2015 Catch up

Every year I tell myself that I will set aside time to write in my personal journal and to update the blog; every year I fail. Miserably.

But then I thought, shows do little recaps all the time. That is my answer. Soooo here goes.

Here's what you missed so far:

January - Found a house we liked on the east bench in Provo. Put in an offer, after a few back and forths, we were under contract!
February - JL began work at EMC for their Isilon division. We finalized preparations for the move. We also found out we were expecting.
March - We hauled our stuff and moved a whopping two miles away. We began unpacking.
April - We had our first ultrasound and were glad to hear that there would be minimal issues with the pregnancy.
May - The boys graduated from preschool and we prepped for an exciting summer.
June and July - SUMMERTIME!
August - School was back upon us. I got put on partial bed rest right in time for things to get crazy.
September - JL switched over to the new DSSD division at EMC.
October - We had our fourth child and first daughter. (More on that later)

And there you have it. Caught up.

Namaste 2014

Isn't it funny how quickly a year goes by? Maybe this is just me, but when we hit three kids, our time really started flying by, with these blips where everything slowed down to a sludge like crawl only to speed up again three seconds later.

I believe in full disclosure, so honestly, when 2014 started, my little family was just starting an uphill battle of epic proportions. My sweet husband was diagnosed with fatty liver disease, Henry was two months into his Sensory Processing Disorder diagnosis and our life in many ways was at the mercy of his Occupational and Speech Therapists, Walter and Asher were getting neglected in the chaos, and I was drowning under three kids, JL's liver, my thyroid issues, and the recent revelation from my doctors that at the age of 26 my husband and I might not be able to have any more children.

As we desperately tried to juggle the many plates, everything and everyone suffered.

Until finally, one February morning, in the wake of an epic fight with my husband the previous evening, I just let all of the plates drop to the floor. 

Time and time again, situation after situation, I felt deeply humbled. I became overwhelmed with the feeling that Heavenly Father was breaking my imperfect self down inch by inch so that I could rebuild myself from the rubble. One little brick at a time. Baby steps. Bill Murray baby steps. 

I felt truly blessed. Through every trial and tribulation that came. I really just felt overcome with peace. There are tangible blessings that occur when you hand your life over to the Lord and ask for guidance in even the most mundane situations. By December, it was apparent that 2014 in its messy chaos, was the best year of my life. 

Does that mean that suddenly in 2015 I am rising from the ashes like a phoenix, with glorious splendor? HAH! Guys, no. No. Just today, Henry had a spectacular fit in the mother's room during church because he didn't want to be Sunbeam and wanted to stay in the nursery, and while he was flailing his arms and legs and I was desperately trying to find all of the strength in my body to restrict his motions, he managed to rip a HUGE hole in the knee of my tights. So I went to the bathroom, threw those things away, and went another two hours in church with boots, no socks to protect my feet, praying that no one noticed I haven't shaved above my knee in....oh...seven weeks. 

So in honor of the many New Year's Resolutions I have heard, here is mine: Be a little more gentle and a lot more kind with myself and those around me. Just one baby step at a time. And as the effervescent (you read that right) Tom Hiddleston said, "You keep putting one foot in front of the other, and then one day you look back and you've climbed a mountain."

Here's looking at you, kiddo

Five years ago, after many hours of labor, JL and I happily left the hospital with our oldest child. We were young idiots who thought we could handle things and Walter, with his 80 year-old man face quickly put all of our confidence to rest. Walter struggled with nursing, a consequence from the C-Pap machine he was hooked up to immediately after birth. He was sensitive to everything - dairy, soy, corn, meat, certain nuts - and JL and I spent hours reading labels on everything that came into the house to avoid the onset of vomit and hives. He began talking at 5 months and never stopped. By a year, Walter was sharing his rather strong opinions with us in full sentences. Right as we waved goodbye to all of his food issues (four years later), we discovered that he has allergy induced asthma. He is tall and skinny, to the point that finding clothes that fit him often leads to a headache.

