End of May
End of June
End of July
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
The Sweetest Thing
Last night, Nicky and Daisy insisted on sleeping in the same bed. Unfortunately, they chose the top bunk, so we eventually had to split them up to prevent a roll-off (we still live in the 80's when bunk beds didn't have protective bars).
We put them to bed at 8:30, and they stayed up talking and laughing until well after 10:00. Nicky dozed off around then, but Daisy kept talking to herself until 10:30 or 11:00.
I love these special moments. Even though they spend most of the day fighting, my children truly love each other and are the best of friends. They are two peas in a pod, with their little elbows up by their faces and their wee button noses.
I think I'll keep them.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Round Three
When I found out I was pregnant for the third time, I vowed not to bombard my blog with all things pregnancy. Going back through my archives from my other pregnancies, I realized that I NEVER SHUT UP about it.
With Nicky I was just clueless. He was my first, so my blog was laden with silly posts about things I knew nothing about. I fussed over non-important issues like finding the right bedding, learning sign language, and all of the baby merchandise that I now know I didn't need.
Also, I thought I was so huge.
Ha!
With Daisy I was whiney because I had antepartum depression, and I was throw-my-guts-up sick for the entire nine months (as in pull-over-on-the-way-to-the-hospital-so-I-can-puke-in-the-gutter sick). My most annoying recurring topic during that pregnancy was baby names. Since we didn't find out what we were having, I was all over the place because I needed to prepare for either scenario.
Also, I thought I was so huge.
(And I kind of was).
This time, I assumed it would require a fair amount of resistance and self-control to not constantly blog about being pregnant, but it turns out that being pregnant isn't on the forefront of my mind like it was the other two times.
If I had to assign a theme for this pregnancy, it would be "stress." Fortunately, the stress hasn't been caused by the pregnancy, there has just been a lot of it existing simultaneously.
Now that I'm super close to my third trimester (or possible in my third trimester depending on who you ask), here is a run-down of things so far:
"Morning" Sickness: Gone! I was sick from approximately Week 7 to Week 18, mostly in the evenings. I never puked, though (at least, not from pregnancy. I did, however, throw up several times from whooping cough). From Week 18 to Week 22 I was occasionally nauseated, but not to the degree that I was before. I haven't felt "sick" since Week 22.
Movement: I swear I felt gold-fish-like movement around Week 9, but that's super early, so I might just be crazy.
Ultrasounds: I had an ultrasound at my first appointment (around 10 Weeks), and I had my "20 Week" ultrasound in June when I was about 19 Weeks. Everything looks fine and dandy, and the sex of the baby is officially a mystery. The ultrasound tech said she didn't see what it was, either, so we are entirely unknowing.
The Doctor: I'm using the same OB/GYN that has delivered my other babies. He recently moved to a new practice, and I miss some of the luxuries of the old one (cloth gowns and sheets as opposed to paper ones, all testing done in the office instead of a lab, my doctor did all of the ultrasounds himself, etc), but I like him enough to live with those inconveniences. There is a perk, though, because he now practices and delivers exclusively at the hospital I'm delivering at, so he will always be nearby (he used to deliver at three different hospitals and had to travel all over the valley to deliver babies).
The Symptoms: I already mentioned my experience with "morning" sickness. In addition to that, I had major fatigue through the first trimester and a half. The fatigue is my least favorite pregnancy symptom. I will take morning sickness for nine months over fatigue for four months any day. I, unlike most of the population, HATE napping, so having to nap is a huge burden to me, especially when it doesn't make me feel any more energized. I have heartburn pretty bad, but for the first time, I've started taking Pepcid, and by golly! It has saved my life! I have a lot of upper back pain - it started about a month ago and became a daily nuisance about two weeks ago. My ribs are also in a lot of pain, so I spend a lot of time rotating ice packs from front to back. For the past two weeks, I've pretty much hurt all over my torso.
In Comparison: This pregnancy has been more like Nicky's than Daisy's. The only real difference with Daisy was that my "morning" sickness never went away. Other than that, though, all of the symptoms have been the same thrice. Heartburn, back pain, and rib pain have troubled me every time.
