No News is Good News???

Yeah, right. Whoever said that never thought they were having a baby one day, and were then told maybe in a couple more weeks the next.




Yes, this is me. Still pregnant. Sorry, Aunt Shawna, I was really hoping to bring you a nephew for your birthday. I knew there was a possibility we were way too early; after all, I'm just 35 weeks along, and our babies are slow growers anyway. But I thought if I kept thinking positive, "It's going to happen, it's going to happen," it would actually happen. No such luck.

The Man and I went into the doctor's office yesterday morning for the amnio. It wasn't a big deal since I've been through it three times before. I knew what to expect, how it was going to feel, and that there was a possibility of me loosing my breakfast during it. Lying on my back is hard for me now. I can't do it for more than a minute or two without getting really sick. The doctor came in, answered any questions, stuck the needle in my belly (I didn't watch), and that was it. Yeah! I didn't throw up! I did feel sick, but it wasn't as bad as it has been in the past. Mind over matter; right?

On our way out the nurse told me that she would call as soon as the results came back. She said the first part of the results would tell us if the lungs were mature, which lets us know if we were coming back to the hospital to deliver or staying home. The other two parts of the test would come in later in the day. I was so excited. I picked up Devil Child from my sister's and planned on going home to get one more load of laundry done before I packed my bag. And then she called.

She said his lungs were very underdeveloped. He was not even close to being ready. I'm not exactly sure what the numbers mean, but she said for them to be able to deliver the baby, he needed to score a 55 so he could breathe on his own. He scored an 18. Yikes. Now we were to wait until the rest of the test results came in to determine how long we had to wait before we can test him again. She said the doctor would probably recommend 10 days to 2 weeks because his numbers were so low. TWO MORE WEEKS!!! Oh, the disappointment. In reality, it's not that big of a deal, but since I had been trying to convince myself that this was really happening right now, I was REALLY excited for it. I was REALLY ready to not be pregnant anymore. You know how you get to the end of your pregnancy and everyone keeps telling you, "Wow, Woman, you look so great! I can't believe you're almost due! You're so tiny!" but you feel like a big freaking cow? Yeah, that's me. I feel like I waddle around everywhere I go, looking like a big blob.

Okay, so now reality sets in and I have to stop pouting. Two more weeks. Time to start planning and rearranging schedules. What's going on in two weeks? What are the possible conflicts that we need to resolve? Oh, yeah, MISS PRISS' BIRTHDAY!!! And oh, yeah, my sister is due on the 31st, and she usually goes a couple days or a week early. This time frame is totally not working for me. I was planning a birthday party for Miss Priss for the weekend of her birthday. Guess that's cancelled. I'm seriously not going to be up to hosting 15 or so 5-year-olds when I have a 3-day-old baby. And now who's my mom going to be with for the birth, me or my sister? I don't want her to feel like she HAS to come up here. It would be EASIER to stay there where my sister is. It's not like this the first baby for either of us. I really would be fine not having her here for that first week. But oh, how I LOVE having my mom around that first week. She is so great. She cooks and cleans and totally takes care of the other kids for me. She takes the baby and tells me, "Go and take a shower and a nap." She even gets up in the middle of the night or really early with the baby to give me a break. But I don't want her to have to choose between me and my sister, either.

The Man can tell I'm unhappy, and he takes over to try to make me feel better. He calls and says we can pull together a party for Miss Priss this weekend. After all, SHE doesn't know when her birthday is. It won't make any difference to her. So he offers all the help I need, and tells me we'll get started tonight with the invitations so I can deliver them tomorrow. After he got home from work, he went straight back to work ... for me, that is. He did exactly what I needed to get the invitations I wanted. We finished them up on the computer and got them printed up and ready for the finishing touches. We put the girls in bed, popped in The Princess Bride, and I started the cutting, gluing and glittering. I must say, they are just about the cutest invitations I've ever done. I was really happy with them.

So anyway, the latest update on the baby is that we're just waiting again. I'm back on the schedule for my visits to the doctor twice a week (yuck). And when they're able to, we'll test him again to see if he makes some progress on his own with the maturity of his lungs. If he doesn't do as well as the doctor would like, there's a possibility of doing steroid injections to help his lungs along. I don't know much about the procedure, how they do it, or if it will help more than just his lungs, but if it turns out we need to take that route, I'm sure I'll have a million questions before I let them plunge yet another needle into my body. We'll keep you all updated on his progress, and we'll let you know when they reschedule the delivery.

Wish us luck with our last-minute party this weekend! I hope it turns out all right. I'll post pictures after it's over.

And last but not least, Happy Birthday, Shawna! We love you tons and hope you have a really great day today!!!

One Week to Go!!!

Yesterday was Monday, and that meant yet another trip to the doctor's office. Thank heavens this is almost over. These copays are killing us. I do not mean to disregard the fact that we are very grateful for health insurance. Without it, we literally could not afford to have children. It would be like buying a small house to have to pay medical bills on our own. The appointment went great, the baby seems to be doing fine. The doctor seems almost more excited than I am for next week. We are scheduled for the amnio on Monday morning, and then delivery on Tuesday morning.

I've had some pretty serious contractions over the weekend, but I keep telling myself, "If I can just go to bed, and if I'm able to sleep through it, I will be fine. If I CAN'T sleep, then I'll call the hospital." So far I've always been able to sleep okay. When I told my doctor yesterday how painful these contractions have been, and how long they have lasted (some nights they don't stop for four hours or so), he told me he'd be fine if I went into labor on my own now. He said if they get bad again before next Monday, we can call in and come in and have the baby. It seems a little strange to me that he would be okay delivering the baby this early, and BEFORE finding out if his lungs are ready yet. After all, that's all we're waiting for at this point. But, feeling pretty certain I would not be calling the hospital before Monday, I just said okay and left. Only one more appointment left for monitoring on Thursday, and then we'll be ready. I can't wait. I seem to be getting more and more exhausted as the days go on. I know, it's nothing compared to having a newborn and being up all night nursing and such. We're going to have to figure out a better schedule for my two little crazy girls, who find it necessary to be up by 6:30 in the morning demanding breakfast.

Our weather is fantastic now. We're in the mid 70's all week, and have a chance of hitting 80 on Sunday. Yeah for Spring! Today I took the girls to the park. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I could not fathom staying at home on such a beautiful day. They had a blast, of course, and we came home for lunch and naps. All of us. We all laid down on the couch together and took a two-hour nap. It was SOOOO nice!

I sent them out in the backyard to enjoy the last bit of sunshine before the day ends, and I started picking up a few things around the house. As I walked by the door I heard both the girls spitting, and I said, "Hey, I don't like that." Miss Priss just stated, "But mom, we're not spitting at each other, we're just spitting up in the sky."

"I still don't like that."

"But we're not spitting at Jesus or Heavenly Father, either!"

"Good. But I'd still like you to stop spitting."

Everybody's Good for Something

So if you know me at all, you know what my opinion is of lawyers. I've worked with lawyers since graduating from court reporting school at the age of 19. I loathe them. Well, most of them. And if you know my dad at all, you know that his opinion of lawyers hasn't helped how I view them. He literally hates them. And my dad doesn't hate ANYONE. I've worked with many a slimeball attorney here in town, and in this town we're not lacking for slimeball attorneys.

I've had attorneys eyeball me during depositions, and hit on me during breaks. I've even had attorneys have conversations with me about my husband and children, and then STILL ask me out to lunch or to "show them around town" before they fly home. And worst of all, I've had an attorney actually do a google search for my name (which is on the transcripts), and call me at home to "flirt" or see if I was willing to see him sometime. Yuck. I was so taken aback, I didn't even think to tell him what I thought of him. I was just polite and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. So-and-so, is there something regarding the case that I can help you with? If not, I've really got to go and tend to my kids." Weirdo.

I've watched attorneys verbally attack deponents, lose their tempers and slam fists on the tables while screaming and shouting at everyone in the room, and I've listened while they make phone calls to "brag" about how they tricked someone after everyone else leaves the room. I've been a witness to how they lie, cheat, and worm their way around the system to get what they want. I find them disgusting.

Now, I know I can't blanketly categorize ALL attorneys this way. I have also worked with some very nice gentlemen, who seem to be doing what they can to fight for justice for people who have been wronged. But some part of me always feels like even the nice guys aren't really what they seem; and if they were to find a way around the cold, hard truth for an outcome in their favor, they'd take it. I'm just very leery of them, and I don't fully trust them.

That being said, I've also known a few attorneys that I respect as people, and who are good members of the church. I honestly just think they chose a rotten profession. But this week a neighbor of mine (who happens to be a lawyer) came in quite handy for me. To get the whole story, I have to go back to mid December of last year...