And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Without a doubt, Walter has made me a better person. He is hilarious, stubborn to a fault, inquisitive, bright, caring, and unquestionably old-fashioned. He calls JL and I Father and Mother, respectively, believes that men should hold open doors for women, and insists that his hair be combed flat on his head ("like Poppa's"). Walter is OCD and quick tempered, but he has a wonderful sense of empathy and an ever developing moral code that guides him.

Oh, and his Do-A-Dot painting skills are second to none!

I am infinitely grateful to be his mother. So here's to my Goose, his father's Scrub, our forever Walter Theodore. May 5 be even better than all of the years that came before!

the story of how Ash lost his hearing and got it back again

Foreword: The roller coaster ride of Henry's SPD diagnosis truly enabled me to take a "roll with the punches", que sera sera attitude about this entire event.

Seven weeks ago, Asher broke a high fever. 103.9, in fact, making him the uncontested record holder of highest fever in our home. We gave him some meds, put him back to bed, and when he woke up in the morning he was completely fine. Except that he was not really responding to sounds. For about 24 hours there we hemmed and hawed and thought about what we wanted to do and then right when we decided to take him in, he started to seem a little better. So we watched. If there is one piece of advice I could give to a new parent, it is this: Watch and wait. Things usually resolve themselves.

This situation did not resolve. We took Asher to our trusty pediatrician who recommended scheduling a hearing exam at Utah Valley Hospital's Speech and Balance Clinic. When we got to the clinic a wonderful audiologist (Jared) ran a couple tests, told us what we already suspected (that Ash was having some trouble hearing in his left ear) and we scheduled some more tests for today to find out the extent of the loss.

And after a week of solid prayers that everything would unfold the way Heavenly Father saw fit, we woke up this morning to a new version of our child. One that appeared to be hearing and responding to us even from across the room. When we went in for our appointment, Ash flew through the testing, hearing (HEARING!) every whispered peek-a-boo and soft beep beep beep that came through the speakers. He even remembered to grab his train that he hid under the chair during the initial testing to bring home with us.

The audiologists and I were elated! Asher was also elated, ya know, because of the reunion with his sweet train.

And tonight I sang lullabies to my baby boy without his hand on my throat, his fingers on my lips, or his little self humming to fill the void, and I tell you... I was touching a little bit of heaven. 

Heaven people. Heaven.

Why I love opinionated people

aka "How I listened to Mindy Kaling's audiobook in two days"
aka "Mindy Kaling and I share a disturbing number of opinions"

In a different world, another time, Mindy Kaling and I could have been best friends. Kindred spirits that meet, bond, and after a lifetime of overt criticism, become the two crazy old ladies that do what that want and everyone is secretly jealous of. I know this now because I finally got my hands on a copy of her book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns).

I have spent my entire life in college towns. This is both illuminating and exhaustingly frustrating. I love that the general populace are learning addicts, much like myself, proudly wearing their nerd quirks for the world to see. I dislike that I spend most of my life waiting for books on hold because I am surrounded by hordes of unabashed bibliophiles, much like myself. Books that would not be popular in other towns have over 300 people in line at my local library. Growing up, I solved these dilemmas by going to Barnes and Noble and buying the book. (Need to add: I also enjoyed this easy fix, because three out of four times, I ran into my super cool older brother camped out in a chair reading something ridiculously nerdy, like books on calculus or programming. One time, he was half hidden in the transit between the Children's section and the Teen section, so well hidden that I only noticed his distinct hair from my second story perch because I was looking for it. He could have been a creepy pedophile if he was not so thoroughly engrossed in his book. And I loved him even more for it. Second note: this was a long sidebar, I am not sorry. If you know my brother, I am certain you find him majestic. If you don't know my brother and are missing that sort of je ne sais quoi in your life, I suggest you move to Texas. He will force you to understand things you could care less about, which everyone needs a little of in their life. His wife is hands down the friendliest woman I have ever met. She is a lover, not a fighter. And while his two kids can at times be overwhelming - because they are children and that is their nature - they are whippet smart and high energy tornadoes that will one day change the world with their awesomeness. Third note: Now I am sorry. I could talk for hours about my brother. Fourth note: I love you, Steve. Stay awesome.) As I filled my bookshelf and began stacking books, I would dream of the day that I lived in a home of my own where I would have more than a bedroom to put books in. Well folks, I live in a 1950s ranch style home with built ins out the whazoo and I am out of space for my books. 

