I'm not the best record keeper when it comes to Walter and I have no shame in admitting that. But as he gets older and older, faster and faster, I felt like I should at least jot down some his wonderfully hilarious vocabulary.
Hey
Yeah
Bye
No No
Go Go
Dadda
Mamma
Baby
Tissue
Scriptures
Pooh, Kanga, Eeee(Eeyore), Tigger, Oooowl and Christopa
Shower
Bath
Nigh Nigh
Eat
Stuck
Cracker
Strawberries
Lookin Good (No Idea where this came from)
Cup
Milk
Socks n Shoes - usually while putting them on he will then count them for you
Tennis Shoes - which is everything except HIS sandals
ball
cold
hot
stinky
silly
dancin
blue, purple, yellow, geeeeen
car
And my personal favorite, Whooooooaaaaah
There are more, but really, who wants to read a list of the adorable things my 18 month old says? You should just come see for yourself. Then you could enjoy his happy dance, the way he vrooms his cars around the house, his great block tearing down ability, and snuggle time. Plus, he's really starting to get the hang of small sentences and those just take the cake. "I say yes" "Uh OH! Stinky Mamma! I go go poopoo!"
He's classy. We love him.
31 May 2011
27 May 2011
start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start
Remember in my last post how I said I was puked out and never wanted to see vomit again? That didn't work out so well for me. But....that's another story. Just know that I lost that battle earlier this week.
Remember when I was preggers with Walter and I was in Labor and Delivery three times before I actually went into labor? And one of those stays got me admitted for three days? I'm sure it's all very clear in everyone's mind. :) The details aren't important, but the thing to take from this is that when we found out we were pregnant again and we made it through the first trimester without losing the baby, the first thing I said to myself was this: "I will NOT go into L & D unless this baby is hours away from leaving my womb. The end."
I put up a good fight. We made it almost 35 weeks without a single major hiccup. This morning, I lost that battle.
Now I love to laugh at life's little hiccups and I love a good pelvic exam...always jump starts my day. Really, it's better than any amount of caffeine injected into your system. I love seeing my doctor. He always puts a smile on my face and I know that he has the baby's best interests in mind. And when we have differing opinions I just mentally watch the attached video in my mind and let him have his way (because obviously, between the two of us, he's the one with the heart of a champion.)
This isn't a post to vent or complain about the annoyances of pregnancy. While I don't necessarily enjoy the last 10 weeks, I really love the end result. Best job ever. This isn't even a post to talk about what landed me in and out of the hospital in 75 minutes this morning. It's not important. The baby is healthy, I am healthy, and we haven't ended our contractual lease agreement yet.
I just want the world to be aware of how grateful I am for the small everyday blessings in life.
Tuesday afternoon I took Walter to his 18 month check-up. He was great. Minus being freaked out by the student nurse and her heart monitor, we didn't have any problems. He didn't even have to get any shots. At the end of the appointment, I mentioned in passing a rash that Walter has recently developed. It comes and goes and JL and I figured it was something that he was allergic to causing a minor reaction. It turned out that the rash was a sign that he was no longer in the contagious stage of Fifths Disease, a viral infection that does absolutely nothing to children or adults, but could cause miscarriage or severe anemia (in the fetus) if a woman comes in contact with it during pregnancy. A simple round of tests is all it takes to check, so we ended up hopping in the car and driving four blocks south to the lab at Orem Community to have the tests done. A prick, a fair amount of blood, and Walter and I could be on our way.
If you're familiar with OCH, then you know that to get to the lab, you first have to check-in with one of the wonderful women who work in the registration area. There are four of them in their separate offices and I've had the pleasure of enjoying the company of each of them in the last three years. I walked into the office and my helper of the day asked, "What can I do for you today?" Just as I was about to explain that I was here for a quick test in the lab, a small voice whispered in my ear, "You should probably pre-register today for Labor and Delivery."
Pre-registering was not what I wanted to do. Walter was tired and grouchy. I didn't particular want to wrestle with all of my insurance paperwork at that exact moment. I didn't want to go through all of my personal information, my husband's information, emergency contacts, etc. I wanted to get in and get out. But I pushed aside my stubborn nature and asked if I could pre-register. I took the twenty minutes out of my mostly mundane day and went on my merry way.
This morning when I waddled into Labor and Delivery, tired and grouchy, having lost the battle with my body, my sweet husband, and my OB, I didn't have to fill any paperwork out. I didn't even have to show them my picture id, they had it scanned and in the system. My OB had called ahead and I didn't even have to explain why I was there. All I had to do was answer "Yes" to the nurse's question of, "Are you Alison?" and waddle my way through the secure entrance and into a room.
