Poo. And Christmas.

Hey, did you know that Chuck Norris doesn't believe in Germany?

Anyways.... all I wanted for Christmas was a little miracle. This is what I got.

Yeah, pretty much the most kick-A awesome miracle ever. It makes me the happiest I have EVER, EVER been.

*As a side note, Carter decided to throw a curve ball at mom and started sleeping through the night last week. Still not every night, but SO much better. We now have a pretty good routine/schedule going which makes for much happier Heatons. Thank you all you mamas for your input. SO helpful.*

Christmas, again, was SUPER. I mean, really really SUPER, and even rad. But full of poo. Carter routinely poos all the way to his chin. And armpits. And sometimes ears. We go through about 7 outfit changes a day. I feel like poo is a constant on the brain. We went to Jake's work party, and as the other young couples sat around talking about their jobs and politics, I liked to routinely add in facts about bowel movements; their colors and frequencies. Yeah. Will Mom brain ever go away? I seriously put both my shoes on the wrong feet the other day and walked around for a half hour. Couldn't figure out why they were hurting my feet.

Christmas also brought about many new stressors and urps. (That's like vomit. Cuz life throws up on us too). Turns out there is an 87% we will be moving.... AGAIN. Utah County must be kicking us out because I say poo too much.

So... point of this post? Can't remember. And sounds like Carter just made a poo. Hee.

Aw, geez, mom.

I have 100% mom brain. Before I had Carter I told myself that although being a mother is the greatest thing to ever do, I did not want to lose my self in it. But I am one step away from mom jeans and sequin cat soccer sweaters. My only conversations consist of size and consistency of poop, boob juice, and naps. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

I truly now know the meaning of not having enough hours in the day. I am so lucky to be able to stay home, but I am in complete amazement of how others have more than one child. I am surrounded by mountains of laundry, dirty dishes, messy bedrooms... I consider it an accomplishment to get showered by 2 p.m. But my kid is thriving. Or at least pretending, because he is pretty much an undercover ninja. I try to look at his face, and look at the kid... he is chubbing up like no one has chubbed, and he is the most mellow, happy kid I have ever met. I mean, look at this face! So does this mean I am doing something right??

His favorite thing to do lately, along with smiling and even a few giggles, is to give me the look of "Aw geez, mom, you're an embarrassment to humanity." Tru dat, yo.

So I have some venting/questioning/ranting for all of you mothers out there. I really feel like a failure! I thought this would be easier. I have a degree in human development and thought that would give me an edge up. Ha. That is funny.

I am having the hardest time with continued sleep deprivation. Carter has made it to where he will sleep 3-4 hours a time at night, but that's it. Other friends have babies this age and have them sleeping way more. Many have them on schedules.

Should he be on a schedule at six weeks? Should I just roll with his punches? Every day he treats my boobs as a snack bar and won't eat for longer than 10 minutes. I feel guilty because I don't know how much I should be playing with him, how long I should let him cry.... why isn't there a better instruction book out there?

I feel like I am doing things wrong because all day he won't take longer than 20 minute naps and wants to eat every hour and a half or so. Yeah. My boobs hurt. Just so you know, because I knew you wondered.

And will I EVER get more than 2 hours sleep?? Yeah, help.

Happy One Month!

Happy One MONTH Birthday, Carter!!!

I guess I don't mean to brag, (OK, I really do), but my son is already a superhero by the age of 4 weeks. Here are some of the many, many reasons.

*His most amazing cuteness, handsomeness, and overall good-lookingness is enough to melt anybody in their tracks; especially grandmas.

*He sleeps with one eye half open. He knows when the enemy is coming.

*He speaks one billion languages, and especially those of zoo animals. When he falls asleep, he lets out little squeaks like a dolphin. In the middle of his sleep, he grunts and groans like a little goat. When he is ready to eat, he is an all out snorting pig. Very cute.

*He can lift his head and chest all the way up while on his tummy. Flying comes next.

*When he is awake, he just sits quietly and entertains himself for hours. He is secretly contemplating the plan on saving the world.

*He has the world's largest superhero tummy and could fit a station wagon inside. This kid packs it away like I've never seen. And he very politely burps when done. He even has Manners.

*He has killer gas. Whew.

*Even though he is so manly and tough, he loves nothing more than to curl into a little ball and snuggle on his mommy's chest. He's such a little cuddler. Of super proportions, of course.

*He has already giggled once. One might argue it was a sort of gas/hiccup/grunt, but it was an all out giggle, with dimples and everything. He has a very silly mommy, and he knows it.

*His mommy doesn't know what she's doing, but he continues to thrive and survive. If that's not a superhero, I don't know what is.

Carter, we love you more than we can ever say. Never has something brought us such joy and we thank God each day for the beautiful, perfect little miracle that you are. Happy One Month.

Even Ninjas need to rest....

