This Is More Like It

So it's really real. We're having the baby on Wednesday ... that is, unless there is some cruel twist of fate in our future. The Man and I went in for another amniocentisis today to see if the baby's lungs have matured yet. If they were, we'd have the baby Wednesday. If they weren't, they could do steroids for a few days, and we'd probably still have him by this weekend. I sat on the table and waited for the nurse and my doctor to come in, and I started feeling sick. Great. I REALLY don't want to get sick. I don't know if it was just nerves or what, but I was seriously not looking forward to this.

I was lying down while the nurse was checking for pockets of fluid for the doctor to get a sample from, and the feeling got worse and worse. I asked if I would be able to turn on my side, and she said that was fine. The doctor came in, and she gave him three options of pockets to use. Each one seemed to have some things in the way; the cord, blood vessels, the baby's head. So he told us that sometimes there's no really good spot to safely go in and get the fluid, and in that case he would prefer to just go ahead with the delivery without results from an amnio. Even knowing that that meant there was some risk involved, it was music to my ears.

He let us know that the worst case scenario would be that the baby's lungs aren't fully developed, and that he would need a ventilator to breathe. He said at 37 weeks, those chances are pretty slim, but because our babies develop so slowly, it definitely was a risk. On the other hand, we could wait it out, but it was the doctor's opinion that the risk of me staying pregnant was greater than the risk of the baby not being ready.

I knew immediately how I felt about it, but I leaned over to The Man and asked what he thought. He said he trusted our doctor's judgement, and thought it best to go ahead with delivery. Relief.

I left the office so happy to not have to wait around all day for results. So we go in late Tuesday night, and they will start the induction at 6:00 a.m. Now I have time to clean the bathrooms one more time, get a couple more loads of laundry done, pack a bag for me, the girls, and the new baby, and think of any other last-minute needs before we go in. Oh, this is SO much better for me. I love being able to plan.

So wish us luck. Next post should have pictures of our new and bigger family. Love you all!

False Alarm

I really thought last night was it. Though I've been having contractions off and on for a number of weeks now, I've always been able to rationalize not calling the doctor and deciding to stay home and "sleep it off." I've always been able to fall asleep and wake up the next morning with no more contractions. But yesterday was different. I felt like something was off all day long. I had my regular Thursday appointment; fetal monitoring and an ultrasound. Everything was fine, and I went home around 2:00. Around 5:30 the contractions started coming on pretty strong. "That's a little odd," I thought. "They usually don't start until later in the evening when I'm winding down and resting." As painful as they were, I decided to start watching the clock to see if they were regular.

Every ten minutes, on the dot. Nah, that's nothing. Then ...

Every seven minutes, on the dot. Still no big deal.

Five minutes apart, four minutes apart, then just three.

I gave myself an ultimatum. "If they're still three minutes apart at 7:30, we'll call." But 7:30 came and went, just like it does every time I give myself a time limit. And the contractions were still there. I need to take my mind off of it. Get the girls to bed. Pick up the house a little. Get our tax paperwork finished up (yes, we're MAJOR procrastinators this year). We were nearly done with taxes when I couldn't take it anymore. I had to lay down. So out to the couch we went, and my mind starts racing ...

No, not tonight. Is this really it? It has been HOURS, and they're not letting up. Not tonight! We have friends coming into town, and they're over halfway here now. Are we supposed to call them and tell them to turn around and go home? No, they can just stay here without us for one night. The Man would be home in the morning. But my sister's out of town. She's supposed to be the one to take the girls while we're in the hospital. Now what? Okay, okay, I have other friends who would be willing to take the girls for me, I'm sure. We can call Sarah. Oh, no! My doctor isn't in town either! He's not getting back until Saturday. I REALLY, REALLY want him to be the one delivering the baby. He's delivered both the girls, and I just ... well, you know how it is. No one wants to go to the hospital and get a, "Ms. So-and-so? I'm Dr. So-and-so. I'll be delivering your baby tonight. It's nice to meet you. Now, let's see what's going on down here." I know, I know, it's quite common, but that's just seriously unappealing to me.

Then I think, "What am I even thinking about this for??? Who cares WHO delivers him, as long as he gets here safe. But still .... maybe if I take a bath they'll stop." Nope. Shoot, this could really be it. I'd better shower; it could be my last chance for a couple of days. I shower and dry my hair, still thinking things could slow down. I tell The Man to hop in the shower, too. It could be his last chance for a day or so. Then he packs a bag for the girls as I throw a few last-minutes things into my bag. I'm still not convinced, but then the thought occurrs to me that if I wait too long, and this is really happening, there's a chance I could get there and hear the dreaded, "Sorry, honey, it's too late for the epidural. You're going to have to do this one naturally." AAAAHHHHH!!! Naturally??? I'm SO not one of those women. God made drugs for a reason. For me.

That's it. Call the doctor. Call Sarah. Call the hospital. We're going. And off we went at about 11:15 pm. We pull up to the emergency room and manage to get inside (I'm having serious trouble walking at this point), and they tell us to go ahead and go up to the second floor. Are you kidding me? The second floor? We ask for a wheelchair, and The Man whips through the room full of people staring, some smiling at me as I wince at another contraction. I get up to labor and delivery and am put in the triage since there are no beds available. I get hooked up to the fetal monitor so they can watch the baby's heartrate and track contractions. I was previously dilated to between a 1 and a 2 when I was checked at my doctor's office, and as the nurse checked me at the hospital, I found myself disappointed with the news that that had not changed.

