It's Official

I've been playing around with WordPress off and on and I thought about switching probably about a year ago and then decided not to.  But I really have to say, I prefer WordPress to Blogger (sorry Blogger).  So I have officially moved over there.  If anyone still reads this, check me out over there https://lildonbro.wordpress.com/

A Stomach Like A Rat

Chewy's nickname has changed to Templeton.  Yes, he's now been named after the rat from Charlotte's Web.  It started one day when he decided to mix every type of cereal we had in a bowl and then sprinkle flax seed on top.  The first time he did this I watched in horror.  I'm the 32 year old woman who still doesn't like her food to touch. He mixes a lot of food actually and in this instance I guess opposites attract.

So I began to call him Templeton and I'll sing, "Smorgasbord, smorgasbord" when he's 'creating' in the kitchen.  Sometimes I think he opens the fridge, sees a bunch of leftovers and he's all...

And then he's...

His latest concoction came about because he made the grave mistake of messing up my taco meat.  He thought it would be great to add some Paprika to the meat - however, I apparently made the graver mistake of purchasing SMOKED paprika (so therefore I suppose the fault lies with me).  That stuff is potent.  I wasn't a fan of the tacos we were eating and I blamed the Target brand seasoning I had bought until he fessed up.  For his punishment I consigned him to eat taco leftovers all the days of his life the week.

So as he was making a grilled cheese sandwich he decided to put taco meat in the middle.

Insert my usual reaction to his food here (ew, gross!)  He says they are delicious and has already had them many times.

Today at lunch I told him he should name them.  

Templeton: What, like Chad?

Me: No, like how grilled cheese sandwiches are named grilled cheese sandwiches, just something more creative for those.

Templeton: The best grilled cheese sandwich - ever

('ever' said like this)

Then Templeton asked me what the best of something was and I said, "Babe Ruth?" Which got us on a discussion of whether or not Babe was still the best and I remembered a baseball player from the 90's, that may have been better.  Toby McGuire or something.

Templeton: (Laugh) Spiderman? Do you mean Mark McGuire? The guy all roided up?

Me: I don't remember that part but yeah.

Templeton: It was Mark. (shakes head) Toby McGuire.

Me: Toby McGuire it is.

*Typing it in on my phone as a possible name.

Me: OH! Who's that actor that you made the rap about?* The guy from Fargo.

Templeton: William H. Macy?

Me: That's the one.

Introducing to the world 

 The William H. Macy

I actually got up the nerve to try some of it today.  A tiny bit.  I couldn't stop laughing as the little chunk approached my mouth - I laughed out of fear more than anything.  But I survived (for now) and survey says, "it's not terrible."

Stay tuned for more meals from Templeton's Trough.  

*Templeton has a rap for William H. Macy.  When it's done we hope to achieve YouTube fame and enough money to live out retirement comfortably.  

Three Months

Ever since Chewy said that this was his reaction to seeing a spider I can't stop laughing.

So little man is three months old now.  We started to "teach" him how to fall asleep on his own.  The first attempt - I cried more than he did I think.  Then I did some internet research on crying it out and realized I had it all wrong.  I had been under the impression that you just leave them to cry until they pass out.  Little Man can cry it out for a long time I learned the first night.  Then I found this article where I learned that you do go in and check on him and sooth him.  I could do that.  Night two compared to Night one was incredible.  He fell asleep faster when we were able to go in and give him his pacifier and rub his sweet round head.  Nap time is already easier, he used to only sleep during the day if I was holding him.  Last night was the second time with the "new" method and he was out in twenty minutes.  He wakes up happier and is sleeping better at night.

Here are some of our three month photos

He's been figuring out his body, mostly his hands but he's noticing his feet more too.

I just thought this one was funny

He IS my son so of course he's going to love Doctor Who.  We already watch it together while I'm working out.

2 Months

I'm a few weeks late - but here are the two month photos.

He weighed in at 13 lbs. 8 oz. 23.75 in. long.  

He drools like crazy now.  Still smiles and laughs in his sleep but he's smiling when awake now.  He sleeps for longer stretches at night (4-7 hours - yay!)

And he has many faces that make me crack up.

He usually looks like he is about to punch someone...that's my boy.

Time flies

Guess who is finally a month old?

This guy

I'm a week late with the pictures but honestly, that's pretty good all things considered.  Everything is going well, we love him a lot already.

He weighed in at 11.6 pounds, 22.5 inches long and is in the 90th percentile for head circumference...we knew something was up with that noggin of his.

His likes so far:

Eating

Sleeping

His new sunglasses

The changing table (I think it's really the sheets).