I can't believe it has been 19 days. 19 days since my life flip-turned-upside-down (said like the Fresh Prince, yo). Look at my little guy! He is so tough and ninja that as you can see above, he even knocks himself around to prove how manly he is!

We have good days and bad days, but the worst thing is still sleep deprivation. It does wonders for a person who is as naturally crazy as me. Add that to painkillers... it's a daily circus. I have daily, even hourly breakdowns.... being a mother IS the hardest thing in the world. I am neurotic and anxious and scared....this is really, really, really hard.

I just have to say that the difficult pregnancy and labor gave me the biggest blessing ever, and Carter is a wonderful, happy, and pretty much easy baby. He hardly ever cries. He just snorts when he is hungry (which is ALL THE STINKING TIME). He tends to get a little pissed off when he is naked, because that is so un-awesome, but other than that, he is just curious, precious, and a hungry little pig. And I love him. As soon as he fixes the whole day/night mix up (he gets up every stinking hour at night!), we'll be good...

He keeps giving Jake and I looks (see above) like "Who the heck are you? I thought I was in Brangelina's line in heaven....." He also tends to squeak like a high-pitched dolphin, which some people might not perceive as manly, but I think it is a ninja warning call.
Yes, Cap'n CARRRRRRRRRRTER is still Captain Awesome.

Lovin my Burrito Boy!!

My goodness gracious, Carter is already a week old. All those old people are right - it flies by way, way too fast.

So I thought I would share the story of his highness, the ultimate ninja, and his arrival.

Above is a picture of me from approximately 10 days ago. Yeah, I know. Illegally too large in 7 countries.

So a few days later I woke up not feeling the best. Monday night we had a friend over and we were watching Frankenstein. Well, I don't like monsters (they really smell). I guess Carter doesn't either because he chose in the middle of the movie to have my water break, out of the blue.

Jake didn't believe me and thought I'd peed my pants in scaredy-ness.

So a little over an hour later, at 8:30 p.m. we arrived at the hospital.

Wasn't dialating, at all, but almost fully effaced. They decided to start me on pitosin to speed up the contractions. Epidural? Heck, YES. Was great, for about 3 hours.

The contractions then started to cause Carter some distress. Never, ever have been so scared as when his heart rate dropped off the monitor and 5 nurses/doctors came running and kept mentioning a c-section. Got it figured out.

But then something bizarro-happened and the epidural wore completely off. I was not numb at all. The anesthesiologist said it was some kind of nerve blockage. (I think it was a conspiracy by a group of vampires but that's another story).

So I was dying in pain and kept yelling at everybody, calling them Satan. Finally at 5 a.m. I was ready to push.

Got to push for a freaking 3 hours because I had to rest in between contractions because of Carter's distress. I felt every bit of it. Let's just say that every woman that has given birth deserves a Purple Heart and one billion dollars, seriously.

When the doctor finally came in, I was ready. One horrible cut and three pushes later, he was out...8:30 a.m. I screamed like no one else has screamed, worse than a fat lady with her donuts forever taken away, but never have been so amazed at what I saw. Even being goopy, he was CUTE. I've had the fear all along that our poor baby would be a mixture of Chuck Norris' grandma and Donk, but he was beautiful.

He has been such a little miracle, angel of a baby. I know everybody says that, but I'd like to take a minute to join in the sappiness because it's totally true. I can't get over the miracle that he is, perfectly formed, down to his teeny little fingernails, here and healthy and beautiful.

He is all Jake. He has Jake's beautiful lips and little dimple in the chin, Jake's beautiful big blue eyes, Jake's huge noggin. He does have my fat cheeks and his mouth is so incredibly large it could almost fit a small puppy in there.

Recovery seems to be slow-going, and I am not one of those perfect women that is out running, wearing the skinny jeans, looking perfect, doing her own dishes.

But I am one of those women who is revelling in smelling her beautiful miracle boy, watching his funny facial expressions, listening to his squeak-squeakersons, and wrapping him up so he is my little burrito of a boy. Labor totally, totally sucks, and so does the aftermath (can I just say, POO?), but the end result already makes me forget it.

I am in love.

*Note* I have never fallen more in love with Jake than watching him be a daddy. He is INCREDIBLE. *

Sha-zam!!! He's HERE!

So in case you didn't hear my screaming across state lines, he's here!

Carter Oren Heaton was born on Tuesday, October 20 at 8:29 a.m.

7 lbs, 13 0unces and 20 inches full of awesome good-looking-ness.

He is perfect and doing wonderful.

His mommy is so tired she can't tell the difference between a boob and a spatula, so more to come later with all the beautiful details and pics.

Seriously, though, isn't he amazing??!!!!

Get OUT!!

So I don't get it. I fought going into early labor and contractions for two months straight. Now that I want baby awesome to BE here, he sticks his fanny all up in my ribs and is refusing to come out. No contractions - NOTHING.

