Sew Crafty!

While my mom was here visiting, we began a few projects aimed at boy-ifying my baby supply stock.

First up: Flannel blankets.

I have made a few of these in the past, and felt most comfortable with this project. I bought fabric for 3 blankets, and my mom introduced me to a new pattern. I have only finished one so far.

Next up: A quilt.

I wanted to make a quilt for our new little baby. I'm not a quilter though. But while escorting my mom to dozens of quilt shops while she was here, I began to get a few bits of inspiration. I finally found a fabric that I loved, and my mom and I decided to go for it. We got the whole quilt top made, and my mom has generously offered to take the top home to do the actual "quilting" and binding on her fancy machine. But here is the top.

Finally: crocheting.

My mom taught me how to crochet around the edges of blankets and burp rags. I finished a burp rag, and have just started on the matching blanket. My hands have become permanently curled into painful little balls. Apparently I need to learn how to relax while maneuvering the needle, fabric, and string. lol.

More to come!

"I yub you yeg"

This is what Carly said to me this morning as she gave me a hug around the knee. She has lately began telling us she loves us without prompting, which has been really fun. She even told Russ's cats she loved them.

But this confession of love confused me a little.

I asked her "what did you say, Carly?"
"I yub you yeg!" another big hug.
"I love you too honey," thinking she was just saying she loved me.
Indignant, Carly said "No, yub yeg," hitting my knee.
"Ooooh, you love my leg?"
Smiles. "Uh huh. I yub you yeg." Another big hug around my knee, then she walked away.

I think I feel complimented.

William Wallace?

Really?

Almost half of you think that's a good idea? Really??

Okay, fess up. Who voted for it? How much is Marshall paying you?

I figure that there are 3 possible things that could be happening here:

1) Men are voting in my poll. (which is fine, really. just surprising.)

2) Marshall has voted 10 times.

3) Some of you are unfamiliar with who William Wallace is.

Marshall promises he only voted once. He thinks that the voting is directly down gender lines, but I highly doubt I have that many male readers. So I think it is most likely the third option.

So here is a brief and non-factual history lesson:

William Wallace is every little boy's hero.

He is Braveheart.

Mel Gibson.

Marshall wishes he were William Wallace.

To me, naming a child William Wallace is like naming a child Spiderman. Okay, so Spiderman's not a historical figure. How about Albert Einstein. Or Abraham Lincoln.

So if you voted for William Wallace, please, let me know WHY?? Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't get it. Like I said, Marshall has convinced his whole family that this is the best idea ever. But in general I don't trust Marshall's name choices. He wants to name our second son Andrew Andrews and the third Mormon Andrews.

Crazy right? Right??

Hand-me-downs?

Nope, not for this LITTLE BOY!!!!

We had the big ultrasound today, and it's true. We are entering the whole new realm of snakes, snails, and puppydog tails. And smelly, stinky, dirty boys.

I have to admit, I am very nervous. It feels like I am going to be a first time mom all over again. I mean, a boy?? What am I going to do with a boy? In my mind, they are different in every way from girls. So the nerves are kicking in, but I am so excited. Soooo excited.

And I knew it. I really did.

When I was pregnant with Carly, I would have these dreams about a little girl with curly hair named Carly. And with this new pregnancy, it has been dreams of a little boy. So I have been calling him a "him," and have been thinking of him as a boy. It was one of those things that I just knew. There really wasn't much question in my mind, just a very peaceful assured feeling that this little guy is all boy.

So now, here is the new question:
What to name this guy?

Marshall's family has a tradition that the first born son has the middle name of Wallace. So that much has already been settled. We have narrowed down our picks of first names, and we have two finalists. Now, I like one, and not the other. Marshall likes both but is a very strong fan of the one I dislike. And he has somehow swayed our entire extended family to agree with him.

They are Wesley and William.

Can you guess which one I don't like? Which one to you like? Go vote now --->

Hallelujah

In-N-Out coming to Draper!

Finally.

Now I can actually be okay with my Utah residency.

New Poll

So next Tuesday, the 17th, is the big ultrasound. We will (hopefully) find out if this little one is a boy or girl.

So I decided to do a poll to get people's guesses. ------>

I don't want to give my prediction and sway any of your premonitions. So I'll leave that all for my post next Tuesday!

Nap time

So lately Carly hasn't been napping. She has her days where she'll just fight it. I still make her take those 2 hours and be quiet in her crib, in hopes that she'll fall asleep. Some days it works, some it doesn't. Usually she'll skip her naps 2 days in a row, and then nap really well 2 or 3 days in a row.