Size-wise: I feel large and uncomfortable, and I swear I can feel my stomach popping at the seams sometimes, but it's only going to get bigger, so I'll cease complaining. I think I'm a teensy bit bigger at this point than I was with Daisy. Here are some photos for comparison:
27 Weeks {Daisy}
The belly may be bigger, but the hair is better, so it's a good trade.
(Seriously, why did I ever cut my hair like that? Don't let me do stuff like that, mmmkay?)
Preparation: We've done very little to prepare for this baby because there's not much we need to do. I bought a diaper bag because I saw one at Sam's Club that I liked, and I didn't think it would still be there if I waited (I was right - they were gone a week later). I also bought a crib from a friend because ours was recalled.
Names: Unlike my last pregnancy, I'm not worried about names. We haven't really talked about it or thought about it much. If it's a boy, I want him to be named after Scotty, and if it's a girl, I want to name her after my great-grandma. So middle names? Done. We just need to decide on first names.
The Walk: I try to refrain from waddling in public, but I keep getting caught. Like yesterday at church when I thought I was alone in the hall and turned a corner only to hear, "Oh! Must be time to have that baby!"
Busted!
-------
Mostly, I just wanted to get this all written down for my own benefit. I like looking back and seeing what life was like during all of my pregnancies. Also, I need the reassurance that the fatigue does tone down.
So for my future self, who may be looking back on this post, IT WILL GET BETTER! Hang in there!
(My future self is going to be so annoyed with my current self when she reads that! I hate when people say, "Hang in there!")
I'm very excited to meet this little one. I love when, so shortly after having a new baby, you can't remember what life was like without him/her. I'm anxious to feel that again.
In the meantime, I will try to remain patient and waddle-free.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
A Good Day at the Thrift Store
As many of you know, I used to be a huge thrift shopper. I'm still a thrift shopper, just not a huge one. Now I'm just a normal-sized thrift shopper. Hard economic times have made me acknowledge that thrift shopping really doesn't save me much money. Not shopping at all is what saves me money. But every now and then, I need to splurge a little, and thrift stores have been a good friend to me in those moments.
Back in May I had this great plan to take my kids to the thrift store once a week throughout the summer and let them pick a small toy.
Hello! Dumb idea!
It took three minutes into the first trip for me to throw that plan out the window. Daisy is easy as pie to please at the thrift store, but Nicky wants to buy every stupid, piece-of-junk, large, broken toy they have. He'll fall to his knees and beg for me to buy him HALF AN AIR HOCKEY TABLE. Never mind the perfectly good Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure I find and enthusiastically wave in his face. He hops from one broken toy to the next - anything that requires batteries, a remote, or is missing a thousand parts.
And then it's, "WHY CAN'T I HAVE THIS??"
And I have to give him this awful lecture about how we don't need to buy any broken toys because we have enough of them at home.
So we do not go to the thrift store once a week. Oh, no, no, no! We do not!
But we went today, and even though I still had to deny Nicky a bazillion ridiculously priced broken toys, I would consider today's venture a success.
(It's been a long time since I've had a good thrift store day - hence the post, I can't contain my joy!)
First off... a miracle.
If you've ever tried to buy second-hand jeans for a boy over the age of three, you probably know how impossible it is (unless you like corduroy, slacks from the 80's, or carpenter jeans). Pants have a three-month life span in our household, so they are never left in any condition to be passed on or saved for another child (save a single pair of jeans from Gymboree that I was able to box up this spring - a fluke, I'm sure). I believe this is the case for most of the boy population as there are NEVER any pants in Nicky's size at the thrift store.
Today, though, I nearly peed from excitement because there was a pair of size 6 jeans on the rack, AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A HAMMER LOOP!!
Hot dang!
(They also had a shocking amount of size 5's - too small for our needs, but someone out there needing size 5's is in for a treat!)
I also bought a shirt and a pair of jeans to put away for Daisy for winter.
Back in May I had this great plan to take my kids to the thrift store once a week throughout the summer and let them pick a small toy.
Hello! Dumb idea!