I'm not due until next week but I already know he is at least 15 pounds and might have a full beard. I am ready. He needs to decide to be ready. Seriously.

The doctor had encouraging news - I am 80% effaced but still only dialated at about a 2. (Better than zero, right?) He stripped my membranes yesterday (AAARRRRRRRRRR) and I thought last night would be the night. But no. Ninja Norris has set up camp.

So I will post pictures of my half completed nursery. We are a bunch of rebel-rousers and wanted any excuse to use skulls instead of teddy bears so we went after pirates. None of the bedding or finishing touches are done yet, but this is what we have so far:

Our crib is awesome. Jake's mom got it for us and it makes me tear with joy looking at it!!
Aren't we good parents to have our baby ninja looking up into the face of a skull each morning?
I also continue to feel very blessed. I know I want him out but I am truly grateful he stayed in long enough to be healthy. I just want to give birth to a baby and not a MAN. We have been blessed as well by having such kick-a awesome friends and family. We had several amazing, generous showers and I don't know where we'd be without the help. Here I made Jake come in and open a box of ding dongs (best present EVER).
I am running, squatting, eating pineapple, and shining a flashlight up my basement (head towards the light, dude). I say it's time. Here's to hoping next post will have me all puffy faced and blurry eyed in love with my new little dude. I just want to meet him!!

Two words: Battleship Hips

It's 6 a.m. and what am I doing? Eating fruit snacks and staring hopelessly at a computer screen while I would MUCH rather be staring at the back of my eyelids. Sigh. I don't think I'll ever be friends with my old friend sleep again. It's making me go even MORE loony, if that's possible.

This last week has been one of the biggest roller-coasters of my entire life. It had the best of the best and the worst of the worstest in the world.

I choose to focus on the best.

Best - I AM OFF BED-REST. I made it!!! (I just did a bum jiggle, although that doesn't take much these days). I hit 36 weeks last week and the doctor said I could 'ease on up' out of bed rest. So I've been kicking my recliner repeatedly, like Chuck taught me, and trying to make up for two months lost time. It's just that no one told me how painful it is to waddle for more than five minutes. Or how my hips would make their own zip code, aching after being up all day. It hurts to be awake most days and I finally understand what women mean when they say they are 'done' being pregnant.

Yeah, he's cooked much longer than expected and I would be OK if he popped any minute. Only 3 weeks left.... 3 weeks.... I can make it, right???

BEST - I have been blessed with the best, most loving and generous family and friends in the world. They've given me several showers and I have a room full of love and generosity and cute cuddly boy things (including lots of hats.... rock on). The nursery is still pink - hopefully that will get conquered this week - and hopefully soon I can post pictures of the most awesome rockin pirate booty nursery in the WORLD. I am overwhelmed at the love and support of everyone around us. I don't know what I did to get so lucky. Or it could be pity for my over-sized baby mama hips. Either way.

BEST - Jake is still married to me, even after daily doses of me attacking him, and then crying on him, and then licking him, and then yelling, and even after he looks at my belly button. I don't know how he does it but he has special powers.

Yeah. SO - I was wondering, any tips on making baby ninjas dropkick their way out any faster? It's just my luck that he was so anxious to come before, now everything has shut off and he decided he is much more comfortable chillin in my belly, learning la cucaracha. Hot sauce??

Screw on the lid... TIGHT!!

Pee. It's what's on my mind. Little piddley loves to rehearse his kickboxing right on my bladder which is soon to lead to public embarrassment.

More pee.

I had another doctor's check up today. Can I ever have a day without drama? Of course not, because I am mother to a ninja. I guess I am showing a few signs of early toxemia so they wanted to run a few more tests.

Test one: collect my own pee in a JUG and keep it in the fridge for 24 hours. Best thing ever, right?

What makes this worse is this is the THIRD time in my life I've had to do it. Seriously, what human being should have to submit to this torture more than once? A few years ago my right kidney stopped working fully and I had to do it. I endured the miserable 24 hour pee collection and turned it in, only to get a call the next day from the hospital that the lid wasn't screwed on tight enough, and they spilled it, and I had to re-do it for another 24 hours. (Gross. My pee was all over the floor of some lab without me putting it there. Wonder who cleaned it up.....)

This time, not even Chuck Norris would be able to pry the lid off when I screw it tight.

They call this beautiful contraption the 'hat.' I'm sick of hats in a whole NEW way now. I pee in it, with the expression shown above.

Then I get to take this pee from the above 'hat' and pour it into my awesome jug. My jug of pee. (Awesome sentence). And then it goes in my fridge.

After the pee test, I go to labor & delivery tomorrow to get blood drawn and the baby monitored for awhile. I am very positive that I am fine.... other than I might not be able to eat anything refridgerated every again.. and will be eating out for a few days.

Also, little awesome boy Heaton is transverse. Still laying completely sideways, torturing his mother in very special ways. That's why I look like I have TWO watermelons in my stomach. Ha!