I was driving home from my sister's house, coasting down a long hill, when I saw it. Those dreaded flashing red and blue lights in my rear-view mirror. Aaahhh! I found a spot to pull over, and awaited my fate. The police officer came to my window and asked for my license and registration. I dug through my bag for my wallet to get my license, and then began the hunt through the glove box for my registration and proof of insurance. Registration, check. Proof of insurance, nowhere to be found. At least not a current one. Uuggg! Why hadn't we put our current one in the car?!?! He took what I had and told me to bring him the current one when I found it. I searched the entire contents three times to no avail. So I got out to go tell him I didn't have it with me, when Miss Priss starts freaking out. "No, mom!!! Please, don't go!!! I don't want you to go to jail!!! Please, don't leave us!" What the? Oh, yes. In all my brilliantness of being such a good mom, I had previously told my four-year-old that if you're not following the rules and don't have your seatbelts on in the car, the police will come take them away from me. Never thought that one would backfire on me. Like I said, brilliant.

I assured her that I would be right back, and headed out. When I got back in the car, she was in hysterics, crying so hard that she made Devil Child (who had no clue what was going on) start crying. I tried to make her stop, but the police officer was trying to talk to me at the same time. I said, "I'm sorry, my daughter thinks you're taking me to jail." He was so rude and just said, "Tell her you're fine." Thanks. I'm trying to hear what he's explaining to me, and all I'm getting is, "... speeding, blah, blah, blah, take care of it at home if you have the internet, blah, blah. You have to wait for blah, blah processing, so don't try to take care of it before then. Blah, blah date on your ticket. Blah, blah, blah, huge favor by reducing, blah, blah. You need to be safer with kids, blah, blah, blah." Whatever. I can't believe I've just gotten a speeding ticket. I haven't gotten a speeding ticket since I was in college. As he's leaving and I'm rolling up my window, I say, "Merry Christmas to you, too." I thought maybe in the spirit of the season I would have gotten off with a warning. No such luck.

I came home totally pissed off and feeling really dumb. I hated having to tell The Man that I just cost us who knows how much money, right at Christmastime, for being a retarded driver. He was good about it. He just said he was glad that this time it was me that screwed up, since he always feels like it's him. I laughed. I checked out the date at the bottom of my ticket, and it said January 4th. I thought, "that's a long time to have to wait for processing before I can get this taken care of," but that's what he had said to me, so I put it in a drawer and made a mental note to not worry about it until after New Year's.

I pulled it out again on Jan. 7th and found the website so I could take care of it over the internet like I was instructed. The website was all too confusing for my totally computer-savvy mind, so I looked for a phone number instead. I called and finally got ahold of a live person, who informed me that I was supposed to be in court on January 4th, and since missing my court date, there were two late fees added, to bring my total to $330!!! Now, the speeding ticket was for going 40 in a 35. That can't be right, you say, but I assure you it is. Five miles over the speed limit (no school zone, no construction zone) plus two late fees will cost you $330 in our great city. And that's not the best part! For missing my court date, there was now a warrant out for my arrest!!! Great. Now I'm not only a lousy driver, I'm a freaking fugitive. Me.

Then she tells me since I don't work, I can do 48 hours of community service instead of paying the fine. I say, "What do you mean, like picking up trash on the freeway?" She says, "No, they have a number of different things in the work program." I tell her no thanks, I'm in my last trimester of my pregnancy, and I'm not EVEN about to make myself look like a detainee from our local prison by completing their "work program." I'll just suck it up and pay the money. She tells me when to be down at the courthouse, and two days later, there I was.

I asked the lady at the desk if I was going to be able to talk to someone; a judge, an attorney, someone to plead my case to. I figured at the very least I could get the fine reduced a little. She literally laughed at me. After inquiring a little further, I found that if I were to plead not guilty, they would set a pretrial date, and I would get to see a judge. So even though I knew I WAS guility, I plead not guilty, figuring this was my only chance to talk to someone about it. I had another month to wait, and to prepare my case. As the time got closer, I realized my doctor had scheduled an appointment on the same day, so I called the court to see if I could postpone my court date a day or two. They said absolutely not, it's already on the judge's calendar, and there is no way to change it. I tried explaining that I was having complications in my pregnancy, and that I couldn't miss this doctor's appointment. All she said was, "Sorry. If you don't show up, there will be a bench warrant out for your arrest." At this point I'm thinking, that's nothing new. So I said, "Okay. So my choice is either to take care of my unborn baby, or have a warrant out for my arrest?" With no sympathy at all (I can hardly blame her, as I'm sure she hears every excuse under the sun), she said there was no way to change it.

I was stuck. I didn't know what to do. I turned to the only person I could think of that might stand a chance helping me out. The attorney who lives next door. I called him up and explained the situation, and he said, "I'm on my way home right now. I'll come over and pick up your ticket and get it taken care of. Don't you worry about a thing. There will be no bench warrant out for you. Your baby is more important." I've never been more happy to know an attorney. He came back over last night to let us know that it's all been resolved, no warrant, no points on my record, and I just need to pay $75. Thank heavens.

Funny thing is, if the ticket had only been $75 to begin with, I would have been totally mad that it cost that much. But now, after this whole ordeal, I can honestly say that I will gladly throw this $75 of our hard-earned money down the drain, and I'll do it with a smile on my face. Even funnier, I still don't like attorneys. Well, except for one.

P.S. In case anyone is interested, the Baby Boy crib bedding won the vote, and I purchased it yesterday. I was a little sad to be giving up the Mod Squad design, but I truly loved them both, and I'm happy with your decision! Can't wait to get it here and finish up this nursery!

Ten days and counting ....

What's Your Vote???

Okay, so I'm having the most difficult time deciding between two different crib bedding sets for the new little man. Having spent so much time at home lately and not being able to actually do a whole lot around the house, I've found a new hobby ... internet shopping for baby. I've searched through hundreds of different bedding sets, and have narrowed it down to two. And every time I think I've made a decision, something makes me change my mind. It's driving me crazy. So I need all of your input. Check out the two different sets, and then you can post your preference in the comments. I decided since I'd really be happy with either one, and they cost the same amount, I'm just going to go with the majority vote.

The first one is by a company called Banana Fish. The style is called Baby Boy.

The second one is from a designer named Glenna Jean, and the style is Mod Squad.

Let me know what you all think so I can finally pick it. Now I just hope it will be shipped in time for his birth. Which reminds me, I have another little update on our "due date." Last week my doctor moved the induction up another week, so we're now scheduled for March 12th. As always, we'll do an amnio the day before to make sure his little lungs are ready. As long as that checks out, we'll have our little man here in just three weeks from today!!!

S.W.A.K.

I hope everyone had a very happy Valentine's Day. Ours was wonderful. Nothing fancy since I'm not really "out and about" right now, plus the girls are sick again so we couldn't really get a babysitter. The girls and I made Valentine cookies for home teaching families (and for us), and we waited until The Man got home to exchange Valentines. He came through the door with two boquets of beautiful tulips (my fav). He gave a flower to each of the girls, and then put the rest in a vase for me. What a guy. We gave the girls a small box of chocolates and silver necklaces with charms that have their initials on them. Miss Priss was thrilled with hers. We told her they were special and only to be worn on Sundays and special occassions, and that didn't go over too well. She wants to wear it all the time.

We frosted the cookies and ate some with their Winnie the Pooh chocolates for dinner. After some soup for dessert, we put our little sickies to bed early, and had a great night alone. Don't worry, no details. I like to keep my posts rated PG, unless you consider such stories as this moving up a notch to PG-13. Sufficeth to say that I have one of the most romantic guys on the planet. Thanks, honey, for such a nice, relaxing, candlelit evening. Oops, did I say no details? Well, get your minds out of the gutter, that's all you're going to get.

As for the news on the baby front, everything is looking great. I've had two appointments where my blood pressure has gone down, and the doctor is feeling more confident about me not delivering for a few more weeks. We've scheduled the birth for March 21st, which puts me at 36 weeks. The baby is growing okay, and it looks like we are on track for pretty close to the same birthweight as our little Devil Child (4 lbs. 12 oz.). I can handle that. I'm still staying at home and resting as much as possible. It's the best way to keep my blood pressure down. Somehow, even with a small baby, I feel like I'm just bursting at the seams. I can't even imagine having an 8, 9 or 10 pound baby. And the thought of twins?!?! Mel and Lora, my heart goes out to you. Hope you're hanging in there, too. How does anyone have room in there for two???

BTW, (that stands for "by the way," according to one of the little girls on our street - I thought they only used that in text messaging and emails, but she actually says it. It's kinda funny.) Anywho, there's been a little mishap with the shower invitations my sister sent out, so some people may not get them in time. The invites are square, and even though she asked if she needed extra postage and was told no, some have been coming back to her in the mail. Not that we're expecting many out-of-towners, but in case you can come, the date is next Friday, February 23rd, 6pm at our house. We'd love to have you, and I apologize if your invitation doesn't make it in time. I think she's just adding more postage and sending them back out, so you'll probably get it eventually.