It took three minutes into the first trip for me to throw that plan out the window. Daisy is easy as pie to please at the thrift store, but Nicky wants to buy every stupid, piece-of-junk, large, broken toy they have. He'll fall to his knees and beg for me to buy him HALF AN AIR HOCKEY TABLE. Never mind the perfectly good Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure I find and enthusiastically wave in his face. He hops from one broken toy to the next - anything that requires batteries, a remote, or is missing a thousand parts.
And then it's, "WHY CAN'T I HAVE THIS??"
And I have to give him this awful lecture about how we don't need to buy any broken toys because we have enough of them at home.
So we do not go to the thrift store once a week. Oh, no, no, no! We do not!
But we went today, and even though I still had to deny Nicky a bazillion ridiculously priced broken toys, I would consider today's venture a success.
(It's been a long time since I've had a good thrift store day - hence the post, I can't contain my joy!)
First off... a miracle.
If you've ever tried to buy second-hand jeans for a boy over the age of three, you probably know how impossible it is (unless you like corduroy, slacks from the 80's, or carpenter jeans). Pants have a three-month life span in our household, so they are never left in any condition to be passed on or saved for another child (save a single pair of jeans from Gymboree that I was able to box up this spring - a fluke, I'm sure). I believe this is the case for most of the boy population as there are NEVER any pants in Nicky's size at the thrift store.
Today, though, I nearly peed from excitement because there was a pair of size 6 jeans on the rack, AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A HAMMER LOOP!!
Hot dang!
(They also had a shocking amount of size 5's - too small for our needs, but someone out there needing size 5's is in for a treat!)
I also bought a shirt and a pair of jeans to put away for Daisy for winter.
SCORE!!
The clothes justified my trip to the thrift store - heck! Nicky's jeans, alone, made it worth the hour of scavenging since they did, in fact, save us money in the long run.
I made up for it by buying a bunch of stuff we don't need:
And, gosh dang! It was fun!
We came home with a Cinderella crown, a Dora ballerina, a reversible Cinderella/Belle doll, a Belle doll, one of these, two wire mesh buckets, LIFE, a box of Rescue Heros action figures, and two plastic racquets for my children to beat each other with.
I stood in line for an extra long time so I could get the cashier that sometimes cuts a break in the prices. She overcharged me 50 cents for the Dora doll, but she made up for it by only charging me for one racquet and one bucket. Overall, she saved me a whole buck!
I love that woman!
So my kids got a little spoiled today, but for less than $20, I don't feel guilty about it.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Princess and the 'F' Word
The 'F' word is not a part of my vocabulary. That's not to say that I never slip a swear in, but when I do, it's never the 'F' word. Not now, anyway. I went through two phases - one as a child and one as a teen - where I said the 'F' word a lot. It's like I needed to get it out of my system or something, but those days are far behind me.
As an adult, I have said the 'F' word one time. It was when Nicky was about 18 months old. Scotty had been laid off from his job, and we had filed for COBRA. For a few days, Nicky had been running a very high fever and acting lethargic (not at all like himself). I kept hoping he would snap out of it, but on the third day, I knew he needed to be seen. We hadn't received our new insurance cards yet, so I called the human resources department of Scotty's former employer to see if they could get me the group numbers and what not. Turns out, they had never submitted our COBRA paperwork. I ended up calling the ask-a-nurse hotline for advice, and the nurse I spoke to told me about a clinic that charges only $30. I drove 40 minutes to the clinic and rushed in with Nicky only to find out that they don't treat children under the age of two. As I dragged Nicky back out to the car, I started crying.
I put Nicky in his car seat and kicked the tire of my car a few times. Then as I reached in to buckle Nicky's seat belt, I noticed his ear was draining. Then I said it:
@#%!
(In hindsight, I was so lucky that Nicky's ear was draining. How nice to know without a doubt that my child had an ear infection. That is the only one Nicky has ever had. Daisy, on the other hand, has had no less than twelve ear infections, and it had been a guessing game every time since her ears never drained. All hail the mighty tubes! They saved our lives!)
I know there are people out there who have said the 'F' word a lot less than I have (I don't think Scotty has ever said it), but I think I still have a commendable track record.
The other day, however, I had this vivid memory...