Me and Ninja Chuck Norris

Updates from the recliner:

Most people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris Pajamas.

Best way to make a beached whale pregnant lady's day: hook me up with Chuck Norris. And Satan's sword.

This picture may be my new favorite thing in this world.

And yes, I have already gone BEYOND insanity living on this dang recliner. I have started making lists of the cool ninja moves I am going to teach little baby Norris.

That sounds bad though... no, Chuck Norris is NOT the father.

Now that I've reached the point of incoherent rambling, I will stop. I just wanted to share the best picture ever!!

P.S..... I'm tired of making hats.

Would you say I have a plethora... of hats??!!

Preggo update: great news: we have stopped labor! Bad news for me: bed rest until I want him to come. I tried to talk the doctor out of it, and tried batting my eyelashes (he asked if I was having a seizure), and then I tried crying, and lip quivering, but somehow he thinks because he's all MD and crap, he knows better, so he left me to be lounging around.

It's OK, I will win the lounge award of 2009.

So I've tried to pick up new hobbies to help with the horribleness that this lounging brings. I have to tell you, I have mad hat skills. OK, maybe not so much, but as you will see with my history with cakes, I am not quite the Martha Stewart I so aspire to be. But I have conquered the classy $5 Walmart hat loom. Here is my first attempt. It didn't so much turn out a hat, but more of a tube.. of ugliness, but a good first try:

Since then, I taught myself how to use not one, two, but THREE whole COLORS!! I have made 13 in 4 days, and I need a new hobby. Help.
In all reality, I am very very grateful that I am still pregnant and little pooper dude is still healthy and OK. I want him in there as long as I can. I am ever grateful for the many wonderful friends and family that have shown such compassion and concern. Thanks for the calls and prayers and Chuck Norris T-Shirts (I LOVE YOU DI!). I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.

Still Cooking!!

Days and nights are seriously blurring into each other. I need one moment of a big fat WA-HINE (whine, whine) to complain: bedrest is not a vacation. I remembered how many days when I was working full time thinking how awesome laying around, without my bra, in fabulous stretchy pants, with tubs of cheetos and ding dongs watching movies all day. But it's so not that. I have been trying to take up reading, watching every TV show and movie ever made, toe juggling, counting body hairs ,and even knitting. (I am drowning in baby hats but that's for a whole other post!) But due to my severe attention defecit and being-a-spaz-at-all-times issues, I can't concentrate and just want to get up and walk. But this isn't something I can cheat at and just get up. My little ninja Chuck Norris (no, we are really NOT naming him Chuck, seriously) thinks that now everytime I get up he needs to start his business and I get more contractions, so I have to show him who's boss and lay here and poke him.

I'm so bored.

Bored, bored, bored. Whine, whine, whine.

OK, I'm done with that. I actually don't have too much to whine about because I am SO SO grateful I am still knocked up! The doctor said the ultimate goal is to get to at least 34 weeks, but hopefully longer since he has measured small. I'm at 32.... every week counts so much! I am grateful every morning I get up and he is still in there, hiding his ninja skills under my stretched belly button (it looks like an alien eye). I am very blessed!

I have also never been in such awe with my husband, Jake. He is not only smart, funny, caring, considerate, and has good dental hygiene, but I have never seen such PATIENCE. He has given me a bell that I ding when I need anything, and he really does it. He is now my cook, maid, rear end masseuss, therapist, crane (helps me up to the potty, yo), and he hasn't complained yet. I dont' know what I did to deserve him through all this, but I'm blessed. He is going to be the BEST daddy so at least our dude has SOME hope with one of his parents.

Look how cute he is with our nephew Greyson. AWWWW!!!

So my vast amount of time sitting I am trying to spend in deep reflection. Not really, but I spend it missing the times when I could waddle. How I want so bad to go on an hour waddle, wiggle, whatever. I did, however, find some pictures from the time right before I was put on bedrest. This first one we went to the drive in for the first time in our lives with our friends Rob & Ashley. Here Jake revealed that he is a felon - he stole some lifesaver things from the airplane. We are going to jail.
And who can forget girls night to say bye to Carrie before she left us for New York (she says she's going to grad school but I think she's really out there to marry a foreign diplomat with a mustache). I love these ladies and miss them every day!

Yes, that's my I just farted look. No wonder Jake saw that and wanted to impregnate it. Yowzah.

I might be inappropriate but I don't get out much.

