laundry for me. But I refuse to be one of those people who do laundry every day. So really, the only things set in stone that I have to do today are feeding my babes and wallowing in blankets. That's it. And it's just too much. I just don't think mothers should have to mother while pregnant.

I did wake up and shower this morning first thing. Which never happens. And to be honest, the one and only reason I showered was because I literally could not remember the last time I did. No recollection of it whatsoever. My second trimesters of my previous two pregnancies have really been chipper and splendid. I feel great, have great energy, am glowing all over the place everywhere I go. Not this round. I have felt better after the nausea cleared but the fatigue has never lifted. What is with that. No energy for the question mark after that question.

Lucy was up in our bed at 3 AM. Had a bad dream. It's a heart wrenching little scene, her quaking little frame. So we snuggled for a while and I tried to slip out and go to another bed in the house once I was sure she was snoozing soundly next to eternally slumbering dad. But just as I was drifting off again, at about 3:40, it turns out she had sniffed me out. Because I hear her whisper yell, "Mom!!" from the doorway of the guestroom I'm now trying to sleep in. And then crawls up into bed with me in that bed too. It's not that the beds aren't big enough for us both, or for us all for that matter, it's more the fact that my children actually like to put me into the sleeper hold while sleeping next to me:

Pretend that muscle head with the bleached blonde hair is Lucy, and that's me on bottom there. Except there's no one refereeing. There's only darkness for me. P.S. WWE? What is wrong with people in this world??

SO anyway. At 3:45 AM I asked Lucy why she didn't stay in bed with dad and she just said, "Because I like mom better." So I agreed with her and starting listing all the reasons I am actually cooler than her dad. Just kidding. The point is, I finally drifted back to sleep around 5. 5 AM! And Scarlett is getting new teeth and coming down with her second round of headcold this season and therefore was awake at 6 AM, not her usual 7:30, yelling, "MOMMY!!!!!" from her crib. And I cried. And went and got her. And now I have a splitting headache and that achey all-nighter feeling. And every time I pick one of my girls up, I have rubber arms that wobble all over. Like I just did 170 push-ups. Actually, I did do 170 push-ups this morning come to think of it. No, no I didn't.

I think one of Jason's favorite things about being married to me is when (on rare occasion) I am sitting up in bed staring at his face in the wee hours of the break of dawn, waiting to unload on him as soon as he stirs slightly. So he started rolling around a quarter after 7 and I was ready. I had a good cathartic cry about how he's not allowed to stay up all night watching Jazz games he DVRs and the O'Reilly factor and then expect me to keep the kids away from him and let him sleep until 8:30, which has been happening lately. Unacceptable to lose sleep for leisure when you have a chronically exhausted pregnant wife. If he's up all night caring for a child or sick himself, I will keep the kids away and let him sleep in. But those are the only circumstances. And he sat there nodding. And he agreed with me. I think. At least he pretended to for the time. But there's a 50/50 chance he was still 100% asleep, with his eyes opened staring at me and nodding his head. There's a 50/50 chance he will have no recollection whatsoever of that little conversation. It's happened before. Full conversations, that he's an active participant in. He's slept through them. I might make my bets that he was still completely asleep.

And that brings us to now. The girls are sitting at the bar eating cereal. And I am sitting here in a bathrobe. Planning to be in this all day. This pregnancy has put me into a funk that I can't really compare to anything else. And the funk isn't going anywhere for a long time because I'm going to get more and more uncomfortable and fat and achey and then I'll have a new baby. I'm not complaining or whining. I'm just talking. Stating facts. Telling it like it is.

I went to dinner a few weeks ago with one of my best girlfriends. We like to go to dinner every couple months, just she and I, and we like to stay out late gossiping and telling each other funny stories about old boyfriends and having lots of suitors and back when we thought we were pretty hot. Except this dinner date was different. We were both fairly early in pregnancy. Both our third pregnancy. And it was like talking about old boyfriends and gossip was completely out of the question. What we talked about was how much weight we've already gained this pregnancy versus the others. And we talked about our gynos. And breast feeding. And then both started nodding off, nearly slamming our faces down into the plates in front of us, hurried to pay our tab by 9 pm and were home home and in bed by 9:30.

I honestly think I'm ready to throw in the towel. I'm ready to grow my hair into a nice fifties style mom bob, trade in our SUV for a minivan, and wear overalls every day for the rest of my life. I'm not even kidding. I'm ready to throw away all my make-up and sell my accessories and go into survival mode. And I really am pressuring Jason to make the mini-van thing happen before we have this baby. So be watching for me on the road. We really are getting one. I'll probably still spike my hair up. But we're getting the van.

The fifties style mom-bob isn't so bad, right?

So, now for the pick-me-up. I'm posting a couple things that make me laugh or that make me feel happy, because I'm just tired:

-This picture of my sister I found, slightly photoshopped and enhanced by moi:

I wish the curve in the window behind her wasn't a dead give away. Because if the curve wasn't there, you wouldn't even know I did anything to this picture, and you'd just be really creeped out by my uncle Festery sister.

-This shot of Jason and I about a month before we got engaged in Havasupai. I sortof look like a goofy kid sister, but he's just so rugged and handsome and tanned and toned. I have a big crush on him. I guess I'll have to get over him sleeping through my juggling acts of our children in the middle of the night. Psyche, I won't. But looking at these pics help him out. It also makes me happy that he's picking me up so effortlessly. Because I try to sit on his lap now and there's a lot of moaning and groaning and heavy breathing and wheezing. All those things sound totally pervy, but trust me, they're not meant in that way. Yes I still have over three months to bake this baby. AKA I'll be getting lots larger.

-Another shot of us pre-wed. Engaged. Stop being such a hussy Meradith! Stop crawling all over that man! You'll wind up pregnant the minute you're married! You'll end up pregnant three times in a row, rapid-fire! You just can't tell anything to fiancees. They're pretty annoying to the rest of the world actually. But I had a tan back then, too. That's the main point.

-This next picture was taken this morning. And it actually doesn't make me happy or laugh. It makes me batty. Scarlett pushes our barstools all around the kitchen and gets into everything. There is oatmeal spilled ALL over the floor. And that butcher knife I'm holding was recently apprehended from her hands. Or was I just sneaking up behind her with it? Guess you'll never know.

-Having a new baby. You'll get the point of this little clip in the first 20 seconds or so, but she was just too delectable for me to edit more. This clip sends my uterus into a twitching frenzy. And when I watch her noises and breathing and crumpled up little fists, I'll talk myself into committing to having 10 more babies. Which the thought of right now will send me into a loony bin, so I can't watch this again actually. This makes me tooooo excited to get this new baby sister into my arms.

-Scarlett's rat's nest hair every morning. Seriously. I have to find the R.O.U.S. that is furiously burrowing in her hair every single night while she sleeps.

And we'll end with this. Again, you get the point in the first 20 or 30 seconds. But this clip makes me over the moon with the fact that this baby we're waiting for is another little girl. I'm just too smitten over them.

Despite the fact that my voice in this last clip sounds annoyingly similar to Ruby's from "Max and Ruby", I feel a lot better. Life is beautiful. Deep breath. Life is really, really good.

A little January 12th update

2012-01-12T09:37:00.027-07:00

Is your husband completely and utterly consumed in every way with politics right now? Does your husband tell you he's tired with a big yawn when you've only just begun your pillow talk and then in the pitch dark of your bedroom you suddenly see a glaring white light appear over your shoulder and he's on his IPad reading what the latest political analysts are saying? Does your husband wake up in bed and reach for his IPad again only to continue reading? When you're invited to travel out of town and stay the night at friends and family members houses, does your husband insist that they DVR the political debate and make everyone gather around to watch it, when you could be playing games or gathered around the piano singing songs together? Does he wake up the following morning and rush to the TV still being a guest at said house, to watch another political debate and monopolize the family room? Does he hush people who are talking in their own home and turn up the volume really loud so he doesn't miss a word of said debate? Does your husband own a T-shirt with his favorite candidate's face on it? Does he on occasion wear it to bed? Has your husband bleached his hair grey partially in order to create the salt-and-peppered, distinguished politician look? Do you catch him practicing his own campaign speeches in the mirror sometimes only to have him turn it into a hack-cough upon spotting you spotting him? Oh good, mine doesn't do any of those things either. I was just imagining what it would be like if we were wives to those husbands. What a relief we aren't!

Ok. The real subject of this post is the fact that we hacked Lucy's hair off. I asked her how short she wanted to go and as she was thinking... saying ummmm... I said, "Like mommy's?" And she said no that's too short. So after thinking about it for a while she told me, "I know! I want my hair just like Daddy's." She's a complex little soul.

So, per her request, we cut it exactly like her dad's. Just kidding. That would only be true if her dad had Benjamin Franklin style hair, slightly feathered. Maybe that's a look he should try.

Now you might be thinking this is a stupid thing to blog about, but the truth is, your mom's stupid. Just kidding. The truth is, it was her first hair cut ever. So it was a big deal. And it was probably a long time coming, but I was hoping she might not inherit my hair and get some lucious locks instead of the fine, wispy stuff on my head. So I've been holding out, waiting for it. But I think by 3 1/2, she might have lost her "baby hair". I think what she's got now is the real deal. I remember being in college and people still saying someone our age had some baby fat on them. And I thought that was really weird. Back to hair.

Here she is, all ready to go at her Aunt Becky's house:

The hacking begins:

And I even did that weird, creepy mom thing:

I distinctly remember growing up and looking through old boxes of old pictures and finding an envelope with my brother Abram's name on it and locks of hair inside. We would always jump and throw it thinking it was a rodent. And then we were all like, You're sick, mom. But now I totally get it. If you don't get it, it probably means you're not a mother. So just wait 'til you are. And if you are a mother and you still don't get it, wait until you have one you really love. It'll really be somethin'.

And the finished product: (Actually, the finished product originally involved flat ironing and hair product but today she wouldn't let me do anything else to her. So, we'll say the finished product is a round-brushed bob for now.)

I'm still getting used to it. It's weird how it makes them look like a totally different person. And she looks so grown up to me. I keep wondering who the midget running around is with the bob haircut. Sigh. Stay little.

Sisters:

Lots of love in our house. Indeed. I once heard in grade school that if someone kisses you with their eyes open it means they're un-trustworthy. If that's true, Scarlett better start fessing up to her misdeeds. You thought you could fool us all forever Scarlett? I know a cold-hearted snake when I see one. Until next time!

Real Life New Year's Resolutions

2012-01-02T13:54:00.007-07:00

Okay. What is it about Christmas decor immediately after Christmas is over that makes it so insufferably cluttery? I've been trying to get it all put away this morning, and also been noticing the SERIOUS need for organization in my fridge, pantry, linen closet and laundry room, and when I get all ambitious and productive feeling at my house, it either makes me feel good and productive or it makes me a rage-a-holic and think about how no one cleans up after themselves and how I'm mostly a maid with benefits, a slave to organization and to every member of this family. This morning has made me the latter. And I've also been real tempted to throw out all of our stocking stuff and most of the girls' Christmas presents. Been feeling mostly like this guy:

So I'm taking a break to blog. You don't know this guy? Burgermeister Meisterburger? The one from Santa Clause is coming to town who outlaws toys? You've gotta get to know him if you don't. I mean, he is the primary villain in the story, but if you're a mom you'll have days that you relate to him. And we all need relating.

I think my surly mood may also have to do something with our smoke detector chirping for 2 hours in the middle of the night, from 1 to 3 AM, and now this morning magically the battery isn't low anymore and we haven't heard a peep. Which means we don't know which one it was. Because no one got out of bed to solve the problem. I'm looking forward to it happening again tonight. And my husband sawing logs through it. Again. Just kidding, I'd never let that happen two nights in a row. My husband sleeping through it, I mean. I think I'll sleep with a bucket of ice cold water next to our bed, just in case that thing starts chirpin' up again. And then once I dump it on his head I'll throw myself back into laying position and pretend like I'm fast asleep.

Here's the thing about trying to be task oriented with a 20 month old and a 3 year old. Lucy is trailing me all morning saying, "I want to help you! I want to help!" But what she doesn't know that she's actually saying is, "I want to set the house on fire." Because she's been trying to lift heavy boxes labeled fragile only to topple them onto their sides and give us all a nice loud startling crash of glass items clanging together on the inside. Or as I'm labelling boxes she will come and just snatch the permanent black marker out of my hand and insist she wants to help but while we are arm wrestling for the marker it inevitably smears all over the wall behind her or the curtains. She's pretty fast too, so I usually have to be like, "What's that?! Is that a fairy princess outside our window?!?!" in order to snatch it back and limit the destruction.

Scarlett on the other hand has no pretense about her destructive ambitions. Lip gloss smeared all over the nice chairs in our formal front room, arms halfway into the toilet just splashing around, glass figurines broken. So it's been a fun morning so far!

*BTW, If you've always dreamed about having your very own miniature porcelain Christmas village with wee little sleigh riders and Christmas carolers, I wouldn't recommend taking the plunge while tiny children dwell in your house and if by the looks of it, will be for years to come (as in, if you're pregnant with another). See, the magical little display does indeed add to the Christmasy feeling in your home, with the fake snow all around and the wee little ice-skating rink all lit up, and mini little Santa's workshop, but at the same time, the real downer is that it will make you hate your children. So I don't know if it does in fact add to the Christmas feeling afterall. And putting all those little bastards safely away this morning took like two hours, and was way more tedious that I had ever anticipated, especially because I was not working alone. I was playing offense and defense, man to man and zone. Glad it's done!

So, onto New Year's resolutions! Here we go.

Look at the number of blogs I wrote this year. It was about half the number of posts from my two previous years. (Can you tell this year I had a child old enough to cut naps out completely?) I'm setting a goal for this new year to pay attention to my children less and to blog more. I'm bringing blogging back. What happened to it anyway?

I'd also like to set a goal to gain more weight this pregnancy that my previous two. I'm well on my way so I think it should be attainable. I stepped on the scale at my last doctors appointment and upon seeing the number, I immediately heard an audible voice in my head that said, Chicken Pot Pies. Steer clear of Marie Calendar's chicken pot pies, sold in bulk boxes at Costco. They're just so delectable in every way in cold weather. But anyway, since my goal is to gain more weight, I'd better head to Costco and stock up. I have learned that the fatter the mom=the cuter the baby. True story, I read an article. Statistics say that moms with higher body fat percentages have considerably cuter newborns- up to 84% cuter, which is a dramatic rise in cuteness. They had nursery nurses in hospitals do the study, and it went something like, Oh yeah, that baby is way cuter than that one. How fat was the mom? Oh yeah... definitely... I'd say about 84% cuter that the other... Just kidding, there was no such article. I mean, how could one figure those statistics? You're so gullible! I still believe it's true though. I'm gonna google it right after this to see if there really ever has been a study linking fatter moms during pregnancy with cuter newborns...

Okay seriously, I just feel like goal setting while pregnant is a totally daunting task. I'm not trying to be lame or an excuse maker. I'm not trying to act like I've arrived at my perfect self and that I have no improving to do. My husband said yesterday that for Family Home Evening tonight he wanted to set some family goals and talk about our personal ones too. And I just shook my head and was like, Nahhh. But I didn't really mean it. I mean, we should. And we will. But thinking about the year and the fact that I will have a 3rd baby, a newby in four little months, which will make 3 children 3 years old and under, followed by the newborn haze and all that comes with it, makes me reluctant to set goals for the year.So here are my real life new year's resolutions. My serious goals that I really believe it possible to obtain in 2012:

1. Keep my children from from starving and/or freezing. Try to stay alive myself, too.

2. Stay married. I mean, we've never struggled with this one, but lots of people we know aren't staying married so it's a good one, right?

3. Stay true to the faith.

4. Try not to get pregnant again in 2012.

5. Maybe read Harry Potter series again, and use Jason's new wand around the house while I do. But this one is a maybe. Don't you dare go checking up on me with this one. Don't you try to pressure me. Harry and I have a natural, unforced relationship that flows freely. And I don't want you messing it up by heckling me about how my 3rd reading of the HP series is coming along. I might come back and delete this number 5 all together.

Phew. Glad I got those off my chest. And now that they're in writing, I'll be more likely to really stick to them.

The good news is, Lucy is taking over as primary parenting figure for Scarlett. She wants to read her books and feed her, tries to change her diaper. I stood in the back of the primary room yesterday after dropping her off with her new class and welled up with tears watching her sitting there with the big kids. First day as a sunbeam. I mean, certain rights are reserved for motherhood. And being a big blubbering mess is one of them.

She's also a very talented song writer as of late. That's right, our 3 year old writes original music. She sang one of her original pieces to me last night while I was putting her to bed. The lyrics went like this:

Heavenly Father wants me for a sunbeam

To shine for him each day

He sees you when you're sleeping, He knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or nice, so be nice.

You better not pout, You better not cry,

Jesus is coming tomorrow.

And she said the last line all low-voiced, slow and deliberate and doomsdayish. I think I really startled her when her song was over, because I let out the loudest wheeze-laugh one can muster. And she just looked at me like, What's so funny? So I had to turn it into a hacking cough. Anyway, every last word, completely original. To think of lyrics so profound all by herself at a mere 3 years... astounding. She likes to announce that she wrote her own song all by herself too. We'll have to get it copyrighted one day so no one tries to steal her material and claim it as their own.

Here's to a prosperous new year!

This Holiday Season:

2011-12-30T14:59:00.055-07:00

Before I get started, I just wanna say that I've had so many little daily things I've been wanting to tell you about these last couple of weeks, blog friends. But our internet's been out! Like how we ordered a nebulizer for Scarlett's nasty cough she's developed and how when the technician delivered it to our house and pulled it out to show us how it works, Lucy happily said right in front of him, I think that man brought that machine for your boobies, mom! and then how I awkwardly stuttered and stammered and luckily managed to say, She thinks it's a breast pump. haha! and gave the guy a good hard slap on the back. Or how I've been wanting to tell you about a conversation Jason and I had about how I used to be a "cool" wife and be all into BYU football and the Jazz and how it just sucks I'm not that way anymore because he used to think it was awesome and now I'm just all consumed with our "kids". (Those last quotations don't really belong, but I thought I'd throw them in anyway.) Because, ya see, I missed the first part of the BYU bowl game this morning being all selfish with my time, taking Scarlett to the doctor and picking up her prescriptions afterwards. Umm... Yeah. See how behind we are? These two incidents are just from today! But like I said, we've had an internet issue and my husband and I have been wasting a lot of time the last couple of weeks involved in a very important battle of wills, pushing whose responsibility it is to get it resolved back and forth, back and forth between the two of us. (I won, btw. Which is actually much more important than getting the issue itself resolved.) Anyway, I just feel like we've missed out on a lot because now I can't remember a lot of the little things I wanted to tell you or they just don't seem relevant anymore. Sigh. I just wanted to get that off my chest. I hope we never let a technological difficulty get in between us again. Maybe next time we have an internet issue at our house, you should take some personal responsibility for it and not let it just hover between hubby and me. You should write me an email and tell me, It's been 2.5 weeks since your last post and I can't go on like this much longer... what can I do to resolve this and restore peace and happiness back to my life? I won't be creeped out, I'll just be excited you're being proactive about problem solving.