I was riding in the car with Scotty. The kids were in the back seat screaming and fighting... you know, like always. I was feeling very annoyed because I was trying to talk to Scotty about something important, but the kids kept interrupting with their disruptive banter.
"Nicky took my toy!"
"Mom! She's touching me!"
The usual.
I could hardly finish a sentence without turning around to work out some sort of dispute between the kids. My blood was reaching the boiling point when Scotty turned to me and said, "Just ignore them, Britt!"
It was the wrong thing to say, and I snapped.
"Don't you think I'd #@%! ignore them if I could?" I yelled.
I immediately felt guilty, but I wasn't going to show it. I'd said the 'F' word, and Scotty was just going to have to deal with it.
As this memory came to me, I was sitting on the couch next to Scotty. I turned to him and asked, "Scotty? Did I say the 'F' word in the car the other day?"
He said no.
"Are you sure?"
He said yes.
Then he told me that he has never heard me say the 'F' word.
I felt so uncertain because I distinctly recalled saying the 'F' word to him. The guilt I felt was so sincere, and the memory of "snapping" was so real. I felt it all like it had been a legitimate experience.
But apparently it was just a dream.
The next morning, Daisy and I were watching a Disney sing-a-long DVD featuring Cinderella.
she sang.
I immediately thought of my recent dream and realized that if Cinderella really knows what she's talking about, then my heart wants to yell the 'F' word.
The most interesting part of Cinderella's song is the promise that she makes that,
So it seems I'm going to need to watch my mouth for the next little while.
As an adult, I have said the 'F' word one time. It was when Nicky was about 18 months old. Scotty had been laid off from his job, and we had filed for COBRA. For a few days, Nicky had been running a very high fever and acting lethargic (not at all like himself). I kept hoping he would snap out of it, but on the third day, I knew he needed to be seen. We hadn't received our new insurance cards yet, so I called the human resources department of Scotty's former employer to see if they could get me the group numbers and what not. Turns out, they had never submitted our COBRA paperwork. I ended up calling the ask-a-nurse hotline for advice, and the nurse I spoke to told me about a clinic that charges only $30. I drove 40 minutes to the clinic and rushed in with Nicky only to find out that they don't treat children under the age of two. As I dragged Nicky back out to the car, I started crying.
I put Nicky in his car seat and kicked the tire of my car a few times. Then as I reached in to buckle Nicky's seat belt, I noticed his ear was draining. Then I said it:
@#%!
(In hindsight, I was so lucky that Nicky's ear was draining. How nice to know without a doubt that my child had an ear infection. That is the only one Nicky has ever had. Daisy, on the other hand, has had no less than twelve ear infections, and it had been a guessing game every time since her ears never drained. All hail the mighty tubes! They saved our lives!)
I know there are people out there who have said the 'F' word a lot less than I have (I don't think Scotty has ever said it), but I think I still have a commendable track record.
The other day, however, I had this vivid memory...
I was riding in the car with Scotty. The kids were in the back seat screaming and fighting... you know, like always. I was feeling very annoyed because I was trying to talk to Scotty about something important, but the kids kept interrupting with their disruptive banter.
"Nicky took my toy!"
"Mom! She's touching me!"
The usual.
I could hardly finish a sentence without turning around to work out some sort of dispute between the kids. My blood was reaching the boiling point when Scotty turned to me and said, "Just ignore them, Britt!"
It was the wrong thing to say, and I snapped.
"Don't you think I'd #@%! ignore them if I could?" I yelled.
I immediately felt guilty, but I wasn't going to show it. I'd said the 'F' word, and Scotty was just going to have to deal with it.
As this memory came to me, I was sitting on the couch next to Scotty. I turned to him and asked, "Scotty? Did I say the 'F' word in the car the other day?"
He said no.
"Are you sure?"
He said yes.
Then he told me that he has never heard me say the 'F' word.
I felt so uncertain because I distinctly recalled saying the 'F' word to him. The guilt I felt was so sincere, and the memory of "snapping" was so real. I felt it all like it had been a legitimate experience.
But apparently it was just a dream.
The next morning, Daisy and I were watching a Disney sing-a-long DVD featuring Cinderella.
"A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep..."
she sang.