Bed Rest

I will forewarn you, this will not be a clever post. Not a happy, witty one, or an intellectual insightful one, it will be booby. (That means sad. I once bore my testimony about how I boob. I meant cry. That was embarrassing....)
We had a doctor's check up yesterday. I was 1000% expecting a good report. I have been feeling so much better and little Chuck is still round-house kicking his way all around. I have had some contractions but I didn't think anything to worry about.
So without giving you the gory details, the doctor checked all up my basement and we found another problem. HENCE: Bed rest. Bed rest with bathroom privileges.
Woah.
I don't think I'm so much as upset with the bed rest as I am with the thought that our little ninja might be affected. I am so worried about him. The doctor says that if it continues down this path, by next week we will be giving him shots for his lungs to prepare him to breathe for his early arrival.
I want him to cook for 10 more weeks. (I'm at 30). I am not ready for this. HE is not ready for this. I asked if we could just use a cork or duct tape or something to keep him in there but I guess that won't work. They also said I am measuring a week small so he might be even less prepared than I hoped. So much for my theory of an 80 pound dinosaur.
So, bed rest sucks. Not so much a vacation. But I am willing to do whatever I can for my boy. I want more than anything a healthy baby - the rest is inconsequential.
So every day he stays cooking will be a blessing. Every day, hopefully every week, and hopefully even a month or two....and hopefully he could even be late and I wont' even complain if he is 70 pounds and has a full beard. I really won't.
So I am sitting here, bra-less, trying not to boob, but boobing anyway, just worried. If anybody has any good hobbies to do while I work on my bum fat, let me know....

Little Baby Chuck Norris

Brush back the tears, I am BACK to blogging. (yes, all two of you... meaning me... who missed me...). Summer is full of craziness and business and I love it!

We have had a crazy past few weeks that I would never care to repeat. Ever. But I do feel seriously SO blessed. Seriously. So blessed.
I am officially in the 3rd trimester. I get told all the time that I have been pregnant forever and believe me I KNOW IT. I don't think the little dude can possibly make my stomach stretch any further and there are 3 months to go. Ah, little dude. (No stretch marks yet but definitely ugly ugly ankles). We call him baby Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris Heaton IS his own weapon. He has earned his name by attempting to kick his way out of there. That or giving tae kwondo lessons, or maybe he's riverdancing. (I stick with the Chuck Norris theory - it's much more manly).

I am not complaining about the kicking though. We had quite a scare this week. On Sunday my stomach started to hurt. By about 8:00 I was having such bad cramping I felt like I was on my period and it didn't stop. I kept telling myself I am paranoid and just tried to go to bed. Within a few hours the pain was so bad I started vomiting nonstop. After waiting all night, I finally was smart enough to call the doctor (seriously, I don't have a brain) and he told me to go straight to labor and delivery. Not a good feeling at 27 1/2 weeks. Too early. They ran their tests and I was contracting heavily but not in labor. And I think my nurse had a perma wedgy and no one to love her as a child because she was not pleasant. She put me on pain meds and anti nausea and told me to go home because they didn't know what was wrong. I think she thought I wasn't serious. Or maybe it was bad gas.

This morning I got up and discovered I was bleeding heavily. I don't think I have EVER had such a sinking feeling, thinking something could be wrong with our miracle Chuck Norris. Jake rushed me back into the hospital where I was in sheer panic until I heard our little dude's little heartbeat. Yeah, he was kicking and dancing and hanging out like nothing was happening. Never have I been so SO relieved. They checked me and my cervix was still closed and I was not in labor - the bleeding was outside of the cervix (too much gross information, I know). I was contracting again and they gave me a shot and then everything... was fine. They still don't know why my body is cramping and contracting but I am not in preterm labor so they sent me home. I was told to sit and get fat until I meet with the doctor again on Thursday. I'm pretty good at that job. :)

I just feel very blessed to have him safe and sound and not here quite yet. I have been so often complaining about being pregnant and I know I needed some perspective... it was sure given. I don't want to complain any more. I want to do everything I can for him to get here, all safe and sound, and beautiful, and ready to beat up everyone else.

In the meantime, I still have been avoiding cameras. Over the 4th someone snuck in a shot where my belly is exposed, so that's the best I can do for a 'bump picture'. The remainder remain under lock and key to avoid pandemic. Plus I had to take one of Chuck at his first time at the fireworks. I hope you do not vomit.

Going Senile

A few years ago my Grandma Funk started showing the first signs of dementia. She has since never ceased to entertain us with her -isms. She often forgets the real name of things and replaces them with other words. We still get a kick out of when she was yelling at my younger sister to quit running around without her feet on. (We think she meant shoes). Or when she woke up screaming because a cow was climbing in bed with her. It was a cat.

We love my Grandma and understand that this is beyond her control. But I have never really fully understood what she must feel until recently, when I have begun the early signs of Evz-heimers. Or pregnancy brain. Or maybe just getting dumber. Or maybe it's eating too many oranges. I don't know what it is, but my brain does NOT work.

The other day I got dressed and did some things around my house for more than an hour before I realized that I had not put a shirt on. I was wearing an open jacket, but no shirt. Just my bra and special underwear hanging all out over my bowl of a belly. Not so good.
I forgot to post about how my beautiful younger sister graduated from high school. She is now looking into piracy.