 

And hanging out with his dad in the moby wrap (and mostly being close to either one of us, he isn't a fan of being put down...though for our sanity it happens).

He also likes to stare at the ceiling and whatever is behind me - but he has looked at me a time or two.  He also laughs in his sleep a lot (on account of his mom being so funny...he dreams of the hilarious things I do).  And he has smiled at me at least twice now (legit smiles - not gas ones, though I've seen a million of those).

Also - this past Sunday he received his baby blessing at church.  He got all dressed up.

Then daddy got him in his car seat.  He's really in to Daddy and what he's doing.

And -- our first family photo

Weadababyitsaboy*

So - I had a baby.  Tami was kind enough to text me on Saturday to remind me that I haven't blogged about that.  I've been adjusting to motherhood and working under my very demanding new boss (some people have taken to calling him 'Turtle' because one of the girls at church said I should name by baby Turtle.  I told her maybe as a nickname - and that's what it's become).

Here's the story of how Turtle came into this world.

I was scheduled to be induced on Friday, May 29th.  Originally we had hoped for that Tuesday but there was no room in the Inn so we took Friday.  I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday, where I was informed that zero progress had been made, I was still not dilated...at all.  The doctor decided to have me report to the hospital Thursday evening instead for a 'tape'.  I got checked in at the hospital  Wednesday afternoon so I wouldn't have to do it all on Thursday and Chewy scheduled a half day so that we could go to the hospital together.

Thursday morning Chewy decided to go ahead and take the whole day.  I planned on going through my hospital bag and making sure I had everything I needed and cleaning up a little bit before my 4 o'clock appointment.  I was washing dishes, chatting with Chewy when I realized that I was wet.  I thought perhaps I had gotten dishwater on me, but there was too much for that.  I realized it was my mucus plug and cried out, "something's happening!" because when you have zero progress by week 39 of pregnancy you get a little down.  This was something and though I had read that this could happen days before labor, it was something and I was excited.  Then the contractions started.  I texted my doctor and he told me if I had 6 or more in an hour then to come in to his office.  I started a timer.  The contractions were between 3 1/2 to 5 1/2 minutes apart, but I wasn't sure if I was counting them correctly so I went about my morning.  Ate breakfast, took a shower, got ready for the day.  Chewy did the same.  After two hours with well over 6 contractions an hour, Chewy decided he needed to eat some sandwiches...oh and then we decided to go to the doctor.  I just didn't want to be wasting anyone's time if I had miscounted the contractions since I was scheduled to go in that evening anyway.

The doctor checked me and I was up to four.  They admitted me to Labor and Delivery and Chewy and I hung out in the nice L&D room waiting for whatever came next.  My mom showed up around 1 with food for Chewy (none for the hungry pregnant lady).  But Chewy gave me some of his fries.  The contractions continued to intensify until I finally got the epidural around 2 pm. It was - painful - more than the contractions, but after it got going I didn't feel a thing.  Seriously.  I couldn't even move my legs.  The nurses wanted to put me on my side and they had to do most of the work, I would grab on to the side of the bed and try to help but really I wasn't much help.  I hated it.

Time flew the whole day.  I was put into the L&D room probably around 11 and every time I looked at the clock it was an hour later.  After the epidural, two things happened.  One - I threw up.  Luckily Chewy was able to get me something to throw up in.  I had felt nauseous and told Chewy and the nurse heard me and said that some women throw up in delivery and at that moment it was like she had given me permission to throw up, my face got hotter and I KNEW there was no stopping it.

The second thing - I felt myself start to pee.  I tried to stop it but I felt it was pointless given that I couldn't even move my legs, how could I stop myself from peeing?  I figured it wouldn't be a big deal since I've peed about a teaspoon at a time for most of my pregnancy.  I was ashamed and mortified, especially because the nurses had put a pillow between my knees and I knew I was peeing on that pillow.  The pee didn't stop at a teaspoon though, I told Chewy and my mom that I was peeing and that worse, I was peeing on a pillow.  After a second longer I announced that I was still peeing.  Then - it turns out that for some reason my mom thought that would be an appropriate time to take a picture, but she didn't take a picture, she took a video.  I heard her play it back.  She said she didn't realize she was taking a video.  But THEN - she sent said video to my sisters!  I pulled out a whiny "mom!" that I haven't had to use in years and she said, "I didn't know I was taking a video." To which I replied, "but you knew you were sending one!"  When the nurses came in to roll me over to my other side I apologized because I peed.  They said that was okay, but when they pulled back the blanket they said that my water had broken.  I told my mom to text my sisters and tell them I had NOT peed but that my water had broken.  I had read that only 9% of women have their water break naturally so Chewy said, "Welcome to the 9% club."