Now, back to my title. Ahem!

This Holiday Season...

We experienced our first snowfall of the year. Which sadly lasted 2.7 seconds before melting. No white Christmas for us. :(

Scarlett was still pretty elated by the skimpy stuff. She's no high maintenance dame.

We told Santa what we wanted for Christmas. Lucy said, "I want a unicorn," with a smile and then Scarlett said, "I wanna get the hell away from you, Santa."

And Lucy didn't mind copping a feel of that red velvety lusciousness while Scarlett was distracting Mr. Clause. Didn't mind at all. I think they may have conspired about this beforehand, Okay Scarlett, you throw a big fit... and while you do, I'm gonna go ahead and do some belly fondling... and solve this mystery once and for all...

Grammy and Papa came down for a weekend and we got to have a sleepover with one of our favorite cousins... I think it might be getting close to the time we tell Lucy she can't marry Carson. She'd spoon him 24-7 if he'd let her. Luckily, he plays a little hard to get.

We also made ginger bread houses with said cousin.

We met Santa for the 2nd time on the Polar Express... and 3 year old Lucy immediately noted that the other Santa we met wasn't wearing glasses and this one was wearing them. Hmm. I'm gonna have to be more sneaky than I thought. Starting now, not 5 years from now. Dang it.

This holiday season we also scored a lead role in the family manger scene on Christmas eve. Well, Lucy did at least. And she has told me several times since with a contemplative look in her eye, "Ya know what, mom? I was the best Mary."

I started to cry when she walked out holding that little baby doll.

That's Joseph sitting there behind her. She has a thing for older men. Just like her mama. And look at those wee little angels.

Here are all of our nieces and nephews on Jason's side sporting their new Grandma made aprons (accompanied by a collection of the best family recipes. YUM!) Minus Jacob, on his mission. We can say that the baby Lucy is holding is standing proxy for Jacob. I mean, it's an anatomically correct baby doll, which is all Lucy will stand for these days.

Actually, she went and grabbed that baby after Grandma said, "Okay big kids, grab a baby for the picture!" and then Lucy said in a hurry, "I gotta go get my baby Jesus."

-We got new Christmas pajamas:

Scrumptious little sissies. Indeed.

Despite my best efforts to revolutionize ugly-face making, some of us still want to pretend we're just too dang cute to make a truly heinous face when told to... No creativity whatsoever in that face pulling. So easy a 3 and a 4 year old can do it. You think Lucy could pull off what I'm doing?? Not a chance. She'd burst several blood vessels in her face just trying.

And then there's Steve. He always comes through for me. That means more than you know, brother. I think that we will have to feature you in every Christmas post. And I actually think this was the, "make a sexy face" picture. Even better.

This Holiday Season, I finally got my cruiser!!!! There is a rich history behind getting this bike in my possession, and if you'd like to know something about it, read here. If not, just look at how cute that bike is! It has a bell. And check that basket out. I'll be delivering warm loaves of bread around the neighborhood on that thing come this summer. And maybe I'll have a carton of eggs to throw at the kids I don't like too. I cried when I saw it. I really did. And I hugged my husband. A lot.

Jason finally got his batman snuggie blanket!! He cried when he opened it, too.

And modeling it back home...

And he may have shed a tear opening his new wand. That's right, a bonafide Harry Potter wand. It happens to be the coolest universal remote on earth. And you swoosh it around and jab it in the air and stuff to control your TV and other electronics. And, as a bonus you can dress yourself with it and set people's hair on fire and stuff. So I guess giving this gift makes me the coolest wife on earth.

Santa may or may not have brought us even more matching pajamas! And I'm not lying, at all actually when I tell you I wore this for the 6 days following Christmas. Which means I changed for the first time today. Not lying. I can't express how comfortable these are! And they've got our names on them and footies! How could I not wear them for 6 days straight?!

Phew. It's been a hectic season. And wonderful! And to close it off, this week we got hit with the stomach flu with sent Lucy and I into violent vomiting hysterics for an entire night. What would this time of year be without vomit and diarrhea?? It's part of the season! I'm trying to talk lightly about it so I don't start ugly-face crying. Because it was one of the top 5 worst nights of my life. But being this far along in the pregnancy, I had a little friend kicking my insides and doing acrobatics in between my retching sessions, which were every half hour from 11 pm to 5 am. Not good. Not good at all. Lucy seemed to fare better with it than I did, and recovered more quickly as well, so that was good.

Happy New Year! And Merry Christmas! I'll try to write something thought provoking and spiritual next post about this time of year. I just can't muster the mental energy today for it, but there are some deep thoughts swimming around in this head for next time. Like how Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess was why several of us died of tuberculosis. Love to all! God bless us, every one!

Trip to the islands.

2011-12-13T14:08:00.009-07:00

I am sitting here at this computer next to a lit fire. Sipping hot cocoa. It's barely dawn outside and snow is lightly falling. There's that blueish misty light all around. I may or may not be listening to Believe by Josh Groban. I'm snug as a bug here, feeling extra toasty and content. I don't think I'll get out of pajamas today. Lucy is still sleeping and Scarlett is eating oatmeal in her high chair next to me. I might get a spoonful flung at the side of my face soon. And I'm trying to write about our trip to green and lush Hawaii where the highs every day were low 80's and the lows every night were low 70's. And I'm having serious brain cramping. Because climate changes seem to put worlds of distance between events. What I'm seeing outside doesn't exist in the same world as what's in that picture up there.

We got back last Thursday morning, the 7th of December (my marmie's birthday!!) and I have been in a complete zombie coma ever since. We took the red eye flight Wednesday night from Kauai, landed Thursday morn, had the NorthStar Christmas party Thursday night and finished off celebrating our 10 day long anniversary festival on our actual anniversary, Friday the 9th. Today is the first day I'm actually feeling like the routine could happen in my life again. But I'm not complaining. Don't you dare accuse me of complaining!

We wanted to do something fun in honor of our 5 year commemoration of wedded bliss. The six of us (two babies in tow and Jason's parents- their first time to Hawaii!) set off last Wednesday the 30th of Nov. on a 5 hour direct flight from SLC to Oahu. We spent 4 days on Oahu and 3 on Kauai. Jason proposed on Kauai so we thought it would be romantic to return. And it was! I was a little worried leading up to the trip considering my state and bringing two toddlers along. But I only had two face-contorted-tears-streaming emotional break-downs during the week (one of these cry-fest breakdowns to hubby about how I was just tired and couldn't go at regular pace concluded with a bird flying over us and pooping on my leg), only threw up once, and the girls did way better than I expected with getting a nap in here and there when possible and going to bed way later than normal. It was amazing! And always lovely to come back to our wonderful warm home. Even if it is cold here in Utah.

Okay so many things are swimming in my head, I've got to try to organize them. So I'm journaling this, breaking this into days here. For posterity's purposes. You know they'll expect me to be organized, because that's the way great-great-grandmothers are. Do you think they'll think I'm a pioneer woman too? Just because I'm their great-great-grandma? Do you think they'll tell stories about me in relief society? Like, "I mean, my great great gran did it all. She had an awesome epidural with each childbirth, she took good care of her babies, kept slightly clean/ mostly messy house, she cooked a lot of frozen lasagnas, she had short hair that stood up on end at all times, she liked cracking jokes at social functions, she wrote a blog... I mean it's hard to know how those women did it all... I really admire her." Think they'll say that? I hope so.

Oh and just a heads up, you've got 5,337 pictures coming your way. And a looooong post. Because I have to do this vacay justice. I just can't skimp. So this is a major undertaking. MAJOR.

Day 1: We got into Hawaii Wednesday evening and headed to our hotel on Waikiki beach. The girls were superb on the flight; I was actually in a bit of shock at how well they did, so I was waiting... looking over my shoulder constantly in a state of frenzied paranoia... waiting for a melt down to hit. But it didn't. It was late, we were all exhausted but invigorated by the smell of exotic flora in the air. Especially Scarlett, she actually closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and said, Can you smell that plumeria? We sat looking over the beach, watched the sunset and ate pizza. We were starving, especially me (pregnancy hunger=angry hunger) and the pizza was divine.

Day 2: Headed up to the north shore of Oahu. Made a b-line to Giovanni's shrimp truck. Honestly, no words can describe this garlic butter shrimp. The only comfort I have in leaving is knowing my parents are coming to town this weekend and my mom has somehow concocted a replica recipe that are equally mind-blowing, and has agreed to our request that we will make them this Saturday night. Except her sticky rice is better than Giovanni's. This meal is not for the weak or faint-hearted. This meal is not for people who like shrimp so-so (Vanessa!). This meal is heavenly manna. I'm pretty sure that's what the children of Israel found in the desert. That's what they meant by manna. Giovanni's garlic butter shrimp. Am I being sacrilegious? I mean, maybe that is what they found but they'd never had it before ya know?

I was slightly alarmed when we got our permanent black markers out to sign our names on the truck to look over and see my father-in-law scribbling profanity instead... even trying to cover it up with one hand so we wouldn't see what he was writing. That J Dale is so unpredictable!

We ordered Lucy her very own plate, hoping to clean up after she ate a couple, and much to Jason's and my horror, she ate every last shrimp. I think there are a like 15 on each plate. We were really hoping she wouldn't. But she did.

And look how happy she was with herself. She's just content with her lot in life.

And even saved room for some delicious corn on the cob, which I must say is a fabulous addition since we've been there last.

After heading up to Haleiwa for some Matsumoto's shaved ice, we made our way back down to the temple grounds. But not without stopping at sunset beach and watching the world cup of surfing for a while. It was pretty awesome. And I looked at those beach bum surfer girls, all golden tan with no make-up, with their little bikinis and shorts and long salt-watery, stringy, sun-bleached hair, and I found myself sortof wishing I was one of them. And so I pretended to trip and spilled the rest of my melted shaved ice all over one of them. And then I was glad I wasn't her.

Next we headed over to the temple to see the visitor's center and grounds. It's an exquisite temple. And I love that you can see the ocean standing from the front doors.

This one might just be my favorite from the whole trip:

That night we went to dinner and the night show at the polynesian cultural center... you know, with the fire dancers and all the works. I've been to the night show once before when our family went when I was 17. I had to laugh sitting there, laugh right out loud, remembering my 17 year old self watching all the dancers and drummers in their grass skirts and thinking they were so hot. There was one tongan drummer boy in particular that I was sure I was destined to run away with. I promised myself I'd be back to find him, I mean, he hit on me while we were there, whispered, "I'm single," in my ear and I was pretty much love struck and over the moon the entire rest of the time. This experience was slightly different. While I still got hit on several times by many of the polynesian dancers (they have a thing for preggies), I was mostly hoping my babies would go to sleep because the show started at 7... that's 10 pm Utah time (!!!) and I was having anxiety about them. So this time I was mostly irritated, wondering why they had to be scream-singing war cries quite so loud and if they had to bang their drums quite so blaringly. I probably should have stood up and asked them to tone it down, because my girls needed to fall asleep during the show. They would have listened, I should have done it.

P.S. They didn't fall asleep til like the last 20 minutes. I had to just take a deep breath and talk my mother brain down... had to let it be. And Jason's mom Linda did lean over to me and say, "I can see why you were so infatuated with the drummers..." Turns out she and a drummer boy of her own were making eyes at each other the whole night. That Linda! She really did say that though. We laughed. Something about them pounding away on those drums in their little grass skirts. I know what Jason's being for Halloween next year. I have the vision already worked out in my mind... I'll be sitting back, eating grapes, ordering him NOW DRUM!!

The next day, we went to breakfast at Cinnamon's in Kailua (highly recommend! Crab cake eggs benedict and red velvet pancakes!) and then went on the muddiest hike in history up to Maunawili falls. We'd never been on this hike so we weren't quite sure what to expect, but if you're there during the rainy season, watch out for this one.

And I don't mean to brag about my agility, but must say that I was the one and only person to remain on two limbs the entire 3 mile hike. And by two limbs, I mean on my hands. I did the entire hike in hand-stand position. I just didn't think it'd be challenging enough for me walking up the jungly, muddy mountain side on my feet.

The proof in the pudding, after pap-in-law's first fall:

Some more proof:

And more:

Now, before you start thinking I'm particularly cruel and sadistic, I'm happy to report that no one was injured at all. And we all had some great laughs over the slippery stumbles. I mean, this last one was the most graceful and beautiful fall I've ever seen a woman perform. Linda started to lose her balance and did sortof a figure eight pitter-patter in the mud before mentally embracing that she was a goner and somehow pulled off a triple axle in the air on her way down before landing with perfect form on her back in the bushes. She later said that it felt something like landing on a feather bed.

I could not regain my composure for some time after watching that one. I laughed til I cried, and I laugh-cried for some time. Couldn't get the mental image out of my mind. I'm sick.

Yeah... he's excited for another little girl. Indeed. He gets loved on night and day.

Here's our destination! It wasn't quite the niagara we'd been envisioning, but we got to sit down. And that's what counted the most.

And, here's my stallion just before getting back into our car after the tiresome journey was completed.

Pretty awesome. These two are some of my very favorite people on the planet.

We drove straight to Hanauma Bay so we could play "dead beached whale" face down in the sand. Well, that's what I played at least. Don't know how anyone was up for a snorkle after that hike, like my 70-year old father in law and mother in law too. Exhaustion much. Dead beached whale for me. Yes.

The next day, Jason and his parents hit Pearl Harbor bright and early. The girls and I slept in. It was lovely. Then Scarlett got a good decent nap in a couple hours later and when she woke up, we hit the beach across the street. Linda was back by then and the boys were off to Aloha Stadium to watch the BYU football game. The cougs were victorious, and the boys were in good spirits upon their return.

Scarlett Marie. I hope she smiles like this forever.

Love these shots of Lucy and Grandma dancing in the waves...

This is right before it got ugly... when Lucy flipped Grandma down onto her back in the sand and then put her in a double-arm bar. You can see in this photo, she's strategizing, getting into position.

There has to be at least one amputee per beach day:

It was much needed girl time, relaxing in the ocean breeze.

The next day, it was up and out fairly early. We hit the Aloha Stadium swapmeet for a couple hours and then headed to the airport to catch our flight to Kuaui. 25 minute flights are my favorite.

Here's our big girl all buckled in by herself on the plane.

We checked into the Grand Hyatt at PoiPu beach on Kauai and it was what all my dreams were made of. I wish I could live there. Kauai might be one of my very favorite places on earth. I think it's my favorite island for sure. It's just less touristy and even more laid back than the others. It's paradise. The girls were a little tired from all the hustle bustle when we got check in.

The next day, we set off for another hike. Drove up to the north shore of the island, started hiking at ke'e beach and hiked to Hanakapi'ai Beach, where we got engaged. I was worried about our girls because this one was four miles round trip. But my husband is the biggest "YES man" who's ever lived and there is nothing he won't find a way to make happen. I was trying not to be a Debbie Downer, because, after all we were hiking back to the beach where Jason proposed. But I sortof just wanted a helicopter to take us in. My little Lucy was such a trooper. And ya know what? We all were. Jason carried Scarlett the entire time, just like our first hike, I let Lucy ride piggy back every ten minutes or so when she needed a break, and Grandma and Grandpa were stellar as always. I remember the hike being a bit strenuous when we went five years ago, but I wasn't pregnant then. And we didn't have two tinies with us. So it was challenging.

And breath-taking. And not nearly as muddy as the first hike. You hike along the side of a mountain and you're over looking the ocean the entire time. It's really quite surreal.

This is about the exact spot where he got down on one knee over five years ago. The tide was higher this time around, but being back there again with him was absolutely magical. And worth all the fuss. Oh my heart.

Nothing like a sister to give you a boost when times get tough. So cute.

This is what happens when you strip a baby and lay her down on her back in the sand to change her diaper.

And on our way back. Lucy was crying when we started back and kept saying, "I can't do this mommy! I just so tired. I need to fall asleep on your back." I about burst into tears right then and there. We held hands the whole time and about 10 minutes into our trek back I asked her if she wanted to say a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to help us not be so tired. So we did. And I'm not kidding, that girl got a second wind like I've never seen. I guess the Lord answers little girl prayers in the form of pixie dust because she suddenly had pockets full of it, throwing it on any and everyone who needed a little boost, yelling and laughing, "Pixie dust awaaaaaay!!" every time she did. She took turns walking and riding on my back but everyone did great and she and Scarlett both did awesome. My heart was so full I thought it might burst on that hike back. I'm just thankful to know that there is a God in heaven who is our Father who listens and answers even the littlest prayers.

By the way, that little baby girl number three's getting bigger, isn't she? She's started to really make her presence known, isn't she?! eh? ehh?? Yes she sure is. Turns out it hasn't just been indigestion after all.

We drove directly to brick oven pizza after this hike and stuffed our faces like no one's ever seen. Did I mention that Italian food has been my major staple this pregnancy? Can't live without it. That pizza and pasta was extraordinary. And the fact that my father-in-law J almost got in a fist fight at the buffet, made everything more interesting. Some dude got all upset and told him he needed to apologize for elbowing his nephew. Do you know my husband's dad, Mister?? Are you really trying to have a confrontation with grandpa? Do you know buffets? Of course they're about throwing elbows! Especially with little kids, they're way easier to elbow out of the way. And your nephew was way annoying and pushy. Get a life. I was chapped, but everyone else just thought it was pretty funny. I guess it is. But still.

Down time at our hotel the next day. Beautiful day.

We put the kids to bed early that night and watched Pearl Harbor in our room. And ordered room service. I cried my eyes out. Over the movie... but that room service was awesome, too. It added to the emotion of it all.

The next day, our last day in Hawaii, Jason and his parents woke up early and went on an ATV tour through the jungle. I couldn't go because of the bun in the oven. Which again, I was happy to hang behind and relax at our hotel.

They went though, and swung out on the actual rope swing that's in the first Indiana Jones movie. A real highlight for Jason.

Did I mention that Grandpa just turned 70? Nothing stops him.

And my gallant hub:

That afternoon, we drove to the opposite side of the island and headed up Waimea canyon, also known as the grand canyon of Hawaii. Again, break-taking. The views were incredible. We were all really surprised, guess we just weren't expecting it to be quite so spectacular.

The part of this for me that was most fun was the wind whipping my dress up around my face all afternoon. I whipped hard and strong. And Lucy lifting my dress up to get underneath over and over again. I'm sure it was everyone else's favorite part, too.

