Well, here we are... on the home stretch. I am a week from my official due date and hopefully about the same from having the house mostly completed. I don't know about all this. I keep hoping the house will get done and the baby will wait. I just want to be able to enjoy that baby and some naps without all the distractions and interruptions. I feel like our lives have been on hold all summer while we did this project. I guess we haven't been completely on hold because a sweet baby boy has been growing inside...my kids keep growing outside. It has been a learning experience but I cannot wait to be done.
So here I am, 39 weeks, I can't bend over anymore without either a fierce case of heartburn or a Braxton Hick (contractions seems like too strong a word). But nonetheless, we keep making progress. Matt painted the house Saturday (it looks fab) after we (I get by with a little help from my friends) taped all the windows on Friday. I have had lots of drop-in/ much appreciated help. A few delicious meals here, a little painting there, some caulking around the edges... It adds up and I am so glad for friends who are willing to help.
Saturday, my mom surprised me by driving over (I wasn't expecting her until Monday.) I love that she still comes and rescues her kids when she knows we have reached our limit. She is sleeping on a mattress in the front room. I am so grateful for how amiable and happy she is. She always goes with the flow of our family, whatever that flow may be at the moment. I have come to appreciate her more all the time.
Somewhere in my random reading I came across the mantra "finish strong". That is what I hope for. On all fronts.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Back to the OR
No, don't worry, it wasn't me that had to go back to the OR... Bella was the latest member of our family to have the surgery experience. Bella had her tonsils and adenoids last Tuesday. She did so great. I was amazed because she hates shots and everything related to Dr's (she even hates the ear scope thing.) I wanted her to be premedicated, like 3 days before, when she had her bloodwork done. Oy vey. That wasn't fun.
The morning of her surgery she woke so early with Grace. 6:00. That is early for us. She and Grace were playing with little glow in the dark bracelets and were so cute and happy. It was a peaceful way to start our day. (Matt said it sounded like a parade.)
When we got to the hospital she started crying, "I want to go home." I thought, "Oh, no, Here we go." But as soon as we got up to pre-op she saw Jenn it was like a switch got flipped. She was darling, so sweet and cooperative. They took her away in the little red wagon happily chatting away. She did fantastic. She ate lots and drank plenty the rest of the day. She has been doing pretty well. I love her little squeaky voice but could totally do without the nasty breath. (That's coming from me, and we all know I don't smell that well. It must be bad.)
Now that we are a week out from surgery she has been having a little bit of a rough time the last few nights, crying but not wanting to swallow the good stuff (Tylenol with codeine). She does pretty good if I keep the Tylenol in her every four hours but if I get behind, I pay for it. (Lots of drama.) All in all I would have to say she has done great. Probably bad timing but...c'est la vie.
The morning of her surgery she woke so early with Grace. 6:00. That is early for us. She and Grace were playing with little glow in the dark bracelets and were so cute and happy. It was a peaceful way to start our day. (Matt said it sounded like a parade.)
When we got to the hospital she started crying, "I want to go home." I thought, "Oh, no, Here we go." But as soon as we got up to pre-op she saw Jenn it was like a switch got flipped. She was darling, so sweet and cooperative. They took her away in the little red wagon happily chatting away. She did fantastic. She ate lots and drank plenty the rest of the day. She has been doing pretty well. I love her little squeaky voice but could totally do without the nasty breath. (That's coming from me, and we all know I don't smell that well. It must be bad.)
Now that we are a week out from surgery she has been having a little bit of a rough time the last few nights, crying but not wanting to swallow the good stuff (Tylenol with codeine). She does pretty good if I keep the Tylenol in her every four hours but if I get behind, I pay for it. (Lots of drama.) All in all I would have to say she has done great. Probably bad timing but...c'est la vie.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
stop the madness
I went to Twin to pick all the light and plumbing fixtures for our new addition/ remodel. I can tell you something, honestly. At this point, I don't care. I don't care if the finishes match (Well, we have brushed nickel in the existing house but I really wanted rubbed bronze in the new spaces, does it all need to be the same etc. etc.) I don't care. I don't care how much things cost (until I tell Matt how much I spent and he's like, "What?!" and I'm like, "I'm 37 weeks pregnant in Twin Falls, it's 91 degrees and I have shoes, socks AND jeans on, I've been dragging around a three year old everywhere I go." (I didn't say that but I sure thought it.) It kind of makes me sad because I have spent so much time and energy (not to mention $) on this project and here we are at the end and I can't bring myself to spend 200 dollars on a faucet. (I also can't bring myself to have different finishes in the same room...) so I guess I still care... a little. I am tired of making decisions. I should not have attempted today without a good Diet Coke on board. What was I thinking.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The crying episode
There I was, a 22 year-old Senior in college, only one semester left and only 1 chemistry credit standing between me and my bachelor's degree. Matt had already graduated and was working at Sun Valley, coming back to Pocatello on weekends.