After that, they lowered my head - I think this is called 'labor down' - it wasn't comfortable but it couldn't have been too uncomfortable because I fell asleep.  Around 7 we started to really push.  The epidural had lessened (they told me it would so I'd feel pressure and know when to push).  I felt pressure all right.  After I would push it hurt so much.  My doctor came in near the end and he said he could tell I was feeling everything.  He gave me a lock anesthetic...which I felt locally.  That HURT.  I continued to push through contractions until finally the baby was out!  You know when people say they feel a rush of relief? I literally felt a rush of relief.  Matt cut the cord and they took the baby to be weighted and inspected.  While I gave 'mini birth' to the placenta (another rush).  Then I was sewed up - which I felt all of that too.

Turtle weighed 9 pounds, 8.4 ounces and was 20.5 inches long.  My doctor said I get to count it as a natural birth.  Chewy said later that he could tell my doctor was upset that I felt so much.  I guess they backed down too much on the epidural - but also, I never hit my "pain" button.  Turns out I don't quite know the difference between pain and pressure - I had assumed it was all normal.  I mean, women on TV scream too.

In all, I was in labor for 12 hours and pushed for one hour.  I think the worse part was the nurse "massaging" my stomach every so often.  I wish I had the epidural then.  I also got uncontrollable shivers - I thought I was going to vomit or die I was shaking so badly.  They gave me an extra blanket and I had gotten it under control but when the nurse came in to push on my stomach again I started to shiver.  It was as if my body knew.  Chewy and I waited to see him before we named him.  We had it down to two options and the one we went with was Nicholas.  And here he is.

and this one is just for fun

Belly Bully vs. Skadoosh

Chewy has taken to calling me ‘Belly Bully’…just because I happen to push him around with my belly.  I can’t help that it sticks out there and happens to be effective with guiding him where I want him to go. 

The other day I was eating a piece of cake (no judging – it was delicious).  A small piece fell to the ground and I couldn’t find it, neither could Chewy.  I’m at the stage where my reaction to this is, “Well, I’m sure if will get stuck to a sock or something later.”  Yes, I gross myself out.  I’ll be a cleaner person again soon.  Annnyway…so fast forward to a day or maybe an hour later, I’m helping myself to another little piece.  I see a crumb begin its descent from the bottom of the cake to the kitchen floor.  I thought, “not today, crumb.”  I stuck out my belly, redirecting this crumb from its current course to landing on the counter.  Findable, reachable, and overall cleaner.  I picked the crumb up and threw it in the sink.

Chewy had been watching these events.  He asked me if I seriously just belly bullied a piece of cake.  I told him I preferred to think of it as skadooshing the cake.

Needless to say, I've done it at least one more time since this first happened.

Baby Update

37 Weeks down - 3 more to go

It's blurry and Chewy is in it - but I hate taking these pictures so this is it.

Things are finally starting to come together too.  I've had a baby shower at work and one with friends and family and I feel really blessed for how generous everyone has been.  I'm pretty sure we have everything we need now (more than we need really, but he'll grow in to the other stuff).  I've got my hospital bag together (I think I have everything), we've got the nursery painted, we are down to two names (middle name already selected) so hopefully we'll have that by the end of the week.  And last night Chewy set up the crib and we arranged the furniture.

The other side of the room isn't ready for viewing

Now I just need to organize everything the way I want it.  We will be getting new siding on the house...probably around the time I come home with the baby...so I have to wait to put up wall decor until after they are finished. ....We didn't really think through this whole siding bit, but we need it (I'll try to remember to take pictures of what the siding looks like now).  I'm going to try and get pictures from my baby showers and post those as well.

Foodmotional

I realized as I was preparing to write this post that I never wrote about the first food debacle.  A few weeks ago, I started to crave rice krispy treats.  I put it off for a while because 1) I eat too much sugar right now and 2) we had enough sweet stuff in the house.  But finally, one night I had had it with waiting and made some.  I cut a nice big one and headed off to the bedroom with it.  Chewy was in the bathroom as I passed and he asked me a question.  I had been about to take a big bite but stopped myself to answer his question.  As I turned back for that bite - the treat fell from my hand and on to the hallway floor.  Ruined.  Who knows what is on that floor, and the cat always walks down the hall after he uses the liter box so there was no way I was going to eat this treat.  I cried out in pain and grief and picked it up, threw it away in the closet trash can.  Chewy asked what happened and I told him my treat fell.  My eyes filled with tears as saying it aloud made it real.

