Watching Downton Abbey

Domestic Goddess

 

Real Simple's Chocolate Fudge Pie.  So presentable.

Nailed it!

Ahhh, Auto Insurance

Here's an e-mail I found in my inbox this morning from my model-driver husband.  Some details may or may not have been modified by the author of this blog. 

Subject Line:  "Let's review your shameful past, shall we?"

Dear Hester Prynne:


I'm filling out some info for our car insurance. They need to hear about your indiscretions.
Do you remember when you got those *** tickets?

When Dad is the Primary Caretaker

Maura had a good time at the fire station preschool field trip. It was a nice little tour. She loved the vehicles. When they opened up the ambulance, the kids got in the back and walked toward the front and exited the side door. Maura went in, I moved to the side door. No Maura. Where could she possibly go. Then somebody says "uh oh, we've got a driver." There was Maura sitting in the driver's seat enthusiastically turning the steering wheel and smiling from ear to ear.

She'd sneaked through a small entry way into the cab of the ambulance.

When Dad is the Primary Caretaker

Maura and I are @ Zupa's. The table of mommies next to us is complaining about their husbands' wardrobes.

I'm a stranger in a strange land.

When Dad is the Primary Caretaker

Maura says "I want to nap in my big girl bed." I say okay. She lays down for a while. She's humming a nursery tune. Then silence. Then my communication is cut off.

I run in there. She's face down on the bed. Doing her best impression of "asleep." The stand-by puke bucket is crumpled, the baby monitor is on the ground, jerked from its usual perch on the windowsill. Our little super-spy cut the comm system like an expert.

What a dastardly villain!

We are now eating cupcakes.

With purple frosting.

A New Balloon!

Yes!

After an excess of two and a half years, Chad received a transplant on March 29, 2011. It was a seven hour surgery. His old liver was swollen, ugly, and difficult to get out. His new liver is healthy. He's doing great. One doctor says he's a "rock star" and the other says he's healing like a "poster child." We are ecstatic, grateful, humbled, and relieved. We pray that the family of the donor can be comforted. We want to be able to someday relay to them our gratitude for the compassion they had in deciding to allow their loved one to donate his or her organs.

These last two days have been joyful ones. Chad wants to celebrate yesterday annually instead of his actual birthday.

It will be nice to have my husband back. It will be nice to have him go for walks with Maura and I. It will be nice to have help carrying in the groceries. It will be nice for Chad to pick Maura up and hold her. It will be nice to allow her to sit on his lap. It will be nice for Maura to have a dad who rough houses with her, plays Hide and Seek with her, runs around the yard with her, and dances with her. It will be nice for Chad to watch her grow up.

What I've Learned in 2010

That people actually read this blog, and politely request that I update more often.

That it's so rewarding when your kid does the thing that you have taken great pains to teach her her to do. Like when she says "please" and "thank you" without reminding.

That about every ten years, I can reteach myself how to file adoption papers! I was lucky to be able to do the paperwork for my nephew's adoption, and attend the hearing, blessing and sealing. Adoptions are the only positive files I get to do! Love them!

That I love my job. I like crafting legal arguments in such a way as to persuade a judge. It's not ideal for me to be a working mother, but it's the next best thing.

That I truly "married up." Chad is so very patient. I love his intelligence, sincerity, thoughtfulness, and quiet humor. By "quiet" I mean that you have to listen closely, or you'll miss the hilarious things he says under his breath. Some days he's not 100 percent there, and on those days I miss him terribly. Over the past two plus years, Chad's quality of life has declined significantly, but not in ways that are measured in his monthly blood tests that determine his placement on the transplant waiting list. This can be pretty frustrating, but we're grateful for doctors who work to try to get Chad closer to a transplant.

That life is precious.

That a good bedside manner goes a long way. Chad's favorite doctor will walk in the exam room, clap Chad on the back and say "How are you Chadly? You look like Hell." His docs do a good job of reassuring him that they're thinking of him and acting in his best interests.

That I need to stop feeling sorry for myself for not having a "normal" life. Normal lives are for normal people. Who am I to expect normality? I used to get upset because our family had the same goals as everyone else, like having a home, family, 2 cars, a garden, canning in the Fall, going to the Farmer's Market Saturday mornings, and complaining to the husband how the kids made a scene at the grocery store earlier that day. My current situation leaves no room for vacations, girls nights out, book clubs, play dates, shopping, some Young Women activities, dates out with my husband, taking family photos, sending out Christmas cards, etc. We're pretty much tethered to the Wasatch Front. I've come to grips with this this past year, and I'm okay with this.

That after 16 years, purple eyeliner is an awesome replacement for brown eyeliner.

When Dad is the primary caretaker

Maura and Chad had a discussion about throwing up.