Well ever since she learned she could get out of her crib, she hasn't napped. And it's a little hard to enforce the "quiet time" that usually leads to the napping when it does happen. So for 3 or 4 days straight, our little one was running on empty as far as naps go.

Yesterday Marshall and Carly were hanging out in the living room after Carly had successfully skipped her nap yet again. It was about 5pm. Suddenly, it was very quiet. Marshall looked around and realized she had left the room and went to look for her. He found her curled up in the hallway outside her bedroom door sound asleep.

He put her in her crib, still in her jeans, figuring it was just a nap. I got home from work around 8pm, and she was still out. We went to bed at midnight, and she was still asleep. I woke up throughout the night to listen for breathing through the monitor, and she didn't make a peep. I left for work this morning at 9am, and she was still out.

That kid slept for 16 1/2 hours!

Moral of the story: don't make your kids nap, and you may just get the best night of sleep you've ever had in your life (or at least since they've been born).

Or more likely the moral of the story is: make your kids nap, or they'll develop really unhealthy sleeping patterns.

You pick.

Cleaning

Do you ever feel like you wander around the house cleaning, only to be followed immediately after by a little tornado?

I'm not talking about my toddler. It's my husband.

Don't get me wrong, Marshall likes things "clean" too. But clean, I have learned, is a subjective term. When Marshall cleans, he takes the mess to a higher plane. Literally. Anything and everything on the floor must come up! To where? Where ever is the next closest flat surface that is not the floor: the top of the bookcase, the kitchen table, the kitchen counter, and his favorite spot- on top of the entertainment center.

I clean by taking these items accumulated on top of various countertops in our home and put them inside things. Inside baskets, or drawers, closets or cabinets. Basically, where they belong. That is my idea of cleaning.

So today I tackled the top of the entertainment center. It is was a mess. I sorted the items into which area they really belonged in: the pantry, the sink, our bedroom, the bathroom, Carly's room, the trash can, the bookshelf. Dirty cups, boxes of cereal, socks, lotion, old mail, a stack of Carly's books, some Carly art supplies, various electronics, deodorant, shoe polish. You name it really. Then I started to put it away.

I started with the various electronics. Most went into the cabinets in the entertainment center, as opposed to on top. I put them away. Then the cereal and crackers and fruit snacks the Marshall likes to store near the TV (because 10 feet is just too far to walk to the pantry). Soon, I was making progress.

I returned to the entertainment center, and I swear things I have put away have reappeared. Am I hallucinating? I ask Marsh how they got back out, why they got back out. He looks at me with complete sincerity and says "that's where they belong. You're always trying to hide my stuff." YES! That's it! This is a game of hide and seek, and Marshall has just won.

I try to explain that these objects all have homes, and they can be brought out to use when needed, but should go back to where they belong after. I am talking to a toddler. But he persists. He says that it is simply too much work to get his wii-mote charger out the once a week he uses it, and it should always be accessible. And the food? If it's in the pantry, he'll forget we have it and won't eat it.

It must be fun to live as Marshall. Can you imagine what it must be like to be really pleasantly surprised every time you open the pantry? It must be like Christmas every day.

The best use for the potty

Is a step stool.

After Carly's bath, I left her naked on her potty for a minute. When I returned, I found that she had pushed her potty up to the counter, and was giving her ducky a bath in the sink. We still haven't had very much success with the real purpose of the potty, but her creativity is pretty cute.

Uh oh...

We're in for it...

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.

You wanna hear a funny story?

Marshall fell out of bed. Our bed is like 4 feet high.

The end.

Yep, that's our ward

Actual message left on Marshall's voice mail today:

"Hey this is Brother _________ from the ward calling. Just checking to see if you did your home teaching last month. ((Pause)) Heheh, I didn't."

Adoption: Different trips to the same place

Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place, you've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip.

So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you, excited people are boarding planes for Australia. It seems there is no seat for you; you'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait--and wait--and wait.

Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax. You'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!" After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat."

"By BOAT!" you say. "Going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane."

So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea rather than air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat.

It is a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip.

Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many wonderful friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with others who also traveled by sea rather than by air.

People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are about to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh, be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible; traveling by sea is so easy."

You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia. Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you get there, but in the place itself.

By Diane Armitage printed in the April 21, 1995 "Dear Abby" column.