"Get another one," he suggested.

"It's fine. I'm just going to brush my teeth." I sulked toward the other bathroom.

I guess Chewy heard something in my voice because he popped his head around the door frame, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I lacked conviction.

He came to me, saw that I was crying and panicked as husbands do (and should) when their pregnant wife starts crying.  "I'll go get you one." he offered.

I shook my head.

"Just lay down in bed, I'll bring you a good one."

"It's fine I don't need it."  (I'm such a sugar martyr)

Chewy gave me a hug and started to crack jokes.  He made me laugh but sadly, didn't get me to stop crying.  So I was laughing/crying and when he pulled away from the hug I think he may have panicked some more about the state I was in.  I don't know why I was crying so uncontrollably about a rice krispy treat hitting the floor....there was almost an entire pan of them in the kitchen.

I calmed myself down before bedtime, but I didn't go get another treat that night.

OK - so now that you are caught up on that history.  I swore to myself that night that I would not get Foodmotional again.  But then Saturday came around.

We had a busy day, Jartha (my sister Martha and her husband Jeff), came to pain the nursery.  I took their two girls to the "park" (a playground at the church around the corner).  They were really well behaved, but my feet were swelling and it was a struggle to keep them pink instead of blue.  So we went back to the house for the end of the painting and tried to watch a movie.  They left and I was just exhausted. Which I probably would have felt weather or not I had babysat.  I don't really remember much else about the day, but I needed to go to the grocery store, and while there I planned to pick up something for dinner.  Chewy suggested fried chicken, so I got that in my brain.

I arrived to Martin's around 7 p.m. and picked up the items I needed.  I made my way to the deli.  The chicken case was mostly cleared out.  One side was completely empty and washed, the other had gaps where pans had been removed and the sickly remains of the dinner rush stared up at me.  I didn't care, there had to be good chicken somewhere back there, it was only 7.  But no one came.  I waited and waited.  I even checked out what cold chicken they had packed up.  Nothing fit what we needed.

I began to walk away from the case..but I wanted someone (or some thing) to know I was thoroughly annoyed.  I turned and gave the chicken case the stink face.  You know the one, I just posted about it and how I was going to try and not do that anymore....This one.

I hope that chicken case got the message and sent it along to the employees hiding somewhere in the back shirking their customer service responsibilities to hungry pregnant women...

Before I even got to the check out I had consoled myself...I would go to Hardee's and get an eight piece and with that they would have the oh-so-delicious biscuits.  To get there is kind of a pain though.  I had to drive past it and couldn't make a U-turn at the first or second light, I had to drive down a ways before I could U-turn.  Then I pull in...I drive up to the menu outside and all I see are burgers.  The voice came over the loudspeaker asking if I wanted to try something and I asked, "Do you still sell fried chicken?"

"No, we don't sell fried chicken anymore."

In my head - "Then what is the point of you?"*  If I wanted Carl's Jr. I would move out West.

The lady continues, "we have chicken strips though." P.S. when you want fried chicken, that LOOKS like chicken, you are not in the mood for strips that have too much breading on them.  I told her never mind and drove off.  But I hoped that no one inside could see me because I could already feel my face contorting into 'pathetic sob mode'.

In fact - I cried all the way home.  I sat in the car once arriving home and cried.  I texted Mart because I was embarrassed but I had to talk to someone about it and I felt like I had cried too much recently in front of Chewy.

I finally got myself together and went into the house.  I put the groceries away and walked past Chewy, "no chicken tonight" I said.

He followed me to the room where I threw myself on the bed. "Is that because you changed your mind?"

"No." Enter stage left, foodmotional breakdown.  I explained everything to him.  He said he'd find me chicken somewhere, but I really only like Ukrop's chicken (sold at pathetic Martin's) and Hardee's.  He offered to order pizza but for once, that didn't sound good to me.  So I did the food martyr again and said I was just going to go to bed.  I didn't though, I ended up just eating peanut butter crackers.

It's so hard being pregnant and having food desires you are unable to satisfy.

Catholic Guilt and the Ugly Face Phenomenon

As part of the baby preparations, I emptied out my cedar/memory chest so we could move it out of the nursery.  I came across a million scrapbooks and journals.  On the first page of the first journal I opened it seemed like a confession.  I was 11 years old.  Martha threw something at Kathryn, I dropped a bottle of salad dressing into a basket of clean laundry (which I washed again), I had a spelling test and I made a bunch of mistakes.  I thought, "Man, I was hard on myself."