Just so we are all on the same page, these are things that do not throw up:

Heaters (the middle-aged owners of Hotel Inlaws do not believe in using one this early in the Fall season-- thus we buy space heaters for our rooms)

Pink pom poms

Purple flowers

Pink heaters

Yellow flowers.

That is all.

Conversations with Chad

Chad: Maura is pretty happy today. We're at Tantrum Level Yellow.

Conversations with Chad

Me: "Maybe I should go wake Maura. She's been napping a long time."

Chad: "If you could stop a hurricane, would you?"

Is it "slacking?" Or "slackening?"

I don't want to talk about how long it's been since I've blogged. And how my New Year's resolutions for 2009 are still posted. Guess I'd better take those down. I failed to keep those resolutions and I figure if I can be a decent mother and wife while working full time and living at Hotel Inlaws, then I'm doing okay.

I ran across this brilliant article that makes me feel better. Enjoy!

A Few More Obvious Tips for Not-Very-Good Homemakers

I have a few more obvious tips for you, but only if you are a not-very-good homemaker. If you are a better-than-average homemaker you are probably too busy styling your step-by-step blog on how to make organic cupcakes for your 2 year old's half birthday and won't have time to read this. That's OK. I don't want to waste your time. But for all of you less-thans out there, consider this Festivus for the rest of us who, frankly, are probably in bed balancing our laptops on our stomachs.

Read on...

Say it! Say it out loud.

Cheap! Cheap!

Beehivier Righteousness

Nickie

Penny!!! I love FB for finding people in my past that I really miss, like you! You were one of the best YW leaders, I'll always remember you!

Penny

Nickie.............how are you?? I remember you! A big hello to your parents. I am hit and miss on FB...probably because I am so busy doing everything else. It is very nice to keep in touch with everyone.

Heather

Nickie, don't you know, Sis. Coyner liked me better. I was just a better behaved Beehive than you were. Sorry to break that to you on Facebook.

Penny

You both were so awesome!!

Heather

You have to admit I was Beehivier than Nickie.

Penny

Oh Heather you are too cute. You were so quiet, you hardly ever made a peep! Are you still that way??

Heather

I'll let Nickie field that question. :)

Nickie

Is she still quiet???? Well, Penny, I'll let you draw your own conclusion to that one. And Heather...at least I don't have to draw confirmation from others as to how well my childhood behavior was! I'll just let my calling as BEEHIVE PRES. just point out my Beehivier righteousness. (Hehehe) :)

Penny

You are both just too cute. I don't pick favorites...lol....just ask my children.........NO, please don't! They think I favor.....I really don't.

Nickie

Did we mention that we were roommates in college?...Heather & I have had too much fun together over the years. And you probably thought that we'd never get along well as Beehives (cuz we sure didn't act like it then).

Melissa

Oh my word was Heather ever a quiet kid??? i dont' remember that! You guys crack me up! I think it's time for a reunion! :)

Nickie

Amen sista! Let's plan one!

Heather

Yes! Sis. Coyner can host.

Chruck

Maura's cousin Calvin celebrated his second birthday, and Chad showed me how to screen print an image onto a shirt. This is how Calvin pronounces the word "truck."
I know, right?! It rocks. I cut out the truck, and Chad cut out the text and painted the stuff onto the shirt. It was so much fun to learn how to do it, it makes me excited to try it out some more.

I hosted a baby shower for my sweet friend Maggie, and us 3rd Wardian alumni partied down baby-gifting style at Hotel Inlaws.
I totally made those pom-poms in the background. Lurve those things. I have them hanging in Maura's room above the place where I change her diapers, and when she gets all wiggly and twisty I tell her to point at the overhanging pom-poms. It keeps her still for about seven seconds.

Look, it's easy to fake a pregnancy with one of those grocery-store bouncy balls. I bet you can't even tell which girl is faking it.

Happy First Maura

Dear Maura:

Today you are one year old.

Two days before you were due to be born, your father went into the emergency room. While we waited for him to see a doctor and be administered some pain relief meds, I was anxious and stressed and worried because of your impending due date. While he laid in his hospital bed in terrible pain, he reassured me that everything would be okay.


So for the next four days, I schlepped my hospital bag back and forth and spent those days in your father's hospital room. I had no idea what to expect when I would inevitably go into labor. I started having serious contractions the same day your father had his first of four blood transfusions. I skipped eating lunch in the cafeteria because I thought to myself, what if I have an embarrassing contraction right there in the middle of the cafeteria? I didn't realize that I was experiencing actual labor. I had been told that contractions feel like "really bad menstrual cramps." I have a history of severe menstrual cramps (yeah, you're welcome for that) and in my mind I wasn't having textbook contractions. I fed your father ice chips and answered the nurses' questions. Your great aunt informed me that I was in labor, and I denied it. Your grandmother told me that I ought to check myself in, after all, I was only two floors above the place where you would be born. Instead, I waited to see if your father's transfusion was successful before I would go home and watch Becoming Jane to get my mind off of the pain I was feeling.