Which is why it took me three years to read/listen to this bit of hilarity.

Opinionated people are hands down my favorite people in the world. They know what they like, they know what they don't, and they will tell you exactly what they expect from any given situation without reserve. I love someone with some good ole' tenacity. At my best, I am a classic introvert. I hold a general distaste for large gatherings of any kind and frequently tell my husband, "But.....people. I hate people." like that is some kind of justifiable reason to not attend whatever function he is shoving me out  of the door to. This is my largest flaw.  But every now and then, my husband will walk through the door with a twinkle in his eye and say, "I met someone today that I think you are going to like."

I live for these moments. I live for these people.

Mindy Kaling is an opinionated little ball of awesome.

If you have not read this book, you should do so immediately. Especially if you agree with any of the following statements:

- The Jews are formidable. They gave us bagels, the superiority complex, and produce the most bull-headed human beings on the planet. Make friends with as many Jewish people as you can immediately. Your life will forever be changed for the better. 

- Chest hair is sexy. Men should have hairy chests. This is NOT a debate.

- Women are beautiful and alluring no matter their dress size. Again, this is NOT a debate.

- Pierce Brosnan is a sexy, sexy, sexy man. 

-"People who love to eat are always the best people." - Julia Child*

Read it people. You've had three years of opportunities. Read the book. You're welcome.

*If you do not agree with myself and Julia Child, we are no longer friends.

Ruler of the Home

I believe in the power of a name.

If I had known ahead of time that Henry was going to be diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, I would have chosen a name that was derived from something docile. (I just looked this up, my child would totally have rocked Masueto or Nao, who cares if he is whiter than white.) Since I did not know this, I chose Henry. I willingly fought to name my son Henry. For months. I spent months picking away at my husband's defenses until he finally agreed, albeit conditionally, that we could name our second son Henry. "If he looks like a Henry when he comes out."

We thought he did.

Henry's SPD frequently remind me of Henry VIII.  Yes.  My toddler reminds me of the man that divorced the British nation from Catholicism, then his wife, and then became so disagreeable he killed the woman that he spent seven years of his life attempting to bed and created a new church for because someone said that she might be sleeping around and with her brother. I am constantly amazed by Henry VIII. I am also constantly amazed by my little tyrannical Henry.

Today Henry:
- pushed his brother off a chair
- tried to befriend an ant and then stomped him to oblivion when he was bitten
- bit my thigh and then curled into fetal position and sobbed with remorse
- spent the entire day naked and adamantly refusing all clothing except his new black crocs
- tipped over three kitchen chairs
- knocked two closet doors off their runners
- stole all of his brothers food and then slapped him with a plate when he tried to take it back
- tackled his 16 month little brother to the floor
- yelled at Tom Hiddleston's portrayal of Captain Hook in the Pirate Fairy, calling him "a big, mean, meany!", at the top of his extremely healthy lungs
- threw a bean bag chair across the room

To be fair, Henry also rubbed my back gently and gave me constant hugs in between his reigns of terror. And like Henry of Tudor times, he is incredibly athletic, intelligent, charming, and strong. When he chooses to be.

I am constantly amazed that women still choose to have children. I mean, I chose to have Henry after having Walter, a clearly gifted child that started talking at 5 months and hasn't stopped since. ("Can we eat hamburgers again today? I am feeling carnivore-ish. Like a dinosaur.") Don't get me wrong, I adore my boys. They are the light of my light, even on days when I think I might die alone in prison from losing my inner battle to kill one of them. All women are secret sadists.

And today, I can't help but think that I really should have named this kid Nao.

Well folks....I made it

That's correct. Since I last posted, my weight loss total has skyrocketed to a solid 95 lbs! And it gives me great pleasure to say that while I have not hit my doctor's target weight loss, I have come under the mark of my own goal of 135 lbs to weigh in at 134.6 lbs!

I WILL TAKE IT!!!!!