I'll leave you with a product of my awesome Valentine's gift. That's right, my man got me a new camera! It's awesome, and I'm so happy to have it. I was a bit anxious about not having a camera of our own when the baby came, so I'm very glad he chose it for my gift. Here's a picture of the girls with their new necklaces.

There Are No Words

I broke our camera the other day trying to take a picture of my dad's guitar that he's selling. It dropped right out of my hand and landed smack on the lens, which is now stuck halfway out, halfway in, and it refuses to go back or forth either way. I'm really mad at myself. It was an expensive camera; one of those video/digital cameras in one. So now we're out both.

But the camera is on the bottom of our list at the time. Many of you have already heard that we've been having some complications with this pregnancy. Because of my kidney disease, we have always known that there were risks to carrying a child; for me and for the baby. We have been blessed to have two previous pregnancies that were basically normal, except for some swelling that's a little beyond what most women go through, and having the girls come so small. But they've been healthy, and I've always checked out okay afterwards. But each time we decide to have another child, we know there's a chance of preeclampsia (toxemia) and preterm labor. My kidneys just don't function well enough to provide good blood flow to the fetus, and so they don't grow at a normal rate. And then towards the end, they stop growing all together. So the doctor performs an amniocentisis to make sure the lungs are developed, and then they induce labor. The babies always seem to grow better once they're out.

I go in to the doctor's office twice a week starting at 28 weeks for fetal monitoring and an ultrasound. The baby has two "tests" to pass on the monitoring and eight "tests" to pass on the ultrasound. They want to see things such as a certain number of heart accelerations in a certain number of minutes, blood flow through the cord and to the brain, breathing movements, and so on. For the past two weeks the baby hasn't been passing his tests. It could be something as simple as the tech missing it, or the baby is just being lazy. But it has concerned the doctor a little. The growth rate is the most important thing right now, and there was a point where they measured no growth for four weeks. Luckily, he started growing again, slowly but surely, and is weighing about two and a half pounds right now. Which would be fine since I really have nine weeks left, but some other things have come up since then that have made the doctor say he'd be surprised if I stayed pregnant for another five weeks. I've been having a lot of pain in my back and lower abdomen, which we found out is being caused by a cyst that has grown on one of my ovaries. They're quite common, but they usually are gone by the time the first trimester is over. Unfortunately mine has just kept on growing, and is now causing me pain. We have to wait until the baby is born to see if it will go away on its own or if it needs to be removed. I've also been having contractions at night. They're nothing to complain about, really, but my doctor wants to be called, no matter what time of the day or night, if I have more than five in an hour. So I battle with myself each time it happens: Should I call now? Should I wait and see if they just stop on their own? Maybe I'll wait until I KNOW it's real labor. Maybe by then it will be too late. Better safe than sorry, right? No, they'll just make me go in to the hospital and spend hours there being monitored before they send me home with a nice bill. It's torture.

My swelling has been less this time than last time, but my blood pressure has gone up, and the amount of protein in my urine is off the charts. On Monday I was told that if my blood pressure went up anymore by my Thursday appointment, I would have to be admitted to the hospital. No bed rest at home, just straight to the hospital. And the thought of not being with my husband and my girls for six weeks was overwhelming. Who would take care of the girls while The Man was at work? What would they eat for dinner, and who would do the laundry and clean the house and make sure the girls' hair was done every day? And how on earth would I stay sane lying in a bed for WEEKS with only daily phone calls and random visits from them? My mind had a million thoughts in two seconds of how horrible this would be. But the doctor just said, "You and your husband need to arrange your schedules and get things in order in case this happens. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but you need to be prepared."

And so we did. My neighbors knew I had been sick, and had already been helping out with babysitting the girls and bringing dinners at night. Because it's my calling and I know how the Relief Society works, I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was when I got the phone call from the RS president letting me know they were working out a schedule for people to take the girls Monday through Friday from 9am to 4pm, dinners would be delievered every other night, and they were putting together a bunch of freezer meals for us to keep on the nights dinner wasn't brought in. I've never been on this end of service before. And it's not easy being here. I feel physically capable to do the things I do every day, and so it feels like I'm taking advantage of people. I thanked her and accepted the offer for help, knowing that if I tried to take on the daily tasks myself, there was a good chance I was not coming home after Thursday.

The Man organized a family fast in behalf of the baby and me, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the willingness of everyone who chose to participate. My mom put my name in the temple, and I know everyone prayed right along with us for everything to be okay. I knew in my heart that everything WOULD be okay, even if I was admitted, and even if I had the baby this early. My rational mind would tell me that people have babies that are only one pound or even less, and they can survive just fine. By Thursday, I was at total peace, and I pretty much knew what was going to happen. But just to be safe, I stopped in at Babies R Us on the way to the doctor's to pick out a carseat. When I got to the office, they took me in the back and checked my blood pressure first thing. The nurse and I both watched the machine closely. When the numbers popped up on the screen, each down two points from Monday, we both smiled and said, "Yeah!!!!" The doctor said he was happy with the results of the bloodwork from Monday, and that they were still waiting for a couple test results, but that I would get to go home.

I was taken back to the room for fetal monitoring with a great big smile on my face. I had only been in the room a few minutes when another nurse popped her head in the room and said, "Good job on the blood pressure today!" It took over two hours, but the baby passed his tests that day on the monitor and the ultrasound. I've been given instructions to "take it easy" at home, but no real restrictions. Needless to say, I drove home in a great mood.

I got home and made a few phone calls, and then I thought about all of you, and I said a little prayer to thank my Heavenly Father for putting such wonderful people in my life. I truly don't have the words to thank you enough for all the help and prayers for us. I wish I could be with each of you to tell you thank you in person and give you a great big hug, but for now I'll settle for this amazing technology that lets me say it to everyone all at once. I know you each made a difference in our lives this week, and it fills my heart to know that so many people would focus their time and their faith toward our family in a time of need. You are all so amazing to me. This is not the first time my testimony has been strengthened by prayer and fasting, but it has boosted that strength to a higher level. We are so blessed.

So for now we're just on a visit by visit basis. If I can keep my blood pressure down, I get to stay at home. But sometimes I sit here and think, even IF things don't go perfectly for the next couple of weeks, we'll be just fine. If I end up going in to stay for a while, or if the baby comes early, I know we'll still be just fine. And then I'm reminded ... we have no camera for pictures or video. You can't have a baby when you don't have a camera. I guess this little boy will just have to wait to come.

Here We Go Again

Somehow this nasty cold has hit our house again. And I, of course, have gotten the worst of it. Although I'd rather it be me than anyone else. I don't know if it just never completely went away the first time, or if we just caught it again. I thought once you got a cold, your body supposedly developed antibodies against that particular cold, and it wasn't possible to get it again. Don't know where I heard that bunch of bull, but I certainly don't believe it anymore. This has been exactly the same thing that hit me late November. It started out with a sore throat and a headache. Then a little cough came on, and then the cough and congestion got so bad that I forgot all about the sore throat. Now I'm up all night again, hacking my lungs up and fighting for every breath.

I was never a believer in that Airborne stuff, but I've heard people talk about it, so when I was sick in December I figured I'd give it a try. The girls were taking it religiously every morning (thank goodness they thought it was soda and thought it was a "treat"), and they somehow avoided my ailment. I, on the other hand, after getting permission from the doctor, of course, was taking Nyquil religiously every night, hoping for just a couple hours of "real" sleep. This went on for over a month until one night I was finally able to sleep through the night. My symptoms went away, and I took the girls off the Airborne.

We had a good maybe two weeks, and then it started again. This time it came to the girls first. Miss Priss missed a week of preschool, which was completely devastating for some reason. She thought she was being punished, no matter how many times I told her she wasn't. She would beg and beg, "Mom, please! Please give me another chance!" I tried convincing her that I just wasn't allowed to let her go to school when she wasn't feeling well; and that she'd make the other kids sick and that wouldn't be fair. She didn't understand at all.

Then our Devil Child's cough started up. But with her I can never tell what the real culprit is. She's had a chronich cough since birth and was diagnosed with asthma, but she seemed to be growing out of it. Her cough is usually rare, but it is still there every once in a while. But boy, when she gets sick, that cough comes back with a vengence. She sounded so terrible, I couldn't go out in public without people staring when she coughed. I took her in to see her doctor when she started complaining about her ear, and found out she had ear infections in both ears. I felt so bad for her. She was prescribed some antibiotics to clear that up, but knowing her history of yeast infections, I had to start her on an oral treatment at the same time for that. So we're back to Airborne every morning for the kids, Nyquil every night for me, two extra prescriptions for my Devil Child, and anything I can think of during the day to help me feel better. I feel like I live in a pharmacy. My counters are covered with medications. This sucks.