[source]
I immediately thought of my recent dream and realized that if Cinderella really knows what she's talking about, then my heart wants to yell the 'F' word.
The most interesting part of Cinderella's song is the promise that she makes that,
"No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
The dream that you wish will come true!"
So it seems I'm going to need to watch my mouth for the next little while.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Currently {July 2012 Edition}
Reading: Catch Me if You Can by Frank Abagnale, Jr. Done.
Wondering: what "type" of books I like. I don't really have a particular genre that I'm fond of. In fact, most books displease me, so when I ask people for book recommendations, and they say, "Well, what do you like?" I have to say, "Nothing, mostly."
And it's true. I guess the best way to put it is that I love reading, but I don't like very many books.
Procrastinating: planning Sharing Time for Sunday. This is the third time since I've been in the primary (eight months) that my Sharing Time outline has said to sing "Kindness Begins with Me." Why do I always have to sing "Kindness Begins with Me?" First of all, I don't know it. Secondly, I don't like singing for Sharing Time since we have Singing Time immediately after. And third, I can't stand that song!
(This is me murmuring).
Craving: nothing. I barfed a lot this week, so I don't have an appetite.
Dreading: more dental work at the end of the month. Have you noticed how I am always in queue for some form of dental torture? I had two crowns in November, and I'm still having work done on one of them. Here is the history of The Tooth (because I'm sure you want to know):
When I was about 8 years old, my dad took me for my six-month check-up, and the dentist said I needed to have a cavity filled. I refused (to the point where the dentist felt his life was at stake) to let him fill the cavity. Some time later (at least a year but possibly longer) I went to a new dentist who said my cavity had gotten quite deep in that tooth and that I would probably need a root canal. I refused to have a root canal and got the cavity filled. Every now and then over the next several years, I would have some discomfort in that tooth, but I kept it secret. The last time I had pain in that tooth was when I was 18, so for the next ten years, it didn't bother me at all. BUT every time I went to a new dentist (and I've been to several), I was told that I would need to have that tooth crowned someday because of how deep the cavity was (there really wasn't much tooth left). Last year I went in for my check-up, and GASP! I had a new cavity in that tooth, which meant that 4 out of the 5 surfaces of that tooth had cavities. It was time for a crown! (I actually needed two crowns, right next to each other). So I went in and got two crowns. They were put on with temporary cement for two weeks, and throughout those two weeks, I had to admit that The Tooth was bothering me a bit. When I went in to have the permanent crowns put on, I confessed to my dentist that The Tooth hurt. He said that the pain might have been caused by this or that, so he left the crown on with temporary cement "just in case." Like I said, that was in November, and my six-month was in February. By the time my check-up arrived, I was having discomfort in my tooth daily. From the time my crowns were started in November until my check-up in February, I hadn't been able to chew on the right side of my mouth. The dentist did an x-ray and said, "Yep! You need a root canal!" So the root canal I had evaded since age eight finally caught up to me twenty years later! I had the root canal in June, and since my crown was on with temporary cement, the endodontist was able to pop it off and drill through the tooth nub underneath. Then he put the crown back on with temporary cement. So now I still have to go into the dentist to have the crown put on permanently.
Next on the list: wisdom teeth.
Wearing: some maternity shorts that have some weird leopard print on the butt. I feel kind of desperate.
Needing: new tires. One of life's many inconveniences. When is there ever excitement is buying tires??
Suffering from: potty training. Daisy's been training off and on for a while now, but I haven't really wanted to put much effort into it because A) I'm pregnant and B) I've developed an irrational fear of pants-pooping (another child of mine - whom I shall not name - pooped his pants almost every day for TWO YEARS after he was "potty trained").
(Add this to the list of Things I Must Edit From My Blog Before I Have Teenagers).
I promised myself, though, that I would concentrate on effective potty training after Daisy's surgery.
Thankful for: not gaining any weight yet this pregnancy. How lucky is that?
(Don't worry, though. I'll make up for it in four months when food starts tasting good again).
Enjoying: being free from morning sickness and fatigues (most days).
Proud of myself for: returning some impulse purchases at Sam's Club. $16 back in my pocket! (and then I spent $7 at Chick-Fil-A. Maybe I should have just kept my Pop-Tarts and Gummi Bears).