I forgot to post about how my fellow favorite knocked up sister Becca turned old and had her birthday. Happy Birthday, a month ago, Becca!

I forgot to post about how my wonderful mother-in-law went back to school and graduated from Bridgerland's Interior Design program and how proud we are of her. You better enjoy this picture because this is as close up of a baby bump picture that you will get for awhile. (I still think it looks like I eat tires).

Maybe it's because I turned 27. Old, old upper twenties. Maybe that's it. But one of these days I will forget to put my clothes on all together and cause quite a neighborhood sensation. I am in Utah County after all.

Here's a picture of me forgetting where my tongue goes. Becca seems a little constipated but Erica is just plain evil.

What was the point of this post? Yeah, I forgot.

Drum roll please

Today was the day I've been peeing my pants for weeks thinking about... the day of the big ultrasound. Thankfully I remembered to put on CLEAN pants before we went out.
Honestly, all we wanted to hear was that it was either all boy or all girl, not with both parts, and really just HEALTHY.

So, with a drum roll, and a dum dum dum (because I can't think of a creative way to announce this)....

IT'S A BOY.

He's 100% healthy with all his fingers and toes and he has a thing with his feet. He kept trying to smell them. I'm trying not to worry too much yet, but if he tries to keep putting his feet in his mouth during prom, I'm pulling out the big guns.

We have been concerned with this pregnancy because my body is not like most bodies, and there has been anxiety with how this would be for me and the baby. After 3 1/2 months of being sick ALL DAY, that went away and I just feel... hungry. I am getting frequent headaches and still considered high risk, but all that matters is that my baby is still healthy. My little dude with his little boy parts. I love it!! What a miracle that we thank God for each day.

Killer Boogers, and Happiness

We have had a good couple of past weeks. I have spent the last five or so years of life in a constant state of stress. Seriously. Basketcase stress. Enough already. My life is now dedicated to happiness.
It does help with stress levels that even though I am on a wicked mad job hunt, I get to wear pj's all day and am learning to knit. Evelyn, the fearless rockstar, knitting? Yes, I'm HARDCORE, YO!!! Knitting brings happiness, I tell you. ...OK, I really need a job...

One more thing that brings me happiness: the Neti Pot. For a few weeks now, my husband (who will be totally mad at me telling this story but this is what he gets for never reading my blog) has been complaining of severe pain in his nose. He keeps thinking it is some sinus infection but I think it is either a tumor or a killer booger. Maybe it's the little man my mom told me about that bites your finger when you pick your nose. Anyways, Jake keeps whining about it and we have tried everything to get rid of it. Since our health insurance doesn't kick in until June 1st, we are all about home remedies. I followed Oprah's advice and got him the Neti Pot. Worth the eight dollars and MUCH MUCH more for the sheer entertainment value of watching him pour water up one nostril and it come out the other.

Take Luck!!!

Around 7:00 Friday night Jake and I met our friends Rob & Ashley for dinner. They were on their way to St. George because they had tickets to the sold-out show of the best comedian ever, Brian Regan (get some leaves!!!!).

Then we had a brilliant idea.... we should go TOO. It didn't matter that the show had been sold out for months.... we were going to be like ROCK STARS, living on a WING AND A PRAYER. That's right. We were going to try and be... spontaneous!! Duh, duh, duh (that is the evil music).We had a blast. We ended up packed and on the road by 9:00 p.m. and rolled into St. George around 1 a.m. I even stayed awake. Rock star. We spent Saturday hiking through Red Rock which was awesome. Saturday night we still didn't have tickets but went anyway, praying somebody would scalp them. Five minutes before the show started, I think my quivery lip worked, because a guy approached Jake and sold us TWO THIRD ROW TICKETS. Yeah. It was awesome and if you don't already know Brian Regan, make him your friend. He will change your life.

We spent the next day waddling through Zion's and Bryce Canyon. It was so nice to be out in the sun (I may have caused a few traffic accidents with the glow off my skin).

Here are Rob & Ashley in his pimp car. He can do THIS, but I can ride a bike with no handlebars.

Worst part of the trip, though, was when we went out for breakfast. I was STARVING. I ordered a double order of crepes. The waitress looked disgustedly at my big swollen 'pot belly' and said, "You sure you don't want a half order? That's one whole crepe." And I said, "DOUBLE order. With HASH BROWNS. And four tons of BUTTER." Rude.

It was a wonderful impromptu weekend. I think the baby liked it too because I think I felt it move for the first time... or it was gas... from the crepes. Either way, fun.

And if you haven't heard already, my little sister Becca has the best news ever!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!! Preggers!!!

I miss my friend sanity.

Well, it's not like I ever had MUCH sanity but any inkling of that has been lost.

We are officially Utah-rds again and honestly we love it so far! We are doing our best to fit in and say words right like 'moun-ennnn' and 'oh my HECK.' We are worried if people are around us too long, though, we might get kicked out.

