Darn you Hallmark

Why do you always make me cry?

Your commercials...

Your movies...
Your cards...

Every time.

Super duper cute MODESTY

Okay, I don't want to become a blogger who just posts about awesome retail finds, but I really thought some of you ladies might really appreciate seeing this site: Mikarose. The women's collection has 10 different cute dresses that are all MODEST. And affordable! Once this baby is out, and I lose the baby weight, I will own at least 3 of these.

Not a kidnapper

I'm not. I promise.

I wish I could say this to everyone in WalMart without looking even more incriminating.

Today, while browsing their aisles, Carly decided she was done shopping. So she decided to yell. And yell, and yell, and yell. And what was her exclamation of choice?

"MOMMY!!!"

...Not at me, though. At everyone else!

Like a stolen child begging for her mother to come back and save her.

The more I shushed her, the louder she yelled. And started reaching toward strangers, leaning over the cart rail.

I got a lot of concerned looks, and I could tell that people were looking at each other trying to decide of they should step in and try to determine if I was really the mother of this protesting child.

So I did what any responsible mother would do- I booked it out of there. I bet there are a lot of people in Salt Lake today watching the news to see if there are any Amber Alerts.

Baby Crack

Yoooooo Gabba Gabba!

Nothing is more enthralling to a toddler than DJ Lance Rock and the gang. And honestly, it's not that bad from a parent's perspective. Some, okay a LOT, of the other children's' shows make me want to punch myself in the face after an hour straight.

But I actually like Yo Gabba Gabba. Cool songs, unique beats, good lessons aimed at young kids, and awesome guests. I mean, they've had Sugarland, Biz Markie, and Tony Hawk. And I think they even had Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite.

And the most important thing- Carly loves it. She'll stop whatever she is doing (often a tantrum) and just... Stare. Melt. Drool. Literally. We have wet spots on the couch pillows from her ultimate zoned-out-ness.

Sometimes we wonder if she really even catches any of the themes because she seems so zombied. But apparently some of it does get through. The show has songs about not eating food from the ground, holding hands while crossing the street, trying new foods, and not biting your friends.

In the one about not biting, the song goes "Don't, don't, don't bite your friends!" See if you can guess what the refrain is:

This was taken candidly while driving home from Christmas. We heard this little voice from the back seat and couldn't believe that she was singing to herself. And a song we recognized! One we didn't teach her! We were quite proud.

My toddler beat me up and stole my lunch money

Okay, not really. But that's about how humiliated I was on Sunday.

It was Stake Conference Sunday, and it was also the first Sunday that Marshall is working his new shift. He used to have both Saturday and Sunday off, so going to church wasn't difficult. But now he gets home from work at 7:30am on Sunday morning, and church starts at 9:30. So the plan was that he would just stay awake, but with Stake Conference being a little later, he tried to get in a nap. Bad idea. There was no way he was going to get out of bed for church once he fell asleep. I even poured water over his head (what a nice, compassionate wife, right?) to no avail.

So off I went, the first time I have braved church on my own since Carly has been old enough to move independently.

I arrived 15 minutes early. I figured this was enough time to ensure I would get a seat on a pew. Pews are much better for toddler confinement than folding chairs are. But apparently my stake is much more active than my ward generally is. The only seats available were in the very very back of the cultural hall, the last 5 or 6 rows of folding chairs before the stage (which btw also had chairs set up, all of which were already full). So we take 2 aisle seats next to a stranger.

Carly did well through most of the opening song. But she had finished the sippy cup of milk before the song was over, and it was quickly sailing over the back of our chair at the man in the row behind us. That's what he gets for smiling at her. During the opening prayer, she was already confined on my lap, arching her back in protest with her screams being muffled by my hands. She's funny because she'll fold her arms during prayers. She's really good about it. So she was fighting her hardest to get away, all the while with her arms folded. She then did her obligatory shout of "amen" at the end, and returned to trying to escape.

I figured it was time to break out the snacks. A little early for the typical church service, but better than whatever else she had in mind. I put her back in her chair and gave her a baggy of kix cereal. She was quiet for the sustaining of the leadership, and the first 2-3 minutes of the first talk. I thought we were good. Until she decided to dump the whole baggy of kix on the gym floor. So there I kneeling on the floor, grasping my toddler's arm in one hand while scooping kix with the other. But kix are round, and gym floors are slick, and most of that cereal was far and away and under stranger's seats.

I noticed I was starting to get those glances of pity. By this point Carly was shouting "diaper! diaper!" I grabbed her, the coats, and the diaper bag and made my way to the mother's room. I figured it would be the perfect place to listen to conference over the sound system, while letting Carly roam free in a small confined room full of arm chairs. We walk in to find 5 nursing mothers and 5 peaceful newborns. I apologized as I pinned my screaming toddler down and began the process of stripping off the layers to change her diaper.

Of course, the diaper is clean and dry. Of course her shouts of "diaper" are a false alarm. Is it possible she already knows how to manipulate at 19 months? So I get her all dressed again and we cross the hall to the nursery. Lots of toys; no sound system. Carly doesn't want to leave this room. Too bad. We make our way to the only other mother's safe haven I know of- the foyer.