I had dropped the 3 credit chemistry class in favor of a 1 credit chemistry lab I had convinced my advisor to accept. It was a week into the semester; I had missed the first day, never had a chemistry lab before, but... how hard could it be. It was only one credit after all.
I walk into the lab and people (students) are busy, wearing appropriate, protective eyewear and moving about carrying glass containers full of colored liquids. The teacher hands me the lab notebook and shows me to an empty seat. The objective of all the labs was to take an unknown substance and go through a series of steps to identify the aforementioned unknown substance. But all I saw were busy people, in protective eyewear who looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.
I started to read the lab notebook. It was written in a foreign language. Words I had no comprehension the meaning of like beaker and vial blurred in front of my eyes.
I started to cry. Quietly but unceasingly.
It wasn't just the protective eyewear, of which I had none, or the words I didn't understand. All I kept thinking was, "This 1 credit is going to keep me from getting my degree, I have worked for 5 years and this one credit is going to keep me from getting my degree."
The professor (who was the sweetest old man, typical tenured professor, complete with ear hair and cardigan sweater) kept trying to comfort me and explain things to me.
I was beyond comfort. Every time I would stop crying and think I had pulled myself together I would look around at the bustling, protective eyewear wearing students and the waterworks would begin anew.
I couldn't stop crying.
I took my leave of the class, cried the whole way across campus, started crying again as soon as I had Matt on the phone, cried myself to sleep on the couch while I waited for him.
My knight in shining armor with his own set of protective eyewear, drove 3 hours to Pocatello. I awoke in the dark, wrapped in Matt's fuzzy blanket to the sound of the door opening. We sat hip to hip on the couch as he carefully explained the lab, complete with pictures of a beaker vs. a test tube etcetera. He found me his old safety glasses (so much better than the safety goggles they had in lab that left that unsightly ring around the eyes and on the forehead.) And left the next morning at 5:00 am to get to work.
Well, needless to say, I walked into the next lab, confident in my own glasses with notes in the margins of the first lab assignment. The teacher was very kind (and probably a little afraid I might cry again.) I did so well that when I found out I was pregnant later in the semester the teacher pro-rated the remaining labs because he didn't want me around the chemicals. I got like a 97 percent.
And so I learned more valuable lessons:
#1 Personal protective eyewear can be very intimidating on other people and empowering on oneself.
#2 Sometimes we can't do it ourselves, no matter how strong our will we lack the knowlege we need to be saved. We need help from a higher power, one that knows far more that we do.
This is also a good life lesson. That day (and many days since) Matt was my rescuer. But what we all need in a Savior, someone who can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. And we have one. But only if we choose to give Him our burdens can He take them.
I had dropped the 3 credit chemistry class in favor of a 1 credit chemistry lab I had convinced my advisor to accept. It was a week into the semester; I had missed the first day, never had a chemistry lab before, but... how hard could it be. It was only one credit after all.
I walk into the lab and people (students) are busy, wearing appropriate, protective eyewear and moving about carrying glass containers full of colored liquids. The teacher hands me the lab notebook and shows me to an empty seat. The objective of all the labs was to take an unknown substance and go through a series of steps to identify the aforementioned unknown substance. But all I saw were busy people, in protective eyewear who looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.
I started to read the lab notebook. It was written in a foreign language. Words I had no comprehension the meaning of like beaker and vial blurred in front of my eyes.
I started to cry. Quietly but unceasingly.
It wasn't just the protective eyewear, of which I had none, or the words I didn't understand. All I kept thinking was, "This 1 credit is going to keep me from getting my degree, I have worked for 5 years and this one credit is going to keep me from getting my degree."
The professor (who was the sweetest old man, typical tenured professor, complete with ear hair and cardigan sweater) kept trying to comfort me and explain things to me.
I was beyond comfort. Every time I would stop crying and think I had pulled myself together I would look around at the bustling, protective eyewear wearing students and the waterworks would begin anew.