I didn't know on Tuesday afternoon what my Friday morning was going to be like, but someone did. And He took the time to help me out as much as He could. I'm grateful for that little gift that helped get me through a very long morning at the end of a very long week.
And if you actually read this never ending post, here's a little gift for you. My OB, Dr. Wayne Young, competing as Captain of the Men's Olympic Gymnastic team in 1976.
Remember when I was preggers with Walter and I was in Labor and Delivery three times before I actually went into labor? And one of those stays got me admitted for three days? I'm sure it's all very clear in everyone's mind. :) The details aren't important, but the thing to take from this is that when we found out we were pregnant again and we made it through the first trimester without losing the baby, the first thing I said to myself was this: "I will NOT go into L & D unless this baby is hours away from leaving my womb. The end."
I put up a good fight. We made it almost 35 weeks without a single major hiccup. This morning, I lost that battle.
Now I love to laugh at life's little hiccups and I love a good pelvic exam...always jump starts my day. Really, it's better than any amount of caffeine injected into your system. I love seeing my doctor. He always puts a smile on my face and I know that he has the baby's best interests in mind. And when we have differing opinions I just mentally watch the attached video in my mind and let him have his way (because obviously, between the two of us, he's the one with the heart of a champion.)
This isn't a post to vent or complain about the annoyances of pregnancy. While I don't necessarily enjoy the last 10 weeks, I really love the end result. Best job ever. This isn't even a post to talk about what landed me in and out of the hospital in 75 minutes this morning. It's not important. The baby is healthy, I am healthy, and we haven't ended our contractual lease agreement yet.
I just want the world to be aware of how grateful I am for the small everyday blessings in life.
Tuesday afternoon I took Walter to his 18 month check-up. He was great. Minus being freaked out by the student nurse and her heart monitor, we didn't have any problems. He didn't even have to get any shots. At the end of the appointment, I mentioned in passing a rash that Walter has recently developed. It comes and goes and JL and I figured it was something that he was allergic to causing a minor reaction. It turned out that the rash was a sign that he was no longer in the contagious stage of Fifths Disease, a viral infection that does absolutely nothing to children or adults, but could cause miscarriage or severe anemia (in the fetus) if a woman comes in contact with it during pregnancy. A simple round of tests is all it takes to check, so we ended up hopping in the car and driving four blocks south to the lab at Orem Community to have the tests done. A prick, a fair amount of blood, and Walter and I could be on our way.
If you're familiar with OCH, then you know that to get to the lab, you first have to check-in with one of the wonderful women who work in the registration area. There are four of them in their separate offices and I've had the pleasure of enjoying the company of each of them in the last three years. I walked into the office and my helper of the day asked, "What can I do for you today?" Just as I was about to explain that I was here for a quick test in the lab, a small voice whispered in my ear, "You should probably pre-register today for Labor and Delivery."
Pre-registering was not what I wanted to do. Walter was tired and grouchy. I didn't particular want to wrestle with all of my insurance paperwork at that exact moment. I didn't want to go through all of my personal information, my husband's information, emergency contacts, etc. I wanted to get in and get out. But I pushed aside my stubborn nature and asked if I could pre-register. I took the twenty minutes out of my mostly mundane day and went on my merry way.
This morning when I waddled into Labor and Delivery, tired and grouchy, having lost the battle with my body, my sweet husband, and my OB, I didn't have to fill any paperwork out. I didn't even have to show them my picture id, they had it scanned and in the system. My OB had called ahead and I didn't even have to explain why I was there. All I had to do was answer "Yes" to the nurse's question of, "Are you Alison?" and waddle my way through the secure entrance and into a room.
I didn't know on Tuesday afternoon what my Friday morning was going to be like, but someone did. And He took the time to help me out as much as He could. I'm grateful for that little gift that helped get me through a very long morning at the end of a very long week.
And if you actually read this never ending post, here's a little gift for you. My OB, Dr. Wayne Young, competing as Captain of the Men's Olympic Gymnastic team in 1976.
23 May 2011
an update of sorts
This past week has been hectic at best. Doctor's appointments, NOT having a baby, food poisoning, a wedding, a reception, impromptu family pictures, and the hum drum of regular life. We saw a lot of vomit in our house. In fact, until the baby comes, I think I'm puked out and I am the only one who didn't actually puke. Soooo...*deepbreath* here goes:
I had a check-up this past week with an ultrasound to check on Baby Boy's growth and development and to discuss the ridiculous amount of contractions I've been having. Following Fowler tradition, this little guy is a good deal bigger than his older brother, measuring in at a whopping 5lbs to Walter's 3lbs. To quote my OB, "Definitely bigger than the average bear." All fine and dandy but I'm measuring small which means that 1- my due date did NOT get pushed up and 2 - explains why I've been in so much pain lately from his feet and hands colliding with my innards. Unfortunately, the baby is in position and ready to go as soon as my body gives him the green light. Between his size, positioning, and my contractions, my OB is a little worried we've got a preterm delivery on our hands. Housebound. Nice.