But I must admit, I'm starting to become a believer in the Airborne stuff. The girls each went through about a week of being sick, and now they're fine again. I, on the other hand, am getting worse every day they're getting better. At least I've now been given a prescription for Ambien, so I really can sleep at night. And to top it all off, Mr. Amazing Immune System, Mr. I-can't-believe-how-often-you-guys-are-sick, Mr. I-never-get-sick-like-this, yes, my man, is showing signs of the first stage of this stuff. He's got a sore throat and achey body. It's only a matter of time, my friend, before you'll be right there with me, drinking four doses of Theraflu a day and up at 3 am with no chance of falling back asleep, wondering who in the world decided to aire The Wonderful World of Mathematics and This Old House in the wee hours of the morning. I mean seriously, do they think someone who is awake at 3:00 A.M. is going to be "do-it-yourselfing" their home the next day, or lucid enough to understand ANYTHING beyond basic addition or subtraction? Who are these people kidding?

Shook, honey, for passing this crud along to you. I'd take it back if I could.

My Mom

I'm one of those lucky kids who had a really good childhood, and whose parents are still together. It's rare nowadays, but I know that it made a huge difference in the path of my life. My mom is so amazing, I don't even know if I have the words to describe her. The first thing that comes to mind is that she is a teenager stuck in a grown woman's body. She mastered the art of being a mother to her kids first, and a friend as a close second. I'm so grateful she made it easy for me to talk to her about things as a teenager and young woman. I remember coming home from a date late at night and her first question would be, "Did you kiss him?" And she would ask it like my friend from school would ask. I still don't know if she was pretending, as I imagine I would be with my daughter, or if she really was interested in knowing because she was excited for me. Knowing my mom, I tend to think it's the latter.

You'll never find my mom in a foul mood. She manages to find humor in all things, and shows it. Her laughter is contagious, and we can't help but laugh just over the fact that she laughs at EVERYTHING. Growing up, we used to make fun of her for it, and tell her she "cackled" all the time. Now, as I watch my home videos and hear her laughter in the background, it brings a huge smile to my face.

She is the most selfless person I know. She loves to shop, but it's a rare day that she brings home something for herself. She has a passion for her grandchildren, and for making other people happy. For a number of years now she's worked just so that she can "shop for the babies." I remember her as the stay-at-home mom who participated in joy school, ran errands, chauffeured us around town, and taught us how to be women. And every now and then she'd take on a job to help pay for something we "needed;" like the time she worked at Target during the Christmas season the year Cabbage Patch Dolls came out. She knew she had to get five, and that it would be impossible. She got a job at the store so that she would know when the shipment was coming in. And there she was that morning, along with a hundred other moms, I'm sure, to get us our beloved dolls. She loaded up her cart and took off for the checkout when another woman yelled at her. "You can't take FIVE!!! We're all trying to get one, too!" My mom just looked at her and said, "I have five daughters at home. Do you really think I can come home with just one or two?" I still remember that Christmas morning. They were all lined up on the couch with our names on them. And none of us could believe we actually got a Cabbage Patch Doll.

My mom often times surprises me with her boldness to do what she wants to do. Our family used to take a yearly (almost) skiing trip up to Utah, and we'd usually stay at the Peppermill (now it's called the Oasis) in Mesquite on the way up. It had like seven pools or something, and we were given the freedom to swim at whichever we wanted. Ah, heaven. We'd spend the day running from one pool to the next, having the time of our lives with no parents telling us what to do. We would eat dinner at the all-you-can-eat buffet, where I'm sure my parents got the most for their money with a family of nine. My mom, at one time, was famous for carrying these HUGE purses. It was like she never got over using a diaper bag or something. With grown kids, I have no idea what she needed to put in there, but she loved her big bags. So one time while in line at the buffet, my mom cleverly thought to herself, "Might as well prepare for breakfast tomorrow," and started filling up her purse with the decorative fruit; bananas, apples, oranges. The lady behind her tapped her shoulder and said, "Um, I don't think you're supposed to do that." And my mom said, "I know," as she put another banana in her bag.

She joined Weight Watchers I think over a year ago, and has since become a lifetime member. I'm not sure of the total amount of weight she's lost now, but she looks better than I've ever seen. Seven kids can do some serious damage to a girls' figure, I'm sure. I'm already losing it, and I'm only on number three! Sorry, mom, for not having a current picture of you looking totally fab! I'm really proud of her for being able to keep the weight off. I know it's hard, but she has managed to change her eating habits and lifestyle, and she seems so happy!

Like my dad, my mom also has a sensitive soul (I didn't stand a chance!). She most often expresses it when talking about the gospel. My mom bore her testimony often, and was a great example of sharing things she learned about the gospel working for her in her life. She would always tell us how much she loved us, and it would always bring us to tears, too. She taught me the importance of sharing your testimony, and that it truly does help you and others to grow. She served as the Young Women's president for most of my life. It seemed as though every time they would get a new presidency, it would last maybe a year or two, and then they'd call her back to it. I can't blame them, though. She was perfect for the job. No one gets teenage girls like my mom.

I hope that through all of our experiences together, I was able to glean enough from her to do a half decent job of raising my own kids. I only wish I would have realized sooner how great she actually is. She deserved so much better than the way we treated her when we were younger. But I want her to know that I see it now, and I cherish her as the greatest mother and friend a girl could ever have. I love you, Mom.

My Dad

My dad is one of the greatest men I know. I look up to him so much, and I value his opinion and advice. Yes, he's getting older, his health and hearing are not as good as they were five or ten years ago, but I know he's got a lot left in him. He is very kind and thoughtful, and I don't know of a single enemy he's ever had, or anyone that has any ill will towards him. He's just a great guy that everyone loves to love. He's got so many awesome life stories to tell. To me, it seems he's been everywhere and done everything. I love the time I get to spend with him and how he takes the time to tell me about his life before I was born. I even find it endearing to hear some of the same stories more than, um, we'll just say once or twice.

His name fits him well, as anyone who knows him can attest. He truly is a "Jack of all trades." He knows a little about everthing. An officer of the law by career; but that's hardly what I tell people when I'm asked, "what does he do?" Not just your regular run-of-the-mill police officer; he flys helicopters for the Sherriff's Department. He's a sailor and scuba diver with a passion for the ocean. He'd be perfectly content to live out his life on a boat, sailing wherever the wind takes him (as long as my mom would be by his side). I love how he tells me, "I can't sleep well without your mother next to me." In my opinion, he's the world's greatest guitar player. I think my very best memories of growing up have to be when he would sit in the living room and play his guitar. One by one, our entire family would join in, and soon we'd all be gathered around him, singing and dancing to our favorite songs like "Grandma's Feather Bed" and "Inch by Inch." I also have great memories of him taking us on motorcycle rides on Saturday morning down to the donut shop. He loved his motorcycles for years and years, but after a terrible accident, he stopped riding. Still to this day when one passes us by, he'll say, "Ah, nothing sounds like a Harley."

He's been our family's "fix-it" man for everything from dollhouses to broken sinks or toilets and rundown cars. Christmas was always more work than fun for him, as he spent the night before and all Christmas day putting toys and bikes together for us to play with. I'm sure he thought those days had ended when we all left the house, but now he's doing the same thing for his grandchildren. He loves to cook breakfast. Cold cereal is a snack for him. Breakfast is eggs (any way you want them), hashbrowns (not frozen - he actually shreds fresh potatoes), spam, ham or bacon, or nice fluffy pancakes. He picked up the hobby of making jewelry years ago, and even made wedding rings for me and The Man. After six-and-a-half years of being married, I still get frequent compliments from strangers on my ring. With seven kids, I don't think he was able to play favorites, but he sure has a way of making you feel like you are. He is a wonderful teacher and a great example of what a father should be. I never once remember him raising his voice to me. Ever. Now that I have children of my own, that amazes me. How he did it, I'll never know.

The one thing he doesn't do is dance. But he's even conceded on that one on more than one occassion. He has danced with all of us girls at our weddings. We wouldn't have let him get away without it. He's a very sensitive person, and music is one thing that brings his emotions to the surface. I get that from him. He called me a couple weeks ago just to ask if I had heard a certain country song. He said he'd probably never be able to get through it, but if he could, he'd line up all his sons-in-law and sing it to them. It's called, "I Loved Her First."

Look at the two of you dancing that way,
Lost in the moment and each other's face.
So much in love you're alone in this place,
Like there's nobody else in the world.
I was enough for her not long ago,
I was her number one,
She told me so.
And she still means the world to me,
Just so you know,
So be careful when you hold my girl.
Time changes everything,
Life must go on,
And I'm not gonna stand in your way.

But I loved her first, and I held her first.
And a place in my heart will always be hers.
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me,
I knew the love of a father runs deep.
And I prayed that she'd find you someday,
But it's still hard to give her away.
I loved her first.

How could that beautiful woman with you
Be the same freckle face kid that I knew?
The one that I read all those fairy tales to
And tucked into bed all those nights.
And I knew the first time I saw you with her,
It was only a matter of time.

But I loved her first, and I held her first.
And a place in my heart will always be hers.
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me,
I knew the love of a father runs deep.
And I prayed that she'd find you someday,
But its still hard to give her away.
I loved her first.