I couldn't stop crying.
I took my leave of the class, cried the whole way across campus, started crying again as soon as I had Matt on the phone, cried myself to sleep on the couch while I waited for him.
My knight in shining armor with his own set of protective eyewear, drove 3 hours to Pocatello. I awoke in the dark, wrapped in Matt's fuzzy blanket to the sound of the door opening. We sat hip to hip on the couch as he carefully explained the lab, complete with pictures of a beaker vs. a test tube etcetera. He found me his old safety glasses (so much better than the safety goggles they had in lab that left that unsightly ring around the eyes and on the forehead.) And left the next morning at 5:00 am to get to work.
Well, needless to say, I walked into the next lab, confident in my own glasses with notes in the margins of the first lab assignment. The teacher was very kind (and probably a little afraid I might cry again.) I did so well that when I found out I was pregnant later in the semester the teacher pro-rated the remaining labs because he didn't want me around the chemicals. I got like a 97 percent.
And so I learned more valuable lessons:
#1 Personal protective eyewear can be very intimidating on other people and empowering on oneself.
#2 Sometimes we can't do it ourselves, no matter how strong our will we lack the knowlege we need to be saved. We need help from a higher power, one that knows far more that we do.
This is also a good life lesson. That day (and many days since) Matt was my rescuer. But what we all need in a Savior, someone who can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. And we have one. But only if we choose to give Him our burdens can He take them.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The wrong bus
When we move to Montreal when I was 15, Chase and I would have to take a (public transportation) bus from our house to the school it took about 30 minutes which felt like forever since we had moved from Billings, MT where our school didn't even have buses because everything was within just a 6 or 7 block radius. So. One afternoon I don't ride the regular bus home because I am at a friend's house. At about 5 or 6 (it's dark out) I get on a bus to go home. After we have been going for awhile I realize I had gotten on the wrong bus and I had no idea where I was. So. I got off the bus, not wanting to go further and further from wherever I was supposed to be.
I figured out a few things quickly; #1 My tears were not helping, best to stop crying, I was drawing attention to myself in a big city. #2 Even if I called home, (no cell phones in those days) I had no idea where I was so I couldn't even tell them where to come get me. #3 I could figure this out, I could do this (A little pep talk in my head). After the mental pep talk I started walking until I found a bus stop that went to a metro (subway). I rode the bus to the metro, got on the metro, (and off again if you want to know the truth because I was headed the wrong direction) I knew I shouldn't go to the Park metro which had a bus that went right by my house at night because I heard the missionaries say it wasn't safe after dark, so instead I got to the metro stop closest to my house (still kind of far). And I walked home. In the dark. In a strange city.
I was so glad and also proud of myself when I walked into the welcoming warmth of the mission home with all the lights on and my mom and dad anxiouslywaiting for me to return home. It was scary but I learned a few life lessons:
#1 Always look at the number on the front of the bus, it might be the right bus stop, but the wrong bus.
#2 Even if they don't speak great English, bus drivers are very sympathetic to tears. Tears are a universal language.
#3 Standing in one place crying is ok as a temporary solution, but not as a long term fix. Sometimes we have to believe in our own abilities to think and reason and then... we need to make a plan and then start moving in that direction.
I figured out a few things quickly; #1 My tears were not helping, best to stop crying, I was drawing attention to myself in a big city. #2 Even if I called home, (no cell phones in those days) I had no idea where I was so I couldn't even tell them where to come get me. #3 I could figure this out, I could do this (A little pep talk in my head). After the mental pep talk I started walking until I found a bus stop that went to a metro (subway). I rode the bus to the metro, got on the metro, (and off again if you want to know the truth because I was headed the wrong direction) I knew I shouldn't go to the Park metro which had a bus that went right by my house at night because I heard the missionaries say it wasn't safe after dark, so instead I got to the metro stop closest to my house (still kind of far). And I walked home. In the dark. In a strange city.
I was so glad and also proud of myself when I walked into the welcoming warmth of the mission home with all the lights on and my mom and dad anxiouslywaiting for me to return home. It was scary but I learned a few life lessons:
#1 Always look at the number on the front of the bus, it might be the right bus stop, but the wrong bus.
#2 Even if they don't speak great English, bus drivers are very sympathetic to tears. Tears are a universal language.