I have officially spent the first two weeks in almost 10 years without a full time job. Oh dear. That's all I should say. I have enjoyed so many things, like wearing my robe until noon and never missing an episode of Price is Right. I have even tried cooking but I almost blew up my house so we'll see how far that goes in the future..... I am so used to being busy that I'm not sure what to do with all this time. I am on the hunt for another job but I am starting to look more pregasaurus than having a big donut belly so I'm a little concerned about people wanting to hire me.... oh, the woes. Woe.

The hardest part is having all this free time to think. I have been so excited about the baby and how things are going. ...but now, I have started to realize that one day this baby will come OUT, and then... oh crap. We will be responsible for it. Some nights I get so scared that I can't sleep, just worried that I will forever traumatize and screw up our helpless little miracle. Plus I also have a fear it will be ugly. Rude, I know. (I have thought of MANY ways to cover it up, though, involving hats and helmets).

Thanks to savvy Becca, though, I have discovered that I can still look AWESOME while I vacuum with my baby. Check this out:

And one more thing: Stretchy pants were sent from heaven.

Changes. Ah.

It’s official – we are moving. We know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is the right thing to do, even if we don’t have it all figured out yet.
This has been a stressful thing to say the least, since we had a week to prepare. Jake and I went down this weekend to find a place to live. That was a scary experience. I am still rocking bath and forth from the trauma. We went to countless places where I expected to find dead hippies in the closet among the cockroaches. By Saturday we were getting really discouraged. We decided to just drive around to areas we liked – we found the cutest little townhome for rent in Pleasant Grove that was an AWESOME deal. Yay for not living in a place with cottage cheese ceilings where we will die when we lick the walls! Here is a picture and since I am what people call 'slow' I can't figure out how to rotate it in the right direction.
One of the ultimate signs to me that this was meant to be is how everything has fallen into place. We have already found a nice CLEAN little family to rent our house and they will move in this weekend. Can I get a halle-freakin-llujah and a WHEW in da house, people??!!! I have been finishing out the last week at my job while Jake is at home packing. I am under orders from the doctor to do no moving, which is actually more frustrating than anything because I feel like a lazy, dictator cow. I hate asking for help and I hate having to see him work so hard and I get to eat chicken wings and massage my belly. Oh well. This is how I am handling the stress. I decided I am a walrus.
I am excited to be in Utah again but hate this moving thing and having to start over. I pray we survive it through this week!! Jake is handling it by pretending to be Japanese.

For those in Utah, please come visit. We need mental help!

Decisions, Decisions

I have always and forever HATED making decisions. I can be opinionated, bossy, obnoxious, and gassy, but regardless, big decisions are always hard. We are in the midst of a HUGE, MIND-BLOWING decision that has me all wrapped up in turmoil and uncertainty. (OK, I’m dramatic, but it’s still a big decision).

Jake lost his job several months ago. It has been a trial for us, unlike anything we’ve been through before, but we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we have looked on from a power greater than our own. Even on the day he was laid off, I never felt stressed because a peace came over both of us - that we would somehow be OK. It was only the week after he lost his job that we found out we were pregnant. It has been confusing to think that we felt so strongly we were to come to Boise, for Jake’s job specifically, only to lose it and then be blessed with something we always wanted but not know how to take care of the future…. again we somehow felt we’d be OK.

Jake was wonderful to bounce back and applied at hundreds of places, from Home Depot to selling cell phones. I have been amazed at his attitude during this process. I also know I have been fortunate to have a good job, but it pays nowhere near enough to support our family, including an expensive, diaper-wearing miracle that will soon join us.
A few weeks ago Jake got a job painting – definitely not the dream but something he was willing to do to get money in and to make ends meet for our family. That same week we heard from a web design company down in Orem, Utah that he’d applied to more than a month ago. We had decided after he applied that we should stop looking for jobs in Utah because it is just not good timing…. We had kind of written it off.
Jake still did several phone interviews with this company and not surprisingly, because he is FABULOUS, they loved him. They met with us last week when we were down for Easter to offer Jake a position. It is a good offer which would enable us, if we’re careful, to be able to have me stay home with Piddley.

Here’s the problem: our wonderful house. We had every intention of being in Boise permanently and bought our house because the buyers market truly was awesome. We have called our realtor back and even though we got our house for an amazing deal, the market up here is still horrible to sell and there’s no way we could sell it. Yeah. Crap. It also means having to change insurance/doctors/hospitals for my big old preggo self. It means leaving so many good friends and familiarity that we have made, and probably moving into a 1 bedroom basement apartment.

Pros: Jake would be HAPPY in his job (they have rock band parties every week, come on!) and we would be closer to family (Becca is cringing).

We have been fasting and praying and thinking hard. What do we do?