Then later I opened a seminary journal, I was 17 years old.  I expected to find my thoughts on whatever scripture we had been studying but as I opened it to the first page I read, "I forgot to say my prayers this morning."  I always joke with people that I'm half catholic because my mom used to be catholic.  I think this guilt I have displayed all through my life is further proof of that.  Catholic guilt is hereditary despite what Chewy may say.

So I'm 35 weeks pregnant now.  I can tell you that my back hurts no matter what I do, I pee more, I have begun to feel contractions from time to time (apparently normal), but even with all this I'm scared for the baby to actually come.  I'll be fine, I know, everyone has told me I'll do great and not to stress, but how do you not stress about suddenly being responsible for a little life that will be completely dependent on you?  Or for labor pain- yeah, how do you not stress about that?

Anyway, the emotions still run high, I am more cranky than before though my goal this week has been to be better about road rage.  Here's why.  Last Saturday, Chewy and I were at BJs.  It was cold and rainy and so he went to get the car and I stood in the lobby - people watching.  An employee was out there in the cold and rain collecting carts and bringing them inside.  He was coming down a hill in the parking lot with a whole line of carts.  A woman in an SUV starts backing out of her spot.  He waves his arm in the air to get her attention so she will stop.  She does, and then I watch as she turns toward the store watching the guy with the carts go by.  She is talking to her passenger, hands gesturing in anger and indignation and a face all like:

And of course my face went

and I thought, what an ugly face to make. Is that what I look like when I'm cranky on the road?  Therefore, I resolved to be better about my attitude on the road (and to not use my ugly face - especially when judging people for using theirs).  It's been really hard this week but I think I've done alright.  I've hit traffic every morning and I keep telling myself to keep calm and listen to my audiobook.

Of dogs and men

Lately, Chewy has been obsessed with dogs....he stays up later than he should researching the best types of guard dogs, which ones home owner's insurance won't cover, which have the most cases of biting people, the most intelligent, etc.  He's taken quizzes on finding "the right dog for you".  He's talked about dogs incessantly for the last week or so.

My first thought on this? Panic.  I'm about to have a baby, folks, in case you've missed that fact.  I will be a stay-at-home mom with my very first child, trying to sleep and adjust to that lifestyle and my husband keeps talking about adding a large dog to the family (his favorite is Doberman but before that it was a Rhodesian Ridgeback (the Lion Hunter), and he hasn't completely ruled out a Great Dane....a Great Dane!)  I started out by reminding him I would be the one home with the beastie all. Day. Long.  I would have to do the obedience training, I would have to take one of these giants out for walks while also trying to navigate the baby stroller.  As you can imagine this didn't go well.  Spouses don't like being parented, and I'm pretty sure I parented in that moment.  There's a series I really enjoy called, "For All Eternity" - it's a book too, but I haven't read it, I just have the CDs of the guy conducting a four week seminar on the topic of marriage and communication.  Anyway, he says at one point, "Don't be a dream killer, let life kill the dream."  And yet there I was, trying to kill Chewy's dream, but you've got to admit becoming a dog owner has more probability and less road blocks than owning a beach house.

Anyway - so I let him talk and talk and talk about dogs now.  He's decided I am a lot like a Doberman, especially the needy part (I like having my back rubbed...and my arms, and I like cuddling, I can't help it - I require so much attention!)  And I think I've convinced him I would live in constant fear if I had to share the house with a Great Dane, it helped to prove my point that my hand has been in a deaf Great Dane's mouth before - against my will.  Luckily she didn't bite down, but she sent a message I've never forgotten...that if she wanted to, she could have taken my hand off.

So - we shall see.  Fingers crossed I don't end up with a high strung, high energy, 5'9 dog any time soon.

In other news.  We had a doctor's appointment this week.  They did an ultrasound to determine the baby's weight and overall size.  Little guy is already up to 5 lbs 15 oz.  They said that's about two weeks ahead of where he should be and it puts him in the 90-something percentile in weight.  I think Chewy took a lot of pride in baby boy's weight because he mentioned in the waiting room it would be cool if we had an 18 pound baby.  I told him he wouldn't be having one with this wife!

I'm at 33 weeks now but haven't taken a photo this week.

'Twas I, but 'tis not I

This past weekend (Easter weekend) we had an excellent General Conference.

I wanted to write a little on one talk in particular, that of Elder Dale Renlund, entitled Latter Day Saints Keep on Trying.  He began by quoting Nelson Mandela, “I’m no saint – that is, unless you think a saint is a sinner who keeps on trying.”