#3 Standing in one place crying is ok as a temporary solution, but not as a long term fix. Sometimes we have to believe in our own abilities to think and reason and then... we need to make a plan and then start moving in that direction.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The bus melt down
For whatever reason Grace occasionally has meltdowns over things. She has since she was very little, like when she was about 3 she cried in the car outside her music lesson. I tried everything, being nice, being stern, sympathetic, ... you get the idea. That day I had a dentist appointment or I would never have left her (more out of love and respect for Shalece who was teaching the class then for Grace who clearly needed to stop crying) Anyway to top that story off, after I had taken her into the music studio and left her (in hopes she would settle down with just a little distraction) another woman came in and said to Shalece, "The reason she is crying so hard is because her mom was yelling at her." Well.... Shalece defended me but I felt like saying to that woman, "you didn't see the 10 minutes I spent talking nice before I resorted to yelling" but.... sorry that was a whole other story. All I am saying is meltdowns run in her veins (Pretty sure she got it from me but again... another story.)
SOOOO, the 2nd day of school the kids are all set to ride the bus home. I am at Mindy's with her sleeping baby while she is picking up her kids from school when I get the dreaded phone call
"We have Grace in the office (I can hear Grace sobbing), she didn't get on the bus, can you come get her?"
"Yes, but it will be a few minutes." (Remember I'm at Mindy's with her sleeping baby.) "Would it be possible to pull McCade off the bus too."
"jfkhsdfjklhajklfh" I can't remember what she said but suffice it to say there was some radio static and I wasn't sure if she was too late to get McCade off the bus.
MEANWHILE... Sydney (Mindy's daughter) had seen Grace crying, had informed her mom, who had called me to see if I needed Grace picked up.
GRACE didn't want to get in the car... FINALLY I talked to her sweet teacher (who I will love forever because of her TLC of Grace) and Grace got in with Mindy.
IN THE MEANTIME while they are en route from the school, I get another dreaded call from the school;
"We have McCade in the office to be picked up, you told me to pull him off the bus."
yes, but remember, you never really got back to me about if it was too late to pull him off (Only spoken in my head, of course)
"I will be right there to get him" As soon as Grace arrives I hightail it back to the school to get McCade, who is standing outside with Grace's teacher Mrs. Mark (I hug her whenever I see her now, I can't help it, I feel like we have been through some kind of war together.) McCade is crying because he WANTED to ride the bus. Oh please, will this day just end already.
Maybe homeschooling should be a more carefully considered option, disregard that I lack the patience and diligence to do it and also that I can barely add or subtract without the use of an electronic device. If we homeschooled this would NEVER have happened.
At the end of the day all I can say is that we learned some valuable lessons;
#1 Mrs. Mark is SOOOO nice.
#2 Apparently there no longer is a bus #28 like it said on the paper they sent home.
#3 Also, apparently the 2nd day of school is soon enough for them to know where they are going. (Silly me, I thought they would still be getting a little help.)
What happened was, Grace got down to the bus line, didn't see the number she was used to and went back to her classroom, where her teacher took her to the office. SO the next day I walked her from her class, to the bus line, to the bus. But still.... why does life have to be so hard? Anyone? I guess this is how we learn those life lessons.
(P.S. remind me to tell you the story about the wrong bus I got on and one of my crying episodes.)
SOOOO, the 2nd day of school the kids are all set to ride the bus home. I am at Mindy's with her sleeping baby while she is picking up her kids from school when I get the dreaded phone call
"We have Grace in the office (I can hear Grace sobbing), she didn't get on the bus, can you come get her?"
"Yes, but it will be a few minutes." (Remember I'm at Mindy's with her sleeping baby.) "Would it be possible to pull McCade off the bus too."
"jfkhsdfjklhajklfh" I can't remember what she said but suffice it to say there was some radio static and I wasn't sure if she was too late to get McCade off the bus.
MEANWHILE... Sydney (Mindy's daughter) had seen Grace crying, had informed her mom, who had called me to see if I needed Grace picked up.
GRACE didn't want to get in the car... FINALLY I talked to her sweet teacher (who I will love forever because of her TLC of Grace) and Grace got in with Mindy.
IN THE MEANTIME while they are en route from the school, I get another dreaded call from the school;
"We have McCade in the office to be picked up, you told me to pull him off the bus."
yes, but remember, you never really got back to me about if it was too late to pull him off (Only spoken in my head, of course)
"I will be right there to get him" As soon as Grace arrives I hightail it back to the school to get McCade, who is standing outside with Grace's teacher Mrs. Mark (I hug her whenever I see her now, I can't help it, I feel like we have been through some kind of war together.) McCade is crying because he WANTED to ride the bus. Oh please, will this day just end already.