When I started this lovely journey, I never thought that I would even make it past the 50 lbs marker, so to say that I am elated is an understatement. I truly have a greater respect for the strength of my body and the wonderful gift that it is in my life.

I did not accomplish this on my own. Not only did I have the amazing support of JL to kick me out the door five days a week and eat healthier versions of his favorite food with minimal complaining, but my great physician jump started this entire process at a time when I was ready to just give up and let the Hashimoto's take over. But the number one thing that helped me is a perfect tie between Yoga and the wonderful trainer at my gym, Benjamin Leto. It feels a bit odd admitting that JL was not the guy to help me the most (since he most definitely is 99.9% of the time), but this time even he will agree that Benjamin takes the cake. He helped me work around my thyroid problems, strengthened my bad knee to prevent future injuries and really helped me work with MY body. And yoga came in and complimented his efforts by really helping me feel the capacity for strength that my body and mind had within them. While I am not done, my body fat percentage is at 23% and my doctor would really like me more between 18-20% for the sake of my thyroid, I know that the hardest part is behind me and now I can focus on toning and building muscle to replace what little fat I have left to lose. 

And while I promise not to continue to post about weight loss, etc., I will make no such promise about boring people to death with Yoga related subjects. Yoga is awesome. Everyone should make it a part of their daily life. Unless you have a physical restriction and cannot practice it - like my father who gets dizzy when he does sun salutations. Bless him. 

Also, on an odd note, I find that I am having to relearn how to move in the world around me. I have actually been using some of Henry's Occupational Therapy techniques (a completely different story folks) for spatial awareness. This is not a complaint by any means, and I actually appreciate the lesson. I find that I have been better able to connect with Henry on this particular issue in his life and that my patience with his frustration has grown exponentially. 

(If you made it through this post, Congratulations! Highest of fives! I am running on little to no sleep and it took a lot of effort to put together functional sentences, so your small sacrifice of time is truly appreciated!)

The big 55 (that's 55 lbs people)

Okay...this post may be a bit random and nonsensical at points because I'm very tired and just getting over a cold with a flu-like bite, but I'm going to soldier on so I hope you will to.

When I was pregnant with Henry, some normal panel of blood work that my OB did at 12 weeks revealed that I had thyroid problems. That made me feel a little better about the extra weight I had gained right from the start, so I was cool with it. My sweet OB said that most women with pregnancy related thyroid issues saw them disappear before they left the hospital with a baby in tow. Cool. Fine.

Skip ahead a few years. I knew that I was pregnant with Ash BECAUSE I gained 10 lbs before I could even take a pregnancy test. There was an incident with a prescription that had gluten for a filler (really lovely, every pregnant woman should experience wicked allergic reactions when they are still trying to keep food down) and I landed myself in my GP's office. My equally sweet GP looked at all of my blood work done in the last two years and realized that I probably had Hashimoto's disease, not fibromyalgia. Fine. Autoimmune diseases run amuck in my siblings and I was pregnant with my third child; in other words, I was too tired to really care.

Skip ahead to a month after Asher. I had lost five pounds of baby weight total. I hadn't even lost all of Asher's body weight at birth. Ridiculous. JL told me to be patient. I was patient. I went to my 12 week postpartum check, received my green light to exercise, and went at it. I was logging my food, wearing a pedometer, and going to Zumba/yoga five times a week. Two months later I had only lost another five pounds, making my total weight loss at five months postpartum ten pounds. I spent a night just crying in frustration. My body was in protest and I felt the extra weight in every step. I called my GP and scheduled an appointment.

(May 2013)

We adjusted the dose on my thyroid meds... A LOT. She also put me on a metabolism booster to help counter the effects of Hashimoto's on my body. I don't know how many people read this, or how many of you might have thyroid issues, so I'm going to let you in on a secret. If you have thyroid problems, thyroid meds don't make you lose weight. They just stop your body from gaining weight. They don't eliminate the exhaustion or the joint pain. Levothyroxin will just get your body to a balanced point. No matter how much you pound the pavement, losing weight will always be a one pound a month at best scenario. And of course, the lighter you are, the easier it is for your thyroid to function normally. I kid not, when my GP wrote the script she told me, "Most people react to this like a person on ritalin who doesn't have ADHD. For you? You'll probably feel like a normal person for the first time in years."