And like I said, this is our last day in Hawaii people. Look at this last picture. While I'm writing the world's longest blog post, can I take the liberty and make it longer? I just wanted to show you that motherhood has robbed me of the ability to get a tan. It's the weirdest thing. I've always been sortof olive complected, never really burned much but definitely always tanned. And now neither happens. I got back from Cancun stark white last month and on my way back from Hawaii it seems I lightened up even a few more shades. It's not that big of a deal, it just perplexes me. And I just think I'm a little cuter with a tan. I think you think so too... but about you... maybe you've been spending time thinking that about me too. Then again I guess being "cute" is not high on the priority list of the pregnancy/child birthing/nursing/mothering gods. I guess it would be in a world where cankles and flab are attractive. (This train of thought is going 500 places at once and I'm ridin' it!) Thing about it, my husband is immune to all of it. And after 5 years of marriage you'd think it would be something I totally love and adore. But I can't decide how I feel about it. Because I really can wear pajamas all week and then actually get ready and do my hair and put make-up on and I'll be thinking I'm all smokin' and he gets home and gives me the exact same greeting. And then when I ask why he didn't notice, he says, "You always look beautiful to me. You don't need make-up," which my mind does recognize as being sweet. But I want him to stammer and stumble into the wall or something sometimes when he gets home and I've put effort into beautifying. I want him to be blown away, and act like an idiot the way guys do in the movies in front of a pretty lady. Because he walks in and I stand there and do my little twirl-curtsy and he's like, "Ready to go?" And then I feel like being pouty, which I don't do (of course not!) because I'm a lot more sophisticated than that. Point of all this tangent? I can't get a tan. Not to save my life.

Point of this blog post? We love Hawaii. I know if you've been, you think you love Hawaii, too. Like, hello? Who doesn't?! But we love it more. And I love my family. So much. More than you love yours. Just kidding. And I love my husband. I would never hike miles in the mud while pregnant if it weren't for him. Never! I mean, I'd try to go spend the day at a day spa getting facials and massages or something silly and boring like that! Ha. I've loved our 5 years together. More than words can say. And I look forward to another five years, and five after that, and then forever...with him.

Thank Heaven...

2011-11-29T07:49:00.055-07:00

...for little girls! Yes it's true, a third one will be making her debut in the spring. It's funny how I've been saying this pregnancy has been SOOO different (which it has), like how I've been way more fatigued this pregnancy but was totally over the nausea at 12 weeks which I didn't believe could actually be possible before now, and how I've only thrown up 3 times this pregnancy which is also something miraculous. So I've been calling "boy" all along. But when we found out it was another girl, I went back and reread my post about announcing that Scarlett was a girl and I went on and on about how that pregnancy was SOOO different and how I swore it was a boy. Then I felt dumb. I'm done calling the gender. Done! I know there are some women who are more sick with one and not the other, (my mother-in-law only threw up with boys. 3 boys and 4 girls folks, so it's not like she just had one of each.) But each pregnancy is wildly different for me, so I think I'll go ahead and expect girls from here on out, because we are pretty good at making girls if I do say so myself. When we found out it was a girl I was initially shocked, but then imagined another one of my newborn baby girls in my arms and was immediately swooning and smitten all over again. We're excited! Lucy was funny. She'd been saying it's a boy the entire time and that we're gonna name him Jared. She's been saying, "I already have a sister. We need a boy." and then when she found out it was a girl, her chin quivered a bit and she said, "Oh no. I want a boy, like baby Jesus." haha it was cute.

*The one commonality between the three pregnancies is that I hate my husband while the first trimester does it's worst to me. And he hates me. And says things like, What has gotten into you lately?!?! in exasperation. And then I tell him I'm going to start chopping off body parts if he asks me that idiotic question again. But then we always patch things up and decide we really are in love and we should stay together once I start feeling better. You'd think we should just be prepared for that part of it by now, but the disdain is no less startling each time. Hmm.*

It's funny how once you get to three of one gender, people start giving condolences. And by funny I mean weird and annoying. The ultrasound technician told us immediately after, It took me three girls to finally get my boy so there's still hope! Don't give up hope! I was perplexed. And then like, Look lady, does this guy look like Henry the 8th or somethin'? Because he has two adoring daddy's girls that dote on his every move, I can assure you, you're not destroying our hope in life by telling us it's another girl. Or how about when we told Jason's family it was another girl and how I was thinking boy the whole time and how Jason said, "I bet it's another girl," and one of our brothers said, It's because Jason's always pessimistic. People are so funny! Like, side-splitting hilarious. It's been a week since we've known it's a girl and I am happy to report I'm already slightly chilling out with my defensiveness for this unborn daughter because I keep being told, "that's just what people say with lots of the same sex". Someday, of course we would love the experience of raising a boy. But we're okay that today is not that day.

Let's hear it for more ribbons and curls! I'm envisioning Little Women in my house. And I love every second of that vision. Except, with the dad in the picture and not off at war. But everything else the same, especially the wardrobes and lack of electricity.

So, Thanksgiving was fabulous this year. We went up to my parents house in Idaho Falls and while none of the other members of my immediate family could come, we did have an uncle and friends and cousins galore. We were up in Idaho for 4 days an unfortunately took like 3 pictures.

Ahem:

Papa and Jason standing in the kitchen before our feast no doubt discussing college football junk:

I think Scarlett might outweigh Lucy pretty soon. She does rock a good Benjamin Franklin hairdo though.

Parenting these two is a constant source of entertainment in this house. I made lasagna for lunch today and told Lucy I made it for her with wide eyes, all excited. When I showed it to her she started to whimper and said, No I don't want that kind of lasagna! I want the other kind! so I said, What other kind? Show me. And so logically she went and got a stash of gummy bears and said, I want this kind of lasagna for lunch. It's my favorite. Perfect Lucy. How silly of my not to know what you were referring to.

And Scarlett is 19 months and sassier every day. But has been somewhat of a miracle child with going to bed and down for naps. We'll be reading a story before bed in her rocking chair and she'll point to her crib and say, "bed". And today she said, "night night" at around her naptime. Like, she asked me if she could go to bed. So I took her up and put her in bed. And that was that.

Okay fine, we got four pictures in Idaho. I'm sorry I don't have more photos to share, but I go into major lazy arse mode when I'm at my parents place. We also went to two movies, Jason and I went on a hot date to Breaking Dawn, (he acted like I dragged him there kicking and screaming but secretly liked it). He's been putting his hand on my belly and saying, What was that? You love me? ever since. Then the next day we all went to Hugo, which was sortof disappointing... none of us really liked all too much. I wish I could tell you it blew our minds. But it didn't. However, Jason did look over at me when Jacob imprinted on Renesmee and his eyes were bugging right out of his head, right there in that Edwards cinema. I could tell that did blow his mind. He didn't read the fourth book you see, he had no way of seeing that coming.

That's all for today kids! Loves and hugs and tushy squeezes all around!

Cancun 2011.

2011-11-18T12:12:00.012-07:00

I can't believe it's November 18th. I can't believe next week is Thanksgiving already. I can't believe that the Christmas season is basically upon us. I can't believe we'll celebrate 5 years of marriage in 3 weeks and that we'll shortly be the parents of three kids. I can't believe I've lost the ability to get a tan. And as I've reviewed the pics from this trip, I can't believe how awful a photographer my husband has become, but only when shooting pictures of me. My life is full of denial.

But the holidays are indeed upon us, folks. And we are having another baby. I am 16 weeks and this past week I've been feeling this little itty pounding and head-banging away in there. The nausea is basically gone and has been since week 12. Shock! (I used to think that was a rumor, that there was no way someone could only be sick until 12 weeks. I was sick lots longer with my first two pregnancies.) It's getting to the fun stage. We find out if this round is blue or pink on Tuesday! I'm still not quite looking like I have a baby in there; more of a beer gut, but the fun stage is beginning to set in. I feel good.

We didn't go on a cruise this year with NorthStar. Instead we stayed at an all inclusive resort in Cancun for four nights. We left our babies with my sister Bethany. (Oh sister! Thank you so much!) And we loved every second of this vacay. Except I'm still getting over a little stomach bug I picked up there... so this post won't be one of many words. Mostly pics.

A little afternoon yoga to loosen up. This is right before Jason tripped over his own feet and accidentally sent that lady in front of him sprawling in to the swimming pool.

A day excursion to the Chichen Itza ruins; el cenote sagrado de las virgenes... o algo asi. The sacred pool of the virgins? Where they used to sacrifice children and virgins to the gods. Too bad male virginity earned you nothing back then.

Remember how I talked about the kind of photographer my husband has become? This is the great shot he got of me in front of the temple. No cropping involved. And he doesn't believe in the 123 cheese anymore. It takes away from his artistic expression. Isn't this some kind of masterpiece? We're blowing it up and hanging it over our mantle. P.S. Vanessa just looked at this and said, "You kinda look like Dwight Shroot in this picture..." And that my friends, is the highest compliment any woman can receive in life. Sad thing is I can sortof see it.

This swimming hole was really sweet. I don't think I have anything else to say about it.

A good shot of Jason doing a little "cliff diving". It wasn't really a cliff. But I like to compare this scene to that part in New Moon when Bella is really stupid and dramatic and cliff dives on her own. Pretty much the same thing happening here. Jason was even having haunting hallucinations of me telling him, Please don't do this. And Just turn around and walk away. But him and Bella are like two peas in a pod. He didn't listen either.

If there's one thing that'll sweeten me right up, it's a man in a speedo. And women in thong bikinis. Both were in abundance. I don't know who this guy was here, and I don't know where he was going. But I did take this pic of him as he walked by me, strutting his stuff. I don't regret it. I miss him, that guy.

My favorite night of the trip, at a restaurant called, La Parrilla. Totally recommend it. AWESOME food. And if this mariachi band is there, you're in for a real treat. We loved these guys. Wasn't long before we were all sloshed together, telling each other our deepest secrets and desires. Just kidding. But you can imagine what it would have been like if we did.

And I may or may not have had a love affair with this little lover. Jason still hasn't forgiven me. Tres Leches. Loved it. Love. That's a lot of love in the description of this one little pic.

And the view from our balcony. The weather was balmy pretty much the whole time but I might have preferred it like this. It was simply lovely.

Glad to have a get-away. I have a huge renewed crush on my husband every time we have one of these little jaunts. I missed my girls so much but they sapped every ounce of those feelings right outta me on our flight home from picking them up from Arizona (I flew home alone with them because Jason had to go to NC on business). That's a story for a different blog post, but I can sum it up by telling you there were spontaneous, simultaneous melt-downs on the part of both children and by saying that two separate individuals came up to me at the baggage claim telling me they have no idea how I have the kind of patience I have; no idea how I held it together like that. I told them, I didn't hold it together, I ugly face cried the last 20 minutes of the flight. But I wasn't beating anyone, including you. So I guess we're all winners today. Which was completely true. If you're tempted to say that to someone after they've had a hellish flight with their kids, maybe don't do it. I think it might be best to just let them be. Let them believe no one else really noticed. But we are home and trying to adjust again to normalcy.

Viva Cancun! Viva para siempre!

Pumpkin patch through Hallow's Eve. 2011.

2011-11-01T09:37:00.031-06:00

Lot's o' pictures comin' your way in this here post. I mean, this blog here is also our family history. So I have to talk about... our family history. I mean how would my posterity feel reading about great great grandma's bushy brow if that's all I wrote about here? Maybe they won't think it's that great. Maybe I'll have some great great grandkids who are real sticks in the mud. So I have to be versatile in my posts you see. Hey now, hey now, don't go gettin' all upset and panicky on me. I do indeed still plan to update you on the eyebrow situation. Just calm down! And sit back down while you're at it! I know just now you got up from your computer in outrage and started throwing things when you thought maybe I wouldn't talk about my eyebrows anymore. And I love you so much for it!

I LOVE Autumn. It is my favorite. I love the smells. I love being in scarves and sweaters and boots. I love the colors. I love being inside all day looking that the balmy skies without feeling guilty about it. (I always feel guilty about being inside all day folding laundry during the summer). I love butternut squash soup and bread bowls. I love hot chocolate more than just about anything, and I make a mean hot cocoa. I love the anticipation of the holidays. The anticipation of the holidays might even be better than the actual holidays themselves. But either way, I love it all.

First we'll start off with some pics from a couple weeks ago when we went down for an afternoon at the pumpkin patch.

Pretty sure something like this happens every time we tell Lucy to "give Scarlett a hug".

I love Utah. Indeed.

And then a few days later, when we got to carvin' these babies up. I haven't done this for some time; it's been longer than since last Halloween. And I don't know if it was the pregnancy or what but gutting these pumpkins was making me dry heave repeatedly. Pulling out all the seeds and muck and stringy wet goop. And then when we got into a pumpkin gut fight and started hucking it at each other's faces, lots more dry heaving ensued.

Another favorite part was when Jason finished off carving two pumpkins by the time I was half-way through with mine, he turned and gave me his little switchblade he'd been using and said, "Here, use this knife for the rest of yours, it cuts WAY easier and it's so much easier to maneuver." I felt like Harry when Lloyd revealed he had two pairs of gloves the entire time. I think I said something like, It makes sense that you didn't offer this to me earlier and that you've been watching me with my sweaty brow trying to carve this pumpkin with this butter knife, since I'm a lot physically stronger than you anyway.

And here's our happy pumpkin family! Minus Scarlett. Her little baby pumpkin never got carved. She never even asked about it either. I promise yours will make a showing next Halloween.

Halloween Day:

Need I say more? Okay, well we needed to say more to just about everyone we ran into, so if you can't tell, we are Alice and Jasper Cullen. No, we're not Twilight obsessors but it was just an easy thing to throw together. In fact, it may have been the easiest "costume" I've ever had; I just threw in some contacts and put on a little pale make-up. So we were sortof lazy this year. Jason got all ready and went to work all day as Jasper on Friday:

And I couldn't stop taking pictures of him. I just love him a lot. Because he's not too cool for school. I mean, he is too cool for some things, like being unfaithful to his wife and squandering our family savings, but the things that really matter, like looking silly for the sake of a holiday? Not too cool for school at all. Except someone in his office asked if he was Edward, and that threw him off his Jasper game a little. Now, we took no offense at this and don't feel any attachment to Edward or need to defend his perfectly messy bronzey-brown hair, but even Jason was like, What?! Edward? You gotta be kiddin' me?! and he brushed his golden locks right outta his face, turned around and strutted away. I think it happened just like that.

At the office partay:

Love our little pirate and moo cow more than anything on earth.

Look at these munchkins. Edible.

Lucy was set on being a princess actually, had been talking about it for months. But she has princess dresses and can dress up as Cinderella whenever she wants. So we tweaked it. And it turned out being a princess pirate really was what made all her dreams comes true. She was yelling, Aarrrrgg! Ahoy mateys!!! all day long. Scarlett was slightly less ambitious, but you tell me where would we be in this world without dairy cows? She knows she really matters and that a lot of people depend on her.

So there I was doing my motherly and wifely duty and taking lots of pictures of daddy and his girls in their Halloween costumes so I gave the camera to Jason and asked him to take a few of me and the girls. "Here Jason, take a pic of me and Scarlett together."

Photo 1:

And photo 2:

I was delighted to see that these two shots were the final product of my photoshoot with my little cow. He handed the camera back to me and said, Yeah I got some good ones of you two! Glad that daddy got some really good mommy/daughter shots. I'm being serious. I cropped this second picture NONE.

Scarlett kept getting really confused and hugging onto random men's legs thinking they were here dad's. This is the second time it happened actually. Hopefully not something that happens when she's 18. That little moo cow was stunned and shocked every time upon realization of her grave error.

And trick or treating. I have a feeling this is going to get more and more fun as we have more munchkins.

We ended the night heading over to our friends Dave and Allyson's for their annual Halloween bash. The kids were already pretty tuckered out but they were close and we knew we couldn't miss out on their homemade root beer, cream soda and ginger ale. Um let's not forget homemade donuts. I was already pretty full when we got there so I requested a donut hole instead of an entire donut, but I must have ended up eating me about 16 donut holes. All in all, I felt like they were less caloric. I want some more now, too. Yum. You Frankmans are amazing!

It was a fabulous day. One of the real highlights for me was a guy I met at the party wanting to analyze Alice's character with me every time I'd turn around. So you're the one who has the futuristic premonitions... I mean it's not like she sees for certain what exactly is going to happen... the premonitions are conditional on other factors, right? or, So it that your real skin complexion? What about your hair? Or So you're a vegetarian vampire, that why your eyes aren't red... I had to quickly clarify that I wasn't a Twilight crazy... but that didn't deter him much. Hubby and I had a good laugh about it on our way home.

Today is rainy and cold. So it's consisted of mostly rooting through Halloween candy and pilfering the good stuff. Have you had a blue raspberry ring-pop lately? It's simply delicious. No wonder Scarlett threw a fit when I took it out of her mouth and put it in mine. I mean, I thought she was just being stingy.

Whew. That was a long post. Loves to all and happy fall! Give me a call! Let's go to a ball! Okay I'm done... ya'll. I can't stop. at all.

Two unrelated, random mysteries in my life

2011-10-26T14:12:00.007-06:00

~Run away eyebrow~

Now e'rybody, this is a sensitive subject. But I'm willing to disclose it here, because this is the circle of trust as we've mentioned before. All public blogs are. Here's the thing: I have a run-away eyebrow. Never comin' back. Wrong way on a one way track. Really. I don't have any time for plucking. And while I'd like to believe I make it in to get my brows waxed on a regular basis, I'd say it's more like every 3 months on average. However, what I do do, is look in the mirror on at least a semi-regular basis. I try to give at least a glance in the mirror's direction every time I'm to be seen by human beings who aren't legally bound to me. What makes this mystery that I'm divulging so fascinating, is the fact that I've never been able to spot this run-away eyebrow in the mirror. It's never had the courage to face me. Example:

This is not a great quality picture. And the mystery of it all has nothing to do with my hair here. This hair is what happens when you don't wash your hair for several days and your sister twirls her fingers in it. I enjoyed every second of it Bethany.

Now let's have a closer look at the real mystery:

That brow is on the fritz people. Don't even try to tell me it's not. Let's see if I can find a better example.

Okay okay, here's a good one. This photo was taken around the time I discovered this brow-gone-awry. Summer of 2010, in Idaho with my sissies: (Wow, you don't even have to zoom in to see the fritz in this one).

Let's still have a closer look:

(Gasps and screams of horror permitted. You're excused if you need to vomit. Or soil your drawers.)

It's like nothing I've ever seen before. And I'll grab the camera after a photo's been shot, look at the pic, zoom in a little and scream. And if I'm with one of these two ladies shown above, they'll say, What?! And I'll grab them and pull them in and say, Look at my eyebrow!! And they'll scream and gasp along with me. Except Vanessa. She will laugh cruelly and menacingly. And then I'll whip out my little compact mirror, and much to my dismay, everything will be completely harmonious upon my face. Nothing astray. Nothing awry. This has happened several times people. Not kidding. And I CANNOT. FIND. THE. BUSHY. SONOFFABEECH. TUFT. IN. THE. MIRROR. Last time I got waxed, I even disclosed this mystery to my waxer, and she laughed and said she couldn't see anything. But this top photo was taken since then. So that means the next time I go in to see her, I'm gonna just have to ask her to wax both eyebrows off completely. And have her grab her eyeliner and color me in some nice brows like these.

Onto my next mystery.