Maybe homeschooling should be a more carefully considered option, disregard that I lack the patience and diligence to do it and also that I can barely add or subtract without the use of an electronic device. If we homeschooled this would NEVER have happened.
At the end of the day all I can say is that we learned some valuable lessons;
#1 Mrs. Mark is SOOOO nice.
#2 Apparently there no longer is a bus #28 like it said on the paper they sent home.
#3 Also, apparently the 2nd day of school is soon enough for them to know where they are going. (Silly me, I thought they would still be getting a little help.)
What happened was, Grace got down to the bus line, didn't see the number she was used to and went back to her classroom, where her teacher took her to the office. SO the next day I walked her from her class, to the bus line, to the bus. But still.... why does life have to be so hard? Anyone? I guess this is how we learn those life lessons.
(P.S. remind me to tell you the story about the wrong bus I got on and one of my crying episodes.)
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I miss blogging (with photos)
I have been catching up on all my real friends (i.e. people I have actually met and like) vs. my "would-be friends" (people I have never met but like anyway and I'm positive we "would be" my friends if we ever met or if they didn't live in places like Oklahoma and Provo. ) Anyway, all the checking of the other blogs and reading the comings and goings etcetera etcetera... made me wish I did have a computer that was working and that I had taken pictures...what pictures would I have taken? I'm glad you asked...
#1 We (Matt, Bella, and I) drove to Twin today to pick up cabinets and tile. I wish I had a picture of all the tile, weighing down the back of the truck, the cabinets, stacked inside each other and the back seat so full that (Christa, stop reading this) Bella had to ride in the front (no air bags don't worry). The backseat was full of tile and.... du du nana (kind of sing it in your head) a shop vac... Many of you probably own a shop vac and don't think it's a big deal. BUT it is a big deal because to own a shop vac you need.... a shop aka a garage... which we now have! YeeHaw! ( I would take a picture of the shop vac too, I named it C3po).
#2 Bella's greasy hair. She has gotten into Grace's makeup 4 or 5 times in the last 2 days, finally I threw it all away. But even though she has had 3 baths in the last 2 days, I cannot get the (obviously) oil based makeup out of her hair. Or the pink off her scalp.
#3 McCade and Grace getting off the bus together and walking home. I love those two hoodlums.
#4 Our sheet rocker; Byron. If I had a picture I wouldn't need to explain anything.
#5 My 36 weeks and 6 days pregnant self. I am praying I don't go early (that is why I feel the need to stretch it out and not just say 37 weeks, which feels so much closer to 40 weeks.) (Feel free to join me in this prayer.) But I would take a picture and post it for you all.
Since I didn't take pictures of the aforementioned things I hope you can try to picture them in your head. Love ya, miss ya. T
#1 We (Matt, Bella, and I) drove to Twin today to pick up cabinets and tile. I wish I had a picture of all the tile, weighing down the back of the truck, the cabinets, stacked inside each other and the back seat so full that (Christa, stop reading this) Bella had to ride in the front (no air bags don't worry). The backseat was full of tile and.... du du nana (kind of sing it in your head) a shop vac... Many of you probably own a shop vac and don't think it's a big deal. BUT it is a big deal because to own a shop vac you need.... a shop aka a garage... which we now have! YeeHaw! ( I would take a picture of the shop vac too, I named it C3po).
#2 Bella's greasy hair. She has gotten into Grace's makeup 4 or 5 times in the last 2 days, finally I threw it all away. But even though she has had 3 baths in the last 2 days, I cannot get the (obviously) oil based makeup out of her hair. Or the pink off her scalp.
#3 McCade and Grace getting off the bus together and walking home. I love those two hoodlums.
#4 Our sheet rocker; Byron. If I had a picture I wouldn't need to explain anything.
#5 My 36 weeks and 6 days pregnant self. I am praying I don't go early (that is why I feel the need to stretch it out and not just say 37 weeks, which feels so much closer to 40 weeks.) (Feel free to join me in this prayer.) But I would take a picture and post it for you all.
Since I didn't take pictures of the aforementioned things I hope you can try to picture them in your head. Love ya, miss ya. T
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