Holy moly. I did. After a few days, it was like a fog had been lifted from my life. I was happier. I didn't need ten hours of sleep to function on a basic level. My water weight dropped right off my body. I lost ten pounds in a week. Ten pounds of water weight! Every morning before I take my meds, I carry an extra 3-5 lbs of water weight. An hour after I take my meds, the swelling is gone and I can go about my business of being a mom.

Oh, and taking care of the other order that my GP gave me before I left her office: lose 100 lbs.

One hundred pounds is a pretty daunting number when you think about it all at once. That is more than the combined weight of all of my boys. I was pretty sure she was slipping into a crazy place for a moment, but she explained that she wanted me to do my best to get my body fat percentage down to 18%. That put me down 100lbs from where I was when I walked into the hospital to deliver Asher. She wanted me to do it in a year. Totally healthy and feasible. I hit the gym and got back to work.

Now to the point of this whole post: I am officially over the halfway mark. This week I hit my 55 lbs marker! I have 45 lbs to lose in the next five and a half months and I know that I can do it!

(September 2013)

JL has been the most supportive husband through all of this. He cheers me on and pushes me out the door to get to the gym. He fixed the jogging stroller so now I'm that lady walking the trail pushing 60lbs of todder and carrying 20lbs of baby on my back most mornings. He's given up a lot of his favorite foods, and even has a goal to lose 25 lbs before his brother's wedding at the end of the year. That's true love people.

recovery 101

I am probably putting a jinx on my house by saying this, but we are all finally better. By better, I of course mean that JL and I are still functioning at about 85% but the boys are back at full strength and back to their usual chaotic selves.

I have to admit, recovery from a third baby is really doing a number on me. At 6 weeks out I still have 30 lbs of baby weight to lose and am definitely still being stylish in maternity pants. Also, Asher added about two dozen new stretch marks to my body and my skin itches in a diseased way now that they are starting to heal. With the other boys, I got maybe 6 stretch marks total and at 3 weeks out was back into my normal clothing and almost back at my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that Asher is 100% on formula due to some non-existent weight gain in the beginning of his life. I also know that third babies are much harder to recover from. The nurses in the hospital all told me that their third was their worst.  I really feel like pregnancy and labor should get easier the more you go through it, not harder. But let me tell you, those labor pains were no joke this time around. Pain meds? Yes please!

With this last pregnancy, I also enjoyed the separation of my abdominal muscles. After labor, I felt great, I wanted to moved around and accomplish wonderful things, but my body wouldn't even begin to let me. It took almost a month before my muscles reacquainted themselves. I spent the entire time feeling like a cripple.  The slightest thing would put me down. My prayers developed a recurring theme: "Heavenly Father I'm so grateful for my comfortable couch, I just don't want to sit on it anymore!"

Now that my complaining is done with, let me just say what an absolute joy Asher is to have around. I love seeing how similar and different the boys are right from the beginning and that journey has been really delightful this time around. Like Henry, Asher is extremely mellow. If he continues his current world views, then he will be my most mellow guy. He loves mirrors. He loves to give the baby in the mirror dirty looks. Something along the lines of, "I don't know who you are baby, but that's my Mom/Dad so you best get to stepping." He really really hates the cold. He also really hates laying on flat surfaces. He really only screams when we change his diaper, but good golly gee whiz, you'd think we were murdering him. How dare we give him a clean diaper?!?! Asher is also my loudest sleeper. He grunts and squeaks all night long. JL and I have almost gotten used to the added noise in our bedroom. Almost. Sometimes I'll hop out of bed to help him only to discover he's having some awesome dream that involves barking like a dog at someone. He loves nightgowns and hates real clothes. By real clothes, I'm talking about sleep and plays. Or really anything with legs. He has a real knack at only pooping when JL is at work. This morning at 3:30 he finally pooped with JL around and you better believe I did not change that diaper.