~Peaches~

Actually, the title of this mystery is a bit misleading. Because peaches themselves don't puzzle me in the slightest. Though I do wonder how they can be so tender and juicy and how it can be when holding one I contain all my hopes and dream with my very mitts. The mystery is about my husband. Jason doesn't. like. peaches. He abhors them in fact. And it nearly drives me to a loony bin. I mean I know I've talked about this before. But it's such an issue in the well-being of our union and consequent family that it's worth mentioning again. I've oft times tried to slip him a slice when he's not looking, because I'm in simple denial. Especially this time of year, when I've purchased my big box of locally grown Utah peaches and love them so much that I could mush them up and roll around in them for a while, laughing maniacally the whole time. I guess it's just that all my life as a little girl I had visions of my prince-to-be one day and I walking through a peach orchard... picking the ripest sweetest and juiciest peaches right off the trees and sharing them together... you know, the way Lady and the Tramp share spaghetti... meeting in the middle. Something like this... but peach trees I repeat. PEACH TREES. And that'd be peach juice in his hand! And a bowl full of sliced peaches! Peaches I say!

I had grand visions of finishing up Sunday night dinners and my sweet rugged husband would look over at me and say something like, "What's for dessert, mama?" and I'd smile sweetly, gently shaking my head as if to say What on earth am I going to do with you?! I just love you so much! and then I'd put my apron back on and casually throwing together some exquisite peach cobbler and serve it with home-made vanilla ice-cream. I always had visions of sitting at a park bench on summer trips to the lake and ordering a large peach-raspberry milkshake at the local diner with not one, but two straws and sipping on it together while we ogled over each other.

You see how he's ruined my life and dashed all my dreams to the ground.

I guess I just keep expecting him to see the error of his ways. I mean, who doesn't like a ripe juicy peach?? Remember that song peaches and cream? Or that other song that was like, "Millions of peaches... peaches for me". Or how about the fact that you can call someone a peach because they're just splendid and pleasant? I don't like mushrooms. I don't like the texture, I'm sorry. And he does. But at the same time, I don't know of anyone writing a song about mushrooms, unless they're talking about drugs. Or if someone really thinks someone is the cat's meow, saying, "She is just such a mushroom!" So you see the logic of my thinking. He's wrong and I'm right about peaches. He has no right to dislike them when the rest of the world feels the way they do about them. It's just that simple.

I think I'm gonna start a club. A Peach Lover's Club. Because I can't even enjoy a peach with anyone. And to have the person you love sitting next to you while you're eating one, juice running all over your hands and face, and they don't share the same affection for the blessed fruit, it sucks the wind outta your sails. And I'm sick of it. SO, my club. The PLC. Maybe we can eat peaches and peach cobbler and peach smoothies together. And we can talk about how as children we read James and the Giant Peach (not to be confused with the creepy movie) and that how the way James describes tasting that succulent peach just made our mouths water. And we could all go around the room sharing the quality about peaches we like most. Is it the flavor? The texture of the flesh? The juiciness? I mean there are just so many things we could talk about, so many places we could go together.

How can he just not like them? And not at least be willing to try them again for my sake? He hasn't even tried them since childhood. If I can just get one itty bitty piece into his mouth... even if I have to shove it in there while he's sleeping... muah ha ha ha.. maybe this mystery can be done away with. And it can stop keeping me up at night. And causing my husband and I to feel so much resentment towards each other.

Okay that's all. I'll let you know when other things crop up that seriously perplex me.

In defense of my Christianity.

2011-10-17T05:46:00.010-06:00

I have a husband who is very interested in politics. I happen to go on spurts with all of it. Sometimes I'm there with him watching every debate. Other times, I just can't muster the energy for it. Don't get me wrong. I think it's important that we are involved. We enjoy far too much in this nation to afford ourselves apathy. However, judging by my recent posts, take a wild guess which spurt I'm on as of late. I'm just tired folks. I can't stay up and watch debates with him when he DVRs them. All three babies of mine (yes, the two inch long little worm makes 3) have me collapsing into bed by 8:30 pm. Not kidding. And maybe there's some women out there who have more kids, and who have a full time job, and who are also running for public office. Maybe you use a thigh master at your desk while you're typing important emails. And you're reading this and making the tsk tsk tsk noise at me me because I'm telling you I don't have the energy to be super into it right now. But I just can't afford to care very much about your opinion if you are thinking that.

Truth be told, I don't want to talk about politics today. I want to talk about my Christianity.

It puzzles me that this issue is again being brought up in the sphere of politics. This whole, "He's a mormon, not a Christian! He's a cultist and going straight to hell!!!" or "A vote for a mormon is a vote for Satan himself!" It just seems preposterous to me that anyone is saying that about anyone in such a public forum. First of all, you're not doing Christianity any favors in the eyes of the rest of the world. You sound creepy and fanatical. It all really surprises me. Because I can't imagine having the audacity to say that about anyone, and I guess I just like to view the majority of Americans as being decent and fair and civil. And then when a religious leader says something so blatantly poisonous, especially in a venue where it has absolutely no right to be, it's just startling to me. There have been numerous people standing up to it, stating that politics is nowhere for such talk and someone's religious belief is simply irrelevant as a qualifier for the oval office. In fact, this article by Joe Scarborough is masterfully eloquent. I love every single word of it. And I agree wholeheartedly. However, I am not running for public office. So I'd like to address the fact that the people making these statements are judging me personally along with 14 million plus members of my faith worldwide who very much believe in Jesus Christ. Not as a prophet. Not as a great humanitarian, but as the Savior of the world and Redeemer of mankind.

I don't know how anyone could take it upon themselves to feel that they have the authority to tell someone who professes Christianity that, "sorry, you actually don't make the cut". Let me set the record straight. I don't pretend that my blog is nationally known or important to really anyone. But if there is one single person who reads this, who isn't sure whether they classify me or any other latter-day saint (mormon) to be Christian, I need to clear the air. Too many thoughts have been swimming around in my head about it.

Jesus Christ, who was born in a manger in Bethlehem to Mary, is my personal Lord and Savior. He is the Redeemer of all mankind. Nothing means anything in my religion without Him, His teachings, His gospel, His unspeakable suffering in the garden of Gethsemane and upon the cross at Calgary. Everything we do is centered around Jesus Christ. The temples of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints that now dot the earth, found in more than 40 countries, teach us about God's plan of happiness for His children and center on Jesus Christ. I know that it is only through His infinite atonement that I am ever to return to live with my Father in Heaven. I know that without Him I am nothing, nor could I ever be anything. He is my elder brother. He is my Redeemer. He is the prophesied Messiah. He volunteered himself to die a horrific death because He loves us and knew we would all be lost without His redeeming blood. And He will return to the earth with great glory one day. I think about and look forward to that day every single day of my life.

Some believe that we are not Christian because we don't believe that it is solely through the grace alone of Jesus Christ that we are saved. We believe that the Lord requires something of us. This is not to say that His grace is not sufficient; it is. But he taught while He was on the earth what is expected of us. Why would the Lord give commandments at all if he wasn't asking us to keep them? Why did he tell Peter and thus, all of us, three times to feed His sheep? He taught that we must accept His gospel and strive to live by his teachings. He taught us to try to be like Him and to love one another. So, no, as a latter-day saint, I don't believe that there is anything I can do to "work my way into heaven." It is by the grace and infinite mercy of Jesus Christ that I am able to have the opportunity to strive to be like Him. I know I will never be worthy. I know that perfection is not possible in this life. But we are here to progress. We are here to overcome weaknesses and to refine ourselves. We are here to conquer the carnal; the natural man. And this requires a great amount of exertion on our part. I do know however, that after we have done all we can do, His grace is what rescues us from a fallen state.

Others believe that we are not Christian because they say we worship the prophet Joseph Smith instead of Jesus Christ. This simply is not true. The name of our church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We believe Joseph Smith was a prophet called of God in order to restore the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ to the earth again. He is important to us, as are all of God's prophets. I love him. He gave his life for the work of Jesus Christ.

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Do not tell me I am not a Christian.

Do not tell me I am not a Christian when I have personally exercised faith unto repentance for my sins and have felt the redeeming love and cleansing power of the atoning blood of Jesus Christ. I have felt those burdens lifted and removed from my soul. I have been made whole many times over because of what He sacrificed for me. No one could ever tell me that the miracles I've experienced in my life because of my faith in Jesus Christ are not real.

Do not tell me I am not a Christian when the church that I belong to quietly comes to the aide and rescue of millions of brothers and sisters of all different faiths who suffer from natural disasters, hunger and poverty. The church I belong to clothes the naked and feeds the hungry as the Savior instructed.

Do not tell me I am not a Christian when I taught so many as a missionary, have taught in Sunday School and now teach in Relief Society (the sisters organization of the church) and it is made very clear to me through the promptings of the Holy Spirit that the most important thing I've ever done as a teacher, ever do or ever will do is to testify of Jesus Christ; that He lives, that He is our Savior, that He knows each and every one of us and every trial or sadness we will ever know in this life and that He gave His life to redeem you and me.

Do not tell me I am not a Christian when upon finding my older brother who passed away in my house, the only words to bring comfort and solace that my father offered to his quaking daughter that night on the telephone were, "to muster all the faith you have in the Savior. Mera, you've just got to muster absolutely every ounce of faith and trust that you have in Jesus Christ, and know that everything will be okay." Those words and my decision to in turn act upon those words was the source of strength that pulled me through the darkness that filled the months that followed of dealing with the trauma of that horrific day.

I could go on and on.

But I feel a lot better. In all reality we are all trying to better the world in whatever way we can, and it's sad to see things that could divide people of faith anyway. Some of my very favorite and best friends on this planet are not of my faith, nor of my political party for that matter. We should be focused on our commonality and drawing strength from it. Even with those who profess no religion whatsoever, there is much more common ground than we sometimes tend to concentrate on. Now I have that song, "Come on people now, smile on your brother everybody get together try and love one another right now" in my head... You know the one. But I feel better getting some thoughts out of my brain and into text. I can get off the computer now and respond to my 3 year old saying over and over again, "Mom, remember chocolate milk?" as if referring to a long lost friend we used to throw parties with all the time. Thanks for reading.

Hoboken sisters trip

2011-10-11T14:54:00.005-06:00

On Sunday we got back from a little escapade to the east coast. Me and a little lassie named Bethany both left our hubbies and babies behind and went to visit a little philly named Vanessa. We planned the trip months ago before I knew there'd be a bun in the oven and though I did call Bethany crying on Monday, telling her I didn't know if I should go because my personality sucks right now and I'll just want to lay around, my gallant husband was the one to persuade me into still going and getting away from everything for a few days. He's a lovely man that one. The trip did not disappoint! Well, most everything didn't disappoint. The canolis at Carlo's Bake shop may have disappointed a little. But Bethany is a faithful viewer of The Cake Boss so it was everything her dreams were made of. Here she is in all her cake boss lovin' glory.

What a good girl she is.

Wait wait wait. Let me back it up a second. I'm getting ahead of myself. Do you know Hoboken? It's right across the bay from Manhattan. Within swimming distance. We just strapped on our wetsuits when we wanted to head into the city. No no we didn't. But it's gloriously close! (or miserably close, if you're Vanessa, and so sick of city life you can vomit at will any time, any place. Just kidding. Sortof.) Ugh. I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts. Can you tell? You better not say yes. The thing is, my kids are playing/fighting right next to me on the floor with a package of stickers and princess barbie dolls. So I'm typing with one hand and hand wrestling with the other.

The single most grandiose event of the entire 5 day extravaganza may or may not have been the fact that Ness didn't know I was coming. She was only expecting Bethany. Jason thinks the "Collard surprises" are a little overdone, but we can't help ourselves. We're addicted. And every time we plan to surprise a family member, (someone's arrival is a surprise pretty much every get-together we have), we bring it up like it's a totally original idea that's never been done before in the history of mankind. So Beth and I flew in at about the same time to the Newark airport, found each other, jumped and hugged around together for a bit and then caught a cab to Nessa's. Our cab driver was heavy breathing the whole time and growled a little bit when I sneezed after him and leaned forward to jovially tell him, "It's your fault ya know! Sneezes are contagious!" Literal growl. No words. We had to suppress awkward laughter from that point on. You think that's my best stuff, cab driver? You think I really think that's funny? Because I don't. I was only trying to be polite, not really funny. If I wanted to, I could have you in stitches... and probably make you wreck this cab because you were laughing so hard at my jokes. I just thought we could be friends. Don't you dare growl at me.

So, we get there and scheme up a plan. It's about 9:30 pm. Dark outside. Sam is out of town. Bethany calls Ness from the front of her building. We have to wait for her to come let us in. So I decide to go creep and hide behind some bushes nearby. Except I don't want her to see my little spikey hair and immediately lose my cover, so I have to put my shawl over my head, nativity scene style. After they hug and jump around a bit together, Bethany says to Ness, "Oh my gosh come look at these tiny kittens someone left over here behind these bushes." And Vanessa is a real sucker for kittens; she hates with a passion all baby animals except for kittens. Just kidding. Stop getting off track! So she and Beth come creeping around the corner to see the adorable little kittens and I'm meowing up a storm hiding behind there, she even says "Oh my gosh I can hear them" and I'm there all crouched down under my shawl. And when she rounds the bend, I jump out at her and make a real crazy angry cat noise. And before she knows it's me, I happen to have a billy club in my hands and start beating her on the back with it as she's trying to run away. Just kidding about the billy club. But I think she did scream at the same high pitch note for a solid 12 seconds before we all noticed she had a big wet spot on her pants. And then we all had to ensue the hugging/screaming/jumping around and into each other thing from before. It was rich indeed.

Alright, I'm pretty sure Scarlett has a little canteen of gasoline in one hand and a matchbox in the other, so I've gotta wrap this up. I don't know if I'll be able to afford much more narrating with this post, probably mostly pics. I didn't even bring my camera though so I'm stealing these from Ness. Forgive. But don't forget. 2 cool 2 B forgotten.

And here the little dears are after standing in line for 3 hours at Carlo's bakery, shoving a little canoli here, smearing a little croissant there. I am proud to say I did not stand in line for 3 hours, but stayed home and slept. It was glorious with a capital G. Sometimes, when you're pregnant and have two little monsters at home, you have to fly across the country so you can take a nap.

Keeping the tradition alive with the sisters pedi...

Venturing into NYC for a girls night... this was the view while we waited for our ferry.

Once we got into Times square Bethany was like a kid in a candy shop. First time to NY. And she loved every second. It might have had to do with the fact that when we were all standing there looking at purses at a street vendor's table, the lady selling the purses pointed at Vanessa and in broken english said, "She is not so beautiful", then pointing to me, said, "She is not so beautiful," and then to Bethany and said, "She is most beautiful". Bethany was pretty smug for the rest of the night after that. It was awkward. We had a good laugh. Until we were out of the public's eye and Ness and I had to jump her.

And there's our favorite friend sitting on the ground with us here as we're heading into dinner...

Trinity church... love Leah's face

There's that lady again we all love and adore... (the one on the far right I mean)...

It was fabulous. My favorite parts were just sitting around Nessa's living room talking and laughing. And maybe some new york style pizza. I love my sisters! Sisters cruise is next. I was lamer than I'd have liked to be on this trip, so the cruise will have to be when none of us are pregnant. Which may not be for like 10 years but hey, at least we have dreams and aspirations.

Okay, and as I'm signing off, I just have to say that pregnancy with baby number 3 is a whole new animal. You think you were off the hook with the pregnancy stuff? This round, I started noticing a thickening of my mid-section before I even took a pregnancy test. I was already thinking things weren't fitting right and I needed to cut back my nutella intake from one jar to 3/4th a jar a day. Didn't cross my mind that a wee one was starting to grow. With your first, you are 4-5 months into it, still teensie tiny and just dying to put your maternity clothes on. Round three it's like my body already knows so well where we're going and knows there's no use in kidding itself. I mean, just look at the difference of before and after shots:

Before pregnancy number 3:

And now, at 10 weeks:

It's so unfair. Don't even tell me you can't see a difference because I'll know you're just lying to try to make me feel better. I'm already pretty much as big as a house. Sigh.

{*P.S. I'm coming back and adding this now... I can't bear the thought of anyone thinking this last part was serious... No, no, no... neither of these bare-midriff pics are legit. haha.}

The good, the bad and the ugly.

2011-10-04T08:15:00.030-06:00

It's thundering outside right now. Like, legit, loud, booming thunder. It's so rare here. I'm loving every second of it. Too bad I know it won't last. It's 8:16 AM and I just finished loading the dishes, and then ate a pop-tart. I never buy them. But I had a hankering for one the other day and gave it a whirl. Strawberry, unfrosted, with loads of butter. This was the forbidden fruit of my childhood because my mother NEVER bought them. But our neighbors did. And every time a slumber party took place between me, Nessa, Dana and Daesha from across the street, you better believe we were eating pop-tarts. And they were like manna back then. Sweet manna from heaven. And we felt a little guilty eating them, like "Oh man! If mom could see us now!" It was the same way with sugar cereal. For this reason, every time I went to my BFF Brandi's house, no matter the time of day, I went straight in and raided her corn pops and honeycombs. And she'd try to tell me, "Those are for breakfast". But I would never hear it. And we would share awkward moments while I was shoving her cereal into my face. Because it was such a rare delicacy. The pop-tart wasn't quite as delicious as I remember it this morning. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing that pop-tart again after it's been partially digested. I'll go ahead and say anything with that much butter was well worth it nonetheless.

This past weekend was General Conference for our church. As expected, it was wonderful and inspiring and uplifting and always seems to come at just the right time. There is always at least one speaker who speaks on motherhood specifically and pretty much helps us all feel renewed purpose and strength in what we are doing. This year's was Elder Neil L. Andersen. He spoke on the noble calling of motherhood and having a knowledge that we are doing God's will and work as we bring His children into this world. The talk is not available on print yet, but if you'd like to watch it or listen to it, go here. It was superb and much needed. Another talk that was particularly touching to me was Sister Dalton's address to fathers of daughters. She talked about how the very most important thing a daddy can do for his daughter is to love her mother. How she will learn what to expect from a relationships in dating and in choosing a future spouse because of the way she sees her dad treats her mom. Scarlett snoozed through that but you can believe Jason was extra snuggly with Lucy. Neither of us like to think very much about them growing up and dating and getting married and all that jazz. I bawled my eyes out through the whole thing. You can find it here. Worth every second. It was phenomenal. Truthfully there are so many talks that touched me. It is a supreme blessing to receive the kind of instruction and encouragement every 6 months that conference offers us.

I've been thinking about this motherhood thing. I remember when I was getting ready to serve my mission in Paraguay, my teacher in the MTC (who is now one of my very best friends on this planet!) said that for her, the mission was the absolute hardest blessing of her life. At the time that struck me as being sortof an oxymoron. Like, blessings aren't supposed to be hard. But she was totally right. The 18 months I spent in South America knocking doors and stopping strangers in the streets to talk to them about Jesus Christ and the restoration of His gospel to the earth in it's entirety was the absolute HARDEST. BLESSING. OF. MY. LIFE. up until that point at least. It was amazing. I was a part of miracles, regularly. I got to teach the gospel day in and day out, all day long. I knew every single day I was giving it my all and I was making Father in Heaven proud of me. I knew I was touching lives and bringing joy to brothers and sisters of mine. I knew I was giving hope to the hopeless. I loved all people instantly and deeply upon meeting them, and had not a single ounce of prejudice or judgement in my body. And it brought more true joy to my life than any single thing I had ever done. It was a sacred thing to be involved in. A sacred privilege.