I had your grandmother drive me home because I didn't think I should drive myself. I folded some laundry and put it away. Your grandmother insisted that I write down the times I was having contractions. Yeah, they were close together, but they weren't lasting the full 45-60 seconds that the textbooks AND doctors AND birth classes said they should last. After all, I thought it would be the ultimate rejection to show up at the hospital ready to become a mother and be told, hey, even though you're suffering intense pain, go back home. Finally, your grandmother insisted upon calling the doctor to see whether I should go to the hospital. He said I should probably come in.

When I reached the hospital, I was certain that I would be turned away. I found out that I was dilated to a nine. Things started happening really quickly. When I was wheeled down the hall, one of the nurses asked if I was "going to do this naturally." I said, "You must be the funny nurse." Another nurse said that she hoped an anesthesiologist would show up in time. Yes, please! By that time, the pain was quite intense and I was gripping the side rails of the bed. Thankfully, he showed up. Next time, I think I'll have him meet me at home.

When the doctor plopped you onto my chest it was such a strange sensation. If felt good to have you pulled out of me, but at the same time it was alarming because I had been protecting that baby bump for so long, even avoiding any degree of waistband constriction so that I wouldn't feel any more nauseated than I did the WHOLE NINE MONTHS. But suddenly there was this weight- a live human being no less- on that very spot. And I was surprised at how heavy that little person was. And how grayish-purple you looked.

The nurses took you away to determine your Apgar score, and while I was being stitched up (for 30 minutes!), I just watched you. Your birth was such a bright spot during a scary week. I thought the timing of our entire family's hospital stay was crazy, but you are your father's angel. I don't know what we'd do without you to focus on right now.

We're trying to be good parents. I haven't even put headbands or bows or anything in your fine hair because I think it would have made you uncomfortable. I haven't polished your nails. I haven't felt like you needed any adornment beyond what nature gave to you. Of course, you don't seem as helpless and vulnerable to me now, so that all may change soon! I have whipped up egg whites to put in your hair. Hey, give me a break. I told your father years ago that we weren't having any children unless they had naturally curly hair.

Circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm so glad that you have such a strong bond with your father because of the fact that he is home with you.

We were happy before, but we were so completely ignorant of the joy we feel now. You have brought so much joy to our lives.

Happy birthday.

Ummm, Not So Much

I've been wanting a haircut. There's just something about my at-home layering-with-a-disposable-razor technique that isn't a feasible long-term plan. My hair has grown out and I wanted some Nicole Kidman-esque layers. I asked around and got a recommendation and took this picture with me to my appointment:
I love her layers and her awesome bangs. The last (real) haircut I had was what I call a stacked, A-line "Utah Bob," so I had some shorter layers underneath. So when the hairstylist asked if I wanted the back "evened out," I answered yes. And when asked if I wanted the front blended with my bangs, I said sure. I even think I threw out a "whatever you think is best" as well. Here's what I ended up with:
Please ignore my tooth hanging out. I wore braces for three years when I was a teen and you'd think I'd have learned to smile and keep it all in by now.
Ummmm hellllloooooo. 1994 called. Or is it 1978? Joan Jett? Carol Brady's shag? Jane Fonda in Klute? Can you say mullett? This morning, I walked out of the bathroom after attempting to style this mop and Chad took one look at me and said "Do you remember that episode of friends where Phoebe cuts Monica's hair, and Monica wants a Demi Moore haircut and Phoebe thinks she means Dudley Moore?"

This is entirely my fault. The gal cutting my hair was really nice and I didn't really take a hard, serious look at the cut until I got home. I should have asked follow-up questions like "what will it look like if you [insert hair jargon here]? I should never assume she's got the same picture in her mind that I have. I have learned my lesson. It's a comical lesson. So I'm ponytailing it for a week until I can go to my trusted, albeit much more expensive (ouch) friend Michelle. She's awesome! You can totally trust my recommendation. :)

Everyone Loves a Parade

Last month, Mom, Maura and I took a road trip to Montana. It was fun to see family. I was able to see my cousin Hillary who I haven't seen in over 20 years. My mother has raved about how great her kids are, and sure enough they proved to be comical, entertaining and incredibly well-mannered. She and her husband must be doing a good job. I love DIY home decor and these pics don't do Karen's house any justice.
Maura enjoyed her first parade. Her head whipped back and forth to see what float was coming and what was traveling past.
We had our own little at-home fireworks show. Maura was not super impressed. It probably would have been more enjoyable after dark, but alas, Maura isn't the stay-up-late type anymore.
She laid on the blanket and became paralyzed with fear! We're talking total muscular incapacitation! Well, it is quite rare when she lies still. Or is it lays still? I'm still confused about that.