Adjusting

For those of you who don't know, JL got a new and amazingly better job that he started at the beginning of this month. Like, we actually get health insurance that doesn't just cover preventative medicine, i.e. yearly check-ups. Everything in our home has been much happier since the beginning of the month, mostly because when Husband is happy, Wife is happy, and when Wife is happy, Mom is happy (duh), and when Mom is happy, Walter is happy.

Anywho, one of the perks of the new job is that we get freakishly cheap gym memberships to Gold's Gym, including daycare. This has required a little bit of adjustment for Walter. First, because we try not to leave him with other people unless we're going on a date. Second, because when we have left him with people, it's usually someone that he knows really well. Since the cute daycare workers rotate, there is a 90% guarantee that each time we drop him off, someone new will be in charge of his age group. Hence, adjustment. After three weeks, I am happy to say that I did not get called out of my Turbo Kick class, Walter was not crying when I left him, and he was not crying when I picked him up. This means that for one hour a day, six days a week, I get Me time.

And that is a beautiful thing.

there was an epic battle

It involved Walter. And something sticky. And his hair. We solved it the best way we knew how. By making him look like this guy.

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?)