I saved the best for last. Asher can fall asleep anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. For example, in this picture he is asleep and using my shin as a pillow. Because that is totally comfortable.  In general he is just a happy little guy. I feel so blessed to be his mother.

Welcome to the world Asher Lynn

I had a whole clever introduction to Asher post planned, but the little guy got RSV and now things in this house are a little crazy. He is also looking extremely sick with his tiny red rimmed eyes, so this picture is going to have to do.

Even sick, he's the sweetest of my boys. He only cries when he's hungry, stuck with a needle (shots), or - as we found out today - bothered by a tube inserted down his nostrils.

And my favorite Asher feature is not pictured. He has tiny duck tail curls all over the back of his head that look just like JL's curls when they are coming in after a good buzz cut. Maybe third son was the charm?

Either way, we adore him and I'll tell you why after we've gotten him over the worst of the RSV.

I think we'll keep them

Last night we cashed in our Christmas present from Belle and went on our last pre-baby date. We saw a quirky play at Hale Theater and grabbed a late bite at Olive Garden before coming home to our two favorite guys passed out asleep. 

haircut proof

Walter kept making a face until 3 and letting it go right as the picture snapped. After four months, we finally convinced Walter to let me cut his hair with scissors and a comb. The comb was a very integral part of our deal. An hour later he looked pretty snazzy and completely ready for his first day in Primary on Sunday. I'm hopeful that a week of growth will hide all of my Mom mistakes. *fingers crossed*

On a completely different note, it was 1 degree here today. Disgusting. Why don't we all hibernate?!

brothers

Sometimes JL walks in from bath time and throws his phone at me. Last night, this is what I caught:

One of them had just been hit. Bet you can't tell which one.... Hint: it's not the little guy smiling. Little loves of my life.

Happy 2013!

Another year is upon us and I still do not have a baby to show for the last nine months of effort! The past week has been interesting, to say the least, and we definitely thought that we were going to have him for a day or two there....but alas, no such luck. I did walk away from the experience with a shot of morphine and I hear that nothing is more comical than a high pregnant woman. I'm always glad to provide free entertainment to JL, my parents, and my in-laws.

As a result of the morphine, the boys ended out their year down south at their Grammy's house and we happily welcomed them back home just in time to throw in our own New Year's Eve festivities before putting them to bed! JL and I rang in the year snuggling on the couch and watching movies. In our (almost) four years of marriage, this was our first night staying up till midnight. I had to have a second dinner of sliced tomatoes and pita bread to keep our energy, but it was worth it for a little alone time with JL before baby boy comes!

We have exactly one week until that baby gets here! I cannot believe how time flies! I'm so glad that I got everything done early on, because I am barely moving through the basic routine these days. I don't know how women deal with bloating and giant bellies during every pregnancy. This is our third time around this track, and for the first time I am retaining water and cannot touch my toes! The one plus side to my inverted uterus is that I typically stay small until the end, but not this time! I have a dozen new stretch marks, or "tiger stripes" as JL calls them, to show for this little guy. The irony is that on the ultrasounds he is measuring out to be my smallest baby! My OB told me at my last appointment that we'll be lucky if he's 7lbs by our induction date. All I could think was, good gravy, what if this baby had even been average size? I would have had to have been rolled around like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka.

[Special props go to my dear friend and old roommate Lex who is currently pregnant with twin girls. If you can't tell by the above paragraph, there is a reason why Heavenly Father has never put two babies in me at once!]

But, griping aside, we were extremely blessed this past year! I know that Heavenly Father has been keeping a close eye on us and I know that this next year will be even more amazing with our little addition!

the fiiiiiinal countdown

Sometimes when I'm bored, I scroll through photos that JL and I have taken of the boys on our phones. There are some real gems in there, like this one:

There is also a photo of Henry with a snot beard. Because we believe in capturing authentic memories for our children.

This weekend I traded out our fridge calendar for December's schedule of events. Without Story Time or play dates, nearly every day is empty. But while scribbling in doodles for the Holidays and birthdays, I realized that at the end of this calendar I would be headed to the hospital to have a baby. (Anytime I think about going somewhere for a specific purpose, I always think of my oldest brother, who very sweetly sang to me on my wedding day: "Going to the temple and you're...gonna get maaaarrrriiiieeeed." I mean, anywhere. Target to get diapers. Sam's to get milk. Doctor's office for an appointment. Bonded for life.) I also realized that in the next five weeks, JL is on call for three of them.

