Going to the chapel and I'm goooonna get marrrr-r-r-ied...

JL got in bed last night and I had a total breakdown. Instantaneous, hysterical sobbing for thirty minutes until I noticed that I had literally soaked through his shirt. Why do men put up with us crazy ladies?

My poor husband, completely unsuspecting, happily walked into our bedroom last night to go to sleep, and I went psycho, teenage drama on him, crying and hyperventilating about the most retarded things. And what did he do? He pulled me close and rubbed my belly and wiped away tears. Without complaining that I was keeping him awake after a full day's work and school. I finally understood all those crazy commitment ceremony people.


I need to redo "marry" this man. After I'm not hugely pregnant with his child.

Adorable note: He also wrote a paper for one of his classes on how he could help me not be so stressed out. I am still swooning that this was the most serious local problem in his life, even over the outrageous and growing potholes on I-15.

R is for Reptile

This morning Walter and I briskly walked the seven blocks from our little house to the Provo Library for Toddler Time. Toddler Time is like Story Time, but geared for children between the age of two and three, which Walter is not. But Mother Goose, the story time for children between 13 months and 24 months, only happens Friday mornings. And we needed to get out of the house ASAP.

Mr. Dallin and Mrs. Laurel were just what the doctor ordered! We sang songs, Walter danced, we pretended Mr. Dallin got eaten by a boa constricter...all in all, a morning well spent.

Now, if only I had more suitable weather to continue my nursery remodel. But it is just a bit too frigid to try and paint beds, the chest of drawers, and the bookshelf.

Do the Humpty Dance

Today my hot pink super skinny marker ran out. I was in the middle of coloring one of our grocery receipts. Obviously, this was a necessary task and now the "a" in "maceys" is the only bi-racial letter. Talk about unfair.

Last night, while JL and I were learning from the Green brothers, a chair leg and the full weight of my husband's 6' body was placed on the top of my foot. Ouch, right? After we heard a sickening crunch from my foot, we both went into shock. Which was interesting, because my shock involved hysterical sobbing and hyperventilating, while my husband's shock involved looking like he was going to vomit and laughter. Who knew? I also spent the rest of the evening hopping around on one foot while randomly crying ( insert apology to our downstairs neighbors ). This evoked more laughter from JL. Apparently I looked like an adorably retarded bunny.

Oh...and we woke up the Gosling. So that was fun.

But my foot isn't broken. Or fractured. Just horribly bruised.

In other words, let me get my limp on.

Morning routines

This morning I kicked JL out of bed at 6:30 so he could rush to class. As I sleepily directed him to clean pants and received hasty goodbye kisses, I thought about all of the laundry I needed to get done. And what I wanted to eat for breakfast. And how I really had to go to the bathroom. And take my medication.

I rolled my full belly out of bed, got a swift kick from the fetus for crowding their space, and took care of my business. I rolled back into bed. A bus went by. Walter grumbled. Another bus went by. I heard a piercing, "DADA! BABA!" I rolled back out of bed. I stumbled into the kitchen and filled up a bottle with soy milk. I stumbled down the hallway and opened the nursery door. I was received with a questioning look from my son, a "Dada?", and then, "BABA!!!!"

I got back into bed. Walter went back to sleep. I paused. I rolled out of bed and walked back into the kitchen. It was clean. The counters were bare. The table was empty. For a moment, I thought I had been robbed. Then I remembered that I cleaned it. All was well.

I went back to sleep.

I greeted the day thirty minutes later to a husband sliding back into bed with a quick kiss on my neck and a whispered, "Good morning, beautiful."

Best. Morning. Ever.

Happy Two Years!

Happy birthday to my little family! Two years ago, JL and I were sealed for time and all eternity in the Manti Temple, and I wouldn't take back a single moment.

(Don't you just love the face my husband is making in this picture?)

somewhere in the crowd there's youuuu

It's not very often that I have a moment to myself these days. There is always something to be done, and with JL back in school and back to juggling two jobs, I'm happy to take the lead on all of the house stuff. It only seems fair.

But...since Walter got his second flu shot late this afternoon and started feeling the effects soon after he had consumed his "Needles hurt and Mom's sorry" Happy Meal (the fries and the lemonade anyway), I have a minute to myself before JL comes bounding through the door. And I have something to say.

I love my husband.

I was talking to my mother this morning about friends and family and the usual smattering of random people popped up into the conversation. Not to be vain, or prideful, but every time someone came up, I thought to myself, 'Man. Have I got it good.'

I'm not always the best at showing my husband how extremely grateful I am that he does what he needs to so that I can stay home with our son and live the life that I want to. Just two weeks ago, we spent a good 20 minutes pushing on either side of the bathroom door while I sobbed hysterically and said unkind things. I'd like to say that all of that crazy is because I've got hormones raging through my body. Unfortunately, about two percent of it is there all the time. And he puts up with it.

He not only puts up with it, he caters to it. He goes out of his way to make me smile, to hold me when the crazy is telling him, "Don't touch me!", to be an amazing father to our son, to kiss my belly full of baby, to tell me I don't look fat, to reassure me that I'm a good mother, to encourage my interests and hobbies, to help me push myself past my comfort zone, and to pick up the pieces when all that pushing ends in utter failure.

So this year, and every year after, I resolve to be the most patient, supportive, and loving wife that I can be. Because this scruffy guy is completely worth it.

my very own retro house (and other things)

There have been some big changes in the Olmstead household.

1) Walter turned 1! This makes me feel old. Really old. I have a toddler. He is adorable. Unfortunately, he refuses to walk, but we sure love him. He's a wicked awesome dancer.

2) We moved! We UPgraded and hauled all of our stuff upstairs from the basement to the main house. There is a fireplace, a backyard, a frontyard, a garage, a huge back porch, and best of all, two bathrooms. Walter is in love with his retro pink tub. JL and I love not having to navigate a narrow staircase everytime we walk through the door.

3) I'm pregnant! We're expecting our second child on July 6 of this year. I still have panicky moments of, "Oh my gosh! What am I doing? I can't handle two kids!". JL is beyond elated.


All in all, we're looking forward to an adventurous new year and I can't wait to see what Heavenly Father has in store for us!