Happiness is...

Coming home from work to a clean house, happy kid, and a hot meal. My husband is amazing!

Take a survey on blogging!

My friend Autumn is doing a study in her graduate program at BYU. She needs mommy bloggers to take this survey. PLEASE TAKE IT! Re-Post it on your blog! Get your friends to take it!

Here's who qualifies to participate:
Mothers between the ages of 18-34. You don't even need to have your own blog. It is just about your thoughts on blogs.

It only takes a couple minutes, but the BEST part is you get entered for a chance to win 1 of 5 Target gift cards for $100!!

Here is the link: http://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_9yi8C8VkcG7rgNu&SVID=Prod

Thanks ladies!!

Thoughts on pregnancy loss and conception

I was laying in bed tonight, and my mind started wandering. To its normal preoccupation. My reproductive system. I was wondering if the egg made it into the actual tube this time, and I found myself picturing the process of an egg erupting from an ovary and swimming the little gap to the safety of the tube. Or not; swimming the wrong way. As I had this mental image in my head, I realized that this ovary was quite large. We're talking tennis racket sized. And this fallopian tube, the diameter of the pitcher I use to water my plants. Why was that? Why was I seeing this super-sized projection as my normal reality? Why when I lay on an exam table in the stirrups, do my ovaries feel like they are beach balls in the corners of the room, and the uterus the size of my torso? Maybe because I am so used to looking to the image on the screen as my reality. Maybe it feels bigger than my body because I am so used to looking outside my body for the answers. But maybe, most likely, it is because this is the size it is in my life. In my day. The process of trying to conceive is a consuming one. The constant blood tests and numerous phone calls to the OB office until the nurse finally calls me back 3 days later with the findings; the calendars, and watches; the daily peeing on little sticks that indicate my happiness. It is all so big. Such a big part of my concern, my schedule, my preoccupations. This little reproductive system, probably no larger than my open palm, fills the room. Fills my evenings when the night is still and I am left to my thoughts alone.

Waking

As you know, I have been profoundly touched by one family's tragedy. I wrote previously about Christian and Stephanie Nielson who were in a plane crash in Arizona. Their story has truly sucked me in and been a matter of daily prayer and concern. Getting to know Stephanie through the blog she left has made me a better wife and mother. I hadn't heard of her before the accident, but since she has touched my life profoundly. I have learned more about myself and about my truest callings by reading the words of a stranger. I have never wept more for a stranger. She is no longer a stranger in my heart.

Please read this article. And these inspiring words. Both have made me pause and consider, and made my heart stronger.

They are waking Stephanie up right now. She is slowly coming back to the reality of the world. Her body is healing thanks to fervent prayers offered, and now her spirit needs even more of those healing entreaties of the Lord. I cannot imagine what lay ahead of her. I cannot imagine what she will go through. But I can bet she will face it with the grace and serenity that she has been quietly teaching me.

Validated

Do you remember when Marshall and I were trying to decide how to spell "Carly," and how I was opposed to names ending in "I"? I said something along the lines of:

"Only, he only likes the spelling "Carli." I dunno about this. I have never met a girl (that I can remember) that has a name ending in an "I" that has been respectable. The spelling seems either too cutesy or too destined to belong to a stripper. Am I overreacting?"

Anyway, I found this today:

GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO DO IT ON THE FIRST DATE

According to the North American Journal of Sexual Health, a survey involving over 5,000 guys found the top 5 names of women who are most likely to sleep with a guy on the first date. Here they are (in no particular order): 5. Lindsey; 4. Jenny or Jenni; 3. Christy or Christi; 2. Erin; and 1. Nikki or Nicole. The survey also found that any chick whose name ends in an "I" or draws a little heart over an "I" is more likely to do it. Women with two name first names, like Ann-Marie or Mary-Jo, are also in the top ten. What about girls who go by their full given name, like Jennifer or Patricia? They're less likely to go to bed on the first date.

I knew it!

P.S. Don't worry, Stefani, you are obviously an exception!

Big girl

Carly is such a big girl, she pooped in the potty for the first time today. Proud day. Don't worry I won't post pictures...lol. But in honor, we also tried out a "big girl" hairstyle. What do you think? We also went shopping for some winter clothes today. Her favorite things were her new hat and mittens. I think they're pretty cute, too.

Have some rice, Marshall

I made 3 cups of rice the other night. Marshall ate all of it.