From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me,
I knew the love of a father runs deep.
Someday you might know what I'm going through
When a miracle smiles up at you.
I loved her first.

The love my dad has shown for me is the closest I can wrap my brain around how our Heavenly Father feels for us. Just the thought of losing him brings me to tears. We're not allowed to talk about it in our house. It's funny, though, how the circle of life has brought us to where we are now. I've depended on him for so much and for so many years; it's interesting that now we are the ones helping him with things. It makes me feel good to be able to help him sometimes, after all he's done for me. Even if it's just helping him sell something on ebay or craigslist, or cleaning up his house to get it ready to sell. I know he appreciates it.

It's not Father's Day, and it's not his birthday, but I want my dad to know that I think about him on every other day, and that he's always important to me. I wouldn't be who I am without him for a dad. And I'm proud of the person he helped me become. So thanks, Dad, for everything.

Sandwich or Soup?

The other day I was in the kitchen getting ready to fix lunch for the girls before Miss Priss left for preschool. The usual question "What do you want for lunch today?" was again followed by the usual answer - two blank stares. I swear, for all the meals I prepare around here, can't SOMEONE, just once in a while, throw me a freakin' bone and have a suggestion?!?! All right. I'm okay now.

So I give them the usual choices. "Do you want a sandwich or soup?"

"Can I have both?"

"No, just one or the other."

Miss Priss then tilts her head back with a nice big roll of the eyes and a grunt.

"Hmmph. Fine, then. The other."

I can't help but laugh a little when I ask, "So which is it, a sandwich or soup?"

"I just told you, mom."

"Well, which one is the other?"

Another eye roll. Seriously, when did 4 become the new 14?

Sandwiches it is.

Christmas Memories 2006

I know I already did my Christmas post, but after seeing Kendi's slideshow, I just had to make one of my own. Hope you all enjoy seeing our Christmas memories!

A Resolution Bites the Dust ... All for a Little Shampoo

Last night was a little trying on my patience. It was the first day of the new year, and my resolutions of being a better mother were fresh on my mind. I was bound and determined to make it through the day with no yelling, only loving discipline (if it was necessary). Who am I kidding, with a 2 and 4-year-old, some kind of discipline is ALWAYS necessary. We had a great day together. The Man had the day off, and we took to the girls out to eat and have some fun at the PlayPlace. That's another resolution of mine; to get the girls out of the house more and do fun things with them.

By the time evening came, we were doing pretty good. That is, until dinnertime. Dinnertime seems to be a challenge for all of us here. I need some time to get things done in the kitchen, The Man is hoping for a few extra minutes of work in the office, and for some reason it's the time when the girls just HAVE to have my undivided attention. They hang on me (sometimes literally) while they whine and cry about needing something. I try to get them to go play together, and sometimes I even put on a movie hoping it will hold their attention. But they have decided that when I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner, nothing but mom will do.

Dinner was finally done, and we set everyone up to the table. I knew it wasn't going to be a favorite, but I didn't think it would be so freakin' painful. I mean seriously, is my meatloaf really THAT bad??? Dinner was spent listening to whining and crying and gagging in between each and every forced bite. And then we gave up tring to MAKE them eat, made the announcement of no dessert, and told them that they could go to bed hungry. As is typical in our house, The Man thanked me for a fantastic meal (he's always very appreciative of my cooking), and the girls went upstairs to play while we cleaned up.

On my way up the stairs to get them into the bath, Miss Priss met me halfway down the stairs, crying, and seemingly with wet hair. "I'm really sorry I just got it in my hair, mom. I'm really sorry."

"Got what in your hair?"

"I'm sorry, mom. [Still sobbing] It's the white stuff and I can't comb my hair. Please comb my hair. It can't come out."

"What IS it?"

"I'll show you." [More sobbing as she's pulling her fingers through her hair.]

She took me into the bathroom and pulled out a bottle of shampoo. Sigh. I'm used to her coming out of the bathroom with wet hair from water. She has decided wet is a "good look" for her and frequently spends time in the bathroom wetting her hair down and sticking a dozen or so barretts randomly in her hair. But this time it wasn't water, it was shampoo. And I was frustrated. And I wanted to teach her a lesson. So I decided the best thing for her would be to skip the bath and deal with yucky hair all night. Hey, I never claimed to be good at parenting.

"Well, that's what you get. It's shampoo. No bath tonight. Put your pajamas on and you get to go to bed early. And STAY OUT OF THE BATHROOM!!!"

[Now sobbing hysterically] "But my HAIR!!! I think I'm going to die!"

"You're not going to die."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise. But you have to sleep with your hair all yucky."

"But I think it will fall out! I can't comb it out!"

"You don't get to comb it out. And stop running your fingers through it. You're going to pull it all out."

Pajamas were put on, teeth were brushed, hugs and kisses, and they both went down. Sigh.

I woke up this morning, as I typically do, with my Devil Child next to my bed holding my beloved bottle of Tums and shaking her head. "Not good, huh, mom? Too hot, huh, mom? Yucky medicine, mom?"

"Yes. Please put that down and stay out of mommy's stuff."

She climed up into bed with me and snuggled for her usual three-and-a-half seconds before asking for breakfast. Then I heard Miss Priss running down the hallway into my room. She came in completely elated and with a huge smile on her face.

"It worked, mom! I just did a prayer to Heavenly Father last night that the shampoo could be gone out of my hair, and it worked! See, it's gone! I knew it would work!"

Sometimes the faith of a child is the cutest thing to wake up to. It put a smile on my face as we came down the stairs to make breakfast just to think that in her time of trial, my little 4-year-old thought to pray, all on her own, and had the faith to know that her prayer would be answered.

While eating breakfast, she told me again how glad she was that she said a prayer and that it had worked, and the shampoo was all gone out of her hair.

"That's great, honey. But we're still going to take a bath and wash your hair after breakfast ... just in case."

It Was a Merry, Merry Christmas!

Please forgive my absence on the blog; I'm still fighting this darn bronchitis. I can't believe how long it has lasted. Although I'm no longer hacking up my lungs at night, and I can actually breath now, I'm still exhausted, coughing a little, and up a few times every night. But I'm out and about, trying to get back to my normal routine.

Our Christmas was wonderful this year. Both girls are at an age where everything was just so exciting. Miss Priss is still amazed that Santa was somehow able to be at the mall when we went, at our ward Christmas party, at a friend's Christmas party, at her school for breakfast, at the Magical Forrest lights display, AND was still able to make it to our house on the night of Christmas Eve! That jolly old elf really IS magic!

We did our December Christmas events chain again this year, which would have been a lot more fun if I hadn't been sick. We make a regular red and green Christmas chain to count down the days until Christmas, but we also write something to do on each day, so that when the girls tear a link off, there's some Christmas activity that we all get to do that day. Some of the things on our list this year were to see the live nativity put on by the church here, see the lights at the Bellagio gardens, watch Christmas movies, make gingerbread houses, make treats and pass out goodie plates to neighbors and friends, read the story of Christ's birth, and so on. We ended up skipping a few things we planned this year since I wasn't feeling up to being out much, but we just substituted for things we could do at home. It's always a lot of fun.

I'm not sure if Devil Child was really as excited as she seemed Christmas morning, or if she was just copying her older sister. She does that a lot. But it was hilarious watching them tear open gifts, gasp and shout, "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! LOOK WHAT I GOT, MOM!!!" Miss Priss was so impressed that Santa actually gave her the things on her list. Except he forgot a bell from his sleigh. After watching The Polar Express a couple times, she added the bell to her list, and Santa must have forgotten. Oops. I have a feeling he'll remember next year if she asks for it again.

The Man came up with a great idea this year for opening gifts. The kids are always the ones who want to dash under the tree, grab their gift (or someone else's) and open it up; but since ours are too young to read who the gifts are for, we've always done the "passing out" of presents. This year The Man made up gift tags that had our pictures on them instead, so the girls were able to easily identify which gift belonged to whom. He's now working on a computer program so that other people can use the same idea. You'll just download the picture you want, and then you can print a sheet out to stick on the presents. It was a lot of fun to have both the girls get a gift and say, "This one's for me, Mom!" or "Daddy, here's one for you!"

Santa brought Miss Priss a princess scooter, which she's already a pro at. She goes zipping up and down our street. Our street is perfect for playing outside on. We're on a cul-de-sac, so the only cars we worry about are the people who actually live on the circle. And we're on a slight incline, so it makes for a nice ride down the street. Sometimes they gain a little too much speed on the way down, though, and ride right up into the driveway of the houses at the end of the street.

And Devil Child got her very own little potty from Santa this year. We tried to help her get excited about using it, but for the first day or two all we heard was, "I don't like it potty. I don't like it, Mom." Oh, well. So much for my hopes of only having one child in diapers at a time.

Over the last couple of days she's learned to like the potty a bit more. She even chooses to wear her big girl panties instead of her diapers. She sits on the potty a few times every day and grunts, but we have yet to see a single drop actually hit the bowl. This is not going to be fun.















