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.