Even with an empty calendar I feel a little stressed. Although, I just looked at JL's calendar and I feel so much better about life. He's kind of my hero.

This is random, but we've cut the boys down to one educational show a day, and right now I'm watching Walter have a panic attack watching Little Einsteins. He gets so invested in what he watches, we are never going to be able to let him watch Lord of the Rings or Star Wars. Sheesh.

Look at that body...I work out...

Look at that sexy beach ball stomach. Yowza! 

With 8 weeks left on our countdown I am very happy to announce that we have an induction date on the books! Due to our placenta issues, there is a large chance that we'll go into early labor anyway, but my body has never shown an inclination to progress from labor into active labor on its own so my doctor put the induction on the books for January 8!

This has me very excited! The baby has already started to slowly drop down, making my bladder uncomfortable and making it really hard to get in and out of bed. I've also started having painful and regular contractions. With Henry, I had regular contractions for 5 weeks before my doctor induced, and by the time we hit the hospital I was exhausted and beyond ready to have a baby in my arms. I am starting to have a similar emotional response to all of this nonsense.

Plus, all of the weight I have gained this time around has been in my upper arms, belly, and breasts, which leaves a lady feeling quite top heavy. Like Dolly Parton.

Bring on the baby!

Reestablishing normality

Since Walter's concussion we've been desperately trying to embrace our usual schedule. Unfortunately we had a hectic Saturday that involved over a foot of snow (what?!), branches down, and my sister totaling her car. By Saturday night Walter's lack of sleeping had gotten the better of him and Henry was showing signs of a cold from spending the morning outside. Somebody, *ahem*, fell asleep on the couch.

We put everyone to bed early, including ourselves. It was beautiful.

Since then, I have scratched my eye, taken several blows to my poor scratched eye, and helped Walter successfully fight off an ear infection.

I've decided that Heavenly Father is just getting us through all of the winter illnesses in the beginning so that when the baby comes right after the New Year I won't have to worry about sick kids AND a newborn.

Thankfully thankful

With the Thanksgiving season upon us, a lot of my friends have taken to Facebook posting daily things they are thankful for.

I could list a thousand things that I'm thankful for, but really, they all boil down to these two cuties (and Baby Boy #3) and this guy:

I am so incredibly grateful that JL works as hard as he does so that we can afford to live a comfortable life that includes me being able to stay at home with our boys. He takes on call shifts so we have extra cash for fun things, works at least 40 hours a week, helps out with the boys, goes to school full time, and is involved in our local church without complaining. Lately he has also helped me get my shoes on, get in and out of bed, stretch so my sciatic nerve doesn't bother me and dealt with all of my last trimester hormones. He's pretty amazing.

a Halloween curse

I've thoroughly enjoyed reading all of my friends' blog posts about Halloween and living vicariously through them. Once again, we had a Halloween bust at our house. I'm really starting to feel like Walter is carrying a Halloween curse because every year of his little life something awful has happened to him either on or right before Halloween.

When he was 11 months old he was diagnosed with mono...no Halloween.
When he was 23 months old he got the flu...no Halloween.

And this year...oh man. Monday night Walter took a swan dive from the cart in Target and landed hard on his head and wrist. We thought he had broken his arm and finger at first, but then he started moving it around so we waited until morning to take him to his doctor. Diagnosis: mild concussion and some bruised soft tissue in his arm. I thought, 'Okay! We can do Halloween with that.' All we had to do was keep him from hitting his head again for a week.

Wednesday morning he was chasing Henry around our house and did what can only be described as a slide tackle on our kitchen floor. He immediately started to complain of a headache and watery eyes. I called the doctor's office to see what to do and they told me to keep monitoring him and give them a call if he started to seem confused or began vomiting.  Five minutes later he was throwing up a lovely combination of oatmeal and red Powerade allllll over the house. We took him to the doctors. They requested a CT scan, which the hospital couldn't squeeze in until the next morning.  Until then we were supposed to keep Walter from falling, hitting his head, running, or behaving like a little boy in any way.  Halloween canceled.