In an attempt to have one final date out before the baby comes, JL and I took a very tired Walter to Brick Oven Wednesday night. Enter the food poisoning. Within minutes of leaving the restaurant JL was sick and we barely made it home in time. Home being a mile and a half away. The next 24 hours were not pretty and Walter's happy pink bathroom bore the brunt of it. It took three cleans before we got the bathroom smelling normal again. Thank goodness.
But JL pulled himself together and was able to go to his cousin Jame's wedding on Saturday morning while Walter and I hung out at home. Pretending to garden, but really just getting super muddy and ending the afternoon with Walter running barefoot around our back porch in nothing but his diaper while I tried to catch him and herd him into a shower. There would be pictures, but JL had the camera so he could take pictures of people behaving appropriately.
Mostly....
By the time Walter and I looked like normal human beings, JL returned home and we loaded up and drove down to Springville for the reception. Walter and I saw everyone we had missed with our homebound-ness and we took some impromptu family pictures before Lincoln heads off to the MTC next week! I like all of the ones where my almost 9 month pregnant bloated self is not in the front of the picture. Like this beauty:
And then we came home and slept. And it was beautiful. And woke up to Walter vomit all over his bed. And contractions. And life. But for a good five hours...we recovered, and that's what counts.
11 May 2011
and this is why I do what I do
Walter has been down for the count with another ear infection the past few days and our schedule has been thrown off. So this morning I took advantage of his tired, but mostly good mood and loaded him in the car for a trip to Target. We were on a mission. We needed crib sheets, a mattress pad, and a new mattress for the crib since we moved Walter's with him into his toddler bed. As soon as I laid the mattress across the cart, my sleepy little boy angled his head onto the mattress and said, "Nigh Night Mama."
I'm not sure, but I think I'm going to keep him.
I'm not sure, but I think I'm going to keep him.
09 May 2011
8 weeks and counting
Duh-duh-duh-duuuuuh!
Last week our good friends Guy and Ali introduced us to their 12 hour old little girl, Evelyn. On leaving the hospital, the first thing my husband said to me was: "I forgot how TINY babies are!" In my infinite wisdom, I replied, "Yes, sweetheart. Babies are small."
With 8 weeks left until our newest family member joins the club, we've hit major prep time for Walter. While he rubs my belly and pokes at my distorted bellybutton, we tell him all about the new little brother that he is going to have and how they are going to be best friends. We talk to him A LOT about the necessity of being soft around babies. We emphasize that he's a big boy now, with a big boy bed, and big boy shoes. Everything gets "big boy" put in front of it. We congratulate him for his big boy behavior. Telling us when he's dirtied his diaper, knocking on his door and asking to be let out instead of crying, holding our hands while we walk in parking lots, etc.
All of this emphasis on what a grown up kid Walter is becoming has distorted my view and I am glad that JL commented on how small Evelyn was. Because all of this prep and time with a toddler has not gotten me ready to be a mom to an infant again. And I really need to focus on that. So here is to hoping that 8 weeks is enough to finish what needs to get done around here.
Last week our good friends Guy and Ali introduced us to their 12 hour old little girl, Evelyn. On leaving the hospital, the first thing my husband said to me was: "I forgot how TINY babies are!" In my infinite wisdom, I replied, "Yes, sweetheart. Babies are small."
With 8 weeks left until our newest family member joins the club, we've hit major prep time for Walter. While he rubs my belly and pokes at my distorted bellybutton, we tell him all about the new little brother that he is going to have and how they are going to be best friends. We talk to him A LOT about the necessity of being soft around babies. We emphasize that he's a big boy now, with a big boy bed, and big boy shoes. Everything gets "big boy" put in front of it. We congratulate him for his big boy behavior. Telling us when he's dirtied his diaper, knocking on his door and asking to be let out instead of crying, holding our hands while we walk in parking lots, etc.
All of this emphasis on what a grown up kid Walter is becoming has distorted my view and I am glad that JL commented on how small Evelyn was. Because all of this prep and time with a toddler has not gotten me ready to be a mom to an infant again. And I really need to focus on that. So here is to hoping that 8 weeks is enough to finish what needs to get done around here.
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