Worried about: running out of water during the apocalypse.
Addicted to: sugar cereal. Shame on me, I know, but I can't help it. Reese's Puffs? OH.MY.GOSH.
Splurging on: registering our cars. Scotty and I did this silly thing where we both bought new cars in August before we got married, thereby requiring us to register two cars during the same month each year. When the time came for new cars, we ended up buying one in August again, and then we bought the other one the following August. So we still have to register both our cars at the same time. AND it's also back to school time for Scotty and Nicky which means we have tuition, books, and school clothes to pay for on top of all of the car stuff. Dare I mention that we need 4 new tires and a new windshield? YIKES!!
Wondering: what "type" of books I like. I don't really have a particular genre that I'm fond of. In fact, most books displease me, so when I ask people for book recommendations, and they say, "Well, what do you like?" I have to say, "Nothing, mostly."
And it's true. I guess the best way to put it is that I love reading, but I don't like very many books.
Procrastinating: planning Sharing Time for Sunday. This is the third time since I've been in the primary (eight months) that my Sharing Time outline has said to sing "Kindness Begins with Me." Why do I always have to sing "Kindness Begins with Me?" First of all, I don't know it. Secondly, I don't like singing for Sharing Time since we have Singing Time immediately after. And third, I can't stand that song!
(This is me murmuring).
Craving: nothing. I barfed a lot this week, so I don't have an appetite.
Dreading: more dental work at the end of the month. Have you noticed how I am always in queue for some form of dental torture? I had two crowns in November, and I'm still having work done on one of them. Here is the history of The Tooth (because I'm sure you want to know):
When I was about 8 years old, my dad took me for my six-month check-up, and the dentist said I needed to have a cavity filled. I refused (to the point where the dentist felt his life was at stake) to let him fill the cavity. Some time later (at least a year but possibly longer) I went to a new dentist who said my cavity had gotten quite deep in that tooth and that I would probably need a root canal. I refused to have a root canal and got the cavity filled. Every now and then over the next several years, I would have some discomfort in that tooth, but I kept it secret. The last time I had pain in that tooth was when I was 18, so for the next ten years, it didn't bother me at all. BUT every time I went to a new dentist (and I've been to several), I was told that I would need to have that tooth crowned someday because of how deep the cavity was (there really wasn't much tooth left). Last year I went in for my check-up, and GASP! I had a new cavity in that tooth, which meant that 4 out of the 5 surfaces of that tooth had cavities. It was time for a crown! (I actually needed two crowns, right next to each other). So I went in and got two crowns. They were put on with temporary cement for two weeks, and throughout those two weeks, I had to admit that The Tooth was bothering me a bit. When I went in to have the permanent crowns put on, I confessed to my dentist that The Tooth hurt. He said that the pain might have been caused by this or that, so he left the crown on with temporary cement "just in case." Like I said, that was in November, and my six-month was in February. By the time my check-up arrived, I was having discomfort in my tooth daily. From the time my crowns were started in November until my check-up in February, I hadn't been able to chew on the right side of my mouth. The dentist did an x-ray and said, "Yep! You need a root canal!" So the root canal I had evaded since age eight finally caught up to me twenty years later! I had the root canal in June, and since my crown was on with temporary cement, the endodontist was able to pop it off and drill through the tooth nub underneath. Then he put the crown back on with temporary cement. So now I still have to go into the dentist to have the crown put on permanently.
Next on the list: wisdom teeth.
Wearing: some maternity shorts that have some weird leopard print on the butt. I feel kind of desperate.
Needing: new tires. One of life's many inconveniences. When is there ever excitement is buying tires??
Suffering from: potty training. Daisy's been training off and on for a while now, but I haven't really wanted to put much effort into it because A) I'm pregnant and B) I've developed an irrational fear of pants-pooping (another child of mine - whom I shall not name - pooped his pants almost every day for TWO YEARS after he was "potty trained").
(Add this to the list of Things I Must Edit From My Blog Before I Have Teenagers).
I promised myself, though, that I would concentrate on effective potty training after Daisy's surgery.