The next morning I sent JL off with all of our Halloween candy that hadn't been handed out at Trunk or Treat and got Walter and Henry ready for the day. Luckily, my very sweet mother-in-law was able to come up and take Henry for the morning while Walter and I went and had our "adventure".

We made it to Utah Valley, walked into the outpatient Lab and were immediately redirected to the Radiology department in the hospital. Once there we were told we had to check in on the main floor at Admitting because Walter needed to be sedated and that would be handled on the Pediatric floor. 20 minutes later we made it up to Peds, got buzzed in through the door and waited. And waited. And waited. At 9:40, an hour after we started this scavenger hunt, a Child's Life volunteer came out and explained that somehow they had not been informed we were even there. Head of Child's Life, Debbie came out, and stayed with us for the rest of the procedure. She kept Walter entertained with a shower caddy full of toys, several of which he got to keep. After about 15 more minutes, Nurse Mary Anne came and told us that they had been looking for us for over an hour but that Admitting kept telling them we hadn't checked in. She was great and really sweet with Walter while she walked us down the hallway to the sedation room.  There we met Dr. Matt and, long story short, Walter got a little sleepy. The scans were fast and Walter was wonderful through the whole thing. I actually think that by the end he was enjoying himself. Pediatric doctors and nurses can really make or break a visit, and we were extremely blessed to have a great little entourage with us the whole time keeping Walter and myself calm and put together through everything. Dr. Matt and Nurse Mary Anne even entertained Walter in the CT for me since I couldn't be in there for the actual pictures due to Baby #3.  Walter got first class treatment and was wheeled out in a little red wagon to our car, happy as a clam and ready to do it all over again. He gave Nurse Mary Anne a huge hug and asked her if he could stay with her and his wagon. She laughed and said, "Walter, for your sake, I hope I never see you again!"

The scans were crystal clear. Another crisis averted. JL and I rented a carpet cleaner and the whole house looks like new again. It was really gross to see how much dirt and muck pulled up from the carpets not including the vomit. I think we'll now be doing that every 6 months or so.

In the meantime, we just get to keep Walter entertained and mostly calm for the next few days until he is out of his concussion "risk period" and then we can get back to normal again.

Next year....

anti-guilt trips for moms everywhere

A few weeks ago I posted about how I've been a grouchy Mom and the steps I was/am taking to be better in the moment with my boys.  Last week I felt a real dip in that motivation.

JL has been working odd hours and taking more on call shifts as we get financially prepared for Christmas, and his school load has been much more demanding this term than last. I feel like the second our heads hit the pillow we are both out which leaves no real time for actual communication. I love my husband so this makes me sad.

Both boys have been consistently under the weather. First we had the flu shot fall out.  Then Henry decided it was a great idea to cut five teeth all at the same time while Walter went through a major growth spurt. Then that morphed into a wicked cold and my house has been infiltrated by tissues covered in bright green mucus ever since. Blegh.

I've also had a fair amount of heavy contractions and now my OB is lecturing me on premature labor. Lectures from my OB always remind me of lectures from my Grandma Fowler. Sweetly worded guilt trips.

I am not one of those mothers that follows the rule that a messy home equates to happy kids. I definitely think cleaning is important and teaches children the importance of cleanliness. I also am not one of those mothers who will completely ignore myself to make sure my kids and spouse are happy. But sometimes my attempts at balance and sanity are completely thrown off by friends that tell me I shouldn't care so much. Friends that guilt trip me for putting the boys in front of Sesame Street every day to take a shower and get dressed. And after awhile all of that peer pressure and those comments start to work on me and I wonder if I really am even a tolerable mother and wife.

Now that I've whined that all out...the point is I was losing steam. Then I came across a quote by L. Tom Perry that completely changed my perspective.

One of the greatest weaknesses in most of us is our lack of faith in ourselves. One of our common failings is to depreciate our tremendous worth.

I love it so much it's my new background on my laptop.