And while it was the best, it was the worst. The absolute worst. It was so hot. It was like a sauna. We were rejected by so many. We were ridiculed and yelled at numerous times. We had one tiny portable air conditioner that was stuck in the window. In one area, I showered in the coldest water possible before bed, in my pajamas, and then would COLLAPSE into bed in soaking wet PJs in order to fall asleep. So many of the people we taught lived in circumstances that I didn't know human beings could live in prior. I got the stomach flu/food poisoning at least 6 times. I was hospitalized at one point because it was so bad. And being hospitalized in a third world country can be terrifying. I had blisters and one time found a parasitical worm imbedded in my foot. I gained 25 extra pounds, and hey, that's rough on your joints. I have shared this before, but on SEVERAL occasions I stood in the shower with my hand over my heart belting the star spangled banner absolutely bawling my eyes out because I missed my homeland so badly. No one could have ever prepared me for how difficult it was. How draining in every sense of the word the work could possibly be. And members of the church tend to deem South American missions as "easy" missions, because generally the people are so warm and the culture so friendly. There are no "easy" missions, and the challenges are very unique in each one.

Whoooooa. It was all just so intense. For so many reasons. White ankle socks and hideous baby doll shoes? All the sisters wore white ankle socks. Helped with the worms in the feet thing and the blisters thing. When I got there and saw the atrocity of the sisters in their white ankle socks, I vowed I would never ever participate in such shameful behavior. And then ate my words shortly after.

So while serving a mission brought me the most joy I had ever known until that point, I did not "enjoy" every day. Some days I would cry to Heavenly Father and ask in all seriousness why he sent me to Hell to try to teach the gospel. But I have learned that the reason it brought me that true joy was because it was so hard. The two go hand in hand I have learned. Nothing has the capacity to bring you that kind of joy that doesn't require your entire self. You and everything you can possibly muster in every possibly way. Every ounce of spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical energy you never knew you had.

Enter motherhood. I have an air conditioned home now. I haven't found any parasites imbedded in my skin since coming home to America (unless you include 3 fetuses... it's debatable). I am supremely blessed in my life. My husband is supportive and caring and an amazing father. He is able to provide for our family and we have two healthy vibrant children. We have the absolute cream of the crop families and the best friends on earth. We laugh and wrestle and play more than some would think is a responsible amount. I could go on and on and on. However, I do not enjoy everything about pregnancy and motherhood. I do not enjoy being nauseated. I do not enjoy fatigue. I do not enjoy feeling like any and every little thing might emotionally set me off or the every day roller-coasters of my moods. I do not enjoy not having the option of telling my tiny children, "Sorry, I'm taking a sick day" when they are hungry or want "chocker milk" or need to be wiped after going potty or need a diaper change. When I'm debilitated with nausea I do not enjoy high pitched screaming and fighting over toys, or pulling hair or my make-up being used/ruined or the toilet being played in. I do not enjoy that Lucy repeats the same request 1200 times in a row while I'm trying to fulfill that request.

So having babies and raising them now is the best thing I have ever done in my entire life. It has brought me more joy than any other thing, by a long shot. I still don't enjoy everything about it. Would I give everything in the world for these two (three in May) miniature people? Would I give my life for them in an instant? Will I do any and everything to protect them and love them and support them every day of my life? Of course. I do not throw up every day while I'm pregnant, like some. But if I did throw up every single day of pregnancy I would still somehow magically sign up for it again and again to have one of these in my arms:

Scarlett, 6 hours old.

Or one of these:

Lucia at one year.

Or one of these:

A perfectly healthy heart beat at 8 weeks pregnant. This is our third child.

Or to attempt to do housework like this, when two itties both want to be held:

Must have found this comical for some strange reason while passing by the mirror on my way to vacuum.

Or a couple of these:

My point is, the reality of life is not all about fun. The purpose of life transcends the here and now convenient pleasure rides. We are all given unique challenges that are tailored for us and stretch us individually. And I don't think a mother of one shouldn't feel like she has a right to express feeling overwhelmed and exasperated just because there are mothers of five or ten out there. (If you have more than one child and a girlfriend of yours has only one and is telling you she can't get anything done because of that said one child, resist all urges to say, Just wait til you have 2 or 3, you think it's hard now? Because while it may or may not be true, it's smug and annoying. I say this only because I have found myself very smug and annoying after saying just such things.) Nor do I feel like just because someone has waited for and prayed for a baby for years before finally getting pregnant, they have to pretend like it's all daisies and roses when they are throwing up or have splitting headaches. It's okay for it to be hard. Nor do I feel that Jason shouldn't have a right to complain about being married to me sometimes just because there are plenty of men out there who haven't found a loving and caring wife yet (just like me of course), or may not ever find her. We shouldn't feel like total ingrates if we have to vent about this or that or whatever. The first few times I cried to Jason about feeling isolated and stagnant as a stay at home mom he sincerely asked if I wanted to get a job and send the kids to daycare. It doesn't mean we would change a thing about what's happening in our lives if we could. We just need to fuss sometimes. And we need some good nurturing "there there's". That's it.

And when you need to fuss, call me. I won't remind you of those who have it worse than you, because right off the bat I know that's not what you need to hear. That's something that I think the Lord helps you eventually think about when you're ready for some introspection, but not for others to point out. I'll be waiting with a tub of ice-cream. Or if savory is your thing, I'll have chips and fresh salsa. Or maybe some mexican style corn on the cob with mayo and lemon pepper and chili powder. Oh yum I think I'll go make some right this second.

This is therapeutic for me. So just let me.

2011-09-30T11:19:00.011-06:00

I'm sorry. I am not an angry person. Really if you know me, you know I'm no rageaholic. I'm generally pretty chipper about life in general. I feel like I'm fairly level-headed. But this little blurb on babycenter the other day chapped me so bad. Chapped me red and raw. Think baboon's rear end= my face. Before I go into it, if you are a champion weight lifter/marathon runner and continue being so every day through your nausea-ridden stages of early pregnancy, turn away now. This is no place for you. Ahem.

You are one of the biggest creeps I've ever seen, Karyne.

Anyway, blurb reads as follows:

"Plan your workouts for the time of day when you feel most energetic – and when you're most likely to have free time. Some research has shown that you're more likely to stick to your exercise program if you do it in the morning. Early morning workouts also help you avoid extra showers. You can just pop out of bed, have a bite to eat, put on your workout wear, and go. When you're finished, you take a shower and start your day!"

Is it just that easy for us, ladies!?! So silly of me!! I just never knew it could be that easy!! Excuse me Dr. Whoever the hell you think you are. Have you ever been pregnant yourself? Have you ever been pregnant while still having to tend to other small children? One of whom only has incisors so throwing her a chicken leg is not an option? But also cutting molars as we speak so is waking up lots at night? And you're panicked trying to shove saw-dust crackers in your face before your husband brings her back to you because you might heave any moment? Have you ever been in the early stages of pregnancy when you've had to wake up in the night to calm her older sister from a nightmare? And try to convince her that spiders aren't crawling all over her? Or that the "mean bad wolf" is not in reality going to get her?? And then her crying also wakes up her little sister who has already been up once in the night? Have you been pregnant while having mini people crawl into bed with you before the sun rises? Jumping on or throwing an elbow square into your boob or full bladder? And again you're stuffing your cotton mouth with the same saw-dust crackers that you had to 3 hours previous?

{I hate saltines.}

"The time of day when I have the most energy" is reserved for changing dirty diapers, and starting another Disney princess movie. And making a grilled cheese sandwich or two.

The rest of the day I am laying spread eagle flat on my face on my carpet.

"Free time"? Are you serious? I can't even remember what this expression means. And my head might explode if I try.

"Pop" out of bed?? Really??? Have you ever seen any Pregnant woman pop up for anything except the toilet or an ice-cream sandwich? The only thing popping right now are the buttons off my pants. And it's too early for that but happening either way.

Who exactly is this tidbit of advice intended for?? Are you talking to me? Are you talking to anyone who has children? There are so many things wrong with this advice that it is laughable. And, you're making overwhelmed, nauseated pregnant women feel even more inadequate and loserish than they already do.

Seriously. I can't handle anyone telling me I need to be in the gym right now. Or telling me what I need to be eating to keep my figure. Or what to do in the future to lose the baby weight fastest. When I want to hear about that, I'll come find you. I also can't handle FB status updates about working out right now. Just got a sick ab workout in, 500 crunches! Can't believe how defined and toned my bod's getting! Tomorrow it's back to lunges and squats, feeling on top of the world!" Ugh I will throw up right now.

I also can't handle any insinuation that every nook and cranny of my house is not spotless at all times. Jason came home the other day and while trying to put away groceries in the fridge, said, "this fridge is ridiculous." And I unloaded a few rounds of rapid fire machine gun verbal assaults on him about him having a superiority complex and thinking he thinks he's the only one in the house with any kind of standard for cleanliness and that maybe he thinks things are not in tip top shape just because I'm feeling lazy and would rather watch reality TV and telling him he's delusional. And then crying later and apologizing for my "taking of crazy pills".

I know I've used this picture before, but I'm using it again. I just like her a lot and feel like I should be friends with her. I can't wait for this first stage to pass. And while I understand if you are a member of my household, you might feel that you're really the one who can't wait for this part to pass, maybe you feel like you're the one doing the suffering. Please don't even hint at that. If you'd prefer that your privates stay in-tact. I'm not even trying to be funny. In fact I may or not have been ugly-face crying the whole time I've been typing this up.

Multiplyin' and replenishin'. One by one.

2011-09-19T11:08:00.039-06:00

Well, we were gonna wait to tell. But after telling both sides of the family and after Jason told his office, news has already spread pretty fast. So maybe you know this news anyway, so it's old news to you. And while we are still in the first trimester and not yet in the "safe zone" (past 12 weeks), I feel like complete crap pretty much 24-7. Who came up with the rule that it would be best to wait to tell anyone 'til you're out of the first tri and when you're feeling much better and on top of things? When you're sick and weary is when you really need to tell people. It was a man who made that rule.

So we are expecting baby numero tres. There. I said it!

Here's a shot of Jason shortly after Scarlett delivered that little white box with the news inside. Totally candid shot. He didn't even see me standing two feet right in front of him with our big camera. Look at what a happy and proud chap he is. Pure elation on that face. And in that fist pump.

And here below is another shot. Something from a horror movie. This is a choose-your-own-adventure story. You decide what his true reaction was.

We are happy. Grateful. And excited. Those feelings come from the long-suffering, eternal-perspective side of me; the person I wish I could be at all times. Because in reality I do want more babies. I want a big family. And envisioning another one of my newbies makes me feel all gooey inside. And then there's the here-and-now part of me who feels nothing but total fatigue and nausea, impatience and irritation with everything in the world around me. Thank goodness for us all, I'm mostly made up of that first version of myself. Phew!

*Truth be told we were planning to start "trying" this December/Januaryish. But turns out, mother nature works the same whether you are "trying" or not. So we were surprised to find out even though I guess we sortof shouldn't have been. I will say that Jason is feeling more smug and manly than ever. And this baby's coming in May! The little peanut didn't want to miss out on all the summer festivities. Can't say I blame her. Him. Or whatev.*

Early pregnancy works wonders for a marriage. Like, for example, I made him take me home the other night at halftime from the BYU football game directly after watching him hoover a brat-tail (A bratworst sopped in mustard and ketchup inside a maplebar donut instead of a regular hot dog bun). I just couldn't take anymore hubby-wife time after that. I think the first real evidence that this thing is for real was a few weeks ago on my birthday. We were at brunch. A fancy, delicious brunch with everything on earth you can imagine. And I was making the rounds, trying to decide on where I wanted to start. Then suddenly I started feeling nauseated just looking at the food. And nothing looked good to me. Everything made me want to hurl. And then Jason and I reunited at our table, after our rounds, and he had a plate of tortellini. Tortellini I somehow had missed. My mouth started to water, and I knew that was the ticket. I had to have that tortellini in mah belleh right then and there. So naturally, I asked him for a bite. And by "a bite", of course I meant, "the plate". Except that on my third bite, he gave his pregnant wife the death glare and said, uhhh.... get your own plate of it. On her birthday. True story folks. I hate to say it. He was starving. And he is NOT his best self when he's hungry. It's embarrassing how much we've had this argument about sharing food.

A meltdown ensued. Immediately. Lots of ugly-faced crying. Great heaving sobs. And there was lots of hugs and, "I'm sorry baby... I didn't mean it... I love your fingerpaintins'..." on his part. Except that I knew that he meant it. I knew that my eating off of his plate was really chapping him. Even under the circumstances. So I couldn't forgive him for quite some time. Two days later:

Lucy has also been kind enough to tell me, every. single. day. while plunging her little hands all around my mid-section (emerging gut and love handles), that the baby is getting bigger mommy! It's getting SO big!! Your tummy is growing so big! What a dear heart. The baby is now about the size of kidney bean so obviously my stomach should be getting bigger silly! My advice is not to tell your 3 year old you are pregnant until a little later on. Because also, every single day since, she has asked me if the baby is ready to come out yet, and tells me to, Push her out mommy! Push her out! She's really excited. Might be the one who displays the most unrestrained pure joy over the news as of late.

We flat-ironed her hair the other day and she was more than fond of herself. Gazed like this for at least 15 minutes.

I've been feeling extra tender and crushy towards Scarlett lately. Because SHE IS MY BABY. And there's always a slight sense of betrayal at first. It's not as bad this time around as it was the first, but it's still there. And I still cry about it.

One of my favorite things that Scarlett does as of late is she puts her own shoes on. On the wrong foot. And it's usually one of her shoes and one of Lucy's. It's really flattering.

The good news is, my girls are busy as usual, and I'm happy to report this weird thing that mom is going through isn't dampening their moods nor slowing them down a single ounce. There are still princess bombing zones about every 3rd step in our house, so it sure is a relief for me. I wouldn't wanna have less to clean up after.

And I'm also happy to report that it's making Jason appreciate my chipper moments more than ever. Actually, not just my chipper moments... but just personal hygiene in general. I showered once last week I think, and got right back into pajamas afterward, and he came home from work, looked at me and while doing a little eyebrow shimmy said, "Well, well, well... don't you look nice." Poor chap. Feel bad for him. But not really. Who am I kidding?

Seriously though, I want you to know that bringing babies into the world is by far the best and most thrilling thing I've had the privilege to do in my whole life. I don't want the Lord to think I'm an ingrate. So keep 'em coming, Father in Heaven. Watching them grow into the little people that hug on my legs and laugh at me and kiss my face and pull my hair has truly been something wondrous. It is surreal to know that no matter how many times you do this, every child is a completely unique individual. With a different combination of strengths and talents and challenges to face than anyone who's ever lived on earth before. And physically, hubby and I get to see a different rendition of our genetic recipe every single time. It's pretty mind-blowing. And humbling. And exhilarating.

Here's to our soon-to-be family of 5! Cheers!

The latest.

2011-09-06T10:36:00.021-06:00

Alright, I'm afraid I can't even tell you what we've been up to lately before I get some things off my chest. My last couple experiences at the grocery store have left me completely chapped and I'm dying to tell you why. More importantly though, I know you're absolutely dying to know. And I give the people what they ask for. Mostly. I won't pose for risque pics though. Just kidding. I mean I'm not just kidding about that. I really won't. You know what I mean.

There are 24 check-out lanes at Target. Twenty- four! And when I was there this morning, there were TWO lanes open. And there were long lines at each one. This totally infuriates me every single time I go. That's 8.3 percent of the lanes available for customers. What's the point?! Why didn't you make the stupid Target with as many lanes as you plan on having open? And there were Target employees mullin' around and shootin' the shiz with each other. Straightening displays and talking about their weekend and crap. And I glared at them. And they didn't care. They were thinking, What's that deranged mom looking at? Creepy. Is that her kid who keeps screech-screaming tarodactyl style? Oh well. And every time Scarlett would scream tarodactl style, the girl in front of me in line would startle and jerk her head around to see if it was coming from the same place as last time it happened. Yeah that's right... still her, the 3rd time you've looked. And then I always plan on givin' a little piece of my mind to the person at the register and then she's always so nice. So I can't do it. If I ever go grocery shopping, to Target or Wal-mart or wherever, and even half the check-out lanes are open for business, I will shed a tear of joy right then and there.

-Speaking of checking out, exactly how long is an acceptable amount of time to wait in line behind a couponer? Because I waited the other day at Maceys for a solid 15 minutes. Not 15 minutes total. 15 minutes after this young couples' food had been checked through. 15 solid minutes of standing there sorting through a huge stack of coupons for 7 cents off per item. When does it become appropriate to clear all of their crap out of the way and say, I'm sorry, you've exceeded your time limit and broken the grocer's code... it's my turn now. And she kept leaning over thanking me for being SOOO patient! And I was all, "Oh! No prob!" (big smile, wink wink, hi-five, chest bump). But what she didn't know was that I was actually boiling inside. And I almost insisted on paying for their entire grocery bill if she'd just put the coupons away.

Now listen. Don't get me wrong and don't go gettin' all judgy on me. Because I love a good coupon. And I am all about saving money. I just bought a pair of Guess leopard print heals at a thrift store in Seattle for $3. THREE DOLLARS!! (The price on them said $11.99 but when I took them to the register, the blessed man informed me that they were on the 75% off rack. And the emotion of it all nearly had me starting to convulse on the spot.) So I'm not against coupons and savings in general, people. I am very pro-savings. I AM however against the people who have a stack of coupons so large that they can't even put them in their purse or wallet, so they just have to tote the monstrous stack around in one hand with them everywhere they go. What if I needed a hand with something? What if I needed some help? And then I'd look up in desperation and they'd just say, Sorry, I can't help you. I got these coupons I'm holding. I'm especially against these individuals when they're in front of me in line.

Phew. I feel much better. I hope you don't leave a comment and say something like, "Just be grateful that we have the kind of grocery stores we do here in the US," or, "It could have been a lot worse, look on the bright side," because I'm really trying hard not to see any positive in anything right now. And I don't wanna have to block you.

Okay! We went to Seattle the weekend before last to see sister Cathy and it blew my mind in every way. We had so much fun! I love that city! And yes I've been there in the winter. And I still love it. I love rain. Maybe I'd feel differently if I lived there. I don't know though. I'm secretly a huge rain/thunderstorm/overcast weather lover. Maybe because I'm secretly a dark and disturbed person. Like that episode of Seinfeld when that lady is strangely attracted to Jerry because he's pretending to be dark and disturbed. But maybe I really am. Looks like you'll never know.

We drove up to Anacortes to take a ferry over to the San Juan Islands and had to pull off here to have a look around. Look at this lake! Isn't it mystical?! And Halloweenish? It was the most beautiful drive with dense forest on both side... I kept closing my eyes and trying to tune my kids out so I could pretend I was Bella Swan moving to Forks. But a much cooler Bella Swan, obviously. The tuning out didn't work too well. But what was creepy was right after we took this pic how we actually saw a group of newborn vampires walking straight out of this lake.