I was monitored for another hour or so, and we knew this wasn't going anywhere. The nurse told me I could walk around for an hour or so to see if it would get things going, or I could get a shot to slow things down and just go home. It's two o'clock in the morning. I want to go home and sleep. I'm so tired and super hungry. The shot burns.

Five minutes apart. Then ten. Then totally random. This sucks. The Man wheels me back out to the car, and I crawl in. And there it is. Ahhh, the burn was worth it. I'm SO ready for bed. He asks, "Wanna stop somewhere to get something to eat?" I don't even remember responding. I barely remember climbing the stairs to get to bed.

Then I'm jolted awake by something, but it's dark outside and I'm not fully awake, so I can't wrap my brain around what's going on. It takes a minute, but then I realize. More contractions. Please, no! I don't even care, I'm so tired. Just go back to sleep. Back to sleep. Back to sleee...........

It's going to take a lot more than some crummy, old contractions to get me back in there. At one point during the night The Man said, "Isn't it kind of exciting this way?" I don't know who he's kidding. I'll take a scheduled induction over this any day. But again, on the bright side, at least I'll get to have my own doctor deliver the baby.

We'll keep you all posted when we have real news.

Happy Birthday, Miss Priss!

Well, sort of. We celebrated Miss Priss' birthday yesterday, March 17th, even though her birthday is really not until the 30th. We had less than a week to plan and prepare the whole party, and I thought it went great! We invited 18 little princess friends from preschool, primary, and the neighborhood. I've heard that you usually can expect about half the number of people you invite to a party, and I thought 10 little 4 - 5-year-olds would make a great party. I was a little surprised when only TWO weren't able to make it. That's right, we had 16 little princesses (and two princes - cousins) here yesterday afternoon! It was crazy, to say the least. Luckily my sister and three moms stayed to help. And thank heavens for My Man!!! He saved the day! He was here helping with everything from rounding up kids for different events, to manning the bbq for lunch, being the photographer, and cutting the cake. I could not have done it without all the help.

The two of us had a late night on Friday, doing last minute preparations that we didn't want to rush through in the morning. I made the birthday cake, which I have to say turned out okay, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind. It was a three-layer cake decorated to look like a castle. I couldn't believe I went through TWO POUNDS of frosting! It ended up slightly lopsided, but it was a big hit and everyone said it tasted great. Whew!

We also stayed up putting up balloons and streamers. I loved the way it turned out. And the girls could hardly contain themselves in the morning when they woke up to a decorated house.
In the morning The Man went to get some ice for the coolers, and came home with flowers for Miss Priss. (She's always a little jealous when he gets flowers for me and asks, "Daddy, why don't I get flowers?") It was a very nice gesture from him, and she loved them.
As the princesses started to arrive, we lead them into the kitchen to start making their charm bracelets. We used some super cute princess crown charms I had leftover from an activity days event a while back, and just used my other beads I already had. It was so funny to see them put their own bracelets together. Anyone with a little OCD would have died. No patterns, no color coordinating, just whatever beads they liked in whatever order they wanted. So fun!
Then we moved into the living room where I read the story of 'The Princess and the Pea' so we could play a game. The girls took turns leaving the room while someone else would place a "pea" (ball) under a pillow. Then they would come in and sit on each pillow to see if they could find where the pea was, because as the story goes, only a true princess has skin sensitive enough to feel a pea under all those mattresses and feather beds. And would you believe it; each one of them turned out to be a true princess!

I told a quick version of 'The Frog Prince' for our next game, where the girls were blindfolded and given lips to pin on the frog. The Man made our frog prince (thanks again, honey!), and there were plenty of giggles and screams when each princess places her lips somewhere on the frog.

We went outside for our royal feast in the backyard, but ended up finishing up our food inside the house. It was 90 degrees out there! Much too warm for princesses, so they only lasted about 20 minutes or so out in the sun. The girls dished up their own plates, and it made me laugh to see a few dining only on plates full of Oreos and chips. Hey, it was a party. No one says you have to eat the hot dogs and fruit at a party; right?


Time was running out (the games took a bit longer than I expected since we had so many kids - good thing I eliminated face painting, which I had planned on initially), so we consolidated eating cake and opening presents. We sang Happy Birthday, and Miss Priss began opening her gifts while the rest of the girls ate birthday cake.
We said goodbye as parents showed up, and sent each princess home with her very own purse filled with jewelry, gloss, stickers and treats. I was a little bummed that I didn't use my original idea of decorating plastic goblets with jewels, and writing their names in glitter paint, but so many girls called to say they were coming, I just didn't have the time to make almost 20 goblets. Plus, the goodie bags would have cost a fortune had I added that to them.

I was glad when it was over, but even more glad we actually went through with it. It was tons of fun, and I know this was a birthday party Miss Priss will remember ... at least until she's six.

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.