Thankful for: not gaining any weight yet this pregnancy. How lucky is that?
(Don't worry, though. I'll make up for it in four months when food starts tasting good again).
Enjoying: being free from morning sickness and fatigues (most days).
Proud of myself for: returning some impulse purchases at Sam's Club. $16 back in my pocket! (and then I spent $7 at Chick-Fil-A. Maybe I should have just kept my Pop-Tarts and Gummi Bears).
Worried about: running out of water during the apocalypse.
Addicted to: sugar cereal. Shame on me, I know, but I can't help it. Reese's Puffs? OH.MY.GOSH.
Splurging on: registering our cars. Scotty and I did this silly thing where we both bought new cars in August before we got married, thereby requiring us to register two cars during the same month each year. When the time came for new cars, we ended up buying one in August again, and then we bought the other one the following August. So we still have to register both our cars at the same time. AND it's also back to school time for Scotty and Nicky which means we have tuition, books, and school clothes to pay for on top of all of the car stuff. Dare I mention that we need 4 new tires and a new windshield? YIKES!!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Spartans
Back in January, Scotty decided to train for the Spartan Race with his step-brother and his... um... his Stevenson.
(I'm not sure what we're supposed to call Stevenson. He's like an orphan that our family has taken in, except that he has real parents).
The big event was on Saturday, and these three boys (men?) were giddy with excitement.
Here they are before the race:
And here they are after:
I've never seen so many filthy, half-naked people in one place in my life! Our team opted to keep most of their clothing on, which was a burden in the heat but a blessing during the barbed wire crawl:
Alas, he was fine, and the reason he fell was because he was socializing with the race volunteers (typical Scotty). He made it back in one piece, and he loved every minute of it.
(I'm not sure what we're supposed to call Stevenson. He's like an orphan that our family has taken in, except that he has real parents).
The big event was on Saturday, and these three boys (men?) were giddy with excitement.
Here they are before the race:
And here they are after:
I've never seen so many filthy, half-naked people in one place in my life! Our team opted to keep most of their clothing on, which was a burden in the heat but a blessing during the barbed wire crawl:
But that's not to say that there weren't a few manly injuries sustained along the way; Scotty's entire body is covered in scratches and road (dirt?) rash.
He loves it!
(Well... most of it).
For the six months leading up to the race, I was forced to endure video after video of Spartan Race coverage. By the time the day arrived, I was more than ready to take my place as a spectator, but then I saw Scotty fall within the first few hundred yards of the race, and I spent the rest of his leg scared to death that he was injured and dying on the mountainside somewhere (I take my role as Paranoid Pregnant Wife very seriously!)
Alas, he was fine, and the reason he fell was because he was socializing with the race volunteers (typical Scotty). He made it back in one piece, and he loved every minute of it.
Scotty, Riley, and Stevenson did the relay race this year so they could get a taste of the race, and all three of them felt like they didn't get quite enough. Next year, they're going to do the whole thing (which means I get to spent an entire year, and perhaps the rest of my life, watching Spartan videos. Yay...)
Videos aside, it was really fun to be there to watch the race... you know, once I knew Scotty was going to live through it and all. I'm pretty good at the spectator gig.
Here are a few more photos I took:
{Riley starting the first leg}
{Stevenson with his spear in the background - hardly anyone stuck the spear throw, so we were really excited when Stevenson hit the hay bale}
{Scotty coming over the wall near the end of the race}
{Scotty jumping into a mud pit}
{The finish line - but not before being pummeled by half-naked Spartans}
Monday, July 2, 2012
Garden Progress
End of May
End of June
Things have turned hot and crisp here in the Utah desert. Fires are raging and the grass is dying, but among the burdens of high temperatures and heartbreaking water bills, our garden (mostly) lives on!
So far we've finished up our strawberries, cilantro, lettuce, spinach and peas. Today I picked our first two zucchinis, and we have some peppers ready to go. The kids go outside and pick a handful of raspberries every-other day. We have little baby watermelons starting on our vines (they are almost as cute as people babies... almost), and I'm sure I can round up a batch of carrots for tonight's dinner.
It's amazing to see the difference a month makes!
Happy Harvesting!