He then went on to quote from Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It. “’twas I, but ‘tis not I” Meaning, that’s who I was but no longer am. 

This touched me.  When I spoke at New Beginnings in March, our theme ‘we are all under construction’, reminded me how different the 2015 Lildonbro is from 2011 Lildonbro.  A lot of the struggles I went through in 2011 were self inflicted, the pain and sorrow I felt acted like a black hole sucking all the light and goodness from my life and I could not see the end, nor could I feel I deserved better than what I had.  I made a lot of mistakes as I tried to handle life my way instead of the Lord’s way.  I was obstinate to say the least.  I thought I knew what would make me happy, what would make my life more complete and I went for it, despite the still small whisperings that I had chosen incorrectly.  I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting any longer to move my life forward.  So I made things worse for myself.  That’s why it resonated with me when Elder Renlund said, “’Twas I, but ‘tis not I.”

Yes, I made mistakes.  Yes, I thought I had it figured out who I should marry and what I should do with my life.  And when that didn’t happen I let an irrepressible anger take control.  I have since learned to hand things to the Lord, including my anger.  I have learned that he can heal and sooth all the emotional hurts in this life.  The ones caused by others and even (maybe especially) the ones caused by my own decisions and actions. 

Elder Renlund says, “No failure ever need be final,” and I agree with him.  We get up when we fall, we forgive when we’re wronged, we seek forgiveness when we’re wrong, we hand over all the pains and sorrow to the Lord and let Him have them. And then we do it all over again, slowly climbing our way to perfection.  And it's all due to Jesus Christ and his sacrifice for us.  Elder Holland said it best in his talk on Sunday morning when he spoke of Easter and the Atonement, "Today we celebrate the gift of victory over every fall we've ever experienced, every sorrow we have ever known, every discouragement we have ever had, every fear we have ever faced."

So to all my blogger friends, Happy Belated Easter.  May we always remember that it is possible to be better than we are today because of Jesus Christ, our Savior.

We Are All Made Of The Same Stuff

A few weeks ago we had New Beginnings.  It has been at least 14 years since I've participated in New Beginnings so I have to say I was more than ready to let everyone else take the lead and I figured I'd watch and help out more next year.  But that's not what callings are for.

For those of you who don't know what New Beginnings is, here is my simple and hopefully close to correct definition.  Each year, somewhere near the beginning, the Young Women put on a program to introduce the upcoming Beehives (girls turning 12 that year).  But the program isn't only about the new girls,  All the girls are asked to attend and parent's of all the girls are invited. We choose a theme and give mini talks.  Then we eat.

This year our theme was basically, "we are all a work in progress" or "under construction" - I honestly can't remember the official theme,  The girls wore hardhats and gave "tool talks" about each of the Young Women values (and they picked a tool to signify that value - i.e. blue prints, hammer,etc.).  Then - it was my turn to talk.  I was to give a 5-7 minutes talk on how we are all a work in progress.  I will admit, I stressed about this.  There isn't much already out there about this topic and I wanted to make sure I went along with the rest of the program without really understanding what the rest of the program would be.  I didn't know if I was near the beginning or the end (actually...I assumed beginning but I was at the end).

I want to share some of the thoughts I shared with the group (and some I didn't share).  I can't say I completely followed what I had written, which means I joked around a bit more because I do that when nervous and I hope it means the spirit spoke more than I did.

I started off with sharing a quote from President Uchtdorf.  He gave a talk in a Priesthood Session of conference entitled, "Four Titles" and one of the titles was "Son of God" (changed by me to "Daughter of God" for the evening).  He says,

"Compared to the perfection of God, we mortals are scarcely more than awkward, faltering toddlers.  But our loving Heavenly Father wants us to become more like Him, and...that should be our eternal goal too.  God understands that we get there not in an instant but by taking one step at a time.

I do not believe in a God who would set up rules and commandments only to wait for us to fail so He could punish us.  I believe in a Heavenly Father who is loving and caring and who rejoices in our every effort to stand tall and walk toward him.  Even when we stumble, He urges us not to be discouraged - never to give up or flee our allotted field of service - but to take courage, find our faith, and keep trying."

 Then I suggested that there were three versions of us coexisting each day of our lives.