Thanks to everyone who helped make Christmas so great for our girls this year. Grandmas and Grandpas sent them wonderful gifts that they just love. The Dora magic castle dollhouse was a hit. Thanks Grandma D!


And the puzzles for Miss Priss were a great idea. It's finally an alphabet game that challenges her a little. She loves them. And Devil Child loves her little baby doll, too. Her favorite thing is to change her clothes over and over and over. Except she can't do it by herself yet, so I guess her favorite thing is to have mommy change her baby's clothes over and over and over. But I don't mind ... yet. Thanks Grandma Darlin'!














Another gift they can't get enough of are the pink sparkly shoes from their cousin. They just love how they click on the kitchen floor. So they are constantly putting them on and running through the house saying, "Listen to how they sound, Mom!"

The Man and I decided to do very small gifts for each other this year, but it seemed like we ended up having a huge Christmas anyway. We finally got a new car for him; a 2004 Silver Honda Accord. It's beautiful and new and not an embarrassment. ILOVE IT!!! He's pretty thrilled to be driving a new car with no dings or dents, it sounds wonderful (actually, it's the fact that there's NO sound when we drive it that's so great), and the air conditioning works! Not that we need it now, but come summertime out here it will seem like nothing short of a miracle for him. He's gone too many summers with no air in his car.

And I of course have to share my wonderful gift that he made for me. He wrote out a Christmas madlib and sat down with me Christmas morning for me to fill in all the blanks (adjectives, verbs, names, feelings, body parts that hurt when I'm pregnant). You get the idea. After filling it out, he handed me the story to read. It was a cute little story about a Christmas elf. But the best part was that when I was finished with the story, there were 10 tabs on the side for me to pull slips of paper out of the story. Most of the words I had filled in had now turned into a sort of "coupon book" for things he would do for me. For example, when he asked me to name a part of my body that aches when I'm pregnant, I answered feet. When I pulled that slip of paper out, the word "feet" came out of the story and was now a slip of paper that said, "I will massage your aching feet." When he asked me to name a really nice restaurant, I answered The Top of the World. When I pulled that slip of paper out, it said he would take me out on a date to The Top of the World. For those of you who have never been there, it's got to be the most amazing restaurant I've ever been to. The food is absolutely amazing, but that's just the beginning. The restaurant is located on the top of the Stratosphere Hotel, and the whole place spins (very slowly) while you are up there eating, so in the space of one hour, you've gotten a view of the entire city, all the way around. It really is a sight to see. I highly recommend saving up some money to all of you who plan on coming to visit so that you can experience it yourself.

Anyway, back to my gift. By the time I was done pulling out slips of paper, I was so thrilled. Merry Christmas to me! The Man will now be cleaning toilets and showers, making dinners when I'm not in the mood, getting the girls ready for bed for me, running out for my favorite midnight snack, rubbing my feet, cleaning out my car, setting up a movie night just for us, AND taking me to The Top of the World on a date! I knew he would come up with something amazing for me. I'm so lucky to have such a creative and romantic man in my life. And all I can say is, boy, did he marry down!

I hope each of you had the best Christmas yet this year with your families. We want you to know that we love you all and miss you tons and tons. Thanks for all the phone calls and Christmas cards (and sorry I was too lazy to actually send ours out!). And now, it's back to that same old grind. The Man is back at work, Miss Priss starts school next Wednesday, and Devil Child and I will be ... um ... like I said before, it's not like we're sitting around watching TV and eating bon bons!!!

Not a Lot To Do

The girls and I are stuck at home today. The Man had to take my car to work today since our insurance won't pay for a rental anymore. We still haven't found a new car for him after his accident, so now we either have to pay for a rental ourselves, or deal with sharing a car. I forgot what a hassle that can be. We had only one car when we first got married, but right before having Miss Priss we got a second car. Having only one car was a whole lot easier when there were no kids.

Part of me feels like we're stranded with nothing to do. And then the rational part of me says there's a billion things that need to be done today. So I was good and spent the first half of the day cleaning, which was long overdue due to my four terrible-cold-couch-lounging days. There are many other "grown up" chores I should be doing around the house, but decided to spend the afternoon playing with the girls. I don't do that often enough.

We've spent our day playing dress up (yes, I participated), painting fingernails and toenails, reading books, and making beds while dancing to Christmas music. Lunch was followed by naptime for Devil Child and quiet time for Miss Priss so that I could work on my deposition transcript that's due next week (yes, I do still work every once in a blue moon), and then we made popcorn and started watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

The Man has no overtime this week, so it's been nice to have him home by 4:30 instead of 6:30. I suppose we'll spend our extra time together hunting for a new vehicle.

So here's a little glimpse of what we look like when we have nowhere to go and "nothing to do."

It CAN BE the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Somehow we've kept busy, even though I've been pretty sick for a few days. I think this baby is stealing all my antibodies that are trying to fight off this darn cold. What I wouldn't give to be able to take Nyquil or something to help me sleep at night! A few days ago we visited Santa at the mall. We tried to take a family picture there for our Christmas cards, but it came out horrible, so we'll be sending one of just the girls this year. Sorry to everyone who wants to see the whole family (and those who just want a good look at how big I'm getting ;)

Then we went to a small carnival-type party that my sister's community was putting on. It was great. Pony rides, sleigh rides, a train ride, cookie decorating and hot chocolate, face painting, and a rockin' stage for the kids to get up and dance on. They had a blast.

Friday we went to the Live Nativity show that the Las Vegas stake puts on every year. They do such a fantastic job! It's become a tradition of ours since we moved here to attend every year. There are so many people involved in the show, and it's a great way for us to teach our kids about the story of Christ's birth. They have live animals that the kids get to go pet after the show, and everyone always crowds around to visit the baby Jesus and Mary and Joseph. During the show this year Miss Priss leaned over to me and whispered, "Why is there another baby Jesus? We already had a Jesus and, he died. I don't think we need another baby Jesus."

Saturday night we went to a little party that our Devil Child's nursery leader invited all her nursery kids and their families to. Her husband dressed up as Santa, and they had lots of goodies and friends to hang out with. It was so nice letting the girls go back again and again to visit with Santa as much as they wanted, instead of being rushed through like we were at the mall. She is the greatest nursery leader ever! She's always sending the kids home with really cute crafts, and she even sends cards and pictures to them in the mail. We're so grateful for a teacher who's willing to spend so much time on these little ones.


Last night we made our gingerbread house. That kit from CostCo is awesome! We spent less than we would have buying all the stuff to make our own, and it actually looks decent enough to display. The girls were eating so much candy that we had to rush to get it on the house before they got it all! They had fun putting it together and getting their fingers covered in frosting. I love that smile on my little Devil Child's face. She NEVER smiles like that for the camera. It must have been the pound of candy she ate before we took the picture.

The month is flying by, and we still have tons to do. We'll be mailing out cards this week, baking treats for neighbors and teachers, and finishing up our shopping. This time of year can be so much fun if we take the time to relax and enjoy all that's going on around us.

A Prayer Answered

I woke up last night feeling terrible. I had an awful sore throat, my sinuses were so congested I could hardly breath, my head was pounding from the headache that I felt coming on right before bedtime, and I had a serious pain in my side. It was 2:45 a.m., and I wasn't fully awake, so I had a ton of thoughts running through my head; some rational, some ridiculous. My first thought was "Is the baby okay?" I lay in bed for about five minutes, and the pain would not subside. I thought maybe it was just a gas pain, but figured it was lasting too long. Could it be my appendix? I have no idea which side that hurts on, or what the symptoms are. Could it be something with the baby? No, I thought, the pain is too high in my stomach.

I got up and went downstairs, knowing I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. Should I wake The Man? Should we go to the emergency room just in case? That's such a horrible decision to have to make in the middle of the night. What would we do with the girls? Who would I call to ask for help? I decided to wait it out, since the pain was lessening a little. I took some Alka Seltzer, hoping it would help with the headache and sinuses, and sat down on the couch. Laying down only makes it harder to breath, so I knew if I was to get any sleep at all, it would have to be sitting up. 5:30 rolled around and I heard The Man's alarm go off. With such little sleep, I dreaded the morning coming and the girls waking up and needing me.

Somehow I drifted off to sleep by the time he left, because I never even heard him come downstairs. Then I was awakened by my crying Devil Child at 7:00. She wanted cereal. Easy enough. I got up and put some in a baggie, gave her a sippie cup of milk, and put on a movie. Mermaidia is always her first choice. Head still pounding, nose completely stuffed up and body aching, I lay back down hoping to fall back to sleep. By the next time I awoke, Miss Priss had changed the movie to Cars, her latest first choice, and I smelled something awful. Yuck, a poopie diaper. I coax my Devil Child over to where I am, and take off her pajamas to find that they are filled, along with the diaper. I guess that's what I get for not changing her first thing when she gets up. That diaper had no room to hold any more. Still, I think, "Isn't she too old for this kind of explosion?"