Aunty Cat and Lucy... the ferry ride over to the islands... Lucy loved that we were on a "Fairy boat."

Our whale watching excursion from the San Juan islands! I approached this with great fear and trepidation considering the last time I went whale watching I barfed my brains out the entire time. Happy to report no vomiting this round. Love those little peeping eyes in this picture.

Getting ice-cream on Friday Harbor afterwards. Anyone who knows Lucy knows exactly why this hat is so fitting. For her and for Cathy. :)

Sisters feeding ducks in Kirkland.

The Evergreen State fair. This fair totally redeemed my sentiments about fairs in general. As in, I used to hate them and now I don't. We had a great time. We worry about Lucy not having enough of a sense of adventure in her. Big worry of ours.

We were especially worried when she was the one comforting Cathy on all the rides they went on, telling her she was gonna be okay and that she wouldn't get hurt.

We walked through this display of animal figurines and told Scarlett to give this little bear a kiss so we could ooh and ahh about how stinking cute she is... when we looked over and saw Lucy with both hands on the face of another bear, open-mouth making out with it, waiting for us to tell her how cute it was. I'm surprised that bear didn't press charges for sexual assault.

This first pic below might be my very favorite pic because... well I'm just gonna say it... I look so pretty. It's just a really really pretty pic of me. There I said it!

Thank you Cathy for being the greatest!! And for loving your nieces so much! Lucy's still talking about you and the fair. And she's been asking about that wooden bear figurine... they had a real

connection.

You think this post is over?! You think we're done here?!? We're just getting started!! Onto my birthday last weekend!

Jason arranged for us to leave our babies with his parents overnight and we headed up to Park City for some hubby/wife time. Look at this room! Isn't it glorious?

When I realized we were going up to Park City I immediately imagined us getting all crazy hard-core and adventurous... (knowing my husband), I imagined us riding a ski lift to the top of a mountain and mountain biking down it or something. I even had the nerve to tell him, "I hope you haven't planned anything adventurous or outdoorsy because I am so not in the mood." Good one Meradith. So you can imagine my delight when he handed me this:

He did good. Soooo good. Then we went to a lovely dinner and to a movie. Which might sound pretty standard as far as dates go, and maybe not that big of a deal. But it was a big deal for us.

The only thing that really irks me about having a little get-away with just hubby and me is that momming it now for over 3 years has permanently ruined my ability to sleep in. But it hasn't affected Jason at all. And then I have to make it about much more than just sleeping in. I start thinking about pregnancy and labor and nursing and our daily routines and pretty much everything else along with it that comes with motherhood; every other way that my life has changed and his hasn't. And then I get mad at him. And feel sorry for him too, because in reality I'm pretty sure I get the best part. At any rate, every morning we're away starts out like this:

Because I have no little girls waking me up with the sunshine and so when my eyes shoot open before 7 AM and he's still trying to snooze I'm bored out of my mind. And I creep him out. I don't care though.

Here we are at brunch before heading back to reunite with our littles at Gma's and Gpa's. So yummy. Yes those are crab legs you see sticking into the picture in front of Jason. Crab legs for breakfast. I couldn't quite do it, which is surprising for me. But he could. And he did. And he'll do it again if you let him.

Last but not least a little family birthday bash that evening. This coconut cake makes all my dreams come true every time Kristee makes it. I'm not joking. It calls for Sweetened condensed milk and coconut milk. Nuff said. I wanna lick the pan when it's all gone, but I'm afraid that the family will judge me.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes and love! It was a fabulous weekend. Every minute of it. 29th year here I come, whether you're ready for me or not. (Meaning I just turned 28 of course. Don't you dare try to rob me of a year of my life.) And wouldja look at that, we've covered grocery store woes, our last vacay, and a birthday celebration all in one itty bitty post. Love you all xoxo!!

Just stuff. Indulge me.

2011-08-16T17:00:00.012-06:00

Every single time I sit down to write a blog-post, Scarlett poops her pants. What is it with that?? And she just sortof loiters around me with her poopy diaper, letting the stench sock me in the face over and over again until I'm willing to step away and change her. But it's like clockwork I tell you. Clockwork. So I'll be right back.

Ahem. Lemme tell you something else real quick before we get to the point, humor me please. I had a dream last night that I had an altercation with a bunch of punk teenagers (I'm such a grandma- not the altercation part but the "punk teenagers" part) and they happened to be in my ward in my dream and we were in the church parking lot, it was all snowy. And I had just been called to be an advisor over the young women of the ward. And one of them tried to steal the carton of milk I was holding and I twisted his arm behind him, white washed him, and told him, "You picked the wrong young women's advisor to mess with!" And I drove away after that actually thinking in my dream, I can't wait to blog about this! That was just nuts! Yes, that's right. In my dream, I was consciously excited to blog about the altercation. And apparently I'm kindof a charlie's angel type in my dreams. Except I'm not fighting bad guys, I'm just beating up teenagers. Weird. The only thing I can make of it is that yesterday I said to my husband, "Can you believe one day we are going to be "Scarlett's parents" and "Lucy's parents" and we'll have to meet the dudes trying to date and marry our daughters?!??" Jason and I both had to dry heave at this thought. The dream followed shortly after. Hmm.

So, the nitty gritty is that two weekends in a row I got to hang out with some of my absolute favorite women on the planet. First off, on July 30th I had my 10 year high school reunion! Talk about crazy! I was SOOO nervous leading up to it... to see all the people who used to bully me and to finally tell them off about me being a real person with feelings... and of course to see all my ex-boyfriends. Actually none of that's true. A part of me was wishing it was more like that to be honest. I didn't even really date anyone in my class (I've always had a thing for older men you see). It was wonderful to see faces from my adolescence and childhood, and it wasn't even nerve-wracking at all or anything like that. People always seem to think high school reunions are. It would have been a lot more invigorating and dramatic if I had dated someone from my class though and was all nervous about seeing him again and how awkward and dramatic that would be introducing my husband. And then maybe he would have confessed he was still in love with me and had been thinking about me and wishing on a star every night about me all these years, and then his confession would give others in the room the courage to confess the same thing, and then Jason would have had no choice but to beat all of them up, because he is my gallant husband and his job is to guard and protect my heart. And he would see that this situation would be seriously distressing to me, and it would just KILL him. Because I'd obviously have to be sitting over in the corner hysterically crying because of the emotion of it all, and my girlfriends would have gathered around me to comfort and fan me. It would have been crazy. {Some girls actually kinda like scenarios like this. It's sick. But true. I mean not me. I'm not one of those girls. Just some sick girls I've heard of... somewhere out there. I mean I can barely stomach even thinking about it when it plays out in my mind... over and over and over again.}

Wait, wait... I take that back, it was pretty dramatic because my boyfriend of 2 weeks from 5th grade was there; he did give me a "gold" necklace that he stole from his mom back then that I treasured for some time as a little girl. And my boyfriend from 7th grade was there too, but our whole relationship consisted of note passing (actual conversation was very scarce) and one solitary hand holding session so I don't know if that counts. I mean, don't think I didn't still arrange to have several white doves released behind me upon my entrance into the reunion. And a power fan behind me, blowing my hair all over the place. Because I did. And when the doors burst open and the doves flew out from behind me as I stepped into the room, the music died and everyone stopped their chit-chatting and just stared. Right at me. And I stared at all of them back. And then I noticed all the doves were pooping on the carpet and dinner tables and stuff... and then the staff threatened to have us all thrown out. It was all pretty rich indeed.

Okay let's get to business! Here we are at the lunch picnic... these are my besties from growing up (minus Rem! We missed you Remi!) and our babies. We all have 2 kids except Amb... who was just recently made an honest woman so she's off the hook. She's gettin' to it though pretty quick with that brand new hubby of hers... more on that later. (I mean more on Amber gettin' hitched, not more about Amber and Kenny making babies. You perv! Not that kinda blog, folks.)

Here's a group of us that night at the dinner... at the one and only Shilo Inn.

And here's a few shots of me and the proud hubby...

He's still proud despite his facial expressions. You can tell a lot about every day life in our marriage in these 3 simple shots. Love you Jason. And love you IFHS class of 2001! It really was so fun to see everyone and to catch up on everyone's lives. We missed you all who couldn't make it!

The very next weekend Stacy and I flew to Boise and met up with Brand and Court for Amber's wedding. It was wonderful! Such a sweet ceremony and gorgeous couple. These two are adorable together. And they deserve each other so much.

What a beautiful bride. The whole event (wedding ceremony/reception and dancing) was perfect. I'm so happy for you Amber! You and Kenny! Love you both. Lots. Thank you for letting us share in the joy with you. And thank you for those chocolates!! Good grief, I couldn't stop myself!!

The whole event would have even been slightly more perfect for me had I not had several awkward stares full of tension with a fellow short-haired girl from across the room. She looked about my age. She was in an orange dress. She had a very pretty face. And she had great hair. Something you might not know about us short haired women, there is a great sense of identity in our short crazy hair. And when someone else walks into a room with similar hair, it's like there's just not room for both of us. So all night long there was lots of awkward eye contact and bumping into each other and stammering. I can't really explain it all, but it's true. I kept making the resolve to go say something to her about her hair, but then I'd try to get through crowds of people over to her and she would vanish into thin air. Bedy bedy sneaky. Maybe I'll see her again one day. And maybe I could tell her, "I like your hair". And then we would both just smile at each other. Smile and nod. No other words would be necessary. We would just know. We would both know that what I actually was saying was, "I like MY hair".

Stacy and I flew over on Friday morn, did some shopping, went to the wedding Friday night and flew home Saturday afternoon. It was only one night and not even 2 full days without my babies and hubby, but a little girls trip will work wonders for a SAH mom. I'm happy to report my baby girls were alive and well upon my return home. We were headed straight to another wedding reception from the airport when Jason picked me up and we had no diapers, no wipes, and not the slightest idea of when the last time either of them ate anything was. But they were alive. And that's what counts.

P.S. On August 10th, we were given a beautiful brand new niece. My brother Abe and SIL Tiffany welcomed sweet Emma Jesse into the world on her older sisters birthday. (Happy Birthday McKinley girl!) Just look at that little face. Too much for words. Her little pictures melt me. Like a lot. I just love her.

Hold onto these last couple weeks of summer! Hold on to 'em with all your might!!

3 years old and runnin' the town.

2011-08-03T10:51:00.004-06:00

I think we are in some kind of time warp. It just all goes by so fast. On the 23rd of July we commemorated the entrance of Lucia Davina Christensen into the world. 3 years! It feels like she has been in our family for forever. Like I don't remember life at all without her. And at the same time it seems like she was born yesterday. Have you ever seen a prouder papa than in this picture above? No. Never. He was the happiest man alive on that day.

Before we get down to the nitty gritty of her birthday bash, I want to tell you a little about Miss Lucy at 3 years old. Because she won't stay like this forever. And the thought brings tears to my eyes. I may or may not have just burst into ugly-face sobs.

She is obsessed with Cinderella. And her Prince. And their love. Dancing is the culmination of the highest form of love in her eyes. She asked last night in her prayer that "mommy and daddy can get married in the temple again and mommy can wear her dress and be Cinderellla".

She is her happiest self in the buff. Any opportunity to strip down is taken without hesitation. I walked the girls down to the park a few days ago and was sitting on a bench talking to another mother when I looked up and saw this:

Apparently she went down the slide and it was a little wet. Totally warrants a public flashing. Looks like she fell on her rear down in the mulch a time or two as well.

She has a big crush on her cousin Carson as of late. And she really wants him to dance with her and be her prince. She's in for a rude awakening when she realizes she can't marry him.

She love love loves being a princess but has a huge tom-boy in her as well. Loves bugs and snakes and any creepy crawly thing she can get her mitts on.

She misses Scarlett when she takes her naps. And when she wakes up from them she is over the moon. When we hear her talking on the monitor she races me to get to her. And then says, "Coochie coochie coo!!!" in Scarlett's face over and over and over again. And over again.

She was off the pacifier (suckie) at 2, but we went out of town for a weekend and when we got back she was back on it. And we haven't had the energy to take it away again. So she has it at bedtime. One time when daddy was home alone putting her to bed (Scarlett had been snoozing for some time), they were searching the house for a suckie. Couldn't find one for like an hour. Dad was getting really tired and frustrated. She saw this was a real ordeal. Then suddenly, she excitedly said, "Hey! I got idea! Scarlett has suckie in her mouf! I take it and put it in my mouf!" And dad actually did think this was a good idea.

"Chocker milk" is the answer to all life's problems. And band-aids.

She has a little obsession with "boobies". I think she's starting to realize that only mom has them and physically she is more like mom than dad. The other night we had friends over, Julie and Mervis, and she was sitting on Julie's lap while we sat around talking with our husbands. Suddenly, she asked, "You have boobies?" and started to paw at Julie's shirt repeating, "Let me see your boobies" over and over again. Julie was a little caught off guard and while chuckling, refused to be a floozy. Shortly after some insistence on Lucy's part, a full-on tantrum ensued. She cried for some time, and came running over to me bawling her eyes out saying, "She won't show me her boobies!! I need to see them!" So I got upset and told Julie she could either show her them or get out of our house. Just kidding. Can you imagine??? haha. But after a little snuggling and comforting Lucy did turn on me and start to insist the same. We're working on "private parts"... and what private means.

I showed her the video of when she was first born the week leading up to her birthday and she was thrilled to know she was a tiny baby. But she didn't really internalize the "getting bigger" process because since she's been saying, "One day I'll be a little baby and go inside your tummy". Oh, and when she found out she was in mommy's tummy she asked if I ate her. I think it's starting to click though, the growing up and getting bigger thing, because yesterday when we were in daddy's car (SUV) she told me one day my car (sedan) would be big like daddy's car. So at least I have that to look forward to.

So many things we love about you, little girl. Too many to talk about.

Onto her special day! Lucy got a sandbox for her birthday. Jason and I presented it to her and turned our back for 5 seconds to find she needed to enjoy that soft sand to the fullest extent.

This was the happy scene at our place for a good solid hour. A parent's bliss.

Your birthday party also included a princess bounce house, a clown named Keeka who painted faces and made balloon animals, too many presents, cousins and friends, and of course lots of cake and frozen custard.

The Cinderella dress she got from Grandma was the cream of the crop. She got a Belle dress from Quincy too and she rotates between the two regularly.

These next two shots with our friend Keeka might be some of my very favorites ever taken. As I was taking this first shot I leaned over to Jason's sister Wendy and said, "She might be getting a little too close... too close for comfort" and gave Keeka a good glare. We laughed as I envisioned starting a fist fight with my daughter's birthday clown for trying to put the moves on my husband. And that was that.

Except that wasn't that. Just moments after I had made that comment, look at this prize that Wendy took... unintentionally. Really I didn't know it was being taken. Have you ever seen a bigger creep than me? No, never.

Lucia, as your name indicates, you truly are a light in our lives. You are a kind hearted little soul who loves to get into mischief. You are a loving older sister but you also love to push Scarlett's buttons and stick your feet in her face. (I did the same thing to Vanessa. Must be some kind of right of passage). You are a daddy's girl and a mommy's girl, but you and your dad have a very special bond that brings me so much joy to watch as your mommy. I love you. I love being your mother. I love that you are our daughter forever. Happy 3rd birthday!

Back to life. Back to reality.

2011-07-18T07:29:00.005-06:00

I want you to sing that song when you read the title of this post. All breathy and sultry like the girl who sang it originally. And I want it stuck in your head all day. And maybe you could stand up and throw in the running man while you're at it. It's a goodie.

We've been on family vacay for the past few weeks. There's lots to report on. The prospect of writing this post has been a bit daunting to me. It's been so daunting that whilst tossing and turning at night, I've managed to pinch a nerve in my neck and thus having no choice but to walk around slightly zombie-ish, unable to turn my head and look from side to side. (This means when looking from side to side is necessary, it's a full body experience. And it's weird.) But today, I've resolved to give this here blogpost a whirl. And to touch briefly on recent happenings instead of giving a full history. Just stop, stop it! I know you want every little detail of every second of every day and every adorable little thing both children of mind have done/said in the past few weeks! But I just can't do it! Love you so much though still!!

Before I touch on some of these said happenings of the past few weeks, I want to tell you a little story. A story that took place at our house three mornings ago, on July 15th. A story about a friendly little weirdo who visited us and who we're sortof missing these days. No, it's not one of the guys working on our landscaping. It's no distant relative. In order to protect identities, I like to just call him "Mr. Squirrel". I'm not trying to be offensive calling him that, but he did have teeth that protruded slightly just like a squirrels' do and long rodent-like claws on the ends of his little mitts. But we'll mostly call him that because he was a squirrel.

So Jason and I open up our backdoor early that morning to let some fresh morning air in and let the girls wander outside onto the patio. We turn to head outside to rejoin them, and Jason spots something out of the ordinary, and quickly starts saying, "Mer, Mer, Mer," with some urgency in his voice. I look out to see a big fat bushy gray squirrel curiously staring Scarlett right in her face. As in an inch away, nose to nose. Apparently Jason watched it make a run for her clear from the woods.

Naturally, some freaking out ensues that includes rushing towards the two and making strange animal noises myself in attempt to shoo. And Mr. Squirrel shoos. For a moment. Gets about 10 feet away from us and makes a full on U-turn. And bounds directly towards Jason's legs. Here he comes.

And then he just perches. And sits directly in front of him. Just enjoying the morning sunshine with us.

Then came the attack. Just kidding. It wasn't an attack. But it was sumpin' crazy! That little varmint didn't hurt that sweet husband of mine; no biting or aggression at all, but it was indeed some loony wild stuff that went down in the moments following:

Jumps right up onto Jason's leg and starts turbo-scurrying around it. Round and round and round, and Jason's squeelin' and gigglin' all the while. It's like this squirrel is being reunited with a long lost loved one. It's like Jason's leg is his favorite uncle. The kind of uncle you're in love with. And he doesn't stop. He starts to pick up even more speed scurrying around that husband of mine's leg, and starts to make him uneasy. We were uneasy from the get-go, let's be honest. Pretty soon Jason's yelling at me to Get inside! Get the girls inside! as I'm watching this relationship escalate and turn sour right before my eyes. You can't scurry so much around someone's leg the first time you meet them Mr. Squirrel! You appear over-eager. And that's not attractive to anyone.

So I run the girls back inside and watch from the window as a scene unfolds much like the killer rabbit scene from Monty Python... I see Mr. Squirrel take a flying leap for Jason's jugular... Suddenly hubby's down on the ground steamrolling all around our yard with that squirrel attatched to his neck. Just kidding. But hubby did take some time gettin' that crazy varmint off his leg!

And when he came back inside and we just sortof had to stand there in confused silence with furrowed brows staring at each other for a moment. Because we're both just so weirded out at what just took place.

We immediately got online and read up on rabid squirrels and were relieved to learn that it's really uncommon... because they're smaller animals rabies usually kills them before they even start showing symptoms. It did however say on the website, "Healthy squirrels can be noisy, bold and curious. They often chatter and make scolding sounds at humans and dogs. Rambunctious behavior in squirrels does not denote rabies." So that's what we'll call that? Rambunctious behavior? I think he was mentally disturbed. And I'm still creeped out about it.