1. The person you used to be
2. The person you are now
3. The person you will become

Here's where I'll interject a bit more of a personal touch for the blog.  To better clarify this idea, I remember a time in my life when I felt so far away from God and from the person I thought I was, the person I wanted to be.  I never thought I would get back there, much less, to develop beyond to even better.  I was stuck with the person I had been, the one who had made mistakes and led me to that moment, and the person I was at the time because of those actions and consequences.  I can still remember a day only a few months after that when I realized how far I had come.  I read through an old journal entry and realized that in a matter of months I had completely changed (with supreme effort from the Lord and from myself).  In my moments of self pity and depression, I failed to see the third version of myself, and to understand that the person I am now is changing, sometimes as quickly as day to day.

For the girls I described the difference between being a helpless baby (completely dependent upon their parents) to the young women they are now.  How they can walk and feed themselves, how they can have conversations, how they can even take selfies now.  But I also shared with them that they don't have to look that far back to see the difference from a younger version to the present.  

I remember in a Sunday School lesson once, the teacher said "We are all made of the same stuff".  I can't remember exactly what the lesson was about, but this statement has helped me, especially when I still find myself comparing my qualities to others.  I used to look at others and the things I admired in them and felt as though I lacked the ability to ever get there.  They must have something that I don't.  Even at the beginning of the program that evening I couldn't stop comparing myself, a nervous wreck who had to look at her notes, to Annette, who wrote her talk a few minutes before and I don't believe looked down at her notes once.  Or Jen, much further along in pregnancy and yet she's always willing to give a talk or bake some goods, or run to the store to pick up decorations.  I feel so lazy compared to her.  While I can't stop the thoughts, I can remind myself, "We are all made of the same stuff".  It means I can be better than I am today, I have the same potential as everyone else.  If I see a quality I like in someone else, I can work on developing that in myself.  It's not about where someone else is in their progress, but about continuing to work on my own.

We all have the same basic building materials to start construction.  We have the same potential as the person next to us.  We are not finished products but we are under constant construction and it is a lifelong process.  We’ve been given everything we need; it is up to us how to use these materials.  It’s important to seek the Lord’s will since he has the blueprints for our best selves. 

C.S. Lewis gives an example of a living house.  He says: 

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

It is important to remember that you are created in God’s image.  You are a daughter of God with divine potential and he has a plan for you.  Each week in our opening exercises we stand and recite our theme which begins, “We are daughters of our Heavenly Father who loves us and we love Him.”  This statement reminds us who we are and whose we are.  He is the master architect and if we trust in Him he will push us beyond a cottage and into a mansion.  

Baby's Day Out

I had a doctor's appointment this morning, the infamous glucose test I've heard so much about.  My appointment was at 8, so Chewy and I showed up a few minutes early.  The doors to the office weren't even unlocked yet, I've never been there that early.  We checked in and went back for an ultrasound.  We had a new lady, well, one we haven't seen before.  Little man wouldn't cooperate for her so she wiggled the wand around on my belly and pushed down and begged baby boy to move so she could get the shot she wanted.  Chewy asked if there was some trick I had to get him to move.  I told him I hadn't figured out how to control our baby yet.

We got to see him as he experienced some hiccups though.  And she got a picture of his fist in the air.

More power to you baby.

At one point, he retaliated against the ultrasound lady....of course, I'm the one who felt it, and let me say, not pleasant.  She finally got what she wanted and Chewy and I cleaned up the goop and went over to the lab for my glucose drink.

I had heard from so many people that it was disgusting and to drink it fast.  Only one person had said it tasted good.  I had my choice of fruit punch and orange.  I went with the lesser of two evils (fruit punch).  The lady said, "you have five minutes to drink that."  So I untwisted the cap and threw it down the hatch.  I don't know if I was worried it would taste bad or if I'm incredibly competitive and saw "five minutes" as a challenge, but I'm willing to bet it was the former.  It tasted like HI-C and not revved up HI-C like was told, just what you would get if you got it as a fountain drink.

Then it was over to the doctor to be weighed...my least favorite part.  I gave my usual sample and then Chewy and I sat in one of the rooms waiting.  The nurse came in to give me my "injection" - I think I would have preferred her to call it a shot.  A shot isn't so bad.  She stepped over to the counter with her back to me and I rolled up my sleeve.  I think I may have said, "This is the worst day ever" because after my "injection" I would be getting my blood taken.  To which she replied that at least this shot was in the butt.

...

...

...I unrolled my sleeve.  Out of all the things the people in that office have seen I'm not quite sure they've ever seen my butt.  I immediately felt the need to get off my butt so I stood.  She said I could lay on my side on the short little table or I could stand in front of it with my hands in front of me (not sure why that's a concern, maybe it's only natural to fight away a needle aimed for your butt).  I chose to stand as it seemed more comfortable.  I pulled down my pants and then I pulled them up again and verified that I was suppose to do that.  She said 'yes' and I said, "good, because I didn't want to make this awkward."  Chewy came over to hold my hand, for which I am grateful because let me tell you, that sucker burned!