I get some cereal and milk for Miss Priss, and it's back to the couch for me, still hoping this headache will go away on its own. I wake up again at 11:30, the girls now watching Jumanji. I normally don't even like it when ONE movie is watched each day. Today, three movies down and it's not even lunchtime, and I DO NOT CARE. I drag myself up for good and decide even if I'm not up to getting ready today, at least the girls should get some regular clothes and get their hair brushed. We take care of that, and then I realize it's time for lunch. Back downstairs for some quick peanut butter and honey sandwiches. It's all I have the strength for.

Afraid that I may be contributing to the possiblity of my children developing ADD or something, I tell them no more movies, and ask them to play upstairs in the toy room while I take a bath. While in the bath, a terrible thought comes to mind. "I haven't felt the baby move since yesterday." I was awake half the night, and on and off all morning. Nothing. I know that's not good, but I can't think of the amount of time you're supposed to wait before you go in. Was it 8 hours? Maybe it was only 5. Then again, maybe it was supposed to be an entire day. I start feeling more and more concerned since this kid is seriously a "mover and a shaker."

I sat in the bath with my eyes closed, holding still so that I could feel even the tiniest movement. And then I prayed. "Come on, just move. Please, just move. I just need to feel ONE movement." Nothing. It doesn't help that two of my good friends have lost their babies in the last few weeks. That's it. I decide that after getting dressed, I will go downstairs and email The Man to tell him I think I should go in and check on the baby. Paranoid? Maybe. But it's been almost an entire day, and a $10 copay for my peace of mind is well worth it.

I sit down to the computer, open up my email, and then I feel it. I think. I'm not expecting it now, so I'm not sure if it's the real thing. I sit back in my chair and wait. It takes just a couple minutes, but then it comes again. And I know that was it. He's moving. And I smile. I say another prayer, this time to say thank you. And all of a sudden, I'm feeling much, much better.

Happy Turkey Day to All, and to All a Good Night

We had a great Thanksgiving up with The Man's family in Utah. It was cold, but no snow. We stayed at Shott & Scawna's new place (and they kept the heat on downstairs for me the whole time - THANKS!). They've made a pretty amazing transformation to Grandma's old house. You'd barely even recognize it on the inside. I'm so impressed. We also had the chance to visit Brett & Mindy's new home in Eagle Mountain. I'm so happy for them; for the house, and for being back in Utah with their families. Eagle Mountain is a great little community. I never realized how huge it was going to end up being. Glenn and Kristen also had a new place for us to come see down at the storage facility that she manages. I love Kristen's ability to decorate a place with pictures. She's made it look wonderful. We were sorry to miss Spencer and Rheina, but want to say congrats on the engagement. We're REALLY looking forward to Hawaii!!! There's no better motivation to lose that baby weight next spring. We also didn't get to see Mike and Danielle, but that was for the best reason of all! They welcomed their newest little family member on Thanksgiving Day! What's up with the two of you and your holiday babies??? Congratulations to your family. We're so happy everyone is home and doing well.

We had dinner at the Sanderson's on Thursday, and then the big family dinner at the church on Friday. And once again, there were more people I didn't recognize. The Man's family is so huge! His dad has nine siblings, and almost everyone was accounted for. When you take his family, add their spouses, their children and their spouses and THEIR children (grandkids), it makes for one serious Thanksgiving dinner. It was great. Thanks to everyone who made our weekend so much fun, and especially for all the offers of dinner and sleeping arrangements. We are so blessed to have such wonderful family. We love you all.

We made it home Sunday night and hit the sack to get ready for another early day. The Man heads out to work by 5:30 most mornings, and Devil Child has now decided she doesn't like to sleep past 6:30. I'm not happy about that. When we left here last Wednesday, we were still in the upper 60's and even lower 70's, so it was a bit of a shock for me to come back and wake up to a house that was only 62 degrees!!! That's right, 62. INSIDE. I didn't think to turn on the heater, since it had been so nice the week before. I tore myself out of my warm bed to gather up the girls and head downstairs for some nice hot chocolate for breakfast. So the heater's on now, the tree is up, and the house is decorated for Christmas. I can't believe it's here already.

For now it's back to the ol' grind; work for The Man, preschool for Miss Priss, and ... um ... everything else that has to be done around here for me and my little helper, Devil Child. What, you think we just sit on our bums all day watching soaps and eating bonbons? Please.

Our Final Farewell

We lost a dear member of the family yesterday. They say that cats have nine lives. We know that we only have one. The Man's car, Bodona (some Portuguese name he gave it. I don't know, so don't even bother asking), had about 13. It still amazes us how many accidents this car has been through. And it just kept on runnin'. The Man bought this Honda Civic after he got home from his mission, and yesterday we had to (finally) say goodbye. He was in a pretty serious accident yesterday, and there is absolutely no chance of recovery for the car. Luckily for us, The Man is doing pretty good. A couple bumps and bruises, pretty stiff all over, but basically okay. It definitely could have been much worse.

He was heading east and the other driver was heading west on the same road. He was in the far right lane, and there was another car in the left lane that had just moved over to turn left. The other driver was waiting to turn left, but apparently couldn't see because of the car next to The Man's. But he decided to go anyway, and turned directly in front of The Man. There wasn't time to swirve or avoid it at all, and he had just a split second to see it coming. He braced himself and thought, "I wonder how bad this is going to be?" It's strange how fast our brains think. He was able to have that thought in just a fraction of a second.

The police came to take a report, cited the other driver and told The Man it was completely the other guy's fault. The Man called me and told me not to worry, that he was fine, but it was pretty bad. Of course, I was terrified, but glad to be getting the phone call from him, rather than some stranger telling me that he was in the hospital or something. I found out where he was, and by the time I arrived, the policeman was just leaving, and the tow truck was hauling off both cars. On my way over I said a prayer to let Heavenly Father know how grateful I was that the accident wasn't any worse than it was. I was so thankful that he was still alive. And then I started to cry, thinking about how common it is for people to just be having a normal day, when tragedy strikes.

I just woke up that day, and fixed breakfast like every other day. I hadn't even seen in him that morning (as I never do) since he leaves so early. The girls and I got dressed, and I went to the gym. We got back and I hopped in the shower, got myself ready, and started to make lunch. I had carpool that day and dropped four little ones off at preschool. We came back and I put Devil Child down for a nap. Everything was normal. And then he could have been gone, and our whole lives would have changed. I thought about those kids on the school bus in Alabama, who were also having a "normal day," and thought they were just on their way to class. Their families had no idea their lives were about to change forever. It happens too often, and I'm not prepared for something like that. I guess you can't ever be prepared for something like that.

It's been said that we are only given challenges and trials that Heavenly Father knows we are strong enough to handle. He will never give us something more than we are able to overcome. I'm thankful He knows I am strong enough to lose a car, but that I am very weak, and could not be strong enough to lose my husband.

Again, sorry there's no pictures. If I find a way to get them from The Man's phone to the computer, I'll add them to this post another day.

Down for the Count

I've had a hectic week, and it's only Wednesday. Not complaining, just sayin'. I took a job yesterday for my sister's firm and ended up working ALL day. Something just isn't right when you have to get up at 6:30 in the morning to be on time for a 10:00 deposition. It's one thing to have to get yourself ready to go to work. It's another to have to get yourself ready, two uncooperative and tired girls ready, make breakfast, pack a bag with snacks, extra clothes (just in case), blankies for naps, and movies for something to do for the kids since you'll be gone all day, and get them to the babysitter's house in time for you to leave and travel downtown in traffic to go to work. Then the witness didn't show up for almost an hour and a half. I could have slept in. Or at least made my hair look fabulous instead of just decent.

The job was okay, except for the fact that at 1:00 when we broke for a half-hour lunch, I was informed we may be going until 6:00 that night. Great. I told the babysitter I'd be back to pick the girls up by 3:00 or 4:00. Now I won't be home until almost 7:00. Better make some phone calls. Oops, left my cell phone at home. I hate that. I called my sister to see if she would pick the girls up for me or work something out with The Man. Luckily he was able to leave work at 4:00 and have the girls picked up by 5:00. Only an hour later than we were supposed to be there. I came home tired and thankful for a sweet husband, who had to immediately head out the door for his appointment to get his hair cut. After he's gone I finally get a chance to sit and think. "Did the girls have dinner, or are they starving?" I can't get a definitive answer out of them, so I call The Man, only to find out he fixed them frozen waffles for dinner, which is fine with me, it just happened to be what I fixed them for breakfast that morning. Oh, well. I was just glad I didn't have to cook. Ah, the life of a working mom. I knew there was a reason I stopped doing this.