Ramblings of a Freaking Crazy Preggo

So I have determined that being preg-a-saurus is not so much an easy thing. Really…. Yeah. We have wanted a baby for a long time, and we are so thrilled (thanks for all your congrats!) but I never thought much about the pregnancy thing…. So I feel guilty for complaining about being pregnant, because it’s a miracle, but it is TOTALLY not what I expected. I have such new-found respect and admiration for all my friends that have been through this, and even so many more that have felt it worse than I have!

I do not have morning sickness – I have all day long sickness. The smell of my very own dear husband sends me into instant gagging and convulsions. The other day I exorcist vomited over my friend’s shoes because she ate yams in front of me, and just the name of ‘yams’ made me sick. We can no longer watch food commercials because I need a bucket close by.
And to make it worse, my boobs have NOT gotten bigger yet. What's the deal??
Then there’s the tired thing. I think I could sleep for 4 million years. I actually kind of like that, but it doesn’t help when it’s 11 a.m. at work and I’m in a meeting and I start drooling. Yes, it happened. They call me Drooly, the 8th Dwarf.
And I swear, I already waddle. I am 12 weeks along…. I shouldn’t even show, but I waddle. Sigh.

So let me sigh to you about the drama of this weekend. My body has been going through all these wonderful changes and if you can even imagine, the hormones have made me even MORE crazy. I decided it was time to get a new haircut and highlight so I could feel somewhat better about myself. The hair change ALWAYS helps. The lady that normally does my hair quit because she had a baby, so I made an appointment with another lady at her salon. I was paranoid and she re-assured me the hair dye and everything would be perfectly safe and normal. She was a liar.
Everywhere she tried to put brown, it turned fluorescent orange. No joke. Like a hunter hopped up on 80’s pills. I started BAWLING right there in the chair. I told her to just shave it. Bald is better than looking like one of those things they flag planes with. She told me that she has never seen it happen, but my hormones must have been so crazy they made my hair turn orange. Cry. So she ended up putting blonde everywhere to get rid of the orange, but now I look like a wanna-be Dolly Parton. I am BLONDE. I am too afraid to get it fixed, for fear it could turn green or rainbow or just fall out…. So the next 6 weeks I will be a waddling, Dolly-Parton, drooling, cry-at-car-commercials psychopath. It’s going to be a long time until October…….

BIG, HAPPY NEWS!!!

I've been waiting to say this news for over four years....

WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY.

Somehow miracles and tears and prayers all worked together and I am on my way to being a baby mama.
Little Piddley Poo will be here around October 23rd. (Considering our family history, though, we should expect an 80 pound monster sometime around Thanksgiving).

I just want to say... YAY!

Like, Totally 80's!

Last week we had a ward activity where you were supposed to dress from your era. We are totally 80's, BABY!!
Jake and I had a lot of fun pulling out the stretch pants and Aqua net. I thought it would totally come back to me naturally, with my previous big bang skills and moon-dancing.
Sadly, I was mistaken. I could not do the 80's very well. Could not pull it off.
But Jake is even worse. We couldn't decide if he was a lazy, New Kid on the Block with a big kid or a 90's pedophile.

Word to the wise, don't ever add your own Madonna beauty mark. By the end of the night, it was a mustache.

I might always say I'm getting old but I think I'm glad the 80's are a thing of the past. Ugly.

Forts Rule, Chickens Drool

We have been under a lot of stress lately, and I know most of you are as well. Life is stressful, period. But being as crazy as I already am on a NORMAL day, I crack under stress. I lose it. I have two stages: stage one, you will find me huddled in the fetal position, wearing a towel as a turban, and rocking a Barbie doll to sleep. Stage two: I go nuts. I get uncontrollably hyper, constantly rambling about nothing that coherently makes any sense whatsoever. This is when people often accuse me of being on drugs.
I AM my own drug, just as much as Chuck Norris IS his own weapon.

We have done a few good things to cope with the stress. We decided to just ignore it and went down and stayed in a condo in Wolf Creek with our friends Kisty & Andrew. The weirdest part about this little weekend trip was that chickens seemed to follow us around. They were all over this cute little restaurant we found, and then again were found in the condo. I don’t get the whole decorate-with-chickens thing. To each his own, I guess. I just prefer to keep farm animals out of my decor, especially in kitchens, because we are constantly eating them. I don’t want that reminder.

Jake named this chicken 'Donk'. Good name. We are thinking about it for a prospect for our future child.

I am not trying to eat the chicken. I just am showing my lovely big mouth.

Fun thing #2 – the best, cheapest way to deal with stress, is to build a fort. We built a fort in our living room last weekend. We were laying around, whining about stuff, and I thought…. Forts rule. Forts TOTALLY rule. We watched a movie under our fort. You can totally tell we are getting old, though, because our butts went numb after laying on the floor and we ended up tearing it up halfway through the movie so we could sit on the cushy couch.


Anyone have any other positive ways of stress management? I would prefer no chickens to be involved, though.