Jason left to work shortly after our encounter with Mr. Squirrel. And I had babysitters come over and tend the girls so I could go to an appointment to address said pinched nerve in neck. (Alright, it was a massage... and that masseuse worked wonders on me!) You can imagine my terror as I round the corner to get home to our house and see not one, but two cop cars in front of my house. And I see two officers standing in my doorway talking to my cute little 11-year old babysitters. So I pull into my driveway and duck and roll out of my car, hide behind a tree with a fake gun pointed at the cops and tell at them to FREEZE!! and PUT YOUR HANDS UP!! (You never know when they might be impostor cops) when the officers tell me "Don't be alarmed ma'am, but we heard there was a squirrel attack here this morning."

Wow. Really?? A squirrel attack? I told them, There was no attack officers, in fact I'm not even sure what it was I saw go down between that squirrel and my husband... but it wasn't an attack. There was lots of love involved. And I invited them in to show them these very pictures I've shown you. They thought it was kinda funny too. And weird.

We decided that was no rabid squirrel. We decided he was just slightly mentally deranged. But ya know, that little guy seemed really over the moon happy about his derangement. The kind of loony-happy I aspire to in this life. We don't know what ever happened to that Mr. Squirrel. We know he's out there somewhere. We wish he'd write. But keep his distance at the same time. Just wave from the tree the next time you're in the hood, Mr. Squirrel. Don't rush up on my baby ever again.

Phew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Can you believe the police came??? Turns out Jason mentioned the incident while he was leaving on his morning run to our neighbor and she made the call. I love Provo, Utah so much. Never leavin'.

I'll tack on just a few more pics for your enjoyment and then I'm gettin' outta here!

Nessa and Sam and company came up for a week or so before the 4th of July... it was glory in its finest. Now they live clear on the other side of the country. :(

Anything better than summertime as a child? No. Nothing.

Then the rest of the fam came down to the good 'ol Wasatch mountains and we were able to go to the temple together. It was wonderful. So grateful to be a part of this family.

This might be the best pic though. Especially Abe.

Then we all headed up to Idaho Falls for the Independence Day festivities! Grandbabies watching our Sam and Walid shoot off fireworks in front of Grammy and Papa's house.

Yeah... look at Lucy... as I'm motioning for you to do in the photo. Mind was blown!!

My Ma and Pa... proud grandpappy and mammy

Scarlett showing off her pearly whites

My favorite women. Nothin' like sisters.

After Idaho Falls we drove directly to Moab for the annual Christensen Family retreat!

I may or may not have soiled my drawers... repeatedly... on this hummer tour.

Spent a day at Mesa Verde and hiked over to these ancient cliff dwellings. Aren't these ruins AMAZING? They speculate that they were inhabited from about 550 AD to 1300 AD. I loved this day. Partly because Gma and Gpa insisted that we all leave our babies with them for the trek. And that meant they had 4 kiddies ages 2-4 and 4 babies from 9 months to 16 months. 8 total. Yeah... I caught a glimpse of the S on Grandma's chest underneath one of her button up shirts. I even spied a wee little cape hanging in her bedroom. She's not foolin' anyone.

The next day we tried to tell Lucy she couldn't go on this hike... mostly because it involved hiking clear down a huge ravine and hiking back up on the other side to see more ruins... but she threw an absolute fit. And that meant daddy caved and took her.

The other side. This was like that scene from Rocky in Philadelphia when he runs up the stairs and does repeated fist pumps in the air... I think eye of the tiger was playing somewhere in the distance.

You are officially caught up. Love you so much!

I am pioneer.

2011-06-27T08:24:00.007-06:00

I thought the title of this post sounded pretty epic, like I am legend or something. So I'm goin' with it. We just got back Saturday evening around 6 pm from a pioneer youth trek! My body aches, my mosquito bites itch, my lips are all swollen and blistered from being sunburned. But I feel good! It was a sacred and wonderful experience. Before we get down to the nitty gritty, I have to tell you that one of the real highlights for me was yesterday at church when a girlfriend of mine from the ward came up to me and laughing related to me that one of the boys in our "pioneer family" told her son who was also on trek that, Yeah so the Christensens were my parents, and when I turned around and looked at them at Martin's Cove, they were like totally making out!! Can you believe that?!

Jason and I make it a point to "make out" at sacred places. It's like that Seinfeld episode when Jerry and his girlfriend are caught making out during Schindler's list. Except that on that episode, it really happened. This bit of gossip is awesomely hilarious on too many levels to even talk about. I told her I'm lending out my pioneer outfit to women who need to spice up their marriages, because obviously Jason couldn't keep his hands off me in mine. I also suggest not showering and laboring outdoors, working up as much sweat and BO as possible. The mojo really flows. I start laughing out loud every time it comes back into my mind. Just imagining the whole steamy scene of us surrounded by 160 youth and fellow youth leaders.

Okay, back to seriousness. My husband and I went as a "Ma and Pa". And for those of you who aren't familiar with it, they organize all the youth (ages 12-18) into "families" and ask married couples (for our stake there was 18 couples) to be Mas and Pas over each family. We had 9 youth in our family. So we left our Lucy and Scarlett with their aunty here in Utah and set off with a school bus full of teens Thursday morning at 5 AM towards a city I like to call middle of nowhere, Wyoming. And the bus ride looked something like this: Okay, fine, exactly like this. And if you couldn't tell from the angle this shot was taken, yes... we were in the very back row.

We had to meet at the church at 4 AM btw. Just want you to know how seriously I take my toughness. I like it black. No sugar, no cream.

For 3 days we had no cell phones, no ipods, no TV, no electronics of any kind (that was one of my favorite parts). We had no showers, no flushable toilets, and no mirrors. We camped. We "treked". We went a total of about 15 miles, pulled handcarts for 10 of them. We dressed like pioneers. We square danced. We met as families often and shared spiritual and strengthening experiences. The purpose of going on trek is to gain a stronger testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ, to appreciate more the sacrifice and suffering that took place among the early saints of the restoration of the church, and to come home committed to live better lives. Goals were accomplished. Lives were changed.

For just a bit of history now. In 1856 two companies of Mormon handcart pioneers named the Willie and the Martin handcart companies left Iowa City bound for Salt Lake City, where the saints were called to gather and settle. (To read more, go to this site. It has some good pictures and more of the history.) In short, they left late in the season and ultimately many company members died along the way due to starvation, disease, and freezing to death. The most suffering occurred in Wyoming when an early blizzard came upon an already severely weakened group. As soon as Brigham Young knew about the two companies still on the trail, he sent out rescue parties to bring them into Salt Lake.

"...men, women, and children worn down by drawing handcarts through snow and mud are fainting by the wayside; falling chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us, but we go on doing all we can, not doubting or despairing. Our company is too small to help much, it is only a drop in a bucket, as it were, in comparison to what is needed. I think that not over one-third of Mr. Martin's company is able to walk. This you may think is an extravagant, but it is nevertheless true...."

John Chislett of the Willie Company wrote:

"Cold weather, scarcity of good, lassitude and fatigue from over-exertion, soon produced their effects. Our old and infirm people began to droop, and they no sooner lost their spirit and courage than death's stamp could be traced upon their features. Life went out as smoothly as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil is gone. Death was not long confined in its ravages to the old and infirm, but the young and naturally strong were among its victims. Men who were, so to speak, as strong as lions when we started on our journey, and who had been our best supports, were compelled to succumb to the grim monster. These men were worn down by hunger, scarcity of clothing and bedding, and too much labor in helping their families. It was surprising to an unmarried man to witness the devotion of men to their families and to their faith, under these trying circumstances. Many a father pulled his cart, with his little children on it, until the day preceding his death. I have seen some pull their carts in the morning, give out during the day, and die before next morning..."

We visited the areas where they suffered the most. We heard story after story of individuals who gave all they had, who found their children or spouses frozen to death when morning came, who had to bury their little ones all along the trail. We went to the very places where they had to bury the most of their family members. And the spirit in these places was amazingly strong. I bawled like a baby for about 80% of the three days, thankful for my wee little' bonnet to pull down over my face.

We laughed so much with these kids. I really wanted to adopt all 9 of them by the time our short time together was up. Some have come from really difficult family circumstances. We saw heroism in these young people. And I don't think we give them enough credit. On one part of the trail the men gathered together and walked ahead to the top of a huge hill. This was called the women's pull, in remembrance of the women who had to carry on alone when their husbands died, many times pulling their small, sickly children by themselves. We sisters stayed behind and one of the sister missionaries told us a story of a sister who pulled her sick and dying brother in the handcart for a good portion of the journey west. When all of us girls finally caught up with the men and boys, they were standing on both sides of the trail in complete silence and had been asked to just turn and walk behind us as we continued pushing on. It was a very solemn moment. The spirit was incredibly strong. As we continued to walked along one of our boys who will turn 16 soon turned back to his leaders and in a pleading tone of voice, referring to the handcart, asked, Can I take it from them yet? Can we help yet? It was hard for these boys to watch their sisters pushing that handcart up that mountain. It was such a tender experience. One I'll never forget.

Francis Webster of the Martin Handcart company said, "We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Every one of us came through with absolute knowledge that God loves for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities. I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, 'I can go only that far and there I must give up for I cannot pull the load through it'. I have gone to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me! I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the Angels of God were there. Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No! Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company."

The suffering of these early pioneers was not in vain. There was great purpose in it. They did not have to come west. These ones in particular knew that death would be looming over them if they went because they left so late in the season. They chose to go anyway. They went because they knew it was all true. They knew that the heavens were opened once again and God the Father and His only begotten Son Jesus Christ had restored the fullness of their gospel to the earth again in these latter days in preparation for the second coming of the Savior of the world. They knew that Joseph Smith in reality had been called to be a prophet and that just as in times of old, God spoke once again through prophets and apostles and lead His church through the priesthood authority that had been lost for so many years but restored to the earth again. They had unshakable testimonies of these things, for the same reasons I do. Because the Spirit of the Lord had confirmed these truths to their hearts, just as it has to mine so many, many times. They were willing to die for the sake of truth. I hope to be as courageous. I hope to have just a portion of the faith in Jesus Christ that they had. The Lord performed many many miracles among them, and angels were sent to lift them up. And just as Paul states in Phillipians, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me".

I can do hard things in this life, too. I can be strong and faithful no matter what challenges may come. I always want to remember them and all that they gave.

A blog post two days in a row...

2011-06-15T10:34:00.005-06:00

...it's kindof a big deal! I just feel like I want to talk a little bit more about some things on Jesse's birthday. I put a little something at the end of my blog post yesterday but I have more to write. I don't want to be a Debbie downer and talk about death on my brother's birthday. But healing is a process so bear with me.

Jesse has kindof turned me into a nutcase. In reality, I have to tell you I'm a little bit crazy. If Jason is out running errands or at the office and doesn't answer my phone calls or respond to my texts in what I deem to be an appropriate amount of time, I turn into a pacing, bawling-my-eyes-out loon. Because those seemingly insignificant things were the first red flags I came to on my road to discovery that my brother had passed on to the next life. I can imagine me telling him this right now and him laughing... and saying something like, "Gosh... sorry sis..." And I know I've always been kindof loony. But the experience he and I shared 18 months ago has compounded it.

Case in point: Here is a succession of text messages that Jason received yesterday at work. I had already tried to call him twice before the first text went through.

{*note: emoticons in a marriage have been proven to improve communication by up to 70%. I find that when he's not responding to me, the gun emoticon and ticking time bomb emoticon are especially effective in communication. And maybe the little pile of poop emoticon as well. }

After I still had not heard from him I broke down and started contacting people in his office. And immediately got a text back that he was in a meeting with the NorthStar board of directors who had flown into town just for a few hours to meet with him.

I immediately felt sheepish because he had told me a couple days prior that they were flying into town on Tuesday. And I felt more sheepish because I imagined him being irritated that all of those texts were coming through. I was hoping his phone was on silent. He called me shortly after and I thought I had dried my eyes pretty good. But then talking to him I burst into tears again. He wasn't upset at all. Even before I started to cry. He was just apologetic. See how loony I am?

When Jesse passed away I was hit with the reality of death. This reality hits me in waves now, where sometimes I feel hopeful and secure and sometimes I feel like frantically retreating with my little family into the mountains and turning off all electricity and running water. Don't know how that'd solved anything. But it's appealing sometimes. The reality is that death can happen to anyone, anywhere, any age. And it does happen, every day, all around us, all over the world. And we have absolutely no control over it.

How thankful I am to have a knowledge of the Creator's plan. How thankful I am for modern day scripture that is so accessible to all who desire to understand the teachings of Jesus Christ better. How thankful I am for the account of the resurrection of the Savior found in the gospels of the New testament. His loyal disciples had come back to the tomb where His body had been lain, and the tomb was empty. He had risen. He had defeated physical death and spiritual death both. Jesus Christ conquered all in order to prepare a way that we might escape death and pain as well if we will but follow Him.

Some of the most comforting scriptures regarding death in the Book of Mormon are found in Alma, when Alma the prophet is teaching his son.

11 Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection—Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life.

12 And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.

How thankful I am to know that Jesse is free from the sorrows he knew during his life here on earth. He is in a place where he can progress and can learn; freed from the slings and arrows of this mortal world that weighed upon him so heavily while here. I am thankful to have the knowledge that he is home and I will see him again.

And if my brother's passing has made me a little loony, it's okay. If it's made me try to take more time and put more energy into nurturing my family relationships and being more conscientious of the feelings and hardships of others, it's really okay. I don't mind being a little loony.

Happy Birthday again to my older brother Jesse. 34 years ago today mom and dad looked down into the tiny swollen little face of their firstborn child. They were introduced to feeling love on a totally new level 34 years ago on this very day. We look forward anxiously for the day we are reunited as a family Jess. Until then try to stay out of trouble. :) I love you.

As of late in our house

2011-06-14T09:06:00.013-06:00

I have Barbie girl stuck in my head. Probably mostly because I changed my husband's default ringtone to that song on his cell phone a few weeks ago and he hasn't bothered to change it back. So every time his phone rings, it's I'm a Barbie girl, in a barbie world, life in plastic, it's fantastic. He says he doesn't know how to change it back. But I seriously doubt that. I just think he kinda likes it. Plus, he hasn't insisted at all that I change it back either, even if he didn't know how. Yeah... It's settled in my mind... he likes it.

Lots of excitement happening at our house these days. So sit down and prepare yourselves for the ride of your life as I take you by the hand and tell you about some of it. You just might need a clean pair of shorts when we're through... it's just that exhilarating!

First of all, Scarlett has turned into a full blown toddler... meaning she can't be left unattended for longer than 2.5 seconds because of the Wolverine-style metal blades that emerge from her hands so she can shred the house to pieces. Charming and irresistible and getting close to being just as mischievous as her older sister... Lucy is happy to lead the way. Trust me.

This is the scene in our kitchen at least twice a day. When we have people over and they are helping to clean up after dinner and ask the innocent question, "Where can I find some tupperware for this?" I'm immediately plagued with the recent vision of me shoving every last piece of tupperware back in that blasted cupboard and hurrying to slam the doors before it all comes toppling back out. So I know they're in for it when they open those little cupboard doors. And I've resigned to no longer explain myself about this. No more, "Oh... those silly girls get into this over and over again and I just can't keep reorganizing it..." No. I'm done with it. Maybe I'll install a spring loaded boxing glove in there instead, so it's not the disarray that they're so surprised by. I've been thinkin' about that spring loaded boxing glove for some time now. Great party feature.

Tearing as many wipes out of wipe pack that she can until I get over to her. Seriously, she picks up the pace significantly once she sees I've spotted what she's doing.

Scarlett's coming of age has brought some things with it that Lucy's did not. Lucy has never been a food thrower. However, Scarlett is, to an extreme. Like, baseball pitching food throwing. It's ridiculous. The worst part, she doesn't even wait until she's full to do it. She does it all along the way just because she likes to.

And another part of this early stage of toddlerhood is the fact that "no no" or any kind of stern voice is futile as far as discipline goes... it only makes her smile and laugh.

Other happenings at our house:

So I went out to dinner for a girlfriends' birthday the other night and left Jason with the girls. I got home around 10:30, and walked into the bathroom and almost let out a blood curdling scream because I nearly stepped on this. And I felt it was someone, not something laying on the bathroom floor with my foot before I'd even turned on the light. You can imagine the adrenaline. That's Lucy, in case you can't make it out. Wrapped up in a blanket, laying face down, curled up right next to the toilet. Oh, and she's naked under there we soon discovered. When I called Jason from our bedroom, pointed her out and looked at him expectantly for an explanation, he simply said, Yeah... I thought I heard her up out of her bed and walking around the house... and that was all he said, folks. Are you being serious? So you just kept reading on your iPad in bed and thought "Oh well"? She may have set the house on fire that very night people. She might have crawled into her sister's crib and tried to suffocate her. The possibilities are endless. We were laughing as we moved her into bed, but don't think I don't lay in bed at night with my eyes peeled these days... I thought I heard someone breaking into our home at 3 AM... but I was really tired. Oh well.

Speaking of Lucy being up at night when she's supposed to be in bed, this was the disturbing scene we beheld the other night at about 10 pm when we were watching a little tele in bed.

We'd supposed she had been snoozing soundly for some time. And I'm pretty sure that's a little toy zooble she has in her hand (thank you Grammy), but it may as well be a butcher knife.

Lucy is also getting quite expressive and artistic these days. She's not even 3 yet, but her sidewalk chalk art is really taking off. That's three distinct blob figures there folks, complete with 2 eyes and a mouth on each. And the one on the right has a lot of body hair. And the one in the middle has fangs. I'd like to take a tour in that mind of hers.

Other happenings. Remember how we transformed our 4 foot tall crawl space into kid heaven last summer? I guess it's husband heaven too...

I went to put Lucy down for a nap after letting Jason know what I was doing and confirming with him, "You got Scarlett, right?" (There was an audible Yes in response). While I was in Lucy's room, I heard that shredding of the house going on that I mentioned previously in this post... I came out to find Scarlett banging on the walls with some home decor items and Jason nowhere in sight. It didn't take me long to locate him though. Poor little tyke just got too tuckered out with all those toys.

And lastly, we went and checked out Orem Summerfest this last weekend. Here's Lucy and her girlfriend Avery getting ready to go on a mini roller-coaster.

Lucy's looking pretty smug and confident (ride had not begun yet)

The scene changed pretty quickly. She yelled for us to "Get me down!!!" every single time she passed us. And then was happy as a clam again as soon as she was off.

Similar situation with the swings. Hated every minute while she and Dad were riding, but acted like it was the best thrill of her life as soon as she got down.

And Scarlett's biggest thrill of summerfest was her first encounter with corn on the cob. Like mother like daughter. This is exactly what happened the first time Jason hand-fed me my first corn on the cob on our first date.

Not so sure at first...

It's delicious...