The whole time I had no idea why I was getting the shot, I figured it was just routine, but as the lady was leaving she mentioned that she is "RH negative too" and she always had to get the shots.  I learned something new about myself.  Well, I really learned it when I Googled it after she left (gotta love smart phones).  All the things I am learning about myself because of this baby.

Doctor came in to talk to us for a bit about our baby and the results from the ultrasound.  Then he sent me to get my blood taken.  I was hungry,tired and I had just taken a shot to the butt.  In some ways, having my blood taken was nothing, in others, I worried all the above would combined and I would get sick.  But it wasn't bad.  I don't look, I don't think I could handle looking.  I just count random numbers and pray with my eyes closed.  When I was done we went to the waiting room and I ate some crackers.

When I got to work I tried swiping my ID badge to get the elevator to operate.  That's not how you do it...you push a button.  Luckily I was alone and could laugh at myself rather than be embarrassed
.
And that's my day so far.  Just got word that work is closing early today because of our weekly inclement weather we've been having.  I mean, seriously, it's like every Thursday we are going to have snow or ice.  We haven't had youth night in three weeks now.  But who am I to complain, I get to go home and rest.

What not to say...

At work there are several pregnant women.  Three of us like to email each other when something has been said to us that we want to remember never to say to pregnant women.  These things are never meant in a mean spirited way but some of them can make you feel bad.

The first was, "Oh, you've popped!" Meant in kindness and excitement over the growing baby however it doesn’t leave the woman who has ‘popped’ feeling very good about herself.

Next from a doctor, “Proteins grow the baby, carbs grow you.”  Yes, yes, it came from a medical professional to my friend, but she wasn’t happy about it.  My sweet doctor doesn’t mention my weight, it’s proof that I have a very smart doctor.

The next we got wind of was, "I see you waddling over there."  Which I told to Chewy and he likes so he repeats it to me sometimes.

A few days ago I got my first one.  I was in my workstation talking to my coworker about something and a lady from downstairs stopped by and had me turn so she could see my pregnant belly (my pride and joy *sarcasm* I do not like looking this wide).  So I swiveled around and Vanna Whited my belly for her.  She smiled and then brought her hands up to her cheeks and made a squishing motion and said, “And your face is getting juicy."

Me….

Then I said, “Ohhhh, thank you, I’ve been waiting for someone to notice.”

At least when she left my coworker and I got a good laugh out of it.  So the tears that followed the statement were brought on by laughter instead of feeling I am bloating like Violet Beauregarde.  Of course, I emailed the pregnant ladies to tell them of the newest “what not to say”. 

In other news, people at work are beginning to notice my growing belly.  This sweet older man at work came up today to congratulate me.  I gave him kind of a blank stare at first because I am still unsure of how to react to the fact that people notice.  I pointed at my belly and said, “This?”  He laughed and said, “Yes, I was worried by the look on your face that maybe I had it wrong.”  I laughed too and said, “Yeah I am.  But it would be funny if I weren’t.  Thanks for congratulating me on gaining weight, it was nothing, just ate extras at every meal.”

And as long as I only look down at my belly (and don't catch a side view) it's not too bad.

Breaking News

Thank you to all our concerned readers.  Boyfriend was found last night in a Thirty-One Bag with a note (since he lacks vocal chords).  The note reads, "Don't leave me! I Love You!"

The case of the missing boyfriend

For my coworker’s birthday, she received a “Grow a boyfriend”

Just add water.

Since my boss has a fishless fish tank in her office we decided to pull a little prank and check her observation skills.  My coworker went in early and put the ‘boyfriend’ in the tank.

When boss lady went to the restroom, coworker ran in to stand him up.  Then there came the series of meetings in the boss’ office.  Each of us had to meet with her and I went last.  While in there I would steal glances at the fish tank but it appeared that boyfriend was missing.  I figured boss lady had already found him.  So after my meeting I checked with the others in my department but they each said that nothing had been noticed during their meeting.  We slipped in when boss lady wasn’t in there and checked but sure enough, he was gone.  We checked the trashcan and my coworker even dug around in the fish tank with a letter opener.  We finally told boss lady about boyfriend and asked if she had taken him out but she hadn’t.  No one knows what happened to him and it’s killing me.  I feel like our prank got turned around on us but  no is fessing up!

Have you seen this man?

We're beginning to think maybe he dissolved in the nasty fish tank water.  What a way to go.