Fall photo shoot

I think I really enjoy fall because I love taking pictures at the pumpkin patches. Last year's pumpkin patch trip yielded some of my favorite pictures ever, so this year's trip was highly anticipated.

Being in Salt Lake, we didn't want to drive all the way back to Utah Valley to go to the patch we are used to. So we found a little gem hidden away near Russ's school. It was very small, and had a little corn maze and some wagons. Perfect.

Get ready for my favorite pictures:

Butt Pie

On Marshall's birthday (Monday), we went out to breakfast with his parents at Village Inn. They bought Marshall a Lemon Supreme Pie because it's his favorite. Marshall put it in the back seat of the car right next to the car seat. He then, for some dumb reason, put a blanket on top of the pie. I sat on the seat to buckle Carly into her carseat. I sat on Marshall's birthday pie. I squashed Marshall's birthday pie with my butt.

But butt pie is better than no pie, right?

Wanna win a free handbag?

I know I do!

http://www.handbagplanet.com/ is launching their site on October 15th, and in celebration they are going to give away a free handbag every hour that day. Go to their site to register. But don't try to win the one on hour 6 (5pm), cuz that's the one I'm going for. On second thought, register for the one on hour 6, and then remember when you win what an awesome friend I am and give it to me. Pretty please.

Health update

I have been going into the hospital every week for blood tests. My OB has been monitoring my quantitative HCG levels, because they indicate pregnancy. I am still considered pregnant until the levels reached below 5. My levels started that first day I received the methotrexate shot at 12000, so you can see I had a long way to go. Monitoring these HCG levels was also a good way to tell how effectively the drugs were still working to terminate the pregnancy.

My HCG levels dropped quickly at first, from 12 thousand, to 9 thousand, to 6 thousand. Once I got below 100, though, it really slowed down. Two weeks ago, I finally made it to 18, but then last week I only dropped to 14. I worried that it would be another month or two at that rate before the levels got below the target of 5. But FINALLY, on Thursday my levels jumped down to 3. It was a very large drop for being at the end, where it is supposed to slow each week, not triple. But I'll take it!

Now, the next step is to go in for a Hysterosalpingogram (HSG). It is a procedure often done after an ectopic pregnancy to determine if there is a blockage in the fallopian tubes. It is basically an x-ray. This should be scheduled for some time in the next 2-3 weeks.

So that is where we are. Its good to finally be officially not-pregnant. I look forward to being officially pregnant again. Hopefully soon! Thanks for all the prayers.

State Fair

Last weekend we went to the Utah State Fair. We got there in the evening, and one of our first goals was to get to the little hands farm. On the way, we had an accident. Carly was sitting on daddy's lap and all of the sudden, Daddy was a little upset and a little wet. We are still in diapers, so it was pretty bizarre. I guess the diaper wasn't on quite right. You can see how wet daddy got, so you can probably imagine how wet her pants were. She spent the rest of the evening pantless. Poor cold baby.
The little hands farm was fun. Carly got to dress up and carry a basket around learning different farm tasks like feeding animals, planting and harvesting veggies, and milking a cow.

Carly was pretty afraid of the giant plastic cow she was supposed to feed and milk. She wouldn't let daddy get too close to it.

At the end, they got to take a picture as a Future Farmer of America. Too cute.

After that, it started to get cold, and out little pants-less baby looked pathetic. So we decided to buy an alpaca poncho. She walked around in this 15 dollar poncho without pants for the rest of the night. We looked so white trash. lol.

Throughout the day, Carly got to meet lots of different animals. We started at the pony ride first thing. We waited in line for 20 minutes and then it was her turn to ride a pony while daddy walked next to her. She was terrified. She was having nothing to do with that horse.

So we decided to start small and work our way up. Here's Carly with the chickens. She was fine because she was bigger than them. Well, she was actually about the same size as this one. It was the huge monster chicken.

Then we made friends with the ducks.

The first animal Carly was willing to pet was the piggy. And it was only because we convinced her that the piggy had ears. She loves to point out ears: her own, ours, strangers', ears on tv. Now she knows that pigs have ears.

Then we hit the jackpot. Carly loves sheep. Who would have guessed. She didn't want to be held anymore at this point. So we let her walk around and we just followed behind as she went from pen to pen saying hi to the sheep.

Then we moved on to the cows. We started with a calf.

Then a momma cow.

Then this giant freak of a cow. It was so big Carly was signing elephant. We told her she was right.