It must be mine:

And tomorrow is my brother Jesse's birthday. He would have been 34. Jess, I wish you were here to see your nieces getting bigger. They would have you laughing a lot. But I have a feeling you still get a kick out of them from where you are. You were the best uncle. We love you brother and miss you, every day.

Thank you to all for tuning in! Happy summertime!

May has come and gone. Just like that.

2011-05-30T18:22:00.009-06:00

First and foremost I just wanna say that 7 years ago this Memorial Day weekend was the first time my husband and I officially "hung out". It wasn't a date really but he invited me with him and a group of friends to Lake Powell for some boating and fun in the sun, and by "friends", I mean him and one dude friend and a suburban full of hot girls. I didn't know any of them upon arrival so you can imagine how exciting it was for me. (Our first official date wasn't til the following week.) BUT. Memorial day does have some significance because after all, we sang karaoke Summer Lovin' for the very first time. (He pretended to be all spontaneous flipping through the song list and casually point that one out. Wasn't til later that when I was talking to his sister that I discovered the truth. Summer Lovin'?? Ugh. Jason ALWAYS does that song when we karaoke. Glad to know I wasn't the first and that he'd been singing "Summer Lovin'" with lots of dates and during his off time practicing it in front of the mirror.) And this weekend 7 years ago was the first time we spent one on one time together. I remember sitting across the table from him at Denny's late at night when we ditched the group... I don't remember what we talked about but I just remember us both laughing hard. And I was thinking to myself, This guy thinks I'm funny. I mean, he thinks I'm REALLY funny..."

Look at us here on the boat. Look at me, just a little baby 20 year old. Didn't know a thing about the world and still havin' a bit of baby fat on me. (Don't you think it's weird when people say adults still have baby fat? I do. I still say it, too though.) But that big strong man standin' next to me sure knew lots about the world...and lots about a lot of things and he decided that I needed someone older and wiser and that he'd take care of me. We may have sang that song, too.

Happy 7 years of gettin' to know you Jason. It still makes me very happy to make you laugh.

Okay. May, May, May. Lots of things to recount.

I woke up on Mother's Day to lots of banging of pots and pans. And then got huevos rancheros in bed. Happens to be my very favorite breakfast delicacy. Delicious. Thank you husband!

I thought you were bringing sunshine with you, May. But honestly, you've almost been as rainy as April was. Making me a little gloomy but also providing breathtaking greens that I don't know if I've ever seen quite so rich out our back window. So it's a love/hate relationship.

And while the lack of sunshine is worrying me about our tomatoes, the peas are coming in fine, thanks to Lucy. Her and that green thumb of hers. We're still waiting for squash and cilantro as well.

In May, we got family pics taken. And we can finally put pics up around the house that include Scarlett. Only took us a year. Thank you Amy. We LOVE you.

Speaking of photo shoots, one of my best friends Candice asked me to do some sassy blue steel posing for her.

I found this jacket at D.I. for 7 dollars. I love a bargain like a fat kid loves cake. Actually I love cake that much, too. And nutella. To see more of Candice's stuff, go here. Oh the talent!

A group of us NorthStar folk ran another 5k. I'm a regular at these things now I guess. Except this was my last one. For the rest of my life. Well maybe not. I still hate running though. But the races are kinda fun because people you don't know are rooting you on and holding out their hands to high five as you run into the finish line. I wish that happened with everything in life. Like, when I'm finishing a trip to the grocery store and have both girls with me. I'd like people to be lined up to hi-five me. Or when I go to return my books at the library. It happens in my dreams.

And there was a large owl sponsoring the event.

Wary of him at first...

But seemed to warm right up. We heard Lucia say, "He's a nice chicken," several times. This is when they were giving away all the awards. She stood up there with them for some time just like this. She just wanted to look like she belonged.

Another May happening, I'm planting raspberries for the first time this year. I'm ecstatic about it. I grew up picking raspberries at my grandma's house so it's all very nostalgic for me. Now, this is a bit random but let me show you somethin' that kinda weirds me out:

As I was preparing to plant my raspberry patches I came upon this how to website. And it has a legit set of instructions as far as planting and caring for all kinds of vegetables and fruits. And then, in the raspberry section, this is the picture they have underneath the instructions. I see the berries. I get it. They are red and juicy, and they make me want to follow these instructions so my berries will look just like that. What I don't understand is him. The cropped in individual whose presence makes absolutely no sense. Maybe he's the author of the article? And he wants some face time? Or maybe, the planter of these particular berries so he deserved some credit? Or maybe they want you to think if you follow their instructions he will come harvest your fruit for you. And pour a little sugar and cream over them and feed them to you? Which I don't wish to happen, so in that case, I won't follow the instructions. I just don't get it.

Lucy has been continuing to visit her personal jacuzzi for some rest and relaxation:

We'll think she's just using the restroom and then check in on her to find she has been sittin' like this for a good 10 minutes. Does this all herself. Soapy water and all.

Then when it's time to get out, she will not have a regular towel. She will only accept the mini hand towel hanging there.

And last but certainly not least, in May, some of us took our very first steps. It's a thrilling life.

How I love this little family of mine. Thanks for the good times, May. And Happy Memorial Day to you. Not directed to May, really. But to you, whoever is reading this right now. I'm thankful for this incredible nation to which I belong and all of the many many souls who have sacrificed so much in the name of liberty. I hope to thank each of you personally one day. Lots of love to all.

Start spreadin' the news...

2011-05-17T12:01:00.014-06:00

I hope the title of this post puts a little show tune in your head that's been in mine for a solid 5 days now... and I haven't even tried to get it out. That's right, New York, New York! We got home Sunday night, well Monday morning technically... after waiting on the runway at JFK for a solid 2 hours, we finally made it into SLC at around midnight and got to Jason's parents house a bit after 1 AM. Of course we had to sneak into where our girls were sleeping to peer at 'em both for a good long minute... to size up the fattening that had occurred since we'd left them and to splendor in their delectable nature while slumbering... Then we gave 'em imaginary squeezes before we collapsed exhausted into bed ourselves.(and of course we snuck into Gma and Gpa's bedroom to stare at them sleep for a bit as well... but don't tell them that).

What a few days! Honeywell Security flew us out for a "partner appreciation" few days of bliss and indulgence. And lemme tell ya, we were indulged! It was my first time visiting the Big Apple and I really have never seen anything quite so splendid as New York City. Splendid, overwhelming, awesome, terrifying, magnificent, claustrophobic, thrilling, fascinating and inspiring. I kept looking around at all the hoards of people thinking, I can't believe all you people LIVE here! I can't believe this is your every day life! And then I would remember my little tiny crumpled-little-fisted baby sister Vanessa who will be moving to Manhattan this very summer... and was overcome with awe and solemnity and amazement. I really admire her. She sortof astonishes me; her and her big city thick skin. But not really. I mostly think she's insane. But in a good way. Oh shut up, you!

I also realized that while I revel very much in my doses of adventure, I think I might be a small town girl at heart. I don't mean small town as in 1200 people. I do like to be within a reasonable driving distance from a major airport. But I like my Utah open roads. And our .6 acre that didn't cost 10 mil. I mostly realized this when we were riding on the Subway and I got all bulgy-eyed and short of breath because I was POSITIVE that at any minute I was going to be witnessing a stabbing or a shooting. I knew it was about to happen. I just knew it. Well folks, thank goodness it didn't! Don't ever believe me if I tell you I received a revelation that I'm to be the next prophet or something. Because I'll probably realize it was just hormones later on. But that's how sure I was that someone was going to suffer a painful and horrifying death in my immediate vicinity on that subway ride. Later I realized it was just indigestion. Chili cheese fries will do it every time. Phew!

Thankfully I didn't witness a stabbing or a shooting, but I did see two hot dog vendors screaming and all up in each other's faces. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I think it was something along the lines of, THAT'S MY MUSTARD!! AND WHERE'D YOU GET THAT SWEET RELISH!? That was pretty invigorating. I grabbed my honey's hand and walked away quickly. And I did see a Taxi cab run into the side of a building and completely shatter the glass window of a Starbucks. (Really, Jason took these pics, I didn't even pull them off the internet. We had just walked away from this corner about 20 seconds prior.) Everyone was okay. I'm first aid certified you know, so I had to throw some elbows to make sure. No big deal.

Poor guy is standing there having to deal with just running into the side of a building and people are running up posing by him and all that shattered glass for pictures. Thumbs up and smiling. I think I may have even seen a few people ask him if he wouldn't mind posing for a pic with them. And then I saw a guy ask him if he wouldn't mind getting back into his car, backing it up, and running into the building again... he was mad he didn't catch it on film the first time. Okay, that last one didn't happen. But you can imagine what it'd be like if it did, right? Right??

Oh and if you're living in New York and reading this, you think you're better than me just because I said I didn't know if I could hack it? You think I'm weak? Think you're better than me, Nessa?? You don't even know what I deal with living in Provo. You don't even know me. I'm gonna try growing raspberries for the very first time this summer, so don't act like you know adventure and I don't.

At any rate, I loved this city!! We stayed right across from Ground zero, I took this pic from our hotel room. Do you see the footprints of the original towers? They'll be memorial pools shortly. Seeing all of this construction and the building of the new world trade center made me so emotional. I was a blurry-eyed mess. Just walking around the area made me want to hug the construction workers and thank them. When I was missing my homeland while serving my LDS mission in Paraguay I used to get in the shower and belt out the national anthem with big tears streaming down my face. It made me want to do that again. The new tower they are building will be 1776 feet high. Wonderfully fitting, isn't it?? (The Empire State Building is some 1450 feet.) It will be a beautiful monstrous beacon to the world. I love this country so much.

Brooklyn Bridge:

China town:

St. Paul's church, where George Washington prayed after his inauguration:

Hardly any of these headstones are legible now, but the dates you can make out are all from the late 1700s. It was a sacred place to be, wondering about all of those lives and what life must have been like for all of those freedom loving people.

The second night there we went on a dinner cruise around Manhattan. Loved every. single. minute.

See the red white and blue Empire State Building? Jason and I re-watched Sleepless in Seattle a few week ago, so seeing that building made me feel all gooey inside.

Love that lady:

We caught a ferry out to Liberty Island and Ellis Island as well. Ellis Island was another tear jerker for me. Especially thinking about those mommies with their small babies making the voyage. They risked so much to come here.

This sculpture was salvaged from the twin towers. It was created to symbolize world peace. Damaged but not destroyed.

Here's the Wall Street charging bull. I was amazed at the number of people, americans and foreigners alike, gathered around the back side of this bull taking turns to get a picture with its testes. I love capitalism too, trust me. But I think maybe we love it in a different way. Or maybe they just love rocky mountain oysters. P.S. Sorry for using the word testes just now, it's an abhorrent word. Pretty much any word you wanna use referring to those... abhorrent.

Had to get a little bit of NYC shopping in there. Check out this D&G beauty, retailed at around $2300. Jason can't wait to wear it to church on Sunday.

Yankee Stadium! And even better, Yankees vs. Red sox game. This pic was pretty early on in the game, but that game was sold out for months. We were spoiled.

The next day we made our way uptown to 5th Ave and headed into FAO Schwarz. I would have stayed here the entire day. I took so many pictures in this place I didn't even know what to do with myself. I've never seen so much dollhouse loot in my life. Here are the pics I'll narrow it down to, because I was so mystified and smitten in the doll house section, being a dollhouse owner myself all my life:

Look at that miniature furniture. Look at the wee little' lamps and rugs and mini burberry bags, (top middle). It set something off inside of me. Didn't you read Indian in the cupboard when you were a kid? Oh man. It's all very magical. And I just kept thinking, My mom would have a fit here. Jason had to drag me away kicking and screaming. I'm gonna have an insane collection of these little miniatures someday. It's in my blood.

And don't even get me started with the Harry Potter section. A counter that says, "Quality Quiddich supplies"?? Another that says, "Flourish and Blotts?" Forget about it.

Jason picked out his birthday present this year too. A Barbie foosball table!! For only 25,000 bucks! He's SO excited to set this up at his office. The guys should all really love it.

Times Square: This place was mind boggling to me. Plus, it was all foggy and you couldn't even really see the top of the sky scrapers. Mystical, right? Tripped me out.

We even walked over and got a slice of pizza from our very favorite authentic New York pizza place, Sbarro.

And just before heading back to the airport, had to stop in at Serendipity's for the legendary frozen hot chocolate. The peanut butter one will be stuff my dreams are made of for weeks.

Stop judging my double jointed thumbs. Just stop it. That's not even as far back as they curl. Another day, another blogpost. Wait for that one. I don't wanna talk it up, but it's gonna blow your mind.

Okay, I've got to go. Scarlett should be waking up from her AM nap any minute now. Even though she's probably sick of me because I haven't been able to stop kissing her cherubic cheeks ever since we got home. It might not be so bad if I didn't kiss them with such force and such intensity but I can't help myself. They both get extra mauled for being such good girls while we were away. We pulled out their pictures no less than 3700 times. We're those parents, folks. And not ashamed.

New York, ya treated us real nice! Real real nice! We hope ta see ya again soon someday. Real soon. Thinkin' about our time together makes me giddy all over again.

Run down of April.

2011-05-02T10:16:00.024-06:00

Phew. Big deep breath. Welcome, friendly May. I'm so excited you're here and you brought sunshine with you. And last night I slept from 9:30 til 6:30 this AM. That's right, 9 straight hours of uninterrupted sleep. It's gonna be a great month.

April, you were good to us but more like in the tough-love kind of way. You pretty much kicked my butt. You were a little bit like a drill sergeant at a fat camp yelling in my face a lot but then you'd sneak me a snickers bar on the sly. Since you've passed I've been pretty much in a coma staring at the walls going, "ba ba ba ba ba" like Goldie Haun in that scene on Overboard. Ya know, when the boys are throwing grapes at her face? Great movie. April, I'm more than thrilled about the family time you alloted me but get outta here with your snowstorms and frigidness. Get outta here with the rigorous schedule you had my little family on. And get outta here Scarlett's croup and mine and Lucy's head colds. OUT OF MY LIFE!!

In April,

We went to St. George for Jason's triathlon:

My dear friend Tamra came to visit us for a week from Houston:

Scarlett and I flew to Arizona for four days to be at my beautiful niece Elyza's baptism:

Our little fam flew to Chicago for 5 days to be with Nessa and Sam and company:

Met Eve Sophia for the first time: Can you even handle her?? Can you?! I understand if you stand up and start flinging things around your house because she's so blanking adorable.

{Twas the most GLORIOUS 5 days. It was freezing in Chi-town. But there was enough love in that student housing apartment to keep us all toasty warm. See what I mean?

Especially since Jason, me, Nessa and Sam all slept in the same bed. Think Willie Wonka... sigh... This trip will get its own blog post soon enough.}

Met the Easter bunny:

Our family friend Sara flew into town from Mexico and my mom came down for the week and stayed to spend Easter, my dad joined us for that as well. The girls loved her. Was a wonderful week indeed! So glad you came Sara!

Started planting in our garden. Planted tomato plants, and they're still alive! I've been running around screaming They're alive!! They're aliiiiiive!! with my eyes bugged out and a big pulsating vein on my forehead. Think Frankenstein. You get the picture.

Had two cavities filled and enjoyed some good laughing gas while in the process. Nicely done Dr. Steven D. Smith! Note the glazed over look in my eyes:

Only the best dentists can produce that in me.

Threw a killer family birthday party for Cathy, Scarlett and Brinley Jean:

Taught some dance lessons to a couple little girls:

(Okay let's be honest this little one teaches me moves I've never seen before.)

And... on the very last day of the month, I ran my first 5K. See that snow? Yes. I woke up early that morn to see about 4 inches. And said to myself tahell with runnin' in that crap and crawled back into bed. I would NEVER have done it had I married any other man. Love/hate him so much.

My mom was down here for women's conference and popped in to hoot and hollar: (and had to immediately burst into tears when I finished. OH marmie of mine!! I just love you! I came through the finish line and had to put her in a head lock and start jumping around when I saw her being all emotional. The adrenaline just sorta took me over.)

I have always hated running. (And runners not to mention.) It started back in 8th grade. Went out for track just because my super athletic BFF Brandi did, and thought we could goof off together during "practice". And believe you me, I faked an ankle injury every single track meet so I never had to compete. I think I might have pulled a hammy in there sometime, too.

The double arm fist pump is what made it all really magical for me.

*P.S. My sister pointed out the blaring red clock in the video to me, and I thought I should tell you it's the half marathon clock. Fortunately I was able to run 3.2 miles in under an hour and a half, but I thought you should know at any rate since this is my very first and it very well could have taken me an hour and a half.*

Anyway, I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. I wasn't half as slow as I thought I'd be either, even though I was pretty slow. I still mostly hate running. But can see how people get kindof addicted to it. In a sick sort of way. And I will say that one of my favorite things might have been all the bagels and cookies and chocolate milk and other such loot spread out on tables just for me after I crossed the finish line. So I promptly started shoving things into my shirt and pants to take home. No pockets in these here runnin' pants.

Jason and babies were waiting for me at the finish line as well. Everything that matters to me in this life fits into this little 4 x 6 frame.

So there you have it folks. A whole month wrapped up in one itty bitty blogpost. Love/hate you April. Thanks for the good/hard times. So happy/relieved to see you, May. Peace out/see you next time ya'll. (Love you too, slashes. You're just so versatile!)

P.S. Is it just me or are we all a little down on blogging? Me and Ness were talking about it the other day... Is everyone over blogging? I haven't written anything worth much more than family history lately, so maybe it is just me. I'll try to be blogging back in full force soon enough. Let's all try together, eh? Whattaya say? We can save blogging if we unite. Or maybe you don't know what I'm talking about? Hmm.

Little Scarlett Marie, (Ahem)

2011-04-21T10:52:00.013-06:00

How are you already a year old? How did it happen? In the Book of Mormon, Jacob writes that "the time passed away with us, and also our lives passed away like as it were unto us a dream..." I feel what he's saying right now. So much. This year has been a dream. It's all passing so quickly.

-You are charismatic and charming. You are a total flirt.

-We laugh so much together. You and I are great friends. Your sister makes you laugh so much as well. You are little besties.

-You love to wave and give kisses (and your dad requests them roughly 300 times a day).

-You are so affectionate and snuggly.

-You are a mama's girl. You say mama and hi all the time.

-National averages tell us you are a bit more petite than the average little lady, even though you came into the world barely under a full two pounds bigger than your sister.

-You have the longest eye lashes and when I first met you I couldn't get over all your dark hair... which you also love because you rub your food all over in your hair like it's nobody's business. --I'm slightly relieved to see that you don't seem to be quite as mischievous and busy as your sis (but we are not placing bets on that yet).

-You have the most adorable squeal when you laugh and the most grating happy high pitched shrieks. And they last way longer than anyone ever expects. Honestly, I have no idea how you have the long capacity you do.

-You are ridiculously ticklish. Pillsbury dough-boy style.

-You are so joyful. FULL of joy. And I am even more joyful to be the mother you were sent to for your time here on earth.

This day was one of the happiest of my life. I am so thankful for this day.

Happy Birthday baby girl! Please stop growing so you can always try to crawl up my body to get into my arms.