The foyer in the stake center is tiny. 1 couch. There are 5 men wearing usher tags sitting and standing all around this room. There are 3 doors open from this room into the chapel and cultural hall. Wide open. I try to make my best of this. The ushers let us take the couch. The second speaker is speaking now. Carly tries to jump on the couch. I make her sit down. She starts a new little trick of hers...."Ouch mommy! Hurts!" Great. Now I'm a child abuser. She jumps, I sit her down, she cries foul.

She gets off the couch and starts walking around the foyer. So far so good. Starts pointing out Jesus in all the pictures. There are 5. "Gesis mommy! Gesis! :::GASP::: Bebe Gesis!" Louder and louder. That's okay. At least she's yelling "Gesis." Then she finds the low table with pamphlets, pass along cards, and a framed picture of "Gesis." All is thrown on the ground. I apologize to anyone paying attention- the ushers and half of those within 5 feet of those open doors who are all staring- and put it all back on the table. A new game! The Jesus picture goes flying again. Worried that she'll break the glass, I grab the toddler and sit her back on the couch. "Ouch mommy! Hurt!" complete with the signs.

I sit back on the couch next to her, and she's up again. She wanders toward the large window to the outdoors...turns...is running...into the chapel... I jump up and try to decide whether to chase. Chase is another game. This is all her father's fault. I see she's not stopping. I chase. I grab her going up the aisle. I grab her wrist and try to redirect. She drops to the ground like a 25 lb. sack of dog food. I drag her a few feet hissing "Up Carly! Up!" This is met by her "Hurt mommy! Hurt!" I pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, grab our stuff, and head to the car. The second speaker is just finishing their talk.

We get to the car, and I tie her into her seat. Next time I'll consider bringing her whole seat into the service. Would that make me look crazy? Would that make me look any less crazy than I already did today?

I glare at Carly and tell her she was behaving very very badly today. I tell her mommy is very very sad. Carly looks up at me, bewildered, and says "Sawyee mommy, I sawyee." I partially melt. Then "tisses." Okay. She wins. I lean down and allow her to pull me in for a big sloppy kiss. She may have won this battle. But I'll take "tisses" over stake conference any day.

Finally official

So this pregnancy I have felt pretty good. Pretty much just like my pregnancy with Carly. A little nausea here and there, but I haven't thrown up at all. I start feeling "gross" if I haven't eaten lately. And I have the normal pregnancy exhaustion that requires I nap a lot. Overall, I know I am very fortunate because I have friends who have horrible pregnancies, and so I really can't ever complain.

We found out I was pregnant on November 5th, when I was just 3 weeks along. Really we already knew, that is just when we confirmed it with a test. I have been trying since then to convince Marshall to take pity on my poor pregnant state. Hey, it may not be that bad, but a woman is allowed to milk it from her husband, right?

Well, Marshall must have a much better memory than me of my pregnancy with Carly, because he loves to tell me I'm not even really pregnant yet. He tries to remind me of how hard that last month was, when I couldn't walk, couldn't sit, couldn't sleep, couldn't roll over. He tells me I was a walking personification of misery. Well, being the pregnant one, of course I don't remember. Heavenly Father has this wonderful way of letting me forget all of it so that I actually want to do it again.

But the bottom line is that Marshall doesn't cut me much slack yet. Wouldn't go to get me food I craved. Made me come down and help with the groceries in the middle of a snow storm. Still made me wash the stinky dishes. Won't give me massages. Every time I would complain or moan about something I didn't want to do and say "but I'm pregnant!," he'd say "oh you just wait, you're not really pregnant yet!"

Until last week. He went with me to that ultrasound, realized how far along we really are ("wow, it already looks like a baby?"), and started letting me be pregnant. I called him at work the other day to let him know I was craving. I said "I know you probably won't go get me anything at the store, but if by chance you want to go to the store, I am really craving pickles and fruit juice. And chocolate." To my surprise, he said okay! So I tested him a little more... "Now that's Claussen kosher pickles whole in the jar and Dole 100% fruit juice in the cardboard 1/2 gallon. No other pickles or fruit juice will do." My dear husband went to the grocery store (one of his least favorite chores ever) and spent an hour searching for those pickles. Just so everyone else knows, they are by the hot dogs, not with the other pickles. And the fruit juice he finally found on the beer aisle.

He also came home one evening with a foot bath, foot massager, back massager and neck massager. Completely unexpected.

So I guess it's finally official. I'm pregnant.

Apologies

Sorry I have been so absent. It's not a trend, I promise.

I have written a number of posts in the last 3 months, but they all end up getting deleted. Because do any of you have any idea how hard it is to blog about your everyday life, when you are trying to keep one HUGE part of your everyday life quiet??

That's right! I'm PREGNANT!

We are about 13 weeks or so along, and my (much debated) due date is July 17th. For you super observant ones, you are right....that date is also my 25th birthday. So it should be a very happy birthday indeed.

We had an ultrasound on Tuesday, and the baby is doing well enough we thought it was time to share with all of you. After what happened last time, I didn't want to "jinx" myself with spilling the beans so early. But really, I'm glad I did it so early last time because I really am grateful for all of the support and love we had just weeks later when we lost that baby.

More stories to come.