The past two nights Devil Child has not slept much, which means none of us have slept much. Can't figure out the problem. She goes down just fine, but can't stay asleep. And when she wakes up, she's completely hysterical and it's near impossible to calm her down. She only seems to be okay when we sit right next to her and are touching her. She's obviously exhausted since she drifts off to sleep within seconds of us laying her back down and holding her hand or stroking her face. But just about 15-20 minutes after leaving the room, she's up again and screaming her head off. Is it nightmares? Is she afraid of the dark or being alone? Is she getting sick? No fever, but getting sick is my best guess. I tell The Man the flu has been going around like crazy, and she's probably going to get it. We try to get some sleep, but I was up two more times with my Devil Child crying, and two more times with Miss Priss crying. What is going on here?

Then this morning Miss Priss wakes up crying (again) and telling me she has a headache and doesn't feel well. After puking her guts up, I settle both girls down on the couch for some cartoons. Miss Priss is asleep again by 7:45. It's going to be a long day. I did fit in a shower, but that's about it. Luckily today was the day I had scheduled for the repairmen to come fix some things around the house, so I was going to have to wait around for them anyway.

Miss Priss took another nap this afternoon, but our Devil Child seems to be rejecting sleep altogether. Her nap was a mere 45 minutes (as compared to her usual blissful 3 hours), and she's been crying all day. Neither of them are eating, which is never a good sign. Then again, they don't really have reputations of being "good eaters" anyway. Now I just need to get some sleep so I can actually concentrate on the 200-page transcript I'm determined to have finished before we leave next week for Utah. I will NOT work while on vacation. But first, I'm off to finish the six loads of laundry that have been waiting since last week, make dinner, and get the girls in the tub. Ah, the life of a stay-at-home mom. Yes, we all know the good times far outweigh the pitfalls, but for cryin' out loud, the pitfalls suck.

On a happier note: The baby's been kicking. I love it. The Man often wonders what it feels like. Last night when he asked, I took two fingers and alternatingly tapped lightly and quickly on his leg.

"Like this, but on the inside."

"Cool."

Breakfast, Anyone?

So we've been doing some rearranging in bedrooms since the news of our baby boy. Miss Priss is now in a twin bed, and Devil Child is out of the crib and into the toddler bed. (I know, way overdue.) Still in separate rooms for now. We figure they need a month or two getting used to their new beds before we dare put in them in a room together. Devil Child has surprised us each night by actually staying in her bedroom. And for the first week or so, she actually wouldn't even come out in the morning until I went in to get her. It was really cute. I could hear her talking in the early morning hours, but I wouldn't go in until about 7:30 or 8:00, and there she would be, still lying in her bed.

We've got a lot of changing to do in the baby's room to get it ready for a boy. We'll take down the pink flower ceiling fan and replace it with a white one; we need to get new bedding for the crib and new drapes now since pink and purple butterflies and flowers won't really work anymore. I'd like to paint the baby's room and the girls' room. It's going to be a lot of fun and SO different getting ready for a boy.

Miss Priss has been growing up so fast lately. I am so exhausted in the mornings, it's hard for me to get out of bed when she does, and she's been doing a great job of not bugging me. She'll ask if she can watch cartoons or have an apple or a yogurt, and then head downstairs and help herself. I just love that she asks. But about a week ago, there was no asking for anything, and no sounds of her even being up and about. I dragged myself out of bed and checked the bedrooms first. Miss Priss was gone, and Devil Child was still in her bed. I picked her up, changed her diaper, and we headed downstairs. Miss Priss was waiting for us as she eagerly announced, "I made waffles!"

I looked over into the kitchen to find she had somehow gotten the frozen waffles off the top shelf in the freezer (not too hard), popped them into the toaster (didn't know she knew how to work that), and had climbed up on the counter to get three little plates down (off of the highest shelf in the cupboard!). There were our waffles, one on each plate, sitting on the counter and getting cold. Should I have been upset that she got into things she shouldn't have, or glad that she's now capable of actually making breakfast for her and her sister while I can get more sleep? Honestly my first thought was, "Thank goodness she didn't go for the syrup."

My little baby has come a long way since the days of me waking up to find craft paint all over the living room ottoman, makeup covering her face, a head drenched in lotion, or the time I found her sitting in her room licking peanut butter off of a five-inch CutCo butcher knife. Or so I thought.

This morning she came into my room to ask if she could have a yogurt. Now, I knew Devil Child was up, too, and would have to have whatever her big sister was going to have. I also knew that she would make a huge mess eating a yogurt all by herself, which I don't mind, but I knew I wasn't awake enough to be there to clean her up, which meant she would get down from the table with yogurt all over her hands and face (and probably all in her hair, too), and touch who-knows-what in my nice, clean house. On the other hand, I went to bed last night at 8:00 due to a raging migrane, which still wasn't gone. I was NOT getting out of bed yet. So who cares that I was going to have to clean up a little yogurt off the walls and the carpet?

I drift back to sleep, sort of, and when I again open my eyes, I hear ... nothing. No cartoons on, no fighting or screaming, no laughing or playing. Crap. What are they doing? So I head downstairs to check out the damage, hoping against all hope that my "responsible" four-year-old has been making breakfast and taking care of her baby sister. Too much to ask? Of course. I find them huddled together on the kitchen floor. There are tiny red balls everywhere. What in the world? When they hear me, they startle as they turn around. SOOOOO guilty. They've found the Halloween candy, and helped themselves for breakfast.

Miss Priss has a chocolate ring around her mouth. And my sweet little Devil Child has yogurt (now dried) all over her face and hands that has helped the Nerds (those little red balls I saw all over the floor) stick to her cheeks, chin and fingers. Oh, and a sucker hanging out of her mouth. Should I have taken a picture? Of course I should have. But remember that I have a headache and morning sickness (which has suddenly come back this week). So I pick her up and put her straight into the sink where I remove her pajamas and begin to wipe her up while ordering Miss Priss to clean up the rest of the candy.

As I retell the story, I think of the slight disappointment I felt in Miss Priss. Here I thought she was "growing up," and becoming more able to make better decisions. And then I think of the sadness I'll have when she really does grow up. And I'm grateful, once again, that she's just a toddler, and still my little girl.

***Sorry for the lack of pictures, but I'm sure you can all imagine the scene.***

Can I Get a Drum Roll, Please

It was the sterotypical trip to the doctor's office. Miss Priss was in school and I found a friend at home to watch Devil Child so there would be no distractions. The Man left work and met me at the doctor's office at quarter after noon, so we would be there a few minutes early because, you never know, there could be a slight chance they might be taking people in early. Early? What was I thinking? We signed in and sat down. Half an hour goes by. We'll be in any time now. Everyone who was in the room before us has been taken back. We're next. Nope. People who started coming in AFTER us are being taken back. What the? We hear an overhead page for my doctor letting him know that the hospital is on the phone for him. Wonderful. What does that mean? Is he going to have to leave NOW to deliver a baby or something? An hour and a half later I told them I couldn't hold it anymore, and if they needed a "sample," I was going to have to give it now. They allowed me back to use the restroom, and then I took my seat again.

A few minutes later they called my name, and we went in the back. First stop, the dreaded scale, of course. Halleluyah, not even one extra pound for all the junk and Halloween candy I've been living on for the last four weeks. Whew!!! I guess the gym is doing some good. Blood pressure, normal, and back to the ultrasound room. The nurse came in first to get started checking things out before the doctor could get in. I immediately looked at the nurse and asked, "Are you going to be able to tell what it is today?" She said she'd try. Then I turned to The Man and said, "Honey, please don't cry if it's a girl, okay?" He assured me he wouldn't.

After some poking and prodding, we got a nice view of our little baby's "goods." And we could see right away. I was in shock, and The Man was up out of his seat. "Are you serious? Oh, my gosh! I can't believe it! Finally! Whoo Hoo!!!"
The nurse said someone would be in to confirm, but she was pretty sure it was a boy. There was no denying there was "something" there. Isn't it grand how we publicly display the most private parts of our fetus? The Man took the pictures to work to show EVERYONE, and it now hangs up on our refrigerator for all to see. Poor little guy. I guess your privacy only matters once you're here.


So we're having a boy, and we're ecstatic. In the words of The Man, "It's like being pregnant again for the first time!" I'll admit, I'm not AS excited as he is, but it is going to be so great to have a son. I'm excited for all the new things I've never gotten to experience, having two girls. I can't wait for the times when our little boy and his daddy get to go camping on Father & Son outings, or to see the two of them outside playing baseball or football. I've always said there's a special bond between a daddy and his little girl, but there's also just something about a father and his son. How grateful I am that we are going to get to experience both.

Miss Priss was a little disappointed when we gave her the news that we could NOT name this baby Butterfly Flower. I didn't realize how much she had her heart set on that one. So after breaking it to her that we had to pick a name for a BOY, she thought for a minute and then said, "I know! Dash! Dash is a boy's name. Just like on The Incredibles!" Okay. Definitely a name to think about. Any other suggestions?

The sickness is gone, the belly is here, the feet are already swelling off and on, and it's all totally worth it. I'd do it all a million times over if I had to, just for the chance for these tiny, sweet spirits to come bless our home. What an amazing gift we have been given. We are so blessed.